Desmond, Fergus and Gordon sneak out from under their father's thumb to listen to their grandfather's tales. This is where Gordon learns how to spin a story and Fergus learns to smoothly accomplish even the most debauched acts and Desmond learns to dream. The old man watches them, fixes them with a gaze as piercing as a pin to butterfly flesh, even as he recounts all those things he remembers.
He wants to show them, but something that magic likes is a good narrative, and who is he to argue with that? and so he shows them nothing up to the point when he fakes his death, only tells them everything he can and watches and waits and hopes.
Real life isn't a story, though, and so it falls apart. Desmond stops believing though he continues to dream, buries himself in the mortal world and ignores the call of his blood. Gordon lives on in the magic. And Fergus?
Fergus doesn't believe, not as such and not any more, because belief implies trust. But he knows in his bones that there is such a thing as truth and one day when he is old he will tell the stories too.
A/N: I wonder if he really did fake his death. He might be an interesting addition to future books if so.
~Mademise Morte