Andráska couldn't look Alistair in the eye immediately, shuffling to put away the instrument when his brother began helping him. It seemed his older sibling had enjoyed the performance, which sent a wave of relief through him and he finally broke into a small smile, getting pulled into another hug. He sighed, relaxing in Alistair's arms and feeling like things were... better. In fact, even though Zvezdana was in Rharne, he felt like he had finally connected with his siblings after the vast rift childhood had wedged between them. The truth of their histories and Alistair's magic was now known to him and Andráska didn't want that to affect their relationship. He loved them – he wanted to repair this family, and his throat tightened as he returned the hug.
“Yeah, well,” the younger noble was embarrassed by the unusual praise and he pulled away, rubbing his arm in thought, “I wrote a speech, but I'll save that for another time.” he smirked, eyes running around the room, “No telling where it is, anyway.” His eyes lingered back to the desk... Andráska did in fact know where the speech was, but didn't believe he could deliver it at the moment. Perhaps another time, when he needed to get in his brother's good graces, or if there was ever another wedding.
A sound of movement caught his attention and he turned in time to see his brother reaching out and then... a grand object was being pulled out of thin air, and presented before him. The green eyed youth blinked, mouth gaping. Magic. “How-”
Alistair began to present it, "Here's my gift. Not quite so original as a song, but I tried. I've never really been one for artistic talent. Forgive my daftness.”
Before him was a lovely shield, and while it had an image of a rose – it was bold and alluring. Not delicate in any way, and despite the flower it felt... strong. Powerful. Protective. It had been a long time since he had received a gift and he used both hands to grab it eagerly and hold it arms length in front of him – grinning like a boy. He had always loved gifts – good ones. Not frilly clothes or colognes – but thoughtful presents. “Forgiven,” he said quickly, turning away slightly and imagining himself using it. He carefully laid it on the bed and ran his fingertips along the engravings.
Gallant.
After everything – after knowing his affiliation with drugs... with liquor... with all his mistakes... did Alistair really think so highly of him? A lump rose in his throat, and emotion began to overwhelm him. “With the war,” he said softly, “Everyone forgot of my birthday. I...I didn't receive a single gift so... This... This is nice.”
He looked at his sibling and had to look away to prevent the tears that wanted to well up in his eyes, looking back to the shield that would later save his life, “Brothers reunited. Brothers forever.”
