Chapter Text
Alistair paced back and forth before the doors to his father’s private chambers. He needed to do this. There was no turning back. Still, he worried.
It’s been over six months since the ball. Over six months since he and Cullen confessed their feelings. These were months of discovery, of joy, and of pleasure, but also months of sneaking around, looking over their shoulders and hiding. Even if they had to pretend before the entire court and country, Alistair felt like he shouldn’t keep this from his father.
Part of the reason for this was the fact that he was fairly sure his brother was suspecting something, and if he knew, he was bound to tell their father.
The first time Alistair remembered Cailan making any kind of allusion was the morning after the night when he and Cullen were truly intimate for the first time. They couldn’t help smiling broadly, and Cailan must’ve noticed.
“I see you two had a very good night,” he remarked.
Alistair mumbled something about it being a nice day, but felt his stupid cheeks heating up, which made Cailan grin at him.
That one incident could be dismissed, but there were others like it.
One night Alistair got a bit carried away, and accidentally left a mark on Cullen’s throat. They laughed about it, and the following days Cullen wore high collared shirts. No one made anything of it, but Cailan strode up to them one afternoon and looked at Cullen curiously.
“Did you suddenly discover your love of high collars or are you hiding something?” he asked.
Cullen didn’t respond, looking anywhere but at the prince. Cailan just laughed and walked away.
Alistair and Cullen had a lengthy conversation about Cailan’s behaviour, in the end not coming to any resolutions. He didn’t say anything explicit, so even if he suspected something, calling him out on it could bring more harm than good.
And so it continued, with Cailan smirking at them and making various comments, remarking when they were particularly happy or tired for example, and them trying desperately not to give him any more information.
But even if Cailan weren’t so disturbingly observant, Alistair suspected he’d still want to confide in his father. He couldn’t lead him on, making him think he was going to make some advantageous match. His father deserved the truth. They were always honest with each other, and Alistair wanted it to remain so.
He discussed that course of action with Cullen first, of course. It was as much his choice as Alistair’s. His future at court depended on the king’s understanding. Cullen always respected and revered the king, wanting to make him proud and never regret the decision to take him with them to Denerim. He worried that the king would now see him as someone who corrupted his son, but still he agreed that he needed to hear the truth about their relationship from Alistair, before anyone else could paint a much worse picture of what they were to each other.
Whatever happened, they’d stay together - that’s what they promised each other. If worse came to worst, there were always the Grey Wardens. Or Orlais with its cakes. Those were mostly jokes, but the point remained - nothing would tear them apart.
Alistair didn’t tell him he was coming to see his father this day. It was enough that he worried. Cullen didn’t need to. He’d find out the result of the conversation soon enough.
He stopped his pacing. This was it. He wouldn’t run. He’d face whatever was going to happen.
He knocked.
“Come in,” his father called out.
Alistair opened the doors and walked in, finding his father behind his desk, papers piled all around him.
“Good of you to come, Alistair. I was dying for a distraction.” King Maric smiled at him.
“I…” He took a breath. “Father, I have something very important to tell you.”
“Is everything alright? You sound anxious.”
Alistair laughed nervously.
“We’ll see if it’s alright.”
“That’s very cryptic, son. Should I worry?”
“I don’t know.” Alistair started pacing again. “This is big. Very big. Huge. Life altering. You have to know this. I have to tell you before someone else does.”
“Would you stand still for a moment, Alistair? You’re making me dizzy.”
Alistair stopped dutifully, and instead started wringing his hands.
“Whatever happens, whatever you think, whatever you say, I won’t change. This is not something that will pass. This is permanent, true.”
“I didn’t say anything yet, son.”
“I know what people think, what they say. But you’ve told me yourself, people can be shallow and judgmental, and we can’t let their prejudices influence us.”
“Very wise words.”
“So I hope you’ll find it in yourself to understand, to accept this.”
“I’m sure I will, if you tell me what this is about.”
“Well, I just want you to know that if you don’t, then I’m just going to leave.”
“There’s no need for blackmail just yet.” His father laughed. He still looked kind, despite the strange rant Alistair went on, and that acceptance finally gave him the courage to say what he came to say.
“Father, I love Cullen.”
Before he could panic at hearing the words out loud, his father said, “I know.”
“No.” Alistair sighed. “Not like a friend. I mean, yes, in that way too, but mostly I’m in love with him.”
“I know.”
“This is not brotherly. I don’t love him like a friend. I love him in a… romantic way.”
King Maric rolled his eyes.
“Yes, son, I know. I knew what you meant the first time.”
“You… You did?” Alistair wasn’t sure what he felt. Shock? Fear? Relief?
“I’ve known for a while now.”
“A while?” Alistair’s voice sounded oddly shrill. “What’s ‘a while’?”
“Years? I’m not sure.”
“Years?!” This was unbelievable. “And you said nothing?”
“What was I going to say?”
“I don’t know! Something!”
“You needed to work this out yourselves.”
“So you’re not against this?” Now there was definitely hope rising within Alistair.
“Against? Maker no.” King Maric sounded very certain. “He’s good for you. He’s been good for you since that awful summer in Honnleath. Bringing him to Denerim was one of my best decisions.”
“You truly don’t mind?” Alistair could hardly believe this was so easy.
“I’m glad for you two. These past months you’ve both been so very happy.” His father smiled broadly, and Alistair felt like crumbling to the floor, the relief practically overwhelming him.
“We have. It’s stupid that it took us this long, but here we are. And you’re absolutely fine with that?” Alistair had to make sure.
“I’m not going senile, Alistair. I know what you say and what I say. You have my blessing, if that’s what you want. Although, I think it should be Cullen asking for my blessing in this case.”
“I’ll pass that on.”
They both laughed.
“In all seriousness, I think you shouldn’t go public with your feelings. Not until after I knight Cullen.”
Alistair scrunched his brows.
“Going public? We didn’t even consider that a possibility.”
“I’m not saying you’ll be able to marry him. I’m not sure people would take it well, whatever I’d say or do. But you shouldn’t hide forever.”
“How would that even look?” Was he dreaming? Did his father just suggest that he and Cullen could lead a somewhat open life?
“I’m not entirely sure. Let’s play it by ear. I don’t want to make you any promises I can’t keep, but know this - I will always love you, and I’ll do everything in my power to make this easy on you.”
Alistair felt tears welling in his eyes. His father was so good, so understanding. Before he could say his thanks, there was a knock on the doors.
“Who’s there?” the king demanded.
“It’s me, Your Majesty,” came Cullen’s voice.
Alistair and king Maric looked at each other in confusion.
“Come in,” the king invited.
“Cailan told me to come here,” Cullen said, closing the doors behind himself.
“Cailan?” Alistair questioned. What was his brother’s play here?
“Yes. He said I should be here for this. Whatever this is. He wouldn’t say.” Cullen shrugged.
“He’s a sneaky thing.” King Maric laughed. “Since you’re here, Cullen, you might as well ask me for my blessing.”
“Pardon?” Cullen sounded disoriented.
The king grinned, and Alistair was half annoyed at him and half amused.
“My blessing. For your relationship with my son.”
Cullen’s eyes bulged. He practically swayed on his feet, his cheeks turning red.
“It’s alright,” Alistair told him. “I’ve explained everything and father supports us.”
“He does?” Cullen whispered, as if disbelieving. “You do, Your Majesty?”
“I do, Cullen. I absolutely do.”
Cullen’s shoulders slumped as he sighed in relief.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. This means more than I can say. I’ll never let you down. I’ll never let Alistair down. I swear.”
“I know you won’t.” The king smiled at him. “So about that blessing…”
“I thought you were joking, father,” Alistair interjected.
“Well, I wasn’t.”
“This is absurd,” Alistair grumbled. What was this? Who did his father think he was?
Cullen didn’t seem to have a problem with the situation.
“Your Majesty,” he started, “I humbly ask you to give your blessing for my relationship with your son. I love him more than words can express and I’ll always try to make him happy.”
“Blessing granted.”
The king got up from his desk and embraced them both in turn.
“I think this deserves a toast,” he announced. “Let’s find something appropriate. Those letters will keep, I think.”
“A moment, father,” Alistair stopped him. “Does Cailan know?”
“Of course.”
“Did he tell you about us, Your Majesty?” Cullen asked.
“I think we’re way past all this ‘Your Majesty’ nonsense. I’ve been telling you to stop for ages, but now that you’re practically my son in law, you really must stop. At least in private.”
Cullen seemed to be thinking it over, at last deciding not to defy the king.
“How shall I address you then?”
“Father will be fine,” the king answered. Before Cullen could object, he continued. “And to answer your question - Cailan did discuss this with me, but I knew even before then. You must know that he talked to me to help you.”
“Help us?” Alistair was incredulous.
“Yes. He’s a bit brash or thoughtless at times, but he cares for you, wants you to be happy.”
Realization dawned on Alistair.
“So that night in the courtyard he didn’t want to cause me trouble. He wanted us to resolve the situation!”
That was a very interesting thought. His brother accepted him as well, and in his own way tried to do right by him.
“I’m a lucky man,” he said, smiling, looking at the father who stood behind him, and the man who loved him unconditionally. Even his idiot brother proved decent. Despite all the difficulties he’s experienced, this was one good life he was leading.
The end