With thanks to WellspringCD for being such a great (and patient) beta reader! Also, thank you to all who continue to read.

They crested the hill and stood, looking down on Redcliffe. It was a beautiful day, although cold, and the waters of Lake Calenhad glittered under the sun. For a brief moment, it was almost possible to believe that there was no Blight, no civil war.

Fearghal grinned at the others. "Come on. It's going to be getting dark soon." He set off down the hill, almost running.

As they crossed the bridge to Redcliffe Castle, they saw Teagan some running down the steps and across the courtyard. Teagan stopped in front of Fearghal, his expression a mixture of surprise and hope.

"Fearghal! We thought you'd be at least another week! Did you... " Teagan was suddenly afraid to ask.

Fearghal grinned broadly and reached into the pouch he wore at his waist. He pulled out a small drawstring bag and held it out to Teagan.

"Thank the Maker!" breathed Teagan. He turned and ran back across the courtyard. "Wynne! Wynne!"

Wynne stood at the top of the steps. As he reached her, he pressed the bag into her hand and they both disappeared into the castle.

Ser Perth appeared beside Fearghal, his face alight. "You really found them, the sacred Ashes of Andraste?"

"We did," said Fearghal. "How is the arl?"

Perth's face fell. "Not good, Warden. He's fading fast. The mage has been with him constantly for the last few days; his life hangs by a thread. Bann Teagan didn't expect you back for another week and, well, I don't think Arl Eamon would have lasted another week."

"We were lucky; we made good time. Thank the maker it was mostly downhill on the way back, we gained a day," Fearghal told him.

"Forgive me, you must all be exhausted. Come, I'll organise some food. Things are still at sixes and sevens; our seneschal, Powell, was killed by those vile creatures."

Perth led them across the courtyard and into the castle. Once inside, he directed them to Teagan's sitting room and disappeared.

~o~O~o~

Alistair shot out a hand and grabbed the last pork pie as Fearghal started to move towards it.

"Bastard!" grumbled Fearghal good-naturedly.

"Absolutely!" mumbled Alistair, his mouth full.

Fearghal stood as the door opened and Teagan stepped into the room. Teagan's eyes were full of tears but he was smiling.

"He... he's awake. He's weak... b-but W-Wynne says that with rest and c-care, he should be fine." Teagan looked around the room, taking them all in. "I d-don't know how to thank you all... " He stopped, his voice cracking.

"That's wonderful news, Teagan," said Fearghal, adding softly, "There's been enough death."

Teagan offered his hand to Fearghal, who took it, clasping the other man's wrist. He was surprised when Teagan pulled him into a hug. Teagan released Fearghal and turned to Alistair and hugged him too.

Teagan pulled himself together. "I've had rooms prepared for you and baths drawn." He wrinkled his nose at Alistair and they all burst out laughing.

"Hey! It was snowing up there!" protested Alistair.

Teagan grinned at him. "I've put you all in the same rooms you were in on your first visit."

Fearghal nodded, picked up his pack, suddenly invigorated by the prospect of a hot bath. As the others moved to follow him, Teagan caught Alistair's eye and Alistair hung back.

Teagan looked at Alistair and smiled. "You and Fearghal look like a pair of grizzly bears with those beards."

"It was cold up there," Alistair told him. "We're off to Orzammar next so I think I'll keep it for a while."

"Quite," agreed Teagan, nodding. He closed the door and gestured for Alistair to take a seat. "Fearghal looks much better than he did when you left. He's doing better?"

"He picked up a bit on the trip out to Haven. He practically force marched us there. I think he was so exhausted at night all he could do was sleep. Well, I know I found the pace hard. I slept so soundly, I barely dreamed at all."

"And that's all?" Teagan's eyebrows rose in surprise.

Alistair shook his head. "In the temple where we found the Urn, there were tests. One of them was... Fearghal's father. I don't know if it was a ghost, a spirit of some kind maybe, but... well, he went to pieces."

Alistair related what had happened, saw the sympathy in Teagan's face. "At least now, he's starting to talk about it. He was telling me a little about his mother. She sounds as if she was quite formidable."

"Oh, she was!" agreed Teagan, chuckling. "Fearghal's very like her. Not to look at, he favours his father more, but in his personality." Teagan paused. "Did he say what happened to her?"

"She refused to leave with Duncan. Said she'd slow them down. The Teyrn was mortally injured and she stayed with him. It's tearing him apart not knowing what happened to her. I think he's afraid that Howe has her prisoner somewhere. He said that the women they found had been... raped."

"Oh, Maker! Poor Fearghal," sighed Teagan. "At least he's talking about it, that's something." He looked across at Alistair. "And how about you; how are you doing?"

"Me? I'm fine." Alistair was startled by the question.

Teagan gave him a knowing look. "Fearghal isn't the only person who's grieving. After what happened at Ostagar... "

"Really, I'm fine," muttered Alistair.

"Just don't push your own feelings aside because you're looking out for Fearghal." Teagan stood up. "I shouldn't keep you, your bath will be getting cold."

Alistair nodded and made his way upstairs.

~o~O~o~

Alistair made his way along the corridor and knocked at Fearghal's door. His heart missed a beat when Fearghal threw the door open, clad in only a pair of breeches. He cleared his throat, trying to gather his thoughts, then realised that Fearghal looked irritated.

"Sorry, bad time?"

"What? No." Fearghal's face cleared and he grinned sheepishly. "I haven't got a clean shirt."

"I'll go and see if I can borrow a shirt off Teagan. I'll be back shortly." Alistair went in search of Teagan, who was only too happy to provide a shirt and promised to send a maid round to collect up their laundry.

A few minutes later, he was back at Fearghal's door. He knocked and opened the door. Fearghal was standing at the window but turned as Alistair entered. He grinned at the sight of the shirt in Alistair's hands. Alistair felt a twinge of disappointment as Fearghal tugged the shirt on and tucked it in.

"So, we're off to Orzammar next?" asked Alistair.

"I think so. I'd rather get up there and back before the winter sets in. I reckon we have about a month, maybe a little more, before the worst of snow begins. Unless you have any other ideas?" Fearghal looked at Alistair expectantly.

"No, that sounds reasonable. So how... "

Fearghal sighed in frustration at another knock at the door. He flung it open to reveal a startled looking maid.

"Beg pardon, ser; Bann Teagan asked me to collect your laundry."

Fearghal collected up his discarded clothes and rummaged in his pack, producing another shirt, some small clothes and three socks. He bundled it all up and handed it to the maid.

"Would you be able to rustle us some tea and a snack?"

"Of course, ser." The maid bobbed a curtsey and turned to Alistair.

"My laundry's already bundled up, just inside the door."

The maid curtsied to him and left the room. Fearghal watched the door close behind then rushed to the door and called after her, "Make that mugs of tea, please." He glanced back at Alistair. "I hate fumbling with those little china cups they always bring."

Fearghal hopped up and say on the bed, sitting cross-legged and gestured for Alistair to take the only chair in the room.

"Wynne popped by earlier. She said although it will take a little time for the arl to get his strength back, he should be up and about in a day or two."

"That's good." Alistair hesitated. "Has he been told... "

"That I let a blood mage sacrifice his wife? Apparently she was the first person he asked for, so they had to tell him." Fearghal's face was guarded as he glanced at Alistair. "Are you still worried about that?"

Alistair sighed. "For what it's worth, I thought a lot about what you said. If we weren't telling him his wife was dead, we'd be telling him his son was."

"Well, yes, but that wasn't what... " A knock at the door interrupted Fearghal and he sprang off the bed to open it, taking the tray from the maid. He plonked the tray on the bed, cursing softly as the tea slopped over the edge of the mugs. He handed a mug to Alistair, then passed him a plate laden with sandwiches and pastries.

Fearghal sat on the edge of bed, nursing his tea. "What I meant was, are you still worried about what Arl Eamon is going to think about you? At the end of the day, it was my decision. There's no reason he should think badly of you."

"I thought a lot about that, too." Alistair flushed slightly. "What you said about feeling more beholden to him than I should."

Fearghal winced, remembering how harsh he had been. "I'm sorry. Tact and diplomacy were never my strong points, I shouldn't have..."

"No, you were right. I-I never felt as if I belonged here. I can remember thinking, if only I was more... I don't know... more good or more willing or more... clever, that it would be different, but it never was, no matter how hard I tried. Isolde was even worse. I was too noisy or untidy or dirty. To be honest, it was a relief to move into the loft above the stables. I'd always liked the horses and at least I wasn't under Isolde's beady eye.

"I used to watch the village boys... I envied them so much. I didn't fit in with them, either. When I found out who my father was, I just wished he's sent me to be fostered with an ordinary family."

"How old were you when you found out who your father was?"

"Six. A group of boys were playing down at the lake. One of them must have taken pity on me; they asked me if I wanted to go swimming with them. I couldn't actually swim, but I wasn't going to let that stop me. It was great, until I stripped off, then they all took one look at me and went quiet." Alistair paused to drink his tea. He hadn't recalled that day in years and was surprised at how much the memory still stung.

"They saw you were circumcised?"

Alistair nodded, blushing. "You know, I didn't even know I'd been circumcised until that day? One of them started to laugh, then they were all laughing. I thought there was something wrong with me! I... " He stopped, unable to continue. The memory was so vivid.

He'd stood there, naked and shivering by the lake as the boys had crowded round him, pointing, and tried to make sense of the discussion going on around him, as if he wasn't there.

"Wha's wrong with 'is willy?" asked one of the younger boys.

"I's been cut. I's somethin' lords do."

"He's a bastard. Must be 'is dad was a lord."

"Is Arl Eamon yer dad?"

"If it in't Arl Eamon, who is it, then?"

"It must be the arl, why would he take him in, else?"

Alistair had pulled on his britches, grabbed his smock and fled back to the castle. When he'd arrived back at the kitchen, barefoot and in tears, the kindly cook had initially thought he'd been set on for his boots. He'd burned with shame as he'd tried to explain to her what had happened. When she finally understood, she'd sat him in a corner with a piece of fruitcake and gone to speak to the arl. Alistair had barely eaten half of his cake before he'd been summoned to see Arl Eamon.

Alistair had stood in front of the arl's desk while it was explained to him who his father was. For a brief instant, his heart had filled with hope. His father was a king! Being sent to Redcliffe must be some kind of mistake. He could go and live in Denerim, in a palace. His dreams were extremely short-lived. Arl Eamon had made quite plain, as kindly as he could, that he was in Redcliffe to stay; furthermore, no one was to know who Alistair's father was. He was nothing, a nobody, a mistake to be hidden away.

Sitting on the hard chair, Alistair was horrified when he felt tears pricking his eyes. He stood hurriedly and looked out of the window, his back to Fearghal.

"I don't know why I've thought of this place as home; it's never felt like a home, it's just the place I was born and started to grow up in. I don't think I ever felt at home anywhere until Duncan conscripted me." He jumped as he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I never realised... You didn't deserve to be treated like that." Fearghal squeezed Alistair's shoulder.

The unexpected sympathy in Fearghal's voice only made it harder for Alistair to hold back the tears. He roughly wiped his eyes, muttering. "Stupid. It was years ago... "

"It's not stupid." Fearghal frowned. "I'm sorry, I've been so selfish. I've been so wrapped up in my own... I never thought... " He tugged at Alistair, turning him, then caught him up in a hug. "Hey, we're both Grey Wardens; that makes us brothers, right?"

Alistair pulled away slightly, nodding.

"I'll deal with Eamon. You deserved better." There was an edge of anger in Fearghal's voice.

Alistair drew a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. "I feel like such a fool... "

"Huh! I've seen Fergus cry more times than I've seen you. You have a lot to learn about brothers."

Alistair smiled wryly. The irony that Fearghal was now accepting he was Alistair's Grey Warden brother wasn't lost on him. The last thing I want to be is his brother!

"I'm going to go and wash up... again." Alistair managed a wry smile.

Fearghal nodded and watched him go, thoughtfully. When he'd hugged Alistair, it had crossed his mind how good Alistair felt in his arms. For all his words, Fearghal wasn't feeling very brotherly at all. A pang of guilt washed over him; it had been less than three months since he'd lost Rory.