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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A huff of laughter, albeit halfhearted. "Someone else can be a proper corrupting influence on that child. Not me."

"It's one of Varric's specialties. Or perhaps he'll meet the Chargers. Either way -- that's a task it's safe to leave to others. As there are so many of them."

"True," he murmurs. Underneath Cullen's fingers, his hand finally relaxes.

He doesn't have to make up for ten years all at once. Alistair can just be one of the many people who passes through Kieran's life, to start. Not the mad Warden, if he's lucky, but not the only person besides Morrigan tasked with making sure the boy's all right, either.

(If Morrigan would even allow him to adopt such a task. That's the other consideration. Maybe -- maybe they should talk, eventually.)

"Just... be kind."

He squeezes Alistair's hand, and lets go.

"You're good at that."

"I'm not so sure about that anymore."

Very quiet, as he settles his hand back on his knee, mindful not to start tapping again.

"But I'll try." A beat. "...Do you want me to go so you can get a proper sleep?"

Best not to argue on the first part; it won't do either of them any good.

"You do realize that if you leave I'm just going back to work?"

He cracks a smile. "I could take all your paperwork with me. Hold it hostage until you've slept."

"You couldn't carry it all," says Cullen, a little smugly. "And that wouldn't prevent me conducting a surprise inspection to see who I can catch sleeping at their post."

"I could borrow a few wheelbarrows." Cheerful. "And conduct the surprise inspection for you. Could be fun, actually, I'll steal some pots and pans from the kitchen and bang them right next to their ears."

"...you know," he says, thoughtful, "I might like to see that. Though I expect it would only work once or twice, as the noise would alert others."

"All part of the plan. See -- " Alistair raises a finger. "You train them to think when the clanging starts, that's when you're conducting inspections. And then all you have to do is lean out a window, bang the pots and pans around so they come to attention, then go back to sleep yourself."

FLAWLESS.

Cullen laughs aloud. "That's -- less terrible than I expected."

"If you're going to appoint me as someone who bosses around the Commander of the Inquisition's forces," says Alistair, serenely, "I can at least be a benevolent ruler."

"For which we're all grateful, I'm sure." Still grinning. "What's your title, then?"

Alistair's starting to laugh: creaky, but genuine, and more than just the little breaths of laughter he's made before.

"The Commander of the Commander? Double Commander? Or something very long and convoluted that everyone must address me by every time I walk into a room -- "

"Lord High I Finally Chose To Reform My Hair To Look Proper?"

It will never get old.

Giving up, Alistair swats Cullen on the shoulder before he descends into snickering.

Laughing, Cullen settles his shoulder against Alistair's. "Double Commander it is, then."

Alistair shifts to make himself more comfortable against Cullen, the laughter petering out into a contented sigh.

Somewhere quiet, but not alone. (Even better: somewhere around a person who understands.) Somewhere with enough distractions to keep the shadows back. Maybe he needn't freeze his toes off in the Undercroft whenever he needs to pull himself together.

And it could be another way to help, he thinks: get Cullen to take lunch or dinner with him as a means of getting him to take a break. They'll both benefit.

It's...good, to think of ways he can still be of use, even when his mind's an awful mess.

Cullen stifles a yawn.

After a while, sleepy:

"Can I ask -- why the boy, and not... I don't know, someone tied to Varric?"

His forehead creases.

"How do you mean?"

"Varric does this thing where he..." Cullen waves a hand. "Takes an interest in people. Deliberately picks them as someone to befriend. You and Kieran... it reminds me of that. That's all."

Oh.

That's -- he'd been hoping that wasn't how Cullen meant it.

Alistair closes his eyes; Cullen can feel him tensing up again. Low, "What I say doesn't leave this room."

Well.

He's awake now.

"Of course." No louder. "You have my word."

He nods. Keeps his eyes closed, as if to avoid seeing Cullen's reaction.

"I'm his father."