He's been! Dinner is under control and the kids are engrossed in their presents. Time for a cuppa and the next chapter in Farghal's story. I hope you're all having a great day :D

Sten didn't let go of Alistair, even when the warrior went limp in his hands, all the fight gone out of him. Alistair looked round and flushed with shame at the shocked faces that surrounded him. Leliana, with her eyes wide; Wynne, managing to look startled and disappointed at the same time; a troubled and bemused Bann Teagan; Morrigan, smirking rather than surprised. Wynne glared at him, then pushed past, going into the library.

Bann Teagan opened a door a little way down the corridor. "Alistair," he murmured.

Sten finally let go of Alistair's arms; Alistair heard his heavy footsteps retreating down the corridor. Leliana and Morrigan drifted away and Alistair stepped through the door to find himself in a small sitting room. He stood stiffly until Teagan closed the door, sighing, and told him to sit down. Alistair perched himself on the edge of a sofa watching Teagan as he crossed the room to a cabinet, drawing out two brandy glasses and pouring a generous measure into each glass. Teagan came and held out a glass to Alistair, who regarded it suspiciously.

"Maker's breath, Alistair! You're not in the chantry anymore!"

Stung by the irritation in Teagan's voice, Alistair accepted the glass, nursing it in his large hands.

"Do you want to tell me what that was all about?"

"Not really," replied Alistair sullenly. He raised the glass to his lips, sipping the brandy, feeling the slight burn as it went down.

"I know I haven't seen you for a long time, but the Alistair I knew wasn't a boy who got into fights." Teagan shrugged. "I suppose people change."

"I'm not proud of what I've done! I lost my temper and... I shouldn't have done." Alistair set his glass down on a side table and leaned back on the sofa. "It's just... he's so... " He growled in frustration.

"I was speaking to him earlier. He told me a little of what happened at Highever. He was upset and I suggested the library might be a quiet place where he could be alone for a while."

Alistair groaned and leaned forward, his head in his hands. He reached for his brandy glass and looked over at Teagan. "Do you know him well, Bann Teagan?"

"I think we can dispense with formalities, Alistair. Just Teagan, please. And no, not well. I knew his father quite well, although we usually met at Denerim. Fergus often came with his father to the capital, but Fearghal rarely did." Teagan chuckled. "Bryce used to call Fearghal his 'mabari pup' and always implied that turning Fearghal loose on the court would be akin to letting his hound run free there; chaos and upset all round."

"I didn't even know who he was until yesterday. I mean, I knew he was from Highever and that something awful happened up there but... " he shrugged, "Warden's aren't supposed to ask about another's past. Duncan said he'd tell me more about him after the battle but then... " Alistair gulped his brandy, prompting a small coughing fit.

"I can imagine that's made things... difficult." said Teagan.

Alistair snorted. "Something like that," he said dryly. "You know, I can see why Duncan conscripted him. On the face of it, he's excellent Warden material; a skilled warrior, well-educated and so on, but... after what happened to his home, his family... I don't think he's quite what Duncan had in mind. Maker forgive me for saying it, but I think it might have been kinder if Duncan had left him where he was."

He flushed, ashamed of the words as soon as they were out his mouth. "I mean... I don't wish he was dead... but... "

Teagan smiled and heaved himself out of the easy chair, crossing the room and fetching the brandy bottle. "I know what you mean, Alistair." He poured more brandy into Alistair's glass, then topped up his own.

"He's just so... difficult, unpredictable! It would be easier if... most of the time he's so furious and I could live with that, but sometimes he's completely different and it's such a relief, then it's gone again." Alistair groaned. "Ugh, I'm not sure what I'm even trying to say."

Teagan sipped his brandy thoughtfully. "The few times I met him, he was very easy to get along with. Lively, intelligent, charismatic, not at all interested in his position... much more interested in people than propriety. In some ways, he would have been a breath of fresh air at court."

Alistair nodded. "It's like I see glimpses of that person, then he's gone and instead I'm having to deal with this raging lunatic!"

"That man's still there, Alistair. Given what he's been through, it's a wonder Fearghal's functioning at all. He's lost everything he holds dear and had little time to grieve. I suspect he hasn't even begun to let go yet, never mind start to move on. He will, in time, I hope." Teagan pulled a rueful face. "Life carries on, regardless."

"Did he tell you what happened? At Highever?"

"The bare bones of it. Howe tricked the Teyrn into sending Fergus and his men ahead to Ostagar; claimed his own men had been delayed. Once they'd left, Howe let his men into the castle and... the rumours say that there were no survivors, and I mean none. Fearghal pretty much confirmed that."

Teagan sipped his brandy. "Fergus was married, you know; they had a son. He would have been five or six."

Alistair gulped his own brandy as Fearghal's words came back to him. 'Have you ever seen a child that's been cut down by a sword? Their little guts tend to make a mess all over the floor.'

"Duncan said he had to conscript Fearghal and that even then, he refused to leave. He had to knock him out to get him out of there," said Alistair quietly.

"Well, by all accounts, Duncan and Fearghal were the only two people to survive that night."

"Did you know that the Couslands have been attainted?" asked Alistair.

Teagan's eyes widened with shock. "What? Why? Where did you hear this?"

"At a tavern a couple of days ago. They're saying that Howe was sent there to arrest the Teyrn for treason and that he resisted. He's accused of conspiring with the Orlesians."

"That's preposterous!" exclaimed Teagan. "Bryce Cousland would no more betray Ferelden to Orlais than... than... Loghain would! Does Fearghal know?"

"He knows," sighed Alistair. "It wasn't pretty!"

Alistair drained his glass and set it down. When Teagan moved to refill it, Alistair put his hand over the glass and shook his head. "I think I've had enough." He tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

"You need some sleep, Alistair. I've had some beds made up and your packs brought up from the inn. We're a bit short of staff at the moment; if you're hungry, you know where the kitchen is. Your things should be in the first room on the right, upstairs."

Alistair stood. "Thank you, Ba... er, Teagan. And thank you for the brandy... and for listening."

Teagan smiled. "It was the least I could do. Good night, Alistair."

"Good night, Teagan."

~o~O~o~

Alistair disappeared from view to be replaced by Zevran. "Your lip is bleeding, Warden. Would you like me to... kiss it better?"

"Not unless you want one to match it," said Fearghal, scowling at the elf.

Zevran grinned. "Then you can kiss me better!"

"No-one will be kissing," Fearghal growled.

"What have I done to deserve such hostility? Or is it not what I've done, but rather... what I am?"

Fearghal rolled his eyes. "I didn't say that, I... "

"Fearghal, let me check your face."

Wynne manoeuvred past Zevran, and lifted a hand to Fearghal's face.

"It's just a fat lip, Wynne. There's no need to fuss." Fearghal swatted her hand away, scowling.

"You've taken several blows on top of the injuries you sustained in the brawl, just a few days ago." Wynne pursed her lips and shook her head. "Honestly, grown men fighting like boys. You should know better, and so should Alistair. I do hope you're not going to make a habit of this."

Fearghal tensed, his irritation growing. "Just leave it, Wynne. Go and see to Alistair or something."

"I really don't think... "

Fearghal pushed past her and flopped into a chair. "Just... go away."

Wynne glared at him, then leaned in toward Zevran. "Don't let him have any more to drink," she warned. Wynne left the room and Zevran sat in one of the other chairs near the fire, watching the Warden staring into the flames.

"So Fearghal, you were about to say... ?" murmured Zevran, smirking.

"Eh?" Fearghal looked blankly at Zevran.

"When Wynne came in. You said 'I didn't say that', you were about to say something else."

Fearghal sighed. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"Is it that you don't like elves?" Zevran kept his voice neutral, watching Fearghal's reaction carefully.

Fearghal's eyes widened in surprise. "What? No!"

"You know, for a moment there, I wasn't sure if you and Alistair were fighting or whether we were interrupting a more... intimate moment." Zevran grinned slyly at Fearghal.

A bark of startled laughter escaped Fearghal. "Hah! Alistair's busy beating the snot out of me and you think we're having an intimate moment?" He smirked at Zevran. "I think your tastes might be too... exotic for me, Zevran."

"I didn't say they were my tastes, Fearghal," retorted Zevran. He shrugged. "It was just that Alistair... well, he looked like he didn't know whether to hit you or kiss you."

"Ha ha! You thought the chantry boy was going to kiss a man? He'd sooner kiss my hound, believe me, Zev."

Zevran noticed the use of the nickname and smiled to himself as Fearghal continued, chuckling, "For The Maker's sake, don't tell him; he'll never forgive you. Or maybe you should, and we could see if a person really can die from blushing!"

~o~O~o~

Teagan followed Alistair out into the corridor and, hearing voices in the library, opened the door. Fearghal and Zevran were settled in armchairs in front of the fire. Fearghal looked up as Teagan entered. "Teagan, come and join us."

"I just came to see if you were all right, Fearghal," replied Teagan.

Fearghal fingered his split lip. "I'm fine. Someone ought to teach Alistair how to throw a punch properly; he should be doing a lot more damage."

"I'd be grateful if you'd conduct future sparring sessions outside," said Teagan.

Fearghal looked embarrassed. "Sorry about that, Teagan."

"Actually, I'm almost impressed. I saw Alistair take an awful lot of teasing as a boy, but I never saw him lash out like that. I don't think the man is so very different from the boy I knew."

Teagan paused, choosing his words carefully. "As I said, I'm almost impressed, except I have to wonder just how far you pushed Alistair to make him react. That's not impressive at all."

"He started it," growled Fearghal, sulkily.

When both Zevran and Teagan gaped at him, Fearghal groaned. "And I accused him of being childish! I take your point, Teagan. I'll apologise in the morning." He drained his glass. "I think it's time I went to bed. I left my shield and sword in Eamon's study; I'll just go and fetch them before I turn in."

"I believe Zevran knows which room you're things were taken to?" When the assassin nodded, Teagan bade them both good night and headed upstairs to his own room.

Zevran followed Fearghal to the arl's study. As Fearghal stooped to retrieve his weapons, the Antivan started pulling open the drawers in the desk.

"What are you doing?"

Zevran grinned at the shocked-looking Warden. "I am just looking,"

"Looking for what? This is the arl's study; it's private."

"And you call Alistair naïve?" laughed Zevran. He shrugged. "I am not looking for anything in particular, just looking for anything that might be interesting."

Zevran poked around in the drawer as a fascinated Fearghal peered over his shoulder. "Pah! There is nothing of interest here, just old keepsakes."

Fearghal reached into the drawer and drew out an amulet. It was old and looked to have been broken, then put back together again.

Zevran frowned in confusion. "This interests you, Warden?"

"I think I know who it belongs to," Fearghal told him, slipping it into the pouch on his belt. "Come on. If I don't lie down soon, I'm going to fall down."

"Is that an invitation, Fearghal?" asked Zevran, grinning wickedly.

Fearghal stared at the assassin, then grinned back. "You're not my type, Zevran, but I need you to show which room my things are in."

Zevran followed him out of the door, pouting. "So you have a type? Tell me more about your type."