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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"It would be only fair," Cullen agrees. "On one condition. It doesn't come from Orlais."

"Oh Maker, no," says Alistair with an exaggerated shudder. "He'll return to his roots as a proper Fereldan dog and forget this sorry, extended stay in Orlais ever happened."

That gets a smile out of Cullen, finally.

"I wonder if we could even manage to leave tomorrow," he muses.

A hard-fought victory! Alistair's smile warms.

"I've no objection," he says. Glancing down at the mabari, "What about you? Want to leave this wretched city tomorrow for somewhere far more civilized?"

The dog's stubby tail pinwheels in glee.

"It's not likely," he cautions. "Unless the two of you want to go ahead of me...?"

"Of course not." Gently, he nudges Cullen in the side. "We all go together. I wouldn't leave you behind."

Cullen wrinkles his nose at Alistair, shifting on his feet.

"But you could. If you wanted."

"I could," he allows, and lets go of Cullen's hand so he can sling an arm around his shoulders. "But I don't want to."

A beat.

"I could be in favor of taking our new friend back to our quarters to settle in, though."

Cullen slumps with relief, letting out a long breath. "I didn't want to ask."

A crooked smile. "I appreciate you indulging me."

He squeezes Cullen gently.

"And you may consider me successfully indulged. Come on, love."

He leans against Alistair for just a moment.

Softly, he says, "It'll be better once we're not... surrounded by people. At Skyhold. And after."

Alistair nods.

"Can I do anything in the meantime?" he asks. "Besides chase away any callers?"

They begin the walk back to their quarters, the mabari joyfully trotting among at their heels. So what if he's not allowed into this "bedroom" place? HE'S STILL GOT NEW FRIENDS.

Cullen reflects that this whole 'massive life changes' thing was much simpler in the earliest stages of lyrium withdrawal when all he had to do was vomit, sweat, hallucinate, and refuse any assistance from Cassandra or anyone else.

"I'm fine." Still soft. "Besides -- you've got someone to look after."

"Two someones," he corrects with a crooked smile. "As much as those someones will allow me."

Cullen's shoulders hunch a little. He focuses on the ground in front of them. One foot after another.

"I'm fine," he says again, helplessly. "Please."

Too much pushing.

"All right," he says, no louder. Staying quiet the rest of the way back to their house seems prudent: Alistair doesn't say anything else, but neither does he pull away.

(He feels -- unsteady again. Unsure. Perhaps he hasn't regained as much of his balance as he thought, after the nightmare knocked him askew.)

He just --

He needs space. Space to think. To react. Everything's changing out from under him. There's something else for Alistair's focus.

Thank the Maker for that.

"I'm -- going to lie down," Cullen says hesitantly as they enter their quarters. "I need... some time alone. Please?"

Alistair breathes out. "All right," he says again.

The dog circles Alistair's feet; thumps his hindquarters against the ground, gazing up at him. Alistair stretches a hand down to scratch the mabari behind the ears.

"I'll be here." He chances another tiny, lopsided smile. "Rest well."

Cullen couldn't hide the relief in his face even if he wanted to.

"I'll try." Beat. "Let's avoid fleas on the furniture?" His turn for a tiny smile as he nods to the mabari.

"He did get a bath before he came in." A beat. "Sort of."

Alistair leans to peck Cullen on the cheek.

"I'll give him another to be safe." When that gets an alarmed whine from the mabari, Alistair corrects himself: "Or I'll just keep him off the furniture?"

Cullen squeezes Alistair's hand. "Seems far more possible." A little amused, even. "And now you've got some leverage."

"Precisely." Laughing a little. "Our training's well under way."

The mabari barks agreement.

Lifting his chin toward the bedroom, Alistair adds, "Go enjoy your lie-down. I love you."

Cullen murmurs it in return, gives the mabari a brief scratch behind the ears, and retreats into the bedroom behind a closed door.

Boots off.

He sits at the foot of the bed with his face in his hands, silently shaking.

Alistair runs his hand through his hair and lets out a long, long sigh. He exchanges glances with the mabari; the dog wags his tail hopefully.

"Yes. I agree," he says, putting on a deliberately cheery tone. "We should find a few good toys for you that won't shatter anything when we both start galumphing about."

OH BOY. The mabari barks again, dancing in place with anticipation.

"Come on, then," says Alistair, and leads him along to find a good stick or a length of rope somewhere in the house.

Once they've had a few good rounds of tug-of-war -- well out of earshot of the bedroom -- Alistair murmurs to the mabari, Cullen may grumble sometimes, but he means well. He's a kind man at heart. Don't hold it against him, yes?

Somehow, the mabari manages to bark sotto voce, which sounds like a localized rumble of thunder deep in his chest.

Good boy.

It's the same sort of sick yawing feeling that used to accompany the bad withdrawal nightmares. The feeling of being completely unmoored from everything and everyone. If he isn't a templar, what is he?

Cullen could answer that question. Now he's faced with it again. If he isn't the commander of the Inquisition's forces, what is he? What does he mean?

What was it all for?

Rylen. What will Rylen do? Rylen is still on the lyrium, as is Belinda Darrow and a few dozen other former templars. The Inquisition made arrangements for them. Now what will they do? The very lack of it is what made Samson. They can't just -- take all of that away. Not without unacceptable consequences.

What about the Wardens? Did Hawke make it to the Anderfels? There's been no word from Weisshaupt. Josephine was heard to remark that King Wilhelm's court has been awfully silent, even for them. What if the Venatori sympathizers who presumably were the ones to kill Halward Pavus get Dorian too, and all the rest of his Lucerni?

What will happen when Cullen's reason -- his excuse -- to ignore all of that walks into the earth, willingly, straight to his own death?

What is Cullen supposed to do with a pack of mabari that's imprinted on Alistair?

Why can't Cullen just -- let go and enjoy sex enough to keep Alistair from pulling away from him, again?

He huddles on the bed, rocking back and forth, the side of his hand between his teeth to keep himself from keening.