The nerves that skittered through him made Fergus irritable, more so than usual. When the Commander joined him at the front gates, he nodded sharply to her, but said nothing. They continued to the Alienage in silence, and no doubt she was wondering at his aloofness. Why ask her along if he was going to all but ignore her, hmm?
Why indeed? Fergus rolled that question through his mind over and again as he watched her converse so easily with the hahren and other elders of the Alienage. Her light eyes seemed to warm slightly in their company, with memories of happy times, perhaps. It was easy to see why she'd been a popular choice as arlessa. For all that she was a fierce fighter and a formidable strategist, she was also charismatic. He'd once been like that, he recalled; it had been simple to be so, when life had deposited all of his desires at his feet. Years of training had taught him to settle into any stream of conversation, nudge it subtly; how to tell stories and anecdotes that would encourage his guests to be comfortable and at ease.
Aideen Tabris did all of this with a natural effortlessness. She had not been trained as he had, unless he was gravely mistaken about the focus of the elders in the Alienage. She laughed at the proper places; she smiled knowingly at tidbits of information shared in confidence.
Fergus found himself falling under her spell, just as surely as though she were a blood mage, and he her target. The thought only irritated him more.
When they finally took leave of the hahren, after sharing a late tea, the sun was already well on its way to its bed beyond the horizon. They walked side-by-side. The Alienage was not so far from the castle that they required mounts, and they had no guards. The country was at peace, after all, and no one would dare attack the legendary Hero.
He heard her inhale, as though preparing to say something, but she remained quiet. Glancing at her, he said nothing, concentrating instead on walking up the slight incline. It was not a true challenge, but certainly more difficult than it had once been. He'd grown accustomed to the shuffle-step that was now his trademark gait, if not enamored of it.
He'd almost forgotten his supposition that the Commander had been about to speak, until she finally did. "The elves seem happy," she said. "That's no small feat."
Something in how she said it made him think there was more to her observation. "But?"
She was quiet for a time, and when he looked over at her, he was startled to see her nibbling on her lower lip, as though plagued with indecision. She seemed to realize after a moment that she was making the nervous gesture and released her lip before stopping and turning to face him. "Perhaps I'm naïve," she started. "Or too optimistic. But I had hoped that after the Blight, after all of Ferelden's peoples came together to defeat those monsters, after an elf was appointed as an arlessa and another as a bann in Denerim, that things would have changed more quickly for my people. Instead, they are still living in squalor, segregated, and treated as lower-class citizens."
Indignation caused Fergus to puff up a bit, and he frowned. "I have never viewed elves as second-class citizens."
"Haven't you?" She shook her head, a gesture he was beginning to recognize as one of bottled frustration. Her pale hair glimmered in the golden light cast by the setting sun. "They're not treated equally."
"Are you accusing me of discrimination?" The words were fueled by his temper, coming out faster and sharper than he'd intended.
"No." She sighed and crossed her arms. "No. I am accusing you of complacency, though."
He drew in breath to make a retort, to deny her claim, but held his tongue instead and cast his gaze downward. Her words stung, because they were true. Complacent. He had been, hadn't he? Once the damage left by Howe's men was repaired, he'd done nothing but maintain the status quo. He hadn't taken any huge steps toward…anything, really. He could have. With the damage done to Highever, he could have taken advantage of the rebuilding process and made changes. Perhaps to the Alienage, as she'd implied. Maybe taken down the walls. Removed the physical separation so the cultural separation could cease.
But no. He hadn't done that. He hadn't done anything. Once more it struck him how woefully unprepared he'd been to take up the teyrnir. Through no fault of his father's, no; Bryce had ensured both he and Elissa were trained thoroughly. But he'd needed time to mourn, which he'd never had. He needed time to grieve, to become accustomed to the emptiness of the castle, and that hadn't truly been allotted him, either.
And once more, he was sliding down the slippery slope to self-pity. His parents were likely scolding him from beyond the Fade. He lifted his eyes to meet hers again, only to discover that she'd moved away, as silent as a stalking cat. She hadn't continued toward the castle though; rather, she stood in front of the Grey Warden monument that had been constructed four years before. She'd stopped a few feet in front of it, her figure limned in the fading light against the darker material of the statue. He recalled briefly that she'd marched past it earlier without a second glance, but perhaps now, with pausing so close by, it had caught her imagination.
It had become a regular sight to him as he travelled the road from the castle to Highever proper. He was ashamed to admit that he rarely stopped to admire the craftsmanship anymore. It was just there, always there, and he knew what it represented; but he'd never known the people it depicted.
Aideen Tabris had.
The monument was composed of three faceless, featureless silhouettes, one each to represent Duncan, the Grey Warden Commander who was killed at Ostagar; Riordan, the Senior Grey Warden from Orlais who wounded the archdemon, causing it to become grounded on the top of Fort Drakon; and in the centre, Alistair Theirin, King Maric's by-blow, who Aideen Tabris had chosen not to make King and who instead killed the archdemon with his last action on this plane. Behind the three figures was an exquisitely carved griffon, its talons raised toward the rising sun as if welcoming a new age.
It struck him, then, as he watched her, motionless before the monument, that she'd likely never seen it. Her head was tilted back so she could gaze up at the figures set on a pedestal, and for a moment, in the last light of the sun, she looked like that maiden he'd once fancied she was.
As she continued to stand there, unmoving, Fergus joined her. His steps were not so silent as hers; there was no way she could mistake him shuffling to her side, but she gave no indication she'd heard him. Her eyes remained fixed on the figure in the middle.
"There were no paintings of any of them to use as a reference for the monument," he explained after a moment. "The artist was quite concerned by it for a time. In the end, we decided that the silhouettes ensured that all Grey Wardens were represented, even if it were these three that were named on the plaque."
She swallowed and nodded, blinking. "It was a good choice."
He waited for her to say more, but she didn't, seemingly enthralled by the statue. What was she envisioning as she looked at it? "I never met them," he said softly. "It pains me to admit it, that I never knew these men, who will be residents of my teyrnir forevermore."
She glanced at him then, and he caught the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. But when she spoke, her voice was strong and unwavering. "It was I who requested the monument be built here. After Duncan's death, Alistair suggested that he would like to travel here, where Duncan had been from, in order to build a tribute to him. I thought it only right that I carry out that wish when Alistair could not."
"What were they like?" He sucked in a breath, suddenly worried that he asked too much, opened up too many old wounds. "If you'd prefer not to answer, my lady, I won't be offended."
"No, it's fine." She took a deep breath. "I met Duncan on my wedding day. He goaded me a little, to see if I would be daring enough to challenge an armed and armored man when I wore only my wedding dress. To protect my people, damn straight I would have. Before we came to blows, however, Duncan revealed his friendship with the hahren; it wasn't until later that I discovered he'd actually come to the Alienage in the hopes of recruiting me into the Wardens. As it turned out, he conscripted me to save me from the gallows. He was a good man. Strong, just…but sad, too. I never had the chance to get to know him well enough to discover why."
She took a breath. He thought she would speak of Alistair next, but she did not. Her gaze travelled to the right, to the figure representing the Senior Warden. "Riordan I barely knew. He had been tricked by Rendon Howe and captured in Denerim, and we set him free. He was the first Warden to ever call me sister, and in that moment, I felt like I was a part of something bigger than myself. It was a reminder, and a reassurance, I desperately needed after struggling for so long against so many obstacles, and feeling like Alistair and I were completely alone, abandoned by the order, as unintentional as it was." She took a breath, then continued. "He was an intense man, very focused on what was necessary, but there was a warmth to him, too. He'd been born in Ferelden, but had lived in Orlais most of his life, so he had the most wonderful accent."
Her eyes drifted to the center figure, reluctantly. Ivory teeth captured her lower lip again, and she stared up at the silhouette as if she could see his features in her mind. "Alistair…"
Her voice trembled, something he hadn't expected to hear, and he raised a hand to stop her, to tell her that she didn't need to continue. But before Fergus could say anything, she went on, her eyes seeing only the statue before them.
"Alistair was the most noble man I had ever met," she began. "He saw the world in black and white, right and wrong. Even in the midst of all the problems and the difficulties we faced, he found beauty. He was innocent, and yet not; intelligent, and yet thought so little of himself and his abilities. He was a formidable warrior and he could have been an inspiring leader, had Eamon not convinced him at such an early age that he was less than useless. He did not want to be king, and I would not to force him to be. For once in his life, I decided, he would be allowed to choose his fate, instead of having it chosen for him. So when Eamon called for me to mediate the Landsmeet, I abided by Alistair's wishes and confirmed Anora as Queen."
She fell silent, then, and Fergus looked back at the monument, wondering what she saw. How closely had Alistair resembled Maric and Cailan? He wished he'd had a chance to meet the man who had saved Thedas.
"We were supposed to rebuild the Wardens together," she said softly after a time. There was that tremble again, the one that had disappeared earlier as she'd spoken about Alistair impersonally. "He and I. We were supposed to be together, to face everything as one. I was selfish; I admit it, that one of the reasons I chose Anora was to keep him at my side instead of giving him to Ferelden." Her breath seemed to catch, and his eye whipped to her face. "I can't remember what color his eyes were," she confessed in a whisper. "Or his exact features. I remember, but I don't. It's fuzzy, not clear. How could I forget? How could I dishonor him like that, and forget?"
He looked at her teary eyes and found his own eye burning in sympathy. He knew exactly what she meant. He could no longer remember how tall Oren had been, nor the true shade of Oriana's hair. Oren's voice sounded off in his memories now, as though he was not remembering correctly. And there had been a particular lilt to Oriana's voice that he'd adored, but that he could no longer hear in his mind quite right. It was like he lost a little more of them every day.
It hurt. How it hurt.
She closed her eyes, her face still upturned, and he did not resist the urge to comfort her. Stepping closer, he put his arm around her shoulders, expecting her to, at worst, pull away and at best, accept the gesture with a stiffening of her shoulders. What she did, instead, he could not have predicted.
She turned into him, burying her face in his chest, and sobbed.
He let her. Enfolding his arms around her, he held her and let her cry. There was no one there to see, no one there to judge. She might be the Hero of legend, but she had lost something so terrible in order to become it. He understood loss, but he could not comprehend how she had managed to be so successful despite it crushing her.
"Memories become less clear with time," he said as her sobs began to subside. He raised his gloved hand and stroked her hair. "I understand, better than most, I think. It may be of little comfort, but you remember the most important things about him. What he looked like, what color his eyes were; those details are unimportant, really. It was not his appearance that left a mark on you and this world, but who he was. And that's something you'll never forget."
She looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and her nose pink as well. The stark grey of her gaze was even more striking, glistening as it was, and, yes, she was very much the maiden he'd thought her at one point. He raised his good hand without thought and brushed away a tear that had stalled on her cheekbone. Then, equally without predetermination, leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.
She did not react at first, and he called himself twenty kinds of fool for his thoughtless action. She mourned her lost love; of course she wouldn't welcome such a thing. He began to draw back, already preparing his apology, when a hand snaked into his thick mahogany hair and pulled his lips back to hers.
All thoughts of apologies fled before the assault on his senses. She was not gentle, not timid; she took as well as she gave, and he welcomed the boldness she displayed. Sharp teeth nipped at his lips, her tongue danced eagerly with his, and he could not help the moan that escaped his as his desire rose exponentially.
He'd had women since he'd returned to Highever. Not for some time after his first arrival, as the extent of the damage and his loss sank in. But it had become something of a stress relief for him, to venture to the town's sole brothel. The women there had always been polite and quite good at their chosen occupation, perhaps even eager to fulfill the desires of the teyrn.
But this…this was different. The need that thrummed from Aideen was not something he'd felt in a very long time. It stoked the fires within him ever hotter, made crazy thoughts rumble through his mind. Was it dark enough to have her without anyone noticing?
He pulled back with a gasp, ashamed at himself. That was not how a gentleman treated a woman, no matter how passionate things were between them. "My apologies, my lady, I never—"
In an instant, the heat that had blazed in her eyes frosted, and turned to ice. How quickly she was able to push her emotions aside. It was something he'd struggled with constantly since rising from near death.
"No apology necessary." She disentangled herself from his arms, stepping back one, then two paces.
"Nonsense," he scoffed. "You were vulnerable, after relating what you did. It was not right of me to take advantage of you in such a manner."
"You did not take advantage of me," she returned, her voice measured now. No hint of the tremble remained. "I chose to let my guard down, to share with you what I did. It was not an accident that I did so, but because I knew that you might grasp it when no one else does." Her arms crossed over her chest, her fingers digging into her biceps, the only sign that she was not as calm as she wanted to seem. "That…was not planned, or expected, but nor was it unwelcome. Do you disagree?"
He blinked, more than a little taken aback. "I…well…no?"
"Good." She strode off, down the path toward the castle. After a few steps, she paused and looked back. "Sleep well, your grace."
"Fergus," he corrected her. "Please, just Fergus."
She nodded and continued on her journey through the deepening night. If Fergus expected her to respond with an invitation to address her by her name rather than her title, he was left wanting. Instead, he watched her go, trying to figure out the puzzle that was Aideen Tabris.