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Nathaniel ducked just in time to avoid one of the Mother's massive tentacles. The spiked appendage crashed into the rock behind him, spraying him with jagged shards. He drew his bow again and was able to land a shot in the Mother's chest before more childer grub were on him. It was hard knowing where to aim against the bulbous creatures. A swift kick sent the last of the grubs flying and he risked returning to his bow again.
A quick glance at his party showed that they were faring little better than he was. Velanna had found a little perch that offered her some protection while still allowed her to rain fire down on the Mother and her minions. Their Commander was alternating her attention between slicing at tentacles with her sword and bashing grub away with her shield. Despite her heavy armour, the Orlesian moved with lethal speed and was slowly gaining an advantage against the Mother and her hideous children.
Anders had not chosen a safe perch like his fellow mage. He clung to his mobility, wanting to reach his comrades quickly when they needed healing. Between aiding his companions, he cast spell after spell against the Mother. His powerful spells drew her attention from Babette's slicing sword and she regarded the healer with a loathsome glare.
She inscribed a glyph on the ground and Anders paled and slumped as if the very life was being sucked out of him. When a barbed tentacle whipped toward him, his shield gave out and he was thrown back into the rock behind him. With a tiny gurgle, he crumpled to the floor of the cavern.
Nathaniel felt his blood rush up into his ears. He ignored the childer grub clawing at his legs and drew his bow back with all his strength. The arrow he released tore through the Mother's eye and she screamed in agony.
Babette took the opportunity and charged. She was almost a blur as she sliced her way up the Mother's foul body and planted her sword into the vulnerable neck. Black blood showered the Wardens below.
Once the childer grub began to retreat, Nathaniel ran to Anders' still form. He unfolded the mage and stretched him out with his back to the ground.
Golden brown eyes blinked up at him.
Velanna cast a spell as she approached, and Anders seemed to relax slightly.
"Ugly thing, that one." Anders was smirking through his obvious pain. "Nasty temper, too."
Nathaniel could see a large bloody gouge in the torso of Anders' robes. A spike on the tentacle, he would wager.
"Are you able to heal yourself?" he asked his companion.
"No mana. Need rest."
"Velanna? Can you heal him?" The moody elf now stood at his side.
Anders put up a hand in protest. "It's fine. I'm fine. Just need a moment.. Rest."
Nathaniel shook his head. "It's too dangerous to wait out a wound like that. I looks like one of those spikes went straight into you." The wound was on the left side, probably through the mage's stomach; Nathaniel knew that, as far as organ injuries went, Anders had been lucky. However, any sizeable wound brought the risks of infection and blood loss, risks Nathaniel was not willing to exacerbate with delay of treatment. He turned to the other mage again. "Velanna?"
"I can heal him. Strip the wound and I'll take a look." She did not sound happy about it. Nathaniel knew she preferred to leave healing to Anders. She probably resented the other mage for getting injured in the first place.
Nathaniel leaned over Anders and began to lift the skirt of his robe.
"What are you doing?" Anders placed his hands firmly on his robe, preventing Nate from lifting it above his knee.
Nathaniel cocked an eyebrow at the mage. "We killed the Mother and I thought I'd celebrate by raping my injured comrade in a foul cavern surrounded by rotting darkspawn corpses."
Anders rewarded his dry humour with a glare.
"Or," Nathaniel continued, "I am removing your robe so that Velanna can heal your gaping wound."
"Removing...No! No, I'm fine. I'll heal myself. I'm a better healer anyway. She'll mess it up."
Velanna's glare was more icy than usual. "Fine. Sit and bleed then." The Dalish elf turned heel and began to move toward their Commander who was sitting negligently a stone's throw away.
"What?" Nathaniel could not believe the mages' exchange. "Velanna, please! My lady, he's..."
"He's acting like a whiny child. Which is-"
"He's not thinking straight. He's injured! Please, come help him. Heal him."
The elf halted her retreat and looked at him. She seemed to be considering. Nathaniel turned back to Anders.
"Robe, off!" Nathaniel tried pulling the skirt up again, but Anders gripped the fabric firmly and pressed it against his legs. Where was he finding this strength in his condition?
"You are insane! You're bleeding! What in the Maker's name is wrong with you?" His temper was quickly getting away from him. "You are losing that robe if I have to cut it to pieces." He was still wrestling with the mage. "Given that you've fucked your way through half the Keep, I don't see why you are suddenly playing bashful!" He was shouting now, and Anders seemed a little stunned by the level of his anger.
Nathaniel placed his hands on Anders' shoulders and held him firmly against the ground. Once he had pinned the mage's shoulders down with a shin across the chest, he turned his hands to the wound. Very gently he clasped the two pieces of torn fabric from around the wound and began to tear them away. The mage thrashed beneath him, and Nathaniel had to use one hand to pin his thigh down.
"Babette! Hold his legs!" Nathaniel tried not to sound livid as he called for his negligent Commander.
"If the mage wishes to wait and heal himself, let him do so." Her Orlesian accent made her comment sound even more indifferent to the mage's fate.
Nathaniel felt like the only sane person in this underground nightmare. Why couldn't they have brought Sigrun along, too? Or Oghren? One of them would have the battle sense to pin down the delirious, wounded mage so he could be stripped and treated.
Instead, Nathaniel was on his own among madness.
With his shin still across the mage's chest-one arm pinned beneath him and the other a constant annoyance-Nathaniel returned to shredding the robe, strip by strip, from the wound outward.
He pulled one strip straight down the mage's body, exposing his groin.
"Maker, Anders! Have you never heard of smallclothes?"
The mage glared at him. "I don't need them. I had a robe!"
"Yeah, well then you had a spike in your stomach," Nathaniel spat back.
Nathaniel returned to shredding the robe. He had hoped that, now completely exposed, Anders would resist less. Instead, the mage fought even more desperately.
Nathaniel pulled the tattered robe further up Anders' torso and could not contain the gasp that escaped his lips as his movements exposed a large mass of scar tissue on the mage's abdomen. His eyes flicked up to Anders' and there was a look of rage, almost hate, in the amber eyes that usually held laughter.
Nathaniel forced his thoughts back to the wound on the other side of the mage's chest. He pulled out his water skin and doused the wound to clear the blood. As he called Velanna back to her patient, he positioned the robed to hide the scar tissue he had uncovered.
Velanna knelt next to Anders. Her eyes were narrow, and her lips were pushed out in a petulant pout. She mumbled something that sounded distinctly like "little baby," but soon her hands were glowing with magic. She ran her hands along the exposed wound and Nathaniel watched as the bleeding slowed and the wound very slowly shrank in size. After some time, all that remained was an angry red mark which Nathaniel knew Anders could heal when he was recovered.
vVv
Hours later, Nathaniel stoked the campfire with a branch, sending sparks up into the night air. He had been grateful when the others had retired to their tents and left him to his watch. The silence now was the genuine silence of the night, not the oppressive silence of comrades refusing to talk.
To be fair, Anders was the only one actually refusing to talk. The two women were simply too self-absorbed to bother.
And Anders had not really spoken to Nathaniel in weeks. Not since the incident in the storeroom.
Anders had begun flirting with Nathaniel the moment they met, but Nathaniel had not responded. The mage was handsome enough, but Nathaniel had been just a little preoccupied with his family's public disgrace, and the allegations of murder and torture against his own father. The whole matter had put a damper on the noble's libido for some time.
It was only a few weeks ago that the noble had finally returned the mage's advances.
vVv
"You really shouldn't come down into these storerooms by yourself. A darkspawn could come up from the deep roads and get you," Anders said as he stepped out of the shadows among old crates and bottles.
Nathaniel had sensed the mage's presence before he had spoken.
"Darkspawn I can handle. It's lecherous mages I need to watch out for, apparently."
Anders advanced on the bowman and was met with a sceptical raised eyebrow.
"Or were you hoping to save me from some nasty monster and be my mage in shining armour?"
"That's kind of what I had in mind. I've come to save you from your chastity."
Nathaniel gave him a laugh. "Ah yes. I remember the Chantry warning about chastity demons that would corrupt mages and turn them into abominations. No risk of that for you."
"Oh, shut up," Anders pouted.
"Make me." Nathaniel invited.
Anders viewed him first with surprise and then with suspicion. He did not move.
"You do know what comes after the flirting, right?" Nathaniel's smile held as much mockery as his tone. "Usually there's some kissing and groping and then...well, I can show you." Nathaniel gave a patronising look as he leaned toward the mage to whisper, "I'll be gentle."
"I know what comes next!" Anders was petulant. "I'm just suspicious of your sudden interest."
Nathaniel sighed dramatically. "First you pout when I decline, now you're pouting because I agree? Tsk, tsk." He took the mage into his arms and kissed him firmly on the lips. "What would you do without me?"
He kissed the mage again, this time with his lips apart. Anders was stiff at first, but soon he was aggressively returning the attention, biting and nipping at Nathaniel's lips and jaw between kisses.
As Nathaniel twined his hands into Anders' hair, he was surprised at the intensity of his bodily reaction to kissing his fellow Warden. Had it really been that long? Or was it something about this man? He was certainly skilled with his tongue. Nathaniel could not help but wonder how that tongue would feel devoted to another task.
As the kiss grew deeper and more passionate, he became aware of the inappropriate location. "Uhmmmna my nummm."
"What?" Anders had broken the kiss.
"I said 'Come to my room'."
"Too far." Anders pressed his lips to Nathaniel's once more and began tugging the noble's shirt up.
"Seriously. Let's go." Nathaniel pulled his lips away and took Anders' hand in his.
"Seriously. No." Anders yanked his hand free. He seemed annoyed, which confused Nathaniel.
"What do you mean 'no'? I have a huge bed and a nice roaring fire waiting!"
"No. This will work fine for our purposes."
Nathaniel eyed him in disbelief before his own irritation washed over him. "I am not some boy who ruts in a dark, dank cellar storeroom because I lack the self-control to make it to a bedroom!"
The two men glared at each other until Nathaniel broke the silence.
"Do you want this or not?"
"Not." Then the mage walked away, leaving Nathaniel alone among dusty bottles and mouldy crates.
vVv
It was no coincidence that when Nathaniel returned to the storeroom the next night, he discovered the room was already in use.
He could hear the happy moans and the slapping of skin against skin before he could make out the forms in the dingy light.
Anders.
He had a guard bent over a couple of crates and was pounding into him with great enthusiasm. From the sounds, the guard was having even more fun than the mage.
As Nathaniel quietly approached, Anders looked up at him. Anders' face was a mixture of anger, triumph, mockery, and desire. He smirked and returned to stroking and pounding the man beneath him.
Nathaniel knew that Anders was taunting him with the sight of what he could have had. But Nathaniel did not want to be the man gasping and trembling beneath the mage. He wanted to have the mage beneath him. He wanted to dominate the arrogant braggart, to force him to submit.
And this was exactly where the impasse lay.
The storeroom would not be the worst place Nathaniel had ever used for a tryst, but it was now a matter of stubborn pride. Nathaniel would not submit. Not about location, not about position, not about anything. He wanted the mage to come to him on his knees and beg for Nathaniel's cock inside him. Then, he would relent.
Feeling a touch of pity for the oblivious guard who was merely a pawn, Nathaniel chose a soundless retreat.
vVv
The awkward silence of the past weeks did not compare with the oppressive silence that fell on their party once Anders was healed by Velanna in the Mother's lair.
He had marched off in a fury and was not seen again until they reached the surface. By then, he had changed into spare robes, but his eyes still held the same fury. Not that he often looked at Nathaniel directly...
They had forced their legs to carry them out of the Dragonbone Wastes before making camp for the night. Babette, with her usual sensitivity, had assigned Anders first watch when he was obviously the one most in need of rest. Nathaniel had insisted on taking the watch in Anders' stead, a demand which only earned him a more hateful look from the mage.
Nathaniel smirked as he stoked the fire once more.
The mage might hate him, but he had gone to his tent as soon as he had eaten. Nathaniel could only hope he was sleeping.
vVv
The next day was only marginally better. The women spoke slightly more, usually with each other, and Anders' fury had grown colder. Nathaniel was desperate to return to Vigil's Keep, but they had a great distance to cover and tired and aching bodies with which to do it.
They would spend another few nights on the road.
The first night he had served Anders' and his own watch before finally collapsing in his tent. He had fallen asleep instantly.
This second night, he retired just after supper. There were no stories or conversations to keep him at the fire once his meal was eaten.
He stretched out in his bedroll and waited to be taken into the Fade. But his mind was not so kind.
Every time he closed his eyes, he was back in the cavern with a bloody Anders pinned under his legs and hands. He was not dreaming, simply remembering. Yet now he noticed what he had been too panicked to see before: the body around the wound.
He saw light caramel skin. He saw the trail of blond hair that led down from navel to groin. He saw Anders' cock and wondered how it might look aroused by passion.
His eyes flew open. He shifted in his bedroll, lying on his stomach and burying his face in his arms. He tried again to fall asleep.
This time his memory travelled up the mage's chest. He saw the lean muscle and then the perfect brown nipple. His mouth longed for it.
His mind's eye travelled down from the nipple, and he saw the mass of scar tissue the size of the palm of his hand.
It was then that the rage had flooded Anders' eyes. The scar had not been Nathaniel's to see.
It was old, of that Nathaniel was certain. It had clearly stretched over many years as Anders' then-young body had continued to grow. And it had not been treated by a healer, at least not promptly. Curiosity began to kindle in Nathaniel's mind. This was not the scar of a silly accident half-remembered. This scar had a story.
One that he was not likely to hear.
Anders had seemed willing to risk dying from his wound to avoid having his scar discovered. "Of course, we would have discovered it upon preparing his corpse." Nathaniel thought. "So, great fucking plan as usual, Anders."
He rolled onto his back again and ran his hand down his stomach without thinking. As his hand wrapped around his own length, he tried to imagine Anders without the dirty, tattered robe or the bleeding wound.
He could not do it. That was the only time he had seen the mage close to naked, and the association with blood and filth would not be severed.
He tried to find another image: a handsome guard, the new recruit, the new king, the old king, anyone! But the mage kept returning. Sometimes he was bloody and dying. Sometimes his eyes showed hateful fury. None of it was doing much for Nathaniel's attempts to find physical release.
"Fucking mage," he spat as he rolled back onto his stomach and made himself sleep through pure force of will.
vVv
Vigil's Keep looked like the Golden City. Nathaniel doubled his pace, leaving his three companions behind. He saw Sigrun talking with Master Wade and headed for her.
She was more than a little surprised as he scooped her up into an uncharacteristic hug.
"Uh...glad to see you, too? I guess you heard that the Keep was assaulted while you were gone. We're all fine. Even Oghren. Although maybe that's bad news for you. It means he'll keep flirting with you." She laughed at her own teasing.
"Maker... I cannot tell you how glad I am to be back, Sigrun. Keep talking. Please."
The dwarf looked past Nathaniel to watch as the rest of his party marched by. Nathaniel followed her gaze to the grumpy elf, the haughty Orlesian, and the sulky mage.
"Wow. Even Anders, huh?" She gave Nathaniel a sympathetic look.
"You have no idea. I missed Justice. Had he joined us, he would have been the most cheerful of the lot."
Sigrun gave a lopsided grin. "Well, you're back. Clean up and I'll talk your ear off over a keg of Oghren's finest."
Nathaniel gave her another grateful smile before heading to the Keep.
Inside, Anders was standing in the hall coddling his precious cat. He had not yet noticed the bowman and was happily cooing as he scratched his pet behind the ears. For the first time in days, a smile had found its way to the mage's lips.
"So if I were small and furry, would you stop glaring at me?" It was the first time Nathaniel had spoken to Anders directly since they had left the Mother's lair.
Anders' face betrayed the tiniest hint of amusement before returning to the tight-lipped glare he had given to Nathaniel for days.
"Still silence, huh? After all the times I'd wished you would shut up, I never thought I would regret getting my wish."
The glare grew deeper so that Anders was squinting beneath his brow. He looked ridiculous, and Nathaniel let out a hearty laugh.
Unable to glare any deeper, Anders huffed and turned heel. He started to walked down the hall, but Nathaniel caught his arm.
"Watch it!" Anders tried to pull his arm away. "You'll make me drop Ser Pounce-A-Lot!"
"He speaks!" Nathaniel grinned victoriously.
Anders tried again to pull away, but Nathaniel grabbed his other arm. The cat had had enough and leaped away.
"I hope you're happy," Anders pouted angrily.
"Almost," Nathaniel replied menacingly. He backed the mage against the stone wall and lifted his arms over his head. He leaned forward and began kissing the side of the mage's neck.
Anders tried to shove him away, but he pinned the mage back with his own more muscular body. He applied all of his skill to teasing the man's ear with his tongue, and then kissing and nibbling at his neck. When he sank his teeth into the joining of neck and shoulder, a groan escaped the mage's lips.
Nathaniel was careful not to gloat outwardly. It was his intention to make the mage forget that he was meant to be protesting. He sucked hard on the man's neck and felt the mage's body become pliant between his body and the wall. Nathaniel risked using only one hand to keep the other man's hands over his head. He ran his other hand down the mage's neck and chest.
Anders' breathing was deep and ragged, and it caught in his throat as Nate pressed his groin forward against the mage's. It was only when he was sure the fight had left the other man's body that Nathaniel leaned in for a kiss.
He plundered the mage's mouth and their tongues wrestled furiously. As Nathaniel was pulling away for breath, the mage's mouth lunged forward and bit his bottom lip.
It was not a little nip of arousal. It was an attack.
Nathaniel met the mage's eyes and saw the familiar glare. However, the pursed lips had been replaced with a nasty smirk.
"You're a real arse," Anders said with as much amusement as venom.
Nathaniel touched a finger to his lip and looked at the blood. "Yeah. And you're a total sweetheart." He released the mage's arms and wrapped his own tightly around Anders' waist. He leaned in for another kiss but Anders pulled away.
"Agh! You're all bloody."
Nathaniel cocked an eyebrow. "Yes. About that. Know a good healer?"
"I do indeed. But not one who will waste mana on you." The tone was playful.
"So you'll just leave me to bleed?"
Anders was smiling now. "Yes. I think I will."
Nathaniel scooped the mage up in his arms like a groom with his new bride. He began walking further into the Keep.
"What are you doing? Put me down!" Anders squirmed but could not escape the strong arms.
Nathaniel walked through the Keep until he reached the door of the baths. He opened the latch with his hip and kicked the door wide.
"Congratulations! Although I'm a little hurt ol' Oghren wasn't invited to the wedding." The dwarf let loose one of his deep laughs. He was lounging in a tub cradling a tankard.
"Out, dwarf." Nathaniel's tone was friendly despite the order.
"Oh, yes ser!" the dwarf replied as he hopped from the tub. "Wouldn't dream of intruding on the honeymoon!" He grabbed his clothes and ran out laughing.
Nathaniel looked at Anders and saw scarlet cheeks. He could not bite back his laugh.
"Is my bride blushing?"
"I hate you. You know that, right?"
"Oh, you say such sweet things!" Nathaniel kissed his nose and the mage began wrestling for freedom again.
"Put me down!"
Nathaniel complied, letting the mage's legs fall harshly but holding his chest until he caught his balance.
"I did get rid of the dwarf for you. Or did you wish to bathe with him?"
"Worried about my privacy, now? Good. I take it you will be leaving too."
Nathaniel turned to the door and jammed the latch, locking both men inside.
Anders glared at him.
"I've seen it all," Nathaniel explained lightly. He avoided specifying the scar. "Go ahead and strip in peace, I won't rape you."
"You keep saying that. It's unnerving how often the thought is in your mind."
Nathaniel laughed at that. Then he began the lengthy process of removing his leathers. Anders stood still for some time, simply watching him. Nathaniel piled up his leathers and clothes until he was completely nude. He gave his companion a taunting smile and then walked over to a bucket of soapy water.
As he scrubbed himself clean, Nathaniel was kind enough to keep his back to the mage. He did not look over as he walked to a large soaking tub and eased himself in. He continued facing the wall.
There was a long spell of silence before he heard the sounds of water splashing behind him.
When he heard the sound of wet feet on the stone floor, he wondered if Anders would join him in the same tub or choose the one Oghren had abandoned. Or maybe he would simply leave the room.
He suppressed a smile as he heard footfall approach. Anders sidestepped into the tub so that his back was to Nathaniel until he was submerged in water.
Nathaniel noted, without looking directly, that Anders sunk deep enough into the tub that his sizeable scar was completely hidden by the distorting effects of the water. "Old habits," he guessed silently.
Nathaniel and Anders sat in silence together in the bath. There was a palpable tension and neither man looked at the other.
Nathaniel felt the same thrill as he found stalking prey with his longbow. Anders made for a particularly skittish deer. He had managed to creep close, but was not sure how much closer he could get before the mage spooked and bolted.
Years of hunting had taught him patience, so he simply closed his eyes and enjoyed the bath.
The last two weeks had been battles, long marches, and sleeping on hard ground. His body was thoroughly enjoying being clean, relaxed, and immersed in warm water.
He listened as Anders' own breathing slowed. The mage must be equally grateful for the luxury of a proper bath. The sound of breathing grew slowly heavier until Nathaniel realised his companion was asleep. "So the deer is willing to sleep next to the wolf?" Nathaniel mused.
A small part of him was touched by the demonstration of trust. A much larger part of him relished the flavour of submission.
It was some time later when the mage finally woke. By then, Nathaniel was sitting on a bench, a towel around his waist, wiping his dirty leathers with a cloth.
Nathaniel stood up and stretched, glancing over at the mage casually. "I imagine you feel better after a soak and a rest. You'll be wanting food next." He started gathering his dirty clothing and leathers into his arms. "I will see you at supper."
He left Anders with the privacy he had claimed to want.
vVv
For the next few days, Nathaniel watched and waited.
As he had expected, Anders dropped his broody silence in favour of flippant humour as soon as he was back among the many residents of Vigil's Keep. It was a perverse sense of familiarity that allowed the mage to be visibly emotional with his fellow Wardens, even if that emotion was usual anger. Only the other Wardens were privy to Anders' rants about Templars and the Tower of Magi; the mage let everyone else believe that his constant humour was the result of a carefree, charmed existence.
Nathaniel refused to regress to the silence that had hung between them for too long. He made a point, whenever there was an audience Anders would perform for, to greet the mage with casual cheer and ask some benign question that would force a spoken response. Other than these little exchanges, Nathaniel left the other man alone.
He ate, trained, and socialised with Sigrun and Oghren, leaving Anders to join or abstain as he wished.
It all seemed very casual, but it was part of the hunt.
Nathaniel was always watching Anders, even when his eyes and head faced elsewhere. His body registered every breath and shift and tension in the mage. And the skilled rogue could read those little signs perfectly.
Anders would seek him out visually. He would hesitate before joining a meal, mentally deliberating between a spot near Nathaniel and one far away. He would watch the bowman when he thought no one would notice. His body shifted when Nathaniel spoke.
Nathaniel noticed all of these things.
And he provoked more. He would stand just a little too close, speak with just a bit more breath, or lick his lips a little too slowly. Each little act was too subtle to be consciously perceived, but Nathaniel could sense the effect on the other man.
He waited for an opportunity to do more.
vVv
His chance came as he walked the narrow rows of the Keep's wine cellar. Babette was a proper Orleisan, and she took few things more seriously than her wine. She had had the room carefully cleaned before it was filled with a maze of long, tall, heavy wooden wine racks. Once the racks had been filled with her extensive collection, her Wardens had made it a favourite pastime to pilfer it.
At this moment, Nathaniel was not focused on the many glass bottles on the racks. He was stalking the mage he had followed into the cellar without sound. The bell-like clink of a bottle on the rack pinpointed his prey: two rows down, a little to the rogue's left. Nathaniel moved forward. If the mage moved down one more row, he would be cornered.
The barely audible shift of fabric and fall of boot on stone alerted Nathaniel that Anders had rounded the corner to the final row. He could only leave this row the way he entered, the way Nathaniel's body now obstructed.
The bowman advanced until the mage sensed him and froze.
"Good evening, Anders."
Anders replied with affected calm. "Good evening, Nathaniel."
Nathaniel approached until he was almost touching the other man's shoulder. He leaned forward and glanced at the bottle on which the mage's hand rested.
"In the mood for something bold and dry, I see." He made sure his breath would be felt on the mage's neck. The mage's breathing grew slightly heavier.
"In that case," Nathaniel continued, his hand ghosting along the rack while his body remained almost touching the mage, "might I suggest..." his fingers closed on a bottle he had noticed some time ago.
He presented the bottle to Anders, who finally moved enough to shift his gaze from the original bottle to the one in Nathaniel's hands. The bowman smiled as he noticed that the mage's eyes struggled to focus on the label, instead wandering over his hands and forearms.
"This bottle," he continued, caressing it in his hands as his low voice caressed his words, "is something to be appreciated. It should be exposed to the air...watched...breathed..." he leaned in so that his lips were almost touching Anders' ear and watched as the mage closed his eyes and leaned closer to the source of hot breath and gravely sound, "...tasted." A little shudder. "It should be slowly savoured...every...drop." He flicked his tongue against the mage's ear. The movement was so quick the mage might even believe he had imagined it.
Nathaniel pulled away and observed Anders' disappointed exhale with satisfaction.
"A bottle like this should not go to waste in a dark cellar. I have a roaring fire in my room." He deliberately referenced their conversation from the last time they were this close below the Keep.
He strode casually to the end of the row, his back to the mage.
"Do you want it or not?" he purred. He walked away without waiting for an answer.
vVv
Except for the sizeable bed, everything in Nathaniel's bedroom indicated it was a room designed for one person. Next to the bed was one small table with one drawer. There was one writing desk with one wooded chair, one bookcase, one chest of drawers, and one slender wardrobe.
In front of the fireplace was a wrought iron screen and a large pillow that had been the bed of a bird-dog he had as a child. There was one upholstered armchair in which the noble now sat and one old trunk on which he rested his feet.
The only other furniture was a small table near the fireplace that held the platter of cheese, bread and berries he had made in the kitchen before returning to his room, the decanting bottle of wine, and two glasses. The second glass was the only indication the noble expected company, and he had debated it for several moments. He had finally decided that it was a fair reward for a guest who took the initiative to come to his room.
Nathaniel had been waiting patiently for some time when a small knock finally sounded on his door.
"Come in," he called in a low, beckoning voice.
The door opened and Anders stepped cautiously inside. He closed the door, and his eyes paused briefly on the metal rod above the handle.
Nathaniel smiled. "Yes, why don't you go ahead and bolt it."
The mage obeyed and slid the rod deep into the wooden doorframe before releasing the handle with a satisfying thud. He turned and faced Nathaniel.
"Have a seat." Nathaniel's tone was casual and inviting, but he made no gesture to assist the other man in the task he assigned.
Anders looked at Nathaniel's chair and then his eyes moved to the empty space where a matching armchair would be if there were a pair. His eyes flitted to the chest the rogue used as a footrest, touched briefly on the dog pillow, and then the man turned to look further around the room. He glanced at the bed before seeing the wooden desk chair. He looked like a chess player who had just found the one move that would not lead to checkmate. He easily lifted the chair, setting it across the chest from Nathaniel's own chair. He sat down and the two men regarded each other.
"I believe you were going to offer me a drink."
Nathaniel smiled at Anders' challenging tone. It was confident to the untrained ear, but Nathaniel could hear the hint of strain.
"Not a drink. Or, not just a drink." Anders eyebrows lifted and Nathaniel knew the way his words were being taken. "Anders, this is a particularly fine bottle of wine. It would be a waste to simply drink it." He was standing now, talking down to his pupil.
"Were you planning on placing it on an altar and reciting the Chant a few dozen times? Because I'd rather just have a drink."
He gave Anders a little smile that held a hint of condescending patience. "Anders, there are bottles of common wine that you use to wash down a common meal or to ease the tension of a long day of battle." His grin grew a little nasty. "Those wines are much like a common guard you simply bend over a crate in the cellar, fuck, and promptly forget." Anders gave him a glare for that, but the slight upward tip of his mouth betrayed him.
Nathaniel walked to the crystal decanter that glowed like a ruby with the deep red wine within. He poured the two glasses and carried them over to Anders. Anders tried to reach for one, but the noble moved to keep them just out of reach.
"Not yet." He held the glass between Anders and the fire. "First, you look. He swirled the murky fluid gently. "You watch it move, listen to it sing as it glides within the glass."
A glance at Anders showed unimpressed impatience. He gave the mage a little mocking smirk. The mage could leave, but if he stayed this would be done on Nathaniel's terms.
"Do not drink," the noble instructed as he handed over one wineglass. He lifted his own glass to his nose and took in the scent of brambles growing in a thick wood after the rain. "Breathe," he instructed.
Anders lifted his own glass to his nose and took a deep breath. "It smells great, can I drink it now?"
Nathaniel rolled his eyes at his reluctant pupil. "I had hoped to teach you an appreciation of -" The mage had attempted to imitate Nathaniel's gentle swirl and had managed to slop wine over his hand. A few drops were starting to run down his arm.
Nathaniel gave an exaggerated sigh and Anders looked like an embarrassed child. Nathaniel removed the glass from Anders' hand and set it carefully aside. Gently he took the offending hand and pulled the sleeve of the mage's robe away. Then he placed his mouth just below the mage's elbow to catch one of the drops. Slowly he followed the trail of wine back up the arm to the slightly trembling hand. He found the next drop and did the same. The third drop followed a vein on the inside of Anders' arm. Nathaniel used the firm tip of his tongue to collect the wine and heard Anders' breath grow heavier.
He traced the drop back to Anders' forefinger and ran his tongue up the digit before taking it into his mouth and suckling it. He finally raised his eyes to meet the mage's and delighted to see pupils wide with desire. He nipped the end of the finger and gave a little smile as he released it.
He stood and towered over Anders.
"I think you are ready to taste." His voice was low and deep and he could see the effect on the mage.
Nathaniel lifted his own glass to his mouth and drank deeply, allowing the dry, intense liquid to run over his lips and tongue. He set the glass down with one hand while pulling the mage to his feet with the other.
He brought his wet lips forward until they barely touched the other man's. Anders' tongue darted out and ran along his lips, taking the wine into his mouth. The mage's tongue probed his lips greedily and soon worked within his mouth, running along tongue and cheek with passion.
When they finally broke the kiss, Anders was smiling.
"You make an excellent cup," he purred.
"Do you think you can handle a real one?" Nathaniel asked as he offered Anders' wineglass back.
Anders took the glass and made the small toasting gesture. Then both men drank. Lips wet, they fell into another deep kiss.
They finished their glasses, sipping and kissing, as they stood in front of the fire.
"Refill?" Anders asked with a lopsided grin.
"You do have a way with words," Nate replied dryly, " but I have something else in mind."
He took both glasses and set them back on the table. Then he took Anders' hands and led him a few steps closer to the bed.
"The wine was only one thing I hope to...appreciate tonight."
Nathaniel saw that Anders' smile was hungry, but there was a hint of apprehension in his eyes. "Gentle or push?" he wondered.
He chose a voice that was gentle but firm. "Take off your robe, Anders."
The mage's eyes showed that he was not surprised. He knew that this would come. But he still looked terrified. "Gentle or push?" Nathaniel wondered again.
"I have seen it, Anders," he reminded casually before his tone went completely dry, "or has it changed in a fortnight?"
The mage smirked at that. "Oh, it changes daily. Yesterday it was a lovely shade of blue. And just last week it was the perfect likeness of the Commander."
Nathaniel gave a little laugh of appreciation. "And today? Light purple in the shape of the queen?" He took a small step closer to the mage.
Anders tensed slightly. "No, no. Today is boring. It looks just like a...a..."
"Scar." Nathaniel finished for him.
"Yes. A scar." Anders face darkened. "A big, ugly scar. A..."
Nathaniel could see the other man slipping into a mood that had no place in his seduction. He had to intervene. He closed the distance between them, running one arm around the mage's waist and pressing the other hand to the side of the mage's stubbled face.
"Anders," he called gently, "Perhaps there will come a time when you will choose to tell me that story. Perhaps not. But right now, for our purposes, it does not matter. It is a scar. I have many of them. Some of them have stories and some do not. But this is not storytime." He said the last gently, but with a firmness that allowed for no discussion or disagreement.
He lifted the mage's chin and kissed him tenderly. Anders met his eyes and the dark bitterness had receded. Encouraged, Nathaniel kissed him harder, deepening the kiss until they were gasping against each other.
Nathaniel's fingers ran along the mage's robes, feeling for the ties that secured the garment. He deftly untied each as he found it. Soon the cloth was hanging loosely.
"Anders..." He did not have to finish the sentence. Anders nodded his understanding and started to lift his robes. He reached his navel before he froze up completely.
"I...I can't...I haven't...no one has...not since..."
"Anders," Nathaniel interrupted softly, "when was the last time you were really naked in front of another person?"
"I was a child."
"A child?" Nathaniel could not hide his surprise. "But, the Tower...you always say there was no privacy, the Templars -"
"They were always watching, but that doesn't mean they see everything."
"But, what about all of the...sex?"
"There is no need to lift my robes higher than this," Anders said matter-of-factly.
"You mean that you have had sex with all those people, but they have never seen you completely naked?"
A thrill went through Nathaniel as he considered that he might be the first person to see Anders naked as a grown man. He had never been one to find sport in deflowering virgins, but he found this thought highly arousing.
He looked into Anders' eyes and saw more emotions than he could name.
"Anders," it was almost a whisper, "do you...will you trust me?"
A small, timid nod.
Nathaniel walked behind the other man and gingerly lifted the robe over his head. He tossed it away and took in the light caramel skin in front of him. Anders' back was not as muscular as a warrior or an archer, but it was toned from years of carrying and using a staff. His waist and hips were narrow and his buttocks rounded and firm. Nathaniel smiled with appreciation.
He ran his hands across the mage's body exploring with feel as much as with sight. He placed open-mouthed kisses on neck and throat and shoulders. Anders sighed and relaxed slightly under the sensation of Nathaniel's lips and hands.
Gradually, Nathaniel's attentions moved to Anders' side, his hands moving over shoulders and around waist to the mage's front.
It was Anders who turned in the noble's arms and placed them face to face. He was pulling Nathaniel's shirt over his head and unlacing his breeches. Very soon they both stood naked at the foot of the bed, pressed firmly together, kissing and exploring each other's bodies as well as they could in such close proximity.
"I want," Nathaniel gasped, "you on the bed."
The mage hesitantly sat on the edge of the bed. He kept one arm in front of his chest to cover his scar.
"Lie back," Nathaniel instructed as he crawled up next to the other man.
Anders stretched out on his back, hand placed over his scar. Nathaniel delighted in the sight of him.
It was a stark contrast to the only other time Nathaniel had glimpsed his naked form.
There was no blood, no shreds of fabric, and the state of Anders' cock was entirely changed. He was completely hard, and his firm, pulsing length was beautiful. Nathaniel smiled hungrily.
Nathaniel gently removed Anders' protective hand.
The scar was still the size of Nathaniel's palm, but it seemed less noticeable. Perhaps it was the lack of surprise. Perhaps it was the distraction of the rest of Anders' sculpted figure.
Nathaniel made a little frown. "Something is not quite..." His eyes ran up the mage's body. When he reached Anders' eyes he saw trepidation.
Suddenly Nathaniel thrust his hands into the tightly bound blond hair and pulled it free of its tie. His long fingers ran through the golden strands, letting them fall loose against the bedding below. Golden hair and light caramel skin glowed in the soft firelight.
He smiled at his work. "Perfect," he said with a touch of awe in his low voice.
The mage beamed.
"Now," his smile mischievous, "I believe I am ready to taste."
Nathaniel ran the tip of his tongue up from Anders' navel to the tender recess between his collar bones. He sucked on his neck and his earlobe before running the tip of his tongue along the shell of the ear. The open-mouthed kisses he began as he travelled back down his neck soon turned into little bites and firm sucks that brought hot, dark blood to just below the surface of the caramel skin.
Caramel. It was fitting for the rich, sweet taste of the mage's skin. Nathaniel dug his fingers deep into the mage's scattered hair and buried his face in handfuls of golden cord. He could smell that same rich sweetness, but there were other scents of berries and fresh air. He found himself desperate to breathe in more and more of that smell, the very essence of the man pinned and sighing beneath him. He exhaled against the mage's ear and neck and earned a shiver.
He pulled back just enough to meet Anders' amber eyes.
"You all right?" he asked with feigned compassion since the answer was obvious in the mage's blissful expression. In truth, the question was more properly directed at himself.
As the mage nodded happily, Nathaniel considered his own answer. He was a little unnerved by the intensity of his own feelings in all of this. It was certainly the most complicated fling he had ever had. Because it was just a fling. Surely.
He came out of his thoughts with the pain of a bite at his neck.
"I said I'm fine. On with it, you." Anders was giving him a playful glare. "I didn't come this far to have you get distracted and forget what you are supposed to be doing...Or..." that mischievous smile, "did you want me to be on top?" He moved his shoulders as if preparing to get up.
"No." Nathaniel growled. "Stay." His hands pressed the mage's shoulders into the mattress. When the mage went still, he again immersed himself in the taste of Anders' throat and the smell and feel of his hair.
Slowly he worked his way down the mage's body to one perfect, dark nipple. He sucked at it until it was pert, and then bit it gently. The mage made such a groan that Nathaniel realised this would be the first time lips and teeth and tongue had made direct contact with that particularly sensitive area.
He had to have the match as well and hoped to elicit a similar noise. He moved his mouth to the nipple above the scar. He teased with his tongue before sucking and nibbling at the nipple. Then he ran his tongue down the soft skin between the nipple and the starburst of scar tissue.
Anders went rigid as Nathaniel's tongue began to trace the irregular shape of his scar. Once he had traced the circumference, he placed one wet kiss at the centre of the scar. He then kissed his way into the golden curls of hair that decorated Anders' navel as if there were no significance to his actions.
He followed the trail down to Anders groin and heard a whisper of "finally."
Nathaniel sat back on his heels, eyebrows raised.
The loss of heat tore Anders from his sedated state. "Wha- Hey!" He looked a little alarmed. "Why'd you stop?"
"'Finally'?"
"Well, you don't let me just drink my wine and then you won't just fuck me..."
"Are you complaining?"
"I...well..." Anders appeared to be genuinely considering the question. "No. I guess not. But -"
"Because you weren't complaining when I was on your ear," he demonstrated and Anders groaned, "or your throat," a moan, "or your nipple." Anders squirmed and made an "ahh" sound that held a little bit of "stop" and a lot more "please, don't stop."
"So if you are finished with your critique..." The noble began kissing well-developed thighs and the mage gave a happy purr.
Nathaniel teased more than he would have as punishment for the interruption, but he finally turned his attention to the now almost painfully-hard erection in front of him. He swirled his tongue around he tip and felt the combination of breath and hips reacting to the sensation.
He sucked the head and caressed it with his tongue, occasionally moving down the shaft. He pulled the foreskin down and brought his tongue back to the exposed, sensitive tip. He teased into the slit and down into the little notch at the base of the head. He took the tip back into his mouth, flicking that little notch with his tongue.
Anders was moaning and bucking, and Nathaniel monitored his building tension. When he felt the mage near his climax, Nathaniel moved his mouth to thigh and then hip.
Anders made frustrated noises that finally evolved into spoken complaints.
Nathaniel simply got up from the bed.
"Where are you going?" Anders sounded more than a little desperate.
"Patience, Anders." Nathaniel returned with a small bottle of oil. He opened it and ran the oil over his fingers, his own length, and Anders' length. The mage bucked into his oily hand, still very close to the edge.
"Breathe, Anders, breathe," the noble instructed softly. "I will not leave you wanting," he promised.
The mage took a deep breath and let his head fall back against the bed. A moment later it was up again, his eyes a little wide. "What did you do to my-?"
"It's the oil." Nathaniel grinned. "It's my own blend, and I find the peppermint adds just a bit of something extra."
The head of blond hair fell back against the bed again with a moan.
"I take it you like it?"
"I like it. I like all of it. I am just waiting for it to kill me."
Nathaniel chuckled. "Just wait until you feel the oil inside you."
And with that he began massaging Anders' entrance with a tingling, oily finger. He felt the mage relax and pressed the finger inside. The man beneath him was so aroused, he very soon had two fingers easily scissoring.
Nathaniel climbed off the bed and pulled Anders down until his hips were at the edge of the mattress. He lifted those slender hips and slid a pillow underneath. He let the mage's legs fall against his chest and shoulders.
"Ready?" he asked gently.
"Been ready," was the frustrated reply.
Nathaniel chuckled at his impatient partner, positioned his pulsing erection, and began to slowly press inside.
"Oh, Maker!" Anders moaned as Nathaniel slid completely within him.
The noble, fully seated, held very still.
"Andraste's bouncing bottom!" Anders was thrashing on the bed, hands nearly tearing the fabric of the sheets. "Stop fucking with me and fuck me!"
The sight of Anders' throbbing cock, the sound of his frustrated demands, and the feel of his body, hot and tight, around Nathaniel's own length spurred the noble to move. He was done with slow and careful.
He pulled out almost completely and then slammed back into the mage with all his strength. He heard the mage's groan and repeated the movement. Faster, harder, almost feverishly he thrust in and out of the the gasping, thrashing man beneath him.
He brought his hand around Anders length and began pumping it in time with his hips. The mage's body tightened and coiled until the air buzzed with anticipation.
When Anders finally reached his climax, he spasmed and shouted incoherent sounds as his seed covered his stomach and Nathaniel's hand. His body writhed and contracted around Nathaniel's, bringing the noble to his own ecstasy. He fell forward onto the mage, their bodies trembling together for several moments.
Eventually, Nathaniel managed to speak, though it was little more than a whisper. "Was it worth the wait?"
A little laugh vibrated up from the mage between pants. "Yes."
They laid like that, a mess of sweat and Anders' seed, until some strength and stability returned to Nathaniel's legs.
He carefully separated their bodies and retrieved a cloth. He wet it in the washbasin by his bed and carefully cleaned his lover's stomach, and then his own.
While Nathaniel was tending to himself, Anders crawled back up the noble's bed, moved under the bedding, and buried his face in one of the pillows.
Nathaniel was not one to let a lover spend the night. He was a light sleeper and a private man. No good came of sharing his space when there was no need. Yet, when he saw Anders lying peacefully among the bedding, his objections died in his throat.
He crawled into bed and was surprised to feel arms wrap around him and soft blond hair press against his chest. Without thinking, he wrapped his own arms around the mage. They stayed like that, together and perfectly still, until the mage fell asleep in his arms.
Nathaniel felt relief when he heard the change in breathing. It was only then that he realised he had been worried Anders would change his mind and leave. He removed his arms and silently watched his lover sleep. He listened to his steady, even breathing. He watched his lips in their perfect "o". He watched his chest rise and fall with each intake and exhale of air.
His eyes fell on the scar, and he began to wonder. And soon he was wondering about his own curiosity. After eight years in the Free Marches, he had seen many things, including many horrific injuries. He was not one to be fascinated by a scar, even one the bearer made a fuss about.
He was curious about this scar because it was Anders'. The scar was clearly significant to the mage and offered insight into the man's past.
Nathaniel was more than a little unnerved to realise that he wanted to break into that heavily guarded citadel which was Anders' private world.
Even more terrifying was knowing that he wanted to stay there.
He did not sleep much that night.
vVv
When the first morning light came through the window, Nathaniel was exhausted. His mind had refused to slow and allow him to sleep. And the realisation that he was losing sleep over the mage had only upset him further. He had considered taking a book in front of the fire and reading, but he somehow never got around to leaving the warmth of the man beside him.
Now that it was clearly morning, Nathaniel turned his mind to the very painful day that awaited him as punishment for a sleepless night.
"Fucking mage," he muttered bitterly.
"That was last night's agenda." Anders had yet to open his eyes, but his lips curved into a little grin.
Nathaniel had been so lost in thought he had not even noticed the change in breathing that had marked the mage's return from the Fade.
Anders blinked a few times at the ceiling and then turned his face to Nathaniel's chest beside him. He traced the lines of muscle, then played with the curls of black hair.
He shifted his body over the noble's, nuzzling his neck and pressing his own almost smooth chest to the broad hairier one beneath him. The hair must have tickled him, as he let out a child-like laugh so uncharacteristicly open and unguarded that Nathaniel tensed at the sound of it.
The change in Anders should terrify or bore him. Instead, he merely waited with baited breath.
Anders was making happy purrs and sighs.
"I've never done this," he mused. "Spend the night, share a bed...wake with someone next to me...someone very naked next to me." Nathaniel could heard the flirtatious grin in the mage's voice.
Anders sat up and looked at him.
"Maker, Nathaniel! You look dreadful!"
"Where do you get these sweet words of flattery?"
"No, I mean, you look ill. You're not feverish, but you look like you haven't slept at all!" Concern shone in his eyes.
"I haven't," Nathaniel confessed.
"Did I move too much in my sleep? Did I kick? Maker, Nate, I'm sorry. I guess I'm bad at sharing a bed..."
The mage looked embarrassed and defeated, and Nathaniel felt guilty that the other man was blaming himself for his own weakness and confusion and...wait...
"What did you call me?"
Anders now looked completely mortified.
"I'm sorry. Nathaniel," he corrected. "I should...I should go."
Anders started to move out of the bed, but Nathaniel placed a firm hand on his arm.
"Wait. No, I'm not upset. I...like it." They looked at each other and Nathaniel realised they were both terrified.
He held out his arms for the mage. "Stay." It was a request. One that brought a warm smile to the mage's lips before he cuddled against the bowman's broad chest. Nathaniel wrapped his arms around the other man and placed a kiss against his messy blond hair. They stayed like that for some time, each in their own thoughts, each testing the feel of this frighteningly new thing that had grown between them in the night.
It felt like a spell with no mage to cast it, and Nathaniel was aware how easily a spell could break. He worried that as soon as they left the sanctuary of his room, it would all disappear.
Nathaniel kept thinking about the scar. Only he had seen it, and so it marked his place of honour within the mage's trust. But he did not know its story, which marked the guarded wall still between them. If the mage would share that much, would go that far with him, then he could be sure that this new trusting submission would survive the harsh light and bustle of the world outside his door.
"Anders?"
"Mmm."
"I know I said that...that I didn't care about the scar and whether you told me the story..." He lost his voice temporarily at the look in his lover's eyes. Anders had pulled out of his embrace and was regarding him with suspicion that was evidently on the precipice of fury.
"You want to know." Anders voice was low and cold. "Why?"
Nathaniel knew he stood on the knife's edge. That Anders was asking meant that there might be a correct answer, one that would put out the fire growing in the mage's eyes. But Nathaniel was well aware that a wrong answer would destroy everything he had achieved.
It was time to be honest. It was time to give a little to the man who had opened and risked so much.
"I need to know...because it would mean that you trust me. And I..." he took a steadying breath, "I need you to trust me, because it means you care, too."
Anders watched warily. "I 'care, too'," he repeated, rolling the words over in his mouth. "Do you mean that I care and I trust you? Or...that I care and you care?"
"I care and you care." Nathaniel spoke very softly. He had never had a conversation like this, and his exhaustion made his feelings even more intense and frightening than they had been in the night.
Anders was still and quiet. He was clearly weighing all that had been said and done between them. Nathaniel waited for him to leave. He flinched at the mage's slightest movements in breathing.
Anders was not telling any stories, but he also was not leaving. Finally he rested his head against Nathaniel's chest once more and the noble quietly accepted him and his silence.
Nathaniel closed his eyes and gently stroked Anders' hair with his fingertips. The feel of the mage's hot breath against his skin was soothing.
Anders whispered something so quietly, even Nathaniel's ears could not make out the words.
"Hmm?" he asked almost sleepily.
"My father."
Nathaniel could feel the mage tense into a living rock. He tipped the mage's chin up and found eyes shining with unshed tears.
"Anders," he said in a voice so gentle he did not recognise it as his own. He was filled with worry as he struggled to make sense of Anders' words and his sudden sadness. And then he understood.
"The scar?" That same strange voice of delicate concern.
Anders nodded, and the tilt forward ran tears down his cheeks.
"When he found out I was a mage."
Nathaniel could not bear to see the anguish any longer. He pressed the mage firmly against his body, arms wrapped tightly around him and kisses pressed to his head and face.
"He t-took...a log...from...the fire." The mage was almost unable to speak through the sobs that now escaped his lips, but he seemed determined to tell the tale. "That's h-how he knew. He saw me...light it. He said...if I...was going to use it...fire...to defy the...M-Maker...then hi-his servant...would use fire...on me."
Anders seemed unable to say any more and simply sobbed into Nathaniel's chest. Nathaniel stroked his hair and back and whispered little soothing words into his hair.
It was a long time before Anders' sobbing slowed and he began to catch his breath. When he raised his chin, his eyes were red and wet and oddly defiant.
"He pressed a burning log into my chest. If I had been wearing a shirt, it would have caught...I would have caught." Nathaniel felt ill at the thought of the child Anders being being consumed in flame.
The mage's face was hard and dark. "I passed out from the pain. He left me there on the floor for my mother to find. She took me to a healer, but it was too late to prevent scarring."
Nathaniel could do no more than listen.
"And he said I should be grateful that he didn't turn me over to the Templars. Although, maybe he did in the end. I don't know how they found out about me."
Nathaniel held him until he felt the mage's tension lessen slightly.
"But...why did you hide the scar?" Nathaniel regretted his question as soon as he saw the rage in Anders' eyes.
"Why? Because my own father nearly killed me! He marked me as something evil!" Anders did not start crying again, but he was shaking with emotion. "He marked me as unworthy of...of..."
"Life? Happiness? Affection?" Nathaniel wondered what word the mage would choose, but he did not choose one. Or, at least, he could not give voice to one.
Nathaniel considered all of the effort the mage had gone through over his entire adult life to hide a scar that represented his father's disapproval. It was so familiar, and yet he found it morbidly...funny. A little chuckle rose in his chest and he tried to fight it down.
Soon, he was laughing like a madman. Anders glared daggers of hurt and anger at him.
"Anders, if you want to talk about crazy fathers who hate you for being who you are, you have come to the right man. Do you think loving, approving nobles send their heirs to serve as common soldiers in other countries?"
"I have no idea what nobles do," Anders spat.
Nathaniel tried to curb his laughter so that he could explain.
"Fereldan arls send their children to be squired in nice castles with warm beds by other nobles who feed them well and provide attractive serving girls for their entertainment. They do not send them to sleep in lice-infected barracks in places like Kirkwall. And while none of my scars is as impressive as yours, not all of them are from battle. If you want to talk Daddy issues, let's talk! I only wish my mother would have ever taken the time to have my wounds seen to by a healer. I'm not sure if she approved of my father's beatings or just didn't care."
Anders gawked for a while as he processed the words. "But...How did you bear it?"
Nathaniel pulled back from bitter and hard memories to look at the earnest eyes of his new lover. He felt an odd protective urge rise in his chest.
"I spent eight years in a world where actions and skill determined worth, and I found respect and approval there. That helped a lot. But even with all that, I still believed my father's assessment of me. It was only recently that I realised that maybe he wasn't worthy of judging me, that maybe he was the one who was wrong. I have my sister to thank for that."
He thought about how much he owed to his sister's constant support and pitied Anders for having no such equivalent.
"For what it's worth," Nathaniel offered weakly, "I think your father was wrong. You are not evil. You are worthy...of...a lot of things. And...it sounds like your mother thought so, too." He offered a weak smile.
Anders' face was unreadable. "I think...I have some thinking to do. Not now though." He came out of his thoughts. He looked at Nathaniel's face and gave a fond smile.
"Thank you. For talking, for last night, for," the mage gave a laugh, "for not letting me bleed to death in the Mother's lair."
Nathaniel laughed. "Can't have our healer bleeding to death. It's bad for morale."
Anders smiled at him again. "Thank you...Nate."
Nathaniel pulled him into a hug and they curled up together against soft pillows.
"It's gotten late. I'm sure the Commander has work for us. If she finds us," Nathaniel continued sleepily, "I'm ill and you are nursing me back to health." With the sound of Anders' chuckle in his ears, he finally fell into the Fade.