Nathaniel walked through the halls of the keep, feeling better than he had in ages. Before parting in the baths earlier, he and Anders had made a promise to meet up later. Anders would come to Nathaniel's room after nightfall, and though they didn't talk about it specifically, Nathaniel knew that they would do more than sleeping tonight.
It had taken some time for them to get out of the bathing chambers, even after they'd finished with their bath. Nathaniel and Anders had had difficulty keeping their hands off one another as they dressed, caressing bare skin and stealing kisses every now and again as they worked to get their clothes on.
Eventually, every bit of clothing had been tugged on and every button fastened, and it was time to leave the safety and privacy of the bathroom, but not before they embraced for one last long, lingering kiss.
Nathaniel assumed that Gideon would have no need of his Wardens today, given that Velanna was likely still recovering from her Joining (and Gideon was sure to be keeping checking in on Varel from time to time). Nathaniel wondered how Velanna would react when Gideon explained to her the full implications of what it meant to become a Grey Warden. He suspected that she would take it fairly well; Velanna was strong, she had proved that in the Wending Wood. She was not being taken from some soft life, nor was she being torn away from family or friends. She had lost everything, just as Nathaniel had. Velanna would make a fine addition to the team, though he did hope that she and Anders would learn to get along better.
With no assigned duties to perform, Nathaniel more or less had the day to himself. Ignoring Nathaniel's slight frown of disapproval, Anders had decided to steal some breakfast from the kitchen before heading back to bed for a few more hours sleep. Nathaniel was not fond of sleeping in late, as it seemed to be a waste of the day. Especially because it meant he wouldn't get to share breakfast in the dining hall with Anders. He had to admit his attitude towards Anders had changed quite a bit over the last few months, and he wasn't nearly as irritated by Anders choosing to be lazy today as he would have once been. Some of the things about Anders that used to anger Nathaniel had become far more tolerable—some of them even pulling a fond smile from him when no one else was looking.
He was pleased to find Sigrun and Oghren already in the dining hall, their plates piled high with eggs, sausage, and bacon. Oghren looked a little hung-over, but that wasn't anything unusual. Nathaniel sat down beside them with his own plate of food and joined in their conversation, filling Sigrun in on their trip to the Wending Wood and what they'd found in the mine. As Oghren told her all about the Architect, Nathaniel reflected on how strange it was that conversation had become so much easier for him lately. There was a time not long ago where he would have sat by himself in the hall, nodding his greeting to people but rarely conversing with anyone. He still very much enjoyed his solitude and privacy, but he was more social than he ever had been before.
This truly was his home now, and the Wardens were his family. Dwarves and mages, and a man who had once been a childish nuisance . . . and then an enemy . . . and now a friend. The Maker moved in mysterious ways, indeed.
It wasn't unusual that Gideon wasn't dining with them; he was an even earlier riser than Nathaniel. Quite often he would eat breakfast alone, before anyone else was awake. Nathaniel knew from talking with Gideon that the commander had horrible nightmares—even worse than the ones all Wardens experienced. It had to do with him taking the Joining during the Blight. From what Gideon had told him, it was a rare night that he got more than four or five hours of sleep. Given all that was going on, it was amazing that Gideon found enough energy to lead the Wardens. Though Nathaniel was certain it would never occur to Gideon to give up, or even to let someone else take charge for a time. Gideon would push himself beyond the point of exhaustion if he had to.
Nathaniel could understand that. There had been plenty of times while serving in the Free Marches that he had pushed himself past endurance during a mission or a campaign. In the early days of training to become a rogue he would find himself collapsing into his bed at night, barely able to move the next morning. Nathaniel's need to drive himself hard was borne of a need to prove himself to his father, even if the man had ceased all contact with Nathaniel after he'd been sent away. Nathaniel needed to prove to his father that he was strong and capable. That he was worthy. He wasn't entirely sure what it was that drove Gideon.
Gideon would not consider this to be a day of rest. Neither did Nathaniel. After spending nearly ten years as a soldier, he wasn't comfortable with idleness. There was always something to be done—a job to be performed, a task to be accomplished—even if it was minor. This would be a perfect day to spend in the training yard. His archery skills needed no honing, but it didn't do to become complacent. It also wasn't good to become too reliant on one single weapon. He was rusty when it came to using swords, and a good fighter needed to be able to use any weapon at hand. Having a live sparring partner was preferable to using the straw dummies in the training yard, so headed back into the dining hall to see if Sigrun would like to join him. She was a tenacious fighter, she wouldn't go easy on him even if they were just practicing.
oOoOo
"Not bad, Nathaniel," Sigrun said several hours later after Nathaniel conceded defeat for at least the third time. She clapped him on the back. "We'll make a duster of you yet."
Nathaniel favored her with a rare smile as he sheathed his sword. "I think that is the highest compliment I've ever received from you."
Sigrun laughed. "Don't let it go to your head."
"I would not dream of it." He followed Sigrun out of the practice yard and into the keep. The smell of stew wafted through the hallway.
"Thank the Maker," Sigrun said as she followed the scent into the dining hall. "I'm starving." Nathaniel's own stomach rumbled with hunger; breakfast had been several hours ago, and they'd both worked up quite an appetite with their sparring.
To Nathaniel's great pleasure, Anders arrived a half hour after the meal started and sat down casually next to him.
"Don't tell me you've been asleep all this time," Nathaniel said, low enough so as not to be heard by the others sharing their table.
"Of course not." Anders helped himself to a large bowl of stew. "After I checked on the Seneschal to see how he was recovering, Pounce and I spent a very relaxing morning in the library."
Nathaniel could picture very clearly in his mind the image of Anders sitting in an overstuffed chair near the window in the library, dangling a piece of string for Ser Pounce-a-lot to bat at. He wasn't usually one for idle fantasies, but the scene filled him with a sense of longing, and a wish that he'd spent the day in Anders' company after all. Though his inability to just be lazy would have made him antsy and possibly a little bored after only a short time. Perhaps Anders could teach him how to be idle. He'd very much like to learn how to spend a lazy day doing nothing much at all. Provided Anders was with him, of course.
Perhaps Anders could read his mind, or maybe he noticed something in Nathaniel's expression, because he very gently bumped shoulders with Nathaniel, making sure that no one saw. "It would have been nice if you'd been there." He smiled. "I will get you to learn how to relax one of these days."
Nathaniel couldn't help but return the smile. "Are you sure you'd be up for such a difficult task?"
Anders laughed. "You'd be surprised how much I can accomplish if I set my mind to something."
Nathaniel already knew that from past experience. Behind Anders' mask of flippancy and apathy lay a stubborn strength that could carry him through any situation. Anders was genuinely good-natured, but Nathaniel had known Anders long enough now that he could tell that most of his carelessness was a front. In many ways he was every bit as strong and determined as Nathaniel was.
"How is the Seneschal?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Varel's a tough old bird," Anders replied. "He thinks he's fit to go back to work already, but I made him promise to stay in bed for at least another day. Even fully-healed wounds can take a physical toll on a body."
"Varel's not a young man anymore," Nathaniel agreed, knowing that age took a part in how long it took to recover from a serious wound. The body needed time to recover from the trauma.
After lunch was finished, Anders went to check on Varel once more—most likely to make sure the man hadn't leapt out of bed and tried to return to his duties. Anders and Nathaniel shared a long, lingering look before parting ways. Nathaniel desperately wanted to kiss Anders, but there were too many people around. He'd make it up to Anders tonight.
It occurred to him belatedly that Gideon had not been at lunch—that made two missed meals for the commander. Nathaniel wasn't necessarily concerned; Gideon was a grown man who could take care of himself. Still it wouldn't hurt to check in on him.
If Nathaniel was right in his suspicions that Gideon wasn't taking advantage of this day of leisure, he would likely be in his office; working on strategy, poring over records—trying to decide what their next move should be. It would be prudent for Nathaniel to offer any help he could. He knew this country better than Gideon did; if Gideon was planning on looking into what happened to that Grey Warden who disappeared, Nathaniel would be well-suited to offer advice regarding the most likely places for them to start looking.
Though if this Kristoff had indeed gone to the Blackmarsh, it was possible that he was dead by now. Strange rumors surrounded the area; stories of dangerous creatures and ghosts. Nathaniel didn't believe the part about ghosts, but he wouldn't be surprised about the dangerous creatures. Every single person living in that village had vanished once upon a time—definite signs of dangerous dealings.
He nearly ran into the man who was exiting Gideon's office.
"Pardon me," Nathaniel said automatically, looking up. His eyes widened in recognition and disbelief as he saw who it was. "Teyrn Loghain."
"A teyrn no longer, I'm sorry to say," Loghain said dryly. He looked Nathaniel up and down, inspecting him. "You're Rendon's boy, aren't you? Nathaniel."
It was a little surprising that Loghain recognized him. Nathaniel had been no more than 12 or 13 the last time he had seen the former teyrn. And although Loghain looked much the same, albeit with a few more lines on his face and a bit more grey in his hair, Nathaniel had changed quite a bit as he had grown into an adult. He'd always been told that he greatly resembled his father, though.
It was on the tip of his tongue to make the standard polite remark of it is good to see you again, but that wouldn't be even close to the truth. Not anymore. He opted instead for "I'm surprised to see you here."
Loghain chuckled mirthlessly. "Don't worry, I won't be staying. I only wished to speak with the Commander before leaving." His expression turned sour. "Weisshaupt has seen fit to send me to Orlais. I'm not sure if it's meant to be a punishment, or a reward."
"Orlais?' Nathaniel asked incredulously. "Aren't you needed here in Ferelden?" Not that Nathaniel particularly wanted to serve alongside Loghain, but there were too few Wardens left in Ferelden as it was—it seemed foolish to decrease their numbers.
"You would think so, wouldn't you?" Loghain drawled. "But the First Warden seems to think everything is under control." He gestured back towards Gideon's office. "Your illustrious leader seems to think the same thing."
Either that, or Gideon has even less desire than I do to fight alongside the man responsible for King Cailan's death, Nathaniel thought to himself. "The Commander a good leader," he said aloud.
"Indeed he is," Loghain agreed. "I daresay Gideon was born to be a leader. Men would give their lives to protect him in battle." He shot a glance at the pendant around Nathaniel's neck, the one containing a few drops of darkspawn blood. "Judging by that, perhaps you are one of those men."
Nathaniel said nothing. He fought alongside Gideon gladly, but he wasn't entirely sure if he would actually lay down his life for the youngest Cousland. No, that wasn't entirely true. He would give his life in battle if it meant saving the life of one of his comrades, Gideon included. His life belonged to the Wardens now.
"Well," Loghain said, after a long moment of silence between them, "I suppose it is time for me to take my leave."
"You aren't stopping here for the night?" Nathaniel asked, surprised but not exactly disappointed. "Surely the commander offered you a room."
"He did indeed," Loghain answered, "but I am not so old that I'm incapable of roughing it." He paused, his eyes taking on a faraway look that seemed uncharacteristic. "Besides, I would like to enjoy these lands as much as I can . . . it is quite likely I will never see Ferelden again." Loghain was walking away as he spoke those last words, and he was nearly to the door of the main hall when Nathaniel stopped him. This was the only chance he would ever have, and he needed to know.
"Did you know about my father," he asked bluntly. "Did you know about the things he did during the Blight?"
Loghain stopped and turned back towards Nathaniel, fixing him with a piercing gaze. "Everyone knows by now of Rendon's actions during the Blight. If you're asking if I knew at the time—no, I did not. I gave Rendon a significant amount of leeway. Far too much, as it turned out."
"He was your closest ally," Nathaniel protested. "How could you not have known what he was up to? The slavery . . . the imprisonment and torture of innocent people." He was trying his best to keep calm, but was having difficulty. It would be so easy to be able to blame Loghain, to think that the former teyrn had somehow forced his father to commit those crimes.
To his credit, Loghain neither flinched nor looked away from Nathaniel. He stood, proud and unashamed, resolute in his beliefs. "Ferelden was in the midst of war on all fronts—many things were done out of necessity that some might consider . . . monstrous. That doesn't mean they didn't need doing."
"Like what happened at Highever? Killing all of those innocents was necessary?"
"Rendon did tell me about the unfortunate events at Highever, how Bryce and Eleanor were killed." No mention of the countless others who were massacred that night. "They were traitors to Ferelden; Bryce would have lent his considerable army to Orlais had Rendon not stopped him. Treason comes with a high price."
Nathaniel felt his anger flaring. Ironic that he was now defending Gideon when it was not all that long ago that he believed that lie of treason. "And what price have you paid?" he asked contemptuously.
Loghain finally broke eye contact and turned back to the door. "More than you will ever know, boy."
Nathaniel wanted to call him back, question him further, but he refrained. He had seen Loghain's face before he turned away, that briefest of moments when an immeasurable grief had twisted his already craggy face.