Fergus stared at the back of the study door. It was good that Elissa had finally found someone that made her happy. He remembered how Oriana used to worry that Lissy would end up alone. Instead, his sister was riding high on new love and Fergus was alone.
He dragged himself out of the chair and grabbed the jug he had hidden by the door when he'd found Elissa in the study. Wearily, he trudged up the stone steps through the evening chill to the suite he'd shared with his family five short years ago whilst on route home from Antiva. Stumbling into his room he collapsed in front of the sitting room fireplace and opened the jug. He'd discovered that he couldn't sleep without a few persuaders and even with that help he couldn't stay in a bed meant for two.
The wax sealed jug of rotgut was opened and the first shot swallowed in quick order. The local swill was not meant to be savored; it was meant to speed one to oblivion but it was never quite fast enough for Fergus' peace of mind. Another gulp burned its way down his throat.
His mind was filled with poignant images of his last hours with his wife and son. Once again he remembered how their last kiss had been quick but fervent. His wife had feared she'd never see him again and that Oren would be left fatherless. It was for them that he had fought through pain, fever and delirium to get back to Highever. However, it had all been for nothing. His lovely wife and innocent young son were gone. No, not gone, murdered.
He drank down as much of the jug as he could in one go and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He blamed the strong drink for his watering eyes.
At least, they'd left nothing unsaid. His wife and son knew how much he loved them and Fergus knew that they had cared for him just as much. He drained the last of the spirits from the jug and spit the dregs into the fireplace. As the flames hissed and snapped, the bone shaking sobs began.
His next conscious thought started with a curse. Cold hands nestled against his cheek and a little bony body curled up on his chest. For a precious moment he thought it was his son but a swift return to reality crushed the fantasy. He painfully squinted through the dawn light into Aine's solemn little face.
"Sleep," she said.
He was torn by tenderness and guilt. She still wouldn't speak to anyone other than him and even then she never uttered more than a word at a time. He treasured the sense that someone cared more for him than anyone else but knew he was the last person a vulnerable baby girl needed. Besides once they'd gotten back to Redcliffe and she'd been given a good soaking in the tub they'd discovered her clan tattoo. What more could a grieving drunk possibly offer a child than her true family could give her?
As he was in no condition to carry her back to the bedroom she'd been given, he tucked the blanket she'd brought around her form and let her rest on his chest. They'd know where to find her in the morning. They always knew. He closed his eyes and fell into a genuine sleep rather than the drunken stupor that had made the night pass.
When he woke hours later the child still slumbered on his chest but Wynne sat knitting in the other chair.
"What time of day is it?" he croaked.
"Just pass midday."
"Maker. Where is everyone, I thought we were leaving today?"
"Elissa and Alistair seem to have slept in as well. I thought it best to let all of you rest whilst we have the chance."
"Are you...are you knitting?"
She nodded with an amused smile on her face.
Fergus let his head and eyelids drop back down. "Alistair is right, you are evil. You lull us into a false sense of security and then you ambush with some ego busting comment."
"I would never intentionally bruise Alistair's ego."
"I'm sorry, that's true. You prefer to make him blush, not much of a challenge really."
Wynne just shook her head. "I didn't come here to talk about Alistair."
"Oh? Is there a problem with Aine?"
"Oh, she's healed, well, her bones are mended. As for the rest..." she shrugged and it was Fergus' turn to nod.
"Yeah, that will take time."
"Yes, grieving is a matter of time and acceptance. There are no shortcuts but that doesn't stop people from trying." She picked the jug up off the floor and set it down on the table between their chairs.
"This must stop, Fergus."
"It will. Once we're on the road again and I'm busy I won't need the distraction."
"And after that."
"After that I'll either be dead or even busier. If we succeed I'm likely to be confirmed as the Teryn of Highever with all the duties such a position entails."
"The day will come when you will have to stop running and face the pain."
"Perhaps but that day is not today."
"People are depending on you. Elissa, Alistair...Aedan, Aine..."
"Well, perhaps they shouldn't. I can't guarantee I'll be here tomorrow, none of us can."
He heaved himself to standing and thrust Aine at Wynne. "Take her. Just take her and get out of here."
With a growl he stomped into the suite's main bedroom and slammed the door. He could hear Aine whimpering and then the door to the suite clicked shut. He leaned back against the bedroom door and sank to the floor. To make matter's worse she was from the same clan as Ser Gilmore's family. Given that she was named after the good knight's sister it was possible she was even family.
"Why me?" he whispered, "Why me?"
Aine came to find him again after she was dressed for the day. Once again she followed Fergus as he paced the battlements and strolled down into the village.
After the first week in Redcliffe they'd gave up trying to keep her from him. The castle was still grossly understaffed and with all the orphans at the Chantry they were understandably unwilling to take in a child that had people capable of caring for her.
Most of the time he remembered her name and who she was but a few times his son's name had slipped passed his lips. Aine would turn around and pat his hand when he called her Oren. As if she really understood what he was going through.
She hadn't cried since Wynne had set her legs, she rarely spoke and she never smiled. But she seemed content in his company and for the most part he was content to have her nearby.
However, there was a part of him that wanted to shove Aine away as far and fast as he could. Unfortunately for her, that was the part of him that decided he would travel with his sister rather than with the Arl.
Besides, he reasoned, if he wasn't here Aine would latch on to someone more appropriate. She couldn't be more than three or four years old, she would completely forget him in no time at all.
He didn't see his sister or her companions until dinner time. With Aine close by his side they ate a simple meal then he let Wynne take the little girl off for her final treatment while he joined the war council in Arl Eamon's study.
He sat back and watched the dynamic between the Wardens and the nobles, between Alistair and Lissy, and between Eamon and Teagan. He concluded that the Wardens would get their way, hardly a surprise with his sister arguing for their interests. Further, he realized that Lissy was right about Teagan. Possibly more right than she had realized.
Though Eamon had willingly thrown himself into rebuilding Redcliffe and caring for his people he seemed to have lost his will to play at politics. Fergus recognized the tactic. Eamon was a man trying to work hard enough to forget his sorrows.
Still the decisions had finally been made. Eamon and Teagan would meet them in Denerim at the end of the month which should give the Wardens plenty of time to deliver the final treaty and check in on Soldier's Peak.
The next morning they left before dawn. Fergus had almost regretted leaving Aine behind but he didn't glance back. He wouldn't allow himself to look back because that would mean admitting he'd miss the child that wasn't his to miss. Because that would mean carrying the final image at the forlorn little girl standing next to Teagan with her arms crossed and a blank look on her face and he had enough final images rolling about in his head.
Fortunately, their business with the Dalish didn't take long at all. What had threatened to become a full-fledged quest against a band of werewolves had turned out to be needing a diplomat's touch. With Elissa and Alistair's muscle backing him up Fergus managed to convince Keeper Zathrian to face his mistakes and make peace with the people he'd punished for generations.
The elven leader's belated attack of conscience left his Dalish clan with a new leader but they had the ability and the resolve to rally the elves and honour the treaty.
On their way north they ran into Arl Eamon's entourage on the West Road where Fergus was finally felt the weight of his decision to abandon Aine.
"Fergus!" Teagan said, "Thank goodness. We were beginning to give up hope."
"What's wrong?"
"It's Aine, I don't think she's going to make it to Denerim. She refuses to eat, she won't talk to any of us and I have no idea how to explain her state to Lord Hamish and Lady Aine."
Fergus turned to Wynne at the same time as Lissy asked her friend if she could take a look at the girl. Then Lissy took him by the arm and led him away.
"Fergus, what's going on? Why are you so determined to push this child away?"
"She can't stay with me. She has family or at least a clan."
"So, better that she suffer until we find them?"
Fergus just shook his head. He didn't want Lissy to know how much he wanted to seek death rather than life. At that moment he realized why Aine wanted to stay near him, she understood, on an emotional level, that the two of them were the same. They both felt too much pain, too much loss to contemplate living. It was easier to just stay in the undemanding no man's zone between having a life and dying. But where Fergus could seek death in battle, Aine could only refuse to do what was necessary to survive. Somehow, a mere babe had discerned his intention and copied him.
"Fergus can you even hear me?"
"Yes. Look Lissy, children don't starve themselves to death. She'll come around."
"What if you're wrong? She has witnessed something that could drive adults insane."
"I can't help that. I'm not able to help myself never mind her. Perhaps she'd be better off in the fade than trapped in a life marked with such horror."
"By Andraste's flaming sword, Fergus! What is wrong with you?"
Wynne strode up with Alistair in tow. "Elissa, let me handle this."
His sister looked like she wanted to argue but he'd left her completely flabbergasted. She walked off shaking her head.
"What do you think you can say that will make any difference?" He said staring down at his feet. His moping was interrupted by a powerful left hook that threw him onto the ground.
"Thank you Alistair, that will do nicely. I'll be ready to leave shortly."
Fergus sat on the ground and watched in stunned disbelief as his brother-in-law marched away.
Wynne squatted down and poked at his jaw. "You'll have a spectacular bruise by morning but unlike the last man Alistair hit your jaw isn't actually broken."
"Wonderful."
"Now, stand up. It's time you acted like a Teryn."
"I'm not a Teryn. I'm the landless son of the last Teryn Cousland."
"Do I need to call Alistair back to hit you again?"
"Sure, why not. Let's have everyone take a turn, it won't change anything."
"Exactly, it won't change anything. Your family is dead. Aine's family is dead. For whatever reason the Maker has decided to bring you together. Perhaps she is an unwanted reminder that there are people depending on you. But I'm guessing neither your son nor your wife would want you to let that little girl die."
"You're exaggerating."
"Am I?" She grabbed him by the ear and dragged him over to the coach that housed the little girl.
A small part of Fergus' mind reflected on how ridiculous he must look but the majority of it remembered that this woman could incinerate him where he was standing if she was so inclined.
Aine lay across the seat, her face had sunk in the last week. She'd been a skinny little thing from the beginning but now she looked completely listless and half dead. Her skin had taken on a yellowy tinge.
The young woman in the coach tried to curtsey. "We've been spooning broth into her when she slips into sleep but she fights us when she's awake. We have been trying my lord. Really, we have."
"I...it's alright. Leave me with her for a moment."
The young woman left the other side of the coach and Wynne just seemed to fade into the background. Fergus climbed into the coach and knelt down next to the little girl. "Aine, what are you doing."
She turned her head to look at him but said nothing.
"If you won't tell me what's going on I can't help you."
She sighed and a single tear coursed down her cheek. "You go away."
"Yes, I had to go away but there are lots of people here who can take care of you."
"You take away monsters."
"The Arl's knights will protect you from the monsters."
"No. You."
"It wasn't just me that saved you. These people are strong they can protect you."
"No. You," she insisted.
"Look Aine, why don't you eat a bit then come see how strong the Arl's..."
She shook her head violently. "No food."
"But, why won't you eat."
"Monsters chew on me."
"Maker's mercy." He hadn't realized she'd seen so much. He gathered the child in his arms and let his instinct guide him. "Don't worry little one, I'll stay. The monsters won't get you because I'll stay."
"You go again?"
Fergus looked up into Wynne's sad eyes and shook his head. "No, dear. I'll be here as long as you need me." Perhaps Wynne was right. Perhaps the Maker had brought he and Aine together. Whatever the case may be he was Aine's need for him was greater and more urgent than Lissy's. Further, he would be of more use in Denerim feeling out the political situation than serving as another sword at Elissa's back.
Wynne nodded. "We'll see you in Denerim."
"Denerim," he said and then he signaled for the young maid to come back. He needed to ask for some broth. It was time to put both Aine and himself back together as best he could.