Someday, when bards told the tale of these times, and Nathaniel was sure that they would, he had a feeling they would gloss over the long weeks of waiting and get right to the point. There would be a story about the darkspawn talking and coming up from under the Vigil. There would be a story about a mad elf witch in the Wending Woods. There would be a story about a spectral dragon in the Black Marsh. He was sure there'd also be a story about what was to come – some mad quest into the nearly uncharted wilderness to find a gash in the earth that supposedly lead to the Deep Roads.

What they wouldn't tell was how much sodding time there was doing nothing and pacing around like a caged animal. They wouldn't tell the story of how Kya had gone off half cocked to Amaranthine with that ex-Warden, possessed by the Maker knows what, to find said Grey Warden's wife and tell her everything was okay.

As if they didn't have better things to do.

Nate could understand it, a bit. He wondered how he would feel if someone he cared about, his sister perhaps, was dead and gone but still walking around. It would be beyond difficult to accept. It was a compassionate thing to do after all. But he still found it hard to believe that Kya Amell had a big well of compassion in her.

Mostly, he was beginning to think she was just a bitch.

Of course, if he was honest, that had more to do with her ignoring him; her coldness since they'd returned to the keep, the way she couldn't even seem to look at him. Nate also supposed that was mostly his fault, for seeing things that weren't there. For thinking . . . well whatever he'd been thinking, it was over now.

Done.

Finished.

Kya and Justice had been gone for over a week, and Nathaniel was bored out of his mind. He was so miserable that after he'd poured over the maps of the forest around Amaranthine for the thirtieth time, he found himself actually looking for Anders. It was insane, but at least the mage would be amusing. Or by the Maker, Nate surely hoped so.

He found Anders propped up under a tree, dangling a bit of string for his kitten, looking for all the world like this was any normal, lovely, summer day. He seemed to have a knack for finding any little bit of pleasure he could, no matter what the circumstances. Anders looked up as Nate approached, raising a wary eyebrow at him.

"Nathaniel Howe," Anders drawled. "What can I do for you?"

Nate shook his head as he sat down beside him gracefully, folding his legs. "I honestly don't know, but whatever you do will be better than pacing around here anymore."

"You should have grown up in the tower," Anders replied. "You'd be used to waiting."

Nate grunted. "Well, shockingly, I didn't and I'm not."

"Aren't you in a lovely mood," Anders laughed. "What is your problem besides the obvious?"

"What's obvious?" Nate snapped, scowling.

Anders held up his hands. "Whoa there big boy," he laughed. "Don't pop something."

"Maker's blood," Nate swore. He rubbed his forehead irritably.

"Look," Anders said, putting his hand on Nate's shoulder. "Do I need to take you to a brothel or something? I hear there's a good one in Amaranthine and . . . ." He stopped short when Nate shrugged his hand off and glared at him. "Sorry, don't get all darkspawn on me. I was just trying to lighten the mood."

Nate's glare dissolved a little. "Andraste's Ass, I know," he sighed. "I'm on edge. I just need something to do." He scowled again. "And not a brothel. That won't help."

"Are you sure? It usually helps me . . . ," Anders trailed off again at Nate's hard expression. "Right, no whores. Got it." He pursed his lips. "So what then? What can Anders do for you?"

"I . . . eh," Nate sighed. It was like admitting defeat here, but he didn't know anyone else to ask. It wasn't as if he was going to try to have a deep conversation with the dwarf. "Tell me something. About Kya."

Anders raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What do you want to know?"

"I don't know," Nate admitted. "Anything really. I don't think I understand her."

"You think you should? Well, good luck with that," Anders said, grinning. "She's a woman. I don't claim to understand them."

"You know her better than I do," Nate said. "Considering she won't speak to me. And I thought . . . well, I thought she'd forgiven me for being an idiot."

"She did," Anders said. "And I think that's the problem."

Nate just replied with a blank look, since it was all he could manage. Anders seemed to be insinuating that there was something . . . apparently the same thing that had been driving him to distraction that Kya made very clear was not the case.

"I know she's being crazy," Anders continued. "But she feels guilty. And truth is, us mages have guilt beaten into us with a pretty big stick. It's hard to get over."

"Guilty about what?" Nate asked.

"You really are completely stupid, aren't you?" Anders asked, looking perplexed. "Look, I don't know much about romantic stuff, past the initial stages, if you know what I mean. But, Maker's hairy balls man . . . she was . . . Maker. I'm not sure she'd want me to tell you."

Nate blinked at him. "Tell me what?"

"Ah, I'm surprised you haven't heard all the gossip already," Anders sighed. "But really, it's a mess. I mean, you know the story about the Blight?"

"Supposedly," Nate snorted. "But she was seven feet tall and perfect, so I'm guessing it might have been a bit exaggerated."

"Not by much," Anders chuckled. "Really though, it's a mess. I got her drunk before she went to Amarathine with Ser Dead and well, she spilled it."

Nate blinked. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to hear this.

"During the Blight, she and King Alistair were the only Grey Wardens left. And, well, you know," Anders explained, gesturing with his eyebrows.

"What?" Nate blurted out. "You're . . . ."

Anders nodded. "I am. Yes," he said. "And then, when she refused to execute Loghain at the Landsmeet . . . well, you can guess how happy that made the King. I'm sure you've heard how he is."

"So I've heard," Nate replied. "Apparently, he's rather . . . not Kingly."

"That's an understatement. He was a Templar, you know," Anders said, grinning sarcastically. "They train them to be crazy. Well, anyway. And then you know the bit about Loghain. Or maybe not."

"I do have eyes," Nate groused.

"She's kind of broken up about it," Anders continued. "Although I don't understand it. He was hardly personable. And he's old. But she says that she loves him, so I guess that's just the way it is." He frowned. "And this is the problem. She told me she can't even look at you without feeling guilty."

Nate was not proud of the lurch in his chest at that. The idea that she might . . . it was really too much. But she was a remarkable woman, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Despite everything, he wanted her. And not just her body, lovely though it might be. He wanted her to talk to him, like she talked to Anders. He wanted to know her in whatever way he could.

"Andraste's tits," Nate muttered.

"Well, you asked," Anders said. "Not that I'm sure it's any use anyway. We'll probably all be dead before this is over with, knowing my luck."

Nate grunted. "Your luck? You have no idea."

"Let's not have a pissing contest about who's life is more stupid, shall we?" Anders replied. "It'll make me depressed." He was flippant, as usual, but Nate could see there was some truth behind that.

They all had ghosts.

He wasn't sure any of this information actually helped him, but it was more than he knew before, he had to admit. Strange as it was, what bothered him the most was that she was broken up over it. Somehow, the idea of a woman falling for him and hating herself over it was slightly less than appealing.

"I don't know what to tell you," Anders said, seeming to recognize Nate's train of though. "I'm useless for this sort of thing. I've got no interest in more cages, thank you."

"Never thought of it like that," Nate admitted. "But I never really thought of it at all."

"I prefer to think about brothels myself," Anders smirked. "Less complicated."

Nate groused at him and stood. Anders looked up in response and gave the worst impression of an innocent look Nate had ever seen.

"What?" he asked. Nate just replied by shaking his head and walking away. He could hear Anders chuckling behind him. At least someone was in a good mood.

He certainly wasn't. He couldn't decide how to feel. And really, when it came down to it, they didn't have time for this now, not any more than she had time to wander off to Amaranthine. But she did it anyway, and he seemed unable to stop himself.

But really, was it just because he was lonely? His whole life had been turned upside down. When he was in the Free Marches, it was just the thought of finally being able to come home again that kept him going. It was so foreign, so not home, that sometimes it took everything he had not to run off back to Ferelden. It was only imagining the disappointed look in his father's eyes that stayed him.

And now his father was dead. His family was broken, and the Ferelden he knew was gone – if it had ever really existed at all. Who could blame him for going a little crazy?

Nate headed back across the courtyard, thinking that perhaps tearing a practice dummy apart might help burn off the strange ache inside his chest. Something had to. Talking with Anders certainly hadn't helped. He kept replaying the words inside his head.

She can't even look at you without feeling guilty.

As if he didn't feel guilty enough already as it was. He heard commotion at the gates and turned his head just in time to see Kya and Justice finally wander back from their little distraction. They were talking closely, walking close together. He saw her smile at Justice – and he was a walking corpse. Yet she was walking next to him, talking to him like they were friends. And maybe they were.

But he wasn't her friend. And maybe that was the problem.

She looked up finally and caught sight of him, lingering and standing around like an idiot. She just blinked at him and the smile she had for Justice faded off her face. It felt a little bit like she'd stabbed him. He knew he should walk in the other direction. He knew he should just let it be; but damn him if he hadn't proven already that he was stupid and made rash, impulsive decisions.

Instead, he walked right toward her. He could sworn that she stumbled a little bit when he did.

"Commander," he said, once he was a reasonable distance away.

"Nathaniel," she replied. He tried to ignore that she cringed a little.

"Do you have a moment?" he said, trying to sound reasonably pleasant. "Because I think I said I owed you a drink."

Kya shook her head. "Not now," she said and refused to meet his eyes, looking off somewhere over his head.

"Of course," he said. "Another time perhaps." He offered a half bow and side stepped, letting her pass around him. He didn't turn to watch her go, just stared out through the gates of the Vigil at the winding road beyond. He used to dream about walking up through those gates and coming home. Now he just wanted to run away.

Behind him, he heard the distinctive rasp of Justice's voice.

"Did you not say my lady," he said. "That you must never allow fleeting chances to pass you by?"

"I might have," he heard her quiet reply. "But . . . it's complicated Justice. It really is."

"Ah," Justice replied. "I do have much to learn."