Chapter 76

"What's the matter, Princey? I haven't seen you this mopey since after you met your dad. Had a tiff with the Nightingale, did you?"

"What? No." Alistair shook his head as Varric plopped down beside him. "Nothing like that."

"Must be a templar thing," the dwarf went on, unhindered. "Curly has been mopey ever since you got back from Redcliffe. I wish he'd get over the mage alliance. See, my favourite pastime to counteract mopeyness is to annoy Curly. Can't do that if he's already mopey."

"'Curly'?"

"Oh, did I say Curly? I meant Commander Curly. Formerly Knight-Captain Curly of Kirkwall."

Somehow, Curly was never a nickname Alistair could have imagined for Cullen. Yet, it fit so well that he couldn't help but chuckle. Varric's penchant for giving nicknames was just as legendary as his chest hair and once again, he'd struck gold.

"You annoyed Cullen?" he asked, putting away his sword and whetstone. "Just for laughs?"

Varric shrugged helplessly. "In my defence, he made it very easy. He was so stoic back then. Even tried having a beard."

"How'd that go?"

"You don't see it anymore. That should tell you something."

"Beards and templars just don't go together. Interferes with our awkward templar boy charm."

"He used to mention Hawke's cousin, though. Something Amell, a mage under his care back in the Fereldan Circle of-"

Alistair picked up his sword and resumed whetting it, chuckling. "No use, Varric. If you want that story, you'll have to pump him."

"Oh, c'mon, Princey. Can you at least confirm that she's a good Warden?"

"One of the best. She's practically third in command, after the Commander and myself."

"I thought you were Commander."

"No. That needs to be sanctioned. Written down. Plus there's a ceremony with a lot of pomp and circumstance." He sighed. "There was no party. So I'm not Commander."

Varric pulled out his journal and began taking notes. "The fact that this Amell is better at her job than Curly is at his makes the world a better place."

"I never said tha-"

"Shh. It's okay. Anyway, you two knew each other, right?"

"Yeah, we trained to be templars together."

"Any embarrassing stories from that time?" Alistair stared at him. Varric smiled. "I need backstory if I'm to write a character."

"Are you going to write me?"

"Give me what I want and I won't have to."

Alistair considered this. "Harmlessly embarrassing, right?"

"Sure."

"Well, he lost to me at pillow fighting."

"Wait just a moment here." Varric grinned disbelievingly up at Alistair. "Did I hear that right? The Commander of the Inquisition's forces and the Warden-Constable of Ferelden had pillow fights as children?"

"Well, teenagers, technically. I was fifteen. He was fourteen at the time."

"Beautiful," Varric said as he wrote furiously, a twisted smirk splayed across his face. "Go on, go on."

"Well, it was a series of five. I won two and he won two. The other one was a draw."

"A draw? Really? It's a pillow fight! How can there be draws?"

"Oh, we had rules about that sort of thing. Strict rules. I don't remember what they were now, but there was a draw." He paused. "But I should've won."

Varric looked up at him and slowly closed his journal. Alistair registered only too late that the dwarf's smile was not innocent.

"Hey, Tiny!" he called out to the Iron Bull, who was just passing by. "You ever hear of there being draws in pillow fights?"

"Nah," Bull returned. "But then again, I've never lost one."

"See, the Warden-Constable and Commander Curly had a series of five: two wins each and a draw!"

"Hah! Methinks a grudge match is owed! A decision! Once and for all!"

"Absolutely! One templar to rule all pillows!"

"Varric, what're you doing?" Alistair asked, but Varric shushed him.

"Sounds good to me!"

"Right? Now you go advertise it. We'll make a show out of this. Turn it into a pay-per-view!"

"On it," Bull said and hurried off, shouting about 'a match to end all matches' while Alistair frowned at Varric.

"You can whet your father's sword later," the dwarf said with a cheeky grin. "You wanted to see how we felt better at Curly's expense? This is how."

"Yes, but-"

"Listen, Princey. You've been feeling down three days now. Some of us miss your bad jokes. Nightingale misses you." Alistair sighed. "Think of this as releasing tension. You'll get to play a game with a childhood friend." He slid off the bench. "I daresay our Commander needs it too. C'mon. We'll go convince him together."

This was a very bad idea. For thirty-year-olds to have pillow fights in front of the officers they were supposed to be commanding? But then again... it wasn't unheard of in the Wardens.

"You can try," Alistair said and rose to his feet. "But I can tell you right now what Cullen will say."

And as it turned out, Cullen said no.

"C'mon, Commander!" Varric persisted. "Tickets have been sold! Venues have been booked! Menus were set! You'll be inconveniencing us all!"

"Too bad," Cullen replied, never once looking up from his paperwork. "You'll just have to cancel."

"Cancel?!" Varric sounded aghast. He even placed his hand over his chest. "Cancel, Commander? Did Andraste cancel on the Maker? Did the Hero of Ferelden cancel on the archdemon? Did you ever cancel on that mage-" Cullen looked up and glared at him. "All I mean to say is that we're all men of our words, here. We can't just cancel!"

Cullen looked at Alistair, who only shrugged.

"Don't look at me, this was his idea."

Cullen sighed. "Oh, I know. It's just a ridiculous idea. There was never any need for a grudge match."

Alistair looked at Varric. "See?"

"Everyone knows I should've won that one."

Varric whistled. Alistair straightened up.

"Wait, what?"

"Well, I should've won." Cullen blinked. "You should've lost. Everyone knew."

"Hold on right there," Alistair spluttered. "You should've lost. I had the whole thing in my pocket."

Cullen raised an eyebrow and sat back in his chair. "As I recall, I got the last point with a Cotton Cut."

"No, I countered with the Feather Flash."

"No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

"No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

Varric cleared his throat. "The grudge match doesn't sound so bad now, does it?"

"No," Cullen replied after some thought. "I don't have to prove anything."

"That's what people say when they're afraid."

"What would I be afraid of? I've already beaten you."

"Then you have nothing to lose, do you?"

"Besides," Varric added. "Think of it as boosting the morale of the troops. What with the closing of the Breach coming, who knows what'll happen. It's the least you could do."

Cullen stared at Varric, unimpressed, before turning his gaze to Alistair.

"Chicken," Alistair told him.

Cullen grimaced. "Get the bloody pillows, dwarf."