As they walk to Morrigan's quarters, Alistair looks up at the sky. All that's left of the Breach is the faintest green streak, barely visible in the dim predawn light; he fills his lungs, lets out the air in a slow breath.

"You're happier with it gone," says Kieran.

Startled, a little embarrassed, he looks over.

"Not just because it means the Inquisitor succeeded." Kieran's watching him closely. He hesitates a moment, then goes on, "Is it because of the Fade?"

Alistair's mouth quirks. It'd be easy to brush this off with a joke, like Cullen's yes, not having a giant hole in the sky does make things easier, but as has been made plain over and over: Kieran isn't stupid. He looks down at his feet, and answers, "Yes."

Kieran shifts the straps of his pack. "Mother told me I was never to ask you about it," he says, quieter now. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's -- " Swiftly, he looks up. Cautious: "She's...that was a kindness, her saying that. It's not worth talking about. Doesn't make for pleasant dinner conversation. Or breakfast conversation. Or...ever conversation." Alistair rubs the back of his hair. "But it happened. And when things like that remind me of it -- it's...difficult sometimes."

He gestures to the tiny green scar in the sky. Kieran follows it; nods.

Alistair goes on, softer, "It got the better of me yesterday. I'm sorry I wasn't around."

"It's all right." Kieran chances a smile. "The library's quite nice. I found all sorts of other books about werewolves."

"Really? Like what?"

He pushes open the door to Morrigan's quarters. It closes behind them on the sound of Kieran's cheerful relaying of all his newfound werewolf knowledge.