[sandbox]

[bringspeopletogether]

The letter he finally sends is maybe a little more impolitic than it ought to be, but if he doesn't send something now, he'll still be writing when his Calling arrives.



Fiona,

Ivette Cousland is looking for you. The name might ring a bell. Hero of Ferelden? Slayed the Archdemon some years ago?

Anyway. She's not having any luck, so I thought I'd try my hand at getting in touch.

Cousland's been searching for a cure for the Calling these past five years or so; she even retired as Warden-Commander of Vigil's Keep so she could pursue her research better. She knows your leaving the Wardens wasn't like mine. You didn't just walk away from Weisshaupt: you managed to un-Join somehow, with no ill effects. You're our last, best lead on the matter, so you can understand why she's rather eager to speak to you. It's very likely she doesn't have much time left, what with it being almost a decade and a half since her Joining and living through a Blight.

Frankly, I don't expect I have much time left, either.

Cullen and I are in South Reach these days. I'll always know where to find Cousland, if you'd rather speak with her directly. For all our sakes, I hope you'll be in touch.

--Alistair





Two weeks later, a raven knocks its beak against their window frame.

This is a matter best discussed in person, says the note attached to its leg. I can be to South Reach by the end of the month.

It's signed only with the letter F. Alistair spends the next few hours talking up a nervous storm, hands digging in his hair, half anxious, half furious. (This is exactly what he didn't want: for her to read this as an overture. For her to think she could have any claim to Alistair's time, Alistair's space, outside of giving him and Cousland the information they needed.)

Then he writes a letter to Cousland and sends the raven on its way.

Comments

[howtoactfereldan]

Alistair tenses; Cullen notices. He lifts his head just long enough to brush a kiss over Alistair's bare shoulder. "Mm."

[bringspeopletogether]

"I don't know if that's -- something you want to hear in person."

He weaves his fingers more tightly with Cullen's.

"It's fine if you don't. I'll tell you when you're home."

[howtoactfereldan]

"I can't imagine I could contribute anything to the conversation," he murmurs. "Weather's coming on rain, though. If it's heavy enough Bran won't want to do the posts."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair nods.

He won't face this alone, he tells himself. Ivette will be there. Anyway, if Cullen stayed then Alistair would probably accidentally break his knuckles from gripping his hand too hard, and that'd just be unpleasant for everyone. Especially Cullen.

"Up to you," he says, still quiet. "If it's raining I could come over right after. Or -- I don't know."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen furrows his brow, just a little, and takes a moment before carefully saying, "What don't you know?"

[bringspeopletogether]

He shakes his head, a little. "Nothing."

Alistair tries to force himself to relax. It...sort of works. A bit.

"Just -- rattled, still, I suppose. More prone to spouting nonsense than usual."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen laughs, softly.

"My love," no louder, "you take great pleasure in spouting nonsense. Which means it's a dead giveaway when you pretend otherwise that you're bothered by something." He stifles a yawn in Alistair's shoulder. "Can't fool me."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair breaks into laughter, just as quiet.

"This is what I get for marrying you," he says, with deep, abiding fondness. He untangles himself from Cullen just enough to roll over; he slips a hand to the back of Cullen's neck to draw him into a kiss.

[howtoactfereldan]

Which Cullen returns, with interest.




"Shall I accept the distraction?" Against the corner of Alistair's mouth. "Or do you want to tell me?"

[bringspeopletogether]

His smile dims, going crooked. Alistair rests his forehead against Cullen's.




"I'm -- frightened." Barely above a whisper, now. "I think I can handle it. Ivette will be there to help. I know there's no point to being afraid. And I don't want you to have to sit through it for my sake, anyway."

Loosely, he curls his fingers in the hair at the nape of Cullen's neck.

"But I might need you before sunset tomorrow, once it's done."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen shifts just enough to be able to smooth his palm over Alistair's back, slow and calm.

"Then I'm there."

Simply.

"That's all there is to it."

(It's not like any of it will do any good, anyhow.)

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair nods, just once, before burying his face in the crook of Cullen's neck.




"It felt like too much to ask," he mumbles eventually, no louder. "I know you -- need to be working. I'm sorry."

[howtoactfereldan]

"It's not too much." It feels like he's been stabbed. Just a little. "If you think I can help -- of course I want to."

Carefully his fingers search out a too-tight muscle in Alistair's shoulder, and begin to work.

"I can keep it together long enough to be of use. I promise."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair exhales, slowly. "All right."

He shifts a little to give Cullen better access to the spot.

Barely audible now: "I don't ever want to make this harder on you than it already is."

[howtoactfereldan]

"And you think that would be better than denying me the chance to -- to be with you?"

He really didn't intend for that to come out choked.

[bringspeopletogether]

Well. Put it like that.

"No." It comes out on a long sigh. Alistair presses himself closer. "No. Of course not."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen gives up on Alistair's shoulder and -- simply put -- clings to him.

He can ask questions in a moment. When he's under control.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair clings back, just as tightly.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I love you. I love you."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Don't apologize." It's more curt than he means. "Just -- let me be here. Tell me what you need."

[bringspeopletogether]

He barely manages to suppress a wince.

"Tomorrow -- once it's over. Probably around midday." A little halting. "I'll come to the farm? We can go somewhere that's...I don't know. Somewhere else."

It might not be as bad as he fears. Fiona might have good news; some easy fix she's kept to herself all these years. Or even just a fix. She would have turned down the invitation if she didn't think she could help at all, right?

He has to keep believing. One of them has to.

[howtoactfereldan]

"I'm not going to the farm tomorrow, Alistair."

At least that's calmer.

"I'm here. With you. Unless you want to send me away."

[bringspeopletogether]

...Oh.

Alistair's throat closes up before he can say anything. In lieu of that, he shakes his head, tightening his hold on Cullen.

I shouldn't have asked, he thinks, a little wildly. I can't do this to him --

(But he wants him there, so badly. And Cullen's willing to stay.)

[howtoactfereldan]

"What do you need?" Rougher, now. "What -- what's going to happen?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"I don't know."

(That's the problem, isn't it.)

But realizing he's cowering from unknowns -- even plausible unknowns -- brings Alistair back to himself. He takes a few deep breaths, working to focus on the feel of Cullen's arms around him.

A little calmer: "Lots of talking, mostly. Comparing Ivette's notes to Fiona's story, probably. Whether she does or doesn't have a cure -- we won't be able to do anything about it immediately."

Another breath.

"I just -- wonder if what happened to her can be duplicated at all. And I'd like a hand to squeeze while we find out."

While Alistair finds out if he's going to live or die within the next year. (Or the next month.)

[howtoactfereldan]

"You have it," he says immediately. "Of course you have it."

And -- who knows. It might be good for him to have a problem to solve in front of him. Like standing at the war table one last time.