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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"Ohhhh, yes, of course."

Alistair muffles another snicker against Cullen's shoulder.

"How could I not have realized? So foolish of me."

It tickles, a little. Cullen wriggles some with a huff of breath.

"You're used to working alone," he says, generously. "It's only logical."

"True, true." He tips his head enough to look up at Cullen. "Very fortunate I don't have to anymore."

A beat.

"...I'm talking about you there, not the golems, by the way."

Cullen raises his eyebrows.

"You'd get more done with the golems."

"If I were working on a particularly difficult translation, though," says Alistair, cocking an eyebrow in reply, "it would be easier to go straight to the source and ask what he meant."

"He might even tell you." Solemn.

Matching his solemnity:

"What a kind and generous man. He must love me very much."

"He's very susceptible to this," Cullen says, and squeezes Alistair's rear end.

Alistair squeaks -- why bother calling the resulting noise anything else -- and dissolves back into laughter.

"Oh," he manages. "Oh, I see. You only love me for my physical attributes, is that it."

Cullen is laughing too, albeit much more quietly. "No, they're a very pleasant bonus, Theirin."

"Second only to my wit, charm, and unending modesty?"

He lets his eyes drift closed.

The best way to troll, Cullen thinks, is to say nothing.

When it becomes obvious Cullen won't answer, Alistair huffs an amused breath.

"S'what I thought," he murmurs, cheerfully content.

Cullen beatifically pats him on the head.

A sleepy grin, as he makes himself more comfortable against Cullen.

"Still a few hours before the...thing, yes?"

"Several." Softly. "The rest of the morning. All of the afternoon."

"Which means us resting and me not talking may not be a terrible idea."

(It's only a little sheepish.)

"Why, it's almost as though the last few days haven't been restful at all."

Cullen kisses the top of Alistair's head.

"I have one very simple request."

He yawns, not even bothering to stifle it.

"No Qunari invasions on the honeymoon."

"...I have no control over that, Alistair." Amused -- despite himself.

"Damn." He heaves a sigh. "Oh well. Worth a try."

He squeezes Cullen.

"Love you anyway."

"I love you," he says into Alistair's hair. "Now shh."

He chuckles softly, mumbles, "Yes, ser," and subsides. Eventually, he slips into a light doze.

It turns out to be a less than peaceful rest.

Unencumbered by conscious thought, the vague itch he'd been feeling coheres, the pieces Cullen left unsaid finally slotting together. Solas created the Veil. The Veil didn't exist in Arlathan.

Solas wants to return the world to how it was in the time of Arlathan.

The dream hits like a blow to the head, quick, intense, and vivid: the faint scar in the sky explodes outward like ink drops in water, coloring everything a sickly green. There's no way of getting home this time. This is home. This is Thedas, swallowed by the Fade, and there will be no hope of escape as reality bends around itself and demons swarm over them like locusts.

He twitches in his sleep, struggling to breathe.

Cullen, drifting pleasantly in and out of consciousness, comes back into focus as Alistair twitches.

"Alistair." Low, careful, as he rests a hand on Alistair's head. "Alistair, wake up."

Alistair shudders.

"Please," he begs in a cracking whisper. "Please, no."