[sandbox]

[bringspeopletogether]

Skyhold gets quieter and quieter as the days move on. It's not a complete stand-down; there's cleanup to do, stragglers to round up, the same sort of business Alistair remembers from the months after the Blight. The Thaw, as Wardens call it. Thedas is thawing again, but the fortress only grows colder for it.

He won't lie: he'd feel warmer if Kieran and Morrigan were still there.

When Cullen suggests a vacation, Alistair lights up, only to deflate slightly when he realizes they'll be "vacationing" in Orlais. There's business to attend in Val Royeaux -- not the sort of business that'll keep Cullen occupied from sunup to sundown, but enough to require an in-person visit for a week or so. On the one hand: Orlais. On the other: he can't argue that time away from Skyhold, especially in Cullen's company, will help.

...So will the cheese, probably.

(Look, as Alistair has said many a time, he is a very predictable man.)

They room at a small place in the university quarter that's downright plain for Val Royeaux. Libraries for Cullen, a cafe around the corner for both of them, limited contact with people trilling about whatever stupid, petty scandal's hit the court this week -- it could be far worse. Alistair takes to writing his letters at the cafe, usually accompanied by some flaky pastry or another.

Today, they're cheese-filled. It's hard to descend too far into a personal funk when you've got a cheese-filled pastry.

Comments

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's jaw tightens. He looks down at the bag.

"Duncan -- my mentor -- he spoke highly of Blackwall," he says. "The real Blackwall. He was a respected Warden-Constable who did a lot of good for his men. Apparently he even spoke up in favor of the Orlesian Wardens sending aid to Ferelden during the Blight."

He's not going to be able to stay dispassionate about this.

"Duncan died at Ostagar along with nearly every other Warden in Ferelden, and that man you've got sitting in a prison cell pretended to know him." Alistair tears the edge of the bag with his thumbnail. "Pretended to be a Warden. To make that sacrifice we all make even though he sacrificed nothing. And -- "

You're a soldier. With effort, Alistair wrests his thoughts onto a new track.

"He put all of you at risk, do you realize that? Every time you faced darkspawn and sent him in thinking he was immune, every time you had to rely on him to tell you if you were about to walk into a nest around the corner up ahead -- " The rip in the bag grows longer; he lets out a brittle laugh. "I had to be the one to say Corypheus's dragon wasn't an archdemon, even though Blackwall was there, too. And I wondered after why he never told you that, because it's obvious if you're a Warden, it didn't feel anything like an archdemon."

Finally, he looks up at Lavellan. "And now we know, don't we."

[howtoactfereldan]

Lavellan was previously able to maintain a neutral expression. When Alistair says, do you realize that? her mouth sets. Her eyes narrow.

"Yes," she says. "We certainly do." Beat. "Those times when I pushed him to explain why he didn't know anything about the Orlesian Wardens, and he acted like I'd besmirched his honor -- "

She shakes her head suddenly, and a little violently, as though shrugging off an insect. "Thank you, Alistair. Your counsel is something I hadn't considered. And it's -- very right." Lavellan pushes herself off the wall, starting to pace a little. "In my position, considering the parties involved -- would you press Orlais to give him to us? Or would you let the older crimes catch up with him and leave it there?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"I'd let him hang."

He bites off each word with a viciousness he doesn't even try to restrain.

"I'd tie the noose myself."

[howtoactfereldan]

A little startled: "I -- all right." Lavellan rubs at her temple. "Even if that meant not being punished as an impostor? Letting that crime pass unremarked, when the rest of the Orlesian Wardens have served the Inquisition with honor?"

[bringspeopletogether]

A rough shrug. "You could always request Celene add it to the list of charges before they hang him."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Would your opinion change if what he says about the real Blackwall turns out to be the truth? That the Warden-Constable intended to recruit him, and died in a darkspawn attack?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair can't suppress a contemptuous snort -- but he does subside, a little, and toys with the almond bag another moment before responding.

"I'd ask why he didn't finish the journey and present himself to the Wardens on his own. Why the subterfuge? Why the lie? The Wardens aren't picky -- he wouldn't have been the first murderer to join, nor the last, and they could have done their own investigating to see if he was telling the truth. He could have truly redeemed himself instead of this -- this farce that put another black mark on the Wardens when we've already plenty of those to be getting along with."

A deliberate breath.

"So no. It wouldn't change my opinion much."

[howtoactfereldan]

Lavellan is nodding, though. "See -- that's it, right there. Thedas needs the Wardens. I'll do what I must to help repair their reputation. I want to. So what would it say if the Inquisition let that slide even when it risked my own safety? Can we truly remain silent? Would that serve the Wardens best?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair shakes his head. "No. It wouldn't."

He drags a hand through his hair.

"He deserves to hang, but at the very least he deserves to be made an example of."

[howtoactfereldan]

Lavellan takes a moment to square her shoulders.

Her gaze is calm and steady, and never wavers from Alistair's eyes.

"He wants death, Alistair. I think death is too easy. I think he wants death and I think he wants to be pitied."

[bringspeopletogether]

A muscle cords at Alistair's jaw again.

Evenly: "Then what do you propose?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Let him go through with the Joining."

Something guarded in her eyes, now. "Would you still speak to me?"

(She is, after all, still -- young. And Alistair was kind. Steady.)

[bringspeopletogether]

In a flash: "No."

Alistair's on his feet. "I mean, yes, I'll still speak with you -- " (She's the Inquisitor. He still serves the Inquisition. Not much choice in the matter.) "But no. No, he had his chance, he doesn't get to, to belatedly -- "

He's starting to pace.

" -- he's sullied the Wardens enough, he doesn't get that too -- "

[howtoactfereldan]

"If he lived through it -- "

Lavellan holds very still, now that Alistair is moving.

"It would be up to them to decide what to do with him. They could put him on latrine duty for the rest of his life for all I know. But they -- they'd get to have the say. And everyone would see that we back them. And that we think they deserve a say."

[bringspeopletogether]

It's Loghain all over again, he thinks wildly. Except Cousland had the good sense to be as horrified as Alistair when Riordan suggested it.

"The Joining isn't a punishment," he spits. "It's not a way to pawn off judgment onto someone else."

He needs to be somewhere else. He can feel the pressure building at his temples; next will come the shadows at the edges of his line of sight. If he's going to lapse into a blackout rage and take a swing at someone, he will be damned if it's Lavellan.

[howtoactfereldan]

Lavellan is watching him closely; Lavellan takes a step to the left -- putting her closer to the door. And she can't quite keep the wariness from her voice.

"Then how do we make an example of him, given that death is what he wants?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"I don't know." Still pacing; his hands clench and unclench at his sides. "Exile him. Strip him to his smalls and dump him in the Wastes, I don't know -- "

If Rainier wants to die, that's more than fine by Alistair. He doesn't care.

His next line of pacing takes him closer to the door: he swerves that way, pointedly not looking at Lavellan. Muttered half to her, half to himself: "I need to be -- not here."

[howtoactfereldan]

Lavellan takes a sizable step away, and doesn't say anything else. It appears she's done quite enough.

[bringspeopletogether]

Through the door, still not looking at Lavellan. Alistair digs one hand into his hair.

Cullen's always been the one to get claustrophobic, not him -- but right now the house feels entirely too small, every corner visible from any vantage point, nowhere he can go and hide. 'Somewhere not here' has to be entirely not here. He has to get out.

[howtoactfereldan]

At the shifting of footsteps, Cullen sticks his head out of the kitchen -- and spies Alistair.

The door hasn't opened or closed; Lavellan's still here.

Cullen isn't a stupid man. "Hold on for two minutes," he says, low. "Please."



He and Lavellan have a hurried, hushed conversation: Cullen agrees to let a guard posted near their door know his whereabouts, and Lavellan will go about her business.

She slips out the front door like a shadow, and pulls a hood over her head.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's found a convenient stretch of wall to lean against, arms folded tight against his chest. He stares fixedly at his feet, his breathing not entirely steady.

I need to not be here. It's all he can think. If he lets himself think anything else --

Well. Best just to make sure that doesn't happen.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen is close, then, but not touching.

Low: "What do you need?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Talk her out of it."

Low; still not looking up.

[howtoactfereldan]

"She hasn't made a final decision." Cullen is still. "She won't, for a few days. She thinks Celene will hold off until she does."

[bringspeopletogether]

"So don't let that be her final decision."

He rakes his fingers through his hair again; leaves them there.