[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]

You can trust him, Cassandra says. You should be honest.





When Cullen tries to speak it comes out as a choked noise.

He clenches Alistair's hand as though it's a literal lifeline.



"They -- they used it against me. Wanting to... to serve. Like I do."

[bringspeopletogether]

The breath leaves Alistair in a soundless rush. Somehow, he manages to shape a faint oh.

His arm tightens around Cullen.

[howtoactfereldan]

"I didn't -- it didn't matter, in the middle of it. It shouldn't matter now. I love you. I trust you. It shouldn't -- "

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair shuts his eyes. The construction in his chest moves upward toward his throat.

He manages to find his voice. "I'm so sorry they did that. I'm so sorry."

[howtoactfereldan]

"I still want it."

The words are thin. Small. "Maker forgive me."

[bringspeopletogether]

"There's nothing the Maker needs to forgive."

It takes all his effort to keep his voice steady.

"They took something good in you and twisted it for their own ends. They're the ones who need to beg forgiveness. And if you still want to -- " The words stick in his throat, briefly. "If you still want this, then we'll find ways to keep you safe when we do. I promise."

[howtoactfereldan]

All the air seems to go out of Cullen at once.

"With you. Yes. Please."

[bringspeopletogether]

"All right," he whispers.

Another squeeze of his hand.

"I love you, Cullen. No matter what."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Because you want to?" Afraid, again.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Yes," he says. "Because I want to. I find you a very loveable man."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Even if I'm -- inconvenient? And, and difficult?"

And weak, he doesn't say.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Even then."

Quiet; steady.

[howtoactfereldan]

"I don't have to have it. I've made it this long -- it doesn't have to -- we can forget about it, it's fine." Choked, now, and thick with tears. "It's fine."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Oh, Cullen."

Barely a breath. They're nearly as close as is possible for two people to get; still, Alistair endeavors to press closer, tucking his chin over Cullen's shoulder.

"Here. Come here. It's all right."

[howtoactfereldan]

"It's fine," he insists as he follows Alistair's orders, turning over and hiding his face in Alistair's chest.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair wraps both arms around him, holding him close. One hand smooths up and down his back in silent comfort.

"It's all right," he whispers against Cullen's hair, and "I'm here," and soft, soothing sounds that don't cohere into words at all. I've got you. I love you. It's all right.

[howtoactfereldan]

"I'm sorry," Cullen whispers after several minutes. He's shivering minutely -- more fright or shock than cold. "We were supposed to... this was supposed to be good."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Don't worry about it," murmurs Alistair. "And don't apologize, either."

He touches his lips to the crown of Cullen's head.

"It's all right."

[howtoactfereldan]

Mostly mournful, and only a little surly:

"Has telling me not to worry ever worked once?"

[bringspeopletogether]

That draws a quick breath of laughter out of Alistair.

"I'd a feeling you might say that." He draws his fingers through Cullen's hair. "Had to try, though."

After a moment, quieter and more serious: "But I mean it. It's -- not about how things were 'supposed' to be. I'm glad you told me all this. Truly."

[howtoactfereldan]

"I didn't-- " Alarmed. "I didn't plan this. I swear."

[bringspeopletogether]

"No, I know," he says, just as swift. "I know you didn't. But...you still trusted me enough to tell me at all."

With Cullen being so private, so prone to brushing his inconvenient emotions aside -- Alistair's under no illusions how rare this is. No matter how much Cullen trusts him.

"It's a heavy thing to carry on your own."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen sniffles.







Finally, soft:

"You were there."

[bringspeopletogether]

"I was. Yes."

He keeps running his hand along Cullen's back, slow, steady.

[howtoactfereldan]

"I don't have to explain. I can just... tell it."

He's not sure whether that makes him feel relieved or miserable.

"You're the only one."