howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

"The ceremony's important." Alistair sips his drink. "Some would say the ceremony's the entire point of the thing."

Beat.

"So are you going to tell Mia, or shall we turn up at South Reach with a cheerful 'surprise, meet your new brother-in-law'?"

"The latter, I should think. Though I suspect she won't be too surprised."

He chuckles. "Perhaps not."

After a little more brandy: "Did it ever come up? In your letters?"

"Not directly," Cullen says after a moment. "Your continued presence in them seems to have been enough to indicate it. And that first one I sent her, telling her you'd write -- "

He shrugs a little helplessly. Smiles, a little helplessly.

"That's a declaration, coming from someone like me."

His smile softens. "Yes."

Alistair reaches to cup Cullen's cheek.

"I love you." Half-laughing, "You'll be hearing me say that a lot more than usual the next few days. I hope you're prepared."

"I shall persevere somehow, I suppose," Cullen says with a sigh.

(He also leans into Alistair's touch.)

"They'll sing songs about your fortitude, I'm sure," agrees Alistair solemnly, before he leans in to kiss Cullen.

He does his best to keep it relatively short; they are in public. Even if there are very few people around, comparatively speaking.

Murmured: "I'd rather they didn't."

In the corner of his eye, he sees one of Leliana's operatives -- former operatives? -- moving past with purpose. Something's wrong with that, but -- Alistair's right there -- he can't quite put the pieces together.

"Maybe just whistle a brief tune, then. No names attached."

Another quick kiss, and Alistair returns to his drink.

"Even better."

A pause.

"Are we... evading talk about literally anything else? If we are -- that's fine by me, but..."

Alistair's smile quirks.

"I thought you wouldn't want to talk about it," he says. "And, well...celebrating."

He lifts his glass to indicate.

"But if you do -- "

"My curiosity's overcome my loathing," he says, wry, and glances about.

Lowering his voice: "Was Teagan always this... difficult?"

"...Difficult how?"

In other words: no. Alistair begins to frown.

"Showing his disdain for the Inquisition in terms suited to you or I discussing Orlesian parties." Softly. "There's opposition, and then there's disgust. Josephine may be the diplomat, but even I know the difference there."

His frown deepens. Alistair folds his arms atop the table.

"No," he says, keeping his voice low to match Cullen's. "Blunt, sometimes, but diplomatic enough to keep it to private conversation. Granted, the last time I saw him was during the Blight, but...that doesn't seem like him."

Cullen nods. "That's... what I thought."

Beat.

"He's also wearing a terrible hat, for what that's worth."

Alistair snorts, faintly amused. "I'm a little less worried about that than the rest of it."

He sips his brandy, thinking.

"Would it be worth me talking to him? I was hoping to say hello to him anyway while we were here; I could just be a little more pointed about it."

"Don't mention your connection with me," wry, "and it should be fine."

(The words twist his gut, a little; it's too familiar, assuming people would be better off disavowing any relationship with him.)

Airily -- but completely serious -- "I'll tell whoever I damn well please."

He nudges Cullen's shoulder.

"Anyway, he saw me arrive with the Inquisition, he's probably already formed his theories on where I stand."

Cullen's mouth tightens, just a little.

Quietly:

"He's the closest thing you've got to family that isn't mine, Alistair. Think before you throw that away."

Alistair sighs; his gaze drops to his glass.

No louder: "Teagan may have gotten cranky in his old age, but not so cranky that he'll disavow family because of a difference of opinion. That's all this has to be. I'll ask why he hates the Inquisition so much. That's all."

He looks up at Cullen.

"And if he thinks I'm biased because I'm married to the Commander, so be it. At least you'll have a little more information to work with during the Council."

Hopefully.

Alistair may be looking up, but Cullen is looking away.

"If you're determined." Still low. "Speak with Josephine first. For my sake. In case there's some sort of strategy she has that speaking with him might disrupt, or support."

Beat.

Then, more carefully: "I'd think you'd want him to support disbanding the Inquisition, at any rate, or at least the military."

It's a line cast upon the waters, and Cullen isn't sure whether or not he wants Alistair to take it or ignore it. He is sure that he hates not speaking plainly, but --

When in Halamshiral.

Alistair nods. "Of course."

At the next, he smiles, faint and crooked.

"The Inquisition's done a lot of good. If I objected to independent armies on principle I wouldn't've joined the Wardens. I...think if the Inquisition stays intact, it'll have to put some rules in place so it doesn't end up like Weisshaupt. But I'm not sure getting rid of it altogether is the best idea."

"Would it be best, then," Cullen asks softly, "if -- no matter what the outcome of this Council is -- I stepped down?"

It's a step farther than he's thought about -- asking do I want you of the Inquisition, rather than do you need me -- but --

Alistair breathes out. He takes Cullen's hand; squeezes his fingers, gently.

"I don't know," he admits, just as quiet.

(The selfish part of him: yes, of course, I've spent two years sharing you with the Inquisition, I don't want to spend the rest of my short life that way. Alistair will never give voice to those thoughts.)

"Is that something you'd want to do?"