A/N: Writing dialogues is hard, dammit. But I wanted to churn this one out anyway. We all have an idea of how this conversation must have went, but I was curious to hear exactly what was said and how. If you got a better rendition, I'm all ears. Fair warning: it's a long one, so probably typo bombs aplenty.

XXX

Family Reunion

Nathaniel is finally forced to confront some uncomfortable truths but also discoveres some rather pleasant ones in the process. Bonus apperances: Soup! …unless it was stew.

XXX

The room was small but airy, just like the rest of the home. It was, beyond doubt, a home; a neat, tidy place connected to the area below via a short flight of stairs behind the heavy curtain in the back of the shop.

Nathaniel found it surreal.

Darkwood door with brass carvings led into the apartment. He noted absentmindedly as Delilah ushered him in that while sturdy, the lock would present no challenge to him. Should he mention that to her?

The place really was small: two rooms on one side, kitchen and a dining area with no partition between them on the other; a privy and a terrace overlooking the inner courtyard shared by another building. But it was bright - pastel colours, no dust, small, fluffy pillows scattered on the sofa in the larger of the two rooms in which Delilah deposited him and sat herself beside him. She always loved pillows. Her room had been full of them, once. Back when they both still lived at the Keep…

The first words he could get past his throat after just standing there for a small eternity, in tight embrace and the murmurs of 'I missed you, I missed you, I missed you' was to tell her to come back to Vigil with him. Delilah had merely laughed before happily grabbing his hands and ushering him into her home: "Don't be silly, Nathaniel." He couldn't see what was so silly about it, but he was beginning to now, as the smell of clean linens, darkwood and lentil soup permeated his nostrils in this huddled little nest.

She still hadn't let go of his hands. He didn't want her to, either, but then she sniffed once and almost jumped off the sofa: "Maker, my soup!" and rushed into the kitchen before Nathaniel could protest. "Be right back!" she called out, "It's okay - nothing's burnt," she went on while all Nathaniel could think of was that she shouldn't be jumping around like that when she was pregnant and…

Maker's mercy - His sister was pregnant! He hand't even seen it at first, hugging her tightly in the street as he was, and now he wondered how in the world could he have missed spotting it right away. Sitting there on that sofa, he was fast learning the meaning of the words "dumbstricken" and "at loss for words".

"I'm such a terrible cook," Delilah popped back into the room, re-acquired his hands and settled back beside him. "But I saved the soup!" she beamed and Nathaniel couldn't help but smile in return. "Albert tought me how to cook."

"Albert…?" His mind was still trying to catch up with all this.

"My husband, silly," Delilah laughed, but then her smile softened into something deeper - more tender and with a hint of pain. "I tought you were dead, Nate," she said softly, squeezing his hands that bit harder.

"I…" There was a stone in his throat and he swallowed hard to push it down. "I thought the same of you."

There was a moment of silence before realization dawned them both and understanding washed over Delilah's features.

"Oh, Nate…" She squeezed his hands tightly, and for a moment there, he felt like he was the younger one of the two. "It must have been so terrible for you, wasn't it."

It wasn't a question but a statement; he could practically see the her toughts unraveling a tapestry of what must have happened as she effortlessly put two and three together and the feeling of being the younger one intensified at the sight.

"You rushed straight back from the Free Marches the moment you heard, didn't you?"

He nodded. What was there to say? His sister understood him, better than he had known. Or expected. His little sister - no longer a child, but a grown woman. Maker, has it really been that long? In his mind's eye, he still saw a girl of seventeen, and exactly as much of an adult and as much of a child as a noble girl of seventeen can be. And now she had another life growing inside her.

Her voice dragged him back to the present, "What have you heard?" Quiet, soft and quivering just slightly; her eyes seemed to have turned a deeper shade of grey. It couldn't have hurt more if someone stabbed a hot needle through his heart. His jaw tightened, his own voice coming out hoarse as all the bitterness from before came back to him in full force.

"All the lies you expect the victors to spew when they need to justify their deeds. When they need a villain to their heroes. That father was-"

He stopped, suddenly, as Delilah pulled back, her hands still holding his but her expression turned into something Nathaniel could not quite place. Blank, and slightly susprised, but only for a moment. She stared at him for one long moment and then averted her gaze and lowered her head.

"You have always worshiped him, Nate. So, so very much," she whispered, throat full of sorrow. "Nathaniel…" She squeezed his hands once, sharply, and he thought she would start to cry. "Whatever you have heard…"

He really did think she would start to cry - his own eyes already burned with held-back tears - that she would unload all the grief and pain she had felt all this time, at their father's death, their family's demise, the scorn and isolation they now both shared in; that she would tell him that whatever he had heard, it was all vicious, bitter lies. But Delilah raised her head and instead said:

"…the truth was even worse."

It wasn't what she said, it was how she said it: a harsh near-whisper, bitter, almost angry, and eyes hard as stone. And he still could have taken it the wrong way: that she was telling him that what had truly happened was even worse than he had tought; but her next words dispelled such notion even as he was grasping for it.

"Father was a monster."

It hit him like a maul; the harsh, strangled voice, the vehemence with which she spoke and, yes, hatred in her eyes. Shocked, he pulled back, gasped.

"How… How can you say that?"

"How can I not?" she cried. "You weren't here, Nathaniel. You… you have no idea what he has done."

What he has done… What he has done?! Reeling from shock, he got a sudden urge to grab his sister by the shoulders and shake her, hard. It was only the sight of her rounded belly that stopped him from doing exactly that.

"Delilah! Whatever he did-" She cut him off.

"He murdered the Couslands, Nathaniel! And that was just the start!"

He pulled back as she let go of his hands, the pastel colours of the quaint little room in stark contrast with the vivid pain and anger on his sister's face. She suddenly looked so out of place here, the background so wrong for the harsh emotions displayed against it. It all felt wrong, he felt all wrong and yes, he had heard about the Couslands and yes, he had heard his father had played a part in that, but…

"The Couslands were conspiring with the Orlesians! They were traitors! Father must have-"

"Is that what you heard, Nathaniel?" She almost laughed. "Is that what you heard?"

She sagged mid-sentence.

"…or is that what you wanted to hear?" she finished quietly.

Nathaniel's vision swirled, Delilah's sad, dissapointed voice ringing in his ears as her words stroke a chord he refused to acknowledge.

"Delilah, I…"

"You never could accept the truth, Nathaniel. About him." She clutched at a pillow. "You always had an excuse, no matter what he did. Always. No matter how cruel, or harsh or strict or just wrong he had been. To us. To anyone."

His shoulders sagged. Delilah had always been a bit of a rebel at heart, but always stayed shy of actual confrontation. That she would still carry a grudge from so long ago was… Well, it was Delilah that he remembered. He felt like the older one again.

"Delilah," he pleaded, "We were children. And we were a handful. He had to-"

"And you still do it!" She straightened up, her hands clenched around the corners of a pillow at odds with the wounded expression on her face. "Even now! After all this time! After everything that had happened, and you still defend him. Nate, how can you?!"

She brought the pillow up to her chest and hugged it, leaned her chin against it and looked up. Breeze fluttered a curtain and a ray of sunlight fell across her hair, making it appear lighter than it was.

"Do you know he never even spoke of you? Not even once?" Her voice was constricted, pained. "You always tought the world of him - you still do. And he never even spoke your name? His eldest son, his heir, and he just shipped you off and then acted like you didn't even exist!"

She started to sob. Nathaniel leaned forward and took hold of her hands. She didn't let go of the pillow, just lowered her forehead on his knuckles and wept softly. "Like you were never there, Nate. And then you stopped writing and I didn't know what to-"

He frowned, confused. "I did write. Almost every month. But then you stopped replying and…" She looked up, swallowing back a sob.

"I never got those letters." She bit at her lip. "I mean… I did, at first. The first year, and the second, but then… Then you stopped responding and I tought…" she floundered for a moment, "I don't know what I tought. But it didn't matter either way: father had forbidden me to write any more, me and Thomas both. Tommy never wrote to you anyway."

"No. He didn't." And now never will. He didn't want to think about his brother right then, not yet. He couldn't. When Nathaniel was twenty-two, he had been sent to the Free Marches; when Thomas was twenty-two, he was dead. Delilah sniffled.

"But I did. And then after a year or so, father said I am to stop. That you are a grown man and you need to come into your own, that you need toughen up and learn to rely on yourself and that you don't need a little sister clinging to your shirt. And that I need to grow up too, and start acting like it. That I… That I will probably get married soon so I should prepare myself to be a proper wife and worthy of our name, not waste my time writing to a brother who soon won't be a part of my life anyway."

That… sounded like something their father would say. It sounded exactly like what their father would say. But harsh as it may seem it was still… It was still the way life worked, the way nobles ought to carry on. And he was preparing them for it, the best he could. He told that to her. She bit her lip again.

"That's what I tought, at first. But now…? Now I think- no, now I know that is not the real reason he made me stop writing to you. Not all of it. …He did not want you to know, Nate. And he didn't want you back." He started shaking his head, wanted to protest, but Delilah pressed on. "No, Nate - Listen to me. He wanted us to lose touch, to grow estranged. Because more apart we grew, less reason you'd have to come back. Just.. just look at what happened. You stayed away for eight years - Full eight years, Nathaniel. It was supposed to be just a few…"

"I…" he stammered, brain swimming. "Father had not called me back-"

"And he never would have. He wanted you gone, Nate. For good. Because… Because I was to be married off or.. something, and Tommy was a mere puppet in his hands. Neither of us could do anything about it. But you? He couldn't play you, Nate, not like that. You could have stood up to him. And you would have, had you been here for it all."

He still shook his head, disbelieving. His sister was making no sense. "Delilah, that's absurd. Are you telling me that you think father had everything planned nearly a decade in advance? Whatever that 'everything' even is? That is… That is just absurd."

"No, Nate. No, it is not. He was always an ambitious man. You know that."

"Ambition is not a crime."

"But it can lead one to crime," she countered. "The… atrocities he had commited," she shivered at the mere tought, "It was horrible, Nate. He turned into a monster, true monster. He always had it in him - No, don't interrupt, please. Do you remember Aiden? The gamekeeper?"

It took him a moment to remember what she was talking about, but only a moment. Yes, he remembered Aiden… All too well.

"Do you remember what he did to him? I… I cried myself to sleep for a week afterwards. And for what? All… that for a single doe? Nathaniel, that was…"

Bile rose at the memory, yet he still could not accept it. "It was… harsh, yes. Perhaps harsher than it should have been, but-" Delilah clenched her small hands into fists, clutching the edges of the pillow so hard he tought it would rip.

"No "but", Nathaniel! There is no "but"! What he did was just horrible, period! …and he enjoyed it, Nate. He enjoyed it. That look in his eyes that he had? It… it scared me, Nathaniel, scared me so bad. Father was… a cruel man, Nahaniel. And worse. He… enjoyed cruelty; he always had. He just kept it curbed. Mostly. And then… didn't."

"Delilah…?"

They both looked up, startled, as the door to the room opened to reveal a man standing in them. Nathaniel tensed instinctively, feeling very, very awkward all out of sudden. This must be Delilah's husband (and how did the man move so quietly he didn't even hear him until just now?). He had no idea what to expect but he had a good guess as to what a man might think when walks into his own room to find his young, pregnant wife holding hands with a perfect stranger.

"Albert!" Delilah exclaimed happily, her gloom from second ago gone in an instant.

The man's lips curled slightly in a puzzled little smile as he looked from his wife to Nathaniel. "Um… Hello?"

"Oh, Albert!" She jumped from the sofa without letting go of Nathaniel's hands, giving him a little tug as she rose. "I'm so happy you came! Come in and meet my brother," she beamed.

Aforementioned brother stood up after her, feeling more awkward by a moment. The man crossed the room and gave Delilah a kiss on the cheek and Nathaniel relaxed a little. The man still had that half-puzzeled smile but there was no anger in his eyes. Instead, he looked at Nathaniel with merely mild confusion.

"Your brother? But… I tought your brother was-" He was going to say "dead" but then suddenly remembered. "Oh. Your other brother. I'm sorry love, I completely forgot…" He stopped and looked at Nathaniel, embarrassment slowly spreading across his face. "Oh my, this was tactless, wasn't it? I'm sorry, ser." He looked at Delilah with a 'whoops' expression, then back at Nathaniel and then at Delilah again. "Um... Do you think I could go out and then walk in again and do it right this time?"

Delilah burst into laughter and Nathaniel couldn't help but chuckle himself, if only at the sudden absurdity of everything that had happened today so far. "That's all right, ser. No harm done. I have been away for eight years after all. I'm Nathaniel." He offered his hand, once Delilah remembered to release it. "The man clasped it firmly.

"Albert. It's an pleasure to finally to meet you. And please, accept my condolences about your brother."

Nathaniel nodded, noting that Albert hadn't offered such commiseration about his father as well. Regardless, in these few short moments that he'd known him he found he had liked the man. He wasn't what one would call 'handsome' but he had that… something about him that spoke to people. Light brown hair, a bit messy, and large, deep brown eyes. He must have been around Nathaniel's age, though it was hard to tell. There were wrinkles around his eyes and his mouth which possibly made him look slightly older than he truly was. But they were happy wrinkles, the kind one sees on people who smile a lot, and Albert was indeed smiling, inside and out and his eyes were kind.

Whatever else might have happened while he was gone and however much his siter must have suffered before, Nathaniel knew then and there that she had married a good man and that she was truly happy now. And in that moment, that was all that really mattered.

He was snapped out of his toughts as Albert sniffed the air, the same way Delilah had when she first showed him in and it was Delilah's turn to turn a shade of 'whoops'.

"My… soup?"

"I'll get it."

Delilah smiled sheepishly as Albert quickly mounted a lunch-saving mission in the kitchen. "I'll… Buy you lunch?"

It was at that moment that Nathaniel's stomach decided to voice its protest at being neglected since early last night and it did so loudly. Delilah's eyes widened a fraction. "Double portion?" She chuckled and took his hand. "Come. Let's see if Albert managed to save us all from starvation. "

They entered the kitchen just as Albert was moving a large, steaming pot off the stove and onto the table. "There now," he chuckled and went to set the plates. "Though I'm afraid it's more of a stew than a soup now." Delilah watched him open the cupboard and frowned when she saw he only pulled two plates out.

"You're not staying?"

Albert put the plates down and gave them both a soft smile. "No. You two have a lot catching up to do I'd wager. You don't need me around." He produced the cutlery and a loaf of bread as he spoke.

"I'll pop over to Karelyn's to see about that shipment. She's been bugging me about it for a whole week, so might as well get it over with. And then I'll go see Frederick before he sails out. I'll see you for dinner, love." He hugged Delilah and gave her a small kiss, then put a gentle hand on her belly. "You too, little one." He turned to Nathaniel. "I'm truly happy to have finaly met you. Please, don't be a stranger from now on."

"Thank you," Nathaniel said, and the two shook hands before Albert left and Delilah ushered him to the table. He didn't need to be asked twice.

XXX

The kitchen was bright, like the rest of the house, ample sunlight coming in through the window for the better part of the day. And the soup - or was it a stew now? - did look tasty, even though it smelt slightly burnt. There was a healthy portion of meet in it, too; his sister and her husband were indeed doing well. Nathaniel dug in.

"This is good," he said between two mouthfulls. Delilah chuckled into her spoon.

"You are such a terible liar, Nate."

"Only a bit," he teased. "So… You learned how to cook."

"I learned many things, Nate." It sounded like she meant more than just housework, bu t she didn't dwell on it and instead continued lightly: "Except knitting. I just can't get knitting at all. And no matter how hard I try or what I want to make, it always comes out as a scarf. So, I gave up on knitting. What about you?"

"I can darn a sock."

She laughed, nearly spilling her spoon. It was good to hear her laugh. "I meant, what have you learned? And how were the Free Marches anyway? Anything exciting?" She put on a mishivous grin. "Any girl you'd like to tell me about?"

It took all he had to restrain a grin. "I had a good mare there if that's what you're asking. Real beauty, blue roan, excellent rot…"

She threw a piece of bread at him. "You're being impossible." He couldn't contain a chuckle any more and she stuck out her tongue at him and giggled in return.

The rest of the lunch passed pretty much the same, Delilah telling him about the shop and the latest gossips, about the baby and the recent Wintersend, he sharing few odd stories and anecdotes about the Free Marches. Both avoided the topic of their father and everything that had happened during the war and the Blight. But once they were finished and Nathaniel had some time to both calm his nerves and gather his toughts he took Delilah's hand and said:

"All right. Tell me what really happened. Everything."

Her expression turned serious. "And you promise you'll listen?" He nodded. "All right then. Let's just clean up the table first."

XXX

After depositing the plates and the now empty pot into the sink, they moved back into the larger room they were sitting in before. The smaller room, Delilah explained, was all prepared for when the baby arrives. Nathaniel realized he forgot to ask.

"When are you due?"

She smiled and stroked her stomach. "In a month. Well, more like three weeks now- Ow!" His suddenly startled expression made her giggle again. "Looks like somebody's eager to meet his uncle. Want to feel it?"

She took his hand and placed it on her belly as Nathaniel suddenly acquired that same dumbstricken expression of men everywhere when confronted with the mystery that was a female womb. And the same goofy smile when the baby moved under his fingers.

"I'm… going to be an uncle," was all the coherence he could muster.

Another chuckle, before she turned serious again. "Yes, yes you are, Nate. And you better be a good one, too. But first, you need to know why I am so happy that the baby won't have a grandfather as well."

She pulled him back onto the sofa, curled up beside him and pondered where to begin. "Tell me what you heard, first. I don't know how much or little reached the Free Marches - there was so much going on here at that time. And then tell me what you heard when you came back. I know you Nate; you don't run into things blindly so you must have asked around first. So tell me what you heard and then tell me what you thought you heard. And then I'll tell you the real truth."

Nathaniel breathed in deeply and nodded. "Very well. Here is what I know…"

It took a while to tell the whole story, though he tried to keep it short and to the point. Bitternes crept back into him and grew with every next word he said, slowing him down, though this time tempered somewhat by the fact that no matter what had happened, his sister came out of it unharmed and had even found hapiness at the end of it all. But what slowed him down more then bitterness and, yes, the pain that still bit at his chest was the growing feeling of… wrongness that increased as he moved along. It had been easy to stew on his own, especially when he thought he was now truly alone, to doubt and to anger, to hurt and to nurse revenge. It had been easy to keep the internal monologue going, but there was something about hearing those thoughts spoken out loud, to another, that made those same thoughts that he was so certain about sound… off, somehow. Hollow. …Wrong. Especially when he had Delilah's face to read as he spoke: the tiny twitch of an eye muscle at this word, furrowing of eyebrows at that one and by the time he had finished he found he was far less certain of things than he had previously been. And because of it, as well as few other reasons, he stopped short of telling her about the last two weeks he had spent here and ended his story with his coming to Amaranthine from Denerim without telling her when, exactly, he had arrived.

Delilah remained silent for a while after he was done, merely watched him with a mixture of sadness and deep, caring love. When she finally broke the silence her first words were:

"Pretty much everything you heard was true, Nate. And pretty much everything you made of it is not. You are not going to like this, Nathaniel, and not just because I know how much you hate being wrong about things. You won't like it because there is nothing there to like. Or approve of. Or excuse." Her hands plucked at the pillow absently as she begun.

/

"I suppose it officialy started with the Couslands but in truth, it begun long before that. There were always signs, Nate: father was not a nice man. And soon after you left he… He started growing ambitious, far more then he used to be. I'm not sure I can explain it, really - on the surface everything seemed fine. But in reality? It just… wasn't."

"It was nothing much at first, but it grew fast. He started confering with other nobles more actively, more then ever and you know how he was always keen to have his hand and his say in everything he deemed important. Well… he became even more so, so much that it started to frighten me. I know it sounds silly to be afraid of your own father just because he plunges himself into poiltics but Nate, it wasn't just a plunge, it was an obsession. And it grew, and his ambition with it. Or perhaps… Perhaps it was the other way around and that ambition, that obsession was always there and he was only waiting to give it full wings..."

/

"And eventually he did. But before that, he begun… 'consolidating his hold' he called it. The truth? He just became more vicious as time went by. The dungeons were always full, he punished people for slightest transgressions. To show he rules his land with a steady and firm hand, he had said, to show both the people and other nobles that he was capable of keeping both order and peace. And that if he were capable, soon enough he would be given more. Because he deserved more. But Nate, he also enjoyed it. There were incidents in the past, you know of that. Aidan, and a few others. But later on? He enjoyed it, and once he realized he could do it and get away with it, he begun indulging himself. And then it wasn't just the incidents, it was Aidan all the time..."

/

"And it only got worse. He was always cold, and distant to us. He grew colder still. I… was just an asset to him, a pawn to eventually play in a game of marriage, and Tommy… He started grooming him to be his heir almost immediately after you left. And it was so obvious, too. Only… he did not want Tommy to be his heir, he wanted him to be his puppet. And Tommy… Tommy was always a bit of a mush, and he always had a penchant for drink. But father pushed him so hard he became a true drunk within a year. Well, at least he was a happy drunk. Most of the time, anyway. I think it was just easier for him to lose himself in a bottle and pretend that nothing is happening at all. Maybe. I don't know. All I know is that father wanted everything, and he would do anything to achieve that. And then when the true opportunity presented itself, he took it - purposely and with pleasure..."

/

"You heard about the Couslands, but not the whole story. The Darkspawn were already gathering in the Korcari Wilds, though no one yet believed it was really another Blight. The Couslands already sent their troops to Ostagar. I hear Fergus left that very evening, just before the… the massacre. And it was a massacre, Nate; butchery in cold blood. He killed them all. It was the only reason he went to their home: to murder. I… I don't know if he had already thrown his hand in with Loghain at that time or did that come later, but… That look in his eye when he returned? It was… Horrible. He was the one who came up with the whole Orlesians and traitors story and sure, he kept up apperances in public, but back home? I've seen him Nate, and he was postively glowing with satisfaction. And I was terrified. You can't imagine what it was like, Nate - to live in such fear every day, to wake up with it in the morning and go to bed in the night, every day, every night, to feel, to know I'm just a pawn and if father decides it would further his plans he would sacrifise me just as easily as everyone else. I was afraid, Nate. I was so afraid… When Tommy died, later, in the war, he didn't even blink! He was merely… Frustrated, that's all. Frustrated that something put a kink in his plans. That was all Tommy was to him, Nate. All we all were to him: not his children, only tools..."

/

"When Loghain gave him Denerim it was a relief. I was relieved. He wanted me to come with him but I pretended to be sick so I wouldn't have to go. And that's when I escaped. He arranged for a carriage to take me a week after him and I… I ran away the very same night he left. And if it weren't for Albert, I don't know what would have become of me. I knew Albert from before and… Well, I admit I fancied him already but you know father would never allow such a thing. But when he left all he could think of was how even more power came into his hands now, and so… I ran away. And I don't know if he even knew about it. And if he did, he certainly did not care any more. He had his power, and wanted more still, but he no longer needed me to secure it so if I was gone then good riddance to me..."

/

"Albert saved me, in every way possible, but that is a story for another time. I've been here for about a month when we started getting news from Denerim. About how he ruled it. About what he did. They… they say he actually moved his quarters into the dungeons. So he could be closer to… You know… I don't know if that was true or not, but I wouldn't be surprised if it were. And then after the Landsmeet, we heard a lot more. About what he did. How he kidnapped the Queen. And others. How he sold people to the Tevinters. How he… Nate, when we heard he was dead, I cheered! I cheered and if I felt anythign else then it was regret that someone hand't done it sooner. He was a monster, Nate, a vicious, ambitious monster. Everything that had happened, to us, with us, it was him. Only him. May the Maker curse his soul forever."

XXX

Daylight was slowly waning and Nathaniel set with his face in his hands, Delilah's hand on his shoulder, her words swirling through his brain over and over again. He felt like a mountain came crushing down on him and he was squirming in vain, trying to make sense of it all. To no avail.

"Maker…"

It was a lot to take in, as Delilah's words made him tear down everything he tought he knew and rearrange it into something even worse, all the while trying to reconcile in his mind's eye the image of a man, slightly distant yet faintly smiling, leading a small boy to Amaranthine fair with the cold, cruel monster from Delilah's tale. It was a futile attempt, made all the worse for the fact that it had succeeded.

And beneath all that, a growing resentment aimed at his own self. He had heard all that before, all of it. And he refused to believe it, instead twisted the truth into what he had wanted the truth to be. How could he have been so blind, so... stupid? Such stubborn fool? But he knew how, and he knew why, and that made everything ten times harder to accept. He was aware that deep inside, he was still fighting it, some part of him still wanting to believe that what Delilah had told him was not true. And he hated himself for that.

It wasn't just that he was wrong about what happened recently - He was forced to re-examne everything he ever knew in this new light. Or semi-new. A part of him had always known… And yet… He had a lot to think about.

"Nate..?"

He didn't respond at first so Delilah squeezed his shoulder harder. "Nate."

He looked up. "It's getting dark, Nate. Come on, let's get you settled into the small room. I can get you some sheets and-"

He shook his head in refusal. "No, no. I… I should go." He moved to stand up, but Delilah held him back.

"It's getting dark, Nate. Where would you go? Come, get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

He won't. Maker, he so won't. And he couldn't stay here, not for the night, not for another moment. He needed some air, he needed to think, better yet not to think at all for a while. And he couldn't do that in here, in this house. This was Delilah's home, not his, and he wasn't a part of that life. She was his sister, but he… he was an outsider, a pariah, now more than ever.

He didn't tell her any of that, however.

"I really need to go, Delilah. I must return to the Keep; I already stayed more than I should have."

Delilah paused, that bright brain of hers putting things together faster than Nathaniel could spin them. "The Keep? What would yo do back in the Vigil and- Wait! Return to the Keep? You've been there already? When? Why…?"

He didn't want to tell her, not yet, but he had no choice now. "I returned to Ferelden nearly three weeks ago, Delilah. And… I joined the Grey Wardens."

She opened her mouth to say something and then closed them when her brain supplied no words for her. She blinked and tried again. "You… Joined the Wardens." She honestly did not know what to make of that. "That's… great. Right?" But before he could reply one way or another, it dawned on her.

"Wait, wait. You've been here for three weeks. And you joined the Wardens. But not the Orlesian ones. We heard about the attack and that they all died. So that must mean you joined under the new Warden-Commander. Who also happens to be the Hero of Ferelden. Who also happens to be the woman who… But you thought that father was… I mean, I only told you all that had happened just now and even this morning you still bellieved that…" Her line of thought came to a standstill. "I… I don't want to know how that went down, do I?"

"Not smoothly. Let us… leave it at that for now."

"M-hm. Right. Well… Are you going to hike all night then? There's only about an hour of light left, and…"

He took her by the hands and kissed the tips of her fingers. "Don't worry. I'll take a horse if I can find one. And if not… Well, I'll manage. I managed worse."

"Take care, Nate."

"I will."

"And do come back and visit. When you can."

"I will, Delilah. I promise, I will."

And with that, he was gone.

XXXXX

He walked out into the dusk and for a while just wondered wherever his feet would take him. He didn't plan to go back to the Keep tonight, not really - he just needed to say something to Delilah other than what he was really thinking. He suspected she read straight through him anyway. It didn't matter.

Had his feet took him down the right corner, he would have found an inn and crashed there for the night. But instead he turned left and not halfway down the street nearly bumped into a man, haggard in apperance, very upset, looking over his shoulder, walking almost sideways, and rubbing at his throat.

"Damn crazy elf!" There was a fine line of blood smearing his fingers and a mark on his throat as if someone had pressed the flat of a blade against it real hard.

Was it instinct or Maker's own wicked sense of irony, Nathaniel never decided. But in a spur of a moment, as other people in the street begun to gather, curious, he grabbed the man's shoulder.

"What elf? What happened?"

"The bitch just jumped me, that's what happened! I was just telling my friend here about some templars and a mage prisoner I saw on the road today and that crazy elvish bitch and that monster hound of hers just jumped at me like she was-"

"Where?!"

"Just over there, around that corner. Someone ought to stop that crazy elf, I'm telling you. She's insane! Why are they even allowed to carry weapons I ask you? They should all get locked up somewhere…"

But Nathaniel was no longer listening, and was already sprinting down the street in the direction the man had pointed. Andraste's flaming tits, to quote the aforementioned crazy elf, for there could have been only one that crazy around, what did those two get themselves into now?!

XXX

He rushed around the corner but caught no glimpse of her. The puzzled expressions on the passer-by's faces did give him a clue as to where she likely went, though. He followed the trail of confusion or outright anger for a bit, but still couldn't spot her. But he was quite close to the small gate now and that man did say he saw some templars and a mage captive on the road, so… And just as he was certain who the elf in question must have been, he also had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly who the mage in question was, too.

Tracking a light-footed elf was not easy even in daytime. During the evening and later, the night, it was almost impossible. But the trail of five, no six armoured people was another thing entirely. Nathaniel jogged down the road and hoped he would arrive on time. For what, though, he had no idea.

There were a lot of things he could say about his life right then, but 'dull' certainly wasn't one of them.

And few hours later, it became even less so.

XXX

She ran through the woods and thickets by the road, occasionally slowing down to a trot and then picking up speed again as the mabari ran in front, nose to the ground and softly growling. She had no idea how long she'd been running and she didn't care, either, blind fury propelling her on through the night.

It was closer to dawn then dusk when Bandit made a sudden stop, ears to the skull and muzzle twitching. She slowed to a walk, chest heaving and muscles twitching from exertion and followed him through the underbrush, and when he stopped again she crouched down beside him.

Some paces out, a campfire was flickering its dying flames, outlining six figures standing around it and the seventh sprawled on the ground few steps away. One of the six kicked at him with a heavy plated boot and he groaned.

Quiet as death, Bandit lept away to circle into a flanking position.

Another figure, the only one without a helmet on took a step closer and unsheathed a sword.

The elf snarled and grabbed her blades.

And then jumped.