howtoactfereldan | (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.

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"Still." Quiet. "The pain isn't as bad as it used to be. The dreams won't be, either."

Cullen lets out a long breath, and nods.

"Anyway."

Softer.

"I don't -- like to rest. Now you know why."

Alistair nods. Cullen's shoulder gets a gentle shake, and a pat, before he tucks his arm back under the fur.

"Are you sure we can't pester Solas into telling us how to stop dreaming forever?" It's light, and very, very dry. "The two of us together, we could probably take him."

"...if you'd like to stop Solas when he's begun a lecture in the middle, feel free."

Cullen peeks up at him, cracking open an eye.

"I'm a coward. A happy coward."

A tiny snort, and a quirk of a smile.

"A punch might do it. Could make it difficult to get any more information out of him, though."

"You might want to reexamine that particular strategy, yes," Cullen agrees. "Might turn you into a frog, for all you know."

Alistair shudders. (Perhaps a bit theatrically.) "Good point."

He's been gradually slumping further and further down the headboard over the last couple of minutes; at last, gravity wins the battle, and he scoots the rest of the way down to make himself more comfortable. He even manages it without un-cocooning himself from the fur.

Cullen opens an eye to see what all the rustling and jostling is -- and then closes it. As long as he's staying, Cullen thinks.

"Drill starts an hour after dawn," he mumbles, sleepily. "Get some sleep while you can."

"You sure it's all right if I'm not keeping watch?"

Alistair isn't quite tired enough to fall asleep, but he's on a gentle downward slope. And, to his mild surprise, he's not feeling inclined to fight back against the encroaching sleep. Probably best to take advantage of it while he can.

"I think so, yes."

He's not quite sleepy enough not to manage his words carefully.

"I sleep lightly enough, and the likelihood of a successful sneak attack is remote enough, that I feel safe with you here."

"All right."

He's inclined to take Cullen at his word, regarding the sneak attacks. (And let's be honest: it's likely Alistair will wake up again in an hour or two, anyway, chased out of the Fade by his own bad dreams.)

As he closes his eyes: "Might as well give it a try, then."