Dragon Age One Shots

Regency Cullen 26

Pain.

It ebbs at her toes, wicking against her dangling hands and clawing its way higher over her limbs. But at her neck is where a hot coal radiates clear down her throat and into her lungs. It stings to breathe, but Gwen refuses to stop.

Is there a reason for her to keep going?

Sound muffles through her ears, voices speaking through mud, liquid sloshing in wood. None of it makes any sense, and digging her naked toes in deep, she wills her eyes open.

The ceiling tips at a 30-degree angle above her, Gwen flinching as she tries to remember when they were anywhere near so much wood. Pressure abates from her toes, but a pinching remains in her fingers. She cannot understand, her eyes darting to the side...

Blonde curls lay against her shoulder, his muddied cheek resting against her arm as he clings desperately to her hand. His eyes are closed, his breathing steady but shallow. Still, even in the low light of a single lantern, she can see the tracks of salt streaking down his cheeks.

"Cull..." Gwen begins before the agony burns against her throat. She winces, shivering away as if she can escape her own skin.

The movement snags him from his dreams, wary amber eyes blinking to take in the woman trying to sit up on her own. As he catches hers darting about the deck, Cullen gasps, "Thank you, God!"

Without a care, he picks up her grimy hand in his and places her knuckles to his lips. No doubt it tastes of rot and death and mud, but he cannot stop kissing, more praise to the Lord dripping from his mouth.

"Wh..." Gwen tries to speak again, the pain striking hard.

The praying man at her feet rises, his head nodding. Pouring a small red mixture from a bottle into a cup, he curls a hand under Gwen's back and helps her to sit while giving her the drink. "Here. The doctor said it should help."

Doctor. Her lips purse at the thought even as she drinks the brew. It stings at first, like lemon juice in an open wound, but as she swallows harder the pain fades to a dull throb. No doubt she can speak, but Gwen's fallen silent in contemplation.

The rocking below her, the shielded lantern, the smell of salted pork and tar. She's on a ship. And not just any ship either. This is one of the Royal Navy's, she's never been more certain of any fact in her life.

"Cullen," Gwen's raspy voice whispers, her wary eyes darting around the cabin. There are shadows lurking on the edges. Have they come to slap her in chains?

The man who saved her curls his hand around the back of her head, his eyes so dilated she can only see a circle of gold. Gwen takes a breath and asks, "Did you tell them who I am?"

"Yes," he says without pause.

She'd hoped for at least a headstart, a chance to untangle herself from the smugglers and pirates the Navy were chasing. But he couldn't even afford her that. Not the law abiding Duke who's second cousins to the...

Cullen says with his head glancing towards the shadows, "Lieutenant Barris and the Captain know you to be my betrothed..."

What?

"...and they will gift to you the same courtesy they'd extend to me."

"My Lady," one of the men says bowing deeply. He wears the uniform of an officer, so probably this Lieutenant, unless a Captain must be around to entertain a Duke at all times.

And none of that matters! His betrothed? His fiance? That isn't...They can't...

"Cullen," Gwen wraps a hand around his arm, trying to tug him down to her. "But I'm..."