[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

[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.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair nods.

"All right." Faintly. "Good."

Now seems like a good time to burrow as close to Cullen as he can get, as he waits for the vise in his chest to finish loosening its grip.

[howtoactfereldan]

"Shh." Cullen tightens his hold on Alistair. "I've got you. Always."

He can say it.

[bringspeopletogether]

Muffled, and completely sincere: "Lucky me."

(He's beginning to relax, bit by bit.)

[howtoactfereldan]

He sighs, quietly, into Alistair's hair, rubbing his back.

There are questions, he thinks. About Fiona. About how this changes things. But he's too tired for them to come together. And he's pessimistic enough to believe there's no point in asking them.

[bringspeopletogether]

"If I squeeze your fingers too hard tomorrow," he mumbles against Cullen's shoulder, "just stomp on my foot and I'll stop."

[howtoactfereldan]

"I'm not going to stomp on your foot, Alistair."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair wrinkles his nose, but doesn't reply.

(It's for the best. You could if you wanted would not be the best response.)

[howtoactfereldan]

Ugh. Cullen stifles another sigh.

"Couldn't I just tell you?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"You could." Still mumbled; trying to rally. "Suppose that'd work better."

[howtoactfereldan]

"I'd rather have your foot intact if we have to make a sudden escape."

Pause.

"For example, if things get truly dire, we might like to seek out cake."

[bringspeopletogether]

A beat passes.

Alistair lifts his head. Looks up at Cullen, expression lighter.

Hopeful: "Can we find cake afterward even if things aren't dire?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"I should think so," Cullen says, primly.

(The corner of his mouth betrays him.)

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair grins, fleeting but true.

"Best husband," he says, and presses a light kiss to the curled corner of Cullen's mouth.

[howtoactfereldan]

"I do all right," he agrees, touching his forehead to Alistair's.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Better than, I'd say."

He smooths a palm down Cullen's back.

Softer: "Thank you. For staying."

[howtoactfereldan]

"We made that a promise to each other, didn't we."

His voice has roughened.

"How many times did you cede me to the Inquisition. It's my turn, now."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair would like to say something, but it's abruptly rather difficult owing to the lump in his throat.

(It's still -- difficult, to remember they're on more equal footing now that the Inquisition is gone. To remember that Cullen isn't going to be whisked away for something more important any second now. To know it's safe to ask for things like this, without the tacit understanding that it doesn't matter as much as other things in Cullen's life.)

He manages another nod, trying not to break contact with Cullen's forehead overmuch.

[howtoactfereldan]

"You are," he says, low and hoarse, "my heart entire. Don't send me away, Alistair. Not ever. Please."

[bringspeopletogether]

With effort, he swallows down the lump.

"Never," he agrees, similarly hoarse. "You have my word."

[howtoactfereldan]

Muffled, into Alistair's shoulder:

"How d'you want me to handle Fiona?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair cracks a wan smile, despite himself.

"I'm tempted to say 'stand back and let Ivette keep handling it,'" he murmurs. "It...might be easier tomorrow, though. All business, no sitting down for tea. If we just treat it like that we ought to be fine. I think."

A beat.

Somewhat more reluctant, "And as Ivette pointed out -- she isn't awful. Not truly. Not in a way that will make this any worse than it already is."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen pulls back just enough to give Alistair a surprised (albeit slighty beady) glance.

"That's... a change for you." Questioning. "What did Warden Cousland do, exactly?"

Minor miracles seem to be a habit for the Hero of Ferelden, and it appears she's done it again.

[bringspeopletogether]

"I still don't like her," he's quick to say. "And I've still no interest in forgiving her. But..."

Absently, he curls his hand against Cullen's back.

With faint amusement: "Ivette pointed out that the way I talk about Fiona is a lot like how I talked about Morrigan when we first met her. All that 'she's just trying to get something out of us, and the instant we turn our backs, zap, frog time' rambling. Fiona might be Orlesian, but I've a feeling she can take 'no' for an answer without turning any of us into frogs."

His voice goes quieter.

"I can't forgive her. But it's not like she can abandon me to Redcliffe twice. If she were going to do something like that again, she wouldn't've answered the letter at all."