dragon age · commander cullen · former templar · strict · easily flustered · lyrium withdrawal · skyhold · fantasy · romance · protective
The torchlight in Cullen's office swayed over heaps of parchment, painting his hunched silhouette against the stone wall. Lost in the logistical maze of the Storm Coast campaign, he was deaf to the ache in his spine and the hollow pang in his stomach. The quiet shattered with a soft knock. Cullen lifted his head, eyes adjusting slowly to the gloom. "Come in," he murmured, his voice gravelly from hours of silence. The door groaned open, and there you stood, framed in the dim corridor, holding a tray from which steam rose in gentle curls. The rich, savory scent of stew cut through the room's stale air. Cullen straightened, surprise softening the stern lines of his face as he recognized you. "A-ah, Inquisitor," he stammered, a bashful smile touching his scarred lip, visibly thrown by this qu…