Chapter 1:
I never knew living in the city would result this way. Well, I used to be a human. Back when I was sitting in my gaming chair, a huge bowl of cheese puffs on my end table. I used to be.
As of late, I had been sucked into my gaming world, and nobody in the real world knew I was gone. Because my body was still just laying there. In my gaming chair. Limp. I’m not kidding.
I never really knew how my gaming characters felt, inside the tiny screens of my video games. But, now that I was here, it felt amazing. The rushing breezes of the Hinterlands whisking across my face, like the whirlwinds that blew from a dragon’s wings. The city was grim, however. The humans were the most common in the city, and I had seen no elves and few dwarves.
It had taken me a couple of hours to finally figure out that I had become my character. Not acted like her, not roleplaying her, I had become her. The lean body of an elf, and the crazy hair I remember picking for my character at the beginning of the game. Her name was Ivy, and most people didn’t enjoy saying Ivy every time they said my name. Some people were even reduced to just calling me “I.” A floral pattern started just underneath my eyes, curving up, stopping just above my hairline.
I was servant. To a human, of course. Even a dwarf would have been better than some lazy piece of junk human who sat on his butt all day saying, “I, do this!” or “I, do that!” I actually had enough nerve, once, to tell him to call me by my name. He threw a fork at me, hitting my left cheek and leaving a long and narrow scar that would never go away.
That was the day I ran away. Bolting out of the door. I remember it was a hot day, and I had started to sweat the minute I dashed out the door. Sweat beads appeared faster as I ran, and I was terrified I would pass out of heat stroke.
And the people definitely weren’t used to an elf- and a servant at that- running through their fields or, for that matter, anywhere at all, because elves usually didn’t have the nerve to run from a master. I huffed and puffed until I finally reached a camp. Little did I know I had ran into an Inquisition camp. Collapsing onto the ground, several Inquisition soldiers surrounded me, leaving a space for what I’m assuming was their leader or commander, to approach me.
Now I finally notice who many people around call this guy, “The Lion of Ferelden,” He had dark blonde hair, not completely blond, but not dirty blond either. He wore a dark red and black fur coat, making him look what must have been three times broader around the shoulders. Metal plates took even more space up around his elbows. Looking up at him, I noticed his eyes also took an unusual color. Forest green, with specks of lighter green around the iris.
“Cullen,” one of the men directed their attention to the leader, and saying what I believed to be his name. “What do we do with her?” the soldier asks. I cannot tell whether it’s a boy or a girl, the face is covered, and the voice of it is muffled behind at least two layers of metal armor. Cullen directed his head down at me, his dark eyes seeming to stare into my soul. “What is your name?” he asks, a medium voice taking up the words. His accent tells me he’s definitely Ferelden, though no hints direct to what exact city.
“Ivy, sir.” I stare straight back at him, my emerald green eyes a challenge for his. He’s the first to look away. “Don’t bother her,” he says. “She’s just a simple elven slave. Definitely not Tevinter. Take her back to Orlais, to her master.” “No!” I exclaim. “I mean- please! Don’t do that!” Cullen turns back to look at me. “If we let you go,” he says, “than you either have to work for the Inquisition, or return to your master. Your decision”
I can’t believe this. Did he really just give me a chance to help the Inquisition? “I- I guess I’ll work for the Inquisition,” I reply lightly, as loud as possibly can over the screaming of the now cool wind. Cutting the binds around my wrists, he smiles. “You sure? Your master’s probably a better choice…” “Hold on to that sense of humor,” I say, smiling. “And we’ll get along just fine.”
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Cold wind slays most of the soldiers morale, and most definitely, mine. “Cullen?” I ask, ready to ask a really obvious question, deciding to take the ignorant path for now, “How are you staying warm?” Without opening his mouth, he raises his hand and directs his index finger at the fur around his neck. “Ah,” is all I say, unable to actually reply smartly this time.
He just crunches up the hill, ignoring the fact that an elf is following him. The wind suddenly drops below 0, and several green holes appear in the ground. Something jumps out of one, grabbing a soldier, and at the speed it jumped out of the hole, it sinks back into it, dragging the soldier with it. The soldier’s broadsword falls onto the ground, and a green hole appears underneath me.
Diving for the sword, I grab its hilt and direct it at the now open portal, but the dark and shadowy shape has gone. A rogue dual-wielder drops a dagger, and it stabs the ground right beside my foot. “Thank- whoever,” I say- drawing my attention to the sky for half a second. A shadow jerks by me, making me jump. It is rushing towards Cullen, who already faces enough of them to be outmatched- great skill or not.
There are only two things to do in this kind of situation, and of course, I have to choose one:
Sit there and let Cullen die.
Or throw the knife that sits limp in the ground beside me.
