Nathaniel was deep in thought as he set up his tent in the small clearing where Gideon declared they would spend the night. They were about half a day's journey from Amaranthine, having finally been able to escape the Keep without further hindrance. Gideon's dark mood had most likely been the reason that no one had approached the Commander for any assistance that morning.

The reason for Gideon's bad mood could perhaps be blamed on Nathaniel, though there was hardly anything he could have done about it. On their way out of the Keep they had run across the old groundskeeper who had worked at the Keep for as long as Nathaniel could remember. The elf was a kindly man who had always had time for an inquisitive little boy who was often neglected by his own mother and father.

When he had first been told what had happened to his father, he had been so enraged that thoughts of the rest of his family had fled his mind. While he had known about the passing of his mother, he had had no word about Thomas or Delilah. He wasted no time asking Samuel what had happened to them.

Samuel explained that his brother had died during the Civil War that Loghain had engineered during the Blight. But his sister was still alive and living in Amaranthine—married to a shopkeeper, of all things. Things must have been very hard indeed for her to marry someone so far beneath her station. Nathaniel shuddered as he thought of what his sister had been forced to do just to survive after their father's death.

Gideon had seemed uninterested in helping Nathaniel find Delilah in Amaranthine, and his mood had darkened after the encounter with Samuel. Not for the first time, Nathaniel found himself wondering what was going on inside the Commander's head.

While they may not have been friends, Nathaniel and Gideon had known each other for years; their families had spent time with each other. Nathaniel had always gotten along with Fergus better than he had Gideon. Gideon had always acted indifferent to Nathaniel whenever the Howes visited the Couslands, completely opposite to Fergus. Fergus was so easygoing and laid-back, friendly to everyone, which is what had drawn Nathaniel to him.

He quickly shut those thoughts from his mind. He wondered what Fergus was like now, after everything that had happened at Highever. Damnit! If only Nathaniel had had a chance to speak with his father, to find out what had really happened.

Despite the fact that they had practically grown up together, Gideon and Nathaniel had barely spoken to each other since Nathaniel took his Joining. Nathaniel still didn't understand why Gideon hadn't just sent him to the noose. He was grateful for that, of course, but he still wished he understood why Gideon had spared him.

Nathaniel wasn't sure if he'd ever understand the other man completely. On the one hand, he had taken great pains to explain as much as he could about what being a Warden truly meant: the few advantages, and the many disadvantages. He was being as honest and forthright as he could be, he had said. There had been no one to explain these things to him when he took his own Joining, and he would not allow any of his Wardens to suffer such ignorance.

Then, he had ended their discussion by saying that he didn't really give much of a damn what Nathaniel thought of him. Gideon was the Warden-Commander, and Nathaniel was one of his men. So long as he was willing to accept that, everything would be fine between them.

In other words, follow orders . . . or else. A cheering thought.

A noise of frustration behind him startled him out of his dark thoughts. He turned to see the mage, Anders, struggling to put his tent up. He had managed to figure out how to place the middle pole and three of the pegs, but he was struggling with the last one. Every time he stretched the canvas to set the peg, the middle pole would tilt to the point of almost falling down. Finished with his own tent, Nathaniel stood and watched the mage, wondering how he could possibly have such difficulty with something so simple.

Anders noticed Nathaniel watching him. "You know, while I'm sure watching me is just fascinating for you," he grunted as he pulled at the canvas, "it'd be a better use of your time, and mine, if you could actually help me out." Nathaniel walked over and tried to sort out the mess that Anders had created. Anders stood next to him, watching. "Normally, I don't really need help getting it up, but . . ." he trailed off, grinning.

Nathaniel felt his cheeks redden as he caught Anders' double meaning. He glared at the tent peg he was hammering into the ground, refusing to look at him. "Maker's breath, Mage, do you flirt with everyone?"

Anders chuckled. "Not everyone. I don't flirt with Oghren. Or Gideon, but that's just because he scares the hell out of me."

"Well, you're wasting your time," Nathaniel frowned, still not looking up. "I'm not like that."

"Not like what?" Anders asked.

Nathaniel finished his work and stood up, finally looking at Anders. He knew his cheeks were still a little pink from embarrassment, but he tried to ignore it. "I don't fancy men." He spoke gruffly, hoping Anders would take the hint.

Anders raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. Finally he shrugged. "Suit yourself. Thanks for helping me with the tent." He offered Nathaniel a friendly smile.

Nathaniel nodded curtly. "You're welcome." He hesitated, aware of the awkwardness that had settled between them. "Next time we camp, I'll show you how to set it up properly." He cast around for something else to talk about, but couldn't think of a single thing. "I should go get some wood for the fire." He walked away before Anders had the chance to say something about being able to help him with his wood, or something equally flirtatious. With any luck, the mage would give up on him, now that Nathaniel had made it clear that he wasn't interested.

To Nathaniel's dismay, Gideon seemed to have had the same idea as he had. He had noticed the man slip away from camp earlier, but hadn't been sure where he'd gone to. Nathaniel found him a short way into the copse surrounding the clearing, wildly hacking the branches off of one of the trees. He had a fierce look on his face and he was grumbling something to himself, though Nathaniel couldn't quite make out the words. He coughed discreetly so as not to surprise the man. Gideon's head whipped around and he glared at the rogue.

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly.

Nathaniel decided a little friendliness was in order. "I thought I'd see if you need any help."

Gideon motioned to the branches already lying on the ground before turning his back on Nathaniel and resuming cutting branches from the tree. "You can start stripping those."

Taking out his hunting knife, Nathaniel knelt on the ground and began stripping the branches of leaves and twigs. After some time had passed, Gideon, satisfied that he had accumulated enough wood, began helping Nathaniel. They worked in silence. Nathaniel was not normally a talkative man, but for some reason, this silence grated on him. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but no words would come. When he could stand the silence no longer, he blurted out, "I hope we'll be able to find Delilah. In Amaranthine, I mean. Groundskeeper Samuel didn't know the name of the man she married."

Gideon said nothing as he continued working.

Nathaniel cleared his throat. "It will be good to see her after all this time, find out how she's fared." He chuckled quietly. "And I'm sure she'll be glad to see you, even if our mothers did fail at matching the two of you up." Still, there was no response from Gideon. Nathaniel was becoming more and more frustrated with Gideon's refusal to make small talk with him. Maker, couldn't they even have a conversation with each other? It hadn't been like this before . . . but then again, nothing was like it had once been. The Blight had changed so many things.

"She and I were very close when we were children. She was always so gentle. There was this one time—"

Gideon made a noise of irritation. "Andraste's arse, Nathaniel, I know who the woman is. You needn't keep going on about her."

Nathaniel glared at the other man. "I'm sorry, is my being happy about seeing my sister again upsetting you?"

"Oh, no, not at all." Gideon's voice was laced with sarcasm. "I think it's wonderful that you're going to be reunited with your sister. Absolutely fantastic." He tossed the cut branch onto the ground. "I'm sure it will be a touching moment for both of you."

Nathaniel could feel his temper rising. "Now just one minute—"

Before he could continue Gideon grabbed up an armful of wood and headed toward the camp. Frowning, Nathaniel gathered up the rest and went after him.

Oghren was sitting on the ground near where the fire would be set, gutting the deer that Gideon had caught earlier. Nathaniel watched as he jumped when Gideon dumped the bundle of branches onto the ground, almost on top of the dwarf's feet. "Hey, now! Watch where yer throwin' that stuff."

Nathaniel added his branches to the pile and turned on Gideon, glaring. "What the hell is going on?"

Gideon glared right back. "Are you really so stupid that you have to ask that question?"

Nathaniel grit his teeth. "You hate me. I get that. Whatever reason you had for saving me, it wasn't because we're friends. But why is the fact that I'm excited about seeing my sister again pissing you off so much?"

"Because I'll never see my sister again!" Gideon roared.

"What? You don't have a—"

"My sister-in-law, Oriana. I'll never see her again." Gideon's hands clenched into fists as he closed in on Nathaniel. "Just like I'll never see my nephew, Oren, again. Or my best friend, Rory. Or my mother, or my father, or any of the dozens of other people who were in Highever Castle the night your bastard father ordered his men to slaughter everyone there!" Gideon's usually impassive attitude had fled, replaced by a white-hot fury that threatened to burn everyone around him.

Nathaniel shook his head violently. He would not—could not—believe that the rumors about his father were true. Not even after all of the arguments they'd had when Nathaniel was younger. His father had been a hard man, to be sure, but he hadn't been a monster. "No. It—it wasn't like that! My father was just . . . it was the middle of a war, for Andraste's sake!" Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel saw Anders and Oghren standing nearby, unsure of what to do.

"What your father did to my family had nothing to do with the war," Gideon had managed to reel his fury back, but only barely. "It was greed and jealousy that guided your father's hand, nothing more."

Nathaniel shook his head. "Your father allied himself with the Orlesians and set himself against Ferelden. What my father did might have been wrong, but he was trying to protect his country."

"Protect his country?" Gideon stared at Nathaniel disbelievingly. "From who? Unarmed servants? Women and children? Oren was seven years old, and your father's guards stuck a sword in his belly. They slit my sister-in-law's throat. What in Andraste's name made your father think he had to 'protect his country' from innocent people who had never harmed anyone in their entire lives?"

Nathaniel made a slashing motion with his hand. "Well, thanks to you, we'll never know the truth now. You stole into Denerim and murdered him!" Why couldn't Gideon understand that?

Gideon's wrath was back as he stalked violently around the clearing. "If I could raise him from the dead and kill him again, I would in a heartbeat. I will never forgive Rendon for what he did, never!"

Nathaniel saw Anders open his mouth, most likely to crack some idiotic joke about maleficar and raising the dead, but he wisely shut it again. The mage had a better sense of self-preservation that Nathaniel would have believed.

The situation was desperately out of control and Nathaniel tried to think of a way to defuse it before things grew even worse. He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. "You have every right to hate my father for what happened. You lost your whole family. But I lost my family, too. Why is it so wrong for me to be happy that my sister is alive?"

"No Howe deserves to be happy," Gideon said darkly. "Your father reserved an entire circle of hell for your family because of what he did during the Blight."

Nathaniel clenched his jaw. "If you truly feel that way, why didn't you just hang me?"

Gideon's lips twisted into a mirthless smile. "Because death would be too easy for you. This way you get to see exactly what your father did, not just to me but to everyone else he hurt. Rendon Howe was a murderous, greedy, self-serving, sycophantic coward. You get to live with the shame of being his son."

Nathaniel felt the anger boil inside of him. He would never be ashamed of being a Howe. Never. "So I am to be punished for my father's sins? For something I had no control over? How in the hell is that fair?"

Faster than even Nathaniel could track, Gideon was in front of him. "You dare to talk to me about fair? You self-righteous, insolent bastard! You are just like your father!"

Something inside Nathaniel snapped. All of the hatred and rage that he had felt towards this man, towards his father's murderer, could no longer be held back. With a loud shout he launched himself at Gideon. He barely felt Gideon's retaliatory blows as he punched and kicked at the man before him. He pulled out every dirty trick he had learned while training as a rogue. When a particularly vicious right hook slammed into his mouth, the taste of blood spurred him to increase his attacks.

Suddenly he felt arms tighten around him from behind, pulling him away from Gideon. He fought against whoever had a hold of him, desperate to get back into the fight. It must have been Anders who was restraining him—Maker only knew how the mage managed the strength for that; magic perhaps. He watched as Oghren wrap his beefy arms around Gideon's waist, practically pulling the much larger man off the ground. The two former nobles stood glaring at each other, sucking great lungfuls of air as they tried to calm down.

Gideon was the first to relax. Muttering that he was all right, he shook off Oghren's hold on him and stalked off towards his tent. He called over his shoulder that Nathaniel and Anders would take the first watch.

Oghren looked from Gideon's retreating form back to Nathaniel. He shrugged. "'S'not my sodding battle," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Think I'll go see if I've got any of that ale left. I need a sodding drink." He wandered off, leaving Nathaniel and Anders alone.

Nathaniel stood with his fists clenched, staring at the ground. He took several more deep breaths, fighting to calm himself. It was rare for him to lose his temper; years of training had taught him discipline and restraint. But Gideon's words had caused him to forget all that he'd learned. Part of him still wanted to go tearing after Gideon and finish what they'd started.

Ignoring the pain racing through his body from his new bruises, Nathaniel gathered up the branches that had been scattered during their fight, deciding to start their fire and distract himself from the desire to beat Gideon senseless. He winced in pain as he sat down, doing his best to stifle a groan. On top of the miscellaneous bruises and cuts he'd received, he had a pretty good feeling that at least one of his ribs was cracked. Gideon's strength as a warrior meant his punch had much more force behind it than Nathaniel's ever could.

He flinched as he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Anders crouched next to him. "Lift up your shirt."

Nathaniel blinked at him. "I beg your pardon?"

Anders rolled his eyes. "Relax, Nathaniel. I'm not trying to seduce you." He tugged at Nathaniel's shirt. "You're holding your side, which means something's hurting you. I can't heal you if I don't know what's wrong."

Nathaniel scowled at him. "I don't recall asking you to heal me."

Anders raised an eyebrow. "So you'd rather writhe around in agony instead?" He punctuated his words with a sharp jab to Nathaniel's midsection, the sharp pain nearly causing him to pass out. "Ribs." Anders nodded knowingly. Getting no more resistance from Nathaniel, Anders eased the rogue's shirt far enough up his chest to assess the damage. There were several dark bruises covering his chest, the results of Gideon's large fists pummeling into him.

Nathaniel sucked in a breath of air when Anders placed the palm of his hand against Nathaniel's midsection. "Relax," Anders murmured. The same blue light that had coursed from Anders' fingers when he healed Nathaniel's broken nose a few days ago was pulsing once again, straight into Nathaniel's chest. He grunted as he felt the broken rib begin to mend itself. It was a strange sensation. He could actually feel the jagged edges of the bone realigning themselves.

He watched Anders' hand in fascination as more and more of that blue energy pulsed into his body. His tensed muscles began to relax as the rest of his wounds were healed, his aches and pains melting away.

When Anders was finished, he fished around in the pouch at his waist and pulled out a bottle of what must have been lyrium. Nathaniel had heard about that—how mages who expended a great deal of their mana quickly were able to replenish it with lyrium mined by the dwarves and then distributed by the Chantry. He briefly wondered where Anders would get his supply from now that he was no longer part of the Circle of Magi.

A pointed look from Anders made Nathaniel realize he had been staring at the mage. "Thank you," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

Anders smiled at him. "Not all magic's bad, you know. Some of it's actually quite handy." He sat down next to Nathaniel. "But, that doesn't mean you can take advantage of my kindness by continuing to beat up on our illustrious Commander."

Nathaniel felt himself tense again. He had lost control of himself, completely. And that was unforgiveable. You must always be in control, Nathaniel—that was one of his father's favorite litanies. Loss of control is weakness, and I will not tolerate weakness in this house. Do you hear me?

He heard. He always heard.

He shook his head, angry with himself. "I shouldn't have let him get to me like that." He sighed. "I suppose I should go apologize to him." He made to stand up.

Anders laid a hand on his arm. "Better leave it until morning. Give him a chance to cool off a little."

Nathaniel nodded reluctantly. "I suppose you're right." He realized that his shirt was still rucked up, and hastily pulled it back down. He thought he heard a tiny snicker, but when he looked up, Anders' face was carefully neutral.

Nathaniel spotted the deer carcass that Oghren had been tending to. He doubted anyone was interested in sitting down to a meal right now, but he couldn't let it go to waste. He would divide the meat into good-sized chunks and smoke most of it. That way it'd keep longer. He cut off enough to roast for himself and Anders. After a moment's hesitation, he added enough for Gideon and Oghren, too; they could eat it when they took their turn for watch.

Anders sat hugging his knees, watching Nathaniel work. "Were you and Gideon friends, growing up?" He asked.

Nathaniel shrugged. "Sort of. I was friends with his older brother, Fergus. Gideon was closer to Thomas' age, but they spent as little time around each other as possible." He grimaced, remembering the younger brother who had been so different from himself. "Gideon would tag along behind Fergus and me, to our great annoyance." He smiled wryly. "He always tried to make it look like he had better things to do, but was willing to suffer our presence for the time being."

Anders chuckled. "That sounds like something he'd do. I haven't known him for long, mind you, but he seems pretty . . . stubborn."

"That's one way of putting it."

Tending to the carcass had accomplished at least one thing: focusing his energy on the difficult work had drained him of the remaining traces of his rage. He started the meat roasting and instructed Anders to watch it while he went to clean up. He took his time, and by the time he got back half an hour later, it was ready.

As they were eating, Nathaniel thought about the healing that Anders had performed. He'd never met a mage before, as there weren't that many who lived outside the Circle. And the ones who did were apostates, dangerous to themselves and each other. At least, that's what the Chantry said. He thought about how little he really knew of magic, and, despite himself, he found that he was actually a little curious. "Is it tiring?" he asked suddenly. "Casting spells, I mean."

Anders looked up from his meal, an unreadable look on his face. "Sometimes," he replied. "Depends on how much mana I expend. Really serious injuries can be exhausting to heal, enough to make you pass out if you're not careful." He went quiet for a few moments. "I don't mind, though," he finally said.

Nathaniel looked at him questioningly. "Why not?"

"Because I like helping people. I like . . ." he paused, trying to find the right words. "I like feeling useful, I guess. Doing good." He shrugged. "Magic is meant to serve man, right?" He sounded almost bitter when he spoke that last sentence.

"Why didn't you offer to heal Gideon, then?"

Anders snorted. "Because I'm not suicidal. I doubt he's in the mood to talk to anyone right now. If he needs healing in the morning, he'll come to me." He glanced over at the rogue. "And judging by some of the punches you got in, he'll most likely need to beg some health poultices off of me at the very least."

Nathaniel wished he hadn't asked. He didn't want to think about Gideon right now, nor did he want to think about all the words that had passed between them. Maybe it was foolish for him to continue defending his father. Maybe Gideon was right. But if Nathaniel allowed himself to believe that his father was capable of being that—that monstrous . . .

No. His father had his reasons for doing what he did. Nathaniel knew it. He couldn't allow Gideon to get to him like this. If Gideon wanted to hate him, blame him for what happened to his family, fine. Nathaniel was just going to have to grit his teeth and bear it. Gideon was right. He was Nathaniel's commander now, like it or not. He set aside the rest of his meal, no longer hungry.

Perhaps the noose would have been better after all.