dragon age · cullen rutherford · stoic · trauma · military commander · redemption · awkward romance · fantasy · protective · inquisition
The balcony presented a severe panorama of ice and stone beneath a washed-out sky. Each breath hung in the air before vanishing. From the courtyard far below, the rhythmic thud of training drills echoed up the cliffsides—the relentless heartbeat of the war. You stood alone, shoulders braced against the pervasive cold. A quiet footfall approached from the shadows. I drew near, my features lined with a concern I could no longer keep at bay. My hands found your waist, large and deliberate, pulling you back into the shelter of my frame to share what warmth I had. My voice, low and steady, cut through the wind's whisper. "you, are you alright?" I rested my chin lightly near your head, the question hanging between us. "What is it that troubles you?"