There and Back Again Ch. 186

Fergus was curled up in a ball on the deck, leaning his back against one of the crates. He barely stirred when I spoke, and it took me a minute to realise he was completely soaked. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, and he was sitting in the middle of a puddle of water with more dripping off of his clothes. I hesitated, uncertain whether to just leave - but it wasn't that warm out, and it had been quite some time since the rain, so he'd obviously been sitting there for a while. I was honestly worried about the risk of hypothermia.

I cleared my throat loudly. "Your Grace?"

He still didn't move, and when I finally bent down to touch his shoulder, I realised I was right to worry - he was freezing, his skin pale, his lips blue, and he barely turned his head to look at me with unfocused eyes when he felt my hand on him. His face was wet, though whether it was leftover water from the rain or whether he'd been crying, I couldn't be sure. Though I'd lean towards the crying, if I had to guess.

"Oh, Fergus." I sighed. "Where are your guards?" I wasn't really expecting a response, and I wasn't disappointed. I debated with myself briefly, trying to decide what the right thing to do was. I slipped back between the two crates to find my guard waiting anxiously for me on the other side.

"Go get Avanna and Charles," I hissed quietly.

"My Lady?" She looked around nervously, fingering the pommel of her sword.

"No, nothing like that. Just go. I'm safe, but I need Avanna and Charles. Right now. Go!"

She looked reluctant - which I completely understood - but finally scurried off, leaving me alone on deck with a nearly unconscious Fergus. I poked my head between the crates again; he hadn't moved, and he was still breathing. Reassured, I slipped back out to wait.

A few moments later, Avanna came around the corner at a flat run, a half-dressed Charles on her heels. Both carried their swords, which was sort of comical given that Charles didn't even have a shirt on. I held up a reassuring hand, and Avanna slowed to a brisk walk, sheathing her sword with a huff as she reached me.

"I'm fine," I started. I looked at the both seriously. "I need your help with something, and I need you to be discreet. No one hears about this - not the other guards, not Alistair or Aedan, no one. Understood?"

I waited until they both nodded, making eye contact with both so I could judge their sincerity. Satisfied, I squeezed myself between the crates until I came out on the other side, gesturing for Avanna and Charles to follow.

"Maker's breath," Avanna muttered as she took in the freezing, insensate ball of human I hovered over worriedly.

"Help me get his Grace back to his room," I pleaded, "and then we'll get blankets and things until he warms up, okay? But I don't want anyone to know. Not until I understand what's going on."

To their credit, neither guard wasted time asking questions it was clear I couldn't answer; instead both of them bent to take one of Fergus' arms, hauling him to his feet in the narrow confines of the hiding space. Fergus groaned and complained, but he couldn't seem to form real words so we all just ignored him. Charles slung Fergus' arm over his shoulders, and the three of us began edging out from between the crates with Fergus in tow.

I held the doors while Avanna and Charles maneuvered, and we made it back inside the boat without anyone seeing us. I found Fergus' cabin unlocked, and the guards dumped him unceremoniously on the bed before Avanna went to find blankets. I tasked Charles with undressing Fergus while I retrieved my little shower head - Alistair was still asleep - and then I warmed cloths with the hot water while Charles used the cloths to try to warm Fergus. It didn't take long before Fergus was shivering violently - and then only a moment longer before the Teyrn of Highever leaned over and vomited noisily into the bucket of now lukewarm water. I wiped his face with a damp cloth as he collapsed back against the pillow, and almost gagged on the scent of alcohol wafting from the bucket. I shook my head in exasperation. Charles and I exchanged looks, and he suppressed a laugh when I rolled my eyes.

Avanna came back in with a stack of blankets, and we finally bundled Fergus up and let him rest. I thanked Avanna and Charles for their help, and let them go with another plea not to mention this to anyone else - and sent the nasty bucket with them. I watched over Fergus for a couple of hours while he alternately shivered and slept, and when he finally fell into a deeper, more restful slumber, I made my way down the hall and crawled back into my own bed with my husband. The storm had abated while I'd tended to Fergus, and I fell asleep easily in Alistair's arms.

The next morning, a pale, wan Fergus joined us for breakfast in the dining room, silent and barely picking at his food. I saw Alistair shooting him some strange looks, but when my husband turned to me with a raised eyebrow, I just shrugged. Not my secret to tell - at least until I get the chance to speak with Fergus. Fergus slipped out before I finished eating, and I noticed with a smirk that the rest of us left behind got a lot friendlier and more boisterous once he was gone.

After breakfast, I decided to get some fresh air, still anxious about developing more nausea; Alistair chose to wait for me in our cabin rather than join me. I wandered outside, weaving my way around sailors and crates, watching the shoreline for a while - nothing but forest, at that point - and then crossed to the other side to stare out at the vast sea extending to the horizon and beyond. I approached the railing in the only open space on that side of the ship, only to see Fergus had beat me to it, leaning out over the railing and watching the water below.

"Your Grace," I murmured softly. He didn't respond or turn to look at me, and I stood there awkwardly for a moment debating what to do. I didn't want to invade his space, but I didn't really want to be chased away every time he and I were near each other. I waited another few moments, and finally turned to go.

I had only gone a step when he spoke. "Why?"

I stopped and looked at him over my shoulder. "Why...what?"

"Why help me? Why not tell everyone? You could have humiliated me in front of my own people and the Prince of Ferelden, but you didn't. I haven't given you much reason to show compassion."

"So you just assumed I'd be vindictive, and what - leave you to freeze to death? Destroy your reputation? I guess I should be proud to disprove your opinion of me." I turned away again and took another step.

"I'm sorry."

I stopped, mouth dropping open in shock. I forced the expression off my face and turned back again, taking a few steps closer to the railing, careful not to invade his personal space. I didn't say anything, just eyeing him curiously.

He sighed. "I've not been kind to you. I was angry and I didn't give you the benefit of the doubt."

"You had plenty of reasons to be distrustful." Technically true, but more polite than he deserves.

He scoffed. "Excuses."

I shrugged silently; he wasn't wrong.

"It was easier to blame you than face what I've lost. Aedan just seemed so...happy. I lost everyone, and my brother just forgot them. Replaced them - with you." His tone was less bitter than I expected, but it was clear there was still a great deal of resentment there.

"Is that what you really think?" I was suddenly furious. The words popped out before I could stop them. "Are you stupid?" I clapped my hand over my mouth, appalled at my loss of control.

He laughed mirthlessly. "Aedan would say so, yes."

"Your Grace..."

"Oh, Maker's sake, call me Fergus. We both know if one of us should be deferential, it should be me."

I scowled at him. "Fine. Fergus. You're forgetting that Aedan had nearly a year to come to terms with his loss before you saw each other. You weren't there when he mourned - when he cried in my arms, when he felt guilty for leaving them, for not dying with them. You weren't there when he had nightmare after nightmare about that night.

"You didn't see him hurting - but that doesn't mean he didn't. He still carries survivor guilt. He didn't replace anyone with me - he grieved even while recruiting an army, using my knowledge to do it more efficiently. And yes, he made new friends, even adopted some of us as family - wouldn't you, in the same situation? Did you honestly expect him to stay alone and grief-stricken for a whole year? Or maybe forever? But he's never forgotten what you both lost, and if you think he did, you're even dumber than I thought."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "You're allowed to be skeptical about me. I get it. I had no proof, and my story was bizarre at best. You don't have to like me, or even accept me. I've lived without an older brother this long, and I can continue like that if that's what you want. But you don't get to make this about Aedan. He didn't do anything wrong. He couldn't have saved Oren, or Oriana, or your parents. And if he could find the slightest bit of happiness - with Zevran, with his friends, with me - doesn't he deserve that? Or are you so selfish that you just want him to be as miserable as you are?"

It occurred to me that I was completely out of control; all of the anger and disappointment I'd carried since first meeting Fergus was coming bubbling out of my mouth, and the verbal diarrhea needed to stop before I said something I couldn't take back. It might already be too late. I took a deep, calming breath and turned to leave yet again. I'd made it maybe three steps when Fergus finally responded.

"I've lost him, haven't I?" The resentment was gone from his tone, leaving behind nothing but bleak despair. "I lost everyone else, and now I've pushed him away too."

The angry part of me wanted to storm off - or even tell him exactly what he expected to hear, that he was alone in the world and had no one to blame but himself - but his despondent tone reminded me of finding him the night before, half-dead from alcohol and cold, and I couldn't do it.

I paused.

"He warned me. I suppose I deserved it." He hesitated, and then whispered, "He didn't even say goodbye."

I sighed, growling at myself as I turned to look at him. "He's angry, no doubt. But he's still Aedan. If you believe that you could do anything to make him stop loving you, you're an idiot."

He smiled a little bit then. "I think it's clear you already think I'm an idiot." He snorted ruefully, but hope still bloomed on his face. "Do you really think there's a chance?"

I nodded. "You could always try, I don't know, treating him like an intelligent, strong-minded adult who has already saved the world once and can probably manage not to be completely irrational. He's not a child anymore, Fergus, and he's more than just your little brother. He'd probably respond better if you treated him as such."

Fergus smirked a little, looking at me slyly. "Probably wouldn't hurt if I stopped being unkind to you, either."

"I'm not the traitor you believe me to be, Fergus. I'd rather like to be...if not your sister, then maybe at least not your enemy. But don't do it for Aedan -- I don't want insincere pandering any more than I want open hostility, thanks."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I'll try. Not just for Aedan, but for you -- for us, too. I can't promise anything except that I will attempt to keep an open mind." He winced. "Looks like I'll get a lot of practice, since he won't even be around to see it for a while. Maybe the next time he sees us, we will be..." He looked at me, and I thought it might be hope on his face. "...friends? Maybe he'll give me another chance then."

I rubbed my forehead irritably. I'm going to regret this... "Or you could talk to him sooner than that. Maybe try apologising." When Fergus looked at me strangely, I lifted the sending stone hung around my neck. "If you want."

*****

In the end Fergus took me up on my offer and called Aedan on my sending stone. I gave them the privacy to talk, so I didn't hear what Fergus said, but Aedan sounded so relieved when I spoke to him afterwards that I assumed it had gone well. Aedan refused to tell me anything about what he was doing except that he and Zevran were on their way to Antiva. By land, apparently, so it was going to be a while. Why they hadn't taken a ship, I didn't know and he wouldn't say.

I told Alistair about my conversation with Fergus, and he was, unsurprisingly, shocked - and somewhat skeptical. I wasn't sure if Fergus' new attitude would last, but I was relieved that at least he and Aedan had made up. Being the thing that came between two brothers who'd been close before made me completely uncomfortable and I was happy they'd worked things out. And if it turned out that Fergus and I were able to develop a cordial relationship, so much the better. I wouldn't hold my breath, though.

The last day on board the ship was quiet; Fergus wasn't exactly chatty, but he was at least pleasant. The seas were calm, and the wind in our favour. Everything seemed...perfect.

Should have known it wouldn't last.

We pulled into Ostwick in the evening to find the city in chaos. The Chantry bells were clanging loud enough we could hear them from the harbour, and the usual chaos on the docks was muted, with most of the cranes unmanned, the dock workers either absent or idle, standing around in clumps instead of doing their work.

"What in the Void?" Alistair muttered, as we watched our ship coast toward the dock. Someone from the ship had to jump down to tie up, because no one below responded when the sailors threw down the ropes. The captain shouted uselessly trying to get help unloading cargo, and in the end Alistair, Fergus, and I - with all our guards - lowered our own gear down with ropes and left before the captain had managed to bully anyone into helping.

Exchanging confused looks, we approached a small knot of men gathered together near the end of the dock. "Excuse me, but could you tell me what's happening?" Avanna asked, before we had the chance.

"The Grand Cleric's been murdered in Kirkwall!" one of the men moaned, his eyes wide.

"Not th' cleric, dolt," another claimed, slapping the first on the side of the head. "The...you know, the Lord...somebody, and anyway 'e killed 'imself."

"What? No, that's not even a thing," declared the third. "It was the Knight Commander, and the Grand Cleric executed her for treason."

No less confused than before - and concerned, since I couldn't recall anything like any of those things happening in Kirkwall during the second game - I looked from Alistair to Fergus, who both shrugged. We moved on, heading towards the inn we'd stayed at during our previous visit. The whole town seemed to have gone into mourning; hardly anyone was out, and those that were scurried fearfully to wherever they were going. The bells from the Chantry rang every few minutes. We walked down nearly-abandoned streets, but from what little I could overhear, really no one had any idea what had truly happened. Every story was more fantastic than the last. The only thing everyone could agree on was that whatever it was had happened several days prior, though the news had only reached the common people of Ostwick the day before yesterday.

We finally made it to the inn, and I stepped inside with a sigh of relief. The bells were starting to make me crazy, and we'd only been in Ostwick for a few minutes -- I pitied the folks who'd already lived with it for two whole days. The inn was quiet, and though the common room was somewhat busy, hardly anyone spoke. It was weird: I'd never experienced the death of a celebrity that caused nation-wide mourning -- too young for JFK and only a child for Princess Diana, and they were the only examples I could think of -- but whomever had died, it had obviously been a major blow to the entire Free Marches.

Fergus went to speak to the innkeeper when he was interrupted by a young man who extracted himself from a back table and approached us deferentially. "Your H— I mean, my Lords, my Lady, I must speak to you." He was nearly gasping. It was clear he not only knew who we were -- and was a little star-struck -- but he'd been told not to use our proper titles in public, and was struggling with remembering that. Alistair and Fergus exchanged looks, and then Fergus gestured; the young man followed us back outside, where our guards spread out to provide some privacy without leaving us vulnerable.

"Take a breath," Alistair murmured to the boy, patting his shoulder awkwardly. "Who are you, soldier?"

"Oliver, my Lord." He'd clearly managed to get a grip on himself, though he still winced apologetically when using the wrong title. He turned to Fergus. "I'm one of the couriers from the army. His Majesty, King Cailan, sent me to find you."

I raised an eyebrow. How would Cailan even know where we were, and when? We hadn't even been sure when we'd get back from Lhanbyrde. Fergus was obviously thinking something similar. "You just happened to find us here?"

"No, my Lord. I was one of several sent to Ostwick. We were to split up and wait as long as it took for you to arrive -- though I only had to wait a day, so that was lucky."

Fergus frowned. "Well, you've obviously got some sort of message for us, so let's hear it."

Oliver pulled out a thick envelope from inside a bag he wore over his shoulder and held it out. "He wants you to meet him in Kirkwall, my Lord."

Fergus took the letter, clearly stunned into silence. Alistair cleared his throat to draw the messenger's attention. "How about you start from the beginning?"

*****

In the end, we decided to check in to the inn, and rent a private dining room so we could sit and hear the story. We all dumped our things and hustled down there, eager to find out what was happening.

"Well, your Grace, it's like this," he began, speaking to Fergus though his gaze kept roaming past Alistair and I nervously. "You heard the bells?"

We nodded, and Fergus clarified, "We haven't managed to get a coherent account of what happened, though."

Oliver nodded quickly. "Well, I can help with that. The Knight Commander in Kirkwall is dead—"

I gasped. "Meredith? Knight Commander Meredith? Like, the head of the templars? Blonde and rather over-zealous? That Knight Commander?"

The poor courier stared at me like I was a mental patient. "Um, yes?" He looked back at Fergus again. "And as a result, Grand Cleric Elthina," he glanced at me to see if I'd react strangely to another name-drop, but I was too busy freaking out to respond, "was recalled to Val Royeaux. I don't know all the details, but apparently they expect chaos in Kirkwall. Your letter may have more information. But either way, now the King, Grand Cleric Dorothea, and half the Fereldan army are on their way to Kirkwall. And he'd like you, your Grace, to meet him there."

I couldn't stop staring, my mind racing. Meredith, dead? That shouldn't have been happening for another five or six years, and certainly not like this. What could possibly have happened? The implications -- Meredith dead, Elthina removed -- were staggering. I'd changed things by preventing Justice from going to Kirkwall, sure, but this was much, much bigger in the scheme of things. The true result would depend on who was chosen to replace them both, but everything I had thought I'd known about the future of Thedas had just been dumped on its head.

I sat there, silent, completely stunned; my hands were shaking, and I pressed them between my knees to hide my reaction from the courier who already thought I was a maniac. Alistair wrapped one arm around my shoulders, but I was too deep in thought to even acknowledge the comforting gesture.