PSL with justice_is_blond | Blood is Thicker than Taint

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Corypheus is dead. The Taint is, as of yesterday, cleansed from their systems. But when Anders opens the door to their shared quarters in the Gallows, Nathaniel sits in front of the fire. No other light is lit. In one hand is an unsealed letter. Nathaniel's brow is furrowed, and he starts at the sound of the door opening, looking up in surprise. Rarely is he caught off-guard by someone this way.

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[justice_is_blond]

It's... very unusual for Nate to look surprised at him coming home, which means there's something that's consumed his thoughts. Anders doesn't have to look far to have a guess as to what that may be.

He closes the door behind him and unlaces his boots, kicking them off, giving Nate a few moments to gather himself if it's needed, before wrapping his arms around his partner's shoulders from behind.

"What's the letter?" There's no effort made to see it, in fact, he rests his forehead against the back of Nate's head so there isn't any sort of pressure there.

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This is already better. Nathaniel rests back against Anders, bringing his free hand up to the ones crossed over his chest.

"Loghain brought it me. Here, not even at my office while I was cleaning it out. He says it's something my mother wrote to him shortly before she died. He says she did something for me I don't know about. I...don't know if I'm going to read it."

[justice_is_blond]

For a few moments he's quiet, letting the words settle in so he can mull them over, before he kisses the back of Nate's head and shifts forward to lean his temple against Nate's.

"You don't want to think anything good of her, because she hurt you and was cruel to you. She doesn't deserve being heard out... but maybe you deserve knowing. Maybe you deserve hearing that there was a kindness back then, because little you should have had so much more than what you got." He takes a breath, looking at the envelope. "Don't read it for her sake. Read it for yours, love."

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Nathaniel's gaze falls. It takes him a moment to say.

"It's not about what she deserves. It's about...I'm still little me, Anders. I'm afraid to give her another opening. I'm afraid to hope for kindness and get hurt again. And that's..." a scoff "..she would absolutely have convinced her peers, people like Loghain, that what she was saying to me was kindness. It would be said in such a way where they wouldn't know better, and I would. I don't want to give her one last chance to hurt me from beyond the grave."

[justice_is_blond]

That's fair. Anders' arms tighten around Nate.

"Would you like me to read the note? I've dealt with my share of hidden barbs, and I know how she's hurt you." He'll protect his husband. "If you ignore it, I think you might always wonder what it was. I would."

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It would be wrong, a dreadful unkindness to them both, if Nathaniel did not allow Anders to protect him. Nathaniel does his fair share of protecting Anders. It has taken time for him to learn to return it. Hesitantly, he gives over the letter, then rests his elbows on his knees, folding in on himself and waiting.

[justice_is_blond]

Anders takes the note and reads it... and reads it a second time because there's a lot to process.

"I..." He has to say something. The silence is more than likely oppressive to Nate and Anders can't let it continue. "It's not written to hurt you. There's something that may, something that was denied to you that maybe you should have had a long time ago." The letter gets held out. "I think you should read it, Nate."

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Nathaniel looks up, naked relief on his face, and he takes the letter delicately, reaching out to cup Anders' cheek in gratitude before looking down at the letter.

Loghain--

Mother must have been friends with him. It is an abrupt, familiar sort of address. Familial, even.

Loghain--

Rendon found out about Nathaniel last night. I do not know how. He has not taken it well. We sent the boy to a relative of mine a few years ago for his squireship. Right now he is with the Vaels of Starkhaven. Rendon cannot touch him there.

What? What sort of hidden truth would move heaven and earth enough to make Mother protect him from Father? Father was always playing the good cop between them, if anything.

When he returns to Ferelden, you will need to get to him before Rendon does, or I cannot say what he will suffer. I ask this in the name of the friendship we once had.

I know I told you, years ago, not to involve yourself in Nathaniel's life. I thought it would keep a peace which never really existed. I have many failings as a mother, and Rendon is no father. Perhaps he should have been with you all along. Even if Rendon had killed me, it would have been a more merciful death than the one that has crept on me without me even realizing.

I am leaving Rendon and I hope never to see either of you again. Take care of our son.

Yours,
Eliane

Nathaniel had almost been ready to weep at the thought of his mother having some manner of kindness, of closure for him. Instead...

What in Andraste's name was that?

Nathaniel turns the letter over in his hand, examining the page, a scowl swiftly appearing on his face.

"This is a prank," he says suspiciously, knowing even as he says it that it's a very, very paltry claim to make.

[justice_is_blond]

"Loghain doesn't strike me as a prankster," he says gently. It's a huge revelation for Nate, and Anders doesn't know how it's going to settle on his husband. Anger and denial make sense for a first reaction, though.

"You'd know your mother's hand, I'd think. As would he. To set a prank up of this magnitude would take either a great deal of hatred toward you, which I don't think he bears, or a very mischievous nature that's also blind to the impact of jokes like this, and that's not him either." Loghain had held on to this for so long and only now, when they're all parting ways, brought it out. Anders can't say what that means, but he can say it's not out of a desire for comedic timing.

"It seems Loghain is your father, love." Which means the abusive asshole that had been Rendon was not, and means that Nate no longer has to compare himself to Rendon and worry about what they have in common. Now... At least Loghain doesn't bear the ill will toward Nate that Rendon seemed to have born.

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A lot of things come out of Nathaniel's mouth now, almost none of which are voiced. Most of it is the beginning of consonants that turn into sighs, that turn into inhalations, that turn into the beginnings of other consonants. He can't put together words yet. After a moment, he casts the letter onto the table and surges out of the chair so he can pace the small room.

No is the only word that comes strongly to mind, as to how he is feeling, but he is not sure what no gets attached to. No, Loghain can't be his father? No, he doesn't want Loghain to be his father? No, to the entire situation of being on the edge of happily ever after with Anders only for this steaming pile to get dumped on him? No, he'd like to go back to being able to hate his mother without reservation while continuing the Maker's work that is getting over Rendon Howe in peace? No, no, no, no, no he would really like...something right now, he isn't sure what, his metabolism has been going mad ever since the Unjoining or whatever it will eventually be called--Separation? Retirement Party?

He turns to Anders, eyes ablaze. What comes out is all the words he tried to say before, in no particular order.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" he shouts, face turning red. "What does he think I'm supposed to do with this? And-and should the, the anti-Joining, is that more of a separation or a retirement because I cannot...neither. Neither of them. There is no better option here, there is no option, Rendon Howe was my father and-and a letter, or-or ejaculating into my mother forty-four years ago, it, oh, suddenly all these years of family turmoil and suffering and abandonment have all gone away because it doesn't matter if my old father was going to kill me, because I have a fresh new one who wasn't going to kill me and now everything is so fucking happy!"

[justice_is_blond]

Nate's departure from his arms is more than a little bit of a surprise, but Anders quickly wipes that expression off his face and takes a breath, waiting to see what will come from this.

After the outburst he swallows. It's not his fault Nate is yelling, and it's not like Nate is yelling at him so much as he's yelling at the room. It's okay and he needs to internalize that for a moment before he can respond.

"You don't have to do anything with it," Anders says after a moment in a small voice. "You don't have to treat him differently, or think about him differently, or anything. He gave you the letter and walked away which means there's no obligation. It changes nothing about what you went through, only re-frames a little of it. And I... I thought everything was rather happy. There's, you've... We've time and freedom and each other."

He stands, slowly, holding out a hand to Nate. "We can take the life that somehow we have after everything, the... anti-joining, or curing, or whatever is chosen for its name."

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That small voice makes Nathaniel hear how loud he just was, how careful Anders is being. He feels guilty, but knows Anders isn't afraid of him. Anders is just uncertain how to be there for him. Nate...Nate has no idea how he feels about this. He takes the offered hand and uses it to pull Anders into his arms. And for a time, he is just silent.

Then, for no reason, he starts crying. The last time he can remember crying was for Adria's death, and that was years ago and in seclusion, and it wasn't like this. Then, it had been quiet, quick, breathless, ashamed of an act of indulgent emotion his father would have scolded him for. Now, he shakes, he blinks, he swallows, he feels it welling up before it assaults those carefully-built walls of stoic indifference. Then he sobs voicelessly, breaths coming in loud sniffles, and he still doesn't know why he's crying or how he feels about this.

[justice_is_blond]

He leans into Nate, which changes into holding his husband close and tight when Nate starts to cry. Slowly Anders rubs Nate's back, simply letting the tears happen. The cause doesn't matter, understanding the tears doesn't matter, being here is what matters.

"I love you," he whispers when things seem to start to slow. "Mac Tir or Howe doesn't matter to me. ...Though Andraste's tits, will punning with Mac Tir be difficult."

The joke is there in hopes it will help, though there's a tiny grain of seriousness to it. He's going to have to get creative if Nate chooses to go public with this.

Moving in

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"It's...bigger than rumor led me to believe," Nathaniel says in a daze.

Gwaren was hit hard by the Blight, as far south as it is, but it is not actually Blighted. In the years since, it has been rebuilt just a little bigger than it was before. The teyrn's castle in particular, perhaps as a sign of optimism from Anora.

Inside, everything is brand new, swept clean, and polished to a shine. The castle staff anxiously await their new teyrn, lined up and introducing themselves one by one to both him and Anders, who is perched on his arm like a hunting hawk. The kitchen and dining hall are massive, surpassing that of the Vigil. Nathaniel and Anders must endure a parade of guards, decked out in their parade armor for them for "inspection." And, on the highest floor, there are their chambers.

The bed is much bigger than the one they have shared thus far, and while not nearly the splendor of an Orlesian noble's, the bedding is absolutely luxurious. There is a massive fireplace, a writing desk, and an adjacent bathroom with a large and glittering tub. There are rugs and mirrors about, warm woven tapestries with the Gwaren heraldry--making Nathaniel's bear tattoo feel a bit premature--and wardrobes full of fine clothing for them both. And while Fereldan finery is more streamlined than that of Orlais, it is still quite fine.

Nathaniel lets go of Anders, spreads his arms, and falls backward onto the bed with the same bliss as if he were a child. And Maker, oh sweet Maker and his bride, the bed is to die for. He had forgotten how wonderful such a bed felt, or imagined he felt the same in other beds since, and he hadn't. A slow grin spreads across his face as he lies there spread-eagled.

[justice_is_blond]

He's always considered himself a people person, but there are so many people on staff, and guards, and Maker is Anders glad to close the door to their rooms behind them. ...And then he starts taking in the massive room. As Nate plops down and stretches out, Anders slowly starts looking in things and seeing the huge amount of work that had gone into preparing this for them. For them. Two people. This castle. For them. It's overwhelming, and it's a stunned Anders that sinks down onto the bed next to Nate. The apparently ridiculously comfortable bed that he's not sure he ever wants to leave. This is altogether far more than he'd ever dreamed of.

Anders curls up against Nate as Purrelden hops down from his shoulder to explore. "It's, it's, it's massive. They, the kitchen, the cook, they said they can cook anything. At any time. For my cat. For a, a mage's cat." Sure, people lived like this in books, but he hadn't really internalized that any actual people lived like this and he doesn't know that he feels worthy of it. He's a murderer and he knows some very good people who will never get out of Darktown because life holds them down. How did he wind up with this?

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"Welcome to a noble marriage," Nathaniel says, rolling onto his side and planting a hard kiss on Anders' cheek. "And the reign of Divine Victoria," he adds belatedly, since that most certainly has to do with it. The former Nightingale has been explicit about amnesty for former rebel mages and has completely done away with Circles. "It will take some getting used to. Even I have never lived quite like this."

He begins to kiss his way down Anders' jaw. "We will have to christen every surface. That's apparently a...thing."

[justice_is_blond]

Freedom, comfort, Nathaniel, his cat, future children, an actual future, right now Anders has everything. Absolutely everything. ...And Nate is speaking his language with the kisses and talk of christening.

"Is it?" he asks, hands coming up to start undoing his robes so that Nate has a clear path to continue kissing down. "I like the sound of this thing." A beat. "You are my lordship now," Anders says with a laugh. "We can be in whatever you call the room with the fancy chairs, the one for judgments and rulings, and you can order me on to your lap, or anything else you'd like. And the table. The really nice table. You have to bend me over that sometime. Maybe even by surprise."

Robes now open and no leggings to deal with today, he gets to work on Nate's top as well, getting a little breathless as his imagination runs away with him and far away from all of the questions of worthiness. "We've quite the challenge ahead of us. I'll help make sure you're up for it." He sends a little rush of warm Creation magic through Nate's body down to his cock, helping it stir a little. It's not needed, he knows that, but it's fun when Nate is clearly in the mood.

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"Oh." He loves it when Anders does this, which isn't often. Not because he refuses, but because it's reserved for special occasions. At their age, that might happen more and more often, but for now, he likes getting hard the old-fashioned way as often as possible. This instance is different. In this instance, they are seizing the moment rather than waiting for it to arrive.

He flips Anders onto his back and quickly works off his own pants and shoes, flinging them to one side before touching his palm to Anders' fingers--another shortcut for seizing the moment, using a grease spell instead of spit.

[justice_is_blond]

His breath catches at the quick response and the always-welcome manhandling, casting quickly and giving Nate what he knows is being asked for.

"Fuck me in our new bed, my love," he says, reaching down to run Creation-warmed fingers along Nate's cock. "Fuck me hard. I want to still feel your perfect cock when we go down to a perfect dinner that neither of us has to prepare."

Anders stops touching Nate so he can get his robes off his shoulders and kick off his socks and shoes. Nate likes looking at him and Anders wants to be seen, especially as he parts his legs and makes plenty of room for his husband between them.

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His life is complete perfection now. His fingers slide into Anders to slick him, stretch him just a little, before he is sliding home between those perfect legs. The clasp of Anders around him is still tight and hot as the first time.

"Oh," he sighs. "Oh, my darling boy. My dearest love." And he moves, over and over, gripping the frame of the bed for stability. "This is our castle, our house, our new life, and the most precious thing in it is you, my love, my heart."

[justice_is_blond]

He tries to be quiet as the fingers go in, aside from a moan, and then it occurs to him that he doesn't have to. That this is their place. As Nate takes him, Anders groans loudly, happily and wraps his legs around his beloved's waist.

"Yes," he pants, "yes, my love. My... oh, my husband. I have you, and I have, have all of this, and you are my world." The relentless pace and the angle, and even the way Nate looks as he holds onto the bed and drives into him, means that Anders isn't going to last long... but he doesn't have to, either, because they have this place for good. He cries out as he comes, more than a little amused at the both of them at their ages having a quicky in their fancy bed in their fancy castle.

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It takes Nathaniel a little longer, driving in hard until he is growling into the joint of Anders' neck, stilling as he spills deep inside. It takes him time to catch his breath enough to speak.

"Well," he says, voice rough, "time to try out the new bath." And he gives a breathless chuckle. "I feel like a teenager."

[justice_is_blond]

He laughs, equally breathless, reaching up to push back some of Nate's hair.

"I feel... so many things. But above all, no matter how much this is to take in, I'm happy to be here with you, love." When Nate's pulled out, Anders gets up, a little sore, and presses a kiss to Nate's cheek as he leads Nate by hand to the bath.

"They're probably going to appreciate that they don't have to haul water up here," he says, casting ice and then fire.

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Nathaniel steps into the bath and holds his hand out to help Anders in. "They will. It's not every noble family that's used to doing the work themselves."

They settle back into the bath, and Nathaniel gives a deep sigh as the hot water closes around him. Today was the last leg of their journey from Kirkwall by sea. This feels incredible.

"That," he says belatedly, "would be something I would want to teach our children. While I was growing up, it was the servants who were my friends. I would want our children to understand and appreciate the work being done, instead of ignoring and expecting it."

[justice_is_blond]

He leans against Nate, warm and comfortable.

"Absolutely." There's no hesitation in his words. "I've never had servants before, and I want them to know that many do not, and that this is privilege, not a right, not something they deserve or have earned. Having more isn't the mark of a better person, just that someone has been lucky."

As they've both been here. Anders has been miraculously lucky these past couple of years, though maybe it makes up for how unlucky he's been in most of his life.