bringspeopletogether

"They did it. She did it." He sounds faintly hysterical to his own ears. This could just be that he's smiling too much. "This is what it looked like before."

He's got to get to the war room, or the rookery at the very least. Cullen drops to the chaise, fast, to tie his laces properly.

"We're not out of danger yet -- "

After what happened at Haven, Cullen is the last possible person who would say 'and now it's time to have a large party.'

" -- but it's very good news."

She did it.

Alistair's mouth falls open. Half a second later, he dives for the ladder, Kieran on his heels.

By the time Cullen's done with his boots, Alistair's hit the floor and at his side -- and sweeping Cullen into a hug the instant he's on his feet.

Cullen may or may not let out an undignified squawk; surely everyone will trust his word over Alistair's on the matter.

Regardless, after the first moment of shock, he's laughing, pounding Alistair on the back. "That's one problem solved, isn't it."

"I'd say." Caught up in the moment, he unthinkingly lifts Cullen off his feet and swings him in a half-circle; Alistair's laughing, too, delighted and wobbly with relief. "Maker. She did it. They did it."

It's hit like a physical blow, leaving him dazed: we're not going to die. Not today.

"Which clearly gives you license to treat me like a sack of potatoes." Grinning, he ruffles Alistair's hair, aggressively. "Look -- I've got to go, we're not out of it yet. Think you can stand to be happy without me?"

"I think I can manage." He finally lets go of Cullen, only to take his face in both hands and kiss him, quick but firm. "Go do what needs doing, Commander. I'll see you soon."

"Listen, first." He grabs hold of Alistair's wrists. "Soon as you can. Until we've got word of what exactly happened -- "

And who survived. And how cohesive the remaining forces are.

" -- get out of the tower, and back to Morrigan's quarters. I plan to order everyone to be overcautious until we know what the aftermath will look like. Understand?"

Alistair sobers. "Understood."

He cuts a swift glance to Kieran. Kieran nods, and scampers back up the ladder to begin collecting his things.

"It would take anyone time to get here," he says, for Alistair's ears alone. "But you weren't there at Haven. We can't have that again. We won't. And I want you two away from the walls until we know where we stand."

Alistair nods.

Low, "We'll keep ourselves safe. Is there more I can do?"

"Not without leaving Kieran, which isn't an option." This isn't an order; Cullen figures Alistair just wouldn't do it. "If you'd rather wait for news, the library or great hall would be best."

"All right. I'll see what Kieran prefers."

Alistair would rather be somewhere he can hear the news, but considering Kieran's been sleeping in an unfamiliar bed for two nights, time in Morrigan's quarters might be a welcome relief.

He catches Cullen's hands, gives them a squeeze. "One fight done. We're getting closer."

Cullen nods; a little of how tired he is comes through in his smile. "No more giant hole in the sky should make things easier, it's true."

"Next you'll tell me it's helpful not to put my foot in a leg trap when I'm walking to dinner."

He gives Cullen another quick kiss.

"Love you. You can do it."

"Though apparently not without stating the obvious."

Cullen brushes his thumb over Alistair's cheek, and steps away. "Help me get all this on?"

Alistair snorts, fondly amused, and says, "Of course."

He grabs Cullen's breastplate and gets to work on the straps. Above them, the noise of shuffling books and fabric draws to a close; Kieran picks his way down the ladder soon after, one pack slung over his shoulders.

Cullen's tugging on his vambraces; he glances at Kieran, smiling. "Ready to go?"

"Nearly." Kieran hefts the bag higher. "I still have one more pack."

"I"ll get it in a moment," Alistair reassures him, fastening the last strap.

Kieran nods. Then, shyer, "I put Dane and the Werewolf in there as well. Is that all right?"

Alistair's eyebrows rise. "Of course it's all right," he says. "Anything I have up there, you're welcome to bring along." A beat; Alistair lowers his voice, conspiratorial. "I stole them all from the library anyway."

Kieran giggles.

Cullen picks up his greaves, sits to put them on. "And anything he didn't steal from the library, he stole from me, and you're welcome to them."

"I did see a couple of chess books," says Kieran, thoughtfully. "I definitely didn't think those were Alistair's."

"Hey," says Alistair, mock-affronted, which just makes Kieran grin again. Alistair returns the grin, then grabs his own vambraces off the chaise. Might as well suit up, too, just in case.

Cullen laughs quietly and reaches for his coat. He tugs it on; he fluffs the collar; he cracks his neck.

"Right," he says, something close to cheerful. "Updates when I've got them. See you soon."

Alistair's smile warms. "Until then."

He finishes up with his vambraces; greaves next, so long as he's sitting, and breastplate last before he clanks back upstairs to grab Kieran's other pack.

Cullen, meanwhile, is out and over the bridge. He goes straight to the rookery.

No one's in the library this early -- not even Helisima. And when he gets to the top of the tower, the first thing he sees is Leliana's longbow, aggressively polished and ready, sprawling over her desk.

Good. They had the same idea.

As they walk to Morrigan's quarters, Alistair looks up at the sky. All that's left of the Breach is the faintest green streak, barely visible in the dim predawn light; he fills his lungs, lets out the air in a slow breath.

"You're happier with it gone," says Kieran.

Startled, a little embarrassed, he looks over.

"Not just because it means the Inquisitor succeeded." Kieran's watching him closely. He hesitates a moment, then goes on, "Is it because of the Fade?"

Alistair's mouth quirks. It'd be easy to brush this off with a joke, like Cullen's yes, not having a giant hole in the sky does make things easier, but as has been made plain over and over: Kieran isn't stupid. He looks down at his feet, and answers, "Yes."

Kieran shifts the straps of his pack. "Mother told me I was never to ask you about it," he says, quieter now. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's -- " Swiftly, he looks up. Cautious: "She's...that was a kindness, her saying that. It's not worth talking about. Doesn't make for pleasant dinner conversation. Or breakfast conversation. Or...ever conversation." Alistair rubs the back of his hair. "But it happened. And when things like that remind me of it -- it's...difficult sometimes."

He gestures to the tiny green scar in the sky. Kieran follows it; nods.

Alistair goes on, softer, "It got the better of me yesterday. I'm sorry I wasn't around."

"It's all right." Kieran chances a smile. "The library's quite nice. I found all sorts of other books about werewolves."

"Really? Like what?"

He pushes open the door to Morrigan's quarters. It closes behind them on the sound of Kieran's cheerful relaying of all his newfound werewolf knowledge.

"Your communication lines," Cullen says, leaning over the rail with a cup of tea to hand.

"We should hear by noon." He can't see Leliana's face; it's obscured by her cowl. "If we have heard nothing by noon, we should start assuming the worst. I can send scouts with fresh horses to the post at the mouth of the valley, and then have them proceed on to the next post."

"Fortunate we didn't dismantle those posts after all," Cullen comments.

"I will say it: you were right," Josephine says, coming up the stairs. "I am not ashamed to admit it."

Tired as he is, Cullen can't help but give Josephine a warm smile. "Thank you, Ambassador Montilyet."

"You should not say such things without a bow," she admonishes Cullen, and comes to join him and Leliana at the rail. "So. How will we pass the morning?"

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