"What do you mean, Don't use your staff?" Vesper Trevelyan asked, trying to understand he was suddenly being told not to be a mage.

"Waving a stick around while wearing an evening gown is no way to defend yourself. If you're going properly use that manifested Knight-Enchanter's sword of yours, you're going to need both hands!" The bickering continued with his older cousin and fellow magic user, Izarre Cousland. "And you there!" The short prince turned his wrath on another trainee attacking a dummy as if were about to spring to life at any moment and eat her alive. "If you drop your stance one more time, I will stab you myself!" Vesper sighed, his attention turning to the overhead ramparts where he noticed two familiar figures standing there.

"We're being watched." A gesture was made to look upward.

"Watched? Oh, Maker. He's staring again…" Izarre blushed behind his chopped, layer bangs as he saw his husband, King Alistair Therin, with Dorian looming overhead and nervously tucked them behind an ear. "Stop waving! You're encouraging this!"

"Aw, but it's so sweet," Vesper teased as he jumped to catch a blown kiss from his beloved to put into a non-existing pocket. "Fine, fine. Let's get back to work then. I believe you were explaining to me why I can't use my staff in between sending the rest of my soldiers to the operating theater?

"Hold it up like you're about to fight." Obeying, it was held in one hand as the other gripped the enchanted sword hilt. "Are you ready to defend yourself against an incoming attack?"

"Yes! …OW!" The staff and hilt fell as Vesper held his bleeding face after it was headbutted into.

"And that's why."

"I think you broke my nose!"

"I didn't break it. It's just busted a bit. You're a healer, right? Fix it up and stop crying."

"I'm not crying! I'm just surprised! Who fights like that anyway?" It was begrudgingly pinched as white swirls cocooned over the bruised and bleeding flesh to at least stop the torrents of red.

"…Did I miss out on all the fun?" Seren Hawke asked with a smirk as he walked out into the courtyard. "There's a..bit of blood on your face, Iz."

"Don't worry, it's not mine," he laughed and pointed towards Hawke's still wailing son. "Oh! Wait!" He then smeared a bit over the bridge of his nose. "Since we're related, I suppose this is more appropriate?"

"…That's just mean. I swear, that only happened once! No one told me I had blood on my face for the entire evening and Varric made it seem like I did it on purpose. Who in their right mind would walk like that?"

"You, apparently," Izarre laughed and pointed up to the ramparts. "I see Cullen is up there with the rest of the hens. …I wonder what they're talking about…"

"Us, probably," Seren turned to grin as wide as he could. "It's like they have a knitting circle or something. The men of Hawke's…men? I swear, that sounded better in my head...as do most things."

"So, you are Cullen are…official?" Vesper asked as he finally managed to take the edge off and wipe his nostrils clean with a sleeve. "...Does that mean I have two new fathers now?"

"…Well, they are sleeping together," Izarre shrugged.

"I've slept with a lot of people and didn't hold a relationship with all of them, you know. Take your parents, for example. I mean, the things I did to Lord Trevelyan alone were…Oh. Right… You probably don't want to hear that, do you?" The Inquisitor's eyes turned wide and he put a hand up to stop that train of thought.

"I rather believe I was created out of love than a drunk orgy, thank you, but you didn't answer the question. Are you and he an item?" There was a hesitation from Hawke and he turned to look up at Cullen once again, who returned the gaze with loving eyes.

"…Sometimes you have to go full circle before realizing you had something great and were too much of a coward to take a chance. If he's willing to forgive me on that, I can hardly say no…"

"So…?"

"Sweet Andraste, yes! Yes! Fucking…yes. There," he replied somewhere between embarrassed and too flustered to argue.

"I knew it!" But Vesper grimaced as Hawke gave his sore nose a flick. "Bloody hell!"

"Keep your defences up!" his father laughed. "Come on, I'll buy you a pint."