My thanks again to WellspringCD for being my beta reader. Also thanks to lisakodysam, Shakespira and Enaid Aderyn for their unflagging support.
Fearghal gazed down at his father, swallowing hard to try and stifle the sob that he could feel threatening to break free. Bryce Cousland lay on the floor of the pantry, leaning on one hand; the other pressed against his side, trying to hold a ragged wound closed, blood flowing freely around his fingers.
Eleanor cried out in alarm and pushed past Fearghal, crouching at the side of her husband.
"Bryce, you're bleeding! Maker's blood! What's happening?"
The Teyrn's face twisted with pain. "Howe's men... found me first. Almost... did me in right there," he gasped.
Fearghal knelt at the side of his mother. "We need to get you out of here!" he urged.
Bryce looked up at his son, regret in his eyes. "I... I won't survive the standing, I think."
Fearghal pushed away what his father was trying to tell him. "That's not true! You'll be fine!"
Bryce smiled sadly at his son. "Ah, my boy... if only will could make it so."
Eleanor looked from her husband to her son. "Once Howe's men break through the gate, they will find us! We must go!"
Fearghal flinched; Rory was leading the defence of the gates.
"Someone... must reach Fergus... tell him what has happened." Bryce stared up at his son, willing him to accept what Bryce knew was inevitable.
"And take vengeance," growled Fearghal.
"Yes... vengeance," agreed Bryce, hoping that this would convince Fearghal to leave him.
"Bryce, no!" protested Eleanor. "The servants' passage is right here! We can all flee together, find you healing magic!"
Bryce bowed his head; Fearghal got his stubbornness from his mother. "The castle is surrounded... I cannot make it."
"I'm afraid the Teyrn is correct." Eleanor and Fearghal started in surprise, looking up at the man who'd joined them. Duncan, Warden-Commander, sheathed his sword as he joined them; both sword and his armour were caked in blood. Duncan continued, taking in the Teyrn's condition with a quick glance. "Howe's men have not yet discovered this exit, but they surround the castle. Getting past will be difficult."
Fearghal studied the Grey Warden; obviously a skilled fighter, if the amount of blood and gore splattered all over his armour was any indication. Light on his feet and quiet too; he'd come upon them without giving himself away until he spoke.
"Will you help us, Duncan?" Fearghal asked, unsure what he could ask or expect of this Grey Warden.
"Whatever is to be done, it must be done quickly!" urged Eleanor. "They are coming!"
Bryce groaned. "Duncan... you are under no obligation to me, but I beg you... take my wife and son to safety!"
"I will, your Lordship. But..." Duncan hesitated, then appeared to come to a decision, continuing, "I fear I must ask for something in return."
Fearghal stared up at Duncan in confusion, then at his father, who appeared to understand what Duncan was saying.
"What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil now loose in this world." Bryce's voice was resigned but resolute. Fearghal noted that his colour was worse, his skin looked ashen.
"I came to your castle seeking a recruit." Duncan looked at Fearghal. "The darkspawn threat demand that I leave with one."
"I... I understand." Bryce's breath was coming in shallow gasps, it was getting harder for him to speak.
Understanding dawned on Fearghal. "What? No! I won't agree to any such thing." He glared at Duncan. "You came for Rory! Take him! He's in the Hall, helping to hold the gates."
"No!" protested Bryce weakly. "There isn't time to go back for him. You are my son. How else will you survive?"
"I will take the Teyrna and your son to Ostagar to tell Fergus and the king what has happened. Then, your son joins the Grey Wardens."
Fearghal glared at the Warden in disgust. You ruthless bastard! You would use me as a bargaining chip, the price for saving mother?
"So long as justice comes to Howe... I agree," said Bryce, sinking closer to the floor, barely able to hold himself up.
Duncan looked at Fearghal. "Then I offer you a place within the Grey Wardens. Fight with us," he proposed.
"I refuse! I won't go!" snarled Fergus.
The Teyrn looked up at his son, his eyes begging. "Howe thinks he'll use the chaos to... advance himself. Make him wrong, pup. See that justice is done."
Fearghal felt torn at the silent plea in his father's eyes. Under any other circumstances, he might have jumped at Duncan's offer but... not like this.
Bryce could see his son's resolve waver. "Our family... always does our duty first. The darkspawn must be defeated. You must go. For your own sake, and for Ferelden's."
"I can't do it, Father. Please don't make me," implored Fearghal.
Duncan's voice was regretful but implacable. "Then I have no choice. I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription and recruit you into the Grey Wardens despite your objection."
If Bryce could have spared the breath, he would have sworn. Damn you, Duncan! I only needed another minute to convince him. He would have accepted this, accepted you. Now... Bryce knew how stubborn his son could be and it didn't bode well for Duncan or the Grey Wardens; Fearghal would fight this every step of the way if he was given no choice. Ultimately, he would resign himself to it, accept it, but he would give everybody hell along the way.
Bryce looked up at his son, trying to reassure him. "I'm sorry, pup, but...it's better this way." He could see by the tension in Fearghal's jaw that his son didn't agree with him.
"We must leave quickly," said Duncan firmly.
"Bryce, are you... sure?" asked Eleanor uncertainly.
The Teyrn smiled up at his wife. "Our son will not die of Howe's treachery. He will live, and make his mark on the world."
"Darling," said Eleanor, "go with Duncan. You have a better chance to escape without me."
"Eleanor..." protested Bryce weakly.
"Hush, Bryce," soothed Eleanor, her mind made up. Her face hardened. "I'll kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time." She smiled at her husband. "But I won't abandon you," she added softly.
An anguished sob burst from Fearghal. "I won't let you sacrifice yourself!"
Eleanor reached across and stroked her son's face. "My place is with your father. At his side, to death and beyond," she told him gently.
Duncan grabbed Fearghal's arm and pulled him to his feet, trying to get him to move towards the door. Fearghal couldn't tear his eyes away from his parents.
"I'm... so sorry it's come to this, my love." gasped Bryce.
"Ssssh," crooned Eleanor, taking her husband in her arms. "We had a good life, and did all we could. It's up to our children now."
The Teyrn twisted in Eleanor's arms so he could look up at his son, blood pooling beneath him. "Go, pup," he urged. "Warn your brother. And know that we love you both. You do us proud."
Duncan tried to drag Fearghal away. "They've broken through the gates. We must go now!"
Fearghal was rooted the spot. Broken through the gates... then that means... Rory! I can't go... I can't abandon them here like this...
Duncan's hand gripped his arm, tugging insistently. Fearghal tensed; he had no intention of going with the Warden and abandoning everyone he loved. He'd fight the man if he had to.
Fearghal felt a sharp pain in his head and briefly saw stars, then it went dark. As the light faded, he heard his mother's voice, as if from a long way away.
"Goodbye, darling."
~o~O~o~
Alistair slumped in the chair by Fearghal's bed. He'd offered to watch him, giving the old woman and her daughter a break; he couldn't sleep anyway. Not after the old woman had told him of the massacre at Ostagar. He looked up as Fearghal stirred restlessly. He'd been unconscious for three days now. Alistair remembered seeing the axe hit Fearghal in the side of the head, dropping him instantly. The old woman said his skull was cracked. In the last few hours Fearghal had started getting restless. The woman maintained that although he was starting to come round, he needed to rest; it wasn't good for him to thrash around like that. She'd cast a sleep spell on him, insisting it was safer for him to sleep until he could wake up properly.
Fearghal moaned, the words slurred. Alistair leaned forward, trying to understand what he was saying.
"No... won't go... won't leave them." A sob wracked him. "Father!"
Alistair frowned, unsure if he should get the old woman. He stood up and leaned over Fearghal. His words were clearer now, pleading. "I can't do it, Father. Please don't make me."
Alistair sat tentatively on the edge of the bed. Maybe I should try to wake him?" His hand hovered over Fearghal's shoulder, he suddenly shy of making contact with the exposed skin. His eyes lingered on the broad, muscular chest; the large pectoral muscles covered in a thick mat of dark, curly hair. Alistair had a sudden desire to run his fingers over it; it looked soft. Maker's breath! Get a grip!
Fearghal's eye lids fluttered and he gasped, "The gates! They've broken through the gates!" There was no mistaking the dread in his voice.
Alistair shook Fearghal's shoulder and called his name softly, "Fearghal?" Maker! What happened to him? I wish Duncan had had time to... Alistair blinked back tears at the thought of Duncan. He almost jumped out of his skin when Fearghal suddenly sat up and stared at him, blinking in surprise. A look of joyous wonder flooded his face. "Rory?" he whispered.
Alistair gaped at Fearghal. "What? No, I'm... " His explanation was cut off as he found himself enfolded in a fierce hug.
"Oh, Maker!" he breathed, his face buried in Alistair's neck. "Rory! When Duncan said the gates had fallen I thought... I thought...you were..." Fearghal's voice cracked. "Father's dying, Rory," he sobbed, "and mother won't leave him." Fearghal gulped and Alistair felt tears against his neck. "Duncan wants me to go with him, to join the Grey Wardens," his voice turned hard, "but I won't! I won't leave them." Fearghal's grip on Alistair tightened. "I won't leave you," he promised.
Alistair stiffly brought his arms up around Fearghal and patted the other man's back; there was no mistaking his genuine distress. Alistair found himself relaxing into the embrace, drawing some comfort for his own grief from it. He froze, when one of Fearghal's hands came up and caressed the back of his head gently and soft lips nuzzled at his neck, stiff whiskers tickling his skin.
The door opened and Alistair looked up to see Morrigan standing there.
"Er, help?" He winced as his voice came out as a high-pitched squeak. Alistair cleared his throat. "He thinks I'm someone else," he muttered, blushing.
Morrigan smirked at Alistair, her amusement at his embarrassment obvious. She gestured at Fearghal and Alistair felt him go limp in his arms. Gently he laid him down on the bed and pulled the sheet up under his chin.
Morrigan looked down at the sleeping man and then smiled slyly at Alistair.
"'Tis strange he should mistake you for a maid, even addled as he is."
"He didn't!" Alistair blurted out, stung. "He thought I was some bloke called Rory."
"Really? Yet he caressed you so tenderly, Alistair."
Alistair blushed, "Yes, well... I th-think they m-might have been... " He stopped, unable to speak the words.
"Lovers?" queried Morrigan, smirking.
Alistair nodded reluctantly.
Morrigan looked down again at the sleeping Fearghal. "Such a handsome man," she mused quietly, almost to herself.
"Yes," agreed Alistair with a sigh.
Morrigan looked up at him sharply.
"What? No! I mean... I s-suppose women would think him... handsome," stammered Alistair.
"Oh, indeed," agreed Morrigan, then added, "and many men would think so too... if they were that way inclined."
"I'm going to wait outside, you can watch him," growled Alistair, pushing past her.
Morrigan's mocking laughter followed him outside until he shut the door on it.