#medievalmeme

Sullen Vampire AU - feeding from the thigh - for @medievalmeme​ ilu (an au where Cullen is a vampire as well as a templar in DA2; here be feeding, blood, kissing and frottage. also i wrote this drunk.)

It had been their little secret, between Cullen and himself. It didn’t take long for Samson to realize there was something different about his new bunkmate in the Gallows. Cullen was twitchy at first, his moods growing strained and more irritated as time passed. Samson originally pegged it as trauma—the curly-haired boy had been recently transferred from Kinloch—but it was soon apparent that it was something more than that.

But that was nearly a year ago, and many months have passed since Samson learned Cullen’s guarded secret about who—and what—he really is. In a way, Samson proclaimed it his duty to care for the young vampire’s needs. It wasn’t at all what he intended to do from the start, but he couldn’t just let Cullen go starving nor prey on some poor unsuspecting soul somewhere on the streets of Kirkwall.

So when Samson feels a weight settle on his mattress in their room in the templar barracks, he immediately knows who it is.

“Lookin’ for something?” Samson asks, voice rough from sleep. There’s movement under his blanket, the weight of a man settling somewhere around his waist. He peels back the wool, revealing his roommate’s crown of golden curls.

Cullen’s amber eyes stare back at him in the moonlight streaming through the room’s singular window, almost as if they glowed in the dim lighting. The man gives him a tired smile, baring his fangs in a show that only Samson is privy to. There’s something else in his expression, something that Samson has a difficult time reading at first—the obvious signs of hunger... then a search for permission?

“You fed just this morning,” Samson says with an annoyed huff. His hand instinctively moves to his neck, rubbing at the healing bite marks that littered the skin there. “Anymore than that and I’ll have to start wearing scarves under my plate. Meredith will have a fit.”

“Gentlemen, fellows, noble patriarchs of the Realm, thou art well-acquainted with traditional courtship rituals by now: storm castle, slay antagonist guarding chamber, rescue hapless damsel in distress, rinse, repeat.

But, O! how can one expect to court a fair maiden without a succinct, artful, and wittiful quyp? Without the masterful wordsmithery of a bard, how can one expect to turn their princess into an unquestioning, subservient seductress?

Whilst mineself ist but a lowly wash squire whomst hath come not upon the chance to employ such poetry, if such a tyme ever were to arise, here art some pickup lines that I suppose couldst work so long as the lady is a princess who hath been imprisoned in a secluded castle from a young age and thou art honestly her only option at this point.”

🏰 With luck, a dragon be not the only thyng getting slain tonight!

🏰 Art thou a crematory urn? For I’d be willing to incinerate mineself to ashes just to get inside of thee.

🏰 One cannot spell “Prithee, rescue me from captivity in this desolate and dreary tower” without “thee” and “me.”

🏰 Be thou the ague? Because thou makest me sweat uncontrollably in feverish fits in the night, and I shall in all likelihood perish on the morrow.

🏰 Thou must be a seditious pamphlet issued by rebel heretics in the Border Provinces, because merely gazing upon thee feels borderline sinful and punishable with death by boiling.

🏰I understand if m’lady wouldst detest lifelong servitude as mine obedient property, but dost thou at least have an OnlyDamsels I could subscrybe to?

🏰 Art thou here for a long tyme or a goode tyme? Genuine question, since we’re probably not making it to age 33.

A few more drawings in the medieval style.