howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

"Consider the alternative."

He turns his head enough to kiss Alistair's palm.

"Getting out of it at all is a good day. A story is a fine bonus."

"True." Thoughtful. "Better that than being eaten by another monster a thousand times my size. Only that one swims."

"An eel," he says sagely.

Alistair opens his mouth. Visibly reconsiders what he's about to say.

"I promised I wouldn't invite more mayhem," he says, dutiful, "so I won't say anything more about man-eating eels in the lake."

Cullen laughs quietly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Warm.

He touches his lips to Cullen's forehead.

"Want to give sleeping a go?"

"It's still light out."

Cullen hasn't yet fastened the tent flap; he looks out at the water.

"I suppose we could lie down."

And then --

(Sometimes talking about revenge rubs him poorly.)

"All right."

Suiting action to words, Alistair stretches along his bedroll, catching one of Cullen's hands as he does.

(Still light out, but -- Alistair didn't sleep while they were out in the sun earlier. Hasn't slept well for days. He can feel himself falling back into that old pattern, where he'd grab whatever hours he could here and there.

And if Cullen wants to take it easy tonight -- well. No time like the present.)

Cullen eases himself down with a sigh.

The tent flap is still loose, which suits him fine. Until the last bit of light's gone, he doesn't want to close it.

As soon as Cullen's horizontal, Alistair wraps an arm around him and draws him close.

"Thank you for such a good day," he murmurs.

A quiet laugh. "I didn't have much to do with it. We were lucky, is all."

"It wouldn't have been nearly as nice without you here," he points out, amused. "Just me tromping along the shoreline all alone. Pleasant, certainly, but better when shared."

"So you enjoyed it because I was there to look pretty."

Alistair snorts.

"Yes." He kisses Cullen's neck. "That's exactly why I enjoy having you around. Couldn't be any other reason."

He sighs. "I knew it. Ah, well."

(He also arches his neck.)

"I set up camp, catch the fish, cook the fish, produce the brandy -- but my true purpose is adornment. Could be worse."

"If you'd like me to embarrass you by telling you why I truly like having you around -- "

(His smile's gone crooked.)

" -- I can."

Cullen rubs at one eye, wincing a little.

"Would it fulfill your desire for revenge?"

"Not if you wouldn't enjoy it."

Softer.

"I'll be quiet."

He flinches. Turns his face away.

"Do what you like. I'm sorry."

"Cullen -- "

Alistair settles his palm against Cullen's cheek.

No louder: "Why are you apologizing?"

"There -- there's things you want to do, and I'm... getting in the way. Of getting even. Which you ought to do if you want."

More faintly:

"I want you to get what you need from this. From me."

Alistair sighs, very softly.

"You said something once," he murmurs, "about how you didn't want me to feel beholden. I don't want you to feel beholden, either. All right? You don't always have to say yes to me."

He strokes his thumb along Cullen's cheek.

"You're allowed to want things for yourself. Or not want them."

You're allowed to want things for yourself.

It's like a single note struck and held, in Cullen's head. It shouldn't be an epiphany.

And yet.

"Nobody's -- actually said that to me before."

Uneven.

"I'm not used to thinking like that."

Oh.

Oh, Cullen.

"Then I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner," whispers Alistair. His throat's gone tight again. "Because it's true."

"You know why I -- haven't." He presses the heel of his hand against his forehead. "None of this was supposed to happen. We weren't to seek wealth or acknowledgment." It has the steady rhythm of catechism. "Our lives don't belong to us. We serve. We sacrifice."