Some days had passed since Eostre had spoken with Cullen. Of course, they would greet each other in passing and discuss the next plan of action, but otherwise, they almost didn't converse at all.

Yet every time Cullen laid eyes on Eostre, he couldn't help but feeling something deep within. What this feeling was, however, he could never say.

As he sat in his tent, pouring over the various reports from the scouts out in the field, he couldn't help but feel relieved to hear that once again, Eostre had returned.

After he had spent enough time glancing over the various reports, he withdrew from his tent to greet the sight of Eostre walking his way.

"Cullen, I was hoping we could speak again. I'm sure you've read the reports from Val Royeaux."

"Yes," he replied, "the templars have withdrawn, leaving it rather defenceless. Should there be an attack, the result would be devastating."

"Yes, but there's something else," Eostre fiddled with her hands before gesturing towards the frozen lake. "May I speak with you? In Private?"

Cullen appeared flustered by the idea of spending time alone with Eostre. "But ... but of course."

As they approached the water's edge, Cullen couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable Eostre was.

"The reports …. Did they mention a Knight-Lieutenant Trevelyan by any chance?"

"No."

"Oh. I suppose that is both good and bad news."

"Have you not spoken to your brother since?"

"No." She tried to force a smile to hide her discomfort. "He wasn't supportive of my arranged marriage either, but he would never disobey my parents, having such Templar discipline."

Eostre looked out across the frozen lake, holding her left index finger in her right hand, using her thumb to soft massage it.

"Trevelyans are raised from birth to serve the Chantry either as members or as part of the Templar order. Of course, I was the exception, but I never really learnt about templar life, not even from Godric, my brother."

"Well," Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, "what would you like to know?"

"Why did you join?"

"I could think of no better calling than to protect those in need. I used to beg the templars at our local Chantry to teach me. At first, they merely humoured me, but I must have shown promise. Or at least a willingness to learn. The Knight-Captain spoke to my parents on my behalf. They agreed to send me for training. I was thirteen when I left home."

Eostre glanced back at Cullen, concern in her eyes. "You were only thirteen? Godric didn't leave until he was sixteen, and even then, it was with resistance from mother."

"I wasn't the youngest there. Some children are promised to the Order at infancy, most likely like your family. Still, I didn't take on full responsibilities until I was eighteen. The Order sees you trained and educated first."

"What about your family – did you miss them? Godric didn't at first, but then the letters home started. I do hope my parents have kept the ones he wrote to me."

A kind of sweetness radiated from Eostre as she remembered receiving personally addressed letters in the prominent yet abhorrent penmanship of her older brother.

"Of course. But there many my age who felt the same. We learned to look out for one another."

"Do templars take vows? 'I swear to the Maker to watch all the mages' – that sort of thing?"

"There's a vigil first. You're meant to be at peace during that time, but your life is about to change. When it's over, you give yourself to a life of service. That's when you're given a philtre – your first draught of lyrium – and its power. As templars, we are not to seek wealth or acknowledgement. Our lives belong to the Maker and the path we have chosen."

"A life of service and sacrifice," Eostre pondered, "are templars also expected to give up… physical temptations?"

This question caught Cullen off guard; why would Eostre ask such a question?

"Physical? Why…" Cullen cleared his throat as a soft smile crossed Eostre's face. Her question appeared to have flustered the otherwise stone-faced commander.

"Why would you… That's not expected. Templars can marry – although there are rules about it, and the Order must grant permission… Some may choose to give up more to prove their devotion, but it's, um, not required."

Eostre continued, taking a small delight in having Cullen squirm before her, "Have you?"

Cullen's face began to turn red; he could feel a surge of heat throughout his body. "Me? I… um… no. I've taken no such vows. Maker's breath – can we speak of something else?"

The entrance of a scout broke the tension, "Lady Trevelyan, Lady Montilyet needs to see you. A matter of urgency."

Eostre nodded and followed the scout, "thank you, Cullen. Maybe we can speak again."

Cullen felt his entire body overcome with heat. His breathing was considerably heavier as he watched Eostre walk away, taking note of every inch of her body before quickly snapping out of it.

Eostre looked back, her eyes showing her longing for him, but he did not meet her gaze. Eostre sighed deeply, slowly following the scout. "Well done, Eostre, you've screwed that up."

Unlike the noble ladies she had observed at one of Great Aunt Lucille's fabled balls, Eostre had been rather shy in her youth.

This shyness had made it awkward for potential suitors to approach her, much to the annoyance of her parents but the glee of her Great Aunt, who enjoyed playing the game feverishly.

A shy, unremarkable young lady could slip between the various talking circles and find interesting gossip that Lucille could play to her advantage.

"If only Great Aunt Lucille had the courtesy to teach me how to speak to boys, that would have come in useful."