[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 nods. Opens his mouth, as if to say something else -- then closes it and heads for the front door.

(Incidents like last night aside -- it's the first time in a while he hasn't said his customary I love you before leaving.)

[howtoactfereldan]

Well, that doesn't exactly come as a surprise.

Cullen sighs, and goes to his desk. First are the notes for each of his siblings. Second is the note just for Mia, tucked into the parcel he brought home last night: it's a chess set, of course, carved from good, plain (and polished) Fereldan stone. The note simply says For my next visit.

Next: reviewing drawdown plans. Cullen signs off on the next batch of soldiers wanting to muster out, squints at the assignment rosters in light of the change, and makes a few suggestions to pass off to his captains for their comment.

Third... it's a return to calculus.

Either it'll give him a headache, thus providing a good excuse not to say much, or the orderliness of it will provide some mental clarity. A win no matter what.

[bringspeopletogether]

Hello, Mia, begins Alistair's own letter, and...doesn't get much farther than that.

The whole point of Cullen asking him to write his sister was so she wouldn't just get a bunch of still alive, pawn to A4 letters. Or whatever A-space you move a pawn to. She'll know something's wrong if he only sends a few sentences -- and Alistair very well can't tell her all that's transpired. He's supposed to be reassuring her that everything's all right, not that...well. That it isn't.

So he sets that one aside with a sigh. Nibbles at the bread that came along with his fish stew, thinking.

Then he pulls another sheet of paper closer, inks his quill, and starts, Hello, Ivette.




The resulting letter to Warden Cousland goes for nearly five pages. Somewhere around page three, he realizes he may not even send it; he'd have to cross out quite a lot of the more embarrassingly helpless parts first. Probably fix up the smudged bits, too.

But when it's done, he feels...lighter. A little.

Once it's dry, he carefully folds the letter and tucks it away -- then winces when he realizes it's past noon. (Not that it matters, since he has nothing to send to South Reach after all.) Hurriedly finishes his stew, he gets up with all intent to head straight back to their rooms.

Instead, he finds himself taking the long way through the university quarter, as if to put off the inevitable just a little longer.

[howtoactfereldan]

With regular breaks for tea, the mathematics isn't too bad. Cullen finds he might actually have a handle on it. Or some of it.

And... well. He thinks he knows what to do. He's got an idea, anyhow. He can be pleasant and just not... anything else. Until he can figure out where things stand -- until he's sure how he feels --

No reason to make things worse until then.

[bringspeopletogether]

The front door creaks open, quietly, and closes just as quietly.

(Another reflex stifled: Alistair doesn't call I'm home!)

It would be too much to hope that Cullen's working with the Inquisitor today. Moving to their bedroom, Alistair deposits the letter on his pack; then, still making as little noise as possible, counts through the remaining coin he has on hand.

[howtoactfereldan]

The cloth is gone, as is the rest of it. Cullen is still closeted in the kitchen; he can feel his eyelids getting heavy. He should walk. Go train. Do something.

But here it's warm, and it's quiet. Cullen rests his chin on his hand. Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow, he can suggest returning to Skyhold early (or just plain leaving ahead of Alistair). Easier to avoid things with a whole fortress rather than a few rooms.

[bringspeopletogether]

He only has enough for one night. Two, maybe, if he lives off nothing but bread and water for the rest of the trip. (Which would be doable.)

Maybe he'll suggest it to Cullen tonight. Rooms in the university quarter are plentiful enough this time of year; no reason they should have to suffer in a small space when Alistair can go rent another bed for a time.

...What Alistair really ought to do is see if Cullen wants to talk about it anymore, but knowing Cullen, that's never going to happen.

He leans his forehead against the wall a moment, counting his breaths, then goes to the kitchen to get more tea.

[howtoactfereldan]

He can't blame Alistair for having a breaking point. This seems like an awfully reasonable one.

He survived a long time alone. He can do it again.





When the door opens, Cullen lifts his head.

The movement makes the too-wide cuff of his shirt fall down his forearm, a bit; the scrap of thin leather around his wrist is also... visible.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair isn't prepared for the way his heart clenches when he sees the bracelet. His throat tightens in kind; he swallows past it, and manages to put on a brief, tiny smile in greeting.

"Hello," he says as he retrieves the kettle and a clean mug.

[howtoactfereldan]

Mild, pleasant: "Busy day?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Not terribly." He fills the cup. "Wasn't able to finish a letter for Mia in time, unfortunately."

He nods to the papers.

"You?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"More of the same." Lightly enough. "A courier came by. I've been working here ever since."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair nods. Anything he'd normally say about Cullen's work habits, teasing or not -- well, he's certainly not going to say them now.

Instead, he sips his tea.

[howtoactfereldan]

Well.

If Alistair isn't feeling like talking... Cullen is very bad at talking. And he's also bad at trying to gauge where Alistair's mind is at, at the present moment.

So Cullen bends his head (his shoulders are a little too close to his ears) and goes back to the treatise in front of him.

[bringspeopletogether]

And all at once, Alistair can't bear it anymore.

"We ought to talk." He says it to his tea. "Not now, if you'd -- rather not. But soon."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen glances up before he moves.

Then, every movement deliberate, he puts down his pen, shuffles together his notes, stacks them on the treatise, and pushes it all aside.

Very quiet:

"All right."

[bringspeopletogether]

All right. Now it is, then.

Alistair glances up as Cullen gathers his things, then returns to staring at his tea.





"I should never have asked you to do that," he says at last, no louder. "Let alone demanded it. It was -- abhorrent of me. I can't apologize enough for it." He swallows. "For breaking your trust so terribly. I don't know what I can do to fix it, or even if I can. But..."

He shifts his grip on the mug.

"I want to try, if you'll let me."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen folds his hands on the table.





"You never do anything out of malice." Thoughtful. "I've some idea of how vile Rainier's actions are from your perspective. And I don't care for the thought of that man destroying this -- this thing we've built. Not after everything else he's done."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's shoulders slump.

He finally looks up; too overwhelmed to do much else, he nods.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen, in contrast, is staring at the tabletop.

"I'm -- concerned -- that the next time duty takes precedence over your desires -- our desires --
we'll be here again. And there will be a next time. And a time after that."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair nods again.

Without the papers strewn over the kitchen table, there's room to sit: cautiously, he pulls out the chair across from Cullen's, sets down his tea.

"You're not wrong, that I've been selfish about that." Quiet. "More than I'd like. For a long time you were the only thing I knew for certain was real. I...got used to running to you for everything, rather than trusting myself. And I forget sometimes that I don't have to think like that anymore."

He splays a hand on the tabletop, as if proving its solidity.

With an unhappy smile, "That there's more that's real than you and me."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen glances up briefly, then looks away.

"You know I have responsibilities, some of which lie heavy. It's -- it ought to be more than not minding that I have them."

[bringspeopletogether]

"You need more support from me."

It isn't a question.

[howtoactfereldan]

No, but it ought to be.

"I need you to be able to rely on yourself." A little steelier. "Not the same thing, Alistair."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair resists the urge to hunch inward.

(Cullen isn't saying anything Alistair doesn't already know, after all.)

"All right."