howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

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Cullen sets a brisk pace on their way back to Skyhold. He's been away long enough; he's ready to relieve Briony; he's ready to go about receiving full intelligence reports from Leliana instead of the truncated, heavily coded ones he receives in the field.

He is also ready to personally see to the laundering of his coat.

And Cullen is also ready to take at least half a day, and preferably more, to revel in solid walls and doors that lock.

As they ride through the sally port, Cullen glances over at Alistair. "I'll need to see Briony, and then I'll likely be called to the war room -- you're going to see Kieran?"

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It's simple, really: Cullen isn't who he wants to be, so he asserts, loudly, that he is -- and the lie's enough to make him feel ill, unconscious though it may be.

And it's mildly infuriating (for reasons he can't quite articulate) that Alistair isn't having it.

I don't know how you can stand to be around me, he doesn't say. His shoulders are up around his ears. Why don't you get angry?

Very soft, Alistair says, "You deserve someone who'll look after you when you need it."

They're at a precipice again: Alistair gives it even odds whether Cullen will pull away, or go so far as to leave their bed entirely. But he still harbors a (probably foolish, by now) hope that this time -- maybe it'll sink in this time.

"And you deserve to be loved. What you don't deserve is going through all this alone."

A long moment passes.

Cullen turns onto his side, facing Alistair, so he can bury his face in Alistair's chest properly.

"Remind me of that every so often." Muffled. "And that Andraste said so."

Without hesitation, Alistair wraps both arms around Cullen, holding him close.

"Of course," he whispers. A beat; he essays another tiny smile. "For you, I'll even crack open the Chant for the first time in a decade to find the exact verse."

"Transfigurations and Trials." Without moving. "That should narrow it down."

"Very helpful to know." He runs one hand up and down Cullen's back, slow and soothing. "Thank you."

"...you knew that much, surely."

With great dignity: "I had a feeling it was somewhere in that general vicinity."

Cullen tips his head up just enough to give Alistair a very, very small smile.

"I had faith in you."

Alistair chuckles. Briefly, he touches his lips to Cullen's hair.

"One of the many reasons I'm glad you're here," he says. "Your unwavering faith in me."

(Facetious as the context may be, he says it with full sincerity.)

"And when you quote it -- "

Cullen settles back with a small sigh.

"I have faith you won't quote me the version with ham in it."

"No ham, no stew, no shallots, and no cheese," says Alistair. "You have my word."

"No cheese? You must be serious."

"Extremely," he says, with all the solemnity he can muster, as he runs his hand over Cullen's hair. "I hope you enjoy that for the novel experience it is."

"I shall."

He nestles closer.

"...should it ever come to pass."

Alistair sputters out a laugh.

"Hey."

"Cheese is my only competition for your affections, Theirin."

"I can't cuddle a block of cheese, though."

Beat.

"Well, I could, but then it might melt and I'd have no cheese at all."

Innocent:

"I take it your development of the edible siege engines has stalled?"

"It was tragic, Cullen." Mournful. "Globs of melted brie everywhere. Crumbled cheddar as far as the eye could see."

"Weren't you supposed to scavenge some cold runes...?"

"That was after the cold runes," he says, even sadder. "They didn't work on the brie, and they froze the cheddar so hard it shattered the instant you went like -- "

He taps a finger on Cullen's shoulder.

Cullen pauses for a moment to take this in.

"I would offer suggestions," he says finally, "but I don't think that's in my best interest."

Alistair snorts, amused.

"The last thing you need is me and Sera coming up with ill-conceived weaponry," he agrees.

"You're going to give me nightmares."