A/N: First chapter brought to you by the lovely Cara Sterling! I'll be picking up the next. We're each tackling certain POV's, so depending on the chapter construction it could be both of us writing or just one. The signature lines at the bottom of each chapter will tell you who was involved. :-) Enjoy, and as always, thanks for reading!

Chapter 1

Lex Amell smoothed her unkempt hands down the writhen tunic, fretting over her appearance. Never in her life could she recall donning such an odd garment. A labyrinth of buttons and ties confounded her—for Maker's sake, how in the void was she to know if she'd even fastened them correctly? Mage robes were far simpler, little more than a slip of thin material. This silly thing, she hardly knew where to begin.

Her fingers fumbled with the high collar, tugging it away from her neck before it strangled her. The breeches were by far the strangest—long sheaths of garish fabric snug against her legs. Nibbling her lip, Lex bowed forward and tucked the billowing material into the oversized leather boots she'd managed to snag. Needless to say, she felt ridiculous without her robes, but there was little other option.

With a heavy breath, she blew her hair from her face and studied her reflection in a small, muddy puddle gathering in the alley. Utterly ignorant to the ways of the people, she could only hope that she was presentable enough. The last thing she wanted was to strut out into the street as though she belonged only to have them burst into mocking laughter.

The last to go was her stave, and grimacing, she turned toward her beloved wick of wood. Uldred and Irving had gifted it to her upon the successful completion of her Harrowing. She could still see Uldred's face, beaming with pride as he presented his most treasured pupil with something all mages longed for—a place among their peers. Quite simple in design, it was little more than woven wood, garnished with a small glowing ball of amber gripped between the mouths of two eagles. Irving had proclaimed it befitting of an Amell, his gentle eyes shining with appreciation for her.

The thought of abandoning it now burned, but some evils were necessary; a lesson she'd long ago learned in the tower. Crestfallen, she dropped to her knees and deepened her fingers into the earth, hollowing out a long channel. Soil gathered beneath her nails and stained her knuckles, but it had to be done. Only when the hole was large enough did she cast one look upon her one and only worldly possession before laying it to rest within.

Necessary evils—Uldred's many lessons rang as clear as bells in her head. She could do this, of that there was little doubt in her mind. After all, she'd managed to liberate herself from the tower, there was very little she couldn't do. And it wasn't as though this was forever. At first chance, she'd return and reclaim her prize, but until then, it had to remain hidden from the sights of the wretched templars. Now that she'd had her first taste of all the world had to offer, the worst thing she could imagine would be returning to the tower.

Dusting off her hands, Lex startled when trumpets suddenly heralded through the streets. So consumed with hiding, she'd hardly taken notice of the bustling city just beyond the alley. Spinning on her knees, her eyes grew wide as she watched a crowd gather, their voices uplifted as they rejoiced.

Quirking a brow, she scrambled to her feet and crept down the alley. A nest of nerves came to life in her stomach the closer she strayed to the mouth of the street. What if someone knew her for what she was the moment she came into sight? Her fears seemed in vain, however. Far too concerned with the sudden calamity, the denizens were hardly paying enough attention to take notice of one single female among the throng.

As Lex melded with the crowd, she pushed onto her tiptoes, her calves burning as she stretched beyond her height. She could barely see anything, but she could hear it all. Music flowed through the streets as the people joined in song, their faces shining with rapture and eyes shimmering with delighted tears.

Unable to contain her curiosity, she reached out and touched the shoulder of the man who stood before her. Turning, he blinked, his lips twitching as his gaze raked her length. Her clothes, she realized, and from a quick perusal, she found the woman all clad in dresses—similar to her robes but a touch more stylized. Both of which were far more attractive than what she currently donned.

When he didn't cry templar, she found her courage. "Pardon me, ser, but what's happening?"

"The king and the prince," he called over the din. "Today, they march for Ostagar."

Thanking him, she turned back to the procession, finally able to make out who everyone was watching. Two horses led the way, and at first, it was the beasts that Lex couldn't take her eyes off of. Pictures never did anything justice, and finally observing the majestic animals was almost enough—until her gaze rose. So close now, had there not been people standing in the way, she could have reached out and touched them. To be so close to royalty, to bear witness to what it was that made them so cherished among their people...

Her breath lodged in her throat the moment she caught sight of one perched atop his steed. Prince Alistair, she realized in a moment of awe. The portraits of him hung on the tower's stone walls did him no justice. He appeared to glow with a radiance beyond anything she'd ever seen, hair as gold as the king's raiments, and eyes that reminded her of a brilliant autumn day. Straight and true, he rode forward, grinning with ease at the citizens he waved to.

Movement next to him drew Lex's attention and her wandering eye roved, settling on the taller form of the king. Light banding over him, he appeared to shine as brightly as the sun, his armor polished and gleamed for show. Lost to the sight of the pair, she studied the king, her eyes skimming over his full mouth and up the blade of his nose. Handsome, there was no doubt, but it was the devotion of the people that brought Lex still. The crowd absolutely adored them, cheering and clamoring for their attention as they rode onward.

So consumed by the grandeur of the event, she'd hardly noticed the swelling of the crowd at her back, or the soft exclamations under their breaths as the king dismounted. Compared to the majesty of the king and his brother, what did a small commotion matter? Until a sharp elbow caught against her ribs, jostling her forward.

Gasping, Lex stumbled, her toe catching against the foot of the man that stood before her. Unaccustomed to such a gathering, she'd no idea how to catch herself, and as she shot forward, the only thought in her head was that of the horses. Her trajectory was aimed straight for them. Crying out, her hands sought purchase, snatching at empty air with the hope of catching something—anything—and breaking her fall.

To no avail, she braced herself, praying not to bring attention to herself, when two gauntleted hands caught and steadied her.

A hush seemed to consume the entire world and only when she cracked open one eye did her jaw fall slack. Her first day in Denerim and here she stood, held within the hands of the King of Denerim.

"Easy now," he murmured with a gentle smile. "Wouldn't do to lose someone so lovely to such a tragic accident."

Someone so... what?

Woolen thoughts muddled her mind as she tipped her head back to regard him. He seemed nothing like the stories that spoke of his endless hunt for glory, or the portraits that had shown him as little more than an attractive face. There was an intelligence burning within his azure eyes, and a humor curving his rather enchanting mouth.

Maker, how the women of Denerim managed any work was beyond her. The pair was enough to distract even the most devout Chantry sisters. "F-Forgive me, your majesty," Lex implored, righting herself.

"No harm," the king flashed her a wicked grin, his eyes roaming her length. "Are you with a traveling troupe?"

Lex blinked, the forced calm she wore slipping. A traveling troupe? She lacked knowledge of such a thing.

"Your costume," the king continued, nodding at her garments.

The moment Lex realized she was having a conversation with the king, her mouth grew dry, her words vanishing on the faint breeze. An odd sensation snaked through her belly, one of mystery and intrigue. Scrunching her nose, she dropped her eyes, hoping he didn't notice her warming cheeks.

"Yes, majesty," she murmured, resorting to the only lie provided.

"Well, I certainly hope nothing was damaged. I would hate to have been the ruin of your show!"

Laughter swelled around them, and Lex dipped her chin, a curtain of her long dark hair sliding forward to veil her from sight.

Steeled fingers pressed into her palm, lifting her hand. "Until we meet again, dear lady," the king whispered to her before he brushed his mouth against the back of her hand.

Lex's heart dropped to her stomach, her breath rushing past her lips. All she could focus on was the dirt ingrained in her nail beds. Surely, the king must think her a slob or something, but before she could think of a single word to say, he was gone, back upon his horse and riding into sunset as the Denerim gates closed behind them.

Jowan would never believe this story.

"Well, well," a brash voice interrupted Lex's thoughts. "If it isn't the king's newest little strumpet."

Blinking, Lex lifted her narrowed gaze from the dusty counter. A picture of ease, her visitor slanted against the nearest stool with a lazy grin curling his lips. Setting her jaw, Lex hoped to ignore him. It wasn't often that she immediately disliked someone, but for this one, she made an exception. Overlooking the grating tone of his voice, she didn't appreciate being referred to as a strumpet—the king's or anyone else's for that matter.

"I saw you out there," the stranger chuckled as he brushed aside a mop of unruly chestnut hair, "fawning over the king. And so did the rest of Denerim."

Unwelcome as a templar, she decided, returning her attention to her chipped flagon. "I did not fawn," she growled, annoyance spreading through her stomach.

"Is that so," he pushed, his dark brows arching above his russet eyes. "'Cuz that's what it looked like to me. All doe-eyed, blushing cheeks, and bashful words. The king doesn't like his women that way, 'case you're wondering."

Fingers coiling around her mug, she slumped into her chair, wondering what it would take to just be left alone. Surely, Denerim wasn't so small that she could call so much attention to herself?

"I don't care what the king thinks," Lex snapped.

Truthfully, she didn't. Perhaps at first there'd been a bit of awe—the man was a noble, for Maker's sake, and atop a horse, striding with purpose through the streets. Of course she'd been impressed! But afterward, as the crowd dispersed, she'd begun to realize that he was the reason her people were locked away in a stone tower, forever hidden from the rest of the world. He was the reason magic was so very feared. At any time, he could have mended the state of the circle, but he hadn't. It was his fault that she'd been forced to escape, if only to taste a breath of fresh air once in her life. What were armor and horses compared to that?

"Maybe you do, maybe you don't," her obnoxious visitor continued. "Isn't the king I'd be worried about, though."

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. She was about to play right into his hand, but part of her needed to know who she should be concerned about. Lowering her mug to the counter, she leaned back in her chair, her gaze flicking over his comely face once more. "Oh?"

Eyes devoid of humor, he leaned forward and pressed his palm flat against her thigh. Anger sparked, her teeth deepening into her lower lip as she struggled to control her magic. One cast, and the templars would fall on her with a vengeance, but she didn't like being touched.

"It's the queen," he whispered. "She's all sorts of crazy and tends to get a bit possessive when it comes to the king."

"The queen," Lex deadpanned, refraining from rolling her eyes. "That's who I should be worried about?"

He gave an earnest nod. "Word has it that the last girl the king amused was never seen again. They say you can still hear her screams in the dungeon."

Lex couldn't help but shiver; his tone was so serious, eyes boring into hers. He couldn't mean it... could he? She only knew what she'd read about the monarch, but tales were simply that—yarn spun by those commissioned to spin it. "You're having me on," she murmured, her head cocking as she regarded him.

"Think so, my lady?" He shook himself and pushed away from her, his gaze flicking to the entrance. "Let me know if you still feel that way when she comes for you."

A breathless laugh fell from her lips. "Please, the queen isn't going to come after me."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he stated before spinning on his heel and vanishing into the tavern's crowd.

"Wait!" Lex called, her mug thumping down on the counter before she took off after him.

Weaving through the people, she caught flashes of his dark hair and thin body. The way he moved, like a nimble shadow cat. One moment he was in her sights, the next gone. Her palm slammed against the thin oak door and she stumbled out into the daylight, wincing at the strength of the setting sun. In the tower, it was rarely this bright.

"Ah," his voice hummed in her ear. "Better, now that we can talk in private, wouldn't you agree?"

Lex pivoted in her stolen boots, pinning him with a fierce stare. "So it was all a lie."

His head fell back, a rough laugh tumbling from his lips. "Please, why would the queen care about a small thing like you? She's a noble, and you're nothing more than an apostate."

Lex froze, her breath quickening. How in the void...

"You mages," her accuser laughed. "Think you can blend in because there's so many people here..."

"How did you—"

"Trust me, poppet. I've lived on the streets long enough to know when a wayward mage walks into my city. Look at you." His hand flourished the length of her body. "Maybe the king is naive enough to believe you belong to some troupe, but you have mage stamped all over you. Your dovelike innocence, and of course that hideous outfit..."

Swallowing, she stumbled back a step, gaze sweeping over the city in search of templars. She hadn't expected her adventure to come to an end so quickly, and by the hand of a gutterpup no less.

"Oh, calm down," he chuckled. "I haven't reported you."

Her chin snapped up, her cheeks burning as she glared at him. "Why not?"

Delighted, he pushed toward her with a bounce to his steps. "I enjoy mages. They make things so much easier."

The way he said that... her skin crawled as an endless parade of thoughts stomped through her mind. "Make what easier?"

Chuckling, he rounded her, his index tapping his chin as he regarded her. "Don't worry, poppet. I'm not that sort of man. But when it comes to stealing, I find mages possess a slight of hand that many don't. All that spell casting you do, gives you limber wrists."

Shock stilled her tongue. Stealing? Not that she wasn't already guilty of such a transgression, but she'd only done it out of necessity.

"And I take it if I don't comply, you pass me off to the templars?"

His thick brows shot up. "Just what sort of cutthroat do you take me for?"

"So... I can deny you?"

His lips curled as he leaned back on his heels. "Sure, poppet. I won't force you to do anything."

Relief washed through her, and though she still feared he'd report her, she turned to leave.

"But you'll do better with me watching your back," he called out after a few steps.

Lex paused. Truth rang in his words. Here was someone that had lived his entire life on the streets, and she hadn't even found a place to rest her head for the night. It was something to consider, at the very least. How better to keep hidden from sight than to actually vanish among the people, the way he had in the tavern. She'd never witnessed someone so light of foot before, and thinking on it now, she wanted to learn just that.

"Can you keep me safe from the templars?" she called over her shoulder.

A shadow darkened his face. "For a while, anyway," he admitted with brutal honesty. "They always find their marks."

Nodding, she turned toward him. She'd known that from the beginning—she couldn't escape her phylactery. But if this vagrant could teach her a means of survival, a way to keep hidden from the templars for as long as possible, how could she reject him? "All right."

Rapture brightened his face and darting over, he swept her hand into his, pumping it excitedly. "The name is Daveth, dear lady."

"Lex," she told him with a slow smile. "Lex Amell."

~Cara Sterling