howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

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Cullen doesn't care for Morrigan, and it's wholly mutual. Fortunately he has little enough reason to venture into the Skyhold garden, with the exception of prearranged chess matches with Dorian.

He's seen the child before, watching wide-eyed as people move around the garden on business, or just to rest. The child doesn't talk to anyone -- doesn't want to be a bother, Cullen guesses. He speaks respectfully to Morrigan, as far as Cullen can tell, and it's clear that Morrigan loves her son.

Still. It must be lonely.

***

Dorian went to the Hissing Wastes with some of the Chargers, to take out a nest of Venatori. Cullen forgot.

The chessboard is already set. Morrigan's boy is watching by the well. Cullen beckons him over, introduces himself.

"I know," the boy says. "The collar marks you. My name is Kieran."

Cullen laughs, quiet. "Well, Kieran -- do you play?" At the boy's headshake, he asks, "Would you like to learn?"

He's a quick study. Maybe not today, but soon -- Cullen will start throwing games.

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"Unless that dragon really is an archdemon," Cullen mutters.

"It's not."

He sounds calmer than he has in a while, when he says that. The calm that comes with utter surety.

"It looked like one, but it didn't feel like the archdemon did. I don't know what it is, but -- it's not that."

Cullen gives him a sudden, surprised look.

The corner of his mouth turns up.

"That's the best thing I've heard all day."

Alistair smiles. "I like this," he says, with wry amusement. "Sharing good news for once. I ought to do it more often."

He takes another bite of his food.

"You could start by telling us it's not really a high dragon that spits red lyrium," he suggests. "We'd like that."

He quirks an eyebrow, rueful. "That, I'm not so sure about."

Sorry, Cullen.

"Shame," he comments, and tilts his head back against the cool stone, eyes closing.

It's been... a surprisingly long day. He shouldn't sleep. There's always more to do.

"You know."

Hesitant. Alistair's gone back to examining the half-eaten chunk of bread and cheese.

"It's...going to be a while before I'm well enough to make the journey to Weisshaupt. As long as I'm here, if you need a Warden's perspective on anything..."

Asking Blackwall might be easier, true. But the idea of having something to do makes Alistair feel less like he's about to crawl out of his own skin. It's something to focus on besides the shadows.

Cullen tilts his head Alistair's way.

His smile is very small, and warm.

"Yes."

Quiet.

"Thank you. I'll let them know."

"Of course." Soft.

He finishes off the bread and cheese; idly kneads his elbow again as he looks up at the faint, flickering stars.

"I know you have Blackwall as well, for times I'm not hiding in the Undercroft -- " Back to wry, at the last. "But I remain at the Inquisition's service nonetheless."

...Now that he's thinking about it: Blackwall was at Adamant, too. Why didn't anyone think to ask him about the dragon? For that matter, why didn't Blackwall volunteer the information himself, the first time the word archdemon came up?

Maybe he's misremembering. Maybe Blackwall wasn't there after all.

"We consult Dagna, too," Cullen says, mild. "The Undercroft is much closer to the war room than the stable. You and Leliana have worked together in the past. If you'd like to help, we're grateful."

His lopsided smile evens out. "All right."

It may just be an indulgence on Cullen's part. Alistair can't bring himself to care overmuch, though; anything to distract him, and calm his thoughts a little. And it makes him feel less like a sickly houseguest constantly getting underfoot.

Cullen glances up toward the ceiling.

"There are higher priorities," he says again, quiet, "and I also prefer spaces that aren't enclosed, when at all possible."

"Ah."

Soft. Alistair glances over at Cullen, then back to the ceiling. He murmurs, "It does allow for a nice view."

"There's that," Cullen agrees. "Counts for something, I should think."

Alistair nods. "Very much so."

More silence, for a time. He finds himself tracing his thumb over his knuckles again.

"It's easier," he says at last, no louder than Cullen, "when I'm somewhere quiet, but -- not completely alone. The Undercroft's predictable. Dagna's always there." Another quirk of a smile. "And within ten minutes you can't think of anything but how cold you are, so that helps too."

A huff of breath. "If you're into that sort of thing. ...I suppose -- "

Pointing at the ceiling.

"It's not as though I've room to make fun."

Alistair chuckles. "Whatever works, yes?"

Whatever makes it easier to bear up under...well, everything. Especially nowadays. Especially after what Cullen -- and now Alistair -- have endured.

He snorts. "Did I say it worked?"

Cullen stretches. "No matter. There's always more to do."

"Makes it slightly more bearable," Alistair corrects himself, wry. "...Have you taken a break at all today, besides the chess game?"

A beat.

Gesturing to the bread and cheese, "And this, I suppose?"

Cullen is silent.

Alistair sighs.

"Right, then." Resigned, but still smiling a little. "You and I. Fifteen laps around Skyhold tomorrow, minimum. It'll do us both good."

"Yes, commander," Cullen grouses -- but he's smiling.

"Oh, am I getting a promotion, too?"

His smile's grown to an outright grin.

"It's mere acknowledgment of the fact that you get to push me around."