Alistair (
bringspeopletogether) wrote2017-07-01 04:58 pm
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[sandbox]
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.
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.
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Quiet; steady.
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"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."
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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."
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"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.
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"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."
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He touches his lips to the crown of Cullen's head.
"It's all right."
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"Has telling me not to worry ever worked once?"
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"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."
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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."
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Finally, soft:
"You were there."
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He keeps running his hand along Cullen's back, slow, steady.
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He's not sure whether that makes him feel relieved or miserable.
"You're the only one."
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"Does it help?" he whispers.
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"It's something, at least," he agrees, and kisses Cullen's hair.
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"Alistair?"
Bewildered.
"Why are you naked?"
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"Too lazy to get a robe after my bath," he manages. "That's all."
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He punctuates that with a gentle squeeze.
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After a moment, he murmurs, "The correct answer, by the way, was 'to awe and delight.'"
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Thoughtfully, "That might involve more posing. Maybe some flexing. Just as a nice bonus."
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