Dragon Age One Shots

Regency Cullen 8

Despite the grey clouds blotting out the sky, the unending giggles warm Cullen's burred heart. He watches from his vantage beside the other titled men as Branson chases after one of Caroline's youngest. The boy clearly has something unholy on a stick, which he seems hellbent on jabbing at the girl in skirts. But an angel in green sweeps up from the side, snatching away the dangerous stick before there can be any tears.

The Governess gives an order to Branson, no doubt instructions on how girls don't enjoy being smothered in mud. Cullen thinks back to her shoes and ankles caked in red-brown mud from his sudden trot to the creek. He didn't realize the folly of his mistake until they were on the path, the man of action unusued to the hand-tying rules he should have grown up with. Though, it was a treat to feel her cheek pressing to her back, and her hands coyly curled around his stomach.

"Duke of Honnleath," a voice oozes from the refreshment table, and Cullen's heart sinks along with his eyes.

Outfitted in a scandalous scarlet frock coat, the gold vest unbuttoned and unadorned with a proper ascot to reveal a shock of chest hair, stands Master Tethras. Merchant by trade, and rumormonger for fun, the man who's pride revolves around knowing the comings and goings of every member of the peerage snatches up a cucumber sandwich and waves it at Cullen.

"Never thought I'd see the newest Duke at such a gathering," Varric says while chomping down upon the finger food.

Cullen folds his hands, his chin rising while his eyes strain to keep the short man in focus. "The birthday party may be a small affair, but that does not deter me."

"Oh no, we're all surprised that you left your dark tower and throne of bones by the fire to rattle around with such mortals. There's talk that you even have a wife of yours living in the attic at that massive estate."

Snarling, Cullen rolls his eyes, "Do not be ridiculous. I'm not married."

Master Tethras raises a glass of wine at the news, "And you just breathed life into an entire generation of maidens who were facing a rather dull season. Congratulations."

Fully scowling from his eyebrows down to the whitening hair on his chest, Cullen whips away from the pretend merchant to gaze across the lawn. While the children are enjoying their freedom, many stripping off constricting jackets and knots to play, the young mothers keep glancing in his direction. And even worse are the ones without children, their eyes seeming to strip him to his bones with every breath.

"Oh dear, what's brought that sour puss out to view?" Caroline dances through the herd of onlookers as if she floats on air. The Countess curls a hand around Cullen's arm, guiding him in a dance without music.

When he glances to the cause of his dour mood, Caroline laughs. "Do not let Master Tethras strike at you. Everyone knows he only peddles in japes and jests."

"Indeed, Madam. For the truth is nothing but a joke to those with bricks for brains."

Cullen bristles at the obvious jab, but Caroline shakes it off. While he was dodging cannons and musket balls, she was sharpening her teeth on polite sneers, and complimentary denigrations. With a shake of her golden hair, Caroline guides the grumbling Duke away from the flock.

He struggles against his cane, his leg seizing up worse. Glancing to the clouds darkening with the hour, Cullen sighs. "I fear there will be rain soon."

"Is that why you're in the mood you are? I don't remember you despising storms so when we were children."

"That was before I knew what one at sea was," Cullen whispers to himself, his shoulders hardening as he girds himself. Memories lap against his calm exterior, trying to rip apart the bricks he put in place.

A warm cheek brushes against his arm, Cullen glancing down into bright blue eyes. All the years between them fade at the smile rising upon her cheeks. "Well, you're more than welcome to remain for the night should the storm turn dangerous. We could even sit up the whole night in our fortification of pillows and blankets."

He laughs at the old antics the children with no one else to play with got up to. "I'm afraid I might be too big to hide under the bed now."

"Hmmm," Caroline mutters, her eyes deliberately drinking in his strapping shoulders, down his waist, and clearly pausing at his loins. The blatancy of her hunger causes his heart to beat rapidly, when he remembers she is a married woman and not his. Cullen shifts, trying to put his hip in place as he gazes out over the lawn.

The children tire of their game and lay out on the grass, hands gesturing to the clouds while they probably spin exciting fairy stories for each other. Branson sits up, hands gripping to his knees but he's listening intently and even speaking with the other children. The flush on his cheeks and bright movements warm Cullen's heart.

"Thank you for this, Caroline. I pray this is just what he needed."

Sweeping in beside him, her hand sliding between Cullen's arm and chest, she locks their arms together. "I'm here for you, Cullen. No matter what you need." Her bright eyes dart up from under her lashes, but Cullen gazes away, watching the woman in a green dress chasing a butterfly for the children.

As a smile rises on his lips, thunder strikes overhead.