Cullen reads this late at night, seated at his desk (more out of habit than from some great pile of work to do). His fingers clench; his eyes close.
He's fiercely, selfishly glad. Things are going to change. They'll have to. There's no outcome looming where Orlais and Ferelden will tolerate a standing army straddling their border.
They need --
They need to talk.
Cullen needs Alistair in their bed at the top of the battlements, open to the air and closed off against the world all at once. If they're very lucky, they'll return from the Winter Palace and be able to maintain their quarters just so.
Cullen does not care to trust to luck.
He picks up another report on lingering Venatori activity from the Western Approach. The candle should last through the middle of the night.
no subject
He's fiercely, selfishly glad. Things are going to change. They'll have to. There's no outcome looming where Orlais and Ferelden will tolerate a standing army straddling their border.
They need --
They need to talk.
Cullen needs Alistair in their bed at the top of the battlements, open to the air and closed off against the world all at once. If they're very lucky, they'll return from the Winter Palace and be able to maintain their quarters just so.
Cullen does not care to trust to luck.
He picks up another report on lingering Venatori activity from the Western Approach. The candle should last through the middle of the night.