Speaking of Dragon Age, I got so deep into it I did something I never thought I would, pulled out my theoretical pen, and wrote a fanfic.
This will make no sense to those who haven't played the game, but it's a little vignette about Cullen being his worry wart self. Read on for my first fanfiction since that other Dragon Age story that won me a sword.
My foot snagged on a brick atop a pile of its brethren. Nearly
six months since we moved into Skyhold and I still hadn't bothered to clear it
out. I glared at them for a moment and sighed, exhaustion making the decision
for me.
"I'll
move you later," I muttered, climbing up the last stairs to my quarters,
knowing it won't happen. There were far more important duties for the
Inquisitor than a pile of loose bricks and some starlings nesting in the
ceiling.
Weariness
clouded my brow. The others who traveled with me barely made it through the
hold's doors before collapsing in a heap. It wasn't supposed to go quite so
badly, but that's the thing with dragons. Even when it goes according to plan,
you're still fighting a damn dragon!
Steadying
on the bannister, my head poked over the landing to find a balm for the rawest
soul. The porcelain bath Josie surprised me with gurgled in the vast space
between bed and fireplace. Steam still hissed off the water. No one should have
known when we'd be back, but I spotted the ravens preceding us and convinced
Sera to not shoot them out of the sky.
Dropping
the bag brimming with elfroot (we always need the damn stuff) onto my bed, I
twisted my shoulder's knots begging for a moment's relief. The rattling of
bolts reverberated below me as someone yanked open the door, armored feet
stomping up the stairs two at a time.
Sighing,
I dipped my fingers into the tub. The siren call was overbearing. It was right
here, waiting to soothe away a weeks worth of tramping around in the mud and
muck. But I only trailed my fingers through the water, making little glyph
symbols to pass the time as he rounded that first staircase and made for the
second.
My
lips curled as I heard him pause at the landing, his labored breathing trying
to overcome the armor he insisted on wearing everywhere.
"Maker's
breath, you could have told me you were back!" he grumbled.
"Hello,
Cullen," I said, then turned towards him. His hands rested upon his sword
hilt as he fiddled with it. "I'm back."
"I
see that now."
"So
there's nothing to worry about," I said, rising away from the tub.
"You
traveled to fight a dragon, there's plenty to worry about."
I
pulled back my sleeves, exposing dirty but undamaged flesh, "Look, no burn
marks."
His
whiskered chin jerked towards my head. "What about that?"
Sheepishly,
I pulled off the helmet I forgot I still had on. A char pattern covered the top
half and shattered one of the wings on the side. It was always kind of a stupid
design and whipped in the wind. The dragon improved it. Self consciously, I
tried to comb my flat hair into place, but he didn't care. Crossing heel to
toe, Cullen reached out for the helmet. I dropped it into his hands so he could
inspect the damage.
"Useless
now," he declared, poking a finger into the char and denting deep into the
compromised metal.
"I
never liked it much anyway. She did me a favor." Those doleful eyes turned
on me and my smirk wavered, "Cullen..."
His
gloved hand worked through my knotted hair, trying to shape it. I ran my
fingers along his arm, burrowing into the pelt across his shoulders.
"I
know you worry..."
"Find
me a man who wouldn't," he said, cupping around my jaw.
"Which
is why I'll fight through the void to come back to you."
That
delectable scar across his lips rose with his smile. Knotting my fingers
through his shoulder pelts, I rose on my toes and kissed him. He stumbled for a
moment, always tensing before letting himself give in. Cullen's hand slid
around my waist, pulling me closer to him. The armor bit into my chest, but I
ignored the pain.
Breaking
free of my lips, he placed his forehead against mine and said, "Don't
think I've forgiven you for stopping here before coming to see me."
"You
were in a meeting. A big one with Duke de Something or Other," I waved my
hands to mimic the mask, "What was I supposed to do, kick open the door,
throw a dragon carcass on the table, and jump on top of you?"
He
blinked slowly, then lifted a shoulder, "That is a tempting image."
Laughter
jumbled in my throat, still scratchy from the dragon's fire. "Josie'd have
my head on a platter, but, for you...I'll try. Next dragon hunt."
Cullen's
soft smile fell. "You suspect there will be another?"
"Emprise,
Crestwood, the Hissing Wastes, seems like the dragons are thicker than nugs in
southern Thedas." I pulled away from his warm arms and sat upon the bed.
Exhaustion rattled my bones as I tipped my head into my hands. "In truth,
dragon hunting isn't something I fully feel comfortable with."
"Oh?"
"Cassandra
looks upon it as if she's fulfilling some ancient legacy. Solas grows quiet,
insular..." from his eyebrow raise, I added, "more insular. As if
we're destroying a piece of history. And Bull...It's probably best if you don't
know about Bull and dragons."
He
finally collapsed beside me and picked up my hands in his. "What of
you?"
Sighing,
I glanced towards the ceiling. The setting sun cast colors through the windows.
From the prism of the cloudy skies, they danced upon the ceiling. "Dragons
are dangerous and kill people. I'm in the profession of stopping people from
being killed. Sometimes it's that simple."
"Ha,"
Cullen laughed once then burrowed his face into my shoulder. I'm certain I
stank of bog, sweat, and that brimstone dragon odor, but he didn't pull away,
only lay there. I ruffled through his hair, twisting it around my fingers.
"Commander,
Sir."
We
both snapped up. Cullen jumped off the bed and glared at the dwarven scout who
snuck into the room undetected.
"What
is it?"
"Comte
de Ghislain is waiting for you," she said, holding out a report and trying
to bury a blush across her cheeks.
"That
blowhard's been waffling with us for weeks now!" Cullen cursed, yanking
the report away from the scout.
"He
says he's willing to sit down and discuss options, now."
"I'd
like to discuss how far my boot can get up his ass," Cullen continued,
batting at the report.
The
dwarven scout's eyes only crossed to me a few times, but I could read the
prayer on her lips, "Thank the ancestors they weren't naked."
Otherwise, she focused fully on her raging commander.
"I
will be going now," she said inching away. Getting halfway down the first
staircase she called out a "Sir!" then ran for it.
Cullen
sighed, still poring over the vellum.
"Well,
that should keep the
troops entertained for awhile," I said, rising off the bed.
"This
damn Comte's been flooding us with missives swearing support then yanking it at
the last moment," Cullen shouted.
"Uh
huh," I muttered, my fingers working the buttons across my vest. It hit
the floor with a thud that didn't distract the commander too absorbed in his
problems.
"And
every time I insist we ignore him, Leliana returns with another report
insisting he's the connection we need."
"Right,"
I continued. "Where's that damn...ah here it is," I unknotted the
chains binding the last of the leather to my skin and shook it off.
The
sound of twenty pounds of dragon hide hitting the floor was enough to catch
Cullen's attention and he finally broke from his reading to find me naked. I
placed a hand on my hip and asked sweetly, "Anything else about the
Comte?"
"The
what?" he shook his head, trying to will himself to look away. "Oh,
yes, the Comte..." His voice trailed off as I picked the report from his
fingers to glance over it. Most of it was in the curly script of our ex-Bard,
but there were a few jagged marks where Cullen vehemently disagreed with her.
Occasionally to the point of smashing a quill in the margins.
"What
do you think?" he asked after a time.
"I
think..." I tossed the report onto the bed, "I will be taking a much
deserved bath and that my commander should join me."
His
eyes closed softly as he exasperated, "You tempt me so, but..."
"But
what?" I asked, "This Comte is clearly playing the game. Why not play
it back and leave him waiting for a few hours...or more?"
His
scar rose at the thought I placed in his mind of the Comte frothing with rage
at having to wait, or perhaps it was from my bare flesh. "I have a lot of
work to do..."
"Cullen,"
I said, waving at my chest. Before he could answer, I turned towards the tub
and slid a leg in. The heat bit into my unprepared flesh, but it adjusted
quickly, aching for the relief across my muscles. Slowly, I added the rest of
my body, carefully sliding down the side of the tub so not to slip. My toes
poked out of the water, one nail still missing courtesy of a chevalier hoof.
Flailing
in my periphery caused me to turn in time to watch the scrumptious ass of my
commander as he wiggled out of his armor. The boots seemed to be giving him a
right problem, which gave me a better show.
I
slid forward across the tub pulling my knees up to my chest. A muscular forearm
landed beside me across the tub's rim and I trailed my fingers across the
nearly invisible hair. Cullen steadied himself before climbing in behind me,
his legs sliding around my hips. I leaned back onto him, his warmth more
intoxicating than the bath's. He reached an arm around me, pulling me into a
hug. My head slipped back, settling upon his shoulder as my eyes slipped
closed.
With
his left arm still guarding me, his right hand slid down my arm laid across the
tub's lip. The deep gouging from a mage fire gone awry, healed into a callous
dug into my flesh, but I didn't mind. I wanted to kiss every scar on his body,
every hurt in his brain, just to soothe for a moment in this unending world.
"I
really shouldn't stay long."
"Uh
huh," I muttered, nuzzling deeper into his chest, "bits of you claim
otherwise."
He
laughed, "Just because I wish to doesn't mean I should."
"Cullen,
take a moment. Relax. Enjoy this lovely pair of breasts."
"If
you insist," he said kissing my neck and cupping around said breasts.
"Isn't
this much better than running after some Orlesian nob or calibrating the
trebuchets?"
He
paused in his light kisses and whispered, "Do you have to ask?"
"It
can't be all dragons and comtes. Sometimes it's just you, me, no clothes, a
tub...and an unlocked door."
I
expected him to bolt from my epiphany, but he slid lower into the tub and
wrapped both arms around me. He buried his face into my shoulder and whispered,
"Forget the door. This is perfect."
I
tried to turn but he held me fast, "You better not be an envy demon that
assumed Cullen's face."
"And
if I were?"
Reaching
my arm towards the artfully arranged towels for the soap, I mused,
"Wouldn't be the first time I've fought demons nude."
"Oh?"
"A
very long story I have to be much drunker to tell." The soap slipped from
my fingers and plopped into the tub, disappearing into the piles of legs.
Searching caused more water to slosh onto the ground.
"I
was thinking," Cullen started, first lightly rubbing my shoulders, then
digging deeper into the knots. "Perhaps the next time you decide to go on
a dragon hunt, I could accompany you."
"You
would?"
"It
would keep me from worrying about you."
"You
wouldn't worry here, you would worry there while dodging fireballs. Have you
ever fought a dragon?"
He
paused his massage in thought, "Oddly, once. In the circle tower in
Ferelden a mage kept a pet dragonling. It was a disaster after it sprayed all
over the library and nested in the wall."
I
patted his hand and said, "The high ones are a tiny bit trickier than a
baby dragon. If you're going to come with, we might need to start you out on
something smaller."
"Oh?"
"Like
a pack of nugs."
Cullen
snorted, his fingers trailing across my hips. "It's good to know what my
Inquisitor thinks of my combat skills."
I
twisted around in the tub and reached my sopping hand to his chin, rubbing
across the eternal whiskers. "I happen to think quite highly of your
skills," I purred before pulling him down for a kiss.
As
I slid away for air, I asked, "Still want to run back to the Comte?"
"Never,"
and he wrapped me tight in his arms, never wanting to let go. I squeezed him
back twice as hard.
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