faderift | just when you think you've seen it all

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just when you think you've seen it all - closed

WHO: Cullen, Leliana, Josie, and Cassandra
WHAT: meeting of the advisors
WHEN: now-ish? /waves hands all wibbly about time
WHERE: War Room

Cullen's afternoon has gotten away from him somewhat, but he's sure he'll be forgiven. Each of them knows what being in this position demands, and how incredibly impossible it makes it to have any sort of real plan for your day, or even for your life. Still, he's not expecting the wildly different facial expressions and the troubling amount of concern he can practically feel hit him in the face when he opens the door to the War Room. "All right. What's this little problem?" More importantly… "Why was little underlined twice? If this is about the nug infestation, I anticipate a rather... unpleasant argument."

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Cassandra's expression can be described, overwhemingly, as unimpressed. She stands leaning against the war table, arms crossed over her chest, lips in a thin line. If anything, she looks even more unimpressed at Cullen's question. She looks over at Leliana.

"You underlined 'little'?" She sighs, shaking her head. "Really?"

Leliana, for her part, simply stands with one leg hooked in front of the other, hands behind her back, and turns to Cassandra very slightly. It is good to be back in Skyhold for a brief reprieve between the month of assignments - and she would not miss such an occasion as this.

"The word 'infestation' should never follow the word 'nug.' I believe the correct collective term is a snuffle of nugs."

Smoothly ignoring Cassandra, there, though not for very long. She glances to Cassandra with a slight smile, conspiratorial. "Did I? That doesn't seem like something I would do."

One of those meetings, eh? Cullen doesn't even miss a beat. He throws a glance at Josephine, and then approaches the table and begins poking through the documents spread across it, looking for a clue. "You did, Leliana, and I can't think of anything smaller than a nug, and we are overrun." He absolutely refuses to use the word snuffle. He won't. You can't make him.

"Someone please tell me what's happened? You three have obviously been at this for a while." He can tell. There's a certain look the three women get when they're arguing three sides of an issue and can't seem to find a solution everyone is happy with. It's a mix of determined and weary, and Josephine always looks like she's about to send for tea. He's not sure why that is, or that he's ever seen her send for it, but it's a face he associates with the desire. Which is maybe unfair.

He really just wants to know what's going on.

Josephine sighs a little, looking at the two other women in turn. This is not an argument in which she is going to involve herself, on any side. Instead, turning her attention to Cullen, she folds her hands gently together and fixes him with a smile. "We have been waiting to give you the news, so we might consider how to best proceed. Simply put: the prince of the Anderfels has been brought under the Inquisition's protection."

Then, because he probably doesn't know, she actually deigns to answer the root of Cullen's question. "He is four years of age."

"Ugh."

Cassandra shoots Leliana a look as disgusted as the noise accompanying it - a snuffle of nugs, how ridiculous - and chooses, loftily, to ignore both her comment and her self-satisfied smirlk, instead turning back to Cullen and Josephine as the latter explains.

Her mouth purses in a frown as she expands on Josephine's words. "And he is here. Without any sort of attendant to look after him." She waves a hand dismissively, as if the solution is obvious. "Obviously, he must be sent somewhere else."

"Somewhere else," Leliana interjects, "may as well be sending the boy to the arms of our enemies. He has the potential to be a valuable asset - we cannot afford to release him where others might influence or harm him."

Besides, elsewhere his education on proper collective nouns might be neglected, if her Nevarran and Fereldan counterparts are anything to go off.

"You both make good points," Josephine begins, looking from Cassandra to Leliana, hoping to nip any potential arguments in the bud before they can bloom out of control. "We cannot keep him indefinitely, but when the time comes to send him elsewhere, we must ensure his new guardians have his - and his kingdom's - best interests at heart. Given the state of the Anderfels, finding a suitable family will take time. So, meanwhile, he stays." She punctuates her sentence by tapping her quill against her noteboard; mostly, she is already convinced this is the best solution.

"What remains to be discussed is who will attend to the young prince's needs and other such practical matters. Especially if we plan to be discrete about his presence here."

"We are not going to send him away. We are not going to scramble for someone else to take him just to be rid of him." It's not often that Cullen speaks in absolutes, but he is very strong on this point. "He is not an asset and he is not a burden. He is a child. Where do you propose we send him to make him safe? Who do you propose we give him to?" There are, as always, several stacks of papers on the table - completed mission reports, requests for aid, warnings of horrors sweeping across what feels like the entirety of Thedas. Cullen picks them up, and then tosses them forcefully back onto the table in a way that causes them to fan out. "People are dying every day and there's nothing we can do about it, because we can't be everywhere at once. I can live with that. But if we send a child out into this, and he dies?" He points to the mess he's just made. "Then we killed him. I can't live with that. He stays until we find something that's safer than what we can provide. And if we can't? Then he just stays."

Children are a hot button issue with him right now. Obviously he can't make a decision for the Inquisition as a whole, and he knows that, but if anyone wants to fight him on this point, it will be just that - a fight. The world is messed up in ways Cullen isn't sure it will ever recover from. The people in it are, for the most part, not much better. No more children paying for the stupid decisions of the adults around them if he can help it. Most of the time, he can't. This time? Maybe.

There's a stunned silence after Cullen's - it can be called nothing else - outburst. Cassandra stares openly, somewhat shocked. She would not have expected that of the Commander, of all people.

Finally, she shifts where she stands leaning against the war table, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

"Then what do you suggest we do with him?" She frowns. "He is not old enough to be sent to train with the soldiers, and he will be a target - if not now, then soon. He will need more than a guardian, he will need someone able to protect him." She shakes her head. "And someone willing to look after a child, one that is little more than an infant." She says child in the same tone of voice that she might say dog (sorry Cullen). "Who would be willing to take on such a task?"

Josephine's surprise might be less apparent than Cassandra's, but it is still there in the lift of her eyebrows, the upturned corner of her mouth. First, she seeks to put Cullen's fears to rest, as best as she is able. "I did not say we would be sending him into the arms of his enemies, Commander," she states firmly, her mouth forming a thin line. "I will look to see if there is anyone appropriate. And given time, there will be." She sighs then, gaze dropping to her noteboard. "Maker knows I hope this state of unrest will not last forever." They will succeed. They must.

That being said, a seed of an idea starts to form in her mind, and she looks at Cassandra as though considering the other woman's suggestions, then looks back at Cullen. When she speaks again, her voice is teasing. "Although now that you mention it, Cassandra, it almost did sound like Cullen was volunteering..."

She has the self control to neither smirk with amusement, or roll her eyes. Ideas like 'child' and 'asset' were not mutually exclusive, and neither was 'burden.' No point arguing such things now.

"Cullen? Look after a child?"

It is not incredulity or doubt, so much as— Well. She's trying not to let it be amusement.

"Surely one of my finest scouts would suit. Charter, for example, is very capable." She says it so sweetly that it might be a cause for concern. Assassins make such good babysitters, donchaknow.

"I can look after a child. I mean, I'm not--" He wasn't volunteering, and he frowns at Josephine. He's hardly the best choice for a child's wellbeing. Even if he can't deny that he is a first rate choice for protector. For all his shortcomings, and Cullen knows they are many and varied, he is a force to be reckoned with once a sword is in his hand. "Charter is not at all suitable. Poisons everywhere. A toddler will get into that inside a day. No, it's not at all--"

The women are spared another of Cullen's built up blustery... whatever that was, when the door opens and a messenger enters with the hand of a small boy clasped in his. "Apologies for the interruption, but the child..."

The little boy looks up at the four assembled adults with wide, sad eyes. "I'm hungry."

"That's all he's said all morning. I don't--" Cullen can see the rest of the the statement hanging in the air. Don't know what to do with a child. He nods his head toward the door and the man takes the small sign with gratitude and flees.

Cullen looks from the boy to the women in front of him, then produces an apple he's been meaning to get around to eating all day, and a knife, beginning to cut small sections from it. "We can't entrust this endeavour to someone of... questionable nurturing instincts." All right, so the sentence is a mess, but the words are all hopefully too large for a small child to understand. A small child who's wandered closer at the appearance of the apple, and is waiting quietly for a slice to be handed to him. 'Poor sad little thing,' Cullen thinks. 'Must be so overwhelmed.'

Cullen? The idea is ridiculous, not to mention impossible given his many other duties, and Cassandra's just opened her mouth to say so when the door opens. She stares mutely at the intruder, looking momentarily panicked when Cullen sends the messenger away, leaving the child behind. Thankfully, it neither starts to scream nor bursts into tears. Small mercies.

"Questionable nurturing instincts," she repeats dryly, watching as the Commander calmly slices the apple and offers it to the boy. "Well, if nothing else you have proven yourself more worthy than the last." At least Cullen knows to feed a child, when he complains of being hungry. "But surely, Commander, you do not have the time. What of your work? The soldiers need a leader, and the training ground is hardly a place for..." She trails off, pointedly.

"Charter is capable of far more than you know, Cullen."

Her tone might have been cool, save for that she is far too amused - or at least is sounding far too amused. Doubts as to the skills and experience and sense of any of her people might be foolish, if that smile she isn't quite bothering to correct is any indication. That said, of course, she's no great desire to focus Charter's skills on the work of a nursemaid.

"A governess, perhaps. One vetted by my people, and who has no awareness of his true identity. She could offer some support for instances where the Commander's," and she pauses, considering, "paternal urges are best set aside. The process may not yield and immediately satisfactory candidate. Perhaps until then our young charge will benefit from the observing masters in the art of running with sharp objects. An educational lesson, of sorts." Leliana glances to Cassandra, with a conspiratorial nod in the direction the last babysitter fled in, "and perhaps in the meantime we need to review the comprehensive skills of those we assign such complex and nuanced tasks to."

Not, mind you, that she was much use with children any more. She remembers telling stories as a lay sister in the Lothering Chantry, and dismisses the brief moment of almost nostalgia.

"A governess is not a bad idea, given that a suitable one can be found," Josephine agrees with a nod of the head in Leliana's direction. "In any case, there is no reason why the responsibility of taking care of the child should fall on one person solely. The more people looking after him, the better. Given they can be trusted, of course." She begins making notes on her parchment, as though the others have given her ideas.

At the mention of running with sharp objects, it's a physical strain for Cullen to not physically put himself between Leliana and Baldewin. Which is about the moment he realizes that he's got no chance here. Once the word child is uttered, the boy is smart enough to realize that he is the topic of their conversation, and he looks up with wide and still slightly shocked eyes. "Are you sending me away?" Yeah, Cullen has no chance at all, and all three of them know it. At least Josephine has the good manners not to smile smugly.

"No," he answers, almost automatically. The decision is made. The decision has been made, he's just now accepting it. "We are not sending you away. You're safe here." He bites the inside of his cheek at the lingering traces of fear on that little face. "Do you like dogs?" When the boy nods, so does Cullen. "Why don't we see if we can go find my mabari, then?" When the child stills for a moment, considering, and then lifts his arms in a request to be picked up, the similarities to Puppy choosing him in the kennels are not lost on the Commander. Well, at least now he knows where he stands, and he scoops the boy up with one arm braced against the back of his legs.

He pauses at the door on the way out, completely certain that the discussion is far from over simply because he's leaving. If anything, the next era of his life is about to be discussed in ever greater detail, now that he will not be present to hamper it. "A family," he says to Josephine. Not an employee. Not a single person hired to bring him up in secret, but a place to really belong. "One we can trust. Try to find a family."

Cassandra stares silently as Cullen and the child walk out. Once the door closes behind them, she turns to Leliana and Josephine.

"Well." But words fail her, and she shakes her head, helplessly.

"...Let us hope this does not interfere with his duties." Though, if anyone's capable of taking on the responsibility of a child and still effectively managing the responsibilities of his job, it's the Commander.

"When do we ever let anything interfere with our work?" The gaze is less conspiratorial, tone less smug than it might have been two minutes ago. "I will see to it that an eye is kept on them. The Commander need not know. It would simply be a second guard, for both their sakes."

Josephine is smiling smugly on the inside, or at least she would be if she hadn't been so distracted by Cullen's parting words. "That sounds amenable," she says to Leliana almost as an absent afterthought as she continues to scribble away on her parchment. She will do her best to find the boy a family if she can, but if she fails in this endeavour, she half-fears she will have to pry the young prince from the Commander's hands when the time comes. Ah, but what else is there to be done?

"I will be happy to lend my assistance if the Commander finds himself needing it," she adds.

Edited (how do words work) 2016-10-31 12:14 (UTC)

Cassandra shakes her head again. Of all the meetings they had had in this room - some of them highly unpleasant - this certainly ranks as the strangest.

"I will be sure to direct him your way, Ambassador, if he does," she says. Anything to get Cassandra out of potential babysitting duty. She takes a breath, straightening her spine.

"I...suppose we are done here."

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just when you think you've seen it all - closed

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