It left him cold in a way the winter couldn't manage. A chill in his bones that came from snow and ice- that was one thing. But this? It leeched the heat from his blood, from his gut. Settled like bile on the back of his tongue as he saw- and saw, and saw. A woman not so very unlike Taliesin holding his leash.

Someone that was more calculating than considerate. Someone that found her comfort in a boy and ruined him because she no longer had use for him.

Someone he would have slit the throat of without batting an eye, whereas at the end of the journey with Jonas? He would never. His hands remained on Alistair as he dropped to the ground, tears against his fingertips that had twins on his cheeks. He was an assassin, assassins did not weep. But the grief in Alistair- anyone else and he would not know what to do. How to handle this somber twist of emotion- but it was Alistair. Nevermind their worlds were different, their wardens and paths so strange. He was still the boy he'd followed and teased, the boy he'd fought to protect, the boy that protected him just as well.

He wrapped his arms about Alistair's shoulders and held him close, burying his own damp face against copper hair that did not smell half as much as dog as he remembered. "It is better here. It is safe."