Chapter One

Author's Note: This fic is a Father's Day themed challenge and will take place at three different points in Siegfried and Tristan's time line. This first chapter is pre-canon. Siegfried is twenty-seven and had recently had Tristan, who is eleven, move in with him.

"Tristan, what are you doing in my room?"

Siegfried watched with narrowed eyes as his little brother gasped and leapt to his feet. He had just gotten back from a farrowing that had taken almost two hours over at Alan Morris' tiny farm and was ready to take a quick bath and then relax until supper. However, he had been surprised by the sight of Tristan sitting on the edge of his bed, holding something onto his lap. Something which he had scrambled to conceal.

"Siegfried, I, um…um…." Tristan coughed and looked away. "I was trying to find you. That's right. Mr. Alistair wanted me to remind you about checking out those sheep at Nelson's place."

Siegfried snorted. "Tristan, you know very well that Alistair reminded me about that at breakfast this morning. My memory might be notoriously unreliable, but it hasn't deteriorated quite that far."

"Oh no, no, I wasn't, um, I wasn't saying that you were…you know…."

"Tristan, what are you hiding?" Siegfried said, motioning at his little brother's arms which were hitched behind his back. He took a step toward him with Tristan taking a corresponding step backward.

"Hiding? Me?" Tristan all but squeaked. "What do you mean, hiding?"

Siegfried let out an exasperated sigh. "What have you got behind you there? You've obviously got something in your hands. Come on, now, out with it."

"I don't know what you mean, Siegfried," Tristan said, punctuating his words with shaky laughter.

By this point, Siegfried had reached the end of his patience. "Tristan, show me your hands. Now."

Tristan gulped, but remained still. Then Siegfried happened to notice a slight movement in his brother's shoulders. Seconds later, Tristan thrust his hands in front of him, waggling his fingers to emphasize that they were empty.

"See? Nothing there," Tristan said before putting his most ingratiating smile on his face.

Siegfried frowned. "Have you finished stacking that firewood that I asked you to take care of today?"

Tristan slapped his forehead with his palm. "That's right, I knew I forgot something. I'll go do it now. Thanks for reminding me, Siegfried."

Tristan rushed out of the room, the sound of his footsteps clamoring down the stairs. Once he was gone, Siegfried studied the spot where his brother had stood. He knew that Tristan was hiding something. But what was it and where did it go?

Siegfried moved closer to the bed. His little brother had been standing in front of the nightstand. As far as he could tell though, nothing was missing or had been added. He was just about to give up when finally noticed the one thing that was different: one of the framed pictures he had sitting there was now lying face down. Siegfried frowned again and picked the picture up, his features softening when he saw what it was.

It was a photograph of himself as a teenager with Mother and Father on either side of him. The three of them were sitting together on a large boulder in a field.

Siegfried sat down on the bed, still studying the picture in his hands. Ever since Father had died in the Great War there had been little said about him in the Farnon household. When they got the news, Mother retreated to her own private world to mourn, leaving Siegfried to cope with the loss of his father on his own while also taking care of Tristan who was a toddler at the time. She finally emerged from her grieving and returned to her maternal responsibilities when Siegfried left for college.

Siegfried traced the tip of his index finger around the faces in the picture. He was certain that Mother continued to shy away from any mention of Father after he had left home. As for Siegfried, he preferred his visits with Mother and Tristan to be happy ones, something he wasn't sure would happen if he brought up his memories of Father in Mother's presence.

Consequently, Tristan grew up with scant knowledge of his own father. All he had was a couple of photographs Mother had chosen to display and the occasional odd mention of him when friends of the family came to visit. Thus, it wasn't surprising that, at eleven years old, Tristan had many questions and had become anxious for some answers.

Siegfried let out a sigh. Even after all these years, Father's sudden death made his heart ache. There was so much he wished he could have asked him, told him, shared with him. Especially now that he had chosen to raise Tristan on his own.

However, at that moment, Siegfried knew he had a responsibility to Tristan, one that he was determined to see through.

A week later, Siegfried managed to get an afternoon off from work and invited Tristan to a ride around the countryside. They took a picnic basket with drinks and sandwiches and had stopped at a sweet shop to get a bag of candy to share.

Then Siegfried drove to the outskirts of the village to a road wound through fells of green which were outlined with stone walls. He pulled the car off the road so they could sit near a river and eat their lunch on the grass. Once they were done, they walked upward along a hill until they reached a stone bridge with wide ledges that they could sit on.

The two of them sat down and watched the river flow across the field. Siegfried retrieved the paper bag of candy from his pocket and pulled out a pair of lemon sherberts. He offered them to Tristan who immediately popped both of them into his mouth, making his cheeks bulge around his grin. Siegfried chuckled at the sight and gave himself one of the pink allsorts to chew on while they sat together in silence.

Then he opened the picnic basket he had carried with him again and pulled out the photograph from his nightstand, the one he had caught Tristan with before. As soon as his little brother saw it, the smile disappeared from his face.

"Siegfried, I…I'm sorry. I, I didn't mean…."

"I never told you about this picture, did I?" Siegfried interrupted. Tristan shook his head, and Siegfried leaned back and swallowed the liquorice in his mouth.

"We were on holiday," he continued. "I was fifteen at the time, and for the last couple of years Father was finally able to take more vacations with us. Before that, he had been hopelessly busy at the laboratory and often couldn't take off a whole weekend let alone an actual vacation. He knew that Mother had been feeling rather run down and had wanted to visit some friends near Coverdale. So Father and I decided that the two of us would go camping while she spent some time with them on her own. At least, that's what we tried to do."

"Tried to do?" Tristan repeated, clearly intrigued. Siegfried smiled and handed him another sherbert.

"Our first day there, the heavens opened up and it poured," Siegfried said. "Father and I tried to tough it out in our tent, but it the rain would not stop. And there must have been a small tear in the seams of our tent that created a slow leak because the next morning, we woke up to find a tiny stream carrying our toiletries away. Father said it had been the last straw for him when he saw his razor floating toward the entrance of the tent."

Tristan giggled and Siegfried laughed with him for a moment before going back to his story.

"So we packed up and checked into the nearest pub a couple of miles away. We let Mother know where we were and decided to let her continue her visit with her friends on her own while we stayed there in case it ever cleared up. Father and I spent hours playing games together: chess, Bezique, dominoes, backgammon. We talked while we played and Father shared stories I had never heard before from his childhood."

Siegfried took out another pair of allsorts from the bag, giving one of them to Tristan and taking the other for himself. "It wasn't the sort of holiday we had imagined at all, and yet, it's still one of my favorites."

Tristan listened eagerly, every once in while looking down at the photograph Siegfried was holding before returning his gaze to his elder brother's face.

Siegfried tapped the frame with his finger. "This photograph was taken on the last day of our vacation. After a week of endless rain, the sun finally came out and we decided to reunite with Mother so we could spend the day together. Her friends joined us and we went for a walk in the fields which is where they took this picture of us."

He handed it over to Tristan who held it in his lap while he stared at the smiling faces. Siegfried scooted closer to him.

"Mother thought it was silly to have our picture taken there when we barely spent any of our time out on those fells," Siegfried added. "But Father insisted. He said that it didn't matter because we were enjoying ourselves out there that day so we should go ahead and take a picture to help us remember it. Then he said that all the disappointments we had over the rain and not being able to camp would fade with time. The laughter and the hours we spent among family and friends, however, would always remain."

Siegfried paused and gave Tristan a chocolate before continuing. "And you know, he was exactly right. Whenever I look at that picture and remember our vacation, I always find myself dwelling on the fun we had and how I had learned so much about Father over those few days. And I remember how, less than a week after we returned, we got the news that Mother was expecting. That you, Tristan, would soon be joining us."

Tristan looked up at him for a moment, a grin on his face, before looking down at the picture again. Siegfried watched his little brother silently for several moments and wondered what he was thinking about. He was just about to ask when Tristan suddenly spoke.

"Siegfried…thank you."

Siegfried blinked. "What for?"

Tristan looked up at him. "Mother, she…. I tried to ask her about a picture I saw of Father in her bedroom once. But then she started to cry and I tried to tell her that I was sorry, but…."

"Tristan, you did nothing wrong," Siegfried assured him. He placed an arm around his little brother's shoulders. "It's just that Father passing so suddenly…it simply broke her heart. And I'm afraid, it's unlikely that she'll ever let go of that loss. So it would be best to wait until she chooses to bring Father up herself before discussing him with her."

Siegfried squeezed Tristan's shoulder. "However, I want you to know that you can come to me if you ever have any questions about Father or just want to talk about him. And I will make sure to tell you anything I can."

"But Siegfried, I…." Tristan turned his face away. "Don't you miss him too?"

Siegfried sighed, his eyes becoming wistful. "Yes I do. Very much so. But he was your father too, Tristan, and you deserve the chance to get to know him even if it's only through the memories I have."

Tristan nodded and looked at the picture for another moment before handing it back to Siegfried who returned it to the picnic basket. He continued to stare into his lap, his fingers fidgeting across his thighs.

"Was there something you wanted to ask me now?" Siegfried said.

Tristan coughed. "Well, um, I…I was just wondering if…if he…."

"Yes? Go on, Tristan," Siegfried said. "Whatever question you have, it's perfectly all right, little brother."

Tristan cleared his throat, but it did little good as his voice came out in a quiet squeak anyway.

"Would Father…would he have liked me?"

Although he did his best to hide it, the melancholic glint in Siegfried's eyes grew brighter. He was pleased that Tristan trusted him with a question that had clearly been difficult to ask. However, he also could not escape the overwhelming pity and regret his little brother's plaintive inquiry had stirred in his heart.

Thankfully, he had brought just the thing for this situation.

Siegfried reached into the picnic basket again and pulled out a parcel wrapped in brown paper from the bottom of it. He handed it to Tristan who accepted it with a confused expression.

Siegfried made sure to smile at him. "Go on. Open it. It's just something I thought you should have."

Tristan's brows knit together as he tore away the paper. Inside the box was another framed photograph. This one was a picture of Father sitting in a chair with a baby in his arms. The baby was looking up at Father with a large, toothless smile on his face and had closed his tiny fingers around the edge of Father's hand. Meanwhile, Father was looking down at the child in his arms, his expression one of complete contentment.

Tristan lifted the picture out of the box and held it up toward Siegfried with a questioning glance.

Siegfried nodded at him. "Yes, that is you in the picture with him. You were almost a year old when that was taken. Uncle Edgar and his wife Minuet were visiting us around Christmas, and he took numerous pictures, some of which he gave to us."

Tristan sat the picture back into his lap and looked down at it while Siegfried continued.

"Father used to sit with you almost every night. You see, no matter how busy he was or how long his day had been, he always had a smile and a joyful word for his family and he would make sure to put aside some time for me. And for you too, Tristan. He used to say that you were a surprise he never imagined having, but also one he couldn't live without."

Siegfried drew him closer, "So while I can't tell you everything about the contents of Father's mind, I am sure that he loved you, Tristan and that he still loves you from where he is now. Whatever uncertainties you may have, never let that be one of them. And you should also know that he dearly wished for you to be happy."

Tristan looked up at him with watery eyes, and for a few seconds, Siegfried wondered if he had said something wrong. Then Tristan sat the photo onto the lid of the picnic basket and wrapped his arms around Siegfried's waist. Siegfried raised his arm up to Tristan's shoulders, pressing him close against him.

"I wish I knew him," Tristan mumbled with a sniff. "I wish I could remember him."

Siegfried nodded. "I wish you could too, little brother. I'm sorry that you can't. You don't know how many times I have longed for things to be different so that he could be the one raising you now as he was far more capable than I shall ever be."

Tristan tightened his grip on him. "But I'm happy here, Brother. Honest, I am."

Siegfried's face fell and he rubbed Tristan's back. "Tristan, I…You do know that you have a home and that it's secure. You know that, don't you? You don't have to…. What I mean is that, you're my brother and you will always have a place with me."

Tristan let him go and looked up at him, his expression surprisingly solemn.

"I know," he said quietly. "I just wanted to make sure you knew too. About what I said."

Siegfried beamed at him and gave Tristan's shoulder another firm pat. He offered the bag of candy again, and Tristan fished out a barley sweet, placing it between his cheek and jaw so he could suck on it for a while.

Then he turned back toward the fields, swinging his legs back and forth. Siegfried took his pipe out of his pocket and placed some tobacco into the bowl.

"Siegfried?"

"Yes Tristan?"

"Tell me another story about you and Father. Did you ever get to go camping together?"

Siegfried laughed and lit his pipe. "Not very often, I'm afraid, but a few times we did." He blew out the flame at the tip of his match and placed the pipe into his mouth. Then, he put his arm back around Tristan's shoulders.

"There was one time in particular. It was when I was about the age you are now. The two of us had just set up our tent when we ran across the oddest stray dog I have ever met…."

Tristan smiled and leaned against Siegfried as he listened while also watching some clouds drift over the green fields that stretch out forever in front of them.