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When Fergus caved to the inevitable necessity of presenting his petition for aid rebuilding Highever in person, he wasn’t entirely sure if he resented the journey or appreciated the distraction more. He hated traveling with all the mud--deeper now after three near-nonstop days of rain--even if this time he was strictly keeping to main roads and the odds of ambush were low.
On the other hand, there were far too many ghosts occupying Castle Cousland, and it was a relief to be away from them. Parents. Siblings. Wife and son. There wasn’t a room in the place he could enter without remembering something about someone dead and gone to ash.
His horse nickered and Fergus pulled himself out of his brooding to pay attention to the road. The mud was deep enough to disguise potholes, and the last thing he wanted was to wind up pitched from his steed into said mud. At best it would be an undignified way for the Teyrn of Highever to arrive in the city. (At worst it would be a bullshit and ignoble way to die. He owed his family better than that.)
Despite the weather--and mud--the rest of his journey to Denerim was uneventful. He was impressed by how far the repairs had progressed in the time since the final battle against the darkspawn. (His gaze went unbidden to the silhouette of Fort Drakon rising above the city before he yanked it back down.) The part of him that now had to think like a teyrn hoped the rapid improvement here would make it more likely his request would be granted. The rest of him couldn’t help noting there was a long way to go.
He inquired of the guards by the gate about lodging and was informed the Gnawed Noble had made enough perfunctory repairs to house guests, if you were feeling adventurous.
Fergus was not feeling adventurous, but he didn’t really have much choice. He saw to his horse--Father always said you could tell a lot about a man by how he treated his animals--and then went inside to see to himself. He secured “the last available room” according to the clerk, but when he opened the door, he wondered if the man had only said that to keep him from complaining. However dilapidated, the room was in tolerable condition, and it was better than an army encampment or Chasind hut. Fergus left his pack on the bed and hung his cloak on the wall hook before returning to the tavern side of the establishment. He needed a drink.
---
Alfstanna had been expecting the Gnawed Noble to be busy; it had always been a reputable and popular place. She hadn’t expected it to be full to the point of no vacancies, in terms of rooms and tables both. The full weight of that oversight didn’t hit until she turned from the counter with a goblet in hand and could find nowhere to sit.
“Bann Alfstanna,” a voice hailed from nearby, clearly seeing her dilemma, “I’ve plenty of room if you’re alright with company.”
She turned and found the speaker, a vaguely familiar man with brown hair and eyes, offering a smile along with his invitation. “Truly? You don’t mind?”
He laughed softly and shook his head. “I hardly need this much space for just myself, and if you don’t mind that I won’t be the most sparkling conversationalist tonight, I don’t mind sharing.” The easy charm was her final clue, even if the smile didn’t entirely reach his eyes--dull from more than merely the exhaustion of travel.
“I will happily accept your offer, Teyrn Cousland,” Alfstanna said with a tired smile of her own as she seated herself across from him. “I think anyone can be forgiven a lack of conversational fortitude after the journey you’ve had. Highever to Denerim is hardly a short jaunt.” She took a sip of her drink and set it on the table as she settled in more comfortably.
---
Fergus couldn’t help another laugh at her easy manner. “A mercy for which I am most grateful.” He built upon her example, taking a deep draught of his own ale. “Though you say that as if Waking Sea is a mere stone’s throw, my lady.”
Bann Alfstanna shrugged. “Needs must, your Lordship.”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “That they do.” He wished he could tell her to just call him Fergus. The title and associated honorifics still felt wrong; borrowed or stolen, like when he used to play at being a hero as a child. But such a request would give the wrong impression, wouldn’t it? Too familiar given their limited acquaintance? (Lydia and Aedan would tease if they could see him right now, all formal and awkward.) And so he sighed, and took another drink and let the conversational lull stretch on.
True to her word, Bann Alfstanna didn’t seem bothered by his silence, looking quite comfortable with her drink and her thoughts. The background tavern bustle was enough to keep it from being too awkward.
Fergus had made it halfway through his ale before the bann spoke again. “If you don’t mind my asking, what brings you to Denerim?” she queried.
“Rebuilding,” Fergus replied, dragging himself out of darker thoughts he was all too happy to leave behind. “The damage to Highever between darkspawn and Howe’s men” --Mostly Howe’s men-- “is extensive enough I’m unsure my... our current resources will be sufficient to repair it in a timely manner.”
Bann Alfstanna frowned thoughtfully and leaned forward. “What is it you find yourself lacking?”
“Manpower,” he said with a grimace. He was fully aware the potential folly of the confession, even to an ally, that Highever was struggling in that area. After all, the last time an ally spotted a weakness led to... well, where he was now. “Most of those who could fled from... one or the other, and I can’t blame them.”
Not when the state of the castle had given him nightmares for a week straight.
She nodded, clearly thinking something over.
“I know things are generally bad right now,” Fergus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “But I still figure it can’t hurt to ask. What about you, my lady, what’s brought you to our fair capitol?”
Bann Alfstanna laughed softly. “Resources as well, though in a different sense. My bannorn’s full near to bursting with refugees. I don’t begrudge them the safe haven, but Waking Sea can only support so many. I’m sure with the Blight... ended”-her lips curled toward a sympathetic smile-”those who can would return home, but they’ll need protecting on the way and we’ll need food and such for those who remain. The trouble is, I’ve no idea how much; juggling everything has proven a nightmare.”
Fergus arched a brow as he watched her play with the necklace chain that trailed down inside her shirt. “If any are able-bodied and willing to work for a wage, Highever might be able to help ease your burden.”
She gave a slow nod. “There’s an idea...”
“A good one, I hope,” he chuckled, which made her smile.
“Indeed,” she confirmed, chewing her lip in thought. “I’ll see what interest there is when I return home. I appreciate the offer, your Lordship.”
“Highever is happy to do what we can to help an ally,” Fergus said, perhaps a touch glibly. He swallowed more of his ale and gave a sharp laugh. “Wish I'd thought to ask around before running to the crown for help. Not very Fereldan of me, ay?” he drawled with a self-deprecating smile.
---
Alfstanna chuckled. “Even Fereldans are permitted to have imperfect memories,” she pointed out, circling one finger round the rim of her goblet. “Particularly in relation to a recently and abruptly received position of authority and responsibility.”
The teyrn’s smile shifted to a wry grin. “You are too kind, Bann Alfstanna.”
She shook her head. “I just remember my own first few months. And mine is a smaller territory, inherited in a... less tumultuous time for myself and the nation.” And I had my father’s guidance the first couple years. That part she kept to herself. “Besides, even if we come to an arrangement, it’s still wise to present your request; see if there’s any aid to be offered. Perhaps input on how to handle logistics that might not occur to either of us.”
“Very true.” Teyrn Cousland raised his tankard toward her in a toast of sorts before taking another drink. “I’m glad neither of us wasted the trip, then.”
Alfstanna was very aware of her necklace’s weight as she admitted, “I have a secondary goal, as well, so no fear of that on my behalf, regardless.” He didn’t press, but his brow twitched in curiosity, so she elaborated anyway. “I want to speak to the Chantry. Irminric...” She cleared her throat. “My brother’s condition has neither improved nor worsened, I was hoping they would be willing and able to share some advice.”
Teyrn Cousland’s brows furrowed and his hands curled around his tankard. “I confess, I’ve not heard what happened to him beyond rumor and speculation, and I’ve never given much clout to either.”
“Oh, well...” Alfstanna gave him the succinct version of what happened to Irminric, watched his jaw tighten. “I’m aware there’s no known cure for lyrium withdrawal; but I hate to see him suffer, and with all his years of service, can’t help hoping there’s something they can do.”
The teyrn nodded sympathetically. “I wish you the best of luck, my lady. That’s one area where I can’t help more than that.”
“It is still appreciated, your Lordship,” she said, taking a sip of her drink.
---
The conversation lapsed to silence after that, though it was only a few more minutes before Fergus finished his drink. “I hope you won’t think me rude if I turn in?”
“Of course not,” Bann Alfstanna said with a shake of her head. “I’m sure you need the rest.”
“That I do,” Fergus said wryly. He stood and rolled his shoulders as he turned to head for his room.
“You’re staying here?” she asked, surprise evident in her voice.
He nodded. “Highever and Castle Cousland proper have been my priority; I’m not even sure the condition of our estate here.” And if he was seeking respite from stubborn ghosts, why stay where they were most likely to find him? “I don’t mind; I’ve had worse,” he added, seeing her lingering consternation. “Perhaps I’ll see you at the palace tomorrow?”
“Perhaps,” the bann nodded. “If not there, we can meet here later to discuss some details of our arrangement?”
Fergus couldn’t help a yawn as he nodded in return. “Sounds like a plan. Good evening, Bann Alfstanna.”
“Good evening, Teyrn Cousland,” she replied with a smile as she inclined her head.
He gave one final wave before heading to his room and--hopefully--a good night’s sleep.
---
There was, as Fergus had expected, very little aid the Crown could provide. Resources were thin, other nobles had been swifter to the asking, and a few supplementary guards for those traveling between Waking Sea and Highever were all King Alistair could spare. He seemed relieved Fergus and Bann Alfstanna had started working something out between themselves.
“Everyone needs everything,” he said with an abashed grin. “And there’s only so much to go around. Thanks for not... being difficult about it."
“I understand the difficulty all too well, your Majesty,” Fergus said, biting back a chuckle. “If on a smaller scale. Every little bit helps, and I appreciate what you can spare.”
Bann Alfstanna had a similar report when they met later; maybe a hundred extra rations of supplies for the refugees filling her bannorn, escorted by a royal liaison and a guard or two. Not enough, but still something.
“I really hope this exchange of ours works out,” she sighed, drumming her fingers on the tavern table. “I hate the thought of people going hungry, but...”
“I fear that is an inevitability,” Fergus said wryly. “With how much land was Blighted and harvest lost... it will be a lean winter for sure. Good thing we Fereldans have a reputation for hardiness.”
Bann Alfstanna huffed a laugh. “An excellent point.”
A few moments of silence passed before he idly asked, "How much longer are you in the city, my lady?"
“Another day or two,” she replied with a small shrug.
Fergus nodded. “Is this for your meeting with the Chantry?”
Bann Alfstanna nodded. “The Revered Mother is... rather overwhelmed. It took quite a bit of finagling for her to have time free.”
“I hope and pray it proves a fruitful conversation,” he said. He couldn’t imagine watching a sibling suffer through something as terrible as lyrium withdrawal. Lydia had wanted to be a templar, for a while, before she decided being a knight was much better. He was glad she'd changed her mind, even considering... what had come of it.
“As do I,” the bann agreed. “I don’t know what else I can do for him if this... if it isn’t a fruitful conversation.”
“My parents always admired your resourcefulness, Bann Alfstanna,” Fergus said quietly, thumb rubbing over the seal of Highever that circled his finger. “And I know you love your brother. I’m certain you’ll find something to help him.”
She briefly rested her hand over his and gave a grateful smile. “Thank you. I appreciate the confidence.” She withdrew her hand, index finger curling under her necklace chain to slide along the exposed portion. “I imagine you have things to do, Teyrn Cousland, so I won’t keep you.”
In truth, there weren’t many, but Oriana had gotten him to the point of being very good at guessing when someone was looking for a polite escape. So Fergus simply nodded. “And I’m sure you do as well, Bann Alfstanna.” They both stood, but before he started toward his room, he forced himself to add, “If I might be so bold, my lady; as we are partners in this venture as well as allies, would a first name basis be acceptable to you? Or is that... too familiar?” Maker, he was all thumbs at this.
She smiled. “Not too familiar at all, and perfectly acceptable to me, Fergus.”
He tried not to let his wilting in relief be too obvious as he grinned. “I find myself once again indebted to your mercy, Alfstanna.”
Fergus bowed respectfully as they parted, then headed for his room. At some point he should at least visit the Denerim estate, to assess the damage if nothing else. But he couldn’t think of many things he wanted to do less. Staring at the wall held more appeal.
At least there were no ghosts there.
---
As luck, or coincidence, or perhaps the Maker Himself would have it, their departures just so happened to coincide and they ran into one another near Denerim's main gate. Given that they would be traveling the same route for the majority of the journey before the road to Highever split off, Alfstanna felt it was only right to ask if Fergus wished to travel with her small entourage until that point.
He agreed with alacrity. "And I'm not waiting for anyone more, so there's no reason to delay."
“No entourage?” Alfstanna asked, arching a brow at the lack of guards or any companions trailing in his wake.
Fergus shrugged and brought his horse to a stop next to hers. “We didn’t really have the men to spare.”
Her brow went higher. “There wasn’t so much as a single man or woman to spare for the purpose of guarding the teyrn?”
“Alright, you caught me,” he said with a sheepish laugh. “I prefer to travel alone.”
“Even though it makes you a target for bandits and brigands alike?” she returned, though she couldn’t entirely fight a small smile. It sounded like him. Even if she did find it reckless for the teyrn of Highever to risk himself so cavalierly, especially with no heir-
Then again, maybe that was why he was so reckless. She’d known people with worse reactions to losing loved ones.
And at least now he’ll be traveling with us part of the way, Alfstanna reminded herself as they set off.
“What did the Revered Mother say?” Fergus asked after several minutes’ silence.
“Hm? Oh.” Alfstanna sighed and stared at her horse’s mane. “A lot of platitudes and sympathies but no real solutions.” Her hands tightened on the reins. “With how long Irminric was likely... deprived, even resuming it would do more harm than good at this point. Merely exacerbate his symptoms, make him more dependent.”
He was quiet a long moment, staring out at the road ahead. “I wish there was something I could do to help. It’s never easy to watch family suffer.”
“At least I still have him,” she said softly, then immediately winced--even if Fergus mostly managed to hide his grimace. “Forgive me, that was thoughtless.”
“Don’t apologize,” Fergus muttered. “It’s true.” He cleared his throat and looked at her with eyes suspiciously bright. “We should discuss our arrangement, don’t you think, my lady?”
Alfstanna bit her lip and gratefully went with the change in topic. “That would be wise, yes.”
They spent their time in alternating stretches of discussion and silence, but it still made the journey seem much faster than the one out to Denerim.
---
Despite Alfstanna once again voicing concerns about bandits, Fergus remained adamant in breaking off from her group when their paths diverged to return to Highever alone.
“Oh, alright,” Alfstanna relented with a smile. “Just be sure to avoid bandits on your journey, yes? I’d hate to reach such a beneficial arrangement only to lose my partner before we even set it in motion.”
“I will take all due care, my lady,” Fergus promised. “Both for the sake of our arrangement and for Highever. I’d hate to deprive them of a second teyrn in such short order.”
He saw the concern that flashed in her eyes with the comment but pretended he hadn’t. Oriana used to fuss like that, scold for darkly humored remarks even when they made Oren giggle and Aedan outright laugh.
Damn ghosts are everywhere, he complained to himself, and made final goodbyes a bit more shortly than he would usually before setting his horse swiftly down the road.
---
Dear Alfstanna,
I feel I need to open with an apology for my less than gracious departure. I had some bittersweet memories pick a bad time to surface and my manners were an unfortunate casualty. I’ll do my best not to let it happen again, but memories are wily things, so I can make no promises.
To business, then. While there is plenty of space in Highever proper, in the interest of paying fair wage and not doing wrong by our current population, we could handle around three hundred more souls at present. As trade resumes and fortunes turn, perhaps we can accommodate more, but for the moment, this is how things stand. We’ve a most urgent need for carpenters, stonemasons, blacksmiths, and cooks, but anyone willing to work is welcome. You can write back once you’ve gauged the interest of your people, let me know how many to expect so proper billets can be arranged and I can prepare the coffers for the additional expense.
I hope you and your brother are well, or as well as can be expected with things as they are. I await your reply with properly bated breath.
~Fergus
PS This is the second copy of this letter, as I worried the several scratched out forms of address that started the first attempt might not inspire confidence. But I’ve never been big on ceremony, and we did agree.
Alfstanna couldn’t bite back a smile as she lowered the letter to her desk and skimmed the contents again. There was the dry, self-deprecating humor she associated with Bryce and Eleanor’s eldest. It was somewhat battered and buried with everything he’d lost, but it was still there.
Your father would be proud of you, she thought about writing back, but she wasn’t sure if the sentiment would be a help or merely tear open healing wounds.
Three hundred refugees. That was over a third of the temporary denizens crowding her bannorn. If he could truly use and accommodate that many, it would be an immense help--not to mention the greatly reduced strain on her resources.
"Maker bless you, Fergus Cousland,” she murmured to the travel worn parchment. This idea of his would be something of a lifesaver for her. And while she wasn’t sure how she could tell through ink and parchment, his well wishes for herself and Irminric seemed genuine, not merely a polite inclusion. Perhaps it was, again, the fact she’d known his parents. She knew what values and habits they would likely have instilled in their children.
“Alfstanna?”
She looked up at the soft question with a concerned frown pulling her brow. “Irminric? Is something wrong?”
He stood in the doorway, shoulders hunched, hands loosely clasped in front of him. “There was something I wanted...” The words trailed off, then trembled slightly when they resumed. “I can’t... I can’t remember...”
Alfstanna cleared the worried frown from her face as she pushed to her feet. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”
She glanced back at the letter briefly as she rested a hand on Irminric’s elbow to guide him down the hall. A great help, indeed.
---
The emptiness made it worse.
When Fergus had first returned to his family home, some part of him had wondered if it might make things easier that Howe had done away with--likely destroyed--any family portraits or favored decorations of the Couslands. Not having reminders everywhere he turned would be a good thing, wouldn’t it?
Days like today, when he missed his family so badly it ached, it definitely was not.
Fergus rubbed at tired eyes and tried to focus on the documents awaiting his attention. Early afternoon and already starting to see double. That wasn’t a good sign. But then, he had been at this practically since sunrise. Perhaps it was time for a break.
There was a knock on the partially open door, and a servant leaned in. “Letter for you, my lord.”
Fergus had already half-risen from his desk, so he completed the motion and circled to take the missive. “Thank you.”
The servant bowed before walking away and Fergus started to deposit the letter on his desk before noticing the sender. He opened it instead, leaning against the desk as he read.
Dear Fergus,
No apologies necessary; your manners were fine. I promise. And I know you have a lot you’re handling right now, so even a small slip would be easily forgiven.
Particularly if you are truly ready and able to take in three hundred of those filling my lands. That is a tremendous help, and I would like to offer my profuse gratitude. It appears it’s my turn to be indebted to you. The first group, thirty or so, are making preparations to leave as I write this, and I can spare the guards for escort, so they should arrive no more than a week after this letter, unless something happens.
As to your more personal inquiry, I appreciate it, and Irminric and I are both doing well. I’ve had a few long nights and he a few rough ones, but nothing we can’t survive. I did get a letter from the Chantry offering to “accept the burden of his care” due to his faithful service. I declined. Some might think it folly or pride not to accept help with something so “burdensome”, but he is my brother and I’d not lose him any sooner than I must. I’m all too happy to bear responsibility for him if that’s the trade required.
-Alfstanna
PS We did agree, and I appreciate your forthrightness all the same.
Fergus let out a breath and ran one hand through his hair as he folded the letter to place it on his desk, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. Thirty people, so eager to help they weren’t even waiting for confirmation of ready lodging. It would be an easy enough number to house, though. He could put that many up in the castle itself, if need be, until they found the appropriate jobs to match skills and could house the new arrivals closer to where they’d need to be.
A promising start, Fergus mused, gaze instinctively going to the blank wall over the fireplace where a family portrait used to hang. Its absence somewhat dampened his mood, but couldn’t snuff it entirely.
He strode from the room with new purpose. There were things to do, he couldn’t afford to sit around and mope.
---
Dear Alfstanna,
I insist the debt remain squarely on my shoulders for you continued graciousness. (Yes. That’s a word.) Someday perhaps I’ll find a way to clear it, but for now, it can stand.
The first workers have all arrived safely and settled into their various roles for rebuilding. With great enthusiasm, I might add. Their presence here is as great a boon to me as the lessened strain on your resources is to you, so that we shall call even. The additional guards the king promised should be here by the end of a fortnight, and we’ll be able to protect larger groups of travelers.
Take care of yourself, Alfstanna. As you worry about me with bandits, so will I worry about you with paperwork. It’s been the bane of many a great leader, you know. I’d hate to lose your partnership just as our arrangement is starting off. And think of your poor replacement, battling the mountain of parchment left behind. They wouldn’t know where anything is. It would be terrible. So make sure you get enough sleep and all.
~Fergus
---
Dear Fergus,
If you insist, who am I to argue with the teyrn? And to your good fortune, we Eremons are very gracious regarding the payment of debts we hold.
Does Highever have any need of artisans at this juncture? There are a few here interested in your offer, however, their skills are more... decorative than practical. They have expressed a willingness to do other work outside their expertise. I wanted to check how things stand before acquiescing to their request, I know the last group to move was quite large. I’d not wish to strain your resources unnecessarily.
I do appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I am holding my own quite well against the paperwork. Though it is an unrelenting foe, that is for certain. Someday I may need the assistance of a brave knight to help me vanquish it, but for now I am managing quite well. It helps that Irminric has been doing a bit better. Just a bit, but it has meant a lack of troubled nights for over a week, which helps me sleep easier.
-Alfstanna
---
By the time Fergus made his way to his study, he was nearly dead on his feet from exhaustion. Today had been full of traveling to various towns and villages, checking on how their rebuilding was going. (Someday he really should visit the outlying portions of the teyrnir, more affected by darkspawn than Howe, but part of him loathed the thought of going far from the castle.) He’d been extremely tempted to simply leave anything waiting for him til tomorrow, but a deep-ingrained sense of duty drove him to at least look.
Sitting atop the pile of waiting correspondence was a letter addressed in a now-familiar hand. Fergus pursed his lips. Perhaps he had the energy to deal with a few things tonight.
Alfstanna’s letter made him smile. Just briefly, and so faint most--aside from his family--would have missed it. He skimmed a couple other documents, decided everything else could wait til morning, and rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger before he began composing a reply. Messengers tended to like an early start, after all. Far better to have this written and waiting first thing in the morning.
Dear Alfstanna,
We have the lodging and wages of a laborer available for the artisans at present, if they would like and truly don’t mind doing more common work. There is a chance, certainly, that we’ll want or need them more in their dedicated craft given time, and at such a point we’d pay what they’re worth. I appreciate their willingness to do whatever is needed of them, and would welcome their help.
And I have the utmost faith in you, my lady, in the never-ending struggle against paperwork. (Even if I do feel as if I’m drowning in it sometimes.) But I will most assuredly be there if you ever require help taming the beast. Highever remembers her allies, no matter the foe.
I’m glad to hear Irminric is doing better, however slight the difference, and that this change makes things easier for you. Both of you will remain in my prayers.
~Fergus
“...when I have time to offer them,” he murmured, followed immediately by a yawn. He sealed and addressed the reply, set it on the front edge of his desk where a messenger couldn’t possibly miss it, and leaned back to rest his eyes for just a minute....
Only to wake in the chair, stiff and a little sore, as dawn cracked the sky.
---
The next few months settled into the monotony of relatively pleasant routine. Well, aside from the occasional bout of nightmares or memories too strong to ignore. (Lydia and Aedan’s birthday was followed by Oren’s, making for a very difficult week mid-Haring) The migrant refugees settled in well, for the most part, and with their help the rebuilding ramped up in earnest.
There were the expected issues; resentment on the occasions “new blood” was given leadership over people who had lived here their whole lives, the somewhat less-occasional fist fight with emotions so raw. Archblane had a bit of a thieving problem for a month or so, but the culprits were found and justice dispensed.
On the whole, for every report of a... fractious nature, there were two or three of compromises reached, friendships formed, or progress made. It kept the rebuilding humming along, which meant that while he may not have been over-stressed, Fergus was definitely busy.
Busy enough for the updates he exchanged with Alfstanna to become scattered and farther between than they should in his opinion. Still, he did his best to write them when he could. They’d made an agreement, after all, and he considered it part of his duty to keep her apprised how things stood. And no matter how quickly written, he always made sure to include a personal note or inquiry. This partnership was turning into a friendship of sorts, and friends were always good to keep.
---
Alfstanna rubbed her eyes and read over her letter to Wakestrait’s mayor, double-checking for clarity and any errors she may have made. It passed muster, and she couldn’t help slouching a little in relief as she folded the letter and sealed it.
The next missive in her pile of waiting correspondence was from the Chantry. She fixed it with a narrowed gaze and pushed it aside unopened.
She worked her way through the rest of the waiting correspondence and requisitions from local villages--or at least as many as a person could reasonably be expected to inside a day, and shuffled through the rest to get a start on planning her day tomorrow. A knot sat in her chest when she stood to exit her study, and it took a few minutes to figure out why: Fergus’ letter was late. The updates he sent her always seemed to arrive around the same time each month. Today was the last in his usual window, and there was no letter.
No matter, Alfstanna thought briskly as she went in search of Irminric. It’s been late before. He’s a busy man; busier than most. And if there isn’t one this month... Her stride faltered ever so briefly. Well, it simply means there’s nothing he felt worth mentioning.
Despite her rationalization, the knot of melancholy stayed in place until she found her brother and was distracted from her thoughts.
He was in her sitting room, seated on the bearskin rug, his bare feet scarcely more than a foot from the hearth and arms around his knees as he stared at the flames in silent fascination.
“Irminric?” Alfstanna began gently, closing the door behind her. “Aren’t you hot?”
“No.” His voice was soft, pensive, his gaze not leaving the fire, despite the shine of sweat she could see on his brow.
“Alright.” Alfstanna settled in a chair further back. “What did you do today?” It may have been an exercise in futility, but she still asked him every day in hopes it would just maybe help with his memory.
Irminric was quiet a long moment, gathering his thoughts as he watched the fire. “I read, a little, but the words wouldn’t hold still. Watched out the window a while.” His face screwed up in concentration. “I think I ate... I did. Manda ate with me...” He blinked, eyes watery. “That’s all.... I think....”
“It sounds like a good day, though,” Alfstanna said quietly, struggling to keep her voice level.
Irminric shifted to sit cross-legged, hands resting on his shins, and looked back at her. “Are you alright, ‘Stanna?”
She chuckled and rubbed her eyes. “Yes. Just tired. There’s a lot to do.” She didn’t mention the absent letter. She wasn’t sure herself why it bothered her so much.
“You’ll manage it,” Irminric said, the words ever so slightly steadier than usual. “You’re good at this.”
Alfstanna smiled, though the ache in her chest grew. “Thank you for your confidence, Irminric.”
“You’re good at this,” he repeated softly, and turned his attention back to the fire.
She swallowed hard but couldn’t shake the sting at the back of her eyes.
Fergus’ letter arrived the next day, a short, somewhat harried sounding update that still closed with well wishes for herself and Irminric. Alfstanna tried not to dwell on where the lump in her throat had come from as she composed herself and a reply.
---
Dear Fergus,
i hope you’re not placing yourself under any sort of stressful obligation to send me these letters. Much as I appreciate being kept apprised, if the workload of bann is any indication, you must be dreadfully busy. Things are, however, starting to taper for me into something manageable, thank the Maker. On that note, I was thinking perhaps we should meet in person to discuss how things are going? Any ways we could improve our arrangement? It seems a conversation better held face to face than in letters, without the delay of travel in the picture.
We could do it at either Break's Point or Castle Cousland, so as not to be a terrible imposition. Irminric’s been doing well, most days, there are no major crises of which I’m aware, and I have a steward I can trust to run things if you want me to come to Highever. And you’d be more than welcome here, if you’d prefer.
It’s just an idea at this point, let me know what you think.
-Alfstanna
---
Dear Alfstanna,
I am busy, can’t deny that, but not so busy as to make me stop writing you. It’s an easy thing and doesn’t take long at all. Not stressful in the slightest, I promise.
Your idea is a grand one, I agree it would be good to meet in person and discuss things. And don’t be silly, I’m not going to make you leave your brother. I know how you worry about him. I’m perfectly happy coming to you. Give me a week or so to arrange things with my seneschal, and I’ll be on my way to avail myself of the Point’s hospitality. Assuming that’s amenable to you. Let me know if otherwise.
~Fergus
---
His estimate proved optimistic, and it was in fact almost two weeks before Fergus had things sorted for his seneschal to be in charge while he was visiting Waking Sea. The timing worked out well, he got to travel the aftermath of a rather large storm instead of riding through it. Much as he disliked mud, traveling by horseback in the rain was undeniably worse. He was glad to have missed that.
Alfstanna was waiting in the courtyard when he arrived, her smile perfectly polite but her eyes decidedly more avid. He wonder briefly if she’d had time for anything other than work and caring for her brother the past six months.
“Your lordship,” she said, with a proper bow as he dismounted.
“My lady,” Fergus replied with a smile and incline of his head in her direction. “You look well.”
“As do you,” Alfstanna motioned for a stablehand to take his horse. “If a touch tired,” she murmured once he was close enough for it to reach his ears only as they headed inside.
“The price of two days’ travel,” he rejoined. “No matter how easy it may have been.”
“No trouble on the road then?” She sounded relieved.
Fergus shook his head. “Morecrest and West Hill have formed militias, of a sort. They can’t be everywhere, but they keep the roads clear.” He winked mischievously. “No bandits, at least that I saw.”
“Lucky for Highever’s teyrn,” Alfstanna chuckled, motioning to turn down a hallway once they were through the main door.
“Indeed.” He let a beat of silence pass as they walked before commenting, “Your people all seemed happy as I made my way here.”
“I hope so,” she said wryly, accepting the subject change. “Or, content, at least. But that can be part of our later discussion, Fergus. After you have a chance to rest. I know it’s taxing to travel.” She indicated a door. “Your room. I hope it’s acceptable.”
“I’m sure it is, Alfstanna.” Fergus ran a hand through his hair and didn’t mention he was tired enough a pile of hay in the stable would have been acceptable right now. “See you at dinner?”
Alfstanna nodded. “Three hours.”
He flashed a tired smile. “Plenty of time.”
“Excellent.” She inclined her head respectfully, but with an answering smile curving her lips. “I shall see you then, your lordship.”
“I’ll look forward to it for the food and conversation both, my lady,” Fergus said before stepping in the room and closing the door.
As guest quarters went, it was a fine example of the Eremons’ hospitality; a large bed, well appointed with pillows that sang a siren song of comfort in his weary state, couch and chairs by the mid-sized hearth, writing desk, map of the bannorn and surrounding waters, as well as a portrait of what he assumed were the former bann and his wife, on the wall.
Definitely a place he wouldn’t mind passing the next few days, Fergus mused, draping his cloak over the back of one chair as he headed for the bed with every intention of collapsing into its embrace for the next few hours.
---
Dinner was a subdued affair, just Alfstanna and Fergus. She wasn’t sure whether she was relieved Irminric hadn’t felt up to joining them or disappointed. He’d been doing well, but it would give her something else to worry about through the meal. This way they could simply focus on the conversation. After the food, of course.
“From your letters, it seems things are going well,” she said once they were mostly through eating.
Fergus nodded. “Not perfectly, but I never expected that. They’re acclimating, new neighbors are learning to get along. There hasn’t been anything approaching open rebellion, so I’m calling it a success,” he chuckled.
Alfstanna smiled in reply. “I think most refugees are just happy to have somewhere more permanent to call home. In some cases only until their own are deemed safe again, but I know many here have no plan to go back. I imagine it’s the same for you?”
“Indeed. Some want the familiar, so they leave when they’re able. Others don’t feel like uprooting again and stay wherever they settle.” He snorted a soft laugh. “I wound up with one of Gwaren’s best coppersmiths because she finds Glencot more palatable than returning to spitting distance from the Brecilian Forest. Not to mention the unrest there with no clear teyrn.”
“Mm. And there’s no unrest in Glencot?”
“Glencot, no.” Fergus pushed away his plate and ran one hand through his hair. “Amaranthine, however...”
“It was Howe’s land, surely that’s to be expected?” Alfstanna probed as she finished her duck.
Fergus sighed. “It’s less for that and more for the fact King Alistair granted the land to the Wardens. Seeing as the only living Fereldan Grey Warden is occupying the throne, their garrison is composed of Wardens from the next nearest base.”
“Orlais.” Alfstanna winced. “Can’t imagine that’s going well.”
“Fereldan citizenry does not take kindly to a fortress full of Orlesians smack in the middle of an arling,” he confirmed. “It’s not so far as unrest, yet. Unease, perhaps. No matter how many assurances they’re offered that Grey Wardens forswear any loyalty to their country of origin.”
“Understandable, given our history, not to mention how things settled with our throne not long ago.”
“A fair point,” Fergus said. “There’s some new commander en route from Jader, should be there by the end of the month. Maker have mercy on the poor bastard; I’m sure they’ll need it.” He blew out a steady breath and then sent a wry smile her way. “And how for you, Alfstanna? Does something like normalcy approach, even at a creep?”
Andraste’s tears, he would phrase it like that. Alfstanna bit her lip as she parsed exactly how she wanted to answer.
---
Fergus fought the urge to arch a brow at the significance of the pause before Alfstanna replied.
“For my bannorn it does,” she finally said, rolling her necklace chain between her fingers. “Even with the... slightly higher population straining our resources this year, if the Maker doesn’t see fit to throw another crisis our way, we’ll be in fine shape by next winter.” A deep breath, let out in a slow sigh. “I’m unsure, however, if I will ever find anything approaching normalcy again, what with my brother’s... condition.”
Fergus rolled his lips together as he worked out a response, honored by the trust shown in her honesty. “There’s nothing...?”
“Not that I’ve found,” she answered with a shake of her head. “Nothing beyond being there for him and praying good days outnumber the bad.”
“That’s...” He wasn’t even sure what to say. (It was almost enough to make him grateful his lost loved ones had died. He’d never say it, of course, but the pain of loss--sharp and brutal as it was--had happened quickly and allowed for the healing process to begin. There was no slow inevitable loss by attrition, no wearing away of sanity and awareness.) “I’m sorry.”
One side of Alfstanna’s mouth twitched. “I believe you’ve said that already.”
“It bears repeating,” he said simply, reaching out with a hesitant touch to rest his hand on the back of her wrist. He’d never been particularly good at this, at moments when a glib comment would hurt more than help. “This is a rough situation for you to be in, and if my support is all I can offer, then you have it.”
“Thank you, Fergus,” Alfstanna smiled, briefly covering his hand with hers and giving a light squeeze. “Even that is a help.”
The pensive silence lingered a few minutes before Fergus tactfully turned the conversation back to the reason behind his visit and withdrew his hand. They talked a while longer, Alfstanna suggested a ride around at least the main part of her bannorn the next day--which Fergus agreed to with more haste than he’d meant to--and parted for the evening.
As he headed for his room, he couldn’t help thanking the Maker for the timing of Alfstanna’s suggestion. Tomorrow was a day part of him would welcome any distraction he could get.
---
After the way her night went, Alfstanna was sorely tempted to cancel, or at least postpone, their ride. But Fergus had clearly been looking forward to it, and it would be a terribly rude way to treat not only a guest and the teyrn but her friend.
So she dressed in her riding leathers, splashed cold water on her face, and prayed Fergus wouldn’t notice the dark circles under her eyes. He was subdued when they met at the stable, the usual twinkle in his eye absent as he greeted her with a smile.
Maybe he’s just not a morning person, she rationalized, Don’t pry.
Their conversation remained strictly business through the first few villages, and even that was quiet and stilted. Finally, though, this... mood of his had persisted far enough into the day Alfstanna could no longer resist the urge to check.
“Is... everything alright?” she asked as they rode out toward Bethan’s Bay. She winced at the memory of last night. “Irminric didn’t wake you, did he?”
“No.” Fergus shook his head, then looked at her in concern. “Did something happen?”
“He... had a night terror,” Alfstanna sighed, shifting in the saddle to be more comfortable. “Woke up screaming, and it took me near an hour to calm him down. It’s the first one he’s had in weeks,” she said ruefully. “Figures it would hit while we have a guest.”
“I heard nothing,” Fergus assured her. He was silent a moment before commenting, “It really is surprising to me the Chantry has nothing they can do to help. If this is something that affects all templars eventually, you’d think they would at least try.”
Alfstanna snorted. “The only ‘help’ they’ve offered is taking him to ‘unburden’ me, as if he’s a senile pet I’m tolerating until he expires instead of my brother. They offer a cloister where ‘the world will not trouble him’.” Her hands tightened on the reins. “Irminric doesn’t need solitude and silence, he needs stability and support.” With some effort, she swallowed the rant that wanted to spill out in the presence of a listening ear. “They’ve been persistent, in fact, in offering, and have yet to accept I don’t want my brother to waste away in isolation.”
“I wouldn’t either, were it my sibling,” Fergus said quietly. “So long as you are willing and able to care for him, I see no reason to send him away.”
Her irritation softened and she smiled at him. “Thank you.”
He nodded, though his return smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, my lady.”
“Well, if not the Eremon family travails, is something else wrong?” Alfstanna asked.
“Not... wrong, exactly,” Fergus said slowly, his gaze fixed forward now, looking between his horse’s ears. “Today would have been our anniversary, Oriana and I. Ten years.”
Her throat closed up. “Fergus, I am so sorry! Here I’ve been dragging you all over my bannorn-”
“No, no, that’s a good thing,” Fergus cut her off. He started to reach out, as if to underscore the reassurance with a touch, then pulled back to keep both hands on the reins. “You’ve kept me busy, distracted enough to reminisce without wallowing. This” --gestured vaguely to indicate what they were doing-- “is a great help.”
She arched a brow at him.
“I promise, Alfstanna,” he said emphatically. “If I didn’t want to be here, I would have asked if we could do this a different day. You are helping, not disrespecting my wife’s memory or anything like that.”
“If you’re sure.” Alfstanna found herself reluctant to fully believe him.
“I am. I may be dreary company, I fear, but this is an excellent method of getting through the day.”
“Very well," she relented with a small sigh. "Our next stop, then, is Bethan’s Bay. And it’s our good fortune to be arriving around midday; they make a marvelous fish stew we can have for lunch.”
And so passed the rest of their day. She didn’t mention his somber mood, he didn’t mention the circles under her eyes, and they focused on the task at hand.
Until they returned to Break's Point and found a simple, unfamiliar carriage in the courtyard, a pink-robed figure just climbing out.
---
Alfstanna saw them before he did, but Fergus took note when her weary posture went stiff.
“Unbelievable,” she hissed as she urged her horse to a quicker pace.
Their conversation ran through Fergus’ mind when he saw the Chantry Sister in the courtyard, and he nudged his own horse into keeping up with Alfstanna.
She dismounted with haste once she reached the courtyard and strode toward the new arrival. “Apologies for my appearance, Sister, we were not expecting a visit from the Chantry or I would be better prepared.”
Despite her smile and the coating of charm, there was steel in her words, and Fergus bit back a smile of appreciation as he dismounted more slowly and held the horses until a stable hand approached.
“No apology necessary, my lady,” the Sister said. “I’m not intending a long visit so unannounced.”
“Then what can I do for you?” Alfstanna asked coolly, hands folding in front of her.
“I am Sister Lorraine,” the woman said, adopting the same folded-hands posture. “I’m here regarding Ser Irminric.”
Fergus waited where he was, watched Alfstanna’s jaw tighten.
“I have declined your... generous offer to take my brother in at one of your cloisters,” she retorted. “Thrice. I’m unclear what more needs to be said.”
“But our last few missives have gone unanswered,” Sister Lorraine said smoothly. “Surely you can understand how we might wonder if they reached you.”
“They did,” Alfstanna said. “I sent no reply because the reply hasn’t changed, Sister. I've no desire to pawn my brother off like an unwanted stray.”
“The Chantry is far better equipped and experienced to handle his condition, my dear. It really would be in his best interest. It warms my heart to see how you care for him, but the Chantry takes care of its own-”
“So does Waking Sea,” Alfstanna bit out. “And given the Revered Mother herself hadn't so much as advice to give me, I'm confident in my answer, Sister Lorraine. My brother is staying here.”
The Sister pursed her lips.
Fergus moved a few steps closer. He had no doubt Alfstanna could hold her own--she hadn’t been made bann on a lark--but sometimes a higher authority need to be involved.
“My lady, surely running a bannorn is taxing enough,” Sister Lorraine pressed, briefly lifting a hand to pat her silver-blonde hair. “You don’t need the added strain of caring for an invalid.”
Fergus stepped up behind Alfstanna, briefly touching her shoulder so she knew he was there before speaking. “Bann Alfstanna has given you her answer, Sister. I believe the proper course of action is to accept it, graciously, and not press the issue.”
The Sister blinked. “Teyrn Cousland. It is quite surprising to find you here, your lordship.”
“It is my duty to ensure the lands under my care are recovering from the Blight. The Maker seems to have had a hand in my timing to be in Waking Sea.”
Her eyes narrowed. “The Chantry supersedes provincial authority in matters under our purview.”
“Seeing as Ser Irminric is a former templar,” Fergus emphasized, “he is no longer under your purview. You could take the issue to the king if you wanted, but he’s still terribly busy as I understand, and like as not wouldn’t appreciate the distraction.”
She thinned her lips, stiffened her posture-- and caved.”Oh, very well. Our offer will stand, should you ever change your mind, Bann Alfstanna, but we’ll make no further overtures.”
She curtsied, Fergus and Alfstanna both gave barely-polite nods, and she whisked away in her carriage.
It wasn’t until her unwanted guest had crossed out of the courtyard that Alfstanna’s posture relaxed. She looked up at him. “Thank you.”
“You were handling her quite well, it was my pleasure to assist.” Fergus chuckled. “And here you thought you would need the brave knight to help vanquish paperwork.”
“I still might,” she said wryly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Stay on your toes, brave Ser Fergus.”
“Merely say the word, my lady,” he said warmly. His stomach rumbled.
Alfstanna smiled. “I believe the only foe we should vanquish at present is supper.”
He could do nothing but agree as they made their way inside.
---
The rest of Fergus’ visit was uneventful, to the verge of being boring, which both appreciated. After so long with demands on their time and attention, a chance to simply visit with a peer was most welcome. They chatted, and visited different parts of the bannorn, and spent more time chatting. Irminric sat in on their talks on his better days, even if he didn’t participate much, and it warmed Alfstanna’s heart how readily Fergus accepted his presence and tried to draw him into their conversations. It rarely worked, but he made the effort, and that meant the world to her.
It made her sad to see him go at the end of a fortnight. But duty called for them both, so no matter the puzzling ache it left in her chest, Alfstanna bid Fergus farewell and watched him ride off.
He promised to write upon his return home--”So you know the bandits didn’t get me,” he winked--before nudging his horse into motion.
Alfstanna watched with arms crossed until every trace of him had faded from view before heading back inside.
---
Dear Alfstanna,
Nothing much to report other than my safe return home. The militias are doing their jobs well, not a bandit or brigand in sight. I may start paying them for doing such excellent work. Anyway, I know you worry about my solitary travel habits and wanted to make sure you knew no terrible fate befell me. I jest, I jest.
Since I’m writing anyway, allow me to thank you again for your hospitality. My visit with you to Waking Sea was a lovely break from the monotony of this teyrn business. I see now why my parents took so many trips. Jokes aside, I felt it was a productive visit, and enjoyed both your company and Irminric’s. (No, I’m not just saying that. I truly did.)
Perhaps the two of you can visit Highever sometime. With Irminric’s new fondness for people-watching, he’ll find plenty to interest him, even from the castle windows.
This was supposed to be a quick note and ran away with me. Apologies for that.
~Fergus
---
Dear Fergus,
Don’t apologize, it was wonderful to receive a friendly correspondence amid all the formality of my usual papers. You were most welcome company and among the better guests we’ve hosted over the years. You would be more than welcome should you ever wish to return, just let me know you’re coming. I will, in turn, consider your invitation for us to visit Highever. Irminric hasn’t traveled since returning home, and I’m unsure how he’ll do in an unfamiliar place. But I’ll think about it. Once I subdue the pile of work that awaited me upon your departure. A change of scenery is quite tempting.
-Alfstanna
---
The monotony of routine persisted for them both, to the point their letters become more friendly correspondence than anything business-oriented. The only cause for concern proved the news from Amaranthine of a persistent--and internally squabbling--darkspawn presence. But that was a Warden issue; there wasn’t much Fergus could do.
The new commander had things handled in an impressively timely fashion, all but eradicating the warring factions inside a couple months. Fergus’ gratitude for her speed was somewhat tempered by the rumor of who she counted among her newly recruited Grey Wardens, but there again, there wasn’t much he could do about it. Other than waste a couple days staring broodily at the wall as he dealt with a resurgence of memories. And spill his guts in a rambling letter to Alfstanna that came far more easily than he would have anticipated.
---
Dear Alfstanna,
I hardly know where to begin. There’s no real reason for this letter beyond a dearth of other people I feel comfortable talking to so openly. And there’s nothing wrong, precisely. Rebuilding and repairing advances slow but steady, crops are being planted--though there were some fields that had had to be abandoned due to Blight--life is marching on. Warden-Commander Kader even manage to rout the pesky darkspawn still infesting Amaranthine. I’m very grateful for her and her leadership, dealing decisively with a problem I couldn’t have begun to handle.
And she did it with a handful of raw recruits, which makes it even more impressive. The only thing that gives me pause is the rumor one of said recruits is a Howe. Specifically, Nathaniel. And I am deeply unsure how I feel about that, which bothers me more than I would admit to anyone else. There was never any evidence the children were even aware of their father’s plot, let alone complicit in it. Beyond that, Nathaniel and I were friends, once upon a time, and I can’t see him being involved in something so dishonorable even had he been here. But he wasn’t, he was in the Free Marches, Alfstanna, hundreds of miles away.
Despite all that, the mere fact he shares the last name is enough to make me uneasy, even though I know it shouldn’t. Quite the terrible person, aren’t I? I supposed I'll have to settle for finding reasons not to visit Amaranthine for a while til I get myself worked straight. Because I can. And I will. No justice in blaming the children for their father’s crimes, grievous as they may have been.
~Fergus
P.S. Thank you for reading, if you made it this far. I’ve no one I can really talk to around here any more, and duty precludes my riding to Break's Point on a whim to burden you with my difficulties as well as your own.
PPS Also, find enclosed a feather that reminded me of those birds Irminric liked to watch when I was there last. I thought he might like to have it.
---
Dear Fergus,
I do believe that feather made my brother’s week, so my profuse gratitude for that. I greatly appreciate the acceptance and accommodation you show him. You include him and don’t talk down, and that is the mark of a wonderful person. No matter how hard your personal demons may try to convince you otherwise.
There is nothing wrong with the Howe name giving you pause after what Rendon did. Venting righteous fury on those not culpable would be, but your struggle is only natural. Of course, given that my brother was languishing in the man’s dungeon Maker only knows how long, I am perhaps not the most unbiased source of consolation.
But you said yourself; It’s merely unease, and you are working to get through it. I feel in the circumstances, that is all anyone can ask of you. It’s more than some would be willing to give. And I believe a teyrn has enough to do to keep you busy until you’re in a better frame of mind to visit Amaranthine
-Alfstanna
PS Friends are for helping bear your difficulties, so you’re never a burden. And you’re always welcome.
---
She was right, of course. There was more than enough to be done and overseen to keep him busy until he’d wrestled his demons into submission. With both the darkspawn threat and the spectre of civil war gone, efforts to “return to normal” seemed to pick up, emotions settled, and Fergus was finally able to start focusing on the restoration of Castle Cousland. He’d been half-assing oversight of the repairs for nearly a year as he put out fires all over the teyrnir, but they were finally to the point where disputes were smaller and could be handled by local leadership. Leaving Fergus free to oversee repairs to his family home, which was both blessing and curse.
He and Alfstanna still exchanged letters, saw each other at a scattering of events held by other nobility in a bid for normalcy. It wasn’t the same as getting to visit, but both were busy enough to make that difficult for the time being.
And there were a pair of anniversaries approaching at breakneck speed that would make him very gloomy company, indeed. Fergus wouldn’t wish his presence through those on a political rival, let alone someone whose friendship and aid he valued as much as Alfstanna.
Perhaps after... he mused. He did miss her company quite a bit.
---
Alfstanna wasn’t terribly surprised to receive a letter from Fergus shortly after the anniversary of Howe’s betrayal. She was even less surprised at how long it was, and that it consisted mostly of borderline disjointed reminiscence about his family--interspersed with the occasional apology for rambling that made her want to smack him up the back of the head. Maker knew he had to be lonely, and even if time did heal all wounds, this one was still tender.
---
Dear Fergus,
I’ve said it before and I’ll do so again. You don’t need to apologize for wanting someone to talk to. I wish we could do it in person. Perhaps soon we’ll have the time for proper visiting.
Your letter was hardly a distraction, it was a chance for a break I sorely needed from solving a border dispute between two villages. I am sorry you had to go though such a hard day alone, but it saved me from breaking under the stress of stubborn vassals. I didn’t mind reading about your family, far from it. And I know when the (Maker willing, far off) day arrives that I lose Irminric, you’ll let me ramble about him for as long as I need. I’m sorry for your loss and always willing to listen.
-Alfstanna
---
Dear Alfstanna,
You’re far too wonderful a friend, you know that? Thank you, truly.
And on the subject of visiting--should you and Irminric feel up to the journey, I would be thrilled to have you as the first guests with repairs completed. The last nails were driven yesterday, and mortar set. I still need to redecorate, but the bones of Castle Cousland are back to normal, or something like it.
King Alistair has invited me for the memorial "commemorating the Hero of Ferelden’s sacrifice" and given she was my sister, I don’t really see a way I can refuse. From what I can tell, I should have a couple weeks’ lull after that. If you have the time and Irminric is up for it, you could come visit then. I’ve taken advantage of your hospitality enough times it seems only fair I return the favor.
~Fergus
---
A few more letters back and forth over the next month and it was settled. Alfstanna found herself praying Irminric would be up to the journey with surprising fervency. She wasn’t going without him and she very much wanted to go, even with the tightness of the timing. She’d carved herself a small lull in her own responsibilities for this, but it was small. Enough so she and Irminric would have to arrive at Castle Cousland while Fergus was still en route home from Denerim. But it would work. And the change of scenery would be good for her. Hopefully it would prove so for Irminric as well, with how Fergus had talked up the view from the castle on multiple occasions.
We’ll see soon enough, she mused as she fiddled with her necklace, drawing the signet ring it held into view and rubbing her thumb over the bannorn crest.
The time came before she knew it, and Alfstanna found herself ensconced in a carriage with her brother, heading for Castle Cousland. Her prayers were granted, Irminric’s good mood lingered through the entire journey. He didn’t really get excited about things since his... imprisonment, but he seemed pleased whenever she reminded him where they were going.
And he spent a good five minutes staring at the architecture upon their arrival. That was a good sign, far as she was concerned. It meant he’d find plenty that caught his interest. A servant showed them to guest room, asked if they needed anything, and informed them Teyrn Fergus had been very clear his guests could wander where they wished.
“He looks forward to joining you upon his return,” the girl added. “Which will hopefully be tomorrow, but may be the day after. He left apologies for the potential delay.”
Alfstanna waved a hand. “Gives us more time to settle in. Thank you.”
“Of course, my lady,” the girl nodded and withdrew.
Despite how much she’d meant the assurance, Alfstanna briefly indulged a pang of regret at Fergus’ potentially delayed return. They were here to see him as much as the refurbished castle(or, she was, at least). Nothing to be done about it, she reminded herself. You’ll still get to see him eventually. And there’s plenty to occupy you in the meantime.
She made sure they availed themselves of much of it the following day. A servant showed her and Irminric around part of the castle upon request, they wandered a good bit more of it on their own, and Alfstanna couldn’t keep from looking toward the front gate at every hint of commotion--whether it was visible from their location or not.
“They're not going to be attacked,” Irminric said after her umpteenth glance. “We’re safe.”
“Oh, I know,” Alfstanna murmured as they took a seat on the walls so he could watch the forests below. “I’ve no fear of that.”
“Then... you wish for Fergus’ safe return?” Irminric was looking at the distant trees rather than her, for which she was grateful.
“Of course. Who wouldn’t wish the safe return of their teyrn?” she said, fingers sliding down her necklace chain.
He was quiet a moment, flicking a glance her direction and then back to the trees. “Do you like him, 'Stanna?”
Her heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. “As a friend and teyrn, yes. I... hadn’t given thought to anything more. He’s barely been widowed a year, Irminric. It... wouldn’t be proper.”
He seemed satisfied--or maybe bored with the topic--and gave his whole focus to watching the trees sway in the wind.
---
They spent an hour or so there before wandering some more, then spending time in the library.
As cautioned, Fergus hadn’t returned by evening. Alfstanna and Irminric turned in, slept soundly(both of them, which was nigh on a miracle in her mind), and did more castle wandering the next day. They spent the afternoon in the library, Alfstanna reading to Irminric for his enjoyment and her distraction as the hours wore on. Irminric wanted to be alone after supper, so he returned to his room and Alfstanna found herself pacing the halls. Even with the potential for delay, she’d think Fergus would be back by now. Surely it was that King Alistair had wanted to talk to him, or unexpected business had come up; something innocuous--
“It’s never a good sign when boredom drives a guest to pacing,” a voice chuckled behind her.
Alfstanna pivoted on her heel to face him. “Fergus!”
“I do hope you’ve found more exciting things to do with your time than pace out a hallway,” Fergus said as he approached.
Alfstanna snorted but found herself less concerned with making a witty retort and more with the fact he was limping. Heavily. As he drew closer she could also see the dark bruises clouding one side of his face and the cut that split his lip.
“Maker’s breath, what happened?!” she demanded, darting forward to gingerly cup his jaw in both hands, scanning intently for more injuries.
“You get to say ‘I told you so’, that’s what happened,” Fergus said wryly, in remarkably good humor considering how he looked. “Bandits are apparently a bigger threat in Amaranthine than other places in the teyrnir.” His hands lightly settled around her wrists, however, he made no effort to move them. “But as you can see, I survived the encounter, mostly in one piece. I’ll be alright.”
“Fergus...” Alfstanna hesitated, searching for words. 'I told you so' was the further thing from her mind at the moment. “You’re sure?”
“Nothing time and rest won’t cure,” he promised, briefly squeezing her hands in reassurance.
And both froze, suddenly keenly aware of their position. Several long moment passed with their gazes locked.
“Well, on that note, it is getting late and I shouldn’t keep you from rest after such a long journey,” Alfstanna mumbled, withdrawing her hands hastily.
Fergus dropped his to his sides and nodded, gaze fixed on the wall off to one side. “It... It was that. Very tiring. I’ll see you in the morning, then?”
“Of course,” she said with a tight, nervous smile, certain she was blushing and wondering if he could see it in the dim light. “Get some sleep, Fergus.”
She darted for her room before he could reply, and it took over an hours for her heart to slow enough she could even attempt to take her own advice.
---
Fergus’ knee was stiff when he woke, but that was hardly surprising considering the abuse it had taken. He’d be limping for a while, but he could deal with that. He was alive, and couldn’t feel his heartbeat in his face from the bruising. He took a few minutes to stretch it, all the same, before he dressed and went to head down for breakfast. He all but ran into Alfstanna and Irminric as they emerged from their own rooms.
“Sleep well?” Alfstanna asked warmly, without a trace of awkwardness or sign their... moment the night before left lingering embarrassment.
Good. Fergus smiled in return.”I did indeed, my lady. I trust you both did as well?”
Her gaze flickered and his brow twitched, but she nodded. “Very well, thank you.”
They walked to the breakfast together passed the meal in friendly conversation that only stuttered awkwardly a couple times. Clearly Alfstanna was thinking of... last night, and Fergus wondered if it would make matters better or worse to mention her touch had lingered on his skin long past their parting. Probably worse. They were friends, neither had made overtures for anything more, even letting his thoughts dally in that direction was presumptuous. (Never mind the idea that had surfaced in his mind several times over the past few months and always been shelved for later.)
But he caught her glancing at him more than once as they walked the grounds, and he wondered.
---
His curiosity festered until shortly after lunch, when Irminric withdrew to his room for a while, granting Fergus and Alfstanna a chance for private conversation. As if in accord, they headed for the top of the north wall.
“So, how did you escape the bandits?” Alfstanna asked as they walked, glancing with some concern toward his leg.
“I had the good fortune to be near a Warden patrol,” Fergus said, ironic smile already curving his lips. “Led by Nathaniel Howe. They intervened.”
She chuckled, toying with her necklace. “I suppose that lays to rest any lingering doubts you might have about him...?”
“Oh, thoroughly,” Fergus confirmed with a laugh. “He saved my life, no question. Though if I’d been paying more attention it wouldn’t even have been necessary. Denerim was... emotionally draining,” he explained when she arched a brow. “I was... brooding, rather than minding my surroundings.”
Alfstanna bit her lip. “Was the ceremony...?”
“Touching? Yes. Fitting? Definitely.” He gave a dry laugh. “I can tell he knew Lydia; she would have liked it. It gave closure. And I’d rather not discuss it further.”
“Of course.” Alfstanna gave another nod. “Is there something you’d rather discuss, then?”
“Last night.” Fergus slowed to a stop, leaning against the battlement to take weight off his knee.
She bit her lip and leaned against the battlement next to him. “I do apologize for my forwardness, Fergus-”
“You don’t need to,” he cut her off. “I appreciated the concern.”
“Oh. Well, then, what about it did you wish to discuss?” She arched a brow, before glancing away to look at the panorama spread below them.
“It... emphasized some things I’d already been considering,” Fergus began slowly. “Things my encounter with those bandits brought to the forefront.”
“Oh?” Alfstanna’s shoulders tensed ever so slightly, and she pressed her lips together.
It was a level of wariness that almost made him reconsider. Almost. But Fergus Cousland was nothing if not determined, so he plowed ahead. “Our friendship has come to mean a lot to me, Alfstanna.”
“To me, as well,” she said softly. “It’s been a wonderful surprise.”
“You have come to mean a lot to me,” he continued, smiling at her remark. “Your support, understanding, your counsel. I admire much about you; the care you have for your people, your brother, your savvy, your strength.”
“Fergus, what are you saying?” Alfstanna asked, finally turning to look at him.
He rubbed the back of his neck and took a steadying breath. “Not so much saying as working up the courage to ask: Alfstanna, would you be amenable to... to my courting you?”
Her breath caught sharply, she blinked at him a few times, and her lips started to twitch toward a smile before she caught it. “And this isn’t simply adrenaline from your... close call?”
Fergus shook his head. “That may have hastened the asking by a month or so, I won’t deny that. But it is a thought that already crossed my mind. Several times, in fact. I know it seems out of the blue--”
“And yet, somehow, makes all the sense in the world at the same time,” Alfstanna interrupted with a laugh. "Given how things have been going..."
“Promising, but not a firm answer,” Fergus teased, wondering if she could hear his racing heart. “I would clarify: we can take our time, see how it goes. There’s no rush or obligation. In truth, I would prefer we go slowly,” he admitted. “I just find you an admirable and wonderful woman and would be a fool for not trying.”
Alfstanna nodded slowly, biting her lip in thought, though she smiled as if at some secret joke. “Not so much a fool as I would be to reject a charming and caring man who actually gives a damn about my brother and has admirably shouldered leadership even in a time of personal pain.”
He couldn’t help the grin. “So that’s a yes, then, my lady?”
She laughed. “Yes, that’s a yes. To taking our time, and seeing where things go. I would be amenable to that.”
“Excellent,” was all Fergus could think to say as he reached for her hand. He kissed the back of it and grinned mischievously at her as he released it. “Let’s see how this goes, then.”
---
It went very well for the rest of her visit. Though that may have been because both embraced the taking it slow and they did nothing more forward than sitting closely together at nearly every opportunity. And while Alfstanna managed to maintain her composure outwardly, her heart was singing. She told Irminric, of course, and he smiled. She wasn’t sure if it truly registered, but he liked Highever nearly as much as Break's Point, so she doubted he would object if they spent more time here.
The visit passed in a happy whirl, and all parties involved were sad to see Alfstanna and Irminric leave.
---
Dear Fergus,
I have positive mountains of work awaiting my attention, so I’ll be keeping this short. I wanted to assure you Irminric and I made it home safely and enjoyed our visit with you immensely. And also to confirm my enthusiasm and anticipation of the changes to our arrangement.
Love,
Alfstanna
---
Dear Alfstanna,
I am glad to hear you made it home safely, though I would remind you of the brave knight who awaits merely your word to help with vanquishing said mountains of work. Any excuse to see you is a good one; his own responsibilities are settled enough to keep. (Mostly. Alright, I probably shouldn’t go haring off again so shortly after Denerim. My seneschal might strangle me.)
My injuries from the bandit attack are largely healed, since I know you’ll worry even if you didn’t say it. The knee needs a bit longer, but everything will be right as rain soon enough.
I’m equally enthusiastic about our changing arrangement. Though unless you fear spies, you can call it what it is. There’s no risk of me rescinding the offer; I'm too relieved and glad you accepted. I’m eagerly locking forward to where this goes in the future.
Love,
Fergus
---
The next time Fergus visited Break's Point, Alfstanna greeted him with a hug. And when he kissed the back of her hand, neither let go afterwards, instead lacing their fingers together for the walk into the castle. This was hardly the course they'd expected their arrangement to take, all that time ago sitting in the Gnawed Noble. But it was pleasant as it was surprising, and had them eager to see what would come next.
If the past year was any indication, it would be very good, indeed.