howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

(no subject)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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."

Cullen takes in a quiet breath.

Quiet, and more worried than anything else:

"Does he know?"

Alistair shakes his head.

"Morrigan wanted to raise him on her own. He knows his father's..." A small, helpless smile. "A good man. Is how she told me she explained it to him. But for all he knows his father's a good man who died in the Blight, or passed through town one evening and back out the next morning."

...what is he even supposed to say to that? Cullen's inclined to think things through before he speaks, but this --

"She'll notice, if you spend time with him." Cullen rubs at his forehead briefly. "But you've got to. I -- it's not out of the question that she'd be reasonable about it. Ten's old enough to foster. Old enough to train. Surely ten's old enough to find out."

"It's not up to me whether he finds out or not," says Alistair, very quiet. "Morrigan's the one who raised him. She ought to be the one who tells him. But I want to -- "

A brief laugh. It sounds nothing like his earlier laughter.

"You know I spoke maybe ten words to him before Adamant? That was the first time I ever saw him. But if I'm here, and they are, and we're going to stay for a while, I...yes. I want to know him better."

Morrigan doesn't get a say in that part.

"If there's going to be another Theirin bastard running around the least I can do is help take care of him. Somehow."

"The first Theirin bastard wasn't so bad, you know."

"I tried not to be."

He finally opens his eyes.

"Mostly because I tried not to be like my own father."

Cullen... loved his parents. Both of them. And they loved him. This is outside his wheelhouse. So what is he even supposed to say?

"I'd rather any child take after you than Morrigan," he says, finally, "and if that's the example she set for him... he's all right, Alistair. Knowing you in any capacity can only make him better."

Alistair's silent.

"I just wish we'd spoken more before Adamant."

Barely audible.

Cullen lets out a long sigh, and shifts an arm around Alistair's shoulders with a tight squeeze.

Alistair leans into the embrace, eyes burning.

Well, he thinks, bleakly. Maybe tomorrow will be the day I manage not to cry for no reason.

Cullen rests his head against Alistair's.

"He likes you." Low. "He really does. And the Fade didn't take your awful sense of humor. It'll be all right, Alistair. It will."

Alistair nods. If it's less because he believes what Cullen's saying, and more to acknowledge that he's saying it in the first place...well. Cullen doesn't need to know that.

"I'll have to test as many terrible jokes on you as possible to make sure that's true." It's a little waterlogged, but he manages to inject some lightness into it, too. "So you know."

"I'll brace myself." Wry. "I appreciate the warning."

A smile twitches Alistair's lips.

Deadpan: "A dwarf, an elf, and a Qunari walk into a tavern. The barman looks at them and says, 'What is this, some kind of joke?'"

Badum-tsss.

Edited 2016-07-13 20:52 (UTC)

Cullen throws his head (carefully) back against the wall. "Ugh."

He's been taking disgusted noise lessons from Cassandra. Probably.