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You know what to do.

[A squint. Nathaniel is suddenly less inclined toward politeness.] You're really going to make it about you not wanting the throne?

[ And a derisive snort. ] I don't need his help staying off the throne. I need your help not looking like I'm trying to cause Her Majesty any trouble. Or did you want me to talk to you about my feelings? I can. It won't take long. I only have two.

That, I can believe. [Well, there was a brief time of peace. Now everything's back to normal and Nathaniel is kind of relieved about that. He ticks the list off on his fingers:] Indifference, and indulgent self-pity. And what do you think I can do about this? The Queen doesn't want to hear from me either.

[ There's a pause while Alistair tries to muster up the strength to repeat that he needs advice. But no. It was hard enough the first time. ]

Nothing, [ he says instead, shrugging and stepping back. ] Never mind. Good night.

[ His tone makes it sound more like I won't be sorry at all if you fall in the fire. ]

[Well, now Nathaniel feels marginally bad.

It's a bit of a struggle, watching Alistair walk away and trying to call him back. It only works when he remembers the cuts on his arms, the blood drained in that cruel cell.]

Wait.

[He can't just turn the man away after what has happened recently. Not when he has cuddled and coaxed Anders through his recovery. He closes some of the distance between them at a jogging pace.]

I'm sorry. [Stiff, but sincere.] I'll give you whatever you ask. Anything.

Edited Date: 2017-01-03 07:58 pm (UTC)

[ Alistair stops, turns, and looks briefly mutinous, like he might say tell Nathaniel it's too late and he should bugger off and leave Alistair to his indifference and indulgent self-pity thanks very much, thus sparing them both any further suffering. Alas, no one is that lucky. ]

I just wanted to know, [ he says, a little like it hurts to talk, because caring about Nathaniel's opinion about anything is painful, ] what you think. I have to look for him. But there's enough chaos, and I don't know if I should tell her now, or wait to see if something comes of it, or—you know, I almost wish I knew where Loghain was.

[ Loghain is a monster, but he loved Maric and knows Anora. He could be useful for a minute or two before Alistair shoved him off a high wall. ]

[Of course Alistair has to look for him. Though Nathaniel makes a face at Loghain's name, the rest he can agree with. He squints, wondering why Alistair is asking his opinion, rather than asking for a favor. Why would Alistair speak to him but for a favor? Or as a colleague, he supposes. Or as someone else chewed up and spat back out by Ferelden's feudal system.

A sigh.]

Well. Don't tell her until there's more to go on. There's no cause to escalate it to that level yet. But you might want to tell someone, so that your arse is covered before you get in trouble for something. Maybe Eamon--he'd be a good one to know when it's time to tell her. And he might be able to pull a few strings to get you resources to help. The flip side is he might take it out of your hands altogether, since his first loyalty is to the crown.

[Nathaniel was looking away this entire time. With effort, he finally looks Alistair in the eye.]

The real question is, would you prefer to hand it off to the crown? Or do you want to go out there and find your father?

[ While Nathaniel isn't looking, Alistair is nodding along anyway, a faint furrow between his eyebrows. Eamon -- maybe. It's been twelve years. Surely even he wouldn't try to maneuver around Anora for the sake of a sixty-four year old king who's been imprisoned for Maker knows how long and isn't going to be producing any new heirs.

He's thinking. Real thoughts and everything. So he looks a little startled by the movement when Nathaniel looks at him, and immediately cocks an eyebrow, like bringing up a shield. ]

You do want me to talk about my feelings, [ he says. He can't help it. It's better than thinking about how scraped-empty he feels nearly all the time, and how even you're no son of mine would fill the gap, the same way making the boys at the abbey hate him proved they knew he was there -- rejection would be fine, a bad end wouldn't be just nothing --

He doesn't want to dwell. Listening to himself talk is easier. ]

This is momentous. I'll have to write down the date. [ The eyebrow lowers, not quite all the way, and he adds, ] I'm going. If they don't like it they can try to beat me to him.

Edited Date: 2017-01-03 08:52 pm (UTC)

[There's a grimace when it looks like Alistair is done with taking this seriously--and then there's an answer. The grimace softens, and is joined by an intrigued brow. He finally gives a nod.]

Good man. Make him give you a reckoning.

[A beat.]

Special blood, yes? Is that why Ashton...?

[ Alistair isn't sure what to do with good man, when it's coming from Nathaniel. Does that make approval better or worse? He doesn't know. But, like a dog's tail set off by a kind-sounding word, his mouth twitches before he can stop it. He covers it with his hand, rubbing and then pulling contemplatively at his bottom lip, like he's thinking hard. ]

Mm, no. It was definitely because she fancied me.