Joyride [Closed]

[Fergus Cousland]

(( Harvestmere 26, Mid Morning, Outside of Denerim, @Nathaniel Howe ))

The morning air was crisp, and he felt the slightest sting in his cheeks from it. Winter was approaching fast, and he hoped to be back in Highever for the first snowfall of the year. The cloak he had one was warm thankfully, and he was dressed down in more muted colors today. His usual high fashioned clothes were left behind, and he wore simpler designs to not draw attention to himself. He had pulled his hair back at the nape of his neck, a few wavy strands framing his face. It still wasn't as long as he wanted it to be, yet.

Boric, his gelding, swayed under him at the leisurely pace they had been taken. He glanced over his shoulder at Denerim falling away behind them, before turning his gaze to Nathaniel beside him. Fergus would be leaving soon, heading back home, and this was their last chance to spend some time alone together. It was nice to get out of the city with him, not being trapped doors. There were no caves to go hiding in that he knew of, but a nice ride through the surround would do good for them both.

There was a comfortable silence between them until they finally got to a part of the road where they were meeting few passerbys heading into the city. Fergus nudged Boric a bit closer to Nate, a playful smile on his lips, "I brought some pastries to eat later."

He did not indicate what kind of pastries, just continuing to grin. His eyes turned forward looking down the road, "So, should we make any stops along the way? The village nearby has a good market I've heard, though I haven't stopped there in some time."

It probably didn't have much that Denerim didn't already have, but prices might be competitive. Plus, maybe he would find a gift for Nathaniel, and maybe something for Riane.

 

[Nathaniel Howe]

The idea was Fergus’, for Nathaniel and Fergus to go for a ride within the countryside outside of Denerim. Time spent together was a precious commodity for the men and Nathaniel found himself agreeing without much thoughts.

Anonymity and good company were the hopes of the day. Neither man wore much to mark them as Teyrn or Warden-Commander. Only their horses betrayed the possible importance of the man astride them. Nathaniel rode the stallion Jean brought him two years back from Orlais, Rex. Fergus rode the horse Nathaniel brought him, Boris.

The pair rode in companionable silence for some time as the city of Denerim faded him them with the rise of the mid-morning sun. The silence was eventually broached by Fergus, the most horrible of admissions made through upturned lips, "I brought some pastries to eat later."

Nathaniel scoffed at the mention of pastries. Fergus was more than aware of Nathaniel’s thoughts regarding the sugary confectionary not-at-all-delights. The very look he made, with the roll of the eyes and curdled lip, was perhaps the very reason Fergus brought the food. How better to playful needle?

“So,” Fergus continued, "should we make any stops along the way? The village nearby has a good market I've heard, though I haven't stopped there in some time."

“If pastries are all you brought to eat,” Nathaniel gave Fergus a baleful stare free of any true anger, "then, yes, we should stop at the market.” A Grey Warden was hardly ever without their own stock of food on hand. A snack and meal had been prepared for Nathaniel by the kitchen staff at the compound before he left and rested securely in one of his saddlebags. Still, the idea of fresh fruit from a village market did make his mouth water some. While he did not like his baked sweets, Nathaniel was rather fond of apples and pears.

“Should we decide on whom we wish to be today before we arrive in the village?” As boys growing up in Highever and Amaranthine, it was often hard for them to put on as being someone other than they were. That did not mean there was a lack of trying, however. There had been the time Nathaniel claimed to be Nigel Teufenelle and Fergus, Francis Baycone. That afternoon ended with Nan dragging both boys back to Cousland castle, Nathaniel’s right ear and Fergus’ left pinched firmly within her grasp.

 

[Fergus Cousland]

Nathaniel’s response to the pastries were exactly what Fergus had been looking for, and he chuckled under his breath as he straightened in his saddle. The sway of Boris was relaxing, and he asked his companion if they should make any stops.

“If pastries are all you brought to eat,” Fergus laughed louder, his grin turning into a broader smile, "then, yes, we should stop at the market.”

“And here I was hoping we could find something unique and not edible, but I suppose that’s something better done in Denerim proper,” he guided Boris around the bend in the road, the clopping of hooves disturbing the quieter sounds of nature around them. People recognized him in the Denerim markets, as well they should. It was fun occasionally to visit a shop where the owner would not try to sell him his most expensive items, and he could browse at leisure. Though he supposed that really wasn’t the plan for today was it?

“I brought more than sweets, if that’s what you mean.” Meat pies, cheeses, some sturdy fruit. The meat pies were just standard fair when they went out into the wild together. “Though maybe we can find something hot? Will help keep the chill out if the wind picks up.”

“Should we decide on whom we wish to be today before we arrive in the village?” Nathaniel asked, and Fergus gave him an amused glance.

“We should think of some new names this time. Perhaps just first names this time around? What do you think of Alonzo?” He canted his head to the side, one corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other. He could always go with an older moniker, but he hated using the same ones twice. Just in case the name started to be associated with the face.

“Hopefully this won’t dim the mood, but how did the trip go? Everything turn out okay?” It was better than asking bluntly if the recruit had survived.

 

[Nathaniel Howe]

“We should think of some new names this time," Fergus suggested. "Perhaps just first names this time around? What do you think of Alonzo?” Amusement tugged at a single corner of his mouth.

"How very..." Nathaniel let out an equally amused puff of air, "Antivan of you. Wanting to recapture some of your wild youth? You can only go as Alonzo if you adopt an accent too." Such seemed only fair. Nathaniel could not think of a single non-Antivan Alonzo he had met.

If Fergus was to potentially play Antivan for the day, Nathaniel would play the part of, "I'll be Henry from the Free Marches." An old identify but not one he had ever used with Fergus. Besides, "It does not require an accent change," he added with the uplift of his brows.

“Hopefully this won’t dim the mood, but how did the trip go? Everything turn out okay?” That Fergus had not asked already about the trip to the Circle Tower surprised Nathaniel.

With someone else, with some other non-Warden, Nathaniel might provided a vague response if not entirely evading the question. There was no need with Fergus; not now that he had allowed himself the freedom of having Fergus in his life. "The hospitality I was received was about what you might have expected," he began.

Rex shook his head, his mane of black hair flipping to the other side of his head. Nathaniel freed a hand from the reins he held loosely to pat the now bare side of his horse's head. "Cordelia is settling in fine at the compound. Her sister has already been to visit her." Cordelia's survival had been quite the relief to Nathaniel. He dreaded the death of all recruits in their Joining but Cordelia's was one he was especially anxious about. Much depended on her survival.

His mouth pressed together grimly. It was hard to think of Cordelia's conscription and not think of the other that took place that day. The details around Hadden's conscription and death were not something Nathaniel would taint the day with sharing, though. "Have you ever been to the Circle Tower?" he asked instead. "Gilded cage came to mind."

 

[Fergus Cousland]

"How very... Antivan of you. Wanting to recapture some of your wild youth? You can only go as Alonzo if you adopt an accent too." his lover said, and Fergus let out a laugh.

"As you say," he said, putting his best accent on display, "We must keep up appearances, yes?"

"I'll be Henry from the Free Marches." Wasn't that his guardsman's name? Fergus smirked a little, as Nathaniel continued. He'd spent quite a while in the Free Marches so he'd be able to work the part, just as Fergus could likely make a passing Antivan. He was rusty, and as long as they didn't run into any Antivan merchants he'd be fine, "It does not require an accent change."

"I would say that's unfair, but I am the one who picked Alonzo." This was nice, really. And though Fergus had asked about a heavier topic, there was something freeing about being out in the world with Nate, and not feeling the burden of being surrounded by walls or responsibilities.

That heavier topic was brought to the forefront then, "The hospitality I was received was about what you might have expected."

He knew there was tensions between the Chantry and the Wardens, he'd heard about the things that had happened in Amaranthine. He could not imagine the templars in the tower would be pleased to see a Warden contingents arrival. "Cordelia is settling in fine at the compound. Her sister has already been to visit her."

Fergus was glad to hear that. If Cordelia had not survived, FInley might have taken offense despite any warnings that Nate might have given, "It must have been years since they spoke. I hope it is a happy reunion for them."

"Have you ever been to the Circle Tower?" When the question was asked, Fergus realized that he hadn't. It was a part of Ferelden, where people lived and worked, but without any real attachment to it through friends or family sent there it wasn't something he thought a lot about. "Gilded cage came to mind."

"I haven't," he said, dropping his fake accent for now. His tone turned serious then, "I mean, I heard second hand from Aedan about what happened there. What do the mages in the Wardens say about it? Was it a cage to them?"

 

[Nathaniel Howe]

"I haven't,” Fergus replied without the Antivan accent. His tone dropped somber, "I mean, I heard second hand from Aedan about what happened there. What do the mages in the Wardens say about it? Was it a cage to them?”

Nathaniel’s lips downturned at the question. The answer to that question depended upon the mage. Cordelia and Mysaria's impression of things vastly differed from Anders’ or even Adara’s.

“Some,” he offered. “Anders tried to escape many times before he found his freedom in conscription by Aedan.” What type of freedom was not a discussion for the time being. Nathaniel did not wish to let unpleasant conversation taint what was supposed to be a fun day, an escape for the men.

Sadness still made its way into Nathaniel’s tone as he added, “For others, that is all they knew before the Grey Wardens. They were raised to believe their magic dangerous and that they were they had belonged.” He had believed as much himself at one time. His father spoke often of not only the usefulness of mages but also the danger they presented. Rendon Howe saw mages as tools best kept under lock and key, to be taken out when necessary then shuttled away when not.

Nathaniel still remembered the Circle mage that came to Vigil’s Keep when he was seven. He had fallen out of a tree and broken his wrist. A mage was called to heal him as was common practice for nobles. That was Nathaniel’s first time experiencing magic. He found it utterly fascinating, or did until the lecture received by his father later that evening. Yet another lesson of his father’s Nathaniel took a great deal of time in unlearning.

He forced a smile, trying to push away the tide of thoughts. “Now, Alonzo,” Nathaniel inclined his head toward the first peaks of the village visible ahead, “Let us see what fun this village has to offer."

 

[Fergus Cousland]

Of course he and Nathaniel would seesaw between light hearted conversation, to something darker. It wasn’t something he intended though he knew th subject of the conscription could lead to a heavier discourse.

“Some,” Nate was frowning. “Anders tried to escape many times before he found his freedom in conscription by Aedan.”

He continued after a moment, “For others, that is all they knew before the Grey Wardens. They were raised to believe their magic dangerous and that they were they had belonged.”

That was the way things were supposed to be, at least by everything taught by the chantry. Though he had very limited experiences with mages who were not members of the Circle or the Wardens. He frowned a little himself then, pondering if it was something he should concern himself with. Maybe he should go for a visit at some point, or at least check into if that was something he could do with his position.

There was a brief silence that stretched between them, as if both considering the topic at hand with a gravity. Thankfully, the village came into view and the silence was broken, “Now, Alonzo. Let us see what fun this village has to offer."

“Ah yes, perhaps they shall have more pastries to add to my growing collection,” he put his terrible accent back in place, grinning over at Nathaniel.

“Care to make a wager?” He waited until it the question seemed to gain Nathaniel’s interest before continuing. “Race you to the edge of town. If I get there first, you stay with me at the estate tonight. If you win… well, you get to decide that, now don’t you.”

He felt his thighs tense against Boris’ body, waiting for the rest of the wager to be named. It had been a while since he had been able to let the beast go at a full gallop, and he could almost feel the anticipation move through it’s body.

 

[Nathaniel Howe]

“Ah yes, perhaps they shall have more pastries to add to my growing collection.” The comment and accent together were enough to merit the roll of Nathaniel’s eyes as well as a light chuckle.

“Care to make a wager?” Nathaniel’s brow arched at Fergus’ question and he waited on his friend to continue. Seeing he had Nathaniel’s attention, Fergus did just that. “Race you to the edge of town. If I get there first, you stay with me at the estate tonight. If you win… well, you get to decide that, now don’t you.”

If Nathaniel was to lose, would he really?

Time together in a bed was nothing new to the pair. They shared a good deal of their time together entwined with one another. The physical attraction between them was near impossible to resist. Nathaniel felt the pull each time he was with Fergus; the urge to reach out to touch, to feel the warmth of Fergus’ skin, to lose himself in tactile sensation.

Spending entire nights together, however, was not something they were able to do often. Obligations and concerns of scandal meant most of those times when they were together ended before the end of the evening. Each would return to their own bed with only the memory of the other’s touch to aid them to sleep.

No, Nathaniel did not believe he would lose even if he lost the race. That did not mean, however, he would so easily concede. A competition was a competition and the last time the pair raced, Nathaniel won, making it to the cave long before his friend. Fergus no longer suffered from the same leg injury he had during that race, though.

“When I win,” Nathaniel began, a corner of his mouth quirking sidelong. “We stay at your estate tonight.” Win and win. The true prize would be the time together and, of course, the bragging rights.

Nathaniel tightened his grip about Rex’s reigns, his legs pressing down into the sides of his horse as he prepared for the start of their little contest. “At your word then,” mischief warmed the icy blue of his eyes, “your Grace."

 

[Fergus Cousland]

“When I win,” There was that grin he loved seeing on Nathaniel’s face. “We stay at your estate tonight.”

Maker, he wasn’t even picking a different option. Fergus laughed, his eyes twinkling. It was a no lose situation then, “You know, that makes the bet somewhat moot doesn’t it? Surely there’s something you’d like to add to it?”

Fergus had a feeling no matter if Nathaniel added or not, the man would likely best him in the race. His horse was strong, and fast, but he did not ride often. He knew that Nathaniel traveled quite a bit, and likely knew the subtle tells of his own horse better.

Still, he would try to win. What was a competition if you didn’t try. And the prize they had both selected was a fine one, despite the dangers it could bring. “Though, perhaps I can add a little to mine. No destruction of the room, or leaving food on the floor? I’d like at least one set of staff to not despise your visits.”

It was mostly a tease, but his staff back in Highever were wary of Nathaniel now, especially with the state of his rooms everytime he left. Each visit there was a reason behind whatever disaster had been left for them to clean up, but he disliked their discomfort, especially about someone he cared about and wanted to see in the castle more.

“At your word then,” the look on Nathaniel’s face pulled Fergus out of his thoughts, and he grinned back at him. He tightened his own grip as Nate added, “your Grace."

He adjusted his position in his saddle, preparing as best he could, then glanced over at Nathaniel. He waited a breath, then shouted, “Go!”

He spurred Boris into motion, and didn’t look to see where his companion was. He’d do his best to win, and Boris was moving at an admirable speed.

 

[Nathaniel Howe]

Laughter accompanied Fergus’ reply to Nathaniel’s proposed bet, “You know, that makes the bet somewhat moot doesn’t it? Surely there’s something you’d like to add to it?”

There was a great deal Nathaniel planned to add later when they were back in the privacy and comfort of Fergus’ estate.

“Though, perhaps I can add a little to mine.” An addendum then? Nathaniel grinned waited to hear what else Fergus might suggest. "No destruction of the room, or leaving food on the floor? I’d like at least one set of staff to not despise your visits.”

Wryly, he managed a smirk at the request. Nathaniel’s last visits to Highever had not been without incident. He had offered to pay for the damages but that hardly mattered to the household staff that had to tend to his messes.

“I make no promises when it comes to your bed,” he teased. Bedding surely had to be fair game.

Satisfied with the terms of their wager, Nathaniel left the official start of the race to Fergus.

With Fergus’ shouted “Go!”, the pair and their horses were off.

Rex’s hooves tore into the mud and dirt beneath him, the horse used to being ridden hard during his many trips across Ferelden. The horse that Fergus rode was no nag, though. An Orlesian war horse Nathaniel himself gifted to Fergus, Boris would be stiff competition to determine the evening’s later stiff competition.

For a pause Nathaniel considered pulling back and allowing Fergus the win. If he did so, however, Fergus would know and he held back nothing, pushing his horse to speed just ahead of Boris in time for them to reach the outskirts of the small village.

The forceful gallop of the horses announced their arrival long before they appeared just outside the village fence, a small crowd gathering at the mouth of the village to see what was barreling toward them. Nathaniel pulled back hard on Rex’s reins to slow the horse.

A huge smile upon his lips and wisps of loosened hair framing his face, he looked to Fergus and his arrival a few seconds later with happy laughter. “Now shall we see about hurting my teeth with something incredibly too sweet to eat?” he asked.

 

[Fergus Cousland]

“I make no promises when it comes to your bed,” Nathaniel added before Fergus shouted for them to start their competition.

It was a bit of a distraction to say the least. He didn't think the bed would be too terrible a loss, despite how carefully he had picked it out. Even with the mental distraction, he did his best to push Boris to keep up with Rex. It had been some time since he had pushed a horse like this, and he could tell Boris was loving it. Unfortunately, the time that he hadn't pushed Boris was what ended up being his undoing. They were neck and neck most of the ride, but as they approached the point they had mentally marked as the finish line, Nathaniel pulled Rex ahead, and won.

Apparently, their race had caused a bit of a commotion with the villagers, and he saw a small crowd as he reined Boris in to a trot next to Nathaniel. His companion turned to him then, a wide, beautiful smile on his face and looking half-disheveled as if they had just tumbled in bed together. Fergus felt himself flush, but a smile broadened his features as well as Nathaniel spoke, “Now shall we see about hurting my teeth with something incredibly too sweet to eat?”

"As you say, Henry! I'm sure these people would be kind enough to direct us to the market," he affected his accent, even though he felt a little out of breath, as if he had been the one running instead of the horse. He guided Boris over to the nearby fence.

"We are looking for your best food vendor, at least the best one that does not serve sugary delights," he glanced over at Nathaniel, grinning when he said that.

A young man looked up at him and pointed further into town, "I'd say it's Martin's stall, third one on the left as you enter the market. You can't beat his soup or his fried fish."

An older woman piped up, "No, no, you need to go to Jacob's stall, he does amazing things with wild fowl and flour, nice and crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside. Second stall on the right!"

Others started piping up, and Fergus laughed as he gave them all a courteous nod, pulling his horse back alongside Nathaniel, "It seems we have much to choose from, let us go exploring then?"

 

[Nathaniel Howe]

"As you say, Henry!” Fergus kept with the ruse, doing his best impersonation of an Antivan accent. "I'm sure these people would be kind enough to direct us to the market. We are looking for your best food vendor, at least the best one that does not serve sugary delights.” A grin bloomed upon Fergus’ lips with a stolen glance he bestowed upon Nathaniel.

The citizens of the village were more than happy to direct Fergus and Nathaniel. Helpful individuals quickly rattled off a series of options for the men to contemplate.

Fergus repositioned Boris so that the two men rode side by side, "It seems we have much to choose from, let us go exploring then?"

Exploring sounded marvelous. What did not sound quite so thrilling was the rumble of Nathaniel’s stomach. A weak smile took hold of his expression. Talk of food was always enough to stoke his warden’s hunger. “I may have to eat one of everything,” Nathaniel noted, light laughter dusting his words.

Recommendations received, Nathaniel gently prodded Rex’s side to urge the horse forward. They moved at a slow pace, appropriate for traveling upon the single road that split the village ahead of them. They did not need to travel far before coming to a stable just beyond the border into the town. Pulling Rex to a stop, Nathaniel swung a leg off his horse and dismounted. The rest of this exploring would need to happen on foot.

The horses were stabled by an all too eager boy prodded along in the task by a stout old man with a balding head of hair and lush beard. Villages such as this one received their fair share of visitors on their way to or from Denerim. Markets, such as the bustling just beyond the stables, popped up to take advantage of such traffic. The large number of visitors that might visit on any single day would benefit Nathaniel and Fergus, making their visit inconspicuous for the most part.

The smells of fried fish caught Nathaniel’s attention first and drew him in the direction of the earlier mentioned cart. “Fish,” he informed Fergus in a single word. Food would be required for more conversation to take place.

 

[Fergus Cousland]

“I may have to eat one of everything,” Nathaniel said, and the laughter that followed didn't diminish what felt like a serious undertone of his words.

"If you so wish. We could sample everything this fine town has to offer," Fergus said, still affecting the accent as they moved closer to the market they had been directed to. A stable had been erected not far from where they needed to go, convenient as bartering from horseback was not a good idea. Once they had settled their mounts in place, they began moving on foot towards the vendors that were now in sight. He almost gave in to the urge to take Nathaniel's hand, a sentimental gesture borne out of the fact they were mostly incognito here. But he decided against it, just in case.

They could enjoy each others contact later, when they were settled away from other people.

Once they got in range of the scents -- and Maker there was a variety surrounding them, all sorts from fried foods, baked goods, even a sweetness that he could only guess was an apple pie of some sort -- Nate seemed to focus.

“Fish,” he said simply.

Fergus laughed, and looked around, finding the cart with the fried fish after a quick moment of searching. Heading that direction, he shook his head. "The fish it is. Is there another smell that interests you once we finish raiding this one?"

They arrived a moment later, and had to wait in a short line. It didn't take long until they were face to face with the vendor. The man that looked up at them was a portly man with a kind, weathered face, "What can I get you lads today? We have a good fish chowder, not much of it left. Or would you prefer freshly fried fish, still plenty of that left."

"I'll take a cup of the chowder," Fergus said with a smile, then looked over at Nate, "This one is on me, which would you like?"

 

[Nathaniel Howe]

Nathaniel’s nose easily could have lead the way to the fishy feasting but it was Fergus that guided them to the fish cart. He noted with a question, "The fish it is. Is there another smell that interests you once we finish raiding this one?"

Mischief sparked within grey eyes, the urge to lean and whisper what was said in a normal tone instead a tempting one, “There is one smell in particular that tempts me.” That particular type of feasting would need to wait until much later, unfortunately.

For now, there was a line, a short one thank the Maker, to navigate and a vendor to converse with.

Street vendors seemed to almost always come in one size - round. A day of standing around at a booth filled with tasty delights was bound to have certain consequences. Sampling the wares was both a perk and curse. A weathered and rotund man looked upon Fergus and Nathaniel. With a smile, he asked, "What can I get you lads today? We have a good fish chowder, not much of it left. Or would you prefer freshly fried fish, still plenty of that left."

"I'll take a cup of the chowder," Fergus replied before deferring to Nathaniel. "This one is on me, which would you like?”

The corners of Nathaniel’s mouth edged upward, a comment just upon the tip of his tongue that he bit back, voicing instead, “The fried fish.” While Nathaniel enjoyed a good stew like any red-blooded Fereldan, fish chowder was not his favorite. A good fried fish, however - his mouth watered at the prospect.

The man nodded and quickly served first Fergus his fish chowder scooped into a small bowl made of bread and next handed Nathaniel still steaming hot fish atop parchment paper. “Won’t find better food here in the market,” the vendor proclaimed, his large belly jutting forward with all the pride of a man quite confident in the quality of his wares.

Nathaniel did not wait for Fergus to pay the man, quickly taking a bite he almost immediately regretted. His mouth opened to welcome in cool air as the freshly fried fish sat searing hot upon his tongue. His free hand fanned his mouth in an attempt to further chase away the heat.

The vendor let out a belly full of laughter, more amused than mocking. “Be careful there, milord. Might want to let it cool some first."