[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]

"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."

[howtoactfereldan]

Miracles, indeed.

Cullen elects not to say this aloud.

"'Zap, frog time?'" He is also trying very hard not to sound amused. "Truly? How is it you're more frightened of being turned into a frog than of demons and abominations?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Primly:

"Can't I be equally frightened of all three?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Frogs were never a part of a Chantry education."

[bringspeopletogether]

"And we've long established," says Alistair, comfortably, as he nestles closer, "that I was a terrible Chantry student. I'm sure I sang about frogs in some part of the Chant when I got tired of singing about what I wanted for dinner."

[howtoactfereldan]

"I can't argue with that," Cullen says after a moment, smoothing his palm up and down Alistair's back, "because I wasn't listening."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair snorts, amused. (And arches into the touch a little, like a cat.)

"The better to avoid scrubbing floors with me for the next five hours," he agrees. "Or ten, if the sisters were feeling more irritated than usual."

[howtoactfereldan]

"I promise -- " Cullen stifles a yawn. " -- I'll never ask you to scrub the floors."

[bringspeopletogether]

A soft laugh. "Definitely the best husband."

Alistair tips his head back to brush a kiss across Cullen's forehead.

"Enough prattling from me. Get some sleep, love."

[howtoactfereldan]

Murmured protest: "I know you're well when you prattle."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Have I prattled sufficiently to prove I'm doing better, then?"

Smiling.