Cullen Rutherford was a very handsome man. That was a fact as plain as the nose on his face - and for once Evelyn could be fairly sure that the looks they drew as they sat and talked weren't all to do with her. She came here often enough, and recognised most if not all of the people around them well enough to know she was not a novelty to them. Cullen, though? The handsome Templar whose elbow-jab to her face had just been widely publicised? That was novel indeed.
"Your nose looks much better," he remarked, eyes scanning over it for a hint of any hidden bruises.
"Not the strangest compliment I've ever received, but it's certainly up there," she smiled.
He huffed a laugh - one that wasn't half so nervous as she was worried it would be "I only mean that your healer did good work. Despite my best efforts, it would seem."
"Look at it this way - you're the hero of staunch anti-royalists everywhere now," she said "I always took you for one, you know."
Although using the word always when they'd hardly known one another for that long may have been a tad extreme.
"A hero?" he asked drily.
"An anti-royalist," she corrected.
And then she did her utmost to pretend she most certainly was not keenly watching his reaction for any traces of falsehood.
"I…" he hesitated, and then he sighed, his shoulders loosening before he looked at her ruefully "I wouldn't use the word staunch."
Evelyn smiled. Were she the sort to spend her time levelling petty little tests towards those she spent her time with, he would have passed with flying colours. That being said, any guilt she may have been tempted to feel over more or less having done just that was erased by the fact that it was just a reality of who she was. If she waved in any and every soul who wished to get close to her without so much as carefully probing into who they were, she'd be a fool.
"I hope you don't take offence, ma'am- er, Evelyn, it's just that I value meritocracy, and monarchies…well, they're hardly that."
The smile remained on Evelyn's face, but mostly to show that she wasn't offended by his talking frankly. On the contrary, she was happy that he was - if only because it might give her more of a shot at working him out. And what was she supposed to do? Sit here and wax poetic about divine right to rule? That wasn't her speed.
"Your place is determined from birth," he finished finally, without bite "...and newborns can hardly earn much."
"I'm not sure workmens' boots come in sizes that small."
"See? Now I've made myself sound like some sort of zealot who believes infants should earn their keep," he snorted with a lopsided smile.
A criminally handsome lopsided smile. If he walked around with that as his default expression, he'd be beating suitors back with a stick on the daily.
"I understand your meaning quite well, Cullen," she shook her head "And I take no offence to it."
If anything, she was pleased to hear him voice it. Thrilled, even. It spoke of a level of honesty she didn't much expect from many these days. While history was littered with princes who gravitated towards women who sneered and spoke down to them just because it offered a new and fresh thrill that sycophancy did not, Evelyn would hardly go so far as to put herself in that category. But honesty? Honesty she valued highly. And Cullen seemed the honest sort.
"Good," he said, sincerity shining through in his voice "Because were it a meritocracy, you'd still be precisely where you are."
Evelyn's own smile widened, and she found herself blushing under his compliment. He didn't seem the type to offer them meaninglessly.
"Now, now - I bet you say that to all of the princesses."
"I can't say I've met any other princesses," he replied "Which I suspect showed rather blatantly, in the beginning. Perhaps still now."
"Not at all," she shook her head "I got the sense that you were ill at ease, but you hid it well."
And he didn't cry, shake, or swoon, which meant his response to her was far from the most dramatic she'd ever encountered. Nor, happily, had he gone too far in the other direction and become overly obnoxious to try and hide any discomfort. She'd never admit it, but were she forced to contend with someone who was uncomfortable and awkward because they disliked her lot, or someone who was hysterical and shaken because they viewed her as some sort of immortal figure of good, she'd choose the former every day.
"Although it surprised me," she added "That you were nervous at all to begin with. Given what we just established about your outlook on my sort."
He breathed a laugh, shaking his head and then replying slowly.
"I think anybody would be hard-pressed not to be somewhat nervous - the cars, and the castle, the staff…"
"The pomp," she supplied knowingly.
"Precisely," he offered a handsome, lopsided smile "And I'm not a natural schmoozer. The idea that I might blunder my way out of a very real opportunity - for the charity, I mean - was hardly conducive to a good night's sleep. I…didn't know what you would be like."
"You were worried I'd be an utter horror, then?"
"I wouldn't say that. Your reputation preceded you, but I had little idea of how much of that reputation was based in fact and how much of it was…well, the papers are certainly fascinated by you."
Evelyn made a face - one that he apparently took the wrong way, too, judging by how he rushed to clarify.
"Not that I thought it was deception on your part, you're just doing your job, but it seemed idiotic to read a few articles and then decide I knew you."
A mark in his favour if there ever was one. She understood why some would read about her and proceed to speak to her as if they knew her, but it never seemed to occur to those people that nine times out of ten they were perfect strangers to her, and none of their reading and digging could constitute a real meeting. Worse still, they never seemed to comprehend that they only ever ended up speaking to who they'd decided she was based on articles by other people whom she'd also never met. It was…tiresome. But lots of things were tiresome to her at the moment, and she chose to hand-wave it all off as a lack of sleep.
"Still - it's quite a leap from maybe they don't all need to be guillotined to I should ask her on a date," she pointed out.
"Do you interrogate every man who shows an interest in you like this?"
Evelyn winced "Maker, it does sound like an interrogation, doesn't it? I'm sorry. I'm just…curious. Until we last saw one another, I was entirely certain that I'd be the last woman in the world that you'd ever ask out. I'm not usually wrong about things like this. You caught me off-guard."
It wasn't often that such a thing happened - and it was even rarer still that she admitted it. She'd be lying if she pretended that it wasn't oddly embarrassing, and she wished she hadn't owned up to it almost as soon as she voiced it. But Cullen chuckled warmly in response, regarding her with something dangerously close to fondness.
"I can't pretend the feeling wasn't mutual," he admitted "You're not what I expected."
"That sounds like a compliment," she smiled a little.
"Does it make it less of a compliment if I admit it was one?"
"Not at all," she snorted "I know how people expect us to be, Cullen. I've seen…"
She trailed off, vaguely horrified at what she'd almost said. I've seen how my brother treats people he deems beneath him. The words themselves weren't what bothered her, anybody with eyes knew exactly what Fordham was within moments of meeting him - what bothered her was how close she'd just come to admitting that. To an outsider. She'd need to watch herself with this one, he had a knack for making her feel far too at ease.
"...things," she finished lamely instead, before clearing her throat.
The corners of his lips twitched upwards, drawing her attention to that very distracting scar at his upper lip.
"After I recovered from the shock at your being so…" now it was his turn to trail off, and then he ruefully settled upon a word, "surprising, it occurred to me in the medical tent that, were you any other woman, I'd be asking you out for something like, well, this. Then I wondered why I shouldn't, and I found no reason."
Evelyn smiled a little - mostly at the flush just threatening to colour his cheeks, which he hid by coughing and adding "Other than the fact that I'd just broken your nose, of course."
"I dread to think what you'd do if you were gearing up to a proposal," she teased.
She barely had the time to wonder if the joke was a step too far when he laughed warmly, shaking his head "Healers would have to be warned ahead of time, I think."
"Well, if it's any consolation I'm glad you did. Ask me, I mean. The nose thing I could take or leave."
"I'll note that going forward."
"The nose thing or the asking me out thing?"
"Both," he said "Although you seem an enterprising woman - I should hope you might take the initiative next time."
Evelyn breathed a laugh that was more girlish than she'd ever usually let herself be since…well. Before. And then she teased him, just so she didn't feel like she was too much on the backfoot, surprised by just how charming he could be when he stopped blushing. Or maybe the blushing was part of it, really. It took any smarmy, sleaziness out of the flirting and gave it an earnest edge that was thoroughly disarming compared to what she was used to.
"Be very careful what you wish for."
That earned her another smile that might've been positively rakish were it not for how often she'd seen him stammer and blush.
With her, ahem, spirited questioning of his thought process out of the way, and their mutual bemusement regarding one another thoroughly acknowledged, their conversation gave way to more typical date territory. And it was so delightfully easy.
They had more in common than it may have first appeared - he'd grown up in the village of Honnleath, which she'd heard of (her Geography lessons as a child were nothing short of gruelling) but never visited. He hadn't been surprised by that, for apparently it was very small, and painstakingly rural. It was that rural nature that helped them find common ground, though, for his experience with horses wasn't just an Order-mandated formality - a part of training to be endured and nothing more. And, well, toffs loved their horses, so it was a topic she could harp on about all day.
That bit of common ground allowed them to find more. From talking about horse-riding, to hiking, to fishing, to hunting, to dogs. All ground they had in common thanks to entirely different avenues proved to be a Makersend, the only slight hiccup being when Cullen professed to desperately wanting a Mabari one day, which prompted Evelyn to unthinkingly say that she doubted she'd be permitted one herself. Even in the old days it'd be viewed as unpatriotic, but now? Now it would set tongues wagging.
She didn't mention the last part, of course, but the unthinking 'oh, I'd never be permitted one' was enough to have her pausing at her own uncharacteristic unthinking - and the flush returning to Cullen's face, a hand drifting to the back of his neck so he could rub it awkwardly.
There was something infinitely more embarrassing about alluding to an ex on a first date when the ex was a king, and the whole torrid business had been everywhere. The lull that it prompted, though, was the first in what could have been hours. Their coffees were long gone, followed by snacks when it became apparent neither of them particularly wanted to move, and then more drinks when they threatened to talk themselves hoarse. There had just been that energy between them - that sort of click that was difficult to pin down to an exact science, but impossible to ignore when it arose, ensuring she'd barely been able to tear her eyes away from his as they enthused over their common ground, or explained the not-so-common ground to the other while they listened attentively.
"I…think we've monopolised this table to a rather rude extent," she flushed.
Andraste, how long had it been since she'd had a conversation with someone where she left it unable to recall a clear and concise catalogue of every single thing she'd said, and why she'd said it?
"I think we may have," he coughed, rising quickly when she moved to do the same.
Payment was another loaded topic. Ordinarily it looked bad if she let anybody buy her anything, but she also knew that men could be so bloody funny about this sort of thing if they felt like their toes were being trod all over, so when Cullen insisted she said nothing of it and simply thanked him, clasping her hands before her while he brushed off her insistences that she could at least cover one round of the three.
And then the awkwardness was back. But the good kind - the healthy first date kind that spoke of an investment in what might happen next, rather than indifference. While the matter of paying was a minefield, the matter of how this date would end was something she refused to take the lead on. Power imbalances and all that.
"This was nice," Cullen said, taking up his coat from the back of his chair "Really nice. I hadn't…Well. I suppose it'll be the gala - when we next see one another."
It wasn't so far off now, and from what she knew of him, his schedule rivalled hers in terms of packing as much into one day as possible. As if hearing his words, though, her phone pinged and she murmured an apology when she noted Aveline's name on the screen and picked turned her attention to it. Then she stilled, any of that girlish giddiness fading quickly in favour of reality.
"Is duty calling?" he ventured a guess.
"I…" she said slowly "In a manner of speaking."
She gave herself a very generous five seconds to deal with what she'd just read. One to comprehend the words, two to think about what this new development might mean going forward, and another two to hide any reaction from spreading across her features. Considering her perilous position (in more ways than one) she was well-versed in handling her emotions. Then, finally, she looked to Cullen.
"The King of Ferelden has asked to attend the gala."