"Don't think I can find all ypur lost knick-knacks as quickly- I was just at a good angle to see it." Cullen says, happy to admit that there was no tricks or specialist skills. He stands up, dusts off his hands and watches Sebastian make his final preparations.
"I don't want to imagine." Cullen says with a little wrinkle of his nose as Sebastian describes so many women in his bed. Not something he really wants to think about, too reminiscent of what Templars would do with mages for him to utterly like the idea, and truthfully he's far too monogamous to want that. It makes him feel slightly uncomfortable, although when he thinks of just Sebastian in a bed, a lot of that distaste instantly disappears.
He isn't going to dwell on that.
Instead its much better to focus on the competitions they will both take part in later, and he hopes Sebastian is as good as his word and will recover. He's seen the man shoot before of course, but its different in a tourney. His expression softens and he joins Sebastian in heading towards the door, patting him on the shoulder.
"I know you will. You're a fine archer. You'll be even better with breakfast in you and that hangover at bay."
"Either way, I was going out of my head trying to find the thing. My trousers ended up on top of the wardrobe, somehow." The prince muses as he dusts himself off. For the amount of pain and stomach unrest he was in, he looked just fine. Years of boozing when he was a much younger man had steeled his guts, or so he would like to believe. A lot of it was putting a brave face on because he had company. Esteemed company.
The wrinkle of the commander's nose was endearing, but Sebastian waves it all off; "I'm not proud of those days, but I do wish I had the stomach of a young man again. You know, I hear older men speak of weakening stomachs in taverns, they tell me I'm at the age I can't be carrying on anymore." To which Sebastian tuts.
"I barely carry, let alone carry on. I maintain that Tourney season is different."
Once out of the room, he gives a stretch, various creaks and pops followed - and a sigh. Maybe he was getting too old to be... climbing into second floor windows when he was soused out of his mind.
"I'll need a bath and a change after breakfast. I need to wear my proper gear to the competition," he explains with a roll of his tongue; "I'm actually quite excited. There have been... murmurs. Of an upstart who signed up just yestersun. Maybe I will get to shoot against actual competition."
It will be less fun if he loses, but Sebastian loved archery tournaments for the thrill of it - he also enjoyed watching the skill of others in his preferred sport and weapon. A good way to learn.
Once they descend the stairs to get their breakfasts, Sebastian opens his mouth to apologize to the Innkeep - who just... looks at him, grins and shakes her head very fondly. As if she wasn't at all surprised that her mystery guest was the prince of Starkhaven himself.
"Shall I bill the castle, sire?" The old woman teased as she urges the two men to their table; Sebastian only clears his throat with a shake of his head.
"Ah. No. I don't think my advisors would be terribly pleased... I have money on me, we can deal with this discreetly after breakfast, serah."
"I can honestly say in the whole of Thedas, I've never met someone like you." Cullen chuckles as Sebastian laments the various places his clothes have ended up. It makes him think of Sara, her pranks and japes, how things would go missing when she was around. She'd probably love to hide a prince's clothes where he couldn't find them.
It seems just the sort of thing her Red Jenny friends and her would do.
As for being a younger man, Cullen knows he's much better off now. No more lyrium. No more Templar lies. No more Circles. But he had never been a drinker.
"Tourney season doesn't somehow make you a decade older. Or your hangovers instantly better." He points out, but Sebastian enjoys himself. He's not like Cullen, but thats okay.
"A bath here, or back in ypur actual lodgings? Where are you staying?" He asks curiously, and then. "Well you are getting older now. There's probably youngsters better than you..." yes he's teasing. But Sebastian did bring up age first.
"I already paid for the room. You just need to pay for the food." Cullen adds, just so there's no confusion on that part. "Only seemed right to pay before I unlocked you." He offers the innkeeper back the key to the room, with a murmur of thanks.
Sebastian's laughter filtered through the space, a light and fluttering thing. "I choose to take that as a compliment, Commander," the lilt in his voice light and nearly whimsical in the rhythm of his words. As if the man was ready to drop a song or a story like a minstrel would, his spirits were high - even if his hangover was deeply unpleasant.
"No, but tourney season does make a man want to break bread with brethren and make merry, doesn't it? But I do feel it more now than I used to, and it makes me wonder if it's my age or the years I spent without when I took my vows." The vows. He always felt a pang of guilt when he thought of them now; the years spent devoted, and how he threw them away along with a chunk of his faith when he lost everything... and took up the crown.
The crown that weighed so heavy.
"I have a room at another Inn, it's a bit too far to travel back and forth from the castle to the grounds." Starkhaven was a big place, wealthy and strong. He took great pride in his home, and he was happy to stay within its core for tourney season. Though Cullen's tease makes him huff, as he drew himself taller. "Age means experience, my reflexes are just as sharp as they were when I was a man in my twenties."
Though he pauses, the grin returning, boyish in nature; "do you think you can keep up with the younger cubs in the melee ring?" Of course Sebastian knew the man could; he'd seen him in battle before, he was also personally aware of how intimidating the former Commander was when staring you down before an altercation.
Days he would never wish to repeat.
"You didn't need to do that, I'll gladly pay for our breakfast- but let me repay you for the room. It was my folly, after all. You shouldn't pay for it."
"Good, it was intended to be one." Cullen says, more gently and kindly, because Sebastian does not deserve to be mocked. Teased, yes, but he certainly doesn't intend to make the other man feel in any way demoralised. Prince or pauper, chantry brother or Dalish Keeper, there is no reason to knock his spirits down.
"I've certainly seen spme things during Tourney season I'd never expect to normally." Cullen is not a man born and bred in the Marches, but he knows from his time in Kirkwall how joyous the celebrations could be. And how messy. Still, life is hard especially in recent decades, and any cause for celebration is a good one.
"Both, I shoukd think. The lack of it for some time, and your advancing years." Again, teasing. He pats Sebastian on the shoulder, giving him a soft smile. "I'm glad you enjoy it. And I look forward to seeing your victory."
As for himself, he shrugs, broad shoulders moving expressively, the feathers and fur of his mantle catching the light. "At some point the cubs will start winning. It means theyve leant well. It might mean I can retire."
As for food and lodgings, Cullen simply shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. Let's eat shall we? Your head must be ringing." And as he speaks he pours a cup of dark coffee and passes it towards the other man. "Its hardly elfroot, but I think it will help."
"It's funny how often people mean the opposite," came the prince's wry reply. Sebastian was well aware on how his former companions regarded him. However he still wrote to Merril and Fenris respectively - they never condoned what Anders did, nor did they take the piss out of the consequences like Varric tended to. He had such a difficult time some days, thinking back on his life and the hardships therein - were those tumultuous last years in Kirkwall even worth a damn? While Sebastian may have bouts of bitterness about it all, he knew he could never deny the bonds he did make, as few as they were.
Starkhaven's princeling let out a light laugh, cheerful almost in spite of his aching hangover. "I'm sure you have! Free Marchers can get a little rowdy," he adds with a grin and a flash of teeth. "But I can expect the tournaments and merrymaking in Ferelden are similar. Perhaps I should allow myself time to take some... tactical and political jaunts around the south sometime. I know I'm rather fond of all the potato dishes you all have."
Sebastian feigns a sigh at the mention of his advancing years. "It should be good fun this afternoon. We have a few different archery events. I've been pushing on expanding it. We'll have the usual point challenge. Five arrows and a cumulative score. But we also have a moderate course for archery on horseback which I am rather excited for. It's trickier business." Perhaps he was looking forward to showing off.
Sparkling blues are momentarily distracted as he watches the way Cullen's shoulders move. His words stilling as he merely observes, until he catches himself staring - thus he picks up his fork as he clears his throat; "I'm sure you have a few more good years left in you."
It did matter, however, but Sebastian would not argue the point. That wasn't how he did things. Instead he just makes a mental note to ask the proprietress on the sum, so he can find a way to pay the man back later. When his head was aching less.
"My head and stomach are competing on how many flips they can do," though he takes the coffee with a gracious smile. The prince lifts the steaming mug with a tired smile; "to my hero of the morning," he nearly coos before he takes a small sip, sinking into the sharp and bitter flavours of the caffeine.
Yes, that was definitely hitting the spot.
This went straight into my Cullen folder and I totally missed it :(
"It's amazing how cruel people can be while condemning cruelty in others. But none of us is perfect. Just know I would never mean to insult you." Cullen replies, placing a gentle hand on Sebastian's shoulder. Despite how much the other man seems to smile and laugh, Cullen can see the sadness in his eyes. Most people are carrying hurts that won't heal, but if those hurts can be avoided, why wouldn't you?
"I have seen it often enough to know how true that is." Cullen agrees when Sebastian talks about how rowdy his people can be, but it brings a little smile to Cullen’s lips as they settle down to breakfast and he reaches for the potatoes just as Sebastian mentions potatoes and laughs loudly at himself.
"What can I say? Of all the things you can dig out of the ground, I'd rather have potatoes instead of gold. However, if you'd like to visit Ferelden, I'm sure the king and queen would welcome you. I've had the pleasure of meeting them once or twice."
He adds a few more things to his plate: an egg, two sausages, and some bread, all the while listening to Sebastian's thoughts on the tourney.
"Archery from horseback sounds a challenging art- I take it that you can do it?" As much as Cullen likes horses, and he knows how to ride, taking them into battle has never appealed to him. It's already chaotic enough without adding hooves.
"I'd rather retire sooner than not, all the same. War is a young man's game and... my priorities have shifted." Now he has a son to look after. But he makes no mention of Fabian, although he will have to go collect the boy soon enough.
"To my missing Prince. Let's hope you can stay out of trouble the rest of the day, shall we?" Cullen smiles as he picks up his tea, gently knocking it against Sebastian's mug.
"It's how people always have been, which is an unfortunate truth." A regal hand is raised, dexterous fingers flexing idly as he gives a slight gesture; "I will always believe people are inherently good. Even those who do not bask in the light of Andraste, or those who do not heed the Maker- there is always something inside of us that strives for good. I honestly believe that." It was something he had to hang onto, lest he forsake his faith entirely: "but many people are so caught up in their own selfish desires that all they can do is project their own fallacies on others."
Like Varric. Though he does not voice that much - he was very aware how integral the dwarf had been within the Inquisition. Sebastian was not a man to drag the name of a former companion - unless it was that Void-be-damned Mage and the supposed Champion of Kirkwall. The gall.
Cullen's laughter drags him out of his bitter wallowing - it was loud and by all reason it should have made his head ache. But all it did was make his stomach flutter and the storm brewing in the back of his mind to soothe. Sebastian couldn't hope for a more charming, or handsome sound. It makes a smile grace his own lips, catching the perfect timing. "Uncanny." He laughs in wonder, both delighted and charmed.
"Well, gold can beget potatoes. Or you grow your own," his own charming brogue tone only interrupted when he took a hungry bite of a piece of buttered bread. "Do you grow your own? I could see you in a garden." He could see him in a lot of places, but... he mustn't let his mind wander. "I've had correspondence with King Alistair, he's an absolute delight. I certainly wouldn't mind catching up with either of them."
Another long, indulging sip of coffee, and Sebastian can feel how his shoulders sink - the tense line dissipating now that he was filling his belly. "I can. It takes a measure of skill, balance and hip control funnily enough." One could say Starkhaven's prince was quite adept at riding, even. "It will be a simple course. While points are tallied and the field is cleared of the first archery round, there will be people to set varying targets around the same field."
"You've more than earned your rest." Though Sebastian can't help but be a little curious. "A change in priorities? Wooing a pretty little lass, maybe?" He chuckled around a mouthful of breakfast. Sebastian was sure the handsome Commander could woo anyone he might desire. With ease.
Oh- his smile only brightened, nearly giddy in its delight.
To my missing Prince.
Now that had a nice little ring to it. Sebastian could feel the tips of his ears growing hot as he raised his mug in turn. "I think your kindly monarchs would take offence if they heard you say such a thing. But it can be our little secret." Their drinking implements clinked together. "I think I can stay out of trouble for one day."
"People are complicated creatures," Cullen says slowly. "Capable of good and evil and a lot in between. And both, sometimes at the same time. I don't think that any of us think of our actions as bad at the time... It's only afterwards we realise." He speaks of his own past, his actions in both Kinloch Hold and Kirkwall. He doesn't know if his time at the Inquisition is enough to temper the harm he's caused. He can only hope to continue actively doing good.
He takes a bite or two, his eyes gentle as they look at Sebastian, watching him unwind a little bit as he eats and drinks. Hopefully, his night of merriment won't do any lasting damage.
"There's not really space in Skyhold to grow potatoes. And the ground is frozen for too much of the year. But I grew up helping on the farms around the village. Before I left for my Templar training." He explains. "Maybe I'll add it to the things I'll do in my retirement."
As for writing to the king and queen, Cullen nods. "You should. Don't lose touch with friends if you can help it."
He sits up at the description of horseback archery, taking a bite of toast and chewing happily. "I imagine it takes a great bond between horse and rider to do it in the heat of battle. A lot of control of both knee and thigh." He says, feeling a slight warmth begin creeping up his neck, but he does his best to steer his thoughts away from what Sebastian's thighs may be like.
"Not wooing. By Andraste's tears, no. That's a young man's game." He's passed all that now. He never expected to find love, and as nice as it would be... well. He has too many things to worry about.
"What they don't know can't harm them." Cullen murmurs, smiling too and meeting Sebastian's eyes. "I'd like it if you could. For me?"
"That they are." A part of him could argue against his own original point - that people are inherently good, but it just conjures images of Kirkwall. The chantry. Anders. A man so twisted in thinking he was doing good for mages, when all he accomplished was a war. The likes of which still held ramifications in both Ferelden and the Marches. The Northerners, which he would loathe to admit, got off easy in the whole debacle.
Yet. That region had its own problems he'd rather not touch, unless he was forced to.
"I'll concede the point, you're right." Sebastian tended to err on the side of amicable, it was just in his nature. He had to argue and talk of morals and how to run Starkhaven enough. This was Tourney Season! He could put that all on the back burner.
An endeared grin tugs at his lips as he spears a chunk of sausage with his fork; "sounds to me like you're looking forward to your retirement, my good Commander. I think being a charming farmer, with your field of potatoes... and whatever else it is Ferelden's grow. It paints a cozy picture." Sebastian was almost jealous.
He... didn't have that luxury. To pursue what he wanted, to retire and live out his days well and satisfied. It made his stomach twist - or maybe that was his hangover. To quell it he drank more of his coffee. Cullen also made a good point, perhaps after the Grand Tourney he can write to the Ferelden monarchs.
Again his lips twitch - and if he were the man he used to be, he would tease and coo about the strength in his thighs. Of what a good rider he is. Which was a rather new feeling, he wasn't often compelled to desire flirting with men. Cullen was... a particularly handsome exception. "You'd be right. Horseback riding is a hobby I enjoy, so I'm rather confident in my abilities."
The accent tilts into a more teasing tone, light and airy as he chuckles into his mug; "you're not ancient. A young man's game. Wooing is for any age, you're a fetching catch. I'm sure any lovely lass would be excited to be wooed by you." Anyone would, he added to himself.
The prince had to clear his throat, glancing away, pretending to study some of the locals walking by the nearest window. "Yes, yes. For you. You have my word, I'll be on my best behaviour today."
Cullen gives the young monarch a look, scarred lip tilted into an amused and lopsided line, and he shakes his head.
"There's no right or wrong answer on the nature of people. You're welcome to your own thoughts on the matter, you should have your own thoughts." They've had different life experiences and met different people. While there has been some overlap in those experiences and people, they still see things differently.
He offers a softer smile, one that is more apologetic. "I'm not always right. No one is. And I didn't mean to say I thought you were wrong."
Cullen is glad they can move on to happier topics, such as a comfortable and happy retirement. "Potatoes, peas, apples, and Mabari." He jokes as they eat, "It's what I hoped I could have if I got through the Inquisition. That looks more likely than not, now."
He watches Sebastian and the shadow that passes across his face, clearly wishing his own path wasn't plotted out for him. Cullen leans forward, hunching broad shoulders over the table and lowering his voice, just for Sebastian.
"I used to think there was nothing for me beyond service to the Templars. I had been content with that. But that isn't how things turned out, because I chose differently. I know you think you do not have any other options, Sebastian, but fates are not fixed."
The other man was still young enough for things to change, for him to do with his life whatever he willed.
"And should you come to Ferelden." Cullen says at normal volume and leans back into a more comfortable position for eating, "We have magnificent horses, too. We could go riding, if you happen to be near Honnleath." That would be nice. To see an old friend, to go for a ride.
As for the flirting, Vullen goes bright red. He's never been able to handle this sort of thing, never really having been exposed to it, and he turns his head away too, trying to think of anything but the charming young ruler in front of him.
"I... thank you. On both counts. I. Yes." He flusters, still not recovered even once Sebastian says he will behave.
A deep, rich laugh emerges from the prince, tinted with that Starkhaven brogue. Even if it hurt to laugh in this moment, he couldn't help it. He pointed the prons of his fork towards the commander, a grin curling his lips; "ah, but as crown prince I am obligated and expected to bend an ear and my whims in accordance to my people. My thoughts haven't been my own since..." well. He pauses here, before spearing another sausage, "well that doesn't matter. But I do appreciate the sentiment."
The grin grew warmer, into a softer smile; "don't worry, commander. I didn't think we were truly on opposing sides of the subject. The nature of people has always been on the forefront of my mind these last few years." Hawke's betrayal, Anders... Sebastian can't help but linger on these things. As a monarch he wanted to do what was best for his people, without causing harm.
Sometimes that felt impossible.
Another laugh, softer this time; "ah! So that's where Mabari come from. Beautiful dogs, noble creatures. I've had the pleasure of meeting and being accepted by one, you know. May your gardens always be filled with good produce and darling puppies, then." A pause, and gentler still: "...you'll get through it, and have that dream retirement. I believe strongly in that." By Andraste and the Maker, the commander deserved it.
Sebastian can't help how he leans forward in turn, deep blues intent on the man as he listens. A frown, brief and fleeting, touching his lips and furrowing his brow. There was a longing in those eyes, so soulful and perhaps... a bit lost in a way. "But I have never had the freedom of choice. I was born... precisely to serve the chantry. Forsaking my vows, taking up worldly possession and my crown? Ruined the path my parents chose for me by the very nature of having me. But what else could I do? A Vael should be on the throne, and my immediate family were the true heirs."
He has cousins. He's had a cousin who was temporarily the prince while he was figuring out what to do after the slaughter of his family, his house. "...What else could I possibly do? I am shackled to duty, regardless of path." Sebastian wasn't even... considering a third option- it was as if he only thought he could be a chantry brother, or prince. Freedom never felt like an option, as it never had been.
"But I'm happy for you. This?" He leans back as well, his fork gesturing to encompass all of Cullen; "this suits you. You're happy, and you wear it well." It was stated so sincerely it made his own chest ache.
A chuckle moves him, blue eyes shifting down to his plate as he smiles. "If I am to visit Ferelden, I would like to think I would be wherever you are. I don't know many Fereldens personally. Going for a ride in such lovely lands would feel like an honour." He pauses to chew on some eggs and toast before he clears his throat, eyes back on Cullen. "Honnleath, is that where you're from? Or just somewhere you wish to retire to?"
Those incredible blues were sparkling in both mirth and mischief. The commander was rather endearing, wasn't he?
"Too many people think being a leader grants you happiness and freedom, and the truth can be very different for those who truly do it well." He muses, having seen it both in the Inquisitor and in Meredith up close. "But it shouldn't be forever, and it shouldn't be at the cost of your happiness."
That is his belief, anyway.
Cullen smiles, glad they weren't at loggerheads on that, and he can't help but think that gentle smile suits Sebastian - until, of course, it seems to fade away. Whatever he is thinking of, Cullen doesn't know exactly. He had dealings with Hawke and their entourage, but was never amongst them; he only knew something of those complex relationships.
He reaches towards with an empty hand and gently squeezes Sebastian's wrist. "It's in the past. You can go forward now."
Sometimes it helps to remember that.
"What else could you do? Whatever you wanted. Others could lead. Set up democracy." Cullen is not a politician, but the idea of representation rather than a born leader has always held its appeal. That way, no one is forced into something unless they want to do it. That way, people can have a genuine say. But he shrugs, the mantle on his shoulders moving like a sleeping creature turning in its dreams. "This probably isn't the sort of conversation that will help your hangover."
As for himself... he smiles again. He is happy. It is a rare occurrence, but it has become more common recently. "You know, I think I am happy."
Cullen nods, "I think if you visited, our King and Queen might want to host you. But if you did get a tour of the land, I would be very happy to see you. And accompany you." Although that might be tricky, as he doesn't actually have any status per se. He's just Commander of the Inquisition.
"Honnleath was the village I grew up in. It was destroyed in the Blight, but people have started to go back. Its in the foothills of the Frostbacks, people used to stop there on the way to Redcliffe or on route to Haven. I've got some land there, what used to be my parents' farm."
"The nature of ruling a city, however... it tends to be forever." His chuckle is humourless yet the smile that lingers was incredibly sincere. "But I must say, one of the few things I've learned in my decade living in Kirkwall... was figuring out what not to do." Another idle gesture with his fork, and piece of speared sausage, "for instance; I work to ensure the elves in our Alienage are treated well, I do not tolerate racism. It's been a fight to make sure anyone can get good, honest work- but I am pleased with our results."
"I also regularly check in on the Starkhaven Circle; I will not have mass unrest in my city, if I can help it." Kirkwall had been... the worst of both worlds in that regard. Sebastian sympathized with the mages there- to an extent. The Starkhaven prince also deeply respected templars, but he did not agree with how everything had escalated. Only to end in tragedy and disaster. ...Not here, it could never happen here.
Those blue eyes, so intense and deep, shifted their attention from Cullen to his hand. The touch was both unexpected but not unwelcome, his smile softening. "...It's been difficult. I know it's unbecoming of a former man of the cloth to say so but. I just wish I could have gotten my vengeance; for all that was lost. I never will- and it burns at me still." He pauses, then huffs out an amused sound; "considerably less than it used to. I... may need more time in that regard."
That chantry was his home for a decade. The Grand Cleric like a mother. All those that were lost-
Sebastian shakes his head, and clears his throat. "You're right. Not much of a topic for a hangover," he concedes. Though a part of him still lingers on what was said. For Sebastian he... had to. He had to lead. He gave up everything for this- could he even go back to the chantry? Did... he want to do that either? Whatever he wanted... what did he even want?
The fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile. "It has been a delight to see you this way. Truly. May this happiness never leave you."
On the subject of travel, however! A lopsided grin graces handsome features. "If I visit, I am staying in Inns wherever I go. I'm not one for lavish rooms in cold, stone halls. You learn more about people and the places you go to when you're among its people. I much prefer that. Though- an offer of your company would do my heart a lot of good."
The food on his plate didn't last much longer, and soon enough he's leaning back in his chair with a heavy, yet content, sigh.
"I'm glad your village is picking itself back up. To share life and joy again after such an awful event. I would be happy to see where it is you grew up in. It sounds charming."
"Nothing has to be forecer unless ypu want it to be." Cullen says softly, but he knows this topic weighs heavy on Sebastian's shoulders and that isn't fair. Sometimes the choice is too hard to make. Sometimes it's impossible to make until the roght circumstances come along. But he will support the other man with friendship and good humour as best he can through his tribulations and his heartbreak.
Especially those regarding what happened at Kirkwall. Cullen's own scars, emotional, mental as well as physical all remain. Some have faded with time, others... less so. He squeezes Sebastian's hand again at the mention of the chantry. The Reverend Mother and the chantry sisters were not friends, but Cullen was a religious man, a Templar in the service of Andraste, and he had attended that Chantry as often as he could, several times a week, as far as his duties allowed. What had happened should never had happened, it still made him livid-
-But what was done could not be undone. All they could do was fix the problems that led to it. Andraste didn't want them to all be at each other's throats if peace was achievable. That's what his job was now- helping find a route to peace, and putting warriors in the way of war.
Sebastian's blessings mean a lot, and Cullen laughs a little embarrassed at how touched he is by them. "Thank you. I hope that happiness finds you too, in every day of your life from here on out."
Oh that grin, as asymmetrical as it is, charms him. Cullen can't resist beaming back, nodding along as Sebastian sets out hos feelings.
"You're very much right. Spend too much time amongst the nobles and ypu forget what life is like for the majority. I know balance is important- and a royal visitor needs to at least see other monarchs and talk business with them but... well. Consider this an open invotation. You'll be welcome in Honneath."
They finish the meal at about the same time and out of long practise Cullen starts piling plates together neatly so they are easy to carry out for washing up. Then he gets to his feet.
"It's the people that make it. The place is beautiful, but truly? As long as there's friends and family about, I don't mind what the views are like. Now, speaking of people, lets go get you ready for this tourney, shall we?'
Nothing has to be forever unless you want it to be.
A lovely sentiment, one that will stick with him through the rest of his morning, he's sure. Or perhaps longer, as these things often do. All in all, despite the hangover that lingered, it had been a wonderful morning. Waking up to a handsome rescue and a filling breakfast. If they had more time to chat over steaming cups of coffee and freshly fried sausages, Sebastian would have gladly stayed in that moment of time for longer than they had.
However; the tourney was close to setting up again for another day of revelry. As the prince made his way up the steep steps to the palace overlooking Starkhaven he felt his vigour returning as his people greeted him and wished him luck for the archery events planned.
In fact, the prince was in such a good mood that he barely acknowledged Granger, his seneschal, buzzing in his ear about the days events and some of the nobles attending.
"Lady Araven will be watching you compete today," Sebastian barely registered the name as he sunk into the bath that had been prepared for him. One blue eye opening to settle on the man as he read off a few other names; all of them women, he realized. It makes the prince shift in soapy waters as he lazily began to wash himself.
"I am not looking for a wife at this time," he responds flatly— halting Granger in his rubbish.
"You'll need to produce heirs in time, my prince—" the protests abruptly stop as the Starkhaven prince holds up a weary hand. It was a discussion that had been brought up by much of his court. He was getting too old to be unmarried, how he needed to produce heirs as soon as possible.
It made something uncomfortable twitch deep in his gut; the morning and his soft-spoken breakfast conversation lingering in the back of his mind. Sebastian exhaled sharply, finally finding his words; "—enough, Granger. We will not be having this discussion at this time. In fact, I will be entertaining an important guest from Ferelden over the events. Unless there is urgent business I would rather not be interrupted."
Granger knew that tone, and he knew it was useless to push Sebastian further.
"...As you say, sire. Your attire is spread out on your bed, as well as your grandfather's bow."
The click of the door, the blissful quiet that followed... soon found the prince sinking deeper into his bath with a world weary sigh.
...Nothing has to be forever.
Not unless he wants it to be.
"Andraste help me." It was murmured to no one, just the silence that drowned the space around him.
It was a beautiful day for it, Sebastian could not ask for better weather. There wasn't much of a breeze, few clouds mottled the sky. It took a moon cycle to have the grounds looking as lush as they did this day. The prince of Starkhaven taking great care to make sure the people of the Marches could partake in festivities and revelry without issue.
Tents were neatly organized, games for children (and men trying to woo giggling women) were set up in sections, as were tents filled with grilling meats, casks set out filled with varying kinds of mead and wines. Refreshments for children and those who preferred not to imbibe.
To make sure everyone could get to the grounds, Sebastian made sure there was a steady supply of carriages, carrying tourney goers across Starkhaven and to the grounds proper.
Pride swelled in his chest as he overlooked the gathering crowd, blue eyes scanning the faces for one in particular, curious if he would be able to spot the Inquisition's commander from where he settled, barely listening to Granger buzzing in his ear.
Right; he had to announce the start of the this day's events proper, didn't he. Even if he was competing as well.
A deft palm smoothed down his front, the stiff material of the traditional Starkhaven kilt he wore draped over a shoulder. The tartan coloured in Vael blue and silver; colours of his house.The gold buckle emblazoned with Andraste's symbol cinched the kilt at his slim waist. His archer's harness was secured tight, nary a wrinkle on the white tunic tucked in and fitted snug across his lithe figure.
A circlet of silver settled across royal brow, and he could feel the thrum of excitement as he stepped out from his royal tent. The sun making chestnut strands shimmer like silk, tanned skin nearly a glow. The cheers that rang out from the gathered crowd earned a roguish grin from Starkhaven's prince.
The man certainly knew how to command a crowd— and there was no denying it; the people of the Free Marches adored their prince.
Sebastian allowed the energy of the people gathered to wash over him, the dewy grass bending under foot as he finally came to a stop. A beat. Two. Then he raises a hand, the crowd settling to a lulling quiet. It was enough to make a lesser man shiver, the power one could have in just a gesture.
"First and foremost; I would like to welcome those across Thedas who have honoured us with their presence, to break bread and make merry in ways only a Free Marcher can!" Loud whistling, laughter and cheers broke out across the crowd— a particularly enthused woman makes the prince grin; "—ah, that lass has the spirit of it." Next came laughter, Sebastian's charm easily winning those in attendance.
"We'll be starting the festivities with archery, where I will be competing alongside the other competitors vying for the top. We'll be competing in two parts; stationary targets at a measured distance. Then, new to the tourney, we have set up a short course for shooting from horseback."
Sebastian holds up three fingers; "three shots for each. We will be marked on how close we are to the centre of our designated targets. Simple, yes?" The crowd cheered its excitement and agreement, making him grin.
Next he raised both arms, he was more than ready to begin;
"Now! My Marchers! From Ansburg to Wycome, Hambleton to Wrenwith— are you ready to show our brothers and sisters from the North and South how we throw a tourney!?" Sebastian can practically feel the ground beneath him rumble as men and women cheered, howled and stomped their feet.
The insistent tug on his hand as they walk through the fair is something now very familiar to Cullen. Fabian doesn't even need to say Up! anymore, he has his father well trained, because Cullen is scooping the boy up and settling him on his shoulders without a further word or gesture.
"Can you see better up there, little man?" Cullen asks, and Fabian wriggles happily, heels kicking against his father's chest as the head on towards the font of the tourney grounds. Prince Sebastian is there already, a handsome figure in his Vael-tartan, looking more like royalty than he did earlier that morning.
"Who?" Fabian asks, as Sebastian comes forwards and the cheering and conversation ebb.
"That's the Prince. He rules here. Do you remember we talked about that?"
Fabian makes a noise that indicates he does- and proceeds to join in the cheering and laighing along with the rest of the crowd even if Cullen isn't entirely sure the little blond boy doesn't entirely understand what is happening. But that's alright, he seems to be having fun anyway, leaning against Cullen’s head and putting his fingers into Cullen’s hair.
"Knights now?" He asks after the last of the cheering dies down, tone hopeful.
"Not just yet Fabian. Archery first. With bows and arrows? Like Aunt Leiana and Scout Harding?" He explains, moving with the crowd towards the butts, wondering if Sebastian will have time to come and see hin before the shoot- if he would even think to do so. He probably has much better things to do and more important people to see, but Cullen will aupport him anyway. "The knights will be later, I promise."
One of the reasons why Sebastian is such a good shot, is the fact that those blue eyes of his are so keen. He can spot and hit targets at incredible distances, after decades of practice. So. When he is looking for something, or someone, it wasn't so unlikely for him to find what he is wanting.
When sparkling blues found Cullen, Sebastian could feel his entire body light up with recognition and pleasure in spotting him. What was more curious was the little boy perched atop his shoulders. They did speak briefly that morning on romance, as far as he was aware the knight commander was single. Perhaps the little boy was a nephew? Or an illegitimate son?
Oh, the prince was very curious.
He also had a bit of time whilst the tourney crew set up the targets within the field. The other competitors were checking their equipment, one young man was having a little doze under an apple tree, so there really was no harm in the prince trotting on over to give his greetings to his most-esteemed guest.
"You made it," Sebastian smiles, sparkling blues holding not an ounce of hangover.
"And who is this handsome young gentleman?" Up close, the small boy was absolutely precious. He had a soft spot for children, and while the idea of having his own heirs one day did delight him, it was the act of finding a... woman and everything else he was supposed to do that gave him great pause.
Cullen smiles as Sebastian makes his way towards them. He wasn't expecting to see the Prince until after his competitions, but he finds himself more than pleased that Sebastian has taken the time to say hello. Especially as the archer seems to have a bright bounce in his step and no hint of the suffering he endured at breakfast.
"I gave you my word, didn't I? I wasn't about to miss out on seeing you shoot." He replies, unable to help himself stop beaming.
Fabian peers down at the prince from his perch, one hand offering a small, shy wave.
"This is Fabian, my son. Fabian, say hello properly please." Cullen says, feeling the little boy squirm and so he helps him down again, and although Fabian stays close to Cullen's side, holding his sleeve, he does offer Sebastian a little bow.
"Hello," the little boy says, shyly looking from Sebastian's face and crown, before he sees the bow, gasping excitedly. "You shoot?"
"Aye, that you did. I'm not really surprised, but I am glad all the same." Sebastian can practically feel Granger's eyes on the back of his neck, probably wondering why Sebastian was getting friendly with another man instead of the list of women he was supposed to get close with. Bah.
My son.
Both brows raise at that, and he finds himself looking a little closer at the darling boy. "Well, I can certainly see he has your good looks," he joked amicably as he squats down once the boy is back on the ground.
The prince's smile is so warm as he regards him; "such fine manners as well. It is a pleasure to meet you, young Fabian. Your father is a dear friend of mine, and a good man." Crouched as he is, Sebastian still manages to give a little bow of his own.
Oh, bless his heart- that little gasp. Sebastian chuckles as he carefully takes the bow from his shoulder, holding it between them. "I do. This bow is very special too, it once belonged to my grandfather, who was also a Prince." He explains gently.
"I wouldn't miss a chance to see you compete," Cullen reassures, and he means it. Getting to see someone doing something they love, something they work hard to do well? It's a joy. Sebastian is justly proud of his skill with a bow and Cullen feels like its a privilege to see- even if it is a privilege he's sharing with everyone else come to the tourney.
"Thank you Serah Sebastian." Fabian says after his manners are complimented, his voice a little song-song like it's something taught during his lessons.
"The Chantry Sisters are very good at teaching letters, numbers and good manners aren't they?" Cullen says and Fabian nods before Sebastian moves and begins to take off his bow.
The little boy's brown eyes go as big as dinner plates when the bow is held out, and for a moment he reaches out his hand and then stops, looking up at Sebastian with stars glittering in his eyes.
"I hope to exceed any expectations you may have," the prince muses. While it may be considered a sin, or distasteful, to be overly arrogant about ones self; he truly could not help it when it came to archery. It was something he lived and breathed, trained until blood stained the wood of his arrows and the bowstring of his bow. Until he could hit targets even some trained archers would struggle with.
He took great pride in that.
But his thoughts turn to the small boy. Fabian. It was a good name. Taught by the Chantry Sisters as well, it makes him smile with approval.
Oh, but the wonder in those big, brown eyes. Sebastian chuckles raising the bow just enough so Fabian's outstretched hand could press against the well looked after wood.
"No, not magic. But my grandfather did get it blessed by the Revered Mother of the Starkhaven Chantry, when he was a young man." He explains, not even trying to hide the fondness in his tone, nor the pride that swells in his chest.
"I do not need Andraste to guide my shots, but I do hope she will smile down upon me during this competition."
Speaking of; a horn sounds to gather the competitors, and he straightens with a lopsided, boyish grin;
"Ah- I wish I could stay and chat a little longer, but we will have plenty of time." With a bow to Cullen and his son, the prince of Starkhaven turns on a graceful heel so he can take his place next to the line of men and women who were eager to compete in the first few rounds.
Not an ounce of nerves flit across handsome features, no. Ever the prince, Sebastian stands tall and confident as he tests the tautness of his bowstring, and making adjustments as his seneschal repeats the rules of the competition.
...Sebastian wasn't paying much attention, those wandering blue eyes finding themselves back to Cullen for a split moment, where he allows himself a moment of cheek, winking to the man before he turns to glance down the line, watching as each archer takes their turn.
"My only expectation is that you enjoy yourself." Cullen laughs in gentle reply, his eyes fond as they look at Sebastian. There's nothing wrong in knowing your own ability, or being proud of the work you have put into a skill. The Prince of Starkhaven is extremely capable, and there's no doubt in Cullen's mind that he will preform very well in this competition. He's looking forward to seeing it.
The old Templar's hand rests lightly on his son's shoulder, giving him a little extra reassurance when Sebastian speaks to him, the boy looking very serious when he gets to touch the bow, as if it is a responsibility and an honour, as if he too is being blessed by a Reverand Mother for some great undertaking.
"I think Andraste will like watching you shoot!" He exclaims, unable to hold it in much longer, and Cullen can't help but chuckle with fondness.
"I think she will." He agrees, and meets Sebastian's eye as the Prince bows, returning it with a slight pinkness in his cheeks - a ruler of the city certainly has no need to bow to him, or his boy, but there's something to that gesture that warms Cullen from the inside out.
As Sebastian goes to line up with the other archers, Cullen scoops Fabian again, brings him back up to his shoulders so the little one gets the best view.
"Remember, we stay quiet before they shoot, because they need to focus. But once they have let loose the arrow, then we can cheer, alright? And we can cheer the loudest for the prince." He explains, and he feels Fabian nod, no doubt wearing that serious expression he is so familiar with across those round features.
That's when he notices Sebastian's face turned towards them, and he waves, then sees Sebastian wink in reply, and that heat rises in Cullen's cheeks once more.
Sebastian wasn't expecting the blush, how handsome it coloured the Commander's already incredibly attractive features. The prince nearly finds himself staring, until he hears a throat being cleared and the announcer calls for the archers to ready their bows.
A series of fwips and the proceeding thumps when targets are hit soon followed.
Cheering breaks through the crowd and a few gasps. Most of those competing hit their respective targets, but two stood out above the rest. Sebastian, naturally, hit his bullseye right in the middle. And... two archers to his right, so did another.
That lit the fire of competition in him as they all readied another arrow.
Second volley sent another rain of projectiles whirring through the air.
Sebastian's hit right next to his first- neatly in the middle, and he affords himself a smug little smirk. Murmurs, excited and awed, brought him curiously peering to the others and their targets... only to observe another identical shot.
Out of all those gathered, it was himself and a bright-eyed young man; eyes green and mirthful with a cocky smirk on roguish lips, who were tied. Sebastian's jaw tightened as the young man called out down the line;
"You alright there, prince? Maybe keep an eye on your target, wouldn't want you to lose." The Starkhaven prince knew the accent, the boy must be from Ostwick and the teasing made him square up his shoulders with a scoff.
"Mayhaps the young lad should keep to his own advice. Two lucky shots do not beget a third," he quipped back as he turned those blue eyes back on the target ahead of him. The prince was used to being antagonized by the likes of Varric and Anders, he was not going to let some mouthy lad from Ostwick ruin his chances of victory.
Three rounds. Three arrows.
Usually these competitions felt boring for the prince; he had been practising archery seriously every since he could draw a bow, never skipping a day. Winning was always a guarantee and the competition tended to err on the side of... nonexistent.
Now? Now he had a cheeky upstart who was winning the crowd over with his roguish antics and his, admittedly, exceptional skill.
Sebastian wasn't nervous, he was excited, as the tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he gauged where he wanted to shoot next. When the announcer raised his arm he drew his arrow back with an intensity that made his shoulders ache.
As soon as the call came out to shoot, Sebastian let his arrow fly.
The audience was quiet through the shots- until the sound of wood splintering made those in attendance break out into raucous cheers. Sebastian's third arrow joined the other two, except he had split his first, nestling both in the same exact bullseye right in the middle.
The lad from Ostwick? A hair away from the middle ring. Leaving him one point behind Sebastian, yet both of them were leagues ahead of the others.
The applause and cheering fell dead on his ears, as all he could hear was the blood rushing in his veins, his heartbeat growing wild with competition. Only for him to snap out of it when he was ushered away from the field so the workers of the event could clear the targets and set up the horseback course.
A good time for an intermission, Sebastian needed to walk off this excited energy a bit before the riding came. It would take fifteen to twenty to get everything ready. A few audience members breaking away for refreshments, or to turn towards one another excitedly- they weren't expecting such a close competition this year either.
The prince? Thanked his seneschal for his water-skin, before he mindlessly found himself trotting towards his favourite Ferelden's, blue eyes bright as he regarded both father and son.
"That lad is giving me a run for my money- are you both enjoying yourselves? I can get us a little treat to pass the time."
Cullen holds onto his little boy's legs, the boy cheering and clapping so excitedly from where he is perched on Cullen's shoulders, his father is momentarily worried he'll fall right off.
"How is the Prince doing?" He asks, and Fabian leans forward to rest his face against his father's hair.
"He hit it! One, two, three times!"
"That's very good. We'll have to ask him to show us, won't we?"
He feels Fabian nod into his hair, and then this part of the competition is over, and the crowd moves excitedly as the set up for the next part begins. Cullen doesn't expect Sebastian to come back to meet them, but he sees the Prince heading towards them and he can't help smile and move towards the edge of the crowd.
"A bit of healthy competition is good for you." Cullen says, "But you seem to be taking this in your stride." He really does make it look effortless. Cullen is a strong man, he has worn plate armour most of his life, he carries a sword and shield into battle. But he knows he couldn't pull back a bow string like Sebastian Vael.
"I was going to offer to get you something, but if you know what tourney food is the best, we will happily take the recommendation."
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"I don't want to imagine." Cullen says with a little wrinkle of his nose as Sebastian describes so many women in his bed. Not something he really wants to think about, too reminiscent of what Templars would do with mages for him to utterly like the idea, and truthfully he's far too monogamous to want that. It makes him feel slightly uncomfortable, although when he thinks of just Sebastian in a bed, a lot of that distaste instantly disappears.
He isn't going to dwell on that.
Instead its much better to focus on the competitions they will both take part in later, and he hopes Sebastian is as good as his word and will recover. He's seen the man shoot before of course, but its different in a tourney. His expression softens and he joins Sebastian in heading towards the door, patting him on the shoulder.
"I know you will. You're a fine archer. You'll be even better with breakfast in you and that hangover at bay."
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The wrinkle of the commander's nose was endearing, but Sebastian waves it all off; "I'm not proud of those days, but I do wish I had the stomach of a young man again. You know, I hear older men speak of weakening stomachs in taverns, they tell me I'm at the age I can't be carrying on anymore." To which Sebastian tuts.
"I barely carry, let alone carry on. I maintain that Tourney season is different."
Once out of the room, he gives a stretch, various creaks and pops followed - and a sigh. Maybe he was getting too old to be... climbing into second floor windows when he was soused out of his mind.
"I'll need a bath and a change after breakfast. I need to wear my proper gear to the competition," he explains with a roll of his tongue; "I'm actually quite excited. There have been... murmurs. Of an upstart who signed up just yestersun. Maybe I will get to shoot against actual competition."
It will be less fun if he loses, but Sebastian loved archery tournaments for the thrill of it - he also enjoyed watching the skill of others in his preferred sport and weapon. A good way to learn.
Once they descend the stairs to get their breakfasts, Sebastian opens his mouth to apologize to the Innkeep - who just... looks at him, grins and shakes her head very fondly. As if she wasn't at all surprised that her mystery guest was the prince of Starkhaven himself.
"Shall I bill the castle, sire?" The old woman teased as she urges the two men to their table; Sebastian only clears his throat with a shake of his head.
"Ah. No. I don't think my advisors would be terribly pleased... I have money on me, we can deal with this discreetly after breakfast, serah."
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It seems just the sort of thing her Red Jenny friends and her would do.
As for being a younger man, Cullen knows he's much better off now. No more lyrium. No more Templar lies. No more Circles. But he had never been a drinker.
"Tourney season doesn't somehow make you a decade older. Or your hangovers instantly better." He points out, but Sebastian enjoys himself. He's not like Cullen, but thats okay.
"A bath here, or back in ypur actual lodgings? Where are you staying?" He asks curiously, and then. "Well you are getting older now. There's probably youngsters better than you..." yes he's teasing. But Sebastian did bring up age first.
"I already paid for the room. You just need to pay for the food." Cullen adds, just so there's no confusion on that part. "Only seemed right to pay before I unlocked you." He offers the innkeeper back the key to the room, with a murmur of thanks.
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"No, but tourney season does make a man want to break bread with brethren and make merry, doesn't it? But I do feel it more now than I used to, and it makes me wonder if it's my age or the years I spent without when I took my vows." The vows. He always felt a pang of guilt when he thought of them now; the years spent devoted, and how he threw them away along with a chunk of his faith when he lost everything... and took up the crown.
The crown that weighed so heavy.
"I have a room at another Inn, it's a bit too far to travel back and forth from the castle to the grounds." Starkhaven was a big place, wealthy and strong. He took great pride in his home, and he was happy to stay within its core for tourney season. Though Cullen's tease makes him huff, as he drew himself taller. "Age means experience, my reflexes are just as sharp as they were when I was a man in my twenties."
Though he pauses, the grin returning, boyish in nature; "do you think you can keep up with the younger cubs in the melee ring?" Of course Sebastian knew the man could; he'd seen him in battle before, he was also personally aware of how intimidating the former Commander was when staring you down before an altercation.
Days he would never wish to repeat.
"You didn't need to do that, I'll gladly pay for our breakfast- but let me repay you for the room. It was my folly, after all. You shouldn't pay for it."
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"I've certainly seen spme things during Tourney season I'd never expect to normally." Cullen is not a man born and bred in the Marches, but he knows from his time in Kirkwall how joyous the celebrations could be. And how messy. Still, life is hard especially in recent decades, and any cause for celebration is a good one.
"Both, I shoukd think. The lack of it for some time, and your advancing years." Again, teasing. He pats Sebastian on the shoulder, giving him a soft smile. "I'm glad you enjoy it. And I look forward to seeing your victory."
As for himself, he shrugs, broad shoulders moving expressively, the feathers and fur of his mantle catching the light. "At some point the cubs will start winning. It means theyve leant well. It might mean I can retire."
As for food and lodgings, Cullen simply shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. Let's eat shall we? Your head must be ringing." And as he speaks he pours a cup of dark coffee and passes it towards the other man. "Its hardly elfroot, but I think it will help."
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Starkhaven's princeling let out a light laugh, cheerful almost in spite of his aching hangover. "I'm sure you have! Free Marchers can get a little rowdy," he adds with a grin and a flash of teeth. "But I can expect the tournaments and merrymaking in Ferelden are similar. Perhaps I should allow myself time to take some... tactical and political jaunts around the south sometime. I know I'm rather fond of all the potato dishes you all have."
Sebastian feigns a sigh at the mention of his advancing years. "It should be good fun this afternoon. We have a few different archery events. I've been pushing on expanding it. We'll have the usual point challenge. Five arrows and a cumulative score. But we also have a moderate course for archery on horseback which I am rather excited for. It's trickier business." Perhaps he was looking forward to showing off.
Sparkling blues are momentarily distracted as he watches the way Cullen's shoulders move. His words stilling as he merely observes, until he catches himself staring - thus he picks up his fork as he clears his throat; "I'm sure you have a few more good years left in you."
It did matter, however, but Sebastian would not argue the point. That wasn't how he did things. Instead he just makes a mental note to ask the proprietress on the sum, so he can find a way to pay the man back later. When his head was aching less.
"My head and stomach are competing on how many flips they can do," though he takes the coffee with a gracious smile. The prince lifts the steaming mug with a tired smile; "to my hero of the morning," he nearly coos before he takes a small sip, sinking into the sharp and bitter flavours of the caffeine.
Yes, that was definitely hitting the spot.
This went straight into my Cullen folder and I totally missed it :(
"I have seen it often enough to know how true that is." Cullen agrees when Sebastian talks about how rowdy his people can be, but it brings a little smile to Cullen’s lips as they settle down to breakfast and he reaches for the potatoes just as Sebastian mentions potatoes and laughs loudly at himself.
"What can I say? Of all the things you can dig out of the ground, I'd rather have potatoes instead of gold. However, if you'd like to visit Ferelden, I'm sure the king and queen would welcome you. I've had the pleasure of meeting them once or twice."
He adds a few more things to his plate: an egg, two sausages, and some bread, all the while listening to Sebastian's thoughts on the tourney.
"Archery from horseback sounds a challenging art- I take it that you can do it?" As much as Cullen likes horses, and he knows how to ride, taking them into battle has never appealed to him. It's already chaotic enough without adding hooves.
"I'd rather retire sooner than not, all the same. War is a young man's game and... my priorities have shifted." Now he has a son to look after. But he makes no mention of Fabian, although he will have to go collect the boy soon enough.
"To my missing Prince. Let's hope you can stay out of trouble the rest of the day, shall we?" Cullen smiles as he picks up his tea, gently knocking it against Sebastian's mug.
holds cullen to my bosom
Like Varric. Though he does not voice that much - he was very aware how integral the dwarf had been within the Inquisition. Sebastian was not a man to drag the name of a former companion - unless it was that Void-be-damned Mage and the supposed Champion of Kirkwall. The gall.
Cullen's laughter drags him out of his bitter wallowing - it was loud and by all reason it should have made his head ache. But all it did was make his stomach flutter and the storm brewing in the back of his mind to soothe. Sebastian couldn't hope for a more charming, or handsome sound. It makes a smile grace his own lips, catching the perfect timing. "Uncanny." He laughs in wonder, both delighted and charmed.
"Well, gold can beget potatoes. Or you grow your own," his own charming brogue tone only interrupted when he took a hungry bite of a piece of buttered bread. "Do you grow your own? I could see you in a garden." He could see him in a lot of places, but... he mustn't let his mind wander. "I've had correspondence with King Alistair, he's an absolute delight. I certainly wouldn't mind catching up with either of them."
Another long, indulging sip of coffee, and Sebastian can feel how his shoulders sink - the tense line dissipating now that he was filling his belly. "I can. It takes a measure of skill, balance and hip control funnily enough." One could say Starkhaven's prince was quite adept at riding, even. "It will be a simple course. While points are tallied and the field is cleared of the first archery round, there will be people to set varying targets around the same field."
"You've more than earned your rest." Though Sebastian can't help but be a little curious. "A change in priorities? Wooing a pretty little lass, maybe?" He chuckled around a mouthful of breakfast. Sebastian was sure the handsome Commander could woo anyone he might desire. With ease.
Oh- his smile only brightened, nearly giddy in its delight.
To my missing Prince.
Now that had a nice little ring to it. Sebastian could feel the tips of his ears growing hot as he raised his mug in turn. "I think your kindly monarchs would take offence if they heard you say such a thing. But it can be our little secret." Their drinking implements clinked together. "I think I can stay out of trouble for one day."
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He takes a bite or two, his eyes gentle as they look at Sebastian, watching him unwind a little bit as he eats and drinks. Hopefully, his night of merriment won't do any lasting damage.
"There's not really space in Skyhold to grow potatoes. And the ground is frozen for too much of the year. But I grew up helping on the farms around the village. Before I left for my Templar training." He explains. "Maybe I'll add it to the things I'll do in my retirement."
As for writing to the king and queen, Cullen nods. "You should. Don't lose touch with friends if you can help it."
He sits up at the description of horseback archery, taking a bite of toast and chewing happily. "I imagine it takes a great bond between horse and rider to do it in the heat of battle. A lot of control of both knee and thigh." He says, feeling a slight warmth begin creeping up his neck, but he does his best to steer his thoughts away from what Sebastian's thighs may be like.
"Not wooing. By Andraste's tears, no. That's a young man's game." He's passed all that now. He never expected to find love, and as nice as it would be... well. He has too many things to worry about.
"What they don't know can't harm them." Cullen murmurs, smiling too and meeting Sebastian's eyes. "I'd like it if you could. For me?"
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Yet. That region had its own problems he'd rather not touch, unless he was forced to.
"I'll concede the point, you're right." Sebastian tended to err on the side of amicable, it was just in his nature. He had to argue and talk of morals and how to run Starkhaven enough. This was Tourney Season! He could put that all on the back burner.
An endeared grin tugs at his lips as he spears a chunk of sausage with his fork; "sounds to me like you're looking forward to your retirement, my good Commander. I think being a charming farmer, with your field of potatoes... and whatever else it is Ferelden's grow. It paints a cozy picture." Sebastian was almost jealous.
He... didn't have that luxury. To pursue what he wanted, to retire and live out his days well and satisfied. It made his stomach twist - or maybe that was his hangover. To quell it he drank more of his coffee. Cullen also made a good point, perhaps after the Grand Tourney he can write to the Ferelden monarchs.
Again his lips twitch - and if he were the man he used to be, he would tease and coo about the strength in his thighs. Of what a good rider he is. Which was a rather new feeling, he wasn't often compelled to desire flirting with men. Cullen was... a particularly handsome exception. "You'd be right. Horseback riding is a hobby I enjoy, so I'm rather confident in my abilities."
The accent tilts into a more teasing tone, light and airy as he chuckles into his mug; "you're not ancient. A young man's game. Wooing is for any age, you're a fetching catch. I'm sure any lovely lass would be excited to be wooed by you." Anyone would, he added to himself.
The prince had to clear his throat, glancing away, pretending to study some of the locals walking by the nearest window. "Yes, yes. For you. You have my word, I'll be on my best behaviour today."
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"There's no right or wrong answer on the nature of people. You're welcome to your own thoughts on the matter, you should have your own thoughts." They've had different life experiences and met different people. While there has been some overlap in those experiences and people, they still see things differently.
He offers a softer smile, one that is more apologetic. "I'm not always right. No one is. And I didn't mean to say I thought you were wrong."
Cullen is glad they can move on to happier topics, such as a comfortable and happy retirement. "Potatoes, peas, apples, and Mabari." He jokes as they eat, "It's what I hoped I could have if I got through the Inquisition. That looks more likely than not, now."
He watches Sebastian and the shadow that passes across his face, clearly wishing his own path wasn't plotted out for him. Cullen leans forward, hunching broad shoulders over the table and lowering his voice, just for Sebastian.
"I used to think there was nothing for me beyond service to the Templars. I had been content with that. But that isn't how things turned out, because I chose differently. I know you think you do not have any other options, Sebastian, but fates are not fixed."
The other man was still young enough for things to change, for him to do with his life whatever he willed.
"And should you come to Ferelden." Cullen says at normal volume and leans back into a more comfortable position for eating, "We have magnificent horses, too. We could go riding, if you happen to be near Honnleath." That would be nice. To see an old friend, to go for a ride.
As for the flirting, Vullen goes bright red. He's never been able to handle this sort of thing, never really having been exposed to it, and he turns his head away too, trying to think of anything but the charming young ruler in front of him.
"I... thank you. On both counts. I. Yes." He flusters, still not recovered even once Sebastian says he will behave.
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The grin grew warmer, into a softer smile; "don't worry, commander. I didn't think we were truly on opposing sides of the subject. The nature of people has always been on the forefront of my mind these last few years." Hawke's betrayal, Anders... Sebastian can't help but linger on these things. As a monarch he wanted to do what was best for his people, without causing harm.
Sometimes that felt impossible.
Another laugh, softer this time; "ah! So that's where Mabari come from. Beautiful dogs, noble creatures. I've had the pleasure of meeting and being accepted by one, you know. May your gardens always be filled with good produce and darling puppies, then." A pause, and gentler still: "...you'll get through it, and have that dream retirement. I believe strongly in that." By Andraste and the Maker, the commander deserved it.
Sebastian can't help how he leans forward in turn, deep blues intent on the man as he listens. A frown, brief and fleeting, touching his lips and furrowing his brow. There was a longing in those eyes, so soulful and perhaps... a bit lost in a way. "But I have never had the freedom of choice. I was born... precisely to serve the chantry. Forsaking my vows, taking up worldly possession and my crown? Ruined the path my parents chose for me by the very nature of having me. But what else could I do? A Vael should be on the throne, and my immediate family were the true heirs."
He has cousins. He's had a cousin who was temporarily the prince while he was figuring out what to do after the slaughter of his family, his house. "...What else could I possibly do? I am shackled to duty, regardless of path." Sebastian wasn't even... considering a third option- it was as if he only thought he could be a chantry brother, or prince. Freedom never felt like an option, as it never had been.
"But I'm happy for you. This?" He leans back as well, his fork gesturing to encompass all of Cullen; "this suits you. You're happy, and you wear it well." It was stated so sincerely it made his own chest ache.
A chuckle moves him, blue eyes shifting down to his plate as he smiles. "If I am to visit Ferelden, I would like to think I would be wherever you are. I don't know many Fereldens personally. Going for a ride in such lovely lands would feel like an honour." He pauses to chew on some eggs and toast before he clears his throat, eyes back on Cullen. "Honnleath, is that where you're from? Or just somewhere you wish to retire to?"
Those incredible blues were sparkling in both mirth and mischief. The commander was rather endearing, wasn't he?
"You're very welcome."
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That is his belief, anyway.
Cullen smiles, glad they weren't at loggerheads on that, and he can't help but think that gentle smile suits Sebastian - until, of course, it seems to fade away. Whatever he is thinking of, Cullen doesn't know exactly. He had dealings with Hawke and their entourage, but was never amongst them; he only knew something of those complex relationships.
He reaches towards with an empty hand and gently squeezes Sebastian's wrist. "It's in the past. You can go forward now."
Sometimes it helps to remember that.
"What else could you do? Whatever you wanted. Others could lead. Set up democracy." Cullen is not a politician, but the idea of representation rather than a born leader has always held its appeal. That way, no one is forced into something unless they want to do it. That way, people can have a genuine say. But he shrugs, the mantle on his shoulders moving like a sleeping creature turning in its dreams. "This probably isn't the sort of conversation that will help your hangover."
As for himself... he smiles again. He is happy. It is a rare occurrence, but it has become more common recently. "You know, I think I am happy."
Cullen nods, "I think if you visited, our King and Queen might want to host you. But if you did get a tour of the land, I would be very happy to see you. And accompany you." Although that might be tricky, as he doesn't actually have any status per se. He's just Commander of the Inquisition.
"Honnleath was the village I grew up in. It was destroyed in the Blight, but people have started to go back. Its in the foothills of the Frostbacks, people used to stop there on the way to Redcliffe or on route to Haven. I've got some land there, what used to be my parents' farm."
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"I also regularly check in on the Starkhaven Circle; I will not have mass unrest in my city, if I can help it." Kirkwall had been... the worst of both worlds in that regard. Sebastian sympathized with the mages there- to an extent. The Starkhaven prince also deeply respected templars, but he did not agree with how everything had escalated. Only to end in tragedy and disaster. ...Not here, it could never happen here.
Those blue eyes, so intense and deep, shifted their attention from Cullen to his hand. The touch was both unexpected but not unwelcome, his smile softening. "...It's been difficult. I know it's unbecoming of a former man of the cloth to say so but. I just wish I could have gotten my vengeance; for all that was lost. I never will- and it burns at me still." He pauses, then huffs out an amused sound; "considerably less than it used to. I... may need more time in that regard."
That chantry was his home for a decade. The Grand Cleric like a mother. All those that were lost-
Sebastian shakes his head, and clears his throat. "You're right. Not much of a topic for a hangover," he concedes. Though a part of him still lingers on what was said. For Sebastian he... had to. He had to lead. He gave up everything for this- could he even go back to the chantry? Did... he want to do that either? Whatever he wanted... what did he even want?
The fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile. "It has been a delight to see you this way. Truly. May this happiness never leave you."
On the subject of travel, however! A lopsided grin graces handsome features. "If I visit, I am staying in Inns wherever I go. I'm not one for lavish rooms in cold, stone halls. You learn more about people and the places you go to when you're among its people. I much prefer that. Though- an offer of your company would do my heart a lot of good."
The food on his plate didn't last much longer, and soon enough he's leaning back in his chair with a heavy, yet content, sigh.
"I'm glad your village is picking itself back up. To share life and joy again after such an awful event. I would be happy to see where it is you grew up in. It sounds charming."
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Especially those regarding what happened at Kirkwall. Cullen's own scars, emotional, mental as well as physical all remain. Some have faded with time, others... less so. He squeezes Sebastian's hand again at the mention of the chantry. The Reverend Mother and the chantry sisters were not friends, but Cullen was a religious man, a Templar in the service of Andraste, and he had attended that Chantry as often as he could, several times a week, as far as his duties allowed. What had happened should never had happened, it still made him livid-
-But what was done could not be undone. All they could do was fix the problems that led to it. Andraste didn't want them to all be at each other's throats if peace was achievable. That's what his job was now- helping find a route to peace, and putting warriors in the way of war.
Sebastian's blessings mean a lot, and Cullen laughs a little embarrassed at how touched he is by them. "Thank you. I hope that happiness finds you too, in every day of your life from here on out."
Oh that grin, as asymmetrical as it is, charms him. Cullen can't resist beaming back, nodding along as Sebastian sets out hos feelings.
"You're very much right. Spend too much time amongst the nobles and ypu forget what life is like for the majority. I know balance is important- and a royal visitor needs to at least see other monarchs and talk business with them but... well. Consider this an open invotation. You'll be welcome in Honneath."
They finish the meal at about the same time and out of long practise Cullen starts piling plates together neatly so they are easy to carry out for washing up. Then he gets to his feet.
"It's the people that make it. The place is beautiful, but truly? As long as there's friends and family about, I don't mind what the views are like. Now, speaking of people, lets go get you ready for this tourney, shall we?'
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A lovely sentiment, one that will stick with him through the rest of his morning, he's sure. Or perhaps longer, as these things often do. All in all, despite the hangover that lingered, it had been a wonderful morning. Waking up to a handsome rescue and a filling breakfast. If they had more time to chat over steaming cups of coffee and freshly fried sausages, Sebastian would have gladly stayed in that moment of time for longer than they had.
However; the tourney was close to setting up again for another day of revelry. As the prince made his way up the steep steps to the palace overlooking Starkhaven he felt his vigour returning as his people greeted him and wished him luck for the archery events planned.
In fact, the prince was in such a good mood that he barely acknowledged Granger, his seneschal, buzzing in his ear about the days events and some of the nobles attending.
"Lady Araven will be watching you compete today," Sebastian barely registered the name as he sunk into the bath that had been prepared for him. One blue eye opening to settle on the man as he read off a few other names; all of them women, he realized. It makes the prince shift in soapy waters as he lazily began to wash himself.
"I am not looking for a wife at this time," he responds flatly— halting Granger in his rubbish.
"You'll need to produce heirs in time, my prince—" the protests abruptly stop as the Starkhaven prince holds up a weary hand. It was a discussion that had been brought up by much of his court. He was getting too old to be unmarried, how he needed to produce heirs as soon as possible.
It made something uncomfortable twitch deep in his gut; the morning and his soft-spoken breakfast conversation lingering in the back of his mind. Sebastian exhaled sharply, finally finding his words; "—enough, Granger. We will not be having this discussion at this time. In fact, I will be entertaining an important guest from Ferelden over the events. Unless there is urgent business I would rather not be interrupted."
Granger knew that tone, and he knew it was useless to push Sebastian further.
"...As you say, sire. Your attire is spread out on your bed, as well as your grandfather's bow."
The click of the door, the blissful quiet that followed... soon found the prince sinking deeper into his bath with a world weary sigh.
...Nothing has to be forever.
Not unless he wants it to be.
"Andraste help me." It was murmured to no one, just the silence that drowned the space around him.
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It was a beautiful day for it, Sebastian could not ask for better weather. There wasn't much of a breeze, few clouds mottled the sky. It took a moon cycle to have the grounds looking as lush as they did this day. The prince of Starkhaven taking great care to make sure the people of the Marches could partake in festivities and revelry without issue.
Tents were neatly organized, games for children (and men trying to woo giggling women) were set up in sections, as were tents filled with grilling meats, casks set out filled with varying kinds of mead and wines. Refreshments for children and those who preferred not to imbibe.
To make sure everyone could get to the grounds, Sebastian made sure there was a steady supply of carriages, carrying tourney goers across Starkhaven and to the grounds proper.
Pride swelled in his chest as he overlooked the gathering crowd, blue eyes scanning the faces for one in particular, curious if he would be able to spot the Inquisition's commander from where he settled, barely listening to Granger buzzing in his ear.
Right; he had to announce the start of the this day's events proper, didn't he. Even if he was competing as well.
A deft palm smoothed down his front, the stiff material of the traditional Starkhaven kilt he wore draped over a shoulder. The tartan coloured in Vael blue and silver; colours of his house.The gold buckle emblazoned with Andraste's symbol cinched the kilt at his slim waist. His archer's harness was secured tight, nary a wrinkle on the white tunic tucked in and fitted snug across his lithe figure.
A circlet of silver settled across royal brow, and he could feel the thrum of excitement as he stepped out from his royal tent. The sun making chestnut strands shimmer like silk, tanned skin nearly a glow. The cheers that rang out from the gathered crowd earned a roguish grin from Starkhaven's prince.
The man certainly knew how to command a crowd— and there was no denying it; the people of the Free Marches adored their prince.
Sebastian allowed the energy of the people gathered to wash over him, the dewy grass bending under foot as he finally came to a stop. A beat. Two. Then he raises a hand, the crowd settling to a lulling quiet. It was enough to make a lesser man shiver, the power one could have in just a gesture.
"First and foremost; I would like to welcome those across Thedas who have honoured us with their presence, to break bread and make merry in ways only a Free Marcher can!" Loud whistling, laughter and cheers broke out across the crowd— a particularly enthused woman makes the prince grin; "—ah, that lass has the spirit of it." Next came laughter, Sebastian's charm easily winning those in attendance.
"We'll be starting the festivities with archery, where I will be competing alongside the other competitors vying for the top. We'll be competing in two parts; stationary targets at a measured distance. Then, new to the tourney, we have set up a short course for shooting from horseback."
Sebastian holds up three fingers; "three shots for each. We will be marked on how close we are to the centre of our designated targets. Simple, yes?" The crowd cheered its excitement and agreement, making him grin.
Next he raised both arms, he was more than ready to begin;
"Now! My Marchers! From Ansburg to Wycome, Hambleton to Wrenwith— are you ready to show our brothers and sisters from the North and South how we throw a tourney!?" Sebastian can practically feel the ground beneath him rumble as men and women cheered, howled and stomped their feet.
"Let the games begin!"
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"Can you see better up there, little man?" Cullen asks, and Fabian wriggles happily, heels kicking against his father's chest as the head on towards the font of the tourney grounds. Prince Sebastian is there already, a handsome figure in his Vael-tartan, looking more like royalty than he did earlier that morning.
"Who?" Fabian asks, as Sebastian comes forwards and the cheering and conversation ebb.
"That's the Prince. He rules here. Do you remember we talked about that?"
Fabian makes a noise that indicates he does- and proceeds to join in the cheering and laighing along with the rest of the crowd even if Cullen isn't entirely sure the little blond boy doesn't entirely understand what is happening. But that's alright, he seems to be having fun anyway, leaning against Cullen’s head and putting his fingers into Cullen’s hair.
"Knights now?" He asks after the last of the cheering dies down, tone hopeful.
"Not just yet Fabian. Archery first. With bows and arrows? Like Aunt Leiana and Scout Harding?" He explains, moving with the crowd towards the butts, wondering if Sebastian will have time to come and see hin before the shoot- if he would even think to do so. He probably has much better things to do and more important people to see, but Cullen will aupport him anyway. "The knights will be later, I promise."
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When sparkling blues found Cullen, Sebastian could feel his entire body light up with recognition and pleasure in spotting him. What was more curious was the little boy perched atop his shoulders. They did speak briefly that morning on romance, as far as he was aware the knight commander was single. Perhaps the little boy was a nephew? Or an illegitimate son?
Oh, the prince was very curious.
He also had a bit of time whilst the tourney crew set up the targets within the field. The other competitors were checking their equipment, one young man was having a little doze under an apple tree, so there really was no harm in the prince trotting on over to give his greetings to his most-esteemed guest.
"You made it," Sebastian smiles, sparkling blues holding not an ounce of hangover.
"And who is this handsome young gentleman?" Up close, the small boy was absolutely precious. He had a soft spot for children, and while the idea of having his own heirs one day did delight him, it was the act of finding a... woman and everything else he was supposed to do that gave him great pause.
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"I gave you my word, didn't I? I wasn't about to miss out on seeing you shoot." He replies, unable to help himself stop beaming.
Fabian peers down at the prince from his perch, one hand offering a small, shy wave.
"This is Fabian, my son. Fabian, say hello properly please." Cullen says, feeling the little boy squirm and so he helps him down again, and although Fabian stays close to Cullen's side, holding his sleeve, he does offer Sebastian a little bow.
"Hello," the little boy says, shyly looking from Sebastian's face and crown, before he sees the bow, gasping excitedly. "You shoot?"
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Maker help him.
"Aye, that you did. I'm not really surprised, but I am glad all the same." Sebastian can practically feel Granger's eyes on the back of his neck, probably wondering why Sebastian was getting friendly with another man instead of the list of women he was supposed to get close with. Bah.
My son.
Both brows raise at that, and he finds himself looking a little closer at the darling boy. "Well, I can certainly see he has your good looks," he joked amicably as he squats down once the boy is back on the ground.
The prince's smile is so warm as he regards him; "such fine manners as well. It is a pleasure to meet you, young Fabian. Your father is a dear friend of mine, and a good man." Crouched as he is, Sebastian still manages to give a little bow of his own.
Oh, bless his heart- that little gasp. Sebastian chuckles as he carefully takes the bow from his shoulder, holding it between them. "I do. This bow is very special too, it once belonged to my grandfather, who was also a Prince." He explains gently.
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"Thank you Serah Sebastian." Fabian says after his manners are complimented, his voice a little song-song like it's something taught during his lessons.
"The Chantry Sisters are very good at teaching letters, numbers and good manners aren't they?" Cullen says and Fabian nods before Sebastian moves and begins to take off his bow.
The little boy's brown eyes go as big as dinner plates when the bow is held out, and for a moment he reaches out his hand and then stops, looking up at Sebastian with stars glittering in his eyes.
"Is it magic?"
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He took great pride in that.
But his thoughts turn to the small boy. Fabian. It was a good name. Taught by the Chantry Sisters as well, it makes him smile with approval.
Oh, but the wonder in those big, brown eyes. Sebastian chuckles raising the bow just enough so Fabian's outstretched hand could press against the well looked after wood.
"No, not magic. But my grandfather did get it blessed by the Revered Mother of the Starkhaven Chantry, when he was a young man." He explains, not even trying to hide the fondness in his tone, nor the pride that swells in his chest.
"I do not need Andraste to guide my shots, but I do hope she will smile down upon me during this competition."
Speaking of; a horn sounds to gather the competitors, and he straightens with a lopsided, boyish grin;
"Ah- I wish I could stay and chat a little longer, but we will have plenty of time." With a bow to Cullen and his son, the prince of Starkhaven turns on a graceful heel so he can take his place next to the line of men and women who were eager to compete in the first few rounds.
Not an ounce of nerves flit across handsome features, no. Ever the prince, Sebastian stands tall and confident as he tests the tautness of his bowstring, and making adjustments as his seneschal repeats the rules of the competition.
...Sebastian wasn't paying much attention, those wandering blue eyes finding themselves back to Cullen for a split moment, where he allows himself a moment of cheek, winking to the man before he turns to glance down the line, watching as each archer takes their turn.
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The old Templar's hand rests lightly on his son's shoulder, giving him a little extra reassurance when Sebastian speaks to him, the boy looking very serious when he gets to touch the bow, as if it is a responsibility and an honour, as if he too is being blessed by a Reverand Mother for some great undertaking.
"I think Andraste will like watching you shoot!" He exclaims, unable to hold it in much longer, and Cullen can't help but chuckle with fondness.
"I think she will." He agrees, and meets Sebastian's eye as the Prince bows, returning it with a slight pinkness in his cheeks - a ruler of the city certainly has no need to bow to him, or his boy, but there's something to that gesture that warms Cullen from the inside out.
As Sebastian goes to line up with the other archers, Cullen scoops Fabian again, brings him back up to his shoulders so the little one gets the best view.
"Remember, we stay quiet before they shoot, because they need to focus. But once they have let loose the arrow, then we can cheer, alright? And we can cheer the loudest for the prince." He explains, and he feels Fabian nod, no doubt wearing that serious expression he is so familiar with across those round features.
That's when he notices Sebastian's face turned towards them, and he waves, then sees Sebastian wink in reply, and that heat rises in Cullen's cheeks once more.
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Sebastian wasn't expecting the blush, how handsome it coloured the Commander's already incredibly attractive features. The prince nearly finds himself staring, until he hears a throat being cleared and the announcer calls for the archers to ready their bows.
A series of fwips and the proceeding thumps when targets are hit soon followed.
Cheering breaks through the crowd and a few gasps. Most of those competing hit their respective targets, but two stood out above the rest. Sebastian, naturally, hit his bullseye right in the middle. And... two archers to his right, so did another.
That lit the fire of competition in him as they all readied another arrow.
Second volley sent another rain of projectiles whirring through the air.
Sebastian's hit right next to his first- neatly in the middle, and he affords himself a smug little smirk. Murmurs, excited and awed, brought him curiously peering to the others and their targets... only to observe another identical shot.
Out of all those gathered, it was himself and a bright-eyed young man; eyes green and mirthful with a cocky smirk on roguish lips, who were tied. Sebastian's jaw tightened as the young man called out down the line;
"You alright there, prince? Maybe keep an eye on your target, wouldn't want you to lose." The Starkhaven prince knew the accent, the boy must be from Ostwick and the teasing made him square up his shoulders with a scoff.
"Mayhaps the young lad should keep to his own advice. Two lucky shots do not beget a third," he quipped back as he turned those blue eyes back on the target ahead of him. The prince was used to being antagonized by the likes of Varric and Anders, he was not going to let some mouthy lad from Ostwick ruin his chances of victory.
Three rounds. Three arrows.
Usually these competitions felt boring for the prince; he had been practising archery seriously every since he could draw a bow, never skipping a day. Winning was always a guarantee and the competition tended to err on the side of... nonexistent.
Now? Now he had a cheeky upstart who was winning the crowd over with his roguish antics and his, admittedly, exceptional skill.
Sebastian wasn't nervous, he was excited, as the tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he gauged where he wanted to shoot next. When the announcer raised his arm he drew his arrow back with an intensity that made his shoulders ache.
As soon as the call came out to shoot, Sebastian let his arrow fly.
The audience was quiet through the shots- until the sound of wood splintering made those in attendance break out into raucous cheers. Sebastian's third arrow joined the other two, except he had split his first, nestling both in the same exact bullseye right in the middle.
The lad from Ostwick? A hair away from the middle ring. Leaving him one point behind Sebastian, yet both of them were leagues ahead of the others.
The applause and cheering fell dead on his ears, as all he could hear was the blood rushing in his veins, his heartbeat growing wild with competition. Only for him to snap out of it when he was ushered away from the field so the workers of the event could clear the targets and set up the horseback course.
A good time for an intermission, Sebastian needed to walk off this excited energy a bit before the riding came. It would take fifteen to twenty to get everything ready. A few audience members breaking away for refreshments, or to turn towards one another excitedly- they weren't expecting such a close competition this year either.
The prince? Thanked his seneschal for his water-skin, before he mindlessly found himself trotting towards his favourite Ferelden's, blue eyes bright as he regarded both father and son.
"That lad is giving me a run for my money- are you both enjoying yourselves? I can get us a little treat to pass the time."
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"How is the Prince doing?" He asks, and Fabian leans forward to rest his face against his father's hair.
"He hit it! One, two, three times!"
"That's very good. We'll have to ask him to show us, won't we?"
He feels Fabian nod into his hair, and then this part of the competition is over, and the crowd moves excitedly as the set up for the next part begins. Cullen doesn't expect Sebastian to come back to meet them, but he sees the Prince heading towards them and he can't help smile and move towards the edge of the crowd.
"A bit of healthy competition is good for you." Cullen says, "But you seem to be taking this in your stride." He really does make it look effortless. Cullen is a strong man, he has worn plate armour most of his life, he carries a sword and shield into battle. But he knows he couldn't pull back a bow string like Sebastian Vael.
"I was going to offer to get you something, but if you know what tourney food is the best, we will happily take the recommendation."