Loghain closed the door behind him.

Kya hadn't fainted, thank the Maker, but came entirely too close for his comfort. He wasn't used to thinking about her weaknesses, although she clearly had them. During his time in Denerim without her, he had spent more than a reasonable amount of time reminiscing about the previous months. But in all of that, he'd managed to forget to remember her weak spots – she thought too much, talked too much, her delirious friendship with Jowan and perhaps more damning than anything, her love for him.

He imagined she'd be so strong it might hurt him. Instead, she was so human it was having the same effect.

Kya also said a few other things, despite his insistence she rest. He thought at first she was trying to stall him – it was her way and she'd done it countless times before. But not this time. What Kya said chilled him to his core. She said she'd killed a darkspawn that talked.

Too familiar that.

She also said she'd met a creature in the silverite mines in the woods that could only be one thing. The one thing Maric let slip about his trip to the Deep Roads with the Wardens. A magic using, talking darkspawn called the Architect. Maric only spoke of it after a bottle of wine, on a night he'd learned a variety of the secrets Maric had begged him to never mention again in the morning. The bastard child aside, it was this Architect that stood out for the sheer horror of what it stood for.

This was the thing she was facing. And he...he was just going to walk away and it was tearing him apart. There was no other honorable choice in the matter though he hated it nonetheless. Despite what he might want, what logic might say, there were non-Warden guards sent from Orlais to accompany him. He hadn't mentioned them and they'd kept a low profile since coming to the keep, but he knew they'd assert themselves if he even considered fighting them.

That wasn't the way Loghain wanted to die. He'd narrowly avoided death on his knees at the Landsmeet; he wasn't about to be slaughtered in front of Kya on his knees again. If he had anything to say about it, he would die as a Grey Warden, battling darkspawn or in the Deep Roads. That was a heroic death. He wasn't so selfless that he didn't desire it.

Somehow, he had to convince himself and Kya that leaving was the sensible thing to do. When every bone in his body was telling him otherwise, it was an uphill battle at best.

How he was going to accomplish that he still had not the faintest idea but it was the least of his concerns at the moment. First things first, as his father used to say. And first thing was Nathaniel Howe waiting in the main hall and likely pacing a rut into the floor, if Loghain's memory of the boy was still accurate.

Loghain knew he had not a single answer that the boy would like. It still sounded like an excuse to his own ears; so much of the more deviant actions from the war were Rendon's ideas. Occasionally, even Loghain had been shocked by the man's ideas, but he'd let them happen nonetheless. Some were of his own doing certainly – Eamon and Highever in particular. He hadn't intended for Howe's men to kill the Teyrn and Teyrna, but he had expected it might come to that. He had not intended for the death of women and children, but it had.

That was blood on his own hands and he wouldn't deny it.

But the slavery, the assassins, the torture of nobles? This wasn't Loghain's way. Some of that he hadn't even known about until after he was already a Warden. The twisted schemes with lesser nobles' children locked in the basement of the Arl's estate, the violence and things done to flesh that even magical healing couldn't repair? That turned even the steel of Loghain's stomach.

This was the legacy that Rendon Howe had left for his son.

Loghain had no idea how Nathaniel would ever move beyond such a thing. His own father died a hero and a knight in the service of the true King of Ferelden and it had taken him years to overcome it. Rendon died on his knees.

Grimacing, Loghain made his way into the hall. It was a tall room of shadows and turns. Seemed an odd and unfortunate room for holding court. Even when Rendon had still held the Vigil, he's disliked this place. He may not have been keen on the idea of assassins, even paid from his own coffers, but that didn't mean he didn't concern himself with them. He remembered expecting Orlesian assassins to appear from behind every shadowed pillar.

No assassins here now; even the Crow had returned to Antiva according to Kya. There was only a boy . . . a man if he was going to be honest, filled with an abundance guilt over things he hadn't even done that it was threatening to drown him. Somehow, Loghain never felt such guilt – even when he'd discovered the depth of Rendon's treachery. Had he known, Rendon's head would have been on the pike at the Denerim gate, ally or not. But he had not known, despite priding himself of knowing such things.

Not guilt, only disappointed in his own lack of insight.

Loghain found Nathaniel leaning against the wall near a bookcase. Nathaniel had picked a particularly and conspicuously well lit spot. He was still as a stone and staring intently at the floor. No pacing for this one. Loghain was less than impressed with his track record of predictions thus far this day. Once, he'd been known for his uncanny ability to predict the actions of his opponents. It was what made him such a successful tactician. But he had been accused of being wrong before and lately he was half and half at best. Apparently he was getting more and more wrong in his old age.

Maric would have been amused.

Shaking the morbid thoughts from his head, he spoke, announcing his presence. "You had questions?" he said bluntly, without introduction. Nathaniel's head snapped up and his eyes glittered.

"Loghain," he said, his voice barely audible. "I do."

"Then ask, but be wary," Loghain replied. "There are answers here that you are bound to dislike."

"If only it was that easy," Nathaniel said. "To dislikethe answers."

Loghain folded his arms across his chest. "I assume you want to know what your father did."

"No," Nathaniel said quickly, shaking his head. "I know what he did. I have no illusions about that. What I want to know is why you let him. I want to know how it happened that the great Teyrn of Gwaren," he paused, his voice dripping with venom, "allowed such things to be done in his name."

Loghain frowned and leaned against the pillar beside him with a quiet sigh. This was an answer to dislike to be sure. Considering the final outcome; the death of the Archdemon and the quelling of the Blight, the Theirin line still on the throne and the Orlesians safely behind their borders; he had no regrets. He only wondered if one so young, who had seen so little of death and horror, could truly understand such a thing.

Kya understood, but what where the chances here?

"Have you ever fought in war Nathaniel?" Loghain asked.

"Of course not," he replied gruffly. "I've seen my share of battle since becoming the Grey Warden and that is a war of a sort I suppose. But no, there has been no war in my lifetime, except the civil war of your making that I regrettably missed."

"Regrettably," Loghain echoed. He shook his head. "War is regrettable, no matter what the outcome. But it is sometimes necessary. This is the only answer I have for you. I did what had to be done; I let what had to be done happen in my name. It is what it is."

"It is what it is?" Nathaniel snapped. "Slavery, torture, murder? This is your only defense?"

Loghain snorted. "I don't need to defend myself to you or anyone. What is done is done. Regret and recrimination cannot change the past."

Nathaniel stood bolt upright and took what seemed to be an involuntary step forward. His face was flushed.

"You could have stopped him!" he spat. "You could have prevented my family from becoming pariahs. You could have had my father removed from power before he destroyed a heritage that stems from Calanhad himself!"

"Ha," Loghain grunted. "What do I care for lineage? I'm the son of a commoner; no noble blood runs in my veins. Does that make me less of a man than you for all your lack of deeds and bluster? You forget who you speak to, my Lord." He gritted his teeth.

"Your deeds make you less of a man," Nathaniel growled. "And I have to pay the price for them."

"I have already paid, tenfold," Loghain replied, his eyes like shards of ice under his drawn brows. "A hundred times, a thousand. I will pay for the rest of my life for every action I have taken. All you have lost is a title and a pile of stones, things that were only yours by the accident of your birth. Now you have a chance to earn what is yours." He shook his head. His anger faded to a dull ache as swiftly as the light faded beyond the doors.

Loghain knew only one true regret and it wasn't for his actions during the Blight. It wasn't for so many things done in the name of war or victory. Loghain only regretted squandering his life on bitterness and remorse. "Do not waste a life in pursuit of what might have been."

Nathaniel seemed to bite back a retort and instead looked away.

"You are a young man," Loghain replied quietly. "And your life is your own, Grey Warden or no. What you do will be your legacy and the legacy of the Howes. Not what your father did. Just pray that you are up to the task."

Nathaniel sighed, defeated. He looked back at Loghain questioningly. "How can you stand there so calmly? Knowing all that has happened, and all that is happening? How can you stand there knowing that you are going to walk away from everything you fought for?"

"Because I have no other choice," he said. His voice was even, serene. "I can either stand and live, or die on my knees. I have never backed down to anyone, save once. I will not back down from what I must do now, no matter what the consequences."

"You backed down to her," Nathaniel said.

The corner of Loghain's mouth quirked up for a moment, but it was more of a sneer than a smile.

"Yes," he said. "I did."

"Why?" Nathaniel asked.

"Because in that too I had no other choice," Loghain replied succinctly. "It is one battle I do not regret losing."

"That's because you love her," Nathaniel said, looking away again.

"No," Loghain said. "Because she is more than that. Her victory over me took a burden away I had forgotten that I carried." He paused. "And perhaps, because she looked at me and saw a man, not a symbol or a hero or a villain. Only a man."

And she had. It was perhaps love that drove her to it since love drove everything Kya did. Despite her cool exterior, Kya was a creature of battling emotions and reason. In the end, intuition won over sense every time.

"Kya Amell is a rare creature," Loghain continued. He frowned as Nathaniel looked back and met his eyes. From the expression they held, clearly, this was realization the boy had already had. But he'd deny it to his grave if his pride had its way. Loghain knew that feeling well enough. "It is not something to be ignored."

"What are you saying?" Nathaniel muttered.

Loghain shook his head. "Don't be a fool."

The boy didn't reply, just stared, his face still flushed with anger and whatever else rushed through his thick head. Loghain could feel the stubborn foolishness rolling off the boy in waves. He swallowed the sad smile that was threatening. Somehow, he expected that this lad wouldn't take well to being humored.

Nathaniel Howe was undoubtedly angry, stubborn and arrogant. He was a very young man and as such was bitter and moody. If Loghain was recalling correctly, he was also intelligent, clever and a thoroughly sensible fellow.

He was perfect for her.

It killed him a little to realize it. Yet at the same time, it brought him a measure of peace he hadn't expected. Naturally, this would be no easy transition; Nathaniel would fight this every step of the way. Likely, so would Kya. She was as a stubborn as a mule, that one. But she was worthy of a good long life with an ally she could trust. With someone who would live long enough to see her to the Deep Roads when her Calling came and would fight at her side to their ends.

Loghain couldn't do that. No amount of will could overcome time. Age crept as swiftly as the dawn, just as the Taint reminded him, thrumming in his veins like a drum. He knew he would not have to suffer the company of the Orlesians for long. That much was clear already.

The best he could hope for was to leave Ferelden in capable hands. And he had done that already. His daughter on the throne and Kya at the head of the Grey Wardens. Together they would share the burden he thought he needed to shoulder on his own for thirty years. And what was more, he could leave Kya also in capable hands, with such a comrade that he could never be.

Nathaniel Howe would do nicely. That was, if he could ever see beyond the boundaries of his own head. Or pull his head out of his arse, as the case might be. Loghain shook his head again. He uncrossed his legs and stood, putting his hand of Nathaniel's shoulder. The lad's eyes snapped back to him and he tensed for a moment.

There was a battle of wills in their exchange but Loghain had stared down better men than this one. After only a moment, Nathaniel slumped, but he had the fortitude to not look away.

"Don't," Loghain intoned. "Be a fool."