"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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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.
______________________________________________________________________
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."