howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

"A fair point."

He turns onto his side, propping himself on his elbow, and just watches Cullen for a moment, smiling softly.

"How about the legend of the mabari who became a Warden?"

"You have my attention."

He grins. "I thought I might."

Alistair shifts to get more comfortable.

"You know how it goes when a mabari imprints: they're with you through everything. So when a man came to the Wardens with a mabari in tow, there was no getting rid of her. They tried to keep her in another room during the Joining, but she broke through every hold they put on her -- so they eventually gave up and let her sit by her person.

"The Joining isn't pleasant." (Here, Alistair makes the necessary face to convey just how unpleasant the Joining can get.) "The man survived, thank the Maker, but he dropped the chalice midway through. Spilled it all over the floor. And once the mabari was certain he would be all right -- which involved a lot of whining and licking his face and probably sitting on his chest for good measure -- she knew right then that she would have to follow him. She wanted to protect her person, with all her heart.

"So when she lapped up some of what had spilled from the chalice...well, she Joined, too."

"She shouldn't have sat on his chest if she wanted him to survive," Cullen mutters. "Then what happened?"

"That's why I say probably. I find that the least likely part of the story myself."

Serene.

"The Wardens take all sorts, of course, but accepting a dog into their ranks was a new one. Nobody was sure what to do for a bit. They tried fitting her in dwarf armor -- that didn't work. They tried to stick with kaddis, but even some of the Fereldans started to complain about the stink. Eventually they had to make a special set of armor just for her -- and also serve her twice her weight in steaks every day when the Warden appetite kicked in.

"She was just as loyal as you'd expect. As her person rose through the ranks, she became his committed second-in-command throughout. It might've been the first instance of a mabari in any army attaining the rank of Constable."

And yet a mabari sitting on a man's chest for unintentionally lethal reasons is the least likely part of the story.

"Most armies don't have that rank," Cullen mumbles. It's with no rancor; just a minor detail.

(For believability.

Why is he bothering.)_

"But you'll agree," says Alistair with a knowing eyebrow quirk, "that in most armies, if a dog happened to outrank you, you might be fairly annoyed by that development?"

"...if the dog was a competent officer, no, I would not."

Pause.

"I'm well aware that isn't normal. Point made. Proceed."

Alistair dissolves into snickers. "Yes, I was going to say -- pretend we're not Fereldan before you answer that. Anyway."

He squeezes Cullen's hand.

"Some non-Fereldan Wardens were not too pleased with a dog outranking them. A few warmed up to her when she joined them on patrol, and every time, without fail, she was the first to sense incoming darkspawn. But there was one Warden -- an Orlesian man, naturally -- who refused to see her decency and loyalty and only saw that she walked on four legs and had a tendency to slobber when excited.

"One night, he conspired with a few others to lure her out of her quarters with an enormous beef bone. The plan was to strand her in the woods and let the beasts do their work."

A beat, for dramatic effect.

"No one quite knows what happened, but they found the Orlesian the next morning strung up in a tree, wearing nothing but his smalls, and sporting quite a few beef bone-shaped bruises all over him."

Cullen's brow furrows; he taps Alistair's hand. "She'd need thumbs for that. Who were her conspirators?"

"It's one of the great mysteries of life," says Alistair, loftily. "We may never truly know. Her person denied all responsibility when questioned."

Another beat.

"Personally, I suspect a second mabari who'd obtained a contraption that simulates thumbs."

"That does seem like the simplest and most probable option."

All cheer and innocence: "I thought so, too."

He beams.

Cullen only looks slightly pained.

"Is that the end of the story?"

"For now, I believe so. She had plenty of adventures until her Calling -- "

(Despite himself, his smile goes a little crooked.)

" -- but I'll save them for another night."

"How did she polish her armor before she became an officer?" Cullen asks suspiciously.

"Propped it against the wall, put a rag in her mouth, and went to work," Alistair answers, promptly.

"How did she have a command position without undergoing advanced weapons training?" Cullen demands.

"Who's to say she didn't? Just because her weapons of choice were teeth and claws -- "

"Ranged weapons require thumbs," Cullen insists.

"Not if they've been modified so a mabari can use them!"

"If that were true, mabari would be the most feared archers in Thedas."

"They were one-of-a-kind, custom made, and a very closely-guarded Warden secret," protests Alistair. "They knew what sort of havoc they'd unleash if every mabari in Thedas had a crossbow."

Cullen huffs.

"Fine."

(One corner of his mouth is twitching.)

Alistair, by contrast, is grinning outright.

"I'm glad my ridiculous story met with your satisfaction, Commander," he says, and pulls their hands close so he can kiss Cullen's fingertips.