[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]

Serene: "Well, at least you seem to be enjoying yourself."

He sweeps his tongue over the spot he bit.

"I'll accept that."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Glad that's clear," Cullen manages, with a shiver. "Alistair."

[bringspeopletogether]

He's smirking. "Yes?"

(He's trying not to ask, what would you like me to do? Trying not to worry so much about doing something wrong.)

He slides his hand to Cullen's belly, working at the tie of his robe.

[howtoactfereldan]

Without thinking too hard about it, he covers Alistair's hand.

And he can't look at Alistair when he says, voice thick with something close to shame, "Can we -- leave that out of it? For now?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Immediately, Alistair stops.

(If Cullen isn't looking at him, he doesn't see the flash of concern on Alistair's face. Probably for the best.)

"Of course." Quiet. He flattens his hand, smoothing the tie back into place.

[howtoactfereldan]

"I'm sorry." Barely audible. "I don't mean to be -- difficult. I can -- if you'd rather -- "

[bringspeopletogether]

"You don't have to apologize."

He's loosened his grip on Cullen's hair by now; he smooths that down as well.

"And you're not being difficult. I'd rather you tell me no than go along with it when you're not particularly inclined."

[howtoactfereldan]

He's doing his best not to look at Alistair. No louder than before: "Truly?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Truly."

Gently, he strokes his palm over Cullen's hair again.

[howtoactfereldan]

He makes himself take in a few breaths. They're raggedy.







"I can't... lose myself, right now." Shame. Definitely. "I'm sorry. I know it's -- not what you had in mind."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Oh," he breathes, without quite being conscious of it. Alistair slips to one side: laying next to Cullen now, one arm still hooked around him. "Cullen, it's all right. It's fine. Don't ever apologize for that."

[howtoactfereldan]

"The alternative's fury." He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, hard. "I -- look, before I do some violence to myself, can I see if a cup of tea will halt it in its tracks?"

[bringspeopletogether]

The flicker of concern has moved on to a flicker of alarm.

Alistair's voice stays calm, though, when he says, "Yes. Absolutely. Come on -- "

He rolls out of bed to start for the kitchen.

[howtoactfereldan]

So does Cullen. He stops, though, to pick up a blanket, and wrap it tightly around his shoulders -- tight as he can.

[bringspeopletogether]

The fire's down to embers; a little stoking, a little more wood, and it crackles back to life. Alistair fills the kettle and hangs it over the flames.

As they wait for it to boil, Alistair takes a seat and holds out an arm to Cullen, lifting his eyebrows in gentle inquiry.

[howtoactfereldan]

The hand that isn't holding the blanket shut slips out to meet Alistair's.

He's still not meeting his eyes, though.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair links their fingers, grip firm and warm.

"You're here," he whispers. "You're safe."

[howtoactfereldan]

Sour: "That's debatable."

He'd pace, if Alistair wasn't so keen to hold hands.

[bringspeopletogether]

"You are as long as I'm around."

He squeezes Cullen's hand.

"I promise you."

[howtoactfereldan]

"From what's inside my own head?" he demands, and turns away.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's mouth twists ruefully.

He...can't argue that. Not after months of nightmares, too much time sitting at the ladder with a knife in hand, the moments -- as recent as yesterday -- where rage overtakes him so much more easily than it did before.

But:

"You've led me out of what's inside my own head plenty a time," he says, steady. "If I can show you a safe path that'll give you a reprieve, I will."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen clenches his jaw.







"All right," he says, finally. He can't think to argue. Acquiescence seems to be what Alistair wants. And if Cullen doesn't rein himself in, he'll say something untrue, unfair, and highly regrettable.

[bringspeopletogether]

It's the sort of all right Alistair knows too well. He looks away, toward the fire.

(It would be awfully nice, he thinks distantly, if he could do something right for once. Just once.)

The kettle hasn't begun to whistle yet, but enough steam pours from its spout that it'll probably start its screeching any minute now. Alistair rises; unhooks it; fetches down the tea and a pair of mugs. Scoops the tea to the kettle. Waits, in silence, as it brews.

It'll give Cullen a moment to collect himself, if nothing else.

[howtoactfereldan]

It's exactly what Cullen needs. He scrubs his hands at his eyes again. Breathes. And folds the blanket.

And in a moment, he asks, calmer:

"What did you have in mind for the day?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair looks up with a crooked smile.

"Breakfast to start," he says, and peeks into the tea kettle to see how it's coming along. "A walk, perhaps. Something quiet." Beat. "Maybe something noisier like a round or five of cards later on. Or finding the most absurd thing we can in the marketplace and coming up with equally absurd ways to use it."