Chapter One
It was around midday when Cullen and his unit made one final stop in a small town just east of Lake Calenhad Docks. While he was eager to reach the circle tower of Kinloch Hold, he waited patiently while his commander sent a raven to the island. His fellow comrades made themselves scarce by exploring what the small town had to offer—not much, other than a handful of shops and a tavern. Instead of joining them, he decided to go for a walk, patrolling the narrow roads winding through the alleys.
It was better than twiddling his thumbs. Even as a small child, he'd never been one for sitting still. He was always active, always doing something.
Sighing in mild annoyance, he turned the corner and strolled down the alleyway between a pitiful weapons shop and someone's home. He passed a collection of barrels and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. The town was so small and insignificant that it wasn't even on most maps. There were little-to-no trade routes, and less than fifty people resided there. It was rather depressing. He was just ready to move on already.
At the sound of something shuffling behind him, he spun around and grabbed the hilt of his sword, though he didn't draw it just yet. He and his comrades had received strict commands to not challenge the villagers, no matter if they picked a fight with them first. Templars were not well liked around these parts, but even so, they had a reputation to keep.
"Who goes there?" he demanded, edging closer to the barrels.
Someone—a female—breathed a cursed in a foreign language. Despite the crown of snowy-white hair peaking over the tops of the barrels, she hid well in the shadows. He'd almost missed her completely. Then, blue eyes like the clearest summer sky landed on him, wide and curious as she measured him up.
"Oh! You're not one of them," she said, almost sounding relieved. "You're…well, what are you? Your armor looks strange."
Cullen frowned, glancing down at himself. His red templar suit was common among the new recruits. Nothing about it was different than what all others wore. "I beg your pardon. This is traditional templar gear."
She tilted her head to one side, much like a curious bird. Her hair, as straight and shiny as a silk ribbon, slid over one bare shoulder. It was long, falling to her elbows. "Templars," she echoed, sounding the word out as if it were foreign. "That's what the taverners were talking about last night. Fire Ants, I believe is what they called you. Although there were a few who said the words 'Red Devils'."
Not offended in the least bit, Cullen released his sword and crossed his arms. "That's expected. The people around here aren't too keen with our presence. They needn't worry. Our time here will be short."
She opened her mouth to speak, only to gasp and duck back behind the barrels. She held a finger to her lips in a silencing motion.
Confused, Cullen was about to ask what the devil she was doing, until he heard a series of footsteps running toward him. Facing the opposite end of the alley, he watched as four men rounded the corner. They stopped, though it was clear they weren't pleased at the sight of him.
"Oy," one man shouted as he stepped forward. He was skinnier than the others, but somehow looked as though he was the leader of the little ragtag band of thugs. "You see a knife-ear come through here? Female, white hair, blue eyes."
His breath reeked of old ale. Half of his teeth were missing, and the few that remained were rotten and stained with color. His friends looked no better, their menacing glares telling him that they were one of the rare few who held no qualms about picking a fight with him.
While he would gladly take all four of them on to get in a bit of much-needed exercise, only the knowledge of a brutal punishment from his commander kept him from doing so. Instead, he feigned curiosity. "An elf has caused trouble here?" As he spoke, he casually shifted his stance so that he was shielding the barrels from the other men's view.
The man spat on the ground. "The bitch stole our coin and made off with it. It's of no concern to you, Red Devil. We handle our own problems." He wrapped his dirty fingers around a small knife tucked into the waistband of his trousers. It was meant to be a threatening gesture, no doubt, but all Cullen did was lift a single brow. "Have you seen her or not?"
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "I actually saw a girl who fit that description some twenty minutes ago. Looked like she was taking the eastern road. Moving pretty fast."
The man's features tightened with fury. "The bloody knife-ear must think to lay low in Crestwood. Come on!" He pushed past Cullen and all four men took off.
When their thundering footsteps could no longer be heard, the elf emerged from behind the barrels. She chuckled and dusted herself off. "Wow, just when I thought those brutes couldn't get any dumber."
Still watching the end of the alley in case the men retracted, he asked her, "Are you a thief?"
She giggled, a soft sound filled with mischief. "If I were, do you truly think I would tell you?" She stopped next to him. "Ever heard of the game Wicked Grace? Your fellow humans took one look at me and assumed I would be easy pickings, as if my people don't play similar games."
Cullen then turned to her, his eyes going wide in surprise. Surprise, and something…else. Something entirely inappropriate for so many reasons.
Wearing nothing more than a narrow breastplate and short skirt made out of leather, she was all tanned skin and long limbs as she approached him. Instead of the too-sweet perfumes the women in his hometown used to douse themselves in, she had a natural earthy scent that reminded him of the flowery crowns his sister Mia used to make. It was a heady scent, one that almost had him leaning closer before he stopped himself.
Unaware of his vastly improper attraction to her, the elf peered up at him with a bright smile. He only then noticed to dark blue swirling tattoo curving across the top of her left cheek. That explained her rather scandalous attire.
"You're Dalish?" he asked in bewilderment. "Why are you here? Where's your clan?" Belatedly realizing that his words very well sounded offensive, he rushed to apologize, but not once did her smile falter.
"No need to apologize. I don't have one." She paused and tilted her head. "Well, that's not true. I have a clan, but I haven't seen them for quite some time. There was a nasty storm a few months back. I was out gathering herbs and…well, I may or may not have lost my way."
Cullen just stared at her. She wasn't anything like how he imagined the Dalish would be. Growing up, they'd been told tales of how uncivilized and vicious the "Free Elves" were, of how they killed humans for fun and wore their flesh as trophies. He'd never personally met one before, but while he'd known the tales were a bit exaggerated to keep curious children like him from running into the forests, he'd still assumed the elves would be more…primitive.
Instead, the girl before him spoke the common tongue fluidly, her skin was clean from a recent bath, and even her teeth were white and straight from good dental hygiene. Besides the odd clothing choice and bare feet, she was pretty…well, normal.
What amazed him most, however, was the fact that she didn't look or sound the least bit perturbed by being separated from her clan. The Dalish kept to themselves as they traveled across Thedas. It was very, very rare to see one in the city, and even then, it was because they'd been stolen by slave traders, not because they actively sought to mingle with the modern world.
"Are you lost then?" He couldn't help but ask. "Do you need help with—"
He didn't finish his words before she started shaking her head, flashing him a sheepish smile. "If I'm being honest, the freedom has been…welcome. You humans have the strangest customs, and yet I find myself wanting to learn so much more. I never would have been granted this opportunity before. As you can imagine, our keeper is quite conservative."
"But…surely you must have family who misses you?" It just confused him as to why anyone would leave their only home. Alone, at that.
Granted he'd left his hometown, but the circumstances were different. He'd known from a young age that he'd wanted to be a templar. When he left for official training, even then he'd been surrounded by his comrades. They were as much his family as his own. He assumed the Dalish would feel the same way about their clans.
She went quiet for several moments, her smile slowly waning. An odd look crossed her delicate features, a mixture of sorrow and resentment. "No. Not really." She visibly shook herself, the sad look disappearing in an instant. It'd happened so fast that had he not been watching her so closely, he would have missed it. "I haven't had the warmest of greetings here, but the people tended to me so long as I had acceptable payment. Is that to be expected everywhere? Do we 'knife-ears' really make you all that uncomfortable?"
She asked in such a casual manner, as though she found the derogatory name for her people to be humorous. He scratched the back of his neck. "I…I'm not uncomfortable. I can't speak for others. It's true that there are people out there who fear and resent your kind. Some look down on you. However, there are plenty of cities out there who wouldn't bat an eye at your…ears. Or markings. It's all about finding your place in society."
When he glanced at her again, she had a look of contemplation on her face, as if he'd given her words of deep philosophy. She really was quite beautiful. Hers wasn't the sort of beauty he'd seen among the royal courts where ladies would wear fine dresses and don heavy makeup and such. No, she had a natural allure that only the elves could claim. Their looks were the main reason they were in high demand among the slave trade.
Still, Cullen had met a handful of city elves in his life, and while they were all beautiful even when wearing rags for clothing, the attraction he felt for the female before him was different.
Which was completely bizarre given that he'd met her less than an hour ago. Hell, he still didn't even know her name.
"Finding my place in society," she murmured, thinking it over. "I think… I think that might be fun." She grinned up at him again, something that was starting to feel like a sucker punch in the gut. For some reason, he enjoyed seeing that smile. A sweet smile untouched by the bitterness of the world, yet one that produced a constant impish twinkle in her pale eyes.
He snorted with humor, hoping he did well with hiding the heat rising to his cheeks. When he opened his mouth to ask her something, they both jumped at the sound of a blaring horn in the distance. He frowned as he recognized it for what it was—a calling of all templars to reassemble to continue forward.
Cullen felt something sink deep inside him, a feeling of disappointment. While he'd been eager to march forward to Kinloch Hold to start his new duties, he now felt reluctant to leave so soon. He wasn't ready to move on just yet, not while he was enjoying the girl's presence.
They turned to each other at the same time, both seeming at a loss for words. It was beyond strange how he hadn't even felt this way when leaving his family behind to join the Order.
"I…uh, well… It's time for me to go," he stammered, once again scratching the back of his neck. He'd never been one to stumble over his own words. Everything he said and did was with the utmost confidence, yet now he couldn't seem to form a coherent thought. It was far too embarrassing for his liking.
One corner of her lips quirked upward, though she appeared just as reluctant as he. "I see. Well, thank you for saving me earlier. Allow me to repay you."
When she started patting around her clothes, he muttered, "That's not necess—"
"I don't have any coin to spare," she pouted, dropping her hands. Then, she gasped. "I know!" She tugged a golden ring off her middle finger, and before he could deny the gift, she placed it in his hands. "I once tried to take up jewelry-making. This was the very first ring I've ever made. It's not worth much, but it's made of pure gold. Should be able to sell it for a good price."
Though he guessed they were around the same age, his hands swallowed her dainty ones. Then, moving faster than he thought anyone capable of, she grabbed his shoulders and pressed her lips to his.
Cullen froze on the spot, sure that his cheeks would be a fiery shade of red. She didn't pull back right away, instead remaining on the tips of her toes, kissing him. He'd kissed girls before—two, actually—but never before had it felt like this. He felt as though his heart had faltered and his knees weakened. It was wonderful.
Snapping from his stupor, he placed his shaking hands on her hips and kissed her back. When her lips parted, he wasted no time in mingling his tongue with hers, tasting the faint remnants of sweet berries. She slid her hands up the side of his neck and fingered the short curls brushing the back of his neck. He tugged her closer, wishing he were wearing less armor so that he could feel her body pressed to his. Instead, he trailed his fingers across the bare skin of her back, admiring how smooth it was.
A second horn blared, one that was a last call for all soldiers. With great, great reluctance, they pulled away from each other, her cheeks as flushed as he imagined his were.
She murmured something in her native tongue, a few choice words he couldn't decipher. Then, she said, "Should our paths cross again, know that I am in your debt." With that, she gave him one more small kiss on the cheek and started to walk away.
"W-wait," Cullen called after her. This was madness—complete and total madness. He didn't know a thing about her, not really. They were complete strangers, and yet the thought of never seeing her again left him feeling raw on the inside. She paused and glanced over her slender shoulder at him with raised eyebrows that were several shades darker than her hair. "I…I didn't catch your name."
Her eyes widened as if she just realized that they truly hadn't exchanged introductions. "I'm Ivy Lavellan. And you?"
"Cullen. Cullen Rutherford."
She flashed him one more small smile, this one full of fondness that he hoped was just for him. He did his best to commit every inch of her to memory. She placed two fingers to her forehead in a lazy salute. "Until next time, Cullen."
Moments later, she was gone, disappearing around the corner of the alley. He stared after her for a while longer, then sighed when it was evident that she was not going to return. He glanced down at the ring in his hand. It was tiny, barely big enough to fit around his pinky. The golden metal was clean, and though the swirling pattern engraved on it wasn't as professional as others he'd seen, it was still a rather intricate design.
Templars weren't allowed to keep treasures or anything of sentimental value, yet it felt wrong to just chuck it to the side or even sell it. Instead, he tucked the ring deep into an inner pocket. Then, he turned on his heel and set off to join his unit.