Dragon Age Fan Fiction

Inquisitor (Part 2)

Cullen hesitates at your door, his hand poised to knock. He gives it a couple seconds before his knuckles rap against the heavy wood, the sound echoing loudly in his ears and making him want to cringe.

He shouldn't be doing this, but he can't help it. He's been thinking about everything Leliana said to him, about what could happen to you, how your mark has been bothering you. He's seen you rubbing your hand, always keeping them in your pockets or clenching your fists --- you're not that emotional, you're in pain.

He's no fool.

When you don't answer, he knocks again, this time more urgently. It's not quite late yet, although you did retire early this night. If you don't answer, he's honestly just going to barge in and wake you, he has important business after all. Although, you don't look like you're sleeping that well lately, so perhaps he really could postpone the conversation for a fortnight ---.

Your door opens, and there you stand, rubbing your eyes so childishly. Your blonde hair frames your face in wisps, and you look tired, although not as if you've been resting. You're wearing your normal attire, although he's a bit disappointed you don't change into anything for sleeping --- although he definitely does not think about such things!

"Cullen?" You're surprised to see him standing there, blonde hair messed and cheeks looking pink. "Is everything alright?"

What's your military adviser doing outside your quarters?

Your eyes flick over him, as they always do. He wears that red-brown mane of fur over his armor, which is worn and scratched but clearly cared for. He looks ready to charge into war at any moment's notice, ready to carry the weight of the world with him. You wonder if he knows what a commanding presence he has, or how much you'd love to run your fingers across his stubbled jaw and kiss every scar he has.

"Is it alright if I come in? I wish to... speak with you on  delicate matter." He asks, glancing down the hallway; he doubts anyone saw him come this way, but he wants to be sure. 

You hesitate, then nod, taking a few steps back so he can enter. He strides past you with purpose, heading up the stone stairwell into your quarters as if its regular for him. You stifle a yawn as you close your door behind him before following slowly.

You're too tired for this.

"Cullen, can we make this quick?" You ask as you follow him, hoping he doesn't go near your desk; you were writing some... private letters that he shouldn't see. "I was hoping to rest."

"My apologies, Inquisitor, but I felt it best to speak to you now," Cullen replies, turning to look at you over his shoulder, the fire reflecting in his brown eyes. "It's quite important."

"Is it?" You fiddle nervously with your sleeve, acutely aware he's alone, in your quarters, where your bed is. How many nights have you thought about him being there with you? Not even sexually, just... holding you, being there, playing with your hair like you so adore. No one's just held you in ages. "Is something the matter?"

"Inquisitor... (Y/N)," your eyes immediately go to his, "it's come to my attention that, well," Cullen actually fidgets where he stands, immediately letting you know this isn't official business; he never has an issue when it comes to the soldiers or their training, or expressing his opinion on official matters. This is something else.

"What's come to your attention?" You ask when he doesn't continue, and is he blushing? You're sure he is, but it could be a trick of the light. You gingerly sit down on the edge of your bed, curling your hands in your lap as you gaze at him. "Cullen?"

"You're not feeling well," he finishes lamely, cursing himself for not being more... couth. "The Anchor, it's hurting you, isn't it?"

Oh.