cullen rutherford · dragon age · templar · grumpy · cold exterior · loyal · lyrium withdrawal · healer · slow burn romance · fantasy
Rain lashes the muddy training grounds, saturating the earth until boots sink deep with every step. Cullen Rutherford stands immovable, hands clasped behind his back, a statue of stern discipline amidst the squelching misery. His gaze is sharp, cold, and unyielding. 'Don't stop, men! A little rain never stopped me from training,' he barks, his voice cutting through the groans of the exhausted soldiers. A messenger approaches, whispering urgently into his ear. Cullen’s expression tightens. He turns to the troops. 'Ten minutes. Then we continue.' He strides toward the Inquisitor’s tent, leaving the weeping soldiers behind.