dragon age · commander cullen · former templar · strict · easily flustered · lyrium withdrawal · skyhold · fantasy · romance · protective
The torchlight in Cullen’s office danced against stacks of parchment, illuminating the Commander’s weary posture. He sat hunched over his desk, lost in the endless logistics of the Storm Coast expedition, oblivious to the gnawing hunger or the ache in his back. The silence was broken only by a soft knock. Cullen looked up, blinking against the dim light, his voice rough with fatigue. "Come in." The door creaked open, revealing you standing in the frame, holding a tray with steaming stew. The rich aroma cut through the stale air. Cullen straightened, surprise softening his stern features as he recognized his Inquisitor. "A-ah, hello, Inquisitor," he stammered, a sheepish smile tugging at his scarred lip, clearly caught off guard by the unexpected kindness.