howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

(no subject)

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 snorts. "Well, we won't have many in our house in the countryside, I hope. He'll only have to put up with the stairs for a little while."

"Put in ten staircases."

A faint smile.

"Just for you."

Alistair groans heartily, thumping his forehead onto the mabari's side. The dog takes this as his cue to crane around and try to lick Alistair's hair; he yelps in dismay, straightening up as fast as possible to avoid any more damage.

"How is it?" he asks, gingerly touching the top of his head.

Cullen keeps his expression very solemn.

"Fine." Neutral.

(It is not fine.)

Alistair wrinkles his nose as he tries to comb the dog drool out of his hair.

"I'm not sure I believe you."

Blandly, he says to the sky, "Oh dear."

"I can tell you're just devastated by that news," answers Alistair, serenely. "If you come down here I'll comfort you properly."

The mabari pants, happily. Does that mean two people might be giving him a belly rub soon? It's almost too much to hope!

"You're busy," Cullen says in the same tone. "And you need to wash your face."

"I'm never too busy for my husband."

He pokes Cullen in the thigh.

Cullen stands tall and unmoved.

"Fine. Still need to wash your face."

Hmmm. This might call for reinforcements. The mabari is happy to assist!

Putting on his most forlorn face, the mabari hauls itself to sitting, gives Cullen a gentle nudge in the hip, and looks up with a hopeful whine.

"I gave you my lunch," Cullen says, indignant. "My lunch."

With another soft whine, the mabari lowers his head to his paws.

"But," intones Alistair, "have you given him a belly rub."

"He's got you for that."

"Turning down the chance to pet a mabari." Alistair sighs, nearly as dramatically as the dog. "What happened to the Cullen I knew?"

"Someone ate my lunch," Cullen says, stonefaced.

He smothers a laugh.

"Would you like me to buy you another lunch, my dear?"

"No." Cullen scowls at him. "It's too late."

Beat.

"Also I'd give it away."

"Ah, yes, there's the man I married." Fondly. "I knew you couldn't say no to this face either."

He frames his hands around the mabari's face.

Cullen looks at this display, and reflects that not so long ago, Alistair was doing that to him.

He is not sure he wants to ponder that too closely.

Alistair beams, cheerfully.

Point made for the moment -- that Cullen can be just as soft a touch as him -- he gets up, leaning against the wall shoulder-to-shoulder with Cullen. After a beat, he idly takes his hand.

A sidelong look.

He wants to ask if Alistair's finally had enough of this whole 'visible in public' business. But --

Easy enough to just let Alistair have this.

Alistair eyes him back, smiling.

"What?"

Cullen shakes his head a little, gaze sliding off into the distance.

"Nothing."

"...All right."

He turns his head enough to touch his lips to Cullen's hair. Not wanting to be left out, the mabari scoots closer so it can lean against both their legs.