(no subject)

[howtoactfereldan]

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.)

Comments

[howtoactfereldan]

"I don't know." Even as he's tangled up with Alistair, his shoulders hunch, his head lowers. "I haven't -- others have handled it, for the Inquisition. For a long time now."

[bringspeopletogether]

Which makes perfect sense: don't put the recovering lyrium addict near the supply lines.

"I could handle it. If you'd like."

[howtoactfereldan]

"I'll -- tell Josephine. She'll figure out something. Cassandra will figure out something." Voice thick. "I thought the goal was to get shut of all this."

[bringspeopletogether]

"It is," Alistair admits. "But the Inquisition won't stop dead right this instant. Lavellan isn't the sort to abandon everyone to fend for themselves; there'll be an orderly wind-down."

A beat.

Quieter, "No one will have to go back to the Chantry."

[howtoactfereldan]

"We'll see," is all Cullen says.

[bringspeopletogether]

Cullen asked him to let it alone, and Alistair agreed to do so.

So he doesn't say anything more, much as he may want to: just keeps up the gentle strokes along Cullen's back.