[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

[howtoactfereldan]

He'd much rather do this himself than entrust it to anyone else -- privacy over convenience, every time -- but it would be nice if he didn't have to open every cupboard in the place to find fresh sheets and towels.

To make matters worse, the person in charge of such things apparently favors lavender in large quantities to scent the linens. Cullen scowls, shoves the three (three!) sachets in the back, of the cupboard, and wanders back to the tub.

And sneezes, sudden and sharp. "Less is more," he mutters, irate. "Have I mentioned how awful Orlais is?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Water sloshes against the sides of the tub as Alistair jerks in surprise. (He wasn't expecting that sneeze any more than Cullen.)

"We won't have to put up with the awfulness much longer," he reassures Cullen, then wrinkles his nose as the smell hits him. Even from this far away, it's...very flower-y. "What did they do to those poor defenseless linens?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Shoved two too many bags of the stuff in the cupboard," Cullen grouses. "One's all you need, and even then it's a little much."

He separates out the towels from the sheets, and glances at Alistair, only a little pink. "My mother favored sweetgrass. I picked up the habit. Much milder."

[bringspeopletogether]

"I'd wondered." His smile softens; he stretches out his legs to the other end of the tub, lets himself sink lower into the water. "And it's a much better choice, I agree."

(Like so much else about Cullen, Alistair's grown rather fond of the scent of sweetgrass over the past half a year.)

[howtoactfereldan]

"I suppose we can put up with it for now." Cullen brushes his hand over Alistair's hair. "And I'll go handle the sheets. They'll be done by the time you get out."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair leans into Cullen's touch, smiling. "If you finish early, you're welcome to come back and join me," he says.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen pauses , giving Alistair his full attention.

A little hesitant: "I was going to wash in the bedroom. You should... I don't want to be in your way."

[bringspeopletogether]

Ah.

"All right." A little softer. "That's fine."

You wouldn't be in the way, he wants to say, but...Cullen may need a moment to himself. It wouldn't surprise him.

Without taking his eyes from Cullen, he catches his hand again, kisses his knuckles. "I'll see you soon, then."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen nods, gaze sliding away uncomfortably. Forced lightness: "Shout if you need anything."

[bringspeopletogether]

"I will."

He tries for another smile.

"Love you."

[howtoactfereldan]

With the linens in one hand, Cullen pauses.

He doesn't smile, but his expression lightens, and he rests his palm against Alistair's cheek for just a moment. Don't worry, he's trying to say.

Then he's on his way out the door, tossing over his shoulder, "You'll love me more when we have clean sheets."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's laughter follows him out.

Right. To business, then: Alistair dunks himself the rest of the way underwater, surfaces, and gives his hair a vigorous scrub. He luxuriates for a few moments longer before reaching for the soap.

(They managed to find one of the less-flowery soaps when they first arrived. At least Alistair won't reek of lavender, too.)

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen strips the bed with the inborn efficiency of someone accustomed to ascetic military life. The new linens get sharp corners, precisely angled. While he's at it, he thinks, he might as well do it up the rest of the way: blanket and coverlet follow.

He washes in a manner that is quick, rough, and impersonal. Like he doesn't dare think about that or anything else. He tells himself he's just tired and, wrapping himself in the loose linen robe hanging in the armoir, settles on the bed, on his side. He can catnap until Alistair is done.

[bringspeopletogether]

Twenty minutes later, give or take, Alistair emerges from the washroom with a towel around his waist.

He takes in the sight: the crisply-made bed, Cullen dozing atop the quilt. Letting the towel fall, Alistair settles next to him without bothering to fetch a robe of his own.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen lets out a drowsy, interrogative mm? and shifts his head enough to eye Alistair over his shoulder.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Nothing," he murmurs. He drapes an arm around Cullen's waist. "I'm clean. Go back to sleep."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen hunches his shoulders. "'S all right. I'm awake."

[bringspeopletogether]

"...All right."

His brow knits, a little, but he doesn't say anything else.

[howtoactfereldan]

It's fine, he tells himself. Everything's fine.

"What now?"

It's fine.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Nothing." Honestly bewildered.

Alistair withdraws his arm so he can prop himself on one elbow. "Is everything all right?"

[howtoactfereldan]

It's fine, he almost says. The words stick in his throat.

You should trust him, a voice chides him, gently. It sounds like Cassandra. Be honest with him.

"I don't know," he manages, after what's very probably too long. "I'm -- " Struggling for words. "Afraid. I don't know why."

[bringspeopletogether]

A soundless ah.

(He's -- more surprised than he'll ever admit, that Cullen isn't brushing him aside with another it's fine)

He pushes himself all the way to sitting, attention on Cullen. Quiet, calm: "Of anything in particular?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Doing something wrong." The words come out small; Cullen curls up tighter.

[bringspeopletogether]

With care, Alistair reaches out again. Touches his hand to Cullen's shoulder.

"You won't." Quiet, still. "I trust you."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Still afraid," Cullen returns.