[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

[howtoactfereldan]

"If you want a bath, that's fine." Tired. "I just want to get cleaned up."

[bringspeopletogether]

The smile dims. Quieter: "All right."

Alistair clambers out of bed, stretching his arms overhead.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen swings his legs over the side, sitting on the edge, his back to Alistair.

His shoulders slump; he bows his head.

Just... a minute. He needs a minute.

[bringspeopletogether]

Walking out of the room, right after promising he'd stay, seems like a terrible idea.

Instead, as quietly as he can, he gathers their clothes and deposits them closer to their packs. He doesn't bother folding his own, but he folds Cullen's, loosely, to keep them a bit neater.




I'll stay until the end.

He remembers what Cullen asked of him earlier: refusing his Calling, when the time came, and dying in his bed like an invalid. What does he still owe the Wardens? His pride? The barest scraps of comfort he can give Cullen at the end?

What matters more: an oath he's already half-broken -- if not more -- or his husband?

(It's not even a question.)

[howtoactfereldan]

Alistair took oaths. That's just as much a part of him as Cullen's work for the Inquisition. Something to accept. To yield to.

Yielding to it -- letting go -- means he doesn't have to pretend he doesn't feel the weight of it all pressing down on him.

One breath in. And out.

[bringspeopletogether]

He should say it now before he changes his mind. Just...close his eyes and sever that last lingering tie to Weisshaupt.

And fifteen years of preparation, and acceptance, and believing in a meaningful death, and --

(A death, he thinks distantly, can still have meaning if it gives a loved one some peace. Not every death has to be in service to some grand cause.

How much is he just trying to rationalize this? How much does he truly believe?)





"When I said I'd stay until the end." Carefully; to the clothes in his hands. "I meant it."

[howtoactfereldan]

"I didn't accuse you of lying about it." Cullen wonders, idly, if he sounds as exhausted as he feels. "I don't want to fight, Alistair."

[bringspeopletogether]

"That's not what I meant."

He looks up. Say it.

"I mean -- I'm not going to the Deep Roads when it's time."

[howtoactfereldan]

That's enough to get Cullen to sit up straight, if not quite enough to get him to turn around.

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what to say.

[bringspeopletogether]

"I don't know how long I'd last down there. A week or two at most."

Gently, he sets Cullen's folded clothes atop his pack.

"Which is an extra week or two I wouldn't have with you, in service to -- to something I hardly believe in anymore. Darkspawn...they're like insects. They're born a hundred at a time. However many I killed wouldn't make much of a dent in things."

Alistair breathes out.

"I've already done my duty as a Warden by staving off a Blight. I think I've earned the chance to die in sunlight."

[howtoactfereldan]

When Cullen does turn to look at him, he looks... lost. Fearful.

"Don't you dare say that unless you mean it." Low, and shaky. "Unless you promise."

[bringspeopletogether]

And that look --

That's enough to firm up Alistair's resolve, banishing all his last doubts. He believes this. He believes in this.

"I mean it," he says, steadily. "I promise, Cullen."

[howtoactfereldan]

It means Alistair won't make the choice to turn his back on Cullen and leave him to figure out how, or whether, to go on living. It means Alistair won't walk past him, ignoring his pleas and entreaties. It means Alistair won't slip through his fingers like the vast majority of what remains of the Templar Order.

It means he can walk beside Alistair until the very moment of the end. The only walls and ceiling around them will be the ones they choose. There can be the low drone of insects, and the scent of wildflowers on the breeze.




I think my face has gone all wobbly, he thinks, distant, before he's weeping into his hands.

[bringspeopletogether]

Three strides: that's all it takes to return to Cullen's side, sinking onto the bed to wrap him in an embrace.

I promise. Alistair isn't wholly aware that he's saying it aloud, over and over. I promise. I promise. I love you.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen hadn't realized he was carrying around -- all this. And even as he's caught up in it, there's still room to feel mortified.

He hides his face in Alistair's shoulder, clinging.

[bringspeopletogether]

"I'm here," he whispers. "I'm going to stay. Shh. Shh."

He shifts on the bed to draw Cullen closer.

"It's all right."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen shakes his head -- it most certainly is not all right -- and clings tighter, shoulders shaking.

[bringspeopletogether]

Better to stick with the meaningless, soothing noises, then. He begins to rock Cullen, a little, without quite realizing.

Shh. Shh.

I love you.

[howtoactfereldan]

"How do we do it?"

Hoarse. A little despairing. Cullen has shifted a little -- enough to rest his head in the crook of Alistair's shoulder.

"How are we supposed to -- build a life like this?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"The same as anyone else."

Quiet; steady.

"We all die eventually. Wardens aren't the only ones who die young; at least we get a little warning before we do. But everyone in Thedas has to try and make a life knowing it'll end."

He leans his head against Cullen's.

"So we'll build as much of one as we can, for as long as we can. Cullen, I don't know how much time I have left, but I know I don't want to spend it like I'm waiting for an army to come over the horizon."

[howtoactfereldan]

"I've -- never lived any other way," he says, a little surprised, a little miserable. "Maker's breath."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Would you be willing to try?" Alistair murmurs. "If you can't -- it's all right if you can't. But if you're able to try..."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen stiffens. "Of course I want to try. I just -- how?"

[bringspeopletogether]

It's like trying to describe color to a blind man, thinks Alistair helplessly.

"You know how to be with me," he says, still soft, still calm. "Really be with me, I mean. I know it's difficult, but you've done it before. It could be a place to start?"

[howtoactfereldan]

How do you make a mind trained for nothing but how to project and respond to a violent future... stop it?

Cullen shifts fitfully. "Like the time you shouted because I wanted to see to the laundry?"