TROUBLE
Part I
From the moment I first laid eyes on her, I knew I was in trouble.
I digress. The first time I laid eyes on her, I knew she was in trouble. The part where I was in trouble wouldn't come until nearly ten years later, but that first moment was the beginning of it all. It was the catalyst of so many things.
The commotion was enough to draw myself and Mum from our rickety dining table and out to the dusty Denerim back alley. There was quite the racket indeed, what with raised voices paired with that of a young girl yelling for her mother. Such a scene was a rarity in the city, believe it or not. With the city guard and templars and all, our streets were relatively safe. That meant that the noise got us onto our feet without delay.
Mum grabbed her dagger and dashed out the door with me on her heels. By all means, it was a terrible sight. Despite it all (who I am and how far I've come), I still look back on that day with so much shame for the Order! A girl had been forcibly removed from her home by seven templars, who pulled her to her knees right there on the streets, in the view of everyone and the Maker himself. Her mother rushed out the door in hysterics, fighting the armored men to get to her child. We had no indication of her crimes, but whispers hissed around us that she had accidentally set off a fireball at the son of some noble who was in town for the Landsmeet. Her mother hurried her back home as she tried to figure out what she'd do with the girl, but the father of the boy saw to it that her fate was decided immediately. The Templars came to take the girl and labeled her an apostate all of an hour later. It was off to the Circle with her right away. She hadn't even the time to make proper goodbyes. It was, by far, an extremely impressionable time in my young life.
Her shanty lean-to of a home had been directly across the street from mine and I was surprised as I stood there, clinging to my mother's waist, that I had never seen her before. She was pale to the point of illness with long, wavy blonde hair that was nearly without color. Her cheeks were reddened, possibly from strain, and she had a tilt to her eyes and extension to her ears that convinced me that she was at least partially elf, though obviously not to the point that the alienage would be her home. The most striking thing about her, though, were her eyes. They were a stark contrast to her complexion, what with their large size, in comparison to her petite features, and dark chocolate color.
I simply could not tear my gaze away from her. There was a point in all of the chaos wherein she simply ceased to be. Her gaze fell, sending hair cascading around her head and shoulders like a protective blanket. It was as if she had even become one with the ground, having slumped to the point of appearing boneless. Her dad joined in the fray as well and fought with the templars behind her, as did her mother and older brother. There was a clear and constant battle raging behind her and she simply just was.
"Mummy," I whispered up, drawing the attention that I could. "What are they doing to her?"
"Such an injustice," I remember her muttering in reply. Her brow wrinkled in frustration and she pulled me tight. "She's too young for the Circle! And I doubt she hurt that boy on purpose. That much is… it is ridiculous!" She went on to inform me that the girl was, in fact, half elvish. That certainly didn't help her case. She went on to tell me that many believed elves were more vulnerable to demons, even moreso than any other mage. She said the very idea was preposterous and an unneeded prejudice. Back then, I actually believed her and felt even more sympathetic towards the girl. There I was, barefoot on the dirt path as I watched a small, pale, delicate creature being pulled to her feet. The huge, armored templars confronted both her and her parents… the fault did seem questionable.
There was one specific moment in all of the chaos - the one I knew I would remember for the rest of my life - when the knights pulled her back to reality. Huge hands had grabbed a lithe arm and tried to jerk her to her feet. She was limp and unresponsive. Yelling, he pulled her again and at that point, she finally gave in. Her chin lifted and eyes opened. It might have just been childish imagination, but I would swear to this day that her eyes immediately focused on me. Twenty people in our crowded nook of the road and she looked straight at me. Her gaze was remarkable, to say the least. Thirty something feet away and her eyes drew me in. They were bloodshot, hopeless and yes, it haunted me for years after. It could have been the loss her eyes showed me or the way I could practically see right through to her soul. Maker, I didn't know what misery looked or felt like until then. Or possibly, it was just the image of dark eyes framed by such a small and ghostly face. Either way, it was unforgettable.
Had I known who I saw that day or bloody hell, who I'd become myself, maybe the situation would have been different. I shudder when I think of how alternate circumstances could have changed the outcome of everything. But hindsight is a blessing we don't deserve to have in advance.