howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

He's already nodding. "Of course."

Fiftfully, Alistair drags a hand through his hair.

"You'll tell me if I can help?"

"Yes." Cullen steps in, resting a hand on Alistair's hip. "Honestly, right now I'm not sure what I can do to help."

He's trying to sound light, even a little amused. "We need more information. Until we have it, all we can do is be ready."

Alistair does his best to join in: with a wan, self-deprecating smile, he says, "Oh, excellent: waiting. My favorite part."

He settles his hand on Cullen's upper arm.

Cullen smiles a little, and pulls Alistair in, folding him into his arms.

It's been nearly three years, and the likelihood that the eluvian will lead to the Fade is small -- but Cullen hasn't forgotten the day Kieran went in. Far from it.

(That, and it's the first time they've been really alone since they entered the chapel.)

Alistair breathes out, tucking his chin over Cullen's shoulder as he tightens the embrace. He closes his eyes.

"Thank you," he mumbles after a moment.

It's never a bad time for a hug, but right now, Alistair needs one. Then he can get back to the business of shoring himself up.

"Always," he murmurs into Alistair's ear. "Always."

Let Alistair move at his own speed, he thinks. They have the luxury of time now; maybe not so much later.

Another moment passes. Another long breath. Alistair has curled his fingers into the back of Cullen's shirt; now he loosens them, smoothing down the fabric.

"All right." No louder.

They don't know much yet. Maybe the eluvian doesn't connect to the Fade at all. And if it does -- Cullen would never order him there. Ever. Alistair's known that for years.

"You'll warn me first if you have to walk into that damn mirror? And you'll stay safe?"

"Of course." He touches his lips to Alistair's temple. "I have to tell you, Alistair -- I don't think it's likely, that I'd have to walk in. We don't have enough soldiers in the honor guard to warrant my joining them. And we certainly don't know enough to warrant going through one on the offensive."

Alistair nods. "All right."

He relaxes his hold on Cullen, a little.

"Good." More wry, "Perhaps I'll try that novel plan where I don't immediately jump to the worst idea I can think up."

Cullen laughs softly. "A good plan, Theirin." He settles his arms low across Alistair's back. "I approve."

A crooked grin.

"I thought you might," he says, and pulls back enough to kiss Cullen on the cheek. "Your strategy talents have rubbed off on me."

Sweetly:

"Among other things."

He snorts a loud laugh.

"How did I know your mind would dive into the gutter the moment I said that?"

"You've trained me well." He gives Alistair a bright, crooked grin.

"I have indeed."

Beaming, Alistair frames Cullen's face in his palms and kisses him, soft and sweet.

"My favorite. Always."

Cullen leans his forehead against Alistair's and closes his eyes. "Double Commander," he murmurs. "Husband Commander."

If possible, Alistair's grin brightens even more.

"Quite a promotion," he whispers. "I'm glad you thought I was worthy of it."

"Long overdue." He should go find Farrow, Charter, Josephine; he should do something --

No, a voice whispers. No. You can wait. For just a little while.

He laces his fingers together against the small of Cullen's back; presses a soft kiss to his scar.

Still soft, he asks, "Can I do anything for you?"

Cullen doesn't say anything for a moment.

"Is it -- can I -- is it all right to... talk about it?"

"Of course."

Gently surprised, as he pulls back enough to look Cullen in the face.

Cullen looks -- tired, and nervous, and resigned, all at once.

"I don't want to put things on you that you can't carry right now."

Alistair rests his palm against the side of Cullen's head.

"I'm all right," he murmurs. "A bit of a shock; that's all. I can carry it."

Cullen lets out a small sigh, and pulls back just enough to undo the buttons on his tunic.

"I've never known a Qunari warrior to travel alone." Simply. "Not the antaam. If there's one, there are more. So... where are they?" He lifts a shoulder, helpless. "We can prepare against that to some degree, so that's fine. For now. But what we need to know is why."

His gaze flicks up to Alistair. "If it's the antaam, they're here on the Arishok's orders. You knew him. Any thoughts?"

"Sten?"

He frowns.

"Honestly, I've no idea. Cousland's the one who knew him best. He tolerated the rest of us, at most -- like you'd tolerate camping in a swamp for a few weeks. He's far more loyal to the Qun than even Bull was before he went Tal-Vashoth."

Beat.

Wry, "Which I'd suppose you'd have to be if you ended up the Arishok. But I wouldn't expect him to depart radically from whatever the last Arishok may have wanted to do. Or planned."