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Rolling his shoulders, Cullen stretched the day’s tension from his muscles as he strode through Haven toward the Chantry. The day had been busy from the moment first light broke over the horizon, and Cullen had not stopped moving until the sun made its course back into darkness. He had been preoccupied with a rapid influx of reports, initiating Inquisition recruits, observing training, signing off on encampment requests, and a slew of other tasks of varying import.
The fact that he was able to get any of it done was, in large part, thanks to his second in command, Captain Ophelia. She was a loyal soldier and a tasking mastermind, and a stabilizing force that kept him from feeling overwhelmed. The fact that he was able to retire just after sundown was entirely her doing.
Perhaps it was time to give the woman a raise.
His thoughts were interrupted by the murmurings of Chantry Sisters as he neared the top of the hill where the building presided. Cullen slowed his pace when a cold wind carried their words to his ears.
“Did you see her?” one of them murmured, her gaze flicking toward the main gates as her expression twisted with disgust. “Her clothes were decorated with the skulls of infants, and she was just parading around like some sort of demon worshiper.”
The Sister beside her nodded sagely, her expression heavy with disappointment and eyes shadowed by contempt. “Lady Montilyet has endeavored to hush the peoples fears about the Herald’s savage nature, but it appears as though the elf is eager to provide kindling to such rumors.”
Brow furrowing with distaste, Cullen stopped in his tracks and turned to face the clucking pair. He took a step in their direction and broke into their prattling before any more poison could spill past their lips.
“What are you both talking about?” he investigated, knowing that the gossiping Sisters would be unable to stop themselves from telling him everything. Petty women such as these liked to talk, and did not care whose ears their venom reached; not even if it was the Commander of the Inquisition.
The younger woman was quick to answer. “It’s Herald of Andraste, Commander,” she stated, wringing her hands as she now had to bear the weight of his disapproving gaze.
“She was traipsing through Haven in preparation for some sort of heretic ritual,” the older woman added. She raised her chin when Cullen’s narrowed eyes moved onto her. “Her clothes were threaded with bones; likely human if I were to venture a guess.”
Lips thinning into a line, Cullen stared the Chantry Sister down until she was no longer able to maintain his gaze. When her focus fell to the snow-laden ground beneath their feet, he growled, “Don’t,” and they both took a retreating step back at his tone.
Cullen made sure that both of their focus was singularly on him, undivided and unwavering. “You do not know Lady Lavellan, nor the customs of her people. And when you ‘venture a guess’ you perpetuate hate and ignorance.” His gaze sharpened and the women exchanged wary glances before returning their attention onto him. Crossing his arms in front of his breastplate, he observed, “The Inquisition has time for neither.”
He raised an eyebrow and both women stammered out an agreement. Nodding that he was through with the conversation, the gesture also served as a dismissal and the women clamored to escape for the Chantry. Cullen turned his gaze toward Haven’s gates and a heavy exhale clouded the air before him. He knew that the Chantry Sisters’ words had no substance, even so he should probably investigate the source of their claims so that he could combat their ignorance with truth.
Another sigh expelled from his lungs, and Cullen started back the way he’d come. As much as he desired to spend just one night to himself, he knew that he had better check in with Lady Lavellan. The demands of command did not rest and it appeared as though he did not either.
With unhurried strides he strolled back down the slope from the Chantry and through Haven toward the gates. The murmurs of disgruntled villagers, and soldiers alike, grew in number the nearer he got to the exit. They were all curious about the strong orange glow that was emanating from the forest where the Herald’s lodging was nestled.
Rumors of paganism traveled faster than a plague, and Cullen rolled his eyes at that knowledge.
He rubbed his hands together to stave off the cold as he left Haven behind. The night was frigid despite Summer’s approach. Cullen doubted that this side of the Frostbacks even knew what a true summer was, and returned his thoughts to the matter at hand before memories of Kirkwall’s blistering heat could find a foothold.
There was a warm light shining between the trees, the controlled heat giving off a poignant aura that grew heavier and heavier with his approach. By the time Cullen had made his way down the path to the hunting lodge where the Herald resided, he recognized the weighty feeling in his gut. It was akin to what he felt during weekly Chantry services. It was reverence, respect, observation of a higher power and recognition of its work.
When Cullen stepped into the clearing of Delani’s hunting lodge, he fully realized what it was he had ventured into. There was a bonfire blazing in the center of the clearing, the fire reaching for the stars and making the shadows dance as though they were possessed by benevolent spirits. He stood at the clearing’s edge and searched for the Herald.
Delani came into view as she circled around the fire. The garbs she now wore were ceremonial in appearance, and Cullen couldn’t help but wonder if she had crafted them herself. He now saw the bones that the Chantry Sisters had been muttering about being worked into Lady Lavellan’s clothes. At the crown of the headdress garnishing her brow was the skull of a rabbit surrounded by beads and gems which bled into feathers that covered her auburn hair.
That was it, the only bone on her clothing, and it wasn’t even remotely human. Those rumors, and the people who spread them, were dangerous and Cullen would not permit such talk to continue. Dismissing the thought to be returned to later, he took a moment to watch the Herald. Cullen’s curiosity was piqued and he could not move until it was sated.
She was dancing around the fire, moving with purpose and meaning. Though there was no music for her to keep in step to, she moved with a rhythm that was spiritual in essence. Cullen could almost imagine the beat of a drum, keeping time as she twisted and turned around the flames.
Every roll of her hips and the placement of her feet told a story that Cullen was not familiar with. Flicking her wrists, she twirled her hands over the shape of her body until they were over her head and tickling the stars. Cullen’s mouth fell slightly open as fascination took hold of him and held him prisoner to her dance.
He had known from the start how graceful Delani was, how well she knew how to wield her body like a weapon. But he had never seen her move like this. Cullen was entranced, a hostage to his curiosity and something he refused to acknowledge as attraction.
At the sound of Delani’s voice he was jolted from his trance and forced back into cold reality. “Can I help you, Commander?”
His hand immediately reached for the back of his neck and he started to massage away the heat of his embarrassment. Clearing his throat, Cullen strode deeper into the firelight and choked down his feeling of chagrin over invading her privacy, before he answered her question.
“No, Lady Lavellan,” he said and bowed his head apologetically. “I did not mean to intrude.”
Delani’s dance continued, not stopping for him and uncaring of her audience. She hummed as she turned on the ball of her feet and hopped into the next step, the sound was suspicious and distasteful. “Checking in on me, are you?”
The answering shake of his head went unnoticed by Delani. “No, Lady Herald,” he stated when her movements did not falter. “I was simply curious to see what you are doing.”
“Dancing naked under the moonlight and sacrificing human children to my gods,” she answered, moving her hands from her front to her back and back again as she writhed to a beat only she could hear. Her sea green eyes caught the orange glow of the firelight and were enchanting as she glared at him briefly. Delani’s expression was deadpan, even if her eyes gave away that she knew his true purpose in the clearing.
“That is what they are whispering in Haven, is it not?”
He did not reply, and his silence was her answer.
Delani nodded curtly, acknowledging that she’d guessed correctly but refusing to stop what she was doing. “Do not fear, Commander. That ritual was performed during the last blood moon. The Creators have been appeased… for now.”
A smile started to twitch at the corner of his mouth and Cullen fought to keep it from surfacing. She was joking. The people of Haven considered her a savage and she was making light of it. With a shake of his head, he decided that it was best he veer off that topic of contestation.
Instead he wondered, “What are you doing, Lady Lavellan?”
She bent her spine backwards, her palms touching the frozen earth before she tumbled onto her feet again. When Delani was standing upright once more, her dance carried on and she offered him the simple explanation, “Celebrating.”
“Celebrating what exactly?”
Delani’s arms fell from above her head and she finally stopped what she was ding to face him head on. He was suddenly stricken with a feeling of loss and intrusion. Cullen had stopped her dance when he had no right to do so.
She sighed heavily and her head fell back so that she could stare up at the stars. When Delani looked back down to meet Cullen’s gaze, it was with the elucidation, “The birth of Elgar’nan and his relationship with the sun.”
An eyebrow quirked and the question that tumbled past his lips did so unbidden. “Elgar’nan?”
“The All-Father and god of vengeance,” she clarified. Tilting her head to the side a bit, Delani asked, “Did you want to hear the story?”
Caught off-guard, Cullen’s eyes widened with surprise. Even if the tension between them did not hold the animosity or distrust it once had, Cullen didn’t think that this was the topic she would ever want to share with him; a human. Shaking off the hesitation, he quickly answered with a nod.
“I would be honored.”
The corners of Delani’s mouth coiled a bit and she gestured for him to sit on ground in front of the fire. The earth was cold and seeped through his trousers, but the heat radiating from the fire was warm enough to combat the chill. Once he was settled before her, Delani started with her tale.
“Elgar’nan is the eldest of the sun’s children. Born of the sun and earth, He was conceived by the sun’s fascination with the earth’s beauty. The place where He touched Her surface was where Elgar’nan was born, and the earth gifted him with birds and beasts of the sky and forest, and all manner of green things.”
Her dance started anew with her explanation, the words coordinated with her steps, and Cullen could see the tale unfold with her every movement.
“But the sun grew jealous of the favor He showed His mother and Her gifts,” Delani continued. “So He burned them all with a mighty heat. Elgar’nan was maddened by the loss of the earth’s creatures and fought His father from His place in the sky. The blood of the sun glittered in the heavens, an eternal testament to battle between kin.
“When He finally managed to subdue the sun, Elgar’nan cast Him into the abyss and the earth was consumed by darkness.” Delani folded into herself and dropped to the ground in the shape of a ball, holding herself up on the tips of her toes.
Fascinated by her story and the birth of her god, Cullen leaned forward a bit and breathlessly asked, “What happened next?”
She peered up at him from over her arm, and her sea green eyes sparkled with a laugh. Appearing pleased to have his focus on her, Delani leaped out from her curled position and re-entered her dance. “Mythal, the All-Mother, came then to Elgar’nan. She showed Him that the creatures of the earth needed the sun to grow and survive. Without the sun the earth would not replenish, and so His father needed to be restored to the sky. Elgar’nan agreed under the condition that every night the sun disappear from the heavens, and so Mythal placed the moons in the night sky as a reflection of the sun’s beauty.
“With the help of Mythal and His parents, Elgar’nan was able to restore the world to how it was,” and her dance ended with a swipe of her pointed toes over the dirt as though she were reforging the earth. When Delani stood normally again, Cullen was returned from her story to the winter night he’d forgotten about.
Her shoulders bounced with a shrug, and Delani started to toy with one of the strips of leather that decorated her ceremonial skirt. “My clan observes the tale of Elgar’nan at the beginning of summer. There’s typically dancing, music, games, and a feast. It all can usually last for nearly a week.”
She removed her headdress and held it close. Her thumbs felt over the beadwork woven into the piece before her shoulders sagged with a sigh. The exhale was filled with longing and sadness, but when she looked back up at Cullen there was no sign of either emotion in her sea green eyes.
Offering him a grateful smile, Delani said, “I doubt the Chantry would allow me a week, but I had tonight and that will have to be enough.”
Her smile fell and Cullen felt his heart twist. This was her first Summerday away from her clan, and she had taken the time to celebrate the holiday anyway. Not only that, but she had allowed him to observe her as she did it. It was an honor he did not need to share with anyone else, and for that alone he felt an obligation to voice his appreciation.
Cullen stood to his feet and stared down at the much shorter woman. When she peered up at him he allowed a smile to expand over his lips and bowed his head in gratitude. “I must thank you, Lady Lavellan, for sharing all of that with me.”
A look of surprise came over her features and Delani blinked hard to shoo them away. Her own smile took hold of her lips before she returned his thanks. “It is I who is most grateful, Commander.”
“What for?” He had done nothing deserving of her gratitude, and even if he had her thanks were unnecessary.
Smile growing, making her eyes flash with playful delight, she explained, “You did not respond to all of that with the mention of your Maker or His bride.” Delani reached out until her hand was holding him by his bicep, and Cullen’s heart leapt at the contact. “You are among the few who have not pressured me into conversion, and I appreciate that more than I can say.”
Her words and the sparkle in her eyes had affectively stolen the words from his mouth. For nearly a minute all he could do was gape down at this tiny elven woman and wonder, not for the first time, where she had come from. Blinking himself back into focus, he started to rub the back of his neck and cleared his throat.
“Who you are and what you believe in is important. Gods set aside for a moment, we are not so different in those things.” With an awkward backwards step, Cullen allowed her hand to fall from his arm and scolded the part of himself that ached in its absence. With a departing bow of his head, he dismissed himself, “Thank you again for sharing that with me. I’ll let you return to your celebration.”
Delani dipped her head and permitted him his retreat. “I will see you in the morning, Commander.”
“Until then, my Lady Herald,” he replied before exiting the clearing and returning to Haven. There was heat in his cheeks and it was not from the bonfire. The more Cullen learned about Delani, the more he wanted to know about her. He hoped that she would allow him the honor.