[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]

Cullen can't even stir himself to say something cross.

He slumps against Alistair, instead, head hitting his shoulder and closing his eyes, and doesn't say anything else.

[bringspeopletogether]

In fairly short order, Alistair takes to weaving his fingers through Cullen's hair again.





A dawning realization:

"You never did tell me that filthy Orlesian song you learned."

[howtoactfereldan]

He's a little more relaxed now, at least.

"Nor shall I," Cullen murmurs. "Far be it from me to corrupt the innocent."

[bringspeopletogether]

He snorts a tiny laugh. "Innocent, am I?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Your Orlesian isn't anywhere as fluent as it could be. You wouldn't appreciate it properly."

That might have a hint of a ghost of a smile along with it.

[bringspeopletogether]

It's a start. Alistair's smile grows in response.

"Does that mean I'll have to brush up on terrible Orlesian puns and wordplay?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Once you're good enough that Josephine and Leliana threaten to set you translating, I'll share the song."

[bringspeopletogether]

"As long as I can translate comfortably from somewhere outside the Orlesian border," says Alistair, peaceably, "I'm willing to give it a go."

[howtoactfereldan]

"The point is to catch Orlesians at Skyhold saying things they think no one around them can understand. You won't even have to leave home."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Perfect." He's laughing, quietly. "All I have to do is keep up my daily walks around Skyhold, then. Maybe throw in a bit of hiding in the rafters for fun."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Only if you're very careful, please."

He reaches up, runs his thumb along Alistair's jaw, enjoying the roughness of his shadow.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's eyes drift closed.

"You have my word," he murmurs. "I'll find a rope, tie it to my waist, and tie the other end to a rafter. That way I'll just do a bunch of undignified flailing about if I slip. Nothing wounded but my pride."

[howtoactfereldan]

"And your internal organs."

Cullen kisses Alistair's cheek.

"Have you notice this seems to be a thing with you? Dangling from rafters as a result of pranks and infiltrations gone horribly wrong?"

[bringspeopletogether]

With all the dignity he can muster: "It isn't my fault Skyhold's so vertical and people rarely bother to look up."

Beat.

"It is, however, completely my fault that I have no manner of stealth at all."

[howtoactfereldan]

"You said it." A very light nip at his ear. "I didn't."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's breath stutters.

"It's true." His arms tighten around Cullen. "The most I can say for myself is that I don't hum loudly when I'm attempting to sneak around."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Because you can't hum and talk at the same time," Cullen rumbles in his ear.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Also true." He's starting to laugh again. "Because that's called singing, Cullen, and we all know I'm terrible at that."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Only when you're purposefully trying to make everyone around you make mistakes." He settles his head back on Alistair's shoulder with a contented sigh. "Still haven't forgiven you, by the way."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Not like you got in trouble for it." He prods Cullen in the side, gently. "Instigators don't get any supper. The poor souls who fall into the instigator's trap just get a stern 'ahem' from Sister Candace."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen squirms. He might overdo it a little, in hopes of punishing Alistair further. "Yes, but I wasn't singing to the Maker's approval, either."

[bringspeopletogether]

"I'm sure -- "

It's getting more difficult to focus on the conversation at hand when Cullen is squirming like that. Unconsciously, he winds one ankle around Cullen's leg; his hands slide to Cullen's hips.

" -- the Maker forgave your mistakes. He was well aware of the brat in the choir, too."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Didn't work like that, Theirin." He says this against Alistair's throat. "You know what they say about one bad apple."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Mm."

Cullen can feel Alistair's pulse fluttering faster.

"Could point out that actual bad apples don't really spoil everything. Just -- a couple extra apples. Sometimes. And you can always cut off the rotten parts if you want."

Beat.

A little more thready: "This metaphor's getting away from me, can't imagine why."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen laughs softly and slips a hand inside Alistair's robe, smoothing his palm over his chest. "I'm mystified."