II. FERGUS
He led his little sister through the halls of his castle. He was glad she was home, even if it were not for much longer. The halls were too empty and too quiet. There were not nearly enough Couslands in Cousland castle anymore.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked. The layout of the castle was no longer familiar to her, he guessed. When it had been repaired, some things had changed. Fergus thought it was for the better, but he could almost feel the resentment smoldering within his sister. He had done the best he could.
"I'll not have my little sister travelling the roads unarmed," he said with the most sincerely happy smile he could forge on his face. He had been worried about Melisende. She had appeared in Highever one day, when everyone thought her dead in a shipwreck. But she hadn't been alright. She had been sick. She was better now, and Fergus could tell she was growing tired of his hovering by the sound of the sigh she let out. What did she expect? He was her older brother. He had a duty to protect her.
"You don't have to do this Fergus," she said.
"I insist," he replied, pushing open a heavy wooden door. Weapons gleamed at them from every direction. Each one of them was newly crafted with not a hint of rust or nicks. Fergus studied them all carefully before taking a pair of longswords from a rack. Twin blades made of dragonbone. He knew his little sister reveled in fighting with two swords at once. He held them out to her hilt first.
His sister hesitated, though he didn't know why. The blades were a simple design, yes, but they were of the finest quality. She was usually a good judge of these things. What in the world was she waiting for?
"Take them," Fergus commanded, the teyrn in him coming out. He shoved them forward a little more. She was being fickle and ungrateful. If she didn't take them, he'd have to… what? She was a grown woman now. It's not like he could give her a playful beating. Besides, she was a Grey Warden. She could probably kick his ass. He'd not want to put himself in that embarrassing position.
He didn't have to. Finally, Melisende reluctantly accepted the blades. "Thank you, Fergus."
Fergus regarded her calmly, a slight frown on his face. She looked away suddenly. She was not alright, he could tell. She had not been herself. She may have her health back, but there was something else bothering her. She couldn't hide from him. He'd get it out of her soon enough.
For the moment, he turned to an armour stand. "You could use some drakeskin armour, too."
"If you say so." Melisende said with a detached look on her face.
It was too much for Fergus to bear. "You haven't been yourself, sister."
"My commander is dead. Did you think I'd throw a party?" She hadn't replied with her usual fire, though the topic was obviously dear to her. She had been this way for a week now, ever since she woke up. Monotone and distant. Fergus didn't like that. He didn't like it one bit. Where was his spitfire sister? The woman who helped end the Blight, who saved Vigil's Keep from a darkspawn army? She may have replied sarcastically, but there was no fire to it, no heart it in. She might as well have been a statue.
Fergus sighed. "I know he was a good friend, but there's something else. I can see it in your eyes."
Melisende looked away, squeezing shut her blue eyes. They were darker than father's, but otherwise they usually emanated the same warmth. Now, there was just sadness there.
"I am grieving." Melisende insisted.
"Sister, look at me." Fergus gently turned her face back to him. He would not let her leave without finding out what was bothering her. "Last time you were here with Nathaniel, you couldn't keep your eyes or hands off of him. You were so in love."
She flinched. Had he touched on the truth? Was there something wrong between the two? By the Maker, if Nathaniel had done anything to her, the man would do well to stay out of his way, for Fergus would not be as nice to him as he had been in the past. He had accepted their relationship, though in truth it had hurt him to see his little sister so in love with the son of that traitor Rendon Howe. Fergus had been friends with Nathaniel once, long ago, but it wasn't so anymore. He'd been friendly to the man and even owed him his life, for Nathaniel had shielded him from a bandit attack, but that friendliness was more for Melisende's sake. He wouldn't blink an eye nor hesitate to draw his sword on the man if he had hurt his little sister.
"Losing a friend doesn't exactly put me in the mood." Melisende snapped.
Fergus backed away. "Are you sure?"
"Am I sure what? Brother you are annoying me."
"Are you sure it's only that, grief?" Fergus would not give up. "Did Nathaniel do something to you? Did he hurt you?"
Melisende grew teary eyed. The bastard, Fergus thought, he'll not leave this castle without answering to me first. She turned away.
"I know what you're thinking, Fergus," she said. "You will not harm Nathaniel. He has not done anything to me. If anyone should be punished, it should be me."
Fergus couldn't move from his spot as his sister left the room with no further comment. He never would understand the mind of a woman, much less one like his sister.