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Silver Bells and Dragonlings

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Cullen gawked in disbelief. “You have got to be joking.”

Kiana Trevelyan folded her arms and shot him a victorious smirk. “Glorious, isn’t it?”

So this was why she had sent for him, practically dragged him away from his reports and down to the undercroft?  The Commander blinked, his mouth opening and then closing slowly, the realization of her discovery finally dawning across his features. “Well… I…”

“Oh Cullen, look at her. It’s not like she’s going to hurt anyone!”

“Yet.”

The Inquisitor’s thick brows drew together then, her lips pinching into an incredulous smile. “She’s a baby Cullen. The poor little thing is not even as big as a Mabari, and you’re already calling her a killer?”

As if to accentuate the point, two pairs of sparkling cerise eyes turned on him expectantly. That only made him shiver. It was as if the… the thing that Kiana had brought home from Emprise du Lion could understand him. And it was incredibly unnerving.

“Maker preserve us all. Kiana, it’s a dragon. Worse, it’s an ice dragon. And…” He stammered when the lissome woman bent down to feed the hatchling a piece of meat from her hand. “And you’re taming it?”

“Now you’re catching on.” Kiana shot him a radiant grin. “I think she believes I’m her mother.”

Again the baby dragon stared up at him, large pink eyes and pearl white scales glistening with hope. He couldn’t deny the beauty of it. Even for a dragonling, this one was beautiful, intimidating even with her slender head, pointed pearlescent wings and curling silver horns. Cullen could see exactly why the motherless creature would appeal to his wild-hearted Lady Trevelyan. Should Kiana ever succeed in her training aspirations, the duo would be unstoppable with their combined aptitude for wielding ice. But a dragon? In Skyhold?

He sighed, a hand going to his forehead reflexively. “Madness. That’s what this is, pure and utter madness.”

“I couldn’t just leave her there – not with the mother slain and the rest of her brood gone. It wouldn’t have been right. And she’s so small, Cullen. She started following me and I knew it would have been utterly heartless to leave her behind.”

Her advisor sighed, his hand relaxing from against his hilt for the first time that evening. “I suppose you’re right.”

Pressing up on the tips of her toes, the white-haired mage pressed a delicate kiss to one corner of his mouth. She twined her fingers in his hair enticingly, relishing the weak groan that left his lips at her touch. “Does this mean I can keep her?”

Cullen sighed, casting a despairing look in the vague direction of the Maker’s throne, before conceding, “Yes, love. If it’s alright with the other advisors, then you can keep her.”

“Thank you!” Kiana practically bounced as she hugged him, pulling away just long enough to look him square in the eye. “I love you, Cullen.”

“I know…” He sighed, shaking his head and kissing her. “I suppose you want to name it now.”

“Eira.”

“What?” Cullen spluttered, arching one brow at the woman in his arms.

“Eira – it means snow.” Kiana’s shining pink irises pleaded with him from beneath long, dark lashes. “What do you think?”

Almost as if on cue, the dragonling lifted her head and uttered a tiny squeak of approval.

Cullen simply gaped, turning on his heel shakily. “I… I think I need to get back to work.”

Kiana’s silvery laughter followed him up the winding staircase and Cullen grimaced. Maker, what have I started?