[sandbox]

[bringspeopletogether]

No Orlesian nobles pounded down their door to demand their hound back, so when Alistair and Cullen left Halamshiral, the newly-dubbed Gruyere happily trotted alongside their horses.

A few weeks after -- which included some quiet conversation, a few orders placed with a few merchants, and almost an entire extra pack of gifts slung over one of their mounts -- Gru just as happily trotted along as they turned for South Reach.

Years of correspondence led Alistair to build an elaborate image of Cullen's family in his mind; Mia, perhaps, more fully realized than the others, but everyone with a name and a voice to match their letters. They're...not wholly inaccurate? But Mia's definitely shorter than he expected, and one or two of the children a little louder.

(Mia's voice, however, adopts exactly the pitch he imagined it would when Alistair brings up the whole I'm-your-brother-in-law-now thing.)

It's a nice place. Just the right kind of rambunctious, with all the kids running around; just the right kind of homey.

If only Cullen weren't -- well, reacting more or less precisely how Alistair worried he'd react to the reunion.

Comments

[bringspeopletogether]

"Much appreciated, love," he murmurs into Cullen's hair.

A few moments of contented silence pass.





"...Could maybe do with dinner eventually, though. Just to keep our strength up."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Well, yes." Without opening his eyes. "And a wash would be good."

[bringspeopletogether]

A sheepish chuckle. "Yes, that too," he says. "Think the bath would hold both of us?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"One way to find out."

Cullen, however, is not stirring.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Send Gru to investigate for us?"

[howtoactfereldan]

In reply, Cullen yawns. Broadly.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair laughs, warm and fond.

"Agreed," he says, and smooths down Cullen's hair. "Go back to sleep, love. I'lll wake you when my stomach starts growling."

[howtoactfereldan]

"You'll wake me when you get bored, you mean." Peacefully.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Hey," says Alistair, too cheerful to be affronted. "I'm perfectly capable of finding a deck of cards and entertaining myself."

A beat.

"If I think of a good joke, however, all waking-you-up bets are off."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen glances back up -- and then away, again.

"Don't leave?" It's a little hesitant.

[bringspeopletogether]

His joking demeanor fades. Alistair tightens his embrace, a little, in reassurance.

Soft: "I won't leave. I promise."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen curls more tightly against him, and doesn't reply.

[bringspeopletogether]

If he asks, it might ruin the moment. But --






"What is it?" Even softer.

[howtoactfereldan]

Faintly:

"Anything this good won't last."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair breathes out.

"Perhaps not," he whispers. "But we can try to enjoy it while it does, can't we?"

[howtoactfereldan]

After a moment, Cullen nods.

"As long as you don't leave me for cards." He's trying.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Never."

He runs his hand up and down Cullen's spine, slow, meditative.

"Cards don't appreciate my jokes as much as you do."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen arches into his touch. "...is 'appreciate' the right word?"

(Trying takes a little less effort, apparently.)

[bringspeopletogether]

"Acknowledge, maybe," Alistair allows, smiling. He keeps up the steady strokes along Cullen's back. "Pay attention to instead of just laying on the table in silence."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen exhales, far more at ease. "That's accurate. I'll allow it."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Good," he murmurs, and drops another light kiss on Cullen's forehead.

All's quiet, for a few moments.






"I'm working on a letter to Fiona." No louder. "To -- see if she might help. With the Calling business."

[howtoactfereldan]

Well. Cullen's certainly awake now.

"Do you think -- she would?"

He can't stop himself from feeling hopeful. He also can't stop himself from feeling as though this is a last-ditch effort, so it's stupid to hope.

[bringspeopletogether]

"She might."

He tucks his chin over the top of Cullen's head.

"If I can -- I don't know. I don't want her to think I'm reaching out because I want to be her son, but I've a feeling she won't help unless it's out of some familial obligation." A crooked, humorless smile. "Half the drafts I burned had things like 'I still don't like you' and 'no I don't forgive you' in there."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Fair," he mumbles. "She still -- well. There are favors to call in. If it would help convince her."

[bringspeopletogether]

Huh.

"What sort of favors?"