My thanks to WellspringCD for agreeing to beta-read another story. I need her to keep my commas in order (they escape all over the place!) and to give much-needed advice on story development.

Fearghal Cousland hurried around the corner and ran straight into Rory Gilmore. Gilmore fell back against the wall and Fearghal put out a hand to steady him. Fearghal look round quickly to make sure there was no-one nearby, then pressed up against Rory.

"Why, Ser Gilmore. In such a hurry," he remarked with a sly smile and a twinkle in his eye.

Rory grinned at him, flushing slightly. "I was looking for you, actually."

"And now you've found me. What a lucky coincidence," breathed Fearghal, brushing his lips against the other man's.

Gilmore laughed, a little nervous. "Fearghal! Someone might see! We promised you parents we'd be discreet," he hissed.

"There's no one around," murmured Fearghal, kissing Rory more firmly. The other man groaned, Fearghal felt his lips part and seized his opening, thrusting his tongue into Gilmore's mouth. Gilmore pressed against him and Fearghal felt his arousal build. He pulled his head back, grinning, and leaned his groin against Gilmore's hip.

"Why, Ser Gilmore... I do believe you are pleased to see me." His voice was husky with desire. "I have an errand to run for father but it won't take long. Maybe we could continue this somewhere more private?"

"F-Fearghal. Your mother sent me to look for you," Gilmore told him shakily.

Fearghal growled in frustration and stepped back.

"Your hound's got into the larder again and Nan's threatening to leave," Gilmore informed him with a grin.

Fearghal snorted. "Nan's always threatening to leave. I don't know why she thinks we all believe she ever will. She's as much a part of Castle Cousland as mother and father are. They'll have to carry her out feet first!"

Rory Gilmore sniggered. "That's as may be, but she's up in arms, the kitchen's in an uproar and your mother wants you to deal with it."

Fearghal started to protest, only to be interrupted.

"Your mother was quite clear, Fearghal. You're to do this, no matter what else you've got on."

"Alright... but only if you come with me," said Fearghal, smirking.

Rory laughed. "Why? Are you afraid of Nan's wooden spoon?"

Fearghal pressed against Rory again, pressing him against the wall. "No. I just want to grope you in the pantry, of course," he purred into Rory's ear.

Gilmore blushed but didn't protest. When he nodded, Fearghal gave a triumphant laugh and pressed his lips against Gilmore's jaw then turned and set off towards the kitchen, leaving Rory flushed and breathless, scrambling to catch up.

"Fearghal! Wait!" called Gilmore.

Fearghal slowed his pace, half-turning to Gilmore.

"Is it true that there's a Grey Warden here?" asked Gilmore, his eyes bright with curiosity.

Fearghal nodded casually. "Yes, he was with Father and Howe earlier." Fergal stopped and faced Gilmore.

His voice took on a teasing tone. "Apparently he's here looking for recruits. Said he wanted to test someone but I can't remember who it was now." He pretended to think. "Now, was it Damon? Or Marcus, maybe?"

He laughed when he saw Rory's eyes narrow and leaned in close. "Actually, now I come to think of it, he's threatening to take away the best knight in the service of Highever. My very own Rory Gilmore."

Gilmore couldn't hide his excitement. "Really? He said he wanted test me?" he demanded.

Fearghal smiled ruefully. "Well, who else would he be here for?" His face was suddenly serious. "Will you go, if he finds you suitable?"

Regret flashed across Gilmore's face. "I'd be mad not to, but... "

Fearghal nodded. "Of course!" He frowned. "I wouldn't ask you to turn down a chance like this but... " he paused, the words suddenly difficult to say. "I'll miss you," he finished huskily.

Rory looked pained. "Fearghal, I ... "

Fearghal stopped him with a small laugh. "Who knows, maybe I'll run away to join the Grey Wardens too."

Gilmore looked shocked. "You couldn't! Your Father would never allow it. He'd be heartbroken."

Fearghal grimaced. "I know... and I could never do that to him." He took a deep breath and laughed shakily. "It's a nice idea though, run away to join the Grey Wardens in pursuit of my lover." He nudged Gilmore. "We could fight our way across Ferelden, killing darkspawn as we go."

Gilmore laughed. "But first, we need to deal with your hound and placate Nan."

"Indeed," agreed Fearghal. Together they headed to the kitchen.

"That bloody dog's got into my larder again," announced Nan as Fearghal entered the kitchen.

"Never fear, dear Nan, Highever's finest are here to aid the damsel in distress," Fearghal told her, giving her his most charming smile and sweeping an elaborate bow.

The kitchen servants giggled while Nan merely scowled at him.

"Don't you think you can get round me like that, master Fearghal," she told him, waving a wooden spoon threateningly. "Get that mangy mutt out of my larder! I've got more mouths to feed than you can shake a stick at and none of us can get near the food. If he gets at the venison, I'll have his guts for garters."

At the sound of his master's voice, Fearghal's hound began a frenzied barking. Fearghal shot Nan what he hoped was a suitably apologetic look and sidled past her, heading for the larder door with Gilmore following close behind. The two young men slipped into the larder and Fearghal shut the door firmly behind them.

"Maker's breath, Bane," groaned Fearghal, "You have horrible timing."

The hound paused his barking and looked up at his master whining, then began a frenzied pacing.

Fearghal looked at the dog, puzzled, then across at Gilmore. "I do believe he's trying to tell me something."

The dog ran to a pile of crates, growling. Curious, Fearghal followed and pulled the crates to one side then jumped back as a large rat leaped out. Drawing his sword he slashed at the rat, sending it scuttling toward Bane, who snatched up between his jaws and crunched. Bane barked approvingly, then snarled and darted forwards, catching another rat as it emerged.

"Ugh! How many of these things are there down that hole!" exclaimed Fearghal in disgust.

Gilmore drew his own sword as several rats ran out from the hole. Both men and the dog enthusiastically despatched the vermin in the larder; the men swinging their swords at the rats, heading them off and driving them towards Bane who finished them off with more enthusiasm than was decent.

"There must have been a nest or something there. I hate rats!" Gilmore shuddered.

Fearghal caught hold of him and pushed him against the wall, grinning. "Well, in that case, you were very brave, ser knight."

Rory grinned back at him. "And do I get a reward for my bravery, my Lord?"

Fearghal leaned in and kissed him, slowly and deeply. Eventually, he drew back, flushed and breathless. He leaned his forehead against Gilmore's. "Come to my room after dinner and I'll reward you properly," he promised, his voice thick with desire.

Rory gazed into his eyes and nodded. "I look forward to it," he murmured, his own breathing ragged.

Fearghal grinned wickedly, then pulled back, spun on his heel and threw open the larder door.

Nan looked past him at a dazed and flushed Gilmore and smiled knowingly.

"Your larder is now safe, Nan," Fearghal told her. "It was infested with vermin, flushed out by my noble hound, and despatched by myself and Ser Gilmore."

Nan raised her eyebrows, disbelievingly, then tore her eyes away from a guilty-looking Gilmore and spied the dead rats on the floor. "Rats! In my larder!" The kitchen servants shrieked at this news, earning a scathing look from Nan.

"Look at all that mess. And who's got to clean it up, eh?"

Fearghal grinned cheekily at her. "I think our work here is done. One hound's reputation redeemed, one larder made safe. We'll leave you to it, Nan. I need to attend to something for Father."

With that, he grabbed Bane's collar and dragged the mabari out of the kitchen before Nan could protest further, and made his escape. He whistled jauntily to himself, excited by the prospect of his assignation with Rory.

As he made his way up to Fergus's room to deliver Father's message he ran into his mother and was able to reassure her that all was now well in the kitchen. His mother was entertaining Lady Landra and her son, Dairren. Fearghal smiled to himself. He'd had a huge crush on Dairren a few years ago. The man was still attractive, but soft-looking; he spent most of his time with his nose in books. Rory, on the other hand, was all hard muscle, more than a match for Fearghal's own strength. Fearghal shivered in anticipation. He smiled blankly as Lady Landra introduced her new lady's maid, a vapid-looking elf. While Fearghal did find some women attractive, he liked his women to have a little more fire about them than this timid-looking creature seemed to have. His attention wandered again. There was plenty of fire to Rory Gilmore once his embers were stoked; he more than lived up to the promise of his flame-coloured hair. As soon as he could, Fearghal made his excuses and left in search of his brother, Fergus.

~o~O~o~

Fearghal lounged on his bed, clad only in breeches and a thin shirt, his ears alert for the sound of Gilmore. Fergus had left for Ostagar with their men, and his wife, Oriana, had opted for an early night. Mother had retired soon after dinner, as had most of her guests. Father was probably in his study entertaining Arl Howe and the Warden-Commander and likely wouldn't retire for hours. With almost everyone abed, it would be safe for Gilmore to sneak into the family's quarters.

Fearghal felt a thrill of anticipation ripple through him. Rory Gilmore had been his lover for almost a year now, yet the mere thought of him was still exciting. He had been anxious initially that Rory thrilled him for all the wrong reasons: the thrill of seeming unobtainable, the thrill of the forbidden. Not that those things hadn't thrilled Fearghal when he had first developed an unexpected crush on the young man he had known since boyhood. It was just that those things weren't even issues any more.

There was a very solid friendship underpinning their robust physical relationship. A friendship that had deepened into something more fundamental after they became lovers. Indeed, it was this friendship that had given Fearghal pause when he had become attracted to Gilmore; it wasn't something he wanted to risk for the sake of indulging an infatuation, especially when he'd had no idea that Gilmore was even attracted to men. Rory had, incredibly, been obtainable; he wasn't forbidden. Fearghal's parents were both aware of the relationship and, while not entirely happy about it, they were prepared to accept it, provided Fearghal and Rory were discreet.

Now Rory thrilled him for other reasons. Even now he could be occasionally coy and shy, his face flaming as red as his hair; something which tickled Fearghal no end. But he had hidden depths of passion beneath that innocent, sometimes hesitant, exterior. He could use his hands and mouth to transport Fearghal to such a height of ecstasy, it left him whimpering and begging for more. He was also gratifyingly responsive to Fearghal's attentions. Fearghal shivered as he called to mind soft skin under his hands, hard muscles tensing and flexing, the exact way Rory would whisper hoarsely, "Fearghal... please..."

Fearghal chuckled softly to himself. He'd thought of Rory Gilmore as a naïf, himself as the more experienced man. He'd assumed that Gilmore was interested only in pretty girls although with hindsight, he'd realised that he'd never seen him with a girl. He remembered the first time he'd realised he fancied Rory Gilmore.

Fearghal laughingly dipped the point of his practice sword down and pressed it against Rory Gilmore's throat as he lay flat on his back in the dust of the practice yard, under a blazing hot sun.

Gilmore grinned up at him. "I yield!" he cried, squinting up at Fearghal.

Fearghal stepped back and extend his hand to help Gilmore up. "You almost had me there," he admitted.

Gilmore's green eyes glowed with humour. "I know," he smirked. "Your day is coming soon, My Lord. One of these days it will be you on your back, yielding to me!" he boasted.

Fearghal burst out laughing. "Oh-ho! Bold words, my friend. Let's hope I don't make you eat them!"

Gilmore laughed over his shoulder as he walked over to the bucket of water at the side of the practice yard, shaded by the fence. He grasped the ladle, raised it to his mouth and drank greedily from it. He started to strip off his gauntlets, shoulder guards, throwing them carelessly on the ground, and then grasped the bottom of his splint mail chest piece and wrestled his way out of it, while Fearghal looked on, amused. Gilmore's linen shirt was plastered to his body with sweat. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Gilmore tore it off over his head, tossing it aside. He stooped and lifted the bucket then upended it over his head.

Fearghal felt a sudden blaze of desire course through him as the water streamed over Gilmore's head, plastering the sweat-darkened hair even closer to his head. Rivulets of water ran down his neck and over his torso, the muscles shivering involuntarily as cool water met hot skin. Fearghal almost moaned aloud at the unexpected urge that coursed through him; the urge to stride over there and kiss Rory Gilmore hard, and then lick the water from his skin.

Thank the Maker, I'm not the oldest and that Fergus is safely married and has an heir. Fearghal knew that his brother's marriage and resulting son was the main reason that his parents were prepared to accept his nature and his relationship with Gilmore. They had been tolerant initially of his refusal to entertain the idea of marriage, prepared to put it down to him 'sowing his wild oats'. They even knew that he preferred to sow those wild oats with young men, but wrote it off as 'a phase'.

Fearghal's father was an indulgent parent, particularly towards his headstrong, younger son. Bryce Cousland knew that Fearghal had inherited his mother's obstinacy and believed that gentle guidance was far more effective than peremptory instructions. Mother and son loved each other deeply, but locked horns far too often, neither one prepared to give an inch to the other. It was his mother's increasing and obvious impatience with Fearghal's resistance to her attempts at matchmaking that had led Fearghal to seek out his father for the most uncomfortable conversation of his life to date.

Fearghal smiled wryly. His father had taken some convincing when Fearghal had explained that it wasn't a phase he was going through, that he was attracted to men and had been since he was a boy, long before his teens; it was a part of his nature that wasn't going to change. The Teyrn became even more uncomfortable when Fearghal had informed him of his relationship with Rory Gilmore, a relationship that wasn't a casual fling. Bryce had grudgingly conceded that as Fergus was his heir, and as Fergus already had a son of his own, there wasn't actually a need for Fearghal to get married in order to secure the Cousland line. He had also extracted a promise from Fearghal that if, Maker forbid, anything should happen to Fergus or his son, then Fearghal would fulfil his duty and marry.

Surprisingly, Eleanor had been supportive when Bryce had related the conversation to her. Fearghal had expected her to dig her heels in, to refuse to accept the prospect that she would get no grandchildren from him, something he knew she looked forward to. Instead, she had come to him and questioned him gently about his relationship with Rory. Unlike his father, she didn't seem at all embarrassed about it. Her only concern was that unsavoury gossip might reflect badly on the Couslands and she had requested discretion from both him and Gilmore.

Fearghal grinned smugly to himself. All was well with his world. He fidgeted restlessly. Or it would be if Rory would just hurry up!