Chapter 10

The farmstead lay just ahead of them, a beacon of light and hope reaching into the cold, grey sky. The tiny snow flurries fell slowly, seeming to suspend Ronan and Melisende in time. They had finally found the place. Ronan shivered in the cold. He had a new cloak, but it was thin and full of holes, the only thing he had been able to get his hands on.

"It's much colder in the south." Melisende remarked.

"Whatever you say." Ronan replied absentmindedly. They had been searching for this house for a few days now. They were finally there. The house was dark. It looked like nobody was home. Ronan's heart beat anxiously. He tried to make it stop. He was never nervous, never unsure of things. Why now? He bent down to pat Ash on the head. The wolf gazed at him, seeming to reassure him. He took a deep breath.

"Shall we get a move on?" Melisende asked.

"I must admit, I fear returning home only to find out I am too late…" he said. He immediately regretted letting that out. He ruffled Ash's neck and then stood up, avoiding Melisende's gaze.

"That won't happen. And I am sure Tristan is in there. He will help your mother. I know he will." Melisende reassured him with a slight squeeze to his shoulder. Ronan highly doubted that Tristan would willingly come to his mother's aid. Ronan had to admit, he had learned a lot about his brother just by traveling with Melisende. Tristan did have a lot on his plate. He was either loved or hated by the people, he had a child withheld from him, and he was tainted, somehow. But that didn't mean Ronan liked him any better. He still thought him a coward for running away from his duties. And if his reaction to Siofra's confession had been any sign at all of what to expect, then Ronan knew it wouldn't be easy to convince the fool to help her.

"By the gods, he better be in there." Ronan began walking toward the house. Melisende followed slowly.

As they neared the farmstead, a dog began to bark, calmly at first, and then incessantly. It came charging at them from the side of the house. Ronan drew his sword, ready to stop it, but Melisende held him back.

"No." the dog stopped abruptly in front of Melisende, wagging its stubby tail happily and jumping back and forth, barking and whining. It was a mabari hound; the same one Tristan had had with him before. Ronan had never before been so happy to see a mabari. He turned to check on Ash, but the wolf had disappeared. Shrugging, he turned back to Melisende, who was petting the hound with a smile on her face. "It's my old hound, Loki! I didn't know Tristan had him with him…"

Loki jumped up onto Melisende, licking her face in joy. Ronan shook his head in slight amusement. Nobody would ever see Ash doing that to him. And he preferred it that way, really.

"I hate to break up the reunion, but shouldn't we go inside?" Ronan teased. Melisende pushed Loki away gently and nodded.

Melisende gestured for Loki to sit and stay and then walked up to the door, knocking. There was no answer. Ronan sighed impatiently. Melisende was about to knock again when Ronan got in her way and kicked the door open. Melisende frowned at him and he shrugged, walking carefully into the house.

The place was a mess of things scattered everywhere. There didn't seem to be anybody around, though it was taking long enough for Ronan's eyesight to adjust to the dark room. As he looked around, he clutched at his sword, a prickle running down his spine. Not of fear, but of foreboding. And then a man and a woman came out of the shadows, arrows nocked and ready to fire at the intruders.

Ronan cursed as he observed the pair. The woman had short black hair and was staring at him menacingly. It could only be Brenna. The man, he never thought to be happy to see him, but he was. It was Tristan. It was his brother. His hair was a little different and he wasn't wearing any armor but it was him. Melisende must have noticed too for she jumped with joy and broke into a run towards Tristan. Brenna aimed her bow at Melisende, but hesitated to release as Tristan accepted the hug with surprise, lowering his own bow.

"Mel?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been literally looking all over Ferelden for you!" Melisende explained breathlessly. Brenna put down her bow, sensing no danger. She watched the scene with curiosity. Ronan grew impatient. He cleared his throat loudly. Tristan turned his attention to him and after his initial look of surprise, he scowled.

"What are you doing here?" Tristan angrily asked. Melisende and Brenna looked at the hatred brewing between the two men, confused.

"He helped me find you." Melisende butt in.

"Am I supposed to be grateful to him, then?" Tristan sarcastically asked Melisende. Ronan shook his head in annoyance. Tristan was such a jerk. Why couldn't Melisende see that? Instead, she just stared at him, confused. Well, this couldn't wait any longer.

"I am here to fetch you. Our mother is sick. She needs you." Ronan explained. He saw the stunned look overcoming Melisende's face and felt a little guilty at hiding it from her. But there was no time for regret now. He had to convince Tristan to come back with him.

Tristan grunted, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared angrily at Ronan. "She is not my mother. She is a nutty old bat."

"You know nothing of the woman!" Ronan yelled. He slammed his fist onto the table in front of him. "You refuse her last wish? The gods will escort her soon to the next world."

Tristan said nothing. Melisende and Brenna hung back awkwardly, too shocked to say anything.

"Fine. You don't deserve to call her mother. Stay here and rot." Ronan was angry. How was he supposed to convince Tristan to come with him? He lost what little patience he had then. He turned around and stormed angrily out of the house. He faintly heard Melisende call his name as she rushed after him.

…

Tristan hadn't meant what he said. He did believe Siofra now. He knew she was his mother. But he hated the smug look Ronan had given him. He hadn't forgotten how the lout had treated him. He only wanted to anger him. And that he did. Melisende had given him an unforgiving look before chasing after the brute. And now Brenna quietly watched him from the table.

He contemplated what Ronan had said. Siofra was sick. She needed him. He thought back to his trip to the Fade. The demon had said something about saving his mother. He had forgotten it in his haste to return to the world un-possessed. But really, what did she think he could do? He was not a spirit healer at all. He only knew a few spells.

"You should go to your mother." Brenna said, sensing his hesitation. "You have nothing to lose."

Tristan thought of his son. His son he would give anything to know. His mother, was she so different from himself? Sure, she had given Tristan up, but only because she wanted the best for him. He wouldn't want his son resenting him the way he resented his mother. In a way, he knew how Siofra felt. He would help her, in any way that he could.

…

Ronan paced back and forth outside. He desperately wanted to punch something. He caught sight of a pail sitting on top of a well. He stalked over to it and punched it. As his fist connected with it, it made a large clang and fell into the well. He cursed as pain shot through his hand. Punching something in the cold was not the smartest thing he could have done. But he was frustrated and now he felt a little better. He turned around to see Melisende. She was upset.

"Why couldn't you have just told me the truth?" she demanded of him.

"I'm not even supposed to know. My father sent me to fetch the Warden Commander. He never said, 'go fetch your brother'. I only know because I couldn't help eavesdropping on my mother and Tristan." Ronan defended himself.

"Still… you should have told me." Melisende said with disappointment. Ronan sighed. He probably should have told Melisende. But he had never thought they would become friends. He didn't think it was any of her business. But now he thought otherwise. Friends, they didn't keep secrets from one another, did they?

"Apologies." Ronan said with all the honesty he could muster. Melisende smiled faintly.

"Tristan…" she changed the direction and tone of her quiet fury. "He is not usually this way. He would never not help somebody out of bitterness…"

Melisende turned around as she caught the snarl Ronan gave as Tristan came out of the house, Brenna following behind. Melisende walked up to Tristan and got into his face. "You are a selfish jerk. Your mother is very ill and you won't even consider helping her? Why in the world have I stood by you all this time?" she quietly grumbled at him, shoving him roughly in the shoulder. "You hurt person after person, friend after friend. You manipulated Alistair. You chronically lied to Leliana, to everyone, about Morrigan. And me? You acted as if there was nothing wrong with not telling me about a Howe being a Grey Warden. You knew what happened to my family. And even if it turned out right in the end, it didn't change the fact that you never warned me. And you never told me about the assassination plot. Your secrets will be the death of somebody someday!"

Ronan reveled in the scene, but stopped short of rubbing it in or adding to it when he saw Tristan's face. He flinched and looked pained at every accusation sent his way.

"I am only a man. I am bound to make mistakes. People seem to think I am some sort of infallible hero-god, perfect in everything he does." Tristan replied calmly. "I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you or anyone else. I will apologize for the rest of my cursed life if I have to…"

Melisende roared in frustration. She un-slung the wrapped sword from her shoulder and thrust it violently into Tristan's chest. Without another word, Melisende let out her breath and turned away, still visibly angry, but looking exhausted as well. It must have taken a lot to stand up to her Commander and friend like that. Ronan admired her. Tristan deserved her ire. If anything, it would knock some much needed sense into his scatterbrained head.

Tristan, fingering the wrapped bundle in puzzlement, turned to Ronan then. "I will go to Siofra."

Maybe, Ronan thought, he has some sense after all.