Written for an Ask Box prompt on Tumbr, but since it's Arren & Co. and reasonably lengthy, I'm giving it it's own spot here rather than folding it in with my other Tumblr ficlets. Prompt was:

Anything Arren & Co. (Though, um, maybe something silly and sweet with Alistair and the "dogs"?)

Alistair walked slowly down the dusty aisle of the old stables, eyeing the box stalls along one side thoughtfully. He stopped at one in the corner, and reached out to run one hand along the top of the door.

"Here," he said, and glanced down at the two mabari at his heels; Arren's big counter-shaded grey mabari Mouse, and his own hound, the even larger black-coated and grey-eyed Briar. It was the latter he looked to, meeting the beast's intelligent, watchful eyes. "I spent the first few years of my life here, in this very stall," he said softly. "From as soon as I was old enough to leave the nursery, until I was big enough to be given work to do."

Briar whined, and leaned comfortingly against his leg. Alistair smiled down at him. "It wasn't that bad; it was warm, and safe, and dry, and I was well-fed; more than a fatherless bastard might of expected," he said. "Or at least that's what I thought, for years and years."

He looked into the stall again, then opened the gate and walked through. He stood in the middle of the empty stall and looking around thoughtfully, while Mouse nosed around in the corners, no doubt scenting his namesakes, and Briar sat attentively at Alistair's feet, watching him closely.

Alistair sighed. "I suppose it'll be torn down soon, now that work has finished on the new stables." He looked around, and blinked suddenly, swiping at his eyes. "Damn dust…" he muttered, flushing, knowing that it wasn't dust that had brought water to his eyes, but memories; memories of that small, anxious-to-please boy. Memories of his few friends among the other stable boys, many of them now either dead or long-gone from Redcliffe. Memories of an innocent adoration of Arl Eamon that he'd long-since lost, as he'd looked back on his childhood with the eyes of an adult, and finally come to understand the real motivations behind how he'd been treated during his years in Castle Redcliffe.

Briar whined softly. Alistair smiled crookedly down at the great beast. "Enough revisiting the places of my childhood," he said as lightly as he could. "Let's go back to our room."

He returned to the castle, heading upstairs to the guest quarters where Arl Eamon had housed Arren and his party. Mouse headed off to the room of his own master, while Alistair let himself and Briar into the small room he'd been assigned.

Briar changed, as soon as the door was closed and safely locked. It was as Jowan that he put his arms around Alistair, and gave him a comforting hug. "Thank you for showing me," he said quietly. "You didn't have to satisfy my curiosity so thoroughly, you know; I think you led me around half the outbuildings and a good chunk of the underbelly of the castle."

Alistair smiled, shrugged. "It was only fair; I've seen where you grew up, after all."

Jowan nodded, then tilted his head to one side, thoughtfully. "I wonder what we'd have thought of each other, had we somehow met back then; the little bastard stable-boy, the mage-born foundling. Would we have liked each other? Perhaps been friends?"

Alistair smiled warmly at him, and put his arms around the small man. "Does it matter? We've found each other now."

Jowan smiled back, with equal warmth. "So we have," he agreed, and leaned contentedly against his love.