[sandbox]

[bringspeopletogether]

Back to Skyhold. Back to work.

Alistair resumes training with the Chargers a few days after his and Cullen's return; the company got back from Halamshiral just before the Basin group showed up, Bull explains, so he was giving them a rest before picking up exercises again. Krem fills Alistair in on all the details as they're exchanging blows. Some of it is just Orlesian Worst Game Ever nonsense, but since it ends with a whole lot of shamefaced nobles with no mercenaries to their names, Alistair's pretty damn pleased.

(Maybe he can get the new mercenaries in on his plan to dress up the training dummies in Orlesian garb. Hmmmmmm.)

Cullen's in a war room meeting by the time Alistair's done. He throws some water on his face and heads for the kitchens -- maybe he can split a small meal with Kieran before Morrigan's return.

Comments

[howtoactfereldan]

No, he almost says, because they're celebrating.

Why are they celebrating? he wonders.

And then --

It clicks.





Cullen leans into Alistair's touch; he might also be trying to hide his face.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's all right with that. He strokes his thumb along Cullen's cheek; kisses his hair, after a moment.

He doesn't say anything else yet.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen doesn't particularly want to say anything.

He indulges himself for another moment, and then mutters, "Sometimes I wish you weren't so kind to me."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's mouth quirks.

Gentle, and without recrimination, he murmurs, "It's one of my failings, I know."

[howtoactfereldan]

I don't deserve it, he nearly says -- but he knows how that will go over.

Instead he pulls away, sitting up, hands dangling between his knees. He lowers his head, eyes half-lidded.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair sits up as well.

He doesn't scoot closer, but, after a pause, he touches Cullen's back, resting a hand between his shoulder blades.

(He's trying not to look too worried, and...he's pretty much failing.)

[howtoactfereldan]

"I'm fine," he says, almost immediately. "Go back to sleep."

[bringspeopletogether]

The twist to Alistair's mouth deepens.

He lets his hand fall away -- but, instead of lying back down, he leans against the headboard to watch the tree branches. The sky's streaked with purple and red as the sun sets; no green at all, anymore. None within Alistair's sight at least.

[howtoactfereldan]

It's not right, that he should still act as though something is wrong. They won. Is he not trivializing the sacrifices of so many?

The question is mostly rhetorical, when it comes.

"Why do I feel as though I deserve punishment?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"I don't know," says Alistair, softly, as he turns his attention back to Cullen.

Of course you don't deserve punishment, he'd say, if he knew it would help at all.

[howtoactfereldan]

"If I go walk, they'll see me." Laced with shame.

[bringspeopletogether]

"We could walk away from the party," murmurs Alistair. "Plenty of empty places right now, what with everyone in the yard."

And depending how far they've made it into Cabot's stores, anyone they encounter outside the yard may be too drunk to care.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen hunches his shoulders tighter.

Low, miserable:

"You know I prefer -- "

He doesn't finish.

(To be alone, is what he would have said.)

[bringspeopletogether]

Oh.

(Easy enough to infer how he would've finished that sentence. Guilt twinges Alistair's stomach; he pushes it aside.)

"Right." Still soft; still without judgment. "I'll hold down the fort. Keep the spiders out while you're gone."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen shakes his head; pulls his knees more tightly to his chest. "I'm not leaving. Just -- do what you were going to do."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair nods. He looks back up at the tree, settling more comfortably against the headboard.

Kieran's all right, and free of heartbreak so far. If Alistair goes to the party, he'll spend all of it worrying about Cullen. Not particularly fun.

...If he goes to the party, that would give Cullen some space to recover, though.




"I think I'm going to fetch some dinner," he says. "I can bring something back if you'd like -- or not, if you'd rather."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen lifts his head -- not much, but enough to break that dejected cast to his shoulders.

Considerably lighter:

"If you -- see anything I might like?"

[bringspeopletogether]

He smiles. "Of course."

Alistair leans in just enough to kiss Cullen's temple, then scoots out of bed.

"Love you. Be back soon."

[howtoactfereldan]

Now Cullen stretches out on his back.

"No porridge," he says to the sky.

It's a nice-looking sky, he thinks. No green in it at all, that he can see.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's voice -- and some laughter -- floats back up. "None whatsoever."

The creak of the door opening, the thump of it closing, and then: silence.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen exhales, long, and a little shaky. He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes until they hurt.

Leftover from his meeting with Samson, he thinks, a little bleakly. Combined with being so worried for so long, and then just having that worry -- lifted.

He needs to be alone until he can get himself together. And -- thankfully -- it appears as though Alistair is finally beginning to understand that.

[bringspeopletogether]

Every time he tries to back off and give Cullen space, Alistair's hindbrain insists -- despite all evidence to the contrary -- that he's leaving Cullen behind. Discarding him. Abandoning him.

But as he said earlier: he can be trained.




Twenty minutes later, the door creaks again. Alistair heaves his way up the ladder with some effort. It becomes clear why soon enough: he's got an entire basket of food, not just a tray.

"Tiny roast birds of some sort," he announces, "beef stew, little custard tarts, a couple apples, some berries, and a bottle of wine someone shoved at me on the way which can keep for later if you'd like." He sets the basket at the foot of the bed. More sheepishly: "I couldn't decide."

[howtoactfereldan]

He's sitting on the edge of the bed, turned toward Alistair: the smile on Cullen's face is tired, sweet, real.

"Well done, all round. -- shall we begin with the custard tarts?"

Cullen intends to, regardless: it's difficult to shake off a nightmare, but custard tarts tend to speed along the process.

[bringspeopletogether]

He returns the smile. "Absolutely."

Taking a seat next to Cullen, Alistair unearths one of the tarts and passes it over. He digs out another for himself, plus the bowl of berries.

Custard tarts are excellent on their own, but they're even better with one or two fresh berries planted smack in the middle.

[howtoactfereldan]

Given his druthers, Cullen would double-fist those tarts.

Given the events of the day, Cullen figures it's a defensible action.

He promptly leans over Alistair and fishes out another.