howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

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You'll have to make a decision quickly. Either don't come home and meet me in Halamshiral, or come home and have a day or two before turning for Orlais. They've called an Exalted Council. Josephine, Lavellan, and I must speak for the Inquisition in front of Orlais, Ferelden, and Divine Victoria. Two of those parties appear to be hostile to our continued existence. I will leave it to you to contemplate which two.

Be safe, Alistair, and go with my love.

Cullen doesn't bother signing it.

The library is silent. No one is in the rotunda -- Solas's rotunda, he thinks, even after all this time. There are always people in the yard, but many fewer than before.

(It's downright lonely, when Alistair travels. Cullen will never complain to him. Not after the last few years.)

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Alistair wrinkles his nose slightly.

(Loghain may be dead for almost a decade and a half, but...ugh.)

Despite that, his tone's light. "And only people who really want to see us will bother visiting. No need for giant 'go away' signs."

"...if that's what we were after, the Storm Coast would work just as well."

"But it rains there, Cullen." With exaggerated mournfulness. "All the time."

"True," Cullen allows. "How would you like to be mayor of Crestwood?"

"Maker, no," he groans, and squeezes Cullen's arm in lieu of delivering a light shove. "I spent enough time there waiting for Hawke, thank you."

Cullen laughs. It's quiet, and it doesn't last long, but it's laughter.

"Shame Val Royeaux is otherwise insufferable." And that's a little -- wistful? "I wouldn't mind spending a little while near the university."

"There's only one solution." Solemn. "Every time we have cause to endure Val Royeaux, we steal at least five books from their library. Soon we'll have our own miniature university in our home."

"And what cause would we have to endure Val Royeaux ever again?"

Alistair considers this.

"The rest of Thedas comes to its senses, realizes Orlais is the worst, and starts holding annual Orlais Is The Worst parades through the middle of Val Royeaux."

"And you think that's worth leaving home for." Cullen is dubious, to say the least.

Alistair considers this further.

"We could ask Sera to attend in our stead and report back?"

Cullen pats Alistair's chest. "Good man."

"She'd do a better job of sneaking books out of the library anyway."

Contented, as he covers Cullen's hand and laces their fingers together.

"True."

His thumb moves idly on Alistair's chest.

"Your other idea, I recall, had us as itinerant do-gooders. Do you still want to travel?"

Alistair opens his mouth -- and then pauses, brow furrowing slightly.

"I was going to say 'yes, of course I do.'" Softer. "But...I don't know. I want to travel, yes. But I want somewhere to come home to as well."

A crooked smile.

"You've spoiled me."

Another quiet laugh. "You needed spoiling, Alistair."

Warm, "And lucky for me, I found someone who was quite good at it."

He touches his lips to Cullen's hair.

"I suppose I'm all right," he concedes. "Could stand to improve, of course."

"As do we all." As pious as he can manage. "Fortunately I've no objection to you practicing your spoiling skills whenever you wish."

"Another nine hundred golems it is, then."

"Only soft ones, please." He gently prods Cullen's shoulder. "I don't want you hurting yourself if you step on one in the middle of the night."

"I'd say some interesting things if I did, though." He sounds cheerful about it. "Terrible things."

"...Maybe one hard golem, then," says Alistair, starting to laugh again. "Just for the entertainment value."

"Anything to entertain you." He raises his head long enough to kiss Alistair's shoulder. "My pain, your pleasure. How's that for spoiled?"

"The most spoiled I'll ever be."

He ruffles Cullen's hair.

"So long as the pain is brief, temporary, and gives me a chance to dote on you a little afterward."