Long-winded author's notes:

Chapter 16 is going to be on hold for a bit as I write the long-overdue side story of Nathaniel and Fergus' past relationship. I hope to have that one finished soon. I revised and reposted chapter 5; everything's the same plot-wise, but it always bothered me that I put so much in-game dialogue in that chapter, so I've rewritten a lot of the conversations.

I commissioned a couple pieces of artwork from DragonReine, an incredibly talented digital artist (see my profile for links to the artwork). "Rest", is for my Nathaniel/Anders story The Time of Your Life, and "Intimacy" is for Unseen Forces. It's not for any particular chapter, it's more of a representation of the story as a whole. I'd like to draw your attention to howhappy and peaceful and in love they both look, so make sure you keep that in mind as you wade through all of the upcoming angst (in other words, there will be good times... someday...)

Love, as always, to my beta Olndina.

Days passed and Nathaniel did his best to avoid Anders as much as he could. So far he'd been fairly successful, volunteering to oversee the slow reconstruction of the Keep and spending as much time in the training yard as possible. He took his meals later than everyone else, and retired to his bedroom right after dinner rather than spending the evening in the library as he usually did. Anders, for his part, had been keeping his distance, smart enough to know that Nathaniel wasn't in the mood for his company in any way whatsoever. Anytime they happened to be in a room together—which Nathaniel made sure rarely happened—Anders stayed away from Nathaniel, consorting with anyone else who happened to be in the room instead. Nathaniel did catch Anders casting frequent glances his way, though he himself made sure Anders didn't notice when Nathaniel was watching him.

He had thought he was doing a good job of hiding his and Anders' falling out from everyone; he did his best to be polite anytime he actually had to speak to Anders directly, and he kept his voice and expression neutral. Therefore he was surprised when Gideon pulled him into his office just after dinner one night.

Gideon sat down behind his desk, a formal air about him; both his demeanor and his choice of seating made it clear that this was not a meeting between two friends, but rather commander and subordinate. "So, do you want to tell me what's going on between you and Anders?"

Nathaniel hesitated for a moment, before deciding on the truth. "He and I had a bit of an argument." He left it at that, hoping Gideon wouldn't poke further. Part of him wanted to tell Gideon exactly what had happened, how he had found Anders in the arms of someone else, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Nathaniel was having a hard enough time trying to sort out his feelings about the incident, and speaking would likely lead to Gideon questioning why Nathaniel was so upset about it. Nathaniel knew damn well why it had bothered him so much, but he wasn't willing to share it with anyone.

Thankfully, Gideon didn't push Nathaniel for details. "Whatever it is, you two need to kiss and make up." Nathaniel twitched at that, eyes widening just a bit. Gideon noticed, a small smile flitting across his lips. "It's just an expression of speech." He sat back in his chair. "What I mean is, this little freeze-out isn't going to work. I can't have my best archer and my best healer completely ignoring each other in the middle of battles with darkspawn." He held up a hand to stave off Nathaniel's protest. "I know we haven't been in that situation yet, but it's going to happen sooner or later. We'll be heading out to the Wending Woods soon; Woolsey won't stop bugging me about the damned bandits, and it'll be easier to just go check it out than to continue listening to her nag at me. I'm taking you both with me, of course, and I fully expect you to have each other's back, as well as mine. And Oghren's," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Look, you don't have to be best friends, but you do have to be comrades. We have precious few Wardens, and I'm not going to lose any of you simply because you're having a spat. I don't care how you fix it, but do it. Soon. Understand?"

Nathaniel nodded his head. "Yes, Commander."

Gideon nodded, a satisfied grin on his face. "Good. Now get out of my office."

oOoOo

Instead of seeking out Anders, though, Nathaniel retreated to the comfort of the training yard. Practicing his archery and swordsmanship for a few hours usually helped to clear his mind, but it quickly became clear that the tactic wasn't going to work this time. Each time he'd concentrate on his target—whether it was the bulls' eye for his arrows or the training dummy for his blade—images of Anders in the arms of that man flooded his mind. The look of pure ecstasy on his face as his cock was being stroked, and worse still, the tiny groans and moans of pleasure that escaped him: Nathaniel had been angry, yes, but he'd also been aroused. From that night onward, he'd dreamt of that scene, except it had been Nathaniel with his hands and his lips pleasuring Anders, pulling all of those delicious noises out of him.

Nathaniel set his bow aside with a sigh. He could train all through the night and into the next day, but it wouldn't be any use. Anders was stuck firmly in his mind. With sweat coating his body and an ache seeping into his muscles, he headed into the Keep and down to the bathing room. A long soak in a tub wouldn't do anything about soothing his mind, but the hot water would hopefully relax his tense limbs.

To his dismay, the room was already occupied, however, it seemed that the man was just finishing up. It wasn't until Nathaniel had closed the door and moved further into the room that he saw it was Anders who was wrapping a towel around himself. Frowning, Nathaniel turned to leave. Despite what Gideon had said about the two of them making up, Nathaniel was in no mood to deal with Anders right now. But the mage's soft voice halted him in his steps.

"How long are you going to keep doing this?" Anders asked, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

"Not sure what you're talking about, Mage," Nathaniel said stubbornly, still turned away.

Anders grabbed another towel from a nearby bench to dry off his hair. "Avoiding me, acting like I don't exist, shall I go on?"

Nathaniel shifted uncomfortably. "I haven't been doing that." He finally turned around to look up at Anders, grey eyes meeting brown, but he quickly looked away. Those eyes were deep enough that he could get lost in them if he wasn't careful.

Even though he was no longer looking at Anders, he could tell the man was rolling his eyes. And he definitely heard the snort of derision. "Right, because 'stay away from me' is just such an inviting statement. But seeing as how we have to see each other all the time, it's kind of hard to do that."

Nathaniel sighed. "What do you want from me, Anders?"

"I want you not to hate me," the mage said quietly, almost sadly. He continued on before Nathaniel could protest. "It was stupid of me to be out in the hallway, I know. A holdover from living in the Tower for so long where we never really had more than a few minutes of privacy at a go. Going in search of a secluded spot took too much time, and increased our chances of getting caught. So we took advantage of empty hallways or classrooms, even bathrooms sometimes. We took our pleasure where and when we could." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for not being more discreet, but I'm not sorry for being with him. If you expect me to feel ashamed about having sex with someone, you're going to be sorely disappointed. I don't even know why you'd be upset about that. Because you think it's wrong to be promiscuous? Or is it because you think it's wrong to be with another man? Would you have reacted the same way if it were a woman?"

Nathaniel didn't answer, he couldn't. How could he tell Anders that what upset him the most was the fact that it wasn't him that Anders was with? He couldn't confess that, though; there would be no point. He may have been willing to come to terms with his attraction to Anders, but he had absolutely no intention of acting on those feelings. They were wrong and inappropriate, and even if they weren't, this was Anders, a man who readily admitted to taking pleasure where and when he could, with as many people as he possibly could. Nathaniel had absolutely no desire to be a notch on the mage's bedpost. He would want more than that, he would need more. The adage "it is better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all" was bullshit. It would hurt him much, much worse to have Anders and then lose him. It had hurt him when it had happened with Fergus, and it would hurt him if it happened with Anders.

His breath caught. Was that actually what he felt for Anders? Love? He wasn't exactly sure, really; that was an emotion he had little experience with. But he realized now with absolute certainty that this was not just infatuation, nor was it a simple crush. Without even thinking about it, Nathaniel had fallen for Anders. Which made all of this so, so much worse.

As he often did when facing something he didn't want to deal with, he went on the attack. "Do you even know what his name is?" Nathaniel asked.

Anders looked confused. "Who are you . . . Oh." His confusion turned to irritation. "I don't see what that's got to do with any of this."

Nathaniel shook his head. "Forget it."

"I don't understand you, Nathaniel," Anders said, almost sadly, "I don't understand you at all. At first I thought you were angry with me for being indiscreet, but it was more than that. You were hurt, I saw it in your eyes. And the only reason I can think of for you being hurt by what I did was if you wanted me for yourself. Is that it, Nate? Were you jealous?"

Nathaniel looked away, his brow creased. "It doesn't matter if I was jealous or not; nothing is going to happen between you and me."

"Why not?" Anders asked calmly. "You're attracted to me, you just said as much. And I think I've made it pretty obvious that I'm attracted to you; so why can't we do something about that?"

Nathaniel gritted his teeth, irritated by how casually Anders was treating all of this. "What exactly is it you want from me, Anders? A quick fuck in the corner? Another meaningless tryst that you won't remember or won't acknowledge the next day?" He shook his head. "Forget it. It is never going to happen, no matter how much you flirt with me or try to charm me." He stood up abruptly and began pacing the floor restlessly. "Maybe I am attracted to you, but I can't help that. Maker knows I wish I could. If I had any say in the matter, I wouldn't feel a damn thing for you." He caught the look of hurt that marred Anders' handsome features, but he ignored it. "We are never going to be together, Anders. Not in any way whatsoever. It would be wrong, on so many different levels that I can't even begin to explain. Set your sights on someone else, Maker knows there are plenty of people around here who'd be willing."

Without another word, he stood up and headed for the door. He tried not to walk too fast, like he was running away, even if that was what he was doing.

As he slipped through the doorway, Anders finally spoke up, his voice soft. "It's not wrong, you know. Wanting another man. Andraste's not going to come strike you down for being attracted to someone who's like you. Neither is your father."

A mixture of anger and hurt filled Nathaniel, but he refused to turn around. Let Anders think what he wanted because it didn't matter. It was close to dinner, but he found that he had no appetite. He wandered up to the battlements, his favorite place in the Keep beside the training grounds, to try once more to clear his head. It became apparent very quickly, though, that it just wasn't going to happen. Anders' words had cut into him, just as Nathaniel's words had likely cut into Anders. He hadn't meant to be so harsh, but he hadn't been able to help himself. The cruel words had tumbled from him unchecked, not uncommon for him. He was like his father in more ways than he would care to admit; breaking other people apart with a sharp tongue came easily to him. It was repairing the damage that was difficult.

It was this comparison between himself and his father that made Nathaniel want to try, though, even if it was too late. As quickly as he had come, he left the battlements and strode down to Anders' room, not allowing himself to think about what he was doing lest he change his mind. He knocked resolutely on the door.

There was a look of surprise on the other man's face as he opened the door and saw who it was. "Nathaniel?" The surprise quickly faded and was replaced by what seemed to be forced indifference. "Did you forget which room was yours?"

Nathaniel took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you, if I could."

It almost looked as if Anders was going to refuse, but after a moment's hesitation he opened the door wider, allowing Nathaniel enough space to slip inside the room. Once inside, Nathaniel looked around, examining the room the Anders had chosen to stay in. This had been Delilah's room when they were younger, but it looked much different now. As Delilah's room, it had been filled with lace and satin, and all things pink. There had been a multitude of toys to play with, including a nearly life-sized dollhouse where Delilah used to drink tea with her dolls and stuffed bears. Nathaniel recalled with a smile the one time Delilah had blackmailed Nathaniel into joining her, threatening to tell their father that it was Nathaniel who had coated their father's favorite pocket-watch with honey. He could no longer recall if he really was the culprit in that crime, or if it had actually been Thomas. Regardless, Delilah had gotten her tea party, though Nathaniel had drawn the line at chatting with her other "guests."

As Anders' room, though, it was clear that not only did this room now belong to a man, but it also belonged to a mage. Various herbs and salves were scattered across the vanity table, and books on almost every subject imaginable were stacked in relatively neat columns along the available wall space. A closer examination of books showed that the favored topic was that of magic and mages, and Nathaniel wondered how Anders had acquired so many books on the subject. He certainly hadn't recalled his family's library being filled with such books.

"I found quite a few of those in Amaranthine," Anders answered Nathaniel's unspoken question, obviously noticing the rogue's interest in his books. "Others I sent away for, or borrowed from the Keep's library. There was also a pretty good stash of them in one of the storerooms on the third floor."

Nathaniel was surprised by that. "I didn't think my family had much interest in the topic of mages."

Anders shrugged. "Someone in your family was open-minded. Obviously, a distant ancestor." Anders smiled wryly. He walked over to Nathaniel, standing a bit closer than the rogue was comfortable with, but he held his ground. He wasn't here for a confrontation. He was here to make peace. "So what was it that you wanted?" Anders asked. "Come to tell me more about how horrid I am?"

Nathaniel frowned, shaking his head. "I don't think you're horrid. In fact, I wanted to apologize." He took a deep breath, plowing on before he could rethink whether or not this was actually a good idea. "I'm sorry, Anders. I'm sorry for everything I said. I didn't–"

Anders interrupted him. "Don't say you didn't mean it, because I know you did." The words were harsh, but his tone of voice was actually soft.

Nathaniel nodded. "You're right, I did mean them. But it was only because I'm afraid." He looked up at Anders. "I'm afraid of what I feel for you. I'm just–"

Anders cut him off again, but this time it was with a kiss. Nathaniel was surprised by the hands coming up to cup his face, by the rough but soft lips pressing against his own. Soon enough, though, he had his arms wrapped around the other man, pulling him close as he kissed him back.

He stifled a noise of disappointment when Anders drew away, but it only took the mage a moment to tug Nathaniel's tunic off and toss it onto the floor. Then he was back in Nathaniel's arms again, kissing him passionately.

Hands were on his chest, and Nathaniel felt himself being pushed backward towards the bed until the backs of his legs hit the mattress, causing him to fall backwards onto it. With a breathless laugh, Anders followed him, straddling his hips as he leaned down to kiss him once more. A few dark wisps rose in Nathaniel's mind, but he pushed them away forcefully, focusing all of his concentration on the feeling of Anders' warm body pressed against his.

Anders was moving so fast that Nathaniel barely had time to react. Before he knew it, his breeches had been unlaced and tugged down to his hips, and slender fingers were wrapping around his length. He let out a small gasp of surprise, which quickly devolved into a groan of pleasure as Anders' hand began to stroke him masterfully. As he pulled slowly at Nathaniel's cock, Anders leaned down and attacked his mouth, sucking on and biting his lips. Nathaniel responded eagerly, if a little clumsily; it had been a long time since he'd been with anyone like this.

Anders eventually moved his kisses to Nathaniel's neck, and then along his collarbone. He worked his way slowly down Nathaniel's body, kissing and nipping every bit of skin that he encountered. Nathaniel was lost in the sensation, every touch setting his nerves on fire. A vague sense of disquiet spread through him, and unidentifiable thoughts and memories skittered through the back of his mind like unknown words on the tip of his tongue.

All conscious and unconscious thoughts thankfully fled from Nathaniel's mind when Anders' lips suddenly enveloped the head of his cock. His eyes drifted and his head tipped back, as he let himself succumb to the intense pleasure. Anders' tongue slid along the length of his cock, lubricating it with saliva before his lips returned once again to the tip. Nathaniel could feel Anders' lips stretching around his girth as he took more and more of his cock into his mouth. His lips slid down until his nose was buried in the nest of curls of Nathaniel's groin.

When Anders swallowed around Nathaniel's length, he nearly lost it. He bucked his hips unconsciously, which prompted Anders to clamp his hands down on the rogue's hips, pinning him firmly to the bed. Nathaniel lay helpless as Anders bobbed his head, sucking hard.

It didn't take Nathaniel long to fall over the edge; it had been too long, and Anders was too skilled for him to have any hope of holding out. He thrashed beneath Anders' hold as he came hard with an incoherent, almost primal, groan.

As he came down from his release and his mind cleared again, the dark wisps came flowing back in. Indistinguishable words whispered in his ear like the crinkling of dried vellum.

He was startled when he felt the press of lips against his; he'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't really registered Anders shimmying back up his body to lie on top of him. He tried to beat back the still-vague memories and senses rising up as an insistent tongue flicked against his lips, parting them to delve inside his mouth. His eyes shot open as he realized the salty taste on Anders' tongue was that of his own seed. And the pressure against his thigh was Anders' cock, grown hard from pleasuring Nathaniel.

Anders' tongue pushed deeper into his mouth, and it was all Nathaniel could do to keep from gagging as he thought about what they—what he—had just done. The black clouds solidified into vivid memories: a furious voice screaming at him, cries of pain. Not again, please not again. He flung his arms up and shoved Anders away from him roughly. He ignored the look of confusion in the mage's eyes as he laced his breeches back up. "Nate?" Anders' voice was laced with worry. "What's wrong? Did I do something?"

Nathaniel got up from the bed without looking at Anders. "This is wrong. I can't—we can't do this." He picked his tunic up from where it had fallen onto the floor, but didn't bother to pull it on. He ignored Anders' voice as he left the room as quickly as he could, shutting the door firmly behind him.

He barely made it into his own room before his legs gave out. His back pressed against the door, he sank limply to the floor. He scrubbed angrily at his eyes as he wrestled the demons of his past. He winced as he felt the ghost of a leather whip biting painfully into his back, over and over again. But it was not just the memory of the whippings he had received that haunted him; it was the look of utter loathing on his father's face as he dealt out Nathaniel's punishment. "Monster!" The voice inside his head screamed at him, the voice of his father. "Wicked! Shameful! You disgust me!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered over and over again into the dark, his apologies encompassing so many things. "Maker, I'm so sorry." He buried his face in his hands, ignoring the quiet knocking on his door and Anders' insistent voice, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. The only thing that did matter was the certainty that no matter how much he apologized, there would never truly be forgiveness for him.