When the Phoenix Flies

by Munklington

Summary:

Evelyn is a renowned Knight-Enchanter, nicknamed "The Phoenix" for her magical prowess and mutation. Having worked alongside Templars for the last decade, she has more opportunities than most mages. After the events at Kirkwall, her Circle falls to the chaos of the Mage Rebellion. Rumor has it that she was its cause, but is it true? When the Divine invites her to speak at the Conclave, she is eager to help but has no idea what is in store for her. Fueled by trauma and duty, she finds a kindred spirit in Cullen who reaches out to help them both out of their own darkness. The more they share, the more it seems the Maker weaves the threads of their fate together, tighter and tighter.

Ghosts from the past, forced red lyrium consumption, powerful magic, battles, grievous wounds, family reunions, beautiful friendships, humor, and heartfelt moments await Evelyn & Cullen.

This is a slow-burn romance of Evelyn & Cullen, picking up later with courtship and navigating through love's trials through a crisis.

Chapter 1: The Ostwick Circle

Summary:

Tensions rise in the Ostwick Circle as news of the events in Kirkwall reaches them.

Notes:

Greetings reader!

You do need knowledge of the game, Dragon Age Inquisition, for some parts to make sense as I will be writing around a lot of the narrative that the game covers. As I work through the plot I will be going back through periodically to expand on details to improve the story.

Chapter titles should give you a good indication of the story's timeline as I've worked the major mission names into them. If you'd like to skip the backstory and pick up where Cullen is introduced, you'll want to start at chapter 4.

Warnings are always posted in the beginning notes if there are any. There is some smut later on, but I hope you're here for the plot with the added bonus of it! 😉

Feel free to comment about anything or give feedback, I'd love to hear from you!

Happy reading!
Munklington

When news that the Chantry in Kirkwall was destroyed by a mage igniting what people were calling the "Mage Rebellion," tension began to rise within the Ostwick Circle. Named for the city in the Free Marches, it was known for its more docile environment which produced some of Thedas' most talented mages. They were not as flashy as the Orlesians, but they had more "freedoms" - if one could call it that - than their Ferelden counterparts when it came to their studies. They were dedicated, and up until the start of the Mage Rebellion, Evelyn had believed them to be just that - a docile bunch. However, rebellions have a way of impassioning people to make bad decisions, and the first step down the road to unrest was when the mages started choosing sides. Evelyn had observed the subtle changes in her fellow mages: more voiced complaints, glaring at Templars and challenges to the rules. Should they add their voice to the fires of insurrection or place their faith in their current leadership?

 

Lady Evelyn Trevelyan Knight-Enchanter of Ostwick was her title. She hailed from a long noble line of Trevelyans dedicated to serving the Chantry. She had over a dozen cousins in the Chantry and for a long time she was to follow them into its service - that is until she came into her magic. She was an oddity, only knowing of one other Trevelyan in their long history to have been born with magic. Growing up in a family that boasted often how rare magic was in their line, did not make Evelyn's descent into family history glamorous. She was now a second oddity. The youngest of five children, destined to inherit nothing, she was once expected to either be married off or join the Chantry, none of which she found appealing. After not rising to the expectations of her mother, who tried in vain to make Evelyn into a proper lady, it was decided a life dedicated in the service of the Chantry would hopefully tame her. Evelyn was neither mischievous nor ill-mannered, she just preferred to spar with her brothers and ruin her dresses playing out in the rain rather than practice her needlepoint. Before anything was decided, on one fateful day, Evelyn came into her magic at the young age of ten.

 

Nineteen years later, she was now known to many as "The Phoenix," and a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Her mastery of pyromancy magic and tales of her exploits had even made it to the courts of the Orlesian Empire. She was the pride of the Ostwick Circle, even gaining some clout back home among her family. Having earned respect among even the Templars, she was called away frequently to assist them on missions - beasts, apostates, darkspawn and bandits, she had experience dealing with them all. She worked hard to create the best life for herself under the watchful eyes of the Chantry. The doomed rebellion would see to it the freedoms she enjoyed would be taken away, which put her in a foul mood.

 

"What do you think of all this Evie?" It had been three days since news of the events in Kirkwall began. Horror stories of abominations and rampaging Templars had been making their rounds through the Circle. Evelyn knew all too well there were to be consequences coming for all mages after the rebellion was squashed - none of them good. Evelyn was worldlier than the other mages in the tower having been well-traveled. Her rank and social status shielded her from the ignorance the Chantry had sewn into every young mage, but her friends were not so lucky. So, when Ilara asked her this loaded question casually Evelyn decided to convey the gravity of the events unfolding in Kirkwall.

 

"I think there is worse to come for all mages." Her grim response was not expected by the adept healer who promptly looked up from her meal. "If you think the Templars, let alone the Chantry, will idly stand by and allow other mages to get ideas in their heads about rebelling, then you are kidding yourself."

 

"Well, that's a cheery thought." Ilara laughed off her response, but Evelyn felt a responsibility as her friend to prepare her for what she believed was coming. The mages couldn't win, not when almost all of Thedas feared and hated mages - the exception being Tevinter. Magic was dangerous, she of all people knew that. Without the skilled guidance of her mentors and Templars she could have died, or worse, from the inferno that burned within her.

 

Sitting beside Evelyn on the bench was Sorin, who continued to chew but looked up at her through dark strands of hair wanting to hear a further explanation. By the looks of Sorin, one would never guess that he was a Knight-Enchanter. He was slim and lithe, compared to Evelyn who had more toned muscle on her. Most mages were either slender or a bit thick due to there being little need for physical exertion - Knight-Enchanters being the exception. Evelyn held her tongue until a patrolling Templar passed by and out of earshot of their conversation.

 

"The Templars will want to make sure nobody here gets any ideas, so they'll be watching us more closely. If they catch wind of any mages harboring sympathy for the rebels they'll be gone before anyone realizes it. Expect crackdowns on everything, like curfews and supplies. Keep your heads down and stay out of trouble. If they take you for questioning I may not have enough sway to help you this time." Aside from being one of First Enchanter Lydia's favorite pupils, she had made friends with some of the Circle's Templars due to the time she spent traveling with them. There were instances before when she had asked them for favors or information, but it was always dangerous to do – even more so now. Mages and Templars were not permitted to fraternize. This rule was loosely enforced in Ostwick unless those involved made it obvious enough that no one could ignore it. Evelyn herself had broken the rule a few times on the road on those cold lonely nights. However, more times than not the rule created resentment among both groups. Years and years of prejudice against the other had now finally festered enough to spur some into action. "Just promise me you'll both be careful." The two nodded their heads in agreement as they finished their lunch changing the topic to something lighter. "Ilara, that healing potion you made me for the last trip was great, but it tasted terrible."

 

"That's because it was a poultice, you weren't supposed to drink it!" She said as the three laughed at Evelyn's expense.

 

***

 

For the next few months, more and more news of a growing mage rebellion reached the Ostwick Circle. As Evelyn had predicted, the Templars began tightening their control, reigning with a silverite fist. With a sense of empowerment and justification, some Templars became blinded by their new power. Tensions that had built up spilled over upon the mages manifesting abuses both mentally and physically in nature. In a secret meeting between the First Enchanter, Knight-Commander Tobias and a number of trusted senior mages, they agreed to do everything they could to keep the peace. It was unsettling to hear that the Knight-Commander was losing the loyalty of his senior officers let alone most of his men. He sought to meet with those in position to sway minds in hopes to keep the mages calm as he worked to reign in his wayward Templars. She wasn't unsympathetic to the Templars' plight, for they too suffered under the ill management of the Chantry, especially regarding lyrium consumption and addiction. Perhaps if they granted some of the much-needed reforms as some, such as herself, had been advocating for, this rebellion wouldn't have spread like wildfire.

 

Try as the senior enchanters might, each day peace seemed to slip away from them. It became harder for Evelyn to ignore the bruises adorning the other mages, even she had not gone untouched. While not every Templar was out for retribution, most had developed a hatred for mages due to the Chantry's encouragement. They twisted their purpose to pit mages and Templars against each other wielding the Templars as their personal army by dangling lyrium before them, feeding their addiction. It was irresponsible and cruel at times to toy with people and stick them in confinement where there was no escape. It was as if they were human experiments being studied to see how much the groups could take before breaking - and break they did.

 

One particular Templar had his sights set on Evelyn, always stalking in the shadows waiting to strike at her. "Trevelyan!" His voice echoed in the halls to signal the start of his performance. He liked having an audience when he abused her. She supposed it made him feel more powerful to have her, The Phoenix, under his thumb. Evelyn turned around to face him shooting him her best defiant glare. The man was a demon behind his handsome facade. His light brown hair fell to his square jaw, which was softer than it was jagged. He had the most trusting-looking face due to his large round eyes and his silky voice made him even more so. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing, but with the lack of authority and discipline now rampant, he had dropped his disguise.

 

"What." She gritted her teeth growling at him. Despite her commitment to not provoking members of the Order, he had been a long persistent thorn in her side.

 

"That's "yes Ser Aeron," or did we forget our place already." He grabbed her by the back of the neck slamming her up against the wall. A squeaky grunt escaped her as she braced herself against the smoothed stone. "You continue to disrespect me, it's becoming a habit. How many times today have we had this talk?"

 

"Two." She grumbled while her cheek remained planted firmly against the chill of the wall. He held her one arm behind her back and pressed his armored body up against her. The metal edges of the plates dug into her skin making it painful to move. One knee pushed its way between her legs. She was determined to not escalate the situation, despite wanting nothing more than to cook him in his own armor. She knew where this obsession of his would lead and one day he was going to go too far for her to ignore the transgression against her.

 

"This can stop," he paused to whisper the rest in her ear, "if you give me what I want." His free hand wandered down towards the small of her back around the curvature of her hip to the front of her belt, allowing him to push up on her even tighter. As she told him the past two times her answer was still no. She could hear him seething with anger at yet another rejection as his hot breath caught her ear, "I will have you, one way or another!" He glanced around noticing that the small crowd with which he started had grown substantially. Wanting to still seem like he was in control, he tore her away from the wall only to bash her into it with much more force than before. A collective gasp echoed through the hall as they watched The Phoenix crumble to the ground without a sound. She would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out from the pain, even having suffered twice earlier in the day from similar mistreatment, though he had yet to draw blood until now. After collecting herself she stood shakily watching the dark blood from her head drip to the floor.

 

She would've loved to throttle him then and there in front of all the gathered mages, but she knew if it came to blows between them the whole tower could turn into a battlefield. To some, especially the child mages of the tower she was a hero. For mages, there were very few role models for them to aspire to. She was a mage who gained the respect of the people of Thedas and advocated that mages could in fact co-exist outside the Circles. This was ultimately looked upon positively by other mages, that maybe she could show people that not all mages were monsters. However, there were those who saw her as a mage in a gilded cage, as loyal to the Templars as a Mabari to their master. Just a pet that the Templars let out to show off how in control they were. It was an idea that could make the future better for mages, though she’d never receive its benefits in her lifetime. Change was a slow process, and she would devote her life to pushing it along as much as she could.

 

With a deep breath to steady herself, she looked at her assailant who seemed angrily bewildered at her lack of reaction. Through the haze of pain, she could just make out that he was going on about her having it coming, calling her a few creative names she didn't think he had the intelligence to come up with. Her vision was blurry and she had to wipe the trickle of blood going into her eye.

 

"Will there be anything else, Ser Aeron?" He didn't answer, too enraged by again failing to get a rise out of her and stomped away grinding his teeth. As soon as he was out of sight, Sorin jumped to her side from out of the crowd insisting she go see Ilara for healing. Without needing much convincing after three rounds with Aeron in one day, she let him guide her to one of the alchemy labs where he knew her to be in the evenings. When he went to give her a supporting arm she pulled away, not wanting to let on any weakness to those who watched her.

 

Ilara was carefully placing a quill from a quillback into a flask when they arrived. The sight of Evelyn startled her so that she knocked over her work spilling it. "Maker, what happened to you?" She immediately began surveying the wound wasting no time. Aside from the ache and dizziness, she knew the wound wasn't beyond her skill – not much was. She watched as her alabaster hands waved over the wound.

 

"Aeron again. The man is," she winced at something Ilara did, "very insistent."

 

"That's not the word I would have used to describe him." After she had stopped the bleeding she took a step back looking her up and down. "I better take you back to our room and get you cleaned up." As Evelyn went to thank Sorin for his help, she noticed the hurt look on his face.

 

"E, you need to report this. The Knight-Commander I'm sure would --"

 

"He hasn't the power to control his Templars anymore. Can't you see that? This tower is a gaatlock barrel primed and ready to explode. I will not be the one to ignite it by fighting back!" The effort it took her to explain only caused her dizziness to worsen.

 

"I've heard some of the other mages talking about the way you've let him push you around recently. It’s making them angry and they wonder why you don't do something. If you keep letting him get away with it you may just be the reason the mages need to justify rising up!" Evelyn shook her head at the thought of them making her into their martyr. All she could do was try to stay the course and trust in the First Enchanter's leadership.

 

"I'm just following my orders! Though I'm starting to question the wisdom in them." She had not told them of her secret meeting with the First Enchanter and others. Even after explaining to them what was said and what was at stake, both Ilara and Sorin had a hard time understanding why that meant she had to take Aeron's beatings. Still, Evelyn was convinced her inaction would not be the cause of the destruction of their Circle, even if Sorin had a valid point. Sighing in defeat after lingering in silence, Sorin bid them goodnight. Not long after his departure, Ilara gathered her things and the two of them headed back to their room for the evening.

 

Having both passed their Harrowing, the two friends were able to room with each other in the nicer section of the tower. It also helped that Evelyn's noble birth gave her the ability to request better accommodations for her permanent stay - along with heaping amounts of her father's coin. Ilara, the daughter of a herbalist, would have been offered no such quarters unless she and Evelyn had not become such good friends - the best in fact despite their different professions. Opposite personalities often create the best chemistry in friendships and that was certainly true in their case. Social rank aside, Evelyn was rational, bold and dutiful whereas Ilara was the innocent, sweet, romantic dreamer.

 

Evelyn hated people fussing over her, something she was glad to get away from when she entered the Circle, but Ilara insisted she help her clean up. After changing for bed, she prepared a warm water basin to wash the blood from Evelyn's hair. Laying her head back, she allowed herself to relax while at the mercy of Ilara's careful hands. Her fingers brushed through her brown and cool blonde locks. Evelyn's brown balayage hair made her stand out of the crowd. With blonde flames licking up her naturally brunette hair, Evelyn was convinced it had something to do with her mastery of fire magic for she had done nothing to make her hair color in such a way.

 

After using her magic to dry her wet hair, the two stood in silence as they listened to a strange commotion coming from the hall. “Do you hear that?” Ilara stepped closer toward the door, but she held an arm out to stop her. Goosebumps prickled up her arms knowing all too well the unmistakable sounds and feel of mage and Templar magic.

 

Cautiously peeking out, the muffled sounds became alarmingly clearer. Between the chilling screams of terror, they made out the voices of several unknown sources yelling "The First Enchanter is dead," and "The Templars are killing mages!" Evelyn slammed the door shut locking it behind her. The two looked at each other in a moment of panic at the realization -- the Circle had fallen.

Chapter 2: Behind A Closed Door

Summary:

Ser Ryker Aeron and Evelyn finally have their showdown.

"Ilara, pack a bag with only the essentials. Hurry." The two began frantically packing as screams permeated through their door. "Pack clothes, shoes, a blanket and you better bring your herbs." Ilara was more panicked than she let on, not able to make a sound just nodding as Evelyn told her what to pack. Evelyn knew Ilara would be completely dependent on her for protection. She was just a healer and truth be told Evelyn wasn't even sure she knew any defensive magic. Unsure of what was awaiting them outside their door, she started to mentally prepare herself to fight her way out of the tower. Just as they finished and Evelyn began putting on her armor, the door was suddenly kicked in and three blood-splattered templars barged their way inside.

"Shut the door, we don't want to be interrupted. It looks like the ladies were preparing for us." It took a lot to frighten Evelyn, but that familiar voice she knew all too well froze the blood in her veins. Shaking from the rush of adrenaline, the rational portion of her brain took stock of her surroundings: Ilara was on the other side of the bed near the dressing table; Evelyn's staff still lay beneath the bed; there was a dagger in her boot and another under her pillow; and, of course, the enemy stood across the room from the women blocking their only escape. As she began channeling her magic, Ser Aeron removed his helmet. "As promised there's one here for you boys to share. She won't put up a fight. The Phoenix here is mine." Shear horror crossed Ilara's face. The only thing she could do was fall on her shaking knees to pray to the absent Maker.

"Ilara, get up!" She was frozen, in shock possibly. Evelyn quickly dove over the bed, putting herself between the men and her friend. She grabbed Ilara pulling her up to her feet. "Hey, you need to do as I say. The Maker won't help us here." Not able to wait for a response, she turned back to the three men who were closing in on them.

"No, he won't. When we're done with you two whores you'll be praying to us for more!" The men's sinister laughs only made Ilara shudder harder and pray faster. Aeron's eyes were fixed on his prey, but so were Evelyn's fiery eyes. Part of her wanted this fight to crush the life out of him for the past weeks of torture, but there was a rational voice urging caution -- she was one mage against three Templars. She needed to first get Ilara out of danger.

"I can't tell you how long I've dreamt of this moment. The moment when I kick your shit in." She tried to sound as dangerous as possible while slowly creeping the two of them back toward the bed. The men had moved into the center of the room and if she could just get Ilara over the bed she could escape. "I have to admit though, I'm surprised you'd think you'd need your two lackeys here to help you. I suppose I can understand though, even when I wasn't fighting back I was too much for you to handle." Aeron's smile was gone. Evelyn knew where the cracks in his vanity lay.

Aeron wasn't anybody in the tower. He had no authority, no shining reputation and he wasn't even that great of a fighter, but he had friends. He was a smooth talker who could probably talk an Archdemon into ending the Blight. He talked his way out of every precarious situation he found himself in and was always able to miraculously produce a witness or two to confirm his stories. Evelyn had first come into his crosshairs after he'd first approached her while on the road to apprehend an apostate with the offer to share a tent for the night. She refused which led to a heated altercation between the two, ending with Aeron walking away with a black eye. The next day while on their way back to the Circle, Aeron stewed for hours no doubt planning the perfect retribution for the embarrassment he suffered at her hands. Evelyn, unaware of Aeron's dark seeded growing contempt for her, reported the incident to the First Enchanter, who in turn told the Knight-Commander. It wasn't long before both Aeron and Evelyn were brought before them to testify to the accusations.

As usual, Aeron produced a Corporal who claimed they were on guard duty at the time of the incident and that Aeron's black eye was received while apprehending the apostate. Evelyn, neither meek nor intimidated by the appearance of a witness, called his bluff by directing their attention to their Lieutenant's report. Having worked with the Lieutenant before, she knew him to keep immaculate daily reports on missions and lo and behold, he had indeed noted who was on and off duty at the time. He even noted that she had come to him with a complaint, but having been too busy writing the blessed report, told her they'd address it later. Having trumped his Corporal with a Lieutenant, the matter was considered closed and Aeron was dealt a hefty punishment. For the foreseeable future, he was no longer allowed out of the tower. She made him a prisoner, like a mage, and he'd never forget nor forgive that.

The years that followed consisted of him stalking her. At first, it was subtle and she had convinced herself it was her imagination, but she never believed in coincidences. More and more she'd catch him out of the corner of her eye then he'd disappear. He'd always be where she'd least expect him too. It was harder to detect him when his helmet was on, unable to tell one Templar from the other. It was as if he was playing psychological warfare with her to the point where she became slightly paranoid. Usually, she could count on him surprising her a few times a week pretending to be helpful all the while making sure she knew he was there; helping her reach a book in the library, chiming in on her conversation as she strode through the hall and he'd even stand outside her bedroom door. She knew one day it would come to something like this.

"Oh they aren't here for you, I can take care of you on my own. By the way, your hair looks beautiful. So kind of you to wear it down for me." She smirked at him and self-consciously pushed her hair over her shoulder at his compliment. He eyed the two nightgowns strewn across the floor, picking them up daintily with a finger. "Why don't you put this back on. Your friend too." He tossed them so the gowns landed at Evelyn's feet. Picking them up she pushed one into Ilara's hands. Evelyn turned her back to the men, but her head remained locked on them so as not to miss a move. Seemingly back from her panic attack, Ilara finally joined her in their present hell.

"We aren't actually going to…"

"When I say "run" bolt for the door and don't stop." Her voice was barely audible as she tried not to move her mouth. The men looked none the wiser and she raised her voice so they could hear as she told Ilara to put on the nightgown. Aeron seemed pleased, but not completely convinced by the act as he still held his weapon out. And rightfully so if he knew her at all from the years of stalking. Needing a distraction, Evelyn slowly began to slide her shirt off the shoulder she was looking over, which garnered some gawking from the three men.

With a sudden push, Evelyn flipped Ilara over the bed. She landed on her feet as Evelyn yelled at her to run. Caught unaware, as she hoped, the men were slow to react and she sent up a wall of flame at their feet cutting Ilara off from them. Ilara had gotten away. With her away, the Phoenix brought forth the warmth of her mana. With a deep breath, the fire inside glowed radiating from the center of her chest. Every breath that followed stoked the fire like a bellow in a forge. The glow raced up through her veins igniting in her eyes. The men froze in awe as wings of fire shot out from her back in a sudden burst of light then slowly dissipated into nothingness. Not unaware that she was up against three Templars, she grabbed the dagger that was under her pillow.

Acting fast, the men used their power to subdue her mana as much as they could. Thankfully, none of them were experienced or talented Templars, for if so she would have been at their mercy. If she could just take one of them out she could cast a few spells. The room wasn't all that big to begin with, making separating the men to engage them in melee difficult. Aeron had ordered the men to hold waiting on her to make the first move. He didn't seem impressed by her weapon of choice and rested his blade against the side of his hip as he took off his gloves. The others began to remove their helmets and discard their shields seeing their obvious advantage over her.

"So your plan is to take us on with one dagger? Somehow I expected," he gave a pause with a wave of his hand searching for the right word, "… more."

"Be careful what you wish for." A quick flick of her wrist landed the blade in the throat of the man behind Aeron who was in the middle of removing his helmet. Hot blood splattered forth from the deep wound. Not wasting the opening she dropped to the floor grabbing her staff which had been under the bed. Attempting to get back on her feet, she was stopped short by a sword aimed at her head. Deflecting it, she used the momentum and leverage of the staff to jump to her feet. She heard the men mumbling curses between their clenched teeth.

The three engaged in an eloquent melee of moves and countermoves around the small room. All the while, Evelyn tried to get a spell off but failed as they dispelled each attempt. Their longswords swung with ferocity even taking out one of the four bed posts. Quickly she shoved Aeron into the tangled mess of sheets and bed curtains. He struggled, but the more he did the more he became trapped like a fish in a net. With Aeron occupied, she could focus her attention on the other Templar who had come to wear an expression of impending doom having his comrade out of the fight. He reeked of fear which embolden her to try her magic once more.

Flames shot forth engulfing the Templar, who cried out to the Maker to douse the fire that was consuming him. Evelyn felt no remorse for the man who came here with the intention to rape her and her best friend. How dare he, she thought, how dare he abandon his duty, to hate mages for something they never asked for and think for an instant that he was justified. She couldn't let it pass and drew from her mana even deeper until the man's screams trailed off into silence - a short-lived silence.

A heavy blow landed directly on her head wound from earlier. She hit the floor immediately unmoving and numb. She couldn't feel her limbs, but they moved. The only sound she heard was a ringing in her ears and a muffled voice, though not her own. She stared in a daze as she was jerked - no not her, her clothing. Shadows of two figures danced on the wall in front of her - a puppet and its master. The voice became louder as it said her name and slapped her face, wanting her full attention. It wasn't until a sharp pain ripped through her thigh that the world came crashing back to her.

Straining her head up to look, she saw Aeron above her reading himself between her legs. Her pants were crumpled next to her and the dagger that was in her boot was buried deep in her thigh. She felt a warm sensation about her throbbing forehead while she tried to think of a way out of this.

"Ah, good you're finally lucid. Wouldn't want you to miss our big night."

"Fuck you!" She roared and thrashed any and all working appendages at him. She was strong, but he was ready for it as he flopped on top of her. His armor was proving to be too heavy for her to move. Grabbing her wrists at either side, she kicked with her one good leg to no avail. She could feel him hard up against her as he leaned into her.

"Whoa now, let's not rush the foreplay." His face was close, and her heavy breathing was exciting him more and more - she could see it by the intensity in his eyes. She stilled herself, wondering what he'd do - wondering if he'd give her any ground. "You know, I'm a very patient man. I've waited for this for years. I just knew one day you'd finally get what you deserved."

"You're insane and small!" She gritted her teeth hoping he'd catch the double meaning. He did but smiled crookedly at her.

"Well now, I think we can both see that's not the case." He grabbed her chin aggressively and the suddenness of it made her gasp. "I tried to be nice, but if you're Fade-bent on fighting me I can make this very unpleasant." It was a stern warning, one she would not heed, could not heed.

"I'd rather die!" She spat in his face. He recoiled and retaliated with a fist to the gut, knocking the wind from her. A dark rage crossed over his features, and though she didn't want to admit it to herself, it scared her. He was deranged or possessed by his hatred and sick love of her.

"You filthy bitch! You are a mage, the lowest form of life in all this world! You are lower than dirt and your kind should burn like Andraste for their sins! I offered you a chance at redemption, to cleanse you in my righteousness and you spit in my face!" He was screaming at her even though he had brought his face close to her again. He continued in his raving against her and mages but had let her hand free as he gripped her face. Feeling the lyrium radiating off him she knew magic was not an option - but the blade in her leg was.

Pulling the dagger out caused her to buckle under him, but she bit her tongue so she wouldn't cry out to alert him. The sudden wave of her body against him reminded him of the task at hand and he cleared his throat to settle himself. He had all his armor on still and had nowhere to plant the blade. She needed him to give her an opening, she'd never muster enough force to get the dagger through his armor with how close they were.

"Would you shut up and get on with it!"

"Haven't you been listening to what I've said about patience?"

Yes, that's right patience, I'll make you choke on your patience. Seemingly to read her thoughts, he backhanded her hard to the side. It was just the momentum she needed as his weight lifted off her upper body and she rebounded off the floor to drive the dagger in his side not once, but twice. His blood sprayed onto her neck when she reconnected the second time. He didn't utter a word or make a sound as his lips moved angrily as he slumped to the floor. Panting with the effort of having killed three Templars, she sat for a moment to collect herself. It was over.

With no Templars to prevent her from using her magic, she used a basic healing spell on her leg to relieve the pain until she got some actual help. She'd need to find Ilara. She hoped she either got out or found Sorin. He was on one of the floors below them, so there was a good chance they'd run into each other. Maker's breath, why is this happening? The tower continued to rumble as more screams and the sound of running filled the hall. She was used to the sound of men dying in battle, but there was a distinct difference between fighting and dying and lambs waiting to be slaughtered. She knew she'd never be able to forget that difference.

After a few minutes, a noise from behind her broke her concentration. A shiver ran down her spine as an armored hand of a Templar grabbed her shoulder. With her leg numb for the time being, she jumped up and immediately hit them with an immolate spell. Caught off guard, the Templar wailed in agony throwing his helm to the side as the flames overcame him.

"Maker, no…," her voice trailed off at the cold realization of what she'd done. Unable to stop the inferno, within the next few moments Knight-Commander Tobias lay dead on the floor in front of her. Her mind raced to try to understand what had happened. Why wouldn't he have said something? Why did I not check who it was? What was he doing here? Dread, guilt and grief pulled her back down to the ground beside his charred remains. She felt the blood drain from her face at the shock of what she did.

"Evie! Thank the Maker!" Ilara burst through the doorway with Sorin in tow. "I found Sorin, I couldn't leave you to them."

"Seems she didn't leave much of them." He said as he looked from body to body. Ilara was already hovering over her pressing hands to her injuries. Sorin walked slowly over to Aeron's body kicking it over. "Ilara told me what he planned to do. He didn't…"

"No, he didn't," she said soberly.

"Maker is that the… the Knight-Commander?!" Ilara stopped to look at her friend who was startled at the mention of his name. Tears began welling in her eyes as she searched for the words to explain.

"I didn't mean to! He just… and I didn't… I only saw his hand… I thought…"

"Shhhh, it's alright. It was an accident. Nobody can blame you after what happened." She could. Knight-Commander Tobias was nothing but kind and fair to her. He must have seen her sitting half naked on the floor of her room surrounded by dead bodies and come to check on her. And she slayed him. "Come let's get you dressed, we still need to get out of here."

Sorin didn't seem at all fazed by her lack of clothing. They were plutonic friends, neither having a brother-sister relationship nor were they romantically attracted to each other. The Knight-Enchanters had a bond forged in battle and out on the road. She knew he always had her back and she his. Whatever they got themselves into they were the rock on which they could rely to see them through. Evelyn enjoyed his stoic nature on the road, making her always feel safe. Unlike Ilara, he was more detached from emotion, though nothing like a Tranquil, he still had plenty of deep emotion he just never let it bubble to the surface. It was calming in the thick of things, like this, and he could pull her out of her own head to keep her going.

"There's nothing we can do for him now E. We need to move." She gave herself a mental shake to refocus. She knew now wasn't the time to reflect on Tobias' death, there'd be time later enough should they get out of here.

"What's the situation out there?"

"About as bad as you can imagine," Sorin said peeking out into the hall as he talked, "Abominations, blood magic and crazed Templars. I heard that the last of the loyal Templars and mages are hold up in the first floor. That's where we should go."

"Are we giving up on searching for survivors on the upper floors?"

"I don't think there could be any from what we've seen. We can save who we can on the way down." She nodded her consent to his plan and the three left the room for the final time. If it was as bad as he said, their priority should be to get themselves to safety, as much as she wanted to help the others. Evelyn shut the door behind her hoping their ghosts would not follow.

Notes:

Greetings all,

As you DAI fans know, there is no Ryker, Ilara, or Sorin in the game. I wanted to introduce two new characters who knew our future Inquisitor before the Conclave to shake things up later on, which I'm looking forward to!

Thanks for reading!
Munklington

Chapter 3: Escape from the Circle

Summary:

The rebel mages confront the Templars. Evelyn is forced to take a side.

The trio made their way to the ground floor where the loyal mages and Templars were said to be gathering. On their way down they had collected a few mages and a number of Tranquil who had been left behind. The mages and Templars were indeed held up in the banquet hall and the group reported to Lieutenant Henley who was put in charge of the rabble. He was a commanding presence with a deep husky voice that Evelyn had always enjoyed as he barked orders at his men. His short black hair and trimmed beard against his tanned skin made him look like an Antivan prince, minus their exotic accent. She and Henley were well acquainted with each other, sharing plenty of adventure on the road, and a bit more. It was nothing serious, but she enjoyed his company for the most part. He was reasonable, most of the time, and was kind to his charges, not seeing them as prisoners, but as people - a sentiment that was foreign to most Templars these days. It was good to see he was in charge, though it was completely possible that it was only because he was the highest-ranking officer alive in the tower.

"Trevelyan! Thank the Maker you're alive! I could use your help keeping order!" He was shouting over a hall full of battered mages who were desperately trying to ask him questions. Evelyn estimated there were maybe just under one hundred people in the hall, which was only a small fraction of the tower's total populace. Ilara had already gone off to offer her healing services to the injured, while Sorin stayed by Evelyn's side. The scene before them was one of chaos; groups of people huddled around each other for comfort, mages tending to the wounded and the dying and Templars guarding them as best they could. The only order that could be found amidst it all was the bodies of the dead laid out in neat rows.

"What exactly are you hoping we can help with, Ser?" She motioned to both her and Sorin.

"No, no, you need to calm down all these people who you riled up. The mages who are still able to function are one bad decision away from making things worse than what they already are." She stupidly professed a confused 'what' in response. What was he talking about? Me? What did I have to do with anything? I just got here. She looked to Sorin who just shook his head.

"Sorin, you know what he's talking about?"

"I do." She raised her eyebrow encouraging him to enlighten her. He sighed heavily before beginning which indicated she was not going to like what he had to say. "Yeah, you know your whole "secret orders" from the First Enchanter, well your latest beating was apparently the last straw for some."

"Soooo, you're saying…"

"You're the reason they're rebelling or rather you gave them the reason they needed." She felt as if someone struck her with a lightning bolt. She started all this. They would use her to justify their rebellion when she was trying to avoid the very thing from happening. Not only was she responsible for the death of the Knight-Commander but now the start of the rebellion in the tower? She turned away from them holding her head in her hands trying to block out the world so she could think. She was the cause of all this death and destruction. She was. Every mage, every Templar, and now to add to her death counter, the First Enchanter. She suddenly found it hard to breathe, and she must have been making some sort of ghastly noise because Sorin was shaking her. I'm dreaming, this has to be a dream. It can't be real! Please wake up, wake up! Maker please… His hands were on her shoulders and she could hear him speaking without comprehending it. It was all too much, and it threatened to crush her.

"Hey!" He was now screaming at her. "Look at me E!" She felt her weight falling, but Sorin held her up. What did she do to deserve a friend like him? He's been through it all with her. Her rock. She decided whatever he was going to tell her was for her own good, so picking up her head she let her hands fall to her sides. He lowered his voice seeing she was now compliant. "Listen, we've been through some shit, but this shit tops all the shit. I know what you're thinking, but there is nothing we can do about them now, right? What we can do, what you can do, is talk some sense into these people. If you're the reason they're up in arms then maybe you can calm them, and save the lives of those who remain." Henley was listening closely and both men now waited for her to make some sign that she heard him.

"If you think it'd help, fine. Whatever you need me to do if this is my fault." Henley guided her over to an unoccupied table. He quickly mounted it and held a hand out to help her up. It took a push from Sorin to get her up with her wounded leg, but she made it, steading herself on one of his strong arms. Some of the mages looked to her the moment they saw her, shushing those around them. Henley began trying to ask for silence. What was she going to say? Where to even start? She by no means even knew the whole situation aside from what she saw and that she was apparently the cause. As the mages began to quiet, she heard one loud voice ring out with her nickname which was enough to help silence the rest. Even though the talking had stopped the groans and cries of the wounded could still be heard. Her mother's lessons in speaking began to instinctively take over. Her posture and composure changed to one befitting of The Phoenix, and clearing her throat she nodded to Henley that she was ready.

"Please, if I can… if I can just have a moment…" she was stopped before she could say anything further by shouting in the crowd. There was a wide range of opinions being made; she heard everything from 'save us!' to 'why did you do this to us?' to 'rebel sympathizer!' and everything in between. "Please," she pleaded again, "let me speak!" This time they allowed it. "I'm going to be honest, I'm not fully aware of what is happening any more than you. Some say I am to blame, but I was in my room when this began. As far as I know, both the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander are dead." Henley shot her a look, and she realized he didn't know, how could he. "If you're here, I can only assume you are not the rebels who would use my name to justify their violence." A heavier silence fell and even the wounded seemed to stop their moaning to hear her declaration. "I am no rebel. Violence is not the way to change. All this will bring is more death and a greater fear of mages. I implore you all to stay calm while we," motioning to herself and Ser Henley, "mages and Templars together, work to restore order. See to the wounded, listen to the Templars and stay put, you're safe here." Their faces were full of fear and her heart went out to them. She was used to a certain amount of fear, but they having never been conditioned by the world were all but mere children. " I promise I will do everything in my power to see you through this!"

The two stepped down from the table and the chatter of the room began once more. The three regrouped outside the hall in the tower's foyer where Henley had organized what Templars he had into a defensive position preventing anyone, or thing, from leaving.

"That seemed to calm them for the time being, but we'll need to come up with a plan. It's only a matter of time before they come. And… how do you know the Knight-Commander is dead?"

"We saw him, or his body rather on our way here." Sorin jumped in before Evelyn could answer. She flashed him a look of pain.

"What of the rebels? Have they been trying to escape?" She and Sorin had clashed with a few on their way down. They were young mages. They hadn't a chance taking on the two experienced Knight-Enchanters.

"No." Henley's reply was ominous.

"No? As in not at all?" He nodded and added that they'd only been coming up against the abominations that had made their way down the tower. The rouge Templars had indeed left in the wake of the violence, which is why there was little in the way of defense of the tower. Only the rebel mages remained held up in the tower… somewhere. "What do you plan to do Ser, when they do appear?"

"We don't have the numbers to put up a fight. Assuming that the majority of the other surviving mages are with the rebels then they have us vastly outnumbered. But we can't just let them leave."

"And so you are determined to fight knowing this? Maker's balls Henley! You're throwing your lives away!"

"We took an oath! Our duty is here. We cannot let them leave this tower and wreak havoc all over the Free Marches!" His dark eyes were piercing as he took a step closer to her.

"I don't disagree and you know I understand better than most of your duty, but there has to be another way!" Sorin remained silent, as usual, gazing around them shaking his head.

"We have all agreed to it, we stay and hold the tower and wait for reinforcements or the Right of Annulment." She turned her back to him as frustration gripped her. Their plan was to stay and fight, most likely die or in the small chance they do survive long enough to wait for reinforcements and the Right of Annulment. How do I get through to these bucket heads?

"And what about these mages? Are we all to perish with the blood mages?" Henley gave no answer. "Unacceptable!" Her rage brought forth the flame in her chest. It pulsed up the veins in her neck. Since the emergence of her magic, she had never been able to control the glow when she got angry. It made hiding her emotions difficult at times, but also added to the intensity of her rage all but breathing fire at whomever it was directed at. "I will not allow you to do that, even if I have to stop you myself!"

"Careful, Trevelyan! You're dangerously close to sounding like a damned rebel! The mages have been compromised and some blood mages may yet be hiding among them."

"Then do your fucking job, Templar, and root them out! You can't just kill us all because you suspect there to be blood mages among us! How many innocent mages have to die before you're satisfied?"

The two argued in circles through gritted teeth so as to not panic the mages who watched but couldn't hear them from in the hall. It was the same argument she had had with Templars her whole life. The Templars go too far trying to do their duty and some innocent mage get killed, punished or worse, made Tranquil. As they went back and forth trying to come up with a better alternative, Sorin broke it up.

"I hope you came up with a plan because we're going to need it." He nodded his head over towards the barricade where a large group of presumably the rebels stood looking at the pathetic defenses and battered Templars manning them. The rebel mages were mostly the younger ones full of fervor and passion for the cause. It sickened her that whoever their leader was poisoned their impressionable minds with their filth that violence and blood magic was the answer to all their problems. Everyone grew quiet as the moment they feared finally arrived.

The three approached the group, though not venturing beyond the barricade. The crackling of magic filled the room, so much so it felt as if the air itself was vibrating. A vacuum also seemed to be forming as the remaining Templars readied themselves against the magic. Ser Henley stepped forth sheathing his sword and holding his hands up in truce. There was some deliberation among the rebels and a slender woman stepped forward. Evelyn recognized her, but couldn't remember her name.

"It has been a long night, so I will get to the point. The Tower is ours. The First Enchanter is dead." She held a hand out as the body of First Enchanter Lydia was brought forth, strung up in a noose. The air left Evelyn's lungs as her heart broke at the sight of her mentor's body mutilated and strung up in victory. Lydia wouldn't have fought them, she would have listened and talked to them. She was one of the wisest and fairest women she had ever met. She supported Evelyn and her crusade to better the reputation of mages among the people of Thedas. She had shown her favoritism as well, but it was justified and never given without reason. She taught Evelyn to tame her fiery rage, which now started to rumble through her very being like a volcano ready to explode. She took an aggressive step forward as Sorin grabbed her, halting her advance. The blood mage smiled pleased by Evelyn's reaction. Gasps and cries were heard from the banquet hall as well as the mages watched in horror. "Our terms are this, give us your Templars and the mages walk free." She wasn't addressing Henley as much as she was addressing Evelyn. She turned to the mages in the hall now, "Those who would see The Order finally get what's coming to them may join us! Together we will join our fellow mages and take our rightful place in the world!" Her words echoed through the hall as the mages considered their options. Do they stay with the Templars or do they join the gloriously doomed cause?

"We refuse your terms! If we are to die then we will die taking as many of you with us as we can!" Henley roared as the Templars cheered in agreement. Both sides readied themselves as Evelyn stepped between them.

"Enough! All of you!" Silence ensued once more as their Phoenix addressed them. Both Henley and the blood mage began to protest to her involvement, but she slung curses at both and they eventually yielded the floor to her. "You, you're familiar but I cannot place your name?"

"Linnea." The maleificar said rolling her eyes. "My Harrowing was a few years behind yours, not that someone so famed as you would remember little me." Truth be told, Evelyn was an introvert socially. She had few friends, but they were enough for her. She never made it her business to get to know everyone in the Circle. Even with her reputation outside the Circle, the mages inside respected her, but never fawned over her like the other Circles.

"Right, Linnea. Listen to me this is not the way. You think that we are superior because of our gifts, but we aren't. 'Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over them," that's what the Canticle of Transfigurations teaches us. We are gifted, but those gifts should be used to help our fellow man. If you see yourself as superior then why stoop to the same fear-control tactics of the Templars? Why not be better?" She turned now to address Henley. "And you, you would sacrifice the last of the true Templars when there are mages here who need and rely upon you. Why not live to fight another day? Your oath be damned, think of your men." A contemplative silence followed. She couldn't help but look up at Lydia swinging every so slightly with unseeing eyes. The rope around her neck creaked and groaned with her weight. Maker, Lydia I'm sorry, so sorry.

"You think you're better?" Linnea spoke up, "You are certainly better at being the Templars' pet that for sure! We all heard about the beatings you took from them to bring you to heel. You of all people should be championing our cause, leading us, but instead we find you here every bit of the pet you always were! When we spread the word about how we came to the rescue of the famed Phoenix of Ostwick no one will question our motive to rebel. And we don't need you alive to be our martyr!"

"Would you undo all that I've done to make people see mages are not to be feared? That we aren't monsters? I don't want to be locked up any more than you, but this is not the way! It stands against reason to force change when this rebellion will only see that we return to Circles in more chains! I would rather stand with the Templars than help you do this!" Everything she gave her life to was in danger of being all for nothing. The threat of her work being undone was enough to ignite her rage. She whirled her staff out in front of her as fiery wings shot forth from touching her mana. Sorin was quick to jump to her side with Henley following. "If you want a fight, I'll give you one."

Evelyn would not let them sully her reputation and ruin years of hard work advocating for reform within the Circles. She worked tirelessly showing Thedas that Templars and mages could work together to do good. She had made sacrifices, so many personal sacrifices along the way that no one would understand; no one but Ilara, Sorin and the First Enchanter. Lydia had also made sacrifices to help Evelyn along, and they tortured and killed her. It was her fiery rage that won out over her devastating grief and fear from the events of the night. She wanted a fight now, as fire pumped through her veins yarning to lash out.

A scream of terror tore their attention away from the blood mages and to the ones in the banquet hall. It was only then they realized all the Templars had moved to the foyer with them leaving none in the hall. Linnea laughed amidst the screams and panic of the loyal mages.

"How will your precious reputation fare now with so much blood on your hands? We don't want reform, we want freedom! Death to all who stand in our way!" Evelyn yelled to Sorin to follow as they ran into the hall, leaving Henley to fend for himself against the bulk of the rebels. She heard him rally the Templars, ready to repel everything they were able to with the few men he had. Evelyn pushed through the mages to the far side of the hall where the blood mages had begun summoning their thralls. The wails of the sacrificed panicked the rest and they ran for the main doors of the tower. Sorin cracked off a string of chain lightning immediately as Evelyn hurled fireballs their way. The advantage Knight-Enchanters had over all other mages was their ability to combine their offensive magic with melee moves. Both mages threw themselves at the blood mages cutting down the first wave easily enough with their staff and spirit blades, but more were coming and in force.

"We need to protect their retreat and we need Henley to open the doors!"

"I'm on it!" Sorin took off in the direction where they'd last seen Henley leaving Evelyn on her own for the time being. She threw up a wall of flame funneling them into her kill zone where she had placed runes on the floor. The smell of burnt flesh and demon blood overwhelmed her senses, making her gag periodically. She was struggling to keep up as they broke through her line of defense without too much trouble. She was keenly aware that the ward Ilara cast on her leg wound earlier was wearing off. She was the last and only line of defense for the retreating mages, she couldn't give the rebels any ground. The hall behind her began to slowly empty of the mages and she knew Sorin had made it to Henley. Please hurry back Sorin, please! She could hold them, she had to and braced herself for the oncoming melee.

There were at least six blood mages coming to engage her along with their summoned demons. She took a weary sigh just hoping her leg would hold out a while longer. She held her ground, not moving until they did. The two lesser demons came at her first along with their handlers. Lunging hard she impaled the first demon with her spirit blade. The second, clawed at her before she hit it with a fireball. Sharp pain cut at her sides as the mages began extracting her blood for their spells. Deep cuts opened near her ribs, soaking her shirt and leathers in blood. A mind blast spell from another mage all but took her down, but she was able to recover quickly enough to fade step behind the mage stabbing with her staff blade. Blood splattered through the air and for every blood mage that was slain, a demon appeared in its place. Kicking the dead mage from her staff, she spotted a rage demon that had gotten past her. Springing to her feet, she charged at it though she was too late.

As the mages fled, they bumped and pushed at each other like a herd of Druffalo. The weak and wounded were the first to be left behind, as they weren't strong enough against the others. It was one of the wounded mages that the rage demon took to tearing apart before Evelyn cut it in two using her spirit blade as she slid on her knees across the blood-slicked floor. Black blood sprayed into her face blinding her for a moment. The smell of the thick bile made her retch, but she fought the urge to empty her stomach looking up instead to see Sorin running towards her. He was a sight for sore eyes, especially when she tried to get off her knees and her leg finally failed her.

"You look disgusting." He helped her up trying to steady her on her bad leg.

"It hasn't exactly been all sunshine and roses over here if you hadn't noticed." Neither of them noticed the ground under them had opened as a fear demon knocked them both to the ground. More interested in Sorin than her, it raised one of its long arms up high in the air before landing a hard strike against his staff. Over and over it struck him until a large bolt of lightning splintered through the lanky demon.

Evelyn in the meantime had been jumped by another blood mage who knew how to use their staff blade. She fought from the ground dodging, blocking and casting to no avail. Furthermore, she couldn't get herself back up because of her leg. When the rebel mage started to struggle to keep up with her fast-paced melee, even from the ground, he flung himself on top of her aiming for her head with a dagger he pulled from his robes. Throwing her staff away she caught his hands with hers to fend him off. Getting a much better view of his face, she realized she knew the boy. He was a student in one of her classes. He was a particularly talented mage who she was glad at the time was looking to become a Knight-Enchanter.

"Kian?" The boy looked her in the eyes all but petrified that she had recognized him. "Stop, I don't want to kill you!" She said through gritted teeth still trying to stop his blade from getting any closer. "I will kill you!" Final warning, she thought as she fought internally whether to kill the boy or just wound him. The later won out, hoping he'd see reason. Bring forth her mana flame began to envelop the two. Her hair blew about making her blonde tips blend with the flame. His face contorted with pain as she increased the heat. To his credit, he held on until his clothes caught fire, finally dropping the dagger and staggering back. Oh Kian, she thought as she rolled up onto one knee slashing the back of his leg with the dagger so he couldn't run, I thought I taught you never to turn your back. He went down with a cry, then rolled onto his back to find her staff blade pointed at his throat.

"Tell me they forced you to join them and I'll let you live." The boy stayed silent. "Tell me!" She had seen so much death, was covered in it, she couldn't bear the thought of killing the boy. He had to only be just 20, nine years her junior. He shook his head at her as tears welled in his eyes knowing this was it. "You don't know what you're doing, say it and come with me!"

"No, we both know you must kill me for what I've done." She shook her head, So young, so young and stupid. He brought his hand up, but before he could cast she thrust her blade into his throat. Kian choked on blood as his hand continued to make its arch landing on his satchel. Gasping for breath he rummaged around in it until pulling out a small dark vial. Evelyn knew it to be lyrium, but she sensed something different about it. He pushed it into her hands, his eyes pleading with her to take it. Accepting it seemed to have given him some peace as he quickly slipped away. Not giving it another thought, she shoved the vial in her pocket.

"There's too many!" She heard Sorin shout as he was about to be overwhelmed by the enemy. Trying a simple healing spell on her leg as she limped towards him, she knew it was time to abandon the tower. It seems all the mages who could make it out did, and now it was their turn.

"Let's get Henley and get out of here!" He gave her his shoulder to lean on as they made their way out to the foyer where the Templars were still holding against the main horde. Henley was slumped up behind some of his men. They were barely holding on against the onslaught. She felt a pain in her bones each time they silenced the mages. "Ser, it's time to go!" He looked to his men who were losing ground fast. He was a bit dazed as he looked up at her. "The mages out there need Templars. They are your charges as well! We need you, please Henley!" After a short internal debate, he nodded and ordered his men out of the tower. Evelyn and Sorin covered their retreat as best they could until they were all out and locking the door behind them.

"That should hold them for now, but we don't want to be here when they get those doors open." Only Templar officers had keys to the tower doors. It wouldn't be long until the rebels either broke down the door or found a set of keys. Wounded and needing to find shelter for the surviving mages, Henley decided that the mages should make camp outside of the city in the woods where the populace wouldn't come at them with torches and pitchforks. Some of the Templars would go the Ostwick Chantry for supplies until they could come up with a better solution.

Dawn was starting to break as they made it to their campsite. Those who could manage were tasked with getting fires started, water boiled and tents set up for the wounded. Of the mages they started with only about half made it out of the tower - some succumbed to demons and some joined the rebels. Evelyn sat by one of the fires to warm herself. It wasn't a particularly chilly morning, but as she sat there with her thoughts alone, she couldn't shake the feeling of being back on that cold stone floor with Aeron staring down at her. No, not just Aeron, all their faces - Aeron, the two other Templars, the Knight-Commander, Kian and the First Enchanter. They didn't say anything they just stared at her with knowing eyes of what she had done. She had killed them all, brought ruin upon the Circle and shame upon herself. She should've tried harder, did something different to prevent this. She tried to talk to them, explain why she had done the things she did, but they offered her no comfort nor forgiveness as their eyes glassed over, no longer looking at her. Tears welled up in her eyes spilling forth creating streaks on her bloody face.

"You alright E?" Sorin sat close beside her. He knew she hated crying, hated it.

"I don't - I don't know. I did this. How do I even begin to try and make this right?"

"Not sure you can. But I also don't think it's your fault. I think the rebels were looking for a reason, any reason to rise up. It just happened to be you."

"I have some luck then. Fuck." The two stared for some time into the flames. Both were still covered in visceral death, something she was reminded of as the other mages stared wide-eyed at them. They were looks of horror, astonishment and compassion all at once. What they knew of the world came from gossip and books. Never had they seen the violence that consumed their home in their sheltered lives, or the tired and brooding looks of the warriors who had put their lives on the line for them. She thought for them, this was only the beginning of the harsh realities of the world they were to experience in the days to come. If she was to redeem herself, perhaps the best place to start was here protecting them from harm, hunger and strife.

A shuffling of feet had made their way to stand just behind the two of them. Upon turning, they saw Ilara with tears in her big blue eyes and a long frown down her soft round face. Her blond curly hair was disheveled uncharacteristically and her clothes we covered in dried blood. Evelyn held out an arm to her and she tucked herself between herself and Sorin. The two hugged her like a small upset child as she sniffled and wiped her nose.

"Are you hurt?" Evelyn's voice was soft and sincere. Ilara shook her head. "Good."

"Is… is this how it always is for you two?" Evelyn and Sorin glanced at each other in shared understanding.

"Sometimes, but usually we don't look like we crawled out of a Druffalo's ass." Ilara gave a short giggle at her joke.

"How can you joke about that, death and violence? You two almost died."

"Sometimes humor, even if it's dark, is all you have at the end of a really shitty day. It gives us a path out of the dark. It's not something you like admitting to, but we'd rather joke than cry about it." Sorin was right, he and Evelyn would sometimes find themselves sitting around at the end of a long day laughing about how they almost got sent to the Void. "And cursing, we do a lot of cursing." Ilara looked at him funny.

"Maker's balls that sucked." Evelyn muttered throwing a mischievous side glance at the Sorin.

"Andraste's tits," he answered.

"Cum-guzzling maleificar gutter-sluts."

"Fucking shit-eating demons." They looked at Ilara with encouraging looks. She drew a deep breath and…

"Nug-faced fucking arseholes, Maker's flaccid cock-sucking whoresons on a fucking pony!" Evelyn and Sorin just stared at each other in awe for a moment.

"What did nugs ever do to you?" Evelyn's serious expression broke into a small smile as the three shared a laugh. Of course none of them felt too much better, but knowing they had each other meant the world to Evelyn. She would do anything for them, anything. There were few people in her life that she loved as much as the two of them, and she made a silent vow that while she drew breath, the sky could be falling down and she'd be there for them, whatever the cost.

Notes:

We will be meeting our favorite Inquisition members very soon...

Chapter 4: Journey To Haven

Summary:

Evelyn remembers the day she came into her magic. The group heads to Haven and meet two familiar faces.

It was almost a year since the Circle at Ostwick fell. Since then, the surviving mages and Templars were forced to move around the Free Marches until they were able to secure passage to Ferelden. The Chantry had forsaken them. Believing them to be rebels, the group was not welcome wherever they went. They were doomed to wander the land like the Dalish. As to not draw attention, they never stayed in one place for more than a few days and established a number of campsites with supply crashes and gardens, which they hid upon leaving. This made moving around slightly easier. Supply runs into towns and cities were much riskier and done only when absolutely necessary. They bartered anything they had available or that the Tranquil could make with the little they had.

Their year out of the Circle not only challenged their will to survive but the divide between Templars and mages. It forced them to communicate better, and while there were disagreements, it proved to be nothing they couldn't overcome in the end. With no formal rules against fraternizing, some of the mage-Templar couples began families. There were three children born, and everyone made an effort to help raise the children. The children brought joy and life back to the outcasts, and not one person was unaffected by the little smiles and cooing accompanying them. At least some good has come from this, Evelyn thought, and she wondered how many other Circles were undergoing similar change.

As the war between the mages and Templars raged on throughout Thedas, Ferelden's wilderness became home to many of the displaced Circles - among other unsavories. Their arrival on the Storm Coast was about what anyone would expect from a place named as such - wet and miserable. She could already feel the air was much colder and made a mental note that they'd need to acquire cloaks and blankets as soon as possible. She knew from her travels that the cold killed the young and old alike indiscriminately. As their barge scraped against the rocky shore, she jumped out to help some of the Templars guide it further onto the shore. The salty waves broke over her thigh-high boots soaking her through to her skin. There was nothing worse than wet squishy boots. Sorin looked at her from the barge, leaning on an elbow while cupping his face. She did a double-take because he was giving her an odd look.

"Still being stubborn I see. You don't need to do this."

"I'm just helping." She knew the lecture that he was leading into. He gave it to her every so often when she was being particularly moody.

"I don't think anyone would've said a thing if you would've stayed in the boat. Henley and the others have it under control." She knew that, but something within her the past year had her restless. She still felt guilty for her part in the destruction of the Circle - even if she couldn't take full credit for it. Her shining reputation was in tatters as the rebel mages spread false rumors far and wide about her involvement with them. She was a wanted woman now. In the beginning, some of the other mages wanted to turn her in in exchange for proper shelter. She wanted to slap some sense into them, knowing that if they did that they'd all be arrested as apostates, but they didn't know any better. So she held her tongue and made herself as useful as possible. Sorin saw it as selfish pouting over her lost pride. In some ways, he wasn't wrong and it only furthered her shame. If she was being absolutely honest with herself, all that she worked for was to make her family, mostly her father, proud. Proud of the fact that even though she was the disgraced mage of the family, that she was doing good. What did her father think of her now?

Something about the Storm Coast reminded her of the day she had left for the Circle. It had been a stormy day as well when the Templars came to take her away. It had been a typical day at the Trevelyan estate for the most part. Ten-year-old Evelyn was hiding in their expansive garden when a storm blew in fast. She had been avoiding Lady Thindrel's daughter, Anika, who was visiting with her mother. She was several years older than Evelyn and wicked as can be. Upon arriving, Evelyn had seen her step from their carriage with her latest new toy, a whip. Evelyn was a small child, with no small amount of courage instilled in her by her two older brothers, yet the hulking figure of Anika made her tremble - and Anika knew it. She knew it when she taunted Evelyn with it when their eyes met, when she tested it on one of the horses, then again on an elven servant. That was enough to send Evelyn flying through the garden least she be next.

When the storm suddenly appeared she knew she'd have to return to the house. Passing by the stables on her way, she heard some of their animals making a ruckus. She figured it was due to the storm, but she'd try to quiet them anyway. She loved animals, every kind, they were just so honest and unconditionally loving. Her father was the largest and most well-known Free Marches Ranger breeder on the continent. The Trevelyans' fielded the finest company of calvary this side of the Waking Sea. They had acres of rolling fields and forests to breed and train Rangers. Aside from horses they also had several species of birds, cats and dogs. As she entered she heard the whimpers and nervous shifting of the animals coming from the far side of the barn where the kennels were located. At this time of day, the dogs would indeed be there before their feeding time. She picked up the pace breaking into a jog as lightning flashed followed by that loud crack of thunder. She jumped, though it was not at the thunder, but the illumination of splattered blood sprinkled along the dirt floor. Worry overcoming her petite features, she cautiously rounded the corner as an all too familiar laugh echoed through the stables. The sight made her physically sick, stifling a scream from her mouth with her hand. There Anika stood hulking over several of the dogs she had released from their kennels. They were bloodied, whimpering pleadingly for an end to their torture. The horses nearby had not gone untouched either, kicking their legs about. Anika cracked her whip making the dogs skitter and yip from one corner to the next upon seeing Evelyn.

"Finally, something more fun to try this on than your stupid animals." Evelyn stood paralyzed with a flood of emotions overwhelming her little person. Terror, rage and sorrow was all ten-year-old Evelyn could comprehend at the time, and her body didn't know which to act on. She felt as if she was going to explode while watching Anika stomp ever closer to her.

She locked eyes with one of the wounded dogs. She loved all their animals, but Arrow, as they called him, was special to her. He was born the runt of the litter. Not knowing if he'd survive, she visit him every day to tell him she believed in him, that he'd make it. That just because he was small like her, didn't mean he couldn't grow up to become the greatest hunting dog. Sure enough, he became one of her father's best, to which he gave Evelyn full credit for and allowed her to name him. He was light cream in color with pure white paws and an angular marking between his eyes. She thought about naming him after one of her favorite desserts but then thought the other dogs would make fun of him for having such a sweet name. He was to be a fierce hunting dog, not a pastry. What about Ghost, she thought, no, too scary. Looking into the pup's bright eyes, the mark on his face became more prominent to her. It only took her a moment to decide upon 'Arrow.' It was perfect and so was he.

Now he was hurting. The memory and the present collided in her mind, and it became clear there was only one thing she could do. No more running. The fear on her face was replaced by rage. It became so hot suddenly she felt as if she was on fire. Whatever change Anika saw come over Evelyn made her stop dead in her tracks. Now Evelyn stalked towards her.

"Stay back! I'm warning you..." Anika's voice sounded rattled. She raised the whip up, but seeing that Evelyn wasn't deterred, stumbled backward making her way for the door. Taking a strange pleasure from seeing the fear on Anika's face, her pace quickened and she felt the sting of the whip hit her. The first strike just grazed her cheek. The trickle of blood was liquid fire as it dripped down her face. The second strike she was ready for and she caught it around her forearm. She looked down at the tanned braided leather coiled tightly around her. She hated it. Hated what it did and who wielded it. She pictured it burning so clearly in her mind it was as though it was real. An odd smell wafted into her face, making her blink a few times. The whip was burning, it was actually on fire!

Flame shot up the whip to Anika's hand. She screamed and dropped it after it singed her. Evelyn concentrated on the destruction of the whip. She knew she should have been afraid of what was happening, but the release of the flame felt so natural. She didn't hold the rage back, she let it flow freely until ash was all that was left of the torturous whip.

"You're a monster!" Anika screeched at her.

"No." Her voice was strong and calm. "You're the monster. I'm a mage." Anika tried to run. Out the door she flew, slipping in the puddles as her heavy footfalls landed clumsily. Evelyn caught her with little effort, taking her down as her brothers had taught her to do. She muddied their expensive dresses, rolling them so she landed on top. Immediately she began throwing punches down on Anika. Rage consumed her as she failed to understand why anyone would want to hurt animals - her animals. Why was it so hot? The world went red as the sight of her wounded furry friends burned in her mind. She deserved this and more. The smell of burning cloth and another unfamiliar scent entered her nostrils. She looked down to see it was Anika's dress and arms that were on fire. Evelyn jumped off her immediately, but the damage was done.

Anika face was bloodied, the hem of her dress on fire and the skin on her forearms burnt badly. If it had not been pouring rain, Anika most definitely would have still been aflame. Evelyn wished she still was. It wasn't enough, her rage boiled on, but she knew deep down she had to stop. Her mana threatened to lash out again, but with no target to direct it at, it engulfed her instead. Screaming, flame shot to the sky as it enveloped her.

After what felt like an eternity, Evelyn dropped to her knees exhausted as the grip of her newfound power diminished. Upon looking up she saw her father, mother, her older sister Odette, Lady Thindrel and a number of others from the household and the Thindrel servants. Her father was the first to approach, gesturing to the rest to keep away. She watched him carefully studying the concern on his face.

"Evie?" He stood a few feet from her waiting for a response. "Evie, say something sweetie."

"I'm sorry father!" Evelyn sobbed. He leaped to her embracing her as she nuzzled her face into his shoulder. He hushed her, letting her know that there was no reason for tears, he just wanted to know what had happened. Between sobs, she told him about the scene she stumbled upon in the barn and what she had done to Anika, but that more importantly that there were animals in need of care. His face was one of pure disgust. He turned to his stable hands and told them to see to the wounded animals before shooting a glance at her mother's company. Evelyn's mother was gesturing wildly ordering servants about and trying to help Lady Thindrel comfort her daughter. "I failed you. I'm a monster!"

"No, you made me proud," whipping tears and the blood from her cut cheek away, "I don't think a monster would have put herself in harm's way to save innocents."

"But… I'm a … I'm a mage!" She sobbed harder. "Mages are evil. How can I do good when I'm inherently evil?" He pushed her back at shoulder's length studying her hard.

"Who told you that?"

"Mother Maeve, she speaks to us often at the Chantry about the evils of magic and those who wield it. She says mages cannot help their wicked nature and that even the Maker's light cannot save them." He shook her head at her slowly, and another disgusted look overtook his features.

"Now don't you listen to her. You know I once saw her mount a horse backwards. Would you ever trust the word of someone who can't seat themselves on a horse properly?" A small, but audible laugh broke through her sobs. "I won't lie to you that some mages are dangerous, but I don't believe they are inheritably evil. I believe the world has done something to them to make them so. You are good, and will do good my Evie." His eyes glimmered lovingly at her and she knew his words would be forever part of her.

"Drex!" They heard her mother approaching. Her heels clicked scattering the small pebbles of the courtyard about as she trotted along. "Drexford, I've called the Templars from the Circle. They should be here presently."

"You did what!?" A very familiar rage erupted in her father. "Maker's breath Rhiannon, this could've waited another day or so! Can't you see she's in shock?"

"She almost killed sweet Anika, how can you say that?! The poor girl will never find a husband with those burns on her, she's ruined her!" The two fought back and forth for a bit while the reality that the Templars were coming for her. To take her away from all she knew. She snapped out of her numb state to hear her father definitely end their spat.

"I want the Thindrels off my property immediately and I never want to see them here again!" She huffed at him, but turned and followed his command. He didn't say anything, nor did his scowl waver away from the flabbergasted looks the Thindrels shot his way. Evelyn watched from beside him as the wailing Anika was carried to their carriage. When they were out of sight, her mother and middle sister, Odette, stomped into the house. Family lines had been drawn.

Evelyn and her father then hurried over to the barn to assist with the animals. They were happy to find that the situation was well in hand, with only superficial injuries to contend with. Arrow greeted her upon entering and she bent to give the dog a big long hug, knowing it could be the last. When things were settled, they made for the house. As they reached the door, a small cart with the clanking of heavy armor skittered to a stop behind them. The Templars had arrived. With a motion for her to stay put, her father went to speak with them. Their private conversation seemed civil and good-humored, ending with her father attempting to discreetly push a coin purse to the senior officer before waving her over.

"Evelyn, this is Knight-Captain Tobias. I've explained what has happened and he'd agreed to come back tomorrow." She looked shyly up to the Knight-Captain. He had kind eyes from what she could tell through his graying bushy eyebrows.

"Lady Evelyn, please don't be afraid of us, though we aren't mages we understand a bit of what you may have experienced today. I'll be back tomorrow to travel with you to the Ostwick Circle, but until then just keep yourself calm and your powers will not endanger you. You'll receive training there to help you control your abilities. There are many others your age who are learning to do the same. Myself and fellow Templars will be with you to make sure no harm comes to you as you learn. I look forward to talking with you more tomorrow, good evening." He nodded to the two of them and spurred their horse back the way they came. She gave her father's hand a squeeze looking up at him with a smile. He had bought her one more day. One more day to say her goodbyes, soak in her freedom and ready herself for her new life. To do good.

A strong wave checked her from behind drowning her out of her memories. Salty water inundated her senses while strong hands hulled her back up on her feet. She stared gapping at the handsome face of Ser Henley.

"The fuck Trevelyan, how about putting those nice legs to work?" Finding her foothold she stood back up, biting her lip in embarrassment. He gave her a wink and a dashing smile before helping the others disembark. Sorin tried and failed to hold back his laughter as he hopped out of the barge keeping relatively dry.

"How do those socks feel?"

"Shut it Sorin or I'll just happen to fall again and take you with me."

"Children, let's behave now." Henley had become close with the trio since they fled the Circle. While he still spent most of his time with his men, he made more and more effort to hang around at the end of the day with the three mages. While his motivation was largely due to a certain female's presence, he had made a genuine effort to be friendly. That night as they made camp to rest from the crossing, Henley joined them under a large pine tree who's needles were thick enough to slick the water out away from the center so they could stay dry. Evelyn sat on the ground cuddled in a large blanket. Eyeing over at her, she opened up half for him to join her.

"Ugh you're wet! Don't come in here until you dry. Go bother Ilara." He blushed shooting a shy glance over at her, but still tackled Evelyn with a playful growl.

"You do know we're on the Storm Coast still, hence why I'm wet. Someone had to make one last round to make sure everyone was settling in fine for the night. I wasn't going to have my men do it, they're already soaked to the bones." Henley had always been good to the men under his command. He worked his way up through the ranks of the Order on his own, without the help of money or politics. He knew the burdens he placed on his men and never ordered them to do something he wouldn't do himself. She admired him for it and made putting up with his perfection tolerable. "Wait, why are you bitching at me when you are still wet as well?" He patted his hand up and down her torso playfully.

"Damp. I'm damp and drying, but this," she motioned down his body, "is not going to help."

"Tough, you owe me for pulling you out of the drink earlier." She rolled her eyes with a smile while the others laughed. Henley then shared that he and his men had discussed a possible route into the Hinterlands. Lake Calenhad was directly to their south, so they'd need to take the road east or west around it. The western road would take them through narrower passes at the base of the Frostbacks and eventually to Redcliffe. The eastern road had the better geography to disappear into, and would eventually lead them to Lothering. "I've heard back from some of my brothers in the order, it seems activity around the small village of Haven is picking up. Word is the Divine is looking to hold some sort of "Conclave" between the rebels in hopes to stop the violence. This letter," he held up a soggy piece of parchment, which made Evelyn lean away as he shook it about, "is from a good friend of mine from Starkhaven. If he says it'll be worth the long journey south. We may even get to meet up with the other Circles there. That means the western road would be the shorter route."

"But not the safest," Sorin interjected. Henley just nodded knowing it'd be putting a lot of stress on the thirteen Templars and two Knight-Enchanters to protect the group of fifty mages and Tranquil. Sorin and Evelyn shared a knowing look. "Have you reconsidered our offer to train more of the mages in offensive magic?" She was glad he asked, for she really didn't want to broach the subject again after their last fight about it. A few months ago she and Henley had a heated debate which caused a bigger issue than she anticipated. Naturally, it became a Templars versus mages issue, causing the mages to make shied comments about the Templars oppressing them… again. The issue seemed to have finally died down, with its all but inevitable return now upon them.

"I don't have the men nor the lyrium to safely train anyone. We are barely scraping by on the lyrium we have. I have it on good authority from Rylen that there is a steady supply of lyrium at Haven already." He massaged a finger over his temple.

"And here I thought you an idealist." He was not amused by her comment. Evelyn understood their need lyrium, but she hoped he wasn't making a decision based off of his addiction.

"I do hope the Divine succeeds…"

"Which she won't."

"Thank you Sorin, always the fucking optimist," Henley's mood seemed to sour and he took his leave, saying they leave at first light for Haven. The three talked amongst themselves about the implications that these "peace-talks." They knew the war would only end if the mages agreed to surrender. Chances are however, they would find the other loyal Circle mages. Though they had lost theirs, perhaps among the survivors there were Senior Enchanters still alive who could help steer the future of the Circles. The loyal mages would need to ban together and show a united front. She shook her head, You are thinking way too far ahead Trevelyan. Let's just get to Haven first.

"Evie you best go after tall, dark and brooding. I'm sure he's over there sulking. You know how I have a knack for these things." Ilara flicked her head to Henley's solitary tent. "You did poke fun at his lyrium addiction." Evelyn sighed, knowing she was right. "We won't wait up for you," Ilara's melodic voice came with a wink as Evelyn slunk off into the rain, cursing the Maker for why he felt Thedas needed a Storm Coast.

"Knock, knock Ser," was the only warning she gave before entering his tent. He was sitting on the edge of his cot, as Ilara said, sulking. He didn't look at her. "I wanted to apologize, I had no intention of making light of your… lyrium situation." He turned a heated glare at her and she straightened looking dead ahead waiting for the dressing down. A few silent moments passed before he shot up, getting right up in her face, He was at least six-foot tall to her five-foot ten inches. She softened her voice, before continuing, "I really am sorry, I can't imagine you all aren't suffering from withdrawl symptoms."

"I make sure the men have it. I can… deal with it. It's been making me moody. And this fucking headache…"

"Sit," she motioned over to his cot. They sat facing each other, "I've picked a little up from Ilara, though if you went to her when the headaches come I'm sure she could do better. I'm just a crazy fireball thrower." He gave a slight smile at that.

"Ain't that the truth." She smacked his chest before holding her hands up next to his temples to alleviate his pain. She was no healer, but she couldn't help but pick up some of what Ilara was always going on about. When she was done, she could see it helped as the heaviness in his eyes had gone. Before she could leave he pulled her back down on the cot. "Why don't you stay tonight. It's still raining."

"It's always raining here, and no."

"Is it because of what I said last time?"

"No and yes." She stood and slowly paced before him. "No because, believe it or not, even though you said the name of my best friend in the middle of sex I was not offended. You and I were never about feelings. Whatever it is you need to think of to get it done doesn't bother me. The fact is that the girl is stunningly gorgeous. There are hundreds of women in Orlais who would kill, and they do that you know, to have her looks." Ilara and Evelyn were opposites when it came to looks. Ilara was petite with alabaster soft skin and long tightly curled blonde hair. Evelyn was tall and toned, had her signature brown bayalage wavy hair with skin was touched in various ways from the sun and battle. Both women had trim hourglass figures, but Ilara was the embodiment of femininity. "And I say yes, because why in the Void are you wasting time with me when she's right over there? I see the looks you give her. Don't tell me you're shy? You weren't with me at first."

"Well, that's because you're… different." She looked at him as if she stepped in Drufflo shit. " I really didn't see you as a woman.. I mean, we are more like comrades, right? You certainly smelled like one. Feelings weren't an issue for us so…" It was after his babbling had ceased when it dawned on him that his selection of words was not the greatest, as she stared daggers over at him.

"Well now, let me get this straight… you never saw me as a woman because I smelled from being out on the road and fighting because I'm a comrade." She took a long pause before cracking up laughing. At first, he gave a nervous laugh, but seeing hers was genuine, knew she took what he said well. "For the record, you smelled like man sweat and dirty socks, but I didn't say anything. You might want to do something about that for Ilara." She thought she knew what he was poorly trying to say, which was that neither saw the other as romantically compatible, they were just satisfying a need. When she posed it that way to him, he readily agreed that that was what he was indeed trying to say. She felt a weight come off of her now that they officially severed ties. She had hoped that having to be in his company constantly for the last year hadn't made him think they were going anywhere in their relationship, if one could even call it that. He may be utterly attractive, but there was something missing that he couldn't fulfill for her that she just couldn't get past.

After letting him know he was a hopeless cause, she then agreed to help him get things rolling with Ilara. It had been some time since their last dalliance, time enough if Ilara asked about it, but even she knew she never had romantic feelings for Henley, just physical. She told Ilara everything.

"Now don't go around telling everyone what my ass looks like and I won't tell them where you're ticklish." He gave a throaty chuckle glad they could joke about it.

"Thank you, Trevelyan." She looked back at him with raised eyebrows from his tent opening as she took her leave. "You're a good friend, even if you do smell." She shook her head throwing an 'arse' back at him. Things were as they should be.

The next day, the whole camp was eager to head inland to better, though colder weather. They stuck to their plan to head to the western road hugging the Frostbacks. They found occasional trouble along the way, but nothing they couldn't handle. With the news of the upcoming Conclave on everyone's lips, traffic on the road had picked up according to the regular traveling merchants they encountered. Thankfully they were traveling early enough after the announcement before the rebels and bandits in the area could gain a foothold.

They made good time, and by the fifth day they were expected to arrive in Haven before nightfall. During one of their stops to gather food and herbs, Henley had Evelyn and Sorin scout ahead. Word on the road was that rebels mages were about, and thought it best if they went instead of him or his men as not to provoke an attack.

"Remember not to use your real name or do your little fancy fire display if you run into anyone. There are bound to be some sort of protection in place for the Divine, but until we know more or get to Rylen, you're not The Phoenix." Evelyn tied her hair up in a tight bun so people would not notice it, but her "fancy fire display" would be harder to hide since she never had had control over it in the first place. She was still a wanted woman for apparently leading the rebellion in the Ostwick Circle. One day she would set the record straight, but for now she would just have to wait for the right opportunity.

The Hinterlands were heavily forested and hilly. The ruins that dotted the landscape made it feel ancient, when in fact the ruins were what was left of old fortifications decimated in Ferelden's war with Orlais. Evelyn and Sorin came across such a ruin that seemingly had a tower or two that could be of use. The two mages split up looking for a path up to one of the high vantage points, saving them the time of combing through the surrounding wilderness themselves. Evelyn heard Sorin whistle, and she hurried over to his position, but before she could get too close he raised up a cautionary hand. She froze listening in place for movement but heard nothing. He suddenly shot a look over at her, tapping the center of his chest signaling for her to use her mana. As she did, she immediately picked up what had him frozen. Templars.

It was weak, but she sensed the lyrium. Sorin, still a few yards away from her crouched behind a bush, flashed numbers on his fingers - one, two, one, two - it was a question. He was asking if she sensed one or two of them. She signaled a 'one' back. The lyrium was so weak, she wondered if the Templar was hunting for lyrium in his depleted state. Odd that there was only one. Evelyn had her back up against a ruined wall covered by rashvines. Nervous any movement from her would ruffle the vines giving away her position, she only swiveled her head around, not able to see much. When she swiveled back to look at Sorin, her mana surged forth with urgency upon seeing a woman in heavy armor standing over him. She must have used a spell purge on him, and the lack of mana had left him barely conscious on the ground. But she wasn't the Templar they sensed.

Starting towards him, mana still building, a sword swung out in front of her halting her instantly. It made a clinking sound at it the rock and Sorin hearing it looked back at her.

"How many more of you are there?" She turned to look at the man holding the sword. He was tall and blonde with a scar cut through his upper lip. He was not in Templar armor, but he was who they sensed. "Answer me." His voice was low but intense. She spat at the ground in front of him. As he looked down, she let rip a mind blast spell dazing him just long enough for her to get a foothold on the crumbling ruin hoisting herself up. She didn't look back she just climbed. Above her was a stable landing where she could have some cover to reign fire down on them from. As she began pulling herself up, a hand grabbed her ankle. She was no match for his strength and she was torn from the ledge. As she fell, she grabbed her staff from her back knowing what was awaiting her when she hit the ground.

The moment she impacted, the cold sweep of a Templar's spell purge rushed through her, but oddly enough did not fully drain her. Shaking off the effect, she thrust her staff head into the gut of the man. Wincing from the blow, he staggered back while she jumped to her feet spinning to see that Sorin was still down. As she stumbled to Sorin, a shield knocked into her feet. I can't catch a break! Flipping on her back she encircled Sorin and herself in a wall of fire. As she did her Phoenix wings shot forth. Maker, please let them not have seen that. She was low enough on the ground she hoped the flame wall hid her signature wings. Finally standing on her own two feet for more than a few seconds this time, she stood tall facing the Templars. Except, they weren't wearing Templar armor. In fact, she now noticed the woman was a Seeker and the man, though he attempted to use a spell purge on her, didn't look like a Templar - or if he was he was a bad one. The man gave a whistle and a number of other soldiers appeared surrounding them.

"Hold, we are not apostates!" Reason dictated that they must be hunting for apostates and if she could prove it to them, perhaps they'd let them go without a fight now that she could see that they were vastly outnumbered.

"Why should we believe you? Surrender now and no harm will come to you." The woman's accent was heavy Nevarran. Evelyn extinguished the wall of flame and placed her staff on the ground, hoping they saw it as a gesture of good will. She was, of course taking a chance that these people were not bandits, and that she was in fact a true Seeker. Judging by the look of Sorin though, she was indeed a Seeker of great skill.

"Our Templars are nearby they will vouch for us. Our Lieutenant sent us to scout the area ahead to Haven, that's why they aren't with us." The poor excuse for a Templar and Seeker looked at each other.

"Who is your Lieutenant?" The Templar looked skeptically at her.

"Lieutenant Byron Henley of the Circle of Ostwick." He leaned over to say something to the Seeker and she nodded then he ordered the others to stand down. Evelyn let out a sigh of relief as everyone put their weapons down. She bent to help Sorin up, allowing him to lean on her as he regained his strength. She cupped his face studying him with a worried expression. He blinked a few times before giving her a look to stop her fussing, to which she gave him a gentle slap. The two looked up from their exchange to see the Seeker and Templar watching them closely as they approached.

"I am Seeker Pentaghast and this is Commander Cullen of Divine Justinia's forces. We are trying to secure the area for the upcoming Conclave. I assume that is why you're traveling to Haven." Evelyn nodded. "You're a few weeks early, we only just arrived ourselves."

"We are Knight-Enchanters Sorin and Althea." She lied without skipping a beat. She knew the basics of The Game, both from her mother's lessons and the little time she spent in Orlais. She heard her mother's lessons echo in her head, Keep to the truth as much as you can, only lying when necessary. Don't voluntarily give up information, but be seemingly cooperative. Althea was her middle name after all. She absentmindedly kicked the shield that the Commander threw at her in their little scuff. She began to bend to pick it up, but he stopped her.

"Please, allow me. I hope I didn't harm you?" She shook her head, finding it a bit amusing that he'd think that. Now able to get a better look at him without a sword in her face, he had the most remarkable amber eyes. They had an intensity to them as if they analyzed everything before them; that they saw everything, remembered everything. She wasn't sure why, but a warning fired off in her head after having just lied to him. She would have to be careful with him. Odd she didn't feel the same about the Seeker, who was just as intense and well, she was a Seeker.

"I apologize for silencing you Knight-Enchanter Sorin. It's hard to determine friend from foe out here." He offered a nod in understanding. "Are you camped nearby?"

"Yes, just beyond those trees."

"I will take a few men and go with her. If there are Templars there I would like to talk with them. We'll meet you back at Haven."

"Very well, Commander. We'll continue on." The Seeker nodded and led half the men away with her while the Commander and his men followed the mages to their camp. Upon arriving, Henley and the Commander were introduced and the whole of camp was packed up to proceed to Haven. Henley spoke with the Commander the whole way there, even laughing occasionally. Seems he was already cozying up to his new Templar brother, only glancing back a few times at his charges. She figured if anything, Henley being close to the Commander was a good thing, especially if or when they found out who she really was.

Haven was anything but a haven. It was a snow-covered village barely large enough to house the Divine's guard, let alone their group. Since the Divine claimed the walled village as her own, everyone else was forced outside the walls. Even more disappointing was the fact that no other Circles had yet made it to Haven, which made her stomach sick with worry. They couldn’t be it, could they? No, there were still several weeks until the Conclave, they were early. It was nice to think that for the next four weeks they were staying put. It'd be the longest time in the past year they ever stayed in one place. When Henley addressed the group it was made clear that the Ostwick Circle was to be temporarily conscripted into the Divine's Guard as healers. He also addressed the issue of Evelyn's wanted status. He warned them that willing or no, they were now all guilty by association and that if they didn't want to be arrested they'd keep quiet. Their first official order was to set up a temporary infirmary. While the Commander was not expecting mass casualties, they had already had some injuries from soldiers on patrols. The Ostwick mages were well known for their advanced healing skills, but Evelyn wasn't a healer. When she and Sorin approached Henley about it, he said they'd have to pull their weight by collecting herbs, washing bandages and linens, among other menial tasks for the healers.

"The Commander is having you and the other Templars join them for patrols, why can't we come along?"

"Because he didn't ask for your help."

"Maybe he doesn't know he needs it. I will go speak with him."

"Oh no you don't!" Henley put himself right in her direct path. "If you have a request, you can pass it up the chain of command through me. No pulling your nobility crap here." She huffed and rolled her eyes.

"But you're not going to ask him! I can't spend the next four weeks cleaning linens… I'll go insane! I thought we were a team?"

"We are a team, but I'm not in charge here and we are guests of the Divine now. Let's try not to cause any trouble here and make them regret giving us a chance. Keep in mind they are providing us with rations and other much needed supplies. Plus, you of all people are supposed to be keeping your head down, remember? You start throwing fireballs and showing off you're bound to catch the attention of Seeker Pentaghast. We are all your accomplices if you get caught, so keep that in mind. And besides, thankfully for you, I put Ilara in charge of the infirmary, I'm sure she'll go easy on you two."

She wasn't thankful. She felt useless without a purpose and like a nobody without her identity. Her hands were tied. She'd have to suck it up for now if she didn't want the entire Circle arrested for harboring a fugitive. It was going to be a long four weeks.

Notes:

Greetings!

I hope the backstory was entertaining! Things will pick up more in line with the game's main narrative now.

Thanks for reading!
Munklington

Chapter 5: Coming Out Smelling of Roses

Summary:

Evelyn tries to avoid the Commander and fails. Henley is questioned by Sister Nightingale. Haven is attacked, leaving Evelyn to decide if she should out her identity.

It took one full day, but the mages and Tranquil built an impressive infirmary with the little materials they had. Heavy canvas was used for both the outer walls as well as inner walls. This allowed for privacy if needed. Discarded crates and scrap wood were used to create furnishings such as tables, shelves and more. Henley and Ilara had worked out shifts for all the mages. Master Taigen and Adan seemed to be relieved to have the help. They had been tending to the wounded through non-magical means, but as attacks increased, they feared their herbs and potions would not be enough. When Evelyn and Sorin weren't working in the infirmary, there were many other tasks to be done such as cleaning linens, gathering herbs, potion making and making rounds delivering remedies. Evelyn hated all of it. Her idea of doing good was much different from a healer's calling, but here she was at the mercy of Ilara.

"Isn't this wonderful! We actually get to spend time together doing magey things!" Her enthusiasm was far from appreciated.

"I say this with all the love for you in my heart… I hate this. I miss the surge of adrenaline I get from my fire spells. Healing is so slow paced, and besides I'm no good at it."

"That's because you keep forcing it and it's making it harder for you to connect your mana to people. You must feel their hurt and give them what they need. It takes practice just like anything else." With the increasing patrols and attacks in the surrounding area the infirmary saw a constant stream of patients with a wide variety of wounds and ailments. "You've always been about showing the people the good mages can do, and that's exactly what we're doing here."

"You're right Lar. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to suggest that your work is any less important. Maker knows how many times I've needed you to patch me back up." Ilara gave her a heartfelt smile and continued taking inventory of the supplies on the shelf. "By the way, do you have that "potion" I asked you about?" Ilara gave a laugh, digging through one of the pockets on her dress. Her search produced a small glass vial. Eager to have it, Evelyn went to grab it, but Ilara pulled it back.

"Hold on! I couldn't get the supplies to make what you wanted, but I know how much you want this so I made you a vial of my scent. It's rosewater and peony, very feminine." She said it while raising her eyebrows up and down, making Evelyn blush. She was kicking herself that she was letting Henley's words get to her.

"Maker's breath, I'm not going to live this one down am I? I don't like it that you and Henley now share everything with each other." Ilara laughed and shook her head.

"I would've thought your noble upbringing would have made you a bit more girly, but I suppose not. Not when you spent your time with your brothers." A fact that she cherished. She opened the vial giving it a sniff and without a doubt, it was Ilara's flowery scent.

"Shall we see how your scent does against sweat and blood?" She dabbed a few drops onto her neck and backs of her hands. "If it's alright with you boss, can I go spar with Sorin if I'm not needed here?" Before Ilara could answer there was a commotion across the camp. Soon people were hurrying the wounded into the infirmary. Even if Evelyn was no healer, she knew wounds and these were made by magic. Evelyn immediately forgot about leaving and instead waited for instructions from Ilara.

"E- I mean Althea, can you man that table, I'll send you people with minor wounds. Just help them with the pain." She followed her orders and waited for her first patient. Unfortunately, the wounds coming in were rather severe magical burns of various kinds - fire, lightning and frost burns. She wasn't trained to help with those, she could only alleviate pain and mend minor cuts. "Over there," she heard Ilara directing men over to her. She quickly turned to wash her hands in the wash basin before seeing to her patients as Ilara taught her. While the infirmary had been set up for a few days now, she had yet to actually tend to patients herself. There had always been someone else around to do it, but now with so many wounded Ilara needed her and she couldn't let her down. She was oddly nervous, but she contributed it to the fact that she was out of her element. When she turned to greet her first patients, she was stopped cold by the sight of the back of a fur-lined red mantle. She looked up in horror at Ilara who could only offer a shrug and slight frown. He was the very person she needed to avoid! Now she'd be forced into potentially conversing closely and touching him. A second man with a tattoo on his chin sat across from him in her little section of the infirmary. Both men were very interested in watching the treatment of the other soldiers, so much so that they all but ignored her completely until she cleared her throat.

"What can I do for you, sirs?" They still paid her no mind, thankfully, but the tattooed man mumbled over that he had pain in his shoulder. Holding onto his pauldron and lifting his layers, she slipped a hand in to find where the swelling was. Easily enough she found it towards his shoulder blade and began alleviating the pain. He mind went to Ilara's earlier words of advice as she worked.

"Ah, my thanks lass it…" when he paused, she realized he was looking at her, studying her face. Not shying away, Evelyn's noble defiance fought to break through her innocent façade as the man went a bit slack-jawed. She forced herself to focus back on his shoulder, wondering if aside from alleviating his pain she alleviated him of his wits as well.

"I promise you I won't sprout a second head, a forked tongue or whatever else they say about mages." Why can I never just shut up. She wasn't supposed to be talking to them. The man broke into a hardy laugh forcing her to sway along with his body as her hand remained on his back.

"Cullen did you hear that, she's not only pretty, but she's a witty one!" He continued to laugh while she rolled her eyes, which didn't go unnoticed by him. "I'm sorry lass, I only meant it as a compliment with the utmost respect." She regarded him for a few moments, looking over the chiseled features of his face eventually giving him a small smile and nod trying not to continue their conversation. "Aye, you have a soft touch too. Of the healers I've been to, none made the pain go away as quickly as you have. You must be very skilled." An embarrassing laugh burst through her pursed lips.

"Be sure to tell my boss that, she'll love that!" I must be touched in the head. What part of 'no talking, keep your head down' don't you understand? The tattooed man laughed harder.

"What's your name lass?" Fuck Trevelyan, fuck.

"Althea, ser."

"I'm Knight-Captain Rylen and this is --"

"We've met already, Rylen." Of course, he remembers me. She was counting on him not remembering her in the short time they spent together. She remembered the way he looked at her back during their first meeting, recalling the way he scrutinized her then. She had decided then he was dangerous and now she knew she was right.

"Good to see you again Commander, though I'm not sure it's good if you're here in the infirmary." It was one thing if he remember her, it was another if she suddenly began to act suspiciously. She just needed to keep the conversation away from her. "How's the shoulder feeling now, Knight-Captain?"

"Good as new, thank you Althea." She took a few steps over to the wash basin again to cleanse her hands before tending to the Commander. To her surprise, Rylen thankfully stayed and the two men talked about what went wrong during the attack. With Rylen here, it gave her an excuse to shut her mouth while he distracted the Commander. When she was ready, she closed the short distance over to him and stood at the ready. The two men still conversed, not paying her any mind. They talked about how there were just too few Templars and far too many rebel mages. They were exposed to their spells without protection and their archers were just not hitting their marks having been raw recruits with little training and experience. It sounds like they could use a pair a of Knight-Enchanters, if you ask me. After a few minutes, they realized she was just standing there eavesdropping again.

"Oh, ah it's my side here." He pointed to his upper rib cage. He just stared at her while she stared back unmoving.

"Um, you're going to have to...," she gestured to his fur mantle. With the realization of why she had been staring at him, he began to disrobe enough for her to slip a hand up his shirt. He untucked his layers from his pants holding them up for her. Trying not to gawk at his fine musculature, she placed her hand on the visibly bruised area, he jerked back at her touch. "Sorry, my hand got cold just standing there." Could this get any worse?

"Commander, you wanted to see me?" Henley appeared in the opening to her nook. At seeing her with her hand up the Commander's shirt, his eyes went wide. She gave him a look of, Yes, I know where my hand is, just keep cool. The three men talked through the precautions Henley was to take when he and his men went out on patrol. Henley was barely holding it together, looking as nervous and guilty as ever. Meanwhile, Evelyn focused on actually trying to do her job. She shifted her hand slightly closer to the center of his chest, following the pain. Her finger moved over the contours of his muscular chest and fine hair. She was close enough to smell the sweat and metal on him. Oh no.

"Henley, I'm impressed with what how quickly your group got this up and running. Pass on my compliments to Enchanter Ilara, she and her healers seem to have thought of everything. It even smells nice in here. Is that roses?" Evelyn squeezed her eyes closed hoping the ground would swallow her. She dared a look at Henley who was barely keeping his composure, now biting his lip to fend off a grin. Rylen's face gradually broke into a hopeless look as he shook his head at him. The Commander, seemingly the only one unaware that Evelyn was the source looked to his men narrowing his eyes in question. Having turned her head unable to look at the three men, she heard Rylen cough purposely, then heard the Commander clear his throat. Before she knew it, he was standing up tucking his shirts back in and retying his fur mantle. With a curt 'thank you' to her, he was out of the infirmary in a flash with Rylen on his tail. Henley however stood there cracking up laughing once they were out of earshot.

"Not a fucking word out of you." She growled at him.

"I don't know which is funnier, you wearing perfume or the Commander realizing it!" He roared with laughter garnering looks from everyone around. She slammed her head down on the table covering her head with her arms the best she could, mortified beyond belief. "At least now he'll avoid you like the Blight! Wait until I tell Ilara!" Erupting in laughter again.

---

It had been a little over a week since they set up camp at Haven and almost a month since he stopped taking lyrium. It surprised him when he was able to use a fraction of his old abilities against that Knight-Enchanter from Ostwick, Althea. He groaned inwardly at the thought of her name and the embarrassment of his most recent encounter with her. Flowers in the Frostbacks, what were you thinking Rutherford? He feared the withdrawal symptoms were already making him lose his mind. He probably should have timed it better, but he was too eager to leave that chapter of his life behind him, even knowing the consequences.

The most prevalent of his withdrawal symptoms were the shakes, nightmares and headaches. They came on without warning and were unpredictable; something he did not like at all. In the middle of meetings he fought for concentration against headaches and during training he tried to hide his shaking hands. Nightmares had always plagued him, but they had become worse robbing him of a few hours of sleep each night. The pain, loss of motor function and lack of sleep were like a perfect storm always keeping him in a state of extreme discomfort. While he always had a seriousness to his resting expression, he now wore a scowl reflective of his discomfort.

Yet, life at Haven rolled on and he had a mountain of work to do for the upcoming Conclave. He was pleased with how Haven fortifications were coming along and for how efficiently, for lack of true expertise, their team had organized the camp and its people. It was not Redcliffe Castle, but it was something. It was by luck, and a nicely timed letter from Rylen, that the Ostwick Circle Templars and mages had arrived so early. He regretted the fact that a makeshift tavern had been erected outside of the walled village before an infirmary, but their new allies from Ostwick made short work of it. Their skill had already been proven and tested, and while wishful thinking would be that they wouldn't need such services again, he knew better.

Their commanding officer Lieutenant Henley was a good man who came with a shining recommendation from Rylen. Just as quickly as he and Rylen had become great friends back in Kirkwall, he sensed the same camaraderie with Henley. The addition of thirteen experienced Templars from Ostwick greatly improved the morale of the ones they had who had also been displaced looking for a new purpose. Though he'd need more to safely accommodate the current host of mages. As a former Templar, he knew the risks and consequences of having too few Templars and he would not suffer through it again, not while he was in command.

"Ser, I've brought Lieutenant Henley." Cullen had sent Rylen to fetch Henley for a debriefing of the events in Ostwick, as they had yet an opportunity to do so. Wild rumors were flying around Thedas over the fall of their Circle. There was also the fact that there were any number of malcontents who wished the Divine's Conclave to fail and he and Leliana shared the responsibility of seeing that their people were safe. Not only were he and Leliana interested in making sure they vetted all new arrivals the best they could for trouble, but the Divine was after one mage in particular from Ostwick.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Lieutenant. We are just waiting on Sister Nightingale now." They didn't have to wait long as if by invoking her name she appeared instantly. She strode silent like a cat through the tent flap and over beside him. He was a good head taller than her, but it wasn't her stature people feared, it was her "eyes." Those who were not familiar with the Left Hand of the Divine were at a severe disadvantage, for chances are she already knew everything about them. Introductions were quickly made and they began their line of questioning beginning with the events in Ostwick. Henley confirmed that both the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter were dead; that majority of the mages sided with the rebels; that the same was said of the Templars. They asked about Ilara's credentials since she was in charge of the infirmary, all of which checked out against what Leliana's agents had already found on her, which was a spotless record. "We met two Knight-Enchanters the day we met, who are they?"

"More importantly, were they associated with The Phoenix in any way?" That was the real question on their minds. The whereabouts of Knight-Enchanter Trevelyan had yet to be found and she was wanted in some form or another by Lord Seeker Lucius, Enchanter Fiona, the College of Enchanters and the Divine - quite the list of names. The Divine was interested in having her attend the Conclave, provided she was innocent of the crimes she had been accused of. She believed having more high-profile mages attend would help from the attention of the rebels, who did not seem interested in any solution that didn't involve unrestricted freedom. Cullen's own feelings on the matter was mixed. In the past he had treated mages with contempt without cause due to the torture he suffered at Kinloch Tower. In Kirkwall, his former Knight-Commander encouraged the hatred of mages, but now he was more inclined to agree with those advocating for reform. Though he could never accept the complete freedom of mages without some form of oversight.

The reports out of Ostwick had been completely contradictory and no doubt the stories had became more embellished over the year since the Circle's fall. According to rumors out of Ostwick, Lady Trevelyan led the rebellion after receiving a beating from a Templar, then proceeded to kill the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter. Whether the beating was justified was unknown, but it resulted in the fall of the Circle nonetheless. Other rumors suggest that there was mutual like and admiration between Trevelyan, Knight-Commander Tobias and First Enchanter Lydia, making their murder seem unlikely.

"Those were Knight-Enchanters Althea and Sorin. They --"

"Surnames, if you please Lieutenant." Leliana was naturally untrusting of everyone until proven otherwise. He wasn't sure if she was testing him or confirming information that she had already gathered.

"Apologies, Sorin Cyrus and…" he paused, "…and Althea Orianna. Both loyal mages to the Circle. Both have had experience working alongside Templars and were recognized for their excellence by First Enchanter Lydia. I trust them with my life."

"That's not what I asked. What is their relationship with The Phoenix?"

"Sister Nightingale, we all had relations with Knight-Enchanter Trevelyan. She was the pride of the Ostwick Circle. I had worked with her personally myself and would vouch for her character. Both Sorin and Althea studied under her and even traveled with her occasionally. When the Circle fell, she stood with us against the rebel mages. She has been made out to be the leader of the rebels when it is fact the opposite. The rebels would use her to justify their actions, but she'd never join them let alone lead them. As to her whereabouts, before you even ask, she struck out on her own in the Free Marches after she learned she was a wanted woman, not wanting to bring harm to the rest of us. We haven't heard from her since." It was an impassioned defense of the mage, but Leliana seemed unaffected. Henley was breathing heavy in his state of agitation. "May I ask why you want to know about her?" She didn't answer right away as if weighing her options in her head, trying to draw out the answers she wanted from him.

"The Divine would like to invite her personally to the Conclave. She believes someone of the Knight-Enchanter's reputation may coax more mages to attend, specifically the rebel mages. She's a fighter, they like that, not to mention non-mages listen to her. More importantly, because of her close work with The Order, Most Holy believes her presence would draw Templar support as well. She would be in a unique position to bridge the extremists on both sides. Most Holy is… determined for the Conclave to be successful."

"You don’t want to arrest her?" This surprised him

"No, we just want her cooperation."

"I understand, but I don't know where she is."

"I see, thank you Lieutenant. That's all… for now."

"Thank you Henley, you're both dismissed." Henley seemed relieved which didn't surprise him - Leliana was a master at the art of interrogation and had a knack for making those she questioned feel like every answer they gave was the wrong answer. Once the tent flap closed, Leliana let out a sigh.

"He lied."

"About what?"

"Just a hunch. If you'd excuse me, I have a few ravens to send."

---

It had been a few days since Henley was questioned by the Commander and Sister Nightingale. It seems the Nightingale's reputation preceded her because she rattled Henley. From what he was able to relay back, the Divine did not want her arrested but rather sought her help. She supposed it made sense politically since the Divine did encourage the Mage Rebellion. Now she was trying to reign it in and failing, hence the Conclave. Evelyn weighed her options carefully. If she were to make her presence known, how could she be sure the Divine could protect her from the Order, who no doubt wanted to make an example of her or the Free Mages who would force her cooperation sullying her reputation even more. Both groups had sent thugs throughout the past year looking for her, and none of the confrontations ended peacefully. And she certainly did not want to go to the College of Enchanters and wait in their tower like a cornered rat for whichever group would come get her first. Was the Divine really her best option?

Her worry was not just for herself, but for her friends and colleagues here with her. They had lied for her, would they be forgiven? Not to mention her presence would invite more attacks, of which she knew the Commander's forces were not ready for. She swore she'd protect her friends against the world, even if it meant herself. While Haven was growing steadily, most were not fighters, just people seeking refuge from the violence. Not to mention the freaking Divine was here. Could she in her right mind and conscience endanger her?

Evelyn couldn't make up her mind so she got up and headed towards the "tavern" they set up on the outskirts of Haven. The Singing Maiden was inside the walls, but no one aside from the Divine's inner circle and her officers were allowed inside the walls. With the majority of its drinking patrons settled outside of the walls, this bar out in the elements with a canopy over it was the best they could do. At least the ale was cold. Quickly downing the first drink, she seeped back into her thoughts while her second was being poured. Another thought came to her, as she listened absently to the distant sound of fighting coming from the gate past the blacksmith shop. No doubt, the Commander had it under control. She was itching for some action though. Her mana was not sated in its new purpose, and it craved its violent release. It made her restless, itchy in her own skin. She pulled a strand of hair from her bun twirling it endlessly on a finger.

"Glad I wasn't the only one who thought it wasn't too early for a drink." Sorin pulled up a stool next to her. They had been so busy with the infirmary that this was the first time in days they had been able to sit and chat together. "You hear the fighting? No doubt Ilara will need us back soon." If it was the rebel mages at it again, that would certainly be true. So far from what Henley had told them they had only come up against small wandering groups of mages.

"Yes, I'm trying to take my mind off it. It's insufferable." She took a big swig of her drink. "And I still can't decide what to do. Between that and the fighting, I feel like I'm losing my mind. I keep hoping for a sign or divine intervention to decide for me." The sound of the fighting was becoming louder as smoke began to rise on the horizon. Still, she ignored it now hoping the Commander had it under control. No doubt Henley and the other Ostwick Templars were with him.

"I wouldn't hold my breath." Sorin held his tankard out to her and she clanked her second drink to his first. She was happy to sip this one, but Sorin downed his. "You're sooner to be found out by Sister Nightingale. I've heard what they say about her. If you're her target, it won't be long until she figures it out. Are you sure you want them to find out that way? Especially considering they just want your help." There was a loud explosion across the frozen lake coming from the mountain pass to the bridge to Haven. Both mages looked up to see that the trees had caught fire. It was the mages again. They looked to each other with knowing looks of how useless they felt.

"Are we positive of that? I wouldn't take a former Orlesian bard at their word."

"What about your leverage?" Leverage? She didn't think she had any, evident by the confused face she made. "They want your help, you're hung up on protecting us - which while touching is stupid - you promise them your help in exchange for protection. Be sure to include your own protection as well. If the Divine wants your help bad enough to sic her Spymaster on you, I'd say you have some leverage."

BOOM!

The ground shook beneath them. Looking back over her shoulder towards the bridge, her early assessment was incorrect; the Commander did not have things under control. Fireballs were raining down from the high cliffs by the bridge. She could see men running back across it, while archers tried to cover their retreat. The camp erupted into chaos as people began running to the gates of Haven where the soldier had begun letting people in for safety. More explosions went off from within the pass and the all too familiar crackle of magic snaked its way over to them. She breathed in deeply feeling the rush of her mana bottling up inside her. She looked over at Sorin and knew he was feeling the same. There was a hunger in his eyes like she had never seen before as his chest heaved forcefully. When his predatorial eyes snapped over to her, she let loose her hair. Cool blonde tips cascaded forth whipping across her face then falling down her back as the tight bun uncurled.

"They never told us that we couldn't defend the camp right?" With that the two were up and running for the bridge dodging those running the opposite way to safety behind the walls.

"So we're doing this?" Sorin called to her as they ran.

"We're doing this!" Like her bun, she had been wound up tight being "Althea." She was done hiding and this was her chance. More than that, Evelyn wanted to help where she knew she'd be the most effective. And it was time to show the Commander how effective she could be; the Phoenix would rise right before his eyes. As they reached the gate, Evelyn noticed the Seeker lying on the ground being supported by her elbows. A bald elven mage was tending to her wounds. She had been dragged in among others who were badly wounded. "Seeker Cassandra, we're here to help!" Cassandra grunted trying to push herself up farther, but the elf cautioned against it.

"The mages have the high ground. The men have no cover to retreat. The last time I saw the Commander he was in the pass trying to push his way behind the mages. We cannot let them get beyond the bridge at any cost. Go do what you can! Open the gates!" She called to a pair of soldiers who had barred the doors. As they ran out, other soldiers pushed past them to get in.

"You have a plan I assume?"

"Of course, who do you think I am?"

"Not Althea the healer, I hope." She laughed. No, she was certainly not that anymore. Sorin quickly cast a barrier around the area as fireballs reigned forth down upon them.

"You stay here and protect the retreat while I show these rebels what real fireballs look like!" He gave her a sly smile and went to work. The rush of adrenaline had made her a bit cocky in spite of the dire situation in front of them. Dozens were dead and the wounded scattered about in every direction. Just in front of the bridge, two steep ridgelines rose up high enough that she couldn't see where the mages were. She'd have to guess based on where their spells were coming from. It also made it impossible to know how many were up there. As soldiers ran past her she couldn't help but notice there were no Templars among them. A cold fear crept into her gut; they must be the ones headed up the pass with the Commander.

With no time to lose, she brought her mana forth in a spectacular display. The Phoenix had been released. The violence in which her mana manifested after being suppressed for so long was magnificent. Her fireballs flew more like firebolts with alarming speed and force compared to the enemy. The sound they made was terrifying as they collided with the rock face, shattering it into fine flakes. As she worked on the closest ridge to the bridge, firing off the occasional volley to the opposite ridge for cover, Knight-Captain Rylen stumbled out of the pass calling to the men who followed him to run for the bridge. He was banged up, but no worse for wear. Relieved that they finally had some firepower of their own, she winked at him when he flashed her a smile.

"Couldn't let you have all the fun, Knight-Captain!"

"Aye, plenty to go around, Knight-Enchanter!" He watched her at work for a moment before his expression turned to worry. "The Commander and Templars pushed ahead to get behind the enemy but got cut off. I'm not sure where they are or if they're even alive!" His voice was becoming hoarse from yelling over the battle. "If we can rally some of the men, I'd like to take you and your friend with us and go after them!" By the time they were done strategizing on how to go about getting through the pass, she had pushed back the enemy quite considerably. Trickles of blood and some dismembered limbs clung to the cliffs above. She didn't relent though and soon the loud crack of Sorin's lightning was heard thundering across the cliffs.

Rylen, satisfied that the two mages had the fight under control for the time being, left to rally the men to make the push through the pass. By the time he returned, the mages have made even more progress on their own starting their way up the pass without them. He brought back ten archers and the Seeker with him. They stayed behind the mages, keeping an eye out for any mages they exposed, which numbered quite a few. As they made it to the other side of the pass, attacks from the rebels quieted suspiciously.

"Best case we pushed them right at the Templars." Rylen seemed cheerfully optimistic, until of course Sorin spoke up.

"Or they are dead and the rebels are regrouping for an attack." Evelyn, Rylen and Cassandra all huffed at him. She could hear Henley's voice in her head, always the fucking optimist, Sorin. She worried for Henley and his men. Unfortunately, if something bad did happen to them, she didn't think the mages would be inclined to take a bunch of Templars as prisoners. Rylen had his men fan out to look for clues as to where they went when Evelyn began to sense a large build-up of magic nearby. Cassandra confirmed it and the group moved cautiously toward it. They walked for a few minutes before the forest erupted into a battlefield. The mages threw up barriers at the initial onslaught. Repelling the various elemental missiles, a voice called the assault to a stop. Barriers holding strong, some of the rebel mages stepped out from behind their cover.

"We'll talk to your mages, but I warn the rest of you should you get any ideas we'll kill your Templars and Commander!" Evelyn looked to Cassandra for consent, to which she gave a curt nod. She didn't seem to be in any condition to deal with the mages. Evelyn and Sorin lowered their barriers and started forward slowly together. Evelyn had been part of a number of hostage negotiations in her time with the Templars. They had been mostly escaped mages made desperate by poor planning on their part.

"Before we talk about anything, I need proof that the Commander and his men are alive." The mage in charge looked to be slightly older than she and had a recently healed scar slashed across his eye. He gave a whistle to his unseen comrades who brought forth the prisoners. Evelyn and Sorin stood stoic, unaffected by the look and treatment of their Templar prisoners. It had clearly been a hard fight for both sides, but it seemed the mages had the advantage of numbers. "Thank you, now what do you want?"

"We want to offer you and your friend a chance to join us, to live free. We could use two strong mages such as yourselves."

"Live free? We'll never be free, not in our lifetime and your actions here ensures future generations of mages will have even less freedom than what we had before the rebellion. Do you even know who you've taken hostage?"

"They are Templars. That's all we need to know. Cruel brutes who dealt out punishments as it fit their whim. Our kind is nothing to them, they don't even see us as people and now they will hunt every one of us down until we are all dead!"

"I won't deny that the Order has lost its way, but not all Templars are out to harm you! These ones specifically are not the brutes you speak of. They are in fact members of Divine Justina's Guard for the Conclave. Their job is to protect mages and Templars alike who want peace. I know them and have worked with them. They are good men and women, true Templars." There was audible grumbling from the other side and even a "Templar slut" thrown her way. "You want to force the world to change, to bow to "our kind" as if we are superior, but that is not the way. This is not Tevinter!" The leader wrinkled his nose at her but made the fatal mistake of turning his head to look back at the others. The mages began to talk amongst themselves again debating now whether they wanted such a mage among them.

"Sorin," he looked with only his eyes over to her, "do you remember Markham?" He nodded. "On my signal, if things go south." When they were Markham a few years ago they faced a slightly similar situation with a rather memorable outcome.

"We've heard enough from you! You're a disgrace to our kind! Here are our terms since you clearly are so brainwashed by your Templar masters. You and the others leave here in peace, but the Templars stay."

"Counteroffer, you release the Templars to us and we don't follow you. You leave here with your lives to fight another day, though you better hope we don't cross paths again."

"No." He nodded over to one of the mages who put their staff blade to the Commander's chest. Some of the other mages also drew blades on the men. He had made his choice, but so did she. She gave the signal. In an instant, she fade stepped to their leader shearing him in half with her spirit blade. The long arc of the arcane blade sliced through two other mages as well. Sorin, with deadly precision, let loose chain lightning striking down the remaining mages. Their violence of action was so swift, the others in their group took a moment to gawk before rushing to the aid of their friends. She felt relief at saving the men, but she looked at the fallen mages with pity. Mages had power enough to be formidable, but without the real-world knowledge of how to apply it, they were children playing with fire.

She grabbed the dagger from her boot and cut the binds on the Commander loose. He didn't say anything at first he just stared at her, like the first time they met. She didn't shy away from his gaze, no longer having to hide. It felt liberating to be Evelyn again, even if Henley was looking wildly at her - something that did not go unnoticed by the Commander, who looked back and forth at their silent conversation. Ignoring his shock, she gave Henley a heartfelt smile of relief at seeing him alive and in one piece. He returned it.

"I take it your name isn't Althea Orianna then?" She just shook her head at his calm countenance. As she opened her mouth to reply, the draining force of a spell purge hit her, making her fall back away from him flat on her back. The Seeker was strong, but so was she. Cassandra didn't silence her completely and instinctually Evelyn's mana surged forth. Her eyes reflected the flame enveloping her as the Phoenix's wings shot out in warning. Before Evelyn could act Cassandra dispelled her magic again, this time with dizzying effect. Flat on her back again she struggled to lift her suddenly heavy limbs. Her vision began to fade, but she fought it listening to the voices above her. She heard Henley, Sorin, Cassandra, Cullen and even Rylen arguing. Sorin and Henley both fiercely defending her against the Seeker's words, while it seemed Cullen and Rylen were meditating. As the Fade claimed her, her final sight was that of the dead rebel leader in a pool of blood. His words haunted her - "our kind" - she seemed to be eradicating mages as if she was a rogue Templar.

"That's not me." Her voice rasped from a faraway place. But what did she mean? Not a rebel? Not a Templar slut? Not "Althea?" Perhaps it was all of those. Who was she then, she thought as she faded quickly. A powerful will asserted itself in one last conscious breath to erase the doubt in her mind. "Ev-Evelyn." All was black.

---

"Fortified watchtowers will need to be built on both sides of the ridges as soon as possible. We cannot afford to be taken by surprise again." Upon arriving back in Haven, Cullen had a lot of work to do to recover their defenses from the attack. Though the enemy had been eliminated, who knows where they came from and how many more were out there. He had already sent out men to collect the dead, which included finding Leliana's agents who should've sent warning ahead to them of the attack. They lost more men than they could afford in the attack and without the intervention of the two Knight-Enchanters they would've all been lost, himself included. He cursed himself for not being better prepared and for not having the men better prepared, but he had only a short amount of time to prepare and certainly didn't think the rebels would react this strongly in opposition to the Conclave.

"Ser, Sister Nightingale says they are ready to wake the prisoner."

"Very good, dismissed. Rylen, can you take over here?" Pleased knowing that work would continue smoothly under Rylen's direction, he made his way to the Chantry jail. Leliana and Cassandra were waiting there with Enchanter Ilara who would administer the lyrium to bring the prisoner around. Usually very pleasant, Ilara seemed to be stewing there tapping her foot angrily. As soon as he joined them, Ilara went to work dripping the lyrium into the prisoner's mouth. The sight of the lyrium made him twitch and he squeezed the pommel of his sword trying to distract himself. She administered it painfully slow, or so it seemed to him, forced to watch the glowing blue liquid drip. Some dribbled off the prisoner's bottom lip making his heart race and face sweat. Cassandra put a hand on his shoulder sensing the change in his countenance.

At last, the prisoner coughed herself awake. Upon waking in a panic she grabbed Ilara's wrists, her magic flaring up again, but Ilara soothed her calmly back down onto the bedroll. She whispered to her as she stroked her hair fondly. Finishing the lyrium with Ilara's audible explanation of where they were and what was happening, the prisoner pushed herself up and they dismissed Ilara. The three stood silent in front of her cell. The door to the cell was open, but the prisoner didn't make a move to leave it. Instead, she sat there leaning back against the stone wall. She still looked weak, but her eyes were alert as she sized them up. Leliana pulled out a letter from her cloak, smoothing it out slightly before reading it aloud.

"Of respectable stature, physically fit as her travels demand finesse, scar across her lower left cheek and bridge of her nose, rich brown hair fading into light blond tips usually worn in a warrior's braid and brown eyes with an unmistakable defiance." Leliana paused to look up at her. "I'm impressed by how well your father described you after your disappearance, with the exception of your braid, of course. Time can sometimes muddle memories of loved ones." The prisoner perked up at the mention of her father, sitting at attention. "So, Lady Trevelyan would you care to explain to us why you are here and why you chose to lie about who you are?" Trevelyan gave an annoyed sigh.

"If you're as good as your reputation claims you to be, Sister Nightingale, then you know the answer to those questions already." Used to the quiet Althea who up until now was mostly seen tending to minor wounds and gathering herbs, the haughtiness of Lady Trevelyan took him by surprise. He had always thought there was something more to her the way she looked at him in particular the few times they crossed paths, but he thought it was because she had an issue with Templars, like most mages. With another heavy sigh and a tone as if they were wasting her time, she continued. "My name is Lady Evelyn Althea Trevelyan, daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick. Knight-Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle of Magi and more popularly known as "The Phoenix." I hid my identity to protect those I care about, nothing more, until I knew how your," she searched for the correct word with a wave of her hand, "organization, for lack of a better term, would react to my presence. The attack today, assuming it's the same day still since you," shooting a glare to Cassandra, "felt it was a good idea to silence me, forced me to act thus revealing my true identity. I'm here because I agreed with my commanding officer, Ser Henley, that the Ostwick Circle should attend the peace talks to connect with the other displaced Circle mages. Does that cover it?" The others made no reaction to her, so he followed their lead.

"Are you guilty of what they accuse you of?" He and Cassandra had little patience for nobles and their sense of entitlement. So when Cassandra jumped straight to the big question, he groaned inwardly knowing Leliana would have led into it with more tact.

"No."

"How do we know that's true? Do you have witnesses?"

"Yes, there are about sixty of them right here in Haven." Cassandra took a step forward looking as if she was going to strike her before he stepped in front of her. "Oh, you thought I was being smart with you! I wasn't, truly every single Ostwick mage and Templar will tell you I fought and bled alongside Ser Henley and his men."

"And what of the deaths of the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander? I suppose you are innocent of that accusation as well?" Trevelyan's expression cooled to a sobering heaviness as her gaze swept to the ground. Cassandra seemed to have hit on some past trauma. He had seen it before in the mages at Kirkwall who had been punished severely under Knight-Commander Meredith; haunting looks, withdrawal from the present, reliving the event in their head.

"I, ah, regret that I couldn't save them. Both were especially kind to me and I owed them much. They didn't deserve their fate." She didn't look up from whatever she was studying on the ground. The three looked to each other suspicious of the sudden change in their prisoner's demeanor. He supposed it was his turn, having dealt with soldiers with trauma, himself included.

"Knight-Enchanter," he said it as if he was about to give her an order and her head snapped up to attention, "I will assume Ser Henley had told you that the Divine requests your help with the Conclave." She was still coming to, giving him a few blinks, but she was able to nod her head. "And will you?"

"I'm a Trevelyan, Commander. Our family has strong ties to the Chantry. I would not refuse a request from the Divine. But," the noble defiance was back in force, "I have a request as well."

"What makes you think you are in the position to request something from Most Holy?" Cassandra's ire was back as well now. Trevelyan opened her mouth to address Cassandra, but she shifted her gaze to Leliana.

"Sister Nightingale, surely a player of The Game sees the devastating error that was made in bringing me down here in front of everyone?" Leliana only smirked slightly, but it was not an amused smirk. He had never seen someone get to Leliana before - granted he had known her for awhile so his trained eye picked up on the incredibly slight break of character - so he wondered what exactly they had done wrong. Politics and The Game were not his areas of expertise.

"Our people were told it was for your protection, no one will question -- "

"But they will thanks to your Seeker here who not only used her abilities on me once but twice in front of your men. Even the Commander here was present and can attest that she had no good reason to go that far. I also heard what was said in my defense and the Seeker's attack on me after I had just saved them all." Andraste preserve them, he thought as now he knew where she was going with this. He knew Cassandra had no right to silence her, but he couldn't undermine her authority in front of the men. "If you think those green soldiers and my Templar friends will stay quiet about my treatment you're fooling yourselves." A slightly dangerous edge entered her voice. He remembered how Ilara looked, and was becoming convinced that she was indeed onto something. Trevelyan was clearly intelligent and could handle herself well enough from what he saw and heard from Rylen, who was now completely smitten with her. "And then you carry me unconscious into the jail of the Chantry. Do you think the mages the Divine hopes to win over will be pleased at my treatment?" He dared not look at his companions, lest Trevelyan catch his uneasiness of being out of his depth. He was used to having things under control, or if not him, one of the other women. Since he had yet to face her ire, he took a chance.

"I think we've heard enough, Knight-Enchanter. Give us your terms, assuming you have some." When her gaze fell on him he stood strong against it, as it starring headlong into a gale.

"Very well, Commander. You will have my full cooperation in exchange for the protection of myself and the Ostwick Circle - mages and Templars. At the conclusion of the Conclave, whatever the outcome may be, you allow us to leave. Those are my terms."

"That's al ---?" Leliana cut him off.

"We accept."

Chapter 6: Keeping The Peace

Summary:

Evelyn meets with The Divine.

It had been a week since she revealed her identity with two more weeks to go before the Conclave. So far it had been very eventful with the amount of action they were seeing due to the resistance against the Divine's Conclave. It was a rare day when there were no hostile encounters with either of the rebel groups. With herself and Sorin now being heavily relied upon for magical support, they were rarely in camp. At least one of them was always out on patrol while the other assisted in training new mage recruits willing to help - though it'd be sometime before they were ready for the field. Evelyn loved every minute of it, finally feeling useful.

"Well, well, look who's late for training today lads!" Rylen always had the ability to put a smile on her face. His everlasting cheerful mood was contagious even now as she tried to shake off a hangover from the previous night of revelry. He regaled the small gathering of trainees of the previous night's highlights, such as Evelyn's "glorious" singing voice, his awkward failed attempt to woo her and Sorin cleaning them out of their coin in Wicked Grace. "That wee little bit of whiskey knocked you on your arse? I thought you were made of tougher stuff Trevelyan."

"I assure you I am, but it's hard to find a good drink when you're on the run in the middle of nowhere for a year. Lost a bit of my tolerance. Besides, I also had to vacate my tent for a few hours for the lovebirds." She looked over at Henley with a glaring look. He shrugged smugly.

"My lady was in the mood, who I am to say no to her."

"Well, if the Commander has an issue with my tardiness, be sure to tell him that."

"Tell me what, Trevelyan? That you're late." She turned to attention, uttering an apology that went ignored. "I don't need excuses today. The Divine wishes to see us right away." Her heart all but stopped. The Most Holy of Holinesses wants to speak with her! Now!? She knew the Divine would eventually send for her, but she thought she'd have more warning and time to prepare. She was hungover and not dressed to be in her presence - not that she had nice clothes anymore anyway. She was wearing her usual fitted heavy plum-colored wool shirt, leather greaves, thigh-high boots and leather band buckled at the waist. Thankfully she had the good sense to take the time to braid her hair, even if it did also contribute to her lateness. It was comprised of five braids: one large thick braid on top of her head starting at her forehead with two braids on both sides of her head blending up into the larger one. While it made her look formidable, she really liked its practicality of keeping her hair out of her face as she whipped about throwing spells. She fondly thought back to how her father had described her in the letter to Sister Nightingale with that very braid.

She followed the Commander through the gates of Haven village, the guards saluting him as he passed. It was now the second time she had been inside the walls. There were a number of small cabins directly inside the gates, assumingly the quarters of the Commander and his officers. Ascending up the steps, there was a fire with a smartly dressed dwarf warming his hands nearby. As they passed, he and the Commander exchanged glances. The dwarf turned to her appraising her with a sly eye. As he went to open his mouth the Commander raised a hand to him.

"Not now dwarf." Feigning slightly insulted, he still held his smirk undeterred by the Commander's growling.

"And who's your new friend, Curly?" The Commander didn't stop and just kept walking ignoring his question. Evelyn gave a smile, feeling a bit sorry at the Commander's treatment of him at a simple question. When they reached the Chantry doors, and out of earshot she couldn't help but ask about him.

 "You didn't seem to like that dwarf back there, Commander."

"Oh, Varric? He is a... guest of the Divine."

"Not Varric Tethras? The author?" He grunted an annoyed confirmation. She smiled to herself, but as usual, nothing she seemed to do went unnoticed by him.

"I assume you’re a fan then?"

"I enjoyed some of his works, but I was thinking more of how thrilled Enchanter Ilara will be once I tell her. Did you know, as we were escaping the tower back in Ostwick, I told her to pack essentials - you know clothes, bedroll and the like - and you know what she packed? Her collection of Swords & Shields." She laughed at her own story, though he didn't seem amused by it in the slightest. Since she had saved his life he had been a bit cold to her. Part of her wanted to believe it was just how he was as a commanding officer to not be as chummy with those under his command, but there was plenty of evidence to the contrary. "You don't seem the type of Templar to hate mages, so I'm wondering then what issue you have with me?" He seemed taken back for a moment by her candidness.

"I certainly don't find an issue with you being a mage, it's perhaps the fact that you lied to us from the start. I find it hard then to trust anything you say."

"I had my reasons."

"And so do I."

They settled into an uncomfortable silence the remainder of the way through the Chantry to where The Divine was waiting for them. He stopped in front of the door to one of the side chambers towards the back of the long hall.

"The Divine is through here. I trust you know how to behave in her presence and won't show her the same callousness you showed her Left and Right Hands?" It seems aside from her lie he didn't much appreciate that either. She had been cornered in a cell outnumbered by the three of them interrogating her, was she not to defend herself? She bit back the urge to say something smart, trying to remember that he was her superior officer and had the authority to send her back to the infirmary for duty, or worse.

"I know how to act properly, Commander. I'm a Trevelyan." He knocked and opened the door upon hearing the Seeker's voice. The chamber was small and sparsely adorned for someone of The Divine's status to make use of, though she doubted there was much better in the tiny village. The Divine sat in a grand-looking chair that had certainly been brought with her, for it was unlike all the furnishings around her. Incense burned on a table nearby that held an assortment of fine food and wine. To the left and right of The Divine were her respective Hands. The Commander took a knee before The Divine then joined Sister Leliana at her side.

"Most Holy," Cullen began, "may I present Knight-Enchanter Evelyn Trevelyan of the Ostwick Circle of Magi." She noticed he omitted the "Lady" part of her title, wondering if it was purposely done.

Regardless, Evelyn stepped forward. Since she did not have a dress on, a curtsey was out of the question. She remembered once while in Orlais on Circle business, she watched a chevalier perform an impressive sweeping bow before one of the Council of Heralds. Impressed by the display, she couldn't help but practice it when she was alone, not thinking she'd ever be in a situation where she'd be able to use it. It would seem all that practice would finally pay off, as she performed it perfectly for The Divine and finished it by kneeling as the Commander had done.

"Rise, Knight-Enchanter. It is an honor to finally meet you." Her voice was soft and warm. Her Orlesian accent rolled elegantly off her tongue. Her face was wrinkled showing her many years of life crinkling together as she gave a small smile.

"The honor is mine, Most Holy. I must first apologize for not making my presence known and would like to explain my actions to you and your advisors, if I may. I fear when I first met with your advisors I was not myself, and for that, I offer my sincere apology to them." She put a hand to her heart bowing slightly. As expected, the advisors did not seem swayed, no doubt believing this was part of The Game. Though she had not been prepared to see The Divine so soon, she had considered how to better explain her actions to the advisors. She was never one to shy away from confrontation and she came to the conclusion nothing could be gained by being at odds with them. If she didn't make amends she'd be looking over her shoulder for a dagger in the back from The Nightingale or end up in that Maker forsaken cell again. She didn't travel to Haven to make enemies, she came to help stop the war - and that meant helping them.

"I know how I came off to the three of you upon waking in the cell, but my first and foremost concern has always been for the Ostwick mages and Templars. After the Circle fell and hearing the rebels admit it was my treatment under one particularly evil man that spurred them to rebel, I felt responsible for rendering them homeless. I then vowed to protect them at any cost. When word reached us that I was wanted by various parties, it was decided together that I should remain under a different name for the protection of the group. There were only fifteen fighters to about fifty healers, untrained mages and Tranquil. I'm sure the Commander could understand the severity of such a ratio."

She went on to reiterate the events that befell them as they escaped the tower. The only part she omitted - because Maker forbid she lie to The Divine- was the part where she killed the Knight-Commander. It wasn't lying if she never mentioned it, right? With as much time that had passed since that day, the guilt of his death at her hands felt as fresh as it ever had. She channeled that emotion into her words hoping it would be enough to convince them.

"In coming here I hoped to join the other Circles at the Conclave to advocate for reform, as I have been doing for over ten years now. The change the rebel groups are trying to force on the people of Thedas will fail, of that I have no doubt. The Circles must be reinstated and the Templars must purge themselves of corruption. Both sides deserve better care and treatment from the Chantry who played no small part in inciting the hatred between mages and Templars. Templars are vital to the safety of mages, but we mages can no longer pretend any more than the Templars that the Chantry's rules do nothing but foster hostility. We are people. Mages were never the only ones imprisoned by the Chantry; Templars are as well through their addiction to lyrium." She noticed the Commander perk up. His expression softened to one of thoughtfulness rather than the scowl he had worn. "Even if things had happened differently, I can promise you I would have been here to assist you, Most Holy, because this needs to change." Evelyn looked to the four in front of her who's composure and expressions had changed, with the exception of The Divine's Left Hand. The Divine shifted in her grand seat with all the practiced dignity befitting her office.

"I am sorry for the hardship this war has cost you and the others. Sometimes such hardships are necessary to create change. I believe we both are in a unique situation where we can help each other, which is why I wished to find and speak with you. I can declare your innocence of the charges against you with ease and protect you while you reside here at Haven, along with the rest of the Ostwick mages and Templars. In return, as my Hands have already spoken to you about, I would like your support to help end the war and come to an amiable accord with the rebel groups. You are in a favorable position to help mediate both sides, and once I declare your innocence and repair your reputation you will be an effective ally to me during the talks." She was relieved to hear that Most Holy's goal was thus, and she could commit herself to be her ally even if she did have her own political reasons for hosting the talks. Truth be told, Evelyn wanted very much to voice her disappointment to the Most Holy about her encouragement of the rebellion but decided against it. It was a battle for another day. "So, Knight-Enchanter, may I count you as my ally for the Conclave?"

"Absolutely, your Holiness." Divine Justina smiled ever so slightly then looked to her Left Hand.

"Very good. Leliana, I would like word sent out that The Phoenix will be attending the Conclave as my guest and will speak of reforms in the Circles. Clear her reputation and announce that she is already at Haven awaiting the Conclave with the Circle of Ostwick. That I hope will encourage others to begin to make the journey here. Cassandra, you will assist Commander Cullen in preparing the camp to receive more pilgrims. I have faith in the Maker that this will work." She turned once more to Evelyn. "Knight-Enchanter, I would like you to be a visible presence in camp and ambassador to any mages who arrive in Haven. The Commander will involve you in matters as he sees fit." She consented. "One more request if I may?" Apparently knowing where this was going, the Seeker gave a disgusted grunt which Most Holy ignored. Sister Nightingale, however actually looked quite amused. The Divine's face quirked up into a youthful smirk. "Would it be possible for you to show us your famed Phoenix wings?" Evelyn couldn't help letting a small chesty laugh out.

"Unfortunately, your Holiness, I can’t control them. Never have. Usually, I also need an unhealthy amount of rage as well to bring them forth." Even though she couldn't grant her request, The Divine took the disappointment in good humor. Evelyn was then dismissed feeling pleased with the current arrangement. Things were finally looking up after a year of disparagement on the run.

As she went to close the door to the small chamber, the brown leather glove of the Commander stuck through the door halting it. Since she had been dismissed she didn't bother to wait for him and began to make her way to the main doors of the Chantry, when she heard him calling for her.

"Was that the truth?" Her jaw dropped. He's seriously insinuating that I lied to The Divine. I may have left out a bit of the story, but I didn't outright lie. Her inward thoughts made their way to her face, and she thought for a second she saw the fear of the Maker in his eyes. She opened and shut her mouth a few times thinking better of her words each time, and when words failed she gave a frustrated growl. If he didn't believe her, the others certainly didn't.

"How dare you!" She got up into his face, "How dare you accuse me of lying to The Divine!" Her voice echoed through the hall which was thankfully mostly deserted. She was way out of line, but after spilling her heart out to them for him to still question her motives was too much. He had no right to question her when The Divine had pardoned her. She lowered her voice, without losing its edge not wanting the whole of the Chantry to hear her. Had she not had her cowl on she knew she would've blinded herself with the glow of her mana off his armor. "Let me help you off of your high horse Commander, as you pretend you've never lied for someone you care about!"

"That's enough, Trevelyan!" He didn't shy away from her. His nose wrinkled up a bit in anger and his brows drew down. She couldn't help thinking that the intensity of his anger made him slightly more attractive. The same resolve that flickered in her eyes she saw in him. And while she admired it, it did nothing to quell her own rage. She was a Trevelyan; one of the most dedicated families in all of Thedas to the Chantry. She was about to remind him of that fact when he interjected, "For what it's worth I believe you." She felt the tension in her face slowly begin to relax. She thought of what she wanted to say after her blatant disrespect of him again. She wanted their trust; she wanted his trust.

"It was the truth. I fully intend to follow through on our agreement. And believe me when I say if I didn't have people to protect, I would've done it anyway without wanting anything from you." She let that sit with him a moment, as she took a step back to a respectable distance. "I'm sorry for my tone, ser. May I be dismissed?" He offered her a slight nod before once again turning to leave for good this time.

As she headed back to the training grounds, she was stopped again by the dwarf, who she now knew to be Varric Tethras. She approached his fire warming herself since she had not worn her cloak, thinking she'd be working up a sweat by now training. After introducing themselves and chatting about what brought them to Haven, he invited her to meet him at The Singing Maiden that evening for drinks and Wicked Grace. How could she say no to that?

---

The next morning while at the infirmary she recounted her night spent in the company of Varric to Ilara who hung on her every word. They shared a few drinks, played a few hands of Wicked Grace and talked more about the Conclave. She learned that Varric was not a guest of the Divine, but a prisoner of the Seeker for his involvement in the Kirkwall. Apparently, The Divine was also looking to enlist the aid of The Champion as well. Varric told her about what happened in Kirkwall and how Hawke ultimately sided with the Templars against the mages. The rest of their evening was spent talking about camp gossip, to which it seemed Varric seemed to thrive on.

"I did tell him about you," Ilara's eyes went wide and a slow smile began to spread across her face, "and he promised he'd drop by to sign your books. He was touched that you thought his books were essential to your survival even as the Circle was falling around us." A girly squeal so high-pitched that it could've shattered glass pierced Evelyn's ears. Ilara began to run for their tent but stopped after a few steps, turned and planted a kiss on Evelyn's cheek before racing away to fetch her books.

"Knight-Enchanter," one of the Commander's runners stood before her somewhat out of breath, "the Commander requests your assistance at the northern gate right away." Though Evelyn loathed to admit it, she was loving being important. She contributed it to her noble upbringing of being the youngest of five with nothing to gain and nothing to lose. She made a mental note to write to her father and brothers now that she had been absolved to tell them she was alive and doing The Divine's work in Haven.

The soldier escorted her to the northern gate where across stood a small group of about ten mages. They were gaunt, pale and all but in rags. Her heart felt heavy at their looks of weariness and fear. They had clearly been through the Void and back. She wondered why they had yet to be allowed through, but the heavy Templar presence gave her a clue. Something was off. Not wanting to waste any more time before the poor sods froze, she hustled over to the Commander. Her presence did not go unnoticed by the mages, who watched on in great interest.

"Good, you're here. These mages have surrendered to us and wish to join the rest of the Circle mages who are here for the Conclave. But," he trailed off slightly running a hand through his golden waves, "they admit they were part of the group that attacked this gate a few days back and took us hostage. I would like your assessment of them." She looked at them as she spoke, taking in every detail.

"Clearly they aren't fighters, I see maybe two with staffs. I can sense their mana is low, so they won't put up much of a fight, if they intend trouble, but they would know it'd be suicide with the Templars here. Their bodies are clearly wasting away, contributing to the loss of mana. They look poorly cared for, so it seems if they were headed to Redcliffe to join with the free mages they never made it. Most are I'd say 25 years or older, so they probally aren't zealots. Most likely, they must not have had much of a choice but to follow those other mages who attacked us."

"That was our assessment as well. Shall we go out to meet them, since that is your new duty after all?" She nodded and she and the Commander strode out of the gate. The Commander greeted them kind enough, to which the mages introduced themselves as mages from Highever. They explained that when their Circle put the decision to join the Free Mages to a vote, and won out, they had little choice but to go along with them to Redcliffe. They were separated from the others from the Circle when they were set upon by a group of Templars. Desperate for supplies, they started raiding travelers and homes. Not knowing where exactly they were in the Hinterlands, the others attacked The Divine's scouts which led to the attack on Haven. With supplies low, their leader, the man with the scarred eye, was withholding their rations and giving them to the mages who could fight, leaving them behind during the attack.

"We have nothing, so we throw ourselves upon The Divine's mercy, your mercy." The man who spoke for the group sounded close to tears. Some of the others in the group huddled together for warmth, maybe comfort, tears in their eyes as well. Evelyn looked at Cullen, who to her surprise was as caught up in their story as she. The two stepped back for a moment to have a word.

"Ser, why aren't they already inside the gates?" He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"How do we know they aren't planning on attacking us once inside the gate?"

"Do you really believe they are faking starvation and mana depletion just to get another crack at us?" He shook his head shrugging. "We can check for signs of blood magic - cuts on the arms and have the men check through their belongings - but I believe they are no threat."

"I want to believe that, but we lost dozens in that attack. I can't rightfully admit them without holding them in the cells for questioning. I'm sure Lady Cassandra would agree, for the safety of The Divine." She jolted back a step as if hit by lightning.

"With all due respect Commander, you can't! Haven't they been through enough? They aren't dangerous!" He was firm in his decision, as she argued to no avail wondering just how much sway she actually had in these matters. "How many days are you planning on locking them up?"

"A week."

"A week!? A day and I take full responsibility for them."

"This is not a negotiation, Trevelyan!" She huffed, but instead of anger, it was sorrow for what these mages had gone through that took over her features. Now the Commander sighed heavily, "Fine. Four days."

"Two." She quickly shot back. His face reddened in anger, and he pinched the bridge of his nose closing his eyes tight. To her shock and surprise, he hesitantly agreed and put the mages in her care. Even though she had somewhat gotten her way in favor of the mages, she felt a pang of guilt at having aggravated the Commander so much so that he took off for camp holding the side of his head as soon as their business concluded.

---

It had been two days since they took in the mages. Trevelyan had been in and out of his tent all day waiting for him to release them, but the truth was he had yet to question the mages. Leliana had gone off on official business and wasn't due back until week's end, so it fell to him to do it. It had been an incredibly painful few days of headaches, with Trevelyan contributing no small amount to them. He admired her dedication to her duty, but Maker's breath the woman was impatient verging on insufferable.

The sun was starting to get low in the sky casting long shadows throughout the camp. From his field tent, which he made into his daytime workspace, he could see straight out to the training ground. It was the most central spot he could think of, with the back to Haven walls and the gate to the village directly to the side. Thanks to Trevelyan, he was reminded just how central it was multiple times today. He could've sent people to question the mages earlier, but when she rudely interrupted his meeting with Quartermaster Threnn over the arrival of several merchants who wished to sell wares in camp, he purposely delayed sending someone. Every other time he could honestly say other matters took precedence. He knew she'd be back any minute now and he steeled himself to tell her they'd have to stay another night in the cells. When his tent flap flipped open he was relieved when it was Rylen's dirty mug that greeted him.

"What a day, what do say I buy you a drink and we find some women?"

"S-some what?

"Aye, women," he said in a deep voice, "you know curvy, soft beautiful creatures. Fond of two handsome soldiers such as ourselves." He and Rylen had two very different opinions when it came to casual relationships with women. Rylan had no qualms bedding a few different women at once, not caring if they too were seeing other men. Cullen could never be like that, his jealousy and possessiveness would get the better of him. He could never share a woman, his woman, with other men. His limited experience with women taught him as much about himself.

"N-no I don't think that'd be appropriate for…"

"Oh come now, Cullen there are more than a few women here eyeing you up and hopefully for me they have friends," Rylen said giving his friend a shove. "Or has  someone here caught your eye?" He knew full well there were a number of women paying him extra attention, but none had tried to make any sort of connection with him beyond coquettish comments. They were only after one thing, and at risk of sounding like an old tired man, he wasn't interested in putting in the work just for a fling.

"I haven't had time to notice anyone!"

"Well let's go notice some then!" Rylen wasn't going to let it go. He thought that perhaps he could use some distraction and at least have a drink with his friend, but nothing more. Some drinks would dull the pain of his headache, but he'd be careful not to overindulge. He didn't like being drunk and he also had to keep his wits about him - he was the Commander after all. "How about the Seeker? She's as high-strung as you, I'm sure she could use a good -"

"No." He wasn't going to admit it out loud, but he found Cassandra a bit frightening.

"What about the new Lady Ambassador, now that is a woman I'd like to get to know better! Mmhm, that accent and I bet she smells amazing."

"I'm sure she does bathe more regularly than the women you're used to. But can we stay away from the ones I have to work with daily?" He wasn't seriously considering anything Rylen was saying, but he was serious that he'd never look at the three women he worked with romantically. If anything they were already too much like sisters to him, especially in their treatment of him. Leliana in particular. Always on his case about something, exploiting his easily ruffled nature. Before she left, she even mussed up his hair with her hand as if he were a pet Mabari saying, "Don't get into any trouble while I'm away."

"Fine, fine," Rylen's eyes glistened with mischief," what about The Phoenix? Seen her in and out of here all day, I'm sure you got a good look at her by now." He sighed, "I've tried with that one myself, but she's a force of nature. Probably for the best, wouldn't do to have a strapping lad like myself tied down to one woman. She's beautiful, is she not?"

"Sure, but…"

"…but she's not interested." He turned to see Trevelyan standing in the doorway of his tent, hands on her hips. Before he could offer up a defense she stopped him. "Please, Commander I've lived in close quarters with Templars for years, and besides that's not the worst thing I've heard." Even though she dismissed the comment easily enough, he still turned a shade of vivid red. "Anyway, I'm sure you know why I'm here. Again."

"Knight-Enchanter please, I have not yet had a chance to address their discharge. There are things that need to be done to ensure their safety…"

"Safety? They surrendered to you for safety and you locked them up! Since you seemly had no interest, I questioned them myself and everything checked out."

"You did what?!" A heated silence settled in the makeshift office. He bent over his desk bracing himself with his hands. "You questioned them? On behalf of who? Yourself, who was given no authority to do such?" Nobles, he thought, always thinking they know best. Not caring about anything but getting their way. Rylen wiped a hand down his face sharing a wide-eyed look with Trevelyan. "Well thanks to you, they will stay in there another night!" Worry and compassion creased her face, something he had yet to experience a lot of with her in their brief history.

"No, Commander, please!" She rushed forward to the table, "I have been on dozens of missions assisting with interrogations, I know what I'm doing. I would never endanger the camp, you have to know that!" He didn’t expect her to plead with him over this, he expect more of that staunch noble haughtiness whining until she got her way. "Please don't punish them for my actions. They are good people, I'd stake my reputation on it." She continued to make a case for them, but he didn't hear it. He held her gaze as he thought of giving in again. Maker's breath why can't I say no to this woman? Days ago he had given in and lowered their holding time in the cells, which he contributed to a sudden headache, and now he was ready to throw her the key. She had an uncanny knack for getting her way and he wondered if it was her playing The Game against him, knowing just how to manipulate him. Yet, since their talk in the Chantry she hadn't seemed any different, nor gave him reason to be suspicious of her intentions. That didn’t make him feel any better though, as that meant she just naturally disarmed him. It's just because I'm done with this and her constant interruptions, he thought.

Dropping his head with a huff, he unhitched his key to the cell and slid it across the desk to her. She quickly grabbed it seemingly not allowing him any second thoughts on the decision. She gave a large giddy grin and thanked him profusely, though it was unnecessary. Even if she'd been a pain in the arse all day he found something rewarding in her reaction. That troubled him.

"You are responsible for getting them settled in camp, understand? And if anything does happen, I hold you accountable. See to it that it doesn't come to that."

"Yes, ser," she looked years younger in her jovial state. She burst through the tent flaps only to stick her head in once more to add, "Oh, and enjoy your debauchery tonight, sers!" Cullen groaned and looked at Rylen who was holding back a chesty laugh.

"Maker's breath, let's go get that drink."

Notes:

As of posting this chapter, I have gone back through the first 5 chapters making grammatical edits and added more details to help the flow. Going forward I will be going back to do the same to all the chapters. Thank you all for your comments and suggestions, keep them coming!

Chapter 7: Red Lyrium: Part 1

Summary:

Henley accidentally takes red lyrium. Cullen and Evelyn are caught in an ambush.

Notes:

This chapter ended up developing into a beast, so I had to split it into two parts or delay its posting, rush through editing, not do certain parts justice, etc. Also, a shoutout to everyone helping with editing and commenting, you have no idea how great it is to have feedback! I'm a mom of two (a 2 yr old and a 9 month old) so sometimes while editing my mind is distracted by my lovely hooligans.

If you have any ideas for additions to any of the chapters, both past and future, please share! I have plenty planned for future chapters, so don't think I'm running out of gas already, I have just been enjoying chatting with you all in the comments. :)

With the help of Henley and some of his men, the mages had tents and a fire going in their own secluded area of the camp. She had persuaded Henley to help by offering to sleep outdoors allowing he and Ilara to have the tent to themselves all night. Naturally, she didn't have to ask twice. The men made short work of getting things set up, spurred on by Henley's desire to see his beau, to which the mages were extremely thankful. She said her goodnights to the mages, promising to stop by in the morning to see how they fared. Things couldn't have gone any better.

"I need to grab some things from the tent, but then I'll be out of your way," she said as she and Henley made for her tent. "I'm not sure why you two don't get your own tent?"

"It wouldn't be proper."

"Wouldn't be proper? Henley, I heard you tell the men during training in excruciating detail about what you two did a few nights ago, and you think sharing a tent with her goes beyond propriety?" He looked at her a bit mortified that she had overheard, but that quickly faded as manly pride set in and he swaggered along at her side. It made her wonder what stories he had told the other Templars back in Ostwick about her.

"By the way, you don't have any lyrium do you? I forgot to pick up my draught from the Chantry today and I'm starting to feel it."

"I don't, but if you really need it I happen to know where the Commander is tonight. I'm sure he'd love seeing me again." He assured her it wasn't urgent enough to disrupt the Commander's evening, even if both of them wished they could watch him attempt to pick up women.

Once at the tent, Evelyn began to collect what she'd need for the outdoors. The night was thankfully clear with fair winds thanks to the break in the weather. Not wasting any time, Henley stripped his armor and climbed into Ilara's blankets kissing her incessantly. When she heard the first moan out of her tentmate, she rushed her packing along accidentally spilling her satchel's contents.

"Shit, I'll get it in the morning. Try not to bust a nug on this mess you two." The two lumps popped their heads up from the blankets to look at her and to make note of the mess.

"You could stay and join us?" Henley raised his eyebrows at her. Evelyn, in shock, just let her jaw drop as her eyes went from one to the other waiting for someone to tell her it was a joke.

"The fact that you aren't saying anything is scaring me," Evelyn said now focused on Ilara.

"Well --" She cut Ilara off before hearing the rest of what she was about to say.

"Nope! So much no! Have fun… without me!" Darting out of the tent, her mind began conjuring up images that she quickly repressed. She stood outside gagging and shaking her head in protest to the images. Wanting to flee further from the tent and it's noises, she all but tackled Sorin to the ground not looking where she was going. He joked with her that he was hoping to 'run into' her.

"I'm headed to the camp tavern, thought you may want to join? Ah, where are you going with all that?" She dumped all her bedding beside the nearest tree, too eager to get a drink. It had been quite a day. After harassing the Commander endlessly, he actually gave in and she got off without repercussions - not to mention he thought she was beautiful. She wanted to take it as a compliment but instead groaned inwardly, Ugh, he's one of those. She never liked superior officers who played favoritism no matter the reason. Today was the second time he showed such favoritism to her; the first time being the day the mages arrived at the gate. And to top off her ridiculous day, she gets invited to a threesome with two of her best friends. She shuttered again at the thought.

"I'll tell you all about it after I've chugged my first two drinks. You may be even sorry you asked."

A few hours later, she was in a nice haze between buzzed and drunk. It was so nice to just sit and drink with Sorin. She loved Ilara and Henley - though not enough to join them in bed - but she was missing Sorin ever since proving themselves invaluable in defense of Haven. The two had been split up to be the most effective, or so the Commander said. Evelyn did not like being without Sorin in battle. The two had a rhythm and knew how to play off of each other to be a deadly duo. Without him, she felt as if she was constantly forgetting something every time she went out on patrol.

Sorin walked her back to where she had dropped her bedding for the night to collect it to take to his tent. It would be much warmer than sleeping outside, and while small, the two could still fit comfortably inside. As they retrieved her bedding, they heard crying coming from inside her tent. Sharing a look of concern they slowly and quietly approached the tent. She could hear Ilara inside sobbing raggedly.

"Lar, are you ok?" No response. "I'm coming in." She and Sorin pushed their way in to find her crying in her cot, naked with a blanket wrapped around her. One arm was out of the blanket hugging her side and she could see bruises made by hands dotted around her arm and even her neck. She quickly knelt down beside the cot pushing the blonde curls back from her face. "Lar, are you alright?"

"It looks worse than what it is. I'm alright." She was surprisingly calm for what Evelyn was assuming happened to her.

"Who did this? Where's Henley?" Evelyn didn't for a second think that Henley was capable of doing this to her and rather he was running about trying to catch the person who did.

"Byron he," she pointed over to a small dark vial on the floor, its lid missing. Chills crept up Evelyn's arms as she recognized it as the vial Kian gave her back on the night the Circle tower fell. "He drank that and he… he changed."

"Andraste's flaming ashes Lar, this is red lyrium!" She kicked her self for not ridding herself of it sooner, but up until not it had never caused a problem.

"I've never heard of it?" Sorin picked up the vial smelling it. He was about to place his tongue on it before she slapped it out of his hand.

"I have no idea what it is! I was hoping to give it to someone here to look at. Why did you let him drink it?!"

"He said he needed something to keep the edge off and he sensed it. I didn't think… I was… distracted." She began to cry again. Evelyn held her for a few minutes asking her again if she was truly alright. Ilara knew it wasn't Henley's fault and thankfully seemed more worried than traumatized.

"Where the fuck is Henley now?"

"He got angry when I told him something was wrong, when he got too… rough, and then he just left. It sounded like he headed into the woods."

"Sorin, you track him down but don't engage. I need to go get help, I have a feeling he's going to be too much for us to handle on our own. Lar, are you sure you'll be alright?" Ilara had already set to healing herself, and nodded adding she was truly unharmed just shaken up. Sorin was able to pick up Henley's tracks in the snow and set off into the woods after him. Evelyn needed to find help quick and luckily she knew where to look.

The Singing Maiden was bustling with people unwinding from a full day of work, most not even bothering to change out of their armor. Glasses, tankards and armor clanked together to the music of the bard. It was standing room only in the tavern tonight which made looking for him difficult, but she wedged herself through nonetheless attracting a playful slap on the rear end. Pushing through to the bar, she saw the red of his shirt standing out against the drab interior. His sharp eye instantly fell on her.

"Hey there Blaze, care to join me for a round?" Varric was in his usual good spirits, but Evelyn's look of distress must have told him trouble was coming. "Oh, you're going to ruin my night aren't you?" She relayed the situation to as quickly as she could. When they had chatted the other night in this very tavern, he had talked about the red lyrium in Kirkwall. "Well, shit. We're going to need more help."

He hopped off the stool heading for the opposite side of the tavern. It was rather difficult keeping up with him as he wove in and out of the crowd with ease. On the way past the coat rack, he grabbed his leather coat and large ornate crossbow of the like she'd never seen. Spinning again to keep up with the spritely dwarf, she bumped right into a large man. Grabbing the fur of his mantle she gaped at the amber set of eyes before her. He wasn't wearing his armor under his mantle allowing his body heat to pass to her. Like him, she had foregone her fur cowl for an evening out, and her face heated knowing she was boasting a bit of cleavage. His eyes were wide as if she thought she was a ghost or figment of his imagination.

"Curly, we are lucky to have run into you!" She released her grip on him but failed to step back further as she pressed her back end against a drunken patron passed out against the wall behind her.

"Maker's breath!" She winced at his reaction knowing she was the last person in Thedas he wanted to see. When his annoyance had passed, his keen eyes noticed Varric's crossbow and her staff strapped onto their backs. "What's happened? Is it the mages?" She saw anger begin to warm his face.

"No, no! The mages are fine. It's Henley. He, ah… he took," she whispered the rest in his ear not wanting to yell it in the middle of the crowd, "red lyrium." All he could say in response was a string of curses.

"Curly, we're going to need the Seeker for this one."

"Go and get her from the Chantry. I'll meet you at the gate once I get into my armor. Then you can tell me how in the Void that blighted stuff made it into my camp!" She didn't mean to involve him, but she'd be glad for all the help she could get if the stories Varric had told her of Kirkwall's red lyrium problems were true. Without delay, Evelyn and Varric trotted over to the Chantry, where the Seeker was chatting to one of the Revered Mothers. She did a double take when she saw them approaching, excusing herself from the conversation to head them off before they came too far inside the Divine's sanctuary.

"What is going on? And why are you here?" She directed her contempt towards Varric.

"Easy Seeker, we have a situation we need your expertise with." She didn't budge until he added, "Curly is going to meet us at the gate. We'll explain there." Not needing to grab anything, the three headed out into the night. The Commander had somehow beaten them to the gate, fully armored and awaiting an explanation. Varric who had been doing all the talking now gave the floor to Evelyn.

"Here's the short of it, I was given a vial of red lyrium back in Ostwick by one of my dying students who likely got it from a rebel blood mage. I kept it with me hoping to find someone to tell me about it, being completely ignorant of it. Up until the other night, I had not heard the full extent of what happened in Kirkwall until Varric told me. I was vacating my tent to give Henley and Ilara some privacy when I spilled my satchel that held the vial. Henley mentioned to me earlier in the night that did not pick up his draught of lyrium from the Chantry today and must have sensed it and drank it." She looked to the Commander and Seeker waiting for a reaction, but could see them processing the tale she hastily spun before them. "Henley got too rough with Ilara and ran off into the woods. Ilara has minor injuries and Sorin leaving us a trail to follow to catch up with him and Henley."

"How much did he take?" She didn't see how the Commander's question was relevant right now.

"Enough to fill a shot glass, does that really matter right now? We need to catch up with them!"

"She's right, time is of the utmost importance now." The Seeker continued, telling her and Varric to follow their lead since they were more of a liability tagging along now than anything.

The group followed the trail Sorin had left for them in the forest. Henley seemed to have made quite the trek through the deep woods spurred on by whatever evil was fueling him. After walking for almost half an hour, they began to hear yelling from nearby. She thanked the Maker again for providing a bright and clear night. The full moon gleamed off yesterday's powder illuminating the landscape. The only hindrance was the thick foliage of the tree line. As they got closer to the yelling, there was no mistaking the deep husky voice of Henley. Evelyn picked up the pace fearing what she knew they'd find in the clearing ahead.

A large scattering of boulders provided the four with excellent cover right on the edge of the clearing. It seemed Sorin thought similarly as he left footprints and drips of blood where he must've been watching Henley before he caught him. It wouldn't be long until Henley sensed her as well. From what she could see Sorin was alive. He was leaning on an arm in the middle of the clearing breathing heavily. The two were having a heated exchange over his lyrium addiction - she couldn't help but think there couldn't have been a worse topic to be arguing about while Henley was hopped up on red lyrium. As the Seeker and Commander made plans, Evelyn shushed them realizing Henley had gone quiet. Looking to the clearing, Henley was as still as a statue. She realized then - he knew she was here.

"I'll distract him." And without giving them the chance to argue, she fade stepped out to meet Henley in the clearing. Upon revealing herself, she was greeted with right hook to the jaw sprawling her on the cold ground. "I didn't come here to fight you, you arse! Just calm down so we can talk."

"Oh, now you want to talk! Talk about what, hmm? Feelings, because we could never talk about those before!" She stared incredulously up at him rubbing her throbbing jaw. He physically embodied rage; his face showed it; his body was coiled to strike. He had left the tent in such a rush he had only put his pants on making him look absolutely wild with no boots or shirt. His sleek black hair was mussed about and he rubbed his short trimmed beard seemingly at war with himself in his head. His burly chest heaved bringing to life scars that her fingers knew all too well.

"What in the Void are you talking about?" She scurried back to her feet, not wanting to be left vulnerable on the ground. Sorin didn't look to have any serious injuries, but she could guess Henley probably hit him too and Sorin just stayed down. Out of nowhere, Henley took a lunge at her sparking her mana. In the absence of her cowl, there was no hiding it as her chest glowed with the soft flickering light. "Don't Henley…" she knew what was coming and there'd be nothing she could do to stop it. What was taking them so long? She had to keep him distracted. She slowly moved so Henley's back was to the boulders where the others were. "Since you have my attention, what feelings do you want to talk about?"

"Six years Trevelyan, six! That's how long we were fucking and not once did you want to talk about our feelings." She almost felt as if she was talking to a raving drunk.

"Don't be vulgar. And we both agreed feelings were out of the question. There was no future in it for either of us in the Circle." The cold wall of his power hit her just hard enough to stagger her back giving him the opening he needed to charge at her. Before she knew it, she was slammed up against the nearest tree with his thick hand around her throat. Her back scraped against the jagged bark as he lifted her up off the ground. She could see now the red veins snaking their way toward his irises.

"Did you ever bother to ask me if I had feelings?" She hadn't, it was out of the question. This had to be the lyrium talking bringing up some deep repressed feelings or twisting his thoughts about what they really were. There is no way that he actually had harbored feelings for her, right? He threw her to the ground as if she weighed nothing. She skidded on her back to a halt, taking in the starry sky before it was blotted out by Henley's body. He hovered over her pressing close, too close. Their chests touched though he held up the rest of his weight off of her.

"Say my name," his voice lowered to a husky growl, "like you used to when no one could hear us." She turned her head to the side away from him. "Say it!" His breath was hot against her ear and his fingertips pressed painfully into her biceps. She cringed letting out a hot breath of her own out to the side. Just when she started to think Henley was going to do something he would later regret, her eyes saw the glimmer of the Commander's armor through the steam of her breath. He was crouched behind a bush like a lion getting ready to pounce its prey. Sure enough, he did, rolling Henley to the ground. Evelyn, knowing she could be of no help, crawled to Sorin putting her arms around him protectively.

Despite the Commander's obvious weight advantage with his armor, Henley didn't seem hindered by it. They wrestled like two bears with their grunts and growls. They weren't at it for more than a minute before the Seeker appeared, her fingertips glowing with a warm white light as she held them up to Henley. Immediately, Henley seized up falling over onto his side in the snow. Whatever she was doing to him looked painful, as she saw his veins glow with the same light coming from the Seeker's hand. The more he struggled against her power, the brighter her power burned.

"Now, Varric!" The Seeker looked to the dwarf who popped out into the clearing with a rag in hand. As the Seeker held Henley still, Varric pressed the cloth to his face. In a few seconds, Henley's eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped to the ground. Evelyn looked to Varric with askance at what he'd just done.

"It just made him go to sleep, which trust me was better than what the Seeker planned for him." Seeker Cassandra just grunted at his remark. With Sorin shooing her off of him as if she was a mother fussing over her child, she went to Henley instead. He was hot to the touch and sweating like he had a fever.

"Is a fever normal? Well, as normal as taking red lyrium can be?"

"Yes," the Commander voiced the answer and the other two nodded along with him. She scooped up some snow in her hand and put it on his forehead. "That won't do anything, it's not an actual fever, it's just what it does to the body from what I've seen. We should take him to Adan to recover. Unfortunately, magic will not help him either." With a plan in place, the Commander, being the only one able to bear Henley's weight, threw him up over his shoulder to carry back to camp.

The first few minutes passed by in awkward silence, but Evelyn was well aware of Varric throwing her the occasional glance like he had a question he was holding back. The moon had crested and was descending, telling her they were in the wee hours of the next morning. Maker, what a mess she made and dragged all of them into it. They followed their own tracks back through the forest with the Commander and Seeker leading the way.

"So, let me get this straight Blaze," she knew where this was going and had already started to cringe, "you and he were an item?"

"Varric," the Seeker immediately scolded, "I'm sure none of us were meant to hear their private affairs, so drop it." Evelyn was surprised the Seeker came to her aid so readily, but if she had to guess, Varric probably trumped everyone and anyone on her shit list, even Evelyn.

"No, it's alright. You'll just pester me again anyway, so might as well set the record straight. Yes, we were involved, but not an item. A mage and a Templar can't be an item in the Circle."

"You were with the man for six years and you don't consider that a relationship?" At Varric's question, she saw the Seeker turn her head listening in with one ear, now seemingly interested.

"No."

"Why not?" After coming down from her night of drinking and the pain from her jaw she was starting to get cranky at his line of questioning.

"What was to come of it? He wasn't going to whisk me away from the Circle to live happily ever after. This is not some fairy tale out of a book." Hurt crept into her words, "Mages don't get happy endings."

"So you did have feelings for him as he clearly had - or has?"

"No, I didn't and he didn't. That's why we were together. If what you said about red lyrium messing with your mind is true, everything he said was just the lyrium talking. He'd never have said that otherwise." She was certain of that. They had been friends for much longer than six years and she knew her friend. "I would also like to warn all of you to keep what he said to yourselves unless you'd like to have your pants burnt off in front of a crowd. Let's all remember poor Ilara is still back at camp worried sick about him." A deep chuckle caught everyone's attention. At first, she had thought it had been Henley, but he still swayed unconsciously from the Commander's shoulder, so that meant… Andraste's fiery tits, is he actually laughing at that? He was indeed. It was short-lived, but he had laughed at the mental image of her burning the pants off one of them in front of a crowd. The others all looked from one to the other with smiles, even the Seeker's mouth peaked a bit.

"Now I've done it. It took all day, but I finally broke the Commander." Sorin and Varric chuckled quietly, not yet sure how the Commander was going to react to the attention he garnered from all of them.

"Commander?" The Seeker sounded more concerned than anything, which made Evelyn assume she had never heard the man laugh. He cleared his throat and shook his head in the absence of his hands signaling he was fine before he voiced it.

"I ah - sorry, it just reminded me of - ahem, it has been a long night, and day for that matter." He groaned under Henley's weight as he shifted him to his other shoulder, but didn't hesitate to throw a glance back at Evelyn - the main culprit of the wear on his patience. It was funny how that one laugh made her see his humanity and only increased the guilt of having vexed him for the last 24 hours. She had only seen one side of him, the Commander, not the man. The few times Rylen had joined them for drinks he always spoke of him with affection, but the words were hollow to her as she couldn't believe he was speaking of the same person. It seemed while she no longer had to hide her identity from him and keep him at a distance, she was still doing just that.

The rest of the trek was done in contemplative silence. For Evelyn, the brisk walk went quickly as she was deep in thought. Upon reaching camp, everyone parted ways, but Evelyn accompanied the Commander to Adan's apothecary wanting to see through the trouble she caused. If what she had heard about Adan was true, she'd handle speaking to the grump so all the Commander had to do was dump Henley on the cot.

It went similarly to what she expected; Adan met them with colorful curses, featuring various anatomical parts of the Maker's bride, obviously not pleased to have been woken up. Shielding the Commander from the onslaught of questions, she fielded them all and discreetly pushed him out the door, which wasn't hard considering the poor man was all but dead on his feet. After Adan was done berating her, she finally slunk off to bed knowing Henley was in good hands.

Once inside the tent, she found a lump residing in her cot. Sorin must've headed to their tent first to check on Ilara and ended up falling asleep. He brought in all her bedding from outside and haphazardly strewn them over him. After fixing the blankets on him, she gave her friend a kiss on the forehead then slipped into Ilara's cot hoping if anything her close presence would comfort her. Pleased by the added warmth, Ilara snuggled up close as they had many times when they were younger back in the Circle. For the next few hours, the three friends walked in the Fade together reminiscing of simpler times. They felt no pain, no exhaustion just the love of their friendship, for when all else in the waking life failed them, they had each other to fall back on and could face the new day.

---

Henley was on orders for bed rest for two days before Adan would assess him for discharge. When he awoke from Varric's drugging he was disoriented and only vaguely aware of what transpired. His body had been put under such strain between the red lyrium, and Seeker's ability he had described it as drinking fire and laying prone while a stampede of Druffalo trampled him for hours. Evelyn had not yet been to see him, thinking it was best for now that she stay away and let Ilara and he sort things out. Besides, there were more troubling matters arising with the Conclave now ten days away.

They had been briefed that according to Sister Nightingale's reports that the Free Mages have retreated to Redcliffe as rogue Templar activity has picked up in the area. With the mages fleeing to safety, the Templars had been able to gain a strong foothold in the Hinterlands. Even worse, they've focused attacks on anyone headed to Haven in an effort to stop the peace talks. The Commander had been tasked by the Divine to disperse the rogue Templars who were impeding traffic to Haven. With only ten days to go, the majority of attendees were set to arrive in about three to four days. Training was suspended for the time being as everyone had assignments. Camp was buzzing with the new flurry of activity as a confrontation with the Templars was certain.

Part of her felt for their Templars who would be forced to kill their brothers and sister of The Order. She was guilty as any for killing her "own kind," as it was put to her. The schism existing between the Templars was not unlike that of the mages. She felt that unlike the mages however, Templars had a deeper bond with each other that was forged from the way they were trained. Their oath to protect extended to their fellow Templars as they were trained to fight as a unit. Mages - Knight-Enchanters excluded - were taught selfishly to protect themselves first and foremost. The Chantry and Templars couldn't have mages organizing themselves into battle units for the very reason of them rising up. Evelyn wondered if perhaps a bit of that selfishness had instilled itself into her early on, which is why she had little remorse for rebel mages.

She had just been returning from checking on her mage charges as she had herself to doing every morning for the foreseeable future, when Evelyn spotted a large gathering of soldiers at the training ground. They encircled some individuals who were having a very heated debate about something. Sensing Sorin amidst them, she pushed through the soldiers to find where he was spectating from. He stood leaning up against one of the sparring ring's fences seemingly relaxed even as the crowd around him was agitated.

"What's all this about?" At the center of the crowd stood the Commander with his arms crossed scowling along with Rylen at his side. There seemed to be a small group of young Templars, perhaps in their early 20s, slinging insults at the Commander. They weren't wearing their armor, which she took as a formal protest that they were not planning on reporting to their duty. Their ring leader did most of the shouting while the others just went along with the act.

"So, these Templars are refusing to acknowledge the Commander's authority on the basis that Lord Seeker Lucius is alive, but since it was the Lord Seeker who declared the Templars independence from the Chantry, it makes him a rebel, technically. The Commander is arguing that all loyal Templars to the Chantry are now under the command of The Divine in the absence of a Lord Seeker. And since he has been put in charge through the authority of The Divine, he is now their superior officer for the time being."

"Wasn't the Commander the former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall? Why doesn't he just pull rank?"

"He claims he no longer holds that rank since he left The Order." She didn't know that. She thought like the other loyal Templars this was a temporary position for him until things got back to some semblance of normal. She watched on as Rylen stood slightly in front of the Commander acting like Mabari protecting his master, which was truly endearing. He had been putting up a stout defense of his friend and superior, as all good second-in-commands ought to. When Rylen successfully refuted point after point, the boy started to get petty attacking the Commander's lack of station being the son of a miller.

"He must be a little Lord, I'd recognize that brattiness anywhere." Sorin agreed, adding that the boy had dug himself such a hole he might as well keep going until someone took a swing at him. A thought popped into Evelyn's head. She flicked her head for Sorin to follow her through the crowd. She repositioned herself directly off to the side of the boy. Upon pushing through to the front, her presence was immediately noted by the Commander, but he just gave a quick glance with his eyes before returning them forward. Evelyn waited until the boy began another tirade, before snapping her fingers. How fitting that he was just starting to complain about the management of the mages in camp. With him and his friends distracted, they were unaware that she was burning the pants off of them.

Slowly the crowd began to notice as their pant legs were slowly consumed by thin bands of flame. Laughter began to spread, yet no one bothered to tell the trouble-makers - a testament to the loyalty to their Commander, who bit the inside of his lip in an attempt to control his expression. Rylen laughed silently as the boy went on, more than happy to allow him to make an even bigger fool of himself. When they were relieved of their pants, and still unaware, it seemed the boys truly thought the crowd was laughing with them. With bated breath the crowd looked to Rylen who raised a hand for silence ready to break the news to the boys that the crowd was indeed laughing at them.

"Well, if you ask me, next time you want to insult the Commander, and his mages, you may want to remember to wear your smalls." She may have burnt those too for effect, but only the little Lord's. As the boys ran off and the crowd dispersed with raised spirits, so did Evelyn but not without giving a wink to the Commander before turning on her heel. She had a lot to make up for and this was a good start.

Chuckling over to where she was expected to meet the next patrol going out, she carefully slipped her helmet on so as not to mess up her braid. Sorin had always made fun of how careful she was while doing it, teasing her by saying, "such a girl." If not wanting to mess up her hair made her a girl so be it. She had yet to actually need her medium set of onyx armor yet since they had just been encountering rebel mages, but with the rogue Templars moving in, she'd need it now.

As the routine patrol of twelve men, made up of Templars, rank-and-file and one Knight-Enchanter, prepared to roll out, the Commander strode over in full armor. It seemed the Seeker had planned to accompany them, but was called to see to a matter for the Divine. He decided to take her place wanting to get out from behind a desk for an hour or two. She wondered if it had something to do with the incident earlier at the training grounds, hoping to vent his anger on something other than practice dummies. She wouldn't blame him if he did after having to listen to that slander for Maker knows how long.

Several patrols had already been sent out through the morning encountering no trouble, so their patrol was to push the established perimeter around Haven further out establishing a new patrol route. It made no difference to her if he came or not, it was another sword in case things got hairy. In any case, she was more worried about the weather as heavy snow clouds began to move in. The air was crisp and bracing, it was perfect for walking in layers of armor. She took a deep breath in savoring the sensation as the cold air warmed in her lungs. After hearing the Commander call to them to move out, she fell in with the rank-and-file. She enjoyed chatting with them during patrols. They looked at mages with fear mostly due to ignorance and the Chantry, so she took every opportunity to change some minds.

"Knight-Enchanter!" She jogged up next to him disappointed she was robbed of the opportunity this time. Though the two Templars with them weren't sensing anything, he wanted her assessment as well. Happy to agree that she sensed nothing of note, she began to fall back behind him but not before he waved a hand for her to return to his side. "I wanted to thank you for earlier today, I'm not sure yelling back and forth would've diffused the situation quite as well as what you did." She was glad to see he took the little stunt in good humor.

"Surely I don't know what you mean, Commander? I was an innocent spectator." He looked at her with a raised eyebrow meeting her smirk with his. "He was being a prick. And besides, I'm supposed to be the biggest thorn in your side."

"You are certainly that."

"If I could guess, I would say the boy was a younger son of some Lord." He nodded back to her not revealing any more of the boy's identity. "I know the type well, dealt with them my whole life. Sometimes they need someone to humble them. I happen to like millers." The askance in his expression told her he had no idea what that was supposed to mean. "I'm the daughter of a horse breeder, horses eat oats. Did you farm wheat as well as mill it?"

"Yes, and my family still does. My older sister and her husband run the farm now in South Reach."

"If I remember correctly, they should be harvesting Buckwheat soon, that's a winter crop." He seemed pleasantly surprised at her knowledge.

"That's right. I'm surprised you know that much for a noble yourself."

"My father takes great pride in our horses. He'd personally see to the feed of our mounts. My mother sometimes remarked at the horses were better fed than we were. I would go with him to the local mill when I could get away from my mother's lessons. I was always fascinated by the machinery. To a young girl, all the turning cogs and belts looked like magic." She laughed in spite of herself thinking that was magic. "Without millers and farmers my family wouldn't have horses. My father knew this and taught us to be respectful of those who worked harder for much less so we could live in comfort."

"He sounds like a good man. You must miss him."

"Yes, I --," she broke off to concentrate scanning the terrain in front of her, "they're over there." She pointed off to a cave to the right of them. He held his fist up to halt the others, then ordered some swordsmen to either side of the cave entrance, the others directly in front of the mouth. Archer fanned out behind the swordsmen with arrows knocked. He and Evelyn stood with the swordsmen directly across from the mouth of the cave. After several moments of silence, Evelyn volunteered to go in first, to which the Commander hesitantly agreed.

The cave was rather unremarkable, but boasted a healthy supply of deep mushrooms Ilara would surely want to know about. It grew darker the further in she went and she lit a flame in her hand to guide her footing. She was a good distance inside when silhouetted figures crowded the cave's mouth. It was the Commander calling her asking if she saw anything. "Nothing," she had replied baffled at where then the Templars were. From where she stood she could see the faintest light at the other end of the tunnel. Then it hit her, they are above us. As quickly as she could in the pitch black, she sprinted for the light.

She could hear the sounds of fighting already as she emerged. An arrow landed next to her foot and looking up she saw Templar archers perched all around the high cliffside. They were obscured by bushes, small trees and vines making it hard for their archers to see their targets. From the corner of her eye, she saw a rogue Templar cut down one of their men and was now headed her way. Fending off the first of his strikes with her staff, an arrow hit her first in the arm and another glanced off her armored back. Grabbing the Templar by his armor and pulling him in close with her other hand in his face she unleashed a torrent of fire until the man went limp. Pushing him aside, she spun her staff in an upward arch sending wave after wave of fire clearing the foliage concealing their attackers and making some flee their positions. As she covered the others, it became harder to see where they were or how the fight was going as burning and smoking debris rained down from the cliffside.

She was surprised at how long it took one of the Templars to finally drain her of some of her mana. The hit came from her side, as did the large hulking mass that followed. She pulled the arrowhead from her arm, biting her lip to stifle her cry of pain. Shaking off the dizziness from the pain, she steeled herself knowing this particular fight was going to be painful. Fade stepping slightly to the side and landing a clean upper-cut with her staff on the Templar's jaw, he groaned in pain, but wasn't phased. She cast her spirit blade, but just as she tried to land a hit the Templar grabbed her forearm. A sharp pain where he held her shot through her arm dispelling her blade. His other hand held his blade which went to thrust, but not before a shield shot forth deflecting it back with force. After being dropped by the brute, she looked up to see the flashing red-maned mantle of the Commander. She knew his form with a sword and shield was as close to perfect as could be from watching him at the training grounds, but watching him against man who stood even taller than he was awe-inspiring. Getting up off her ass after gawking in the middle of a life-or-death fight, she guarded his back as more Templars approached.

Evelyn made short work of them. A quickly cast immolation spell took one, and the other she felled with her staff blade. She turned back to the Commander to see how he was fairing and decided this brute was going to take two to take down. It was a challenge to get past the man's large shield and all she could do was be an annoyance to the Templar who dispelled her magic. Another arrow landed near her and she sent a fireball up at the cliff face spinning blindly. Stone shards exploded down onto the fighters below. Worried how it may have affected their duel, she looked over to the Commander who held his shield up while in a crouch to block the debris. Another spell purge from above hit, sending her right into the arms of the brute. He held her with her back against him and one arm tightly around her torso restricting her movement. One of her arms got caught behind her and was now against the Templar and of no use to her. She was a human shield. She struggled, but nothing came of it and magic was not an option for now her mana was dangerously low.

The brute laughed at her attempt and whirled her around to face the Commander who was at that very moment bringing down his sword thinking the Templar had made a mistake giving him an opening for a decisive strike. The two locked their wide eyes realizing what was happening. The air left her lungs as she waited to feel his blade. The cut was quick and clean. His sword scored a curved line from her mid-thigh up over her hip. She screamed doubling over as much as she could over the arm that restrained her. She heard the Commander renew his assault, calling her name as she swayed in the Templar's arm. Evelyn, though it must've looked as if she was hanging limply, was actually reaching for her trusty dagger in her boot. Unsheathing it, she stabbed the man in the ribs. She pulled the dagger from him in an attempt to maim him elsewhere, but he threw Evelyn in rage, and she rolled several times before coming to a stop by the mouth of the cave. The Commander made good use of the opening however and finished the brute with a slash to the throat and thrust to the chest for good measure.

Evelyn tried to stand by using the rock face, but it proved more difficult in her weakened state. Burning debris still fell around them reducing visibility, but it was clear they were the last two alive. Shadows from within the smoke began to move in on them from all around. A strong arm quickly pulled her to her feet taking her into the cave.

"Can you collapse the entrance?" His breathy voice echoed down the long tunnel. She nodded, pulling the cork off a bottle of lyrium and downing it. He continued to drag her with him through the cave as she cast a large fireball at the top of the cave's mouth. The stone shattered at the force of the blow collapsing. As it grew quiet and only the occasional pebble skittering could be heard, the two took a moment to rest. She lit the fire once more in her hand for some light.

"Are you hurt? I have herbs and potions from Ilara." She was grateful they wouldn't have to rely on her healing skills.

"Am I -- No, just minor injuries that can wait." He crouched down beside her looking at the gash on her leg. Her flame revealed the pain and guilt he felt as his eyes traveled the length of the injury. She rummaged about the potion bag and took out two healing potions, one for each of them, despite his insistence that he was fine. She knew the beating his shield arm must've taken in that last fight would leave him incredibly sore.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's not how the whole damsel-in-distress thing is supposed to go." She tried to make light of it, but when it didn't seem to stir a reaction she softened her voice. "Commander, --"

"Just - you can call me Cullen."

"Cullen, it's not as bad as it looks. I'll be fine." It was the truth. Sure it fucking hurt, but it wasn't like he stabbed her in the chest. She pulled some bandages out of the potion bag. It would do until she could get to a healer. Her leather pant leg drooped heavy with blood that was still steadily spilling forth. She considered herself lucky he hadn't completely cut her pants off, as she saw a fine scratch from his sword point across her belt. "If my mother was here, she'd be pissed that you just ruined me for every Orlesian man out there. You know, since they don't like women who are all marked up. Though I am grateful you've saved me from a mundane life of a trophy wife." He stared at her like a sad Mabari. Sighing heavily, seeing none of her assurances were having any effect, she changed the subject. "When I was in here earlier I could see a light at the other end. It shouldn't be far to the other side."

"Good, we should move as soon as you're able. If they set this ambush then they must know where this cave lets out. Hopefully, we can beat them there and get back to camp." She tied off the bandage and with his help stood once more. She had a limp, but she could at least move and they hurried as quickly as her leg would take them through the dark. Only one section of the tunnel caused her trouble when it narrowed and the two had to shimmy sideways through the tight passage. Her leg clumsily kept getting stuck due to her loss of motor function and Cullen ended up having to take her by the shoulders to pull her through.

"I really am sorry," he said as he helped her through, "I tried to stop myself but..." She was holding on to the matted fur of his mantle to steady herself. His eyes were downcast avoiding her gaze.

"Hey," his eyes met her bright brown eyes, "if you didn't come with the patrol today, I'd likely be dead. I didn't for one second think you'd ever purposely hurt me no matter how much I annoy you." It drew the faintest smile, but she wasn't satisfied. "Oh, don't tell me you're going to keep apologizing all the way to camp?"

"Well..." she sighed at his drawn-out response. "I was planning to at least ten more times."

"Do it and a burnt pair of pants will be the least of your worries next time you address the troops." And there it was, that soft and deep rumble from within his chest. It caused no small amount of joy to hear it, though she hadn't have the time yet to process why. Perhaps because it was so rarely heard by anyone, considering the Seeker even seemed surprised to hear it, and she had coaxed it forth twice now. Maybe it was because he reminded her ever so slightly of Henley. That was problematic in so many ways. Or maybe it was that favoritism because he thought she was, by his words, 'beautiful.' For now though, her mind settled on that they were possibly entering that gray area between acquaintances and friends.

As the daylight grew brighter and they emerged from the cave they were relieved to find they had beaten the Templars to the other side. The two were filthy from the dirt, soot, rocks and blood that were flying around during the ambush. The gaps on the front of their helmets where their eyes and other features weren't protected were painted on their skin by grime. She knew a thick strand of her hair was pulled up from her braid somewhere on top of her head by the way his eyes flicked up to it. Giving him a pouty glare, she tucked it back into the braid and waited for his approval. He just shook his head and chuckled. She was getting good at this, at this rate they'd be friends by the time they got back to camp.

When he said he knew where they were and they weren't too far from Haven, she almost leap with joy. She wasn't sure how long she was going to be mobile for on her hurt leg, so the sooner they were back the better. As they picked up the pace, he helped her along to keep up. They had lost their whole patrol and the snow was beginning to fall. They certainly did not want to be stranded out here for the night or worse run into more Templars. Templars. She got that cold feeling in the pit of her stomach when she began to sense them again. They were gaining on them fast. Grabbing him hard to stop, he seemed to catch her meaning without needing words. Listening, they heard the faint crunching of snow beneath steel boots. Cullen guided her off the trail they were following and into the brush. They clung to the shadows of a nearby rockface listening again for the approaching Templars.

"You go, I'll stay and distract them. Buy you time to get a head start back to camp." The overwhelming weight of her words hit them both hard knowing that she'd be lucky to survive the encounter with the Templars. He shook his head in protest.

"I'm not leaving you here alone with them. I can carry you."

"No, I'll slow you down and besides, they can sense me, but not you. One of us needs to make it back to camp." A branch cracked under a heavily armored boot catching their attention. They were close.

"We know you're here little mage, come out, come out wherever you are!" The Templar's voice made her sick invoking a flashback of her alone in a room with three Templars back in the Circle. She fought her body's impulse to shake, not wanting Cullen to sense her fear. His jaw clenched and she felt his grip tightening on her as if he was reading her thoughts.

"If you don't go now we'll both be caught!"

"No!" Even though it was whispered, it carried a desperate force to it. She was the last remaining member of the lost patrol, and while his concern was admirable and understandable it was going to be either her one life or both of theirs.

"Over there!" They had found them. Evelyn grabbed a hold of Cullen with both hands and fade stepped them back over to the road. The incredible drain of moving both of them made her collapse instantly flat onto her stomach. He went to pick her up, but she yelled in protest.

"I'm not leaving you!"

"Yes, you are!" With the last of her mana reserve, she altered a mind blast spell to just repel him away from her. The force pushed him quite a distance down the trail toward Haven. "Go!" By the look of pain on his face she knew the Templars were closing on her. Finally, he ran no doubt cursing her the whole way back to Haven. A hard kick to her ribs flipped her onto her back.

"Well, well look what we have here." She stayed silent knowing what she wanted to say would only provoke them. "What's your name doll?" She just glared back in response. There was something odd about them. The three had red eyes and she sensed a strange aura of lyrium around them. It was almost too much for her to handle, like an old noblewoman wearing too much perfume. Red lyrium, she thought as dread brought back the events of the previous night and what it did to Henley. He was her friend and still had no qualms about getting rough with her, making her not want to imagine what these Templars would do her. A woman stepped forward grabbing her by the hair and tilting her face up close to hers.

"Sampson will loosen that tongue of yours!" And with that, the pommel of a sword sent her to the Fade.

Notes:

I just wanted to make a note about my Cullen's behavior socially at this point in the story. I don't see Cullen as a static character, so I don't want to label him as awkward, confident, dark or any of those other tags out there. As we see in the game early on with his interactions with the Herald and others he isn't a stuttering mess when talking to women which I think he gets a bad wrap for. I think like many he gets nervous not wanting to mess things up with the Inquisitor and because it's been a while since he's wanted a relationship with anyone (as he states in the game).

At this point in our story, the two are just starting to become friends, so I don't believe he'd be awkward with her when he doesn't view her romantically, yet. He's also a 30 year old man with plenty of experience interacting with many people from many different walks of life. Being of close age to our dear Cullen, I'd find it very hard to believe a man with his life experience and position being socially inept.

Chapter 8: Red Lyrium: Part 2

Summary:

Evelyn recounts what happened after being captured by Sampson.

Notes:

Warning for this chapter for gore, mutilation and rape (though it doesn't physically occur).

Just a reminder that Sorin's full name is Sorin Cyrus, as Cullen will refer to him as such in this chapter. It was mentioned once previously but I wanted to make a note of it since it was only mentioned once.

L,

T alive, severely wounded and disoriented. Not safe to approach. Situation requires Templar intervention.

Templar camp destroyed. All dead.

Location encoded. Please advise.

C.

They reacted as quickly as they could when word was sent from one of Leliana's scouts that Knight-Enchanter Trevelyan had been found. To the credit of Leliana's people, they searched throughout the night despite the wintery weather. Upon the Commander's return the previous day, they had deployed all available scouts and made a plan of action for when she was found. The Divine had made it very clear that finding her was a priority. If the Divine couldn't keep her honored guests safe as the Conclave neared, then the Conclave would fail before it had even begun. It was made very public that The Phoenix of Ostwick was at Haven and as nobles and high-ranking mages and Templars slowly arrived, many asked to meet her or at least have her pointed out to them from the crowd. Cassandra thanked the Maker daily for Leliana's recruitment of Lady Josephine Montilyet, the new Ambassador and Diplomat for the Divine for the Conclave. On occasion, she'd ask for Cassandra's help in locating the famed Knight-Enchanter, and scoffed whenever she heard them ask, "will she show us her firey wings?" She had answered the question dozens of times with a simple, 'no' allowing the Knight-Enchanter to explain she was not some cheap entertainer, though her words were more refined, clearly owing its practiced articulation to the many times she had explained it over the years to delusional nobles.

Much to the protesting of the Commander, Cassandra was to lead the rescue party made up of the Ostwick Templars, Solas, Enchanter Ilara and an accompanying force of soldiers. When Scout Charter indicated that Templars were needed, it only validated that decision. Cassandra knew Cullen was a man of honor, and wished to repay his debt to the Knight-Enchanter for saving his life - again - but without lyrium there was no use putting him in harm's way, especially since he was recovering from injuries himself. Now that their forces were growing with new recruits signing up daily to serve the Divine and her Conclave to end the war, he was needed at camp more than ever.

It took the rescue party two hours to reach the location through the snow that had blanketed everything during the night. Scout Charter rendezvoused with the rescue party leading them the rest of the way to Trevelyan. She briefed Cassandra on the observations she and the other scouts had made, all of which troubled Cassandra greatly. She ordered the men to fan out around the outskirts of the ruined camp while she, the Templars and mages approached the Knight-Enchanter. Trevelyan was in the middle of the camp on her hands and knees hunched over mumbling to herself. She could see soiled bandages on her arm and leg, but there was more blood coating her down her left side and hands. Parts of her clothing and armor were burnt in various places. Cautiously behind the Templars' shield wall, they advanced on her. Ilara called to her in the hopes a friendly voice wouldn't startle her in her state. Around her lay dead rebel Templars and to the far end of the camp a large pile of bodies. Standing about ten feet away from her they halted. She could sense a strange aura about her.

"Solas?" The elven mage closed his eyes as he entered the Fade. Solas was still a curiosity to her, but caused no trouble and was upfront and honest with her about his abilities. He was solitary and had no qualms about the Templar presence in camp. She followed her instincts and invited him along after the cryptic scouting report from Scout Charter. A few minutes later, he explained that she was not in the Fade, but trapped in a waking dream. Enchanter Ilara pleaded with her to let her go to Trevelyan, and while her gut told her something was not right, she agreed. The Seeker and the Templars readied themselves in case of a violent reaction. She held her breath and shield steady as the Enchanter knelt beside her friend. They exchanged some words in hushed tones before Trevelyan's head turned up to look at the Enchanter.

"Lar," Trevelyan gently caressed Ilara's face, "I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry! I wasn't strong enough to stop them." Cassandra could see now that her face was smudged with soot and blood. Long streaks under her eyes cut through the grime revealing skin from underneath it.

"Stop who?" Trevelyan's eyes squeezed tightly shut as she gave a sharp inhale.

"Ser Aeron and his Templars," she shook her head as if now doubting her words, "we were… in our room and…"

"Evie, that was a year ago. And you saved me remember?" Ilara let that sink in for a moment, as her friend clearly needed time to process this revelation. "We are in the woods outside of Haven now. You're injured. I'm here to patch you up," a warm smile spread across Ilara's face, "like usual." The tension that seemed to grip Trevelyan eased as Cassandra could clearly see her muscles relaxing. Ilara looked to Cassandra giving a nod.

"Knight-Enchanter it is good --" before Cassandra could finish, Trevelyan stood commanding them to back away. An ethereal wind picked up swirling about them all as Cassandra watched the famed Phoenix wings ignite. "No, wait --! Templars, ready!" Cassandra scrambled to get the Templars back into formation after the brief lapse thinking the danger had passed. Ilara was pleading with her to stop, all but grabbing and shaking her.

"Seeker, something isn't right." Solas looked about, then grabbing the nearest dead Templar, removed his helm. Red snaking veins jutted from his neck and his glassy eyes were red.

"Red lyrium." She couldn't believe it. She hoped she would've seen the last of its corruption of the Templars in Kirkwall, but to find it this far south was not a good sign. "Enchanter, what color are Trevelyan's eyes?! Were they red at all?"

"Yes!" was all the Enchanter could call out before Trevelyan push her protectively behind her.

"Shit." She knew what had to be done. "Templars," she paused to ready her own powers, "take her down!" At first, they took turns dispelling her magic, but horrifyingly enough it just seemed to amplify it. Trevelyan's head tilted to the side slightly watching curiously on as they began to combine their efforts. When at last it seemed to have an effect on her, she began throwing fireballs their way. Before anyone got burned, she rallied the Templars to pull together for one large attack to which she'd add her strength to as well. She yelled to the Enchanter to run, not wanting her to get hit in the crossfire. Sensing the incoming attack, Trevelyan conjured so much magic the heat it gave off felt as if she had been put in a bread oven. "Now!" she commanded and air shuttered and snuffed the area of all magic. The blast rendered Trevelyan unconscious on the ground.

Ilara ran to her with Solas close behind. The mages waved their hands about her. She was alive and stable enough to load onto the cart back to Haven despite how heavily wounded she was. With their mission complete, all that was left was to piece together what happened and find out where the red lyrium was coming from. She sighed heavily knowing she was going to have to ask Varric for help, something she was avoiding like the Blight.

---

As he finished briefing his officers for the evening, Cullen felt anxious about going over to meet the other advisors in the infirmary to speak to Trevelyan now that she was conscious. The healers had been working on her for hours since Cassandra returned back to camp with her before midday. Upon arriving, he saw only Henley was waiting outside a partitioned off area of the infirmary. The Templar held up a hand and halted his approach.

"I wouldn't go in there yet, Ser." Cullen raised an eyebrow in question when his answer came in the form of profanities from the other side of the curtain. Henley, who was dressed plainly and resting on a cot nearby, got up and started to peruse the supply shelf. Henley still looked a bit sickly from his bout with red lyrium, but he seemed to be functioning well enough. When asked about his condition, Henley was happy to report he'd be back on duty tomorrow. With an 'ah,' he pulled a bottle of spirits from the shelf and popped its cork. Giving it a smell and taste, he nodded his head adding a 'this will do' as he walked over to the curtain. He peeled back the curtain enough for Cullen to see what was going on. Enchanter Ilara was working with a surgeon on Trevelyan's leg. He noticed a thick cord of some kind being removed from her leg which had reopened the massive wound. There were some protests of Henley's appearance considering the woman clearly had only smalls on, but they were rudely silenced by her who grabbed the bottle with some enthusiasm.

Many of the interactions he had observed between Trevelyan and Henley became clearer now that he knew more about their past relationship. He saw no problem with their relationship, since he'd been guilty of the same breach of Circle rules long ago. Things were changing in the world with the old taboos against mage and Templar relationships being no longer frowned upon as the Chantry held no authority over mages and Tempars. Henley and Enchanter Ilara seemed happy enough from what Henley had confided in him. So long as it didn't get in the way of their duty, it was of no concern to him who was seeing who.

Almost as cat-like as Leliana, Knight-Enchanter Cyrus entered the infirmary with a shirt in hand. He gave a stoic 'ser' and continued on his way through the curtain. Only the surgeon protested to the intrusion this time, trying to save Trevelyan's modesty, to which the former ignored asking Cyrus to help her put it on. She thanked him for letting her borrow his shirt and he left giving the surgeon a heated look. Cullen's curiosity got the better of him once Cyrus joined them.

"May I ask what they are doing to her leg?" More curses directed at the Maker's appallingly promiscuous bride were yelled. "Maker's breath, that woman has a mouth on her." Cyrus just gave a quiet laugh clearly used to it.

"They are restitching her leg. The rogue Templars stitched it with a leather cord meant for lacing armor." Cullen felt himself pale slightly. He had seen a multitude of horrors in his life but that was a new one. Suddenly all her cursing and the passed bottle of spirits were rightly justified. "And before you ask why they didn't just knock her out for this, it's because she refused to be." He made a gesture with his hand indicating something was going on with her mind.

"What is the extent of her other injuries?"

"We aren't sure yet, Ilara was about to tell us when the surgeon arrived to… unlace her leg." Henley looked to Cyrus before continuing with a shared look of pain and worry for their friend. "What we do know is that she took a massive amount of red lyrium, or rather was forced to." Cullen ran his hand down his face then pinched the bridge of his nose. More red lyrium, fuck.

Finally, the other advisors began to trickle in one by one. As the women made themselves comfortable and introduced themselves to Knight-Enchanter Cyrus and Henley, Enchanter Ilara stepped out from behind the curtain. She had recently rinsed her hands and was drying them on her apron. A light tinge of red stained where she had just wiped them.

"The surgeon is finishing up now. I've healed all I could," she trailed off for a moment looking faint. As she went down, Cullen and Cyrus caught her before she hit the ground. They helped her over to Henley's cot and she sat grateful for their assistance. She leaned into Henley who wrapped an arm around her for support. "I'm sorry, I'm a bit exhausted." She took a deep breath and went on to update them of Trevelyan's condition. "Evie will physically recover. Injuries included an arrow to the arm, major lacerations to the forearms and ribs, other minor cuts and bruises and of course the…," she swallowed as if she had a bad taste in her mouth, "leg wound." Guilt flooded Cullen and it was made worse by the news of the mutilation. "I'm more concerned with what the red lyrium is doing to her internally and mentally, however." She grasped the hand of Henley, a well of deep understanding passing between them. "When we came upon her in the forest, she was indeed experiencing a waking dream brought on by the lyrium. She told me it was of a… particularly traumatizing memory. The red lyrium made her relive it over and over." A shiver went up Cullen's spine.

The curtain opened with Trevelyan propped up on her cot nursing the bottle of spirits. Her lower half was covered in a fresh linen sheet and she wore Cyrus' shirt which she used to fan herself from the lyrium fever. She looked to them after taking a large swig from the bottle. Cassandra asked for the advisors to have a private audience with Trevelyan and her friends begrudgingly shuffled out.

"Let's get this over with." She looked as if she had aged ten years. The tiredness of her ordeal coupled with the pain was clear upon her face. As they shifted closer to her cot, she took another swig from the bottle, then placed it on a crate that was made into a side table. Realizing that Trevelyan had never met the Lady Ambassador, Josephine made a very gracious introduction and apology to have met under such circumstances. It was coolly received.

"Let's begin with what happened after the Commander left you." Leliana jumped in. Cullen soured at the memory of leaving her behind, even if she had forced him. The evening was waning into twilight and all four advisors had been working like dogs with preparations for the arriving clerics and guests of The Divine. The discovery of red lyrium being used by the rogue Templars was not a welcome development. They needed answers from her now to make the most of their time.

"Very well." Evelyn took a deep breath before beginning.

Evelyn awoke to find herself tied to a chair in a large field tent. Her head throbbed and it took her several blinks to see straight. Her leg still stung, and she noticed it was newly bandaged. The red canvas of the tent cast everything in an eerie shade of crimson. It was freezing inside. A man sat at a nearby desk writing a letter as a single drop of sweat dripped off his temple. She shifted her limbs against the burn of the ropes trying to find any weaknesses but found none. Her hands were bound behind her and even with a small portion of her mana restored if she would cast she'd end up burning herself. Though compared to what these Templars had planned, it could be the better alternative.

"Ah, you're awake. I was worried the others may have been too rough with you. I had one of my men stitch your arm and leg while you were out. It'll scar but the bleeding has slowed. How do you feel?" The man had large bloodshot eyes and a mess of dull brown hair slicked back. He was wearing mismatched Templar armor.

"Where am I? Who are you?"

"You have been brought to my camp. I am Raleigh Sampson, but most just call me Sampson."

"You're a Templar?"

"Was. Not anymore." He poured her a drink of some sort of bitter tea from the smell. Cupping her face gently, he tilted her head up pressing the cup to her mouth. She protested at first, but he ensured her it was nothing but elfroot tea to soothe her head and leg injury. His confident eyes never wavered from hers as she finished the cup with his assistance. "Now that you know my name, I would very much like to know yours."

"Knight-Enchanter Lady Evelyn Trevelyan." His bloodshot eyes perked up.

"The famed Phoenix of Ostwick here in my humble tent! No wonder Rutherford was with you."

"You know the Commander?" He then divulged to her their history from back in Kirkwall's Circle when they were roommates. He had eventually been expelled by Knight-Commander Meredith for passing love letters between mages. Once expelled and begging on the streets of Kirkwall, he assisted in helping mages escape from the Circle. She remembered a few missions in which the Kirkwall Templars requested aid in locating a few of their escapees who had fled to Ostwick. In hearing Sampson's story, she didn't think it wise to share her involvement in such captures or their punishments. She wondered if any of those requests had come from Knight-Captain Rutherford himself.

"Sampson?" Cullen interrupted her story. After hearing Sampson's version of their history together, he felt a little clarification was needed. "The man would do anything to get his hands on lyrium, don't let his version fool you. He's a chronic lyrium addict. Those mages paid a high price."

"After seeing my leg, I have no doubt, though he was a smooth talker."

"If what I know about you is true Phoenix, you once spoke out against the Chantry about their abuse of Templars through lyrium addiction?" She nodded reflecting on that turbulent time. She had raised the issue with some influential Mothers, but nothing had come of it. In fact, she received a very stern warning from them in response to officially drop the subject. The message was also sent to her superiors in the Ostwick Circle, along with orders to watch her in case she disobeyed. It seemed she had tread on very dangerous ground, so much so First Enchanter Lydia personally feared they would make Evelyn Tranquil should she speak out about it again, prompting her to promise Lydia she would not speak of it again. "I wonder if you still hold that opinion?"

"I do. Though the Chantry threatened me to stay silent on the matter." He chuckled shaking his head. He did not seem surprised to hear that, as he himself was a victim of such abuse. As time went on, she started to find it odd that while in the midst of a long civil conversation with a man who agreed with her on many things related to the treatment of Templars by the Chantry, she was still tied up. There had to be something she was missing. She could hear men and women outside tending to camp duties, but aside from the buzz of lyrium coming off of him, nothing was out of the ordinary even if they were high on the red stuff. She almost felt like he was lulling her into a false sense of security by tending to her wounds, so far as she could tell, and providing thoughtful discussion, all in the meantime obscuring his true purpose for her.

She didn't have to wonder for long before a familiar couple of faces entered the tent. It was the two Templars who had talked to her briefly after capturing her. When they entered, Sampson's demeanor changed as they exchanged sinister smiles. Upon entering, the tent flap caught in the breeze and outside she saw blood strew across the snow. The air in the tent seemed to thicken and she felt herself drawing in deeper breaths. She squeezed her legs together tight so they wouldn't see them shaking in fright. The woman held a glowing red cup in her hands, handling it with the utmost care.

"Here it is, ser." Sampson was pleased, placing it on the desk. The man skulked slowly behind her while the woman stood toe to toe with her. With little else to look at as the woman obscured her view, she looked up into her face. From below her armor's neckline she could see jagged blood red veins protruding from her neck. Her eyes looked similarly bloodshot as Sampson's were with a red haze lingering within her pupils. "I don't like the way she looks at me." A hard punch to the face had Evelyn reeling. The woman had hit her so hard that if not for the man behind her catching the chair, she'd be laying on the floor. Her lip gushed and filled her mouth with the metallic taste of blood which she obstinately spat right onto the woman's boots. Raising her fist again, Sampson thankfully stopped her before she could deliver the blow.

"You may not like her, but I'm rather enjoying her company." Sampson chuckled.

"Shall we see how your stiches are healing?" From the wicked grin on their faces she knew they had done something. She shifted her leg to see if she could feel anything, but she only felt the pulling of stitches. The woman unwrapped her leg to reveal the grizzly sight of her mutilated leg. Evelyn's breath caught in her throat. They had sewn her leg with a leather cord meant for lacing armor. Her leg looked as if she were a stuffed slab of meat meant for the spit. Her arms strained against the ropes wanting to touch and soothe her butchered leg. She was dreaming, this couldn't be real and this couldn't be her leg. Her emotions fluctuated between outrage and despair as her mouth sputtered unsure of what to say. The woman, pleased by her reaction wrapped the wound back up.

"Now Evelyn," he bent over leaning on his knees so he was closer to her, "I enjoyed our talk about your life's work, but now it's time I tell you about my work. While you gave up and surrendered to the Chantry to save your own skin, I fought them. I found others, like these two, who had been thrown away because the Chantry deemed them too broken to keep. Instead of honoring their life of sacrifice, they condemn them to live as pariahs in a world that would only see them as lyrium addicts. Well, now I've brought them together to show them that we will not be forgotten." The man behind her shifted and she flinched when his armored hand hovered over her shoulder before grabbing and holding her face. She struggled as hard as she could but the ropes were biting into her skin still not giving way. "Since you sympathize with our cause, I rather hoped you'd help us with a little… experiment."

He lifted the cup filled with what she could now see was red lyrium. It buzzed creating a ringing in her ears and she felt the instinctual need to push away from it. He brought it to rest between them mere inches from her lips. She knew then the vile liquid was meant for her. The amount that filled the cup was at least ten times that of what Henley had drank. Panic began to set in not knowing how it would affect her, yet in her gut she felt the rising threat of danger.

"This is red lyrium. Quite different from its blue counterpart that you're used to. The red pulls at our primal instincts unlocking our full potential. Your senses are sharper, your stamina is endless and your power is unstoppable. Unlike us, as a mage, you can drink lyrium like wine without the danger of addiction or any of the other debilitating effects we have to suffer. Yet, there is one thing the red lyrium takes from mages," she held her breath swallowing hard as he smiled a crooked grin, "your free will. You will be guided by a… higher power. So far our experiments have not been as cooperative nor resilient as we would've liked them to be and my master grows impatient."

With the grip on her jaw forcing her lips to open, Sampson expertly poured the red lyrium down her throat careful not to spill a drop. It burned, oh Maker did it burn in contrast to the cooling sensation of blue lyrium. They clamped her jaw shut periodically forcing her to swallow. She screamed as it set her insides a flame. Her chest was on fire feeling as if a hole had been burned through her. She thrashed violently against her restraints, unable to feel that she had cut her wrists open. She didn't know how long her body fought against the effects of the red poison, but when her body and lyrium came to a stalemate she struggled to grasp at her new reality. Her body was now host to a parasitic intelligence.

She was fighting for control of her body, becoming more of a spectator than the owner. She bucked and arched in her chair all the while the three Templars sat and watched. Her right leg kicked suddenly snapping the rope that held it to the chair - she didn't tell it to do that. When her muscles stopped shaking from fear and instead coiled ready to strike she knew the lyrium was in control. Her adrenaline surged and when her screaming ceased that's when she heard it; it was a song. A song without words, or if there were words they weren't of a language she knew. But if she couldn't understand it, why did she feel like it was compelling her to do it. What was 'it?' She was trying to communicate with it. She felt it wanted something of her, but what was it?

"She's in the full grip of it now. I'm not surprised she's handling it better than the rest. The others were much weaker mages compared to our Phoenix here." At his words, she felt a rush of superiority, but not the vain or entitled kind, more of the primal need to be the apex predator. 'I am superior,' it repeated in her head. If she was superior, what was she doing tied to a chair? It wanted her to unleash her power from whatever restraint had been instilled in her through her mage upbringing. It was wrong. Something about the whole thing was unsettling. 'No, I'm not superior. I'm just Evelyn,' she thought. A hot prickling feeling crashed through her, the kind that happens when your foot falls asleep just amplified. It seemed the red lyrium did not like her fighting back.

When she was still for far too long from struggling internally, the woman Templar landed a blow to her gut. Crumpling with her head now in her lap, Evelyn heard her voice laugh, again not being the one to do it. The pain of the blow was ecstasy. It never felt so good to be hit like that in her life, and she wanted more. The song whispered to her what to do, knowing and feeling her desire for blood. It fueled this bloodlust as thoughts of dominance over this pathetic woman spurred her into action. With another strong kick, both legs were freed. Sampson was quick to leave the tent, laughing as he left, knowing what was to come.

Unlike Sampson, her capturers stayed to fight, but they were too slow to react to her newfound strength. If they were indeed taking the red lyrium they had not taken as much as they gave her, that much was clear. She jumped herself flat on her back splintering the wooden chair. The ropes binding her hands slipped from her wrist, but rather than discarding them, she held them tight in her hand. With a swift roll, she was on her feet with her boot dagger in hand. A quick backhanded stab planted the dagger in the woman's shoulder and using the momentum from the attack, she spun wrapping the rope around the throat of the man behind her. He gasped for air as she pulled on the rope tight. The woman pulled a short sword in an attempt to save him, ignoring her injured shoulder. As she slashed, Evelyn used the man as a shield. When the woman frustratingly landed each of her blows into her fellow Templar, she charged into the two knocking them to the ground. The man's literal dead weight didn't slow Evelyn's movements. She felt the raw power of her mana at her fingertips building up, as if she didn't release it, it would release itself. As she tried to get up, the woman slashed the side of her ribcage open. Evelyn took two more slashes to the forearms as she defended herself before triggering it.

Her firey wings exploded and came to life. They flapped engulfing the tent in flames, obliterating it leaving only Evelyn surrounded by smoke and ashes. As the smoke cleared, Sampson appeared in front of her in the middle of their camp flanked by at least two dozen Templars. Each one had their sword drawn ready to unleash their corrupted power on her, yet in her head despite the odds it repeated, 'I am superior.' She took a few steps forward out from the black charcoal that was once Sampson's tent, absently kicking the empty set of burnt Templar armor. Her Phoenix wings were still a flame and more brilliant than ever. Blood dripped from the slashes on her forearms to her fingertips. She had to be a ghastly sight as her lip and ribs bled. The rope burns on her wrists were raw and she was still filthy from earlier. 'I need to find a potion,' she thought, but then the pain and the worry were whisked away from the forefront of her thoughts by the song. It was replaced again with the violent need for dominance.

"Aren't you something, Evelyn Trevelyan!" He wasn't angry, but astonished, proud even of his experiment. "You are exactly what I need."

"For what?" Through the red haze, part of Evelyn finally broke through. Evelyn wasn't giving up the fight for her mind and body. In response to asserting her will, the lyrium felt like it was on fire once again, like it was trying to control her behavior by causing her pain when she misbehaved. Her face scrunched up as she winced. Sampson chuckled deeply at the display.

"Fighting it is useless. It will win out in the end then you will be under my master's control." 'Who is his master?' The pain flared up once more with renewed intensity at her question. It seems she was not allowed to know. "To answer your question Phoenix of Ostwick, I need a distraction during the Conclave, something to draw Rutherford's forces away from the temple. That distraction will be you." She thought of all the things she wanted to say in opposition to that, but the song silenced her again with the promise of pain.

"I want to know who his master is. Time is short. I can have my people look into it right away." Leliana impatiently interrupted her this time. A sharp pain seemed to come over her suddenly as she inhaled sharply holding her head. Cullen lifted off the post he was leaning against to assist if he could, but she held a hand up.

"I don't know he never said." The Divine's Hands both shared a look of displeasure at being denied an answer. "Ah, the lyrium is still trying to control me," she gritted out. Cassandra sat up suddenly in case her powers were needed. After it had passed, Trevelyan blinked a few times trying to refocus on the present.

"Cassandra, didn't Varric mention that his brother heard a song when he was possessed by the red lyrium idol?" She looked at him and nodded slowly.

"It drove him mad," she said softly looking back to Trevelyan. He expected to see something like fear or concern on her face, but all he saw was heated defiance. Another wave of pain gripped her. "He was a dwarf though, so perhaps it will be different…" her voice trailed off as she looked on with concern as this latest wave of pain still gripped her. Her face reddened as if she was holding her breath. Leliana remained stoic as usual, but Josephine seemed to be increasingly alarmed stammering to the others asking if she should go fetch a healer. Finally, the pain released her as she gasped for breath. Trevelyan reached for the cup of water beside the bottle this time guzzling it down. As she placed the cup back down she, glanced up to see the distraught Ambassador and offered the bottle to her. Josephine hesitated a moment, looking as if she was going to take her up on the offer, but politely declined.

"I'm not going to go mad. I was able to fight it at its full strength, I won't give in now -- ow, ow!" He wondered if she was feeling something like his withdrawal symptoms, but declined asking, not wanting to get sidetracked or reveal his secret. "It really doesn't like me telling you all this." The advisors all looked to one another quite disturbed by that statement.

"Sampson said he wanted to lure our forces away from the Conclave with a distraction. That you were to be that distraction. What were you meant to do?" As if ensuring everyone's safety at the Conclave wasn't hard enough, he now had to count on an attack from Sampson and his Templars. He shuttered to think, as bad as it sounds, what would've happened if Trevelyan wasn't captured and news of this attack went unknown. Sampson might have succeeded. He felt a headache of his own coming on.

"It's only a guess, but I think he planned on using me as a mindless weapon. I think he planned to use other mages, but well…"

Her head jerked awkwardly to the left as her eyes followed it to what she was being shown. It was a massive pile of bodies partially obscured by supply barrels. From their clothing and belongings, she knew them to be mages. The pile was almost as tall as she reeking of rotting flesh and bile. Even though she wasn't anywhere close to the bodies her heightened senses made her feel like she was nose-deep in the pile. 'His failed experiments.' The song told her it would be her fate if she did not let go of her restraint. A hot sharp pain pricked her at the core. The red poison was trying to tap her mana again. She shook breathing heavily as it chipped away at the control she had long held on her power. 'No!' She wasn't sure if she screamed in her head or out loud, but the pain brought her to the ground. She screamed in agony, yet fought it with every fiber of her being. Suddenly, she was hoisted up by two Templars. She growled and hissed at the pain convulsing as it wracked her body in searing fire.

"Do you want this to stop?" She nodded pleadingly to Sampson who grabbed her by the jaw not nearly as gently as he had been before. His thumb pressed on her split lip, but the pain was nothing compared to the red lyrium coursing through her. "Surrender to it. It's that simple."

"No!" His words had the opposite effect and only hardened her resolve. She looked to the pile of bodies again and the complete disregard for life. They had gone through a similar trial and had lost. 'You are superior,' it chimed in her head again. 'I am superior and that includes over your corruption!' A piercing wail resounded in her head as the song retreated from her mana. As she heard the song switching its tune for its next assault, she pressed her advantage. Before anyone could blink, the two Templars on her flanks were dead, cut clean through by her spirit blade. A look of confusion and then fear crossed Sampson's sickly pale face. His lips mouthed the word 'how,' but it seemed he had lost the nerve to actually articulate it. His remaining force of Templars fanned out around her, shields encircling her, but she didn't flinch.

On any other day this formation would've meant certain death for a mage, but not today, not even without her staff. She twisted her fingers at her side then with a quick turn of her body a wall of flame encircled the remaining twenty-two Templars. She was not the prey, she was the predator. A barrage of their mana-purging abilities bombarded her from all sides, with no effect. To everyone's shock, including Evelyn's, her flame wall still held and she could still cast. 'Well isn't that interesting.' As they all looked from one to the other, she felt a shift in their energy - the song was singing to them, yet it only lurked in the shadows of her thoughts. She remembered it had liked the violence that was done to her - it was orchestrating this fight. 'It's letting me fight.' With that thought came the surge of bloodlust in her and she let out a gasping moan. She began to shake as her mana surged needing release again as the red lyrium pushed her to the brink.

An overpowered immolation spell exploded, breaking the Templar line. Eighteen. Swords descended upon her, but her barrier held. She placed a discreet mine behind her, but it was tripped sooner than she expected as a crazed Templar charged her not bothering to search the ground. Seventeen. She fade stepped dodging the next few lunges that came her way, but instead of moving away from the cluster of Templars, she appeared back in the center of them. Their swords having missed were grounded by the force of their swings. A golden spirit blade appeared cutting them in half with a graceful twirl. Thirteen. She fade stepped again, but this time out of her flaming wall. She walked along the perimeter stalking her prey, who were unaware of the predator circling them. Adrenaline and mana pulsed through her harder than ever. She lobbed a few fireballs in sewing chaos among them. They choked on the smoke, but to their credit they dodged the attacks successfully. With visibility low, the next few Templars were eliminated by fade stepping back through the flames and impaling them with her spirit blade. Twelve. Eleven. Ten. Nine. Eight.

Dowsing the flames now, smoke drifted across the ruins of their camp. Every Templar's eyes were on her. It was time she finished them. The Templars acted fast, charging in on her. Acting as a unit, all eight of them grabbed her arms and shoulders draining her mana simultaneously. Their arms glowed with a crackling red aura. Unlike the lyrium poisoning her, their power sought to prevent her from touching her power. Her mana pushed against their power trying to free itself. Evelyn felt the lyrium ignite within and before she realized what she was doing, she had broken the carefully built walls of restraint around her mana. Ethereal fire engulfed them all and one by one she felt their hands slip away from her. Zero. Even after they were dead, her mana didn't relinquish. Like that fateful day back on her family's estate when she was 10 years old, the flame was uncontrollable. She hadn't felt the sensation for years. It wasn't unlike the feeling of blood gushing forth in excess, just not as visceral. Before she could even attempt in earnest to tame her power as First Enchanter Lydia had taught her, it stopped.

From the dark recesses of her mind, the song emerged again, but it was different from before and it came with a plan. Having full access to her mana was only one of its objectives. It used the corrupted Templars to suit its purpose and now it had to control her, as Samson had said. Horror and panic replaced her bloodlust as she was taken back to the Ostwick Circle the night it fell. She didn't know how the red lyrium was doing it, but when physical pain failed to control her, it now resorted to fear tactics drawing on her memories. She looked around her old room in the tower finding that everything was how it had been; Ilara praying to the Maker; Evelyn across the room from her separated by the bed; and three Templars. As the memory moved forward and Evelyn had pushed Ilara over the bed, she heard her friend scream in terror. The door was gone. She immediately went for her dagger under the pillow - it was gone. She reached for her staff under the bed - it too was gone.

Looking over to Ilara, the two men were already pawing at her. Evelyn jumped up to save her friend but found herself restrained by two hands on her shoulders. A quick jerk slammed her into the cold stone wall of her bedroom. Ilara screamed for Evelyn to help her, but Evelyn stood frozen as she looked into the big brown eyes of Aeron.

"Well, well Trevelyan, it seems this time things aren't going to go your way." Evelyn screamed.

Over and over she relived that night in the tower, except she never escaped. She stopped counting after about the tenth time the memory replayed itself. Each time she and Ilara suffered before she was eventually killed in some horrific way. Death was not an escape. They were raped, tortured and sometimes forced to do acts that even in her wildest darkest dreams she could never conceive of. While she could not actually feel the heinous acts being committed against her existing somewhere between the waking world and the Fade, it all seemed real enough to her. Before each act of torture, Aeron would say, "This can all stop, you just have to give it what it wants. Are you ready?" The answer was no, she endured its pain, she would endure this… somehow.

"And that's when I heard Ilara calling to me before it all went black again." Everyone sat in contemplative silence. Cullen admired her resolve, Maker knows he knows what it's like to fight your own demons. To dig so deep within yourself for strength knowing that if you falter for even a moment it meant death. He saw it now written on her face, for he had worn it too - in some ways he still did when he awoke from his nightmares. Josephine stood and walked towards Trevelyan, who looked up at the Ambassador from her reclined position on the cot.

"I think I speak for all of us when I say we are truly sorry for the ordeal and wish you a speedy recovery, my Lady." Josephine eyed the bottle on the side table. With a shaky hand, she reached out and took a quick swig of the spirits, gently placed it down and beat a hasty retreat from the infirmary. Leliana, for once shocked by the uncharacteristic display of the Ambassador, gave her thanks as well and followed her out.

"Thank you Knight-Enchanter, you have given us valuable information at great cost to yourself. Maker speed your recovery." Cassandra spoke softly. "Commander, will you see to stationing a Templar in here?"

"Yes, of course." With that, only Cullen remained. Trevelyan just stared at him with a blank expression. "I -- uh.." He wanted to tell her he understood a bit of what she was going through, but he couldn't put it into words. "I would like to come to check on you tomorrow, if you'd allow me?" She thought about it for a moment, narrowing her eyes at him trying to divine if he had an alternative motive.

"If your time allows. Don't feel bad if you can't, I know there are more pressing matters for you to attend to."

He nodded sheepishly and called for a Templar. "Goodnight Trevelyan. Glad to see you back safe."

"Goodnight Cullen."

Notes:

Thank you for reading, we are so close to reaching the start of where the game picks up!

Chapter 9: The Cavalry Arrives

Summary:

Evelyn recovers physically, but thanks to the arrival of her kin, her mental health begins to improve. Cullen is introduced to some of Evelyn's family. Evelyn prepares for the Conclave.

Evelyn's physical recovery was quicker than expected with the help of Ilara's magic and poultices, coupled with Evelyn's solemn promise to follow her instructions to the letter. By the third day, she was already out of bed and walking the camp several times a day. She walked with a hitch in her step, for which Henley and Sorin began playfully calling her 'gimpy,' but she needed to get out of bed and clear her mind despite the teasing. She appreciated them trying to help her resume some normalcy to her days, and while she flashed a smile or gave a laugh, it was purely for their benefit. She confided her true innermost feelings to only one person. She was the one person who could see her weak, broken and hurting and that was Ilara.

Evelyn lived in a man's world as a Knight-Enchanter. It was not a world where one could show weakness without being mocked or called a coward. Oddly enough it was also why she liked it for it taught her to be strong and think rationally, rather than emotionally. The fact remained though that she was still a woman with a plethora of complex emotions. Ilara was everything she was not and there were times she wished she could find the harmony of being a strong warrior and a soft emotional female.

Aside from emotional scarring, she also contended with physical the ones. Cullen had kept his word and came to visit her, thankfully looking less guilty by the day. She conjured a pleasant smile and always had a quip about her leg ready, though he was more interested in her withdrawal symptoms which had lasted only a few days. She truly did not blame him, but she began to feel self-conscious about the large gruesome scar she was going to have to live with. Her legs were one part of her body she never felt self-conscious about. They were remarkably Trevelyan being long and toned. She remembered when she and her sisters would attend her Great Aunt Lucille's Summer Ball. The Trevelyan girls were the most sought after dancers in all the Free Marches. Even Evelyn always seemed to have her pick of dance partners as her fame increased through the years. Her brothers always had a job of fending off her sisters' suitors and shooting dangerous glares to those brave enough to comment on their figures. Her older sisters' legs were much softer in their curves, but then again they weren't getting into fights with demons, apostates and rogue Templars as she was. She felt her legs had always been the most sensual part of her. Hidden in armor, tall thigh-high boots, and on occasion, flowing dresses, they had always been the one part of her that pleasantly surprised her bedmates, including Henley, the most. That had now been taken away and with it a part of her confidence.

She didn't mind scars here and there, but this one was ugly - there was no better word to describe it. She spoke to Ilara about her options, even going so far as to bring Master Taigen, an expert alchemist and physician, in to look at it. He was a sweet man, which made his partnership with Apothecary Adan all the more baffling. The two came up with an experimental salve for her to use twice a day that might help reduce the scar's appearance, but it was all theoretical. There was one good thing that came from it, which was that Master Taigen was impressed with Ilara's knowledge and experience so much so, that he got her special permission to enter the village and help him with a project he started when Henley was first brought to Adan after his bout of red lyrium poisoning. They had cumulatively treated a mage and Templar successfully and now had a wealth of new leads into the effects of lyrium on the body. Seeking new understanding through the differences and some theorizing, they hoped to understand the addictive nature of it to help treat Templars. Evelyn couldn't have been prouder of her friend.

Another thing the red lyrium stole from her was her comfort around Templars. It was first tested the night Aeron and his lackeys attacked her and now Sampson threatened to crush all the trust she placed in The Order. It took her a few days to get used to having a Templar in her presence who wasn't trying to kill her. Each one who rotated in to watch her, was asked to remove their helm so she could see they weren't red. Even though she knew deep down they were not the enemy, she walked with her head down around the gates and training grounds where they tended to gather in their armor.

Last night had been the first time she had slept since she'd been found. Ilara had made her a tonic to force her to sleep since Evelyn was not going to on her own for fear of nightmares. Sleeping in her tent once more, she and Ilara had pushed their cots together. Henley volunteered to be the Templar on duty during the nights to watch her since both women were comfortable with him invading their private quarters. Waking up in a sweat several times from nightmares, Ilara would have to recount to her that they had not been violated in the various ways she had seen in her dreams and that Aeron was long dead. She found that her memory of that night was marred with inaccuracies since in the grip of the waking dream caused by the red lyrium. It had stopped singing to her, but she couldn't help the feeling it was waiting to ambush her from the deep recesses of her mind if she let her guard down. It made her anxious and paranoid jumping at everyday sounds, like music in particular, so she tended to walk the more quiet places of camp.

With her now off bed rest, she was summoned to talk with the advisors who wished to follow up with her on a few points. Cassandra came often to check her red lyrium levels with her abilities. Evelyn had not known before Seekers had such an ability, but then again she had no reason to be around Seekers before. The Seeker mentioned she had experience in measuring lyrium levels and things of the like in Templars, so she'd be able to tell when it was out of her system. However, the most concerning thing was that the red lyrium had made her lose control over her abilities for a time. They hoped it was a temporary condition and that through exercises and training, she'd be back to normal. Cassanadra again took a personal interest, as did Varric as they accompanied her to a secluded area with a few other Templars away from camp to train to test her. There was a clear breach in her control when she fired a few spells about. They fizzled and crackled oddly veering off target. She felt like a novice again, but after about two hours she started to regain her precision. When asked by the Seeker how she felt, she described the flow of her mana as a dam that had been broken. The flow of her mana was greater than before and if this was her new 'normal' she may just have to get used to it. She didn't mind her spells now having an even bigger punch to them than before, but it was dangerous until she could manage to control it.

More days passed as they drew closer to the start of the Conclave. Three days to be exact. The day was bright and sunny and everyone was taking advantage of the beautiful weather. Being outdoors always improved her mood as well as exercise. Much to the disappointment of her mother, from an early age she was never content sitting in a salon listening to the drivel that poured from their guests' mouths while practicing her needlepoint. Often times no one paid her much attention as the fifth born, and she could sneak out to play with her brothers. She was working up a sweat at the training grounds when Henley came back from patrol. At seeing him approach in full armor, she gave a huff.

"Maker, you must be sweating."

"It's times like this I wish you or Sorin knew some ice spells." He crossed his arms and watched her practice with her staff blade against one of the practice dummies. With her ribs still a bit sore, she was more testing her range of motion more that striking for force. "Don't you want to ask me how the patrol went?" She eyed him suspiciously.

"Why would I do that? So you can tell me about all the action I'm missing." He hummed a laugh as he tried to hide his mischievous smile. "You're going to tell me anyway, aren't you?"

"Right you are! So there we were fighting off some rogue Templars," she rolled her eyes at his exuberance, "when a fine company of cavalry came thundering down from the hills breaking the enemy line. I've never seen finer horsemen in my life." He cast a sideways glance at her, seeing she was getting ready to bring out her noble haughtiness. He knew she was of the opinion that there were no finer cavalry and horses than those of her father's in all of Thedas. Before she could sass him, he added, "Perhaps, you should come see them?" He didn't have to ask her twice before she was already marching off leaving him to catch up.

In the distance, she could see the large company of cavalry standing in formation inside the gates. Their Silverite armor sparked in the sunlight. It wasn't until they got closer that she could determine the breed of their mounts - Free Marches Rangers. She gave Henley a look of shock as he just nodded to her watching her grin grow until she gave a girlish squeal before running off. There was nothing forced or fake about her smile this time. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt true happiness. Glancing at the crests on their polished shields, her heart all but exploded with untainted joy. She looked about for the commanding officer's horse, finding it without a rider towards the front of the company. From behind the horse, she spotted Cullen talking with a soldier whom she could only assume was its missing rider. His back was to her, but by his stature she could only know it to be her eldest brother, Hector. He was slightly taller than the Commander with a slender frame like their father. Hector was eight years her senior, married with two young strapping Trevelyan boys to solidify the family line. He was the best of their siblings and she loved him dearly, and not because he was in every way like their father.

She approached them slowly, praying to the Maker that this wasn't some cruel image conjured by the red lyrium in one last-ditch effort to break her. The two were too busy talking to notice her until she stood just off to their side. Words were failing her as her heart began to beat every fiber of her back to life. The dark horrors of her recent ordeal began to fade as the bright burning love of seeing her kin blinded her to all else. When she heard him speak, a sob choked out of her causing both men to turn to face her. Hector stared at her a moment taking in the sight of his youngest sister.

"Evie," his smile spread across his face as the gentle breeze licked up his ashen brown and gray-streaked hair. He spread his arms wide and she hobbled as quickly as she could into them. He squeezed her in a gentle embrace, clearly picking up that she had been wounded, cradling her head and shoulders against him. When they parted, he held her out by the shoulders looking her over. "Maker you look awful, what happened to you?" She almost had forgotten having been lost in her happiness. As the darkness crept forth, she willed it back, she would be stronger than it. As the old adage says, love will conquer all.

"You know me, I find trouble wherever I go." He raised an eyebrow at her, lowering his gaze at her. "I'm on the mend and the Commander here has me on orders to remain in camp, so I can't get into any more trouble. I can't tell you how happy I am to see you, Hector!"

"And what about your favorite brother?" Another familiar voice called to her across the field. Upon turning she spotted her male doppelganger. Owayne was two years older but anyone who saw them together assumed they were twins. They had the same brown eyes, shade of brown hair, soft square jaw and same talent for getting into trouble. Whereas trouble found Evelyn, Owayne looked for it. He had connections within the Ostwick underworld and his own crew who he ran jobs with. He didn't do it for coin or valuables, he did it for the thrill. While he was a fearsome rogue, their father had brought them up with a good moral compass, so he was more of a vigilante keeping an eye out for the people of Ostwick from the shadows. He crouched down and began stalking Evelyn, to which both she and Hector started to protest right away knowing what he was about to do.

"No, no Owayne! You can't---!" She was scrambling to get the words out of her mouth quick enough, as was Hector while the poor Commander just looked on curiously. Owayne squatted lower getting ready to tackle her as he moved forward. "Wait, wait look," she grabbed a fistful of her shirt lifting it to reveal her bandaged ribs which stopped him dead. She sighed in relief glad she didn't have to go back to Ilara and get a tongue lashing.

"Evie," he said teasingly, "tell me who the bastard was who did this and I'll gut them like a fish for you." He gently took her face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Sorry, but I beat you to it." She flashed a knowing look to Cullen. His brow knitted a bit knowing what she was making light of.

"That's my sis!" He turned away from her to greet the man she had just shared a moment with. "Lord Owayne Maxwell Trevelyan," he held his hand out to Cullen who grasped it and introduced himself in kind. Hector stepped forward to speak to Cullen about stabling their horses, which there was no stable, so the two discussed their options. Owayne hooked arms with Evelyn and they strode away leaving them to sort it out.

"So, the Commander," he looked at her wiggling his eyebrows.

"Don't start, you just got here! He's my commanding officer and nothing is going on."

"Didn't stop you and Henley." She smacked his shoulder. Being closest in age to each other, compared to their other siblings, the two shared almost everything with each other. There were certain things siblings refrained from talking about with each other, but he had known she was involved with Henley. When she was able to visit home, Henley usually chaperoned her. Her whole family got to know Henley over the years, but only Owayne had noticed there was something more going on between them.

"Henley is seeing Ilara now, so do me a favor and try not to be an arse."

"Well, don't we have a lot to catch up on."

"You don't know the half of it."

---

The Trevelyans had officially overrun the camp. The Trevelyan lords had brought with them half a dozen of their cousins, all Chantry clerics of various ranks, who were attending the Conclave. Cullen jokingly thought to himself if one Trevelyan was trouble, he'd have to have the whole camp on alert for the lot of them. Josephine had been busy all day preparing accommodations for them, which he was certain would never live up to their expectations based on the bits of conversation he caught. Luckily for him, he was better suited to see to the needs of the company of horsemen. The eldest Lord Trevelyan, to his credit, stayed with him to help oversee the set up of temporary pens and stables for the horses. Typically, he disliked having to work with nobles who "commanded" their own troops for the fact that most of the time their appointment was based on blood, rather than their ability to actually lead men in battle. Lord Hector not only had noble blood, but seemed a competent enough commander who had the respect of his men. From Henley's report, it seems like they were fortunate to have had his assistance. Unlike his sister, he did not possess the haughty attitude befitting a noble, but instead kept his voice low, firm and even.

When Lord Hector told him his men were at his disposal, Cullen almost knelt and prayed to the Maker right at his feet. He doubted that the whole company was needed to help escort their cousins, and so he thought maybe the Knight-Enchanter had something to do with it. The rogue Templars may be some of the best melee fighters in all of Thedas, but they were nothing against a fine company of cavalry. Templars were simply not trained to fight them, as the likelihood of a mage taking on Templars on a horse was slim at best.

The hour was late when he finally finished up the last of his neglected paperwork from in his cabin. He had pushed through a bad migraine in order to get it done, feeling guilty that he had spent his day speaking with Lord Trevelyan about his men and their training rather than reading reports. He had been curious, secretly hoping one day to have a company of cavalry of his own to utilize. Having now taken care of his actual work, he sat back in his chair closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. It was quiet, he didn't like quiet. After growing up in a house of rowdy siblings and then to a barracks, he was used to a certain amount of noise, but the only noise he heard was that of his stomach growling. A migraine and growling stomach would make sleeping more impossible than it was already. He thought a brisk walk to the tavern for some food would kill two birds with one stone. He stood up, raising his arms to stretch out his stiff back from sitting hunched over for too long. He retucked his linen shirt into his leather pants and donned his fur mantle before heading out to the tavern.

He resided himself to eating alone, as his usual eating partner was on duty. He and Rylen were now taking turns with their shifts, not wanting to yield any ground to the rebel mages or Templars. With dignitaries arriving daily, keeping the roads safe and tracking enemy movements became a full-time job. The village was quiet, though the camp was bustling outside the walls. With no signs of a large attack on Haven immanent from scouting reports, he was going to try and take a night to himself before the demands of the Conclave required him on duty at all hours of the day.

The tavern was fairly quiet compared to what it had been in the past few weeks. Upon entering his eyes met Lord Hector's, who was seated next to the fireplace and oddly alone. He greeted him and insisted he join him.

"The other two are sorting through the bar looking for a bottle, but they'll join us soon."

"I don't wish to disturb your reunion, surely you'd like to speak privately."

Lord Hector shook his head. "Not at all. We had a long day, I'm sure you could use a drink," Cullen's stomach growled loudly, "and something to eat. We've already placed an order, but we'll get you added to it." Cullen began to protest such generosity, but Lord Hector wouldn't hear of it. Soon enough, the other Trevelyans returned with a bottle and glasses in hand. Upon seeing him, the Knight-Enchanter spun to retrieve another glass for him and Lord Hector called after her to add him to their order.

The first hour passed by quickly as they shared a few drinks and ate. The conversations were kept light talking of their estate in Ostwick, current events and politics with the occasional embarrassing family story thrown in here or there for a good laugh. They kept his mind engaged, plate occupied and cup full at all times. They even insisted he call them by their Maker-given names, even Evelyn. She had argued that since she was permanently off duty, she was officially under the jurisdiction of the Lady Ambassador as a guest of the Divine and he had to do as she said or she'd submit a formal complaint. When he told her that he'd have to cancel all of the upcoming training she was supposed to instruct for the mages, she quickly recanted her allegiance back to him. She still, however, insisted he call her Evelyn or she singe his pants off, which he knew now was no idle threat, and obliged.

Since they had first met, he had noticed that those who knew her had sworn a fierce loyalty to the woman. How she got a whole group of over 50 people to lie for her for a week was quite an accomplishment. Up until this night, he hadn't understood why, but after conversing with the Trevelyans for the last few hours he began to see why. They were genuine and caring, not just for each other, but for those they served with. They never made him feel as if he was an unwelcome presence in their conversation and seemed interested in his honest opinions. It was worrisome to a degree how easily it was to put the Commander aside and let Cullen through for the evening. He even went on in detail about growing up in Honnleth, something he hadn't spoken of in years. For whatever reason, here were three nobles listening to a farm boy talk of his spartan upbringing, and they listened with interest. He and Evelyn had talked before about milling and he found it refreshing not having to feel ashamed as he spoke about it. Often when nobles inquired about his family's trade they'd scoff at him or drop the subject as if it was too beneath them to speak about. They even asked him questions which they were too embarrassed to ask their Miller back in Ostwick about.

It was then that he realized something, a sort of pattern emerging. Evelyn leveraged her position with the Divine to protect her people, even when she could've saved herself. Hector worked alongside him all day to make sure his men and horses were taken care of when he could've left it to his men. All of them were invested in the people who labored to support their horses and estate. It made him think of day she was arrested and they spoke in the cells and how different that woman was from the one now sitting across from him. The ferocity to which she defended her people against him, who was a stranger at the time, and speaking with him now as if they've known each other for years now all made sense. They were extremely loyal to each other and to those who placed their trust in them. Loyalty and trust were scarcely found among the nobility in this age. He had lived through the Fifth Blight in Ferelden and the betrayal of King Cailan by Teryn Loghain. The land had fell to chaos and instead of protecting their people, the nobility scrambled to gain land and power. His family had suffered under their neglect, resulting in the death of his parents, and it had made him bitter toward nobles. However, it would seem there was more to the Trevelyans than meets the eye.

If Evelyn hadn't mentioned that Owayne was a few years older than her, he would've thought them twins. They were identical even in personalities making Cullen feel as if Owayne had been here for weeks along with his sister. Of course, their closeness made him think of his own siblings, which they asked about in length. He and his older sister Mia were similar in mannerisms and personality; He and his younger brother Branson are identical as Evelyn and Owayne are, with the exception of Branson's hair being a few shades darker and his more easygoing attitude; and the youngest, Rosalie, was as far opposite of him as could be. He assumed they were all still living and working the farm and mill in South Reach, but he couldn't be certain. Both Branson and Rosalie were of age to marry and could've left home, leaving Mia and her family the farm. He did receive word he was an uncle while in Kirkwall, but no mention of any weddings. The three must've sensed there was a reason why he had not heard from them in some time.

To be fair, it was mostly his fault. He had suffered torture from demons while stationed at Kinloch Hold and again in Kirkwall which left its scars on him. Not proud of the man he became, he cut himself off from his family thinking he was protecting them. He wasn't so sure now if he was protecting them or himself from facing what was done to him. One day he'd gather the courage to write them, but he just wasn't ready yet.

"Speaking of letters, Evie, mother wanted me to give you this." She did not look pleased at all. As Hector slid the letter over to her on the table, she acted as if it was a large hairy spider crawling her way.

"Pray tell, what did I do this time to disappoint Lady Bann Trevelyan? I was quite literally on the run for the past year, what could I have possibly done?" She looked at Cullen with a huff, adding, "In case you didn't pick up on it earlier, I am the disgrace of the Trevelyan family." Her brothers shook their heads at her dramatic statement. "Well, at least to most."

"Mother wouldn't be so hard on you if you'd indulge her every once in a while." Cullen could see Hector was a practiced mediary between the two.

"Are you forgetting who called the Templars on me? Who, rather than comfort her own flesh and blood, comforted that wicked little…" she pursed her lips tightly to stop herself before tossing the letter in the fireplace. Abruptly, she turned to him once more and told the story of the day she came into her magic. Of the girl who tortured her as a child, the first time her mana glowed from feral rage, her father's intervention with the Templars and her vow to do good. He had heard many similar stories in his time as a Templar, and in his early years, brought new mages to the Circle. Their plight was the same no matter their station, with some parents accepting it and others disowning their children.

He thought back to how incandescently happy she looked once she saw Hector and Owanye. They had accepted her with her magic, and Evelyn fiercely loved them for it. The past few days before their arrival, she seemed dead inside. The woman was a ghost of her former self. Her smile faded quickly, her laugh was only to be polite and even though she listened to the things he'd say or ask, she stared as if he were speaking in a different tongue. If she thought she was putting on a brave face for the shake of her friends, it had not worked. They all saw through it, and they approached Cullen to ask that he pretend along with them. Enchanter Ilara had been the only one she had been confiding in, and decided it was best for Evelyn to keep busy and resume a daily routine. Though she was off duty, he promised the Enchanter he'd approach her about conducting training sessions, but not until Cassandra cleared her.

Cassandra had informed him that it only took two days for the red lyrium to leave her system. Thankfully mages had more of an immunity to lyrium, even the red stuff, than normal people. Her concern was her ability to wield her new power. It seemed it had not only caused traumatic damage, but it mutated her mana as well. Evelyn was already a powerful mage, of that he could feel. Though he was no longer taking lyrium, his Templar senses were still sensitive to the sensation of magic. It was just this very morning that Cassandra had cleared her for light duty, happy in the fact that she was experienced, determined and a mage of good judgment when it came to knowing her mana. With that, he immediately secured her space and times on the training grounds - along with Templars. Between focusing on training and the new distraction of her brothers, he hoped to see some of the old Evelyn, knowing all too well how hard it was to come back from trauma like that and be the same person you once were. If he wasn't so ashamed of his own past, perhaps they could've found empathy and understanding in each other.

"Well, if I'm to be in any condition to train some mages tomorrow I better get to bed." The men consented and with stretches and groans they struck out into the night. Hector and Owayne forged ahead distracted by their own conversation, but Evelyn fell back in step with him. "Can you believe we got through an evening without getting ourselves into trouble?" He couldn't help but give a chuckle.

"A small miracle, I almost find myself disappointed."

"Be careful what you wish for, you still haven't made it to your cabin. A dragon could come swooping down to attack Haven."

"Maker forbid, if that ever happens, I'll buy drinks and personally clean your armor for a week." She narrowed her eyes at him, tapping her lips with a finger considering his wager.

"Hmm, I'll take that bet. I always wanted to fight a dragon." They stopped short of the village gates and watched her brothers disappear. Looking to catch up with them, she walked backwards and called back to him, "Goodnight Cullen, don't find trouble without me!"

---

In stark contrast to the previous day, the sky was gray and the rain fell in steady light sheets. When she arrived at the training grounds, she found she had no one to train. Apparently, the mages thought wars were only fought on nice days. As she went about rounding them up barking at them like the Commander, limping as she went tent to tent. It had occurred to her that these mages really didn't have to contend with the weather messing up their daily routine in the Circle, nor had they experienced the discomfort of wet socks, poor footing or wet hair whipping in their face as you cast. However, coddling them was not going to serve them well in battle. Way behind schedule, she resigned to do what she could fit in, ignoring the constant complaints from her pupils. She decided a little discomfort would do them a world of good, and since they would most likely be fighting Templars without the use of their magic, she thought lessons using their staves in melee combat would be perfect.

"You there, there's a staff in your hand, block with it! If this man was your enemy you'd be dead!"

"I think you've been listening to me for too long, I'm rubbing off on you, Knight-Enchanter," Cullen said trying to hide his amusement from the recruits, but she saw how the scar on his lip twitched if but for a second.

"Copying is the sincerest form of flattery, you know," she said with a sideways glance. "Hopefully you're distracting me from training to tell me you saw a dragon, ser?"

"No, I came to make sure the recruits all showed up. I heard you yelling at them from all the way in my field tent earlier."

"Everyone is here, though it seems a little rain and mud made them think training would be canceled." A nearby recruit who was sparring slipped and fell with a wet plop into the mud. He picked up a mud-covered hand and looked at it disgustingly, then attempted to shake some of it off hitting Evelyn in the face with it. The training field grew quiet as everyone abruptly stopped their sparring. She closed her eyes taking a deep breath. The haze the rain created reflected the glow from her mana which peaked out through her light armor. Wiping the mud knowing she was spreading it further across her cheek, she came up with a wicked idea. Cullen was still beside her, but his scowl was pointed at the recruit who continued to be more concerned with the mud on himself than what he had just done.

"Commander," she began loud enough for all to hear, "if you'd help me with a demonstration." He followed her to the center of the field where everyone could see. "Now then, we are going to move on to fighting from the ground. Naturally, your goal will be to get back on your feet, however, your opponent will not make it easy on you." Evelyn turned to face Cullen, motioning for him to draw his long sword. "So, here you are in the middle of a fight and your opponent manages to get you down on the ground," Cullen raised an eyebrow as if to ask 'are you sure?' She nodded and added, "If you'd do the honors, Commander." The Knight-Enchanter lunged at him purposely missing a strike on him, while he grabbed her staff twisting her with from force down into the mud. The recruits laughed softly until the realization dawned on them that they were all going to be in the mud soon.

"Your opponent isn't going to politely wait for you to get back up, so you'll have to defend while getting your feet into position to stand, or if you're more athletic, you can dodge and roll up to your feet. For now, we'll practice the former." Since she had landed on her hip, her legs were angled out to the right of her. She nodded at Cullen again who began hacking at her from above slowly. "As you move your feet into position, deflect the blows off to alternating sides in an arch. When the timing is right, use the downward momentum and leverage on your staff to pop up." Once she was up, and the demonstration complete, she called for questions and they began one more demonstration faster this time. It went on as it did before, but this time as she went to stand, she swiped her staff low hooking Cullen's foot and pulling it out from under him. He caught himself before face-planting into the mud with his arms. A sharp turn of his head towards her and a glare from his amber eyes, made her spin purposely and order the recruits to pair off and practice what they were shown. The low rumble from their concern about soiling their robes thankfully hid the Commander's anger toward her.

"Trevelyan," he growled drawing out the syllables of her surname. All she could do was smile back stupidly at him, thinking that the finishing move was perhaps poor judgment on her part. His leather gloves and vambraces were caked with mud. Having landed mostly on his right side, the streak of mud covered from his lower back to boot. Sheathing his sword he walked over to her, keeping in mind they were surrounded by recruits. He sighed heavily while wiping his gloves together trying to lose some of the heavy mud looking out at the mages as they begrudgingly fell into the mud. "You know, I have a council meeting to attend in a few minutes."

"I'm sure the mere mention of my name will suffice as an excusable explanation, ser." He grunted knowing this to be true. She was trying so hard not to laugh as she pictured him meeting with the other advisors, and possibly the Divine, looking like a wet mangey lion.

"Carry on, Knight-Enchanter," he glowered at her until he was forced to turn his head to look where he was going. After he was out of sight she couldn't help but bite her lip from smiling. Had he really just left without chewing me out? Maybe he thought he owed her and her brothers for dinner last night? Maybe he didn't want to undermine her authority in front of her subordinates? Or maybe, he saw her as a friend after all. A friend would act as he did. Interesting.

---

Later on, well after she had finished up training and had changed out of her muddy clothes, she passed by the Commander's field tent. The flaps were open and through the night's haze, she saw several officers gathered around his desk, including Hector. As she passed in front, she heard Sampson's name spoken. She froze as a chill crept up her spine. In her mind's eye, his face appeared. Every detail came back in vividly, from his greasy hair to his big red eyes. His face twisted up in that sinister smirk of his. His voice echoed in her head, Well, aren't you something, Evelyn Trevelyan! The smell of fire and blood filled her nostrils, she heard the sounds of dying Templars and then the face of the blond-haired woman appeared mouthing, Shall we see how your stitches are healing? Their laughter at the woman's handiwork made her sick. She clutched her leg and mouth as her knees gave out. Her head spun as she fought the pull of the Void.

Suddenly people were running at her, but they were just a blur against the bright light of the tent. The light reflected off metal surfaces; they were men in armor - Templar armor. Her flight-or-fight instincts tended to favor fight, this time being no exception, and the Phoenix brightened the darkness of the night. As the light chased away the shadows, it illuminated the men in front of her. The first face her eyes rested on was that of Hector, who had not flinched as the others did at seeing the blaze of her wings.

"Evelyn?" His voice was strong and brought her clarity through his use of her full first name, which he only used in formal settings. The present came flooding back to her - Haven, the officers in the Commander's tent and the mention of Sampson.

"It's ok, I'm alright." She let go of her leg, the phantom pain gone, and took his hands to stand. She heard Cullen usher them back inside to give them some privacy. She could see his shadowed figure silhouetted against the light from the tent. "I'm sorry, Commander, I didn't mean to disrupt your meeting. I thought I saw a dragon and got excited I won the bet," she called over to him. He placed his hands on his hips, and though she couldn't see his face, she knew he didn't buy it. Hector followed up, telling him he'd come see him later to get caught up on what he missed after seeing her back to her tent.

"Why do you have to do that?" Her big brother was coming out, the one who would keep she and Owanye in line when they were children around the Trevelyan estate.

"Do what?"

"Lie, joke or however else you ignore your problems?" Hector could be soft and stern at the same time.

"Because… because I don't know what else to do! I feel like I'm losing my mind sometimes, it was only when you and Owanye showed up that I've been able to feel more like myself and less like this shell of a person. I hate it! I'm the Phoenix of Ostwick, not some victim! I heard Sampson's name mentioned at your meeting and his face appeared along with… other things. It was like blacking out, but not. This… weakness is embarrassing." He sighed, worry and love in his eyes as he listened.

"You've been through something terrible. It's not surprising you're having flashbacks. I've seen it in soldiers who have seen death and other horrible things. If you were expecting to recover from this like after a normal day of fighting off rebels, than you were wrong. You need time," he poked her forehead," to sort things out in here. There is no shame in admitting you're not alright. You have people here who love you - me, Owanye, Ilara, Sorin, Henley - let us help you." A solitary tear rolled down her cheek. He reached out with his long thumb and swiped it away.

"I don't want to be broken."

"You're not broken. You're too strong to let this weigh you down for long." His eyes bore into her soul bringing forth her own courage to face her demons. "Now it's late, can I walk you back to your tent?" She nodded and nuzzled herself into his embrace as he led her through the dark. When they reached her tent, Ilara was waiting for her. Her sixth sense must've told her something was wrong and she stood outside with her arms crossed looking like a worried mother. Hector gave her a kiss goodnight and headed back to the meeting. As he walked away, she said a silent prayer to the Maker for blessing her with a brother like him.

---

The night before the Conclave was celebrated by the entirety of the camp with food, drink and music. With the camp full to bursting with dignitaries, clerics, Templars, mages and curious pilgrims, campfires lit the night landscape in a warm glow for as far as you could see. Evelyn slowly warmed up to the sounds of all the music playing, for fear of having another episode. When she made it to their large bonfire, Sorin was quick to get her a drink and sit with her as all their friends from Ostwick danced. She leaned her shoulder on him enjoying his closeness. It had been some time since they saw each other for longer than a few minutes as he was always on duty.

"Snuggling, this is new," he said with a tight-lipped smile. She half expected him to pull away since their relationship had never been the warm-fuzzy type, but his smile hinted to her that this new show of affection was acceptable. "How are you feeling?"

"Ok, so far. I-- think I just want to sit." She didn't have to say more than that for him to understand. Since, speaking with Hector the other night, she began to open up more about how she was feeling with him and Henley in particular. To their credit, they didn't joke about it, didn't think any less of her, they just let her set the pace and took their cues from her. She sipped from her tankard and watched her friends as they danced. Henley and Ilara whirled around, occasionally drawing close for a kiss or embrace. She couldn't help but think what a cute couple they were. Henley was so much larger with his dark hair and tanned skin. Ilara stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips with her twinkling blue eyes and long curly blonde hair. She secretly hoped one day she'd find a man who looked at her as he looked at Ilara, but that dark nagging in her head and loss of confidence banished such hope. Her thoughts began to spiral out of control about all her insecurities: scars, broken, freak, too duty-oriented ---

"Hey, are you listening to me?" She gave herself a good thump on the head. Sorin's dark eyes studied her. "What is going on in that head of yours?" She debated for a moment about lying to him, when her brother's words echoed in her mind.

"Just that my confidence isn't what it was. There's this darkness that creeps in… it comes and goes. It makes me question things I never used to question, and not in the good way." Sorin gave her a thoughtful gaze, smiling ever so slightly.

"Back in the Circle, people always asked me why I followed you around, always living in your shadow. Each time I told them the same thing, because you're a remarkable person. That I was honored that you saw something in me that made you want me by your side." She swallowed hard, having never known this in all the years of their friendship. "I still think that and that won't ever change. I believe in you, and just like always, I'm behind you in this fight too." Without a second thought, she hugged him. She couldn't help but wonder how much longer she would've not known this. She wasn't sure how long they stayed in each other's arms until Owayne stole her away to dance. As he dragged her off, she looked fondly back at Sorin once again regaining his stoic poise.

As the night went on, that bright blinding love of friends and family yet again chased away the shadows of her mind and she began to enjoy herself. Owayne twirled her about for a bit before she was ready to sit again and just enjoy the company of her friends. They talked about the Conclave and what her plan was, which was the same as it had always been. She'd help The Divine mediate and support Circle reforms, though not their dissolution. She would argue the Templar Order needs new leadership and better communication with the mages under their care. The more they talked and she went over her views, the more the passion of her beliefs empowered her. She had been without a purpose beyond their survival for long, it was as if she forgot about her past involvement in Circle politics.

Wanting to be at her best for tomorrow, she bid the group goodnight. Ilara went to join her but, she said she'd be alright on her own. There had been so little time to just sit back and enjoy life in the past year, she didn't want to take this night away from her. As she walked, she noticed a light coming from Cullen's field tent. She wondered how close he was to pulling his hair out over the security of the Conclave. She never asked Hector what was said about Sampson the other night in the meeting, but Hector had told her he was staying to help with the security for the duration of the Conclave which gave her a clue. At the opening to his tent, she could see him seated at his desk pouring over a field map and moving small wooden pieces around. He'd make a note here and there on his parchment then move on to his next report, no doubt keeping careful track of the enemy movements as scouting reports trickled in.

"Commander?" Evelyn popped her head into his field tent when she thought it would be the least disruptive. "Do you have a minute?"

"I do." He finished reading the report he had in his hand before giving her his full attention. "Shouldn't you be celebrating?"

"I was, but I have a job to do tomorrow, so I'm turning in early." He nodded at her good sense. "How did your meeting go the other day, you know, the one you went to looking like a wet Mabari?" He surprised her when he reclined back in his chair with a pleased look on his face, rather than the glare she received from him that day.

"The others advisors were so distracted, and possibly disgusted, by my appearance and smell they turned me out of the meeting saying they'd just send me the meeting notes. Apparently, all that was discussed was the treatment and complaints of our noble guests, so I should thank you for saving me from that tedium." He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin. "I'll have to try that again in the future." Evelyn stood there a bit dumbfounded.

"Well, then I suppose you're welcome. Never mind the guilt I've felt for the past two days." she laughed in spite of herself. Before continuing, she straightened her posture and took on a formal tone. "What I stopped in to say was that it has been an honor serving with you. Whatever happens tomorrow at the Conclave, I'll do my best to help the Divine. I'm not sure what will come after, but you can always count on my help." His expression softened to a point she had never seen it do as all the hard creases smoothed out.

"Thank you, Trevelyan." He looked as if he was going to say more, but the long pause was starting to get a bit too awkward for her. She gave a nod, but just before she turned he added in a raspy but coy voice, "You certainly were a pain in my arse. For some reason, I knew that the moment we met in the woods."

"Well, I did lie to you from the start, brought red lyrium into camp, posed as a healer…," he chucked at the ever-growing list of transgressions.

"You were a terrible healer, we would've figured it out eventually."

"Not if you kept running away like you did." She saw him blush at the memory. His hand went to the back of his neck to rub out some sudden stiffness. Not meaning to embarrass him, she quickly moved on, not wanting to linger satisfied with her goodbye. "Anyway, good luck with everything tomorrow, Commander."

"Good luck to us both."

Notes:

Thank you everyone for reading up to this point! We've finally arrived at the Conclave! The next chapter will be based off of the flow of the game for familiarity, however, the story will have my own personal twist to it. Let me know your thoughts on the backstory, I'd love to chat and hear your feedback :)

Chapter 10: The Wrath of Heaven

Summary:

Recounts the explosion of the Temple of Sacred Ashes from Cullen's POV and the recovery of the lone survivor. Evelyn struggles against the mark's magic as she tries to seal the Breech.

Notes:

A HUGE thank you goes out to the lovely IrinaPalmova for all of her help with this story! She's currently writing her own DAI story, please be sure to go check it out!

As a visual learner, I use Pinterest boards to help me with the descriptive aspects of the story (characters, clothing, etc.). I will be adding more as I go (can't give away clues for the later chapters coming!), if you're interested here's the link: https://www.pinterest.com/munklington/when-the-phoenix-flies/

One of Lord Hector's men was just finishing telling Cullen that they had begun to engage Sampson's forces when the Temple of Sacred Ashes exploded. The concussive force of the explosion tore through the valley bending trees and leveling everything in its path. He braced for impact as the ominous cloud of snow and debris closed in on him. The horse of the soldier he was talking to whined and reared as the cloud engulfed them. Not more than two seconds later, the shockwave hit. The force was such that it toppled the horse, who rolled onto his rider. Cullen was thrown landing on his back at least six feet from where he had been standing. As the dust cleared, he groaned and got himself to his feet, feeling as if he had been charged by a Pride demon. Off to his side was the fallen horseman, clutching his broken leg. He winced in pain, but his attention was turned skywards in shock.

"By the Maker…" his words trailed off at seeing an enormous swirling green vortex above where the temple once stood. He watched hypnotized until a flash of twisted green lightning struck down from its center followed by fiery green balls of some kind. He could hear their impact off in the distance followed by the distinct sounds of screaming. Glancing up again he saw one of the fireballs was headed toward them. It hit the ground with such force that the earth shot ten feet in the air. From the crater, a demon appeared and he now knew the reason for the screams. Seeing the wounded soldier as easy prey, it charged at him, but Cullen ran it through before it could get close. "Soldier, can you ride to Lord Hector?"

"I've rode with worse injuries, ser." The man whistled a specific few notes for his horse, who returned a minute later. Cullen would've been impressed if his mind wasn't scrambling to forge a plan for battle. "I may just need help getting up." The soldier was heavy in his Silverite armor, but it was still no challenge for him. Using his good leg, the soldier got himself up in the stirrups and with a deep breath threw the broken leg over the horse. "What shall I tell my Lord?"

"I need him to cut a path for us through the demons to the temple, rather its ruins. By the time he gets here I'll have a company following to help the survivors. We need to get all civilians back into the village for protection." With that, the soldier galloped off. He was quite amazed by the soldier's fortitude to ride with a broken leg, but there was that stout loyalty to the Trevelyans again - that and he was sure riding on a horse was the best way to not get killed by a demon when suffering from a broken leg.

Cullen looked back to the scene that was unfolding all around him as time seemed to slow. For fleeting moment he thought, Andraste preserve me, not again. Let it not be another Kirkwall. More demons landed within the camp and he realized it was not like Kirkwall - it was something worse. The most prominent sight was that of people running towards Haven's gate which he was standing beside. He barked at the gate guards to let everyone through and ordered a few more to remain at the gate and help the wounded inside. Above the tree line, Leliana's ravens were erratically flying in circles, swooping and diving in attempts to find their mistress. Every scout she had must've been sending reports in. One nearby raven cawed and flew directly at his head. He went to block the bird by holding up his forearm, but it grabbed onto it instead. It had a hastily written message tied on its leg.

Cullen,

If this message finds you, Cassandra and I are headed to the Temple. Reports will follow.

-- L.

Thank the Maker they're in one piece. With the bird tucked under his arm, he ran into his field tent and penned a short, 'Understood,' on the back of the parchment, and sent the raven back so they'd know he was alive. Several of his officers had made their way back to Haven with their men and he rallied them to march to the ruined temple. As they awaited Lord Hector's cavalry, more demons fell and he did his best to instruct his men on how best to dispatch them with the help of a few Templar veterans. Most of his men had at least a few weeks of hard training under their belt, but that was focused on fighting mages and Templars, not demons. He remembered his first time facing a demon after first joining The Order and knew nothing in their lives up until now would frighten them as much as what they were about to encounter. There would be casualties, many, many casualties today.

"Knight-Captain Henley!" he roared over the men.

"Ser!" his voice came from his right and he hustled forward.

"I need someone familiar with overseeing the wounded, so I place you in charge here. Every building within the walls will now be used to treat the wounded. Find Ambassador Montilyet and Enchanter Ilara and have them help you. Have your men set up defenses, Haven cannot fall, I'm headed to the temple to look for survivors."

"Understood, ser!" The Knight-Captain was off and barking orders without a second thought. With Henley taking care of Haven, he moved the rest of the men in preparation to follow Lord Hector's riders who had arrived finally. Bloodied, yet having only lost a few men, the Trevelyan cavalry rode to meet him.

"Commander, we received your message. We'll cut you a path to the temple." He nodded, but Hector still lingered looking to Owayne.

"We wondered if you had word of our sister?" Owayne's face was one of desperation. Cullen felt a cold chill in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't had time to think of those who they may have lost in the explosion. Another raven caught his attention as it hovered to land on him. Giving it his arm again, he quickly unrolled the message from Leliana and read it aloud.

"No survivors."

---

He had forgotten how much he hated fighting demons as his latest kill drenched him in fiendish ichor. It had been two days since the explosion which leveled the temple and killed everyone who had attended. Since then, Cullen had only slept a few hours in the past two days. Half of his men were dead or wounded. He and what veterans he had left had committed themselves to holding the forward camp they established at the temple's ruins where a number of what they called "rifts" had opened spewing demons forth. The apostate, Solas, had informed them that the hole in the sky, or "breach," was caused by a tear in the veil made by the magic of the explosion. Several others had appeared, but he was at the center of where the fighting was the worst.

There was a break in the fighting and he took the opportunity to regain his bearing. The sun had risen maybe an hour or two ago, but already snow clouds were blowing in. Snow was preferable to him at this point as the continuous fighting kept him in a lather of sweat and his breathing heavy. He took off his lion helmet and rubbed some snow over his head and the back of his neck. It had been at least eight hours since supplies such as healing potions, lyrium, food and drinking water had been sent from Haven. He assumed the supply cart had been attacked and was now left abandoned somewhere between them and the village. Sure, he was tired and hungry, but he had endured worse. He had no choice but to keep fighting until Cassandra, Leliana and Solas figured out a way to stop the demons from coming through the rifts.

He hoped by now Josephine had written to King Alistair and Empress Celene for aid, for he wasn't sure his forces would last the week. They were at the epicenter of a world crisis with no answers still as to who caused the explosion or why. Was it an assassination attempt on The Divine? But why would they kill everyone? That's very unlike the various assassin's guilds throughout Thedas. Did something go wrong? He couldn't allow himself to speculate now. He was trying to keep a mental image and count of his forces in his head as ravens continued to accost him from above with messages.

He dropped his shield for a moment to stretch out his sword arm. Pressing his fingers to his shoulder joint, he moved his arm in a circle listening to it pop and crack. Soreness was settling into his muscles and he was wishing he had those supplies.

"Cullen, take this." he looked over his shoulder to Owayne who had opted to stay with him after his horse was killed by a demon yesterday. He held out a healing potion to him, "I have one more, but it looks like you could use it." His tone was flat and grave, so unlike the man he'd become acquainted with.

"If you can spare it, thank you." He threw back the potion quickly not knowing how much time he had before the next wave of demons would appear. He, Rylen, Cyrus and Owayne had worked out their own system for killing the demons, but whether they could keep this up for much longer without supplies was questionable. Owayne and Cyrus were fueled by grief and rage over the loss of Evelyn. He had seen Owayne with glassy eyes more than once between waves and he threw himself without thought for himself at the demons. Cyrus was all but incinerating demons with his lightning spells. He was worried the mage was going to burn himself out before more lyrium reached them. All the faces he had come familiar with over the past weeks who were at the Conclave flashed through his mind, including hers.

The next wave of demons appeared with a flash of green light. He felt like he needed to say something so they didn't hurt themselves.

"Steady, she wouldn't want you two to throw your lives away here." He might not have known her as well as they had, but he knew that much. The slump in their posture told him he got through to them, even if they didn't look at him.

Thinking of the Trevelyans made him think of his own family. He still hadn't summoned the courage to write to them. It occurred to him that he could die here, fighting the endless hordes of Fade demons, and they may never know. He couldn't help but think that his life was characterized by the word "endless." The never-ending responsibilities, the ceaseless bad dreams, the constant migraines, the unrelenting feelings of guilt, and the persistent inner demons all seemed to go on forever. He needed a miracle.

The sound of hoofbeats grew closer as Hector and a few of his men ran their horses at a full sprint before skidding to a stop.

"Seeker Cassandra sent us to collect the survivor and bring her back to Haven. Do you know where she is?"

"She?" Owayne questioned after pulling his daggers from a demon. Hector just gave him a look that said 'don't get your hopes up,' but that didn't deflate him.

"We've seen no one come this way. If they're anywhere, they must be down at the temple." Without further delay, they galloped off down the path.

No sooner had it felt like they just talked, the riders came into view coming up out of the crater that used to be the temple. Hector held tight to who he assumed was the survivor. As they drew closer, not sparing the horses, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He heard Hector call out to Owayne who recognized the woman in his arms immediately and ran towards them. There was no mistaking the hair that was whipping about under Hector; that rich brown fading to tips of cool blonde. She looked unconscious, but a flash of green lit her face in synchronization with the Breach causing her to cry out in pain. The rider behind Hector held an arm out, not slowing his horse at all, and in one swift move, Owanye grabbed it and was atop the horse. Sorin ran a few paces after them before stopping to turn back. The three stood in shock for a moment trying to process what they saw. Rylen stepped up beside Cullen, a small smile beginning to grow on his face.

"Was that…?"

"Merciful Andraste, that was Evelyn Trevelyan."

---

Evelyn awoke in a familiar place - the Chantry's dungeon. As she stirred, she felt hands on her shoulders hulling her out of the cell. Her head lulled back and side to side as they knelt her down on the cold stone.

"Ahh!" A sharp pain emanating from her left hand seized her. A bright green light sparked in her palm then dimmed once the pain subsided. Before she could begin to process what it was, the Seeker and Nightingale arrived.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now. The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead, except for you." It was then her vision came back in full so she could see she was surrounded by guards pointing their swords at her. The woman questioning her was starkly different than the one she'd come to be acquainted with. "Explain this." She grabbed her shackles lifting her left hand into view between them.

"I don't know what that is or how it got there." A growing panic began to set in as she tried to remember what she was doing before she woke up here.

"You're lying!" The Seeker set her hand for a punch, but Sister Leliana quickly jerked the warrior back.

"We need her Cassandra." She turned her sharp gaze back to Evelyn. "Do you remember what happened?"

"I remember running, things were chasing me and then… a woman."

"A woman?"

"She called out to me and then…" Nothing. She couldn't remember. As she closed her eyes trying to delve deep into the recesses of her memory she could not for the life of her recall what happened after leaving her tent to attend the Conclave. The sound of the two women's conversation and the mention of her name brought her out of her search for answers. Sister Leliana had left, but Cassandra stayed behind. She stood staring at her looking both enraged and dumbfounded. "Cassandra, you said everyone died, does that include… The Divine?"

"Yes."

"And you think I'm responsible? What motive would I possibly have to want her dead? You know me, Cassandra! Why…"

"Because you are our only suspect! Someone… must pay! There will be trial. I can promise no more than that."

"So I'm to be the scapegoat, is that it?" Evelyn's voice grew venomous at the sheer stupidity of her logic. She could see the Seeker was at a loss of what to say and do. Even though she only knew Cassandra for a few weeks, she knew she was not unreasonable. "What did happen?"

"It will be easier to show you."

---

Cassandra spared no detail as they made their way to the forward camp. She learned for three days demons have been pouring from the Breech and nearby rifts. She, the only survivor, had only appeared this morning when she stepped out of a rift and fell unconscious for a few hours. A mysterious woman was seen in the rift behind her, but no one knew who she was. With no memory of what transpired at the Conclave, Evelyn's survival only added to their questions. As if things couldn't get any worse, she found herself accused of causing The Divine's death and facing calls for her execution. Paradoxically, she was also the only one known to possess the power to seal the rifts that threatened their world.

With all the casualties from the explosion and the fighting of the past three days, she was more than grateful that her brothers, Ilara, Sorin and Henley were all safe. They had been busy far away from the Temple, helping to defend the Conclave against Sampson's forces. Before leaving Haven, Cassandra let her see her brothers briefly before they left to catch up with Solas and Varric who were waiting at the first rift. They headed out after fetching her armor and staff on foot while her brothers took their remaining men and rode to retrieve lost supplies for the Commander, who she was glad to hear was still alive as well.

The trail to the rift was treacherous for more reasons than one. The first, was the demons that were falling from the sky. She and Cassandra made short work of them, but it was the sheer number that they encountered which made it difficult at times. She couldn't imagine that they had been fighting this many for three whole days. A credit to the Commander and his training, she thought. The second, was the fact the Veil was torn and she could feel the Fade bleeding through from above. It was a constant pull on her mind, wanting her to give into the Void for a demon to inhabit her body. The third and final reason was how her mana reacted to the mark on her hand. As she clutched the anchor with her hand, she could feel the scorching heat radiating from it, as if it was a fiery ember embedded into her flesh.

They were approaching the first rift when in the distance, she heard the ominous rumble of thunder from the Breach. The time spanning between the pulses were becoming shorter as the day wore on. The sound echoed across the horizon, rolling towards her like an approaching doom. The anticipation of the impending encounter made her heart race, pounding against her chest like a wild beast trying to break free.

Suddenly, the mark on her hand began to glow with a vibrant green light, pulsating with otherworldly energy that surged up from deep within the Fade itself. The green flames burst forth from the mark, enveloping Evelyn’s entire hand in an emerald fire. As the flames licked at her skin, she felt a searing pain shoot through her body. She tried to scream, but the sound was choked off in her throat, replaced by a guttural, animalistic growl. The intensity of the flames was almost too much to bear and she dropped to her knees fighting the magic that was trying to consume her. A natural reflex to resist the mark's magic, made her body a battlefield. The green tongues of veil fire danced around her, twisting and writhing in a hypnotic display of power over shadowing the reds and oranges of her Phoenix wings. She gasped for breath, her body wracked with pain, and she wondered if she would survive the onslaught.

She counted it a small blessing that she had already now mastered her own all-consuming magic twice now, but there was one big problem - the mark was not her magic. She closed her eyes trying to find insight into the strange energy by feeling it within her. Why in Andraste's name did it hurt so fucking much? That's when she felt it. She was fighting the pain from the mark with her own magic. It was exhausting and she could feel the strain it was taking on her lifeforce. The mark's magic was strong, and just as her mana reacted against the red lyrium, it was fighting the new threat. She wondered if the red lyrium hadn't broken her and made her mana more powerful if she'd be laying dead now. After the pain subsided, Cassandra, as she had done many times before on their trek, put a hand to her shoulder and held out one for her to take. She helped her up and looked down at her glowing hand.

"Each time the Breach grows your mark spreads, and it is killing you. You understand we have no choice but to…"

"I told you, I'll do whatever I can to help. I know my duty." Cassandra nodded her head solemnly. What she didn't say was that she was having a hard enough time as it was just trying to hold herself together. She could think beyond the inevitable next wave of pain knowing it could be her last.

After reaching the rift and dispatching the demons, it was time to test her mark on the rift. Solas, who she had only ever seen a handful of times around Haven, grabbed her wrist and forced her palm up to the rift. The mark reacted instantly to it, shooting forth a twisting green stream of magic. She felt the incredible drain of her mana, pouring everything into it to seal the rift. With one final painful crack, the rift disappeared as it repelled her hand backward. Not expecting the sudden push from the rift, Solas released her wrist as Evelyn fell back on her bottom. Solas knelt down next to her hovering his hand above the mark. She looked up into his eyes searching them for a reaction, but he was as hard to read as Sorin.

"How do you feel?"

"Drained." She felt her eyelids drooping as she slouched on the ground. Solas began rummaging through his satchel eventually pulling out a small vial of lyrium.

"Take this, you need to keep your strength up." She usually never had to take lyrium, but after the toll sealing the rift took on her, she'd need it to bolster her magic against the mark. As soon as the vial touched her lips and the liquid flowed down her throat she felt her strength returning and was able to stand. She pushed her hair out of her face having put it up in a high messy ponytail. When she had left for the Conclave, she had kept the same few small braids on either side of her hair, but left the rest down. She was already missing her single thick braid to keep it from sticking to the sweat on her neck and face, but then remembered she had bigger problems than her hair.
At the forward camp, Sister Leliana was waiting with a rather agitated Chantry official, who she introduced as Grand Chancellor Roderick. From what she gathered the man was trying to step in to fill the void of authority left in the wake of Divine Justinia's death. The man was posturing calling for Evelyn to be sent to Val Royeaux to face execution. Of course, rather than deal with the crisis at hand, the Chantry bureaucrats would be trying to seize whatever scraps of power they could. They may answer to a higher authority but were no better than the nobility. He argued with The Hands wanting to call a retreat from the valley to cut their losses, but the women wanted to do the opposite and charge with the rest of their forces to get Evelyn to the Breach.

Ultimately, The Hands won out and they headed for the temple with all haste. With all the men and women they could muster, they pushed in one more desperate effort to reach the temple. She watched helplessly as they fell to the demons, all the while being prodded along to keep pushing forward. There was an instance or two where she fired a spell off as a mercy rather than leave the soldiers to the slow torture of being devoured by a demon. She couldn't remember the last time she silently prayed so much.

In the distance, they could see another rift and its eerie glow. One more rift stood between them and the Breach. There were already a number of soldiers engaging the demons pouring from the rift. She heard her name being shouted by two distinct voices over the gurgled growls of the demons. She first spotted Sorin providing protective magic to those engaging the enemy.

"Could really use some firepower here E!" She was happy to oblige firing off firebolts at anything that moved. Sorin seemed exhausted, as did his companions. Owayne, Cullen and Rylen were all there hacking away and spraying demon blood about the battlefield freely. The ground was saturated in the black ichor, so much so it looked like a swamp. The men were covered in it as well. It covered Owayne's face like war paint with each swipe of his hands adding to the look. Cullen and Rylen's faces were dotted with it, but the sweat from their effort was washing most of it away. Dents, scratches and tears adorned their armor and clothing. It was clear they had been fighting for the three days she had been in the Fade. Even though they all executed their moves perfectly, they weren't as quick or sharp as she had seen them move in the past. Each pause after defeating an enemy allowed them time to stretch and loosen tense muscles. She became increasingly angry with whatever happened in the Fade that delayed her from returning, making her friends suffer so. When fire exploded around them heralding her arrival and that of reinforcements, hope reinvigorated them against the endless onslaught.

When Solas took over the role of supportive mage, Sorin added his Storm magic to her Inferno. When casting together, the two brought death in the image of apocalyptic fury. The ground burned, lightning struck shattering the earth and smoke from heavy fireballs choked the air out its victims. Evelyn called for the men to withdraw as the two mages finished off the last of the demons.

As if magnetized, her left hand flew up with fingers splayed. With a sharp sting, the magic of the mark snapped to life as did her own. The fire of the Phoenix pushed at the foreign magic as it sealed the rift. Having had the practice of dealing a rifts previously, she was ready for the sudden pushback from the healing Veil. While it didn't knock her on her arse this time, it did end up sailing her hand back behind her smacking the breastplate of the Commander with a clunk. She cried and growled at the extra pain of her knuckles hitting the metal, bending over and squeezing her hand between her thighs for comfort.

"Ahh! Why were you standing there?" She groaned out standing back to full height.

"Sorry, I was-- uh, watching. I didn’t know it was going to throw you back like that, and you looked as if you were about to fall." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Curly, we barely got her here in one piece. Try not to damage our one hope of survival." He ignored Varric, though threw him one of his glares before turning back to her. Evelyn thought to make a joke about how many more times he was going to hurt her while trying to save her, but decided now was not the time.

"Seems I found myself more trouble," showing him her palm, "glad you weren't there though." He shook his head at her in wonder as Owayne crashed into her with a bear hug. Cassandra and Solas both cringed as if it was going to cause her to explode. "Where's Hector?"

"He's around cleaning up stray demons. How are you?"

"I'm just taking it one--," the Breach pulsed dragging her to the ground screaming. Tremors shook her body and she felt Owayne's hands grip her hard. He pressed his forehead to hers moving his lips, but the ringing in her ears made it impossible to hear him. Solas was now grabbing for her hand, and there was another person behind her lending more power to Solas' spell. Sorin had his one arm casting and the other around her side helping her up. Through everything going on around her, she heard Cassandra's commanding voice.

"We must get her to the temple! Even if we must carry her."

"I can walk!" As the pain subsided, she pushed everyone away from her. With a deep hissing inhale through her teeth, she felt her body gradually shutting down. She was going to die. She looked up to see them all staring at her as if they knew it too. There was a frozen puddle on the ground in front of her that drew her to it. She saw herself with pale yet dirty skin, dark circles under the eyes, tense facial muscles from the crippling pain and her hair…

"Oh," she said with a disappointed tone smoothing down her hair, "to think that if this is the last time you see me, all you'll remember is how awful my hair looks." She elicited chuckles from the somber onlookers. As if on cue, Sorin added his 'such a girl' comment to laughter. "Well let's go before more demons stick their claws in it." Time was short, they all knew it but the momentary break of the tension seemed to help everyone get back to the task at hand dispelling momentarily the looming feeling of doom.

Cullen let them know that the path to the Temple was clear. He and Rylen were going to regroup with the soldiers to buy them as much time as they needed and to prepare for any fallout after she attempted to seal the Breach. She steeled herself for whatever was to come knowing that no matter the cost, she'd pay it if it meant protecting her friends and family. There was certainly going to be a price for her to pay, whether now or later. She just prayed to have strength to face it with dignity in the end.

---

Everything happened so fast, Evelyn could barely comprehend what was happening. She had sealed the rift at the base of the Breach, but after a blinding light and shockwave hit her from its closing, she was flat on her back again. She lay there staring up at the Breech as the whirling mass of clouds slowed to a stop.

Did I do it? They were yelling her name. I think I did. More frantic yelling of her name. Why do they sound panicked?

"Hold her!"

Hold who? It can't be me, I don't feel anything. It's about time the pain stopped. Flashes of green illuminated the faces of those looking down at her against the bright sky. Solas and Sorin were casting spells again, though Sorin looked more distressed. That's odd. The next flash revealed Cassandra with an even graver look of distress, but she stood and started yelling at people, pointing in every direction. She felt as though her ears were clogged only hearing them as if they were much farther away. She saw the silhouette of Owayne and fixed her eyes on him. What she saw on the next flash began her panic.

"Sorin, I need all the power you can give me."

"Are there any other mages here?!"

Owayne was tearing up and his mouth was moving a mile a minute. She tried to concentrate on the sound of his voice alone, but there was too much other noise to decipher his words. He was shaking his head and caressing her face. Maker, what's wrong with me? She began to try to move but couldn't or at least she couldn't feel herself moving. Upon trying Owayne's moved closer to her and she could see him shushing her and trying to calm her.

"Keep breathing!"

Her vision began to bounce and move erratically. She heard another 'hold her' being shouted. It didn't seem to be working as she continued to bounce around. Her vision began to fade on her as the black of sleep beckoned to her, though there was much protesting from those around her.

"Can we move her?"

"Don't you dare leave me!"

I'm sorry, she tried to say not knowing if they heard as the Fade claimed her yet again.

---

Cullen was summoned to the newly dubbed 'war room' at the back of the Chantry for a meeting with the rest of the Inquisition's advisors. To deal with the Conclave's fallout, the Hands had called for the reformation of the Inquisition of old. He was asked to continue his duties as the Inquisition's Commander, which after everything that had happened, was a cause he was glad to serve. He was in formidable company with both Hands of the Divine leading the way along with Ambassador Montilyet's experience and connections. He felt a bit out of place having no title outside of the Inquisition, but what he lacked he made up for in experience. Not to mention he was the only male. He felt his counsel would go over as brash or blunt lacking the articulation of the women, but then again, it was his job to make recommendations from a military perspective. He supposed he couldn't be worse than Cassandra, who was about as subtle as a dragon. He liked to think growing up with two sisters prepared him for dealing with the intricacies of female emotions, but that was a lifetime ago. He was used to giving orders without worrying about how they came across to the men, only that his orders were followed. The coming weeks would prove interesting as the group worked to find their dynamic with no one leader. Now it was time to decide what was to be done about everything: the Breach, the Divine's death, the ongoing Mage Rebellion and the 'Herald of Andraste.'

"I would appreciate it if someone would provide me with details on our Herald, as you all seem to know her better than I." Josephine began, "Already word has spread of the woman people are calling the

"Herald of Andraste," and with it are rumors and conflicting accounts that I would like to try and control before they get out of hand."

"Lady Evelyn Althea --"

"I'm well aware of Lady Trevelyan's family background, Leliana. I'm less familiar with Knight-Enchanter Trevelyan and her time in the Circle. And," she paused briefly to indicate a delicate subject, "if she has any history we need to protect ourselves from." Cullen felt a bit uneasy when Leliana started shuffling through her papers. Glancing over to his right, he could see the seal on the paper she pulled - the Circle of Ostwick's seal. He knew it to be her official record as he had read through many of them and written statements for them in his time as Knight-Captain. The records were extremely sensitive in nature, so much so, only the Knight-Commander and Knight-Captain of the Circle had access to them. Annually, an updated copy was sent to the White Spire where all the records and the phylacteries of mages who passed their Harrowing were kept. All of her accommodations, test results, citations and secrets were in that document.

"She has an exemplary record with many accommodations for her work outside the Circle. She hunted demons, blood mages, rooted out illegal lyrium operations, and escaped Circle mages. She scored well on all her exams as a Novice and by the age of seventeen, she passed her Harrowing. Three years later she was sworn in as a Knight-Enchanter." She scanned further down the record becoming bored by the basic facts. "Looks like her father paid handsomely for her to live in comfort - best quarters, clothing, armor, a horse for her travels and some other comforts from home. He secured permission for her to come home periodically - he paid quite the sum per visit." She paused briefly squinting at something towards the bottom of the long scrolling parchment. "Well, well, her perfect record has a spot on it." Unlike Leliana, Cullen did not find other people's secrets entertaining. In fact, he felt like he was crossing some line.

Leliana raised an eyebrow after reading it to herself first. "It would seem the Knight-Enchanter made an enemy of a Templar - Ser Aeron. Their first altercation was a physical one. She claims he attempted to assault her whilst on a mission, and she hit him." He couldn't imagine anyone stupid enough to try that with her, and thought that the man was lucky that was all she did to him. "Later she reported that she believed he was stalking her, but since no proof was found it was dismissed. The last entry is dated the week prior to the fall of the Ostwick Circle. The incident was reported by another Templar who witnessed it. He reports, Ser Aeron, unprovoked, grabbed her by the hair, and slammed her against the wall repeatedly to the point blood was drawn. Trevelyan didn't fight back, she submitted to the punishment."

"Why would that be of any consequence?" Even though it was uncharacteristic of Evelyn to submit, he wanted to know why this incident was so fascinating to her. He knew the abuses mages suffered at times under Templars - under him.

"Because the rumors were that she began the uprising in the Circle after she was beaten publicly by a Templar."

"She told us she didn't start the uprising." They didn't have proof that said otherwise, but he knew Leliana did have a point.

"And you are just going to take her at her word? We had her cornered in a cell and we know she can play The Game."

"Leliana," Josephine sounded slightly annoyed, "may I remind you that she is one of us now. Let's try to give her some benefit of the doubt."

"My job is to detect threats and take them out before they can hurt the Inquisition, even if the threat is coming from within. Besides, she's still unconscious, how do we know when she does wake up if she'll willingly stay and help?" He was about to speak, but was glad Cassandra now spoke on her behalf.

"I know you are grieving for The Divine, we all are, but I truly believe she is innocent and will help us. Before she closed the Breach she was well aware she may die and tried anyway. Then in the memory we saw at the temple, The Divine called out to her for help while the one who killed her also called for the Knight-Enchanter's death. I agree with the Ambassador, we trust her until proven otherwise and hear what she has to say about her involvement in the uprising one more time." Cullen was quick to agree, hoping they could move on to other pressing matters.

"Fine. Then she can also explain why the Knight-Commander was found burnt to death in her room."

Chapter 11: The Herald of Andraste

Summary:

Evelyn awakens to find she's being called "The Herald of Andraste." Leliana continues to question Evelyn's honesty about the events in the Ostwick Circle as new information comes to light. Cullen and Evelyn find empathy in each other through the suffering their past trauma has caused them.

It had been three days since the Breech was temporarily sealed and Evelyn was brought back to Haven all but lifeless. Cullen had watched as Owayne carried his sister from the temple. His face spoke of what had happened: tear streaks cut through the grime on his face, his drawn brow saw her suffer and his determined stare said there was still hope. The mage’s head rolled with each step, her long hair adding drama to the movements, and even as the magic of the mark flickered, she did not stir.  Sorin and Solas followed closely behind casting some kind of ward around the marked hand. Curious looks from the soldiers followed her as they tried to get a look at their savior.

Needing a place to tend to her away from the many other wounded being treated at the infirmary and apothecary, she was now settled in his former cabin, while he moved in to bunk with Rylen next door. The first day and night passed quietly as she showed no signs of life other than shallow breathing. Both Ilara and Adan were seeing to her care. Solas checked in now and again to monitor the magic of the mark to make sure it remained stable. Still, on three separate occasions,  they called for a Revered Mother to give her the last rights, but each time, as if she knew, she would make a sound or move that promised she would make it.

For the three days, Owayne never left her side.  He ate, drank, sometimes heavily, and slept in the cabin. Cullen had tried to pull him away to get some fresh air but he stopped trying before long. So deep was his love and concern for her that he had told him he wanted to watch every breath she took and when they shallowed he wanted to be there to talk her through it. Hector had left with his men once they returned to Haven. His duty lay in Ostwick, but he told Owayne to write with constant updates. Saying goodbye to his sister, he kissed her tenderly, laid a hand on her head and whispered, “You shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.” He took one last look at her with a pained expression on his face and left.

On the second day, things got ugly. In the early morning hours, he and Rylen heard banging coming from her cabin. They got up to see the door swinging in the wind and Owayne tossing a body from it. There was a fresh wound on his head that was pouring blood. He pointed with his dagger at the body, "a fucking assassin, can you believe this shit!" Ilara, who was tending to her overnight, quickly scampered out to heal his head, but as soon as she left the cabin, Cullen saw another person trying to climb through the side window. Bounding over a stack of firewood he caught the woman by the back of her collar before she could get through and slammed her against the side of the cabin knocking the wind out of her. Before he could question her, she had popped something into her mouth, dropping dead a minute later. He dragged her body next to the man's while Rylen went to rouse Leliana. Disappointed that she was being handed two dead bodies, she huffed and had her agents take them away.

She lingered for a moment clearly troubled that the assassins had infiltrated camp without her agents knowing. As she could only assume that these were higher-caliber assassins to slip past her own defenses, she advised he setup defenses around the cabin. Guards were posted at the door as a visual warning. Sorin placed wards around the cabin that would trigger a flare when tripped and Owayne was the last line of defense on the inside.

The final attempt on her life came in the middle of the day, when an assassin disguised as an elven laborer bluffed their way into the cabin claiming to have fresh linens. What she really had was an arsenal of bombs and flasks that could've wiped out most of Haven. Although she managed to get past the first two defenses, Owayne, well-versed in rogue tactics, thwarted her attempt, killing her in the ensuing melee. Cullen was on his way back to his quarters to freshen up after a long morning of training when he heard Adan cursing the Maker about bombs. He looked up to see smoke billowing and realized what was happening. He sprinted the rest of the way calling for a few of his soldiers to follow. As before, it seemed Owayne had the situation in hand.

"These bloody whoresons won't stop! Another one for Sister Leliana's collection." With a body in tow, Owayne sucked air greedily through his mouth choking on the smoke coming from inside the cabin. Cullen opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Owayne was already answering his question, "Evie's fine, I threw a blanket over her and opened all the windows. It'll clear soon." A minute later, Adan came marching back in his usual foul mood, potion in hand, muttering about what Andraste has forced him to endure and what not. At hearing Owayne's last comment, he flew into a lecture on how throwing a blanket over a patient who is having trouble breathing is, in less colorful terms, stupid.

The Commander turned around to find the whole camp had gathered to see what the commotion was about. They didn't need it getting around their newly named Herald of Andraste was being targeted by every assassin's guild in Thedas, so he barked at them to return to their duties. As they parted, he noticed The Hands and Solas now approaching. The smoke hadn't yet cleared completely out, and it smelt of sulfur and burnt plants, yet they all crammed themselves in anyway. He stood back by the door to keep out of the way of the healers, and to stick his head out into the fresh air periodically, getting slightly claustrophobic. Solas and Adan were checking Evelyn when she suddenly spoke.

"The grey--," her words were cut off by a gasp for air, but she tried to repeat it rolling her head from side to side, "the grey--." Owayne had knelt at her side quietly while the rest just looked on trying to comprehend the meaning of her cryptic words. Adan stood over her looking as if he was anticipating something to happen - and it did. Limbs were suddenly kicking and swinging about. Her back arched up and every attempt to restrain her was met with fierce resistance. Cullen recognized the struggle of self-preservation for what it was - a nightmare. As he pushed Adan and Solas aside to assist Owayne, he grabbed her legs and placed his body weight on them. Owayne put her upper body in a hold until she exhausted herself. Once still and slowly settling her back into bed, another sharp gasp escaped her, which caused Owayne to jump much to his mortification. Her next words came out frantically, "eyes, so many eyes!" She slumped in their grip as they lowered her back down onto the bed one last time. Sweat dotted her forehead, but she began to calm.

"Her breathing is normal." Adan sounded surprised as he wiped the sweat from her brow with a cloth. At the news, he saw Owayne's face brighten with a glimmer of hope. Even better, Solas had slipped into the Fade after being nicely pushed out of the way during her nightmare, and shared some much needed good news.

"She's dreaming safely in the Fade now. I believe she will wake soon."

---

"Lar?" A gentle shushing came from her direction as she spun away from the desk to go to her.

"Welcome back!" She said it in almost a whisper as she stroked her hair.

"The Breach? Demons? Is everyone alright?" She was shushed again and coaxed to drink some elfroot tea that had been sitting by the fire. As she sat up to sip it, she noticed Owayne asleep on the floor. "What's--"

"Shh! He's been awake for days and hasn’t left your side. Let him sleep a bit longer."

"Days?!"

"You've been unconscious and in bad shape for the past three days after you closed the Breech, or well temporarily closed it." For the next hour, Ilara caught her up on everything that had happened since she had been brought back to Haven. She had really hoped it had all been a dream, but here she was staring at that damn mark on her hand.

"The Herald of Andraste? You're shitting me." She laughed, but Ilara just looked at her with a pitiful pout. "Just how am I the Herald of Andraste!?" Owayne gave a start hearing her exclaim at her new title. Jumping up, he all but smacked his head off the wall as he stumbled half asleep toward her.

"Thank the Maker you're awake! For a moment I thought we were under attack again."

"Attack? Again?!" She was all but beside herself. "What in the Void has been going on!?"

---

The rest of her day was full of visitors, so much so the door nearly fell from its hinges. After hearing about the Breech, the mark, her worrying state of health, assassins, the newly formed Inquisition and her rise to becoming the "Herald of Andraste," she was not thrilled to be summoned to a meeting in the Chantry. Ilara walked her, all the while fretting at how ridiculous it was that just after waking up, they expected her to be at their beck and call. Even so, she hardly had an excuse since she wasn't injured and everything seemed normal, minus the mark. As they walked she attracted a few stares and whispers, and more after entering the Chantry full of clerics and Chantry mothers.

 

At the very back of the main hall was the door to where the advisors met. Ilara gave her hands a squeeze and she pushed open the door halting their current conversation. Cassandra who was closest to her motioned her over to stand before a large table covered with a map and several markers.

"How are you feeling?" Evelyn was stunned for a moment by the gentleness in her voice.

"Fine, thank you for asking."

Their first order of business was her new title, making her a member of the Inquisition by default. She didn't have a problem joining this Inquisition, so long as they kept to the mission of trying to restore order. Finding the Divine's murderer and sealing the Breech for good were all fine reasons as well, but demons pouring out of rifts all across Ferelden and Orlais was her top priority. Whether it was a gift from Andraste or not, only she had the power to do so. It was not her sole responsibility for the good of Thedas.

Her first mission was to travel to the Hinterlands to meet with Mother Giselle who was helping refugees from the still ongoing war between the mages and Templars. Cassandra, Solas, Sorin and Varric were to accompany her as an escort. She was to meet with the Revered Mother about how to deal with the stout denouncement of the Inquisition and its Herald. She wondered why she would help a declared heretic, but they had few options if the Inquisition was to survive its infancy.

"There is another matter we need to discuss." Sister Leliana's eyes darted over to the Ambassador.

"Yes, there is." She sounded unsure. Was she afraid to ask the question or was she afraid of the answer? She cleared her throat and Evelyn saw the change in posture. "It is within all our best interests to protect the reputations of our key members from scandal." Evelyn's eyes narrowed and shifted from one advisor to the next, the only flinching coming the Commander. Clearly, whatever it was, they all had talked about it prior to this meeting. "Your response will not be recorded in the minutes, nor repeated outside of this room."

"With news of you being Andraste's Herald spreading, before the Lord Seeker abandoned the White Spire, he released the findings of the investigation of the Ostwick Circle following their rebellion." Evelyn's whole body clenched tight. Her veins popped from her neck and the flickering glow of her mana began to spark in her chest. While she was focused on Leliana, out of the corners of her eyes she saw Cassandra and Cullen both sensing her warning magic as they shifted in their stances. "They state that the Knight-Commander Tobias was found dead alongside a few Templars in your room. The cause of death was burning by mage fire." She allowed her anger to show, but kept all other emotions hidden. How many times was the dagger of grief over her crime to be plunged into her heart? "So we ask one last time, did you kill him?"

"No," she growled.

"What about the other Templars?"

"Yes, I killed them."

"I see. Then do you have any ideas as to how his body got to be in your room?"

"I don't know, because he wasn't there when I left it. It could've been the rebels, they were quite insistent that I be involved in the rebellion somehow. Maybe they planted his body there knowing it would eventually be found. There are plenty of mages out there who can light a body on fire." Her response seemed to satisfy Leliana for the time being.

"Thank you, Herald for--,"

"Hold on Josie, she did say she killed the other Templars. Why?"

"They attacked me. It was self-defense." She kept it short. They didn't need to know that they tried to rape her and Ilara. They didn't need to know of Ilara's involvement either. Ilara would break under their questioning. The Spymaster narrowed her eyes at her, but she didn't flinch under her scrutiny.

"Thank you, Herald. That is all." She and Leliana had definitely started on the wrong foot when she first arrived at Haven and now it would seem it was to continue. To be fair, she still lied to them about the Knight-Commander, and Leliana most likely had her suspicions, but lack of solid evidence against her was nonexistent. She would bear the shame alone. She didn't want someone like Leliana to cover it up, but she also wasn't going rile up the ongoing mage and Templar rebellion with her omission. So she was stuck keeping it locked away for everyone's sake.

---

Cullen ate dinner in his shared cabin with his only company being that of never-ending paperwork. The Herald had returned from the Hinterlands successfully not only recruiting Mother Giselle, but helped the refugees caught in the fighting of the Mage Rebellion, made contact with Grand Enchanter Fiona and secured horses and the services of Master Dennet for the Inquisition. Not to mention she confronted the Revered Mothers in Val Royeaux and the Lord Seeker, all of which amounted to a massive movement of resources and troops - and all the paperwork that accompanied it. While he groaned as it grew by the hour, but it also meant they were making a real impact.

The open window above his desk let in the brisk night air and the melodic singing from the neighboring cabin. When the Herald was alone, he often heard her singing. He couldn't make out the words but the melody was such that it didn't need them. This particular night though, she paused occasionally directing curses at the Maker.

Commander Rutherford,

The conditions in the Hinterlands have improved with the installation of the watch…

"Malerath's hairy-arse!" He looked up from his report shaking his head. Then her singing continued.

… have improved with the installation…

"Oh, piss on it!" He pinched the bridge of his nose, until her singing resumed, again.

… improved with the installation of the watchtower…

"You Maker-forsaken piece of---"

"Maker's breath, the mouth on that woman!" He got up and decided to see what was vexing her so, tired of reading the same sentence over and over again. Knocking on the door harder than he meant to, he was summoned inside. "Herald, is something the matter?" She was taken back at first wondering at his psychic powers before he added, "I could hear you cursing the Maker from my cabin." Looking around there were letters scattered on her desk in front of her and some crumpled and thrown on the floor or near the fire.

"Oh, sorry about that! Did I disturb your paperwork?" Now it was he who wore the confused frown. She waved a hand as if trying to erase his confusion, "I ran into Rylen who said I was being just about as fun as you this evening choosing paperwork over meeting him in the tavern." That certainly sounded like Rylen, voicing as much. "I apologize for the noise, I'll cuss quieter."

"You don't have to stop singing though, it's-- ah, nice." She blushed, and he thought back to the few times he had actually seen her blush at something.

"I didn't know you could hear that too," she said pulling on a wavy lock of hair. "I, um, don't really sing in front of anyone, at least sober." He understood what she was getting at.

"Well, I can't make out the words, it's more like hearing you hum." He hoped that would alleviate some of the awkwardness beginning to settle in the room. "Anyway, I just wanted to check and make sure you were alright--"

"Do you get letters like this?" She held up a handful of correspondence that was easily a fraction of what was piled on his desk. "Listen to this, Dear Herald of Andraste, I was wondering if you would travel to my farm to bless my herd of Druffalo for the calving season," she looked at him with apoplexy, "you can't make this shit up! Let me just add that to my long list of titles - Herald of Andraste, Blesser of Druffalo." He shook his head chuckling as it was rather ridiculous. "I've had a number of marriage proposals, people want things blessed, confessions, people denouncing me or telling me I'm crazy, requests for… odd things, like a lock of my hair, a token or… well you get the idea. I get death threats too, but Leliana takes those." She looked to the floor with a frown. "She doesn't trust me, does she?" He shifted uncomfortably before she sternly pointed to a chair beside hers not wanting him to escape without hearing his thoughts.

"She just--," words were failing him on how to describe it, "I wouldn't take it personally, she--"

"I don't care if she likes me, I would just like not to be interrogated by her each time I'm asked to a council meeting." He attempted to amend his words, but she was on a bit of a rant and ignoring his stuttering objections.  "Have I not answered enough of your questions about my past? Have I not done as you've asked? Masqueraded as your Herald for your benefit?" She paused briefly looking beside herself. "Cullen," the sound of his name brought their eyes together, "I'm asking you what I should do. There is only so much I can handle and I'm at my capacity. I have to keep up the pretense that I'm some blessed hero, when inside I'm on the edge of the Void, ready to just be done with it all."

That revelation had his heart pounding with a mix of fear and guilt. As hard as he tried to fight it, the instinct to immediately distrust and fear magic rose up within him. He glanced down at the mark - their only salvation and potentially something more sinister. There was so little known about it. Every time she used it or it flared up, it was like playing with fire - how long before they were burned. It was a reminder to him of the danger that lurked within her, a danger that could unleash destruction and chaos upon the world. The very thought of it sent shivers down Cullen's spine, his mind conjuring up vivid images of just what would happen if she lost control of her magic; Her eyes turning black as night, her body contorting and twisting into a monstrous abomination that would devour everything in its path. The mere idea of it made his stomach churn with dread.

Cullen knew that these thoughts were not entirely rational, that they were born of his deep-seated fears and old wounds. Yet, as he chastised himself, he knew that he couldn't let his past define him, that he couldn't let his old prejudices cloud his judgment. Evelyn had proven herself time and time again, had risked her life to save him and countless others. She had earned his respect and admiration and he couldn't deny the growing bond of friendship that had formed between them.

With a deep breath, Cullen made a decision. He would be vigilant for any signs of danger, but he would also put his trust in Evelyn. After her red lyrium poisoning, she had all but relearned to control her powers all over again. She was a veteran mage with years of experience and knew her power and the risks. He would support her, stand by her side and do everything in his power to help her control her magic. He wasn't a Templar, nor taking lyrium, but his training and instincts were still with him.

"If there is anything I can do to help you, you have but to ask," his voice was soft and comforting. "Leliana is still grieving The Divine's death and is frustrated with the lack of information on what we know about the explosion and your mark. She wants to blame someone, and I'm sorry if it seems like she's taking it out on you. I can have a talk with her if you'd like?"

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me," her voice was low and sheepish. She was the one used to doing the protecting.

"It wouldn't hurt to let people help you every once in a while." She gave him a sideways look.

"Do you?" Narrowing her eyes further at him.

"Well, I," he ran a hand through his hair, "perhaps not as much as I should, but if you're willing to try I suppose I can too." He had been wanting to tell her that he knew something of the lingering effects of the trauma she's been suffering from. He wasn't ready to tell her or anyone else what his trauma was, but he could still sympathize. "I've actually been meaning to tell you, that I, ah, know something of the difficulties you're facing because I-- I have similar problems. Nightmares, flashbacks, triggers, I'm still dealing and not dealing with it. Perhaps if-- maybe having someone who understands may help us both?" He saw the look of pity on her face at his confession change to one of deep understanding and relief.

"I would really like that. When I talk to Ilara or the others about it they really have no notion of the toll it takes on you each time it happens. It feels like--"

"--Like it just happened and you're back to where you started." They stared at each other and she nodded weakly. For the next hour, they spoke softly about Evelyn's troubles. She explained to him about the reaction of her mana to the mark's, which while it was worrisome, he took comfort in the fact that she was well aware of the potential dangers.

When they said their goodnights and he went back to his paperwork, he heard the soothing sound of her singing once again. After a few songs, he heard a stern, "Go to bed Commander! Paperwork can wait!" He chucked and before he knew it, found himself putting down his quill to ready himself for bed. Flopping down on the bed, he for once didn't fear closing his eyes knowing that if the nightmares came, he actually had someone to confide in without worry of judgment or pity. She had made the first step in telling him so much, that if someone as strong-willed as she could admit to her weakness he could too.

It wouldn't be easy, but he was determined to rise above his own fears and doubts to become a better man, a better friend and a better ally. For Evelyn and for himself.

---

Evelyn left the War Room conflicted. Should they secure aid from the Templars or mages in closing the Breech for good? Why not both? Why did it have to be one or the other? There were men and women on both sides who surely did not want the war to persist any longer. If the past month with the Inquisition showed her anything it was people from all walks of life could come together to help restore the peace. She had recruited a Qunari spy, a Red Jenny, Madame de Fer and a renowned Grey Warden to add to her already diverse group of companions. Despite her arguments, the advisors believed they only needed one of the groups to complete their goal. Gaining the support of both groups would take time, but she believed it was well worth it.

Her plan was to first go to the Templars, for they couldn't safely regulate the mages from Redcliffe without them. Then she'd go meet with the mages to solicit their aid if all went well. She preferred siding with the Templars over the mages since The Order's name carried respect throughout Thedas. The Inquisition siding with Templars versus the Free Mages would go a long way in gaining the trust of the people. However, she detested the idea of leaving innocent mages in the hands of the rebels. Like it or not she would be going to Redcliffe after business at Theirinfall Redoubt was concluded. She would save them; she would not fail them again as she did in Ostwick.

Without warning, the memory of the day her Circle fell flooded her mind as she was there again standing between the Templars and rebels, though the memory was transposed to where she stood outside of the Chantry in Haven. Her student, Kian was felled by her own blade in front of her, pleading to spare him this time, but it was too late. The blood was already turning the snow into a red river that pooled at her feet. A Templar's gauntlet seized her shoulder and she added her screams to the man appearing in front of her caught in the inferno. She tried to quell the flames but her magic failed and she was left to watch helplessly as it slowly killed him. Blinking a few times, they were all suddenly gone. She stood frozen only able to move her eyes to look at those who looked at her as if they knew her shame; their eyes piercing holes through her in harsh judgment.

She turned on her heel and hurried back into the Chantry hoping she wasn't too late. Pulling open the large heavy doors, she slipped in and ran right into a Sister who lay sprawled on the stone floor. She thinks she mumbled some incoherent apology, but her mind was being torn in two places at once. The face of Knight-Commander Tobias flashed and she jumped biting her lip so hard she tasted blood keeping her scream suppressed. Everyone was staring at her as the long hall seemed to stretch longer and the room spun. Still, she searched for her only salvation, though it shouldn't have been this hard. He was easily the tallest and blondest person in here, why couldn't she find him? There was a wall of Mothers and Sisters blocking her view and skirting around them she finally found her mark. He was speaking with the former Hands of The Divine outside the War Room. When they saw her barreling at her they parted allowing her, without stopping, to slip between them hooking his arm with hers, dragging him with unnatural strength into the War Room.

She shoved him through the door and barred it. When she turned to face his many questions, she dropped on all fours hyperventilating, not able to hold it back any longer. The outer edges of her vision was fading to black when two hands hoisted her up by the shoulders. When she looked up she saw Cullen's mouth moving to say 'breathe,' but she only heard the ringing of her ears. She tried to do as he said and concentrate on her breathing, and for a minute it seemed to be working when in one last attempt to claim her, her inner demons conjured Ser Aeron and his two dead associates behind Cullen. Eyes darting back and forth between the spectral Knights, she fought to pull away towards the door. The wounds and burns on the Knights looked fresh as they stood with wolfish grins on their faces. Death would not keep them from her. She couldn't cry out or warn Cullen as she still gasped for breath, but he held firm and for a moment the feeling of his grip on her tightening was all that held her from the Fade.

With a hard pull, she crashed into the fully-armored chest of the Commander. Evelyn continued to fight to flee, but slowly realized she no longer saw anything but her blurry reflection in the well-polished breastplate. His mantle obscured her vision further and she allowed herself to hope and believe the specters were gone. Breathing in and out more steadily, the world began to quiet and her numb senses functioned once more.

Fingers flexed in the dense fur around his shoulders and she smelled a hint of sandalwood possibly from the cotton of the coat. One of his arms held her head tight against him and the other was wrapped around her mid-back. His leathered hands were warming as she shivered from her cold sweat. Though his hand partially covered her ear, she could hear his low steady voice reassuring her that she was safe, over and over.

When his grip loosened and she was able to part from him, she wiped the small smear of blood from her split lip off his breastplate. She then walked to the nearest wall and slid down it to sit, wiping the sweat from her face and leaning her head back against the wall.

"I'm sorry, I--"

"There's nothing to apologize for." She was grateful for his calmness.

"I was just outside when...," she sighed heavily, "it was the Ostwick Circle this time. Will it ever stop?"

"It just... happens less, at least when you're awake. I haven't had luck with the nightmares, as you know. They happen as frequently as ever." After she had returned from Val Royeaux one afternoon, she was relaxing in her cabin when she heard Cullen yelling at someone from next door. To anyone else, they may have thought some poor recruit had earned a tongue-lashing, but her gut told her otherwise and she went to investigate. After knocking softly, not sure what she was interrupting, she pushed the door open to find he was alone and tossing in bed. A nightmare. Not wanting to yell herself and draw the attention of those outside, she used her mana to create a small shock to wake him. She was a pyromancer, sure, but picked up some tricks from Sorin. It was enough to bring him out of it. When she asked if he wanted to talk about it, he just said no, which she respected. She didn't need to know all his secrets, as he didn't need to know hers.

There was a knock at the War Room's door followed by Cassandra asking if everything was alright. Cullen called back that it was and continued to let her come down from her episode.

"Thank you, Cullen." She found that since they first talked about helping each other through their problems, less words were needed between them. Her simple 'thank you' actually carried with it a gratitude not many others could comprehend. She stood and stretched herself as if readying for battle. Facing the world as The Herald rather than The Phoenix was often like going into battle these days. "What are you going to tell Cassandra and Leliana about this?"

"Hmm, how about you were angry over the mount you've been assigned?"

"Nelson!? Never!" She gasped and put a hand to her chest at the ridiculousness of that statement. He smiled a bit knowing she was indeed recovered from the visions.

"Alright, alright," he thought a moment scowling at the adjacent wall at the ideas going through his head. "Got it. I was going to ask you about this anyway. We'll say you were insulted by the number of soldiers I've been sending along with you on missions. You've some of the best warriors and mages in Thedas traveling with you now, I doubt you'll need them. With our forces stretched thin across Ferelden and soon Orlais, they would be better deployed elsewhere anyway."

"Good, they'll buy that, and yes that's fine. It's a wonder you send anyone with us at all, it just draws attention." The low rumble of his chuckle crescendoed following her seemingly humorless comment. "What?"

"Why do I find it hard to believe that even without the soldiers and banners you draw attention anyway."

"Because I'm a walking freak show," she couldn't help but laugh despite herself. "Thanks for reminding me, arse." He cleared his throat when she gave his arm a slap, not meaning to cause offense. "Come on. Let go before Leliana starts getting suspicious."

A few hours later, Cullen's remark was still bouncing around in her head. "Drawing attention" was a polite way to put the magical disaster that she had become. She was a Templar's worst nightmare - well, that may be a slight exaggeration, but if she was still in the Circle, she could only imagine what kind of cage they would've stuck her in. In Henley's company, there were times when he would twitch feeling all the magic bleeding from her. While the magic was stable and she was now in control of it, she still wielded unknown power. She didn't blame people for being fearful or cautious around her, for if roles were reversed she'd feel the same.

The thing she was most upset by was what it did to her mutation. Her fiery wings of brilliant reds and oranges were now green. The fire that made her The Phoenix was now closer to resembling a veil fire demon. The initial burst was of pure fire, but then it was consumed by the emerald flames. She couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration and anger toward the mark on her hand. For Evelyn, her Phoenix wings were a symbol of her strength and her fiery spirit. She refused to let anything, even the mark, alter their brilliance. Trying to stay optimistic, she thought maybe once they caught the Divine's killer they would get some answers about the magic of the mark and hopefully rid herself of it. She was determined to once again spread her wings with a sense of pride and power that was truly her own.

Since awakening from closing the Breech, she also struggled with her new identity: The Herald of Andraste. What did it mean to be her? To the people? Josephine in particular talked at length with her about this. What was her official stance? Was she holy or not? She would answer that she didn't know and that lying to people just to make them feel better wasn't right, despite the Ambassador's disagreement. She was a symbol of everything that's wrong for some and hope to others. Not even her closest friends knew what to make of it: Owayne laughed at it, Henley believed it, as did most Templars, Ilara hoped it was true and Sorin's opinion remained ambiguous. Cassandra mentioned that she believed she was chosen and put on this path for a reason. Only time would be the judge of who she really was.

Chapter 12: Champions of the Just, In Hushed Whispers

Summary:

Evelyn writes to Cullen about her meeting with the Lord Seeker at Theirinfall Redoubt. She unexpectedly goes to Redcliffe and is sent forward in time. Evelyn confronts Cullen about something she saw in the future.

Commander,

Allow me to preface this report with the news that myself, Cassandra, Varric, Henley, and Iron Bull, are all unharmed and safely outside the walls of Theirinfall Redoubt. No doubt, you're wondering why I'd begin the report with such a statement, but you will understand why shortly.

As planned, we rendezvoused with Lord Abernasche and the other Orlesian nobles upon arrival. Abernasche was as charismatic as the Ambassador promised - we made quite the pair of haughty nobles, I don't think the poor Knights knew what to do with us. (I can hear you groaning from here.) Your contact, Ser Barris, was our guide through the fortress, giving us the latest information on the odd behavior of the senior officers.

This is when things started to go bad... very, very bad. Please refer to my preface at the beginning of this report before reading on.

We waited for some time at the meeting location when Knight-Captain Denam appeared with a contingent of Red Templars. It seems the Lord Seeker was giving the higher-ranking Templars red lyrium for weeks, successfully corrupting them. It was then that he ordered the extermination of the remaining uncorrupted Templars and ourselves. In the aftermath of the attack, Ser Barris took the Knight-Captain into custody and is at this moment being transported into your care. I trust you'll have my old cell in the Chantry ready for him.

As we fought through the fortress, we saved as many Templars as we could, but they were unprepared for an attack from within, and ones who had been taking red lyrium. Some of the Red Templars had mutated into heinous abominations. It was hard fought, but we made it to the Main Keep, where we set up defenses and the surviving Templars held it while we searched for any officers still alive - of which we found but a few.

Things only get worse from here. Again, please refer to the preface one more time.

It would appear that the individual who posed as the Lord Seeker at Theirinfall was in fact an Envy demon who had taken on his appearance. Apparently, I struck its fancy and it entered my mind to attempt to control me. Honestly, I'm surprised what it saw in my head didn't send it running. All the while I fought it, literally in my head, it talked about a 'master' as Sampson had, except the demon called it 'The Elder One.' It gave me no more information than that on their identity. I did gain a glimpse into the plans of this Elder One, however. Its target is Orlais and the Empress. For whatever reason it wants her dead and Orlais to fall. After purging the demon from my body with the help of a young man named Cole - I will tell you of him in person, it's hard to explain on paper - Envy retreated and with the help from the Templars, we are able to defeat it. While the fake Lord Seeker is now dead, the whereabouts of the real one are still unknown.

Ser Barris will be arriving before the end of the week with the remaining Templars. They need to tend to their wounded before marching to Haven. They are eager for redemption and see allying with the Inquisition in closing the Breach as the first step.

Your Herald,

Evelyn

One last thing... I'm currently headed to Redcliffe Castle to negotiate with Magister Alexius. By the time you receive this, you'll have about two days to get Leliana's agents in place before I'm set to meet with him. Please also send Madame Vivienne, I'd like her to be with me for negotiations, the trap, and whatever else he has in store for me. I know you'll be angry, but I will not leave the mages in the hands of a Magister if I'm able to do something about it. I do hope you'll send aid and not feed me to the Venatori.

 

To say Cullen was shocked at the Herald's decision to speak with Magister Alexius even after the council discussed the risks in length, was an understatement. It was ultimately decided before she had left for Theirinfall that it was too risky, yet she went forcing his hand anyway. He was not about to let her walk into their trap without aid, despite his inclination to do just that as his anger reached a new high. 

She bloody knew I would, why wouldn't I help her?! 

For once, Leliana was pleased with the Herald's rash action and gladly spurred on her agents to get there with all haste. The Tevinter mage, Dorian Pavus, who told them of Alexius' plans, had got her people safely past the castle's magical wards. Yet, even after successfully thwarting the Magister's trap, something went terribly wrong.

 

L,

The Herald and Pavus are unaccounted for, possibly dead. During a confrontation with the Magister, Pavus tried to counter a spell, but it resulted in both him and the Herald disappearing. As a result, our agents inside have been taken prisoner and the mages are now considered hostile.

Charter

 

After meeting in the War Room with the advisors, they quickly formulated a plan to retrieve their Herald. Josephine was to contact Arl Teagan to gain his help in taking back his home, Leliana was to find out whatever she could on the situation inside the castle and Cullen was to ready the army to move on Redcliffe as soon as they were able. He was preparing to lay siege to Redcliffe Castle, the most well-fortified stronghold in all of Ferelden. Anyone who studied military strategy had at one point in time heard of the many failed assaults and sieges against Redcliffe Castle. No one in their right mind would attempt it, but here he was preparing to be added to the long list of fools. He had let slip an uncharacteristic 'fuck' at the absurdity of it, to which Rylen patted his back as if he choked on the word after a strategizing session with his senior officers.

"What was the lass thinking?"

"I'm not entirely sure she was." He wiped a hand down his face. A headache was coming on after pushing himself all day with preparations that were nowhere near where they needed to be. He had no choice but to continue through the night. He and the army would depart ready or not in the morning to either save or avenge the Herald. No more reports were coming from inside the castle after Leliana began losing agents. "She has never been impulsive, so that means she's been planning it." A deep frown took over his features, "she planned on doing this all along and never uttered a blighted word in the past week. She sat there and lied to me - again!"

"Well, if she didn't say anything, is it technically a..."

"Don't," He sat behind his desk leaning on an elbow while massaging his forehead. "She can't be dead, right? I'm about to throw hundreds of men and women at the walls of Redcliffe Castle. We both know they'll be slaughtered. How in my right conscious can I commit them to this when all we may recover is her ashes?" He sat back looking to Rylen to give him hope.

"Aye, they'll die. Fuck, even you and I may meet the Maker by the end, but we'll do it. No other person here has done as much as she has for the cause, or suffered as much. You of all people know that. Look at how far we've come since she stabilized the Breach, the least we can do is go after her." He paused thinking for a moment, "If I be a bettin' man, and I am, I'd wager she's not out of the fight yet. The Nightingale's agent said dead or missin', and I'll wager anything she's missin'." He sincerely hoped that his friend was right. Trevelyan was always trouble and he prayed right now wherever she was she was causing someone a whole heap of it until they could get to her.

 

---

 

Evelyn was in trouble. 

Alexius' spell sent herself and Dorian a year into the future. A future where the Inquisition had no Herald or way to repair the Veil. The Breach had swallowed the sky and there was no distinction between their world and the Fade, so they were told. After being hit by the Magister's spell, they appeared in what used to be the castle dungeon, but they weren't alone. A voice from deep in a crystal of red lyrium called out to them. It was the former Grand Enchanter Fiona. Horrifyingly, red lyrium consumed her body after the Venatori implanted a crystal of it in her skin. She was just getting them up to speed on the events of the past year when a loud rumble came from the distance, shaking the walls of the cells.

"What was that?" Evelyn was almost afraid to ask. Fiona's summary of the past events had profoundly disturbed her.

"That would be King Alistair and what's left of the Inquisition trying to draw out the Elder One by killing his servant, Magister Alexius."

"We have to help them!" she pleaded with Dorian.

"May I remind you, we need to focus on returning to our time to stop this from happening."

"Yes," Fiona's voice was hoarse, "you must get to the throne room, and the only way to do that will be to find your friends. Alexius has completely fortified himself within the Main Keep of the castle. With any luck, they will break through soon."

"How is it you know all this if you've been stuck here?"

"The red lyrium." She didn't have to say more. Evelyn knew all too well of its power.

"Wish us luck that we're able to return to our time, and I don't turn us to paste."

"May Andraste guide you on your way." With no time to waste it'd seem, they left to climb out of the dark dank cells to join the attack.

She and Dorian emerged from the ruin to find that the Breach encompassed the whole of the sky. Green lightning flashed about as if they were caught in a storm. The land around Redcliffe was barren; The bark of the trees was gray and brittle. What little leaves they had were dead and decaying. The grass was more like straw as the soil in which it grew was dull and dusty. The two mages crept through what was surely once a dense forest, following the sounds of what she was sure were siege equipment nearby. As they crested over the hill, nothing would've prepared her for the scene before her.

In the stiff breeze waved the banners of Ferelden and the Inquisition. The joint camp was buzzing with soldiers running back and forth through the ankle-deep mud. Clearly, they had been entrenched here a while as the roads through the base looked well worn. Tents and makeshift buildings have been erected as far as the eye can see, providing the only color in the dull landscape. The source of the sounds they've been following were indeed catapults pummeling the inner walls of the castle. The castle stood like a proud battle-scarred warrior, even though the outer walls had been breached. Between volleys, she heard officers addressing their men and cries of the wounded. She took a deep breath as they descended into camp unsure if she was ready to face the people she abandoned.

"We need to find Commander Cullen, he'll get us inside." She began asking soldiers passing by, but they could only guess at his whereabouts. At least he was still alive, she thought. They made their way over to the Inquisition's command tent, but it was empty. Upon exiting, a bright flash of green blinded them as a rift opened amidst the camp. Instantly, demons were upon them.

Screams erupted as the monsters caught their first few victims unaware, but it ended there as she and Dorian made short work of them. Dorian was a highly skilled mage and specialized in the storm and necromancy schools of magic. His style was flashy for someone wielding lightning, and she could only imagine what her instructors back in Ostwick would've said if they saw him. As the next wave of demons appeared, the familiar crackle of chain lightning from Sorin's mana was felt as she sliced through two of the creatures with her spirit blade. Her hand raised and wings of flame and veilfire spread forth. Those around stopped to stare at who the stranger was who was closing the rift. With a final snap of her hand, it was sealed and she heard the name 'Herald' being called from all around in disbelief.

"E?" Came a voice from just behind her. She turned to see a battle-weary Sorin. His face was muddied with streaks and splotches, but his eyes were brightened upon seeing her. "Is it really you?" She nodded closing the distance to embrace him. "How--"

"It's a long story I'll be happy to tell when we see the others. Where is the Commander?"

"They are preparing to assault the castle. Let's hurry!" The three dodged and weaved through the foot traffic as they neared the front lines. Another volley from the catapults smashed into the burning portcullis. They were almost through. The unmistakable commanding voice of Cullen was heard somewhere nearby and they pushed through following it as it carried over the noises of the war machines.

"Cullen!" She yelled his name several times and he looked about as if he was hearing a ghost. She held her marked hand up high above the soldiers in front of her so he could see it. When at last he spotted her, he ordered the men to clear a path. It wasn't until then as she was pressing up against some of the soldiers that she noticed a few had red eyes. She instinctively jumped back, spinning and fumbling the rest of the way until she was grabbed by the shoulders and turned around. "Cullen!" he stared at her hard as if trying to determine if she was real. As he came to terms with her existence, her gut churned as she took in the change in his appearance.

His scruff had been allowed to grow out longer, forming a short but noticeable beard that gave him a rugged, almost dangerous look. Despite this, his jaw was set firmly, conveying a sense of determination and unwavering strength. His hair, she realized, was slightly longer in the back than usual, though she sensed that this was less a matter of choice than a result of a lack of time to maintain it properly. His armor that once gleamed with pristine perfection, was now marred and mottled by various forms of damage. She could see the telltale signs of magical attacks, as well as dents and scratches that hinted at fierce physical combat. It was clear that he had been through a lot since they had last met, and she felt a pang of sympathy and concern for him. 

However, it was the wound on the side of his head that truly horrified her. Even from a distance, she could see the deep gouges that marred his skin, the work of a Terror demon's claws. The middle laceration looked as though it had all but taken off his ear, while the top one had torn away some of his golden locks. As she took in the sight, her heart felt as if it stopped beating for a moment, and her mind conjured up images of the brutal attack that had caused such damage. Despite the shock of seeing him in such a state, she felt a surge of admiration for his resilience and strength. It was clear that he had survived an ordeal that would have destroyed most other men, and yet he stood before her, as determined and unyielding as ever.

"Andraste's mercy, you are actually alive?!" A loud crack from the burning portcullis broke his attention away from her, "report back in an hour, once the gate has fallen. Dismissed!" With his officers dismissed, another crowd of friendly faces converged on her: Cassandra, Iron Bull, Varric, Sera, Henley, Blackwall, and Leliana. Henley walked over as if in a daze pulling her away from the Commander to give her a big bear hug, whispering that they'd all thought they lost her.

"Is my brother here? I don't see him." Henley hung his head briefly.

"He, um, was one of the first sent in to infiltrate the castle after you disappeared. He never came out." Her heart sank. She looked off to the side at some insignificant rock sticking out of the deep mud. Tears followed her trembling limbs. "Evie," she shook her head still not glancing away from the stupid rock until he grabbed her face with both hands pulling her into his shoulder. She let go of a big sob.

"Is Lar..."

"She's alive and busy tending to the wounded."

"As are Vivienne and Solas," Cassandra added. "How are you here?" She still clung to Henley as Dorian placed a hand on her shoulder.

"We can save your brother, remember." He was right. She gave herself a mental slap, her brother's life now depended on their success. If saving the world wasn't enough for her to do what needed to be done, now her brother's life hung in the balance. Her voice was a bit froggy as she cleared her throat a few times before the words came through.

"Alexius cast a spell that sent us forward into the future. We aren't sure if that was truly his intention because Dorian countered it."

"But let's skip to the important bits, shall we?" Dorian cut in. "Now that we're here we need to get back to the throne room so I can reverse the spell and send us back to our time."

"You mean--" Cassandra and the others shared a knowing look.

"We can prevent all this from happening, yes. Well, in theory. We are talking about untested time magic tearing at the fabric of the world. I could quite possibly kill us for certain this time."

"Yes," Evelyn scowled, "but we have to try anyway. Cullen, can you get us inside?" He gave a big huff, his hot breath making a cloud of steam in the cold.

"It's taken us three months just to get to this point. And our plan certainly isn't to go in there where we can't control the battle! I can get you inside, but I'd need to pull all the men from the camp defenses and elsewhere to achieve the kind of assault necessary to get you in that far."

"So do it." Dorian's easy answer triggered something in all of them.

"This all may be like a bad dream to you," Leliana cut in, "but we've all lived this. We've suffered through it. Do you even know what it is you're asking?" Her anger faded for a brief moment, "you're asking us to die. To get you there, all that's left of the Inquisition and Ferelden's army will be sacrificed." Evelyn's blood ran cold, but she was right.

Cullen wasn't the only one changed by time and circumstances: Varric had broad scars across his bared chest, Henley's appearance all but mirrored Cullen's untrimmed look, Bull was missing part of a horn, and the rest all looked as if she just came from a bar fight with cuts and bruises all about their faces. None smiled or even came close to it as they wore weary looks with dark circles under their eyes. They were so beaten down and defeated it made her want to wring Alexius' neck.

"But," Leliana continued, "if it means preventing all of this from happening, I say we do it." A long contemplative silence followed as they all considered her words.

"I'm always up for a good fight and the Boss always finds the best." Bull gave her a wink with his one eye.

"Well, shit. I'm in." The others nodded along with Varric. Evelyn had never felt an ache in her chest like she had at that moment. It spoke volumes of them that they would sacrifice their lives if it meant having a chance, a chance, at preventing this from happening. If she made it back to her time, she'd never question their dedication.

"Don't I get a say in all this? I feel I should being the king and all." Josephine joined the gathering with King Alistair and his queen, the Hero of Ferelden, in tow. Evelyn almost expected the Maker to cast a heavenly light down on her, but she looked like a normal woman. Granted she was striking and powerful, but if they had crossed paths on a normal day - not in the future - she wouldn't have looked twice at her. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a regal bun, though strands had fallen loose from fighting. The couple's faces were smudged with dirt and grime. She wore the armor of a Grey Warden, but Alistair had golden armor befitting a king.

"Your majesties, may I introduce the Herald of Andraste, Knight-Enchanter Trevelyan." Even in the midst of a crisis, Josephine was as professional as ever. "When I saw you close the rift, I thought I'd bring their majesties to meet with you."

"It's an honor to meet you both, though the circumstances could be better," she said giving a bow.

"Honored, Herald. We all thought you had forsaken us." There was a slight edge to her words. She wondered how many times they had cursed her for being so reckless and taking away their only mean to seal rifts. "I assume your return signals a change in our plans?" The queen looked to Leliana, who she knew was at one time a close companion of hers.

"It does, but you're not going to like it." After explaining the situation, the queen took her husband's hand giving it a knowing squeeze.

"I see. Well, the Calling isn't getting any quieter, is it my love?" King Alistair shook his head looking lovingly into her eyes. He reached out to cup her cheek sharing a quiet moment with the woman he loved knowing that this day could be their last together in this life.

For the next half-hour, the collective went back and forth discussing alternatives, but none would be as time-efficient or as successful as a direct assault. Evelyn listened mostly, not wanting to be the one who told her friends they would have to die to ensure she had a chance to get back and right all of this. It was her fault after all for being so damn stubborn and insisting on going after the mages. If she survived this, she would not make this mistake again after seeing the consequences. She looked over at the Commander and what she had done to him. He would be the first person who got an apology since she dragged him into this. 

 When they resolved to go through with the full assault, the king and queen left to ready their men and give their final orders. The rest of her friends prepared as well, leaving to grab potions and every weapon they could carry into battle. Henley brought Ilara to see her, but they didn't linger knowing it was just too painful to have her return from the dead to be taken from each other again. Besides, she and Henley too had their goodbyes to say. As she watched them, that cold sickening feeling of impending doom washed through her.

Cullen briefed his officers on the sudden changes of plans and gave command over to Rylen. Before Josephine and Ilara left, he ordered them to move all the wounded and healers as far away from the battle as possible. Every able-bodied man and woman was to charge with them leaving no one to defend the camp. He pulled a letter from his fur mantle and handed it to Josephine. She took it with a pained look on her face and nodded solemnly. With his final orders given, he now turned to her.

"Herald, a word."

Evelyn cut him off before he could continue, "What was that you gave Josephine?" She was fixated on the mysterious letter as Cullen rarely ever sent personal correspondence.

"A letter to my family. I wrote it after the Conclave in case..." his words trailed off, clearing his throat not wanting to explain further. "You understand that to do this, whatever happens, you must press on. You cannot stop, you cannot look back." She nodded meekly. "Evelyn," he grabbed her shoulders giving them a shake, "do you understand me? You must do whatever you can to get back to before all this. That's my last order for you." If her heart wasn't already broken after all she had seen it was now.

"Yes, ser," she finally verbalized after the first attempt failed. He released her and stood back. Picking up his battered lion helm, the Commander readied himself for his last fight. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of lyrium. Twisting off the cork he brought it closer to his lips but stopped. She knew something was happening, some inner struggle perhaps, but after much thought he just let out another large breath. Calling Henley over, he handed the vial to him instead. She would have to remember that later.

When at last the portcullis fell, everyone was in place. Her inner circle of companions with the addition of Cullen, Leliana, and the Ferelden monarchs surrounded her and Dorian in a protective ring. It was all or nothing, and they couldn't afford to fail. Orlais had already fallen to the Elder One, and Ferelden was following close behind. She thought about the many deaths to come, but just before the disparity of it all threatened to consume her, a small spark of anger began to light a fire inside her. Anger at the chaos this Elder One had released; Anger at the mark; Her brother's death; Rage at the people, her friends, she was sacrificing to win.

As the roar to charge erupted from those around her and they took their first steps towards death, the wings of The Phoenix flew out of her with a vengeance. At the sight of them, she heard in the distance men and women yelling 'for the Herald' in battle cries. She could not-- would not fail them for everything was riding on this one chance.

There were about two hundred soldiers in front of them leading the assault through the gates. The rest of the army was waiting behind to reinforce the front lines. They pushed themselves in through the opening and fanned out. She thought it was odd that they hadn't yet slowed their run, thinking the men in front would start to slow as they engaged the enemy. Demons as far as she could see poured out of every castle crack and pore. The chilling revelation that their run wasn't slowed because the men in front were already dead dawned on her. The ring moved through their men who were just demon fodder, a bumper between them and death. When they reached the staircase into the Main Keep, they were held up and forced to slow. Ear-piercing screams bellowed through the courtyard as their men fell. Needing to do something while the warriors in front of her cleared a path, she grabbed Sorin.

"Cast with me!" she yelled over the tremendous sounds of battle. He nodded, catching her meaning. She didn't bother to ask Dorian because he couldn't risk using any mana, saving it for his one job in all of this. 

The two Knight-Enchanters slammed their staff blades into the ground before them, for their hands were all they needed in the close-quarters fighting. They bumped and pushed about as her companions fought to keep the demons away. Drawing off each other's energy, they felt their way mentally around the battlefield. They were surrounded on three sides by the monsters. When the right side began to falter, she cast a long wall of fire and Sorin followed with chain lightning striking outwards from the wall. This allowed the men to form back up. They did this for a time before noticing they still weren't making any progress forward. 

"Come with me!" They grabbed their staffs and placed them on their backs as they moved up to behind their shield wall of Henley, Cullen, Cassandra, Alistair, and Blackwall. Putting her hands up to Sorin, he did the same knowing what they were about to do. "You ready?" He nodded with grim determination as the space between their hand began to glow.

She yelled over to the four in front of them, "When I say 'move,' we need you all to move!" Shouts of 'what' and other protests answered her, but the growing magical energy behind them seemed to convince them otherwise. 

When the force of the magic was growing to be too much, as evident by Sorin's pained expression, she gave the signal and the warriors parted just in time for a beam of their combined power to shoot out of their hands obliterating all before them in a clean sweep. With a path up the steps now clear, only she and her companions continued on leaving the soldiers in the hands of the demons.

When the doors shut and they sealed themselves in the throne room, she heard ringing in her ears as the eerie quiet replaced the horrid sounds of men dying outside. The ring fanned out as they carefully approached the dais. The room was dark, the only light coming from above. Parts of the vaulted ceiling had fallen creating large stone obstacles and choke points that would be of use later. The light let in from the ceiling was a pale sickly shade of green that glinted off of floating dust and debris. At the end of the room stood Alexius with another man, waiting for them.

"Ah, so you finally appeared. I knew you would, I just didn't know when."

"It's over Alexius, surrender and hand over the medallion or else!"

"Or else what? Can't you see we're all dead already? The Elder One is coming. You have nothing to threaten me with." Suddenly, Leliana appeared grabbing the man crouched beside Alexius and putting a blade to his throat. The man looked like a walking corpse. "Felix!"

"That's Felix?! Maker, Alexius what have you done to him?" Dorian interjected a bit shaken.

"I tried to heal him. Please don't I'll do anything!" Felix had caught the Blight after a darkspawn attack years ago and was living on borrowed time as it was. The Alexius of her time believed the Elder One would heal him, but clearly, it was just an empty promise as Felix was but a shell of his former self.

"The medallion." Leliana flicked the blade to point at Dorian and he threw it to him willingly. The Commander ordered Henley then to silence Alexius so he wouldn't cause trouble as Dorian worked. Conjuring the spell immediately, the medallion floated out from Dorian's hand as he worked his magical machinations within the ward that held the bauble.

"Dorian, how long is this going to take?" She knew everyone was thinking it.

"This is a highly complicated spell, it needs constant tuning to achieve the correct resonance. You, Herald, need to stay right here and not move or cast. Any magic you use could alter the spell detrimentally."

"That didn't answer the question." Cassandra watched his fingers move all about working at spectral mechanics.

"Truthfully, I don't know. It could be minutes, it could be hours--"

"Hours!?" There was a collective outcry and cursing from just about everyone within the room. She knew from what they saw outside, that they had as much time as they had men to feed to the demons. The thought further nauseated her. Suddenly, the walls and ground shook with tremendous force. An otherworldly screech echoed through the castle.

"What was that?" She hated herself for asking what she didn't want to know.

"That is the Elder One." If Dorian had not ordered her not to move she would've been paralyzed by fear anyway. Cullen hung his head for a moment before addressing the others, "The men outside won't last long now. We need to prepare for the enemy to breach the door." She could see his jaw flexing, he was calculating their demise as he looked about. "The doorway is wide, but it will still funnel the demons to the center. Cassandra, Henley, Blackwall, King Alistair and myself will keep them contained. Queen Elissa, Iron Bull, and Sorin will stay behind us to take care of the ones that get through. We fall back a few times utilizing the stone to make choke points. When the shield wall falls, keep them in front of you while the archers target the flanks. Leliana, Varric, and Sera are the last line of defense. Pick your targets wisely and conserve as many arrows as you can."

In stark contrast to the nervous energy in the hall, Leliana looked ready, her determination unbreakable, as she prepared to face death with the courage of a warrior and the faith of a true believer. She took a deep breath and began to chant, her voice hoarse but full of resolve. As she uttered the words, others joined in, their voices blending together in a powerful chorus.

"You walk beside me, down the paths where a thousand arrows stick my flesh. You stand with me when all others have forsaken me. I will face armies with You as my shield, and though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing can break me except Your absence..." 

Meanwhile, Bull seemed to hype himself up by beating on his chest in a show of bravado and Sera muttered aimlessly to herself, asking Andraste a plethora of questions. Each crack and splinter of the door made Evelyn's heart beat faster and her breaths shallower.

"Herald," her heart stopped as she gasped when Cullen said her name, panic rising within her, "remember you have the most important task in making sure none of this happens. That our sacrifice isn't in vain." 

They all looked back at her. Taking a deep breath, she put on a mask of fierce determination. "You have my word. And my thanks." It by no means was enough; nothing she could say would ever be enough at that moment. 

The door groaned then splinters shattered against the warrior's shields. A command to form up was issued and the five warriors fell into line. The queen and Bull gripped their greatswords tightly as lightning flashed about Sorin. Arrows were drawn and aimed waiting for targets to fall. Evelyn felt utterly useless and helpless having to stand there on the dais and watch. Of everything she had done in her life, this would be the hardest.

Leliana continued to pray, her voice growing stronger with each passing moment until finally the door burst open and their enemies rushed in. The swarm of Wraiths, Shades, and lesser demons poured forward. The warriors pushed back and stabbed with expert efficiency against the onslaught. A quarter-hour passed as the warriors fought on without rest. Sweat and thick demon blood coated their fronts. Their blades flung the excess ichor about the room, painting pillars, and the walls black. As portals began to appear about the floor and Terror demons joined the battle, the situation rapidly spiraled out of their control. Bull and Elissa quickly cracked their heads open when they appeared, but some still managed to break through the shield wall.

Reacting quickly, Sorin contained those coming through the door with a static cage as the warriors broke formation to take down two Terrors. The arches began to pick at stray demons skirting the walls trying to flank them.

"Dorian, how close are you?!" It would only take a few more solid hits to the already broken door before an uncontrollable current of demons flooded the room.

"Impossible to say!" he yelled over the pitched battle before them. There was a sudden roar from behind and a cold shiver rolled up her spine telling her not to turn around. She did it anyway.

The roar had come from Blackwall. He and Alistair were engaging a Fear demon. The long spider-like arms stabbed at them, but one had penetrated the Warden's chest. He took a knee, finding his remaining strength as Alistair covered him. The demon used a mind blast spell on him, with its sight set on Blackwall. Picking him up, he used the opening to plant his blade in its skull. As Fear jerked in agony, it pulled the bearded warrior's body in all directions snapping his neck and spine. He crumpled to the ground as Evelyn wailed, her wings shot forth.

"Do not move!" Dorian yelled at her. She watched shaking and seething in rage and grief as more of her friends were felled before her.

The Pride demon who was responsible for finally knocking the door off its hinges also took the king by all but breaking him in half. In a fit of fury, the queen took it down but was overrun when she broke from the line. She fought as well as her namesake, even drawing as many to her as possible to give the others time to regroup.

The shrinking shield wall pulled back further into the room, having no choice but to do so. Relying heavily on Sorin for crowd control, Evelyn felt his magic waning. Oh Maker, did she wish she could do something, anything! 

When Henley was violently grabbed and dragged into the mass of demons, she screamed with rage; it was all she could do. Tears rolled down her face and her knees gave out. The archers tried to make a path to him firing explosive shots, but he was gone. Cullen and Cassandra were left to take blow after blow. They were bit and clawed but held their ground too stubborn to give them an inch. Bull came to their rescue taking up the left flank, roaring his savage war cries as he swung.

"Dorian!" She yelled in desperation not sure how much more she could endure. Sorin was out of mana and had begun to fight alongside Cassandra using his staff blade - she blocked while he stabbed. He was dead on his feet though after so long. He looked back once at her touching his mana. His eyes closed and he let the demons take him. Cassandra yelled, but when Sorin ignited his very lifeforce with the last of his mana, a lightning explosion shook the room clearing out most of the demons. When the force of the blast reached Evelyn, she felt the last essence of her friend before a gaping void developed in her heart. She felt as if her beating heart were ripped from her, putting her in a state of shock. The short reprieve allowed for the archers are have a real crack at the demons but as quick as the three were, there were just too many.

"I think I've got it!" Dorian's voice rang out as their only sign of hope as the archers lost control of the horde barreling at them. "Evelyn, don't move!" She was so numb from grief that she couldn't if she tried. Bull, Cullen, and Cassandra were now holding at the foot of the dais, while Sera, Varric, and Leliana put their bodies in front of her and Dorian. Felix and Alexius just cowered waiting for death nearby. It was then a Terror emerged from behind the line.

Before anyone could react, its claws seared through Cullen's chest lifting him a few feet off the ground. With his chest arched up, his head fell back as the Terror raised him higher. He dropped his shield, but pulled a dagger from his belt to replace it, slashing wildly at anything he could hit. The archers fired into Terror killing it, but by then it was too late. He cut the creature from him, but its claws still stuck out from his body. Though he stood and continued to fight, Cullen's movements were not ones of a disciplined soldier, but of a dead man bent on fighting until the end. 

Evelyn couldn't breathe; she felt as if she wasn't capable of it anymore. When he could take no more, he just used his battered body as an obstacle. Seeing Cullen finally cut down beside her, Cassandra followed Sorin's sacrifice and put everything into her own magical explosion. Her bright white light cast away all the darkness before them as she fell next to him.

Leliana looked back at them frantically knowing they would only last a few more minutes. Suddenly, a huge swirling vortex opened, and just in time too as a Pride demon strutted in leading the others. Bull charged it and the other tried to cover him. As the magic drew her in, her last sight was of a wall of shades crashing up against the three rogues, their screams following her backward through time.

In the next instant, they were back in a drastically different-looking throne room and met with the surprised face of Alexius. Grabbing the hilt of her spirit blade, she summoned her magic, finally able to unleash it. She swung the blade at the Magister's head stopping it just beside his throat. Feral rage spurred her on, but she remembered he had yet to follow through on his acts.

"Tell me why I shouldn't end you now?" Tears still rolled down her cheeks, "I've come from a future that you created through your actions here today. If Dorian," who had collapsed on the ground exhausted and looking pale, "hadn't brought us back, I'm not sure I would get to fully tell you how much you fucked up." She brought her face closer to his while still holding the blade steady, "You doomed us all, including your son." She knew that would provoke some form of reaction from him, "The Elder One never cared about you or Felix, he would use you and then discard the worthless piece of shit you are. I watched every single one of my friends die thanks to you." Her voice hissed, "if you think you mean anything to your master, you are fooling yourself. You'll die with the rest of us. Surrender now." Looking up at her pitifully, he finally surrendered. She ordered him silenced for good measure by Henley, not wanting to chance him getting away. With few Venatori left after Leliana's agents' initial attack before she was whisked away to the horrid future, Fiona's mages outnumbered them and she took up beside Evelyn.

"I will have my people detain the remaining Venatori with the help of Seeker Pentaghast, but Herald," she pointed out of the doors that not long ago was all that stood between them and a demon army, "Arl Teagan is here with the Ferelden Army. You should go out to meet him." She nodded, not appreciating Fiona's scrutiny of her emotions. She looked to her three companions staring worriedly at her.

"You all are unharmed?" They nodded, "Good." She was emotionally exhausted having physically witnessed their deaths. Vivienne glided over to her wiping her eyes and fixing her hair. When it came to appearances, Madame Vivienne was the mage to have by your side.

"Darling, let me take a look at you," her eyes bore into her as if trying to lend her strength. She lowered her voice giving a condescending glare to Fiona, "Now my dear, you can't meet with the Arl in tears, there will be time enough for that later." She patted under her chin causing her to lift it high. "You are the Herald of Andraste, Knight-Enchanter, and Trevelyan. Let's show them what that means." She was right and her words helped suppress her raw emotions for the time being to focus on duty. With her rational mind summoned forth, she knew what needed to be done.

"Cassandra and Bull, go with Fiona and help her round up the Venatori. Henley, a raven will need to be sent to Haven right away, then stay with the Magister. Let them know we'll be back tomorrow and that the Free Mages have been conscripted into the Inquisition." Though Fiona was not happy at the terms of the mages surrender, she was in no position to ask for more. At least with this arrangement, the mages would have food and shelter, perhaps finding purpose among the Inquisition as she had. "Vivienne and Varric will come with me to meet with the Arl. Let's get this over with so we can go home."

 

---

 

When they arrived at the camp around noon the following day, she rode Nelson past the stables, and a confused Horsemaster Dennet, dismounting in front of the Commander's field tent. She had a promise to keep. Bursting through the flaps, she stood before him, her chest heaved and her breathing was labored as she forced the words out. He was seated at his desk, but upon surprising him, he stood bewildered looking her up and down. Seeing him alive brought forth a rush of swirling emotions.

"Cullen, I'm so sorry. Maker, I'm sorry for everything." Tears rolled forth again, but she was unable to stop them. She hated that she was crying in front of him. He looked as if he wanted to be angry at her, but it subsided upon seeing her tears, and hopefully her sincerity. "I will never do something like that again, I swear it." 

He just blinked at her, completely thrown off by her hasty apology. His silence began to unsettle her as his lifeless form flashed through her memory. Watching him die had brought up feelings she didn't know dwelled within her. While the deaths of all her friends had affected her deeply at the time, she couldn't seem to come to terms with his. They were just friends... right?

The Commander was physically attractive, a fact any woman couldn't deny. He was the proverbial 'Templar in shining armor,' acting the part of a chivalrous Knight. Recently though, she was delving beyond the surface and into a dark part of his life. He was vague and guarded over specific details but she was understanding more and more whatever happened to him during his time in the Order, it was life-altering; enough for someone as deeply devoute as Cullen to walk away from his sworn oath. Yet, even through the darkness shone rays of sunlight; little-known things about him that no one else knew, made clear by the way he blushed and stumbled through his words. It was endearing and she loved the fact these moments belonged to her.

"Well, say something! Curse, yell, anything!"

"What were you thinking?" His scowl was back but his voice was soft.

"I thought of saving the mages from slavery, but instead I almost cost us everything! And for that I'm sorry." Without a second thought, she swiftly made her way around his desk and pulled at his mantle feeling inside for where he kept it. Taken by surprise at why she was rummaging through his pockets, he just stuttered a few words in confusion holding his arms up as if she was robbing him at sword-point. "Damn it, Cullen, where is it?!" She roughly switched to the other side of his coat, but not before he began to defend himself, and finally found it, "This," she held up a small folded paper square and backed away from his reach, "I swear to the Maker you'll never need to send this." Holding it between two fingers she incinerated it.

"Wait! How did you--?"

"No Cullen," She began to walk out of the tent, "never!" With that, she was off to accost her next victim, her brother, with a tackle and never-ending hug.

 

---

 

"Andraste's ass, that's... bad, and I've seen some crazy shit." Varric took a huge swig of whatever swill was in his tankard.

"Yeah, let's stop talking about it." Evelyn was one whole bottle of wine into a long night of drinking. At the suggestion of Owayne and seconding of Varric, Dorian, and Bull, the five lounged around the dwarf's fire as she told them of what she saw in that strange future. She snuggled into her thick wool shawl as a cold mountain breeze swept through the valley.

She was debriefed by the advisors earlier in the war room, to which she offered her sincere apologies for going rogue on them. Skipping the gruesome details, she kept to the most relevant information for them to look into, like the Venatori and the Elder's One's obsession with Orlais. Surprisingly, Leliana was the only one who defended her actions, having agreed with them. If one good thing came of her blunder, it was that she and the Spymaster finally found some common ground; She also gained the support of both the Templars and mages in closing the Breach; And she gained insight into their new enemy, this "Elder One's," plans. In fact, her friends seemed to be more pleased with the outcome than the could-have-been consequences. As They tried to convince her she did more good than harm, she slowly was coming around to agreeing with them. There was, however, one person who still seemed irritated by the whole affair.

"Curly, care to join us?" Varric knew full well Cullen wouldn't join them, so she concluded he just enjoyed busting his balls whenever possible. The Commander looked over his shoulder as he strode by, not saying a word. 

Evelyn couldn't be sure through her hazy vision, but she thought he was staring at her. "Uh, I better go talk to him. I'm pretty sure he's still mad at me."

"What'd you do this time, Evie?" Owayne all but burped out.

"Aside from the mess at Redcliffe and lying to him, I may have held him up in his tent and stole something from him." 

Of course, anything that suggested she and the Commander were more than friends in any sense got Owayne's immediate attention. Since the day he arrived at Haven, he had been convinced there was more going on. He tried to sit up straight giving her a pair of raised eyebrows. "Was it his heart?" She let out the biggest drawn-out groan, making sure to emphasize the roll of her eyes.

"Good on you Boss," Bull chimed in, raising his horn flagon.

"No, we're not-- you've got it all wrong!"

"Why do you spend so much time with him then... in private?" Of course, Owayne had been keeping a close eye on her.

"He's helping me with... things."

"Are you referring, perhaps, to those things being your clothes, and he obligingly helping you out of them?" She shot a glare at Dorian. Owayne made a face as if he just bit into a lemon.

"If you must know, he is providing me with invaluable support in overcoming my traumatic experiences. Go ahead, try to make fun of that you shitheads." She stood giving each one a look lifting her chin high before attempting to go after Cullen, but not before she tripped over Owayne's purposely placed foot. Though she recovered her footing, the moral high ground she had occupied a second ago was compromised by her stumbling. They roared in laughter. "You're lucky Andraste didn't smite you - smote, smitten – whatever, since I'm her Herald and all!" Even her mark seemed to find it laughable, sparking and crackling a bit. 

She didn't stop though and walked to catch up to the Commander before he turned in for the night. Thankfully she caught him just as he was unlocking the door. "Are you here to rob me again, Trevelyan? I plan on putting up a better fight this time if you are."

"No," she said beginning to laugh, "if it makes you feel better, after seeing you I tackled my brother and all but smothered him in front of his current fling. I believe she thought me to be another woman of his. Words were had, a slap or two was thrown - at him - and then I told her I was his sister." They shared a good laugh at her brother's expense. "What are siblings for?" After the laughter faded, she found herself looking up at a starry sky and giving thanks that she wasn't looking into a green swirling sky.

"If you've come to talk, can we do it tomorrow? I fear I'm not fit for it having been running around preparing for a siege for the past day or so with little sleep." His pointed look made her shrink back slightly.

"No, I'm not here for that. I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about what exactly I saw yet. You may not be ready to hear it either." She said the last part almost under her breath. Before getting too lost in recollections of the future, she remembered why she had stopped him, "I just wanted to make sure you weren't still angry with me?"

Some confusion creased his brow, "Why would that matter?"

"Because I-- you're my friend and I care what you think." He looked at her with an unreadable face. She thought perhaps she saw worry and maybe some surprise in his eyes at hearing the label aloud - 'friends.' She looked at her feet wondering if she said the right thing as she had been drinking.

"I wasn't--," he sighed, "alright, I was angry, but I was angry because you didn't trust me enough to tell me what you were planning to do. I thought we were past lying to each other after..." he trailed off, yet she didn't need him to finish. His golden eyes looked about her face for understanding as he struggled to put to words what it was that was actually between them. It was more than just talking, it was an unburdening of their shame, guilt, torture, and fear to someone who truly understood.

She reached out for his arm, pleading with him, "And I'll never do it again. Please believe me when I say I learned my lesson. I saw the personal cost of it for every single one of the people here I hold dear. If you knew..." She didn't want to say more. "There is one thing I wanted to ask," she paused unsure if she even wanted to broach the subject now, but the question had been gnawing at her having thought about it the whole trip back to Haven. The wine however seemed to help lower her mouth's restraint. "Cullen, you've stopped taking lyrium haven't you?" 

He froze in quiet shock. 

"How did you--"

"The same way I knew about that letter you were carrying around." Cullen quickly closed the distance between them. There was an intensity to his gaze as his jaw muscles flexed. It wasn't anger though. He gripped her bicep and looking around to make sure they were not watched, pulled her inside his cabin. Once inside he quietly closed the door and released her, though still standing close enough to whisper.

"You're not supposed to know that. Is that what I told you in the future?"

"No, I figured it out on my own and you just confirmed it." He seemed to mentally chastise himself for it. "What I saw in the future only helped me piece it together. When we first met, you tried to silence me in the woods, remember? It was a reflex from your Templar days but since you weren't taking lyrium, it was a weak attack, so much so, that it caught my attention as odd. Listening to you talk about how intense your nightmares are, not to mention the headaches and shakes you think you're hiding from me I know to be symptoms of withdrawal. I've spent enough time with Templars to know, but it wasn't until your actions in the future--"

"Which was?" He looked at her insistently, "Please, I must know."

"I watched you as you prepared for the assault, and you took a vial of lyrium out to take it, but before you could, you stopped and gave it away." He stood back from her and wiped a hand over his face and then through his hair.

"So, I did it. Even in the end, I didn't take it." He smiled a toothy grin that she rarely had ever seen. "I did it. And lived!" She couldn't help but smile back and nod at the implications. "Ha!" He scooped her up, spinning her once in the air before setting her down unsteadily on her feet. "I can do it, you don't know what this means to me!"

"I wish I told you sooner!" Even as the world was ending, he still didn't give in to the urge to take lyrium. Though it would've made him stronger against the demons, he chose to fight and die conquering his addiction. She found herself regretting not being able to tell future Cullen how proud she was of him had she known. "I am proud of you Cullen. Not many have been brave enough to do what you're doing knowing the risks. You'll be an inspiration to others." 

He began to blush and rub the back of his neck. "Thank you. It'll still be a long road, and nothing is certain, but it still gives me hope." 

She hummed happily and remembered something after watching him push back an unruly lock of hair. As it refused to do as he bid, she helped him gently tucking it back. "In the future, your hair was long enough you couldn't hide the curl of it. And," she reached out with her finger and knuckle to trace his jawline, "you had let your bread grow." As her finger went to make another pass up and down his jaw, she suddenly realized what she was doing.

As if pricked by his stubble, she pulled back but not before he grabbed her wrist halting her and pulling her in closer. The calloused pads of his fingers were pleasantly warm despite their roughness. "And was it an improvement?"

She bit her lip trying not to smile as widely as she wanted to. "It had a rugged appeal, but I like you the way you are." Immediately her face flushed at her bold words – as did his realizing they were pushing the 'friends' boundary to the limit. She took her wrist back slowly and pushed back a stray wisp of her own hair. When she dared to look back up into his honeyed eyes, she cleared her throat, "I better let you rest, goodnight Cullen." 

He beat her to the door handle opening it for her. "Goodnight, Evelyn," she had never heard such softness in his voice before. Without breaking eye contact, she flashed a playful smile before slipping out into the night and walking the short distance to her cabin.

Once inside she shut the door and leaned up against it. She felt as if she was a bit out of breath and though the fireplace held only embers, she fanned the heat from her cheeks. Something had happened just then - something new and frightening. She shook it from her thoughts as she got dressed for bed singing to herself. 

Singing, she thought as her breath caught interrupting the song's chorus, he'll be listening. All flustered, she splashed some water on her face from the wash basin and slid into bed. The slight tilt of the room reminded her that she had drunk quite a bit and she was happy to blame her current state on the wine.

She turned over on her side getting comfortable and at last was beckoned by the Fade. Yet even as she drifted, one last flash of his smile crossed her mind, and she smiled to herself. As if struck by lightning she jolted up, eyes wide as she cringed at the realization that her brother just may be right – something may be going on. She flopped back down staring up at the ceiling knowing how annoyingly pleased he'd be after all this time. The unsettling thought of him eventually finding out would keep her awake for another hour.

Notes:

Sorry, not sorry for doing that to you all ;)

Chapter 13: Sealing the Breach

Summary:

The Inquisition attempts to seal the Breach once and for all.

"The mages and Templars stand ready to assist you. You should prepare yourself, we don't know how sealing the Breach will affect you." He watched her take a deep breath and wondered how many days this attempt could render her unconscious for this time. Seems she was thinking the same.

 

"The sooner this is done, the better. When can we be ready to move on the Breach?"

 

"As soon as tomorrow, if you'd like." She nodded to him absently, already looking exhausted. "One last thing, we need to decide whether to use the Templars or the mages to aid you. Do you have a preference?"

 

"I would prefer the Templars. I'm afraid of what will happen if too much power is poured into the mark. I don't want a repeat of what happened when I was given red lyrium. I feel this way will be safer for everyone, unless anyone objects to it?"

 

"I agree with the Herald," Cassandra stepped up to rest her fingertips on the war table. "I'd rather we suppress the magic than give it more power. There is still so much we do not know about your mark."

 

"It's decided then," the Ambassador made a note on her parchment, "I imagine there are many preparations to see to, shall we end here? I believe all other concerns can wait for the time being." Leliana and Cullen nodded in agreement and the room cleared.

 

Since the council meeting, Cullen has been busy preparing for tomorrow's march to the temple ruins, hurrying all over Haven, but he still hasn't had a single glimpse of Evelyn. He casually asked everyone he had met, but to no avail. When he came across Owayne at the blacksmith waiting for his blades to be sharpened, not even he knew where she was. A blinding headache accompanied by shaky hands had halted his rounds as he took refuge in his field tent. Sitting with his eyes shut, he tried to take some deep breaths and take in the quieting of camp. Everything was just about set for tomorrow, except for one thing; where was the Herald? The sun grew heavy in the sky and worrying thoughts were taking over his aching head.

 

In the meeting earlier, she had mentioned red lyrium, and his first suspicion was that she had frozen somewhere in fear as the events replayed in her mind. If something like that happened and she's been missing for hours, what if she was hurt somewhere and needed help? His heart began to pound at the thought. He had been all around the camp, if she was here he would've seen her, so where hadn't he been? Her cabin. It was the obvious place to start and most likely where she'd be - he hoped.

 

He couldn't help the heavy-handed thumps he landed on her door. No sound was coming from the other side yet, so he pounded again, each bang being felt by his throbbing head. Finally, there was movement coming from inside. When the door opened a rush of relief flooded him.

 

"Maker, there you are!" She looked at him confused. Her relaxed single braid was damp and her skin looked dewy, most likely from a recent wash. She was dressed comfortably in a flowing belted tunic and her usual pants and boots.

 

"I've been here all day. I thought you would've at least run into my brother, he knew."

 

"I did, and he said he hadn't seen you." Her confusion morphed into an annoyed scowl and she mumbled a curse at him.

 

"Well, at least now I don't feel bad about having Sera fill his pack with earwigs." He just shook his head in wonder at how the two waged a secret war against each other. He had been witness to a few of the pranks played on Evelyn. Typically, Owayne stuck to the classics, and while he had to admit they were entertaining, watching the normally graceful Herald fall from the saddle of her horse or trip over seemingly nothing wasn't good for the image Josephine was trying to create. "Wait, were you worried?" she smirked and before he could answer a frigid gust of wind tore through the doorway. With a huff towards the chill, she pulled him inside.

 

"I, ah-- was a little. Normally, you're all over camp and when I didn't see you, I was worried something was… troubling you." She gave an 'ah' understanding of what he hinted at.

 

"No, I've been here just taking the time to myself to prepare for tomorrow."

 

"And I'm disturbing you. I'll be going then--"

 

"No! I mean-- no, you're not." She grabbed his hand holding it in hers for what seemed a long time, then moved to his wrist and held it up to inspect it. "Cullen, you're shaking." There was no more hiding it, at least from her now, though it felt odd speaking of it to anyone but Cassandra and Rylen. He didn't want her to think less of him, though with everything he'd shared with her already, she probably thought he was weak and pathetic anyway.

 

"I might have pushed myself too hard preparing for tomorrow." She gently guided him over to his usual chair that he sat in for their talks.

 

"You've got a headache too?" He shook his head, but she gave him a pointed look that she didn't believe him. She stood over him crossing her arms. "You know, when the Ostwick Templars had trouble finding lyrium after the Circle fell, I used to help Henley with his headaches. Sometimes there wasn't enough for everyone so he always made sure the men were taken care of first. Since then, through Ilara's work, she has tweaked the spell to be more effective. And while I pretend to not pay attention to her at times, that time I did." He was surprised to feel a brief pang of jealousy, remembering that she'd once been attached to Henley. The feeling lasted long enough for her to convince him to agree to let her try to alleviate his headache, with minimal resistance from him.

 

She made her way behind the chair and lifted her hands to the sides of his head. This time, unlike the first and last time she healed him, her cold hands felt good against his throbbing temples. There was a mirror across the room angled just right so he could see her work. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be concentrating hard.

 

"Ilara says I have trouble connecting with people whenever I try healing spells," he felt a sudden surge of numbness dulling the pain. It came on so quickly that he thought he might pass out. "Sorry, see what I mean. I'm better suited to be a crazy fireball thrower like Henley always says." The prickle of jealousy consumed him once more, but his rational side reprimanded him for its absurdity. When had he last felt jealous? He couldn't recall, yet he was envious of something that was already in the past. Or was it something else entirely? The mention of Henley's name and the realization that jealousy was affecting him soured his mood. He scolded himself, For Maker's mercy, Rutherford, pull yourself together.

 

"There. How's that?" He focused his attention back on her, having been completely lost in his thoughts. She had moved in front of him and she waited eagerly for his answer. He stood, and though she was taller than the average woman, she still had to tilt her head up ever so slightly to look at him. His delayed answer seemed to worry her, as she impatiently chewed her lip. "Be honest."

 

"It's bearable now." She looked disappointed, so he added, "Magic can never fully take away the symptoms, so I'm grateful to have any relief at all, thank you." A wan smile briefly turned up her lips. He turned and headed for the door, but paused not wanting to leave her feeling inadequate. Then he remembered something he'd been meaning to bring up with her. "By the way," he turned to face her quizzical face, "I believe you lost our bet a long time ago." The dawning of the memory brought her bright smile back.

 

"Did I now?"

 

"Yes, but I can wait one more day until you close the Breach. After that, though you owe me two weeks--"

 

"Since when was it two?"

 

"Since you pulled me into the mud during training in front of the mages," now she was laughing.

 

"For which you were grateful for, if I recall correctly." As she sauntered closer to him, the slow swing of her hips caught his eye. She was close, but not as close as he wanted her to be.

 

He took a slow step towards her as he spoke, "Very, but that wasn't part of our bet. I hope you won enough coin against Varric in your last game of Wicked Grace to pay for drinks as well." When she bit and rolled her bottom lip, he felt the heat rise in his chest and face.

 

She chuckled shaking her head, "You barely take a break from work as it is, are you actually going to have the time?"

 

"I think I can arrange to have a break in my schedule."

 

"Good, I'll hold you to that Rutherford." He didn't know why, but he loved the way she said his surname. Whether it was the way her lips moved to each of the syllables, the extra emphasis placed on the 'R' or the endearing use of it, he looked forward to hearing her say it more. He couldn't help but smirk pleasantly at it. When she pushed her hair behind her ear with the marked hand, the glow bathed her face in its green light. Sense began to reassert itself at the reminder that tomorrow they had a job to do.

 

"I better let you rest and try to get some myself. Thank you for the help," he pointed up towards his head.

 

"Anytime. Don't be so stubborn about it next time and come see me. The Inquisition needs its Commander."

 

"Not as much as its Herald. I have no doubt you'll seal the Breach tomorrow. Goodnight Trevelyan."

 

"Me too. Goodnight Rutherford." He smiled at the thought of hearing it one more time as he walked away.

 

---

 

Evelyn woke earlier than usual. Yesterday she had taken the day to herself to bathe and meditate, clearing her mind and preparing her mana for the task of closing the Breach. Unlike her first attempt at it, she was confident she could do it maybe even without knocking herself out for several days. The Templars would aid her and everything would go according to plan. She dressed and donned her armor, though it may be a bit early, but she wanted to be ready for whatever the day threw at her. Now in search for breakfast, she ran into the Seeker who was doing the same.

 

"Are you ready? I didn't see you all after the meeting." She knew she'd be answering that question all day.

 

"I am, and that's why you didn't see me yesterday because I was preparing. Are you ready?"

 

Cassandra paused as they continued to walk to The Singing Maiden thinking about what she meant. "Ready to close the Breach, yes."

 

"Actually, I mean for what comes after. Doing this is going to catch the attention of our enemies. We've made it very public that our first priority is to deal with the Breach. Our focus has been on that and not finding this Elder One."

 

"Leliana has been looking into it."

 

"Yes, but how much could she have uncovered in a few days? They've remained undetected thus far, do you really think we truly know what we're up against?" They stopped at the door before entering the tavern.

 

"I understand your concerns. Maker knows I share them, but for today let us focus on closing the Breach for good." Her answer was nowhere near satisfying, so she told herself  that she was just a cog in the Inquisition machine and it wasn't for her to worry about.

 

A warm breakfast of porridge and sausage was being served to the resident officers of the village. They sat at table and although they didn't fill all the chairs, she suspected they'd fill themselves soon. The bland food was brought to them and they ate in contemplative silence. She caught the others eating around them staring at her occasionally, looking to see of their Herald was as confident as they hoped she'd be.

 

When the Commander made his appearance, it was clear he'd been up for a while. Fully armored with his nose buried deep in a report and a runner in tow, he made his way to the bar not bothering to look up. She startled him when she grabbed his arm as he passed, halting him for a moment to ask quietly how he was feeling. With a glance to the man following him, he just gave a 'fine' and continued his march to the bar to get his breakfast to-go. The Seeker didn't seem interested in the exchange and continued eating. Cassandra was never pushy or nosey, and only ever gossiped if they were alone. On the road, she shared a tent with her and the two would chat as they fell asleep. She had learned after having to pull it out of her that Cassandra had the guilty pleasure of reading smutty novels. Curious, Evelyn read one she borrowed from the Seeker. Realizing she fervently enjoyed a good romance, the two began secretly passing books back and forth. Both counted on the other's discretion, becoming giddy as Chantry Sisters when alone and having someone to talk to about it.

 

Before long, the Ambassador and the Spy Master had joined them completing their table. Bundled in so many layers just to make the quick walk over from the Chantry where she and Leliana bunked, Josephine clearly was not enjoying Ferelden's winter. Leliana, though Orlesian, didn't seem bothered by it surprisingly.

 

"Do you think things will ever truly go back to normal?" Evelyn couldn't help but wonder what the other women thought, all three of them with vastly different backgrounds. "You know, mages back in the Circles, Templars on the Chantry's leash, that kind of thing?"

 

Leliana looked up with her unreadable gaze, "No, how could it? For that to happen each party would have to submit to the other. The Chantry lacks the authority and the confidence of its Templars to enforce compliance even if the Templars vow allegiance to it. And there certainly aren't enough Templars available to capture every apostate. Even if they tried, it would take years, and perhaps by that time they'd realize that mages should be granted freedom."

 

"I'm sure I'd be the first mage they'd be after. Running about Thedas wielding unknown magic freely, they'd stick me in confinement before anyone knew it."

 

Josephine dabbed her mouth with a linen and placed her spoon down without making a noise. "You are most likely to receive a special dispensation to remain outside of Circles for your service."

 

"You have faith then that order will be restored?"

 

"Maybe not as we knew it, but it would all depend on the next Divine, I think. She will be the one to shape the future."

 

"Yes," Cassandra chimed in, "the task will be great, but she would have the power to reform or restore the Chantry's authority over the Circles and Templars."

 

"I hope then she'll be a reasonable woman." All nodded in their agreement and continued on with their meals aware that this was the first step towards that future.

 

The Commander had readied the troops to march before midday. Assembled was about one-third of the Inquisition's standing army. This was so that if another explosion occurred, they would still have a sizable force to deal with the fallout. He and Leliana would hang back at the old forward camp in case the worse happened so the Inquisition still had their leadership intact, despite his objections to accompany her to the temple ruins. She appreciated his wish to be there to support her, but duty came first, and theirs was to the

Inquisition. Besides, he sent Rylen in his stead and she knew at least he'd keep the mood light on their way to the Breach.

 

At the temple ruins she stood before the first rift and below the massive Breach. The last time she was here she was laying flat on her back watching everyone fuss around her. She closed her eyes giving herself a few moments to calm her thumping heart and focus on the task at hand. This is what they've been working up to the past few months and she wasn't about to give anything but her all. When she heard her name called from behind her by the Seeker indicating they were ready, she took a look around to check.

 

Above them standing around the crater of the temple were the soldiers and Rylen, ready to respond if needed. Down in the hole behind her were the Templars, giving off the strong energy of their lyrium. Henley was among them in the front with the veterans. Just behind her were Cassandra, Solas, Sorin and Owayne. Solas and Sorin would step in as they had if the mark became unstable, while Owayne was just there to be by her side no matter what happened.

 

With her final inspection complete and with all the confidence she could muster, she gave the nod to Cassandra. Her voice rang out as all the Templars moved to attention.

 

"Focus past the Herald, work together to suppress any magic from the rift," Solas added his instruction, and gave the signal to begin.

 

With a battle cry, the Templars took a knee as if praying to the Maker, devoting their full strength and concentration to the magic rift. She felt their power rush past her, giving her shivers. Almost immediately, she also felt the magic of the rift wane. Not wanting to waste the combined strength of the Templars, she raised her hand and poured everything she had into the mark. The rift wanted to push back, but the Templars had it contained enough for Evelyn to ignore its retaliation. She leaned into her assault of the rift putting her very being into closing it. The green tether binding her to the wounded veil sparked wildly until a blast from the Fade sent everyone in the crater flying backwards; all except for one.

 

A barrier was the only thing standing between her and the explosive magic of the rift. Either Sorin or Solas had cast it, but she couldn't turn her head to see. The concussive force was so powerful, large stones from the temple's supports began to topple and tumble into the crater. With the Templars out of the fight, Evelyn alone held the Fade's magic in check. Even though her shield held, the Breach's power pierced through it stabbing her. Red and green flamed wings shot out as if warning the dark energy that she was not to be trifled with. She winced at the cold pricks as it tried to distract her attention from her task, but she forced herself to ignore the pain. Deep within her chest, she felt the mark draw more power from core. With a jolt, her inner fire was electrified. At the sudden change and build-up of magic within her, she dropped to one knee, clutching her free hand to her aching chest. Behind her, a conversation was taking place between her companions.

 

"Solas! What is happening?!" She thought she actually heard Cassandra's voice falter for a moment.

 

"The mark is drawing too much power from her. Without the Templars, she's on her own." His words hung in the air as everyone was clearly thinking of what else they could do to aid her. Before that could happen, she heard the sound of light footfalls running toward her and in her heightened magical state, she knew it was Sorin.

 

"Give me your hand, let me help you!" She still couldn't break her concentration away, but reached desperately for his hand. She knew what he was offering to do, she just wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle it. Even if she needed it to survive she didn't want to put him at risk as well.

 

"Are you sure?" There was no answer, only a clap of their hands meeting and the surge of his mana joining with hers. She heard him groan through gritted teeth as the mark, hungry for more power, zapped him of his strength. As Evelyn controlled the tempest within, she rose to her feet with renewed resolve. Having taken everything from Sorin, she released him and yelled to the other to come and get him back behind cover. She knew the Breach would rise to her challenge once again and didn't want to see him harmed.

 

With a deep breath, she let go of her restraint and let the mark pull every ounce of her remaining mana into one last assault. With the rift's power finally weakened, she did as she had many times before and with a harsh snap the rift and the Breach closed. It let out one last frightening light display, but then all was silent.

 

Looking up, the once swirling tempest was calm and the only sickly green glow came from her hand. As her comrades rose from their cover and saw the Breach was no more, cheers echoed through the ruins and up into the valley. Owayne was the first to congratulate her, hoisting her up in the air with a spin that reminded her of when Cullen had done it to her the other night. Suddenly she wanted to see him and his relief that it was done. No doubt one of Leliana's scouts had already left with an update for them at the forward camp.

 

Sorin was thankfully on his feet after being given some lyrium and she thanked him with a warm embrace. He was the hero of the hour coming to her rescue. She wouldn't say it but, there was a moment or two when she felt as if the magic was going to consume her if not for him. Sorin may not be the stereotypical charismatic hero, but when action is called for and sacrifices need to be made, he was always there without question. She made sure to whisper to him that very fact, knowing again, he wasn't the type for attention nor high praise, but it needed to be said.

 

With haste, Rylen prepared the troops to march back as a celebration coordinated by the Ambassador would be waiting for them upon news of their victory. For once, she'd be walking back to Haven on her own and that alone was worth celebrating. Upon reaching the forward camp, the Commander and Nightingale stood waiting to congratulate her, though Evelyn made sure everyone remembered the Templars' involvement as well. On the way back to Haven she stuck close to Cullen shooting him large smiles each time she caught his eye. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as he reciprocated though with a small shy smile. She felt lighter than she had in days, finally winning a somewhat easy victory. No one died, she was conscious and the Breach was closed, what more could she ask for? There were smiles as far as she could see from those around her knowing that they all had a hand in their triumph today.

 

---

 

Later that evening, Evelyn found herself staring into the future, and it looked vastly different than the one she visited. The Inquisition celebrated their success with dancing and Ferelden ale, but she knew it was more than that; they celebrated life. Demons no longer threatened to fall from the sky and the Veil was repaired. There was still more to do, like closing the remaining rifts, restoring order and finding the Elder One but for now, they could rejoice in their victory.

 

She couldn't help but stoke the newly kindled flame inside that a life outside of the Circle was possible for her now. Fanning those flames were all the new feelings stirring within her about a certain ex-Templar. The future ripped from her raw emotions she didn't know she had and laid them before her. There was no denying her feelings for Cullen, but the concept of feelings was new to a mage who had been told since the young age of ten that love, marriage and a family were out of the question. She had taken that lesson to heart and protected herself from ever developing an attachment, though according to some, her arrangement with Henley was considered a "relationship." It wasn't to her though, because what she felt for him was the urge to satisfy a need. To be close to another, but not emotionally involved.

 

In her talks with Cullen, she revealed things about herself, her fears and her insecurities. Had she known she was going to feel something for him, she may not have been so forthcoming. Yet, that's why they had their talks as each person was aware of the emotional baggage the other was carrying. Cullen never told her what his specifically entailed yet, but she knew it was considerable if he still didn't feel he could share it with her. There was still the intensity of how keenly she felt losing him in that horrid future she visited. Not that it meant she wanted to marry him or anything, but she hoped in time she would come to understand it. The thought that their friendly professionalism turned into something more heated did make her worry that going down that road was not such a good idea. She chastised herself for thinking this was like all those romance novels Cassandra had addicted her to. If he knew what was good for him, he'd quit flirting with her - even if she didn't want him to.

 

"Solas confirmed that the heavens are scarred but the Breach is closed." Cassandra's voice tore her from exploring her emotions further. "I've been meaning to thank you. You've done everything we've asked knowing the risks to yourself."

 

"I can say now I'm genuinely happy to be here - to help. No one else in Thedas has lifted a finger to deal with this threat," pointing to the scar in the sky, "We are doing good work, real good for the people." They shared in a small smile before the Chantry's bell began ringing in alarm. Looking around, the Commander was by the gate calling them over. They raced over, jumping down off the retaining wall past soldiers who were sober, drunk and everywhere in between. As they descended the stairs in the village, out of the corner of her eye she spotted torches dotting the horizon.

 

The two joined the other advisors as Cullen wasted no time bringing everyone up to speed. "The scouts report a massive force," he pointed to the mountain pass, "the bulk over the mountain."

 

"Under what banner?" Josephine looked visibly shaken at this development.

 

"None."

 

"None?"

 

Evelyn knew, "The Elder One."

 

"He's angry you took his Templars and mages, though he found more." Cole materialized out of thin air before them. Cullen and Cassandra drew their swords on him.

 

"It's alright!" she placed her fingers in the blades lowering them. "This is Cole he's the boy I told you about from Theirinfal who helped me." Cole looked at her with slight discomfort on his face, "It's alright Cole you just startled us. What does the Elder One want?"

 

"You. He hates you. He's prepared to kill everyone here to get to you." Her blood went cold. Fear gripped her first, then the flickering pulse of her glowing mana spread up her veins. They would kill my friends to get to me? Flashes of her companions' deaths from the future suddenly became real. Her eyes set in fiery rage and her nose scrunched up slightly in a snarl.

 

"Cullen, a plan, anything?" Soldiers who were not already manning the gates outside the village were forming up outside the walls. She heard a Starkhaven drawl shouting orders for the soldiers to corral the civilians into the village walls. When he didn't answer right away she looked over at him, his eyes were taking in the scene and formulating a plan in his head.

 

"The gates won't hold long, Haven wasn't built to withstand an assault--"

 

"Commander!" They all looked when Rylen yelled pointing to hills just across from the frozen lake. The enemy force was coming at them from everywhere. Cullen yelled to him the changes he wanted to the formation, one where they could fight on two fronts, which she knew was never good.

 

"Cullen, they'll trap us--"

 

"They've already done that!" It was more frustration than fear. She knew him to be cool in the heat of battle, even when faced with death.

 

"Cole, if I give myself up will it stop the attack?"

 

Cole turned his head hiding his eyes from her with his oversized hat, "No." Faster than a blink of an eye, he was gone. With the soldiers about to engage and her companions around her, they still needed a plan. The friends she had recruited the past months were not just good company but some of the best fighters in Thedas. As she had vowed to herself at Redcliffe, she knew they'd have her back until the end without a doubt.

 

"Herald, I suggest you keep on the move. Assist the men with the trebuchets, they are bound to draw attention. If capturing you dead or alive is what they want, make them work for it." They looked at each other with the strength of their combined resolve, knowing this could be it. They were alike in that if death was coming for them today, they would not make it easy for the Void to claim them. She had learned from their talks that both had the expectation of dying in battle, not laying in a bed - today could be that day. "Who do you want with you? You'll need to cause havoc - large, loud attacks to keep the attention on you as we chip away at the bulk of the force."

 

She turned to her friends, "I'll only take volunteers, but if I'd have to choose, Bull, Blackwall, Cassandra, Sorin--"

 

"And your favorite brother!" Owayne cut in.

 

She gave a faint laugh, "and my favorite brother. Varric and Sera, get on the rooftops in the village. Take out any who get through. Vivienne, Dorian and Solas spread yourselves out among the mages and listen for the Commander's instructions. Help organize the mages." She looked to Cassandra, "You should stay with Cullen. If things take a turn for the worst you should be here to make the decisions that need to be made." She took a deep breath staring at her tent-mate with worry, but all the while nodded her head. Henley was not hers to order about as he had his own men to look after and Ilara, she sensed, was already inside the walls of Haven no doubt getting ready to receive the wounded.

 

"Right, let's get loud!" Roared Bull and with that everyone quickly took up their positions.

 

As they made their way out from the walls, a sudden beastly roar filled the valley followed by a flying form that blocked the light of the moon for a moment. Circling Haven with a watchful eye was a dragon. Red lyrium crystals stuck from its decomposing scaly skin. The beast looked as if it was starved, all but a skeleton - the embodiment of death ready to swoop down on them. It wasn't attacking yet, but its presence emboldened their enemies who were surging upon them like the tide.

 

"Cullen," she said watching the dragon make another pass at them, "I think you just lost our bet."

Notes:

Epic battle ahead, stay tuned! Thank you all for reading this far and for your amazing feedback, kudos to you all!

Chapter 14: In Your Heart Shall Burn

Summary:

The Herald meets the Elder One.

Torch lights flickered and cast long, dancing shadows across the rugged terrain, while the eerie glow of red lyrium illuminated the horizon as far as the eye could see. The night sky was pregnant with heavy, foreboding clouds, their ominous presence threatening to unleash a deluge of snow upon the already treacherous landscape. The silvery moonlight, however, managed to find its way through the thick cover, casting an ethereal glow upon the gathering storm. Despite the biting chill that crept into their bones, no one dared to show any sign of discomfort. For they knew what was coming. The army of the Elder One was on the march, their footsteps drumming a steady beat that reverberated through the very earth beneath their feet.

 

Evelyn, with her small but determined party, embarked on a treacherous journey towards the nearest trebuchet, hoping to aid in the battle against the encroaching enemy force. As they approached, the heat of battle was palpable, the men and women manning the trebuchet working with frenzied determination to fire off as many volleys of Antivian Fire as possible.

 

Meanwhile, on the front lines, the commanding officers of the Inquisition, Cullen and Rylen, had finally managed to organize their troops into two shield walls, arranged in a V-shape with Templars and mages strategically dispersed behind them for support. However, the enemy force was not to be underestimated, and they too had formed their own lines, growing larger by the minute. The tension in the air was thick as both sides paused momentarily, their eyes fixed upon the other, steeling themselves for the inevitable clash.

 

Evelyn's heart pounded inside her chest, as she watched from afar, torn between the strong impulse to rush over and join the fray and her duty to follow her orders. Despite her inner turmoil, she remained steadfast, her eyes trained on the battle ahead, ready to support her allies at a moment's notice. The weight of responsibility and the gravity of the situation hung heavily upon her, but she knew that the fate of the Inquisition and the world at large depended on her unwavering resolve.

 

For a moment, it seemed as if all the enemy's attention was focused solely on the army of the Inquisition. Evelyn knew that they needed to soften the initial blow and she knew exactly what she needed to do. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the string of feelings connected to her rage, which had been simmering within her ever since the overwhelming threat of violence had descended upon them from the mountains. As she fixated on it, she felt the all-too-familiar sensation of scorching heat envelop her from her mana, the energy within her pulsing and surging with unstoppable force.

 

Suddenly, the dark landscape was bathed in a brilliant orange flash as the Phoenix's wings burst forth, their fiery glow illuminating the trebuchets' missiles as they rained down upon the enemy below. The flames of torches and braziers sputtered and blazed high, casting the Inquisition in a warm, golden light. Yet, the respite was short-lived, as the vibrant green of the mark's magic surged forth, sapping the flame of its warmth and replacing it with the cool, ethereal glow of veilfire. At the sight, the enemy roared in fury, brandishing their weapons, their blades and staffs glinting in the faint moonlight like a sea of deadly stars.

 

"Well, now you've done it," Owayne pulled his daggers from his back and she gave a smug shrug.

 

"Shitting your pants yet, big brother?" Bull and Blackwall gave a hearty laugh looking over at the younger man.

 

"A good sibling doesn't let their sister do stupid shit alone. Especially, really fucking stupid shit like this." She saw more worry than anything on Owanye's face and decided to stop her teasing. It was easy to forget that despite his skills, he fought skirmishes back in Ostwick, not battles. "Hector's going to kill us."

 

"He'll have to get in line then." Looking out to the enemy closing on them, she tried to refocus everyone, "We have a plan, let's stick to it. If all else fails we watch each other's back and those manning the trebuchets." Sitting on a nearby barrel were half-drunk tankards of ale, likely abandoned at the sound of the alarm. She took one with a trembling hand and lifted it in cheers. The others were quick to grab one - even the other soldiers looked around for some - and with a clank, downed the ale just in time for the mages to shield them from the first incoming attack.

 

Defending the men and women firing the siege weapons was manageable, having already built raised fortifications around them, it was protecting the equipment from magic and Red Templar Behemoths which became a challenge. She and Sorin stood out in front of the machines laying waste to anyone below them, while the other three joined by small units of soldiers defended their backs against any who got through. Periodically, as Cullen suggested, she and her team would move between each trebuchet drawing with them the attention of the enemy, changing direction towards them. On their second round to the furthest machine, they found it had been completely overrun as a wave of Venatori and Red Templars crashed into its wooden frame felling it. Before retreating, she looked for any survivors still fighting, but her heart sank when she saw none.

 

"Change of plans," she yelled to the group, "we hold this next spot and give the soldiers time to retreat!" They looked tired from having to not only fight but run from machine to machine. Sweat streaked down their faces and neck making the splatters of blood run as well. Fighting the Venatori mages was one thing, but the Red Templars were much worse. Their strength was unimaginable and she shuttered to think how long these former men and women of the Order had been subjected to the slow torture of red lyrium. While some looked like the Templars Sampson had corrupted, others were grotesque brutes of various sizes, but all equally as deadly. They were shielded by the lyrium crystals jutting out of them, making their spirit blades one of the few attacks able to get through it. That alone was enough to take her and Sorin off of the offensive, which only served to hasten the demise of each trebuchet.

 

As the last machine outside the walls fell, she told her team to guard the retreat back to the main lines as she went ahead to inform the Commander, if he hadn't already seen it for himself. Through the fighting, she could see him out on the front line. Of course he was, she thought. Despite the weight of his heavy armor and lion helm, Cullen moved with cat-like agility striking at opponents and felling them with practiced precision. She fade-stepped her way over to him through the heaviest fighting. Not wanting to startle him when she materialized, she impaled the Red Templar he was fighting. While shoving him off her staff with the help of her boot, he flipped up his visor and immediately asked her for a report.

 

“The trebuchets are overrun, we need to pull back now!" Evelyn yelled over the deafening noise of the battle, her voice hoarse with the effort. She watched as an unsuspecting enemy ran past, only to be caught in a torrent of fire that engulfed him completely. As she spoke, a bolt of lightning crackled towards her, but she was quick to deflect it with a powerful ward and a spin of her staff. The hostile mage was too far away to engage in melee combat, so she began to try out some spells. The first two she fired back were quickly countered, but she refused to give up.

 

Suddenly, she heard the distinct sound of metal clinking as a visor was shut, and she turned just in time to see the Commander moving to her back to engage an approaching corrupted Templar. Evelyn quickly assessed the situation and decided to focus her attention on the mage. She shot a steady stream of fire at him, hoping to blind him, and then lobbed a fast fireball over the flames. The spell hit its mark, and she watched with grim satisfaction as the enchanter succumbed to the searing heat of the flames. Over her shoulder she heard the brute Cullen engaged mutating as he tried to break through its barrier. Evelyn gritted her teeth as she faced the shimmering monster, her eyes scanning its surface for weak points.

 

"I can get through it," she called out, and with a quick flick of her wrist, she summoned her spirit blade into her hand, the Everite hilt crackling with magical energy as it ignited. The fiery gold blade hummed with power as she stepped forward. The fiery gold blade sliced through the barrier, causing it to react violently around the spectral blade. The red energy flickered and crackled, sending sparks flying in all directions. Evelyn pushed harder, channeling every ounce of magic she had into the blade. As the energy from the attack surged into the sword, something went terribly wrong. The hilt of the spirit blade began to crumble, unable to withstand the sheer amount of power that she was pouring into it.

 

Just when it seemed like she couldn't go on any longer, a hand grasped hers. She looked up to see Cullen at her side, his expression fierce with determination. "I've got you," he said, his voice low and steady. Together, they pushed forward, their combined strength enough to finally breach the barrier. The blade sliced through its chest, and the creature let out a howl that echoed through the area. It gurgled and writhed on the ground for a moment before finally crumpling to a lifeless heap.

 

Evelyn let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, her body trembling with the exertion of the fight.  "Are you okay?" Cullen asked, his voice laced with concern. Before she could answer, the hilt of the sword shattered completely, leaving her holding nothing but a handful of Everite shards. Commander's eyes widened as he saw what was happening, "I have never seen the blade of a Knight Enchanter break before, how is that possible?" She could barely hear him, her mind reeling from the shock of what had just transpired. All she could do was stare at the shattered remains of her once-powerful weapon.

 

Their respite was cut short when she felt Cullen stagger into her as if hit by something from behind. She heard him wince and realized he had been struck in the back by a glancing blade. Having already spun to meet the attacker's next blow, she could see it wasn't a bad wound, but the sight of blood darkening his already maroon coat triggered a torrent of visions and emotions inside her. She felt her magic become heavy in her limbs as if bottling up. Her fingers flexed as they stiffened and burned for release as the rising need to protect. For one crazy moment, she felt as if she was powerful enough to move the earth. Instinctually listening to her mana, she grabbed her staff off her back and with a great battle cry slammed its blade into the ground. The frozen dirt and rocks broke apart and poured into the large crack snaking its way away from her staff. The sound and the tremble from it were so great those directly around them stopped to see what was happening.

 

From within the crevice, she felt the fire calling to her. It wasn't the call of the red lyrium, but one of warm familiarity. Fire was in her blood and her very being thanks to her mana and the mutations that came with it. Upon drawing it out of the crack, she was surprised to see that it wasn't flames but lava. With a great uncontrollable eruption, it shot high into the sky. Afraid that it would land on her and Cullen, she attempted to tame it as she did flames holding up her right hand to it. Though immensely more difficult, she found she was able to direct it to her bidding. Compared to flame, controlling the magma felt heavier - if controlling magical elements could be described in such a way. Sweat began to drip down her face at the effort as a very confused Commander caught his breath as he watched her.

 

"If I told you I never did this before, would that worry you?"

 

"Yes!" The former Templar yelled back from behind his shield, "however," he blocked an incoming swing from his opponent as the fighting resumed, "I'm too busy to worry about your new and untested magic right now!" He shoved the enemy away with his shield, dispatching them with a devastating stab.

 

"Good, because I was going to use it anyway!" Raising her arm, a stream of molten lava followed her fluid direction. The string of magma floated before her twisting and swirling about leaving behind droplets that fell away back into the earth. She whipped it about, making contact with a number of the enemy who instantly dropped and screamed in agony as they were burnt to the bone. Their armor counted for nothing against it - against her. She learned quickly that while her hand could move flame, she had to use bigger movements with her body to move its liquid form. This new command required lunges, not steps; full arm gestures, not mere waves of her hands. It was quickly becoming apparent to her that with all the bad the red lyrium brought her, there was also good. Even if it had meant to break her restraint on her mana to fit its own purposes, she was now in command of a higher form of magic because of it - because she won in the end.

 

The end, she thought, no, not on my watch, not while I am here. She looked around briefly watching her friends and comrades fight for their lives. As a large group of soldiers charged her, she commanded the lava forming it into a large wave that broke out of the crack in the earth over the enemies. Before they could get out of range, the wave crashed over them and they hit the ground lifeless. This new power was instant death. Wave after wave attempted to bring her down, but she continued to wield the magma to devastating effect. Her companions had pulled back and the front line had her at the tip of the spear. She was exhausted, but if this was going to be it, she was going to die knowing she gave her all.

 

Morale seemed to improve on seeing the success of her attacks. Cullen was able to rally them and they all fought as one impenetrable shield wall as they watched their Herald and her companions cut down enemy after enemy with their combined efforts. Owayne moved with agility and purpose, smoothly slipping his daggers across throats and between ribs. Bull and Blackwall coordinated watching Evelyn and Sorin's flanks making sure no one got close enough to disturb the symphony of destruction the two were conducting. It was all going well until the enemy had stopped charging. As a hush settled over the battle, one shrieking cry call out from over the mountains. The enemy had pulled back to make way for their dragon.

 

They were nothing compared to the might of this creature. She snapped her head around looking at Cullen who quickly sounded retreat. To the credit of the Commander’s training, they didn't panic and filed in with more order than she expected given the circumstances. As the last of what was left of the Inquisition's soldiers made it through the gates, she heard Cullen calling for them. She ordered her team to retreat, but not before winged death was upon them. It swooped down delivering their first taste of its black sooty breath, making them dive in all directions. Though it only seemed like smoke, there was a dark power behind it. As she scrambled to her feet, she knew they needed to buy the soldiers time to get into the Chantry.

 

"Sorin!" He had just gotten to his feet. "I need everything you have!" Her hands made an open circle in front of her chest as she manifested a ball of her mana. Nodding through his exhaustion, he ran to stand across from her doing the same. If it had incinerated demons, she wondered what their combined power would do to this dragon. Quickly she emptied what magic she had left into this growing ball of bright orange light. Sorin's pale purple orb flashed with lighting as he raced to be ready for her signal. As the creature turned and headed back for another strafing run, the two mages moved into position, "Steady. Right as it opens its mouth we fire."

 

Ignoring the calls from her brother and the others who lingered at the gate of the village, she focused entirely on containing the volatile force between her hands. She heard Sorin let go of a growl between his clenched teeth, but she knew he'd hang on. Feeling her own strength wane, she trembled and let a wince contort her face. Catching his eyes, they consoled each other knowing how taxing it was to hold all your power in your hands leaving yourself dry.

 

Thankfully the dragon was faster than it looked with its holed wings and the two pushed their orbs together as it barred its teeth at them. They worked to focus the energy into a beam that shot the beast in the chest. Halted by the steady stream of fire and lightning, the dragon screeched as it flapped its large wings trying to turn away, but it was too late. With one last punch, their mana sent the dragon pummeling backward, crashing through the Venatori line. The force of the blast had knocked her and Sorin down as well, too exhausted to withstand it.

 

It had just felt as if she hit the ground when already she was being dragged and lifted by Bull through the gates of Haven. With the gates shut and barred behind them, the group raced to the Chantry. Inside was wall to wall people as they took shelter from the dragon. She assumed that the basement was full and those who didn't make it down crowded away from the main doors as much as they could. At the doors, they were greeted by a wounded Chancellor Rodrick, who once inside was placed into a chair beside where Bull had put her down on the floor. She pulled her last two vials of lyrium from her pocket, handing one to Sorin before downing hers. Its effects were immediately felt and she stood giving her sore muscles a shake.

 

"Herald, our position is not good." Cullen pushed through the mass of people, helmet in hand to reach them by the doors. Sweat dampened his hairline causing the hair at his neck to curl. "That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."

 

"Could it be an archdemon?" She looked to Blackwall who just shrugged, uncertain.

 

"I don't care what it is! It's cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven. There are no tactics to make this survivable now, but we can choose how to end it. Many do not get that chance." She looked at him hard, hurt that he had given up, but deep down she knew he was just being rational in his advisement. "The avalanche was a good start. If we can turn the remaining trebuchets and cause one final slide--"

 

"We'll bury Haven and take as many of those bastards with us as we can," she finished definitively for him as the Chantry shook from taking a hit from the dragon.

 

"There is a path, you wouldn't know it unless you made the Summer Pilgrimage as I have. The people can escape! She must have shown me, Andraste must have shown me so I could tell you."

 

"What are you on about Roderick?" She turned to face the dying man. His voice had lost its zeal and steadily tapered off the longer he rambled on.

 

"It was whim that I walked the path, I did not mean to start as it was overgrown. Now with so many at the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers, I don't know. If this simple memory could save us, this could be more than just accident, you could be more."

 

"What about it, Cullen? Will it work?" She wiped a hand across her dirty face feeling the dried sweat on her.

 

"Possibly. It seems like our only chance now." He turned from her to order the men to carry the Chancellor so he could show them the path as quickly as they could. As she turned for the doors with her team in tow, Cullen called after her. "Where are you going?"

 

"To load the trebuchets. That thing is here for me, if it sees me perhaps I can give you the time to get everyone out of here. The Inquisition can live to fight another day."

 

"Out of the question! What will we-- what will Thedas do without your mark? You need to be the first one out of here if what the Chancellor says is true."

 

"That dragon and army are not just going to let me leave and likely will kill any survivors with me cutting off your escape!"

 

"And what of your escape?" She just stared at him with her stubborn resolve. Nothing would dissuade her from this course of action. The Elder One had killed all these people for her and she could do little to protect them. This sacrifice would be her penance. "Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way. You've been quite good at that lately." She smirked at finally hearing some hopeful words coming out of him.

 

Grabbing handfuls of water from a nearby basin to quench her thirst, she was ready to go. There was, however, one person who she realized had decided to follow her. As Owayne went for the door she yanked him back by a leather strap on his armor, "You're staying."

 

"The fuck I am! I'm coming with you!"

 

"No, our parents don't need to lose two children today!" Cullen rejoined them about to say something when Owayne cut him off.

 

"Evie, you are not going out there alone! How dare you even think that!"

 

"I can't lose you! Please, go with Cullen, help people get out. If I survive this, I'll need you to come find me, please brother!" She looked hard into his eyes gripping his shoulders to emphasize her words. "Please."

 

His face twisted with fleeting rage. "You better be waiting for me, or so help you..."

 

"I'll be waiting," she said with a lopsided grin, "because you and I both know that I'll make a terrible martyr." With that, she let go of him and pivoted to face Cullen, steadying herself on his shoulder as the building shook once more, threatening to collapse at any moment.

 

"These men will load the trebuchets," the Commander declared, pointing with authority to a group of sturdy men in armor who stood at the ready.  "Once the job is done, they'll fall back and join us. From there, you'll be on your own," he continued, emphasizing the gravity of the impending battle. He looked as if he was about to add something important, but his mouth shut abruptly as he changed his mind. "May the Maker watch over you," he said instead, turning to shout orders to the rest of his troops, who looked to him with renewed hope at a chance at life. He turned to her brother saying something she couldn't hear clapping him on the shoulder. With one final look to her, Owayne was swallowed by the crowd having received his orders.

 

With her sibling and companions gone, she stood alone in the doorway, her heart heavy with a mix of regret and uncertainty. Memories of the past and the what-ifs raced through her mind, causing her to hesitate before moving on. As she stood there, lost in thought, she became aware of Cullen's presence behind her. Turning slowly, she locked eyes with him, and for a moment, they stood there in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. As she gazed into his eyes, she saw a flicker of recognition in his gaze, and she knew that he, too, was wrestling with his own regrets.

 

Suddenly self-conscious, she felt a fleeting moment of embarrassment at being caught staring, knowing that this could be the last time she would ever see him. But she didn't linger, sensing that time was running out. With a deep breath, she slipped through the crack in the door ready to face whatever destiny Andraste had in store for her Herald.

 

As they ran through the burning village, the acrid stench of smoke and ash filled her nostrils. It was painful for her to see how the place where she had spent the last months had been reduced to cinders in mere hours. The infirmary that she built with Ilara now lay in ruin, its charred remains scattered haphazardly amidst the destruction. It was unfair, she thought bitterly, how all that they had built and worked so hard for had been destroyed so easily. Yet, there was no time to dwell on the injustice of it all. They had a mission to complete, and they had to do it quickly before the dragon started raining death upon them.

 

Several red Templars stood in their way, their eyes gleaming with a fanatical zeal. With grim determination, she drew upon the last of her mana and cast an immolation spell buying the soldiers precious seconds to attack first. The clash of swords and the shouts of men echoed through the air. The battle raged on, each side locked in a desperate struggle to gain the upper hand until they finally emerged victorious, the remaining Templars lying in a heap at their feet.

 

Breathless and battered, they trudged through the battlefield, their eyes fixed on the looming silhouette of the trebuchet. It was a massive weapon of war, its wooden frame bristling with thick ropes and levers. Its presence was a beacon of hope, a promise of salvation amidst the chaos and destruction that raged around them. With a sense of grim determination, she and the men by her side started to load the ammunition, heaving the heavy boulder into place with all their might. She could feel the weight of the stone in her hands, its rough surface pressing against her palms.

 

Just as they finished their task and aimed the trebuchet, a grotesque figure appeared on the horizon, his dark robes billowing in the wind as the dragon he commanded circled menacingly overhead. The sight sent shivers down her spine, for she knew that this was no ordinary foe they faced. The creature resembled a twisted fusion of a darkspawn and a red Templar with glowing crystals protruding from his decaying gray skin, stretched so taut it looked almost transparent. “Behold the might that is Corypheus,” he announced, sliding towards them with chilling purpose. The soldiers scrambled to retreat but the creature seemed to pay them no mind, his vision fixed solely on the mage. Evelyn was grateful that she was the only target of this monstrosity, for at least the others would not perish because of her.

 

“What do you want from me?” she demanded, trying to hide her trembling voice. With her mana depleted and no sword to defend herself against this twisted beast and his loyal dragon, the odds were impossibly stacked against her.

 

The Elder One, now known as Corypheus, went on a diatribe that made his intentions perfectly clear. He sought to become a god, using the mark she had stolen from him to throw open the gates to the Black City and ascend to divinity. In the process, he planned to tear open the veil and destroy the world. Or at least he would have had she not stolen the mark or "anchor" from him.

 

With a deep breath, she raised her head high and faced the Elder One, her eyes blazing with defiance. She knew she had no chance of winning, but she was not going down without a fight. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned what burst of fire she could, sending a blast toward the magister. The dragon roared in rage, its wings flapping wildly as it descended toward the ground shielding its master. Corypheus was unfazed by the attack and with a brief motion of his hand, he send a bolt of dark energy hurtling towards her. Evelyn leaped to the side narrowly avoiding the attack. She knew that she couldn't keep this up for long, but she needed to buy her people time. With fierce determination, she unleashed a barrage of spells, but with her mana so low, each one was weaker than the last. Corypheus reflected them all with ease, seemingly enjoying her futile attempts to fight against him. He raised his hand once more, summoning a wave of red light that sent Evelyn hurtling backwards. She crashed to the ground, her vision swimming as she struggled to catch her breath.

 

The ancient magister, his eyes blazing, revealed a hidden metal orb that seemed to pulse with malevolent energy. Red lightning sparked and crackled around it, illuminating the dark of the night with an eerie glow. "The process of removing the anchor begins now," he declared, his voice deep and commanding.

 

With a swift gesture, he held out his hand, and the orb magic connected with the mark on Evelyn's hand. The woman cried out in agony as the pain rippled through her body. She felt as though every nerve ending was on fire, and she struggled to remain conscious. The magister's magic was a force to be reckoned with, and the pull was almost too much to bear. She found herself desperately digging her fingers into the ground to try and resist. But it was no use. The monster's power was too great, and he slowly drew her towards him, as though she were a mere puppet on a string. As she gasped and writhed in pain, she felt the hot breath of the magister's pet dragon at her back. Evelyn wondered if he meant to feed her to the beast once he had taken the anchor.

 

"It is your fault, Herald," Corypheus hissed, his eyes flashing with anger. "You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose. I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as touched, what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens. And you used the anchor to undo my work. The gall!"

 

"What is this thing meant to do?" She gritted out through the pain, clutching at her wrist with her right hand.

 

"It is meant to bring certainly where there is none." He menacingly approached and picked her up by the marked hand holding her off the ground. As close as she was she could feel the red lyrium pulse from him. "I once breached the Fade in the name of another to serve the old gods of the Empire in person." As he continued to speak about the Black City and other alleged blasphemies, Evelyn tried to keep her wit about her. She had yet to have any sign that the Inquisition had escaped, she had to hold on until then. Suddenly the Elder One yelled in frustration. With inhuman strength, he threw her against the trebuchet. Her head and back hit with a solid thud against the wooden frame. "The anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling. So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give the world the nation and god it requires." In the far distance a faint, but clear flare when up. Thank the Maker they made it! "I will not suffer a rival, even an unknowing one. You must die."

 

With a wry smile, she addressed the imposing figure before her, "I must say, talking to an ugly bastard like you has been quite an experience. Savor your triumph, for I have a parting gift for you." With a fierce determination burning in her heart, she raised her hand and channeled her energy into the weapon of war. The trebuchet trembled and creaked as it readied itself for its final act of destruction, a powerful symbol of the might and resilience of those who fought against the dark forces that threatened to consume their world. As it fired its explosive load high into the mountainside the force of the hit coupled with the volatile missiles sent a shockwave rippling through the snowy peaks of the Frostbacks.

 

She held her breath watching to see if it was enough to start the avalanche, and surely enough by some miracle, it was. A low rumble was heard and felt, but it quickly picked up speed. Jumping from the platform and wincing as she landed, screams echoed from out in the valley. She ignored the darkspawn magister as she fled back toward Haven looking for shelter. Looking behind briefly she saw she only had a few seconds to make a decision before she would be swept away. To her right she noticed the excavation entrance to the older part of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Parts of it ran under Haven and Leliana had been looking into what secrets the long-forgotten cult had left behind.

 

Ignoring her wounds and the deafening sound of death coming for her she sprinted for the boarded-up hole. Bracing herself she crashed through the wood, never stopping her run until the ground was no longer under her feet. It had been so dark on entry that her eyes didn’t adjust to the pitch black before she fell down a shaft into the ruins. Looking at where she fell from, the light was suddenly blocked out by the avalanche. A blow to her back knocked the wind out of her slowing her descent as she flipped and tumbled down the rest of the way hitting off wooden supports and the rocky walls of the shaft. An abrupt jarring impact seemed to finally stop her. The blur of her vision was sickening, as was the pain coursing through her entire body. It wasn't long before her vision darkened and narrowed as she felt a hot buzzing pressure in her ears and face. Too weak to put up much of a fight, she slowly succumbed to the dark wondering if she entombed herself in the place that once held Andraste.

Chapter 15: Blood On The Snow

Summary:

Evelyn is rescued. The Inquisition's leadership falls apart. Cullen struggles with his feelings for Evelyn.

Evelyn discovered herself amidst a jumbled heap of petrified wood, recklessly scattered at the foundation of the ruins. The frigidity that permeated her form indicated that she must have lain on the timber for quite some time before her senses returned. The chill had numbed her to such a degree that the enormous splinter impaled through her left shoulder almost went unnoticed. Almost. When she tried to remove it, a sharp pain throbbed through her arm up to her neck. Her cries of agony echoed through the empty passageway. As firm as she could make her fist around the wood, she yanked it out catching herself off balance. She rolled from the pile, landing cheek-to-stone on the ground. Blood spilled all over the stone making her feel instantly weak at the sight of it. She tried to push herself up, but her left arm was utterly useless. As she struggled, a slow drip of blood was making its way down the ridge of her nose. Apparently, she was bleeding from her head somewhere too.

 

She closed her eyes, shutting out the image of visceral life ebbing from her forcing herself to get up.  Her legs seemed functional, so scrunching them up beneath her body she pushed herself up to her knees then again to her feet. The effort left her dizzy and she stumbled into the wall, grabbing it as if her life depended on it. Her hands were bloodied and dirty, with a black layer under her fingernails. Holding a hand to her head wound, she tried to heal some of the cut so it would at least stop bleeding. After a short burst of relief, she hoped it was enough unable to check it. She then put the hand to her shoulder but the wound was just too severe and beyond her meager talents even for her to relieve the pain.

 

As she took some deep steadying breaths she looked around seeing she was in some decrepit part of the ruins Leliana had found that was used by the Cult of Andraste. There seemed to be only one way out, for which she was thankful for to not have to decide in her sorry state. Walking with the assistance of the wall, she struggled to keep her mind focused as her eyes threatened to close with their fluttering. Try as she might, she felt herself slumping lower and lower to the ground as she continued blindly on.

 

"You said you had a nightmare?" Cullen's voice pulled her from memories that were like an old wound. Time helped to heal it, yet every nightmare tore it open and she felt the raw emotions all over again.

 

"Yes," she answered timidly, " from back when I was in the Circle." This new idea of being open and serious about the things bothering her made her nervous. It was his idea and she agreed to it after her red lyrium poisoning, but she was finding it more difficult than she thought it'd be. She had made a promise to Hector though, and knew he was usually right about these things. Cullen looked equally just as uncomfortable, yet had made the time to talk with her when she approached him about it earlier in the day.

 

"You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready." He leaned over his knees on the chair dropping his head to rub the back of his neck, relieving some apparent tension. She knew he was just as nervous about sharing his past trauma, so out of goodwill she forced herself to continue.

 

"No, I-I do want to. As you know, thanks to Leliana, I had issues with a Templar while living in Ostwick." He nodded in remembrance as she continued, "I was already having nightmares about the night the Circle fell, but since taking red lyrium the memory has been… altered." She realized it was going to be difficult to explain the nuances of the nightmares without telling him some details. "Ilara and I were in our room. She had just cleaned me up after a run-in with Ser Aeron, which happened to be the same incident that the rebel mages claim began the uprising."

 

"You said he had gotten physical with you."

 

She tapped her head where he had smashed it against the wall. She could still feel the impact followed by the chill of the stone against her face. "It was the third time in one day and he had finally drawn blood."

 

"Forgive me, but I find it hard to believe you just allowed this to happen. Why didn't you fight back?"

 

"I was-- all senior Enchanters were under orders from the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander not to escalate tensions between Templars and mages. If I would've fought him, then I truly would have begun the rebellion in the Circle." A look of understanding passed between them. It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

 

"I had only just become a Knight when the mages of the Circle I was stationed in had experienced such fervor and sought to free themselves." He paused and she watched his knuckles turn white as he wrung his hands together. He shared so little with her of his pain if he did, it was always missing the key details. "I'm sorry you suffered, but you probably saved a lot of lives by doing so. Watching your friends die is... forgive me, please continue," he shook himself clearly trying to get a handle on some deep seeded emotions that were threatening to escape.

 

"Um, right, we were in our room when we heard the sounds of screams coming from the hall. I told Ilara to pack a bag and I was hurrying to get my armor on when, um, Ser Aeron and two other Templars barged in." He sat back and wiped a hand down his face, knowing full well where this story was headed. She just nodded grimly to him confirming his assumptions. "This is where my memory gets fuzzy. Ilara told me that I had killed all three men before they could... you know," she shrugged, but at her next words fear rose within her, "but the red lyrium..." she trailed off as brief snippets of each lyrium-embellished atrocity committed against her and Ilara came back to haunt her. Even though her eyes were fixed on a spot on her desk, she didn't see it - in fact, her subconscious had completely hijacked her mind and eyes seeing only the red memories.

 

Evelyn could hardly see through the howling squall as she stepped clumsily out from cover. The wind gusts were so strong she leaned into it so she wouldn't fall back; especially when it had now become extremely more difficult to get back up. She thanked the Maker that she was already beyond cold to the point of complete numbness so she couldn't feel the additional pain of the icy snow that was hitting her exposed skin. The incisive frost that infiltrated her mind emanated from the gash on her head, the result of losing her helmet, her sole headgear, at some undetermined moment. Her marked arm hung lifelessly at her side and she was fairly certain aside from the puncture wound to it, it must be dislocated.

 

Trudging and stumbling as she walked to an unknown destination, she tried to warm herself by heating her armor with her magic. She placed her working hand on the metal, heating it, even the slightest amount of heat was painful, but it served to keep her awake and moving. The snow was getting deeper and the ground steeper as she realized she was headed up a mountainside. She kept her head down and was determined to survive to at least tell the others about Corypheus and his plans. Each step up was more difficult than the last, but she wasn't about to let that asshole destroy the world for his own vanity. Whether Andraste saved her from the Conclave or not, she was given a second chance while everyone else had perished. There had to be a reason, and if rivaling him was it, she would make him curse the day he decided to attack Haven.

 

After what seemed an eternity, she was brought back by the scrape of his chair legs as he went to get up. The creases of worry lines on his face were deeper in the candlelight. She held her hand up, halting him.

 

"I'm all right, the memories just--"

 

"Overwhelmed you." He finished her words and sat back down. His amber eyes were sympathetic, not pitiful. She didn't need him to tell her he was sorry or 'how awful it must've been,' she needed someone who could understand the fallout from these events. She stood and made her way over to where Owayne had left her a bottle of whiskey. Drinking was how he dealt with his problems, and so he left her a bottle for her private comfort. It was still unopened, but she felt to go on some liquid courage was needed. She didn't bother asking and poured two glasses, leaving one beside him on the desk. Before she sat back down, she took her drink in one shot, then poured herself a second to nurse.

 

"When Cassandra and the others had found me at Sampson's camp trapped in the waking dream, reliving the assault over and over again," her voice caught in her throat as her heart pounded and she looked up at the ceiling trying to blink back tears. He whispered a quiet 'take your time' as if speaking any louder would cause her to shatter like glass. Clearing her throat she pushed through the pain, but couldn't bring herself to look at him, "each time it was just a different way to be tortured before dying. I prayed for death," her voice finally gave and that last part was barely audible. "But then the memory would just start all over again." She chanced a look over at him and he too couldn't bring his gaze from the floorboards. "I'm sorry if this is making you uncomfortable, I can stop--"

 

"No!" he cleared his throat, "No, it's not. I just know what that's like. To want death, and yet, as much as I wanted to give in I... I couldn't." She stared at him observing the subtle changes as he spoke. His shoulders slumped slightly, not standing as tall nor as broad as they typically did. The tight muscles of his face were relaxed, not in comfort but rather in defeat. Right as she went to take a sip of her drink, he caught her eye and she paused inclining her head towards his own glass. Taking her suggestion, she let him finish his mouthful before she filled the silence in the room.

 

"Neither could I," his face lifted finally to meet her eyes as they had been deep at the bottom of his glass, "I was given the choice to give into the lyrium's madness, to let it have me as its puppet, but I chose torture over and over again. I can still hear Aeron's voice ask me if I've had enough, if I was ready for it to end." He held out an open hand out between them while a few tears ran down her cheeks. It was the saving hand that never came for her. It seemed an unremarkable thing, but to them, it was a second chance to lift themselves from the darkness together. His warmth was comforting and safe, and when she felt him squeeze her hand she knew this was a man who like her, was too proud to show people weakness. That he'd rather suffer in silence than burden another with his troubles. What made him finally decide to approach her about it she would ask in time, but whatever the reason she was glad he did.

 

The sight of a dark mass of trees tore her from her memories. She needed to rest and find cover from the gusting wind she had been walking into for who knows how long. Her mana was all but depleted leaving her even weaker with all her wounds. The tall pines were a poor excuse for cover, but she flopped herself down against one of the trunks regardless. As the wind ripped around her, all she could see before her was darkness. The crushing feeling of doom hung in the air now that she was still. The motivation she had was fading as exhaustion began to win out over all else. The pain from her injuries throbbed through the cold, and she knew she was in bad shape, especially as the shoulder wound was still bleeding. It was only now that she realized the splinter had torn through her armor, which hung from one shoulder. The whole area around the wound was soaked in blood and the stain had traveled down her side to her hip.

 

The longer she sat there, the quicker her consciousness was slipping from her due to the deep cold she now felt in her bones. She forced herself to think, but nothing came. A whirlwind of emotions followed the realization that she was dying: Panic because she was the only one who could seal rifts. Dread because she was not ready to meet the Maker after he just showed her a new purpose to live. Fear for those she would be leaving behind without her protection. Her eyes widened, and in a desperate act to signal someone, anyone, she used the last of her mana in a fiery explosion. Slumping back against the tree she struggled to open her eyes. Without her magic there was nothing keeping her going but the small hope someone out there saw her last spark of life ignite.

 

---

 

Three hours and six search parties later the Herald was still not found. They were running out of healthy soldiers to send. Owayne had gone out on everyone he possibly could before finally collapsing from exhaustion. Every mage still standing was tending to the wounded and every soldier worked to erect tents, make anything slightly resembling food and perform other duties as needed to make camp to survive the night.

 

Cullen had his own injuries but if he could stand, he could work - though his list of wounds was increasing by the hour as he noticed new cuts and bruises as he continued. His muscles ached, it had been some time since he was in sustained combat like that. It hurt to inhale too deeply most likely due to broken ribs from being batted around by red lyrium behemoths. His forehead stung from a cut he received from stupidly lowering his shield too soon against a flurry of ice shards slung at him by a mage. His armor had done its job but he feared some pieces were beyond repair. Armor, he thought and remembered the outstanding bet he made with Evelyn. He hoped against hope that he'd be able to make good on that bet.

 

He looked up from the map he was hunched over looking at those hurrying past him. By how frequently healers stopped to inquire after his health, he was fairly certain his head was still bleeding to a worrisome degree. He didn't think much of it though and told them to check back after they saw to his men. Runners with hot broth and water were sent around, but again he declined. Each time he did so, Ilara just gave him a look from the large open tent across from his where she was tending patients. Henley, Sorin, Blackwall, Owayne and Iron Bull with some of his Chargers were all resting and recovering there.

 

One of the first things he did was set up a table under a small canvas. They couldn't spare anything larger as the wounded needed cover from the mountain wind and weather. The temporary 'War Room' was barely even high enough for him to stand under. Pouring over the map and reading the very short stack of scouting reports, he tried to discern where exactly they were. Through the noise of camp, he could hear the three women bickering their way over to him and he groaned messaging his temples. He tried to ignore the sound of his name being called, but straightened knowing there was going to be no getting around their plethora of bad ideas.

 

"Cullen," he sighed at hearing his name for what felt like the hundredth time, "the Ambassador wishes to announce immediately that the Inquisition is alive and well. What are your thoughts?"

 

"Absurd," his voice carried his annoyance, "you cannot just announce that after a major battle in which we lost, terribly. For one, we don't know where our enemy is. Send ravens and they could lead that army right here to finish us off."

 

"But their army was buried by the avalanche, how many men could Corypheus still command?" He controlled the urge to scoff at Josephine's assessment of the aftermath.

 

"That army was fueled by red lyrium, who knows what kind of powers it gave them. Did you not see the Red Templars with crystals growing from them?" He acutely felt his ribs throb at their mention. "We know what the Herald did with a cup of it, let alone what someone could do with it growing from them! My guess would be we temporarily stopped them, not killed them. You send word that we are alive and they will hunt us down."

 

"Josie has a point, what if word reaches Orlais and Ferelden that we've been destroyed? Not only will we lose a great deal of influence, but it will cause panic. Who would protect the people from rifts? Corypheus wants to sew chaos through Southern Thedas. With the Herald dead--"

 

"We don't know that for certain." Cullen cut in. "We've found no sign to indicate either way if--"

 

"Regardless," Cassandra held a hand up to him. The advisors were too on edge to even allow each other the courtesy of finishing a sentence and it wore on his patience, "dead or alive she needs to be found. Solas believes even if she had perished that there is a small chance the magic of her mark may survive. I don't think I need to emphasize the dire situation we'd be in if the Elder One found her first."

 

"What do you think I'm doing here exactly?" The Seeker’s glare narrowed as he snapped a bit at her. "Leliana's scouts' reports have come back with very little useful information as visibility is poor in the valley." At the criticism, the Left Hand’s face drifted to a cold countenance and her avian-like gaze bore into him, but he didn't care. "It's a miracle that I can approximate where we are let alone try to find one woman in the mountains from this." He held up the few crumpled reports in his fist.

 

"Ser," Cullen turned at the man's urgent call, "it's-- there's something you should see." He pointed towards the path down into the valley. Hardly visible above the drifting snow and the rise of the mountain was a thin stem of smoke rising into the sky. He and The Right Hand hurried along behind the scout to the crest of the path. Having no one else to send to investigate, they quickly readied themselves to leave with the scout who believed there to be a small cluster of trees where the smoke was coming from. With time working against them, they raced to gather supplies and gear.

 

"Take these," Ilara shoved a few healing draughts into his hand, "a blanket, water…" She looked about the tent picking up several objects with a huff. "I have no bandages to give you."

 

"Hopefully we won't need them." Her golden hair whipped around and with a hand on her hip she gave him a look.

 

"We are still talking Evie, aren't we?" She took on a playful smirk, "The girl could find trouble walking to a Chantry service." He shook his head smiling slightly to himself, knowing that to be true. "It'll be all right, I'm sure she's fine. Are you certain I can't go with you?”

 

"You have your hands full here. Once we find her we'll do what we can to stabilize her, but bring her straight back here to the tent." He nodded toward a tent that was being prepared for her in whatever state they found her in, assuming that the fire was set by her. Ilara shuddered and rubbed her arms as she looked out towards the smoke. "Don't worry, she's strong and too stubborn, like with everything else, to die." Seemingly reassured by his words, he turned to leave.

 

"Oh, and Commander," he looked back, met with a hand to his head as she closed the cut there. She spun her finger, ordering him to turn around also seeing to the slash on his back. "What good will you be if you can't bring yourself back," she said scolding him like a mother. When he faced back around to thank her, she added, "If she does have major bleeding, burning the wound could buy you time needed to get her back here." He nodded gravely at the implications before jogging to catch up with the others.

 

The slow trek back down the mountain was eerily quiet as none of them could hear much through the wintery squall. His mind was going a mile a minute playing out every scenario in which they found her; dead, clinging to life, frozen or impossibly unharmed he tried to have a plan ready in any case. He remembered the way she had looked at him as she left the Chantry to face the Elder One, it had all but stopped his heart. In hindsight, how could he have been so stupid letting her go out there, he should have fought her harder, insisting, no ordering, her to leave with Chancellor Rodrick. She was too important to them to lose, regardless of what this Elder One wanted with her. Without her who would seal the rifts? As his mind followed this train of thought, it forced him to confront the reality that he was becoming attached to her.

 

He wasn't blind to the attention she gave him, he knew of a number of women who did the same but he had never once given into flirting except with her. It had been easy in the past to dismiss others for any number of reasons, mostly due to interference in his duty, but he couldn't seem to rid himself of thoughts about her. Perhaps it was because he was no longer bound by The Order and their rules, nor was she bound by Circle law. Possibilities he had not considered and had resigned to never having were suddenly possible. He was a free man to choose what he wanted and who he wanted.

 

Evelyn was certainly beautiful with her two-toned long hair, soft square jaw and fiery brown eyes. The scar on her cheek and nose enhanced her fierceness, yet did not take away from her attractiveness. He liked that she dressed fairly modest, but the way she wore those tight leather pants and thigh-high boots had caused him to think many impure thoughts. Though she may not have been the first woman he'd ever thought about with concupiscence, she was the first to make him reciprocate. It hit him that perhaps his attraction toward her wasn't just physical, but something deeper.

 

She carried herself with a sense of purpose that was both commanding and inspiring. It was clear that this woman had a mission, and that she was not one to be deterred by obstacles or setbacks. For all her strength and determination, there was a vulnerability to her. Here was a woman who had experienced hardship and adversity, yet refused to be defined by it. Evelyn used humor as a shield, to hide the pain that she carried deep within. It was as if she believed that by making light of her struggles, she could somehow lessen their impact on her life, and at times on others as he remembered her joking about the scar he had given her on her leg. It pained him to think back knowing that even while she was the one suffering then, she had put his feelings before her own.

 

"There!" Cassandra shouted and Cullen looked up from the snowy ground to see several pine trees on fire just a short distance away. As fast as they could through the knee-deep snow, the trio ran kicking up more snow into the smoky wind. Slumped against one of the charred pine trees sat a figure. Their face was turned away from them but the occasional sporadic green flicker told him it could be only one person. He rushed to her side and immediately began assessing her condition. Cassandra knelt beside him, immediately cupping her unconscious face in both hands. She ran her hands down the sides of her pale face affectionately trying to elicit a response with no luck.

 

"Cassandra," his voice was low as he lifted the sundered armor from her shoulder revealing the gaping wound. Something had clearly been lodged there to create such a tear. The Seeker watched with rising despair as he took his gloved hands away covered in fresh gore. Moving his eyes down her side, he could see she had lost a lot of blood from this wound alone. It had run down soaking her armor and clothes. He had to swallow down the surge of nausea that had swelled up in his throat. He quickly felt around her torso and back not feeling or seeing any other major lacerations. There was a cut on her forehead but he assumed if it was worrisome Cassandra would've said so.

 

"She's breathing but it's weak. We need to try and wake her. Hand me a potion." He dug one of the vials out of his pocket. After handing it off and uncorking it, she tilted Evelyn's head back pressing it to her lips, pouring in a few trickles. They waited with bated breath but she didn't even stir. As she tried again, he spotted a long-jagged splinter still embedded in her shoulder. He slowly pulled it out not wanting it to break or lose it in the dim light. With a sharp inhale, the Herald finally stirred looking wearily at them. When she saw the wood in his hand, she raised her shaky unmarked hand to point at him.

 

"Do that again, and I will burn your pants off." Her voice was raspy and part way through she took a wheezy breath, but she was lucid. He couldn't help but sigh in relief for a brief moment, and neither could the others. Quickly unrolling the blanket, he tilted her forward to throw it around her. She gave a small groan before stiffly leaning back again.

 

Turning to the scout, he ordered, "Return to camp, tell them the Herald is alive, but badly injured. We will follow shortly." He disappeared quickly into the storm carrying the message of hope back to camp. "Can you stand?"

 

He realized the answer was probably no, but she tried to move anyway. After a sharp wince and strangled cry, she shut her eyes tight and shook her head. Clearly, she was in a lot of pain indicating that there were injuries within that they could not see. When her eyes suddenly rolled back in her head after the attempt the two jumped up on their knees to attention trying to rouse her again. After a scary few minutes, she came to after he pressed on her shoulder wound again.

 

"He did it again didn't he?" Though barely conscious she tried her best glare on Cassandra, who nodded her head with a wan smile. Turning to him now, "You're lucky I'm low on mana or you'd find yourself rather chilly, Rutherford."

 

"We better get her back, you'll have to carry her."

 

"Not with her shoulder still bleeding like that. We need to stop it."

 

"We don't have bandages."

 

"No, but Ilara did say we could burn it shut." He and Cassandra looked back to Evelyn who sat there with her mouth open slowly catching on to what they we suggesting.

 

"Fuck," was all she could say.

 

Cassandra took her hand, "I'm sorry my friend, but it will keep you alive until we can get to camp." He could see the rising panic in her eyes, but she nodded. She raised her good arm and conjured a flame within her palm.

 

"Be quick, before my magic wanes." She was looking at him to do it. Taking a deep breath, Cullen took her thin wrist glancing at Cassandra as he crossed it over to her opposite shoulder.

 

"Look at me," the Seeker's voice was gentle as the two women locked eyes. Their blinks and the subtle changes in their expression spoke volumes. Without any more delay, he pressed the flame to her skin. The flame sparked and sizzled. The smell of burning flesh and the orange glow against the dark overwhelmed his senses as it triggered memories of Kirkwall. Evelyn screamed with whatever strength she had left in her as Cassandra held her as steady as she could. He pulled her hand back believing that if he held it there any longer it would be too much for her. Though the flesh looked raw, the bleeding had stopped, though it would leave a nasty scar. He wondered if she'd associate him with this one too.

 

The Herald grumbled and cursed as her voice left her and the fight had gone out of her. She was leaning her head against Cassandra's shoulder in a daze. He had gathered through correspondence with Evelyn while traveling that she had become close with the Seeker, and while he thought he should be surprised by their comradery, he wasn't. He knew the Knight-Enchanter to have a fierce protective warmth towards her friends and he suspected the Seeker too, but seeing the two great warriors embracing each other in the wake of events was sobering.

 

"We should get her back to camp," he whispered softly hating to break up the two of them, but Evelyn was still not out of the woods yet, so to speak. She handed the Herald over to him, the whole time her brown eyes just trained on his face. She winced every so often as he tried to get her in a comfortable position for the hike back. Cassandra led the way, kicking the quickly accumulating snow out of his path and finding good footing for them. The storm was still howling through the pass, so much so that he hardly heard Evelyn when she tried to speak to him.

 

"Are you hurt?" Her hand went up to the recently closed gash on his head, pushing some of his hair to the side.

 

"You're asking me that as I'm the one carrying you…" he trailed off with a laugh, but the humor was lost on her. "Just sore."

 

"What about your back?"

 

"Healed, thanks to Ilara. She didn't give me much of a choice."

 

She laughed, though he could tell it hurt. "That certainly sounds like her. Always mothering someone. I'm glad though." Her hand felt limply back down holding tight to the fur on his coat. He tried to pull the blanket back up around her but ended up jostling her more than he would've liked. Thankfully she caught on and grabbed it, snuggling herself up into him. She felt smaller in his arms all tucked up like a child. The top of her hair brushed against his chin getting caught on the stubble. When he felt her head fall back, a pang of dread filled him before looking down to see she was just looking up at him again with a small smile. He wondered at what she was thinking, looking at him like that. Assumingly she was happy to be rescued, but that conclusion fell painfully short. Regardless, he returned it and found himself fighting the urge to kiss her forehead letting her know that she was safe so long as he was here.

 

Gently raising her higher in his arms so her head rested in the crook of his neck, he laid his head atop hers. Her lips ghosted across the skin of his neck as she exhaled slowly. The cold poke of her nose gave him a chill, but the heat from their closeness warded it away. She was so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath gently caressing his skin. Looking ahead, Cassandra was too distracted trying to follow their original trail down the slope to bother looking back, to which he was thankful to be able to steal such a moment with her. They nuzzled into each other more just before he slipped losing his footing for a moment. He muttered a 'sorry' into her hair knowing it must've hurt, and she tilted her head slightly up to respond. 'Distracted?' he felt rather than heard her say at the base of his jaw. A flood of prurient visions involving the two of them made him breathe deeper. Each syllable drew her split, yet full lips against him causing the heat to rise further in his chest. He only gave a chesty rumble of a laugh in response, too afraid to admit that he was.

 

In the distance, there was the faint glow of camp casting a hazy halo over the mountain. Hesitantly, he drew back from her knowing Cassandra was sure to check on them now that they were heading out of the wind to the other side of the mountain. Sure enough, the snow-covered Seeker turned waiting for him to catch up as she inspected his charge.

 

They paused at the crest of the path through the pass to camp to catch their breath, when a shaky voice broke the silence. "Just tell me one thing," Evelyn paused a moment, "how messed up is my hair?" Cullen started down at her dumbstruck. "It's not very heroic when your hair looks like a giant chewed on it before it froze." Cassandra laughed, but he shook her head as her shield of humor was raised once more. "Lighten up, Rutherford. If I'm dying the least you can do is laugh at my jokes," coughing a few times, a warm trickle of blood dripped down the side of her mouth. His grim demeanor deepened at its sight. "I'm fine."

 

"You don't look fine." He knew his face was a cross between a scowl and sincere worry.

 

"Then stop looking." He just sighed in response and made haste to the tent they had prepared for her. Waiting there was a slew of people ready to examine her. At the sight of them, he felt her cling to him tighter as they directed him into the tent and to the cot. He laid her down gently and took a step back as the healers pushed their way in front of him. Evelyn picked up her head searching for him as he loomed behind the healers to make sure she was alright one last time. She had just opened her mouth to say something when a rather pushy older mage shooed him out, realizing they were undressing her from the amount of armor and clothing dropping on the floor.

 

Upon exiting, he felt as if half the camp was standing before him, all trying to hear news of the Herald. He straightened at the sudden attention, though it seemed it was more due to him interrupting Cassandra's retelling of the past hour. Not lingering, he headed to the large tent where Owayne was. He shook the man awake to some semblance of consciousness to tell him that Evelyn was back in camp. He immediately jumped up and headed off toward her tent. Too exhausted from the ruck up the mountain for a second time that night, he flopped down on the now-empty cot. Owayne could be the healers' problem. He ran his hand through his hair feeling that the snow in it had melted from his body heat leaving it damp.

 

Looking up at the stars he found it startling how warm he had been carrying her extra weight up the mountain rather than his first time up. His hand fell over his eyes, it wasn't because of the extra weight you fool. He considered that he needed to decide before he fell in too deep and there was no coming out. Now was the time to either shut his feelings down or let them lead down an unfamiliar road with a mage no less. No, he was trying to be a better man and not define people by forces out of their control, no matter how much the voices from his dark past called to him. He battled himself in his head, trying to determine how far he had possibly fallen already for her. He rattled off every reason why not to pursue her, but no matter what point he fixated on, some part of him came to her defense. Fighting a losing battle, he let his hand fall as sleep took him. Oh Rutherford, what have you done to yourself?

 

---

 

Everything hurt, though she was thankful to be thawing out. After waking up from a short nap to the sound of the advisors bickering, she had just laid there listening. Chiming in as if she was there, she finally had enough and was determined to give them a piece of her mind. As the healers worked on her earlier, Leliana had sat with her so she could recount what Corypheus had said to her while they escaped. Even the Spymaster was not expecting a Magister darkspawn from the dawn of time to be the one opposing the Inquisition from the shadows.

 

Testing her limbs, she groaned and winced with every movement. The loss of function in her left arm, which was hanging in a sling, only added another layer of frustration to the simple task of sitting up. Feeling winded just from that alone, she sat on the side of her cot thinking about how close she had come to death. She felt the weight of her own mortality thinking about how Corypheus was still out there hunting her down. The more she began to dwell on it, the more fear and the frantic impulse to do something about it fueled her.

 

Rummaging through the pile of clothes on the floor for her shirt, she didn't hear him behind her until he started to apologize for coming unannounced. "Relax, I'm not naked." She stood agonizingly slow, twisting and gesturing with her good arm to the bandages that covered her left shoulder and breasts down to above her navel. "If you're here to start on my armor don't bother till I get a new set." She kicked the heap of sundered metal and bloodied leather. Cullen took a few steps over to stand by her side bending down to inspect it.

 

"Maker, I've never seen armor this bad and the person wearing it survive." He stood looking over at her with a worried scowl. His words made her swallow hard as she was still processing the past few hours.

 

"I'll have to thank Harriet. That man deserves a pay raise. Does he ride? Maybe I'll have my father send him a mount."

 

"Harriet made your armor? Hmm, I'll have to have him make me a new breast and back plate." She looked over to see he was indeed without them but still wore plates over his arms. The once white cotton shirt he wore under his armor now peaked through between his coat and mantle. The weight of the material rested against the rise of his pectorals.

 

"My shirt isn't here." She sighed placing her hand on her hip. "I bet Ilara took it so I wouldn't leave the tent. Clever girl."

 

"Why do you want to leave the tent? You should be resting."

 

"I'm sick of laying here listening to you all argue about what to do next. If that thing is still out there, we need to move." She winced a little at her outburst feeling a constriction in her lungs.

 

"Most of us, like you, cannot move. We need to give the wounded time to rest and the dying time to… pass. It's that or we must leave them behind." That news struck a deep cord of sorrow within her. "How far would you get before you collapsed again? I will tell you what I told the rest of the council," his anger was flaring up, clearly his patience on the subject had been worn thin, "what we need to do is lay low. No ravens, no grand announcements about our survival, we just rest so we can move and find somewhere suitable to begin again." She didn't disagree, but she wanted to. Patience was not a virtue of hers and the longer she'd be stuck in this Maker forsaken tent, the longer she'd stew on her recent failures rather than right them.

 

She gave a long growl, "Cullen I can't stay here cooped up in bed waiting for the Elder One to find me! I'll go crazy, I'm going out there." The sudden movement shot pain through her ribs, but she was determined not to let him see it. His arm shot out halting her, and he stared hard at her brazen attempt.

 

"You can't, not only are you too stubborn to admit you need rest but you're without the proper attire. Andraste preserve me, you're the Herald, you can't just waltz about like that." She followed his eyes down her front. The odd silk bandages - most likely someone's garment they shredded - sat as low as a breast band and only covered down to the end of her ribcage. She had seen gowns at summer balls that exposed more than what she was boasting.

 

"My modesty is not your concern. Nor is where I go or what I do." The frown on his face deepened with a hint of anger bubbling just under the surface. "Unless…" She stepped closer to him, only leaving an inch or two between them. What he had done while carrying her back up the mountain was not lost on her, delirious or not. She didn’t reach out to touch him, instead letting the intimacy of how close she stood to him convey her message. "Unless there's another reason, one you're not saying as to why I can't go out like this." His eyes roved down her once more as he considered her words.

 

"Perhaps there is," he said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. As his hand fell, it slid down her good arm to her exposed waist. His eyes followed its path but looked back into her heavy gaze, "because you'll freeze." She was stunned for a moment thinking he was actually going to tell her some revelation into his feelings, when in fact he was throwing her own sarcasm back at her. "We're in the middle of the bloody Frostbacks, Trevelyan. I already brought you here frozen once, I won't do so again." She wanted to be mad, but couldn't, finding the humor in it despite everything.

 

She reached out and grabbed a fist full of his shirt, "I would very much like to hit you, but I'd hurt myself more than I would you." He chuckled, still holding her hip gently with one hand.

 

"Herald, I hope I'm not… oh, Commander, I didn't mean to interrupt." Mother Giselle walked in. As in Haven, it seems wherever Evelyn was quartered had no need for some form of a door, since everyone ignored it anyway. Quickly releasing her and stepping back, Cullen stuttered a few incoherent excuses as to his presence. "I had your shirt mended, I hope you weren't missing it." She eyed Cullen critically and the heat flushed to his face.

 

"Thank you, Revered Mother, I was just telling the Commander how unfortunate it would be to cover these exquisite bandages."

 

She laughed, "I'm glad you like them. I gave up my slip for them to be made." Evelyn's eyes and smile grew wide.

 

"We all have to make sacrifices. My modesty, your slip…" At that Cullen excused himself, making up an apologetic story about reports waiting for him. When he left the women shared a laugh at the poor man's expense.

 

"I'm glad to see your spirit has not left you after your ordeal. It seems not even that creature could beat it out of you."

 

"Literally," she added.

 

After a long sobering talk with Mother Giselle, clarity and purpose reasserted itself within Evelyn. She confronted the fact that she was again hiding from the painful truth of things: she was incredibly wounded; an ancient Tevinter darkspawn magister was out there not only trying to kill her, but trying to destroy the world; and the Inquisition had been almost wiped off the face of Thedas. Many things hung in the balance and it was time to step up as the Herald and do something about it.

 

She stormed out of the tent leaving Mother Giselle abruptly - with her blood-stained mended shirt on. The chill of the air tried to distract her as she marched with a gait onwards towards the raised voices of the four unsuspecting victims of her tirade. Her face was set in a heated snarl and the glow of her recovering mana pulsed up her veins. She stopped a few feet from their huddle waiting for them to acknowledge her presence. When they one by one turned slowly, looking at her with surprised looks she wasted no time.

 

"I, and most likely a good portion of camp, have heard enough out of you four! For fuck's sake do you even know what you sound like? Someone needs to take charge here, so who is it going to be?" They all looked back and forth at each other. "What, no one?" She just shook her head, "There are hundreds of people here who are relying on you four to deliver them from this mess, and yet you carry on like squabbling children. There is an ancient Tevinter magister trying to become a god and the Inquisition is the only one who can do something about it. I understand we've all been through a lot, but you are the best and brightest Thedas has to offer. Divine Justinia would not have appointed you if it wasn't true!" She paused to catch her breath, coughing and wincing before going on.

 

"The four of you on your own are incredibly formidable, and when you work together you're unstoppable. Corypheus may have come to Haven to kill me, but it couldn't have gone unnoticed the growing power and influence of the Inquisition. You've taken in men and women who want to help regardless of skill, race or creed and made them work together. All of you have changed lives and given its members purpose - including myself."

 

Her tone softened, "I was given a second chance surviving the Conclave, which up until now I thought was just sealing rifts and the Breach. Then Corypheus shows up and everything we've worked for goes to the Void. We're all scared, and it's all right, but we are all looking to you - the four of you - to hold us together. If you want to be mad, then be mad at me. I'm the reason we're in this situation, just don't take it out on each other."

 

There was a contemplative silence as each of them looked guilty for the recent behavior. Apologies were exchanged through looks, though not words and they turned back to the map seemingly forgetting her presence or angry at her for lecturing them, she cared only for the result. As it should be, she thought. Watching them work with each other rather than against, she didn't notice Solas standing beside her. Asking for a private word, he led her off to the outskirts of camp. He told her that the orb Corypheus used against her was elven and that he believed there to be a long-forgotten place nearby that the Inquisition could call home.

 

"Why tell me and not them?"

 

"Because you seem to be the only person able to steer them in any direction currently. I'll entrust the information to you so you can disseminate it at the right time." She thought about his phrasing as she walked back to the large central campfire. Her lecturing and short excursion out of her tent had left her tired. The cold had crept into her bones again, which made her hate that Cullen had been right earlier. She basked in the fire's companionship as she knew the flame intimately, occasionally wave her hand at it making it dance. For a long time, she lost herself in the visions it held for her of the past, present and future. The past was turbulent and static, the present uncertain and the future was full of infinite possibilities.

 

Oddly, a voice from behind was raised in song. The deep resonance of Mother Giselle was enough to turn her head in curiosity, but she was even more shocked to find that a large gathering had amassed behind her without her noticing. They had just been there watching her for who knows how long. The crowd joined in song as she led them through "The Dawn Will Come." Frozen in place she watched incredulously as one by one they took a knee in front of her. She shook her head weakly in protest, undeserving of their reverence. Her face heated, not from the fire but from the attention, especially when she spotted her companions and advisors standing off to the side. When they finished, she placed a hand to her heart, unsure if it was the right response and the crowd, in higher spirits, dispersed. None approached her save for Mother Giselle.

 

"The people need hope and a cause. You've given them that and more, though I don't think you've realized it yet." She quirked an eyebrow up at the Revered Mother as she continued past her, and once again she was left alone with the flame to consider her words.

 

---

 

After a terrible, restless night of jumping at every sound that accosted her ears, she finally decided to give up and get up. The army of healers in and out of her tent to check on her did not help either, each telling her to rest when it was they who prevented her from doing just that. It was late in the morning and the sun's bright light reflecting off of the snow was blinding even through the gaps in the tent's canvas. At the foot of her bed, for lack of furnishings, was a small bag of herbs and a cup, no doubt left for her by Ilara. Wrapping a blanket around herself and grabbing the herbs, she stumbled out into the light. She was glad to see most of her companions sitting around resting and recovering by the fire. She sat pouring some hot water into her cup adding the herbs to it letting it steep.

 

Owayne studied her from nearby. "I don't suppose a bit of bruising improves your looks." She just glared at him from the corner of her eyes unamused in her state of grogginess.

 

"Hey Owayne, how's that love poetry going for--" He shushed her, clearly embarrassed. For some reason that she didn't want to dwell on, her brother began asking her about Cassandra and the things she likes. Naturally, she picked one she knew he'd make a fool of himself with - poetry. After the herbs steeped for a few minutes, she took a sip, but immediately sputtered it out.

 

"You deserve that."

 

With a huff, and ignoring her brother, she called over to Ilara, "Dammit Lar, was this another poultice?" The healer nodded to her rolling her eyes. "Why can't I ever tell these things apart?"

 

"Ah, I do it all the time, just ask Stitches."

 

"You know Bull, I do feel a bit better knowing a Ben-Hassrath also mixes them up." He held his cup up in cheers and she followed suit, taking a large gulp completely forgetting it was still the poultice water. She groaned and growled pouring it out on the ground while the others laughed.

 

"You all right there, Blaze? You seem out of it."

 

"She is and should be resting!" Ilara yelled as she walked away with a nod to the Seeker who had just joined them. She walked over to sit beside Evelyn, resting a hand on her shoulder.

 

"You look exhausted, perhaps you should rest."

 

"I'll rest when that thing and his pet dragon is dead and every rift is sealed." Cassandra looked at her with what seemed like pity.

 

"And people say I'm stubborn."

 

"You, Seeker? I don't believe it," the dwarf chimed in.

 

"No one asked you, Varric." She held him in one of her glares, before turning back to the Herald. "The council has decided that we can only afford to remain here for another day. Tomorrow we'll head… somewhere. We're meeting soon to discuss our options, you should join us." Evelyn paused a moment suddenly remembering her brief conversation with Solas.

 

"There may not be much of a discussion since I know where we should go."

 

 

Some hours later, scouts returned with news that Skyhold was indeed intact and unoccupied. The elf had been right. Preparations to move the whole of the Inquisition north began immediately. Varric and Josephine worked to secure supplies and Brontos from a nearby Taig. With the promise of a new home, the people's hope was renewed in the Inquisition's leadership. There was a new energy catching like wildfire, and even Evelyn was swept up in it. That evening after throwing off her sling, Mother Giselle organized several Chantry services around the camp to bless their journey in the morning.

 

She joined one of the services but stayed towards the back. Her presence had been drawing even more attention than usual and she wasn't about to distract a Chantry service. All day she had a steady stream of visitors, all complete strangers, as she sat outside her tent. Most came with questions, some talked about the ones they lost at the Conclave and Haven, others just wanted to be able to say they had met the famed 'Herald of Andraste.' There were even a few well-wishers hoping she would recover swiftly. No doubt word circulated that she was meeting with everyone and anyone who came by, having talked to at least a hundred people. While it was tiring, it was also enlightening as she asked many about themselves in return.

 

By the time the services had begun, she felt as though there was much to be thankful for and even more to pray for. Many had expressed their concerns over the Elder One, but she assured them that she still had faith in the Inquisition. That they would come back stronger in the face of adversity and honor those who had sacrificed their lives. After hours of continuous conversation, the quiet of the service was soothing. She stood leaning against a tent post and closed her eyes listening and taking in the silence. When it was time to pray, she knelt and recited the prayer aloud.

 

O Maker, we come before you now,

To ask your blessings on this journey.

Guide our steps and keep us safe,

As we travel to our destination.

Grant us strength and courage to endure,

The challenges that lie ahead.

May your peace and love surround us,

And protect us from all harm.

Bless us with opportunities to experience,

The beauty and goodness of your creation.

May we always remember that we are never alone,

For you are with us always, no matter where we go.

 

The crunch of boots came up beside her, but whoever it was didn't disturb her, and took a knee. Even as service resumed, she stayed a minute longer to add her own silent prayer.

 

When she finally opened her eyes, she was met by an amber set. She took his hand when it was offered to stand, and amazingly enough, she was able to keep her mouth shut through the rest of the service. When it was over, she just gave him a wan smile and spun away. She was in a weird mood after listening to everyone today. Some truly believed she was marked by Andraste and that only she could stand against the Elder One. Corypheus had told her enough for her to believe she wasn't marked by Andraste, even if a small part of her wished it if only to get through the storm that lay ahead in one piece. Or to know that if and when she died for the cause Andraste would take her to her side.

 

"A Trevelyan with nothing to say, a rare thing indeed."

 

She only turned her shoulders back, still walking away, "If it's wit and sarcasm you want, go look for my brother. I'm all out for tonight."

 

"Is something the matter?" It didn't take much for him to catch up with her, as she couldn't walk too fast in her state.

 

She stopped though not quite knowing how to answer. "To be honest, I'm not sure." They were in one of the quieter sections of camp headed back towards her tent, so they hooked arms and she had him lead her back to it. Along the way she told him of her day and what the people were saying to her. Back in her tent, they sat on her cot as he tried to explain, through their perspective of her fight with Corypheus why they probably put so much faith in her. Like the Conclave, no one had expected her to survive the encounter.

 

"Did you think I was dead?"

 

"No," he said with a bit of a huff, "I know better than that." She was touched by his faith in her, especially when he knew the full extent of what Corypheus had said to her.

 

"I don't feel like much of a hero." She tried to swallow back tears as they began to form. "All those people died because he wanted me dead. Now that thing is out there is planning his next atrocity to get to me. I'm terrified. Who will I lose next time?" Her voice squeaked out her confession and she looked forward knowing if she looked at him she wouldn't be able to bear it. She tapped her foot and chewed her lip trying to distract her from the fear, but it wasn't working. "My brother? My friends? You?" When his finger directed her chin to face him, she shut her eyes. He softly asked for her to look at him, but shook her head no.

 

He asked again, but this time his thumb traced along her lower lip, parting it from the top. She opened her eyes to find him a few inches away. "I will not let him harm you."

 

She gave him a sweet pitiful smile as her tears fell, running a hand down his cheek, "That's sweet, but I think it's more complicated than that." Her eyes followed the hand that came to rest on his thigh, before flicking back up to meet his, "But tonight," she leaned closer, "I'll believe it." There was no mistaking her intention. His hand brushed back along her jaw to her neck as his fingers tangled in her hair and pulled her closer. Their lips barely touched as they both hesitated, stealing each other's breath. He had closed his eyes, but could tell from the way his brow tensed and relaxed that he was unsure. She didn't want to make the decision for him and just moved her hand up from his thigh to his chest feeling his heart race. Then his nose slid gently past hers and she waited to feel the full touch of his mouth on hers.

 

"Evie, Cassandra does not…" She gasped and they both straightened to look at Owayne stepping through the tent flap. Thankfully, her brother was too busy shaking his head at the ground to notice the lapse in their composure. She quickly wiped the wet streaks from her face and tried to perk up. When he did finally look up to see the two of them, instead of apologizing or anything of the sort, he just continued on about his problem. "Oh good, Cullen's here too to call you on your bullshit." Still dazed from their almost-kiss, he blinked a few times, giving him a half-hearted 'what.' "Does Cassandra like poetry?" Evelyn slapped a hand to her forehead and shook her head.

 

"She does, don't tell me you made something up and tried to impress her with it."

 

"No, I had Varric make it up, and she hated it!"

 

She sighed heavily casting a side glance to Cullen, who looked like he was ready to bolt out of the tent. "Owayne, when I told you, you needed something like "Carmenum di Amatus," I meant it literally. She's into the banned stuff. And the poor Commander doesn't need to hear how you plan on wooing Cass… or that I'm helping you." She placed a hand on Cullen’s shoulder, "Thanks for walking me back, I'll, um, talk to you later." She thought it best she gives them both an out of the awkward situation.

 

"Right, uh," he stood rubbing the back of his neck, "Goodnight, t-to you both." He looked back sheepishly at her before stepping out into the night.

 

She looked back to her brother unamused, "You know Owayne, you really are an arse at times."

Notes:

Greetings reader!

This turned out to be one of my favorite chapters 😍! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it!

Happy reading!
Munklington

Chapter 16: Spilling Secrets

Summary:

Evelyn and her companions go to Crestwood. Cullen has a family reunion. Things take a turn in Evelyn and Cullen's relationship.

Skyhold was magnificent. It was just what they needed when they needed it. The ancient and mysterious fortress was spacious allowing for the Inquisition to grow and strong enough to withstand a dragon. Josephine wasted no time in getting restoration efforts underway and slowly by slowly the old bones of the elven fortress came back to life. Its restoration spurred on the healing of its occupants as well providing shelter from the freezing wind and snow of the Frostbacks. Evelyn mended, but her shoulder would cause her pain for the foreseeable future having been wounded so severely.

 

At the end of their first week of occupancy, the Ambassador sent word out to all of Thedas that the Inquisition, along with its Herald - and newly appointed Inquisitor - were alive and well. Unanimously, the council had decided to appoint her Inquisitor in the wake of the events at Haven. Standing on the steps that led into the Great Hall and before all its members, she ceremoniously vowed to defeat Corypheus, repair the Veil and restore peace to Thedas. Easier said than done.

 

Her new title brought a new dynamic to the leadership of the Inquisition. With a single decisive voice to settle matters, meetings ran smoother, though the actual matters at hand were vastly more challenging now as they navigated their new power status. The King and Queen of Ferelden openly pledged their support of the Inquisition, recognizing the service done within their borders, giving them the backing they needed to approach the Empress of Orlais.

 

Preventing the fall of Orlais became their primary concern. In typical Orlesian fashion, the Empress was hosting peace talks under the auspices of a grand masquerade at the Winter Palace. The talks had temporarily called a truce to hostilities raging between her and her cousin, Grand Duke Gaspard. Her advisors had uncovered troubling evidence that the Elder One's assassination attempt on the Empress' life would happen at the ball. Their biggest problem though was that they had yet to gain enough influence to get an invitation. Though word of her heroism facing down Corypheus had spread, along with news of what the monster had planned for Thedas, it still wasn't sufficient to impress the Orlesian court. Evelyn's only choice was to continue closing rifts to show people the value of the Inquisition.

 

With that, preparations were being made for the Inquisitor and her party to head north to Crestwood. A rift that had opened in the lake was having a terrifying effect on the land, reanimating the dead who were attacking the village. She was also eager to meet with Ser Stroud, a senior member of the Grey Wardens who had information on their sudden disappearance. Varric had enlisted the help of the Champion of Kirkwall in the matter who had reason to believe it had to do with Corypheus.

 

Things were different between her and Cullen since that night in her tent. Neither mentioned it again, so their every interaction was shadowed by the incident, at least when they were alone. Their work was a comfortable topic to which they stuck to most of the time trying to shake the awkwardness. For Evelyn, it wasn't so much embarrassment as it was the way he hesitated that bothered her. There had been some sort of argument with himself going on in his head, and even if ultimately, he had gone to kiss her, he had still stopped himself to consider something. She wanted to know what that something was. It was a fact that was beginning to fester within her. To know she had some flaw that despite their shared feelings just unsettled her. It was making her do odd things like constantly making sure her hair was perfect or that she smelled nice. She went through the trouble of having Ilara mix a new scent of Embrium and vanilla for her, thinking the rose and peony were too flowery. Though she couldn't be certain, she had a nagging feeling it was because she was a mage; a mage who wielded powerful, and at times, unstable magic. He had admitted his fear of magic to her, but he always talked as if it was in the past. Now she wondered if that was true.

 

A new gut-wrenching feeling developed from thinking about her feelings toward him, one that questioned if she was willing to let her heart get broken. It was easier to leave things be, and she even considered a similar arrangement to what she and Henley once had. If Cullen would rather just keep it physical, she supposed she could deal with that again, and the more she thought about it the more she believed it may be best considering their roles within the Inquisition. Or maybe one night would be enough to get it out of their system and they could go on as before. As much as she wanted to believe that and tried to convince herself of it, she knew she was just lying to herself. He made her heart ache and when her thoughts were able to drift away from the Inquisition they went to him.

 

In the War Room one morning, Dagna joined them to discuss her findings regarding why Evelyn could no longer seem to wield a spirit blade.

 

"It's not a question of 'why,' but a question of 'what.' We've tested so many, so so many, different conduits, but we've only tried dead metals."

 

"Dead metals?" Evelyn put her hands on her hips. "What are 'dead metals?'" Her new Arcane Enchanter was quirky and spunky, and at times a bit odd.

 

"You know metal! We need something living like..." she paused thinking aloud, "bone! Dragon bone to be precise."

 

"You want me to slay a dragon?" She looked wearily over to her three advisors. The only one who seemed concerned was Cullen, while the other two were pleased by the news.

 

Josephine pointed her quill at her, "Slaying a dragon would help secure more interest from Orlais."

 

"And it so happens my agents in Crestwood have sent word of a dragon attacking travelers on the King's Road. Killing it would make it safer for people to travel the route again. Particularly, couriers traveling between Val Royeaux and Denerim. More people means more information."

 

"So let me get all this straight," Evelyn leaned over the war table, "while in Crestwood - which by the way, I can only be there for five days, not counting those it will take us to travel to and from there - you want me to meet with Stroud, after finding him of course, deal with the dead that are coming from a rift in a lake and now slay a dragon? I think I may need half the army if you want me to accomplish all this within the month before we need to prepare for the Winter Palace! That's if we even get invited after all that."

 

"There is an old abandoned fortress, Caer Bronach, located to the south of the village," Cullen push a map of the area over to her pointing at its location. "Bandits are occupying it now, but clear it out and we'd have a strong base of operations for you in the area to aid you."

 

"Right, let's add it to the list then. Wardens, the dead, dragon slaying, fortress full of bandits. Got it."

 

"If you'd prefer Inquisitor, I can assist you with the fort. I'll take men to rid it of the bandits and get it operational while you focus on the other tasks."

 

"That would help make the most of our time there. Are you sure we can spare you right now?"

 

"Rylen can handle everything from here, specifically the training of all the new recruits. With the way things are, the Inquisition is going to need fortified bases of operation through Ferelden and Orlais. As situations arise, I will need to be able to travel at a moment's notice and still perform my duties. How effective can I be if I'm constantly stuck behind a desk here?" She conceded to his point.

 

"One last thing, before we end, Dagna, what do you make of my ability to now wield magma as I do flames?"

 

"Right, right, I remember you mentioning that. You said after you took red lyrium it broke something within you. Think of it like an onion," Evelyn made a face just thinking that if Henley were here he'd never let her live down the fact that her mage powers were being compared to a stinky onion. "In the center is your mana, over the years as the "onion" grew larger gaining more layers, it blocked out the ability for the core to expand and grow. Everybody with me still?" Slow nods and inquisitive looks followed. "I think the red lyrium stripped your "onion" of a few layers. Your mana can now see what more it can be and do."

 

"How can my mana 'see?' Are you implying that it's alive."

 

"It is alive. You're alive are you not? It'd be pretty gross having a dead thing inside of you. How did you know to crack the ground open and pull out the magma?"

 

"Instinct."

 

"So, your "instinct" or mana told you. It was helping."

 

"Dagna, if what you're saying is true, then you believe that mages coexist with a living being within them."

 

"Yes! Though I'd call it more of an 'essence' than 'being.' And I believe it varies from mage to mage. That's why some can control their abilities and others cannot. It would also explain why you were hearing a song while on the red stuff. That "essence" was attempting to control you and the other "essence" inside of you." Evelyn didn't know what to say. She felt as if she needed a chair before she'd fall over. Up until this moment, she had believed her power to be a part of her, as much as her arm was; just like her arm, she learned how to use it and perform more tricks with it. Now she felt as if she didn't know herself. She touched her mana for comfort, feeling its soft warmth ignite in her veins. It still felt the same, and not like a stranger, calming her nerves.

 

"Then it would also mean lyrium is alive as well." Cullen looked at Dagna hard, and she knew what he was going to ask next. "What of it then when Templars, non-mages, take this "essence?""

 

"Hmm, hard to say, I've only just started looking into it from the mage perspective. If I had to guess, and do I ever mean this is a guess, then I would say it's like an infection or a parasite. It finds a happy place to live where it's constantly fed so it's content."

 

"And when it stops getting fed lyrium?"

 

"Like a hungry child, it will react and cry out until it gets more." At her words, they looked at each other in paralyzed realization. She had so many more questions, but looking as if Cullen had just gone through the same internal crisis she just had, dismissed Dagna. The four stood quiet until the door shut and the scurry of her small feet was no longer heard.

 

"So," Leliana eyed them suspiciously, "what is it that you aren't telling us?"

 

"I-I," he began unsure, but Evelyn nodded with resolve. "I no longer take lyrium. I haven't for months since before we ever arrived at Haven." He explained his want for secrecy and that they were now only the fourth and fifth person to know. Josephine asked after his health several times in several different ways and Leliana merely placed a hand on his shoulder in solidarity. Evelyn was happy to see him letting more people know, especially ones who would care and look out for him. They spoke briefly about Dagna's implications of what that meant for him before then moving on to Evelyn.

 

She laughed sarcastically, "Am I alright? No, in fact, I feel worse knowing I'm like a magical onion bomb primed to explode. Not to mention I'm host to two "essences"; the mark and my mana - if I can even call it mine anymore." She grabbed her single relaxed braid and flipped it over her shoulder so she could play nervously with it. She sighed heavy and long, "I'll be fine. I'm actually more concerned about what would happen if that knowledge was found out before we could properly look into it. Templars with parasites; Mages who can increase their power by taking red lyrium. Leliana, will you see to it?"

 

"Of course, Inquisitor."

 

"The only person I want working with Dagna on it is Ilara. She and Master Taigen were working with lyrium, perhaps what she knows can aid Dagna." She slightly bowed again in confirmation. "Josephine, please make a note to have an update on their progress by the time we get back from Crestwood. Now, I have some packing to do."

 

---

 

After making contact with Hawke and Stroud in Crestwood, a raven found her with a message from the Commander saying they had taken the fort. Sure enough, as her team walked the King's Road, a large Inquisition flag flew over it in the stiff wet breeze. With half their tasks complete and four days to go before needing to head back, Evelyn was pleased. Rather than stay at one of their base camps, she opted to let everyone rest at the fort.

 

Cullen seemed to have everything running smoothly with repairs being made from their battle. Rain still hounded them, but the added cover of the stone keep helped them stay dry for the night. A few hours had passed since arriving and oddly there was no sign of Cullen. Charter, one of Leliana's most trusted agents, was in the courtyard and relayed to her that the Commander retired for the evening. She found that odd, because it was Cullen they were speaking of, and thought she should go check on him. Charter gave her a master key to the fort and pointed her in the direction of the officers' quarters.

 

As she approached the door to his room, she tried to smooth down some arrant strands of wet hair. She knocked a few times with no answer when that cold gut feeling sent a wave of nausea through her. Taking out her key, she unlocked the door to find Cullen slumped unconscious against the side of his bed. It looked as if he was trying to get into it, but was too late. One arm was propped up on the bed and the rest of him sagged towards the floor.

 

Rushing to his side she put a hand under his nose to check his breathing. He was thankfully, so she held his head stroking and patting it to see if that'd wake him, but there was no response. Her voice grew gradually louder calling his name as she frantically tried to rouse him. She tried the healing spell she used for his headaches, but no luck. Grabbing him under his arms she tried to lay him down, but his solid muscular form paired with his armor made him incredibly heavy. Her shoulder burned with a firey pain, still in no condition to lift such a weight. The best she could do was lay him on his stomach and then roll him to his back. When his face hit the floor, perhaps harder than she would've liked, he at last made a noise.

 

"Cullen, you son of a... very nice woman, wake up!" She placed his head in her lap and petted his head affectionately. His lips were dry and cracked and his skin was pale. On his desk sat a pitcher of water. As if to agree to her next action, he let out another grumble, as she lowered his head to the floor.

 

His desk had papers scattered everywhere on it, it was a wonder he didn't set the place on fire as she pushed aside some piles that were too close to the candle. She slid the pitcher closer to her and rummaged around for a cup. Finding one on the floor under the desk, she picked it up, pouring the water into it. When she turned around she gasped. Her hand struck out hitting him across the face. Somehow, he had gotten up and over to her. His face had turned out to the side with one hand over the reddening skin on his cheek. 'Ow,' was all he said weakly.

 

"Oh, Cullen! What are you doing?!" She lost a bit of her articulation in the shock of suddenly seeing him behind her and not limp on the ground.

 

"I think it's fairly obvious. Getting up."

 

"Maker's balls Cullen, what happened?" She touched his sweaty brow which had broken out now in a fever. While he could stand, she made the best of it, guiding him over to the bed to recline. He was still dazed wincing in pain from his head. She tried the spell for his headaches again, this time bringing him visible relief. She ran her fingers through his golden locks asking if he was alright, replying that he just needed a moment as he sat with his eyes shut. The heat from his strightened curls warmed her chilly hands. His hair was thick, and from being able to study it closely saw he was beginning to grey.

 

"It's the withdrawal symptoms, but they all happened at once and..." his words were labored.

 

"Was there any warning?"

 

"No. It started normally with a headache, but by the time I made it back here I could barely stand, then everything went black." She reached an arm around him and pulled his head to her shoulder. "I suppose I'm lucky you came along when you did." The thought unsettled her. What would've happened if she had not? Maybe nothing, but she wasn't willing to take chances when it came to his health. Her other arm hugged him now too as horrid thoughts clouded her mind.

 

They stayed like that for a while until he voiced that the shakiness had passed, though she noted how drained he looked. She decided he needed to rest and recover for the remainder of the night and she was to stay with him. Proving to be no match for her stubbornness in his current state, he surrendered to her ministrations on the condition that he could still go through his reports from in bed. She agreed and had his valet, who had been gone on an errand when he had collapsed, discreetly fetch them food. When he inquired after the Commander's health, she just replied that he had over-exerted himself and needed rest.

 

When his color returned, he insisted he needed to go check on how things were progressing, having been gone for hours. Since he insisted, she ordered him to stay  in bed - since she could do that now.

 

"That's not fair."

 

"Are you pouting Commander? Shouldn't you be happy I'm at least letting you read reports? I could take those away too." She walked over to the bed and began removing his armor from the back.

 

"W-what are you doing?"

 

She looked around his shoulder staring at him like it was obvious, "Taking off your armor since you won't need it to rest." As she worked, he squirmed trying to fend her off. She knew he hated people fussing over him. Each one of his swats was met with giggles as she dodged and weaved about them, proving to be easy as he began to tire again.

 

"Maker, you're insufferable at times!" She scoffed at his slight annoyance.

 

"If only Corypheus thought that, maybe he'd leave me alone." With a huff, Cullen ceased his grappling with her and his face shifted to one of amusement. Evelyn used the window to continue unstrapping the plates unhindered. "That's funny, is it? Feel free to propose it at our next council meeting. Pray tell, what do you find so 'insufferable' about me that I may use it against our enemy, Commander?"

 

"Hmm, well your haughty attitude, especially when you don't get your way; you are always fixing your hair when you don't even have to; when you eat you keep everything organized into neat sections on your plate, except when there is gravy involved then you just make a bloody mess--"

 

She burst out laughing, "My eating habits offend you? It's a wonder we're even friends."

 

"You snore so loud you could wake an archdemon."

 

"How would you even know that?! Did Cassandra tell you that?" She put her hands on her hips eyeing him while he chuckled at her.

 

"Don't blame her, I asked. I was up late a few nights ago on our way here and there was this horrid sound coming from your tent. She was quick to blame you." Finally, having relieved him of his armor, she neatly placed it on his chest in the far corner of the room. She was about to give him a piece of her 'haughty attitude' when there was a knock on the door.

 

"Commander, is the Inquisitor with you?"

 

"Yes, Cassandra what is it?" She walked to the door and opened it, all the while keeping a finger pointed at her patient to make sure he stayed in bed. The Seeker looked at her with a mix of emotions looking back and forth between the two. "Something the matter?"

 

"The dragon has been spotted nearby. I know you wanted to drain the lake to go after the rift, but perhaps we can delay it until after we deal with the creature?"

 

She nodded her head thinking it over, "The rift is the higher priority, but if the dragon has come to nest we should seize the opportunity. We'll leave at first light, no later."

 

"I can organize an escort and come along as well," Cullen called over from his bed swinging his legs over the side.

 

"Absolutely not! Would you like to tell Cassandra why I'm here or can I?" He bent over his knees and rubbed the back of his neck and hair briskly in frustration. Even as he protested through the entirety of Evelyn's explanation, Cassandra paid him no mind, in the end agreeing with her. They assured him that everything would be fine, especially since she had brought the Iron Bull along. Once she told the giant Qunari they were going after the dragon, he'd have enough adrenaline and testosterone pumping through him for twenty men. "You can, however, send men, other than you, to defend the village until we can get down to that rift."

 

"Yes, Inquisitor," he said in defeat.

 

With official matters settled, she turned back to her loose-lipped tentmate with a frown. "By the way, you told him I snore?! Now I'm not sorry I told my brother you like dirty poetry."

 

"That was you!?"

 

---

 

The rest of their time in Crestwood went according to plan and they even concluded business there with a day to spare. Even the dragon slaying, though hard-fought, successfully wielded enough raw materials for Dagna to make use of. And once more, trade and commerce were restored now that the King's Road was safe for travel again. She did not, however, want to linger there for longer than she had to, not when they had a fort and garrison of soldiers to handle any problems. Having been traveling with wet socks and soaked to the bone for days, she was ready for a change in scenery. On their way back to Skyhold, Cullen brought his horse up next to hers.

 

"I was, uh--," he rubbed the back of his neck, "wondering if we could make a quick detour to South Reach?"

 

"To see your family?"

 

"That's right. You remembered." He gave her a small smile, but it faded to flushed embarrassment. "But we don't-- if it's too far out of the way--"

 

"Of course, we can stop! I think after Crestwood we all need an afternoon to rest. Especially you. Besides, what kind of leader would I be if I didn't abuse my power every once in a while to grant favors to friends?" They both shared a laugh before he galloped ahead to inform the men at the front of the column of the change. She remembered back in Haven when he had told her and her brothers about his estrangement from his family. If he meant to set things right, she would help in whatever way she could. She couldn't imagine not having her family in her life.

 

He rounded the column and joined her again, "Thank you, Inquisitor." The faintest trace of a smile poked its way through his tough Commander's mask. She eyed him from out of the corner of her eye, suppressing her own tight-lipped smile.

 

The company arrived in South Reach around midday. There was a flurry of excitement as they approached since the small town had probably never seen a procession such as this in their lifetime. The townsfolk swarmed around her, wanting to catch a glimpse of her and the blessed mark. She wondered who they were more interested in The Phoenix, Herald of Andraste or Inquisitor. She dismounted graciously greeting all those who gathered, while Cullen saw to organizing the guard to keep the crowd at a respectful distance.

 

"It's alright, Commander. I don't think there's any Venatori here." He just gave her one of those pointed looks in response. With their valets off renting rooms at the town's only inn, she was free to talk to the town folk. As before when she was just merely The Phoenix, she made it a point to be a model mage. She took the good with the bad with equal grace, as not everyone was accepting of her. In her travels as Inquisitor, she heard a lot of reactions to her presence ranging from marriage proposals to slander about blood magic and her more intimate relations with a certain Tevinter. It was always something. This town however seemed more curious than fearful. The children approached her without pause and their mothers didn't hide them behind their skirts, as she had experienced in the past. She did a few harmless magic tricks for them as they babbled question after question to her. To her surprise, Cullen was fielding questions from the crowd, all with a roaming eye out for his relations.

 

When at last they were informed their rooms were ready, she and her companions made for the inn to freshen up while the rest set up a camp on the outskirts of town. Evelyn washed up as best she could and changed, trying to rid herself of the stench of the dead from Crestwood. The stench of wet rotting bodies of Old Crestwood would not leave her for some time, not at least until the Mayor was dealt with and justice was served in whatever form it took.

 

After dismissing her lady, who had her arms full of stinky soggy armor, there was a knock at the door. Cullen poked his head in, always under the impression he was an unwelcome disturbance.

 

"Heading out?"

 

"Soon, yes." He lingered by the door having more to say but not saying it. She continued to brush her hair giving him time to find his words. "I sent word ahead to Mia and she… invited you to dinner as well."

 

"And… you'd rather I decline to give you privacy, I understand." She said melodically, as she had no intention of interfering with his reunion. She knew how much of a distraction she could be.

 

"Actually, I was rather hoping you would accept?" He said sheepishly averting his gaze. She eyed him suspiciously seeing that there was an ulterior motive to his invitation.

 

"Is something wrong?" She stopped her brushing of a particularly stubborn knot to give him her full attention. He was still standing halfway in through the doorway and strode over yanking him the rest of the way in before shutting the door.

 

"It's just... I haven't seen them since the day I left for Templar training when I was thirteen, a lot can change - I've changed. I thought if you – no, I'm being a bother, forget it. I'm sure you were looking forward to a relaxing evening--"

 

"I'd be happy to come along! Where else am I going to hear all those embarrassing family stories to tease you with later!" She laughed and he groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. She stopped her laughter short after looking him up and down, "Cullen, you aren't going like that are you? In your armor?" He looked down at himself, then back up at her shrugging.

 

"I was," it sounded more like a question. Evelyn shook her head her blonde tips dancing about her shoulders.

 

"We're seeing your family, not fighting Red Templars! Take that off!" He tried to put up a good defense as to why he should wear it, but in the end huffed and looked towards the heavens saying a prayer under his breath. "You want me to come, then change. If we're attacked on the way there you can not only have bragging rights, but I'll clean your armor--"

 

"Oh no! I'm not making any more bets with you after Haven," he grumbled as he went to leave with his orders. "Especially when it comes to your armor. Your lady passed me with it in the hall, it stunk like a corpse. I'm not sure how you managed to get it that filthy in Crestwood when it rained the entirety of the time we were there."

 

"In case you forgot, I had to fight an army of the dead, hordes of demons and a dragon. Stop changing the subject and go get changed. While you do that, I'll ask Dorian for a bottle of his dessert wine." He was headed for the door but stopped and turned arching an eyebrow. "Or did you get them something already?" He made a face. "You expect me-- us to show up empty-handed to dinner at your family's home?" He gave her a pained expression. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, "Just go change! I'll see to it, Rutherford. Do I also need to remind you to run a comb through your hair?" She shook her head as he left looking a bit bewildered.

 

---

 

The two rode side-by-side in the early afternoon sun. The sky was blue and cloudless. Cullen looked over at Evelyn who closed her eyes and soaked up the rays. She was used to the warm northern climate, not the temperate, and at times frozen temperatures of Ferelden – his home. 

The day was cool but the constant presence of the sun took away the chill, making him glad he had listened to her forgoing his armor. The only distinct difference in his attire was a fine cotton shirt Josephine had got him for occasions where armor was not fashionable. It was maroon with the slightest bit of gold embroidery about the collar. It was nothing flashy as he fought her tooth and nail about alternate wardrobe options. This was their compromise, plain, comfortable, and slightly less intimidating. The shirt struck the perfect balance between loose comfort and hugging his body too tightly - a testament to the skill of the tailor Josephine hired.

Evelyn was a vision of subtle sophistication, not wanting to also intimidate his humble family. She wore a clean pair of leather pants with her polished thigh-high boots. The arms of a sheer white puffy-sleeved shirt poked out from her cerulean wool body wrap that belted at the waist and flowed down about her womanly hips. Her hair was pinned up with small braids coiling their way into a bun. Though the horses were only trotting, small wisps of her hair still fell out about by her ears beckoning him to touch them. 

He watched as she checked the saddlebag to make sure the wine was still intact when she noticed him paying her attention. They hadn't said too much aloud the whole time as they were being escorted by a small contingent of men. Of late, their banter was far too unprofessional and inappropriate for people of their positions for others to overhear them.

"Cullen, you're making that face you made when that Orlesian noble insisted we try the chocolate-covered Druffalo phallus he brought as a gift." They simultaneously cringed at the memory. One of the soldiers looked back at her wide-eyed, and she nodded at him scrunching her nose playfully.

"Mason, keep your eyes forward!" He barked. Knowing they were being listened to, she resorted to sign language. She shrugged and mouthed a 'what?' 

He sighed and motioned with his hand as if he was snapping a stick in half, 'broken.'

She moved her horse as close as she could to his and leaned over whispering, "No. They will be proud of you and the man you are... as I am." He turned his ear away to look at her seeing the fire in her eyes and the truth they conveyed. He felt his face finally relax as they shared a rare moment of being close to one another in more ways than one. Evelyn's warm smile of reassurance bolstered his resolve knowing she was there to support him. Her presence at his side during this reunion went beyond their commitment to simply talking about their past trauma.

Their horses bumped them together and apart several times as her eyes wandered down from his to the scar on his lip. They hadn't spoken about what happened in the tent following the attack on Haven, even though it always worked its way to the forefront of his thoughts in quiet moments. Realizing what she was doing, she met Cullen's eyes who were watching hers with a look that she couldn't quite place. That was until he caught the same soldier gazing back again at them who earned himself a good chewing out.

As they reached the dirt road up to the farm, he again took in the serene landscape. A split-wood fence bordered the road up to the farmstead, holding back the wheat that swayed in the stiff breeze. The colors were magnificent; golden crops, blue sky, and green trees surrounded the fields as wind buffers. Occasionally he'd spot the odd farm tool or equipment strewn away to the side of the fence. Off in the distance was their mill with its busy water wheel turning slowly with the current. The birds chirped along happily gliding on the wind. He commented to her about the beautiful land, and she hummed in agreement looking completely absorbed in the scenery as well. It was enough to make him wonder about what if he hadn't joined the order and had a simpler upbringing: no Circles, no lyrium, no darkspawn magisters aspiring to godhood.

As they approached the house, a young boy darted in front of the entourage with another small boy on his back, followed by a girl with a full head of curly blonde hair. The children giggled looking at them and ran up the road kicking clouds of dirt up behind them.

Those must be my niece and nephews. Maker, how does one be an uncle? 

Cresting the hill, they saw what looked to be the whole family gathered out front to greet them. Evelyn wore her best diplomatic smile as she glanced back and forth from his family to him. He swallowed hard, but he couldn't bring himself to smile and settled for his diplomatic face: serious and stoic. His heart pounded and he began to sweat when their horses stopped in front of the welcome party. He suddenly felt like he was out of his depth. That warm familial interaction came as easily to him as speaking Orlesian. Yet, any doubt of whether he was to receive a warm reception was quickly forgotten as he looked at the beaming and bright faces before him, even if there was a tension lurking beneath the smiles.

It was easy to pick out his siblings as it seemed only time had touched their appearances. Mia, his older sister, had more gray and white streaking through her long blonde hair than he had. They shared the same amber-colored eyes as their father, even if her looks favored their mother more. 

Branson reminded him of his younger self in looks, missing the scars and signs of battle. His skin was smoother around the bones of his face, whereas Cullen felt his looked as if he got hit in the face one too many times during training. It seemed he was the only one to come close to him in height, having to be a few inches shorter than Cullen. He was also the only one of the four Rutherfords who had inherited their mother's dark auburn hair and shared her chestnut eyes with Rosalie. 

The blondest of the three and seven years his junior, Rosalie radiated with the untainted purity and glow of youth. He felt as if he was staring at the image of his mother when he looked at her, from her mannerisms to sweet deposition. Cullen knew he was the spitting image of their father and wondered if his siblings felt the nostalgia of looking at him as he did Rosalie.

They dismounted with practiced synchronization since the Inquisitor refused to let anyone help her down; an argument rehashed between her and the Ambassador each time she did so in front of visiting nobility. He looked to her over his saddle, receiving a confident wink. He had fought battles and demons without so much as a tremble of his nerves, yet here he was, facing his family, ready to beat a hasty retreat. Evelyn must've sensed it when she motioned for him to escort her to be presented to them. Upon receiving her, she discreetly squeezed his arm and gently stroked his forearm with a finger, trying to calm him.

"Inquisitor, it's an honor to meet you, my Lady. Welcome to our home." The whole group began to bow, as if badly rehearsed.

"Please, there is no need for the formality! You may all call me Evelyn. I'm so pleased to meet you all and for your invitation." When her Inquisitor smile once again graced her face, he felt the wind be knocked from him knowing it was his turn.

"Cullen, we are so happy to see you well. It's been..." She sighed heavily, almost in sorrow. "Too long." 

He bowed his head, wishing he would've thought over in his mind what he was going to say to this very fact. He had plenty of time; why hadn't he prepared something, anything? 

The Inquisitor's light squeeze indicated to him that he had removed himself for too long and looked up. "I, um, I know. I-I hope I haven't become too much of a stranger to you." He looked to Evelyn, who, while wearing her mask, only broke it momentarily to urge him to keep going. "It was my fault for the lapse in communication, but I'd like to make amends for the time lost, if-if you'd allow me?"

"Welcome home, Cullen." Mia's words struck him in the heart. She was the eldest, and since the time they were little, they had all done as she said – most of the time – as if her word was law. The words also seemed to break some of the tension in the air, as the children could no longer stay still and curiously examined their two guests. Evelyn broke contact with him to ask after the names of the children. While they were occupied, the rest of the group approached him.

Mia began the introductions and first introduced her husband, Thomas Thornton, then pointed at their two children. The eldest was Arthur, at eight, and the younger Rosemary was five. Thomas was polite and didn't at all seem affected by the awkwardness of the situation. If his sister was anything like he remembered, then he knew who ran the house – and it wasn't him. He had a thick gray-red beard and mustache that complimented his wide and sturdy frame. If there was a man alive who looked as if he was born for farm work, it was him. Looking at their children – rather all three – it seemed the Rutherford traits were strong in their appearances.

"Big brother, it has been too long." Bran had always had an easy-going nature, but this time it was veiled by uncertainty -- an uncertainty that he had created through his prolonged absence. He held out a hand, and Cullen gave it a shake. "This is my wife, Michaela, and our son, Richard. He's three." Michaela looked back and forth between the two, studying them, and he blushed suddenly under her wandering eyes, no doubt seeing the striking resemblance. "Do you think I'd look as rugged as Cullen with a scar? What do you think, Michaela? Do I need one?"

He had gotten the scar fighting Knight-Commander Meredith. It was a constant reminder of his failure to see what she – and even he - had become until it was too late, and yet that in the end, he stood against her – which earned him a red lyrium-fueled punch from his former Knight-Commander. 

When he snapped out of the memory, he realized he was being stared at. How many times was he going to do that in front of them? He was away from his element and the distracting sounds of armor and swords clanking, men running through drills, and messengers with reports keeping his mind busy. It was quiet on the farm, making it easy for his mind to slip away from him.

He sighed, knowing sooner or later he was going to have to explain his odd behavior. "I apologize, I got this," pointing to the scar, "in Kirkwall. It's not a particularly pleasant memory, as I'm sure you can imagine, having heard news of what happened to the Chantry there." He cringed when everyone exaggerated their understanding with nods and comforting words before moving on. A dull ache began in his head, and it could not have come at a worse time.

"Hello Cullen," said the sweet voice of Rosalie, "I've missed you." He was overtaken by another memory suddenly of the day before he left for Templar training. Rummaging through his pocket, never breaking eye contact, he pulled out a coin. "Oh! Bran, look!" They had given it to him for luck. The worn and dirty face of Andraste in peaceful contemplation was still visible.

"I've carried it with me all these years; it has seen me through the Blight, blood mages, demons, Kirkwall, and now the Conclave and the Breach in the sky." As he spoke, he studied it, unaware of the effect of his words on his family until he heard a stunned 'Maker' come from Mia. 

Looking up, he realized that even for seasoned soldiers, his list of horrors was harrowing, and his family stood in quiet shock, unsure how to react. He felt vulnerable to their scrutiny as if they were able to see every scar scored on his flesh. They shifted uncomfortably, but he took solace in the fact that whatever they had heard about those events, the reality was worse than the news spread. 

"Well, I'm certainly glad you gave it to him. He needed it for when I came along, too. I'm surprised you haven't added me to that list. What did you call me? The biggest thorn in your side?" Evelyn was a much-needed interruption, as was her guarded humor for once.

"I have considered it." He grumbled, arching an eyebrow up as she beamed at him. She held his gaze, seemingly engaging him to allow him to regroup his thoughts. The woman had an uncanny knack for commanding his full attention, so much so that she lulled him back into a more comfortable state. He turned back to Rosalie, "I think I still have need of it." He tucked it back into his pocket. "The Inquisitor has a gift for finding trouble."

"Speaking of gifts." She presented Dorian's wine to the eldest Rutherford. "Please take this for your table." 

Mia took the bottle graciously and studied its label. "Oh, thank you, Inquis-- Evelyn! What a lovely... wine."

She laughed lightly at Mia's reaction. "I forgot the label is in Tevene. It's a dessert wine, courtesy of our resident Magister. I don't even know what it says, but it tastes good." Mia looked at her curiously, a bit surprised by the informality in which she spoke. He remembered back in Haven when he too was surprised when talking with the three Trevelyans so casually. 

When the horses had been seen to, and the men awaited further instruction, Evelyn took it upon herself to dismiss them. "If we don't return to the inn by midnight, you may send riders for us in case of trouble."

"Yes, Inquisitor, but... the Commander had originally ordered us to guard the perimeter." 

She turned to look at him with a haughty stare. Her eyebrow quirked as if to ask 'Oh, you did?' He glanced equally as sternly back to her, knowing that arguing with her would be fruitless.

"It won't be necessary, but I understand the Commander's caution." Though she didn't undermine his authority through words, she still scoffed and rolled her eyes at him. "If between the two of us, we can't handle a bit of trouble, then I don't think we deserve our posts." 

The soldiers smiled and gave a snort in laughter, quickly reigning it in as the Commander scowled at them. "You're still on duty, soldier. Report to the Knight-Captain and make yourself useful. Dismissed," he barked. They saluted and headed back down the road with their orders. 

When they were out of earshot, she rethreaded her arm in his sighing and shaking her head. "Seriously, Cullen. I've seen you take on six men in the training ring, even starting with your weapons on the ground, and have come through unscathed. Between the two of us, we could take on at least... eighteen enemies without breaking a sweat."

His eyebrows rose in question. "Eighteen? That's oddly specific."

"Your six to my dozen."

"Why do you get more?"

"Because I slayed a dragon. That doubles my enemy count." She taunted, looking at him utterly pleased with herself. He almost forgot where he was if it wasn't for some snickering coming from nearby. A flush of red brightened his cheeks, realizing she had done it again, distracting him to the point of short-term amnesia. It must've dawned on her, seeing his face, that their usually private friendly banter had a captive audience.

Having lingered outside too long, according to Mia and her plan for the evening, the reunion was ushered inside for dinner. Evelyn hung back, wanting to make sure Cullen was doing alright. As she pretended to look about at the scenery, she caught his eye and gave him a knowing look. A nod and smile were better than she could've hoped for from him, and he offered his arm to her as they walked in -- a gesture that was becoming more comfortable by the minute.

As they moved indoors, conversation through the afternoon was surprisingly lively. They sat around a table made of thick wood planks with two long benches and chairs on either end. He had yearned for this moment during many lonely nights listening to the men talk of home around the fires, imagining the warmth and familiarity of family gatherings. Thomas and Cullen both sat at the heads of the table, and Evelyn sat to Cullen's right. Rosalie sat on the other side of him, engaging them in all manner of topics to try and reacquaint themselves. 

The house was charmingly rustic, with a large hearth centrally located for both function and warmth. Herbs and braids of garlic were hung to dry near its heat, and large, well-oiled cast iron pots and pans were piled underneath awaiting use. The aroma from the hearth filled the room with hearty comfort. The women took turns turning the spit with two small birds and a pig skewered on it. There was a pot sitting on some hot embers with a thick brown sauce beginning to bubble out. Evelyn had leaned over and joked that she hoped it was gravy. Little would upset his stomach more than it already was, including her eating habits.

As they sat around the table, they reminisced about their childhood adventures, laughed at old stories, and updated each other on their lives. He listened intently, grateful for the opportunity to be present in their lives once again. 

Yet, despite the joy of the moment, he couldn't silence the nagging guilt within him. He had missed so much—birthdays, weddings, and countless other milestones. Everyone had been changed by time and their experiences – experiences that he would've shared had he not joined The Order. 

The realization weighed heavily on him, threatening to overshadow the happiness of their reunion. In a moment of vulnerability, he decided to share his feelings with his siblings. He confessed how the guilt of his absence haunted him as he apologized for not being there for them for so many years. He believed himself so changed and unrecognizable that he feared seeing him would affect their good opinion of him. Cullen didn't want them to pity him, but he also didn't want them to fear him. 

As he unburdened himself, Evelyn placed a hand on his knee under the table, giving him reassurance, knowing that he had carried the guilt for a long time. She had heard it as part of their talks, and it was only because of her urging that he had first written to Mia. His siblings, understanding and compassionate, reached out to him with open arms.

Mia spoke first, her voice filled with empathy, "Cullen, we know with all that you've been through it couldn't have been easy. We only ever wanted to help you and be there for you. You've nothing to be ashamed of."

Branson added, "We may not be as close as we once were, but that doesn't mean we love you any less. We've all changed, but you're still our brother. It has always been the four of us, things haven't been the same without you. Right, Ros?" He hugged her shoulders, and she smiled sweetly, agreeing.

When Bran released her, she reached for Cullen's hand to hold. He felt Evelyn's hand leave him as he reached for Rosalie, squeezing it in earnest. Cullen felt a sense of relief wash over him like a weight being lifted from his shoulders. He realized that his siblings loved him just as he loved them. They understood that time and circumstances had transformed them all, but it didn't mean their bond was irreparable.

He assumed from their economic status and business that while they could afford to slaughter a large pig, they probably didn't do it often, something reserved for special occasions. Back in Haven, before it was destroyed, when Cullen had rekindled correspondence with them, he had immediately and without cause sent them a month's worth of pay. It wasn't a bribe, nor was it meant to be repaid, he just felt it was the right thing to do. 

He had no need of such coin, having neither a homestead or family of his own to support, and thought it prudent to send it to them something during such times as these. Mia had written back to thank him, but did tell him that it was not necessary, that they had a good business and that they did not live frivolously -- which was obvious given that everything in the home seemed to have a purpose rather than sentimental value. There were no trophies, art, or books, which saddened him because it was one of his favorite things about when he went away for training. Circles were repositories for books, and not even the First Enchanters knew the extent of the vast collections. Perhaps, he'd send some books as thanks...

"Cullen," he grunted at his name being whispered, "pass the gravy, or do you plan to guard it all night?" Evelyn was giving him that look again, smirking and trying to get a rise out of him. 

He passed it to her, but she never broke his eye contact, and she drowned her bird and vegetables in it. He shook his head, but it was done ever so slightly as to not draw attention from the others. He rolled his eyes, and when they landed, they fell on Rosaline, who eyed him suspiciously before giving a smile and returning to fixing her plate. 

A prayer to the maker and his bride was said, and they gave thanks for returning their brother back to them. He just hoped he was living up to what they wanted him to be.

For the most part, the children ran around them stealing the occasional bite of food from everyone's plate. Rosemary seemed the shyest around him, looking up with a smile before hiding herself away in a long ongoing game of peekaboo. Her brother, Arthur, had joined them for a time, asking him about what life was like being a soldier. His explanations of his life as a Templar and now Commander were far too humble for Evelyn's liking, and she chimed in here and there to explain that he was one of the finest warriors she had seen. Arthur's face lit up more and more with each interruption, and he had no doubt the boy would be bragging about having a famous uncle to everyone in town, thanks to the Inquisitor's embellishments. 

Richard took the most interest in Evelyn. He was very content to sit on her lap and play with her marked hand. She assured his parents it could not harm him as he spread her fingers and looked into the light. She found out that he was particularly interested in horses, to which Cullen muttered a 'Now you've done it,' and the two quickly bonded as she told him everything there was about horses.

As the siblings reconnected over dinner, they moved on to the major highlights in their life such as marriage, children, and the like, all the things both he and Evelyn had yet to experience in their thirty years of life. He supposed being married figuratively to their jobs counted for something.

"Ros has been refusing suitors left and right, doing Bran's job for him. Though I can't say I'm disappointed since she's invaluable to me here helping with the home and children."

"Mia, the men here are so boring! I'd like to get out of South Reach and meet new people, travel a bit before settling down." She said it with a bit of a dramatic flair, which Mia raised an eyebrow to at the same time Cullen had. At least some things never change. "Evelyn, you must understand." Eyes were all on the great Inquisitor now to give some sage advice or life lesson.

"I do understand. My mother had started grooming me for marriage at the age of five to be the most idyllic wife. Manners, etiquette, and feminine pursuits were drilled into me as it had been done to my sisters before me - maybe even more so after getting caught sword-fighting with my brothers. Since I was the youngest child, she couldn't look for a match outside of the Free Marches, having nothing but my name and connections to bring to the marriage. With such a small pool of dreadfully dull eligible men, even by my childhood standards, I became a bit... rebellious. Thankfully, I came into my magic, thus rendering myself ineligible, much to the dismay of my mother, though who lamented for months how all her hard work was wasted." 

They all listened on with interest, though Cullen was reading between the lines, knowing what a hard time that was for her as a new mage with a mother who couldn't accept it.

"Did you know them?" Evelyn shook her head at the question, answering that saying hello once or twice a year at balls didn't count as knowing someone. "If you had been forced to marry, do you think you would've come to care for them? I've heard of some arranged marriages that turned into true love like in books. Or you could've taken a mistress, one who'd steal you through your window and..." There was a collective grumble and eye-rolling at the romantic ideals of his sister.

"While Varric and his romance novels would have you believe the prospect of having your marriage arranged to a man you hardly know, then falling madly in love with him enticing, I assure you it is not and rarely is the case in my experience."

"Wait..." Cullen's sudden interruption and tone seemed to make her review what she had just said in her head. "You've actually read his books? Swords & Shields?" 

A flush of her cheeks and a few stuttered words told him the answer. Rarely was she ever so embarrassed as he had seen her in that very moment. For all her sarcasm, teasing, and opinions of such romantic ideals, she read Varric's books? He covered his mouth to hide his growing laughter.

"Well, I-- I didn't, um, Cassandra gave it to me so I--"

"Cassandra?!" Now, he couldn't help his laughter at her and Cassandra. The two of them reading Varric's books was just too much for him to handle. 

Oh, to see his face if he ever learned that the Seeker read his books...

"Don't tell Cassandra I told you! If she finds out, she'll punch me like she did that bear! And you too, once I tell her you laughed like this!" 

The others in the room just looked on with fascination at their exchange. He supposed it was a bit odd watching two powerful figures whose names were on the lips of everyone in Thedas bantering back and forth like children. 

As he continued to bellow on, trying to stop at times only to continue, she and the others began to join in. She smacked his arm, "You're an arse. Stop laughing, or I'm going to punch you!" Bran quickly encouraged her, and the room filled with more boisterous laughter.

When it died down, she reiterated that he better not tell a soul if he knew what was good for him, but Mia was quick to come to her aid with a few embarrassing childhood stories to blackmail him with. He groaned as each sibling had to tell their own story of him to the Inquisitor, even if he may have deserved it after laughing at her. 

It was then he was thankful that she came along, not only for her support but because she seemed to be the catalyst in helping him open up to his siblings again. It was still awkward at times, but he felt the divide between them closing little by little.

When a raven landed in the open window of their common room, squawking for attention, the mood shifted slightly away from the ruckus it had been moments earlier. He stood to go retrieve the message.

"What is it?" Everyone seemed very interested in the sudden interruption, gaining a glimpse of them at work.

He held the message up to the light to read it. "Our men have picked up Mayor Gregory Dedrik near Jader. Seems he was attempting to flee across the Waking Sea. He's being transferred to Skyhold as we speak for judgement." She sighed heavily. Without her knowing, her face morphed from Evelyn to the Inquisitor. At seeing the sudden change, he tucked the message back into his pocket. "The rest can wait."

"Thank you, Commander," she absently replied. "I think I'll take some air before dessert, I'm sure the fields look just as beautiful in the moonlight." She stood and gracefully exited as if she was in a trance. 

As Cullen watched Evelyn leave, he immediately regretted reading the message. He cursed himself for not just telling her it could wait to begin with. Instead, in front of their very eyes, the burden of Inquisitor fell on her like a ton of bricks. He stared at the door for a long minute after it closed before turning back to his family, who sat quietly.

"Will she be alright? She didn't seem pleased by the news." Mia, always the concerned mother hen, was the first to ask after her.

"It's a particularly complicated issue we uncovered while in Crestwood. During the Blight, refugees came to Crestwood, but they were infected. To save his people, the Mayor herded the sick into the lower village and flooded it, blaming it on the darkspawn. He saved many lives from an outbreak but murdered many others. It was so long ago that there is no way of knowing how many innocents were killed along with them. She'll be deciding his fate once he's brought to Skyhold. I don't envy her."

"We know all about the Blight sickness." The siblings shared pained glances back and forth. 

Cullen sucked in a sharp breath. Their parents had died of the Blight, and here he was talking about it with an obvious detachment. He wasn't here to witness it. He didn't even want to imagine it.

Mia continued, "Mother and father made that decision for us. They refused to let us watch them die or, Maker forbid, catch the taint ourselves. They sent us here to South Reach with everything we could carry. What we couldn't carry was sold and used to pay for the land. No one had wanted it, so it came cheap. With some hard work, we made it into this. Even made enough to buy that old mill."

Branson rubbed a hand down his face, looking as though he aged a decade. "As bad as it sounds, that Mayor may have done the right thing to save people." His haunted gaze settled on Cullen, one he had seen in so many faces back in Kirkwall.

"And what if you all died along with them? What if you were the innocents that drowned in that flood?" Cullen was slipping into his Commander's voice, forgetting who he was talking to. The thought of losing them all in that manner sparked a flame in him. "Mayor Dedrik made a decision out of fear. If I had not sided with Hawke after the explosion of the Chantry in Kirkwall, Meredith Stannard would be out there slaughtering every mage. No, I stood against her madness and refused to follow her!" He pointed to his scarred lip, the just reward for his treachery. 

The whole room was enthralled and possibly appalled by his tale. The tension in the room was thickening. "Fear cannot be a motivating factor when you are in command, not when there are people depending on you. The Mayor failed those people." Cullen felt the pang of guilt, thinking of his own in action back in Kirkwall.

Mia put down the dish she was cleaning and crossed her arms. "Are you not her advisor? Can you not help?"

"I can-- I do, but..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I think she already came to a decision; she just hates having to make it." By his words, it seemed everyone had caught his implied meaning. "As a Knight-Enchanters, she's used to following orders, not making them. She has the burden of commanding the only force in Thedas able to combat The Elder One. Even with the help of myself, the Divine's Hands, and Ambassador Montiliyet, it is not easy. Nor is having a magical mark we know little about attached to you."

Mia frowned as deeply as he was, sympathetically. "I'm going to make her a cup of Mother's special tea. She likes tea, Cullen?" He nodded.

"Now for the question we all really want to know," Cullen braced himself at Branson's phrasing. "How long have you two been together?" He frowned at first, thinking he meant working together, but his brother's ever-raising eyebrows conveyed a different meaning.

"Together? She and -- Andraste preserve me, Bran! She's the Inquisitor, and we're good friends who happen to work closely together, but..." He said it in a harsh whisper as if Evelyn would be able to hear.

"It's cute, really." Rosalie teased. Cute was not a word Cullen would use to describe anything about himself.

"Leave him alone. If there was something, I'm sure he would've at least told me." Mia chimed in with a pointed look as if to say, 'You better.' "Regardless, Cullen, you should go out there. Ros, Michaela, come help me clean up before dessert. "

While the women cleaned up, Thomas took a nap in the Common Room, leaving Cullen alone with his brother. Branson scooted closer, all the while keeping a trained eye on the ladies and their comings and goings.

"Come on, Cullen, I'm a married man, and you aren't fooling me with how you two look at each other."

"Truly, nothing has happened. Why are we even discussing this?"

"But you want something to happen. I can tell. Despite what you may think, you haven't changed that much." Cullen just ran a hand through his hair in response, leaning back in his chair. "That's what I thought. Do you remember what father used to say? 'Do what makes you happy, because life's short then you die.'" 

Cullen gave a short chuckle as memories of his mother and father resurfaced from the depths of his mind. His father always said that while looking at his mother. Growing up, he had never questioned that they had married for love. Life on the farm was hard, but at the end of the day, they were always in each other's arms. 

He couldn't help but be a bit jealous of his siblings, happily married with children and all, helping to run a successful farm and mill. They had each other to lean on. Life was simple; he didn't choose simple. He chose a life of service, one that had scarred him almost beyond repair until she came along. He couldn't remember the last time he was happy, maybe back when he became a Knight? Before he lost faith in The Order.

Was it that long since he had felt any semblance of true happiness? Maybe happiness wasn't the word for it; contentment, belonging, or love? The thought that he could be falling in love jolted him to his core more than any lyrium ever could. 'Do what makes you happy' could life be simplified so? His duty made him happy; seeing his family made him happy and whole again; she made him happy. For all the trouble and teasing, he felt happy thinking back to moments with her. She was a steady presence in his life and seemed to enjoy his company as well; maybe Bran was on to something.

"You think it's as simple as that, but it's not. There's politics and the fact that she's nobility. Not to mention a mage and I, a former Templar. You have no idea the implications of that--"

"Sounds like a lot of bullshit excuses to keep you from being happy. I haven't known her long, but something tells me she would agree." Michaela returned to the table to set it, all the while curiously eyeing the conspiring brothers. Bran smiled at her lovingly, "Where did our son get to, my dear?"

"Ros put the children to bed," she said, placing the last setting in front of her husband. "It'll just be us for the evening." She bent over him, giving him a flirtatious look.

Bran laughed. "Maybe if we disappear for a bit, Cullen would be kind enough to cover for us? What say you, big brother?" He pulled his wife's waist towards him, running a hand about her curves.

"Ah- I-I better go check on the Inquisitor."

Bran gave him a wink and a nod. Knowing what he was insinuating, Cullen just sighed and pushed open the door to find Evelyn.

Walking out and closing the door tightly behind him, he found her sitting up on a table by the laundry line. The paddles and buckets for washing clothes were still there, although the laundry was not. She absently ran a finger along the grain of wood on one of the paddles, occasionally picking at a splinter.

"There you are." She jumped in surprise, holding the paddle up as if she was going to swing it at him. He laughed, shaking his head at the attempt. "You're one of the most powerful mages in Thedas, and you were going to use that to defend yourself with? A bit off your game, Trevelyan." 

She began to laugh along with him at the ridiculousness of it. He was relieved to see it wasn't going to be a particularly difficult task to cheer her up as a mischievous smirk spread up one side of her face. "Shall we test that?" 

He scoffed at her challenge. "The day I get taken down by a laundry paddle is the day I'll read one of Varric's books. I'll even borrow it from Cassandra." She scrunched her face up at the mention of the ladies' outed secret. 

She swatted it at him, and he disarmed her with ease before tossing the paddle aside. "You're no fun, Rutherford."

"Sore loser."

"Careful, or I'll ask Mia for more embarrassing stories." 

With a huff, he joined her up on the table, placing himself shoulder to shoulder with her. The peaceful sounds of dusk were all he could hear. The quiet gave him an unmatched clarity as his mind wandered from his duty and solely onto her. A rising nervousness began to grip him again, but his want for something more was stronger. More with her.

He leaned back and put his arm behind her in quiet invitation. He was surprised how quickly she folded into him as if it came so naturally without a thought. Perhaps it was the sheer fabric of her shirt, but he thought that for a mage particularly talented with fire, she'd feel warmer. The coolness was welcome, since he was always so hot from his body trying to heal him from lyrium deprivation. 

She shimmied her shoulders back into his embrace, reclining her head to rest on him. He breathed deeply, inhaling her scent as he placed his head atop hers. He noticed recently whenever she was close to him - which was happening more and more frequently - that she had changed her scent. Back at Haven, it was flowery, and while pleasant, he didn't feel like it fit her. Now it was sweeter, like one of those tiny warm spiced cakes the Ambassador ordered for banquets. 

If there ever was a moment to tell her how he felt, it was now. "Ev--"

"Cullen, do you think you could ever have feelings for a mage - one like me?" She spat it out so fast he paused, trying to catch up. She had beaten him to it.

"I could, a-and I do. I was about to ask you the same about a former Templar, but..." 

She pushed up off of his shoulder to look at him. "But?" They both paused, unsure as they entered new territory. "Does this have to do with why you hesitated to kiss me back at Haven?" His breath caught in his throat, not thinking she would've noticed it.

"You're the Inquisitor, and I, your Commander. There are a lot of things that could go wrong and make working with each other difficult." 

There were a lot of implications that went along with that statement, and she knew it by the way her shoulders sagged. The Inquisition was becoming powerful, so powerful its army could rival that of Ferelden or Orlais. If their relationship was made public, they could be in serious danger, accused of being usurpers to the monarchy. Not only that, but their credibility would be questioned on every decision. Was it for their gain? Was the decision skewed due to their feelings for each other? There was also the consideration of her marriage. She was of the nobility, and he was the son of a miller with no title, land, or means to support her aside from his salary from the Inquisition. Surely, even if her brothers approved of him, her parents would not - especially from what he knew of her mother.

"But I wasn't the Inquisitor then." A pained look showed in her eyes. "It is because I'm a mage, isn't it?"

"Not in the way you think." Cullen sighed, trying to find the right words, swallowing hard. He looked off down the empty road, knowing what needed to be said, but searching for the courage to manifest the words aloud. His throat suddenly went dry, and he cleared it a few times before continuing. "I was tortured by blood mages when I was stationed at Kinloch." His breathing hastened, and out of his peripheral, he saw her head whip around. "I watched as my brothers and sisters of The Order were slaughtered, and could do nothing but pray to the Maker as it happened. They imprisoned us and subjected us to torture from demons who tried to break our minds. Some succeed, and we had no choice but to... cut them down ourselves."

A warm, calloused hand timidly rested on top of his. He fought the urge to pull away, trying to separate the past from the present, though he couldn't bring himself to look at her. He had never told a soul of what happened to him, and revealing it to her, the one he cared most for, made him feel weak, ashamed, and relieved all at once. Even with how profoundly it had affected him his whole life, he couldn't help but feel guilty knowing how it'd make her feel.

"Those who didn't break were taken by this one maleficar who," he looked down cringing, not wanting to say it, but knew she needed the truth, "was a pyromancer to be executed." 

Her hand dropped away from his, and he glanced over to see her staring at a spot on the ground, chewing on her bottom lip. Her chest heaved as she sniffed, warding off pooling tears. He hated having to burden her with this. Fingers quickly wiped away some of the wetness of her eyes, as if she hoped he wouldn't notice. 

"What happened then?" Her voice trembled, not unlike when she spoke of her own horrors.

"Evelyn, you don't--"

"It's alright, we can do this." She grabbed his hand again with a reassuring squeeze. "Together. Besides, I'm supposed to be the one trying to make you feel better, not the other way around." He searched her eyes for any sign of doubt, but after a quick roll of her shoulders and stretch of the neck, she looked back at him with that fiery resolve he admired, giving him the strength to continue.

"They tried to break me with a Desire demon, but when I didn't and found myself alone, the maleficar came for me." He omitted the part where he saw the charred remains, rivers of blood, and innards of his friends displayed before him for blood rituals. How many times had he grieved in the solitude of his mind over them? It was as if their final sacrifice never mattered, he being the sole person who would remember it. To hear the words aloud was like a righteous reckoning. 

"That's when I was saved by the future King and Queen of Ferelden, of all people, back when they were Grey Wardens. I pleaded with them and my Knight-Commander to kill all the mages in the Circle; I didn't think any of them deserved to live. That hatred carried me to Kirkwall, where Knight-Commander Meredith encouraged it. Maker, the things I did..." He covered his eyes before running the hand down his face in astonishment at the terrible things he had done, fueled by his hate while taking excess lyrium. "The way I saw mages then, I'm not sure I would've cared about you. The thought of that sickens me."

"Look at me." He faced her as if a prisoner awaiting judgment, the apprehension clearly written on his face. "This weight you've carried for all these years... I forgive you." He blinked a few times, wondering at her meaning. "I know you'll never forgive yourself for what you thought of mages, so I am, because you're not that man anymore. I forgive you."

Evelyn rendered him speechless and a bit numb as his mind sought to wrap around her words. Her face was one of serenity as the moonlight twinkled in her eyes and bathed part of her face in its light. Every few seconds she searched his eyes for any sign of reaction.

Cullen rasped, "I've never told that to anyone." 

He watched her grab at her heart as if trying to make it beat. Without warning, she lunged into his arms, nearly knocking him off the table. They held tight together, his large hands on her back pulled her closer to him. They buried their faces into the other's shoulders, though Evelyn's fingers combed through his hair. 

Breaking away after a few minutes, they once again found themselves in a familiar position, brushing cheeks and noses. Her eyelids fell heavily as she watched his lips, but she began to pull away. Knowing that if he didn't do something now, he'd risk losing her, he made his choice.

He leaned in, capturing her lips for the first time. She let out a surprised gasp, but then let her mouth melt onto his. He cupped her face, angling it up to his while deepening the kiss. With a breathy hum, she flicked her tongue across his lips in invitation. Her hands slid up his chest to circle his neck as she moved closer into his embrace.

They had just thrown away their friendship in exchange for something more, which was nothing to take lightly. It was frightening for him, but Evelyn made him want things he thought would be denied to him in this life. Seeing his family and how happy they were only intensified these desires.

After they parted, he rested his forehead on hers, still close enough to feel her heavy breaths. "You don't regret it, do you?" Her eyes searched his for any sign of doubt, despite the air crackling around them.

"No," his voice was firm and sure, "I've been wanting to for a long time now. He pressed a kiss to her again to drive the point home. She hummed happily as she pulled flush against him. The feel of her body, unhindered by armor, heated his blood in a way he never felt before.

After a few more moments, she murmured against his lips, "Are you alright?"

"I am now." 

Inside, they were both raging maelstroms fueled by past trauma from Circles and lyrium, but her kiss had calmed his tempest. For the first time in years, his mind felt like a calm sea. He had been drunk only a handful of times in his life and felt as if he was without the dizziness.

"Good. We better head back in before we miss dessert. Your sister's pie smelled amazing. Hopefully, I didn't ruin your appetite with all the gravy I poured on my plate." She smiled as she watched him jump off the table and offered a hand to help her off.

He laughed and shook his head. "Always thinking with your stomach, Trevelyan." As they walked back to the house, he put an arm around her shoulders as she hugged his middle, smiling up at him.

"So..." The pyromancer gave him a flirtatious side-eye as they stopped on the porch steps. "Are you alright to see where this goes?"

"More than alright." He thumbed the scar across her jaw, watching her smile sweetly up at him. The sight of it alone brought him untold joy.

When they entered, everyone was still comfortably sitting around the table, now adorned with delectable desserts, including the bottle of Dorian's wine. Mia immediately strode over, placing a mug of hot tea in Evelyn's hands. She smiled, happily holding it up to her lips to inhale the smell of the herbs and spices. 

Cullen sat, reclining in his seat watching her with an odd feeling, one that was hard to place. His brother's eye caught his attention while the others were distracted, and he quirked up a corner of his mouth in a smile. Branson gave a nod and let the matter be without another word or a teasing look. Nothing flustered him, nor did he scowl at their teasing during the rest of their visit, for it seemed for once he was a happy man.

---

 

On the way home, she stopped them just up the road from the inn. It was far enough away that no one would see them, yet if the soldiers came looking there they were. There was a feeling she couldn’t shake and had to repress all through dessert. If she didn’t do something she felt as if she’d combust, so she tied off her horse on a tree and told him to do the same.

 

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

 

"So many questions, just come here!" she whispered loudly grabbing him by the hand. The two of them ducked into the wood line a short distance. When she was certain the casual passerby wouldn't be able to see a thing, she turned all but jumping him. He grunted in surprise at the sudden additional weight he was meant to support, but recovered quickly as she found his lips. After a few hurried kisses, she pulled back, "I'm sorry I had to before we go back and have to pretend nothing happened." Even in the darkness, she saw the twinkle in his whiskey-colored eyes.

 

"I'm glad you did," he began kissing her slowly as he spoke, "for I don't think I could've slept without one more kiss." She sighed longingly as they continued at his pace. She smiled in spite of herself at the obvious difference already in their affections. He was slow and methodical and she was hurried and slightly aggressive. She figured years of sneaking around in and out of the Circle for a quick tryst made her so. When he moved his attention to the pale column of her neck, she moaned as if he had taken her breath away.

 

"Maker, that sound…," he growled into the crook of her neck laving harder, clearly trying to get her to do it again. She giggled at the attempt, throwing back her head to let him endeavor to pull another salacious sound from her. Having worked the spot quite vigorously, he pulled her face to his and she bit at his lower lip. One of the hands holding her up grabbed at her rear jerking her hips against him. It was enough to draw out more pleasurable sounds from her.

 

"Careful Rutherford, or we will have a lot of firsts in one night," heavy desire tainted her every word. He reluctantly parted from her and they both huffed knowing it was too fast, too soon - even if the temptation was there. She was no blushing virgin and from the way he carried himself through their first few intimate interactions, she doubted he was. That didn't mean they could just jump in bed - not when feelings were involved. The anticipation was already delicious, and she would draw it out for as long as she could, especially if it meant getting to tease him. She wondered at how far his the tight hold on his restraint would go.

 

"Wouldn't want you to tire of me just yet." He let her down slowly and they walked back to their horses. Though she could've kissed him all night caught up in all the feelings of a new chapter in their relationship, she knew their soldiers would be heading out to retrieve them soon if they did not return. With sense reasserting itself, the two mounted their horses again and slowly made their way to the inn's stable chatting about the lovely evening with his family.

 

At the stable, she gave Nelson a pat goodnight and made her way to the side door of the inn. As her hand touched the handle, he gave her a playful spank on the rear. She yelped and swatted at his chest. "You brigand! I ought to hand you over to my Commander for punishment."

 

His hands went to either side of the doorframe, and she stood with her back against the worn wood. It was smoothed from decades of use as her hands leaned against it. "I hear your Commander is a reasonable man, I'm sure he'll understand."

 

"You're making it exceedingly difficult for me to go to bed being so charming." They couldn't hide their smiles if they tried. The thought occurred to her that, while testing his restraint, she had better keep her own in check. She tilted forward off the door whispering in his ear and sucking his earlobe, "Since I can't have you tonight, I'll just have to pretend that these," she brushed two fingers about his jawline, "are yours touching me." His chest heaved and his eyes darkened while he studied her face when she pulled away. Pleased by his reaction, she pressed the two fingers to his lips before sliding them in. She bit her lip feeling the warmth of his mouth, his covetous eyes never even so much as blinking as if burning this moment into his memory. The feel of his tongue sent a wave of hot pleasure through her as she imagined it elsewhere on her body. Retrieving her wet fingers, she went to lean in for one last kiss when the door behind her opened.

 

"Oh, Inquisitor! Commander. We were just about to come find you." She stopped herself before falling in on the soldiers and hid her hands behind her back like a misbehaved child.

 

"And so you have," she said slightly nervous, slightly sarcastic. "We were just heading in." The men backed away from the doorway, allowing the two to pass with salutes. They didn't linger in the bar, making their way for the staircase leading to the rooms upstairs. Cullen had the first room on the left, wanting to be as close to the stairs as possible in case of trouble. Cassandra's room was nestled between theirs, giving Evelyn the one on the corner boasting the best views - so the innkeeper claimed. They unlocked their doors simultaneously, but before she pushed in, she looked over one last time to suck teasingly on those two fingers before disappearing into her sanctuary.

 

---

 

In the morning after a very satisfactory night despite being alone, she was visited by Cassandra who joined her for breakfast in her room. From outside she could hear the soldiers getting the camp packed up and themselves organized. She estimated she had about another hour before they would be set to leave, so she worked on getting into her leathers that went under her onyx chainmail and plates. She laughed to herself recalling how Josephine suggested nugskin and velveteen for her color palette for this excursion to make her stand out as a 'white knight.' If she hadn't shot that down to opt for bear skin instead, she would've been more like a 'grimy knight' after Crestwood. Especially when the Commander was too busy to clean her armor.

 

As she drizzled honey over her muffin, she listened to the glorious voice of her golden-maned Commander bellowing out orders. It was pathetic how girlish she was over him and she found herself shaking her head or rolling her eyes at her own romantic musings. Cassandra was smearing some jam on her toast when she thought her indulgence in romance serials might be to blame. Yet at the same time in a world that was quickly circling the Void, he at least made her feel whole.

 

"Though I missed your company, I did not miss your snoring." Evelyn gave her a pointed look, as the Seeker distracted her from her muffin. 'The Inquisitor snores' had become the rolling joke of the trip back to Skyhold among her party. Cassandra had with her a few folded papers that she was skimming through, but she had also brought a letter in with her that she kept eyeing now and then with a disgusted look. After ignoring it through most of her meal, Evelyn finally gave in and asked her what it was. "What you've condemned me to endure. It's from your brother."

 

Just barely holding in her laughter, she held out her hand, "Don't tell me you brought it here just to glare at, give it here. Unless of course, it's filthy, then you two can keep it between yourselves." With a grunt, Cassandra flicked it at her from across the small table. As she opened it she stared coyishly at her friend who wore a nauseated expression. She read it with trepidation, unsure she wanted to know the machinations of her brother's mind when it came to women. Her expression quickly turned to disappointment after reading the first few lines. "Oh, Owayne," she sighed pitifully.

 

Oh Cassandra, my sweetest delight,

In your presence, my world shines bright,

With every moment spent by your side,

My heart swells with an overflowing tide.

Your eyes, like stars in a moonless sky,

Draw me in with their captivating light,

And with every smile that graces your face,

My heart quickens its steady pace.

Though my words may falter and fail,

And my efforts may seem small and frail,

Know that my love for you will never pale,

For you, Cassandra, I'll always set sail.

So let us embrace under the moon's soft glow,

For with our bodies entwined, my love will grow.

 

"Well, at least we know he wrote this one himself." She laughed.

 

"What do you mean?" The Seeker eyed her viciously from her seat as Evelyn gave her a look of pity. “Evelyn…” she growled drawling it out.

 

"Varric wrote the other one." A slow hue of red spread all over her face, and for a moment even The Phoenix was afraid of the fire that she was about to breathe at her. As she went to open her draconic mouth, she cut her off, "I did not tell him to do that, before you try to blame me. Be mad at the other Trevelyan for it." She knew why Cassandra was so upset by it, knowing that wherever Varric was he was probally still laughing having been given an excuse to mortify her in poetic verse.

 

After throwing a short fit, Evelyn guided her friend over to the windowsill where a bottle of the inn's finest whiskey was sitting. Pouring her a shot, and herself another she clinked their glasses together.

 

"It's only a few hours after sunrise-- wait, what are those?" Evelyn looked out the window trying to see what had caught her eye.

 

"What is what?" She craned her head about still trying to catch sight through the leaded paned window.

 

An amused smirk spread across her lips, "On your neck, are- are those love bites?!" She quickly covered her neck with a hand, the only word in answer to the accusation being an unconvincing 'no.' "You have a lover, and you didn't tell me?! Who is he?" As her hand pointed accusingly ast her she all but spilled her shot on Evelyn.

 

"Oh no, no, no." She wagged a finger at her tentmate. In the yellow glow of the morning light, Cullen's affections stood out in contrast against its sun-kissed canvas. "You can't even keep my snoring secret, what makes you think I'm going to tell you something like that?"

 

"Evelyn, you can't keep a secret either the way you carry on. Besides I didn't give the information up freely."

 

"Cullen literally said you were quick to blame it on me."

 

Cassandra gasped covering her mouth with a hand, "Cullen!" She tried not to react to her correct guess, hiding her trembling hands taking the shot before she moved back to sit and eat. "You were with him all last night!" She debated in her head briefly if it was worth lying to her. Despite evidence to the contrary, she knew she could keep a secret when it mattered.

 

"So what? We kissed, is that so terrible?"

 

Cassandra scoffed with a smile a mile wide, fighting her need to reprimand her. "As long as that's all it was."

 

For now, she thought, "That's all it was." She walked over to the mirror examining the marks, "He was rather thorough, wasn't he?"

 

"Evelyn!" She laughed knowing that Cassandra was still pretending to be disappointed by her rash actions before interogating for more intimate details a minute later.

 

After finishing breakfast and getting strapped into her armor, she descended the stairs of the inn and thanked the innkeeper for accommodating them all at such short notice. Outside, her men were in formation under the watchful eye of the Commander. Nelson was brought to her, and when she mounted up she saw the Rutherfords quickly coming down the road. Cullen sat astride his war horse with his back to them. As he was waiting on her word to move, she knew he'd notice if she discreetly nodded her head in his family's direction. The visor on his helmet was up so she could see his eyes widen in understanding. Turning first his head, then his horse, he trotted over to them as if trying to cut them off from the eyes of his men. Once Evelyn got herself situated, she rounded the back of the column to join them.

 

"Uncle Cul, can I pet your horse? What's his name?"

 

"Can I try on your helmet, Uncle Cul?" The children were as enthusiastic as ever seeing their uncle in full armor. It was utterly adorable, as was their uncle's attempt to answer their rapid onslaught of questions. Watching Rosemary run around with his lion helm was priceless and so was watching Nelson lap up treat after treat from Richard. Evelyn received a similar barrage of questions when she joined them, although she was more than happy to talk of the prized Free Marches Ranger her father had sent her - again.

 

When Richard asked her for more treats to feed Nelson, she had to decline, "If you give him anymore treats I'll never make it back to Skyhold with him!"

 

"That's alright, you could stay, and we go to the lake!"

 

"That sounds wonderful Richard, but unfortunately your uncle and I have to go teach some bad people a lesson."

 

Arthur, who had been mesmerized by Cullen's sword chimed in, "Yeah, they have to go save the world silly!"

 

"Way to really lay that pressure on them, bud," his Uncle Branson added. "Come on you lot, let's let them get to it. Richard say bye to the horse, you heard the Inquisitor, no more treats." With a disappointed whine, Richard gave a hug to Nelson who had bowed his head for his new friend. Having completely been absorbed with Richard, she hadn't noticed that Cullen had actually dismounted to say goodbye and to run after Rosemary to retrieve his helm. She waved to them all thanking them once again for their gracious hospitality. She made a mental note to pick Josephine’s brain about sending them a thank you gift, knowing Cullen probably wouldn’t.

 

Once he had said his goodbyes, promising to visit again, it was back to business, "Commander, if you would."

 

"Inquisition, move out!" The column began to move and she maneuvered her steed into the pack alongside her companions while Cullen made for the front. With fair weather for their journey home, she hoped Ilara was waiting in her quarters with a hot bath, a bottle of sweet wine and a sturdy chair for when she'll fall over after hearing about what she had been doing the previous night with the Inquisition’s Commander.

Chapter 17: Nightmare Rising

Summary:

Plans for the Winter Palace are finalized. Evelyn & Cullen navigate a new physical relationship. Two unexpected guests arrive at Skyhold.

Notes:

Warning: Sexual content.

Arriving back at Skyhold on schedule despite the quick detour, they were greeted by a very pleased Ambassador and Spymaster. Wasting no time after dismounting, the Inquisitor and her three advisors met briefly in the War Room to discuss their successes in Crestwood and developments coming out of Orlais. Their efforts, more notably the slaying of the dragon, had secured an invitation to the Winter Palace for the peace talks. Since word arrived, the two women had begun preparations to make the most of the time they had. Aside from the ball itself, they needed to discuss the infiltration of the palace and the plan to find the assassin.

 

"The three of us will remain in the ballroom," Josephine declared, her gaze sweeping over the assembled advisors. "Rest assured, with our collective acumen, not a single detail will escape our notice."

 

"While I trust you all, you're going to need more help. There will be hundreds of people there all with those stupid masks and wearing the latest seasonal colors, making it difficult for anyone to stand out. I'd like Madame Vivienne stationed in there as well, she knows the court and The Game. Bull too, the Ben-Hassarath is a "people person," as he keeps reminding me, and has a different perspective on these things. I don't want anything in that Ballroom to happen without us noticing it. Cullen will focus his attention on the guards and security around the Empress. Any shifts or odd behavior from them may signal trouble. Myself, Cassandra, Dorian and Varric will roam the grounds searching for any signs of Venatori - between dances, of course," she looked to Josephine assuring her that she knew her own ambassadorial job as well. "What about getting our men inside?" She turned to Cullen who was studying a map of the palace on the war table. Despite what had happened between them, she was elated to find that the two could still work professionally. He was as duty-driven, if not more so, than she and with it came the understanding that the mission always came first.

 

"No one will question the men you bring in as your personal guard, but any additional support may be difficult to justify without rousing suspicion."

 

Leliana stepped forward standing with her hands behind her back, "My agents can help get your men in Commander, though it can only be a few at a time. You and I can discuss the logistics later."

 

"Understood."

 

As the delicate quill danced across the parchment, the Ambassador gracefully interjected her voice into the ongoing discussion, "I would like to remind the council that we find ourselves with a mere fortnight remaining to complete our preparations and bring our plans to fruition. Considering the gravity of our task, I propose that we adjourn our current session. And Inquisitor…”, she paused, a faint smile playing upon her lips as Evelyn perked up at the sound of her name, "I have had a bath prepared." Evelyn's eyes widened with surprise as she eagerly expressed her appreciation. However, her gratitude soon transformed into suspicion as she detected an underlying motive behind the thoughtful gesture. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place as the woman revealed her true intentions. "Your impeccable appearance is of utmost importance. In precisely two hours, you have a dress fitting scheduled, and it is imperative that you appear spotless and exude an enchanting aroma." The Inquisitor brought a finger up in protest, but Josephine raised her voice over her, "You were the one who insisted upon changing the material, so yes, you need a refitting." She had hoped to catch up with Ilara and then find an excuse to see Cullen since they just returned home. With a sigh of defeat, she simply consented, glad that at least she would have some time to herself.

 

When the group began to disperse, the Inquisitor adeptly masked her eagerness to join Cullen, feigning a struggle with the disarrayed pile of reports that had been handed to her for review during her absence. She appeared engrossed in the task, giving the ladies ample time to walk ahead, while Cullen lingered behind. As soon as the women were out of earshot, the stack of papers miraculously transformed from chaos to order, and Evelyn seamlessly fell into step beside the Commander. Looking up at Cullen, she beamed a radiant smile, and in response, he playfully nudged her with his elbow. In that fleeting moment, the weight of her duties and responsibilities dissipated, allowing her to savor the simple pleasure of being together. However, their delightful companionship had to come to an end as they reached the entrance of the Great Hall. With a tinge of regret, she prepared to part ways.

 

Uncertain of their next encounter and lacking concrete plans, Evelyn held onto the belief that some task would once again bring them together. They had always managed to find a reason, an opportunity, to cross paths, and she trusted that the future would unfold in a similar fashion. For now, though, the lure of the beckoning bath reminded her of the need to unwind after a long day. 

 

Ascending the staircase, Evelyn stepped into her room and was immediately enveloped in a sensory symphony. The air was thick with a medley of delightful aromas, each vying for her attention. The first scent to reach her was the mouthwatering fragrance of the meticulously prepared food that awaited her arrival. The warm, comforting aroma of freshly baked bread slathered with herb butter, accompanied by the enticing notes of roasted garlic spread and an assortment of olives, wafted from the beautifully arranged platter resting on the table in her sitting area. Next to the delectable spread, a bottle of crisp white wine stood, patiently decanting, ready to enhance the flavors of the meal. Two empty glasses sat nearby, promising a few hours of indulgence and relaxation before being thrust back into work. A nicely wrapped box sat unopened on the table as well with gold paper and a note tied to it. The room was empty, but as she approached the low table across the from fireplace, she saw some of the food had been picked at - no doubt the culprit would return soon.

 

Snatching the note off the box, she laughed to herself at seeing Josie's neat handwriting. After each mission, she had come home to find a box with a similar note of congratulations. It was turning into something of a joke for Josie and Leliana to send to Val Royeau for one of their tiny cakes, though they deliberately never told her the flavor each more outlandish than the next. From cardamom with honey buttercream icing to pineapple cake and coconut guava icing, Evelyn knew they sent for the newest and latest tastes. Carefully opening the box, she found a light pink iced cake - the same color which her dress for the peace talks was supposed to have been until she had them change it at the last second. She shut the lid quickly wondering if it was some form of revenge on her for the trouble she caused with the dress alterations or if it was a coincidence - she never believed in coincidences.

 

The squeak of the metal from her door opening provided a perfect excuse to delay her from deciding about the cake. Looking to the side, the always amiable-looking Ilara hurried up the stairs, "Oh! There you are, I've been looking for you."

 

"Sorry, I had a meeting in the War Room to attend. The fun never ends in Skyhold." She took a piece of bread and spread some of the roasted garlic on it. As she placed it in her mouth, she stopped suddenly pulling it back. The thought that there was a chance she'd see Cullen later and may kiss him with garlic breath made her rethink her choice. Ilara had begun to pour them both wine when she noticed her friend staring hard at the piece of bread.

 

"Something the matter with it?"

 

"No, not with it there isn't," she thought about the way Cullen had made fun of her eating habits and sighed longingly at the piece smothered in soft roasted cloves of garlic. Making a rash decision, she popped it into her mouth savoring the warming tones. Glancing back to her friend, she realized her behavior was rather odd - even for her. She stretched her head to the side ruffling her hair wondering where to begin when a sharp high-pitched gasp all but made her jump out of her skin. "Maker, Ilara what the--"

 

"What are those?!" Once again, it was the marks left on her neck that gave her secret away - she was going to have to talk to him about that. She had been careful to cover it with her hair or clothing, but she had let down her guard in the privacy of her own quarters. "Are they--"

 

"Yes, they are," she said flatly as a thousand questions began bubbling to Ilara's pretty lips, but she pressed a finger to them halting them from spilling forth. "I will tell you everything while I bathe and before you ask, it was Cullen."

 

"CULLEN?!" Evelyn swore she heard the glass on the windows groan wanting to break at the exuberance in which Ilara screeched his name. She was half expecting him to burst through the door, sword in hand having heard his name screamed from the top of the Keep. After catching her breath and receiving one of Evelyn's pointed looks, she continued at a normal volume and pitch, "I didn't realize he was so…" She waved her hand about searching for the words.

 

"I know what people think of him, but that's not how I know him to be," Evelyn whispered softly, her voice tinged with a mix of conviction and tenderness. The depths of her heart swelled with overwhelming emotion as she recalled the profound revelation he had shared with her in South Reach. It was a secret he had guarded so fiercely, an intimate confession that he had entrusted to her alone. The weight of that trust was something she held sacred and vowed never to betray. The memory of his vulnerability, the raw pain and regret etched into his words that night, twisted her insides with a profound ache. She couldn't fathom the burden he had carried in silence for over a decade, never uttering a single word of his torment to anyone else. The weight of such struggles was a familiar companion to Evelyn, but it was through their connection, his reaching out to her back in Haven, that she had found solace and the strength to confront her own trauma.

 

Yet, she couldn't help but question if, on that night he had extended his offer to talk, he was not only reaching out for her benefit but also for his own. Did he seek solace and understanding as much as she did? The possibility tore at her, the realization that their shared journey of healing might have been a path forged not only for her but for him as well.

 

The overwhelming urge to embrace him, to run into his arms, surged through Evelyn with an intensity she couldn't ignore. It startled her, the sheer power of her affection for him, growing relentlessly and pushing her to the precipice of a profound and all-encompassing emotion—love. However, she stubbornly resisted the notion, convincing herself that it was too soon, too early for such feelings to blossom fully.

In her mind, they were friends, incredibly close like the cherished companions she had known from her days in Ostwick, even though her relationship with Cullen hadn't spanned as many years as those bonds. Yet, their connection surpassed the boundaries of time, forged in the crucible of shared hardships and the revelation of their deepest fears and darkest secrets. They had bared their souls to each other, finding solace and understanding in a way that went beyond mere friendship.

And now, with the physical manifestations of their feelings, their connection had grown even stronger. Cullen had become a pillar of support and intimacy, someone who understood her in ways that even Ilara and Sorin, her closest companions, could not.

 

She mused on that thought as she undressed and slipped into the bath. Stirring her finger on the surface, she heated the lukewarm water until it steamed. Breaking the surface, she slid down the copper tub until she had submerged herself. Ilara had moved the wine and food over beside the bath along with a chair and Evelyn regaled her about the night spent at the Rutherford farmstead. She listened swooning along at her words as Evelyn revisited the night that would be forever burned into her head.

 

"I'll never look at the two of you together the same again."

 

"Lar, this has to remain between us - well and Cassandra, she saw the marks too. You must know the trouble that would erupt across Thedas if people found out."

 

She shook her head in understanding, "I know, I know. I won't even say a word to Byron."

 

"Good, now open that box and let's try this cake." After three glasses of wine, she was feeling more adventurous about the little pink dessert. Ilara cut herself a piece but the Inquisitor opted to just stick it with a fork from out of the box. She paused before stuffing it into her mouth, instead watching Ilara's reaction to it. When she gushed at how delicious it was, Evelyn finally popped her forkful into her mouth dropping some crumbs into her bath. Champagne with strawberry icing; she would be thanking her two advisors in the morning though it'd mostly be for not seeking revenge on her.

 

---

 

The following day unfolded in relative tranquility as Evelyn dedicated herself to catching up on the deluge of correspondence that had accumulated during her absence in Crestwood. Seated at her desk, she absentmindedly picked at the plate of lunch that had been sent up to her, her thoughts consumed by the tasks at hand. A steaming cup of tea graced her desk, its fragrant vapors wafting through the air, a delightful blend of herbs and the tang of lemon. Evelyn savored the earthy notes of the infusion, reveling in the natural flavors of the herbs and spices. She had always preferred her tea unsweetened, without the addition of honey or sugar, appreciating the robust taste that allowed the delicate nuances to shine through. This particular blend, infused with elderflower, carried a subtle fragrance that evoked memories of the Commander.

 

She couldn't help but imagine him, in that moment, struggling with the meticulous fittings of his dress uniform, orchestrated by Josephine’s staff. The image brought a smile to her lips, a mixture of amusement and affection. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would be ruffling his hair in frustration, an endearing habit she had come to associate with his moments of exasperation. 

 

"Are you going to eat your pickle?" Owayne had been distracting her from work and lunch for some time now. She gave him an annoyed look to help himself and he happily poached it from her plate. Absconding with her wine and glass as well, he poured himself some as he made his way back to the couch across from the fire. "Mother wrote again, she's threatening to choose a suitor for you if you don't choose from the options she's given you."

 

"Ha," she scoffed, "what right or power does that woman have in the matter anymore?" She rolled her eyes at her mother's brazen disregard for actual concerns, like the fact that her own daughter's life was being threatened by an ancient Magister aspiring to godhood. Or the fact that the mark on her hand was growing.  The thought sobered her temper as she gazed upon it. She had taken to keeping a mental note of its growth and anything she does with it that seems to help it tear further. Ilara and Solas were keeping an eye on it, but so long as it didn't hurt her they didn't ask her anything more about it. It was wrong not to tell anyone, but everyone would just worry and start their fussing - especially Cullen now. It felt more wrong not to tell him, but she knew what he'd say, which would be to see Solas about it. She laughed to herself thinking what a pair they made - two disasters that were seemingly made for each other. On one side, you had him trying to purge his body of magic and lyrium and on the other, she who was taking on more magical energy than any living person had a right to. "I have bigger problems than mother thinking she has any say in my life anymore. I'm sure she has all but chewed father's ear off about it and he's sick of hearing it as well. Just like how I'm tired of hearing Cassandra complain about you!"

 

"Hey, I'm doing rather well," he paused to finish his bite with an obnoxious crunch, "we held hands today."

 

"You did-- What?!"

 

"We held hands," he looked over at her with one of those grins that told her all was not as it seemed. "She threw a punch at me and I caught it. She let me hold it for a few moments before I directed her attention to it."

 

"Oh, Owayne. This is becoming quite pitiful."

 

"It still counts, and nobody will tell me otherwise!"

 

"I will because she nearly took my arm off sparing." Cullen's blond hair was just clearing the railing directing the siblings' attention to him. "Next time you do something like that warn me so I can wear my heavy armor." She laughed under her breath and bit her lip seeing him out of his usual attire. A light cotton maroon shirt flowed about his form though it stuck in places to the sweat he just worked up out in the training yard. Only his shield arm was armored holding tight to him by two leather straps across his body. His hair was slightly disheveled no doubt from avoiding the Seeker's rage-fueled attacks. As her eyes moved down his body they caught sight of a crinkled paper in his hand.

 

Evelyn sat back in her plush chair and crossed her arms, "It seems all of Skyhold will be forced to suffer until you either romance the woman properly or give up in utter failure. Care to make a wager, Commander?"

 

"Varric already beat you to it."

 

Owayne hopped up watching as Cullen walked behind him and over to her desk. "And? Who does your coin favor in this contest?"

 

"My coin is on you, Owayne. I'd be foolish to bet against a Trevelyan. I've already learned that the hard way," he looked to his sister who couldn't help but smile brightly up at him. Owayne failed to notice the two of them looking fondly at each other as he celebrated by downing his glass of wine. After he finished, he strode over to Cullen and grabbed him by the shoulders grinning from ear to ear, patting him with a 'good man.' "Plus, if you do win I'll be swimming in coin from all those betting against you."

 

"What?" Owayne's grin faltered slightly before a familial resolve rose up, "I've beaten worse odds!" Gathering his coat with a renewed sense of purpose, he made a quick escape out of the room calling after him that he had a dwarf to find. The Inquisitor sat there rubbing her forehead in wonder. She looked up at Cullen who was still chuckling after Owayne. Reaching for his hand to hold, he turned his attention back on her giving the hand a squeeze.

 

"I thought you had a uniform fitting? What were you doing sparring?"

 

"I did until the Seeker barged in and scared off Josephine's people."

 

"Mmhmm, and I'm sure you didn't mind that one bit. Josie will be pissed."

 

He walked over to the balcony doors next to the fireplace opening them, commenting on how warm it was in the room. She liked it warm, and also had not been sparring with a madwoman recently, but knew others didn't share her love of the heat. He sighed in relief when the cool air hit his back, but it quickly turned to annoyance, "They already have my measurements and the uniform made, I don't see why they need to bother me further about it." She just shook her head at him with a wan smile before gesturing to the missive in his other hand. "Ah, our scouts report that Red Templar activity is picking up in the Emerald Graves. A man by the name of Fairbanks sent word to the Inquisition about the Freemen of the Dales possibly colluding with them. The agents we had investigating confirmed his suspicion, and found that red lyrium is being smuggled through the area. While the source is still unknown, we have an opportunity to cripple their supply lines."

 

"Let's bring that to discuss in the War Room tomorrow, I'd like to hear everyone's thoughts on stopping it and finding the source. If we can somehow do both, that would be ideal." Cullen seemed to be only partly listening to her, having been distracted by something outside. "Is there something more interesting than me out there?"

 

"Do you hear that?" She listened quietly, but all she heard was rams bleeding from somewhere below along with a thumping sound. She shrugged at him and he turned heading out onto the balcony. Walking over to the edge, he peered over the railing, "Are those rams?"

 

With arms crossed from the chill, she followed him out standing in the doorway. "Cullen, we are in the mountains where they typically live," her tone was very matter-of-fact verging on sarcasm.

 

"Come here and look."

 

"I'm perfectly fine here. I've seen plenty of rams."

 

"Come on, it looks like they're jumping... or something." He leaned further down on the railing, rising to his toes.

 

"Cullen, if you fall I will tell everyone in your eulogy that the mighty Commander of the Inquisition fell off a balcony while trying to watch a bunch of rams frolicking!" Her voice had gone up an octave sounding near frantic. He stretched out an arm for her to join him, but after a few moments of silence, he stood back up glancing to her. She was still standing in the open doorway now chewing her lip with interest.

 

"Wait, you aren't... are you afraid of heights?"

 

"N-no, t-that's ridiculous! I'm not!"

 

A low soft rumble began to sound in his chest. "You're afraid of heights!"

 

She huffed at him as he laughed, not unlike the time he found out that she and Cassandra read romance literature in their free time. "Why is it so funny?!"

 

"Because you quite literally have the highest room in all of Skyhold - which sits atop a mountain!" She was not amused, though admittingly it was laughable. Slowly her frown slid into an indifferent smirk and he abandoned the rams to placate her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before wrapping her up in his strong arms. The smell of elderflower mixed with the mountain air as she nuzzled closer to him. She enjoyed him being out of his heavy armor, as she was able to feel more of him. Feeling him without the weight of his armor reminded her of his episode in Crestwood, having wished he wasn't wearing his armor at the time.

 

"Cullen," she looked up at him, "I meant to ask you how you were feeling since Caer Bronch? You scared me that night." He held her even tighter.

 

"I'm sorry, I had pushed myself too hard between taking the fort and getting it operational. I knew we were on a tight schedule and I took on too much myself when I should've delegated it. We have excellent people, I should have let them take part of the workload."

 

She smiled, knowing full well herself to be guilty of that, "It's not a bad thing, you just need to know your limits. You're right though, we do have capable people under us to help support the burden. Maybe it's time we both let go of a few things and let others help us for once." He promptly agreed ushering her inside to the fire. Warming herself as he closed the door, she watched him take stock of the room. "Has it ever been that bad?"

 

He answered while rearranging her furniture, "No, and I pray it doesn't get that bad again. All the symptoms seem to have hit me at once. I've actually spoken to Dorian about it," she quirked an eyebrow at him in surprise, "I find it not only comforting to have another man to confide in but one who has such a different way of looking at the problem. Having no Templars in Tevinter, it's like having a fresh pair of eyes to view a problem that everyone else has been living with for years. For all I know there is a simple answer to treating the symptoms that the rest of us have gone blind to." She felt such admiration for him at that moment. He had opened up to more and more people about his struggle since she had first figured it out. She continued to watch him move about chairs and a side table about when the eerie green glow leaked out from under her hand. Her face dropped as the guilt resurfaced about not following his lead in getting help.

 

"I'm proud of you, you're doing the right thing, and now so must I." He stood, stopping his current task to look worriedly at her. "The mark is growing," she dropped her gaze to the floor, "it doesn't necessarily hurt as before but it is slowly growing, I fear, with each use."

 

A few large fast steps brought him before her, "Have you told Solas?" She couldn't help but smile slightly having validation that she knew that was what he'd say.

 

"No, but I will today after our match," she motioned to the board which sat on the table.

 

"No, you'll go now. Chess can wait."

 

"I will afterward, please I'd really just like to get my mind off of it. Besides, I'm not sure if I'll have time to see you later. Just give me one game, please?"

 

"One game, then straight to Solas."

 

"Yes, Commander."

 

---

 

"Now that Chief Morvran is on his way to Tevinter and the mountain goats around Skyhold are safe from being bludgeoned against its walls," she directed an amused look to Cullen, who chuckled silently, "can I get an update on what our scouts have found in the Western Approach?" Today in the War Room, they were joined by Warden Stroud and the Champion of Kirkwall who had quietly made their way to Skyhold.

 

"My agents have confirmed that Venatori and Wardens have been gathering at an ancient Tevinter ritual site, though for what we still don't know." Leliana passed the sparse report across the table to her.

 

"Ritual site? That doesn't sound good." She sighed in frustration, "I would really like to head out there myself, but there's no time with the peace talks in a week."

 

"Stroud and I could go, Inquisitor," Hawke crossed his tattooed arms observing the map before him. "I'm sure between the two of us if there's trouble to be had we can handle it."

 

She stole a quick glance to Cullen who nodded his head, both remembering their vow to delegate more. "Of that, I have no doubt, but take Owayne, Solas and Sorin with you just in case."

 

"The more the merrier," he smirked wrinkling up the red swipe across the bridge of his nose. "Though I'm not sure how well the five of us will do against that fort."

 

"Ser Hawthorne can take a contingent of men to take the Griffin Wing Fort. A force that large will not go unnoticed." He addressed Hawke, to whom she knew the two to be on familiar terms with each other, "They could be just the distraction you need to delay whatever is happening out at that ritual site or aid in its observation. Either way, I'm confident that fort will be under our control in a few days."

 

"Good, make it so." With the Western Approach business settled, Stroud and Hawke left to prepare for their mission. The Commander then went on to brief everyone on the developments in the Emerald Graves and the red lyrium smuggling. Intrigued, Leliana asked for time to investigate to see what she could uncover regarding a source before they took any further action. She knew Cullen would be a bit disheartened to not be going after the Red Templars immediately, but destroying the source was more important. "Now, to the headache at the Winter Palace."

 

"May I ask, before we continue, with so many of the Inquisition's leadership deployed who will be left in charge of Skyhold?" The Ambassador glanced up from her diligent note taking, no doubt trying to sort through who was left.

 

"Knight-Captain Rylen will take command in my stead. Hence Ser Hawthorne leading the men in the Western Approach and not him."

 

"Yes, and Enchanter Ilara could help him with the domestic running of the Keep. I think the pair will make an excellent team," the Inquisitor added.

 

"Very good," Josephine dotted something on her board with a flourish, "now, as for preparations for the ball, everyone has been fitted for their uniforms and dresses. Cassandra has refused to wear a dress but did agree to wear the men's uniform. I have had the dressmakers change the color of your dress, Inquisitor, to match the rest of your companions, although," Evelyn readied an eye roll for the enviable drama of the dressmakers, "she all but wept at having to put you in a color that was not in season."

 

"I don't care how much she cried, I am not going to wear a blush-colored dress when fighting Venatori! Or would you rather have me waltzing about the ballroom covered in stains of everything from dirt to blood?"

 

"Do you anticipate fighting in the palace?!"

 

"I'm just trying to go as prepared as I can be. It's hard to plan on anything when you know nothing except for there will be an assassination attempt."

 

Leliana swayed placing a hand on the table, "An attempt made in the middle of a ball is quite a statement. Most likely they will do so in front of a crowd. It's suicide, but the Venatori are so deluded by visions of grandeur I don't believe death for the cause is a great concern for them." She sighed, "I'm sure you saw the latest report I sent you. We should be more concerned that the fighting around the palace between Celene, Gaspard and Brialla will provide cover for the Venatori's infiltration."

 

The Commander pinched the bridge of his nose, "Add in our own forces and no one will bloody know who's fighting who. If that's the case, our forces should be reactionary. Out of sight, but close by for when we need them."

 

Leliana nodded, "I agree, let the three of them fight amongst themselves, we need not interfere until necessary."

 

"Sounds like a solid plan. We have a week until the peace talks now, so I'd like updates as they come in," there was a collective affirmation from the advisors. "Any last tasks from you Ambassador?"

 

"Only that I still need everyone to agree on when I can review Orlesian court etiquette with those you've chosen to attend the ball. Everyone, including yourself, keeps making excuses," her tone dropped and she narrowed her eyes at her.

 

She raised her marked hand to her forehead bathing it in its green glow, "Alright, tomorrow evening after dinner for drinks and dessert in one of the salons you've just decorated. No one will say no to free booze and tiny cakes if you offer them - which reminds me, the one you left for me was to die for!" A look of smug haughtiness passed between the two as if she would dare to expect less than the best from them. "I will personally make sure everyone attends, ahem Commander," directing a look to Cullen who was already grumbling to the Maker with a grimace on his face, "otherwise they'll find Skyhold rather drafty when I burn the pants off them."

 

Josephine smiled elegantly, "Thank you, Inquisitor." With all parties pacified for the time being, she dismissed them, though not before the Ambassador called after her about a diplomatic trade meeting she had scheduled coming up in a few hours. Knowing this already, she was already planning to retire to her quarters early for the afternoon to prepare.

 

---

 

About an hour after their meeting, Cullen headed for the Inquisitor's quarters. Jogging up the winding staircase, her lady's maid was coming down and he inquired after Evelyn. After being assured she was able to receive company, he gave a knock on her door and pushed in.

 

"Inquisitor, if you have a moment, I..." Cullen's voice trailed off as his gaze fell upon the woman seated next to a small crackling fire, engrossed in her book. The flickering flames cast a warm, enchanting glow that danced upon her hair, just as it had in the heat of battle. There was an undeniable allure in the way fire seemed to be in harmony with her presence, from the intensity that blazed within her eyes to the strength with which she commanded it. Unable to resist the magnetic pull she exerted on him, Cullen's words transformed into a heartfelt compliment that escaped his lips effortlessly. "You look beautiful." His admiration hung in the air, a testament to the captivating aura that surrounded her.

 

Startled by his interruption, she lifted her gaze from the pages of her book, her hair fixed neatly up in a thick coiled braid caught in the fire's gentle glow. A smile graced her lips upon locking eyes with him, and with a fluid motion, she closed her book, delicately placing it on the arm of the chair. Her unwavering gaze remained fixed on him, "Flattery will get you everywhere, Rutherford." A shiver ran down his spine as she looked at him with that insatiable hunger that had come to live there whenever she looked at him. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the feeling of being desired and wanted by her. For all that she was, he knew the real Evelyn. It was safe to say that they knew almost everything about each other, at least about the things that mattered. He knew that while she preferred armor, dresses were agreeable enough to her when the occasion called for it. In a sense, it was a different type of armor, one that protected against words rather than weapons. While the dress that now adorned her was modest and professional, it still exhibited her attractive physique - a weapon in its own right, which paired with her intelligence made her just as formidable as on the battlefield. Its olive-green velveteen texture added a softness to her toned form, begging it to be touched - though only by him.

 

"It's new and comfortable enough. Most of all it appeases Josie for when I need to meet with our guests." Standing now entirely too close to him, she purred, "What can I do for you, Commander?" He held up the papers in his hand and her eyes darted to the side to glance at them. "And here I thought you were here for something more fun."

 

"Well, if you'd make up your mind on how you'd like me to proceed with the situation in Hasmal's Circle, perhaps there would be time enough for fun."

 

She laughed, "Quite the incentive! But you're right, I let it go too long hoping the city would sort it out peacefully. I know our Templars are running ragged trying to help the Circles and their brothers and sisters of the Order. Is there anyone left to send?"

 

"The Ostwick Templars, they're all we've got left not on assignment." She sighed, he knew she was worried to send them away from Skyhold leaving only a handful of less experienced Templars to remain. Moreover, she trusted them inexplicably; In a world where people could be bought for any price, they relied on Henley and his men to keep their home safe.

 

"Fine, send them, but I want them back here as soon as their business is done."

 

"On your order, Inquisitor." He began to jog down the stairs when she called him back.

 

"Where are you going? I was promised fun."

 

"At least let me get this to someone so they can pass word on to Henley." She crossed her arms and eyed him the whole way down the staircase from the railing.

When he returned a few minutes later, he paused at the bottom of the stairwell looking up at her. "Just out of curiosity, are you scared looking down over that railing?" Evelyn grabbed a pillow from the nearby daybed which stood against the railing and chucked it at him. He caught it easily and tucked it under his arm as he ascended. 

"No, I'm not that hopeless!" At the top, she went to pry the pillow from him but he held tight to it. After her first unsuccessful attempt, she huffed at him, "So, that's how it's going to be?" He laughed as a brief melee ensued, ending after thwacking her with the pillow to the back of the head. She froze as if someone dumped a bucket of ice water over her head, "Cullen Stanton Rutherford, did you just mess up my hair? I have a trade meeting soon!"

"No, it looks-- well, I may have, um," her once neat side braid was now frizzy and had pieces looping out of it. She took his stuttering as a confirmation that it was indeed ruined and quickly shook it all out. The kinky waves of her long two-toned hair were softened by fingers combing through it. Taking off his gloves and setting them on the daybed along with the pillow, he couldn't help but grab a handful watching the silky chocolate and gold strands fall through his fingers. She stopped her fussing to watch him in his examination.

"Do you like it?"

"I do, I always have, well, since you let me see it at least."

"And when was that?"

"Since I was held hostage by those mages before the Conclave. You had your hair down remember, Althea?"

She covered her mouth as she laughed heartily, "You know, at that time, I was dead-set on getting your attention too, even if it was my fighting ability rather than my looks I wanted you to notice."

"You succeeded on both fronts." Further pushing his fingers into her hair, he held it gently from behind pulling her head back so he could taste her lips. Her arms slid up around him drawing herself up closer to him. His other hand ran down to the small of her back, feeling the structured bodice beneath the plush material. 

Before long the two were blindly making their way over to the couch across from the fireplace. The back of his knees hit first and he pulled both of them down upon the firm cushions. She straddled his lap, throwing off the extra pillows - even feigning innocence when she messed up his hair with one "accidentally" - before placing her hands on his shoulders. The deeper they kissed the more she rocked up against his body. Cursing himself for wearing his armor, he felt the pressure of her chest against his breastplate and shivered at the thought of what it would feel like not having it on - to feel the supple contours beneath her dress.

He ran a hand up the length of her firm thigh with the hem of her dress trailing along as it caught on his vambrace. A finger traced the scar he had scored on her skin months ago, which was rough enough to feel through the material of her stockings. As he roamed higher, to his surprise, no longer was there any fabric, only silky skin. He parted from her looking down to see that he had revealed a thick white lace band at the top of her mid-thigh stocking tied up by a ribbon.

He hooked a finger into it, "Is this a new uniform requirement for diplomatic trade meetings?"

She laughed lightly, "No, these are just for you." He swallowed hard at the thought of her picking them out just to entice him. "After my meeting, I was planning on slipping into your office quietly while you were working at your desk, sitting myself right in front of you and..." She hiked up the other side of the dress exposing her other leg while draping the bulk of the fabric behind her. A tingling heat pulsated within him as his eyes took in the sight of the woman whom he chased in his dreams.

"Oh, so all the soldiers coming in and out could see?" He quirked an eyebrow up at her shaking his head with some amusement. "So much for secrecy."

"It's completely conjecture now, especially since this worked out nicely." His hand began to trail up again thumbing her hip bone, surprised at how smooth the skin was the higher he went. Without looking he could feel it was untouched by scars or other marks. When he reached her bodice, his hands retreated down to massage her thighs. Watching him intently as he studied her, she widened her hips, lowering herself down on the bulge forming between his legs.

As he stroked up and down, he couldn't help but brush against her smalls. When his calloused fingers slipped beneath the side of them, she gave a little smirk then brought her lips to his ear whispering, "Do you want to touch me, Rutherford?" As she awaited his answer, her lips suckled on his ear as his fingers now moved to explore her from underneath. When he reached his destination with only a thin satiny fabric between him and her femininity, a small breathy gasp escaped her, "I've longed for it."

He hummed in answer, letting his hand slide under her smalls. A finger rubbed at her folds as if they were the delicate petals of embrium for which she smelled of. Her breath hitched and her body arched slightly away from him grabbing hold of his knees behind her, positioning herself to give him better access. Dipping a finger into her wet quim, followed by a second, he curled his fingers massaging gently, paying close attention to her reaction. She moaned and sighed, rocking her hips on his hand. He watched her eyelids flutter shut and her head roll back as her hair cascaded down like a waterfall.

Truthfully, he was pleased that he remembered how to touch a woman as he watched her unraveling at his fingertips. Since South Reach - and perhaps even a bit before - his free time had been consumed by thoughts of her and the anticipation of a more physical relationship - her teasing only fueling his ardor. Such envisioned fantasies of intimacy with her helped him prepare for a situation such as this. Her eagerness to pursue such a course only increased his own boldness and base desires. Any other time - with any other woman - he would have restrained himself, but she was no casual acquaintance; they existed on a different plane completely beyond any relationship he had ever had with anyone. He had allowed her to break down every barrier he had ever constructed around his true self. Yet having seen its ugliness, it seemed to have only brought them closer. The more he thought on it, the more he believed the Maker had sent her - a mage no less - to him, despite believing he didn't deserve her for his past sins.

As he picked up the pace, her breaths deepened as he watched her breasts heave laboriously with want. She used his breastplate to arch herself back up to him and her burning eyes searched him desperately for something followed by her fingers. Her right hand found its way down to his laces, pulling on them with an urgency. When her hand grazed his defined erection, he involuntarily bucked up into her hand. Maker, how long had it been since another woman touched him, for he groaned unexpectantly at the contact.

She leaned back down to kiss him never breaking their rhythm as her hand stayed down in his lap blindly loosening his pants. Each wanton moan of his name hardened him more and he felt the primal urge to thrust into her, but he had more restraint than that. With the laces undone, she pushed down the remaining fabric which concealed him without resistance from him. He felt his face flush as her eyes devoured the sight of him in such a state of vulnerability. A gentle finger circled his throbbing head teasingly which was enough to make him breathe as heavily as if he was trying to lift a boulder thrice his weight. She adjusted to straddling just his right leg, giving her hand more room to work.

He didn't trust his voice, but thankfully it held strong, "Do you have to go to this meeting? Can't Josephine handle it without you?"

"Unfortunately, no," her hand continued to work on him, never stopping its tantalizing exploration, though her heavy brown-eyed gaze met his. "You see, I work with this pushy man who is always in need of new arms and armor for his men. So, I have to go convince this Lord to sell me a mine on his land. This way, I can get the metal he requires."

He chuckled, "Well, I do need it."

"Is that all you need?" Her perfectly round lips curved into a smirk. A growl accompanied by a thrust of his hips answered her. Spurred on by his reply she stood retrieving his wet fingers from her. She offered them to him as she parted his legs to kneel between them. Her forearms rested on his taught thighs as she watched him suck her sweet nectar off of him. A warm tongue trailed the length of his cock up to the tip making him breathe in sharply. A small moan escaped him as his head fell back for a moment overtaken by blissful pleasure at her touch. For all the times he had imagined it, nothing could've prepared him for the sensation of searing heat that ripped through his very being.

When he looked back down blinking a few times to make sure this was real, he noticed she was working both she and him. Grabbing onto the edge of the seat cushion, Cullen fixed his eyes on the fire goddess as the hot breath from her pants made him tingle as he awaited what evidently was coming next. The thought of her touching herself while pleasing him had his cock leaking. As her lips slid down his length, a wave of molten desire rippled through him tensing his muscles. The warm wetness of her mouth and throat was overwhelming his senses. Evelyn's tongue swirled around his crown, tasting him for the first time and she voiced her pleasure at it. Pressure began to build in his head and groin until everything around him disappeared leaving the two of them in a nameless void.

Her breaths sharpened and before he realized what was happening she came. With her mouth still on him, her writhing and cries of release gave a new sensation to the feeling inside her mouth bringing him to the precipice. Her free hand grabbed his leg as if the wave from her pleasure would sweep her away. Her tongue flicked wildly slashing and curling around him until...

"Evelyn," he breathed out attempting to warn her, but a second later he was already coming. A hand flew to her head holding her down on him as he moaned, pumping his spend into her. She slowed her movements to gentle caresses until she released him to swallow. Looking up at him she wiped a finger to a milky drop that had escaped the side of her mouth, which she slipped back in with a satisfied hum. He grabbed her waist pulling her back onto his lap with ease, for as tall and muscular as she was, her limbs were rendered useless.

Circling her in his arms, they sat there still dazed listening to the beating of their hearts. Searching to find words that would accurately describe what he was feeling, he instead kissed her lovingly unsure if such words existed. He tasted a slight saltiness on her lips and tongue, as she melted against him. They continued this course until reason and feeling returned to them. As he thumbed the long scar on her lower cheek, a slight hint of worry appeared.

"Cullen, I'm sorry I just... it wasn't too much, too soon was it?"

"No, no don't apologize. I should've... did you think it was?"

Relieved, she smiled shaking her head before he began to grow concerned that he had rushed things. "No, I just care for you so much and... I don't want to mess it up. This isn't young love, having both had our experiences, I just feel like this is right. I'm not sure any of that made sense." She searched his eyes finding the mutual understanding which he harbored there. Soon though, that same hungry look returned as she stroked his stubble, "I couldn't help myself." Raptor eyes cut their way down his body to his exposed member, which he promptly tucked away back into his pants. He couldn't help the flush that invaded his cheeks and forehead. Noticing it, she pecked soft kisses on each, "I look forward to seeing the rest of you that bare in the future."

"As am I, unless you plan to tease me relentlessly?" She laughed mischievously giving him a love bite to the sensitive spot between the ear and throat. He grunted trying to pull away, "What's that for?"

"Payback for South Reach." Evelyn stood and walked over to throw back some water and inspected herself in the mirror. She began to hum while fixing her hair into something not as intricate as before, but still regal in style. Cullen was content to lazily flex his appendages out of their jelly-like state and watch her from where he sat. "Are you going to Bull's dragon-slaying celebration tonight at the tavern?" She looked at him through her mirror. "He sent for some kind of Qunari drink that he promised would "put some chest on my chest." No doubt I'll be rightly sauced before midnight."

"I wasn't planning to, despite his invitation. He did give me fair warning letting me know some of the men may not be fit for duty come sunrise. I've tried to speak with the Lieutenants about keeping an eye on their men, but..."

"I'll keep an eye out for trouble... while I can. If I'm there no one is likely to get too rowdy anyway. Besides, with the way Bull is talking up how strong this drink is, we may all go from buzzed to sit-there-like-a-slug drunk anyway."

"In that case, perhaps I should go. I could at least make sure you got back to quarters alright."

"And here I was thinking I'd just stumble over to your office and crash for the night," she turned having finished, giving him a cheeky smile.

"You stumbling across the ramparts sauced worries me far more than a dragon attack on Skyhold."

She laughed, "Very well, come find me when you're done with your work." He gave her a knowing look, "I meant when you're done your work for the evening. Is that better? Now, I have to go to this meeting before Josie stomps up here and starts asking questions of the two of us."

Later that evening as Skyhold quieted, Cullen tried his best to get through the upcoming week's rosters, guard rotations, and training schedules, but the noise from the inn, though not excessive, was too much for him to ignore. He was not so possessive as to want to keep an eye on her, rather he was looking forward to sharing a bed with her for the night. Not that there would be any lovemaking or the like in her state, but the feel of her against him as she slept was desirous in its own rights having been denied the pleasure earlier in the day. He had always slept alone and up until only recently he lamented not having someone to find comfort in at the end of the day.

He wondered how he had never felt such a void in his life before when the idea that lyrium had filled that hole struck him funny. The more he brooded over it, the more he came to realize while taking lyrium there were certain things that he never knew he was missing. The lyrium had amplified certain characteristics and dulled others, such as his need for comfort or companionship. It was as if he lived his life in a hazy form of reality, though he did his job well and was willing to throw morals to the wind at times, there were things that weighed heavier upon him now than when he took lyrium. How could his treatment of mages in the past not have bothered him? He was full of anger at the time, but did the lyrium create a veil around his true self for the sake of completing his duty? Before he could question it further and bring on a headache, he threw on his mantle and headed out into the night.

Though it was earlier than they planned, he walked down the stairs taking the longer route in the hopes someone might delay him having been too eager to wait for midnight. Perhaps she'd be ready to leave by now anyway if the drinks were indeed as strong as Bull claimed. Having no such luck, he passed by some of his men outside of The Herald's Rest getting some air. They sloppily saluted him, but he simply nodded without a reprimand. Inside, he found the Inquisitor and her companions - Owayne, Sorin, Henley, Ilara, Varric, Dorian, Sera, Blackwall, Bull, Krem, and even Cassandra - seated around a long table. He took a brief moment to watch her as a large smile and merry laugh brightened her face. He almost hated to take her away from the group knowing she could use a break, but upon seeing him her face lighted even more before it darkened with desire. He thanked the Maker, that everyone seemed too preoccupied or drunk to notice the look for there was no mistaking it.

"Cullen!" Bull roared holding his cup up to him. A slew of embarrassing greetings from the rest of the intoxicated group followed, such as 'Curly', 'Lion of Ferelden', and even a 'Cully Wully' was shouted alerting all to his presence. "You finally made it!" They scrambled trying to make room for him as drinks and even people were toppled in the attempt. He tried to stop them, but a glance to the youngest Trevelyan told him it was fruitless. He held his tongue until they were settled, even if Sera had not righted herself from off the floor before he broke the news.

"Actually," he turned to Evelyn looking as serious as possible, "Inquisitor, there's a matter of urgency that has come up. I apologize, but it must be addressed immediately." She stood with a huff as if he was inconveniencing her. Walking to him as if she were out at sea, she thanked Bull in passing for the evening of diversion and for the drink.

"May I offer you my arm, Inquisitor?"

"Yes, thank you. That would be most helpful," and they turned to leave back out the front door.

Before getting more than a few feet away, Cassandra jabbed a finger to his breastplate, "Just don't mark up her neck too badly this time."

"I-- What?!" The whole tavern muted slightly at his thunderous voice.

"Come on, Commander," Evelyn pulled him along as he stuttered looking back at the Seeker wondering at her words. Reaching the door and holding it open for her, she whispered as she passed, "I'll explain later."

By the grace of Andraste, they made it to his quarters and up the ladder without incident. He locked the doors, signaling to all that he was unavailable having retired for the evening. He lit a solitary candle on his nightstand, looking about his meager room suddenly feeling guilty for not insisting upon taking her back to her luxurious quarters. He didn't need much, in fact, if it had come to it he could've been happily sleeping in a field tent on Skyhold's grounds. The fresh crisp air was soothing on his inflamed body as it fought against the lyrium withdrawal. He had been asked time and time again by the mason when he could fix the gaping hole in his ceiling, but he came up with excuses easily enough. He knew though, it was a huge problem when it came to the Keep's structural integrity and would need to be repaired at some point.

Despite the state of disrepair, everything else remained neat as The Order had drilled into him. Clothes were folded in his chest, armor was always placed on his stand ready to be put on at a moment's notice, weapons placed about - including a dagger discreetly slipped under his mattress - and personal letters sat under the weight of a broken stone from the ceiling. Since South Reach, he endeavored to separate his work from personal life, though Evelyn was blurring the divide. Trying to keep his health in consideration he had forbid himself to bring work up into his room, which was a start.

After getting out of his armor, he sat on the bed and turned his back unlacing his boots giving her privacy if she needed it. Raised to be a gentleman, he did not venture a peek or the like when he heard the rustling of clothes being tossed and discarded about.

"So, Cassandra knows about us?"

"Yes, and Ilara thanks to you marking your territory on my neck."

"Ah, so that's why you...," he pointed to the spot on his neck where she had tried to leave a mark earlier. He heard a 'Mmhmm' from somewhere inside a shirt or whatnot, but still didn't turn around. Instead, he pulled his own shirt over his head and left it on the floor beside the bed as usual in case he needed to redress quickly. It dawned on him that he probably should have left it on in case she got the wrong idea, and as he went to put it back on he felt her weight on the bed coming toward him. Her hands traced their way about the scars on his back as soft kisses trailed up from his shoulder to cheek.

"Can I wear that?" He gave a quick look over his shoulder to see what she was referring to, and when he caught her eyeing his shirt, he offered it readily. She slipped it on, but he also heard the rustle of her leather pants shortly after. When her hand gripped his arm and pulled him to face her they collapsed on the bed. They faced each other with her smiling as he just took in the sight of her swimming in the fabric of his white shirt. He could tell she still wore her undergarments, but his shirt was not long enough to hide any part of her shapely legs. He had unlaced the collar to take it off which made it just wide enough for her to slip a shoulder through. Childishly, she buried her face in the pillow and sheets as if trying to burrow down into them. Her head turned to the side revealing a mischievous smile on the half of it he could see.

"Smells like you. I'm in the lion's den," a giggle followed. He had almost forgotten she was drunk.

"Andraste preserve me, is that what we're calling it? Does that mean your quarters are the Phoenix's nest?"

She rolled to face him completely with a look of disgust, "That sounds dreadful, we'll have to work--," a large yawn escaped her, "on that." She blinked a few times trying to clear the sleepiness from her eyes to no avail.

He gave a tired chuckle, "Get some rest, Trevelyan. We have to get up early if we want to avoid the first patrol, remember?" They had planned it as they walked from her quarters earlier; she would wear a cloak and they pretended to just be talking and walking the ramparts during the first patrol change. No one would see she was wearing the same clothes as the night before or even be up just before the first light. If seen, they would just be walking chatting about the completed repairs then part ways. Both were known to be early risers, so overall there was little in the way of suspicion if questioned that they couldn't refute. He held up his arm and she scooted her back up against him. The feel of her was as wonderful as he had thought it'd be. He grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it over them, forgetting for a moment that she liked to be warm - very warm. After a few minutes of quiet, he noticed she was nudging him purposely with her ass.

"Something on your mind, Rutherford?" There was no mistaking what she was referring to.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly as he nestled closer to her. "I have a beautiful woman in bed beside me, you can hardly blame me," he whispered playfully. His words carried a hint of desire, though he quickly reassured her, "But don't misunderstand, I have no intentions other than laying here falling asleep beside you."

Her laughter hummed in response, a soft and contented sound that resonated deep within him. With a gentle twist, she turned toward him, briefly capturing his bottom lip with a tender kiss, before deepening their connection with one last passionate exchange. And then, they settled back into their embrace, cuddling in the moonlit glow that streamed through the hole in the roof. Dust particles floated through the ethereal illumination, shimmering like tiny specks of polished metal, creating a dreamlike ambiance around them. The cool hue of the moonlight cast serene tranquility over the room as if time itself had paused to witness their union.

Gradually, Evelyn's breathing slowed and deepened, signaling her descent into a tranquil slumber. The arm he had lovingly wrapped around her was embraced tightly by her hands and arms, creating a sense of security and warmth. Cullen let his face rest against the back of her head, savoring the sweet scent of vanilla and embrium that clung to her, a fragrant reminder of her unique essence. As his eyes slowly closed, he surrendered himself to the peacefulness of the moment. All thoughts of the demanding workload that awaited him on his desk, the headaches that plagued him, and the haunting nightmares that lurked in the depths of his mind were momentarily forgotten. In this precious instance, it was just the two of them, entwined in a cocoon of affection and serenity.

 

---

 

There were only three days left to prepare for the trip to the Winter Palace. Everything seemed to be in place from the packing to the plan. She was proud of her team and everything they were able to accomplish since the attack on Haven. Their efforts were making an impact across all of Thedas and more and more people flocked to their banner every day. Some came wanting to be trained to fight, others offered their trade skills to the Inquisition. Skyhold was quickly civilizing the Frostbacks growing itself into a power to be reckoned with. Even if they lacked the culture of refined society - though she'd never admit such a thing to Josephine who worked to correct that tirelessly - there was culture to be had and shared as every race in Thedas was accepted in service to the cause. It was becoming fashionable to be allied with the Inquisition since the Herald of Andraste had declared war on Corypheus. Yet, for a beast claiming with such fervor his divine righteousness, he was being awfully quiet.

Evelyn couldn't help but feel that everything was too good to be true. She paced on the landing of the tall staircase where they had made her Inquisitor, taking in the view now that the reconstruction efforts had finished and Skyhold's walls stood stronger than ever. A chill from the south ruffled through her olive-green dress. Looking up, a flock of birds soared over the ramparts towards dark clouds. Following their path, she noticed a small caravan in the distance. Next thing she knew, an out-of-breath scout was next to her informing her the crest on the carriages was that of House Trevelyan. A stronger gust of wind helped to freeze her in place paralyzed. All she could do was move her lips, telling the scout to inform the Lady Ambassador. After that, her mind went blank as her eyes fixed on the road.

When she saw the horses pulling the carriages across the bridge a mix of emotions caught her off guard. Who from her family was visiting? Did something happen that warranted a visit in person? Why didn't she have advance notice? Holding up her dress she rushed down the stairs from where she stood to the Lower Courtyard. Her quick footwork, even in flats, took her people by surprise as the Inquisitor nervously descended dodging them as she went. She beat the carriages to the yard as they just cleared the portcullis. Her heart was thumping out of her chest, though it wasn't from the stairs and she trembled with both excitement and trepidation anxiously waiting to see who stepped from the caravan. A gloved hand slowly moved the curtain from the window aside before retreating. The footman dismounted to open the door at the convenience of its passenger. With a knock from inside, he opened the door.

Out stepped Lady Bann Trevelyan with her nose stuck up in the air looking from side to side ignoring her daughter before her. She may be the only person in all of Thedas who would dare to snub the Herald of Andraste and Leader of the Inquisition in such a manner. After giving Skyhold a quick inspection, she daintily planted a foot in the light mud of the courtyard. She made a disgusted noise as she dirtied her fine shoes, "Evelyn dear, you really should do something about the state of this place. You either do not get many visitors or you are woefully unprepared for them."

"Nice to see you as well, Lady Mother. And this is a fortress which could come under attack at any time, not a mountain retreat." She flashed her best sarcastic smile despite having not seen her mother in over a year.

"A fortress can still be less muddy."

"Why are you here? And why didn't you send word?"

"I think I taught you better manners than that, dear. Your brother tells me you don't read any of the letters I send, so I made the dreadful journey down here to you. We have business to discuss with everything in Thedas changing, including your new status." A conniving grin brightened the sharp features of her aging face.

"Business? What business?" Evelyn's expression darkened at her mother's puckered smile.

"I've brought a surprise for you, I've picked him out myself since you seemed to want no say in the matter. He will do nicely for you and the family."

"Oh, mother. Whoever the poor man is send him home before I'm forced to embarrass him. How dare you make such a decision on my behalf!"

"I'm your mother and you still have family obligations to honor. Marrying this man will be a great boon to our house."

"I'm the Inquisitor. There are politics and such to consider. Matters such as this now get reviewed by my advisors, not you!" She could care less about politics when it came to personal matters, but she'd throw any excuse at her mother to halt this descent into madness.

Her mother ignored her and hooked arms dragging her over to the second carriage. Evelyn wasn't the type to throw her title at people, but her mother's complete disregard and disrespect for her were incredibly infuriating. She had a mind to send her back on her way immediately, but what would people say of the treatment toward her own mother? Once in front of the carriage, she turned to face her daughter whispering so that the man inside could not hear, "He is a bit shy and asked when he met you to have a few minutes with you in the carriage alone."

"Good, then I can reject him in there," she whispered back.

"Evelyn Althea Trevelyan you will do no such thing! This will be done properly as I have raised you to do. Go!" With that, the door was opened and her mother pushed her in with alarming force for such a lady.

Evelyn climbed into the seat opposite of this poor sod her mother had dragged across half of Thedas for her to reject. This was so typical of her mother to show up and already try to turn her life on its head. Tucking a stray hair out of her face she looked up to the occupant of the carriage with an exasperated look, "My apologies, there seems to have been some misunderstanding--"

"There's no misunderstanding, Trevelyan," his voice pierced through the air, causing it to vanish from the cramped confines of the carriage. Evelyn's breath caught in her throat, her body frozen in a state of shock and terror. She instinctively reached for the door handle, her fingers trembling with desperation, but her actions were swiftly thwarted as he locked it, trapping her inside. Before her, a figure sat, a man she believed to be dead, Ser Ryker Aeron. It was as if she were staring into the eyes of a ghost, her mind reeling with disbelief.

Her power surged within her, a trembling force ready to be unleashed, and even the mark on her hand crackled with unease, sensing the imminent threat to its host. "Now, now, kill me, and Corypheus will find himself in possession of one of these," he jeered, revealing a phylactery concealed within his coat. Dread gripped her heart, panic etched upon her face, while he relished in her fear, his wicked smile a chilling sight. He sensed her mana subsiding, like a predator toying with its prey. "I will explain more later, but for now, all you need to do is pretend that we just met. You will call me Lord Einar Armand, and I'm here as a suitor. Understand?"

Her thoughts raced in a frenzy, a whirlwind of confusion and fear. Should she strike him down now, regardless of the consequences? But what about the phylactery and the possibility of Corypheus obtaining it? Ryker was cunning and calculated, leaving no loose ends in his plans. Did he duplicate her phylactery? The uncertainty gnawed at her, fueling her hyperventilation, as her mind grappled with the impossible choices before her. With each breath, she tore through the silk lining of the carriage, her nails leaving behind the marks of her inner turmoil.

"Let me out," she managed to spit through gritted teeth, her voice laced with a mix of fury and desperation.

"I see we've forgotten our place in the mere year since we last saw each other. Rest assured, that will be righted," he taunted, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. With a click, the door unlocked, and he extended his hand, a mocking gesture for her to exit first. Taking a deep breath, Evelyn fought to regain her composure, her ears filled with the growing cacophony of voices outside the carriage.

Opening the door wearing the mask of the Inquisitor, Josephine and her team straightened waiting to receive their orders. Afraid that her voice would come out as nothing but a squeak, she smoothed her dress and fixed her posture in an attempt to calm her nerves. "Ambassador Montilyet, this is Lord Einar Armand a guest of my mother's. Please see to their rooms immediately as they have need of them to rest from their long journey." If they went directly there, the less chance he would be seen before I have time to deal with it. "I would like to host a private dinner for them in my quarters tonight and tomorrow they can get the full tour of Skyhold."

"I think, I'll take dinner in my room, Evelyn dear. This horrid trip has left me quite exhausted. You do have actual rooms, I won't be put in a field tent or stable, will I?"

The Inquisitor ran a weary hand down her face, the weight of her mother's insolence no longer deserving of her attention. "As you wish, Mother. Rest assured, you will be assigned a guest room," she muttered, surprising even herself with the flat tone of her voice. Lady Trevelyan raised an eyebrow in response, taken aback by her daughter's uncharacteristic behavior. Before any further exchanges could take place, Josephine's team swiftly whisked her mother away, providing a much-needed respite from her suffocating presence.

"I would be delighted to dine with you, Lady Trevelyan. It's not every day one meets the Herald of Andraste." He bowed with a practiced finesse and gave a dashing smile. Good, she thought, better they are alone any way to discuss exactly how he had tricked her mother and stole her phylactery. And maybe, just maybe, she would even have the chance to kill him.

Chapter 18: The Price of Duty

Summary:

Ser Ryker Aeron reveals his scheme.

She walked briskly across the lower courtyard, hurrying to find Ilara. The woman was the last person left in Skyhold who could recognize Ryker. Henley and the Ostwick Templars had been sent to the Hasmal Circle, and Sorin was in the Western Approach with Hawke, investigating Venatori activity. She wasn't sure if any of the other mages would remember his face, as he usually wore a helmet while on duty in the Tower, where he had been confined after their altercation a decade ago. There were always enough visiting dignitaries for him to blend into the crowd, and they tended to gather around the Great Hall and the gardens, where food and drink were served throughout the day, rather than where the mages congregated.

On the right side of the portcullis, directly opposite Cullen's office, stood the Infirmary, the designated location for Ilara during this time of day. As she approached, her hand trembled while reaching for the door handle. Casting a swift backward glance, she observed Ryker and her mother ascending the staircase leading to the Great Hall. Even without a clear view of his expression or discernible features, she could sense his gaze fixed upon her. Memories of another lifetime surged within her, invoking a familiar array of emotions: the uneasiness knotting her stomach, the pervasive sense of being under constant scrutiny, and the unsettling nausea churned by the sinister glare of his eyes.

She darted in like lightning, unable to bear another moment of it. She shut the door behind her and stood back against it, putting a hand to her galloping heartbeat. The pace at which it ran caused her to breathe heavily as if she had just sustained an hour of vigorous training out in the yard. Her body trembled from the immense amount of adrenaline that was dumped into her bloodstream for fear that death had come upon her only moments ago. With eyes wide from terror, she suddenly realized she was being watched by healers and patients alike. Few in Skyhold didn't recognize her, even if they had never interacted with her. Clenching her jaw, muscles flexing with each shiver, a façade of calm strength fell down upon her face.

The bottom floor of the Infirmary was reserved for patient beds due to the lack of stairs. Every bed was filled with those recovering from injuries sustained in the line of duty. Ilara had somehow turned the decrepit tower into an immaculate healing ward for the Inquisition's wounded. Not a speck of dust could be found and every shelf was stocked with herbs and healing potions. The staff tended tirelessly to injuries of every nature, from minor aches to major wounds. Evelyn occasionally stopped by now and again to check on the wounded and make small talk with them.

"Inquisitor, what can we do for you?" Ilara glided down the stairs with an armful of fresh linens. Although her voice was melodic and soothing, it made her jump, her nerves having been frayed beyond reason.

"I need to speak with you privately, it's urgent." Ilara consented with a worried look and followed her up the tower's stairs to the ramparts. Once there she looked about to make sure no one was close by, knowing just how her friend reacted to startling news. "Ryker Aeron is here in Skyhold." The healer's eyes went wide mirroring the terror in hers.

"No, no, how can that be? Wait, are you having a flashback? Is this trauma related?"

"No!" Evelyn didn't mean to yell, but she was so tense it couldn't be helped, "I'm not having an episode, he is alive and he's here." She tried to regain some composure as a patrol walked past by biting her lip, but a tremor sent her teeth right through it. She did her best to cover her mouth as it filled with a metallic taste. She licked her teeth to clear it, but Ilara quickly waved her hand in front erasing all trace of the cut. When they were alone once more, she grabbed her friend by the shoulders, "My mother brought him here as a suitor under a false identity. He has my phylactery and is threatening to give it to Corypheus if I don't do as he says. His first order was that I make sure no one from Ostwick recognizes him."

Ilara blinked at her trying to process what she was telling her, "So-so what are our options here? Can't we just kill him? Again?"

"Trust me it would be so easy to, but he said he had more than one phylactery of mine. Before I do anything, I need to find out exactly what he's doing here and how he plans to blackmail me. He's coming to my quarters tonight for a private dinner, I'd like you there as a chaperone. If he's masquerading as a suitor, he can't argue when I insist on it. Un-unless you're not comfortable with it?"

Now it was Ilara who grabbed her, "I'm not letting you face that monster alone, especially with Sorin and Byron gone. I will be there, Evie. You can count on it." The two embraced as if it was the last time they'd ever see each other. They shared in the solidarity that they would be in this together regardless of what the night had in store for them, but Andraste be damned if she would ever let that bastard harm a hair on Ilara's head. She took her strength from her friend, that protective spirit that was resolved to guard those she loved at all costs. It was the essence of the flame that burned deep within her, and while it was a strength, it was also her ultimate weakness.

 

---

 

The hour of their doom had arrived. Soon Ryker would stride through her door to reveal to them his horrid scheme. In the few hours that passed between their meeting on the ramparts, the two women had tied up some loose ends in their daily work and then retreated to the Inquisitor's quarters. They filled the room with their nervous energy barely speaking a word as they paced and fretted over anything that crossed their path. Evelyn impatiently rushed the staff along needing time to make some preparations of her own. This was an invasion; though the room was nicely decorated for a diplomatic dinner, she strategically placed weapons about the room knowing if she used wards he'd sense them.

As darkness began to fall, a knock on her door signaled the arrival of the enemy. Her palms were sweaty and for once she felt the room was stifling despite the snow accumulating on the balcony. Ilara had been standing staring out the window wringing her hands together so roughly, that her skin was turning pink. She jumped at the knock spinning around to look at Evelyn with the eyes of a doe cornered by a wolf. Despite her own escalating fear, she put on her best war face, a signal to Ilara that she was ready to fight and die for her as she had on their final night in the Circle.

The Inquisitor glided to the top of the staircase, her velveteen dress brushing the ground as she moved, "Come."

The door opened with a long slow creek as a figure cloaked in black filled the doorway. Stepping into the light of the moon his jovial face hid the monster that lurked within. Evelyn's body reacted to his presence the way one would to a darkspawn ogre. As he approached slowly, every one of her muscles tensed ready for whatever brutality was coming her way, but instead, he lifted her hand and gave it a gentle kiss. She pulled it back rigidly and he balked at her rejection of his affection.

"Really, is that how we want to start things?" She backed away as he grabbed several times for her waist, "I could have insisted on something more intimate, but--" Ilara cleared her throat drawing attention to herself. "Enchanter Ilara, what an unexpected pleasure!" Letting go of her, he prowled up on the healer as she took a few slow-paced back until she hit the edge of the Inquisitor's desk. She grabbed the edge unsteadily as he crowded her, "I'm actually glad you're here. What I have to say involves you as well. My, you look as lovely as ever." She visibly swallowed unable to hide her fear as well as Evelyn. Seeing her friend in distress she grabbed Ryker by the shoulder and shoved him away. He lost his balance surprised by the rough handling, but regaining his footing he jeered at her. "Ladies, I'm not here to fight with you, I'm simply here to talk."

"Then let's get to it and dispose with the pleasantries. What do you want from me?" She gestured him over to the oval dining table that had been brought up. Her fear and anger were at equal levels keeping her emotions teetering like a balancing scale.

"Very well, my you had all of this made for me? Did you poison it too?" She rolled her eyes, as he laughed at his own jest. "Cheer up, I plan to tell you everything. Shall we start with how I came to be in your blessed presence, Herald of Andraste?" The three sat down, but no one touched the feast before them. The fire cast a warm glow over the food and people sat around it. It helped to set half of Ryker's face in shadow, representative of his personality. For what he hid in shadow he carefully guarded from all but her.

"Did you know I come from a noble house? No? Well, that's because I don't, but luckily there are Templars out there who are. There are many noble bastards born out of wedlock promised to The Order at birth. I found such a man, one Einar Armand. Sadly, he died when his Circle fell, but a friend of his - the only survivor of the attack - had fled to the Ostwick Chantry where I was recovering from my own wounds that you so kindly bestowed upon me." He picked up and dug the point of his dinner knife into his fingertip, looking up from under his creased brow. The memory flashed in both their minds as they leveled heated glares at each other.

"I had come to know of Einar Armand because I was told by his friend that we shared a likeness. The more we talked from our recovery beds, the more he revealed about that sorry bastard, including that with the recent death of his Lord step-father, the mother had written trying to find her long lost son. As fate would have it, the mother failed to have another child - seems the Lord was impotent. Having made his wife the chief benefactor of his estate and will, she began a frantic search for her son she was forced to relinquish all those years ago. Being a good brother, the Templar was on his way to deliver back the letter and deliver news of her son's death." He punctuated the last word with a stab to the roasted bird in the middle of the table, making them jump. Evelyn instinctively reached for the dagger she had mounted to the underside of the table. He watched her carefully, and not wanting to give away her hidden blade, she used the momentum of the jolt to reach for the wine bottle offering to fill his glass. Once everyone's cup was filled, she reached for her glass and took two large sips. He didn't continue until she had finished, reveling in the way he made her squirm.

"Well, as you can imagine, I couldn't let this opportunity pass me by and that night I hatched a plan. I owe you for the inspiration, for you came to me in my dreams, calling me to you like the siren you are." Evelyn scrunched up her nose, wanting to gag at the imaginings of his mind. "First, I couldn't leave a soul alive who knew Einar was actually dead, so his friend had to die - and so did the Chantry wench who caught me slitting his throat." He leaned toward her slightly with a soft confession, "I did that for us." She could do nothing but balk, rolling her eyes. "So far as anyone there knows, the two met a tragic end together, and I fled that pitiful excuse of a recovery ward in the chaos. With the letter in hand, I made my way to the Armand Estate, where I was welcomed with open arms. The mother doted on her lost son, and when the inheritance was eventually passed to me, Lady Armand joined her husband at the Maker's side," he tilted his head giving a fake frown at the woman's death. Evelyn tapped her foot under the table at the injustice of it all. He destroyed a family and took advantage of a widow without one ounce of remorse.

He downed his wine and signaled with his eyes that he wanted more. An odd giddy grin splayed across his face as he watched her obey the command. Just before he took his next sip, she inquired why the two mages were not partaking in their meal. He stuck a finger in Evelyn's blackberry sauce and stuck it in his mouth with a hum. Noting that it was getting cold, he refused to continue until she took a bite. The pace of her tapping foot rapidly increased, as she tried to dispel some of her anger and annoyance. Seeing she was not going to, he violently stabbed his fork about her bouncing plate until he had a large mouthful of pheasant, blackberry sauce, and a smear of mashed potatoes impaled before her. Ilara looked between the two with rising panic as the tension in the room resembled a fraying rope hanging together by a strand.

With a deep breath she slowly reached to take the fork, but he pulled it back. He shook his head with a childish scold and told her to say 'ah.' Her eyes shot to his, firing into him all the repugnance and odium she could. Unfazed, he moved the polished silver closer to her lips. Seeing as he wasn't going to let it go, she reluctantly opened her mouth, half expecting him to stab her with it. Instead, he was slow and methodical as he stuffed her mouth with the forkful of food. The amount was too much and she struggled to chew and swallow it. Laughing under his breath as he watched her choke it down, he reclined back in his seat picking up where he left off.

"It took me many months to get the estate running back efficiently, and in that time, I had many callers. I had suddenly become one of the Free Marches' most eligible bachelors! Women were banging down my door, and although I was propositioned by a number of temptresses, I only thought of you." She fought the urge to purge herself of the food he forced down her throat to make a point. "I may have sampled a few of the maids, for which I'm sure you can forgive me, as I forgive your transgressions with Henley." The man was insane, he truly believed they were meant to be together or were already bound in some form to each other. "When an invitation arrived from the recently famous House Trevelyan, I sent an eager reply and the very next day I took tea with your mother and sister, Ariella." Evelyn sat back in disbelief, her mother willingly opened the door to this madness.

"To my surprise, your mother was pushing your desperate middle sister at me." He laughed with an air unbefitting a monster, "It was so disappointing realizing Ariella didn't share a resemblance with you, she tried so hard to win my affection. I was tempted to let her show me how much she wanted it, but it would be awkward seeing her at family dinners and such in the future with you by my side. I wouldn't want sisters fighting over me." Her rage was on a slow simmer. Insulting her was one thing, but slighting her family was something else entirely.

"You lie. Ariella is engaged, if not married already to some Nevarran."

He shook his head menacingly, "The engagement was broken off after the Ostwick Circle rebelled and you were named the rebel leader." She hadn't thought how her association with the rebellion would have affected her sister's marriage plans. Guilt coursed through her knowing that Ariella was actually in love with the man. Regardless of the turmoil between her and the female members of her family, they were still kin and would never purposely sabotage such delicate negotiations. "When I declined the offer of your sister, your mother looked quite put out until I told her it was you who had captured my attention. It's known far and wide that the youngest Trevelyan is unmarried, unattached, and of good breeding, take away her fancy titles and what is she? An abomination. A filthy whore in need of redemption. And your mother, so eager to climb the social hierarchy in the Free Marches began to sell you off to me as one would a broodmare," her veins glowed at the slight, her nails digging into the arms of her chair wishing it was his throat she clawed. She was going to get whiplash from the way he alternated insulting her and then spoke as if they were fated lovers.

"Don't get mad at me, Trevelyan," she hated that he called her that. Cullen called her that out of affection during flirtatious banter and Ryker was spoiling it, tainting it. "It was your mother who described you as 'a strong-willed woman of supple curves well suited for bearing the many children to continue my legacy.' I merely had to wave my fortune in front of her with the promise that our houses would be joined as allies in every venture, and she practically got down on her knees for me. I suppose the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. You see, House Armand has dozens of sprawling fertile fields that sit by the Minanter River, whose crop is heavily exported and relied upon across all of Thedas. The operation is massive, and the family's connections are vast. How does it feel that your mother cares nothing for you? That to her you are just another one of your Rangers to be sold."

Her mother had always had one goal for her daughters, to marry most advantageously for the good of the family. Her father was a businessman, one who enjoyed his trade even if it was not as glamorous as being a spice merchant or a maker of fine wines. Hector, Owayne and even she had taken to the family business, but her mother had drilled into her sisters that they needed to do better than she had. It was one of the many fights her mother liked to rehash with Evelyn, for she didn't see marriage as a business arrangement, especially after living in the Circle where such things were a fantasy. She watched as her father toiled away for the cold shrew in which he was bound by honor, trying and failing to provide her with everything she wanted. Lord Trevelyan had provided their children with a privileged upbringing, yet no matter what he did, it never seemed enough for the woman. Tender moments between the two were not rare occurrences, as everyone needs the comfort of another, but neither were they often enough to call it true love.

"But I digress, now that I had the blessing of the mother - your father wanted nothing to do with it, knowing his daughter would never accept it - I needed a way to woo the cursed daughter. So, how do you make a mage submit to your every whim? Why, take their phylactery, of course!" He took out two baubles from his jacket.

"Are both mine?"

He laughed as if she was a child, "For all the tales of your wit and heroism, you really aren't that bright, are you? Do you really believe that I would bring them all here?"

Ilara shot up from her seat nearly knocking it over. Evelyn watched as the color drained from her face, "T-That's my phylactery! I can sense it."

"At least one of you harlots has brains. I stole them right out of the White Spire. When the Chantry wants every mage dead because they no longer have the Templars to protect them, desperation takes over. All I had to say was that I was hunting mages and they welcomed me without question, can you imagine?"

She bared and gritted her teeth at the threat to her friend. That he would drag her, innocent of their feud, into it was unacceptable, "You fucking--" She was cut off by a backhand to the face.

"Talk to me like that again, you Trevelyan bitch, and I'll not hesitate to silence you until you're rendered stupefied!" His voice thundered, his anger spilling over until he practically spat with rage. She begrudgingly admitted the fear he stirred within her, reducing her to a small and frightened figure. Her hand instinctively flew to her stinging cheek as she recoiled, cowering away from him. He huffed, his demeanor shifting once again. "Why do you continue to provoke me? I don't desire to inflict harm upon you, I love you," he muttered as if trying to reconcile his conflicting emotions. All she could muster was a wild glare, unable to fathom the extent of his sickness. This was the longest they had ever conversed, and it dawned on her that she had never truly comprehended the depths of his depravity. Their encounters within the Circle had always revealed one side or the other, but never both together in such chilling harmony.

"You don't love me, and I certainly will never love you!"

"Now, you may just change your mind once you hear what I plan to do with your precious phylacteries." His expression turned to a creepy form of smugness as the women listened intently now, "I have in my possession three copies of both your phylacteries; The ones which I have with me here and the others are located in secure locations somewhere in Thedas. Through my vast contacts, I found a maleficar who was able to duplicate your blood, for I knew if I came here with just the one for each of you, you'd just kill me. My terms are thus, you, Evelyn Trevelyan will marry me or I send them to Corypheus. I wonder what his legions of blood mages could creatively come up with to kill the great Inquisitor and her little sidekick if they got their hands on these."

"Maker, Evie he's going to..."

"I heard him Lar." Both women had gone white as a sheet, their terror plainly evident.

"I'm not sure why you're so upset. Is marrying me really the worst thing you would do to keep your phylactery out of the hands of your enemy?"

"What is your connection to Corypheus?"

He sat back tenting his fingers, with a quiet chuckle, "Sampson. A name that I'm sure you're familiar with. I haven't heard of a Templar out there today who hasn't heard his name, in fact. General of Corypheus, some are even hailing him as the 'Liberator' of The Order. Naturally, hearing of my triumphant return, rather the new Lord Armand - ex-Templar owning a vast empire of farms - he reached out with an offer." Clenching her fists, she braced herself to hear what the two had planned for her demise. Seeing her physical reaction, he scoffed, "Oh stop, the deal had nothing to do with you. He wanted supplies to feed that massive army of his, but I said no. A creature such as Corypheus does not pay for goods, they take them. Sampson believed I would be an easy mark, tempting me with the promise of a new stronger form of lyrium, which I'm sure once I took it, I'd be under his control."

"Red lyrium."

He nodded gravely, "I have no desire to get involved with them. Having bigger fish to fry to Orlais, apparently, he's left me alone since. Though I won't be surprised if I hear from him again soon. And by that time, if I don't have your cooperation, I'll hand these over to him."

"I don't understand, you won't help Corypheus, but you'll give him our phylacteries if I don't marry you?"

He sighed raking his hands from his unruly waves of hair, "Trevelyan, it's a simple thing really. I don't care about Corypheus, the Inquisition, or the Mage Rebellion, I only care about you and having you as my wife." She swallowed hard. He was on no one's side but his own with his own agenda. "The Maker has given me the means of which to obtain the one thing I've wanted since you began this chase for your heart all those years ago." He scooted to the edge of his seat and fingered a lock of her two-toned hair, "We are so close to the end, the thought makes me...," his voice grew in intensity then dropped off as he stole a glance to Ilara. "Well, I won't say in front of your friend what it does to me, those words I reserve only for you."

The door of her chambers abruptly opened after a short knock, causing all three of them to awkwardly pretend as if they were enjoying a pleasant meal. The familiar clank of the Commander's armor echoed off the stone. A warm swell rose up in her chest fighting off the cold fear that had taken root there for the past few hours. She embraced the feeling, not knowing how much longer she'd be able to feel it for after what was said.

"Evelyn, I hope you--," he blanched at seeing she was in the midst of entertaining guests. "My apologies for interrupting, Inquisitor. I had no idea you had company."

"It's quite alright, Commander. I--"

"Ah, this must be Knight-Commander Rutherford!" He stood and walked over to shake his hand. Evelyn shot up, her face intensely watching for any movement that remotely looked harmful to Cullen. Behind her back, sparks of fire danced from finger to finger as her magic would smite Ryker in an instant if he even looked at him wrong. Seeing her profound reaction, the Commander narrowed his gaze on the man before him as he spoke again, "Your efforts on behalf of The Order in Kirkwall were admirable. It's an honor to shake your hand." His words were honeyed but she sensed the false laden sincerity of them.

"That is no longer my title, having left The Order over a year ago. You're a Templar, I take it?" Evelyn knew he didn't need to be taking lyrium to sense the aura in which the substance emitted from Ryker. Seems his new fortune was also supplying him with ample lyrium.

"I was, though like you I left The Order to follow a different calling - one of duty to my family. I'm hoping the Inquisitor is inclined to answer such a calling as well." He gave Cullen an innocent smile as he watched every emotion fight to play out his face trying to catch the meaning behind his words. Though the Commander's face remained stoic, his eyes betrayed him as they flicked over to Evelyn straining slightly in question.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Where are my manners? Lord Einar Armand, formerly Ser Armand of the Circle of Hercinia."

"I had heard the Circle there experienced some of the worst fighting."

"Only myself and one other brother made it out alive." Ryker could have had a career in Orlais as a stage actor had he not joined The Order. His voice softened and his head drooped in reverence of his fallen comrades. It was infuriating to watch him con Cullen, watching him believe this farce.

"You have my sympathies. So many on both sides have lost their lives in the senseless violence. But I've interrupted your dinner." He was trying to be as courteous as possible as he backed out of the room, but Evelyn could see the way he was examining the scene for clues as to why they were dining in her room of all places. "Inquisitor, the matter can wait until tomorrow. Good evening," he said with a curt bow.

The Commander gave one last glance to her to make sure all was well. The warmth she felt as his amber eyes wished to know if she was indeed safe made her insides flutter. For a moment the world around her was veiled and all she saw was him. If he knew that the Ser Aeron of her nightmares had stood in front of him, talked with him, and shook his hand, she feared the wrath that would awaken within him. He would plague himself with blame and regret for not acting here and now in this room. The guilt of being the true cause of his future pain from lying to him was a cold stab in the ribs; colder even than sitting waiting to die on the side of the mountain after the attack on Haven. She shook herself from such thoughts before they began to play out on her face, and gave Cullen a reassuring nod and smile. Satisfied, he continued down the stairs and she stared longingly after him, wishing with all her heart she could go with him and out of her current hell.

When the door shut definitively, Ryker's sharp grin sent a cold chill slithering down her body, "Oh, this is rich," he feigned his amusement by covering his mouth with his hand, "You and Knight-Commander Rutherford?" Shaking her head adamantly in an attempt to convince him otherwise only brought on more questioning. "You always did have a weak spot for Chantry boys. And what of Henley? I'm surprised you parted with him for that Ferelden dog, at least he was a true Marcher. Is Ser Henley still with us?" A shared look between the women answered that for him, "Still keeping him around then for a good fuck, I remember the stories he used to tell about you in the barracks every time you returned from assignment. Mmm, helped to satisfy me many a night." She looked away from him in disgust but avoided Ilara's gaze as well. It didn't matter that Ilara knew, it was the way in which he crudely described it that shamed her.

"Rutherford has quite the reputation for his harsh treatment of mages in Kirkwall, perhaps his mind has become too addled from the excessive amount of lyrium Knight-Commander Meredith sanctioned for her Knights that he doesn't even comprehend that you're a filthy mage? Maybe he's so far gone he can't discern you from a Mabari bitch." He carefully gauged her reaction to each insult slung at Cullen, wanting to know how deep her emotions went for the man. In her mind, she fought against the instinct to defend his honor. Ryker had no idea who he was slandering. Don't Evelyn, don't let him get to you. He wants you to react, don't... "From the way people talked about it, they say your man was a very devoted soldier to his former Knight-Commander, satisfying her every whim, if you catch my meaning. Seems he has a penchant for his women superiors. Must be how a backwater simpleton like himself came to be in such positions of power. Does he even know which way to hold a sword?"

Before she had time to think, she heard her voice thundering through the room, "You know nothing of him! Even if the Maker bid Andraste to come down here to redeem you herself, you'd never come close to measuring up to that man!" Seething rage spewed forth as she was unable to hold it back any longer. From within the fireplace, the flames shot high up the stone catching the mantle and a number of books and trinkets from her travels on fire. Though she waved her hand to quell it, the damage had been done, charring some of the items around their edges. He stared at her in quiet contemplation, watching her muscles tense and flex while her veins pulsated with the glow of her mana. All she had to do was let go of her restraint on her magic and he'd be ash before they could bat an eye. Yet, despite all her power she couldn't use it, which brought him immense pleasure.

"I see I've touched a weak point," a wolfish grin spread across his face, it was just what he was after. "Whatever is between you and Rutherford ends now. If I so much as see you smile in his direction, your phylacteries will be sent to Corypheus." Her stomach felt as if it had been stabbed and dropped off the side of a mountain. She had never felt so physically sick in her life. A hot pressure in her ears was forcing consciousness from her. She swallowed back the acidic bile that had reached the back of her tongue. So profound was the first crack of her heartbreaking that Ryker probably had never seen the like of it before. "Andraste's tits, you're in love with him!" He huffed and his countenance turned so dark the look could not be replicated even in her worst nightmares. He leaned close as he grabbed the neckline of her dress. Ilara whimpered and pleaded with him to let her go but it went unheard as he viciously whispered, "I'm going to take great pleasure watching you both fall to pieces when you tell him you're marrying me." Tears sprung forth but she refused to let them fall, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. "You are not his, you are mine, and I'll make sure he knows it!"

Releasing her she jerked back, "Leave him out of it! I will do whatever you want, just... let me take care of it." Maker knows what Ryker would do or say to place a wedge between them. At least if she was in control of it, she could lessen the blow.

"Then do it tomorrow." The command was stern and bitter. "We'll talk with your mother tomorrow as well and set announcement dates." Her body went numb, and she felt as if she'd melt into a puddle of despair on the ground.

"As long as it is understood that the Inquisition comes first--"

"Don't give me that horseshit about duty coming first! I told you I don't care about it or that you're Andraste's Herald, please. You're a fraud, just someone else's political agenda."

"I took an oath, as you did once. The Inquisitor cannot simply abandon the mission, not when I'm the only person in all of Thedas who can close rifts. Do you think Corypheus will just let me retire to your estate without a reckoning? So long as you are with me, you'd do well to be a true believer in the Inquisition and in me."

Contorting his face with disgust he stood and headed for the stairs, "I think I've had enough of this tonight."

"But we still need to discuss--"

"In the morning, Trevelyan, with your mother. We want to do it properly remember?"

She began to follow him out when he turned suddenly grabbing her by the throat and thrusting her up against the wall, "And no tricks, I could easily condemn you publicly for Knight-Commander Tobias' murder. It would certainly be an unfortunate setback to have your invitation to the peace talks revoked, especially when we leave for the Winter Palace in a few days."

"We? And how did you--" She choked out as her feet dangled, toes reaching for solid ground.

"Armand knows a man on the Council of Heralds, and I got myself an invitation, knowing you'd come up with some clever excuse to leave me behind. And if you dare believe that from this moment forward, you won't be under constant scrutiny, with eyes monitoring your every move, then think again. Skyhold is not as secure as you think." Her blood ran cold, she had been betrayed by some of her own people. He dropped her, leaving for good as she gasped for air from the ground. Ilara helped her up after she assured her she was fine.

For a long time, they sat back down at the table studying their full plates of food. Ilara's voice squeaked out after a time, "What are we going to do?" Tears fell softly down her alabaster cheeks, and as she looked deep into her friend's eyes she saw a pain that should've never touched her; The pain of being helpless and at the mercy of a monster. Evelyn had seen the look in her own eyes years ago, but experience had hardened her. She could bear the weight of this, until she could figure out a way to kill that beast she would take it all.

"For now, I do as he says," her face was stone, "I'll do what has to be done, but don't for one moment think I've lost the fight or fire within to beat him. Look at me," she shifted in her seat to face her squarely, "no matter who questions you, you know nothing of this. You blame it all on me, no matter what happens. You tell them I'm distant, changed, I don't care, but you don't tell anyone here what's going on. Understand?" She nodded her head frantically, before leaping into her arms sobbing. Evelyn closed her eyes burning into her memory Ilara's cries, for she may need them later to bolster her own nerves. There was one last thing she needed her to promise, "And please, watch out for Cullen. Promise me you'll check on him because he'll be in a bad way and..." Her voice was lost in the paralyzing grief that seized her.

A soft and hardly audible 'I will' was promised into her shoulder. She knew Ilara would keep that promise and it would give her some comfort to know that someone would look out for Cullen in her absence. The two knelt on the floor holding tight to each other from within a storm of emotions. It would be just as difficult for Ilara as it would for her, for she'd have to watch as her sister mage destroys herself and her life to protect them from a fate worse than death. She was a healer, a fixer, but the wounds Ryker would inflict would be beyond her skill to heal.

Not wanting to part from her, Ilara slept in her bed though sleep would elude the Inquisitor tonight. She quickly polished off all of the wine in an attempt to dull the ache in her chest. She paced the room lost so deeply in the recesses of her mind trying to find clarity that she would occasionally knock into furniture. If there was an easy way out of this predicament, it did not reveal itself to her. Every emotion took turns vying for her attention; Fear wanted her to root out his spies and do as he said; Rage wanted to kill him, no, torture then kill him; And despair wanted her to curl up in a ball just thinking about how she was going to tell Cullen they were through. Maker, what would this do to him? She cared nothing of her own suffering, she would somehow endure it but him... it was a thought that stopped her heart and punched the air from her lungs. She wanted to run to him and hold him until the sun rose and forced them apart, but it would only make things harder.

To do this, she needed to put her real self aside; tuck her away into a box. The Inquisitor's mask would never drop and she would be as unfeeling as stone. It would be as if they made her Tranquil, only ever focused on the job, on the next mission. But enough of her would remain to think and fight Ryker. She'd need all the cold calculating logic she could muster, but would it be enough? Maker, she hoped it would be for Evelyn Trevelyan was dead and only the stalwart Inquisitor remained.

Chapter 19: The Inquisitor

Summary:

Evelyn finally tells Cullen about Lord Armand. The Inquisition journeys to Halamshiral.

It was the day before they were set to travel to Orlais. Evelyn had been with her mother and Ryker all morning discussing the betrothal and drawing up the contract. Her mother was overjoyed, ignoring her daughter's blatant indifferent behavior. It was not lost on Ryker who as she poured herself a drink, squeezed the pressure point on her hand making her grimace. He told her quietly that if he could act like he cared about the Inquisition, she had to stop moping. He didn't need to rehash the threats, and he didn't release her until she faked a smile.

"Did you ditch Rutherford as I asked yesterday?" He whispered sternly.

"I hadn't the chance, he was with the men all yesterday and I had duties as well," she lied. What she had done was avoid the talk altogether. She couldn't muster the courage; her emotions were still raw from the other night's dinner. Cullen had looked for her but she knew his schedule and made herself scarce when he normally made time to see her.

He dug his blunt nails into the spot again painfully, "If you don't do it today, Maker help you, I'll drag you before him and we'll do it my way!" She felt a spritz of spit on her cheek from his anger. There was no way in the Void she wanted to find out what "his way" entailed.

"Do it, and your plan will be ruined before it's even begun," she gritted out wrenching her hand from him. Her mother still toiled away over the wording of the contract on the opposite side of the room unaware of their private conversation. "Cullen and I were intimately involved," Ryker's face twisted into a red snarl, she knew the mention of it would drive him mad, "do you think dragging me down there to say I'm in love with you won't raise his suspicion? Or worse, when he tells Sister Nightingale and she finds out the truth. She always does." He growled and for a second, she thought he was about to strike her. Feelings of helplessness from the past made her forget at times that she was no longer his prisoner. "Do you not realize I'm helping you?" He regarded her with suspicion as he mulled over her words. "The best way to go about this is if we do it as a business transaction rather than a passionate love affair."

The heat of his anger cooled, and for once he gazed at her as if she were human, not an abomination. He squared to face her, his eyes working their way back up to her eyes, "See isn't it nice when we work together?" She rolled her eyes as the tension in her body slowly relaxed.

When his future mother-in-law called him over for a signature, only then did she feel she could breathe again. As she downed her glass, then another, her mother, whose attention was now on her, chastised her for drinking so early in the morning. She mused in her head that in order to tolerate the two of them, she would have to double Skyhold's supply of liquor.

With the contract done, all that remained was for it to be delivered to the Ambassador for approval. She stood outside the doors of the War Room listening to the three voices make small talk. One voice she was especially tuned to, making her heart jump every time he spoke.

Knowing she could not delay any further, she pushed open the doors with the hope that between the wine and her new persona, she'd be able to do what needed to be done. She placed the parchment on the war table drawing the attention of the others to it, but immediately asked after the last-minute preparations. A finger tapped incessantly on it unable to keep her mind off it. The updates were few as everyone was busy packing and overseeing their people, so the conversation was quick to turn back to her and her anxious demeanor.

To the side of the room was a table with refreshments, and despite having two glasses of wine already, she felt one more was in order to ward her nerves away. Besides, they didn't know she had a head-start before the meeting. Strolling back to the war table, she ignored the looks that passed between her advisors. After two large gulps, she was content to swirl the sweet red wine to give her anxiety an outlet. However, before she could broach the uncomfortable subject, attention was drawn to another matter.

"Inquisitor, about these changes you requested," the Ambassador looked pointedly at her and the moving cup, "an all-new serving staff and this extensive list of libations to be stocked in your quarters... may I ask--"

"No, you may not." She stared hard at her even while taking another sip to dissuade her from pressing the matter further. Never had she taken such a bitter tone with her advisors. Each shifted a bit taken back, as if she were a quillback looking at them as if they were its prey.

Leliana, unafraid with her steely gaze, poked the beast, "A new serving staff? Was there an incident I need to be aware of? Do I need to have these people investigated?"

"No. I would simply like a new staff." The Spymaster began to retort, but raising her voice she put a definitive end to it, "And we're done speaking of it! Just do it!"

An awkward silence fell upon the group as all present looked back and forth at the uncharacteristic outburst. Leliana had caught a scent of something amiss and she'd have to tread carefully. Now, not only would she have Ryker's spies to contend with but Leliana's as well.

"Apologies, Inquisitor." The Left Hand's eyes glistened, yet they were as unfeeling as hers, "We are all under a lot of stress, you most of all. I only meant it out of concern." She gave a curt nod in acceptance, but still said nothing more on it, instead drawing attention to the other matter.

Clearing her throat and squeezing her eyes shut shoving Evelyn far from her mind, the Inquisitor addressed the council, "Lady Montilyet," she slid the parchment that she had been fiddling with over to her, "I would like you to review this contract and let me know if there are any conflicting interests or issues that would prevent me--"

Hastily unfolding the document, Josephine couldn't help but blurt out, "From marriage to Lord Armand?!" Stunned glances landed heavily on the Inquisitor who had lowered her eyes to a nondescript point on the map. Her jaw tightened holding her composure against the three formidable people before her. "Forgive me, Inquisitor, for my reaction," she caught the Ambassador throwing glances to the others, particularly the Spymaster, thinking she wasn't wise to the exchange, "I will review the terms and give you my thoughts after we return from Orlais." Her voice was not as delicate or confident, shaking with uncertainly ever so slightly.

"Thank you. Dismissed." She turned to flee the room, not meeting Cullen's gaze though she felt it digging into her skin. Run, run, make up another excuse, just run--

"Inquisitor," his tone was stern, "a word please." The other ladies passed her and looked back over their shoulders briefly before continuing on. The muscles of her face tightened so pointily, that one would have thought she was in immense pain.

"Not now, Commander, I have business to attend to," she threw back at him over her shoulder.

"It's urgent, it's about one final matter related to the security detail assigned to you for the talks." He had her. She couldn't refuse him with the other two still listening as they stepped out of the door. Hanging her head for a moment, she took a deep breath before facing him, though she couldn't bring herself to look at him. The urge to run headlong into the wall and knock her out to avoid this conversation was incredibly strong.

Alone now, he finally spoke up, "Were you planning on telling me about this? Is this marriage business why you've avoided me? Maker, it's like we're back at Haven."

"So, this is personal and not about the security detail?" He gave her an annoyed glare and she shrugged, "I haven't been--"

"Spare me, the indignation of acting as if it wasn't purposely done." There was a bitterness to his words, and it was justifiably so. "Evelyn, we have shared everything with each other, why do you feel as if you can't talk to me now? Whatever is going on, let me help you. Judging by the way you went off on Leliana and Josephine just a moment ago, it has obviously affected you a great deal." At the mention of the Spymaster, a cold chill seized her, remembering that she was supposedly always being watched, and quickly walked to the window which he always opened before meetings for air, and shut it. Taking another glance around to make sure no one could be listening, she finally turned to him, her paranoia evident.

"Help is neither needed nor wanted. A delicate family situation of my making has come to my attention and this is the only way to fix it. Through marriage. My marriage." She felt as if she was trying to have this conversation while maintaining a sprint uphill. Her words were breathy and fast matching the pace of her heart.

"So, instead of speaking to me, you decided to just not say anything?" He stared at her hard, his nose and brow wrinkling slightly in anger.

Her voice failed her as a sudden tearless sob choked the words from her, "I don't know what to say."

He quickly rounded the table placing his hands on her shoulders. The warmth of his hands sent a wave of emotion through her defenses, empowering Evelyn to resurface. She fought the Inquisitor, wanting to break free of the prison from within her at feeling his touch. Letting Evelyn through would bring out the truth, and the truth would see Ilara killed and the only means to close the rifts destroyed. The Inquisitor couldn't allow this.

With a glimmer of hope still in his eyes not fully accepting the seriousness of the situation he babbled on about scenarios where in the end they could still be together. "If this is a matter that needs time, I can accept that as we work through it. Or--"

She pulled away rigidly from him as the words vomited from her mouth bluntly, "It's not. We can no longer see each other romantically. As friends yes, as colleagues yes, but that's it." Cullen's face plunged into one of despair, as hers had two nights ago as she relived the emotions as she watched him. The echoes of Evelyn's screams of agony from inside reverberated through her very being. She fought her own magic as it tried to surge to protect her from an unknown enemy it could not sense nor understand. Even the Inquisitor paled as the crack in her cold heart broke further. When he brought his amber eyes back up to hers, he found no comfort in hers as it seemed her brown eyes had turned to stone. Where the fire there once sparked before, nothing but dull lifeless ashes remained.

"Do you even hear yourself?" He turned away raking a hand through his hair and down his face. "On the eve of the peace talks you had to do this?"

"The timing isn't ideal, I know, but--"

"Maker's breath, do you really not care?! I feel like I'm talking to a complete stranger! What's really going on?" He narrowed his glare on her, trying to peer through the mask, "You and Enchanter Ilara were incredibly tense two nights ago, I could feel your combined magics on alert. Is Lord Armand forcing you into this? Or is it your mother? You were always adamant about never listening to a word she said, and now she's here and this happens."

"I told you, I must do this for my family. He is well-connected and can help smooth over many of my past transgressions, as well as my family's current predicament," the lies that spilled forth made her nauseated, but she needed to end the conversation. Giving him too much information could prove dangerous in their deception. She looked down seemingly trying to convince herself even to believe them. "He's offering me, a mage, more than I could expect anywhere. He can even help with my magic if in the end..." She shook her head redirecting her thoughts. "I'll have a home near my family, comfort, and security."

At her words Cullen looked as if he had been stabbed in the back, having been so harshly dismissed as inadequate to her needs. His voice was weaker than she had ever heard it, "Do you not feel I could provide those things for you?"

Her eyes shot up in shock searching his frantically, "We-we never talked of such things!"

"That doesn't mean I never thought about them. As much as you weren't trying to rush things, neither was I! Besides, now would not be the time, not when Corypheus still lives." He raked his finger through his hair again completely at a loss to understand this sudden decision. A desperate rage was rising now, making his voice a bit hoarse, "I let you in, I shared the darkest parts of myself with you, and now, what? We just pretend it never happened?"

"Of course not!" An inkling of life broke through to plead with him, to soften the blow. Her hands reached out momentarily for his but she stopped herself short, instead placing them over her heart. "I would never betray the trust you placed in me."

He hung his head shaking it, "You already have." Walking slowly towards the door, he stopped and turned back to her. In his eyes was the faintest bit of fleeting affection, "I'm not sure what's changed, but you aren't the Evelyn I... never mind. If this is what you want, or need to do, I won't stand in your way."

He trudged off, his shoulders slumped and his steps heavy, leaving her heart pounding with a desperate urge to run after him. As the door shut behind Cullen, the room became filled with an eerie stillness that sent shivers down her spine. With a tight grip on the war table, she clung to it for dear life, as if it could anchor her emotions and prevent her from breaking down completely.

Despite her best efforts, however, the overwhelming emotions couldn't be contained any longer. A torrent of feelings surged through her, causing her body to tremble like a leaf caught in a storm. The world around her turned into a blur as hot tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

Numbness spread through her limbs, rendering her legs unfeeling and unsteady. Despite the pain that must have accompanied her knees hitting the floor, she was oblivious to it as she sank down, not even registering the bruises forming. Clasping her tear-stained face with both hands, Evelyn let out anguished sobs that seemed to echo in the hollow silence of the room. Feeling utterly lost and vulnerable, she sought refuge under the protective shelter of the large wooden table, curling into a fetal position. The darkness and solitude beneath its massive form offered a semblance of comfort, like a cocoon shielding her from the harsh reality that now enveloped her.

Unsure of how long she wallowed in grief, the door creaked open as a small blonde figure slipped through it. "Oh, Evie!" Ilara ran to her, kneeling to caress her face and hair. Evelyn just lay there looking up at her through red watery eyes. The fact that she was acting like a victim when it was everyone around her and the Inquisition itself who were the real victims was not lost on her. "You told him then?" She nodded against the cold stone. Having cried so hard, a river of tears pooled in the cracks between the bricks. "I'm so sorry-- Oh, sit up, I'm sensing a nosebleed coming soon." Evelyn slowly pushed herself up nearly hitting her head on the war table. A tingling of magic filled her nose making her sniff and twitch.

As she finished the spell, Ilara waited patiently as she noticed her friend had become lost in her thoughts, mumbling the word 'blood' softly. Her eyes watched carefully as the Inquisitor chewed her lip staring deeply at nothing and yet everything all at once. The healer recognized the look well, waiting for her to come to and tell her what revelation had just revealed itself to her.

When at last she turned looking into her crystal blue eyes, she found a woman waiting for hope. "I... think I have an idea." She blinked a few times trying to see through the strain of her sore eyes. "We'll need Henley and Sorin to make it work." The enchanter perked up, her hands looking as if she was praying to the Maker, "Ryker made duplicates of our phylacteries using blood magic because he didn't have more of our blood. What if we made one more set and had Henley hunt down the duplicates and destroy them."

Ilara searched the depths of her knowledge for anything related to the idea. "Won't it be difficult for him to track such a small amount?"

"True, but if Sorin amplified the blood's scent using his magic - as we had done before when the mages we hunted tried to obscure themselves from the Templars - Henley could sense them as if it was truly you or I."

"But that's blood magic!"

"Yeah, so is the magic Templars use themselves to track mages. The Chantry only cares about its use when it doesn't benefit them. As Knight-Enchanters under oath, we were taught the spell only to be used if requested by Templars outside of the Circle. It's odd, but even now I'm having trouble rightly justifying using it, but Aeron is endangering more than just us if he does this. Since mages can connect to each other through their mana, when we use the spell, the blood calls out louder to one of its own kind." Her friend looked up as if a prayer had been answered, yet Evelyn's face couldn't muster an ounce of relief. Even if they got their phylacteries and thwarted Ryker's marriage plans, irreversible collateral damage had been done to her relationship with Cullen. He said it himself, she had betrayed his trust. Knowing him, she'd never gain that back. "Can you do me a favor? Check on Cullen. I don't care what bullshit excuse you need to make, just..."

"I will, I'll go right now and let you know."

"No. I don't want to know. I...," her voice became a high-pitched squeak as tearless sobs stuck in her throat. "I couldn't take it, but I trust you'll make sure he's alright." She understood his pain to an extent, though he would harbor more anger at it all. She hoped against hope that his rage would see him through the heartache.

Skyhold was a hive of activity as they gathered in the courtyard ready to depart for Orlais. The Inquisitor floated aimlessly about checking on her companions for the mission. An army of horses and carriages awaited her signal to move. It would take all day at a brisk pace, but they'd arrive in time for the start of the ball. It was lucky that the palace stood directly on the other side of the Frostbacks. Seeing Nelson staring at her bobbing his head, she went over to give him a pat to help calm both their nerves. There could be no distractions as this mission was life or death.

A hand slid up her shoulder half-hugging her from behind. She didn't have to look who it was as he reeked of lyrium. "You should not touch me in such a manner, nothing has been announced."

"Pff, lighten up. Are you going to be like this the whole way to the Winter Palace?" She didn't bless him with an answer and instead stubbornly hiked up her dress mounting Nelson's side saddle.

"I will be however I wish to be. Now, my Lord, it's time you mount up, preferably somewhere I can't see you." The last part was said under her breath as she spurred her Ranger on toward the front of the caravan without another look back at him. He was exactly the sort of distraction that could cost the Empress her life. Without any binding commitment to him at this point, she felt a wave of relief, knowing that she wouldn't be obliged to stay by his side for the entire evening.

As they trotted towards the portcullis, the Ambassador called sternly after her, "Inquisitor! A word please." Reluctantly, she turned back tilting her head slightly to the side in annoyance. She knew exactly what she was about to get lectured about. "You cannot ride like that, you will ruin your dress and hair! You were assigned to ride in the carriage with your mother, Lord Armand, and Madame Vivienne. Please." Her hand and eyes gestured over to the line of carriages.

Right as she was about to argue, an unexpected figure appeared below her, "I'll help you down, Inquisitor." Her eyes took in the handsome man in full military uniform offering her his hand. For a moment she felt her heart flutter, but the cold grip of the Inquisitor doused the desirous flame. She looked at the hand coolly before meeting his eyes. It was only then she realized they were sunken and devoid of life, not even seemingly focused on her. The rich amber hue was dulled, and even his golden hair looked flat. He looked completely detached from, not at all like the sharp-minded man she knew.

With a deep annoyed huff - not at him, so much as it was at the Ambassador's command - she accepted his help in sliding down off her horse. Her sweaty hands didn't allow much friction, and she easily slipped from his grasp once on the ground. With Josephine already seeing to another small crisis elsewhere, the two were as alone as they could be.

Standing at the height of his neck, she merely looked past him waiting for him to move from in front of her. "Tell me one thing," his voice was a low venomous rumble, "Are you still committed to the cause?"

"How dare--," she cut herself off knowing he wasn't trying to fight with her. She had just become so defensive, constantly having to justify her actions to her new Templar handler. "The Inquisition will always come first, no matter what. I have not lost sight of our mission, nor will I regardless of... personal affairs." Evelyn didn't shy away looking up at him as she meant every word. He looked everywhere but at her.

His temper seemed to even as his hand pulled out a piece of parchment that had been tucked away in his uniform. Ripping it, he let the wind carry the pieces away. "That was my letter of resignation should you have answered otherwise." And with that he made his way to his own mount, not giving her another thought as his message had been clear.

As she gazed at his retreating back, her brows furrowed in deep contemplation, Cassandra approached quietly, concern evident in her eyes, and asked, "Inquisitor, is everything alright?" The weight of the loaded question pressed upon her, everything was far from alright. Cullen had been prepared to resign right then and there, a stark reminder of how far she had pushed him the day before. This man, who had achieved so much with the Inquisition's army, had been on the verge of resigning, all because of her.

The realization struck her like a hammer blow. Guilt gnawed at her, and she found it hard to lift her gaze, her eyes drifting to the ground. The words she had exchanged with him replayed in her mind like a haunting melody. She knew she had hurt him deeply, and the consequences weighed heavily on her heart. "Evelyn?" Cassandra's voice broke through her thoughts.

Remembering the Seeker still stood beside her, she absently handed her the reigns to Nelson, "Huh? Oh, you need a horse, here." She hurried away to the carriage as tears began to make her voice unsteady, not wanting Cassandra to notice.

"I do, but that's not--" The Seeker gave an annoyed grunt but didn't pursue her.

The brisk walk to the carriage helped to fight off the tears, as she threw herself inside with the others. Without looking as to how the three within had arranged themselves, she sat in the open space directly to the right of the door. Fixing her windswept hair back into place, she found Madame Vivienne on her right and Ryker across her. Her mother eyed her skeptically from the opposite corner while she tried to reign in her skirts.

The only other person who offered her assistance was the Senior Enchanter, "Thank you, Vivienne. It's quite a job to fit three women with large dresses in here, I'm not sure what Ambassador Montilyet was thinking." Ryker seemed to have been contemplating the same sitting scrunched up with his arms crossed tightly wedged in the corner. He was attempting to hide his disdain, but she knew better.

"She was thinking that I would be the best suited to make sure you arrive in pristine condition, and that is precisely what I intend to do, darling. Appearances are everything." She gave her a quick side glance while finishing tucking her dress so it wouldn't wrinkle, "I'm glad they at least laced you up tight enough to get rid of that horrid slouch of yours."

"Oh Evelyn, I raised you better than that!" Her mother looked quite embarrassed quickly glancing back and forth between the two mages, though she was more interested in Vivienne's reaction. "Do try not to embarrass me in front of the Empress."

"Mother, I'm sure the Empress could care less about my posture. There are bigger things at stake tonight, like say the ending of the civil war." A sudden jolt had the carriage jostling out of the courtyard and over the bridge out of Skyhold.

"Though I'm not disagreeing entirely with your mother, dear, your presence beside the Grand Duke tonight will be a tantalizing piece of gossip as people assume the Inquisition has thrown their support behind him, regardless if it is true or not."

Ryker straightened, "Am I not escorting you, Lady Trevelyan?" This news apparently came to him as a surprise.

"That's Inquisitor, darling, and no you are not," Madame Vivienne chided. "The Inquisitor has an obligation to the Grand Duke since it was he who invited her after hearing she so magnificently slayed a dragon." Ryker and Lady Bann Trevelyan both scoffed at that news, not believing it, but the enchanter's unamused stare and slow deliberate blinks convinced them otherwise. She suddenly became very relieved that Vivienne was present. "She must be addressed properly if she is to gain the approval of the court. They need to be reminded that she is Andraste's Herald, sent to save them from the evil magister who threatens their world." She turned now to the Herald herself, "We will convince them that you are the woman worth putting their coin behind."

"Well, if we save-- er, complete our mission tonight, I think that may also put us in a favorable light."

"Yes, but why stop there? The Orlesian Court has immense power and wealth, only a fool would not seize this opportunity. I'm sure all the eligible men will be lining up to fill your dance card." Her head gracefully swiveled, always with her chin up, to peer out the window.

"I hope the Inquisitor will save a dance for her betrothed?" Evelyn's eyes shot to his wide as a frightened fawn, as she shook her head rapidly before--

"Truly?" The Madame's icy gaze bore into her, and for once after many years she looked to her mother for help.

"It is, though Ambassador Montilyet is still reviewing the contract. We expect to announce it following the peace talks." Lady Bann Trevelyan spoke clearly and concisely, happy to talk about this arrangement in which she felt she had masterfully orchestrated. "It is a most advantageous match for the Trevelyans and Armands."

Vivienne eyed the pair before her as if she had just been told her dress style and color palette were out of season. Her steely eyes drifted over to Evelyn who wore an unreadable expression, then turned predatorially over to Ryker. "I must hear more about this most fortuitous match," she said flippantly, despite her threatening look, "do tell me how you were able to secure her hand when so many others had failed?" The veiled threat was not lost on the three passengers, though only one took it as a direct challenge to her honor - her mother. For the next hour, the two waged a casual war of conversation back and forth to prove their superiority over the other. While she tuned them out, too distracted with her own internal pain, she eyed Ryker who seemed to be studying the two and their words. He was likely memorizing the debate in case he had to defend himself in a similar fashion later on.

Sometime later, the procession slowed to a halt for their one and only stop. It was in the middle of nowhere halfway between Skyhold and Halamshiral. All but breaking the door off its hinges, Evelyn glided out as fast as her skirts would let her making a break for whatever happened to be on the other side of the tree line. The combination of ceaseless conversation, suffocating company, the perpetual thoughts about Cullen, and the relentless jostling of the carriage had stirred a nauseating discomfort within her, threatening to spill over into a wave of nausea. She lifted as much of her silk skirt as possible, listening to the calls of her men echoing out behind her. Keeping a brisk pace, she finally stopped when a small stream proved to be a larger obstacle than she was willing to tackle.

"Inquisitor, are you alright?" Cassandra had caught up to her. Having insisted upon pants for herself, it was an easy pursuit. Evelyn tapped her foot feeling ready to burst. She looked at the Seeker who was looking at her as if she was one of Leliana's escaped nugs, ready to stop it from darting away again. Having thoroughly worked herself up, she gagged then turned and vomited. Her friend sprang into action pulling hair and skirts away from the trajectory of putrid bile. After relieving herself of the contents of her stomach, the Seeker guided her away from the mess to a nearby rock. "I think I've seen and heard quite enough to understand what's going on..." Though still green, Evelyn looked at her incredulously wondering what she thought she knew, "While I would be the first to want to congratulate you, is now really the time to have a child?" Evelyn's jaw dropped, gaping while sucking in air through her mouth. "What were the two of you thinking?!"

"I'm definitely not pregnant, Cassandra," she said with a gurgled heave. "It's stress." She considered her next words not knowing if it was wise to share it with her friend, but she couldn't help it. Concealing her pain was becoming tiresome. "Besides, I ended things with Cullen yesterday."

Her face softened to concern and so too did her voice, "You did? But I thought..." She simply shook her head as she wiped her mouth. Slumped against the rock as much as her corset would let her, she stared off as Cassandra seemed to be at a loss for words. "I... thought he just wasn't feeling well." Evelyn swayed sickly at her words. When the men called after them, clearly concerned about the Inquisitor, Cassandra was quick to respond knowing she was not capable of it. "We need to head back, this was only meant to be a short break. I will help you."

"No, I'm fine. This stays between us, no need to worry anyone."

"Fine, but you and I need to have a talk after the mission. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, let's just stay focused. We can't afford any distractions."

In agreement, the two walked back to the caravan where they were met with a mixture of looks ranging from worry to curiosity. Both women however bore it well wearing expressions that made the onlookers busy themselves quickly. Ryker was waiting outside their carriage, eyeing her suspiciously, but her façade held firm and even he balked at her icy stare. Without a word, they mounted up and the procession gradually sped to a swift pace for the final leg of their journey.

Chapter 20: Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts

Grand Duke Gaspard, who had invited them to the ball, met them on arrival. Evelyn wore a blood-red dress with a bodice that was made to look like a military jacket, draped with gold roping twisted and tied down her front. Off her shoulders fell a matching cape in gold with the Inquisition's insignia embroidered beautifully on its trail. The collar of her jacket bodice was high, but the neckline plunged modestly in a sharp V-shape. Her balayage hair of brown and blond was braided around her head like champions' laurels despite their loss at Haven. While she wore enough makeup to hide the scars on her lower left cheek and nose, it was hidden behind the mask of a firebird. It had been masterfully crafted and designed by Josephine as a reminder of her other namesake.

The Grand Duke was candid as he was a proud military veteran. Though having just met, they conversed with an air of familiarity, all for show as the Orleasian court gaped at their arrival together. After their ceremonious presentation to the Empress, the two parted to begin the night's festivities.

Having been informed rather explicitly by Madame Vivienne of what this night meant for the Inquisitor, both her mother and betrothed were left to their own machinations, for which Evelyn could not have cared less about. Ryker seemed to be happily besotting himself with drink and her mother floated about jockeying for social standing.

Her first tip of the evening was to investigate the servants' quarters. Apparently, people were going in, never to come back out. Such as things were, she informed her advisors she was taking her team in to see just what was happening, and on the off chance they didn't return in an hour, to come searching for them.

 

---

 

Finding himself the perfect spot from which to observe the Empress' guard, Cullen tried to blend in as much as possible but he was swarmed by a bunch of Orlesians asking him all manner of personal questions. Of all the topics he wanted to avoid that night, both women and men alike were dying to know his relationship status and pedigree. Every half-hearted answer began weighing on him making him feel more and more inadequate. If that wasn't bad enough, they were even touching and grabbing him, sometimes in completely inappropriate places. His blood boiled from being treated as if he was a Ferelden plaything to these aristocrats... and because of his anger towards Evelyn's words.

He had tried his best to keep it hidden, but it was proving more difficult by the hour. Ignoring it only served to allow the feelings to ambush him when he caught sight of her moving through the crowd. Thankfully, she was headed away from the ballroom for a bit to check on dubious activity in the servants' quarters.

For the most part, it seemed she was able to forget him easily enough. Supposedly. He knew her better, and even her coldness towards him seemed off. She was hiding herself, pretending to be someone she wasn't. For all the time he had known her she never acted so irrationally. Like a ray of sunlight fighting through clouds, parts of her poked through her act. Whatever was going on, he could be sure of one thing, she was protecting someone.

But why not ask for help? His mind spun with a new sort of headache not knowing how he should feel. He couldn't help but want to just let the matter drop and make it easier on him. Just move on... but how could he after barring his soul to her? He felt the fool for it. Everything he did to allow her to breach the walls of his heart had blown up spectacularly in his face. Even if this was some elaborate scheme or if there was something larger going on that for whatever reason he was the one she was protecting, the internal damage had been done. The betrayal was made and she sacrificed him in the end.

Despite knowing there may be a hidden motive for her actions, he was still bitter. The things she said ate away at his heart. How could she not believe that he would do everything in his power to make her happy? To provide for her. Even if she may have been just saying it to end their short relationship, there was truth in her words. They made him feel less of a man, just another soldier destined to go on fighting for whoever was paying. No longer a Templar, his options were limited. Ironically, the only offer he had received so far outside of the Inquisition was made by Hector Trevelyan back when they were at Haven. What a disaster that would be. And while a soldier's pay could support a family, he'd be away from her most of the time. How many times had he dealt with soldiers who requested leave due to their spouse threatening to leave them because of how long they were away? Or the rage that erupted when they found out they had a secret lover fulfilling their needs in their absence. The life of a soldier's wife was a lonely one, could he resign her to it? Or even worse, be forced to retreat home to South Reach and work the family business. How far he would fall only to drag her down with him.

"Commander, has anyone ever told you that you have the most remarkable eyes?"

"Several times this evening, actually," came his terse reply. Trying to push the thoughts from his head and concentrate on the job at hand, he continued to ignore the people around him to discreetly observe the palace guard. Whatever was happening at least he still had his duty to cling to. His faith in the Inquisition, and even in her ability to lead, still held strong... for now.

 

---

 

Evelyn had been running ragged around the palace as the war waged everywhere around the ball. She was exhausted, and trying to find something other than alcohol to drink was a monumental task in itself. It was to the point that she was stealing sips from questionable sources as they chased the Venatori through the servant and guest wings where she could find it. While her red dress hid the stains of each confrontation with mercenaries, spies, and Venatori alike, her powdered makeup was ruined from sweat showcasing the pink hue from the effort on her face. The few times she was able to meet with her advisors in the ballroom to update them on her investigation, Josephine tried to touch her up, but the lather she had worked up made it impossible.

"Just wear your mask, it will cover your face and scar enough people won't be--"

"I don't fucking care what I look like or how my scars horrify them," she growled out as quietly as she could, "This dress is incredibly hot, I'm wielding fire magic running all around the damn place and all three of these assholes," inclining her head to the back of the ballroom at the Empress, Grand Duke, and Ambassador Briala, "are fighting each other unaware that it's the Venatori that they're really battling." She panted a bit as the restriction of her corset was beginning to tax her trying to pull in ragged breaths, "Can someone please find me some water." She faced the wall closing her eyes becoming dizzy.

Leliana and Josephine drifted to her sides keeping up the pretense that they were still conversing politely. "Deep breaths, and stand up straight. It'll help get air into the lungs," the Spymaster coached while donning a dead smile. Josephine passed her a fan which she waved desperately for relief. She wiped a hand over her moist neck that was beginning to wet wayward strands of her amazingly still-in-tact hair. Thankfully, a cool glass of water was thrust into her hands, and without a second thought, she downed it as quickly as proper etiquette would allow. Sighing with relief, Cullen handed her a second glass taking the empty one from her. She tried to avoid his eyes but found the pull too strong as she finished the extra glass.

"Thank you, Cullen," the color of his eyes intensified looking into hers as if trying to delve deep into them to read her thoughts, to find out what she was hiding. What he would find was nothing but a woman who burned for him and yet she had to act as if he were just another member of the Inquisition. It was a punishment in itself to be so close and never joke, smile, or do anything that they used to do in each other's company. So many times she wanted to, but the sentiment was doomed to always be replaced by crushing guilt and sadness.

"Did you just come from dancing with Duchess Florian?" Josephine pulled her back and she instantly focused on the task at hand.

"The Duchess wanted a private word, seemingly the only place for that is the dance floor. She points her finger at her brother. In the guest wing, we found Gaspard's dagger planted in the back of one of the Council of Heralds. Now she says the leader of his mercenaries is out in the courtyard. That he'll have answers for me."

"That seems like a promising lead."

"Or a trap," Cullen interjected with Leliana in agreement.

"Either way, we need to find out who is in league with Corypheus. All three are guilty of waging war on each other tonight, but only one is planning a public assassination. I'll take the others and head there now."

"A moment, Inquisitor," Leliana's masked voice had been laced with honey for the duration of the evening, "this is an opportunity for us as well. To defeat Corypheus, someone has to be on the throne after tonight, but it doesn't have to be Celene."

Cullen was quick to jump in, "She's right. It's because of Celene that the country is in this position. I recommend Gaspard, provided he's innocent. He'd be a stronger military ally for us. He'd see the real threat and not play foolish Orlesian games."

"But Briala would bring true peace to the Empire, uniting humans and elves," Leliana reasoned.

"But surely our mission is to save the Empress!? She is the rightful ruler and very strong diplomatically. You both are suggesting we let the assassination attempt succeed, how can we morally condone this?" Josephine, though her voice shook with shock at the comments of the others, her face remained calm and collected. "Inquisitor?" It was almost a plea rather than a question.

Evelyn took a moment to sort the many thoughts flying around her mind. Briala and Florian were quick to name Gaspard as the assassin, and he was a man easily villainized. In her experience with The Game, purely from a spectator's viewpoint, things would not be so obvious if true. The Grand Duke was trying to change Orlais, make it stronger as Emperor Drakon had done in the past. Briala was a wild card with a hidden agenda. If she had survived this long in the Court of Orlais she knew how to play The Game well and had an army of elven spies at her disposal.

"Backing Briala is out of the question. What is there to keep her loyal to the Inquisition when all is said and done? She would use us to help eliminate her competition before stabbing us in the back. Besides, the Orlesian nobility would never bow to an elven empress, we could start another civil war. Celene is an expert diplomat, but we don't need diplomacy in this war, so I feel the logical choice would be Gaspard. Even over Celene, he is the true Emperor of Orlais and he is a military genius. Once he knows the full extent of Corypheus' corruption of the Empire he won't let it stand. Still, it doesn't sit right to just allow the Empress to be murdered..."

"Evel--, pardon me, Inquisitor," her mother interrupted, "I just had the loveliest chat with..." she tuned her out, having yet turned from finishing her thought. "Have you heard a word I've said, dear?"

"No," her mother spattered after her rudeness, "now if you don't mind, I'm speaking with my advis--"

"What is that vile stench?" Like a Mabari who caught a scent, her mother found the source of the smell as her nose led her along. "What in the Maker's name have you been doing to smell so? Luckily, for you, I have just the remedy." She began rooting about in her dress pocket.

"Oh, for the love of--" Her mother brandished a small vial and spritzed her with a scent that was so overbearing she began gagging. She fought hard to control her choking in their present company.

Having sprayed it in the direction of the Commander and Spymaster, he began clearing his throat and coughing slightly, but Leliana breathed it in pleasurably, "Ah, the new musk out of Val Royeaux. Not my particular favorite, but I have a friend who raves how her dogs enjoy it."

"I'm going to go try and sweat some of this off. With any luck, Cassandra will gut a Venatori over my head and dull the stench."

"Evelyn! Such talk is unaccepata-- gutting who now?" As she paled slightly, her daughter simply turned and walked away. Had her mother not become estranged from her child, she would know what she had become over the years - what recent events had forced her to become. Yet, even now, Lady Trevelyan saw her as nothing more than a pawn at her disposal to further her ambition. The drama in her personal life was starting to take its toll on her. Ryker alone was enough of a headache, but her oblivious mother was becoming too much.

The whole evening she spent avoiding the two of them as if they had the Blight. Ryker was piss drunk and getting handsy, while her mother basked in the fruits of Evelyn's labor as she won over the Court little by little. In a night of uncertainty, the Phoenix was sure of one thing, when they got back to Skyhold something had to be done about the two of them. Henley and Sorin would hopefully have returned and she could set her plan in motion.

 

---

 

Slipping through the ballroom doors, all the guests began moving towards the back to hear the Empress speak. Lurking behind Celene was Florian, unaware that her plan to kill her had failed. The Grand Duchess moved with an airy swagger, perhaps already celebrating her victory. Believing she had sufficient evidence to condemn Briala and Florian while clearing Gaspard's name, it was time to act.

As quickly and discreetly as she could, Evelyn elbowed her way along the right side of the room. Florian faced towards the left so she hoped she was in her blind spot. Her pushing was met with grumbles until the nobles realized who it was who had just brushed by, some even apologizing for being in her way. Unable to fade step due to the sheer density of the crowd, the Inquisitor prayed she'd make it in time. Halfway there she could see Cullen still standing sentry against the wall and needed to get to him so he could signal their men. When only a few Orlesians stood between them she called to him a few times, but before she could tell if he heard her, a hard yank at her arm sent her into the arms of Ryker.

"Get off," she gritted, adrenaline pumping wildly through her, "this is important!" She heard the silky voice of the Empress hush the crowd. It was starting.

The Templar had her in a firm hold and pulled her waist against him whispering in her ear. "You've neglected your future husband all night, I suggest you rectify that before I make good on my threat." His lips went to her neck, but she pushed him away using her palms.

"No, you don't understand I need to get up there! Get your hands off me!" She squirmed and struggled frantically as the speech continued. Sensing that he had recently taken lyrium, his aura was affecting her so much she couldn't fade-step away from him. Time was running out, Florian was by the side of the Empress standing smugly with her arms behind her back. She could hear Ryker growling and slurring his drunken curses at her, and she knew decisive action was going to need to be taken to save Celene.

Suddenly, she felt the drunkard slip away from her. Looking over, Cullen had Ryker by the back of the collar holding him back as civilly as possible. He stared at her angrily and she knew why, not at all disagreeing with him; her betrothal had just interfered with the mission.

With no time to dwell on it now, however, she called back to him, "The assassin is Florian, signal the men!" Leaving the Commander to deal with Lord Armand, she dug her heels in pushing her way through the finery draping off the Orlesians.

Finally, through, she rounded the corner, but she was too late, "No!" She was just in time to watch as the Grand Duchess plunged the knife through the back of the Empress. A collective grasp resounded through the ballroom as did Evelyn's cry of distress. Celene sagged to the ground as blood soaked her fine cobalt dress. The whole of the Orlesian nobility watched in horror as Corypheus' plan succeeded despite their great skill at The Game. He and Florian had outplayed them and the victor addressed the crowd, coldly staring down at her dead cousin.

Having heard enough, the Inquisitor fade-stepped over to Florian landing a kneel to her gut. She bent in shock but recovered quick enough to slash her hip with the same dagger that fell the Empress. "All is not as it seems at a masquerade, Inquisitor." As Inquisition soldiers and her companions began to descend on them, out of nowhere, more Venatori appeared to engage them. The ballroom erupted in violence as Gaspard called for his people to aid the Inquisition, while Briala seemed to be watching which way the battle favored.

Florian backed away as she watched two of her rogues battle Evelyn, all the while prattling on about Corypheus' vision for Orlais. Using a mind blast spell to buy her time, she found the hilt of her new dragon bone spirit blade and brandished it at her foes. She cursed her heavy dress which hindered her speed and footwork as the rogues easily commanded the fight. On the defensive, she looked for a window, just needing to cast one spell to rid her of one of them. When that opening never came, she created one. Blocking an incoming attack with her blade, she turned away to blast a stream of fire at the other unexpecting enemy. They wailed as their skin melted off their body before finally crumpling to the ground. Turning back to the other Venatori, she was met with a pommel to the head. A stream of warm sticky blood oozed down in front of her ear as she steadied herself against the banister where Celene lay. Before her enemy could advance, a quick flick of her wrist unleashed an immolation spell dispatching them.

"Hmph, it seems I'll have to deal with you myself."

"By all means, your grace, do try," the pyromancer said with a smug curtsey.

She rushed Evelyn, a second blade flashing in the golden candlelight as she whirled it at her. The spirit blade caught both daggers as they landed, throwing her back two steps. With her free hand, she conjured a flame, ready to fry her if she got too close. Gaspard and an escort of soldiers joined them, halting not getting in the middle of their duel.

"Brother, I thought you'd be pleased?"

"Florian, what have you done?" She studied the Grand Duke's face, who no longer wore a mask. His aged and graying features seem truly disturbed by the events unfolding. It seems he was not aware of his sister's coup. "Do as you will Inquisitor," his grave tone was condemning. Now surrounded by the Inquisition and the Duke's forces, she had nowhere to run.

"Surrender or die, which will it be? Though nothing would give me more pleasure than to reduce you to ash, I would be remiss if I didn't try to detain you for Lady Nightingale. Though for some, that has been a fate worse than death." Florian's hand flexed on her daggers looking about, "Choose."

A quick expertly aimed blade struck the Inquisitor in her wounded shoulder. She cried out at the retearing of the scar tissue, dropping her spirit blade. Before the Duchess could cause further damage, Evelyn blindly unleashed a torrent of fire, equal to that of a dragon. She held on for as long as she could before twisting down to her knees in overwhelming pain. The sound of feet on the marble floors flooded her ears as the soldiers moved in. The Duke came to her side and ordered his men to find one of her healers. Behind him, she could just make out a charred body curled up on the ground. Having set everything in the corner of the room on fire, she raised her right hand quelling the inferno.

"Pull it," she gritted out to him. Gaspard's calm and cold expression didn't seem phased as he gripped the dagger. She looked resolutely into his eyes and gave a firm nod, breathing heavily through her nose.

"Inquisitor!" Cullen and her other companions rushed to her side. Gaspard released the dagger, not wanting to interfere with her people.

"Get it out!" It burned so badly, that she wondered if it was just the reopening of it that hurt or if the rogue had coated her blade in acid.

"It'll hurt."

Her face reddened and looked incredulously at him, "That's your professional opinion then? Do it!" There was some laughter from the soldiers around them. He sighed heavily, unamused, and steadily pulled it from her shoulder with a quick yank. Blood sputtered forth, as the dagger clanked on the floor and he pressed a hand to it.

He looked to the Seeker, "Cassandra, where are the bloody mages!"

Before she could answer, Varric stepped up, "I'll go see. Come on Tiny!" The two ran off in search, of them.

The Inquisitor groaned, weakening by the minute, "Well, isn't this familiar? Warmer and with more people, but familiar." A small piece of Evelyn peeked through, "Cullen pulling things out of my shoulder and Cassandra fretting over me. How's my hair? Josie will kill me if I die here looking like a mess." The two pitifully shook their heads at her and even Gaspard looked amused by her antics.

"Lady Inquisitor, I have a medic here. He can stitch you to help stop the bleeding as we wait on your mages." She looked to her council, both deeply concerned, then down at herself. She felt uncomfortably wet, and though she was sweating from using her flames, she knew she had not perspired that much. Nodding to the Grand Duke, he snapped at the man by his side who knelt in front of her.

The nearly-bald man with silver spectacles said something cheery in Orleasian, but cowered when he saw the glares lowered on him by her two watchful friends, "I said, 'I'll have you patched up in no time.'" The medic swallowed hard working under their oppressive scrutiny, which though intimidating, came from a good place. They removed the arm from her cape and jacket, revealing the satin dress underneath. Thankfully, the strap was still intact, allowing the medic to just let it fall off her shoulder. Snapping his fingers again, one of Gaspard's aides produced a bottle of whiskey that was handed to the Commander.

She held her good arm out to receive it, "Hand it over, I think my mother and Josie would be over here faster than a banshee if they heard my mouth." He shook his head, unable to hide the small glimmer in his eyes. That alone was enough to dull her pain. After three large gulps, she nodded to the medic. Giving the superb vintage back to the Grand Duke and thanking him, her right hand squeezed Cassandra's at each prick and pull. Endeavoring to not shower the court with her soldier's mouth, she just grumbled it instead.

"I may have to use some of those colorful descriptions the next time one of my chevaliers falls out of line," he chuckled.

Cassandra made a disgusted grunt, not looking up towards the Duke, "Don't encourage her. I don't understand the half of what comes out of her mouth."

By the time Vivienne was found and hurried to her side, the wound was cleaned and the stitches were in place, "It's ghastly, but sealed. I can't do anything for the scaring--"

"I didn't expect you to, it's a bit late for that anyway, can you just..." she waved her hand about in exasperation.

"Of course, dear." Vivienne held her well-manicured hand over the wound. Closing her eyes, she worked at the internal tear, weaving her muscles back together. The effect relieved some of the pain, but she had lost a good amount of blood. "There darling, better? Let's get you up." She stepped away and allowed the others to pick her up. Bull was quick to step in, as the designated muscle of the group, placing her on her feet. She clung to him for a minute while the dizziness subsided. They tucked her lame arm into her jacket to act as a sling, which worked nicely to both support her arm and hide the blood.

With the battle that had erupted in the ballroom under control, Gaspard, Briala, and the Inquisitor met privately to decide the fate of the crown. The two Orlesians bickered back and forth eloquently, but Evelyn remembered something "Ambassador, why didn't you have your people help our forces against the Venatori?" An uneasy silence settled between them, having only the sounds of the crickets chirping in the background. She sighed disappointedly, "I don't think you're working with the Elder One, but I do think you're only in this for your cause. Orlais will require a strong leader to see her through this." She turned to the Grand Duke, "Lady Nightingale will provide you with all the evidence you need to arrest her."

"You can't do this," she was seething with rage, "alienages across Orlais will rise up."

"Not when I have a witness willing to testify that you were sleeping with the Empress at the time when she purged your alienage." They shared a hard look as Gaspard signaled for his men to take her away.

Her strength was waning, and even the new Emperor was concerned, "Let us address the court and then, Inquisitor, you should rest." She nodded, taking a deep fortifying breath of the cooling night air. The two strode in and stood on the spot where the Empress had fallen. The blood and the body had been removed from the white marble with gray and gold swirls. Even if things had turned out like she wanted, she regretted that Celene had to die. Such was the price of war and games.

 

---

 

Back at Skyhold, everyone seemed to be able to breathe easier - everyone except for Evelyn and Ilara. The team sent the Western Approach consisting of Hawke, Stroud, Owayne, Solas and Sorin had returned, as had Henley with a handful of the Ostwick Templars. The majority of them stayed to help their Hasmal brothers and sisters on their slow trek to Skyhold, having what mages were left to protect as they left the city. Ilara had taken care of informing both men of their predicament while she was in Orlais. All three were anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Inquisitor, so much so they were there to help her out of the carriage upon her arrival.

"Knight-Captain," the Commander's voice was raised in question, "why aren't you with your men and those from the Hasmal's Circle?"

Henley's mouth opened to answer, but it was the Inquisitor's authoritative voice who replied, "I ordered him back early. The Ostwick Templars are under the command of Lieutenant Hill until they reach Skyhold."

She could see the immediate outrage spark in his eyes as he dismounted and marched over to her. Cullen growled, but kept his voice low, "Why wasn't I informed of the change?"

"We had both agreed the sooner we have some Templars back the better. Henley's latest report said they had the situation well in hand and that he and a few others could report back to Skyhold for regular duty. I simply took him up on the offer."

"Yes, but that doesn't explain why you didn't bother to tell me."

She huffed, rubbing her wounded arm, "It seems to have slipped my mind. Maker's breath, you're acting as if I dismissed half the army, it's only five men."

"Five Templars."

"I suppose I should also inform you that I've approved leave for him and Sorin," the look of pure indignation and outrage on Cullen's face had her bracing for whatever reaction was about to hit her.

His face was bright red as he gritted out, "Inquisitor, may I have a word with you in my office, now." She looked to the three Marchers, asking them to give her a moment, before following the Commander up to his office. Once there, she closed the door behind her watching him stride angrily to his desk. There was a silent pause, and she jumped when he punched the desk with his fist, "What in Andraste's name are you doing?!"

She kept a level tone, "Giving them both some much-needed leave." Her simple answer seemed to only make him angrier, "It's within my purgative, I believe, as Inquisitor to do so."

"Yes, but--"

"Then why are we having this conversation, Commander?"

He paused gapping at her stunned, "Evelyn, do you hear yourself? Since when have you ever not consulted me about our soldiers' leave or any matters involving them? You know I have everyone on a rotation, but Henley is one of my top officers, I can't spare him now! Did you not consider our upcoming operations? I need competent field officers to begin drilling with the men because soon we will meet Corypheus' army on the battlefield. The men must be ready and have the faith in the officers to lead them!" She held him in her firm stare until he rubbed a hand down his face, "How long will he be gone for?"

"I'm not sure," he turned in anger briskly combing a hand through his hair, "he has some family affairs to attend to. I gave him leave to take care of whatever he needed to before returning."

"Inquisitor!" He was yelling now, something she had only ever seen him do when a recruit royally messed up, "This is unacceptable!" He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, seemingly thinking better than to say it. He warred with himself but his temper won out, "Ever since Lord Armand made his appearance you have been a completely different person! Not to mention the incident with him at the Winter Palace, I heard what was said! So, I ask again, what is really going on?"

She couldn't chance him interfering with Henley and Sorin's departure to find their phylacteries. Clinging tight to the Inquisitor for strength, she coldly responded, "All this because I granted leave to my two dear friends to travel home for leave? I'm not sure if that warrants such a reaction from you. Are you feeling well?" She shook her head as his eyes darted about thinking. Internally she cringed making the man doubt himself, watching him slowly back down because she had made him believe he was wrong, when in fact he wasn't. It was her, the monster in disguise sowing seeds of disquiet in his head. Part of her wished he'd lash out and stand his ground making it more of a challenge, but she knew where to hit him. Anyone else and he wouldn't have taken it to heart, but it was her, and she used the advantage to its fullest.

Having nothing more to say as he was lost in the demons of doubt in his head, she turned and walked out. She held her breath until she reached the main building, before pulling in ragged breaths. Time was short though and she quickly made her way to her quarters where her friends were waiting. She allowed herself a momentary emotional lapse while climbing the stairs to her room. Once through the door, she tried hard to reign it all in but the evidence was still left all over her face.

"Ilara's told us everything," Sorin's face was etched with worry. His swirling black hair matched the shadows on his face. She must've looked so forlorn, he took her into a one-armed hug. "I'm sorry," he muffled into her shoulder.

Henley's embrace was next, "We'll leave right away. We won't let that fucking tool own you for longer than he has to." He held out a vial, "We need your blood." Numb, she barely felt the blade. With both their blood and having already packed, the two quickly left before they could be stopped again or before Ryker could figure out they were up to something.

 

---

 

A meeting was called the next morning to discuss the fallout of the peace talks, which Evelyn was not looking forward to. The two women looked as relaxed as ever, but her third advisor looked ready for a fight. The pit in her stomach told her she needed to be on alert. Having almost talked through all the resounding issues, she had almost believed he was going to let it go until...

"There is one more issue we need to discuss when it comes to allowing guests along on a mission," Leliana and Josephine both quirked their eyebrows up at him. "Inquisitor," he was inviting her to come clean, and after the way she manipulated him yesterday, she deserved it.

She looked at him with resignation, "Lord Armand delayed me in reaching the Empress. I'm not sure if it would have made a difference, but there was a small chance I could have saved her had he not prevented me."

Though she looked shocked, Josephine unexpectedly came to her defense, "While that is... unfortunate, Lord Armand had received an invitation through his contacts and not through us, as Lady Bann Trevelyan had. Regardless, there would have been little in the way of preventing his attendance." Evelyn caught a slight tick of disagreement from Leliana who she was sure could've stopped anyone if given permission to do so. A sharp conspiratorial glare between the Spymaster and Commander told Evelyn that the two were confidantes over the affair. And if Leliana knew, so did Josephine, making the air in the war room suddenly thick with tension. It was all her fault that she had attracted the attention of her counsel, despite the feeling of being stabbed in the back by Cullen, who no doubt was the first to bring it to their attention. But she couldn't blame him, in his shoes she would have done the same.

It was then she realized how alone she was. Her eyes roamed about the map allowing the three to believe she was none the wiser to their scheming. Evelyn's posture sagged and the muscles in her face could no longer hold their rigid expression. Settling on the Western Approach marker, she remembered duty came before all else. Even if they did question her occasionally, so long as the mission progressed there would be no grounds on which for them to intercede.

"What of news from the Western Approach?" Cullen's voice rang out calling the Champion in. He and Stroud entered looking grim as they took places to either side of her. "What have you found?"

"Sand and blood, Inquisitor," she raised an eyebrow at Hawke's cryptic description.

"The Inquisition's presence had the Venatori scrambling, not expecting resistance to their scheming so soon," Ser Stroud added. "We followed a group of Grey Wardens and Venatori to an ancient Tevinter ruin, but we couldn't get close to it."

"Why not?"

Hawke sighed putting his two hands down on the war table, "The good news first, Ser Hawthorne and his men have taken control of Griffin Wing Fort. The bad news is that the state of it is proving to be more trouble than it's worth. The soldiers are too busy trying to make it livable that they were unable to spare any men to assist us in getting to the ritual site." He produced a crumpled piece of parchment from his pants pocket. Smoothing it out and apologizing for the blood splatter on it, he read off the list of concerns from Ser Hawthorne, "Contaminated water, varghast attacks, multiple rifts, darkspawn, bandits, Venatori and," he squinted trying to read what the blood was covering, "a High Dragon."

Evelyn massaged the bridge of her nose, "That is quite a list. Ambassador, is there anything you absolutely need me here for?" After reviewing her schedule, she replied that while her presence was always beneficial, it was not required. "Very well, then my team, Stroud and Hawke will leave for the Approach in two days. By then my shoulder should be ready to see action again."

"I would like to come to inspect the fort for myself," Cullen interjected. "If it is in as bad of shape as they say, they could use some reinforcement."

The Inquisitor crossed her arms, "I thought you had troops to train for battle? Isn't that what you said?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, "Well, yes, I--"

"It's nothing I can't handle myself, Commander. You said you needed every competent officer here, and that means you. I will expect a progress report on your efforts while away. Leliana, I'd like to see a status report on Ilara and Dagna's work on lyrium when you have it. Dismissed." Without further argument, she turned on a heel and left with their two guests behind her. She didn't bother to look back at her advisors, for she knew the three of them would be waiting until they heard her footsteps a good way down the hall before conferring with each other. Still, she felt sure there was nothing they could do about it, and knowing that in two days she'd be far away from Ryker already had her breathing easier. Not to mention that Sorin and Henley were on their way to take away the leverage he held over her. She prayed her friends could put up with the Inquisitor for a while longer as she put things right.

 

---

 

After the door shut, and the Inquisitor was halfway down the hall, Cullen lowered his gaze after her absently gripping his sword. The other two had not moved and he knew Leliana had an update on her investigation into Lord Armand. Throwing a hefty pile of papers tied in a black ribbon on the war table, she left the vast amount of records to speak for themselves. "This is what I found on him," she slid it over to Josephine, "I know you have no patience to thumb through this."

He sighed, "No, just tell me what you've got."

"In short, Lord Einar Armand was given over to the Templar Order after his mother remarried. Her new husband didn't want the boy, so the mother was forced to give him up. His whole life was dully spent in the Circle of Hercinia with a record to match. After the Circle fell it seems he made his way to reunite with his mother who died shortly after his arrival, inheriting the entirety of his stepfather's estate. It seems the Maker has smiled upon him, especially now that he has won the hand of our fair Inquisitor."

He studied her face, "Then why don't you seem convinced?"

"Just a hunch," he knew about her hunches. Back in Haven, had Evelyn not outed herself as the Phoenix Leliana would've.

"So, what, we just let this man have full access to Skyhold? What if he's in league with Corypheus?"

"I have my suspicions, but it will take me time and favors to look into it. Josie and I talked on the way back here about it. She will try and keep the Lord occupied and away from the Inquisitor. I agree, he is a distraction, but should he be who he claims then this is the typical dealings of the nobility, I'm afraid." Her expression softened, the way it always did when asking after his health, "I know this must be difficult for you."

"Why--," he sighed wiping a hand down his face, Of course, she knows. "How much do you know?"

"Enough to know there was more than military maneuvers being discussed at length," she dragged a finger down her neck in emphasis. "I ordered my agents to stop watching the Inquisitor when you were together, not wanting even them to know what was going on as a precaution. It's a common practice to not observe high-ranking people when they meet, so no one questioned it." He let out the breath he had been holding but watched as a sly smile spread on her lips as she looked to the Lady Ambassador.

"That doesn't mean we won't ask for some details," it was times like this when he felt as if he had four nosey sisters.

"I'd prefer not to speak of it," melancholy crept into his tone and his eyes drifted down to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Cullen. I did not wish to--"

He cleared his throat, allowing his usual strength to imbue his words, "It's fine-- I'm fine. I assure you this will not be an issue unless Lord Armand makes it one."

Back in his office, buried under piles of field reports, he took his time relishing the amount of work that he knew would keep him up all night. He didn't want to sleep. After two consecutive nights of nightmares, he didn't think he could take another. A mug of hot coffee infused the air with its energizing aroma, but he would hold off tasting it before he finished his current stack - a reward for its completion. One stack at a time, one day at a time, he thought. Yet in the dark corners of his mind, the demons of his past sat waiting, watching for an opportunity to try and sink their claws into him again. They would have their chance too, he was well aware of the storm that was coming. Consecutive nightmares were the start, it had been that way after each major relapse. Desperate to break the cycle, here he sat forcing himself to stay awake so as not to succumb to them.

His Evelyn had helped ward away the dark. He had a plethora of things to look forward to daily: Beating her at chess and listening to her accuse him jokingly of cheating; walking on the ramparts in the fresh air; pretending her hair was messed up making her pout; and stealing kisses when no one was looking. Even if it had only been a week since she had ended things, days stretched on endlessly. The world seemed to lose its color and vibrancy. Once again, he was left with nothing but his duty. Duty would never abandon him, never harm him as people had. This he had always known, but it was also his duty who opened the door to the darkest chapters of his life and he prayed that another was not beginning.

Notes:

In the future I will go back and rewrite this, but I wanted to just touch on the key points of Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts for now to keep the plot moving forward. Thank you for reading!

Chapter 21: This House Is Not A Home

Summary:

Evelyn and Cullen both struggle with their personal issues. Cullen starts to become suspicious of Lord Armand.

Notes:

Yes, the title of the chapter was inspired by the Three Days Grace song, but the real inspiration for the chapter came from "Never Go Back" by Evanescence.

Having left him only two days after returning to Skyhold from Halamshiral, Ryker stewed after emerging from the Herald's Rest. Sitting on a bench against the building in a fog of drink, he watched as some of the Inquisition's mages train in the yard as he had done back in Ostwick. It reminded him of the fateful day he first encountered the lovely Evelyn Trevelyan, forever changing his life. He hadn't been drunk then, as he was now, which allowed him to burn into memory every sinful detail of the beautiful abomination that would forever haunt him.

 

He remembered thinking how he could've missed such a creature roaming the halls of the tower, never having seen her before. Up until then, he had eyes for only the pure - Templar women - having never tasted the forbidden fruits of his charges. They were ugly, tainted by their magic and he believed to touch one would condemn him to the Void for eternity. As he watched this mage move and dance with fire before him something in his world shifted.

 

It may have been the look and tone of respect she gave to her Templar comrades or the way she responded quickly to their every instruction, but there he stood completely enraptured by a mage. She was physically resplendent, yet danger lurked beneath her bewitching façade. She was sin incarnate, a desire demon in human form luring him like a siren to his doom. When her session in the training yard was over, he took a chance as she was leaving and complimented her performance, to which her light brown eyes tried to meet his through the shadow of his helmet. Time slowed and his heart beat faster than it ever had before basking in her attention. She simply nodded and smiled gratefully before passing through the door back to the tower.

 

From that day on, he found out everything he could about her; her name, her background, what she was training to be, who her friends were, what she liked, her schedule, where her quarters were located - everything. He had friends in the Circle of Ostwick, many of whom owed him favors. He had done their dirty work, keeping watch for officers when needed, providing an alibi and he even held some whore mage down for a friend once as he fucked her. It was a lesson he quickly learned would benefit him and once he finally found something worth cashing in those accrued favors for, nothing would stop him from making her his.

 

Eventually, he found out everything possible about her, even going so far as standing watch outside her room. All the while, she had no idea who it was complimenting her, watching her. He had such plans for her and when he finally was able to get on a mission outside of the Circle with her, he knew this was his chance to finally confront her about his feelings. However, when he finally did one night after a successful mission, she rejected him with such insolence his rage took hold of him. After everything he had sacrificed for her, she dared to spurn him. His eagerness cost him dearly, as did underestimating the bitch who ruled his heart. He hated her for it. The tenderness which he once held for her turned into a need to help her repent for her wickedness.

 

Yet, here he sat in a fortress in which she owned, surrounded by people who served her. The nerve of this mage to believe she had any authority over the Maker's true and pure children. It was up to him to teach the abomination her place, to make her do penance for her sins so she could walk in His light. Whatever these members of the Inquisition had told her lied, she was no prophet of Andraste, holding her up as a puppet for their political gains, and even worse she had fallen for one. Clearly, Knight-Commander Rutherford saw what he saw and was using her for his own gains, why else would anyone want her? To be subject to her depravity, when he was the only one who truly loved her.

 

Evelyn's arrogance towards him had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he would have his revenge. Even before he came to Skyhold he had known she would push him to punish her, so he came prepared. Watching the mages train, one caught his eye. She was young, reminding him of the eighteen-year-old Trevelyan of his past - respectful, eager, wanting. Having no helmet and looking the fine lord that he was, he made eyes at her, and the slut she was enjoyed it. She was shy at first but grew bold with every tilt of his head, and smile, even as he grabbed himself while she watched biting her plump lower lip. It was too easy, and she would be perfect in helping him exact revenge on his beloved fiancée upon her return. Ice never did mix with fire.

 

---

 

The three weeks spent in the Western Approach flew by as she and her team worked to cross the items off of Ser Hawthorne's long list. It had been a much-needed break from the drama awaiting her at Skyhold, no doubt ready to suck her in like the Void. The deep resonance of the horn alerted everyone to her triumphant return and she and her team were greeted fervently by her people. Stepping off of Nelson and handing his reigns to a groom, she stretched and acknowledged her soldiers with a wave and smile. Somehow Evelyn had managed to bring half the desert back in her boots and armor. The metal was warped from being sandblasted and the shine had been sanded off the leather. Master Harriet had been in the courtyard to watch as she plunked her helmet off on the ground. She shrugged, and he trudged off towards the Underforge nodding, knowing it wouldn't be long until she'd be waltzing through his door to test his skill with a forge once again.

 

"I'm parched. Three weeks without a drop of alcohol has taken its toll. Care to join me, little sis?"

 

"Gladly."

 

"No greeting for your poor worried mother?" The two Trevelyans turned with pained looks as their mother held her arms out in a pitiful display of motherly affection. She hugged them both simultaneously as they craned their necks down awkwardly for her. Pushing them back to arm's length, Lady Bann Trevelyan had already come up with an agenda for her children, "Evelyn dear, you must go see Lord Armand immediately. The poor man has been neglected for long enough." She lowered her voice, nudging her coyly, "I don't care what you do, just give him some attention. He's been making eyes at the help."

 

She rolled her eyes, "I won't be doing anything with him, mother. You do realize that I could die at any time, right? From the mark, Venatori, Corypheus… maybe even Cassandra after making her suffer three weeks with Owayne." Pulling off her helm, the dusty Seeker rolled her eyes with a grunt, but as she passed, she and Owayne shared an odd stare. The youngest Trevelyan eyed her brother with suspicion, grumbling over to him, "Or maybe not?"

 

Having ignored most of what Evelyn said, as usual, her mother continued, "Must you talk like that? Look at what this appointment is doing to you! Your skin is tan and scarred, it used to be so even and youthful. I'm sure even your father would be aggrieved to see you like this, and your sisters would hardly recognize you!"

 

"You do know I'm almost thirty? I'm no child."

 

"Trust me, it shows." Evelyn retracted back insulted. "Now, in an effort to help, Lord Armand and I took a trip into the boutiques of Val Royeaux and he bought you several beautiful and expensive dresses, but now I fear you will look like a barbarian in them in your state!"

 

Seeing a glowing pulsing rising out of the collar of her armor, Owayne quickly hooked his sister's arm and led her away, "A pleasure seeing you as always, mother! She'll be more grateful for such gifts after a drink!"

 

Their mother made a disgusted huff, "So much like your father. Don't be long! The dinner bell will be sounding soon and I expect to see you in a dress!"

 

Away from everyone as she, Owayne, Bull, and Cassandra ascended the stairs to the Upper Courtyard towards the Herald's Rest, she mumbled to him, "I'm gonna fucking walk off the ramparts, you watch."

 

"Nah, you just need a drink. A little whiskey and you'll put on that dress and suck it up for one evening. How bad could it be?"

 

"Pff, how bad could it be? It's our mother and Lord Armand we're talking about."

 

"You barely say a word about the man the whole trip, yet when you do, you speak as if he's an old acquaintance. Is there something you're not telling me?"

 

"N-no, I only meant men like Armand are predictable." The small party found their usual reserved table in the back and drinks were immediately brought to them. As she gulped it down, she was curious as to why Cassandra had joined them, since she never had before. Typically, she went off to her quarters skipping the drinks, as Hawke and Stroud had done this time seemingly. Placing her cup down with a frown, she stared at the raven-haired warrior who seemed to know what was on her mind, "It's nice to have you with us this time, is there a particular reason?"

 

Unnerved slightly, the Seeker tried to regain her usual stoic demeanor, "I-- no, I simply wanted a drink. Is that such an odd thing?"

 

Evelyn hummed, tilting her head back and forth, "I suppose not. What do you think, Bull?"

 

Bull's smirk and eye lowered as if waiting to be asked, "I think--"

 

"Why is everyone being so critical of a woman just wanting a drink, for fuck's sake. Just leave her be Bull, or I'll tell my sister what you did with that cask of Chasind wine that apparently went missing."

 

The Qunari's eye flitted between the two Trevelyans, "I think I'll stay out of this one, boss." The Inquisitor pinched the bridge of her nose grumbling, "Did you pick that tick up from all the time you've spent with Cullen?"

 

"No!" She said more defensively than she wished. Cassandra hid a small smile behind her next sip, as Owayne now looked back and forth between them. It had been a long three weeks and she had forgotten about her sibling's perception as he scrutinized and asked about everything, claiming he was just trying to be a good big brother. The clang of the dinner bell sounded through the keep, saving her from a potentially awkward conversation. Especially when Owayne had insisted since the day he arrived in Haven that something was brewing between her and the Commander. Though the chime saved her for the moment, she banged her head down on the table with a drawn-out groan having been condemned to another form of torture. Shamelessly, she grabbed the nearly empty bottle off the table and carried it back to her quarters, uncaring of the looks she received from Skyhold's bystanders.

 

Placing the empty bottle down on a table in her quarters, she began discarding her beaten armor when she was startled by dark showy silhouettes standing in the corner of her room. There were five black dresses placed on dress forms. Black. She would've said the color choice was appropriate for her to be buried in as both her mother and Ryker were pushing her to an early grave, but they were completely inappropriate for a corpse, or anyone living for that matter. If the neckline didn't plunge to the waist or show the entirety of her chest, the back was completely missing down to her arse. Gapping at them, trying to pick one to wear was worse than getting tail-swatted by that High Dragon. She wondered what would happen if she torched all of them, but while it was a satisfying fantasy, she knew for the sake of Ilara one would have to be worn. Calling in her ladies, they quickly readied her as the second dinner bell rang. She would be late, but she was the Inquisitor; in Skyhold, time waited on her.

 

"Lady Inquisitor, would you like powder for…" she pointed to the ghastly scar on her left shoulder and then to the bruise from the dragon. It was a deep blotchy purple and brown that divided the pale expanse of her mid-back.

 

"No, thank you," the elven woman looked dubiously up at her. "I'm not ashamed of it, but I thank you for your concern." They shared a smile and the ladies filed out leaving her alone before the tall looking glass. From the front, it was a modest dress that hung slightly off the shoulders, but turning revealed the entirety of her back. The dress was hanging on to her by its tight long velvety sleeves as it had no straps or fabric whatsoever in the back. It was fitted to expose the length down to her dimples, draping on the curve of her bottom. In an attempt to cover anything she could, she had them only put half of her hair up, hoping its length would cover a portion of her back. She could also stand and sit with her back away from everyone so no one could see the sheer volume of skin she was boasting.

 

Making her way down the staircase to the door, she paused before facing whomever it was joining them at the table. While dinner in Skyhold had always been dressier than other meals, she never appeared in anything more than her green velveteen dress. Now, it seems that was about to change. At least Josephine would enjoy Skyhold dinners becoming a formal affair.

 

With her stomach protesting against the delay, having been on a horse most of the day, she smoothed down her dress and reminded herself to go straight to her seat. The latch to the door was obnoxiously loud, alerting everyone to her arrival. Seated at their usual long table - the first on the right out of her door - were most of her companions, advisors, her two family members, and the esteemed Lord Armand.

 

Rising from their seats, taking their cue from Lady Bann Trevelyan and Lord Armand, she quickly walked to her seat, "For Andraste's sake, sit down, all of you!" She motioned with her hands annoyed that they all went along with the two Marchers.

 

"Looking good, sis," Owayne smiled stupidly at her. Cassandra, surprisingly seated next to him, smacked him, though it wasn't as discreet as she probably hoped for.

 

"Shut it, Owayne," she grumbled trying to get comfortable in her chair, attempting to evade eye contact with everyone - especially one man in particular, seated as far away from her as possible. As a cold mountain draft crept up her back, it chilled her to the bone, having gotten used to the arid climate to the west. Cupping her hands, a small flame appeared that she stoked and snaked about her hands and fingers in an attempt to warm them.

 

"Evelyn dear, no magic at the table." A deadpan stare at her mother, followed by a sudden clap of her hands, snuffing the flames made the aging matron jump. "Really, Evelyn! It's a wonder how these people put up with you!"

 

"The same can be said of you," she mumbled under her breath, hiding her mouth with her wine glass. Unfortunately, the two people she couldn't stand the most sat to either side of her, she being at the head of the table. Next to her mother was the Ambassador and Leliana, and next to Ryker was her brother. At the far end of the table were Cassandra, Varric, Ilara, Leliana, Dorian, and Cullen. At this rate, she would rather sit at the other end of the table and allow Cullen to just spitefully stare at her all night, though he seemed content with ignoring her existence at present. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying the show or awkwardly sipping their wine.

 

"Lord Armand was telling us of his trip to the Val Royeaux boutiques, we are looking forward to seeing what he bought you," Josephine and Leliana nodded along with polite smiles. Ryker gave her a pointed look no one could see, reminding her of her obligation to pretend she was enjoying their engagement.

 

"It was very kind of him to think of me, though I fear there will be little occasion for me to wear such fine pieces here at home."

 

"Nonsense," he chimed in, "dinner is enough of a reason. Do you not think the other nobles may like a more formal atmosphere? The Lady Ambassador is working so hard to create a culture here in the mountains, perhaps seeing you in more attire fitting your station would help her cause?" Josie beamed politely, ever the gracious host and naïve to his true purpose.

 

She bit the inside of her lip trying not to snarl, "How insightful, I will bear it in mind, my lord."

 

"We never did get a proper look at your dress, Inquisitor. Would you do us the honors?" Halfway through a large sip of wine, she parted with the glass to give him a dead stare. There were a few agreements from the others, but it was the far end of the table to which her gaze flickered to briefly. Cullen was distracted by something in the opposite direction, but Ilara was giving her a sour face indicating the current mood down there.

 

"Dinner is about to be served, surely--" Ryker eyes intensified, as he white-knuckled a knife, "very well." She stood, the whole time listening to her mother hound her about her posture. She smoothed down her dress again, flipping all of her hair back over her shoulders and turning slightly from side to side before going to sit again.

 

"Do a full turn for us, dear," she may not be able to exhibit her annoyance at Ryker, but she could at her mother, huffing with growl.

 

Begrudgingly, she turned showcasing the expanse of her back. Though she was far from it, she felt naked as she felt phantom eyes roam about her form. As her long hair did its job of hiding her injuries, Lady Trevelyan stood brushing it off to the side. Her latest scar was still a shade of dark pink over top of the original tear. There were a few wincing sounds made at her grotesque bruise, which felt tight and sore as she focused on it. Her face flushed and realizing they had enough time to gawk, she flopped back down in her seat. To her dismay, her distressed eyes met with those of the Commander who quickly turned away. The first course arrived and was placed in front of everyone simultaneously, however, the brief reprieve did not stop her mother from continuing her complaining.

 

Lady Trevelyan huffed, "I told those servants specifically to use the power and clay I bought you. I will be having a talk with those disobedient wretches come morning!"

 

"No," her voice was a low growl. "I was the one who refused it. The typical response from a worried mother, as you said earlier, would be 'are you alright, dear?'" Her raptor glare burned deep into her, "My scars and bruises I bear proudly in the service of the people of Thedas. Just because you take issue with it, mother, doesn't mean others do." In an attempt to smooth Ryker's hackles, she asked his opinion on it.

 

"As ugly as those particular injuries are, I find no issue with them, Lady Inquisitor." Of course, he wouldn't, though he'd rather them be from his hands.

 

"Would you like me to…" Ilara's voice was hardly audible from the other end of the table, but Evelyn shook her head with a heartfelt smile.

 

"Hawke was able to mend the ribs after it happened. For as often as you're injured, you'd think you'd know some healing magic," Owayne shook his head while she shrugged over at him.

 

"Yes, it's a good thing he was there, with the updates your mother and I received on your condition, one would think you'd rather die than marry me." Lady Trevelyan laughed obnoxiously along with Lord Armand, though his was a laugh with an edge to it. An uneasy silence settled over the table as if everyone, was too afraid to talk, including Varric who was jotting down something on a piece of parchment, giving her a wink once he finished. She wondered if it was a new bet or if he was planning to write a comedy based on her family.

 

After some silence as the first course was cleared, and the second placed, conversation began up again. "Commander," at hearing her mother say his title, Evelyn immediately perked up, looking at him with dread.

 

"Yes, ma'am." He continued eating eyeing both the Trevelyan women.

 

"My eldest son, Lord Hector just raved about your talents. So, why is it my daughter comes back more beaten and battered than the last? Is it not your job to see to her protection?" Owayne immediately reacted with a huff and roll of his eyes. Cullen froze for a second, putting down his fork and wiping his mouth with his linen to answer, but the Inquisitor was on her like lightning.

 

She held a hand out to Cullen, stopping him from troubling himself any further, "Andraste preserve me, mother! It's not the Commander's fault! Do you think he ordered me to attack the High Dragon? No! In fact, most of the time he's telling me not to do something so reckless and I simply don't listen!" Beside herself at her mother's brazen attack, she sat back slumping in her seat shaking her head.

 

As Lord Armand went to speak, he kicked her shin hard in warning and jealousy, "I not sure why you're so upset with your mother, my lady, she simply is concerned for your safety," his false concern may have fooled the others, but she knew what game he was playing. He'd play the middle and pit her mother against Cullen. "Surely, something more could be done?"

 

"Nothing will be done, because there is nothing that isn't being done already to ensure my safety."

 

"If I may address Lady Trevelyan's concerns, Inquisitor," came a commanding voice from the opposite end of the table. "Ma'am, I assure you everything within conventional means to protect your daughter is being done. But we do not face a conventional enemy. Our enemy has the ability to tear open the veil, destroying all life as we know it. I could lead all the armies of Thedas against Corypheus and I would never defeat him without the Inquisitor. Her training and experience as a Knight-Enchanter have served her well, and while I do counsel caution when action is expected, she is more than capable of felling her enemies. I have and will endeavor to provide her with whatever support she needs, as I’m sure everyone at this table will as well.” There were nods of agreement all around.

 

“She has my eyes,” Leliana added.

 

“And my voice.” Josephine smiled at her. Suddenly, she felt unworthy of her friends as guilt welled up in her.

 

She squeaked out a thank you to them, as it had definitively ended her mother’s questioning, finally allowing them all to resume eating. While pouring gravy into the center of her plate, her mind drifted to her time in South Reach and she absently locked eyes with the Commander. He stopped chewing, eyeing what she was doing, but she was too far away in her memories to notice. "Evelyn!" The shrill of her mother's voice could call her back from the most remote places of the Fade, "You've all but drowned the poor bird!" She glanced over to Armand, "She'd done this since she was little. The girl has a talent for making the most seasoned cook cry." Her gaze flicked up again to Cullen, who had lost himself in the same memory it seemed. Coming to, he almost smiled at her, but another hard kick to her shin from her right made her break away from him regrettably. If this was how every night was to carry on, she wanted no part of it.

 

Unfortunately, the following four nights had gone similar to the first, in which everyone, not just herself, became weary of. For the sake of her friends, she tried to be as patient as possible, especially with her mother, but she could only endure it for so long. Varric and the others began taking bets on how long she'd last, and while it was laughable for them, for Evelyn it was mentally straining and exhausting.

 

Soon, her friends began sitting somewhere else and the nobility moved into their places. Even her brother had abandoned her to suffer their endless prattling. Her mother finally broke her down and she allowed the servants to hide her offending scars and paint her face, though she only allowed concealing powder for her scars, lip stain, and charcoal for her eyes. She supposed the cosmetics did wonders for however dead she felt inside, those who now surrounded her seemed to think otherwise.

 

---

 

The next day the whole team met in the War Room to discuss their time in the Western Approach and their newest adversary, Lord Livius Erimond. Dorian in particular was outraged that it was one of his fellow countrymen orchestrating the corruption of the Grey Warden mages. At the ritual site, Erimond had been binding the Wardens to summoned demons. Once bound, they were subject to his control. With an army of demons being created to crush southern Thedas, a large-scale confrontation loomed in the near future. Orlais was still too weak after the civil war, still trying to recall its armies from the Exalted Plains to be of any help. All hope rested on the Inquisition to stop this growing army of demons from heralding in the dark future Evelyn had seen at Redcliffe.

 

"Are our mages in danger of such corruption?" The Commander asked the question but didn't look up from moving troops about the map.

 

"No, Erimond had them cast a spell. It was only afterward that he used his magic to bind them. He was however able to control my mark as Corypheus had. Who knows how many more know how to do it."

 

"Control how?" Leliana crossed her arms.

 

"At Haven, Corypheus had tried to remove the anchor and the magic he used was incredibly painful. Erimond certainly isn't as strong as his master, but he was still able to make my hand feel heavy. So heavy, that I couldn't lift it. I went straight on the ground, but that was the worst of it."

 

"How did your mark react to it?" Cullen stood tall, placing his hands on the pommel of his sword.

 

"It sparked but he couldn't control it, nor could the Elder One for that matter."

 

The next month would be spent readying the men, finding siege equipment, and gathering allies together for the assault on Adamant Fortress. It would be the first large-scale battle for the Inquisition and its Commander, but Evelyn had every faith in him to be victorious. She would endeavor not to become a personal distraction for him. And having time to think while away from the toxic atmosphere clouding every corner of Skyhold, she had a plan to rid herself of one of her own distractions.

 

Following the meeting, she lingered behind to speak to Josephine, "May I have a word, Ambassador?" With a wave of her wrist, she guided her over to her desk. "I wish to give my mother some incentive to leave Skyhold, but I'll need your assistance."

 

"Yes, I have noticed the strain she has put you under of late."

 

"She is an unnecessary distraction, especially now with the upcoming battle. I can't have her disrupting the running of Skyhold. This is a fortress, not a castle." If she could rid Ryker of his biggest supporter, perhaps it would make him nervous, reckless even. "I remembered my mother telling me that my sister Ariella's marriage to Lord Phineas Trumbull of Tantervale was called off due to my supposed involvement in the rebellion in Ostwick. While the arrangement was one of business, the two fell madly in love. If we could reconcile with him, it could be enough to reunite them. Then my mother would have a reason to leave for home to prepare for her marriage and leave me alone."

 

"I will write to Lord Trumbull with all haste. I had heard through gossip that he was entertaining other proposals, but if they were in love, as you say, an explanation and perhaps blessings on their union from the Herald of Andraste herself would be enough for him to pursue their former arrangement. I hear he is a very pious man."

 

"Excellent," for once Evelyn smiled genuinely at having some hope that soon she'd be rid of the meddlesome woman, though to be fair she had no idea of Ryker's scheme. She simply wanted her children to live comfortably while strengthening the family, even if she drove certain members of that family insane. "Thank you, Josie. I appreciate you taking care of this, though it's a Trevelyan problem."

 

She sighed with a polite smile, "Evelyn, if I may, I'm worried for you. Since your mother and Lord Armand have joined us, matters seem to weigh more heavily on you. If I can make the burden lighter I will, both as your Ambassador and friend."

 

A shallow pool of tears formed in her eyes, causing her to clear her throat, "I, um, thank you. I have work to do." Quick as she could, the Inquisitor left before too many more questions were asked. She knew that wouldn't be the first or last time someone would ask after her, and she chastised herself for not being stronger, succumbing to tears. She'd need to be more careful in the future, especially if Ryker's spies were watching. Suddenly, the problem of her mother seemed minor compared to the supposed network he had within her own people. Stopping short before the door to her quarters in the Great Hall, she nimbly turned on her heel and headed for the shrine of Andraste to pray - a lot.

 

---

 

After the fifth night of watching her degrade herself for the sake of family duty, Cullen stopped eating in the hall. In fact, he began to skip dinner altogether. His stomach churned constantly as if he were crossing the Waking Sea again. Memories of that time were enough to disturb his mind, but between not sleeping and his nausea the hauntings of his past bled into the present. It was easier to hide the hallucinations in this office, but with the majority of his time spent outside of Skyhold on the new training grounds they cleared in a nearby forest, it was more difficult.

 

A hot rush of nausea would make his ears burn, followed by the distant sounds of whichever memory his mind chose to take him to. All he could do was brace himself until it passed, trying to focus on one thing in his present reality to anchor him. Most of the time, it was soldiers, another time it was the coin in his pocket, but on one rare occasion, it had been the Inquisitor. Her back was to him, but it was her hair that drew him in. Though she was at home, she had braided it for battle, having most likely come from the training herself to observe his progress. His vision narrowed and blurred, but the blond and chestnut of her hair shining in the sun shone brightly.

 

Through the explosion of the Chantry to his right, the bodies flying before his eyes, the mages and Templars killing each other before him, he still fixated on her hair swaying slightly as she shifted her weight. Evelyn was engulfed in the morass yet she stood watching something calmly, ignoring all else. What is she watching? Try and remember. What were you doing before this? His mind was blank, but he fought to stay in control. He took the vision apart one sense at a time, inhaling deeply the strong scent of pine. There were no pines in the middle of the city. The hand on his blade's pommel squeezed tighter trying not to instinctively react as the ghosts charged right through him with weapons drawn. When the Inquisitor turned walking back toward him, she was nearly run through by Meredith Stannard, who had just charged into the fray. The Knight-Commander stopped to recite a speech he tried to forget as she declared the mages hostile, ordering him to kill them on sight. Pointing seamlessly to where Evelyn had stopped, crossing her arms in defiance of the command, her mark flared and she raised it to flex her fingers, taunting the Templar with the otherworldly magic. As the reenactment continued, he was slowly coming to, remembering that the women existed in two different narratives - his past and present.

 

Blinking, the landscape of the mountains returned in time to address the Inquisitor, "Commander, I have something that may make your day a bit brighter." She held up a letter with a broken Trevelyan seal, "My father is sending his company of cavalry down to assist us. He's confident in your ability to properly utilize this asset after Hector gave such a glowing account of your ability." He didn't say a word, swallowing a few times to wet his dry throat before clearing it. The woman was perceptive, her eagle eyes catching every one of his movements, every one of his efforts to shake the visions. When she took a step closer, studying him brazenly, he straightened. Having not said anything, she deflated, simply nodding her head and passing him the letter before walking on.

 

"Inquisitor, Commander, a moment," Cassandra jogged her way over to them, "Some of our mages have requested the services of a Mortalitasi for training. They've been asking for some time, and are becoming agitated over the issue not being addressed."

 

Evelyn stared blankly at them, "And you take issue with this?"

 

With Meredith's claws deep in the back of his thoughts, it was easy for him to formulate a reply, "Yes, necromancy is one step below blood magic. They would be practicing on the dead! Are we to start collecting the bodies of our fallen soldiers for them to use as cadavers?"

 

"What if we sent them to Nevarr to learn, where the school is accepted? Not only would they be assisting real Mortalitasi, but they would learn the culture behind it. Gain a healthy respect for it."

 

"These are southern mages we speak of, mages who have been sheltered, given an ounce of freedom to which they have taken full advantage. Isn't it bad enough we have several mages, yourself and Solas included, studying rift magic here in Skyhold? A force we barely understand, that we have left our Templars to figure out on their own at risk of their own lives. Must we now desecrate our dead for a school that has been forbidden in the Circles?"

 

Cassandra nodded her head, "I agree with the Commander. My uncle is a Mortalitasi, there is nothing to be gained by our mages learning it. The magic they practice is for rituals, not battle."

 

"Dorian uses it in battle. You've had no issue with him wielding it."

 

"He is from Tevinter where the attitude towards magic is more liberal."

 

"Our mages are like horses that have lived in a pen all their lives. Open the gate to freedom and they run in every direction without thinking." Old wounds were surfacing the more his past was dredged up. He was losing himself in the shifting timelines unsure of what was true.

 

"You're comparing us to animals?" Evelyn's whole countenance began to morph into something completely hostile. Her lip began to curl up into a snarl and her nose crinkled at the brow as she faced him looking as if she'd hit him.

 

He scoffed, meeting her stance, "No, I'm simply saying that there is no good reason to sanction this. The safety concerns associated with it alone should be enough to deny this request. Not to mention the issues our Templars would have with it. They and the mages have only just begun to trust each other, this would complicate matters right before a major offensive."

 

"Right, because we "animals" lack the intelligence and decency to know right from wrong. We don't deserve your full trust having never been given the opportunity as has been recently granted to us by circumstance to explore knowledge in a safe environment."

 

Cassandra jumped to his defense, "The Commander was not insinuating we cannot trust our mages, simply that without the proper screening as to who wishes to learn necromancy, we can't be sure of their true intentions behind such a request."

 

The Inquisitor rubbed her fingers in thought across her chin and mouth, "And what would you say if I said I wished to learn necromancy?" The Seeker went to respond, but Evelyn held a finger up, "I'm asking the Commander."

 

His eyes narrowed at seeing the corner she was backing him into, "I did not mean for you to take this personally."

 

"No, you didn't, but neither am I an exception to such opinions just because I'm the Inquisitor. I'm still a mage and one who will be thrown back into a Circle when this is through. To be a caged creature on display with my marked hand, provided it doesn't kill me first." Both he and Cassandra frowned, unused to her hearing her speak about the mark, at least aloud. Aware of the effect her comment had, she tried to dispel the effect of her words with a wave of her hand, "I am well aware of the flaws people see in mages and of the fear which the Chantry has used to control public opinion against magic. I thought the Inquisition was to be better, do better than the Chantry?"

 

"The safety of our people and security of our base is my chief responsibility. It is my professional opinion that this request be denied on the grounds that it jeopardizes it due to lack of experience in the Templars we have to relegate it and the personnel issues it would cause. The majority of our soldiers are from Ferelden - and if we're making it personal, you can count me in that group as well - who will take offense to the dead being used in such a way. This could lead to conflict between them and the mages, all on account of you wanting to placate a small minority. It is unacceptable!"

 

He was right of course, she knew it and he knew she agreed. So why was she arguing with him? Now was not the time for a cultural revolution, not when their survival was still at stake. Back in full command of his mind, he stared at her intensely watching her resolve waver. She was fighting some internal battle of her own, one of their talks and their bond typically helped sort through, but alone, things were muddled. Evelyn was fighting everything and everyone lately, herself included.

 

She smoothed her hackles back down with a mental sake, wiping a hand down her tired face, "You're right, my apologies. The request is denied." Her voice lost all its bravado, "If you'd excuse me, I'm expected back." The two lingered watching her walk away, but a sharp stab of pain in his temple broke their silence.

 

"Are you alright?"

 

He sighed, feeling the pounding of a headache threatening to take him from his duties, "It's a headache, nothing more."

 

"Cullen, do not lie to me. I'm not the Inquisitor, there's no need to pretend if something is seriously wrong."

 

He rolled his eyes scowling at her, "Fine, yes, I have not been well. It's been worse since-- Dorian has been monitoring it, but I fear he's only treating the symptoms to make it manageable."

 

"Come, I think Rylen has the training under control. If we will be forced to confront the Wardens at Adamant, we'll need you at your best." The two began the short trek back across the bridge to the fortress and up to his office. "I know things have not been easy for you regarding the situation between the Inquisitor and Lord Armand." He groaned at her chosen topic, "You both have not been the same since."

 

He wiped a hand down his face, the pain clouding his better judgment, "I knew something like this would happen and still I--" He stopped up on the ramparts next to his office door looking out towards the training he abandoned.

 

"Her heart is clearly not in it--"

 

"That's not the problem," he growled having not meant to, rubbing his temples, "I trusted her, I let her in, let her see every dark corner of my mind and for what? The more light she brought to the dark, the easier the walls came down until... Then to be tossed aside in the name of family obligation."

 

Having found him downtrodden after the events in Kirkwall, Cassandra knew a bit more than others as to the darkness he spoke of. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Talk to Owayne," he craned his neck over squinting against the pain, "he is convinced Evelyn is caught up in something. Perhaps the two of you, knowing her best, can figure it out. She has become distant to even me of late, I'm worried for her."

 

"Maker's breath, I'm not about to come between her and Lord Armand. She made her decision very clear."

 

"That's your choice, but if you truly care for her, maybe make sure all is what it seems. In the meantime, I will try to keep her focused on the mission." Leaving him to consider her words, he closed his eyes trying to ignore the throbbing as it progressively worsened. Despite trying to lie to himself, he still cared for Evelyn as much as he ever did. It slumbered within him like embrium in the winter before the thaw of spring. Buried beneath layers of stubbornness, scars, and old habits hiding the seed from everyone including himself, but the light from her flame was too strong at times. It burned through his defenses touching the seed rooted within his chest. Having been planted there long before even he had become aware, for the roots ran deep. The night after the destruction of Haven when he had carried her up the mountain half-dead, he knew he was in trouble; that the Phoenix had gotten her talons in him.

 

Part of him wanted to mourn the loss, but the stronger rational part pointed him to his duty. It reminded him of who he was and his responsibilities. She was not the only person in Thedas who mattered; he had family, friends, and subordinates who counted on him to see them through the coming fight. How many of them had families praying for their safe return? He held their lives in his hands with the power to decide their fate, albeit indirectly. The trust and repour he created with his troops was vital for their success. Regardless of the reason he had their trust, be it his experience or his former rank within the Order, he could not fall to pieces over a broken heart - a condition that did not physically affect him. Whatever his inner struggle he needed to forget it and soldier on. If his men could do it, he could do it, and he needed to do it better - the best even.

 

He wouldn't talk to Owayne, as Cassandra suggested, he hadn't a reason to without admitting to him more than he'd like about the nature of his relationship with his sister. If the need arose he would, but not now when she was clearing just suffering as he was. If he could endure it, so could she.

 

---

 

There had been no word from Henley and Sorin in the two weeks since they left. She didn't expect word due to the secrecy of the mission, but she wished she had some news of their progress. It was the only hope she had to cling to, yet her only lifeline was plagued with uncertainty. So many things could go wrong, from Henley and Sorin dying to Ryker finding out, the whole plan was risky. What else could she do? The problem was, the only thing she knew how to do was fight, it was what the world had molded her for. Throughout her life, people sought to tear her down for one reason or another. She had seen rock bottom numerous times, and it was becoming a familiar place of rest of late. In recent memory, she had seen it after red lyrium poisoning, the explosion of the Conclave, and the defeat at Haven. Each time, through the pain and trauma, she picked herself up with or without help.

Her current predicament was no different. Ryker was an infection; her unsuspecting and all too willing mother was his first victim, followed by her and Ilara, though they had no choice. Had he not involved Ilara, things would have been so much easier. Though no fault of her best friend, Evelyn had become subject to the ex-Templar's abuses once more. Her only way to fight it was to endure it, and she was nothing if not resilient, but at what cost?

In the past weeks of hell, she had been dressed up like a trophy and paraded around like a prized Ranger. The illustrious Lord Einar Armand had done what others failed to do and claimed the Inquisitor's hand; A marked hand that was Thedas' only salvation, and one that was bound to be forever remembered in the annals of history. What history would fail to note, was the sudden arm jerks into a private enclave to be threatened for stepping out of line or the quiet beatings to tame her fiery spirit, though he preferred if Ilara was there to patch her up afterward. The physical and mental abuse was taking its toll and it had not gone unnoticed.

Josephine and Leliana were quick to question the loss of life from her personality. She was living in a husk of her former self, looking every bit the Inquisitor, but acting as if she had been made Tranquil. Cassandra too, looked at her good friend with apprehension, unsure as to how to help her. She'd drag her to the training grounds to spar, but she'd tire quickly at having the fight beaten out of her daily. The hardest people to deal with were her brother and Cullen. As Cullen recovered from a bout of terrible withdrawal - which he had tried to hide from her - she found the two of them in each other's company more than she would've liked. Their eyes never left her, picking up every faked smile, every wince from her invisible bruises, yet they said nothing to her. A reckoning was coming, she just wasn't sure how soon.

Until then she held on to anything to keep her going. It's all she could do to get through the day. The year, the month, or the week didn't matter, just today. If she could end it standing and fighting, it was a victory over Ryker. It was one more day Henley and Sorin had to destroy their phylacteries; one more day Ilara was safe; one more day she had simply survived. But from within the deep pit of darkness, the one Ryker and the red lyrium had dug in her mind, her demons were always watching and waiting for her to slip.

The first time they had tried to snare her was on the training grounds one afternoon, sparring with Blackwall. Normally, she enjoyed her sessions with the aging Grey Warden, but the recent troubles involving his brethren had sobered him, contributing to her somber state. Bull and the Chargers had been on hand watching and cheering when she absently let her barrier go, taking a devastating hit to the head. She remembered seeing it coming, but subconsciously in her mind, she wondered if such a hit could make her forget the past week. Coming to after what she was told was a few minutes, flat on her back and surrounded by people, unfortunately, she still remembered.

Another time, she had met with Dagna, Ilara, and Leliana to follow up on some of the research they were conducting. Upon the table were several potions that they had improved upon to make them more potent in the field. Most were restorative, but there was one acid for coating blades and arrows. Her mind blocked out the conversation as she picked up the dark flask, holding it up to the light. The liquid within looked so inviting, so harmless.

As she brought it to her lips, the Nightingale's hand quickly reached out stopping her, "Inquisitor, that's the wrong one. Here." She slowly switched the bottles, yet Evelyn's gaze longingly looked after the former glass. Leliana eyed her, shaking herself from her trance-like state.

"Oh, I'm not sure what I was thinking."

"I don't think you were," Dagna innocently implied, as Leliana gazed over to Ilara. The mage quickly covered for her stating that the concussion received from Blackwall must still be affecting her.

The only surprising reprieve came at night, as Ryker left her alone and unmolested. He knew the time after dinner was risky, as she had all manner of visitors, he discovered, from drunken Chargers to the scholarly Solas and everything in between who came to see her when she retired from her Inquisitorial duties. However, it was short-lived as night terrors gripped her each time she slept. It was all becoming too much and one night, she had finally hit her breaking point. Losing herself to the demons of her mind, there was only one person in all of Thedas who kept her grounded. Despite the risk and in the cover of dark, she donned a cloak and fade stepped through the keep as if she were a specter. When she reached his office, all was quiet except for the creek of the wooden floorboards above someone alerted to her presence. Evelyn climbed the ladder, finding Cullen asleep in his bed and his sentry on duty.

"Dorian."

"Sneaking around in the dark? So cliché." She pushed her hood down as she stood from the ladder. Her expression was one of pure exhaustion, but the kind that lacked peace rather than rest. "If you're here to speak with him, I'm afraid he needs his beauty rest. Hopefully, this is the last night he'll need my assistance." He frowned in concern looking at his charge, but a deep inhale as he stood dispelled it.

"That's fine, he shouldn't hear what I have to say anyway." She wrung her hands together anxiously, as if ready to jump out of her skin.

"Quite the paradox. This is why I make sure never to fall in love."

"Don't tell him I was here." They shared a pained look before he mounted the ladder he slid down to sit at his desk.

Alone with Cullen, she knelt beside the bed, since he was rolled on his side. Her eyes swept up his face taking in the rejuvenating effects of sleep. He looked younger when the stress and weight of his symptoms were forgotten and the creases of his skin were smoothed. His lips were just parted, allowing a stream of warm breath out at her. Though his skin was still pale, lacking its warm underglow, it was no longer clammy or feverish. A gentle finger traced his face from his forehead down to his stubbly chin.

Tilting her head to the side to match his angle, a soft smile graced her lips, having already relaxed from his presence alone, "If only things were as simple as this, as innocent as your sleep. I came here because I'm lost. It's like I've been thrown into a pit and forced to dig it deeper every day. The light above is fading and there was a time when you always saved me from getting too deep. I fear now that I won't be able to climb out." Though her voice was soft and steady, she caught a twitch in his fingers.

She caressed his face with her whole hand now. The faint green glow illuminated his face casting half in a shadow. She sighed, "What I wouldn't give to go back to South Reach with you, live simply with your family. You probably think I'd hate that, but that's far from the truth." She chuckled lightly, "You and I are getting too old for this shit - the fighting, the politics. When this is over, let's just run away. Let the others sort things out, we've given as much blood and sweat to this cause as any, and the least they can do is leave us alone... if there is an us. I suppose it's just a pleasant fantasy now after everything I've done. I know that your trust, once broken, can never be regained, so I have no expectation of forgiveness." She sat back on her heels, "I don't know what I expect or if I will even be able to get out of this mess." Against her better judgment, she pressed a lingering kiss on his forehead. The simple act flooded her with a plethora of warm feelings as if she had dipped herself in a hot bath. She tingled all over as every fiber pulsed back to life. Closing her eyes, still close to him, smelling his various scents, Evelyn took one more moment to savor the sensation of their closeness.

Opening her eyes, she stepped back and the further away she got, the colder and darker it became. Sliding down the ladder, she met Dorian's eyes for a second before fading back through Skyhold to her chambers. Lying in bed, she tried to relive the moment in her mind's eye, and though it fell short missing the sensory details, it was enough to invoke a peaceful slumber.

The next morning, she awoke with a start, "Good morning, Inquisitor." Ryker sat with his leg crossed and fingers tented gazing over at her from the day bed. "I hope I didn't startle you."

Rubbing the sleep frantically from her eyes, she sat up, "How did you get in here?"

"Pff, I paid off your servant, how else? The same way I found out who you visited last night." Though bathed in bright morning light, his face darkened. "I told you to stay away from him. And I think I've been rather lenient as of late, so now I must exact punishment."

"How is it you expect obedience from a woman you've tormented for years? On what grounds do you dare to demand such respect?" Unsure of where the sudden fire sparked from within her, something, perhaps her visit to Cullen last night, had rekindled some of the old Evelyn back to life.

Getting up from the bed, she gracefully stalked towards him, one foot after another. Releasing a mind blast spell that sent him flying off the couch and to the floor, then again into the wall. "You call me an abomination, yet I don't actually think you know just how much of one I am. Go ahead, silence me, Templar, if you can." Snarling with a crooked smile at the challenge, he obliged her. The first merely took her breath away as she took another step toward him. "Pathetic." The next blast hit her harder, staggering her but still she came at him, "Is that all you've got!" Visibly enraged now, he threw every last ounce of his augmented strength behind it. She winced, having to take a knee, but rose again to her feet with fire dancing at her fingertips.

She laughed at him wickedly, "Look at what the rebel Templars and their red lyrium have made me into, not to mention the gift from Corypheus." The mark flickered to life and she held it out to him. He backed away reluctant to show her weakness, yet he was fearful having now witnessed the full extent of her corruption. She let the grip on her mana go, standing before him with a serious countenance, "Remember, that while you may have the means to command me now, one day when all my enemies lay dead, you'll be next." The Inquisitor walked over to her half-eaten breakfast shoving the muffin in her mouth.

Ryker was beside himself, looking like he wanted to rip her apart with his hands. Continuing to eat her breakfast with an unamused stare, he left with one final warning, "I will be back to collect my punishment. You've gone too far this time, darling." The ex-Templar's look could've killed as he descended the stairs and slammed the door. She blinked and exhaled, knowing that he'd make good on his threat, and she'd regret having ever provoked him. Yet, there was only so much she could take, and after her one-sided talk with Cullen, it had emboldened her. It had made her remember who she was and what had been taken from her. Ryker's blackmailing had cost her dearly, but she was determined in the end to make sure he knew one way or another just how far she'd go to see him burn.

 

---

 

Cullen awoke with renewed vigor, having had Dorian stay with him one last night to keep him all but sedated. After a terrible few weeks of fighting off his relapse, it had left him exhausted physically and mentally. Having returned from a productive workout in the ring and hearty breakfast, he was making up the work from the past weeks that he had set aside. The day was going smoothly when he had an unexpected visitor trespass in his solitary tower.

"Commander Rutherford, I don't suppose you could spare a moment for a fellow ex-Templar?" Though he asked, having not yet heard his answer, Lord Armand stepped inside already familiarizing himself with his office. He slowly walked about the room studying everything with his hand clasped behind his back, "I had hoped to speak with you about a troubling message I received from a Templar by the name of Raleigh Sampson. Have you heard of him?" Cullen picked his head up from his desk at the name, "You are familiar with him then?"

"Of course. We served together in Kirkwall for a time. He was my bunkmate until he was expelled from the Order. Now he serves Corypheus, and you had contact with him?"

"Yes, months ago he wanted me to help supply his forces with food, which I refused. The Inquisitor is well aware. I have no desire to serve others anymore, especially those who don't pay. When I refused he tried to persuade me by offering to give me a more powerful form of lyrium. I wonder if you know of it?"

"Red lyrium, yes I am... familiar." Everyone, especially Templars, knew about it after the events in Kirkwall. Something in the way the man walked and his choice of words had Cullen on edge. Aside from the fact that this was the man responsible for taking Evelyn away from him, while in Kirkwall, Cullen had developed a better knack for when people were trying to deceive him, and the more he watched the lord's easy-going manner, the more suspicious he became.

"I refused it, but I find my curiosity is getting the better of me. How exactly is it more powerful?"

Ever weary of the corruption of the addiction to lyrium of any kind, he chose his words carefully, "Whether it is more powerful, I cannot say, we don't know much about it yet to safely say. However, we do know it is inherently evil. You would do well to avoid it for the sake of your sanity, especially if you're still taking regular draughts of lyrium." He knew the man was, sensing it on him anytime he was in the same room as him. Knowing he wasn't getting it from the Chantry, he must have contacts within the Carta supplying him, like everyone else these days.

"Evie, I mean, the Inquisitor has told me the same." The man wore a grin that was hard to read. It was genuine, but his eyes made it seem as if there was something hidden behind it. "She said the Red Templars corrupted her magic with it. Bent her to their will."

"I'm surprised she'd speak of it. It was a particularly traumatizing experience for her. Though I don't remember her doing their bidding, it was more of the lyrium that sought control of her, but she fought it."

"I see. I suppose her strong will saved her yet again." A thoughtful faraway look had his eyes glazing over. "Well, she wanted me to be aware of the effects of it on her mana being that I will soon be her only sentinel, to whom her wellbeing will rely completely." He flashed the same goading smile again. His anger peaked slightly, but he suppressed it, remembering that the man had no idea of Evelyn's former attachment to him, so it had to be a coincidence. What reason would she have to tell him? "From one Templar to another, I wanted to know if there was anything specific I could do to help her."

"Not that I'm aware. The Inquisitor is one of the most responsible and experienced mages I've met, she knows the dangers and has been monitoring her mana since losing control of it."

"You mean after she took red lyrium?" Cullen eyed the man suspiciously, saying nothing. "Right, of course. It's hard to keep up with all her issues."

Armand half-heartily laughed, but the former Knight-Commander saw no humor in it, "Regardless of leaving the Order, as former Templars, you and I owe it to her and other mages to keep our oath of protection for the sake of the mages and of the people of Thedas. The Inquisitor's "issues" must be taken seriously and with compassion, for they were not done to her on her own volition. She was forced to drink the red lyrium and now lives with the consequences of it. Between the mark and her increased power, she's somehow keeping it all in tight control through her will alone. Surely, you feel the struggle and the way her magic spikes at times?"

"Of course," he said with a frown before it relaxed, "I only meant to say that our training didn't exactly cover it. I didn't mean to upset you, Commander. I had no idea a man with your reputation had such a soft spot for mages." Cullen hated when he heard that of his reputation and he found himself clenching his jaw tight, but his gut was telling him not to engage this man. Seeing him shift uncomfortably, Armand continued, "Apologies, it is not a weakness. I was just pleased to hear my Evelyn is surrounded by those who do not judge her for what she is."

The Commander cleared his throat, his Evelyn, he scoffed in his mind unable to help the jealousy as it surfaced. His hand gripped the pommel of his sword a little tighter. Thankfully, a messenger arrived with a field report out of the Emerald Graves about the red lyrium smuggling operation there, "If you'd excuse me, my lord, this requires my immediate attention." He turned his back on the man pretending to read the report, though all the while listening for his exit. When he was at last alone, he placed the report on his desk and headed for the Herald's Rest where he'd no doubt find Owayne. Something was indeed amiss.

Chapter 22: Intervention

Summary:

Cullen has had enough and calls for the council to intervene.

"Evelyn, darling, did you hear me?" She was still reeling from the hit, feeling the blood gush from her nose. She held out her hand trying not to get any on her clothes. Ilara took a step towards her, but Ryker held a hand up to halt her. "Answer me," he growled.

 

Slumped against the stained-glass window of her room, she watched as a few drops of blood decorated it, falling slowly like raindrops. Ryker had come in like a whirling tempest. She and Ilara had been getting ready to open a note sent by raven from Henley and Sorin. They knew it was from them when they saw the lightning ward sealing the note. The distinct feel of Sorin's magic was still strong so she knew it hadn't been tampered with. She had just dispelled it when the ex-Templar lunged at her and hit her square in the face with a hard blow. He was in such a rage that he didn't notice the note that Ilara had discreetly shoved under her carpet.

 

She winced, with a sharp inhale trying to clear her nasal passage, "I heard you.”

 

"And what did I say? Since you don't seem to want to listen!"

 

"That I have three days to either… bed you or you'll give Cullen red lyrium."

 

"That's right. I've found all manner of people through my contacts and one is a black-market alchemist. Now, she says she can take the glow and color from lyrium with one of her concoctions. All I'd have to do is just make sure he can't sense it, which will be simple enough to cover with my high lyrium intake and slip it in his drink." He laughed, "You should've seen him squirm when I spoke with him the other day, he could hardly stand me!"

 

He hadn't mentioned that he knew about Cullen not taking Lyrium, but regardless, she could not let him do it. "Fine, I'll do it. When..."

 

"Oh no, Trevelyan, you will surprise me. I want you to come to me willingly and your performance will need to be convincing or I'll make good on my threat to your dear Commander. As I said, you have three days to prepare yourself for the experience. I wouldn't want to rush you." He looked to Ilara, "You can tend to her now. I’m done here." Snarling, he stomped out and the Enchanter quickly bent to her task.

 

After at least a dozen of similar encounters, Ilara finally stopped crying afterward. She was developing a thicker skin, and while Evelyn regretted how it came about, she was glad to see her friend toughen up. After her nose was healed, she used extra mana to stop the bruising before it appeared. When she finished, the Inquisitor simply reclined back against the window taking some deep breaths. When her friend passed her the note, she asked her to read it, "It says, One down, one to go. How do they know there is only one more set?"

 

"They must've found something, maybe a note or letter saying as much. That just leaves the third and final set in Ryker's possession. We'll have to figure something out. We can't let him send them out before we kill him."

 

Ilara's eyes grew wide, "So, you are planning to kill him?"

 

The Phoenix stared straight ahead unblinking, "He will feel my wrath even if I have to get singed myself. And I'll make sure he's dead this time."

 

"Are you really going to sleep with him? Surely, Cullen can handle trouble? I've seen him around Aeron, he's suspicious of him, and he'd not want you to…"

 

"He's not taking lyrium, Lar! Maybe if he had been he'd have more tolerance to it, but I'm afraid if he took red lyrium he'd lose his soul to it! I know firsthand what it will do. Not to mention we don't even know how much Ryker has in his possession. Look at what a small amount did to Henley, I fear even a shot of it would be enough to take Cullen's mind. I can't take that risk." She couldn't bear the thought of him going through the madness she had endured. Paired with his past trauma, it'd be too much for him right now. "I have no choice, not when we are so close to thwarting him. If I have to sacrifice my dignity to save him, so be it. I'd gladly give more than that to keep him safe.. Besides, once Cullen finds out I even let Ryker breathe the same air as me, he'll never speak to me again."

 

"So…"

 

"So, in three days if we don't hear from the boys, then I'll have to go to him." She looked over to the assortment of alcohol about her desk, sighing heavily, "I may be needing a lot more of that, despite my mother finally leaving Skyhold."

 

"The Ambassador was able to do it then? When does she leave?"

 

Evelyn pointed up to the bottle of whiskey, still nursing her nose. As Ilara poured her a glass, she sniffled and spoke, "She was, I'm glad I enlisted her aid rather than do it myself. Josie is a miracle worker when it comes to these things and Lord Trumbull was even more thrilled that he'd have a sister-in-law marked by Andraste. She leaves in four days for Tantervale to help Ariella with her wedding preparations."

 

"I don't care how she did it, I'm just happy our dear 'Lord Armand' will be down an ally. Let him try and act like a noble now that his mentor is leaving."

 

"And let's pray Henley and Sorin are close to completing their mission. I'm worried sick for them. My gut can't help but feel Ryker has something brewing."

 

"You think he knows what we're doing?" Her voice was a whisper as they remembered they could be watched.

 

"I don't think so but, he seems to always have something worse planned each time I overstep." She sighed frustratingly, "I'm so tired, Lar." She leaned her head on the blonde's shoulder. Sipping her drink and closing her eyes, she let her friend fuss over her this time. It was the only love and affection she had to comfort her having distanced herself from all her friends. She was getting lonelier by the day as all of her companions were incredibly perceptive. Every interaction turned into an interrogation and she was mentally exhausted. All she could do was pray that it would all be over soon.

 

---

 

Three days had come and gone with no word from Henley and Sorin. Evelyn had skipped dinner in the Great Hall to mentally prepare herself for what had to be done. She had only herself to blame for provoking Ryker, and now she needed to protect Cullen from a fate worse than death. She thought too that while there, she could find where he was keeping their phylacteries for when it was time to destroy them. At this point, giving him what he wanted in exchange for finding a way to rid herself of him for good outweighed her dignity. What was more shame piled on what she had accumulated over the past year and a half? 

 

She took the decanter of wine and poured herself a glass, then another, and another until she had a bottle under her belt. The warm numbness of the wine was better than the cold numbness she had been feeling of late. With her pride and care drowning in alcohol, she stripped and went to the wardrobe to find the Orlesian silk nightgown Ryker had bought her. It was floor-length with a slit that went as high as the scar on her hip. The silk encompassing her upper body was pulled tight leaving little to the imagination. Unlike everything else he had bought her, it wasn't black but a deep blood red. She pulled a heavy housecoat around her, and before she could come to her senses, she descended the steps out of her room.

 

It was an hour before midnight when she glided through the halls to the guest rooms. Thankfully, the stairwell to her chambers connected directly to the hall of the guest wing. She opened the door a crack making sure it was vacant of any eyes. As swift as her swaying legs would take her, she turned right, heading for his door at the end of the hall. She stopped outside of it to steal herself, mind and body, for what needed to be done. Her mind absently wandered to Cullen and how much he'd hate her for doing this. She knew he'd rather die before she gave herself to this man, but Cullen's life was so much more precious to her. Knowing that he'd be safe was worth it, and hopefully, he'd never have to find out about this. When and if she ever told the truth, she knew he'd never look at her again. Perhaps it would make moving on easier for him, but the thought of seeing him with another woman nauseated her.

 

She gave herself a mental slap as the wine stirred her feelings up distracting her from her mission. Loosening the opening of her robe made her stomach sour, as did the thought that she knew he'd like it. Before she could turn back she opened the door. She didn't bother knocking, why would she? She was the Inquisitor and this was still her home. Through the dark of the room, a soft glow emanated from the slit in the bedroom doorway. She could hear voices though his was more pronounced than the other. Who would he be talking to at this hour, especially when he was expecting her? Creeping forward she peered in only just making out Ryker smiling fiendishly on the bed. His chest was bare, and he occasionally reached a hand down to slap at a lump under the covers. As she watched for another minute, it became clear what was going on.

 

She barged into the room startling them, though her betrothed quickly recovered, merely looking at her with amusement. Ryker was in the center of the bed holding both arms out to either side as he welcomed her. The mumbling she had heard was giggles coming from the lump underneath the blankets. "Well, well look who's finally here. I'm afraid my dear, I'm a bit indisposed at present. I didn't expect you until later, but you are welcome to join us." Each maddening breath she pulled in brought forth more of her mana. Whoever was hiding beneath the covers was a mage and a young one at that. The thought that he was preying on her mages infuriated her, more than the fact that he had humiliated her. She fingered the edge of the covers, watching his face twist to a dark frown, "Don't..."

 

Grabbing the covers, even as he warned against it, she threw them off him and his bedmate. The blonde woman, no longer giggling at the sight of the Inquisitor fuming before her, jumped out and pleaded with her. Adverting her eyes from the naked pair, she merely commanded that she was 'dismissed' and without hesitation, grabbed her clothing and exited the room. Evelyn's chest heaved and her eyes were aflame as she started wildly at him waiting to hear the door to the hall close.

 

"How dare you disrespect me to my subordinates! I don't think you understand what you've done. This," she pointed between the two of them, "will become nothing but a joke - although it always was. Do you know how quickly gossip spreads here? You're going to ruin my credibility and reputation!"

 

He jumped out of bed slipping on his pants, but didn't bother to tie them, "I don't give a fuck about your credibility or Inquisition! If I had it my way we'd be back at my estate right now! The Inquisition is weakening the South by diving loyalties. The people should be looking to their monarchs, not some bannerless band of outcasts grabbing at power. Whose leader is a mage, of all fucking things, that uses our divine Lady to assume authority over the righteous!" Aggrieved by the interruption, an all too familiar look overtook his face and she suddenly felt as if she was back in the Circle. He grabbed her by the throat slamming her up against the wall. Her mana ignited, but so too did his Templar abilities and they readied themselves for a fight.

 

Before anything happened though, he kissed her. He pressed his body against her, trapping her between him and the wall where she had little to no room to pull away. His touch was like the Void, sucking the mana out of her like a siphon. She kneed him in the gut, just missing the groin, but he laughed maniacally undeterred. Knowing what he'd do, despite the consequences, she conjured a flame in her hand. As it surged with her magic, he drew back hitting her with the cold rush of his lyrium-fueled power, dispelling the flame.

 

Taking the hit well, she moved to the center of the room. A dangerous look caught fire in her eye as the overwhelming aura of her inner fire engulfed the room. Ryker paled for a moment as the heat swallowed him and knew how pathetically outmatched he was. "Touch me again without my permission and I will set fire to everything and everyone in this room until all that remains is ash." The pulsating glow of her blood looked more like small magma flows reaching up her neck. He tried to hide his rising fear with disgust, but it was already too late and it gave her the courage to go on. "I told you, you're going to have to take substantially more lyrium if you wish to control me. Even Seeker Pentaghast cannot silence me without the aid of other Templars." She stood her ground looking down at him.

 

"You're an abomination!"

 

"I may be a different monster than what I was back in Ostwick to you, but it's because I'm a survivor, and never underestimate one unless you know what they've done to stay alive." Her marked hand flickered to life, melding the orange and green into a haunting hue against the walls of the room. "I warned you, I'm a Templar's worst fucking nightmare," she slowly started toward him, "and before I allow you to ruin my friends and the Inquisition, I will pull you into this fire with me and we'll burn together." She increased the intensity of the magic crackling through the room. Ryker tried to protect himself in a barrier of his own, but she overpowered it easily.

 

Sweat dripped from him and he was beginning to have trouble breathing as the room became hot as an oven. "Stop!" He pleaded though it was not from weakness, "I will consider your punishment done if you just leave me!" Increasing the heat until he began to choke she finally relented quelling her aura. He ran to the window opening it up in a frantic quest for air. Sucking in the mountain air, it was her turn, as she grabbed him by the back of the neck and using a mind blast, shot him into the wall.

 

His nose cracked against it, instantly breaking, "Consider us even. Goodnight." The fury of a raging inferno gripped her she stomped out of the room and down the hall. If she had been thinking properly she would have returned the way she came, but the long hall satisfied her need to cool off her rage. Her magic crackled in the air around her, and the glow of fire pulsed through her veins made brighter by her lack of proper attire.

 

She all but tore the door to the Great Hall off its hinges as she entered. The sound of the door hitting the wall echoed around the vast space along with her unladylike language. All the fires in the dark room sputtered and flared significantly in reaction to the aura of rage that consumed her. Bringing her glare off of the ground, she stopped suddenly to find she startled the only two occupants of the hall. Dorian and Cullen both turned at the noise and froze looking at her as if she was the last person they expected to come through that door. They sat at the table in front of the large fireplace that was normally occupied by their resident author, with a game of chess in the works.  

 

She considered for a moment how this must look to them, as a draft caught her and she remembered her robe was scandalously open revealing the silky nightgown. Not sparing a look at how Cullen was reacting, instead, she focused on Dorian and his roaming eyes analyzing her. She was sure whatever clues of what she was doing at this late hour that Cullen was missing Dorian would fill in for him. Thoroughly convinced that nothing she could say or do would improve their perception of her, she continued her brisk march back to her quarters as silk billowed about her legs.

 

She couldn't chance a glance at either of them as she passed; she didn't want to see the disappointment and disgust that was certainly there. She looked elsewhere about the room and realized all she wanted to do was break something. A tray of wine glasses had been left by the servants on one of the tables and in passing she grabbed it and cast a mind blast spell at the door to her stairwell, flinging it open. Looking back down the hall at the two men, she saw they were watching her - judging her - the whole time, so she made sure to slam the door behind her.

 

She set the tray on the stone railing, placing her hands on either side of it. Her simmering rage had created an inescapable aura that was suffocating even her now. How did it come to this? How did she let it come to this? Things were quickly spiraling out of her control. She was to blame after all, maybe she should've just killed him right there in the courtyard when he first arrived; act first, ask for forgiveness later sort of thing. Ethereal flames appeared around her as the eternal flame of her mana threatened to be unleashed. Her nails dug into the stone banister and she let out a small groan at the searing heat.

 

Having had her eyes shut tight, fighting an inner battle, she jumped at the sound of her name being called from behind. The flames about her were pulled suddenly from the air as if a vacuum had materialized sucking it back in at the sound of his voice. She wiped her tears and running nose away with the palms of her hands before answering. Cullen was not supposed to see her like this, not in control. He was supposed to be out there venting his hatred of her to Dorian after what they had just witnessed. He didn't say anything but just looked at her with pity. Pity. What did he have to feel sorry for her about?

 

"I felt your magic spiking. Are you alright?"

 

She gave a sarcastic laugh through sniffles despite his sincerity, "Yes, Cullen, clearly I'm fine! Why the fuck wouldn't I be! Clearly…" her voice broke off after getting caught in her throat and she turned away from him sobbing. "If you knew what I've been forced to do--"

 

"Forced?" His expression darkened. "Forced?" He repeated it and she knew she made a mistake. He wasn't going to let it go this time as she instantly regretted her choice of words.

 

"You need to leave me, this is my doing."

 

"You're playing the protector again, aren't you? Who are you protecting and from what? Why are you doing it alone?" His questions sounded like pleas. He stepped close enough that she could see the jagged line of his scar through her teary eyes.

 

"Stop trying to save me, I don't deserve it!" Her lip quivered at the truth of it. She had caused so much emotional damage how could she ever be redeemed in his eyes?

 

"Are you truly so far into the darkness that you can no longer see? You are the Phoenix, where is your fire?" He looked at her with desperation. He knew her as well as she knew him. They had shared so much of themselves with each other, and in the past weeks, she had forgotten just how connected they had become. Yet, through it all their bond remained strong.

 

Spinning around, she flipped the tray of glasses off the railing. They shattered about the stairwell and the tray clattered around on the stone below. When the echo died, she wheeled around again. "You of all people should hate me for what I've done! Why--"

 

"Because I--"

 

"Don't say it!" She grabbed his shirt pulling him against her. Their foreheads touched, "Don't you dare say it." Undeterred, locking eyes with her, his lips parted to speak the forbidden phrase, so she kissed him instead. She didn't care about the consequences if someone was watching, she just needed to feel something she knew only he could stir within her. He returned her kiss with more fervent affection. Time slowed in his embrace, and her hands grabbed at any part of him they could from his hair to his waist. Cullen was doing the same, but moved his mouth to her throat as he liked, making her sigh his name like a prayer. Amid their passion, she touched an inner peace that cooled her fire, flushing from her mind of all other thoughts and worries. Only they existed in that moment, desperately trying to cling to it. Looking up at the tall ceiling of her tower, sense began to reassert itself and with a whine, she pushed him away. How could she be so stupid as to lead him on, "No, this is wrong. I can't do this to you."

 

"Maker's breath, Evelyn," he panted, "Tell me what's going on. Let me help you." The words were a promise to lift her out of the pit of darkness in which she was trapped. She wanted more than anything to tell him, to let him save her. Despite everything he hadn't given up on her. And yet...

 

"I can't." Her words had a finality about them. Tears began to swell up again and her voice barely squeaked out from her throat as she repeated the words. He let her go from his embrace taking the warmth with him. He made for the door only pausing for a moment before lifting the latch, seemingly having to force himself through the door.

 

Sagging to the floor, she gathered her robe around her, it now being her only solace, and sobbed until there were no more tears left to cry. No one was going to save her; she always knew it, but in that moment, she felt it more keenly than ever. What made things worse was the way she was hurting Cullen. The poor man had enough weighing on his mind without her breaking his heart. Somehow, she picked herself up and trudged up the stairs to her room emptied of emotion.

 

Sitting in front of the dying fire, she resigned herself to the unfortunate truth; there was no coming away from this clean either way. They were no longer in the Circle; he had no real authority over her, the Inquisitor. She didn't get that title from backing down from a fight. Ryker may have broken her wings, but he forgot about her claws. She was The Phoenix, and like the bird of legend, she'd rise from the ashes to fly again stronger than ever.

 

As night turned to dawn, the flames of the fire before her roared to life she felt a new resolve. An idea flickered to life in her mind. He thought he owned her, that she was a puppet to dance to his every command, but she would test the strength of those strings. Having already done so twice and seeing the fear that she could instill in him, she had some leverage. He would have to tread carefully if he wanted to keep up his charade and concede some of his power to her. As her plan was in full motion with her mother leaving today and hopefully the remaining phylacteries destroyed by now, Ryker had no idea of the reckoning coming for him.

 

She went to dress knowing everyone would be gathering for breakfast soon. Though she didn't have one wink of sleep, she was past the point of exhaustion, but her defiance fueled her every action. She inspected herself in the mirror seeing her red puffy eyes and splashed cold water on them. To her pleasant affirmation, Cullen had left marks on her neck like she was counting on. The spotting would no doubt draw her mother's attention, perfect, she thought. She took out a light cotton shirt she typically spared in paired with her unusual pants and boots. Tucking the shirt in, she fluttered the neckline about loosely until it rested so the smallest bit of the Commander's marks was visible. Quickly twisting her hair into a low messy bun, she was ready.

 

As expected, everyone was gathered at the table quietly enjoying their meal or reading reports. Ryker, Owayne, and her mother were seated at one end of the table, and Cullen and Dorian at the other. In between was Leliana, Josephine, Varric, and Ilara just as it used to be for dinners before her mother spoiled things. It seems they were all there to see her off, no doubt as excited as Evelyn was. There was a bowl of fruit perfectly positioned in the center of the table near her mother. Saying her good mornings along with a special greeting for her mother's last breakfast with them, the Inquisitor caught the attention of all as she nonchalantly reached for an apple nice and slow...

 

"Really, Evelyn, cover yourself up!" Her mother's eye for flaws had sprung the trap. Everyone looked up from their current occupation at Lady Trevelyan's scandalous phrasing. Ryker chewed on a sausage while looking her over with a critical eye. Despite the broken nose, it seemed he had got it healed and even put makeup on it to dull the bruising. It was still discolored enough if one looked closely to see something was off.

 

"What are you talking about, Mother?" She said in an indifferent tone, looking down at herself shrugging.

 

The matron tried to keep her voice down, pulling her daughter by the shoulder down close, but the others at the table were silent enough that she might as well have not even tried. "Your neck. The two of you need to practice more discretion before you're wed. We don't need any question when it comes to your virginity." Ryker looked up and his brows dropped down low as he noticed the spotting along the length of her neck. She watched intently as the color on his face rose.

 

With no tact whatsoever, she replied in her normal voice, "Oh, well that ship has long sailed, but not to worry mother, these aren't from him." Cullen choked and sputtered out the tea he was drinking. She smiled wickedly at Ryker as he looked from her to the Commander. The amused looks and suppressed laughter of all at the table were clear.

 

"Evelyn Althea Trevelyan!" She rolled her eyes at the use of her full name as if a child, "You are a lady and I expect you to act like one!"

 

"No mother. I'm the Inquisitor, let's not forget that," she set her raptor gaze on her fiancée, "let none of us forget that." The hour bell rang and the advisors rose from their seats to head for the War Room for their morning meeting. Josie passed her some notes that she began shuffling through delaying her from following the council in.

 

Ryker shot up looking ready to shred her to pieces, "My lady, may I have a private word with you?"

 

She looked up from the letters looking unamused and unflinching. His face contorted in rage, but he reluctantly quelled it as those around her tensed ready to come to her defense. All eyes were on him, and she could tell by his nervous ticking that it was uncomfortable for him. He was a Templar grunt, not born of the nobility with a real penchant for attention except in front of few. Now he stood among her friends, her allies, all deadly and dangerous in their own rights. With her mother leaving soon, she wanted him to know just how alone he was.

 

Looking to her advisors who were now waiting by the door to Josephine's office, she told them she'd be a moment. "Would you like another scone while we wait, Josie?" Leliana said light and airy.

 

"Yes, I think I would. Commander, there's one blueberry left, your favorite?"

 

"Thank you, Ambassador." The three stood watching them in solidarity. Though their expressions were calm on the surface, there was no hiding the threat beneath.

 

"Come, my lord, just over here." She led him to the dais and faced him away from their watchful eyes so he could spew whatever threats at her he wished without them seeing. She knew her Spymaster and Ambassador could read lips, so even she would need to be careful. With that in mind, and with a stern look as she put herself close to his face, she spoke trying not to move her lips too much, "Before you threaten me, keep in mind we are being watched closely by two experts of The Game. Every move and sound you make could give you away."

 

"Fine, " he said clenching every body part of his so tightly, she thought he'd explode like gaatlok, "What in Andraste's fucking name do you think you're doing?"

 

She placed her marked hand gently on his chest, knowing it made him uncomfortable, "As much as you believe you are in control, you're frightened of me." The mark on her hand sparked as he eyed it, "Without me, you're nothing, you have nothing. Last night, you damaged my reputation and by doing so, hurt the Inquisition. That mage is no doubt telling everyone she knows about what happened. A relationship goes two ways, and if you'd like to be spiteful and vengeful then I will too."

 

"Do you forget who has your phylacteries, you stupid whore, before you spread your legs for him?"

 

"No, I didn't. But if you forfeit them, then you give up the one thing you want and need the most. Me. As you can see, one word and my friends here will have you torn to shreds. The only thing stopping them from doing so is my good will. I wonder, are you willing to sacrifice me so readily?" They held each other in an intense gaze. She was taking a huge risk, but he had built a future for them in the Free Marches and if he had to guess, it would take more for him to destroy his well-laid plans. He went to speak, but she shushed him, "For the record, I kissed him, nothing more."

 

"What about before all this? Did you let him fuck you?"

 

"No, I've never laid with him." She knew it was a sore point for him, and that perhaps if he knew that it would temper his reaction. He paused narrowing his eyes at her, mulling it over in his head. "Now, if you don't mind, my lord, I have work to do."

 

"One more thing," he halted her, getting even closer now, "I knew you'd do something stupid like this, so I no longer feel guilty about sending Ser Ryker Aeron's account of the fall of Ostwick's Circle to every important person Lord Armand knows and to the White Spire. It was his last testimony before succumbing to his fatal wounds inflicted by you. It does not paint you in a very flattering light. It'll probably take some time for news to circulate, but give it a few days and all of Thedas will be prattling on about it." Her eyes grew wide at the realization of what he had done, "I assure you the account is quite damning and it will take all the influence of the Inquisition to get you out of this one, including enlisting the help of your dearest fiancée. " She stuttered her gaping mouth, "That's right darling, you keep thinking that you have power over me. Take care, or you will find every Templar here with a copy of it in their hands, and we'll see then how you like it when I set fire to your own home. Now, run along to your little meeting." He swaggered away over to her mother who wore a worried expression as if he was calling off the engagement. With a sigh of relief, he hooked arms with her, and the two waltzed out of the Great Hall.

 

"Inquisitor?" While the ladies had already started for the War Room, the Commander stayed behind. She shook herself, scrambling as to what to do about this new development. Should she tell them? They would want to know how she knew and the truth of it was messy. A hand went to rub at her forehead, trying to sort through the pieces, completely ignoring the man walking now beside her. When they were alone before the War Room doors, he stopped her with an arm corralling her gently up against the wall. She winced, becoming used to what usually comes next, "Maker, what do you think I'm going to do to you? I wasn't going to," he hushed his words, "kiss you again. I just want to know what in the Void that was out there?"

 

She relaxed slightly, but her mind was still far away working the problem, "What are you talking about?"

 

"You used me for whatever game you're playing with your fiancée," he was scowling at her. "So, since you've involved me, you'll tell me what's going on, now." He wasn't asking, it was a command.

 

"I can't do this now, Cullen. I have a bigger problem."

 

"A bigger--" he clamped his jaw shut tight before, as his anger rose, "I can't bloody keep up with you! I find you all but losing control last night and you kiss me, then this morning you're throwing my feelings to the wind - not to mention in Armand's face - uncaring of how I feel now that everyone knows about us!" He paused to let it sink in, "Damnit Evelyn, tell me what's going on?!"

 

She could still feel that her eyes were wide and her breathing was shallow. Looking down at her feet feeling ashamed that she had done that, having only thought about revenge, she couldn't meet his eyes, "Last night before you saw me, I found him in bed with another woman."

 

Reluctantly, she raised her gaze finding his full of apoplexy, "So, I was just revenge then?"

 

"No!"

 

"I was… To think I thought for a moment…" The look of immense disappointment on his face and in his tone was like a dagger to the heart.

 

"No, you weren't! Cullen…" He looked as if the wind was knocked out of him. "Maker, that's not what it was, I--" She placed both hands on his breastplate, "I swear at that moment, I had no intention of it. I don't care who he beds! How do I explain..."

 

He grasped her wrists, pulling them off of him, "Why do you not care? Right, I forgot nobles sleep with anyone but their spouse. I suppose Armand saved me from that fate."

 

Her head snapped to him, suddenly enraged at what he was implying. She slapped him, "How dare you! I--" A swift and thundering rage overwhelmed her as a fireball formed in her fist and she threw it at the far wall, "Fuck!"

 

"Evelyn," it was a warning, knowing he was feeling the swell of her mana bubbling to the surface.

 

She growled, "You have no idea, what I've been dealing with!" Her mood swung suddenly, as her rage was replaced with despair. A sob escaped her, "This meeting is postponed, tell the others." He called after her but she had run down the hall through the Ambassador's office and out into the Great Hall. Quickly heading up into her room, she locked the door and sat out on the balcony that faced out to the vast nothingness of the Frostbacks. Breathing in the cool air to temper her inner fire, she threw her head back against the stone wall. Things were out of control from recent events to her emotions, and chaos reigned. Maker, what was she going to do?

 

---

 

Something had to be done. He could no longer stand by and watch her destroy herself over this man, nor did he wish to be a pawn in whatever in the bloody Void she was doing. Especially when she so obviously still had feelings for him as she proved to him last night. At least he thought so. Things were unclear, and although he had been wounded by her, he knew with certainty that she was fighting Armand.

 

He tried to wrap his mind around the e events since the man's arrival. Everything seemed to have changed within the span of a day from their relationship to her personality. Then there was the paranoia associated with her personal staff, the heavy drinking, mood swings, and overall recklessness.

 

Cullen paced the length of the hall outside of the War Room like a caged lion, trapped by options due to his inaction. The best he could come up with was that she was being blackmailed, but he was missing key pieces to the puzzle. She had said she was being forced to do something. But what in Andraste's name could Armand be holding over her to make her not ask for his help, let alone that of the Inquisition? Whatever it was had made her desperate, mostly likely because she was protecting someone or the Inquisition, and wanted no interference. He wondered despairingly what would kill her first, her stubbornness or her unwavering loyalty.

 

There had to be someone who knew, someone she confided in. Both Sorin and Henley were away on leave - leave which she had granted them personally and had extended with no explanation. Giving very little in the way of details as to what they were doing, he wondered if it was just another lie to cover up whatever it was she was scheming. If she were to trust anyone with secrets it would be her closest friends from Ostwick, Henley, Sorin, and... Ilara. Why didn't he think of her before? Perhaps because she was quiet, but now that he thought about it, he had hardly seen the mage, except for in Evelyn's presence. Wheels began turning in his mind, trying to find the connection, but he needed help.

 

He quickly popped his head into the room telling the other two he'd be back in a few minutes. He hurried to go fetch Owayne and tell him about last night, having no choice but to profess to the man that they had been seeing each other previous to Lord Armand's arrival. After the show at breakfast, however, her brother had assumed as much.

 

"I knew it! Let me guess, since Haven?" He was still dressed in his breakfast clothes, no doubt an attempt to appease his mother before seeing her off. Any other time Owayne looked rough, not being completely clean-shaven with well-worn garments and leather armor, but today he had on a royal blue silk shirt with a fine tan leather vest, pants, and boots.

 

"What? Maker, no! Since we went to Crestwood. I had only just met her at Haven."

 

"I can't believe she actually got one past me."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

He waved his hand dismissively at him, "I appreciate you telling me, although I knew the moment we met back at Haven she'd be drawn to you - don't let her tell you otherwise, I called it! You're exactly her type," Cullen raised an eyebrow at him, "But I digress, you're a good man, Cullen. I hope whatever it is that she's done it doesn't come between you." He just gave him a pained look, prompting Owayne to pat his shoulder before they went to find Cassandra.

 

Arriving at the sparring ring, she was watching a duel when the two approached, asking her to walk as they explained. "I see," she kept looking over at him, so he asked what she was staring at, "Are you feeling well your cheek is bright red?"

 

"Oh," he replied brushing some fingers across the area, "she hit me, but I deserved it."

 

Owayne stopped, causing the other two to do the same in the middle of the Great Hall, "And just what exactly did you say to Evie?" A tinge of anger was in his voice. "I may like you, but she's still my sister."

 

"Now's not the time. And keep your voice down, our... relationship should not be made public. Her safety is what's important now. Come, time is short." The nearly-identical sibling took a step closer to him as if trying to intimidate him, but backed down after Cullen raised his chin standing much taller than him.

 

"Oh, please," Cassandra rolled her eyes giving them both a shove, "Let's go or I'll punch you both." The men looked at each other shaking their heads, both knowing they wouldn't have done anything, they were just being men. Cassandra, however, wasn't having it and they both walked on using the momentum of her hard shove.

 

When the three arrived, it did not go unnoticed that there was one person conspicuously absent, though another Trevelyan had been brought in her stead. "Will the Inquisitor be joining us?" Leliana asked curiously.

 

"No," the Commander's simple answer garnered curious looks from the two advisors. "I've called this meeting because something needs to be done about the Inquisitor. I believe we've let this go on long enough, but the situation is now getting out of hand. Aside from the personal distress she seems plagued by, Lord Armand had interfered with our mission at the Winter Palace and potentially Evelyn's ability to steward us. For the good of the Inquisition's leadership and the Inquisitor, I propose an intervention of the council." The ladies looked at each other with knowing looks, making him believe they had similar thoughts.

 

"Agreed," Leliana spoke for them, "We've tried to speak with her about it but she insists she's alright, despite mounting evidence to the contrary. Just the other day, I stopped her from drinking a new acid for coating weapons Dagna developed."

 

"And Blackwall did quite a number on her sparring," Owayne stated while Cassandra and Leliana nodded. "The poor sod was beside himself."

 

"I hadn't heard, what happened?" Josephine's worried expression matched that of the other women as they drew in deep breaths. Cullen had heard there was an incident, but after being told she was fine, he didn't ask for particulars. Now, he couldn't help but wait with bated breath as Owayne went on to tell them about the bashing she took. And though the brother had not seen it personally, the account Bull gave said that she had purposely dropped her barrier before the hit.

 

When the Ambassador removed the hand from over her mouth, she went on to relate that she had enlisted her help in giving Lady Trevelyan incentive to leave Skyhold, to which Owayne folded his hands giving silent thanks. "The Inquisitor has always held duty above all else, including her own welfare," Josephine waved her quill about the air elegantly, "I'm sure if we present it to her that we believe her arrangement with Lord Armand is impeding her effectiveness as Inquisitor, she will--"

 

"Not listen and give us some excuse," he cut in a bit too harshly, wiping a hand down his face.

 

"Or slap us," he gave Cullen a coy pointed look. Cassandra punched his arm hard, though he looked like he enjoyed it.

 

Ignoring him, he continued," If she doesn't want to talk, then we find someone who will." Leliana perked up with a smirk at his words.

 

"Commander, you do impress me at times. What do you propose? Lord Trevelyan here knows nothing, we've already questioned him to a degree." Owayne scoffed at his easy dismissal.

 

"I know, that's not why he's here. I've asked him here because he is her brother and has every right to be involved in this." Cullen had siblings, he understood what he must be feeling watching his sister self-destruct helpless to do anything about it. "He's also going to bring Enchanter Ilara here for questioning immediately."

 

Leliana shook her head, "If you press her for answers, you risk raising the suspicion of the Inquisitor." Her steely blue eyes stared hard at him for a moment before catching on to where he was going, "But, if we are going to confront the Inquisitor either way, then…" Her gaze turned to Owayne, who nodded and all but ran to the doors.

 

"Oh dear, it seems Cassandra has fainted listening to the poem I wrote for her, I should go find a healer," he glanced back with a wink, slipping out the door, just dodging a thrown tankard from off the war table. Cassandra blushed, but the color seemed more due to embarrassment than anger.

 

As they listened to Owayne's footsteps fade, Leliana reached over to touch his arm. "Cullen, while I agree it is time to act, what happened to make you want to do this now? Does it have to do with what was said this morning?"

 

Josephine leaned in despite the four of them being alone, "And what you two were arguing about before we were supposed to meet?"

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a sharp breath, "You two are worse than my sisters at times, always prying into things, you know that?" They smiled, sharing one of their conspiratorial looks. "Cassandra at least leaves me alone about it."

 

She gave him a side glance, but then walked over to the group, "I'm well aware you know Evelyn and I share a tent among other things. I can keep a secret, unlike the two of you." She glared at him, and it dawned on him that Evelyn possibly told her about laughing at her choice of books.

 

Leliana crossed her arms, giving him a pointed look like one he'd expect from Mia, "It's only because we care, and love some good gossip. Strictly confidential gossip, that is."

 

"Besides, Lady Bann Trevelyan was right, you weren't very subtle about it. There will be rumors to contend with, but so long as they just stay rumors, then there is no harm. There is plenty of speculation out there about the Inquisitor and her private affairs to hide the truth." Josephine scolded as he blushed up to the tips of his ears. There was little he could do after spitting his drink out at breakfast paired with the evidence on her neck to deny they were together last night.

 

"I didn't know she was going to just announce it! It was a bit of a shock." They suppressed their laughs, knowing full well how flustered he gets. He cleared his throat and tried to calm the spread of heat on his face, trying to get back to the trouble at hand, "More seriously, she was in a bad way last night. I'm worried she's going to do something rash, something she'll regret. For the love of Andraste, she was in the stairwell throwing glasses at the wall with her magic spiraling out of control! When have you known her to act like that?" Their looks sobered, knowing that he was right. Even Cassandra's face dropped with a heartfelt sadness taking in his eyes. They all had seen things that concerned them, otherwise, they wouldn't have agreed so readily to proceeding with his plan. Evelyn was many things, but she tended to keep her more destructive emotions in check.

 

The thoughtful silence that followed allowed them to pick up voices coming from the hall outside the War Room. Cassandra walked over and placed her hands on the war table while the other three straightened and waited throwing glances back and forth to each other, readying themselves for what they were about to do. They were about to cross the divide between professional and personal privacy to demand answers from their leader. It wasn't a mutiny, but it damn well felt like one, especially when the Inquisitor's wrath was bound to come down upon them like the avalanche she caused at Haven. And had it not been for her reaction earlier to his words, he wouldn't be as anxious as he was now. She was potentially the most powerful mage in Thedas and he felt no shame in being partially frightened of what she could do to him.

 

In these types of situations, Leliana usually led, so he was resigned to letting her do her job, but one way or another he would have the answers he so badly wanted. The latch on the door clinked open and Ilara's slender frame stepped in with purpose until freezing at the sight of her supposed patient standing and seemingly fine. Her large blue eyes surveyed the room, and in seeing all the attention was on her, began smoothing down her enchanter robes.

 

"Seeker Cassandra… I, um… do you require assistance?" Owayne abruptly shut the door behind them and she jumped. Her long blond ponytail whipped around looking from Owayne to the advisors, her eyes widening with each pass. "What's going on? Where's Ev-- the Inquisitor?"

 

"Enchanter Ilara, please sit." As Leliana spoke, Owanye slid a chair over from against the wall, gesturing to her to obey. Cullen could see a slight tremble in her hands as she took the arms to sit. The Nightingale, having caught the scent of fear, sauntered forward. "We apologize for the way in which we brought you here, but we have an urgent matter to discuss with you regarding the Inquisitor."

 

"So, she doesn't know about this?" The woman looked like a frightened doe with her widening eyes as panic rose up. None of them answered which was enough for her to assume as much. "W-what could I possibly know that you do not, Sister Nightingale?" The Spymaster simply stared at her emotionless. It was a steady glare, but as seconds passed it grew colder and more frightening. "Please, you're asking me to betray the trust of my best friend!" Well, at least he was right about one thing, something was going on and Ilara knew what it was. Watching her crack without much prodding made him realize why Evelyn kept her close, no doubt foreseeing this outcome.

 

"We aren't asking." At Leliana's words, she looked pleadingly to each of them, though it felt like she lingered on him longer. He didn't break though, gripping his sword tighter in anticipation.

 

Josephine stepped forth, tapping a hand on the Spymaster's shoulder. Leliana spun and walked back to stand beside him before the Ambassador continued in her formal diplomatic tone, "Enchanter, we are formally using our right as the council to convene an intervention on the grounds that the Inquisitor has been compromised, and thus so has the mission of the Inquisition. As a senior member, you are hereby asked to recant your oath of secrecy for the good of the organization and your friend." Ilara blanched. This time she looked to Owayne for pity, but he had none to give joining in their solidarity.

 

"Let's start with simple yes or no questions, shall we?" Leliana took back the reins of the interrogation, "Is the Inquisitor's life in danger?" Ilara swallowed hard looking down to the floor warring with herself in her head whether or not that question betrayed her friend's trust. No one said anything as they waited to see if she'd answer them without more persuasion. "Is the Inquisitor in danger?"

 

"Yes." Everyone stiffened and shifted uncomfortably at the quiet but telling answer. "She is in great danger."

 

"Does the danger have to do with Lord Armand?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Blackmail, yes?" Ilara nodded. "Is she protecting someone or the Inquisition? Is that why she's going along with his plan?"

 

"She's protecting herself, me, and the Inquisition. Though recently she'd had to deal with a threat against the Commander." Cullen sighed and clenched his jaw tight, but held his tongue. Maybe Armand did know about them that day he came to his office asking about the red lyrium. Slowly, the missing pieces of the puzzles were being filled.

 

"I suspected as much. Is the mother involved?"

 

"Unknowingly." Every answer proved to be taxing on the delicate mage.

 

"Why doesn't that surprise me," Owayne chimed in rolling his eyes as he paced a few steps away in disgust. Leliana crossed her arms, ignoring Owayne and narrowing her gaze to Ilara who squirmed beneath it.

 

"I have not found much on this Lord Armand, and nobles always have plenty of secrets, which leads me to believe that is not his real name. Yes or no?"

 

"No." The three looked back and forth at one another again, as she asked the obvious next question.

 

"Who is he then?" Cullen noticed the slightest bit of terror which gripped her. It was the same distant look Evelyn had sometimes during their talks. Ilara opened her mouth but the words were having trouble forming. Her eyes closed and her lips drew together as if steeling herself to say his name.

 

"His name is," it was as if saying his name would come with some kind of physical retaliation, "Ser Ryker Aeron."

 

"W-What did you say?" Cullen's words faltered as the realization of what he thought she said raced through his mind. He had to hear it one more time. He took a few steps toward her, all but beside himself in disbelief, and by the tears welling up in Ilara's eyes he knew he heard correctly.

 

"Ser Ryker Aeron," she sniffled out looking up at him painfully. He felt as if he had been shot through the heart by a crossbow. The crushing reality of every interaction, everything that he had seen in the past weeks of her with him paralyzed him. Ilara's glassy eyes didn't leave him, nor his hers as he processed this revelation.

 

"Why is that name familiar?" Cassandra spoke up finally from behind them. While the four of them chatted, shuffling papers to seek answers, he and Ilara were having a silent conversation. He shook his head slowly, and she nodded back so weakly he almost didn’t catch it. The dark anger which he sought never to release again was breaking free of its cage and he felt his face heat. The betrayal, lies, separation, everything had been because of a ghost that had come back to haunt her. One he knew about intimately, and whose transgressions against her he could not let pass regardless of their falling out.

 

Suddenly, the oversized doors were thrown open by a powerful force, making all of them jump. The silhouetted form of the Inquisitor strode in with a menacing look on her face. The air crackled with heat and magic as she stepped forth into the light.

 

"Lar? Are you alright? I felt your distress." She looked first to her friend making sure she was unharmed, then turned her raptor gaze on the others, "I thought I said we'd meet later, unless, of course, this is one I wasn't invited to." Her words had a venomous bite to them. He didn't care though, his anger was on the verge of becoming violent brought on by the sight of her wearing one of the tasteless dresses Armand, no Aeron, had bought her. It was of course black, as everything he ever gave her, with a deep heart neckline plunging low. The tulle sleeves were accented with floral lace. For once the sleeves hung from her shoulders and the skirt was full, so unlike everything else he had gifted her. She wore only charcoal on her eyes, pleased to see she didn't cover her scars, the most prominent being the ones on her lower cheek and shoulder junction from the attack on Haven. Ilara ran to her embrace, nuzzling her head into her shoulder with muffled apologies. The Inquisitor soothed her though kept her hardened stare on her advisors.

 

Josephine seemed to be getting her speech ready when Cullen's voice boomed through the room. "Aeron?! That… man is the Ser Aeron, the one who…," he stopped himself realizing the lines of personal and professional histories were being blurred aloud. He reached for his sword, but his hand had already been gripping the pommel, and without another word charged briskly for the door. Ilara gasped as he passed them, but Evelyn quickly grabbed onto his arm and coat trying to halt him to little effect. He could hear her yelling at him, cursing him as he dragged her along in many yards of fabric billowing out from her dress toward the door. He had almost reached it when a hard punch threw him against the wall. Dazed for a second and feeling the distinct heat of her mana, old wounds mixed with new ones in his state of blinding rage. "Did you just…?" He said rubbing the back of his head, "You used your magic on me?"

 

She tipped her head down and held a hand out in warning, "Whatever it is you think you're going to go do, I will stop you. I cannot allow you to interfere now, not when I'm so close." The others gathered together watching them with bated breath. For Cullen, the others' presence barely registered. He was still out for blood, even more so after such a betrayal as she used her power on him.

 

"Blessed Andraste Evelyn, why wouldn't you say something!? The least of all to me!" He pushed himself off the wall and stood imposingly in front of her. She wasn't having it though and defiantly lifted her chin to meet his seething rage.

 

She slammed the doors shut with another spell trying to make a point, "Stand down, Cullen, or I'll--"

 

"Or what? What more could you possibly do to wound me?"

 

"If you two wouldn't mind," Owanye butted in, "would someone care to explain to us what the fuck is going on?! Who is this Ser Aeron?" Despite his interruption, the two of them were still having their private battle. He had sufficient answers to justify his need to run Aeron through and ask for forgiveness later.

 

He unsheathed the top of his sword enough to emphasize his seriousness. "As Commander, I have the authority to--"

 

"Don't," those subtle cracks in her Inquisitor mask began to appear again as anger transformed into hurt. He watched it slowly melt away until both of them shared an all too familiar look, one that churned his gut at the shared pain. Needing some form of release, he spun with a growl and punched the bookshelf, causing a few history volumes to fall to the ground. He hardly felt the throbbing pain through all the adrenaline pumping through him. Leaning a hand on the wall, he hung his head shaking it.

 

Through the moment of quiet, he heard the rustle of Josephine step forward, explaining to Evelyn about their official inquiry into Lord Armand. "We know you are being blackmailed. If you would further enlighten us, Inquisitor," Evelyn glanced over to him before gliding forward to rest her hands on the back of the chair gripping it tightly with her nails. "We only wish to help you."

 

Evelyn took a deep breath as Ilara came to stand beside her. She hooked their arms and the petite mage rested her head on the curve of her shoulder. He tore himself away from the wall to stand with the others awaiting answers, though he had to pace until his anger subsided.

 

"You recognize the name because he is the Templar who assaulted me back in Ostwick. The one who has stalked me for years. The one who," she looked down to Ilara briefly, "who I thought I killed when he and two others came to rape us the night the Circle fell." Cullen's rage was paired with gut-wrenching guilt. He knew better than anyone the hurt she relived with every mention of his name.

 

Her eyes shot to her brother who had become as incensed as he had. He pulled a dagger out from a concealed pocket and took a step towards the door before Cullen grabbed him by the back of his leather vest.

 

"Of all people Cullen, you should be coming with me to gut that whoreson!" He turned to Evelyn now, "And you, how could you let him get away with this!?" He swatted at Cullen's firm grip on him, hesitantly letting him go to stand toe to toe with his sister. "Why wouldn't you have said something!? I could've helped you back home! How long had this been going on?!" Her gaze met his with an unreadable face. After some time, she looked away, he knew she wasn't about to tell her brother of the years of abuse that happened right under his nose.

 

"No one could've helped me." Unlike Owayne her voice was a steady anger compared to his which matched Cullen's fury. He found it strange that she was helping Ilara into the chair to sit, but he knew, yet again, her protective nature towards her friends was always first and foremost in her mind. 

 

"So what, you just laid there and took it?!" She slapped him. Had his mood been better, he would've laughed at Owayne now being slapped for the same kind of boneheaded comment he made to her earlier.

 

"If you’re done making an arse out of yourself, may I explain?" Her sharp glare enhanced by the black smoke around them snapped his mouth shut before his next comment could find its way out. "Of course, I fought back, but Circle politics and law isn't as easy to navigate as you think. You've never lived there." Frustration made her voice waver, "Aeron is a snake with a silver tongue who manipulates those around him and leaves no evidence of his treachery! Knight-Commander Tobias never had sufficient evidence against him to take action." She straightened and smoothed her dinner gown down gathering herself to address the room. "Yes, he is blackmailing me, but there's more. Maker, look at the mess I made." She shook her head holding a hand to cover her eyes. She was shaking, but it was only after she placed it on her chest he realized it was from crying.

 

Hugging herself she turned from them as she sobbed. Ilara shot up out of her chair, nearly tipping it over to get to her. He could hear some of the Enchanter's soothing words as she tipped Evelyn's chin up wiping tears from her cheeks and dabbing them with a handkerchief. Despite their kiss last night, he was still hurting. Anger and rage over her sudden decision to spurn him and now lie about it helped to keep him at a distance from her.

 

After composing herself, guided by her best friend, she was ready to speak, "Aeron has our phylacteries. His terms were for me to marry him or have them sent to Corypheus." She paused allowing the gravity of those words to sink in. Andraste preserve them, who knows what that creature would do with their blood. Not one person in the room seemed unaffected by the implications. "Not only that, but he had a blood mage make copies, hiding them in secure locations. Henley and Sorin have been hunting for them, I could trust no one else with this. Aeron has been manipulating our staff and bribing them to spy on me." Suddenly so many things were becoming clear regarding her behavior and actions. The argument over their leave flashed through his mind.

 

"That's why you needed your attending staff constantly rotated, smart," Leliana nodded slowly crossing her arms.

 

"Yes. I've had to do what I could to thwart him without giving away that I've been doing so. I apologize for acting like a psychopath, but I couldn't afford any of you to question my decisions either. There is one other thing he's been holding over me, and it's something that could harm the Inquisition." Evelyn's eyes closed as she let go of a breath, trying to hold herself steady in the wake of such personal revelations. "I killed Knight-Commander Tobias. The rumors were right, and I couldn't bring myself to tell you at the times you asked back at Haven because I needed to protect my friends. He threatened to expose me right as we were trying to obtain our invitation to the Winter Palace. I couldn't let him ruin everything we had worked so hard for, so I… I agreed to his terms."

 

"So, that night when I saw you both with him…" Cullen's stomach was churning, knowing he could've ended the man then and there saving both mages weeks of torment.

 

"He was dictating to us his terms."

 

"Evelyn," anger and heart-wrenching pain laced his voice, "Maker, I could've helped you!"

 

"No!" She moved out from behind the chair to stand before him, "No, you couldn't have! Don't you think that I too could've killed him at any moment? He has a contingency plan. Should he die, those holding the other phylacteries are instructed to send them to Corypheus! That is why they need to be destroyed before anything is done. I just hope this," she mentioned to all of them in the room, "has gone unnoticed by him and his spies, otherwise you've just doomed us. I'm still waiting to hear word from Henley and Sorin if they've destroyed the second set. That'll only leave the set he personally holds."

 

"Well, now that we know the truth of things, how can we help you?" Leliana's coaxing tone held the Inquisitor's tired eyes, "This is your plan, we'll do what you need us to do." The three advisors lined themselves up before her, joined by Cassandra and Owayne as if they were soldiers mustering for inspection.

 

"I need you to do nothing until Henley and Sorin confirm they were successful. After that, I'd like nothing more than to burn the flesh off that man inch by inch until..." she stopped herself as the dark grip of revenge took hold. He could see the bloodlust taking hold of her countenance, and even in that gown she still looked as lethal as ever. Sighing, it seemed she was trying to let the rage go, "I'm open to suggestions, now that you know the extent of the situation."

 

"I'm not sure murdering another Templar publicly, even one that has abused you, would help the situation once word spreads that you killed the Knight-Commander." Josephine was already scratching something on her parchment. "I would recommend a trial."

 

"A trial?" He was of the same mind as Evelyn and would gladly watch the bastard's capital punishment.

 

"Yes, one which we carefully script and execute to do the least damage to not only the Inquisition but Evie as well." She turned towards their fallen leader, trying to lift her spirits with a compassionate smile and reassurance, "Leave every detail of it to me, Inquisitor." Slowly, it was as if an incredible weight was being lifted off her shoulders.

 

"There's one more diplomatic issue to deal with, which is that this morning Ryker sent to his noble contacts an account of what transpired at the Tower. I don't know what it says, but he mentioned it tells how I killed the Knight-Commander. I don't want to lie any longer, but I don't want to hurt the Inquisition. I just want us to prepare for the fallout."

 

"We should speak with the newly appointed Knight-Commander Barris to speak on behalf of the Inquisitor. I'm sure he'd be happy to stand with the Inquisition in this matter."

 

"I agree with the Commander. This is something that should be discussed in person. I will send an invitation for him to come to Skyhold," He watched the Ambassador add it to her list.

 

"In the meantime, I will personally investigate which of our people have been taking bribes and... deal with them case by case. I'll also find where he is keeping the last set of phylacteries, so when the time comes we can destroy them," Leliana added.

 

He sighed, supposing it was his turn to offer assistance, even if all he wanted was to run him through and be done with it, "Increasing the guard would only tip our hand, but if a few men, say Bull and--"

 

"Me," her sibling volunteered.

 

"And Owayne, ones who can be discreet and lie well enough if need be, near him when it's time to arrest him, so it's done quickly before he has a chance to flee."

 

"Gladly," her brother had a murderous look on his face.

 

"For the safety of the Inquisitor, someone should stay with her at all times so it is difficult for him to get her alone. I'd recommend all of us take turns to make it seem as natural as possible." He wasn't about to let that man near her any more than he needed to be until his time of reckoning came. All agreed, except for one.

 

"I can't, he... likes it when I'm there so he can--"

 

"Lar, no," Evelyn shook her head with a frown.

 

"What?" He found himself speaking without thinking, "No more lies or secrets."

 

The two mages exchanged pained looks, "He likes me to be there to heal her, to hide the evidence of when he punishes her. If you heal the injuries using magic immediately, there is no bruising or scaring." Ilara's gaze rested on her best friend, who had her eyes shut tight grimacing. Her words were enough to set Owayne off on a tangent of curses, all sentiments that Cullen shared. As for himself, his resolve finally broke, striding quickly over to embrace her. She pulled part of this mantle over his armor and buried her face in it, while he rested his chin on her head. He knew how past encounters with Aeron tormented her, he couldn't imagine now what having him here was doing to her mentally - and physically.

 

"I'm sorry, I know how difficult this must be for you," he muffled into her hair.

 

She pushed off him, frowning with defiance, "I'm still standing, aren't I? Still fighting." It seemed her tears had gone and were replaced by a bitter anger. She was independent and trying to prove to herself she was strong enough to handle it, as she had done in the past with her problems. She was a survivor, but she didn't need to do it alone anymore.

 

He sighed keeping his voice low, but he was aware everyone was listening to them, "I know, but now you have all of us behind you. We'll take him down together. Promise."

 

"Thank you," she popped her head out around him, "all of you." She broke away from him to smooth her dress down, "Now, I'm due to meet up with the bastard to bring him with me to my meeting over the siege equipment for Adamant with--"

 

"Lady Seryl of Jader, yes. I will accompany you. We should go with all haste, she appreciates punctuality when conducting business. Perhaps, Lord Trevelyan would also like to come, your charm would be welcome in conversation as "Lord Armand" can be rather abrasive at times."

 

He spit at the name with a snarky smile, "It'd be my pleasure."

Chapter 23: Reckoning

Summary:

Ryker is arrested and taken to trial.

A few days later, the time Evelyn had waited for had come. The gate guards had been put on orders to sound the horn at their arrival, so their plan could be executed. Henley and Sorin had been gone for four weeks chasing down the duplicate phylacteries, having never ceased their punishing pace to destroy them as quickly as possible. When the hour of their salvation was finally upon after all the long days of putting up with Ryker's charade, every one of those who had been in the War Room that day sprang into action.

 

She was at the training grounds, leaning against the rail watching Krem and Bull train with a shield, sipping her coffee, having finished her session. The morning chill was lifting as the sun bathed the Upper Courtyard in its warm light. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, though her mood was still darkened by the close presence of Ryker beside her. They stood shoulder to shoulder and his arm had wandered around her waist. Owayne alternated between throwing daggers at a training dummy and sharpening his arsenal of blades. Each time she glanced over, it seemed he had a new one to hone.

 

When they heard the signal, Owayne straightened giving his sister a look. Bull smoothly told Krem to take a break as he began to speak with her fiancée in an attempt to distract him. Pushing her cup into Ryker's hands, she excused herself, walking quickly down to the gate. Once out of his sight, she broke out into a sprint, nearly tackling Ilara as she came out of the Infirmary's door. Dirty and tired, the two men welcomed their embraces.

 

"We got them all. It's over. We made it back as quick as we could." Sorin said into her shoulder.

 

A hardened glare tensed on her face, "Not yet." She stepped back looking up to see both Cullen and Cassandra walking briskly from his office across the bridge into the Great Hall with several soldiers on their heels. There was also a commotion stirring above them from where she came. "Lar, you take care of these two and fill them in. I have a trial to attend."

 

With renewed vigor, she strode up to the Ambassador's office, where they were all to meet when their tasks were complete. Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine were already there waiting for her, "Inquisitor, the phylacteries have been found. I personally destroyed them. But you should know," the Spymaster paused frowning, "within his recent correspondence was evidence that he has smuggled red lyrium into Skyhold."

 

The door banged open as the two men joined them. "Aeron has been arrested and taken to the cells to await trial. Bull and Krem volunteered to stay with him to make sure he doesn't try anything," Cullen reported.

 

“Yeah, I didn’t like how calm he was as if he knew it was coming. At least that was my read on him.”

 

"Well, Bull is with him. If something is amiss he’ll warn us," before she went on, Leliana asked again what she wished to do about the red lyrium. "I already knew what he was planning to do it. The threat he made against the Commander was to feed it to him."

 

"When was this?" He looked at her incredulously. They hadn't spoken much since he called for the intervention, and if she was being honest, she was avoiding him. The more that came to light about the whole affair, the more she'd be forced to admit things that would cause him guilt.

 

"It doesn't matter, I took care of it," she held a hand up dismissively, yet the heavy rise and fall of his chestplate indicated he was not satisfied with her answer. "Let's get through the trial, then pursue the red lyrium." She began unstrapping her light training armor, allowing it to clank to the floor. She had her usual leather pants and boots on, with a plum linen shirt. It was worn, but at least it didn't have holes or stains, just a few caught threads here and there. Over it, she wore a matching leather underbust that hugged the hourglass curve of her waistline. Free of the extra weight, she took a deep breath, "Is everyone ready? Do we need to review anyone's role?"

 

"We are ready, Inquisitor," the Ambassador's affirmation was accompanied by firm nods. "One last reminder," she addressed the room, "Aeron will most likely try to expose the nature of the relationship between the Inquisitor and Commander. Our stance is that it is a rumor like all the others. Whatever he says, do not let him rile you." She looked to the two of them more notably.

 

"Right then, are we all set?" There were deep breaths, throat clearing, and the shaking out of limbs. They could already hear there was a crowd assembling in the Great Hall, no doubt after hearing news that the Inquisitor's betrothed had been arrested.

 

Owayne held the door as the five senior members of the Inquisition filed into the room, moving to the dais. A hush fell over the room as everyone crammed in to hear what had happened. The last to enter was the Inquisitor herself, wearing a look that could kill. "Bring forth the prisoner for judgment!" Her voice was strong and commanding, echoing off the walls ominously taking her seat. Cassandra strode down the aisle with determination, and reaching the end, signaled for the soldiers to bring him in. The Seeker had the ability to bring the former Templar to heel, so she was to stand by him for the duration of the trial.

 

As Ryker walked towards the dais, his countenance was not one of a man about to die, which made Evelyn weary that this was exactly what he expected to happen. His stare unnerved her, but she would face whatever he threw at her one last time.

 

"Ser Ryker Aeron, formally known as Lord Einar Armand, I charge you with impersonation, murder, blackmail, assault, and conspiring with the enemy." There were gasps and whispers throughout the crowd. "As your primary victim, it would be unfair of me to preside over your trial and sentencing. Therefore, I relinquish the authority to my council," she held a hand out to each one as she introduced them, "Ambassador Montilyet, Sister Nightingale, and Commander Cullen. You have the floor." Having stepped forward, Evelyn relaxed slightly knowing that with the combined strength and wit of the three advisors, Ryker was as good as dead. Yet, in the back of her mind having known the man, something didn't sit well, why was he so bloody calm?

 

“One moment, Inquisitor, can you even prove I am this Ser Aeron you speak of?”

 

“Easily done,” Evelyn looked about the crowd, “Sers Germain, Vale, Fenwick, and Riggs, please step forth and identify the prisoner.” All four stepped forth correctly identifying him as Ser Aeron. The Ostwick Templars had arrived back with the survivors of Hasmal’s Circle a week ago. It was a slow journey as they transported tomes and artifacts along in their caravan. Having earned some much-needed rest, she was able to keep Ryker from them, even going so far as making him wear a ridiculous hat to hide his mop of unruly hair. “If four witnesses fail to impress you, we pulled Ser Armand’s offical record, Commander, if you’d please…”

 

Cullen pulled the parchment from his coat, “As his written profile matches the accused – brown hair, brown, eyes, and so on - I would like to skip to the section on identifying marks, used in the case of a Knight’s death. The first is a birth mark on the back of the neck at the base of the hairline.”

 

The Seeker pushed his head forward, “Nothing, Commander.”

 

Looking up from under his brows, he continued, “A long scar on the right forearm?” Pushing up his sleeve, she shook her head again. “What about a missing toe on the left foot? From when he crushed it in a wagon accident.” As the Seeker went to stand in front of him, he rolled his eyes, tilting his head to the side. She gestured for him to take his boots and socks off, as the restraints allowed him to do so, revealing to all that he had all ten of his toes. Switching records, he now read from Ser Ryker Aeron’s list, “A large dark brown fleck in his right eye, promient mole on his left shoulder blade, and a scar under the chin.” Cassandra was able to confirm all three marks. Tucking the paper back in, he turned to the Inquisitor, with a slight bow, “I believe that settles the question of his identity, Inquisitor.”

 

“As if there was any doubt. Ambassador, you may begin,” her tone had a hint of annoyance in it.

 

“Ser Aeron, let us discuss the beginning of your acquaintance with the Inquisitor, known then simply as Knight-Enchanter Trevelyan in the Circle of Ostwick."

 

Ryker scoffed, "What authority do you have to judge me on matters that the Knight-Commander dismissed me of?"

 

"If I may continue, Ser?" Unamused, he rolled his eyes to rest on a nondescript point in the room. "I wish to establish the nature of your relationship with her before you came to Skyhold. None of the charges outlined by the Inquisitor pertain to past transgressions." Josie shifted her weight and took a step forward but stopped short when his dark eyes targeted her with the intensity of a Great Bear watching its prey. Evelyn felt her protective fire rise, watching as the Ambassador used all the grace she could muster to not look flustered. "I have in my possession the original record of Knight-Enchanter Evelyn Althea Trevelyan. To summarize," she spoke back and forth between the prisoner and the other advisors, "she had a spotless record until," she flipped to another document, "she reported that you assaulted her while on a mission."

 

"It was a mutual altercation, she assaulted me as well."

 

"Instigated by you. Regardless, in the years that follow," Josephine motioned to her assistant, who carried a thick stack of parchment secured with a ribbon, "she went on to report you, and yet nothing was done."

 

"The Knight-Commander had no evidence, nor could she produce anything more than her own account. Clearly, the woman had it out for me, making it all up."

 

"And yet, the Knight-Commander gave her dozens of accommodations, even describing her to another Knight-Commander as, A woman whom I would trust inexplicably for any job. Her relationship with our Templars is exemplary, exhibiting the harmony that Circles have been trying to achieve for decades."

 

"Yes, and how many of them was she sleeping with? Perhaps the Commander would know?" There it was, the first jab, but both she and Cullen bore it well making no change in their stoic demeanor. "Oh sorry, first it was Ser Henley," he looked about the room, "surely, he's around here somewhere to testify to that. If not, I'd be glad to repeat all the details to which he told myself and the other Ostwick Templars…"

 

"The Inquisitor is not the one on trial, nor is her personal history, aside from that with you, of relevance to this trial," Josephine jumped in saving her the humiliation of having such private affairs aired for all to hear.

 

"We are discussing her relationship with Templars, how is the fact that one time she--" A choked guttural noise escaped him, as the Seeker touched a glowing finger at the base of his neck. She looked up to Evelyn under her dark eyebrows before releasing him. Falling forward to his bound hands, he laughed wickedly. When he was finished, he pushed himself back up to his knees to stare at his keeper. "Evelyn, dear, do put your Seeker here back on her leash."

 

Both Trevelyans glared down at him, "I do not have authority over a Seeker when they think a Templar is out of line." Leliana shot back a look at her to not engage him, seemingly having already forgotten.

 

"Which leads into the next charge of murder and impersonation, to which I yield the floor to Sister Nightingale." The Ambassador walked a few steps backward, while the purple-cloaked silhouette of the Left Hand sauntered forward.

 

Unlike Josie, Leliana did not falter under his wild gaze, stepping all but a few feet away from him. She paused, looking coldly upon him before beginning, "I have it on the good word of the Inquisitor that upon your arrival, you confessed to both she and Enchanter Ilara Mason that you killed the true Ser Einar Armand, his mother, a fellow Templar, and a Chantry sister all to assume his identity. Is this true?"

 

He laughed, "You're taking my little firebird's word on it when she has lied to all of you for the past few months about my identity?" Ryker spoke over his shoulder, "How do we know this trial isn't some farce to save the reputation of the Inquisitor? I mean really, how is this a fair trial? You lot judging me is no better than Trevelyan!"

 

"Sister Nightingale," a soft feminine voice made its way through the din of the room, "I believe I can confirm the truth of the Inquisitor's words." Ilara pushed through the crowd with assistance from Henley and Sorin. "He did confess to killing those people."

 

"So? If I did, it was done in the Free Marches, well out of your influence."

 

"Actually," the Ambassador interjected, "I have letters from the prospective heads of states giving us the authority to preside over your sentencing and to exact judgment accordingly." Evelyn's shoulder tension relaxed a bit, knowing Josie thought of everything. Ryker may be a conniving bastard, but he was up against the best the Inquisition had to offer. She was their leader, and if her studies of history taught her anything, it was that the greatest leaders surround themselves with people who are better in many ways than themselves.

 

At the conclusion of Josie's words, he shrugged, though he earned a stern reminder from Cassandra to not speak until spoken to. "Considering Ser Ryker disappeared from the Chantry the same day the Templar and Sister were found murdered and robbed of their belongings, that is suspicious of itself. He was the only living witness to Ser Armand’s death and I assume she was just, what? Opportunity, witness, fun?" He just blinked slowly at her. “Then you go on to murder the mother once your inheritance was secure.”

 

“You’ve no proof of the Lady’s murder.”

 

“But I do. I contacted the physician who signed her death warrant and he had quite a tale to tell, along with a stunning new gold handled cane made of ironwood. Quite the piece, for a humble healer to afford. When my agents questioned him, he revealed that you paid him off to hide the murder. He even revised the death certificate to the correct cause.” She waved to Josie’s assistant, standing off to the side with a mountain of evidence, who read it aloud; Stab wound between the ribs, puncturing the lung. Offical cause: murder. Accompanying the document was a written confession from the man.

 

“Well done, Spymaster,” Ryker gave her a slow clap.

 

“I am not yet done,” Leliana dove right back into her line of questioning, "what say you to the accusation of assault of the Inquisitor while here at Skyhold?"

 

"What is your evidence, Spymaster?"

 

"Answer the question," she snapped back so violently, that Evelyn couldn't help but smile when Ryker's smugness was replaced by surprise. The Nightingale met his eyes so fiercely, she could tell he had met his match. The prominent vein in his neck pulsed and his wrists flexed against the restraints. Here was a woman who was unafraid to stare into the abyss that lay behind his eyes, who wanted to see the darkness and exploit it. Able to watch the entirety of the scene from her throne, she swore the crowd even took a step back. Leliana asked him one more time, softly.

 

The prisoner swallowed hard, "Innocent."

 

At his response, she kept the same velvet tone adding a small smile, "Thank you, but we both know that is a lie." Turning from him and walking back to her place, she gave Evelyn a bloodthirsty smirk. "Enchanter Ilara, please come forward," she held out her elegant pale hand to her. Stepping up quickly over to her, "You keep a detailed medical log for the Inquisitor, do you not?" The blonde nodded, "As the other victim of this man's blackmailing, which we will address soon, you continued to keep this log for the duration of Ser Aeron's time here?"

 

"Yes," she produced a leather-bound journal, "due to the Inquisitor's mark, it was decided to keep a record of all changes in her health, including injury."

 

"If you would read a few entries, please."

 

"This is pure fabrication!" He roared, but the Spymaster paid him no mind, "She is the best friend of the Inquisitor, her word is heavily biased!"

 

"I see your point, I suppose she would have reason to embellish upon accounts of the beatings the Inquisitor was forced to suffer to protect her." Calling to the guards at the far end of the hall, she ordered the witness to be brought in. Against the bright daylight, the imposing silhouette of The Iron Bull towered above the gathering, and they parted for his readily. Walking in front of him was an elven woman whom she recognized as one of her current attendants. Her hands were clasped in front of her and her head was downcast. "Thank you, Bull."

 

"Anytime, Red," the Qunari headed back out towards the doors, his delivery having been made.

 

Ryker looked to the elf, his anger rising. Leliana wasn't even looking at the witness, only at Aeron, pleased to see she was beginning to get to him. "I believe you two know each other," meeting his eye before addressing the witness, "Kahlan, was it? You were an attendant of the Inquisitor before being dismissed on suspicion of spying recently, correct?" The delicate and pale woman nodded. "And were you spying?"

 

"Yes," there was a tremble in her voice, "I was approached by Lord Armand, who gave me a large sum of silver if I reported to him who she talked with, what it was about, and any other activity. I reported a few harmless things, I think, but when my conscience got the better of me, I went to find him to give the coin back, but walked into a… situation."

 

"Go on."

 

Evelyn took a deep breath, unsure of what instance she was about to relay. "It was early one morning, last week. I was about to deliver her Worship clean towels for washing when I saw him walk past. As I tried to catch up to him, I followed him into the Inquisitor's quarters. Thinking he was going to spy on her, I didn't think before I opened the door to hear him yelling at her."

 

"What did you hear?" Knowing that that was the morning he had broken her nose after seeing Cullen, she felt panic rising, hoping Leliana knew exactly what this witness was going to say.

 

"It was fragmented but he said something about her not listening and making good on his threat. It was the bang that I heard that was more worrisome. It sounded as if she was struck and thrown against the windows. When I heard him command the Enchanter here to heal her, I ran out, not wanting to be caught by him." Evelyn leaned back again, relieved the particular details were not revealed more for Cullen's sake than her own.

 

"There is your unbiased witness, Ser Aeron. Now, if you would read the entry from that morning, Enchanter Ilara," Leliana seemed to be in her glory thwarting the man who thought he had all the answers.

 

The mage thumbed to the page, "The Inquisitor suffered a broken nose and minor cuts to the head. I, Enchanter Ilara, was able to heal the break quickly, having been witness to it, and attempted to mend the skin to prevent bruising." After dismissing the witnesses, Ryker looked as if he was ready to murder the Nightingale, so much so, that she thought she'd see smoke billowing from his ears. Pleased at her through examination, Leliana gave a slight bow to her, then nodded to Cullen.

 

To say she wasn't nervous about him questioning Ryker was an understatement. Though she had complete faith in the Commander's control of his emotions, their prisoner was now out for blood, having been wound up by Leliana. When he stepped forward and she watched her tormentor's eye glisten with delight, she braced for the worst yet.

 

"Ser Aeron, I'm here to address the final two crimes of blackmail and conspiring with the enemy. You stand accused of blackmailing the Inquisitor into marrying you to keep the phylactery of her and Enchanter Ilara's out of the hands of Corypheus, our sworn enemy. How do you plead?"

 

"Oh, why not, guilty," he said flippantly as if it were a joke. "It was a rather brilliant plan, and it had worked for quite a time. Enough time for she and I to become intimately acquainted again." Her nails dug into the arms of her seat, which didn't go unnoticed by her brother who placed a hand on her shoulder to temper her. "I'm sorry to have spoiled her for you, she told me you hadn't laid--" The Seeker again jabbed her glowing finger into his shoulder. She watched Cullen, whose only movement was clenching his sword tighter. Ryker coughed and wheezed, before beginning to chuckle, "I'm sorry, it's worth the pain, I said," he raised his voice sputtering, "You didn't get to fuck the Inquisitor before I ruined your little affair-- Ahh!" He screamed as Cassandra dug the point of her fingertip into his spine, having had to ready her power again.

 

Whispers were flying around the room, especially from the Orlesians who loved their scandals and gossip. Thankfully, the Ambassador was prepared to combat him, "I ask that you keep your vulgarity to yourself. There are many rumors circulating, including one involving the Commander as well as a number of her companions, they remain pure speculation. May I remind everyone here that the Inquisitor is a person like anyone in this room. I suggest you show her the common decency of letting her private affairs remain so." Elegantly put, her speech seemed to take the bite from Ryker's statement.

 

In an attempt to get back on track, Cullen took a deep breath, though his voice dropped not unlike when scolding a recruit, "Who was your contact within the Elder One's forces?"

 

"Sampson, as you well know, Commander." He sighed, "And let me answer your next question, was I truly planning to give them over to him? Absolutely." The wolfish grin was back, as the two men glared at each other. "In fact, are you certain I haven't done so already?" It was as if everyone in the room was holding their breath as doubt crept into their minds of having missed a set of phylacteries.

 

Suddenly, Owayne and Henley charged him. Her brother was fast, too fast for Cullen to catch, but he could just barely hold Henley back. Cassandra grabbed a hold of the rogue's torso, trying to talk him down, all the while Ryker laughed manically. Additional guards stepped in to break it up, but the tension in the air thickened as the Commander called for quiet.

 

Though he was breathing heavily, shooting her an intense look, he kept his voice even, "We've already confiscated all three copies, you're bluffing." For a long minute, they held each other's scowls again, before the prisoner descended into another bout of raucous laughter.

 

"You got me, Commander. Truly, you've figured it all out. I would really appreciate it if you all just hurried this along now."

 

"Very well," Josephine stepped forth again, "Do you have any final words in your defense?"

 

"I do. Your Inquisitor is a fraud. She's no chosen one, she's a magical abomination who will lead the Maker's children astray. This woman is a mage, whose inherent wickedness cannot be absolved. She and her kind have killed my brothers and sisters of the Order for their freedom. If you think your Inquisitor's hands are clean from rebellion, you are sorely mistaken, for she killed Knight-Commander Tobias when the Ostwick Circle fell." Having heard the words from him before, the words no longer held the pain that once came with hearing them. Not only that, but they were ready for his admission of her crime.

 

Evelyn stood with poise, "I admit to the murder of Knight-Commander Tobias, but it was an accident. Everyone who called that Circle home would tell you that there was no ill will between us. I have told the new Knight-Commander of Ferelden of my crime. In fact, perhaps he'd like to address the matter personally," she held a hand out inviting him to join her up on the dais.

 

In shining silverite armor, the younger man ascended to take her hand. The rich tone of his skin paired with emerald green eyes was striking. "Your Worship," his velvety voice cheerfully greeted, before clearing his throat nervously, "It's true, the Inquisitor and I have discussed the situation in length, and I will make one thing clear to all of Thedas, that without the work of the Herald, the Order would've been destroyed. I don't believe a woman who has sacrificed much to work towards strengthening our ranks after losing our way. Furthermore, the accident occurred at a time of war, and I don't need to stress the loss we have all suffered." He paused, and it was followed by quiet contemplation, "With my authority of senior Knight-Commander, I hereby absolve the Inquisitor of her guilt, but insist that the appropriate reparations are given to the family of the deceased."

 

“Gladly, and then some,” she smiled solemnly at him, “I will personally see to it.”

 

His verdict was met with a round of applause, though one person in particular had become incensed, "This is nepotism at its finest! We all know you were the one to appoint the Knight-Commander, of course, he's going to forgive you!" He spat, pointing to each of his judges, "Tell me that not one of your advisors has taken payment for their loyalty! The Trevelyan coin must be paying for the Ambassador's luxuries, bribes for the Spymaster, and well we all know how you pay your Commander. This organization is corrupt!" He laughed sarcastically, "By all means, pass your judgment, as if don't all know what it will be."

 

The four looked back and forth, and the Inquisitor motioned for them to convene. Josephine scratched on her board, then ascended the dais to deliver their sentence. Evelyn steeled herself before her voice rang out strongly through the hall, "Ser Ryker Aeron, for the crimes of impersonation, murder, assault, blackmail, and conspiring with the enemy, the council finds you guilty on all accounts. Therefore, the Armand estate will be given to their next of kin, and you are hereby sentenced to death. Your execution is to be carried out immediately." There was a flurry of noise of everything from cheers to harsh denouncements of the man. Yet, the condemned simply knelt there as if he were deaf to it.

 

"Well, that's that then," he sighed annoyed, and yet unfazed by his sentencing. "You won. How pleased you must be my love, at this victory," she narrowed her eyes at him watching his face contort sinisterly, making goosebumps creep up her arms.

 

She stood slowly from her seat, her eyes locked on him, "What have you done?"

 

"You should know by now, I always have a plan for when you do something stupid." The younger mage from the other evening who she had caught in his bed appeared from a puff of mist behind him. Her eyes were glowing red and she twitched oddly as she wrapped her arms around him. Crystalized ice jutted out of her body, protecting her back like a Quillback. At least now she knew where the red lyrium had gone. Surprised, Cassandra tried to ready her power, but the augmented mage blew everyone back with a mind blast spell before freezing the ground. The ice traveled up the legs of all those below the dais first, rooting all in place. "I invited some friends to Skyhold," her eyes grew wide, as he and the mage fade stepped away, "farewell for now, my love, provided you survive."

Notes:

You didn't think it'd be that easy to get rid of him, did you? ;)

Chapter 24: Deep Wounds

Summary:

Evelyn vs. Ryker, battle at Skyhold.

Gone. That damned son of a bitch! The thought of him getting away again, sent her flying into a heated rage. Quickly, she ran to the blast zone and melted the ice. Their guests fled while her advisors and companions converged on her position. A plethora of questions were fired at her, but she ignored them all with one goal in mind, growling out, "I'm going after him!" With that, she fade stepped out of the doors to the first landing of the stairs to the Great Hall leaving them to sort through the chaos.

 

Outside, searching for her quarry wasn't difficult, as the cryokinesis mage left a trail of frost in her wake. Moments later, she spotted the duo confronting a few Templars by the closing portcullis. While the Knights would buy her a few moments before she could get down there, she knew they were no match for a red lyrium-fueled mage. Wasting no more time, she jumped from the landing, fade stepping through the air down to the Lower Courtyard.

 

Landing dramatically behind them, the sight of the Inquisitor bolstered her men's resolve. "Fight me, you bastard!" She yelled at Ryker, allowing the might of her fire to reach out to them.

 

The mage's focus was on the Templars, while Ryker faced her grinning too widely for someone just sentenced to die. "I believe you've met Eira briefly before," the girl's straight blonde hair wafted about as she threw a glance back at her, this time unafraid. "She's been in my pocket for some time now, though I'm not sure how long typically mages last while taking red lyrium. From what Sampson told me, only you have been able to survive copious doses. Even as Eira becomes stronger, it's only temporary. She but a means to an end. Templars though, can not only withstand it but grow stronger from it." He pulled a large vial of the red from his vest, "Shall we up the stakes, Trevelyan?"

 

Evelyn's eyes grew wide, "No…" Instantly, he threw back the entirety of its contents. The next thing she knew, his body cringed and contorted involuntarily as a red crackling halo appeared about his crown. The brown of his eyes turned crimson as the lyrium dug its claws into him.

 

Flexing his muscles that surged with new strength, he narrowed his gaze back on her though he spoke to the ice mage first, "Do as you will, kill them all, but leave the Phoenix for me."

 

Spreading her arms wide, Eira summoned a blizzard that choked the sunlight from the sky. The temperature plummeted all but freezing any piece of exposed skin. Evelyn fought the frost with her own blazing aura, but it was slowly overpowering her, as well as the Templars still blocking their escape. Eira began to form a man-sized ice spike and aimed it at one of the Templars. Evelyn quickly conjured a fireball to counter it, hurling the flames at the ice mage. But her magic was effortlessly dispelled by Ryker. She watched in horror as the spike pierced the Knight's chest and impaled his body on the gate.

 

So that's how it's going to be, she thought. Fighting them while under the influence of red lyrium was bad enough, but Ryker was going to protect his new ally as she killed the Inquisition's people. I can do this, she thought, and even if I can't, I have to. She needed help.

 

---

 

"Shit," Cullen grumbled as Evelyn flew past him like a banshee set on revenge. He stomped ice off his boots, helping some of their guests up as he went. Rubbing a hand down his face, the others converged on him as he took command, "Ambassador, you and Lady Vivienne get these people down below! Leliana, have your agents set a perimeter around Skyhold in case they indeed escape, though I don't believe it will come to that."

 

"No," the redhead replied, "the Inquisitor is out for blood. I think it best we let her do this." A pained look caused her to frown, "I know what it's like to want revenge, but let's not let her do it alone."

 

Turning away to summon her agents, Cullen began to push his way through the panicking nobles to get to the others, "Cassandra, take Henley and his men and find that mage. They've dealt with red lyrium before, even if the Inquisitor is out for revenge, leave nothing to chance." As they exited the Great Hall, a magically induced snow squall enveloped Skyhold. Visibility was reduced to a few feet and the wind was so strong, it even knocked him back a step.

 

"At least Evie is a pyromancer, she'll make quick work of that bitch!" Owayne stared smugly into the storm.

 

"Yes, but that mage took red lyrium, so she's much more powerful. Even more so than the Inquisitor." The rogue's face drooped and morphed into concern. "Hurry!" Cullen shouted at them over the storm, letting them run ahead of him to the barracks.

 

On his way past the armory, he grabbed a shield finding Bull and the Chargers assembled and looking for a fight. "What's the word, Commander?"

 

"I'll tell you as soon as I find the Inquisitor. Follow me."

 

"Chargers, horns up!" They echoed his call, falling in behind them.

 

"Where's that mage of yours?" Cullen’s mind was still working through the chaos erupting about them.

 

"Dalish!" Bull called back over his shoulder.

 

"I'm not a mage!" Came a call from the back of the pack.

 

Cullen ignored her protest as they reached the stairs by the Herald's Rest that led down to the gate. "Cast a barrier to our front and hold it," looking down the staircase nothing could be seen through the squall, "we have no idea what going on down there, but I can feel the magic, best be prepared." She nodded and did as he bid. Together, they descended into the fog of battle until a voice cried out of the din.

 

"No! Turn back, now!"

 

---

 

She didn't expect Cullen, Owayne, and Bull to be leading the Chargers down the stairs at the same moment Cassandra, Henley, and his men descended the one to her left. Either way, they were walking into the fight blind. The first icy blast fired at the Chargers was stopped by a barrier, but she could sense it would not hold fully against another. Thankfully, Henley had his men ready as she felt a hole forming in the magical storm around them. Distracted now by them, Eira absently formed a wall of ice blocking the Commander and Chargers from the Lower Courtyard. They couldn't even jump down having placed jagged ice spikes on the ground about it.

 

Seeing it as a simple thing to remedy, she headed their way to melt the ice, when a hard blow to her side sent her skidding across the snow. Ryker was stomping her way. Reaching for her staff, she realized she had left it in her room, but she did have her spirit blade from training earlier. Waves of light flashing behind him took her focus away for a moment as she watched Cassandra and the Templars clash against Eira. Until she spontaneously expired like Sampson's failed experiments, she would keep growing more powerful. There were only so many Templars Evelyn would be willing to throw at her before it was unjustifiably a waste of life.

 

A sword aimed at her head interrupted her thoughts, as her blade blazed to life, "If I can't have you, no one will!" The sickening scent of the corruption flowing through his veins accosted her senses. He pressed her close to the ground, causing her to turn her face towards her brother, Cullen, and Bull, who were feverishly trying to break the ice. From the depths of her core, came a mind blast that knocked Ryker back, giving her time to get to her feet, only to be seized by the throat. "Shall we make a spectacle of this? The death of the mighty Inquisitor!" His monstrous voice boomed through the fortress, even cutting through the cold howling wind, "Your Herald dies by my hand!" The sting from him draining her mana made her inhale sharply as she slowly felt the prickling touch of Eira's magic swirling about as her aura weakened. Knowing he was just going to do it again, she lashed out with a fiery explosion. He growled having been burnt, but it seemed he was more angry that he hadn't been strong enough even with the aid of the red lyrium to fully silence her.

 

In spite of it, she laughed at him, "What's the matter? Did you really think one dose would make you more powerful than me?"

 

His anger fled, as he snorted and laughed along with her, "True, but you know who I am stronger than?" His eyes flicked over to the side.

 

She struggled in his grasp, panic rising, "Don't you dare, you…"

 

"Eira, stop playing with them, I have need of you!" The mage looked back over her shoulder for a moment before she shot more spikes at the Templars' shield wall. With a stomp, a crystalline trail of frost snaked out from her feet. As it reached the group, it exploded out of the earth, making them jump and dodge. The few the ice caught unaware died quickly, their heads dropping to their chest almost instantly. Henley shoulder-rolled back towards the stables, to be lost in the squall. She saw Cassandra spin in the same direction to avoid them, but a dash of red at her head and side told her she didn't get away unscathed.

 

Evelyn cursed and kicked to no avail. With her hands holding the arms that had her throat, she tried burning him, anything to get the attention back on her, but she was silenced for good this time, hanging limply only able to watch the battle happening around her. Eira stalked towards the others on the stairs, but before she got there a small volley of arrows hit the mage. Craning her neck back, she saw Varric, Sera, and Harding firing down at her, but their momentary distraction ended as she threw the same spell at them that took Henley and Cassandra out of the fight.

 

"Come on, Trevelyan! That's it? That's all you've got in you?" He taunted her, throwing her down. Looking up, Bull had just smashed through the wall of ice and they were forming up in the courtyard. She could see the cautious looks on their faces, wondering how they were going to stop the enemy when the Templars and Inquisitor had failed to do so. Testing the magic of the mark, which sputtered and sparked, she tried to see if it'd do something, but nothing happened. Ryker laughed again, "Seems not even Andraste's supposed mark can save you! What a disappointment, but we all know you're a fraud anyway!" He bent low to whisper, "Watch now as I kill your friends, brother, and beloved Commander." He stood, suddenly kicking her in the stomach. She crumpled in on herself gasping for air, but still looking on after him as he and Eira squared up for battle.

 

Just as it looked like they were about to engage, a choked guttural sound came from the ice mage. She staggered back a step, and for a moment there was hope that the lyrium was finally taking her. Instead, sleek ice crystals encased her in an impenetrable armor. Red lyrium crystals, bumpy and misshapen, poked out from her back, making her look half-lizard.

 

At the sight, Bull straightened, grasping his battleaxe tighter, "Oh, for fuck's sake!" He called to her, "Boss, you alright? It's getting to be too chilly here, even for Skyhold standards!"

 

"The Iron Bull afraid of us? Now, isn't that something? I relieved our little firebird of her mana. She is as useful as a--" He wailed in pain as Evelyn twisted the dagger from her boot in the meat of his thigh. She had crawled there, her rage unable to allow her to let the man win after all these years. She wouldn't stop, she couldn't stop until he was dead. "I've indulged you long enough I think, my dear," he gritted out, but she didn't falter and stared up at him defiantly. With the swift upward arc of his sword, Cullen gave the command to charge.

 

"Defend the Inquisitor!" They were three words she had never hoped to hear in her life, for she was to be the protector. The groups split in half, Cullen leading the charge against the mage and Bull against Ryker. Owayne deftly slid between her and the Templar defecting his blade, before he was backhanded forcefully to the side. One by one, the Chargers were picked off as she watched helplessly. Dalish was silenced until she was out cold. Grim and Krem tried flanking Eria as Cullen held against a stream of frost being shot at him, but a mind blast knocked them out cold. Skinner made a go at the mage too, but ended up getting stuck in the leg by an ice spike. The others all succumbed to Ryker's brute force, leaving only Owayne, Bull and Cullen still standing.

 

"Commander, we've got the mage!" Dorian's voice was barely audible as he, Vivienne, and Sorin collectively fade stepped into the yard. Their hands all glowing as they wore strained expressions from the eminence amount of mana they were expending. They had encased Eira in a barrier and were struggling to keep her there even with their combined strength. Like a wild animal, she scratched and charged at it, desperately trying to find a weakness in it.

 

Ryker growled taking his wrath off on the three warriors before him, as Owayne recovered sporting a gash across his cheek. Her brother dove and rolled about flanking the brute, while Cullen and Bull alternated engaging him. Frustratingly, Ryker was always one step ahead of them, with one or two of the men bloodied and bruised on the ground at all times, they couldn't make any coordinated effort. Each hit on Bull's haft sent shockwaves through his taught muscles, and the Commander's shield was barely holding together. She knew his arm and back were probably throbbing as he switched to deflecting rather than blocking the incoming blows.

 

Having picked herself up, she tried to sneak her way over to the mages, seeing if any had lyrium on them. Before she could, Eira broke the barrier, which threw the mages back hard against the stone walls of the fortress. As they tried to stand, holding their ribs and other sore parts, she called out to them, "Don't engage! She's too powerful!" At her words, the fair-haired mage was on her. The numbing touch of her hand allowed her nails to dig deep into her arm without much pain, though it didn't stop the blood. Quick as lightning, Sorin was there, trying to piece her armor with his spirit blade. He sliced off the spikes and red lyrium crystals from her body, but they simply grew back. Dropping Evelyn to deal with the Knight-Enchanter, she heard the faint siren call of the lyrium.

 

Looking at the evil sword-sized shard on the ground, she ignored all else now having a decision to make. Does she allow her friends to die or does she take the lyrium and hope she can control it enough to kill her enemies? Her hand idly walked itself over to the large jagged piece, pulsating with a haunting rhythm as if calling her. When her fingers touched it, a warmth spread as if she was touching a flame, yet, in the back of her mind she wondered if it was purposely mimicking it in false comfort. The allure of power coupled with revenge pulled her closer until…

 

Ryker grabbed the shard from her, "Tsk tsk, and just what were you going to do with this Trevelyan? Thinking impure thoughts, were we?" He twirled it about as if thinking about who was going to stab with it. All her companions lay on the ground wounded and heaving for breath at his feet. Eira had frozen the mages’ hands to the wall or ground to prevent them from casting and was now making her fist into a heavy bludgeon. They were truly going to make a show of their deaths, and hers. Ryker had thoroughly beaten the others who fought to right themselves and in the midst of it all was the useless Inquisitor. Her bones ached and her muscles were weak from the loss of her mana. The gravity of the situation ignited a fear in her similar to the dark future she had prevented at Redcliffe. It possessed her and from the depths of her being every last shred of willpower came to the forefront. Looking up into the eyes of the madman, his wolfish grin was spreading wide as he spoke, "I think you know who's going to get this, don't you? It's only fitting."

 

Ryker lunged for Cullen's chest, but it was as if time stilled. His arms were raising defensively, but he would be overpowered easily. A deep unknown force shot through her and before she knew it, she had fade stepped in time to stop him. The crystal came down piercing her chest by her right breast and exiting through her back. Choked gasps left her as the two of them held on to the long-jagged shard. They shared a knowing look, and to her surprise, he didn't seem pleased by what he had done. In fact, the slightest hint of panic flashed within his red eyes for the briefest moment. The voices painfully calling out to her from around her heightened her own fear that it was indeed as bad as it looked. They renewed their effort to defend her, but Eira was quick to freeze them in place. Even Cullen, who had been only a few feet from her, was stuck, reaching for her to no avail.

 

Gazing at the crystal protruding from her chest and feeling her fire slowly leave her, she knew then she had a choice; die or show Ryker just how far she'd go to see him burn. It was an easy choice though, for if she was to perish he was coming with her. Squeezing with the last of her strength, a hairline fracture appeared in the shard allowing the glowing lyrium to flee from its prison and into her bloodstream. The burn of the liquid had her whimpering in pain, but the violence of her power was already awakening.

 

"Clear us a path!" The Seeker's voice echoed through the blizzard still raging about them as she and a contingent of soldiers came barreling down the stairs. Eira immediately set to dispose of them viciously as Cassandra, Henley, Ilara, and Solas made their way over to the Inquisitor. Seeing Ryker move to stop them, she held up her hand glowing with the purest white light holding the Templar in place. The hand shook with the effort, and she was bloodied from earlier, but she was determined to halt him for as long as she could. Henley shielded the mages from the wild magic being thrown about as they made their way through the battle towards her.

 

Slowly losing herself to the Void, one ill-timed pull separated her from the red crystal as she fell to the ground. Blood sputtered from her chest as she caught movement near her. Owayne was raving in grief and anger, trying to dig himself out from the ice with his daggers, calling to her to hold on. While the others were similarly crying out to her, it was Cullen who her eyes were trained on.

 

He too was trying to separate from the ice, occasionally looking back to break some with his sword. "Evelyn, you stay with us! You…"

 

With her head to the side, her eyes began to roll back but she fought it, blinking a few times back at him. "Cullen…" a gush of blood bubbled up from her throat as she spoke, dribbling down the side of her mouth. Between the black of the Void and the red lyrium vying for her soul, she wasn't sure where she was. Her only constant was the Commander growling with effort beside her trying to get to her. She reached her arm out to him coughing and watching the pool of blood follow its trail through the layer of snow that had settled on the ground. "Cull…"

 

"It's alright, it's going to be…" he tried pushing out of the ice encasing his legs, but a defeated and pained grunt escaped him, looking up at her from his elbows. Her fingers still tried walking out to him, but were only moving snow and blood now. He reached out as far as he could for her, falling just an inch short. A tear rolled down her cheek and her eyes slowly closed. "No! Evelyn!"

 

Her head fell back into the cradle of a chilly but soft set of hands. She felt and heard the rush of a frantic Ilara to her side, pouring every ounce of herself into healing the hole in her chest. The foreign feel of elven magic was present as well, placing air into her lungs helping her breathe. Fighting to stay conscious, her eyes snapped open looking at her best friend. She had never seen her use that much of her mana all at once like that, as she glowed with a bright teal light. The two conversed frantically speaking to her, Ilara also invoking the Maker's help, but it all sounded disconnected to her. When she almost had the bleeding under control, the siren from within took hold and Evelyn heard herself scream in an otherworldly pitch. Their hands suddenly felt painful, "Don't touch me! Nobody touch me," they released her, and she flipped over onto her hands and knees clawing her nails into the snow and dirt beneath her. Bile came up from the nauseating disorientation, and she choked it out onto the ground. Having been healed enough to wield her body as the weapon it was, the song sought control in her weakened state.

 

I know what you want creature, and I have a deal for you, the pitch turned high as if mimicking the voice of curiosity. I will allow you to tap into my power, unhindered, if you help me defeat my enemies. Once defeated, you will relinquish your control over me. The song hummed hauntingly at her words. The notion that she had just made a deal with this evil “essense,” as Dagna had called it, inside made her sick. Magic whirled around her floating her up to her feet. She no longer felt the pain from the gaping hole, but the burning of her mana pumping like lava through her veins. Despite the frigid cold, it felt as if her skin was going to burn off her body. Through the freezing squall, her eyes lit like two small embers in defiance of the snow and ice that swirled around Skyhold, like a beacon of hope. The song fed the unbridled rage of everything that she was holding inside for so long, finally unleashing it. The tight control of her power had been broken in favor of revenge, but it would be wielded in the protection of all those she cared for.

 

With the battle having come to a full stop, all eyes were on her. She stood still, eyes carefully calculating her first move. An eerie hum seemed to come from everywhere at once, but it was of her voice. The Inquisitor's face was dead calm, and she took a deep breath before growling out, "Everyone clear out." Waving a hand, those trapped in the ice were released, "Commander," he looked at her with both worry and horror, "no one comes down here until I've finished. Understood?" He nodded and hoisted one of the injured Chargers up onto his back.

 

"No, wait!" Ilara pushed through the crowd, with Owayne, Henley, and Sorin quick on her heels. It was Cullen's free arm though that halted her from going any further. "Evie you're not well, you need help!" As her unsettling gaze landed on her, it sent her grabbing for support from Henley.

 

"Later," came a terse reply to her protest. "Now, go. Whatever happens," she looked between the four of them, "don't come down here." She saw the arguments bubbling up, but a roiling wave of heat reminded her of the promised revenge turning from them. "Cassandra, release him and go." She did so reluctantly, never parting her gaze from them retreating away. As they got to relative safety, the mage and Templar waited with great anticipation for the coming fight.

 

Ryker laughed menacingly, "I'm failing to imagine you winning this fight, my dear, even in your natural form." The insult was not lost on her, as the song grew louder, which she hummed along with involuntarily. "Look Eira, she's lost her mind," the irony that his sidekick was a ticking bomb, and was most likely dead inside didn't escape her either. This time around, Evelyn had a much better mental grasp on the situation, perhaps having to do with the deal. She just prayed in the end the essence would release her.

 

Impatient to unleash the Phoenix, the red lyrium flashed each crime he committed against her through her head, even adding new ones to achieve a state of raw utter rage. With a growl, she activated her spirit blade and fade stepped over to Ryker. The usual gold glow of the blade was a deep red, and to her surprise, he was able to block her first run at him. Eira joined in throwing ice about but Evelyn's aura was hot, melting any projectiles flung her way. The melee was viciously fought, like three immortal beings bashing each other until one didn’t get up. The ground shook with every punch, the air crackled with fire and ice, the earth was scarred, and the blood shared was generous.

 

While the Inquisitor was holding her own outnumbered, but by far the superior warrior, the anchor was not reacting well to its new handler. It would sting her periodically, with such a bite that at times it threatened to throw her completely off balance at times. It was possibly the only reason she hadn't finished the two off yet. That, and she had been stabbed through the chest, having to cough up blood here and there.

 

She had done a good job protecting her injury from any hits when the mark flared causing her to stumble into Ryker's clutches. Holding her arms, a crippling blow from a fist of ice hit her right in her wound. The pain was so unfathomable, she screamed causing a sweep of sooty fire to shoot out in all directions. Losing her in the rising black smoke she crawled away on the ground gasping for air, but it was just too much. Her head dropped to the ground and she looked up to see everyone watching above them gasp. The song panicked, actually giving her shocks to rouse her, but the wet feeling coming from beneath her chest told her everything was not alright. Somehow, she rolled herself over in time to see her two enemies standing above her.

 

Eira pumped her fist back, but Ryker stopped her from delivering the fatal blow, "You've done your job," he said tersely, "I want to be the one to do it." He lifted her by the throat, as she held onto his arms. The heat of her core rose to her defense and the air around her was all but aflame. Ryker struggled to hold onto her as she was too hot to the touch, and that's when she started bleeding lava.

 

At first, it came from the cuts strewn across her knuckles and the lost nail or two. When it made contact with him he squeezed her throat a bit harder before releasing her. As if he had dropped her in quicksand, she began sinking into the ground; she was melting. She looked at her hands, finding only the right one bearing the mark of beginning to weep into the puddle of growing lava at her feet. Panic raced through her mind, she had no idea what was happening to her but her body was liquifying into molten lava. The thought that the red lyrium had betrayed their arrangement brought on her fear as she clawed at the solid ground. Had it decided her body was too broken to use?

 

"Oops, did we go a bit too far, Trevelyan? You know I could help you and quell your magic, but I'll need to hear an apology first." He was bent over looking down at her as if she was a misbehaving child.

 

"Never!" Her breaths were ragged, feeling the pressure as if underwater. She continued to try and climb out, but her right arm, rather nub, was useless. Only the marked hand kept its form as she slowly sunk up to her shoulders into the pool. The last thing she saw before it swallowed her head was the commotion of the soldiers and her companions coming to her aid. The Inquisitor was gone, burned by her own magic leaving only the marked hand and part of her forearm raised above her like a morbid monument. The green crackle and glow slowly petered out and her hand drooped.

 

---

 

From above, Cullen watched the magic of the mark slowly go dark. The lava that had drowned her was steaming black and her slender fingers fell lifelessly. He had, despite her order, organized the soldiers in case she indeed needed aid, but she was already gone. Silence fell all through the Upper Courtyard as everyone tried to truly see if the Inquisitor was dead. Even Ser Aeron and the mage were cautiously inspecting the place where she was entombed. He too was in a state of shock having to breathe out of his mouth as his heart pounded against his battered breastplate. She had saved him at no small cost to her own self; a cost that could now be potentially fatal. His injuries were an afterthought as his mind stared blankly at all that remained of her. It all happened so suddenly, how could she be gone? It was as if his mind couldn't wrap around it. How many times has she come back from the dead or damn near close to it? Did she finally go too far this time, as Aeron said? For revenge?

 

Suddenly, an otherworldly roar rumbled from beneath their feet. Looking down, he held a closed fist up to the men as the pool that held the Inquisitor swirled and liquified once more. Another roar shook the keep and a bright green flash blinded them momentarily. The statue arm bent, grasping the ground once more as a molten form rose from within the earth. At first, it was difficult to differentiate the different parts that made up Evelyn, aside from the untouched arm, but when the figure stood to full height, it was certainly that of a woman. The slag spat flame and embers up after her as if she was Andraste reborn of fire. Her arms were raised intertwined with each other above her head, as her eyes opened. They were white, like the hot core of a forge and he found them so bright it was almost painful to look at.

 

As her arms gently glided down to her sides, the wings of the Phoenix spread forth, but unlike before, they didn't dissipate but held the form of the flame like her body. The haunting melody she hummed filled the keep with its echo. Her arms floated about as if conducting the tune, but instead, she was actually dispelling the blizzard that had swallowed Skyhold. She had almost banished it completely when the ice mage tried countering her.

 

A quick snap of her head to glare at the mage was followed by Evelyn's commanding voice, "You. This is my home and my people. You will pay." The hulking ice form that was once a small slender woman, held no readable expression, she simply twitched with the crackle of the red lyrium that was eating away at her.

 

"And what of me, love?" He couldn't see his face from where he stood, but by the Inquisitor's scowl, he bet it was something like a wicked grin. Rather than answer with words, she spat a wad of lava at his face. On the contact, he groaned and screamed as it burnt a hole through his cheek and jaw. It was then, with that small act, that he knew some part of Evelyn was still conscious through the control of the red lyrium. He couldn't help but smile slightly at it despite the circumstances.

 

With Aeron distracted, she dipped her right arm into the pit of lava gathering a slew of it about her arm. He watched transfixed, watching her heat and sculpt her unmarked hand into obsidian. With a hard strike to the heated rock, the shine of the glassy black edge flickered in the dim light. He recalled once Master Harrett explaining to an apprentice that if crafted with great care, the volcanic glass could make the sharpest edge of any known material, even metal. The broken shards that had fallen from it stuck to her body like armor plating. Her appearance was breathtaking to those too naïve to know what was going on inside of her and the evil that had transformed her into this fiery angel.

 

Looking to his right, sweeping his gaze across all the people watching as enraptured in what was unfolding before them as he was, he also knew, should she win there was bound to be trouble in subduing her as before at Haven. Not to mention even in her current form, she had a hole in her chest. Slowly and quietly, he gave an order to his nearby Lieutenant to hold position as she went in search of Cassandra. They had preparations to make.

 

---

 

As Ryker wailed and nursed his flame-eaten face, Evelyn contended with Eira. The woman was no longer lucid, her mind having been wiped from this plane of existence. She knew she was dealing with a weapon, one that would fight until she physically could no longer function. The animalistic survival instinct was the only thing driving her, one of them needed to die. With her new blade "in" hand, she launched herself into battle.

 

Eira had become slow the more the ice began to weigh her down, which allowed her to easily dodge around her looking for a weak spot. Having found none, she began to make one slowly chipping away at a spot she had gone blind to. She could no longer move her neck as the ice moved to protect her in a cocoon. Feverishly hacking away at her, she realized that every block and shard that had broken off her body was being magically propelled at Skyhold and its people. Looking back seeing the consequences of her progress, she tried to think of something else, but the drilling pain in her temple compelled her to keep going. It was unsympathetic toward the protection of her soldiers and friends, and her arms moved against her will.

 

Distracted, with a great swing the Phoenix was pummeled into the fortress wall when she turned about suddenly. Taking the opportunity to change tactics and yet, follow the red lyrium's will to kill, she flew with her fiery wings right for the ice mage. Grabbing her mid-air with great effort, the Phoenix's wings glided them into the molten pool. Eira tried to free herself, expending more mana than she had the right to, breaching the surface only to be pulled back down. Lava splashed and plonked about from the two erratic bodies fighting for dominance. Her screams were ear-shatteringly high-pitched as Evelyn held her down with all her strength. The magma turned a dark red as the ice mage's movements slowed until they stopped altogether.

 

Vaulting back up, she was met by a Templar's sword to the gut. There were cries and gasps all about, as their captive audience had returned. Staggering back a few steps, what should've been a killing blow, proved fatal to only the metal blade, which had liquified in her superheated core.

 

"My turn," with grace and agility the Phoenix lunged plunging her glass blade into him pulling up slightly on it. She snarled at him, but when his shock had fled, his face softened more than she had ever seen it before. The red blinked out of his eyes and for the next few moments, the true Ryker Aeron came through.

 

"It's alright my love," his hand caressed her, catching fire but he no longer felt pain, "I will await you beside the Maker to be united for all eternity.” His one remaining hand pulled her lips to him in a kiss of death. In moments, his body was nothing but charred ash, carried out of Skyhold by the stiff mountain wind.

 

Before she could process all that had happened, she had one more enemy to deal with; the one within. A deal's a deal, release me. The magic of the anchor suddenly awoke as the red lyrium tried to tap the source. She cried out at the pain as her hand extended out not of her own volition. You want me for the anchor, now? Do you seek its secrets of power as you have mine? What are you? Who is your master? The song ground out a sickening sound, making her cringe as if she had a pounding headache. Out of the corner of her squinted eyes, she saw Cassandra and the remaining Templars running down the stairs. I should've known better than to make a deal with a demon, but now the Templars will quiet you. It screamed at her in alien phrases, throwing her down on her back, howling in pain as if a thousand needles were prickling her skull.

 

Knowing its time was short, it tried to open a rift, but a barrier of some kind sealed over her still-human-looking hand. Solas, Sorin, Dorian, Vivienne, and Ilara were in tow, and the three male mages combined their power preventing the anchor's use. The more the poison in her veins struggled the more pain it reaped upon her, and for a moment she truly thought she was going to die before the cool sensation of Templar magic began to calm the fire within. Cassandra coordinated the effort and with each wave, her molten form gradually changed back into flesh and blood. Feeling the red lyrium's grasp slip from her, she asserted her will over it, allowing the Templars to purge her of all mana. Completely drained, she flipped over trying to weakly cover her naked body, coughing up more blood.

 

Vivienne fade stepped throwing a cloak about her and Ilara was there a moment later hugging her to her chest. They laid her on her back, pulling the blanket partially down to tend to her wound, which she could now feel. She groaned deliriously as shadows converged above her.

 

How bad is it? The glow of healing magic at work blotted out their faces, as did the blue sky above. She closed her eyes tightly in reaction to the pain.

 

Ilara dear, you did wonders in the little time you had before, but I fear it is too hard to tell the extent of what the red lyrium has done, let alone the beating we just witnessed. We need to do some tests.

 

What about the mark? Is it stable?

 

No, it will take me some time to attune it back to a less heightened state. She heard herself moan in agony. It's causing her no small amount of pain, as you can see.

 

Really, Chuckles? I thought the gaping chest wound accounted for that, but what do I know?

 

Evie! I'm here little sis! Can she hear me? Someone tell me what the fuck going on!? Can you do nothing for the pain? Cassandra?

 

Come, let them work. I'll explain over here.

 

Uh, is that what I think it is? I'm going to be sick...

 

Dorian dear, rather than fainting, go fetch us some lyrium, we're going to need it. Commander, would you be able to organize some men to move her into the infirmary? I don't think we need an audience for this.

 

Right away. You men there…! Her head raised, making an indecipherable sound.

 

Shh, Evie you need to hold still. Just hang in there!

 

What was that!? That sound didn't sound like a good sound, is she alright!?

 

Bull darling, take Lord Trevelyan here somewhere to wait.

 

Yes, ma'am. Come on, the boss is in the best hands. You're not helping by…

 

Enchanter Vivienne, my men and I are ready to move the Inquisitor on your word.

 

We need to do it now, time is of the essence. Have your men slowly place her on the sled. Any sudden movements could kill her, mind you. Wait, Solas what is happening?

 

By Andraste's flame, she moving too much! Henley! Hold her legs! Commander, her head! She felt the callouses scrape against the sensitive skin of her neck and face.

 

"Cullen, it hurts..." she weakly sobbed out, vaguely feeling him wipe her tears.

 

Maker, why is she still awake? Shouldn't she be in the Fade by now? Varric, don't you have that powder?

 

On it, Curly! Give me one second... here, knockout powder.

 

A cloth was gently laid on her face, Don't fight it, Evelyn, we'll see you through this, I promise. She breathed deep and within moments she was out of pain walking the Fade.

Notes:

I hope you all enjoyed OC Ryker Aeron, I was really looking for a bad guy who embodied some of the traits of the Joker (Batman). Leave your thoughts!

On Wednesday, November 1, 2023 I will be releasing an original work of mine on RoyalRoad only! Not only will the story got live with a new chapter every week, but there will be a Discord community to discuss my new book and DA fanfics! I invite you all to check it out here: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/75863/mistwalker-rise-of-the-forsaken

And don't worry, this story as well as Advent of the Phoenix will still be updated!

Chapter 25: What We Must Endure

Summary:

Evelyn recovers from her wounds, plans to leave for Adamant progress, and she and Cullen try to figure out a way to move forward.

"What's the status of our fortifications?" Leliana asked with a heavy sigh.

 

It had been two days and the Inquisitor was still not awake. Unlike her, Cullen had not slept for those forty-eight hours seeing to securing their base. The purplish bags under his eyes had not gone unnoticed by the other advisors, though he knew the three women purposely said nothing of it. They had all been through an ordeal the past week, beginning with the Inquisitor's intervention and ending in a red lyrium-fueled battle down in the Lower Courtyard. His left arm was in a sling, having been fractured by Aeron, stubbornly receding into his old habits of suffering rather than using magic to heal it. Despite this, just like after the loss at Haven, if he could stand, he could work which is about all he had been doing. The Dorian and surgeon had checked on him amidst his duties and his valet kept a hot pot of fresh coffee at the ready in his office at all times. To top it off his misery, preparations for Adamant had been suspended until the Inquisitor awoke and her health reassessed which resulted in a complete change in his timeline.

 

"The walls sustained minor damage, but the portcullis is a mess. Master Gatsi believes the whole lot of it needs to be replaced. Our carpenters are beginning work on it now, but it will be another week and a half before we have a gate." He pinched the bridge of his nose with his good hand, "Out of pure luck, a Sergeant of mine is a geologist by profession and claims the magma pool has cooled and is not dangerous. We'll have some workers start to level it tomorrow, so for now," turning to Josephine, "tell the nobles coming and going they'll just have to go around it. All in all, it could've been much worse." He placed his board down to take a sip of his coffee.

 

"I wish my report was as hopeful, but we have several small fires, so to speak, to put out," rarely was Josephine ever so grim. She sighed heavily as if wondering where to begin, "Firstly, I've tried my best to control the accounts of the battle being sent out by our visiting dignitaries and guests, but I'm afraid some are unflattering in their description of events. From her mock engagement to her murder of the Knight-Commander, I've had my hands full trying to spread an accurate account of all the information that was released at the trial. Unfortunately, this is the sort of news that the vultures salivate for and the false rumors and gossip are already out of hand."

 

"I have my agents intercepting what they can out of Skyhold. The ones stationed in the cities have also quelled what publications they could with rousing suspicion. Is there anything, rather anyone, you need help convincing of the truth in particular?" The Spymaster tilted her head like mischievous a cat.

 

"No Leilana, I do not think that will be necessary. For every ridiculous tale, there are at least two more glowing ones of her heroism." Josephine fussed over her notes, straightening all the edges and corners to exact precision, and he realized he had never seen matters weigh so heavily on her, "Many have sent prayers and some Chantries have held a vigil for her. News of the abuse she suffered in the Circle has garnered sympathy and empowered others -both mages and Templars alike - to voice their concerns over the Chantry's management, or lack thereof, of such serious incidents. Naturally, Lord Seeker Lucius has denounced the Inquisitor as an abomination that needs to be collared and fabricates her hatred of Templars." Taking a breath to slow the creeping frustration in her voice, she went on, "Additionally, Emperor Gaspard has strongly denounced all accounts that put her in an ill light, which has greatly aided my staff's efforts, and thanks to the Inquisitor's work in Ferelden, the people have more receptive of our story. With public opinion still so favorable, King Alistair and Queen Elissa have also made their support of the truth known."

 

"Lord Trevelyan tells me his family has played no small part in wielding their influence in the Free Marches," Cassandra added.

 

Lady Montilyet nodded earnestly, "Yes, forgive me, it slipped my mind. I'm just--"

 

"Overwhelmed. We understand, Ambassador." Cassandra's voice was solemn.

 

Cullen passed his coffee over to her, quirking an eyebrow in invitation. She hesitated looking at the mug but took a sip. As always, she was too polite to ever give offense and simply commented, "Commander, how do you drink it like this? Skyhold can afford sugar and cream enough to supply your coffee-drinking habits, I assure you."

 

He chuckled, "Too sweet."

 

"Says the man who pockets any unattended blueberry scones as breakfast is cleared," the Nightingale smiled knowingly at him, "don't think it has gone unseen."

 

He simply rolled his eyes playfully at her, "We all have our vices. At least everyone can agree mine is tasteful, unlike your obsession with gaudy shoes."

 

Before she could object, Cassandra butted in, "Can we bicker childishly later and get back to it."

 

Leliana leaned back turning to her, with a catty attitude, "Are we keeping you from something more pressing? Lord Trevelyan for instance?"

 

"Or reading Swords & Shields," the words accidentally popped out before his caffeinated-addled brain could rightfully stop it. He froze slowly moving his eyes up to meet her glare.

 

Cassandra's face flushed beet red as she stuttered, unable to vocalize her outrage. She let out a fiery breath and rubbed the back of her neck. "You two will pay," she growled out jabbing a finger at them both.

 

Leliana huffed, "Now who's being childish?" Despite the teasing, the slow smiles from the other three seemed to persuade the Seeker to join in their brief respite from the weight of their duties of late. Maker knows not one ounce of levity had been seen in the past few days anxiously awaiting any word on the Inquisitor's condition. The meals he had attended saw them all with their noses buried in reports or they left early to deal with an urgent matter due to taking on her duties. Evelyn's companions had even been uncharacteristically morose. The few times he had gotten over to the infirmary to check on her, there had always been at least two of them on hand sitting with her. Each time they asked if he'd like to sit with her, but he declined, asking instead for the latest update from Ilara and Vivienne.

 

He hadn't had the time to adequately process what happened between them. There were so many questions he needed answered by her. He was at such a loss at what to think and feel, only having felt this conflicted one other time in his life after leaving the Order. There was little doubt that she had spurned him solely due to Aeron's blackmailing, but he had gone through the loss of her and had believed for months that he was not enough for her. Those feelings were real, and they left their raw mark on his heart.

 

"How are you faring?" He did a double-take when he realized the Spymaster was speaking to him.

 

"I'll mend, in time for Adamant, not to worry," lifting his lame arm. The others had already started towards the door, while Leliana stayed behind, not hiding at all that she wanted to speak with him privately. 

 

She shifted her weight to one hip and crossed her arms, "That is good news, but I was referring to up here." She prodded his forehead, then his chestplate, "And here. She saved your life."

 

He sighed heavily, "How would you feel? It's all my fault she'd laying there unconscious."

 

"That's not true. You know as well as I that she would've stepped in front of any one of us to take the blow, though I understand why you believe, in particular, it was because of your past relationship."

 

He stared at her like a sad Mabari, "And what of before, when I walked in on their dinner the night of his arrival, could I have done something then and ended it all before it began?"

 

"The man had thought of everything, I'll give him that. He even had the foresight that we'd put him to trial and planned an escape, seduced one of our own to help him, and managed to give her red lyrium, let alone smuggle it into Skyhold. I almost wish I had him as one of my agents. His talents were clearly wasted by the Order." She eyed him, apprising if her words had any effect, "But no, I don't believe you could've done anything without condemning the Inquisitor and the Enchanter to a fate worse than death. There were many reasons for her to keep it from us and endure such a man, all the while doing what was required of her. If she hadn't our mission in Orlais would've failed."

 

"How comforting that she has not suffered in vain," heavy sarcasm lacing his words. He rubbed a hand down his face, "Maker, the way she told me she was in pain… I've seen my share of death and torture, you know that, but hearing it from her…" he stared off, but she was quick to place a hand on his arm shaking him of the visions.

 

"I heard from Cassandra. It's not easy for any of us to see her go through this again. She'll need you when she wakes."

 

"I'm not sure I'm ready to be there like that for her again. She may have just been acting, but it was all real for me."

 

"I see. Well, as things are, it seems you have time to think about it. And Cullen," her voice could be sweet and soft when she needed it to be, "for the love of Andraste, get some rest before I have Varric pay you a visit with his special powder."

 

---

 

When she woke up on the third day, anything that could be blown or banged to make tremendous noise was done just that for a quarter of an hour. As Skyhold celebrated, Evelyn spent that time coughing out whatever was still in her damaged lung and wheezing in unsteady breaths. Her throat was raw and her voice was raspy. Every inhale had a slight whistle to it, and she had to keep her breaths shallow, otherwise, she'd send herself straight into a coughing fit causing her an incredible amount of pain. She was on the first floor of the infirmary in her own private corner. The bright white linen partitions and sheets covering her were glaring compared to the dark stone walls. The air smelled clean with a hint of elfroot or some kind of light earthy scent.

 

Not fully aware yet, there were people in and out asking her all manner of questions, most notably Ilara, Vivienne, and Solas. Lying there in a daze, she listened as the mages explained her condition to her advisors and companions. "Her state is still unstable. Despite our best efforts, there is still fluid in her lungs and thus a risk of inflammation. The organ has been mended, but it will take time for it to strengthen on its own, the same goes for her bones," Vivienne started.

 

" Now that she is awake, we will be able to speed up the healing process as she will help us by pointing out the areas of pain that we cannot see,” Ilara's voice sounded tired, no doubt from fussing endlessly over her. The thought brought her no small amount of guilt. "The red lyrium, thanks to the Seeker and Templars, has been out of her system for several days now, having expertly purged her without rendering her unconscious."

 

"And the mark," Solas added, "has becalmed. But... it has grown. I suspect it happened when the red lyrium tried to use the anchor."

 

"What of her magic? Do we know has that has been affected yet?" Cassandra's steady tone was laced with concern. Wondering now the same now, she touched her mana finding everything surprisingly fine.

 

"I--" her voice was just a squeak, "I--" The curtain opened and it revealed a room packed to the brim. The weight of their stares hit her hard as she analyzed their expressions and the harmony of various greetings.

 

"Hey, Blaze!" Varric called, "It's about time we were getting bored without you!"

 

"Quizzy! You look... eww!" Sera scrunched up her face, "Well, your hair looks great, yeah?"

 

Their eyes filled with mirth as she went to respond, but instead a wheeze and burning coughing fit took her. Immediately, the faces of her friends dropped into worried frowns immediately. The enchanters rushed to her, hands glowing at the ready. Owayne pushed in, and they gave him the job of bending her over the bed to cough out anything. When she was done her brother laid her back gently as she panted, closing her eyes tightly shut.

 

The two mages left the Trevelyan siblings and closed the partition, "Perhaps, she isn't ready for company quite yet, dears. Enchanter Ilara and I will send updates as we have them. For now, I suggest you all let her rest and… adjust to her injuries."

 

"We were set to leave for Adamant in a week. Is it safe to assume will have to postpone our departure?" The Commander's voice was soft, even though she knew the amount of work this injury was going to cause him.

 

"Most definitely, Commander. The best case is a two-week recovery, but I won't be able to tell you more until we start treatment and see how her body responds." Vivienne's words while hopeful, were not what he wanted to hear. In her mind's eye, she could see him running a hand through his hair huffing at the major delay of his operation.

 

After a copious amount of water, she was able to speak, asking what she missed. Her brother spoke of the aftermath and any information he had been privy to. "Did you write Father?"

 

"Of course, and I'll do so again today before our family descends on Skyhold bringing more trouble with them," Owayne rolled his eyes.

 

"To be fair, Mother truly had not known about Ryker. He had a gift for manipulation."

 

"Well, she does now and I've received nothing but silence from her. I believe, after hearing the news of what was said at the trial, she's a bit guilt-stricken."

 

"If any good has come of this, it's that she will never push another suitor on me again." She let her head fall back on the firm pillow, "Anything else I should know?" After a lengthy pause, she opened her eyes to find him giving her a sour look, "What is it?"

 

"Cullen told me you were seeing each other… secretly." Her jaw clenched and she held his eyes. "When he first began to voice his suspicions about Aeron, I simply thought it was because you were good friends, but after throwing him under the Druffalo at breakfast the morning of mother's departure, he fessed up."

 

"Well, as I'm sure you're aware, that isn't going on any longer since I thoroughly fucked that up." Her gaze fell away from him and a deep sadness settled on her face.

 

"I'm sorry little sis." A brief respite from his mood produced a smirk, "But for the record, I called it the moment I met him!"

 

"Yes, yes, congratulations. Can we please not speak of him," her voice softened back to a somber state towards the end.

 

"Sorry, I was just trying to lighten the mood."

 

"By talking about the single greatest depressing thing in my life at the moment? Great plan," she shook her head slowly.

 

"You still care for him then?"

 

"Of course. I had to break things off by Ryker's order. It was either I do it, or he would've, and of what you know now of the man, can you imagine what he would've done to Cullen?" She took another sip of water to fend off a cough, "I hurt him, and now I have to live with it." Her head fell back once more in exasperation, unable to even begin to conspire how she was to explain to Cullen why she said what she said.

 

"Well, from what I saw in the War Room that day and the days leading up to it, that seemed like a man who still cared." She felt like deep within her heart she knew that, but she had created an impassable rift that she felt he now questioned if it was worth crossing. Tears wet her eyes as she averted his gaze, hating crying in front of him. "Hey, hey," he said softly, "Cullen may be a thick-headed Ferelden, but he's perceptive. Just give him time to sort through his feelings. He's got the world on his shoulders with this Adamant thing. I think as his first offensive military operation he's adding extra pressure to himself not to fail."

 

"Trust me I know, and I'm yet again messing things up for him." She faced away from him feeling a bit sorry for herself.

 

Her brother leaned forward on his knees, "He's a big boy, and can handle himself. If it makes you feel better I'll get Cassandra's help and check in on him." She sighed and nodded, "You need to focus all your energy on healing, then you can worry about what comes next."

 

"I'll try."

 

---

 

Her confinement to bed proved more interesting than she would've imagined, having nothing to do but talk with her friends. Normally, work or their current mission was too much of a distraction to properly sit and chat about what was occupying the bulk of their free time, but with that obstacle gone, it revealed a whole new side to many of them.

 

"I'm not sure wine is on my list of things I can have, Dorian."

 

"Pff, with how expensive this particular white is, it should have you up and dancing. What will a glass or two hurt? Who's about to even stop us?"

 

"Careful, or Ilara will come down here and beat your arse, or better yet, she'll have Henley do it."

 

"A punishment I wouldn't mind taking. That is a fine-looking specimen, and that is saying something coming from me."

 

"He certainly is--"

 

"Such high praise, Trevelyan! That would've earned you a back and shoulder massage at least when were on missions together in Ostwick. And you know I give the best massages."

 

She crossed her arms, "Oh, here we go. Now look what you've done." Preening like a peacock in the manliest way possible, Henley strode down the stairs. His tanned skin was a few shades lighter than Dorian's, but he had the same shade of hair just lightly peppered behind the ears. "Try not to trip on the ego leaking from your ears."

 

Dorian uncrossed his legs and sat up, "Am I sensing some history between the two of you? Secret forbidden trysts in the Circle sort of history?"

 

"It was never really a secret. We just never got caught."

 

"Henley!" She groaned, knowing Dorian would never leave until he squeezed all the juicy details he wanted from her.

 

"Pff, you could've done worse from that lot. There were some nasty blighters there. You're lucky I decided to tolerate your sooty musk."

 

"Get the fuck out, Byron! We were on the road, how was I to… ugh, never mind. Just 'cause you have the prettiest girl in Skyhold now, doesn't mean I have to put up with your sass. Remember, I'm still your boss and can send you to the arse end of Thedas! How does an extended tour in the Fallow Mire sound? We'll"

 

"Take it up my chain of command, Trevelyan. The Commander likes me too much. Speaking of which, I'm headed to see him now." The mere mention of him was like a stab to the gut each time.

 

"Ah, another handsome man, even if he's Ferelden. It seems Skyhold is collecting them, myself included." With a dramatic salute, Henley banged out the door. She shook her head after him, before meeting the Tevinter's cheeky gaze, "Spill it. All of it, mind you, or I'll just be here again when you wake up."

 

"Do you truly have nothing better to do?" She said beside herself. "Why don't you try and help Owayne woo Cassandra, make pigs fly, or do some other impossible task?"

 

He looked slyly at her from the corner of his eye, "I don't think your brother needs help anymore." They held each other's gaze as her eyes widened.

 

"You mean… Maker, and they didn't tell me! Let's talk about that!"

 

"Don't change the subject, my dear. You. Henley. Smut, no fluff. Go."

 

---

 

"I have a bone to pick with you, dear tentmate." The look Evelyn was giving her made her balk back at her.

 

"And that is?" Cassandra’s sassy tone was paired with a raised eyebrow.

 

"Is there something you'd like to tell me?" She folded her hands in her lap looking up at her expectantly.

 

She narrowed her eyes at her, "You mean like, how Bull has been misusing Inquisition resources by launching Krem's knitted nugs out of the catapults?"

 

The Inquisitor sighed, trying to hold back a cough, "Try again."

 

"That Sera ran all of Josephine's smallclothes up the flagpole? Though I do believe some were Dorian's, it was difficult to tell."

 

Her hard expression broke and she began to laugh, though not enough to cause a fit, "What in Andraste's name goes on here when I'm incapacitated? You’ve all gone mad! But no, not that either."

 

Cassandra's brow knitted together as she tried to think of another thing to distract her, but having failed, she guilt fully came clean, "Alright, if you must know, I have begun to... welcome your brother's advances." She looked sheepishly up from under her brow.

 

"Was that truly so hard to admit?"

 

"Yes! I don't..." the Seeker threw her hands up as she searched for the words with cheeks flushed, "I haven't done this sort of thing in a long time, and frankly, wasn't planning to again."

 

"You mean to tell me Varric's smutty books were going to be the only form of romance you planned on having to sustain yourself for the rest of your days?"

 

She made a disgusted grunt, "Not... really. I don't know. I suppose I was just being stubborn."

 

"Like usual," she smiled teasingly at her friend. "For what it's worth, I'm happy for you both, as strange as it is. The two of you are like opposites."

 

She laughed lightly looking to the ceiling, "You're not wrong, but he's grown on me."

 

"You mean he wore you down," this time she heartily chuckled causing her chest to tickle. “We Trevelyans tend to do that. Seriously though, I sincerely believe you will be a good influence on him. Were you ever planning on telling me though? Dorian and his big mouth were the ones to spill it on me first."

 

Her scowl was back, "Dorian? Does he have nothing better to do than pry into everyone else's personal affairs?"

 

Remembering her most recent conversation with him she replied confidently, "No, he really doesn't."

 

She scooted her chair forward whispering, "And what about you, have you spoken with Cullen?"

 

She looked down fiddling her fingers, "No, but I don't think there is much to say. What I did is unforgivable and once his trust is broken, that's it, you don't get it back. I'm not sure if we can move past this." They shared a profound look of sorrow and she tried her best not to get choked up. She cleared her throat, "I'm not even sure I know how to broach the subject with him. I feel like I lost the ability to talk with him like we used to after having to be so cold and distant."

 

Cassandra reached out and held her hand with a gentle squeeze, "I'm sure you'll think of a way. Has he been to see you?"

 

A watery sheen coated her eyes, "Lar said he comes late at night after I'm given my sleeping draught. He just sits for a few minutes in silence then leaves. She’s been too afraid to say anything to him, not wanting to scare him off."

 

"Can you stay up until he arrives?"

 

She scoffed humorously, "No, you'd be surprised at the limitations of my authority in this part of Skyhold."

 

---

 

When the Inquisitor was able to walk to her quarters, with the help of her brother and the mages, she was overjoyed to finally be out of bed. Though she was under orders to remain in her quarters to rest for another few days, she could at least do something other than gossip. Her desk had a small pile of work, no doubt missing several letters that her advisors were instead taking care of. Though her body still hurt, her mind was sharp, and she demonstrated such to her council that relinquished her work back to her happily.

 

With plans to leave for Adamant at the end of the following week, the Commander was beginning to ramp up preparations again to move the army out to the sandy wasteland. Almost every day there was a matter for them to discuss, and she tried to suppress her feelings of desiderium for the warmth they once shared. Conversations were conducted with efficient speed without frivolous small talk.

 

One day as he awaited her signature regarding a request for more resources from Emperor Gaspard, she could no longer ignore the awkwardness. Dipping her quill in her inkwell, the Inquisitor resolved in her mind to not let him go this time. Lost in thought and staring at one of the many items collected by her on her travels, she couldn't help but notice his hands were trembling resting on the arms of the chair across from her desk. After affixing her signature, she poured sand upon the page that soaked up any extra ink then folded it. Taking her gold stick of sealing wax and holding her finger to it, she cast a small flame, dripping the melted wax onto the open fold of the parchment. Blowing on the wax to cool it, she looked up again watching a subdued wince overtake his face… it was clear he was suffering a bout of lyrium withdrawal symptoms.

 

Even so, she was determined to speak with him. Pressing her seal into the wax, she passed the letter to him. As if he was trying to escape a horde of Orlesian nobles, he quickly stood planting one foot in the direction of her door. "Cullen, wait," she held the letter not letting it go forcing him to sit back down looking uncomfortable. She was no less nervous to speak of the heartbreak infusing their interactions. Having no better idea as to how to lead into it, Evelyn meekly admitted, "I'm not sure how to even begin to apologize to you for everything."

 

He sighed grimly with a hint of annoyance, then shook his head, "Don't." Hurt crept onto his face as he leaned back in the chair again, shielding his eyes with a gloved hand.

 

"What do you mean?" She was slightly confused.

 

He composed himself stoically, though didn't meet her eyes, "I've had time to consider the matter and..." His tone was worrisome, making her heart pick up its pace. "I think, whatever we were needs to be put aside for the good of the Inquisition." Her hopes sank at his words, despite knowing they could not simply pick up where they left off. She had gone over it many times in her head, but hearing the words from him was more painful than getting stabbed in the chest. "Our duty comes first, and as it stands, Adamant is going to be hard enough on us all."

 

As his wish to end their once-blooming relationship sunk in, she wondered why dramatically they had bothered to close the hole in her chest. They should've just let her bleed out, for whatever semblance of her heart was just destroyed. This is exactly why she never let things go too far with Henley. This was why she guarded her heart, because she knew once she gave it away it would belong to that man forever. Cullen had won it back at Haven and she foolishly allowed herself to hope for something more from life after the Inquisition.

 

Her mark sputtered some light and she viewed the magic eating away at her hand and wrist. Suddenly, she didn't care that it was killing her. At least then people could say she died in a service to Thedas, not of a broken heart.

 

"As you wish," her voice had an edge to it, not having much choice but to go along with what he needed. She had no right to suggest otherwise.

 

Cullen's amber eyes narrowed flicking up to hers finally, "You sound as though you disagree?"

 

She certainly did, but needed to tread carefully or risk pushing him too far away. He was glaring at her as if an enemy on the battlefield. "You don't want to hear what I have to say?"

 

"No, I don't. What would that change?" Cullen glared at her with exasperation. She opened her mouth to respond, but shut it, as he went on, "I lost you. For months I dealt with it, tried to accept it to be able to just see you every day without succumbing to grief as we worked. The only thing that kept me from the Void was my duty. Then you kissed me that night, making me almost say something I'm glad I didn't, especially after using me in your games of the nobility. The magic that you used on me, I might be able to forgive, but using me…" he angrily shook his head at her. Evelyn couldn't help the tears welling up in her chocolate eyes, even as she tried to stoke her rage instead as protection.

 

"I understand." Her anger wouldn't flare, leaving her only with profound sorrow.

 

Seeing her shrink into herself, he seemed to find an ounce of pity within himself, "We need to be able to work together as Inquisitor and Commander first and foremost." She simply nodded, not trusting her voice. "It would be unfair to give you any hope. We may find that we're better off apart, I don't know." It was a crushing blow. Her jaw clenched and she looked ahead to the fireplace trying to focus on not unraveling before him. She expected this, so why was it still so devastating? "I'm sorry it has to be this way." She pursed her lips together nodding. "I, um..."

 

"I think that will be all, Commander. Don't forget your letter." She slid it to him across the desk. He studied her before standing to leave. Her glassy eyes were directed away in pain, anger, and frustration. Her rational sense reminded her that he was the victim, not she, and yet, had she not just been tortured by a ghost from the past? Had agonized over every transgression she was forced to commit against him? Nearly died protecting him? Didn't she deserve a bit of sympathy? How could she communicate that to him without it becoming a contest as to who had suffered more?

 

As the door clanked shut, she found herself alone with her tormenting thoughts. The silence of the room was suffocating. In that moment, she allowed herself to feel sorry for herself for once. Throwing herself onto the bed, tears flowed like a bubbling brook and she hugged a pillow muffling her sobs. After some time, she sat there emotionally raw. That one word, duty, ate at her. It was the reason she suffered Ryker's blackmail and the only thing keeping her from losing Cullen. It was a bane and a blessing, and whether she liked it or not, looking at the anchor's pulsating glow, she was bound to its body and soul.

 

The expanded mark glared up at her as she studied the spread of it. The green was beginning to bleed into the veins of her wrist. Any hope of removing the mark or thinking that it wouldn't claim her was gone. Seeing it so entrenched within her skin, when it flared confronted her with her own mortality. Perhaps, Cullen was right, maybe it was better they separated before fate did it without remorse. Would it be easier for her to die than for this crusade?

 

The deep depression set into her chest again. It was an emptiness where all emotion and rational thought were lost. As soon as she'd think of something to keep her afloat, it sank into its dark depths. It was an indescribable loneliness to know no one understood her, not even Cullen now. Ilara may have suffered alongside her, but only endured half of it. She did not have the fire beaten out of her daily or forced to do anything against her will. As these spiraling thoughts consumed her for the entirety of the day, she began to wonder how she was going to get out of bed and face the world tomorrow. The Phoenix looked to the fire, the mirror image of her soul, trying to find some hope to help starve away the darkness overtaking her. Within the flames, one glaring word stuck out in her mind through the cacophony...

 

Duty.

 

---

 

After a cheery breakfast, everyone was happy to see her up and about except the woman herself, the hour bell rang signaling the start of work. She and her advisors made their way slowly to the War Room at her pace. Entering the space free of Ryker's influence was freeing. There were no secrets to hide, no spies, no reason to watch her words, it was just as it had been. Sort of.

 

Naturally, Josephine couldn't let things begin without officially welcoming her back, to which the others wore relieved expressions as well, even the Commander. It seemed he was not wasting time resuming their strictly polite working relationship. After her meltdown the previous day, she reminded herself that like him, duty was her ultimate driving force as well. Unlike him, however, she also didn't have much of a choice since the explosion at the Conclave. Regardless, it kept the shadow of depression at bay and roused her from bed getting her this far.

 

Physically she ached and the stairs were proving to be the biggest obstacle, and of course, one couldn't go anywhere in Skyhold without running into a damn staircase. When asked about her health, she said as much adding, "I may need to have Bull on hand to carry me when my lungs can't take it."

 

"Adamant will pose the same challenges to you, I would suggest viewing it like training," Cullen's tone neutral.

 

"You're right, of course. I can't afford to get soft, Maker knows, I'll have a target painted on my back attracting every demon in that fortress to me. Now, let us start today by bringing me up to speed on the changes caused by the delay and the status of our forces." The biggest challenge was the estimation of how many Grey Wardens were now occupying Adamant Fortress. The Inquisition had shown their hand as the siege equipment was already en route. Had the army been in tow, Erimond wouldn't have had time to prepare. Knowing now that they were coming, assumingly if Commander Clarel had any sense left, she would've had another week to prepare the ancient stronghold for siege. With the element of surprise gone, the Inquisition would have to call up more men. Cullen had been busy adjusting the supplies to accommodate the extra battalions now having to join them. Not only that but a third of the force was sent ahead with the siege engines as an escort and would require additional resources before the arrival of the rest of the army. While she was unconscious, the Ambassador quickly sent word to Emperor Gaspard, who grateful to the Inquisition for taking on this foe alone within their borders, sent along the needed supplies and then some. Though it had been a logistical nightmare, the situation was well in hand.

 

"My agents have seen a massive rift situated in the center of the fortress. The reason has yet to be discovered, but I think we can assume that is where the demon army is spawning from," Leliana circled her finger around a few areas on the schematic of Adamant where the rift could be located based on the reports.

 

"Have any demons actually been spotted?" The Knight-Enchanter questioned. Demons didn't require the basic necessities of a normal army.

 

"Yes, and it is… not good."

 

"Wonderful." Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose, "Try and have them find out which have been summoned already. The more we know ahead of time the better we can prepare." The delay had cost them dearly, and it would be the rank and file who paid the ultimate price of her recent blunder. "I'd like copies of all the reports to go through on my desk before midday. If I have any questions, I'll come see you personally." The three nodded.

 

"One last note," Josephine tapped her quill for attention, "Arl Teagan will be arriving to discuss several trade agreements in two days. Originally, I had planned to entertain him myself with you all away on mission, but with the delay of the siege operation, we will host a formal dinner for him. I expect you all to attend and look presentable." The last word was punctuated toward the Commander, who did a double-take before rolling his eyes with an accompanying groan. "The Arl is the uncle of King Alistair, it would be an insult to not have the entirety of the advisory council in attendance if they are at home."

 

The Spymaster's gaze shot to the Inquisitor in a rare moment of concern, "Do you think is wise, Josie, to put Evelyn through their interrogations so soon? Perhaps, we say she is still recovering?" Her point was well-founded.

 

"The Inquisitor will have to face them eventually. Better it be at home than elsewhere." The Ambassador gazed at her with soft gray eyes watching her frown deepen, "I am sorry to do this to you, but here you will at least have us all at hand to assist with any issues that may arise. Perhaps, there is someone who can accompany you to look after your well-being?" Though she was looking down, from their shifting she knew they were giving the Commander a look.

 

Before he could, though not that he would have obliged them, she blurted out, "Sorin. I'd like him to be with me. He will keep me… level-headed. Plus, he's half-Ferelden."

 

"Very well, I will see to his preparation and attire."

 

---

 

Up until Adamant, Evelyn dedicated herself to a rigorous training schedule in preparation for siege and to distract her from the emotional baggage she had accumulated over the past months.  The abuse from Ryker had left her empty of emotions, finding little joy in life. It was hard to smile or show any feelings, and she hoped concentrating on herself and her duty would help her out of the depression.

 

Rising just before the first light, she jogged the ramparts until her lung burned. Waving to the guards and any of her friends who were in the midst of their 'walk of shame,' she became a common sight. Typically, she saw Sera, Bull, Dorian, or her brother slinking back from whatever hole they were sleeping their bender off in. As per the Commander's recommendation, she used the stairs, cutting through the Lower Courtyard, kicking up the permanent mud puddles that were unavoidable. Her heels would splatter it up the back of her breezy sleeveless shirt, as she worked up a lather. After, a short break for water, fruit, and a muffin, she headed straight to the training grounds before it became too crowded. She practiced her spells first, not wanting to conjure when there was a crowd about for obvious safety reasons. Towards the end she practiced with a staff and sword with whoever was around: Blackwall, Bull, Cassandra, Henley, Sorin, or Owayne. Blackwall had been hesitant since knocking her out the week before, but she assured him she'd not let it happen again. The Commander was right in that it would not do to hold back from training and each time she practiced she pushed herself harder despite her healing chest.

 

Occasionally, she'd duel some of the rank and file looking to prove themselves against their leader for bragging rights. Rylen was careful to officiate the spar and scold the soldiers if he thought they were getting too rough with her. The match always came with a morale boost for all involved and watching, even in the early hours before the real work began. With each new partner, she became more familiar with her soldiers. Their boisterous antics and taunting lightened the mood as the upcoming mission loomed before them - an operation that had just gotten immensely more dangerous. She enjoyed speaking with all the new faces having always tried to make herself accessible to her people regardless of her title. Throughout the day she was approached by those wishing to speak with her as they had after the fall of Haven. While waiting for food in the Great Hall, pursuing the market stalls, walking the garden, and of course, on the training grounds, usually there was always someone seeking an audience.

 

Many expressed views of her she had never expected to hear. Mages, Templars, nobles, commoners, and individuals of all races came with messages of praise and hope. It puzzled her as to how they could see such good in her after everything, especially when she had a hard time seeing it herself. They reassured her that they were behind her in the fight to come or they commented on her past abuses, them now having been published for all to read about thanks to the Ambassador. While she wasn't thrilled to have her personal history made so public, it had made her more human in the eyes of others as they shared their stories with her. With a sympathetic ear, she listened to their harrowing tales, some of which they had never told a soul about until having been emboldened to face their own demons as she had. Though she had enough on her own conscious, she found herself grasping their hands in support with a weary smile. They were hailed as courageous, resilient, and strong, which she used in her assessment of their fortitude.

 

Yet, despite all the new acquaintances and friendships found, there was still someone she sorely missed.

 

As her routine became clockwork, so did the Commander's, which worked seemingly to avoid her. Typically, she was finishing up by the time he began his warm-ups, always saying a polite greeting in passing. Cullen had always been an early riser, as before they had always beaten everyone else there in the morning. So, the fact that he was training so late - at least for his standards - could only mean he was purposely doing it. The only time she saw him was in the War Room or if they had work to discuss, which when able, he'd send one of his runners with messages or reports. Dining in the Great Hall was little more than just a change of scenery from his desk, bringing a stack of papers to read through avoiding all conversation. Evelyn tried her best to ignore his presence, but it only annoyed her to no end the effort he put into neglecting the situation.

 

Exhausted from suppressing her feelings, she put her petty stubbornness aside. She was going to feel what she was going to feel, why be ashamed of it? She was pining, as loathe as she was to admit it when she had tried so hard to cover it with rage. In quiet moments, her mind wandered to him, though the thoughts varied on the spectrum. On good nights, she dreamt of him with such concupiscence only to wake alone and unfulfilled. Sometimes she allowed herself to hope, especially when she'd catch him staring at her from across Skyhold. However, the light was often overshadowed by the growing void which festered in her heart. Jealousy was the dark's weapon of choice. Any woman in his company became the enemy, even though Cullen was not usually a flirt and always conducted himself professionally, doubt still ate at her. Besides the handful of people who knew about their past relationship, their soldiers and visitors had not a clue. Their flirtatious smiles and the gentle touches to his person were enough to bring her magic to pulse through her veins. It was maddening, and she had to catch herself at times before she did something juvenile just to get his attention.

 

Cole had been visiting her a lot, spewing her emotional state back at her as she groaned hiding her face in her hands. He only meant to help, but hearing her disgusting inner monologue put into words made her sick. Laden with rage, guilt, jealousy, and despair the ugly cryptic phrases didn't help change her mindset. On the board, you are the queen, and yet for all your power you have no moves left, so you overturn the board sacrificing it all to save them - to save him. Scars, so many, worn as punishment, but his cut to the bone. Time will not heal them, nor stitches or salve. The drink, no matter how strong, is easier to swallow than the fact that he may never come back. It was all bottled up inside, and no matter how hard she hit the practice dummy or how hot she allowed her mana to burn, nothing helped.

 

"E, you need to cool it," Sorin looked calmly at her, as her aura began overtaking them. "You're going to melt the caps off the Frostbacks soon." It was the night of the feast for Arl Teagan and Sorin had come to fetch her from her quarters. Josie had picked a ring velvet gown that hid the wounds on her chest. The neckline was straight and wide, hanging a few inches off the shoulders with tight long sleeves. It was form-fitting with a golden Inquisition sigil belt that draped off the curvature of her hips. Her hair was half-up in a coiled braid and a few long locks flowed down over her left shoulder.

 

She took a deep breath, "I can't help it, my balance is off. I need to let it out." The two were up in her quarters on the balcony. "Nothing is helping. Meditation, training, drinking... nothing! We leave for the Western Approach soon and I need to be... better."

 

"I know one thing, rather someone, who could make you feel better, but he's got his head so far up his arse--"

 

"Sorin, stop." Of all her companions, Sorin was the angriest with Cullen in his handling of the fallout. The others had their opinions but ultimately were staying out of it, even Dorian though she suspected he sympathized more with his regular chess partner. Sorin though was making it a point to snub the Commander whenever he had the chance, even if by standards his version of insults boarded on the passive side. He wasn't one to get overly emotional, but this had him fired up.

 

He huffed, "I don't see what his issue is. It wasn't your fault."

 

"It was my fault the minute I failed to kill that bloody whoreson back in Ostwick," her knuckles gripped the back of the lounge chair all but ripping the fabric. She turned to him with a grave look, "I used my magic on him, used him, and said terrible things like reasons why we couldn't be together. Andraste's pyre, he was thinking about marriage and I told him he didn't have the means to support me in any sense of the meaning! I ruined it… I ruined everything with those few words and lying to him."

 

"Ryker ruined it. Doesn't he know what you've been through? At what point going down the long list of transgressions against you does he stop and say, 'fuck, you know, I'm being an arsehole?' He's being selfish, E. He doesn't deserve you if he can't put aside his pride for your sake." Sorin was being protective, and she loved him for it, especially since the thought had crossed her mind before. She also knew he was seeing their relationship through a very narrow window.

 

Letting go of her tension, to ease his knowing they needed to leave, she simply squeezed his shoulder, "You look handsome by the way." Sorin looked dashing in his new tailored waistcoat and jacket for the dinner. Though the colors were dark, the velvety sheen added highlights to his toned lithe muscles.

 

"I don't think I've ever owned anything this fine, " he smoothed a hand down his sleeve. "At least I'll look like I fit in."

 

"That's why I asked for you tonight, I'll need my rock." He keeps her grounded amidst the sea of gossiping nobles. She was to be the Inquisitor tonight, someone the noble guests of Skyhold were dying to see. Between the crowd, politics, and gossip she was to deal with, she feared another meltdown in her state.

 

Her longtime companion was a calming presence and knew how to wrangle her rage, "I'm not afraid to ruffle some noble feathers if I have to if they decide to be dicks, seeing as I'm not one of them."

 

"Just don't do anything to make Josie mad, I've caused her enough trouble as is," her usual inner fire was low and somber despite her bleeding mana. "I just may need some help when asked about… Ryker. I trust you more than anyone to answer calmly."

 

"I get it. Short, plain answers."

 

"And no cursing."

 

He sighed, "Damn."

 

She laughed lightly, "That's it, get it all out now." She hooked arms with him, "And don't do that thing where you only give 'yes' or 'no' as an answer. I'm in no condition to save you from the big brawny Fereldens if you anger them." 

 

Making their way down through the guest wing and into the garden, they took the long way to the front doors of the Great Hall. Josephine wanted a grand entrance for her and as such, she had to cross most of Skyhold to do it. Once they made it up the steep staircase, her soldiers opened the doors and everyone stood. Looking straight ahead, the only man she was interested in greeting was the Arl, as she scanned the crowd towards the head of her table.

 

Reaching the end of the Hall, Josephine commenced the dinner, taking over Evelyn's job of officially welcoming their guest. She stood beside the Ambassador as she explained that the Inquisitor could not over-tax her lungs, so the honor of welcoming the Arl fell to her. It was all ceremonially done, and upon her conclusion, Evelyn was at least "allowed" to motion for everyone to sit. Sorin pulled her chair out for her, as she took his hand to sit. He may not be nobility, but he had been around them enough to know the basics of etiquette. His seat was beside hers to the left tonight, as was the Ambassador then Commander. Leliana was seated down next to the Arl's guest since they both hailed from Orlais.

 

With everyone settled, she lifted a hand to her escort, "May I introduce my former apprentice and good friend, Knight-Enchanter Sorin Cyrus," the mage bowed slightly to the Arl and then to his lady.

 

"Pleasure, Knight-Enchanter." He had eyed their arm holding with scrutiny that she didn't appreciate when they had arrived. Why every man on her arm was always assumed to be a partner in some capacity amazed her even among the nobility. "Allow me to introduce Isolde, my late brother's widow."

 

The blonde Orlesian bowed her head slightly to her. Though aged, she was still quite a beauty with her large brown eyes and full lips that distracted away from the light wrinkles by her eyes. "Inquisitor, it is a pleasure. I'm surprised to see a man on your arm so soon after dispatching the last one. And a student of yours, no less." Her accent made it difficult to ascertain if it was an honest question or one of those passive-aggressive jabs the nobility honed as a weapon.

 

Evelyn's cold eyes shifted to Josephine who had already taken a breath in preparation for a quick retort, "The Knight-Enchanter is simply a close friend and ally. His mother was Ferelden born, and we thought you'd like to meet our Inquisitor's closest Ferelden companion." The two guests shared a look, the fairer one innocently rolling her eyes away. Evelyn fought the urge not to punch her in her pretty mouth, but a light squeeze from Sorin reigned in her death stare.

 

Teagan, watching the Herald all but snarl at his "guest," to which Evelyn said nothing, replied, "Of course," he continued changing the subject ever so eloquently, "I trust you are on the mend, Inquisitor?"

 

"I am, by the grace of Andraste."

 

"It's a shame to hear the news coming out of Adamant Fortress, I know the king is very eager to know what you plan to do?" She was surprised how quickly he dove into politics, having only just sat down.

 

"I plan to stop Corypheus from spawning a demon army that would overrun the South, Arl." Her tone was serious and determined.

 

"And what of the fate of the Wardens?"

 

"I am… unsure yet." That did not sit well with the Arl, who lowered a frown at her. "I hope to spare those that I can, but until we arrive and assess the situation, I cannot rightfully say." The man seemed to relax at that, "Please tell King Alistair and Queen Elissa, that I understand the importance of preserving the Grey Wardens. Some of us have not forgotten their heroism during the Fifth Blight. In fact, I plan to assault the fortress with two senior Wardens by my side, Warden Stroud and Warden Blackwall. I hope their presence will temper the Warden's fervor."

 

Teagan sat back looking visably reassured, "That will indeed ease their majesty's concern. The Wardens are every bit needed in peace as they are during Blights. It amazes me that some people have forgotten so quickly their sacrifice during the Fifth Blight. I am glad to hear you are not one of them, Your Worship." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cullen tense at its mention again.

 

"Agreed," she raised her glass clanking it with him solidifying their shared point. "Since we are talking business, I hear you have a mine you're willing to let the Inquisition use?"

 

After finishing his sip, he spoke to all of the advisory staff, "Yes, the only problem is that it is overrun by a band of renegades. They have caused no small amount of trouble in Redcliffe."

 

The Inquisitor shot a look over to the two advisors seated next to Sorin, "We will of course send aid, but might I inquire as to why our soldiers are required? What of the Knights of Redcliffe or Denerim's army?"

 

The Arl's lips smirked with a low chuckle, "Forgive me, Your Worship, your reputation proceeds you. I was warned that you were rather direct in your questioning."

 

"It's an innocent enough question, my Lord. Unless the answer is less so?"

 

"No, it's simply that with the Mage Rebellion making Ferelden its battleground, our forces are spread thin trying to keep innocents safe."

 

She didn't break her hard stare from him, "Commander, do you agree with that?" Before he could answer the Arl began to protest, but she cut him off, "Arl Teagan, I have a major offensive in the near future, in which the bulk of our forces will be needed. We are marching into Orlais, with the only aid from the Emperor being supplies. If I am to lend you men, I want to know if it is completely necessary. Our soldiers will not be used like a band of mercenaries by either country." Josephine looked as though she was ready to interrupt, but a quick sharp glance to her quelled her eagerness.

 

The graying man leaned on an elbow closer to her, a scowl creasing his features. Despite this, she didn't soften her demeanor, as his warm breath grazed her cheek smelling like fine wine, "In the wake of your placement of Emperor Gaspard on the throne, we've had to increase our military presence at the border." Evelyn looked to the Commander who had heard and gave a nod confirming his words, "Not to mention, we have the Inquisition on our doorstep with a growing army in a position to invade."

 

It was her turn to return the glare, though hers was a bit more refined, "Our mission is to bring Corypheus to justice for the death of Divine Justina and all those who died at the Conclave and for tearing a hole in the sky. Now, he threatens everyone by trying to weaken the South, as demonstrated at the peace talks when Celene's cousin stabbed her in his name." He was right, she was direct, but she believed it was for the best as not to be misunderstood on important matters, "As I am the only one who can seal rifts, I have used the Inquisition's resources to help stabilize regions across Thedas so we may strengthen the Veil by closing the rifts. As it happens, we have also been carrying such responsibilities out without Ferelden's aid aside from the nod that we could do so."

 

"That all sounds very noble, but what of the Inquisition when this is all done?"

 

"Then we disband."

 

"And you? Don't tell me you retire to a life of domesticity after amassing such wealth and power?"

 

She leaned even closer garnering a look from Isolde, her mana beginning to glow in her veins and ignite in her eyes, "You want the truth?" His eyes narrowed further on her, "I will most likely be dead, by my blessed mark by the end. A lot of good this wealth and power will do me then." She sat back taking a sip of her wine eyeing everyone with her mark placed in plain view. Their guests studied it, watching how the green when between pulses turned the veins of her hand black. The skin around it was irritated almost as if she had a rash or had been burned. Sorin's hardened glare was electrified by the omission as his hand flexed. The advisors all held an intense but neutral stare as their Inquisitor bore down on their guest. "Whatever the fate of the Inquisition, perhaps it's better I be by the Maker's side as I watch it be torn down by the likes of people such as yourself; those who fear what they do not understand, people, as a mage, I understand all too well. The only thing you need to comprehend is that everyone who calls Skyhold their home is fighting for all of Thedas, risking their lives, while you sneer and scheme against them." She turned to cough lightly into her linen napkin. Sorin placed a hand on her, and after placing the linen back on her lap, she met his eyes with a sigh. His subtle expression of concern forced her to back down.

 

Trying to bring back the palpable tension of the conversation, Josephine spoke up, "We are under the jurisdiction of The Divine. With her absence and until a new Divine is chosen, we operate under the laws set forth under her directive, sanctioned by Her Left and Right Hands. Ultimately, it will be up to the new Divine what happens to the Inquisition's resources once we complete our mission."

 

"So long as that is the plan, the king and queen will have no reason to take action."

 

"If I may," Leliana's lilt floated across the table, "if you recall, my Lord, I was with the two of them through the Fifth Blight, including the Battle of Denerim. I still correspond with Elissa, for she is a dear friend. As such, as you can imagine, we trade favors occasionally. If you fear our military strength, perhaps you should voice your concerns to your queen." The Spymaster's steely eyes sparkled with an edge despite her pleasant tone, "Unless the problem is that you have and you simply do not take her for her word? That doesn't sound like that is our failing, but yours if you do not trust the word of Andraste's Herald and that of your queen's."

 

"I'm quite aware of the nature of your relationship with our queen, as well as my nephew, though as to why they place such trust in your word, that of a former bard and current Spymaster, I will never know." He turned back to Evelyn looking tired of the arguing, "I apologize to you, Your Worship, if I gave offense, but as you are protective of the Inquisition, I am of Ferelden."

 

"Our Commander here is a born and raised Ferelden, as are many of our soldiers. I don't think they would take kindly if I decided to attack their home," she quickly added as their food had arrived being placed in front of them.

 

When the servants left, he continued, "Well, at least you had the good sense to recruit a Ferelden over an Orlesian." She expected a retort from Isolde, but she simply ignored it, unlike Leliana who blinked slowly at him a few times.

 

"That was hardly the reason, it was his extensive military experience that made Divine Justina appointed him." Evelyn stole a glance up at Cullen, who looked thoroughly uncomfortable knowing where the conversation was headed. Knowing he hated having to defend his commoner background to nobility, she changed the subject, "I suppose it's safe to assume then that you wouldn't mind meeting with the Commander to discuss plans to clear the mine before we depart for the Western Approach?"

 

"Not at all."

 

"Very good, the Ambassador here will set up the meeting. Now, if we're done with politics and business for the evening, shall we speak of something cheerier?" She peeked around him to Isolde, wanting nothing more to do but sit and eat while the others spoke, "How is Lord Connor's training coming along?"

 

---

 

Later in the evening, after all the scheduled festivities of the night concluded, despite Sorin's best efforts, her injury finally caught up with her. She walked briskly away from the table before her coughing fit started, holding it entirely until she closed the door to her stairwell. Grabbing the railing she coughed for a solid few minutes and bent over until she was out of breath. Her chest hurt with each contraction of her lungs as she bent over hanging her head.

 

As she recovered, she couldn't help but hear an argument right outside her door. When it opened, she was surprised to hear a Ferelden intonation despite being inundated with them. "Inquisitor, are you alright? You looked distressed?" Why was it Cullen who always caught her at her worst moments? The man had a sixth sense for it. Now the arguing she heard made sense, for Sorin must've had words with him.

 

She coughed again and cleared her dry burning throat, "Fine, just trying to clear these bloody cobwebs from my lungs." Her ailment was a constant reminder of him - of Ryker. Everything she did of late was to clean up from the wreckage he caused while at Skyhold. Now she couldn't even be in the company of a friend without people assuming she was courting them. The frustration of it all hit her then, "Ryker is dead and somehow he's still managing to ruin everything - to ruin me and the Inquisition." Cullen's face softened, "How am I supposed to fight at Adamant like this? I can hardly make it through one dinner!” The end of her words were choked off by another cough. She rubbed her forehead beside herself, "He's never going to leave me in peace, he'll always be right here, in my head! I need something… I need more wine-- no, whiskey."

 

As she went to step past him, he halted her with a gentle hand around her waist. The simple touch, though meant for another purpose, made her knees weak as it glided across the middle of her soft dress, "No, I won't watch you drink yourself into a stupor over that man any longer." His face was stern, looking directly into her eyes, but his voice was all but a whisper, "Talk to me."

 

"A few days ago, you lacked any form of hope in resuming anything outside of a working relationship," she glared at him still angry over what was said, but the resolve in his amber orbs did not waver. She scoffed, "You're serious? After everything, you think we can?" She was shocked by his suggestion. Drinking may work for her brother, but it only served to make her numb, not resolve anything. The past months of just surviving Ryker had made her want for drink get out of hand. By midday, she usually had a bottle put away already after spending the morning listening to her mother and abuser scheme about wedding plans. Apparently, it didn't go unnoticed.

 

"We were friends once, and even before that two strangers in need of unburdening our minds. We... could try again? Talking, that is, nothing more." There was a hidden pain in his voice that threatened to shatter her heart - if there was anything left to break. The notion that he was willing to try and work past things gave her a spark of hope.

 

Letting go of her frustration and stubbornness, she tightly shut her eyes trying to shake her own hurt and depression, "I do need clarity and to face it, I suppose." She didn't want to seem too eager. "We are running out of time before we leave for Adamant. May I impose upon you as soon as two evenings from now? Truth be told, I'm not doing well, but I need at least a day to sort through my own thoughts before putting them into words." Her eyes drifted to the floor hating to show such weakness. Broken, battered, and somehow still standing, of her own accord, a single tear of self-pity rolled down her cheek.

 

Cullen's hand moved reflexively to wipe it, but he stopped short, squeezing it into a fist. With her eyes still cast downwards, she pretended she didn't notice and wiped it herself. "I-it's not too soon, you know where to find me."

 

A small smile tugged at her mouth as she sniffled, "Do you still like those spiced cookies, you know the hard ones that need a good dip in hot cider or they'll break a tooth?"

 

He shook his head at her, with a huff of an indignant laugh, "We haven't talked in months, not years. Not that much has changed."

 

She sighed heavily, partly mumbling, "Seems like years…" Before her mind tried to lose her memories, she blinked a few times shaking herself back to the present, "Anyway, I'll bring some. I fear it's going to take some time to sort through this mess."

 

"Good thing I don't sleep," he gave a half-hearted smile.

 

"E," Sorin popped his head in, "the Arl is retiring and wished to personally convey his thanks." He eyed the two of them in a way that she'd expect from her mother.

 

"Alright, if I must. Just means I can avoid them all day tomorrow before they leave." Without another word they headed back into the Great Hall to conclude her duties for the night, already feeling a bit lighter having made one step closer to repairing the gap between them.

 

---

 

Evelyn woke up in a cold sweat. She was meeting with Cullen tonight to talk, but Maker where was she to start? What did she still wish to keep to herself? There were things she knew that would affect him, like that she almost slept with Ryker to prevent him from dosing him with red lyrium. Looking out her stained-glass windows, the first light was hidden behind the Frostbacks casting a hazy halo around the silhouettes. She placed her hands on her face groaning as to why she agreed to speak with him. Did she need to? Yes. Did she want to? Maybe. Did she want to see him? Yes. If she was going through with it she needed a plan.

 

Rolling out of bed, she resumed her daily routine, but as she finished her run making her way to the training grounds outside the walls, she noticed someone had beaten her there. Standing frozen despite her heavy panting that rose like smoke from a dragon, she observed the form as he worked through footwork drills. Having not seen her yet, she debated turning and running, but she had a cramp in her side and he was far too smart to not question the sudden change in her routine after all this time. Looking up to the Maker for strength, she let out a deep breath and made her way over to the practice armor and weapons her valet had readied for her - another reason she could not flee.

 

Ignoring each other while she outfitted herself, she walked over to the furthest training dummy from him to practice her spells. A 'good morning' was had in passing dispelling some of the tension but nothing more. It was an odd situation that he had created by being here so early. It was neither a recreational nor formal work environment, and suddenly it was as if she had forgotten how to act. She felt self-conscious like he was scrutinizing her every move. Why was he here? Was it because they would be resuming their therapy sessions? What was his game? He knew she was always here at this time. Running a hand through her damp hair hoping it looked-- No, Trevelyan. None of that. Her hand dropped awkwardly from her hair but not before pulling a piece from her messy ponytail with a few scattered braids. Ah, fuck it.

 

The Knight-Enchanter was not at the training grounds at the crack of dawn to make eyes at boys, she was there to increase her stamina for battle. With his presence serving as a moderate distraction and growing annoyance as she focused on calling forth her mana, she quickly began to draw too much of it. As her magic burned, bordering on excessive for training purposes, she looked at the target that was enchanted to absorb spells and fired off a stream of volcanic fire that not only overpowered the enchantment but killed the poor dummy. As the stuffed soldier has been reduced to nothing but ash, the pyromancer winced at her blunder.

 

"Inquisitor?"

 

"Ah!" Evelyn jumped having heard his voice only a few feet away from her. She sighed, "Sorry, I, um-- I guess they didn't enchant that dummy." Glancing without moving her head to the side, she saw the glowing rune resurface from beneath the ashes as a gust of wind kicked up. As her eyes shot back over, his eyes narrowed on her, clearly having seen it as well.

 

"You do know I inspect these dummies myself ever since Sera put bees in them?" As she tried to come up with a suitable response, his stern expression turned to one of slight bewilderment as his eyes flicked over to the strand of hair she had pulled into disarray. With a pout, she fade-stepped into the tree line, fixed her hair, then reappeared before him with a frown as if it never happened.

 

Having picked up the rune on her way back to him, she shoved it into his grasp, "Well, then get stronger enchantments, Commander." Her haughty attitude was all bluster, as he debated a retort, but having used his title to make it an official sort of conversation, all he could reply was 'Yes, Inquisitor.' Thoroughly thrown off, she was about to retreat again when a gaggle of recruits came trudging down to their location led by one of his Lieutenants. Both turned to face the crowd now blocking her path back to Skyhold as the reason for him being here stood plain as day before her.

 

Shifting her weight and chastising herself for believing Cullen had been because of her, she swallowed her pride, commenting flatly, "Apologies for encroaching upon your training time, Commander, and for making you short one training dummy." Striding away, she felt the ghost of his warm hand in passing as if he reached out for her, but she jerked it forward in step with her brisk strides. Donning the mask of the Inquisitor, she smiled to the soldiers in passing, lost in thought. He wouldn't have reached for her, who was she kidding? It was just another trick her mind was playing on her. How delusional she had been. Forgetting the rest of her routine, she needed to think quietly about their talk later.

 

---

 

Darkness fell over the day, but it had barely registered in Cullen's mind as he focused on completing his work. For once, he had a standing appointment with the Inquisitor to allow her to unburden her mind of its horrors. All day she had acted oddly, from training in the morning to their afternoon War Room meeting, and if he was being honest, he was surprised he had held it together. Usually, he was the flustered mess, though he did have reservations about whether or not this was still a good idea. Signing one last requisition form for Quartermaster Morris, he sheathed his quill and sat back in his chair staring off into thought. He supposed he found it rather endearing the way she fretted about him when they bumped into each other when there was no work to discuss.

 

A small smile spread on his lips, however, it was quickly squashed at the memory of her betrayal. He felt the fool for all of it, but there was a complicated war going on in his head. Part of him wanted to cast her off and never speak again, like severing himself from a gangrenous limb. He could move on, complete his time as Commander of the Inquisition, then go home to South Reach and retire in obscurity never having to hear the name Trevelyan again. If he was lucky, the lack of lyrium would take his memories and he could live out his days in ignorant bliss mindlessly working the farm. He purpose would be solely to support his family, and at least then his life would still have meaning beyond the Inquisition.

 

Feeling for his lucky coin, he held it up in front of his eyes remembering Rosalie's face when she saw he still kept it after all these years. Then he remembered the only reason why he had rekindled communication with them…

 

The part of him that fought for Evelyn was like an itch inside he couldn't scratch. It was annoying, yet when he allowed it to blind his anger it was soothing on the verge of numbing as he lost himself in fantasies. In his futile attempt to persuade himself that she was just another woman who could in time perhaps be replaced, he ended up figuring out why she was so rooted in his heart despite being a mage and a noble. The first was the loyalty she commanded in those beneath her. Having been torn from her privileged life into one of Circle politics, she knew what it was like to have to earn respect, working for it even as people spat down on her. She didn't win it through bribes or favors but through hard work and dedication to serving the people of Thedas. Every single one of her companions would follow her to the Void and back, and that spoke volumes when considering the characters who made up her inner circle - himself included.

 

The second reason was that she was a kindred spirit, knowing the challenges they both faced daily due to their past trauma. Sometimes words weren't needed between them, only a look or gentle touch was enough to chase away the shadows. The night she had slept in bed beside him was the most peaceful slumber he had had in years. From her scent to the feel of her hands and body, it was an addicting remedy to his ailments. He had stubbornly tried to think of another woman, any woman who could distract him, but physical attractiveness only went so far before the yearning for a deeper emotional connection took hold. He wanted them to be like her, looking for similarities, but no one was like her. From the way she boldly spoke to how she moved, all fell woefully short of the mark.

 

He tried to blame his high standards on the fact that she was the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, and the Phoenix of Ostwick. For the vast majority of women in Thedas, even just owning one such title was rare, but Evelyn held three; two of which she earned herself and the other was one of circumstance when she stepped out of a rift. Was he so vain that he could not think of another woman purely because she was the most powerful one in all of Thedas? No, he determined it was not that. While she was all those things, she was Evelyn, the woman who walks through fire knowing that each day when she wakes it could be her last. She is selfless and strong, with unshakable morals and conviction. If you stood behind her, she’d protect you; beside her, she’d fight with you; but stand against her, and you probally weren’t getting up from that fight.

 

Her inner fire was unstoppable and beautiful when it pulsated through her veins. Even as he tried to repulse himself by thinking of her magic, nothing could touch the splendor of her wings. The tidal ripples of color as they burned then faded were unlike any mutation he had seen in all his years as a Templar. And lest he forget her sultry locks of brown and gold that made her stand out from the crowd. The day they had been intimate in her quarters sprung into his mind, remembering the way her silky hair fell from his fingers before grabbing her to kiss her…

 

There was a knock on his door. The same woman he had been musing on for the past few minutes poked her head in, her ponytail falling in off her shoulder, "Is now a good time?" He beckoned her in, and as before like it was only yesterday, she placed the tray of refreshments on his desk while he pulled over a chair to the side of his desk. Unsure of how to begin, she led by casually asking after him.

 

"If you don't mind, I'd rather not speak of myself," after his words, she looked to the floor rolling her lips in disappointment or frustration, it was hard to tell. Off to a rocky start already, when she looked back up to him, her expression rested somewhere between tears and wanting to rip his head off; he waited anxiously to see which it was. Her eyes bore into him but he didn't falter, unwilling to yield to her. She was searching for something from him, but her resolve soon faded and he watched her chest sink.

 

Suddenly, she stood with her fists clenched, "I see this was a mistake," spinning on a heel she rounded the chair with speed, fleeing for the door back to the Keep, "it was too soon!"

 

"Evelyn, wait," he was already around the opposite side of the desk before she reached the door. Having pulled the latch, she gave it a good yank, but his arm held it shut.

 

Stubbornly she pulled it two more times before growling. Her arms dropped to the side, but she refused to look at him, "Open the door." He didn’t move or say a word, making her face him, "Open the damn door!"

 

"No, go sit."

 

She huffed throwing her arms up in the air, "Why am I even here, Cullen? You want to talk, but then when asked a simple question, you throw it back in my face. I say I want to apologize, but you don't want me to. What is it you want from me?!" There was a wild and desperate look in her eyes, like a caged animal ready to bolt, but also one too afraid to do so. He didn't know how to answer her question. He had no idea what he wanted anymore, and somehow, he knew she didn't want to hear that. "Say something or I'll fade-step right through the door!"

 

Cullen blurted out the only thing that he wanted at the moment, "I don't want you to leave!" Her breathing began to slow, as she coughed a few times having excited herself. "Please, stay."

 

"Our conversations were never one-sided, Cullen." She was right, and perhaps his choice of words were not well chosen.

 

He sighed, "Then allow me to begin again." As she thought it over, he noticed how tired she looked. Her shoulders sagged and if her legs were as firmly planted on the ground as they were he'd think she was in danger of collapsing in a heap before him. Matters looked as if they were weighing heavier than usual, having lost her vibrant energy. He offered her his arm, but instead walked herself to the chair unassisted. Ignoring the snub, he once again sat, eyeing the assortment of cookies and the hot mugs of cider. "To answer your earlier question, I'll feel better once we're camped outside of Adamant and the trebuchets are hounding away at the gate." It was a cheap answer, and she knew it, but decided not to push it further.

 

The next hour passed incredibly slowly as both of them tried to settle into the old yet new rhythm of speaking together alone. He liked it better when they had been strangers, rather than a couple with a past. There were lots of annoyed sighs and little eye contact, but once the distraction of the refreshments was gone, so too was her desire to linger despite just scratching the surface of her recent troubles. He was relieved when he was once again left to the solitude of his tower, but glad they got through the first talk, even if he had almost ended it before it began. It was a small step toward… he truly had no idea, but he needed to figure it out. Too much was riding on the both of them to act like awkward teenagers pretending to be mature about the feelings stirring about them.

 

As he rested his elbows on his desk with his head down grasping his hair, another knock echoed throughout his office. Before he could summon them in, Dorian waltzed in looking out the door behind him, "Was that Evie coming from here? Have you two made any headway? As much as I love a good bleeding-hearts drama, I don't enjoy starring in one."

 

Resuming his previous position with a groan while the mage sat in the chair beside him, he was growing tired of their conversations always being about her. "You and me both. I have a mind just to end it so I can have some peace."

 

"I would caution you against that," his voice seemed more sincere, as he tried to settle in on the warmed seat, "that could be much worse." When he looked over wearily at him, he went on, "I think I know you well enough to know that you're incapable of doing that. Look how you reacted when an imposter suitor showed up or what happened that night we were up late playing chess," he grumbled at the memory, "you went to 'check on her' and ended up kissing a betrothed woman, lest we forget the signature you left on her lovely neck. And even before that, I caught her trying to have a private chat with you while you slept."

 

He sat up, "What?! When was this?"

 

"Oh, yes, it was at the end of your last relapse, but… I did promise I wouldn't say anything," he quirked an eyebrow at him pausing before gleefully adding, "but it's too late now, so I'll just tell you! I was down here giving her some privacy with you up there, but I heard something about you never being able to forgive her and fantasizing about running away to South Reach. Not much of a fantasy, if you ask me."

 

He raised a hand to quiet the babbling mage, "She mentioned running away to South Reach?"

 

"Do you not listen? I detest repeating myself. It’s a wonder, as a former Templar, how you ever remembered an order given to you."

 

"Dorian," he growled.

 

"Very well, yes, she said something to the effect of wishing to run away with you after all this to South Reach," he posed thoughtfully before his gray eyes flicked over to him, "Wait a moment, was that… we stopped there on the way back from Crestwood." It seemed he was just realizing the significance of her words. "Your family lives there… well, now isn't that interesting." Dorian knew why Cullen had a hard time forgiving Evelyn, they had talked at length over it. He had heard the Tevinter transplant boast before that he was the Commander's confidant and closest friend, even if it was partly true. With Rylen doing most of the traveling for him of late, Dorian had been a ready friend, for which he was grateful, even if his sarcasm was trying at times. "Tell me, does that revelation change anything?"

 

Cullen stared hard at him, "It… might." His friend's face looked at him expectantly, "It may mean that she lied about believing I was unfit to support her… but it doesn't change the truth of it. Take away my title and what am I? A Ferelden farmboy who can wield a sword, that's what. And what if I succumb to lyrium's madness, will she nurse me through to the end of my days? Does she deserve such a mundane life? What would her family say?"

 

"That's the spirit!"

 

"Did you not just hear what I said?!"

 

"See, it is annoying isn't it, having to repeat yourself." With a harsh glare from his leonine eyes, the mage continued, "I did hear you, and what I mean to say is it's about time you're thinking about a future with her again." Cullen froze thinking about his implications. Was it so simple as that? Yet, the path to forgiveness was arduous and fraught with pain he didn't want to confront. Why was he being a coward about it again? Wasn't confronting their demons the purpose of their talks, even if they were each other's current problem? His heart sank thinking of the past hour and his behavior towards her, especially when it had been his idea. As the wheels in his head spun, Dorian was excusing himself after standing and walking to the door, "Glad I once again proved invaluable to you. I shall leave you to your handsome brooding. Do try to get some sleep, Commander." With a wistful wave, he was off to the Herald's Rest, no doubt, in search of better company.

 

Locking the door behind him, Cullen made his way up his ladder to bed. Pulling off everything but his pants, he climbed in looking up to where there was once a hole in his ceiling. Having requested at least one window larger than the arrow slits, Master Gatsi was able to accommodate him with one facing the southern ramparts. Having never shut it since the day it was installed, it kept the room from feeling stuffy like Kinloch Tower. Having kept his paperweight brick, he reached over to his nightstand where he kept his personal correspondence.

 

Since his surprise visit to South Reach, he had kept faithful communication with his siblings. Since his coin was of no use to them, he sent useful gifts such as a variety of books or anything they happened to note that had broken or needed replacing. It was especially easy to do with the Inquisition's vast resources and plenty of vendors looking to garner favor with its Commander by helping with such simple favors. Leliana had helped select fabric from one of the merchant stalls to send to Rosalie, who had since made several new outfits for them all - including himself. He even had Master Gatsi and his craftsmen make a new grindstone for the mill from leftover stone used to repair Skyhold. The stone needed redressing, and seeing as it was aging and worn, thought it'd make for a nice surprise.

 

Evelyn had also kept in contact with them, as they secretly checked up on him. A few times he had glanced around her desk before their split he caught a few lines from letters she left out. She had sent them a few things as well in thanks for their hospitality, and as far as he knew, was still waiting to hear back from Branson if she was permitted to gift Richard a Ranger foal next spring. Having outed their kiss after they departed for Skyhold, Mia and Ros were always asking how things were between them. Having recently gone suspiciously quiet on the subject in his replies, he debated whether he wanted to tell them things had cooled to the frigid temperatures of the Frostbacks. Knowing them, they would most likely blame him for whatever went wrong, so he didn't see how telling them would help the situation.

 

Every now and then he would take a handful of letters and read through them, committing to memory their contents in the quiet of the night. Having been welcomed back with open arms, he would not neglect his familial duties again, especially after thinking recently about his future. If his withdrawal symptoms became more severe the older he got, he would rather not burden them with his care, but neither did he want to rot in a Chantry home. Would they even take him in since leaving The Order? Regardless, he was going to rely on someone's charity, be it one of his siblings or… or…

 

"Oh, for the love of…" he pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew who he needed to speak to first in the morning.

 

---

 

Evelyn stood crossing her arms in the Quartermaster's office as he shuffled through a pile of requisitions. Without windows the space was lit solely by the yellow glow of candlelight. The chaos of the papers piled about the room seemed to have no clear organization, yet Quartermaster Morris appeared to have his own system. "I simply wish to know if you've had any luck finding that thing I asked you about for Enchanter Ilara's nameday? A yes or no would do, I have--"

 

The door opened and the Commander strode in with his nose down reviewing his parchment, "Morris, I need these supplies… oh, Inquisitor, um, good morning."

 

"Good morning, Commander," she tried to fake a smile. The Quartermaster paid him no mind yet, still thumbing through pages. Meanwhile, the two stood awkwardly swaying trying to think of what to say after last night. Eyeing the paper he was crumpling in his hands, she asked, "What have you there?"

 

"An updated supply list that needs to be filled immediately before we leave in a few days for Adamant."

 

Morris looked up, "One moment Commander, I'm on an errand for Her Worship here."

 

She sighed quietly looking up to the heavens, "I don't need their exact response, Morris. Just a--"

 

"It's here, Inquisitor, I swear," he exclaimed as he searched.

 

Lowering his voice, Cullen leaned over closer to her ear, "I'm glad you're here actually, I wanted to apologize for last night."

 

"Now?" She pointedly shot a glance to the other scrawny blonde man desperately searching for a single note in the vast filed columns about the room. "There's no need--"

 

The Quartermaster cut her off thinking she was speaking to him, "I really do think you need to see this, Your Worship! Where is it?!"

 

She huffed about to tell him her words weren't directed at him but disregarded it, "I was being sensitive, I should've been more patient. Yesterday was just… a lot for me."

 

Cullen tried to speak over the sound of crunching parchment, "You had asked me what I want--”

 

Morris again chimed in, “Just one moment, Commander!”

 

“Not you…” he sighed looking back to her, “what I want is to forgive you, but…"

 

"But?" She felt her eyes go wide as she breathed out her mouth desperately waiting for his words.

 

"Found it!" Morris held up the letter in triumph, "Here you are, Inquisitor!" He handed it over to her as she fumbled with opening it.

 

As she read through the note, its contents helped disguise her emotional response to Cullen, "They want how much?! Is this correct?"

 

Morris shrugged, "I told you you'd want to see it. I’ll try my best to haggle down the price, but they are rather insistant upon that price. Commander, I can help you now." Cullen looked to her wanting to continue, but reluctantly passed his list to the Quartermaster for his review, "And you need this all in two days?!"

 

"It was an oversight, as to why I'm delivering it to you personally, to apologize for the trouble it will cause you, but the supplies are vital." As the Quartermaster's best customer, the Commander knew how to keep the easily flustered man calm.

 

A deep exhale shot from his mouth before meeting Cullen's eyes, "You'll have your supplies, Commander. I'll stake my reputation on it!"

 

"Thank you, Morris."

 

"And my thanks as well. You've done an exemplary job providing us with everything we need for the operation. The Inquisition is lucky to have you." Her words made the man blush, but even so, he held himself up straighter. "Though perhaps it's time to get you an assistant to help manage your office."

 

The haughty man perked up, "That is incredibly insightful, Inquisitor. I suppose I could use an extra set of hands in here if to simply free my mind to focus on the highly complex web of supply lines and contacts."

 

The two senior members shared a look, "Of course, I shall see to it." With that, they took their leave with their business having been concluded. Outside, they stopped just behind the tavern, "Wait, what were you going to say in there? Why you can't forgive me?" His face contorted with pain, but he didn't speak. "Please," she took a step closer pleading with him, "talk to me."

 

"I want to forgive you, but there are things we are going to need to talk through. With Adamant looming before us, we can't afford the distraction. Can we just get through this mission and deal with it when we're back?" It was a reasonable request and one that offered her hope, as she nodded. "I need your support in the coming days and you mine. We can't operate awkwardly in each other's presence." His face softened, "For the sake of the Inquisition, I can push aside my feelings so we can resume some normally."

 

"As can I," came her ready answer, but it would immensely harder than that. She wanted to fix things and if that was the way forward so be it. Both sighed in relief despite the farce of their new understanding. They would pretend as if all was well, for what else could they do considering the situation? More was at stake than their personal relationship.

 

"In that case,” he rubbed the back of his neck in the endearing way he always did when nervous, “I was going to grab something to eat before the council meeting. Would you... join me?” He was asking for more than her company, but a practice run of their new act.

 

She performed well, placing a hand to her stomach pretending it had growled, "I could do with some as well, thank you." A small friendly smile tugged at her lips, ignoring the tension of her jaw. Having cursed their duty for her issues of late, now it seemed it was the only thing holding them together.

Notes:

Greetings all!

I apologize for the long wait for this chapter! I hope the fluff it was worth it before we move to cover the 'Here Lies the Abyss' mission in the next chapter. I'm working on the next chapter, but with the holidays I'll be losing time for my writing unfortunetly. I am editing the wedding chapter for 'The Advent of the Phoenix,' for those who read that one as well. If you are wanting more, go check that story out, it is a AU Avvar staring our favorite couple. I should have that chapter to you before the new year.

Thank you for everyone who has encouraged my writing through your comments, kudos and subs! I truly appriciate your honest feedback!

I hope your holidays are merry and bright!
Munklington

Chapter 26: Here Lies the Abyss Pt.1

Summary:

The siege of Adamant begins...

 

Evelyn Trevelyan

---

 

The journey to Adamant Fortress in the Western Approach was a long trek, covering countless miles while they had the light of day and lazily resting and nursing sore feet by night. The healers' tents always had a sizable line as they were busy tending to blisters and aching joints. Having grown up in a saddle, Evelyn was happy to spend the day atop Nelson rather than in a carriage. She liked being a visable presence mingling occasionally with her soldiers to alleviate some tension as they marched to battle. As she had done back in Haven with the patrols and even before that in Ostwick, she enjoyed speaking with people hoping to find common ground. Before it had been about easing the fear of mages, but now it was finding answers about the things in the world that were changing; The Maker, the anchor, Corypheus, the Mage Rebellion, it was all on the table. Her favorite thing about chatting with her troops was when they'd ask if she remembered them since last they spoke. When she did and she asked after something they previously discussed, they beamed at their comrades having been made to feel special by the Herald of Andraste. Her mother had imparted the importance of having a good memory and remembering people to always come off as polite and caring while using the collected knowledge to her advantage. However, Evelyn used it now genuinely to get to know her people and their aspirations within the Inquisition; It was how she was able to appoint an assistant for Quartermaster Morris so quickly before leaving Skyhold. Ever since she and Cullen agreed to delegate more responsibilities to their people, she had been on the hunt for promising recruits to promote.

 

Aside from that, there was very little for her to do except approve orders from the Commander occasionally, though she typically deferred to his judgment. All other business, unless considered vital, was put on hold until after the mission. Having put their drama aside, she and Cullen settled into a false friendship. Despite acting normal, Evelyn always found herself letting out a deep exhale when he left, relieved they had acted their way through another poorly scripted public scene. It was a hard thing to describe because she enjoyed being able to chat and joke as they used to, but it was empty of the accompanying emotions. Yet, she couldn't distract him from the mission, knowing that he had the whole weight of their success riding on his abilities as Commander. She did not doubt that he had painstakingly thought of everything, but she hoped when he gave her the go-ahead she was up to the task.

 

Knowing they could not delay the mission any longer, fully recovered or not, she was going into a fortress with possessed mages, demons, and a giant rift. Her hand ached at the thought of sealing it, even if she had yet to lay eyes on it herself. The further they traveled into the desert, the more the dry air was affecting her injured lung causing her to cough more than she would've liked to. In the evenings, Ilara had her inhale steam to help her sleep after one night of keeping Cassandra awake between her hacking and snoring. The more her best friend fussed over her, the more of an invalid she felt like, eroding away her own morale. Never in her life had she been so injured, so often that she began joking to the others asking when she could go on leave. Despite everything, inside Adamant she would have the support of her army and companions, not to mention the addition of the Champion and Warden Stroud.

 

The veteran Orlesian Warden was seemingly a gentleman with a soft but stern demeanor. With the trouble facing his fellow Wardens, he was quiet and thoughtful, busing himself in the evenings with corresponding with his contacts to try and figure out the extent of Corypheus' corruption. How he and Hawke had tolerated each other for this long working side by side to hunt Corypheus was beyond her. For the more she was in the Champion's presence, the more miraculous their companionship was. The thing binding them, not unlike herself and Cullen, was duty - that dualistically purposed word that was both a solemn oath and excuse. Garret was a rascal, mischievous yet respectable in his judgment when it mattered. When he had first joined them after settling into Skyhold, Cullen had said he was reliable but didn't offer much else. She thought at first it may have been because he didn't know him well, but after hearing numerous stories from the Champion when they were deployed in the Western Approach involving the former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, she began to suspect there was a more turbulent side to their acquaintance.

 

For one, Hawke had hidden the fact that he was a mage. How he did that from Cullen, who no doubt was a skilled Templar, baffled her. Having hunted apostates herself, she noted a number of the signs of his unorthodox upbringing in his daily habits. Regardless of his status as their ally, she had a hard time completely trusting such a person, and the more she watched Garret's interactions with the Commander, the more she was convinced he felt the same. However, the Champion seemed to always be near her along their journey, wishing to speak with her about all topics, happy to debate her views on reforming the Circles. While he favored the freedom of mages, even he knew the system well enough to know the majority of the populace would not accept it. It would only end in more violence against mages, especially against ones without protection or the emergence of radical groups. While the topic was a distraction she was passionate about speaking of, engaging her in some deep conversations about the future of Circles, sometimes she wished she had some quiet.

 

His constant companionship warded away Cassandra, who seemed happy to stay with Cullen and Owayne, making her somewhat jealous of her tentmate as she consumed the attention of two of her favorite men. Henley and Ilara were busy with their duties, managing their charges, but thankfully Sorin was content to linger near her. Her fellow Knight-Enchanter was still acting as a quiet sentinel, on the lookout for trouble. Between Hawke and Cullen, she wasn't sure who grated on his patience more. She was fairly certain he did like the Commander, he was just unsympathetic to his side of the conflict. Having had no time alone to speak, from how well she knew her friend's body language, she'd say he was weary of the Champion's motives - as was she. While Garret could be entertaining, both Ostwick mages were aware of the looks he gave her. Evelyn, too brazen at times, only fueled his encroaching advances by not backing down as he clearly enjoyed a chase. She shouldn't have expected any less from a man who was the lover of a Riavini pirate for a few years, and the notorious Isabella at that.

 

Upon joining with their forward troops - who had been sent ahead with the slow-moving siege equipment before her battle with Aeron delayed the operation - they arrived to find them battered and exhausted, having been woefully outnumbered by the enemy force for some time. Ser Hawthorne had once again made himself invaluable, having been summoned from Griffon Wing Keep nearby to assist the expeditionary force in repelling the Warden's attacks and maintaining the siege position. To survive the weeks of random encounters, it took every man they had to defend the camp. In the middle of the desert, there was absolutely no cover to be had. Building defenses out of their supply of wood, Hawthorne was careful not to spread the men too thin, using every advantage possible. The Wardens were not their only concern, however, as the men needed water and to conserve their supplies. Close to camp they found a dry riverbed and digging within it, found a supply of ground water. Once word was sent to the Commander that they had established wells, he diverted the Trevelyan cavalry that was headed to Skyhold to reinforce the camp. Making haste, the horsemen's presence all but stopped attacks on the camp, having the griffin-less Wardens at a complete disadvantage. With steady supplies being delivered thanks to Emperor Gaspard, they were able to last almost a month on their own until the bulk of the army arrived.

 

Now, with Adamant Fortress surrounded and the siege equipment in place, the Inquisitor gave the command to begin the siege. As the first volley was fired at the main gate, it set off a chain reaction from the other two camps who had their designated targets aimed at finding a way inside. It would take several days, but eventually, she'd have her way in to seal the large rift they had opened.

 

"The coordinated effort between the trebuchets will weaken the walls and bring down the gate in time. Based on research of past battles and schematics of the ancient fortress, we've aimed our attacks at its weak points where I believe the walls had been compromised." The Commander addressed his senior officers along with the Spymaster and Inquisitor in the Command Tent, "The main gate is our primary target, once it is weak enough to send the Battering Ram in, the trebuchets can then be adjusted to attack the walls, hence their off-centered placement. I'd rather not waste the time or men to move the bloody things to the other camps when they can hit the other targets from their current location." As she listened, she couldn't help but gaze at him proudly, which did not go unnoticed by the man himself when he did a double-take at her as he fielded questions. He had put everything into this operation for it to succeed, and she'd be damned if she failed him. He was inspiring in his own right, reassuring his soldiers that he had thought of every scenario and obstacle that could present itself. The confidence in his tone and his plan was felt by those present who would in turn pass it down the ranks. "Inquisitor, would you like to add anything?"

 

She looked up at him and then at the men and women gathered around the table, "I do believe you have thought of everything, Commander. I am confident in our ability to triumph and Maker willing, convince what Wardens we can to surrender." Henley was standing beside her and threw her a doubtful look.

 

"Yes," Cullen rubbed a gloved hand over his stubble, "should they surrender, you are to have some of your men escort them to this area here." He pointed to one of the large inner courtyards that had ample protection and security. "And for the love of Andraste, make sure none of them are mages." Though he didn't mean for his words to sound so harsh, it was a clear enough warning. "We do not anticipate the mages will be of sound judgment or mind, having been the ones binding the demons through blood magic."

 

He looked up to her grimly, not wanting to say what was needed, so she did, beating even Rylen to address it. It was better if the order came from her anyway, "As of now, until we have more information, all Warden mages are considered maleifcar and should receive no quarter. For the sake of your soldiers, do not hesitate. Is that understood?" The Inquisitor looked to each one of them for affirmation. When satisfied, she looked back over to the Commander who was visibly relieved at not having to cover the protocol for the Warden mages. She knew all too well it could've resulted in some form of post-traumatic hallucination taking him back to Kirkwall.

 

After calling for last-minute questions and dismissing everyone, she went to leave to relay the information to her companions. "Inquisitor," she froze, just turning her shoulder enough to see his face, "thank you." For one rare moment, the sincerity of the simple act burned through their conflict. Having sworn to never betray the trust of the things she knew of his past, like triggers, he was always safe from the darkness so long as she was near. Evelyn's eyes softened, giving a warm nod before once again continuing on her way.

 

The area of camp where her tent was located was safely nestled in the center of the main force's spot in front of Adamant's gate. Quartered around her were Leliana, Cullen, and all her companions. A few yards away were the healers and surgeon's tents for the wounded, then the Command Tent. As she sat beside the fire, Evelyn caught sight of Cullen's tent whom he shared with Rylen, shaking her head knowing that he'd never actually be in it for the duration of the mission. In having to bring more men due to the delay, everyone had to double up in tents, even the senior officers.

 

"There you are," a heavy Nevarran intonation called from behind, "there's a surprise waiting for you in our tent." With Ilara sleeping with the rest of the healers, she was free to bunk with Cassandra as they always did on the road.

 

"Oh? What kind of surprise? Something other than field rations?" Her eyes lit up thinking perhaps Josephine sent a surprise dinner on the eve of battle.

 

"You really do think with your stomach. No, this surprise is not editable, but far more useful." The two began walking as Evelyn's mind tried to fathom who would send her something and what it was.

 

Stopping just outside their tent, Cassandra held the flap open for her. Ducking into the darkened interior, she blinked a few times allowing her eyes to adjust, when a shine caught her eye. There placed on her armor stand was a beautiful set of dragon bone armor sculpted meticulously with golden-orange feathers adorning the helmet, pauldrons, vambraces, and greaves. She knew the odd green sheen of dragon bone when she saw it after the many hours spent studying the spirit blade Dagna forged for her. Running her fingers along the avian-looking embellishments in awe, she wondered at the cost of something so magnificent until her fingers landed on something that had been tucked into it. Sticking out was a note, with the Trevelyan seal:

 

My darling Evie,

 

I know you're already fretting over the cost of this armor, but there is no price I wouldn't pay to keep you from harm. May it serve you well my little firebird. Maker watch over you and the Inquisition.

 

Modest in temper, bold in deed.

 

Your loving father,

Bann Drexford Trevelyan

 

She couldn't hold back the tears that pooled in her eyes as she clutched the parchment to her heart. His genuine words and love were so sorely needed in this moment, a sob escaped. Her hand covered her mouth as her back hid most of the emotional display, while she heard the shuffle and shifting of her bunkmate and one other behind her. Owayne had joined them, coiling his arm around the Seeker's waist. Clearing her throat a few times and wiping her eyes, she turned back only offering the brief explanation of, 'it's from father,' for her lapse of composure.

 

Her brother smiled brightly, "It took some doing, but he had it sent to Skyhold before we left. We had to pack it and keep it secret. Thankfully, Cass can put the fear of the Maker in just about anyone to stay quiet." They smiled at each other smugly having succeeded in their ploy.

 

"Now I'm really in trouble when the two of you are plotting together." Her joking then transitioned into a heartfelt sincerity, "Seriously though, thank you both for this, I…" She paused, always careful of who she revealed her weakness to. Cassandra had become as close as Ilara was to her despite the lack of years of knowing each other. She attributed it to having forged their relationship through adversity on the road and sharing close quarters. "…I really needed something like this." Evelyn hugged both in turn, before adding, "Let's continue to keep this a secret. It'll be quite a shock for everyone when I step out in it."

 

They chuckled slyly before leaving her to fondle her gift.

 

---

 

Sitting about the fire on the eve of battle as blazing missiles from the trebuchets hounded the gate and walls, Evelyn's friends quietly occupied themselves knowing what morning would bring. By tomorrow, they'd have their way inside the fortress and face a remorseless army of demons made by the sacrificing the innocent. It'd be a grizzly fight, for even without their summoned monstrosities the Wardens were great warriors. She had chosen her team and assigned her other companions elsewhere. With her would be Blackwall, Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian with the addition of Hawke and Stroud. Ilara, Vivienne, and Solas were to be stationed with the healers, not wanting to send all their mages into a fort full of maleificar. Evelyn and Dorian had extensive experience with blood magic and were the only exceptions to the rule. Sorin was able to resist possession as well, but he was to stay back in case his abilities were needed outside the walls. Owayne, under the command of Henley, was assigned to climb the ladders helping the men gain a foothold on the walls. Sera, Bull, and The Chargers were assigned to breach the Eastern Wall when it fell. And Cole was doing whatever it was he did, helping where Compassion was needed.

 

Everyone was engaged in small conversations about their private section of the camp, including herself who was occupied with Sorin, Varric, and Hawke. The two residents of Kirkwall and the Knight-Enchanters were swapping amusing stories of their exploits in the Free Marches, but Evelyn's mind was drifting in and out of the conversation. Occasionally, her eyes wandered over to where Cassandra and her brother were standing. He was charmingly annoying her, though the Seeker laughed at whatever he was saying after giving him a punch or a playful shove. The two of them openly enjoying each other's company brought a smile to her face, it only made her heart heavy thinking and wishing she could have the same.

 

"You alright there, Blaze?" She turned back towards the dwarf, who was appraising her with an astute eye.

 

"Why do you call her 'Blaze,' Varric? Aside from the obvious?" Hawke asked, eyeing her with a curiosity.

 

"Haven't you seen her mad?" She could see the Champion thinking back to their time spent in the Western Approach. "Everything is set ablaze from her eyes to blood and especially her wings. Hence, 'Blaze.' Not only that, it also refers to her temper." She shot him a hot look, "Whoa, I did not say it was a bad thing! I think every leader needs a healthy attitude if they want to get things done."

 

Just then, Cullen strode past with Rylen as they discussed the latest reports on the stability of the fortress. Evelyn eyed them, wondering if they would summon her, but Hawke reached over thumbing the scar on her chin then poked the one at her nose making her laugh slightly, "And how'd you get these?" The Commander's eyes fell harshly on her, cutting her laughter short.

 

"Oh, that's a bit of a tale, and same for the one on my nose," Sorin laughed listening to her vague explanation of the stories. "If you'd excuse me, I better check in with the Commander." Standing from their huddle, she walked over to the two men reviewing the parchment, "What's the latest?"

 

Rylen saluted, "Your Worship, the scouts have reported that there are far more demons than we anticipated, while the number of Wardens lessens' by the hour."

 

A chill ran down her spine, "More blood magic." He nodded grimly with an 'aye.' Her gaze turned dark looking over at the timeworn fortress, "How soon can we begin the assault?"

 

Standing tall, the fire in her eyes was alight meeting the Commander's molten orbs, "Tomorrow night at best." Her eyes widened and by his annoyed sigh, he knew the argument fighting to get out of her head, "These things take time, and as it is we are manning the trebuchets all day and night with three crews alternating shifts. The battering ram has been built and will be outfitted with the penthouse tomorrow morning in anticipation of an evening assault." With every word her hope of saving as many Wardens as was possible was diminishing. "Rylen and I are headed out to check on a few things." As he finished, their horses were being guided over to them. "I'll find you when I return once I have further information--"

 

"Commander! Inquisitor!" A young scout out of breath came sprinting towards them. She bent over gasping while supporting herself on her knees, "There's… something you must see. Sister Nightingale awaits your… presence immediately." A large black raven landed on her back squawking and turning, flapping wildly.

 

Already mounted on his large warhorse, he extended a hand down to her, "Rylen will see to the other tasks, we should go see Leliana right away." Pulling her up with ease, she situated herself behind him, placing her hands on her hips. "You can, and probably should, hold on to me."

 

She scoffed at him, "Cullen, I could ride standing on one leg while assaulting the fortress with fireballs." Realizing how obstinate she sounded, she placed her hands on his sides as he spurred his black Ferelden Forder forward. His mantle tickled her face with his scent, as she tried to keep eyes on Leliana's raven as it guided them to its mistress. Leading them away from camp and down into a canyon beside the fortress, they spotted the dark-cloaked figure in the distance.

 

With her agents spread about watching out for the safety of their superiors, the two dismounted looking around them. Stopping dead in her tracks, Evelyn couldn't believe her eyes, "Maker, are those…" her words were cut off by the grotesque sight before them. The sunken earth had been turned into a mass grave. Bodies upon bodies were haphazardly dropped from above filling the canyon beside the wall. Obscured by some of the only vegetation for miles, the area was a natural defense for Adamant, which is why they hadn't seen this until now. Covering her nose they walked over to Leliana who didn't seem bothered by the stench or view.

 

"It seems they are not just sacrificing Wardens any longer," she nodded over to a plainly dressed elven woman. "By her clothes, she looks to be a servant of some kind, and that man there, clearly a mason. See the mortar plastered on his hands? They're desperate, sacrificing anyone they can or can't afford to feed."

 

"You think they were ill-prepared pending our arrival a month ago?" Cullen questioned.

 

"Erimond seemed like the type of man who didn't bother himself with the details of how he was going to supply a fortress in the middle of the desert, merely that he was following master's orders in creating his demon army. Regardless, we've clearly unnerved him as he's sacrificing anyone expendable enough. Let's just hope he isn't planning something bigger for us with that massive rift." The three exchanged concerned glances before looking back at the senseless waste of life. All these people died and lost their souls to demons for Corypheus. Erimond would pay with blood for his atrocities, and she would hear him scream in agony before ending his pathetic existence.

 

It was then a fresh body was thrown from the ramparts. The three quickly stepped behind a boulder, watching the flailing limbs tumble down the pale stone, its blood streaking down the wall helping to grow the existing red stain. After the long drop, it landed with a soft squishy sound accompanied by the snapping of bone. Wet gore shot into the air spreading it about to the others who gained another coat of blood and guts. The sight sent the Phoenix into a rage, as her fists clenched, knowing that this poor person was just trying to serve and was betrayed by their betters. She suddenly wished her wings could take her up these walls so she could strangle Erimond with his…

 

"Evelyn," the Commander lowered his tone, "your magic is overwhelming." Letting go of a sharp exhale, she shook herself from her violent thoughts. Even Leliana seemed to have been affected, looking dizzy as she staggered a step back.

 

The Spymaster glared resolutely at her with steel in her eyes, "You'll get your chance at them, Inquisitor, soon enough." Taking a knee before the abyss before them, Cullen began to pray for the departed. "Your prayers are wasted, Commander. Their souls belong to the Void now." Leliana's face contorted in a dark disgust at the gore.

 

"The bodies should be burned," flexing her hand, the Inquisitor conjured a flame but was halted by the redhead, who closed her hand into a fist.

 

"No, they will see. We will come back with a Chantry Mother and make sure the proper respects are at least paid to their earthy bodies." They both took a shaky breath, as Cullen once again stood looking out over the hundreds of bodies tossed from the fortress. "Let us leave this place and not speak of it until this is over. If word spreads of just how many innocent people have been murdered, I fear to think what fate may befall the Wardens. It may also give us some political leverage in Ferelden if we help keep news of this from spreading. The Wardens of Ferelden are having enough trouble as it is rebuilding their numbers since the Blight."

 

"You said yourself you share favors with the queen. Will this be shared with her?" Evelyn tilted her head partly to the side. She didn't mind her advisors trading secrets when they felt it was justified. Trusting them inexplicably to always place the Inquisition first, she never had to question their loyalties.

 

She leaned towards her slyly, "No, I would be remiss if I didn't keep something up my sleeve to use. I would expect nothing less from Elissa either." When a passing guard from above tried to peer down into the darkness at them, they knew they had lingered too long and quietly made their way back to the horses and then to camp.

 

Cullen dropped her back at their camp before riding off to catch up with Rylen who hadn't returned yet. With him distracted, there was one last task she needed to complete before the battle tomorrow. Peering into the darkness beyond their cluster of tents, she could see dark silhouettes against the sand embracing, no doubt exchanging favors of luck or protection before they'd be called to battle lines. Digging for her hand-embroidered handkerchief that she'd been carrying around all day waiting for an opportunity, she knew now was her chance.

 

Sneaking into the tent from the back to avoid her companions' sharp eyes, she folded and placed the delicate linen on his pillow. There would be no mistaking who it was from with the clever Trevelyan coat of arms and the initials 'EAT' on it. Evelyn couldn't help but chuckle to herself at the sight of her monogram, knowing that Cullen had probably never thought about the word which her initials spelled - how fitting they had several jokes about her eating habits as it were. To be safe, she folded it so the embellishment was on the inside of the first fold when he opened it and the color of the cloth matched that of the pillow. Maker forbid an attendant happened in and saw it, or someone meeting with him, but she couldn't place it anywhere else without a high chance that it'd go undiscovered. By delivering it to him secretly, he could choose without having to confront her or tell her if he accepted it. She could understand his decision either way, and part of her hoped he wouldn't say a word about it so she could believe in ignorant bliss that her token was tucked away somewhere under his armor tomorrow.

 

Not wanting to linger, she pressed a kiss to the fabric and whispered a protective prayer to the Maker and his Bride before departing and circling back around to her friends. As she rejoined them, her heart was fluttering thinking about what he would think about it when he returned. When he eventually did arrive back from the other camp, she quickly said her goodnights and retreated into the confines of her tent, not wanting to hear or see any form of reaction from him, knowing that despite thinking that she didn't care if she was rejected, that it would indeed crush her spirit.

 

---

 

"It won't be long now, I'll send the battering ram in within the hour to finish off the gate. Once engaged, it's hard to estimate how long before the men breach them. It could be a half-hour or could be several hours." Cullen looked up from his reports scattered all across the table in the Command Tent, "We'll have those doors open for you, Inquisitor." Evelyn was joined late the next afternoon by Leliana, Cassandra, and Rylen around the table finishing up their final meeting before the battle would commence.

 

"I shall ready my team. I want to be the first through the gate, Commander," she nodded resolutely crossing her arms.

 

He grumbled, probably expecting her to say as much, "Allow me to at least send an advance force in to assess the situation before you go in."

 

"We will act as your advanced force. If there are Grey Wardens who would surrender seeing Stroud and Blackwall, then we should give them every chance to do so. How many lives have already been wasted by Erimond?" She gave him a knowing look following her words in hopes he remembered last night's excursion to the mass grave.

 

His jaw flexed, "And what of your safety and health?" His stern gaze penetrated her as she choked out a badly timed cough, "There will be blood magic and arrows flying, not to mention demons everywhere. It will take time for the men to get a foothold atop the walls, leaving you at the mercy of the enemy. This is your first real fight since your injury, and I would advise you to not overdo it just walking through the door!"

 

She thought over his words, but they both knew she had made up her mind, "I need to speak to the Commander privately, leave us and prepare yourselves for battle."

 

They held each other in an intense glare until they were left alone. He was the first to speak, rounding the table to stand before her, "Andraste preserve me, Evelyn, see reason! You do not have to lead the army in such a manner. Our soldiers are with you, come what may!"

 

"It has nothing to do with that, and everything to do with saving as many lives as possible from needless death. Everything we do deals with it, and I'm about at capacity. Before you tell me that such is the price of war, remember that those men and women also swore an oath to give their lives in protection of Thedas as we have." Cullen seemed to have lost some of his temper at her words, "If there is a chance that the Wardens will see reason, we must take it, and who better to do it than members of their own order."

 

"And if they do not surrender? You know their mages are already lost."

 

"Then we do what needs to be done. I'm a trained Knight-Enchanter first and foremost. I'm an expert at killing demons and maleificar, there is no one better for you to send in first with them. If I wasn't the Inquisitor, it would be entirely senseless not to send me! I'm also a crazy fireball thrower with new abilities sprouting up every time someone pisses me off," she gave a halfhearted smirk not wanting to fight with him.

 

He frowned snapping back, "Yes, with a talent for finding trouble."

 

She shrugged it off casually, "I'm fairly certain that whole fortress is full of trouble already, so it makes no difference." He opened his mouth to argue again, but she wasn't having it, "Enough Cullen, I'm going to get my armor on and ready the others. You know I'll just do what I want anyway."

 

Anger welled up flushing his face with a tinge of red as he took a step closer to her lowering his voice to a growl, "Because you're too insufferably stubborn to listen to those who care about you!"

 

She stared into his hard amber eyes wanting to say the plethora of things that she was holding inside her since she resumed consciousness back at Skyhold. Now all of a sudden he decides to share his feelings, even if they were not as passionate as she hoped for. Evelyn was sick and tired of the false pretenses, and even though she loved him, he made her want to have them strap her into the sling of the battering ram and bang her head against the gate. Or she wanted to throw something at him, like his pile of reports, a chair… maybe herself. He was standing too close, causing her body to react traitorously as her eyes slid up and down his handsome face. Ignoring the emotions and the urge to ask if he saw the token she left him, she replied quietly, "I've given you my orders, Commander," holding his gaze for a moment before leaving quickly.

 

Needing to just be alone and calm down, Evelyn sat for some time observing the comings and goings of her companions, wishing them luck as they headed to their assignments. The Iron Bull had left with Sera and the Chargers for the Eastern Camp earlier in the day and she stopped in on the healers to see how they were faring with preparations to receive the wounded. A few cots had already been filled by messengers who got themselves within range of the enemy's arrows as they were running between camps. They would recover under the healing touch of Ilara, but the Inquisitor still left her well wishes with them before sharing a long hug with the Enchanter. Owayne and Cassandra were suspiciously absent as were the others, though the sounds coming from the surrounding tents indicated most were getting their last few winks of sleep in. With everything in order thanks to the Commander's tight planning and coordination, all there was to do was wait.

 

Cullen had done an incredible job, there was no doubt about it. The constant rhythm of the trebuchets launching missiles beat in the background like a steady war drum. The camp was a hive of activity, but the layout was designed with efficiency in mind allowing soldiers, wounded, and supplies to move to where they needed to be with as little traffic as possible. Even if they had been unconscious and distant for days, the hours and all-nighters she both heard and didn't hear of paid off. Though he had combat experience, his knowledge of battle came from his studies. The Commander had a mind for the coordination of the various elements of the battlefield. It was like a large chess board, and unbeknownst to his older sister Mia, she had been instrumental in preparing him, teaching him to anticipate his opponent's moves and counter them. Evelyn knew how important this was to him, especially after the defeat at Haven. There had been a chip on his shoulder ever since then, one that put a resolve of steel in his actions. His first command of a siege and battle was going to go his way, as his fingers rested on the pulse of the operation.

 

As she gazed at him across the camp pouring over the progress reports, a small warm smile settled on her face. "I've seen that look before," the Champion's voice startled her, "there were many who looked at him like that back in Kirkwall. Trust me, your attention is wasted there."

 

Evelyn quirked up an eyebrow at him, "I'm simply admiring all the hard work he has done for this mission. It is quite the feat."

 

He sat down on the log close beside her, so much so his every movement jostled her. He smelt of tobacco and spiced rum, but it wasn't a stale smell, but rather warm and comforting.  "I'm curious to know if it was your order to give no quarter to the mages or his?"

 

"Mine."

 

He gave a huff, "I do not disagree with it, for I've seen my fair share of what blood magic used enthusiastically can do, but I expected that sort of order from the former Knight-Commander, not you."

 

By his feisty tone, she was unsure what he was getting at. "Those decisions rest with me, or did you forget that I'm a Knight-Enchanter."

 

"You mean a witch hunter," he whispered amused at his own words having successfully evaded members of her order for years. "I'm more surprised Rutherford takes his orders from a mage, given his hatred of them. I suppose he has no choice if he wants to keep his position. He's had plenty of practice schmoozing his superior in Kirkwall." Hawke turned to look at her for a reaction, but she endeavored to not react emotionally to his blatant attack.

 

She couldn't stop her jaw from clenching, not wanting to discuss such personal matters with him, "Cullen is not the same man he was in Kirkwall. In the end, he saw through Meredith's corruption and what it did to him. She fed him ridiculous amounts of lyrium to keep him compliant and used the horrors he had seen before transferring to manipulate him. The man you knew had desperately sought meaning and new purpose for his sacrifices for the Order, only to be further led down a path against everything he devoted his life to."

 

The Champion stared at her seemingly unconvinced, his black hair falling rebelliously from his forehead, "I grant you, he does seem more sedate here than back at the Gallows, but if you had known him as I had, you wouldn't be so easily fooled by his reprieve from "Knight-Commander Rutherford." He and I had many discussions over the years about mages rights and he was right at home with the Kirkwall Templars - especially Meredith. I had to hide the fact that I was a mage because he could not see us as people worthy of his time or understanding. We are an infection to him, breeding more pestilence every day." He spat at the ground looking into the fire. "I may have sided with him when the Qunari invaded and when Anders blew the Chantry to the Void, but it was for the good of the innocent people being slaughtered in the streets. From what I saw, Meredith didn't have to do much to convince him to follow her orders like the faithful Mabari he was to her."

 

Evelyn looked back to where Cullen had been standing, but he was gone, so she turned her head to face Hawke. "May I ask what the Void brought all this on?" He shifted studying her face closely, "I mean really Hawke, what the fuck?"

 

"You and I spent weeks together out in the Western Approach, and never once had you acted so," he paused searching for the correct word, "careful. I've seen you pay closer attention to his every reaction as if he were a primed gattlok bomb about to explode. The Order is not your master any longer. Do not let his command of this mission make you think otherwise."

 

She balked baffled by his observation, then narrowed her eyes at him, "I assure you it has nothing to do with that."

 

"Well, he sure as hell wouldn't see a mage as anything but an abomination, which gets back to my original point, don't waste your time with Rutherford."

 

She rolled her eyes, "And you'd be wasting your time with me."

 

He chuckled looking away and she eyed his untamed beard. He truly had a rough look to him, seeming like he'd be more at home in a port town than in their current setting. Pivoting to meet her stare, she was hit by his smoky and spicy scent again, "We're mages and powerful ones, and that's not just because of our magic. You never know when the Chantry is going to decide we no longer fit their narrative. We should take pleasure where we can find it." His finger tugged at a loose strand of her hair, trailing it down her face to hook her chin. "It's just a bit of fun, something Rutherford wouldn't know the first thing about," he smirked a bit with a wink.

 

She was about to retort, when a voice from close behind interrupted them, "Hawke," both turned to look at the Commander's scowl. He didn't say more - he didn't need to - simply placing a hand to rest on the pommel of his sword.

 

Garret gave a sly chuckle, "I see you're still keeping a watchful eye on your charges, Knight-Commander." The two of them slowly stood from the log, though the Champion stepped up into Cullen's face, losing some of his humor.

 

"I was simply walking by and heard my mention, it's not my fault if you can't keep your mouth in check. Never could, in fact," the Commander's tone was one she had heard when disciplining the soldiers. Unsure as to whether she should interfere, she stood back observing for now. Cullen held his ground glowering down at the man before him, "If you have an issue with me or my command, be a man and speak with me first. You can't hide behind Aveline here."

 

"I'm not one of your soldiers…"

 

The Inquisitor butted in before he raised his voice any louder, pushing both of them a few inches back from each other. She addressed Hawke first, "No, you're not one of his soldiers, but an ally. I have no issue with the way Cullen commands my army, and since as you say you're not part of it, then no one fucking cares what you think." Despite the chastisement, Hawke stared at her unaffected. Spinning to now address her senior council member, his amber eyes only flickered to her briefly before locking back on to the Champion's. "And you, Commander, I trust not to cause an incident with our ally with a battle before us." When he didn't say anything or look at her, she added, "Understood?" After the blonde verbally consented to her order, she dismissed them both sternly out of her presence.

 

Sitting back down, she absently fingered the scar on her cheek wondering just what Hawke's game was. As he went to armor up, he pinned up the flaps of his tent. When he took his shirt off and made a point to catch her eye, she faced away from him chuckling pitifully at his persistence. For the time being, Cullen had his back to the camp speaking to a messenger who ran into the Command Tent, but if he saw Hawke's strutting, she could only imagine the shade of red his cheeks would take on. The three weeks they spent in the Western Approach had been light and full of sarcastic joking; Could he have taken it as flirting? Surely, Varric knew better, and yet even if Hawke had heard rumors of something between her and Cullen, he didn't seem like the type of man who cared. He was a bundle of contradictions, both rational and unpredictable. In battle he was fierce, fighting as if each skirmish was his last. The magic he wielded was questionable, as were the origins of where he had learned it, but she dismissed it because, well, he was the Champion of Kirkwall - a hero.

 

Garret had also lived as an apostate, unknowing of what life was like in the Circle. To him, it was a simple matter of viewing Templars as the jailers and mages as their prisoners. Yet, it was so much more complicated than that, something people who had never spent time in a Circle couldn't understand. Part of her fumed thinking that he thought she was being submissive to Cullen when she was simply trying to not 'distract' him from their mission with the mess that was their relationship. Of course, she wouldn't disclose that to Hawke, but if he persisted in his advances, she may have no choice without insulting an ally as she just scolded the Commander for doing. Yet, she didn't want to give Cullen any reason to doubt her faithfulness, wanting to still gain back his trust.

 

"Evelyn?" The Seeker's hand on her shoulder broke her from brooding. "Come, the Commander sent the battering ram to the gate. We need to prepare." Standing and doing as she bid, she sighed trying to refocus on what was to come. "What is Hawke doing?"

 

Evelyn turned to look back over, he was leaning against the tent's center post eating an apple - shirtless - watching them. The Inquisitor huffed, "You don't want to know." Leading her tentmate with a gentle push into their quarters, she tied the flaps closed for privacy.

 

"Why don't I want to know?" Cassandra was now suspicious.

 

"I'm fairly certain he's trying to bed me."

 

The Seeker made a sound as if she choked on her spit, "What?!"

 

"Shh," she stepped closer to her friend staring at her incredulously, "he was rather forward about it and somehow managed to insult Cullen in the process, who overheard, and I just had to separate the two of them before they began butting heads like two rams."

 

"So, that's why he was outside… shirtless?" she pointed in the direction of Hawke's tent. Nodding together in understanding, she added, "I wouldn't trust him, Evelyn. He may be the Champion, but from what I uncovered about him during my time in Kirkwall, he lives to dance on the line of good versus bad. He's Varric's best friend after all, that alone should make you wary."

 

Her eyes widened, whispering harshly, "How could you-- I wasn't even thinking of entertaining the notion! My issue is that Cullen may think I am."

 

The Nevarran tilted her head, taken back, "Surely, not. He would know how absurd it is."

 

Having had her armor layers laid out on the bed, the Phoenix began to undress, "I don't know what he thinks anymore. I do know that Hawke isn't helping. If Cullen says anything to you, you'll tell me, won't you?"

 

"Of course, and I'll certainly tell him it's ridiculous."

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she immediately noticed a token of affection tied on Cassandra's arm which she knew to be Owayne's handkerchief. "You really do like him, don't you?" The Seeker turned her head back at her while lacing up her vambraces. Nodding to the favor on her bicep, "My brother. I can hardly get you to myself anymore."

 

Facing away she took a deep breath before answering, "I think I do."

 

"You think? What exactly do you think you like about him?"

 

"I suppose… I enjoy his humor and his different perspective. I had no idea that he was so intelligent or pious until I stopped and actually listened to what he was saying… outside of all the cursing and sarcasm." Evelyn couldn't help but laugh to herself at the description. "The heavy drinking is… a bit much at times, but it only makes him emotionally more… endearing." It was true, at least when he was sauced he was an affectionate drunk.

 

"I hope you have no notion he'll give that up."

 

"I have no desire to change him, for I don't believe things will ever go that far." She turned around with a sour look on her face, "I don't mean… I didn't--" Besides struggling with her words, she was also fighting with her armor strap. The thought of either of them getting married struck her as odd, let alone being wed to each other.

 

"It's alright, Cassandra. I didn't mean to put you on the spot. What happens between you and Owayne is your business, though I will say it again, I do believe you are good for him." Her new dragon bone armor was surprisingly easy to put on without help - just the way she liked it. Having finished she did her final checks to make sure she had everything tightened comfortably.

 

With a huff, the Seeker's shoulders slumped in frustration still fussing with the stubborn strap. Seeing this, her bunkmate strode overtaking the leather and buckles away from her gingerly, "This fucking thing--"

 

"Whoa," Evelyn chuckled, "you may be a good influence on him but I'm not sure his mouth is beneficial for you."

 

"His mouth? And what of yours? I'm getting twice as much Trevelyan influence now." Evelyn was laughing harder now, grateful for the distraction. When she finished, the two women's eyes met, "That armor on you is truly beautiful," the look in Nevarran's eyes was sobering as the gravity of the situation began to press down upon them. It was in these moments with her friends that she felt the burden of the Inquisition was shared.

 

"You think it'll inspire our soldiers? Do I look like I belong leading them?" The Phoenix turned and spun as if wearing a ballgown. "Andraste's pyre, we are attacking the Grey Wardens."

 

"Evelyn," she grasped her shoulders, "you are and have been leading them, and they do not hesitate to follow you. I know I do not question your ability. Do not allow doubt to haunt you."

 

Sharing a heartfelt smile, she said quietly, "I'd hug you, but with all these feathers I'm afraid I'd scratch up the polished shine on your armor. And I remember what you did to Varric when he jokingly said he dinged your armor with Bianca…"

 

The Seeker snorted a laugh, "Perhaps when we are back here after the mission then we can embrace in victory, my friend."

 

"Deal."

 

With another look up and down, brushing off her shoulders, she gave Evelyn a resolute look, "Now, let's show everyone what a true Phoenix looks like."

 

---

 

Atop a platform he had constructed to see out over the battlefield, Cullen watched as his plan proceeded without any undue surprises. The various elements were in place and the gates were almost open - at least he hoped. The night sky was clear only dotted by the clouds from the smoke of their fires. The sappers on the battering ram had been at it for a while now and would soon tire. He had another crew ready, but switching them out put the men in danger - which is also why he had assigned at least three more men to the relief team, expecting to lose at least that many. Their swings were still strong, but even so, to let up the assault was to give the enemy time to reinforce the gate. They couldn't afford any more delays as the men were as eager to begin the assault as he was. The trebuchets that had been focused on the gate were now turned to the walls of Adamant as planned. The initial bloodletting that the gate would provide distraction enough for Henley and his men to take the ramparts beside the gate, while the siege engines made two more points of entry for the army.

 

When a hush fell over the rowdy soldiers around him, he turned to witness what had them so enraptured. Striding confidently through the parting army was the Inquisitor in a set of beautiful armor glinting in the moonlight. At first, he thought it was made of pure gold, but it gave off an off-colored sheen when she passed the men's torches, like oil on water. As she approached him, he knew it now to be dragon bone forged masterfully to look like a great bird-- a Phoenix. Sharp feathers decorated her shoulders but grew into scale-like chainmail in other places so as not to compromise its utility. He couldn't help but stare in awe at the resplendent figurehead of the Inquisition feeling the adrenaline pumping through him to fight for their cause - and for her. For a moment, as her eyes were set on him even with the scene unfolding around them, that same warmth spread through him as if he were the only man in the world.

 

Holding her stylized avian-themed helmet under her arm, she traipsed up the platform steps to him with a serene mask of calm in the face of the storm ahead, "Commander, how fares our men at the gate?" Her voice was strong and steady as she peered out over the masses before her towards the soldiers in question.

 

Never had he ever felt more at one with the title 'Commander' as he did in this instant. "Inquisitor," he said with a respectful bow aware of all the eyes on them. He switched his helm to the opposite arm as his armor and weapons chimed as they met, "They've been at it for half an hour under extreme duress. I'm considering switching the men out, for I'm not sure how effective they are after all this time. It seems Adamant is living up to its namesake." She nodded and he added quietly, "As, by the look of it, you are."

 

He watched from the corner of his eye as her lip twitched up for but a second. "A gift from my father," she whispered back, not looking at him, but she didn't need to explain for him to understand the significance of the words.

 

"It suits you."

 

"As does yours, Rutherford," she said flicking her head down to his lion helm. It struck him suddenly how much he missed the way she said his name, unable to bite his cheek in time to quell a smirk that she satisfyingly caught. He was pleased that she wasn't holding a grudge against him after eavesdropping on her conversation with Hawke earlier.

 

Cullen didn't like how forward he was being with her of late, and his jealousy may have gotten the better of him after all the time they had been spending together having left his work to find out what they were speaking of. He was glad he did too, even if Evelyn didn't seem to be buying into Hawke's charms, he needed them to know that whatever was transpiring between them had not gone unseen. There had been no time to speak privately about it with Evelyn, it being exactly the kind of distraction he didn't need, but the more he saw them together, the more the uneasiness festered within him. Cullen knew what kind of man Hawke was, and while he knew Evelyn had experienced such men in her past, she didn't have to suffer through his attention now. If it meant revealing to Garret that there was indeed something between the Inquisitor and himself, so be it. For the many things Hawke was, he was no gossip, only caring about his own affairs.

 

A loud resounding crack from the gate of Adamant helped push such thought back to deal with the present. Having finished their discreet and private conversation she turned to face him, clearing her throat, "My team and I are ready. We will await your signal at the front."

 

"I shall accompany you there." With a surprised nod, he led Evelyn and her companions through the center of the main force. Upon reaching the active warzone where the enemies could potentially hit them with projectiles, he donned his lion helm encouraging them to do the same.

 

"What a shame, it seems I left my animal helmet at home," Dorian commented from the back as Cullen and the Phoenix looked back at him before meeting each other's gaze. She rolled her eyes before looking forward as the Altus continued, who was now looking the Seeker next to him up and down, "I'm thinking a bear."

 

Cassandra grunted, "For you?"

 

"No, you dear. Since all you like to do is charge and hit things and most of the time you embody the attitude of one." Dorian flashed her a provoking smile, "What? I don't think I've ever seen you more than ten feet from a training dummy at Skyhold. Until Lord Trevelyan came along, I honestly thought you were in love with one of them."

 

Cullen chanced a look at Evelyn who was looking up to the heavens mouthing a prayer to the Maker. "Are they always like this during missions," he whispered over. The Inquisitor gave a weary sigh and nod in answer.

 

Cassandra wasn't finished with the mage yet, her voice becoming venomous, "And you'd be a peacock, Dorian. A ridiculously decorated bird who screeches most annoyingly for attention, as if people wanted to hear you--"

 

Evelyn cut her off in good humor, "Enough you two, save it for the demons."

 

"Thank you, Inquisitor, I'd be afraid of what he'd say about the rest of us," Blackwall commented.

 

Dorian balked, "Afraid? I assure you I had a wonderfully splendid, and accurate, one chosen for you."

 

"Perhaps, when you stop referring to me as the 'hairy lummox' I'll believe you."

 

"Really? When did I do that?"

 

The bearded Warden sighed recalling the last few instances, "In the last week… the tavern, the Smithee, to the servants, you even said it to the gate guards as we left Skyhold."

 

"That does sound like me." Dorian shrugged unaffected.

 

As they passed through the last of the men to the front, the Inquisitor nodded to the soldiers resolutely. "Dorian, barrier please!" Complying, he threw a barrier around them as a precaution as they inspected the men on the battering ram. The Commander shook his head, explaining to the Inquisitor the reason why he was refraining from switching the crews just yet. She nodded in understanding, but he could tell her mind was conjuring a plan.

 

Placing a hand gently on him, she yelled over the cacophony of the battlefield, "Keep the others here, I'll be back!"

 

"No, Inquisitor!" Before he could stop her, she was already gone, having materialized into a puff of ethereal smoke.

Notes:

Greetings readers,

I'm so sorry for the delay in getting this story updated after the holidays! The good news is I'll have part 2 of Here Lies the Abyss posted this Saturday and then hopefully part 3 (yes, it turned into quite a beast) will follow sometime after. For those waiting to the next chapter of Advent of the Phoenix, that too will be coming soon especially since we left it on such a cliffhanger!

If any of you have written your own DA fanfic or have a favorite Evie/Cullen romance fiction on AO3 be sure to share it in the comments. I'm on the look out for new stories to read. I look forward to getting your recommendations!

I hope the new year is treating you all well!
Munklington

Chapter 27: Here Lies the Abyss Pt.2

Summary:

The battle begins...

Without pause, Evelyn fade-stepped to the back of the battering ram. It took a moment for the men to recognize her as she began to gather her mana, having surprised them with her shining golden armor when she materialized. Even across the open sandy dunes of the battlefield she could hear the Commander roaring at her, for he hated when she threw a wrench in his well laid plans. She addressed them confidently, "All together Inquisition!" Her soldiers looked at her with reverence as she gazed up and down the two rows. "On three!" She began casting her spell, as they began rocking the ram, "One, two, three!" She summoned as much strength as she could muster, casting a force-push spell at the swinging arm. Smashing into the doors of the fortress, splinters flew about, but it held. She tried twice more before her frustration bubbled to the surface. The men panted and she could see their tiredness weighing heavy in their countenance.

 

With a roar driven by instinct, the mark flickered to life as she raised it above her. The green light engulfed her body as fiery emerald wings splayed outwards. Her men stepped back unsure of what was happening as they too were encased in the glowing barrier. As her fist plummeted to the ground, it shot the ram's arm out of the sling into the doors with such force, that it punched a hole through the gate. The massive piece of machinery shook Adamant to its foundation, as its defenders swayed unsteadily. The metal and wood of the doors groaned as it fell from its hinges making the earthquake on impact.

 

A loud round of cheers echoed through the desert as Adamant's defenses were finally breached. As the Inquisition's soldiers celebrated, Evelyn was left gritting her teeth through the pain in her hand and arm from the anchor. It had never done that before, and the power it had produced she could feel was greater than that of sealing rifts. With no time to contemplate her new ability or its consequences, the penthouse of the battering ram began to collapse, "Go! You're shielded, back to the line!" The men scrambled from beneath the shelter of the penthouse to the opening of the main Inquisition line made to protect their retreat. As they escaped to safety, their comrades cheered their success, patting the men on the backs as they made their way back to camp. Evelyn, trying to hide her pain for the sake of morale, fade-stepped back to the line just behind the last of the brave sappers. An even louder cry for the Herald echoed back to them off the very walls they had just breached.

 

Holding her cries of pain in until she reached her companions, they immediately saw the look on her face as they grabbed a hold of her. "Don't let them see me," she groaned out as all seven of them huddled about her. The soldiers didn't need to see her writhing in pain after the anchor's unexpected outburst. Blackwall was holding her steady, as was the Seeker, while Dorian looked at the marked hand worriedly. Unlacing her glove and vambrace, they looked at the long pulsating vein that had snaked partway down her forearm.

 

At the Altus' touch, she whimpered and tried to pull away as the mark over sensitized her skin. He turned to the Commander speaking to him more than his patient, "We should have Solas look at this. It’s grown substantially."

 

"There's no time," she gritted out, yanking herself away from her friends' grasps, to rearm, "I'm fine, it just… burns." Looking to Cullen, who was giving her the stare of a sad Mabari, she tried to focus back on the task at hand, "We'll lose the advantage if we don't charge now!" Recently, she had given him many reasons to doubt her word, but they couldn't afford to let it dissuade them from the course now.

 

Taking a deep breath as his gaze shifted from her to the fortress, his expression hardened calling to his nearby officer, "Lieutenant Foster, you and your men will follow the Inquisitor in through the gate and secure it. I'll send reinforcements in after you." The man saluted and set to work preparing his men. "Knight-Captain Henley," the glimmering silverite armor of the seasoned Templar pushed through to them, "begin your assault on the walls."

 

Another familiar face was in tow behind her long-time friend, not stopping before crashing into her, "Good luck little sis-- ow!" Owayne pulled back, "Forgot how bloody sharp that armor was."

 

"Be safe, both of you," she looked around her brother to Henley placing a hand on their shoulders. Having given their well wishes to each other earlier, no more words were needed as they returned to their unit.

 

The Commander looked back to her and her team, his lion helm baring its teeth at them, "Let's go, the Lieutenant will follow close behind us."

 

"You're coming?" Evelyn questioned as her mark stung her again, making her suck in a sharp breath.

 

Pointing to her team, he leaned close replying, "They will go in first, you and I will trail in back in case the mark flares up again and we need to pull out. At least if you're coming back with me the men will reason it has to do with the battle stratagem and not an injury. If you feel you can go on, then return to the Command Post." She nodded in agreement at the compromise. The Wardens were still to be the first in, even if she had to bring up the rear, though the company was now more enticing. The last time she and Cullen were in battle together was back at Haven. With their duties separating them, as he was needed at Skyhold now more and more, she had missed being in the field with him, even if the situation was particularly dangerous.

 

Having made their way in through the gates with little resistance due to the Wardens pulling back to a more defensible position, Cullen addressed her companions as she stood at his side, "Your sole mission is to get the Inquisitor to the rift and seal it. From there," he now turned to her, "send a report back immediately, detailing your needs. Maker willing, I'll have the battle won by then." There was a glimmer in his eyes of both resolve and excitement.

 

"Understood, Commander," her affirmation was accompanied by nods from the others, including a gruff one from Hawke.

 

As the others drifted ahead, she lingered back a moment to hear a quiet warning from Cullen, "Take care, Inquisitor, especially with our ally."

 

"I can handle myself, you know I can."

 

"And you are sure you're alright?" He looked at her hand, "I'm serious, promise me you are. If things go wrong and I can’t get you out…"

 

"I'm sure, I promise."

 

He sighed searching her eyes for something more to say, when they saw Henley's men had started their assault of the ramparts. As they watched for a moment, it was clear they needed help, "There's too much resistance on the walls for our men to gain a foothold."

 

"We'll get up there as soon as we can. Keep the pressure on them, Commander," they both spun to leave, but she stopped and turned to see that he had surprisingly done the same. Jogging back over to her, without another word, he pressed something warm and smooth in her hand. Opening it, she gazed upon his lucky coin.

 

Shocked, she looked back up to him through the lion's maw, her jaw slightly slack as he revealed yet another surprise. A hand pulled up his gambeson and held out his vambrace to show her hidden token wrapped about the armor at his elbow. The sounds of battle muted as she stared at him unable to breathe as chills of excitement came in waves. She resisted the urge to jump into his arms, overjoyed by the small, yet tremendous statement. The coin had been his only tether to his life before the Order - before lyrium. Given to him as a charm for luck, it became something more with time. During his vigil, it was a promise to protect those he loved; During the fall of Kinloch Tower, it was a lifeline of perseverance; In Kirkwall, it was a reminder of who he was; And now, it was as close to divine protection as he could give her.

 

She blinked unable to accurately verbalize the maelstrom of emotions tearing through her soul, replying simply, "I'll keep it safe." Her hand fished its way into her armor, placing it in the safest location she could think of - her breast band.

 

By the betrayal of emotion from the warrior's eyes, he was feeling the same burning feelings having to force himself to leave her for the Command Post. There was regret etched in his face as he looked back over his shoulder, "Maker watch over you." He didn’t need to say much, because for once it seemed they were on the same page, making it that much harder for them to part at the startling breakthrough. It was only the desperate calls from her companions behind her that tore her away, looking back several times at Cullen until he disappeared.

 

Sprinting ahead through with the aid of her barrier, the battle was raging on uncaring of her personal developments. Stone fragments fell from everywhere as the trebuchets hounded the sides of the ancient fortress. The earth-shattering quakes threatened to knock them from their feet as if they were battling at sea. Smoke billowed into the night sky as the oil from the Antivan Fire missiles burned, reducing visibility for the Wardens protecting the ramparts. The gurgle and growls of the demon army echoed off the walls, making her shiver knowing that soon she'd be drowning in their vile ichor.

 

Making their way through the fortress, by the grace of Andraste, the uncorrupted Wardens surrendered willingly. Falling back to the protection of the Inquisition's forces by the main gate, their warriors at least stopped and listened to what Stroud and Blackwall had to say, having had doubt already plaguing their minds about their orders. Due to this, they encountered less resistance until they began to ascend to the ramparts. Having been detoured by collapsed portions of the walls, both fortunately and unfortunately, they found themselves surrounded by demons with the struggling Inquisition force barely keeping a foothold by the ladders. The large metal claw grips clanged against the walls, looking as if a giant spider was climbing the crenellation. Her soldiers tempted fate as they leapt onto the ramparts to be met with demons and Wardens alike. Some landed only to be catapulted off a moment later, or swiftly dispatched and thrown lifeless off the side to make way for the fighting.

 

"Push right! Hawke and Stroud watch our backs, Varric swivel and give callouts, and everyone else focuses attention on clearing the ramparts ahead!" The Inquisitor's voice was sure and strong. The mages' power surged forth at the ready. A wall of demons blocked their immediate path, "Cassandra, any time you'd like to…"

 

The Seeker was already readying the Wrath of Heaven as she stood in front of the group. Pure white lightning crackled about her and through the air as she gathered all her might to vanquish the vast horde of demons before them. Needing another moment before unleashing her holy light upon them, several ghastly shades reached for her. Dorian was in charge of defense, throwing a barrier up, as Evelyn and Varric picked the enemy off before they got close. Blackwall stood as close as he dared to Cassandra as a last line of defense, but thankfully they didn't have a chance to attack before the cleansing light engulfed the demons, disintegrating at least a dozen or more of them.

 

Covering the Seeker as she recovered, Evelyn switched places with her stepping up alongside Blackwall. Brandishing her spirit blade as the Wardens charged, their hope of sparing the wall defenders was gone as they clashed with them. Once recovered, Cassandra stepped forth once more to meet the enemy, allowing the Inquisitor to step back and rain fire down upon the ramparts. Varric skillfully sniped any mages he could see before they began using more blood magic. As their pace forward increased, she became aware that it was because their rear guard was struggling due to the volume of demons, pushing the faster and faster.

 

"We're almost to the ladders keep going, quickly! Varric, Dorian, help Hawke and Stroud!" The Inquisitor ordered as their field of battle narrowed on the walls.

 

Varric didn't have a good vantage point and was now firing Bianca each time Hawke turned his body. "Varric," Hawke grumbled back at him worriedly, "just don't shoot off anything I may need later!"

 

Calm and cool as ever, the dwarf replied, "Since when have I ever? I've grazed you here and there, sure, but you try and aim around your ass."

 

Dorian couldn't help but chime in after clapping a few foes with lightning, "I think, Hawke, he just called your ass fat."

 

Having reached the ladders, Blackwall began pulling the soldiers over the crenellation so they'd know the group were friendly. In an attempt to let Cullen know they had made it to the ramparts, she held the anchor up as high as she could. Touching its power, the magic flared like a beacon in the night. She watched for a moment before a small column of lightning lit up the sky by the Command Post. Sorin is with him, good, she thought with relief.

 

When she sensed the presence of lyrium close by, she looked down over the wall to see none other than Henley's surprised bearded face looking up at her. "Beat you," she smiled down at him giving him a hand up.

 

Upon setting his feet on the ground and seeing his men had enough room to form up, he turned back to her, "What's the situation up here?" His deep brassy voice in the midst of battle brought back memories of Ostwick.

 

As she was about to answer, Evelyn caught a smirk from the Champion as he yanked his staff blade out of a demon, "There's nothing wrong with my arse, is there Inquisitor?"

 

She and Henley shared a look. After years of Templars saying similar things to her, she had learned to ignore it, however, if Henley caught it, he usually didn't let the Knight off that easy. He yelled over the battle, "Hey Champion, you may call the Free Marches home but you're still a flat-arsed Ferelden!" That elicited several laughs and grins. Sharing another knowing glance, the Knight-Captain winked at her and they stepped to the side.

 

"We've encountered a good number of Wardens on our way up here who surrendered, but the ones on the ramparts never gave us a chance to appeal to them," peering down she realized she was standing on the hand of one of their dead archers. Evelyn quickly repositioned her foot, "We're going to make a push to the rift, but I fear we may need a distraction." A wayward fireball from a Rage demon whizzed towards them, but the Templar deflected it with his shield easily. "I’ve never seen so many demons." Suddenly, the stone beneath their feet began to rumble and shake. They turned to look in time to see the Eastern Wall collapsing in a huge plume of dust in the distance.

 

Henley pointed, "There's your distraction, Inquisitor. If anyone could get the attention of a whole fort, it's The Iron Bull." A loud war horn echoed across the battlements signaling that The Chargers had begun their assault. The two Marchers exchanged smirks as they both returned to their people.

 

Evelyn returned in time to hear the Seeker trying to regroup and refocus the team, "A little more concentration on battle would be appreciated! We need to push forward again to make more room for our forces!" With that, she shoved Hawke back behind her, coordinating with the three warriors to create a shield wall to advance back the way they came. "Hold… push!" She commanded as they let the enemy clash against their shields before hitting them back to gain ground while the others thinned the horde. They continued this cadence back to the stairs in which they came from.

 

Making their way through the collapsing fortress toward the rift, they continued to clash with demons and wayward Wardens, occasionally coming across groups of non-corrupted ones who surrendered thanks to the combined efforts of Stroud, Blackwall, and the Inquisitor. It was becoming a less frequent occurrence however, are they neared the epicenter of the enemy force. When they at last reached the inner courtyard where the large rift was located, they came to a halt at the sight of Warden-Commander Clarel and Erimond addressing the soldiers before them. They seemed to be in the midst of some disagreement as Erimond tried to hurry the blood ritual along.

 

Having caught her breath, Evelyn wheezed a bit in the dry air, but willed strength into her voice interrupting them, "I am Inquisitor Trevelyan, and I say to you Wardens, that you have been deceived by Lord Erimond! He is not your salvation but your undoing, for he serves Corypheus!" Evelyn tried to keep it brief, for every moment the battle continued, the more the lives of her soldiers hung in the balance.

 

Clarel's eyes widened, "Corypheus? But he's dead."

 

"Not dead, actually," Hawke stepped forth and there were whispers about the courtyard as they instantly recognized his iconic look from Varric's works, "your brethren had kept him alive and imprisoned up in the Vimmark Mountains, thinking him a key to controlling darkspawn. Sadly, the only thing he's been controlling are Grey Wardens."

 

"We make the sacrifices no one else will. Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them," Clarel reasoned trying to justify her decision.

 

"And then your Tevinter ally binds them to Corypheus!" Stroud could stay quiet no longer, the simmering anger at her actions breaking through his usually stoic demeanor. The Warden-Commander's expression drew down, and both Evelyn and Erimond saw the seeds of doubt beginning to take root.

 

"They will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel." The Venatori snake spoke into her ear, throwing a devilish glare over to the Inquisitor's party. “This demon army will descend into the depths of the Deep Roads to kill every darkspawn and Archdemon ending Blights forever. Clearly, it is they who serve the enemy if they wish to stop you.”

 

Warring with herself after a long pause, she spoke definitively, "Bring it through." Erimond sneered with satisfaction as the Warden mages slit the throats of their willing sacrifices. The blood of the fallen twisted about the green tethers of light connecting the mages to the rift. Slowly, the tear in the Veil began to grow as the blood was consumed.

 

Hawke sighed angrily, his natural vibrato carrying about the courtyard, "Please, I've seen more than my share of blood magic, it is never worth the cost!"

 

"I've trained half of you myself, do not make me kill you!" Stroud pleaded and threatened at the same time.

 

A monstrous roar echoed from out of the rift. Swallowing hard, she and her companions looked among themselves wondering just what kind of demon they were summoning. With reassurance, Erimond coached the Wardens through the rest of the ritual, "Be ready with the next part of the ritual, Clarel. This demon is truly worthy of your strength!"

 

"Listen to me, I have no quarrel with the Wardens, I have spared those I could. I don't want to kill you, but you're being used by that man," she pointed to the Elder One's lackey, leveling her raptor glare at him. Clenching her unmarked hand into a fist, she felt a surge of power stemming from her anger. The molten core of the earth was bubbling beneath the surface wanting release. Flexing the hand each finger reached out for the lava, like a child stretching up for the hand of their mother. The warning magic dancing in her eyes unnerved the coward who, like his master, was having others do his dirty work. As she continued to put the fear of the Maker in her enemy, Blackwall had successfully coaxed several Wardens into surrendering. With their attempt at persuasion ending partway in failure, as the Warden mages were lost, Evelyn was ready to serve Erimond his retribution for all the wasted lives he took in the name of Corypheus.

 

"My master thought you'd meddle in his plans, Inquisitor, so he sent me this," Erimond banged his staff on the ground a few times, and from in the distance came a familiar roar.

 

A black shadow darker than the night sky blocked out the light of the moons. Circling about the main courtyard a few times like a vulture having spotted carrion, the dragon landed atop the eagle statue. Its claws scared the symbol of the Wardens as it perched itself so the whole of the battlefield could see it. Spreading its botched set of wings, it roared down at the marked Herald, its red eyes set intently on her. With a deep inhale, the monster cocked its head before unleashing a torrent of thick sooty breath at them. Reacting instinctually, Evelyn raised the mark above her head as she had before, slamming her marked hand on the ground to shield all those around her in an emerald glow. Ignoring the dark energy emanating from its breath, the smoke gave her suitable cover to hide the way her new ability made her writhe in pain. Knowing it wasn't the smartest thing to do, it was also the only thing that could save them since there was no way any barrier the mages would cast could protect them from the dragon's most lethal weapon.

 

With no one the wiser to her brief lapse of composure as the smoke dissipated, the Inquisitor stood in front of them as strong as ever. "Clarel, if his control of that," pointing to the dragon, "doesn't convince you of Erimond's treachery, conspiring with darkspawn himself, I don't know what will. His master is Corypheus! This demon will not be used to kill darkspawn, but rather bring Orlais and all of the south to its knees!"

 

Stepping forward, seemingly taking in the consequences of her actions with horror, Clarel shot a bolt of lightning at Erimond, knocking him off his feet. The coward he was immediately ran off, leaving the Warden-Commander and Inquisitor at the mercy of the blighted dragon. Covering the Tevinter mage's escape, the situation worsened as the maleificar, having drained themselves of blood to widen the rift, succumbed to the ritual themselves. Peering into the fractal portal, she could still see a large distorted shape still pacing beyond it, but now it was joined by others. The sight made her blood run cold knowing countless demons were trying to break through the thinning Veil. As the last mage fell, the horde of demons broke free.

 

Led by two Pride demons, the courtyard erupted into a frenzied battle of slashing blades and claws. The mages did all they could to protect the group, but the sheer volume with the addition of the dragon was too much. Knowing she once again needed to use the mark's power to protect them, she steeled her resolve to see her through one more time. As she cried out once more, her companions, knew what was coming and held their positions. At the same time, a fissure split open the stone and a wave of lava crashed up and out of it. The orange of her Phoenix wings blazed about in a brillant display fighting off the veilfire for superiority over the mage. Distracted momentarily by her mutation, despite the growth of the anchor, the return of her fiery wings brought her some comfort that her mana was still in control.

 

As the lesser demons shrieked when the hot slag hit them, the dragon seemed intrigued, halting its attack to watch. When the mark's barrier degraded, Evelyn concentrated on forming a ball of lava to throw at the boney creature. The amount of effort she put into the spell was immense, but it distracted her from the prickling sting of having used the anchor a third time. Her face was set in fierce determination as the molten sphere spun collecting more and more liquid fire from the earth. When it at last became too much for her to handle, she threw her arms out in the direction of the winged beast. The missile picked up speed the further it flew, and in the end, the dragon was too slow in retreating away. Corypheus' pet screeched and wailed as the lava coated its dark scales on one side of its body. Dragons by nature had a resistance to elements but were usually weak to at least one. This creature however was a darkspawn, or so they thought, and its magical weakness was unknown. Even with as devastating as an attack it was from the Phoenix, it took flight and fled that battle.

 

With some uncorrupted Wardens still alive, Clarel called out, "Help the Inquisitor!" Then raced after Erimond. Having dealt a serious blow to the demon numbers on the Inquisitor’s opening attack, the odds had been evened with the added aid of the Wardens.

 

"Stroud, take command of the Grey Wardens," Evelyn ordered, and with renewed faith, he quickly got them into formation.

 

"What are your orders, Inquisitor?" He called back to her once they were organized.

 

Quickly surveying the scene, she commanded, "You take the lesser demons, and we'll take down the Prides!" Nodding, the Wardens charged into the shades, while they caught the attention of the two hulking demons, drawing them away from the others. With a menacing, yet cocky laugh, the Prides worked to stun and knock them down between their electric whips and lightning bombs. "Dorian, you're on defense," the Inquisitor ordered while dodge-rolling out of the way of one of their tethers. As she went to stand, a crossbow bolt flew by about a foot from her face. "Varric," she growled, and he just gave a wink, "get your arse up there!" She pointed up to a landing at a nearby staircase that would give him a better vantage point and lessen the chance of one of them jumping in front of his arrows.

 

Cassandra and Blackwall each engaged one of the demons, trying to draw their attacks away from the mages. The heavy hits from the Pride demons staggered the warriors, who grunted and winced as the blocked. Hawke set to weakening the enemy's defenses with immolation spells while Evelyn flanked them, slashing about with her spirit blade. Having used a large portion of her mana wielding magma against the dragon and not wanting to hit her allies with splashes of it as the courtyard was cramped with bodies and demons, she resorted to more localized attacks.

 

The battle was hard fought, as Dorian was struggling to deflect the attacks, but thankfully the Pride demon Cassandra was working on was weakening fast from her Seeker abilities. Targeting it, the group almost had it defeated when its counterpart struck Dorian down with a large swipe of its fist. With their protection gone and Cassandra readying to smite the crippled Pride, Hawke and Blackwall engaged it in melee giving the Seeker the time she needed to charge her attack. Meanwhile, the Inquisitor ran to Dorian, who was severely injured having been clawed and hit into the stone landing beneath where Varric stood. Five large lacerations were scored on his back and side.

 

"Got you covered, Blaze!" In rapid succession, the dwarf rogue fired off a volley of explosive arrows from his high vantage point, pushing the demon back as she got Dorian on his feet.

 

Smelling blood, the shades began diverting away from the Wardens towards the two Inquisition mages. Watching Evelyn ready her mark to save them, he stopped her, gritting out, "No, wait!" A purple mist flowed out from Dorian's hand, swirling around the courtyard. The ethereal fog crept into the eyes and mouths of the dead Wardens, breathing new life into their corpses. She had seen him use necromancy before but the scale on which he cast the spell had to have left his mana dry. Slowly, the spirits of the dead were called from the Void to assist their brethren one last time as Evelyn got the Tevinter mage to safety with Varric.

 

By the time the Inquisitor fade-stepped back into the fray, Cassandra had dispatched the one Pride demon and the resurrected Wardens were returning to the Maker's side having dealt the enemy serious casualties. With the battle under control, Stroud rallied his people in one last assault to finish off the lesser demons as they fought the remaining Pride monstrosity. But having relied on the Seeker's abilities heavily up to this point, Cassandra's strength was starting to wane. With Dorian on the mend taking lyrium and healing his severe wounds, Evelyn sent the Nevarran to join him to recover, leaving herself, Varric, Blackwall, and Hawke to finish the fight.

 

Fire ripped around its purple-armored form as she and the Champion weakened it, allowing Blackwall and Varric to land a number of critical hits. Their footing was slick as blood and black demon ichor coated the sandstone beneath their feet. Coordinating spells with Hawke, he took over the major casting while she once again brandished her dragon bone spirit blade. The glowing gold sword cut between its weakened plates, spurting back disgusting demon blood on her already soiled armor. The Phoenix was looking more like one of the Spymaster's ravens with each cut that painted her black. When the demon finally fell to a knee, the four quickly finished it off. The three on the ground stabbed whatever blades they had into its sundered body and Varric imbedded a bolt masterfully in its middle eye.

 

Sweating, despite the cool air of the desert night, Evelyn wiped the back of her hand across her face, wicking away sweat and blood. Everyone took a moment to gather themselves after the arduous fight, looking at their wounded. The dust of the desert stuck to whatever wettened surface it could on her companions dulling the shine of their armor and weapons. For the Inquisitor and her team, however, there was no time to waste, they needed to catch up with Clarel and Erimond. Before leaving, Stroud issued orders to the Wardens to hold the area in case more demons appeared and wait for Inquisition soldiers. Winded but still on their feet, the seven of them jogged up the tall staircase to the ramparts on the far side of the fortress.

 

Upon reaching the top, Corypheus' dragon was waiting for them. A powerful tail swat leveled the crenellations and tower before them as it took flight. As it did, Evelyn could see she burned the creature quite severely as the bones of its ribcage became even more pronounced. Seeing a group of Wardens to their right, the Inquisitor quickly got to her feet running towards them, "Where is Clarel?"

 

"That way, Inquisitor! She told us to aid the Inquisition," a warrior called over before rejoining her comrades to fight the remaining demons.

 

As fast as they could, they made it to the very top of the fortress, hounded by the blighted dragon the whole way, but they didn't stop. Erimond was her target and she'd be damned if she was going to let Clarel botch an opportunity to learn more about the enemy just because she wanted revenge. Maker only knew, Evelyn also wanted retribution for all the irreparable damage he had done, but the lure of finding out what more the darkspawn Magister had planned or where his lair was located was greater. Despite their intervention, he had successfully dismantled the Grey Wardens of Orlais, who was next?

 

"You destroyed the Grey Wardens!" Rounding the corner, they stopped to find the two mages locked in a duel. Erimond was clearly outmatched, watching as Clarel sent him flying.

 

Curled in a protective ball on the ground, the Tevinter worm spat back, "You did that yourself, you stupid bitch!"

 

Before Evelyn could intervene, the dragon landed knocking everyone off their feet. Protecting his master's lackey, the beast had the Warden-Commander pinned under its massive foot. From the sounds she was making, Evelyn knew it was crushing her. Knowing she was dying under its weight, Clarel ignited her mana in one last devastating electrical blast in the hopes of killing the supposed Archdemon. The explosion was so great, that Hawke threw up a shield to protect the group from her magic, but it did nothing for the dragon now tumbling towards them.

 

Running away from it, the dragon's limbs and tail cracked the wall to its foundation and the stone beneath their feet began to shift and break. Knocking her away from one of the creature's claws, Blackwall held Evelyn protectively until they hit the tilting ground, where she rolled away from him. On her back, she gasped staring up at the pad of a draconic foot before a sharp tug on her armor pulled her out of danger. Looking up, she caught the intense eyes of the Champion, who proceeded to hull her up as the danger was not yet passed. With a roar, the wounded beast fell into the deep ravine at the back of the fortress, clawing at the stone for purchase, but it was futile. The whole side of the fort was collapsing into the abyss and taking them all with it.

 

Falling, the Inquisitor did the only thing within her power - she opened a rift. A wide glowing mouth into the Fade swallowed her and the others, as she turned in mid-air to see them all falling in after her. Not sure why she opened a portal where once through it they were still plummeting to their deaths, she braced for impact. Closing her eyes tightly, a hand went to the place where Cullen's lucky coin jostled in her breast band, hoping against hope there was still some luck left in it.

Notes:

Greetings reader!

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! As many of you know, I post this fiction on RoyalRoad as well, and they have a feature where I can poll my readers. I made a poll asking whether or not you'd like me to include what happens to the party in the Fade, or just skip it and focus on Cullen for the majority of the next part. I'll include the link below to the chapter where you can vote, or if you just prefer to comment below with your vote, I'll tally it in. Either way, Cullen's part will be included, I just wanted to give my loyal readers a say since most of you know what happens in the Fade from the game.

We'll say the poll closes on 2/3/2024 (one week) to give me time to write it. I look forward to hearing from you all!
https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/61754/when-the-phoenix-flies-dragon-age-inquisition/chapter/1496769/chapter-27-here-lies-the-abyss-pt2

Have a great weekend,
Munklington

Chapter 28: Here Lies the Abyss Pt.3

Summary:

In the wake of the battle, Cullen is left to pick up the pieces in the Inquisitor's absence.

Notes:

Hi all,

Thank you to everyone who voted after the last chapter, it was great to hear from you! One of my favorite things is to chat with my readers and find out what they like/dislike about my work. Without further ado, you voted to skip what happens inside the Fade. Happy reading!

Warning: Brief sexual content and gore.

When half the bloody fortress fell into the abyss along with the Inquisitor and her companions, Cullen had been elbows deep in demons, leading a company of men to the central yard of the fortress.

 

Word had reached him that the Grey Wardens were successful in tearing open the Veil in the hopes of summoning a nightmarish demon through. Followed quickly by the appearance of Corypheus' dragon, and having not heard from the Inquisitor yet, he decided that was all the information he needed on the current situation inside the fortress to take action. The battle in and around Adamant was beginning to die down, thanks to the correct assumption that many of the Wardens would surrender and his weeks of meticulous planning of the siege. All those nights pouring over old battle accounts and maps of the fortress paid off as he targeted the ancient wounds in the walls, exploiting their weaknesses. She fought like a battle-hardened Mabari, who was too stubborn to die, but in the end, modern siege equipment proved too strong against her brittle bones.

 

With their defenses down, it was up to his soldiers to do the rest. Holding an intact fortress, such as Adament was easy, but with the crumbling outer walls exposing them to multiple points of attack, the Inquisition forces quickly overwhelmed them. In one swift coordinated attack, his men pushed in backing the Wardens into the center of the fortress with nowhere to run. And at the center of it all was Evelyn facing down Clarel, Erimond, and the blighted dragon.

 

When one final charge was needed to get to the Inquisitor, he gathered together a contingent to lead himself. He was glad for it, for unlike the battle at Haven, he had been forced to stay back and coordinate the various elements of the siege this time. Itching to get a piece of the action, even though he hated fighting demons, he would never send men to do a job he wouldn't, and eagerly joined the fray. Progress was slower than he wished having to stop and hear reports from his officers, and by the time they finally reached the rift, a terrible earthquake stopped everyone in their tracks. Searching the courtyard, the Inquisitor and her companions were nowhere to be seen, but the flashes of magic now brightened the central tower. In his inspection of the ground, he saw deep hairline fractures in the stone that had been sealed by cooled magma. Two Pride demons lay slain in the yard, their innards spilled about making the place reek of spoiled meat. Other minor shades were strewn about flattened by various wounds, but the Warden mages were visably the worse off having lost the fight against their own blood magic.

 

"Inquisition, who is your commanding officer here?" One of the Grey Wardens who had been ordered to guard the rift by Stroud addressed them.

 

Standing tall and flipping up his visor, his soldiers parted for him to approach the man. "I am Commander Rutherford," the Warden straightened recognizing the name, exchanging gazes with the others, "which way did the Inquisitor go?"

 

Before he could answer, the menacing black wings of Corypheus' dragon flapped frantically caught in a huge electrical explosion. They couldn't see much from down in the courtyard beside the rift, but the chilling sound of stone cracking and falling was both felt and heard. Cullen looked to the ground below his feet to make sure the courtyard had not been compromised, but soon everything went eerily quiet.

 

Satisfied that they were in no danger, except for the large open rift, he began recalling from memory the schematics of the fortress and how to get up to where the dragon was when a familiar voice called down to him. "Commander!" Hanging over the crenellation was Henley, his deep voice carrying over the din, "Commander," he pointed towards the dragon, "the Inquisitor is down!"

 

"What do you mean?!"

 

"She fell, ser! The fucking dragon took everyone out!" His heart stopped, as did everything else around him as he tried to process what he had just been told. He absently ordered his lieutenant to hold this position in the courtyard with the Wardens as he headed up onto the ramparts. Only taking a few men with him, they wasted no time racing up past a number of tired and wounded Wardens.

 

By the time he reached the edge of the collapsed wall, he, Henley, and Owayne peered down into the darkness, afraid of what they'd see. "Maker," he panted having run the whole way up, but what he saw was nothing - no bodies, not even the blighted dragon. Her brother knelt just staring down into the darkness, having unceremoniously discarded his short blades to the side. Sheathing his sword and dropping his helmet in disbelief, he wiped a hand down his sweaty face. "Henley, report. Where is the Inquisitor?"

 

The man looked as if he was in partial shock, "From what I saw, Clarel ignited her mana in an attempt to save the others, but it caused the dragon to stumble breaking the ramparts where the Inquisitor and her companions were standing. We were over there," pointed back across to the ramparts behind them, "when the whole fucking thing collapsed, we couldn't get to them in time. When we did get here there was a rift, but it closed a minute later. We heard their voices shouting back and forth to each other, but when it closed it cut them off." Henley sighed wiping a slew of mixed blood from his cheek, "From what we heard, E opened a rift but they were still falling."

 

"She purposely opened a rift?" He tried to wrap his head around just what that could mean. "And they all fell into it?" The Knight-Captain nodded a bit unnerved. "So, that would mean they are in the Fade?" A cold terror suddenly seized him, "Maker's breath, they're in the Fade! They are physically in the Fade, not like Harrowing where it's just their consciousness!" His reaction startled Owayne who turned to watch him with a fear in his eyes he had never seen from the rogue.

 

Henley added, "And some aren't even mages. Isn't this E's second time in too?" His words hung between them as the two veteran Templars tried to understand the depth of danger the Inquisitor and her party were in having entered the Fade in such a way.

 

"Send for Sister Nightingale and Solas," Cullen commanded and Byron immediately summoned one of his men to fetch the two. "While I meet with them, I want one more sweep of the fortress done. I want every demon and maleificar dead. Then set up a perimeter around the large rift and stay with it. I want your assessment of its stability once I'm finished."

 

"Yes, Commander," Henley saluted and went to carry out his orders.

 

Turning back toward the damaged ramparts, he reigned in his emotions, trying to calmly reassure himself that they hadn't gathered enough information yet for him to wallow in despair at her disappearance - again. For now, the Inquisitor may have saved herself and her entire party with quick reckless thinking, though unintentionally placing them in far greater danger.

 

"Cullen," Owayne stood and walked to him as if the few feet he took were through heavy snow, "I'm no Templar, w-what you two were talking about, what does it mean?" The Commander's face turned sympathetic, "That's my sister, and… Cass. Maker, I can't lose them both." The pleading brown Trevelyan eyes looked darker as his skin paled.

 

Cullen gripped his shoulders, "I won't lie to you, it means they may indeed be alive, but in more danger than what any of us can comprehend. The Fade is a dark twisted place where demons lurk waiting to prey on the living. It's all around us, and the Breach and the many rifts have weakened the Veil making it easier for them to come through." Owayne's eyes looked distant as he stumbled a step backward as if she were going to faint, "I've already sent for Solas, if anyone can tell us more about their current situation it's him. But until we know more," his hands squeezed him harder, gently commanding his attention away from his troubled thoughts, "do not give up hope. They aren't alone, and the two of them are exceptionally skilled and intelligent." Seeing someone react the way he felt, gave Cullen the strength he needed to confront it and think rationally. He was in command now, despite Leliana's presence, this was a military operation that gave command over to him by default.

 

"Find me Knight-Captain Rylen, he should be somewhere by the western wall," he barked to a nearby soldier who ran off. There were suddenly a great many things that needed to be done threatening to overwhelm him. Already the hammering of a headache was beginning in his left temple and he could feel a slight tremble in his hands. It had been a long few days with little rest and heaping amounts of stress. One thing was certain, he was going to rely heavily on his two most trusted Knight-Captains as the dust from the battle settled and the search for the Inquisitor began.

 

---

 

After the battlefield and prisoners were secured, the Commander called a meeting in the Command Tent hours later. The sun was rising, and though everyone was dead on their feet, time was of the essence to come up with a plan to retrieve their missing party. As the problem to discuss dealt with the Inquisitor, the inner circle was summoned along with Leliana, Rylen, Owayne, Henley, and Ilara. Of the companions, only Solas, Sorin, Vivienne, Bull, Sera, and Cole remained in camp. Filing in, word had spread like wildfire of the disappearance of the Inquisitor, which showed in the frowns and grim demeanor of all those present. One of his aides had made a fresh pot of coffee and scrounged up some biscuits for the impromptu gathering. Having met with the Spymaster and apostate elf, it was time to debrief the rest of the group and see if they could collectively come up with a solution.

 

Cullen looked around at them with a deep frown, for addressing them all was the Inquisitor's job, "The situation is dire…"

 

"You think?" Sera chimed in, "And arrows won't fix it? Rubbish. Stupid Inky, stupid magic." It sounded more defeatist than her usual level of sarcasm.

 

"When the fire goes out, how do we see? She was the fire, she lit the path ahead. Now lost in the dark without hope." Cole commented in his haunting and cryptic manner.

 

"Silence, demon," Madame Vivienne scolded coldly. "Really, Commander, why is it here?"

 

Before he could respond, Solas interjected, "Because the Commander understands what is at stake wishing to use every advantage at his disposal. Cole, as a spirit, has a unique connection to the Fade."

 

"Then he can aid the Inquisitor in getting out of the Fade and stay there, where it belongs," The two mages glared at each other.

 

"No, no, no, no, no, it's not home! It should be. It's not. This isn't me, not this part. I will be stuck there! No, no, no, no, no…" Cole continued to spiral as Solas tried to calm him, but instead, he vanished in thin air.

 

"Creepy. I hate when it talks at us," Sera spat and in a rare moment, she and Vivienne shared a nod of agreement. Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling his headache throb at their squabbling. Angered by their treatment of the supposed spirit, Solas opened his mouth, but the Commander halted any further arguments.

 

"Enough!" Lacking the diplomatic voice of the Inquisitor, he addressed the group as if an undisciplined gaggle of recruits, "If the Inquisitor trusts Cole, then that should be sufficient enough for all of us!" While he shared their concerns about the odd young man, Evelyn had passed her judgment on him allowing him to stay, and he would abide by her decision. He shook his head, endeavoring to bring his tone and volume back to a respectable level. "We are here to discuss possible solutions in bringing the Inquisitor and the others back. We cannot afford to dismiss any possibilities when the fate of all of Thedas relies on her mark." His words put everyone in a contemplative state, "Solas if you'd please share what you've found."

 

Nodding respectfully, the elf cleared his throat, "From what I was able to discover as I walked the Fade, was that the party is intact." Cullen's eyes caught Owayne sigh with visible relief. "However, I was unable to see them with my own eyes, for what I impart to you comes from what the spirits spoke of." At that, the Templars and other mages sighed with doubt. He didn't blame them for it, part of him felt the same, but for her, he'd be willing to quiet his uneasiness… for now. Solas continued, "Corypheus is the only one who knows how to enter the Fade physically, besides the Inquisitor. Since cooperating with him is assumingly out of the question--"

 

"Undoubtedly," Leliana said definitively.

 

"Then, perhaps someone in Tevinter could aid us. Perhaps Altus Pavus' father, since he too is trapped in the Fade?" Both he and the Spymaster exchanged looks, having already discussed it between the two of them in private immediately after his Fade walk. They deemed that it would take too long and no doubt be an extensive political process to elicit the aid of Magister Pavus. Yet, they watched and waited to hear from the others at his proposal.

 

"This is the Boss we're talking about. She isn't just going to play the damsel and wait for us to rescue her. If anything, she's already got a plan and will be back any minute. And let's not forget who she's with, I mean, she and Dorian already came back from the future in Redcliffe. The whole group is full of kick-ass people." Bull was right, of course, and most in the room seemed to nod in agreement.

 

"Hold up, if Inky's mark opened a veil-hole, what's to say she can't do it again and just pop back?" Everyone was silent for a moment thinking over Sera's rather obvious theory. "Wot? Did I get it? All you big hats and it's me who figures it out."

 

"If it was as simple as that, don't you think the Inquisitor would've done so by now?" Solas offered, to which the city elf stuck her tongue out at him, punching a hole in her idea. "In fact, I would hope Dorian and Cassandra would caution her against using the anchor in the Fade for fear of how it would affect its spread. Perhaps, she can't use it in there because it's meant to be used on this side of the Veil."

 

"So, I'm not an expert on, well, anything we're talking about," Owayne began, "but, if they entered through a rift, what's to say we can't go into the Fade through that big arse one in the fortress and save them?"

 

"Darling, no one should go into the Fade physically. Of that, I believe Solas and I can agree, and we can count the number of things on which we agree on one hand," Vivienne elegantly put. "We have no idea what would happen if someone tried to cross through it."

 

Solas added, "Quite right, the transition across the Veil could tear you apart. The rift was opened using blood magic, not the mark. There are too many unknowns to safely surmise the potential risks and consequences."

 

"If Dalish can be of help to you, just ask," the elven apostate looked at him curiously, and the Qunari cleared his throat, "You know… she's Dalish and, um… archers know things…" Cullen shook his head at the continued pretense.

 

"Thank you, but the Knight-Enchanter Cyrus has volunteered to help already." Looking over to the mage, Cullen found him staring off looking slightly unnerved. His dark swirling locks fell about his face as if trying to hide his rare show of emotions. When Henley elbowed him, Sorin stirred and nodded to Solas in recognition. "My recommendation is that we wait. As The Iron Bull said, they are resourceful. We can try and learn what we can, but I fear there is little we can do from this side of the Veil."

 

"As it stands, in the center of Adamant is a large rift which is periodically spawning demons. When word of its survival reaches the Elder One, he will come for it. If he still wants his demon army, there is the means by which he can obtain it. We are guarding his next target, and make no mistake, he will send the army we saw at Haven against us." Cullen's mind flashed back to the battle months ago against the Venatori and Red Templars. The Siege of Adamant suddenly felt like child's play compared to fighting that army. "The Inquisition's army must remain here until we discover a means of closing the rift, whether that means bringing the Inquisitor back or discovering other alternatives." The intensity of his gaze on each of them conveyed just how dire the situation was. After a long pause, the palpable tension was becoming unbearable, and he sighed turning to Leliana, "I will summon Master Gatsi and his crew here with all haste. Adamant must be repaired if we are to defend this position. At this time, I see no other alternative." At having worked so hard to break the old fortress, he cursed himself for being so proficient at destroying it.

 

"Understood. I will take over the search for retrieving the Inquisitor and researching other solutions," a fixed frown had set upon the redhead's lips. At that moment, they shared the weight of the great burden now placed upon them.

 

The thankful disruption of a raven from Skyhold was excuse enough to dismiss them all as the two advisors went to read the Ambassador's letter. Having lingered giving him a knowing look, once everyone had filed out, Ilara relieved the horrid pain of his headache to a dull annoyance. Without Dorian, he was thankful for her assistance and discretion, relaying the sentiment before she left. While he was treated, Leliana had read the letter's contents and handed it over to him with a frown. Cullen had assigned one of the administrative aids to send regular updates back to Josephine throughout the battle, but they had yet to hear from her until now.

 

 

Dear Commander Rutherford,

 

I appreciated the regular updates, as did all of Skyhold who were eager to know how their comrades faired in battle. I have announced the outcome to the major powers, but have said nothing of the fate of the Grey Wardens. As you can imagine, King Alistair and Queen Elissa are pressing us for details, threatening to send emissaries to Skyhold to demand answers from the Inquisitor. Additionally, I have left out the fact that the Inquisitor remains missing, for even as the news would be shared with allies if the information fell into the wrong hands its repercussions could be severe.

 

I do believe we should craft a simple statement about the Wardens to pacify the Fereldens until the Inquisitor, Maker willing, is returned to us to pass her official judgment on them. As to what information you believe we should share, I leave it to you.

 

Maker watch over you all,

Ambassador Josephine Montilyet of the Inquisition

 

 

"Josie's right, we need to make a statement," Leliana grazed her fingers across her lips and chin in thought.

 

He couldn't help but absently mimic her, listening to his soft leather gloves scrape against his scruff, "Then let us only relay the good news, that we saved as many Wardens as possible from the Elder One's corruption and ended Lord Erimond's scheme."

 

"Yes," she pointed a finger, "let the powers that be focus on Erimond and his treachery, rather than everything else. Their outrage will buy us time."

 

"Agreed. I will--"

 

"No, Cullen," she gave him a chastising sisterly look, "you need rest. I've seen how hard you've been pushing yourself, not to mention not having stopped since the battle ended. Go. This mess will still be here when you awaken, or would you rather I go fetch Enchanter Ilara back here?"

 

He sighed in defeat, placing his hands up, "No, I'll go. I should recruit that woman to be one of my officers with the way she commands everyone about. Clearly, all her experience came from dealing with Evelyn…" Both shared a pained look and without another word, he trudged off towards his tent to try and get some sleep.

 

---

 

Standing in the empty halls of Kinloch Tower, Cullen's breathing quickened hearing voices in a nearby room. The moonlight cast his path in an eerie blue light as he walked cautiously to the door concealing the source of the sounds. The halls were surprisingly peaceful, yet his gut was in a knot. Pausing before it, his breathing picked up as he recognized the sounds of intense lovemaking. Faint rhythmic thuds coupled with the woman's wanton moans made him hesitate before opening the door, yet he was compelled to catch the rulebreakers in the act. The weight of his Templar armor hung heavy upon him, as he shifted in it uncomfortably thinking about his duty.

 

The wooden door creaked as he slowly opened it feeling an odd sensation of dread as to who it was he was about to interrupt. Undisturbed by his presence, having opened it the rest of the way to fill the threshold, the man rose to his knees above the woman sprawled on the bed. He had a messy full head of short and straight raven hair and a warrior's physique. With each thrust, his back and glute muscles flexed with effort. Cullen couldn't see the woman's face, which remained obscured from the angle from which he approached them, but he saw tuffs of blonde hair spilling out from beneath her.

 

The Templar's armor clanked and he began to call for them to stop, but his commands went ignored. Picking up his pace toward them, now angered at the blatant disregard for his orders, he stopped dead when he noticed a large curved scar that cut up the woman's thigh to the side of her hip bone. Her legs wrapped around the man as she tugged him closer to her yelling desperately, 'Harder!'

 

"Evelyn?" He felt the blood drain from his face, for he knew that singular voice.

 

The man bent down stealing a passionate kiss from her eliciting another moan. "Mmm, Phoenix," he growled out. Pulling her head up slightly as they parted, the blonde hair he saw was just the ends of her two-toned mutation.

 

Cullen stood frozen as he watched the two rutted into each other, seemingly unable to stop them. His mind spun as to why she'd place this man before him in her affections, but then remembered they had fought or something… His mind felt hazy and disoriented. Despite knowing they might have separated, his anger rose to bring a hot flush to his face at her betrayal. Allowing his feral rage to take hold, he grabbed the man's shoulder trying to turn to see who it was but was batted away with inhuman strength, until finally he turned to look at his assailant.

 

"Hawke?!" Cullen's breath caught in his throat at the shock.

 

"That's right, Knight-Commander. We mages take care of our own, and she will not be tainted by your hate! You don't deserve her for your past sins, I would know." His words were seething, coming out of his mouth like a hiss. "Did you really believe a sensual woman such as she would not seek comfort in another after you spurned her, and over what? Hurting your delicate feelings? Did you think you were the only one who could pleasure her, oh but you didn't, did you?" Hawke gazed down at her as she arched into his embrace, "I'm sure you'll get over it, she's not really a person in your eyes anyway. You haven't changed. Stay or go, it matters not, for she's mine now."

 

Backhanding Cullen to the ground, he looked up towards the bed as Evelyn finally was aware of his presence. Before she could say anything, Hawke grabbed her by the throat, making her eyes widen in horror. Her limbs began to kick and fight her attacker, but for the life of him, he couldn't move to help her. Cullen's limbs grew so heavy that he could no longer lift them, "No! Evelyn!" He tried to silence the Champion, but it was as if he had forgotten how. Looking down at himself, his Templar armor disappeared and he remembered he was no longer part of the Order. His veins were devoid of the strength lyrium had granted. Helpless, he could do nothing but watch as the woman he loved was at the mercy of a deranged Hawke.

 

Jerking with unnatural movements, Hawke began to transform into a Desire demon. Horns curled about its head as the skin turned a shade of sickly purple. Its sultry voice held the mage up so her back was now off the bed, but Evelyn was still struggling to breathe. "How selfish of you to keep her from me. Just look at her," Desire's claws traced the contours of the naked woman's body leaving trails of blood in its wake. It purred before laying her back down on the bed rustling its chiming chains.

 

As the demon continued its invasive exploration of Evelyn's body, Cullen fought as hard as he could to free himself of whatever force held him in place. "Do not touch her, demon!"

 

"You mean like this?" Desire's claws opened the mage's recent injury on her chest, causing her to scream in agony. "Or this?" The creature drilled her nails into Evelyn's scared shoulder, resulting in wild thrashing. "None of that pet," it spat back at her as its limbs and tail held her down. The mage deliriously cried his name in a way that tortured his soul more than Desire ever could.

 

As before, there was nothing he could do but whimper prayers. He tried to close his eyes but the demon's power was strong, pulling him over to the bed beside them. His limbs were locked at his sides as he and Evelyn's eyes held his unable to look away.

 

"I sense that you've stolen her heart. Shall we take a look and see?" Desire suddenly split her ribcage open peeling back the skin to watch her heart still beating in her body. Stabbing a hand into her chest, the demon watched his face with great pleasure as it squeezed the organ like it was a soft rotten fruit, raising it to its mouth to drink the juices. The mage's eyes stared back at him lifeless and dull. Her face relaxed, no longer feeling pain as her limbs fell from Desire with a thud.

 

That's when he noticed it. Evelyn had no mark on her left hand. Trying to fight through the grief and rage with his rational mind, he attempted to reason his way out of this nightmare. "That's not her," he chanted like a mantra, "it's not Evelyn. It's not Evelyn." His defiant glare, though wet with tears, bore into the purple creature, "She would never succumb to the likes of you! She'd see through you as she's too strong!"

 

With a growl, it jumped him now with its bloody claws and mouth. Asserting more power over the dream, he found Desire's behavior odd, for they were never this aggressive physically always relying on their tricks and manipulation over violence. It was then his dream flickered, wavering the more he applied reason as he fended the vile demon off of him.

 

"Your name, demon! I will have it, for you are not Desire! I know its tricks far too well and you are not it," he roared back at it before everything disappeared and he was left in a black void. Hopping to his feet, his amber eyes looked about the darkness for his foe, but all was quiet save for his heavy breathing. His hands shook trying to calm himself, rubbing his hands about his sweaty face.

 

Suddenly, Evelyn appeared again in a panic and ran at him. She grabbed him, partially pulling him down as she pleaded, "Please, you need to help me!"

 

"What's wrong?!" He had never seen her so desperate.

 

An odd surge of guttural sounds rolled up through her, "You need to kill me, now! I'm an abomination!" Letting go of him she thrust a vial of lyrium into his hand, "Take it, and destroy me before I hurt them!"

 

His eyes widened in horror as his hands trembled at the feel of the poison in his hand. The natural vibrations of the mineral sent goosebumps up his arms as his breath hitched remembering its taste. Blinking a few times in need of a distraction, he asked, "Who do you think you're going to hurt?"

 

Her shaking hand painfully pointed to a charming farmhouse that had appeared. Suddenly, the landscape around them revealed that they were at his family's home in South Reach. Evelyn cried out in pain as her body slowly began to burn up. Her irises were orange and her veins were glowing, "Please, it's too much! Kill me now before I hurt them!" The door to the house opened and everyone stepped out to greet the two of them with innocent smiles. He began to yell over to them to stay back, but they didn't listen. Trying to hold herself back, Evelyn growled and lunged at them from her knees as her skin began to glow red. "Take the lyrium, Cullen! I will kill them and I'm too powerful for you without it!" Her voice fluctuated between that of hers and the demon breaking her.

 

"No! You know I can't! Don't ask me to do this!"

 

"You'd let me kill them all to save your pride?" He couldn't answer her, just swallowing hard, looking from his family to the vial. Her words became venomous, "I knew you were too weak to keep your post. The Seeker should have had you removed long ago. Only a madman would refuse to take it to protect those he loves."

 

"I can still protect them without it!"

 

She laughed at him through her growls, "You may need this then." Tossing something through the air at him, he caught it in his hands. It was incredibly hot, burning his palms several times before it dropped to the ground. His lucky coin. As he bent to pick it back up, she had begun her attack.

 

"No!" He roared as tears streamed down his face as he was once again frozen and powerless to do anything but watch the slaughter. It was his fault. Every life decision he made had resulted in this, and now he was doomed to live through his just reward. For forsaking lyrium. For allowing a mage into his life. For thinking he was fit to be Commander of the Inquisition. He felt the hot blood splatter across his face and neck as he turned numb.

 

When the carnage had ended, he looked up as Evelyn finally came for him. Covered in the blood of his kin she panted as her eyes roved about him wildly, trying to figure out where to begin. Before she could, however, he plunged a blade into her gut. An otherwordly shriek echoed about the farm as she fell onto her back clutching at the blade. Cullen looked down unable to watch being so emotionally spent. Wriggling and straining in pain, the wails finally subsided into human whimpers.

 

When her soft pleas reached him, he looked up once more seeing that they were back at Skyhold in her quarters. The olive-green velveteen dress that she always wore had a dark stain growing on it from where he ran her through with his sword. Confused again, as everything seemed normal, she held her hand out begging him to come to her, "It's alright, I know it wasn’t your fault. Do not blame yourself." Evelyn's voice was labored as she gasped for air, "You hallucinated… thought I was a demon. But it's alright… I…" Her eyes fluttered shut as her head hit the stone with a thud. She was dead.

 

Overwhelming panic and grief tore through him, whispering to himself over and over again, "What have I done?" He had gone mad; It finally happened after almost a year without lyrium. He looked about the room again for signs that he was dreaming, but nothing was out of place.

 

Faintly, he heard the running of soldiers' boots coming from the stairs. "Commander, what have you done?!" It was Rylen, but he couldn't bring himself to look up at him in his shame, "You've doomed us all. Arrest him!" Hands grabbed his upper arms dragging him away from her lifeless body. He struggled, but he didn't have much fight left in him.

 

"Maker's mercy, I thought she was a demon," his voice was meek, so unlike himself.

 

"After all this time, you still don't see mages as nothin' other than monsters," Rylen spat at him in disgust. "She was our only hope to stop the Elder One. The Seeker should've relieved ye of duty a long time ago. This is all because of yer selfishness; because ye refuse to take lyrium."

 

"No, I've had it under control!"

 

"How dare ye say that with her blood on yer hands! Take him out of my sight." As they dragged him around the corner, his last slight was that of the glowing mark on her hand fading to black.

 

"Cullen! Wake up, ye bloody bastard, and stop hittin' me!" Rylen's hands gripped his shoulders, shaking him awake. Instinct took over and the Commander grabbed his friend in turn, still not fully out of the Fade. Tears threatened his eyes as he focused on the Templar's raspy voice as he tried to reach him over the last remnants of his nightmare. "Andraste's mercy, it was just a dream! The whole bloody camp is bein' plagued with nightmares!" Calming down slowing as he took stock of his words and surroundings, while a trickle of cold sweat caught the light desert breeze as it snuck through the tent flaps. Rylen's steely eyes softened as he saw the visible signs of relief wash over Cullen, and he released him, flopping down to sit on his cot across from him.

 

Laying back down and running a hand through his blonde hair, he tried to slow his breaths, "Sweet Maker!" His mind raced through a recap of the horrid dream, shuddering a few times at its memory. Turning to peer at Rylen, he noticed the grimace that was set on his face. "You said the whole camp is suffering from nightmares? Mine, as you know, is caused by lyrium withdrawal, what could make the whole army…" His voice trailed off as the answer stood out clear in his mind, "A demon?"

 

"Aye, the elven apostate confirmed as much. Says there's one just on the other side of the bloody rift. With the Veil so thin, it's feastin' off the soldiers' fear as they sleep."

 

Sitting up again, the Commander racked his brain for any memory of a similar situation from his Templar days. However, the appearance of rifts is a new problem and his memory failed him. "Has Solas given us any guidance on to how protect ourselves?"

 

"He and Sorin have been placin' powerful wards around the camp in a hope to create a barrier against its attacks, but the demon is so large and powerful it may still be able to affect the most vulnerable of us," he paused, "such as yerself."

 

After assuring his tentmate that he was alright, he skipped having food to delve back into his newest challenge of securing the rift from Corypheus. Heading into the Command Tent, Cullen began pouring over the observations of the rift from Leliana's scouts, his soldiers on duty guarding it, and the mages who volunteered to study it. It was at this time he was sincerely missing Dagna and thought about sending for her, as they had no idea how long they'd be here. The quirky dwarf always seemed to conjure a plan out of nowhere, giving them all hope on each impossible problem she set to tackle. The reports indicated that the rift was vastly unstable which the mages theorized was due to the amount of demons crossing the Veil in one place. Those observing also all reported seeing something resembling a giant spider lingering just on the other side, but the distortion of the rift made it impossible to truly tell what they saw if anything at all.

 

For the remainder of the afternoon into the evening, the Commander remained in the Command Tent writing countless requests for building materials, laborers, and supplies to continue their extended stay in the Western Approach. Not only that, but he had guard rotations to establish, troops to reinforce, and reports of their dead and wounded to get through. Now and again, flashes of his nightmare invaded his thoughts making him sweat. Only wearing a linen maroon shirt, he rolled up his sleeves past the elbows and loosened the ties at his neck so his skin could breathe in an attempt to gain some comfort. He ignored the nagging thought that it could be the withdrawal symptoms charging up for another assault on him like what happened at Caer Bronch. Forgoing solitude, he had the tent's sides rolled up to collect as much of the weak breeze as he could. It was only when the sun began to set that some relief was to be had. He was Ferelden after all, and this arid climate did not make life any easier for him. He avoided drinking anything hot, including his coffee, asking his valet to leave it even after it had sat out for hours cooling to an acceptable temperature.

 

Taking a break while staring out at Adamant Fortress, Cullen couldn't help but feel the weight of recent events upon his shoulders. He had just claimed a great victory for the Inquisition, leaving the historic fort in ruins; Adamant was no more. As a military veteran, such nostalgic feelings of remorse over such a place as this should not have bothered him, yet it did. Brooding over it, he perhaps thought because, like him, it had once stood for something before being defiled by demons.

 

"Commander," Owayne was the only man in the camp who could get away with using the title teasingly, though his humor was subdued. “I was feeling especially serious tonight and thought you’d be the best man to brood with.”

 

Cullen didn't turn to look at him, he simply rubbed his hand over his face, "Thinking is exactly what I’m trying to avoid at the moment." The ache of his sore muscles and head made him stretch and groan at his discomfort. On his left arm were the usual bruises he sustained in combat, but the arm fared better this time having not fractured it again. He arched his spine massaging his lower back, as his companion crossed his arms peering out over the camp.

 

A rare moment of quiet with the Trevelyan stretched on until a small group of women scouts passed in front of them, eyeing them flirtatiously. Their smiles and whispers made him exhale heavily looking out beyond them. Owayne chuckled, "Hey, take it as a compliment if anything. If younger women are still fawning over us at our age, it's quite an accomplishment."

 

With a small snort of a laugh and sigh, Cullen couldn't help his sinking mood despite Owayne’s efforts, "I’m the same age as your sister, you know, and not quite as old as you. But one woman is proving to be trouble enough for me, let alone if I had a whole gaggle of them."

 

Lord Trevelyan chuckled heartily, "Cullen, you’re with my sister. If trouble is what you were trying to avoid, boy did you fuck that up.” After his laugh had faded, his mirth disappeared and was replaced by sadness. “Even growing up Evie attracted trouble. It’s part of the reason why mother and she fought so often. Yet, whatever mess she found herself in, she had always the best intentions. But that wasn’t what my mother wanted from her. She wanted an obedient pawn for her game of marriage and politics, not a girl who was running about like a Red Jenny do-gooder. My two older sisters were made of the best clay to form into miniatures of my mother, whereas Evie was tough and resistant to the mold. A few months before she came into her magic, I overheard our parents talking about sending her for Templar training. It’s funny how the Maker works sometimes.”

 

Cullen’s eyes drifted downwards from the sky to rest on the swirling sand. It seemed whatever path that was laid for Evelyn was to be treacherous, either having to be chained by lyrium to the Order or trapped in a Circle with someone like Ryker Aeron. Now, she was the Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor with a mark that could be killing her. It would seem the Maker had a life of pain planned for her no matter what turns of fate found her. He remembered the look on her face after using the mark to break down the gates of Adamant. There was a tiredness to them, the same kind he knew well. By all rights, had the two of them just been average people living in Thedas, they would most likely be settled down with a family by now, not gallivanting about doing damage control from a darkspawn magister. He could be living with his family tending the farm leaving others to sort out the mess from the Conclave. The biggest headache he’d have would be the wellbeing of the crops and what price they’d fetch at the market. The thought was humorous to him, for he felt in his very being that he was meant to serve a higher purpose. It’s what guided him into the Templar Order and then to the Divine’s service. He was the one the people of Thedas left their fate to; one who could change the course of history along with those in the Inquisition.

 

Owayne carefully appraised him, watching his reaction deteriorating more, but he was unaware of the tangent his mind went on. "I'm sorry, Cullen, we don't have to talk about her. It’s just…"

 

With a deep breath, he exhaled, "It’s alright. She was on my mind anyway, as are they all.” He didn’t want to be insensitive, knowing he was worried specifically for Cassandra as well.

 

"We never got to talk again after the whole ‘Lord Armand’ incident, how are you holding up?”

 

“She and I haven’t talked about it yet, and quite honestly, I’m not sure how I should feel about it anymore.”

 

“What’s got you hung up?” Cullen turned to face Owayne, meeting him with a baffled stare. “Oh, come now, she told me everything while she was bedridden back at Skyhold.”

 

As he thought about the exact reasoning, he realized the list of things he was angry about would probably sound stupid to someone like the brunette rogue before him. Despite what Evelyn had told him, he knew she would not divulge the entirety of his dark past to him. “You wouldn’t understand.”

 

“Try me.” Owayne’s face grew stern and serious for once, “I’m the spare heir, my pride and feelings have been long tempered to accept rejection and disappointment. The day my eldest nephew was born, was the greatest day of my life, for it granted me my freedom from the family business and politics. Now, I’m the crazy uncle with questionable morals. So tell me, what has your pride so wounded that you’d rather hold a grudge?”

 

The ex-Templar rubbed the back of his neck, knowing that aside from all his deep seeded issues that had been amplified through his withdrawal symptoms during Aeron’s residency at Skyhold, there was one crippling problem that ate at him. He set his jaw, looking at Evelyn’s almost-twin, “Your sister expressed her concern that I could not support her later on in life. That with ‘Lord Armand’ she would be properly cared for financially.”

 

“Seriously?” Owayne pinched the bridge of his nose, “That is what’s so upsetting? Cullen, I had no idea you were so sensitive!”

 

“I told you wouldn’t understand,” he scowled at her brother. “I may hold a prestigious title now, but without the Inquisition, I am a commoner. The son of a farmer and miller. Your sister is not only high-born, but the Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor. What makes me worthy of such a woman? What would your father say of it? To have his beloved daughter living on a farm in Ferelden, toiling away to earn a meager living.”

 

Lord Trevelyan gave him a lame look, “Should I hit you now or let Evie when you tell her that load of horseshit? Did you just hear yourself? My sister, care about money and social standing? Your fucking daft!”

 

“Did she tell you I stopped taking lyrium?” He nodded unimpressed, as his usual level of sarcasm made a comeback. “Then what of security? I’m not a Templar any longer, I can’t help her if she’d need it without lyrium.”

 

Owayne threw a hand at him in disbelief, “I’ve heard you tell her to cool it when her magic was burning too hot! Just because you couldn’t help her yourself, doesn’t mean you couldn’t do anything to help. Besides, even if you took as much lyrium as you used to, not even Cass can silence her alone. It makes little difference now if she’s with one Templar, let alone five and a Seeker to boot.” They stared at each other hard, “Do you have any other stupid fucking things you’d like to get out before you talk to her? I know you know her better than any man, so I’m starting to believe you just want to sabotage things to end it all. Is that what you want?”

 

“No!”

 

“Then stop being so bloody stubborn! Andraste’s tits, Cullen, you two deserve each other! It’s a wonder you two even got together in the first place being so…” He paused his tirade to let out a long frustrating groan. “She better be alive—they better all be alive and on their way back.” As their conversation cooled back down at his words, both looked towards the glowing green light coming from within the ruined fortress. “If I learned one lesson from all this since I first joined you all in Haven, it’s that life changes in a blink of an eye and is way too short to not try and be happy. I won’t be making that mistake any longer, will you?” The two shared a pained, yet consoling look, before Owayne gave a firm pat to his shoulder leaving him to brood alone once more. “Maker, I pray they return…”

 

Staring back out across the desert sands, Cullen couldn't help the ache gripping his heart. Life was short, and being made shorter for him by the effects of lyrium and the threat of Corypheus. How did he want to spend the time left the Maker was giving him? Holding a grudge against Evelyn? Who knew how much time she had as well? The thought made his heart quicken in panic that she could be lost to him. If his lucky coin brought her back to him, things were going to change.

 

---

 

It had been three days since they disappeared into the Fade. Cullen tore himself away from the work waiting for him in the Command Tent to check on the rift. He hadn't gone back to it since the end of the battle, and a strange feeling was nagging at him to go to it. Having felt like he hadn't slept since before they broke through the gates of Adamant due to the traumatizing nightmare that embedded itself at the forefront of his mind, he slowly felt he was losing a grip on the situation. When his mind had gone blank trying to respond to a missive, he knew he needed a break and gave in to whatever was compelling him to the rift.

 

Walking briskly helped to dry the lather he somehow worked up simply standing over his work all day. The dry gritty breeze was refreshing, and he wondered at why he hadn't done this sooner, but there had just been so much to do. Now and then his eyes would drift skyward in search of the dark silhouette of the dragon coming to finish the job, but thankfully all he saw were that of their ravens. Around him, the camp was bustling as the soldiers were put to work gathering supplies to repair the fortress, as well as building temporary fortifications. The wounded were still healing and the dead had been burned. The Wardens were still being held as prisoners, helping Leliana's agents piece together the events leading up to Erimond's takeover.

 

Arriving in the central courtyard, the sickly green hole in the veil reflected light and images like a warped mirror. Several Templars and archers stood at the ready waiting for any demons, while a few mages, including Solas and Sorin, conversed in safety behind them. Strange sounds were emanating from the rift, causing them all to shift uncomfortably. Pausing trying to listen to what they could be hearing, he swore it sounded like voices raised in alarm and fighting.

 

Pulling his sword, he commanded, "Stand at the ready!" Immediately, the soldiers obeyed leveling their weapons at the center of the yard. The mages walked swiftly over to him, but he never took his eyes off the rift, "How long have these sounds persisted?"

 

"An hour or two, but nothing has appeared," Solas reported. "We think it may just be another attempt of the large demon to call others to the rift."

 

A wave of rage washed over him, “I should’ve been notified the moment they started!” The apostate began protesting that they had been hearing various forms of it, but Cullen didn’t want his excuses. "I want reinforcements brought here immediately! You there, go find Knight-Captain Henley and tell him to send a small detachment with as many Templars as he can spare," he barked at one of the archers who ran off. The mages fell in beside him grabbing their staffs off their backs.

 

"Do the sounds seem to be getting louder to the rest of you?" Sorin asked, and as Cullen listened, they certainly were. Gradually, the muffled sounds turned into voices and the thuds sounded like offensive spells hitting their mark.

 

"Something is coming through," there was a slight tinge of fear in Solas' tone as he strengthened the wards around the rift. "Sorin, if it is indeed the demon, I'll need your help." After his words, Cullen ordered the Templars to ready their divine powers against whatever was coming through, and for the next few minutes, everyone held their breath waiting. The creak of bowstrings and the gentle chime of metal was all that his mind allowed him to register as his eyes awaited confirmation of the noises coming from within the Fade.

 

Suddenly, the rift brightened and a man's yell was heard as he was thrown through the tear. Landing and skidding to a halt, Varric, followed quickly by Stroud, clawed up on their feet, "Shit! Don't shoot, it's us!"

 

Cullen rushed forward, "Where are the others?"

 

"They are coming, at least U hope they’re coming," the dwarf supplied, "there's a big ass demon on the other side!"

 

"We know," he kept his eyes trained on the portal before him anxiously.

 

"No, you don't, Curly!" His voice was hoarse and strained breaking his gaze away to look at the man. Varric's expression held one he'd seen in soldiers who had seen too much. Having already seen more than his fair share of unbelievable and frightening things, the dwarf’s reaction spoke volumes of the demon just across the Veil. The fear in his eyes made him shiver, "The demon calls itself Nightmare, and it is certainly that."

 

"Fasta Vass!" Dorian flew out next and straight into Cullen. The mage was coated in demon bile and the stench accosted his senses. The Commander steadied him, "Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Many thanks for the assistance, for the real nightmare would’ve been breaking this flawless face on the stone." Dorian groaned holding a hand around his ribs.

 

As he bent over his arm, Cullen saw the back of his robes and armor had been viciously slashed open, "He's wounded! Tend to him," he looked to the healers who were taking shelter. They quickly ran over and guided him to a safe distance. He eyed Varric and Stroud seeing they too bore many signs of battle from within the Fade, "Go with them, we'll get others!"

 

As they left, Sorin and Solas once again flanked the Commander in front of the rift. A massive beastly roar echoed out from it accompanied by more human-like sounds. Poking out through the illuminated green tear, two tarnished sets of armor slowly passed through it. The warriors' backsides were the first part he saw, watching them both pulling something with them. As Cullen went to help, Solas held him back explaining to him that their bodies were transitioning between the Fade and Waking World and to touch them could cause unknown harm. Barely able to restrain himself, they watched as they paused as if waiting for something, before frantically hulling their limp charges through the rift with them.

 

The bodies of Blackwall and Cassandra were littered with magical burn marks, no doubt from being beaten by demons for the past few days. Dirt and grime were smudged across their faces just like the other three who previously crossed the Veil. Extremely exhausted, the two panted and gasped for air along with the two mages sprawled on the ground. With a jolt of green magic, the Inquisitor perked up for a minute as the anchor was drawn to the rift. She cried out as she tried to lift herself up to seal it, but she struggled against her own fatigue. Able to assist her now, Cullen got behind to support her body. Evelyn rested her back on him and he steadied her arm as the mark exploded with energy. The vibrations of such power made its way up his arm, and he fought the urge to push her arm away.

 

The Inquisitor whimpered as her body was weakening, pushing against him for strength. "I can't…" She faintly cried, but before he could respond, Sorin shoved Cullen away to hold her.

 

"I've got you E! Take what you need just as you did at the Breach!" With another nudge and pointed look, the Commander let go but didn't retreat away from them. With a gasp, Evelyn drew from his mana and sealed the rift before both collapsed on the sandy stone. A loud thunderous clap resounded through the fortress as it shut and everyone around the rift relaxed.

 

Peering over at the Knight-Enchanters, Evelyn had her forehead to Sorin’s. The two conversed too quietly for him to hear, and despite his inclination to now shove Sorin away, he looked towards the others. Hawke was lying down trying to catch his breath, as lyrium was brought over to him. Blackwall took a knee, spitting some blood onto the ground while cursing the demon and Cassandra sat reclining her head back with her eyes closed and pointed to the sky. Solas was checking on them but they seemed to just want space to breathe and decompress.

 

"Commander," his head spun back to meet the soft voice which called to him. She was parting from Sorin, but he was able to get a better look at her condition as she dropped her helmet to the ground. The golden sheen of her Phoenix armor looked like it aged a century just after one usage, having served its purpose. The only blood he saw of hers looked to be on her legs from minor lacerations, the rest was black demon blood. There were a few scrapes on her chin and cheek, but he was relieved to see that she was whole and intact for once.

 

"Inquisitor, it is good to have you back. Are you in need of a healer?" Even though they conversed politely, there was a deep look in their gaze. It was the kind that blocked out all else as if they were alone. From behind her Sorin sat up, and he saw him roll his eyes and shake his head at them.

 

"No, poor Dorian had his hands full with this crew." She seemed to appraise his health as well, which was only made easier without his armor. "How did we fare after the battle?"

 

He blinked a few times with a snort, "There is time enough for that after you rest and clean up. Leliana and I have the situation in hand for a few more hours, I assure you. Though with the rift sealed, we can all breathe easier now." He stood from his crouched position, helping both she and Sorin up, though he hooked his arm with hers to help her walk.

 

There was a slight tremble in the hands that gripped onto his forearm. "Food and water are what we need. It's been days…" Cullen quickly sent another soldier to fetch more food and water for the group, as everyone around them offered up their canteens and anything they had lying around. It wasn't much but at least the group received some much-needed hydration.

 

"We should get you all back to camp if you're able?"

 

"I believe we can. None of us are that wounded, we are just tired and need food." Evelyn was swaying as if she were at sea and she was fighting to keep her eyes open. That was enough for him to unstrap her dagger-like pauldrons, leaving them with her sharp feathery helmet, before bending to scoop her up. Her arms went reflexively around his neck and her head fell to his shoulder. The Inquisitor sighed heavily as if the weight of the world had lifted from her for a moment in the safety of his embrace. Just as he was about to ask for volunteers with strong backs to help with the others Henley and Owayne came bounding around the corner with the reinforcements he had asked for.

 

Seeing his sister, Owayne quickly cupped her face pressing a kiss to her forehead. Seeing she was in good hands, he all but tackled the Seeker, who groaned grumpily too exhausted to do anything but submit to his fussing. With the help of the soldiers, they carried the starved group back to the tents where the quartermaster had prepared a table of food for them. They drank and ate a bit, letting their first food in three days settle in their empty stomachs before heading off to change out of their soiled armor and clothing. With the whole inner circle on hand now, Ilara took Evelyn and Cassandra in to their tent help them dress and heal any more wounds that had gone forgotten.

 

While he waited, he attended to some matters in the Command Tent but kept a trained eye on her tent. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he knew now was not the time. Yet, all he wanted to do since speaking with Owayne last night was to be with her. His own ailments had been pushed aside as all his focus was on her return, and she was a mere few yards away in her tent. Cassandra was the first to emerge from their tent, returning to the refreshments wearing a simple blouse and pants. Ilara followed shortly after, but another few minutes passed and Evelyn had still not come out. As the others were occupied over at the food, he quickly made his way over to her tent.

 

He didn't bother to announce his entrance, wanting to get in before the others saw. His sudden appearance startled the half-naked woman inside who quickly grabbed at a garment on the ground to partially cover her exposed upper body at the unexpected visitor. Turning angrily to see who her intruder was, she let out a long sigh seeing him, still holding the fabric up over her breasts with an arm.

 

"Fucking balls Cullen, you scared the shit out of me!" It dawned on him that after the horrors she must've lived through the last few days, startling her was not the smartest thing to do. There was dark discoloration about her pale form from no doubt taking a beating during the battle and then within the Fade. A dirty rag hung from the side of the wash basin stained black and red. She looked about the tent awkwardly waiting for him to explain himself, growing increasingly impatient in proper Evelyn fashion by the second. With a huff, she threw the shirt on the floor since she was still wearing a breast band, placing her hand on her hips becoming unsure of how she wanted to react.

 

With slow steps, she watched with wide eyes as he came to stand directly before her. He pulled a glove off and his calloused hand reached out to touch her beautiful face, careful to avoid the scrapes. She didn't make any attempt to stop it, and he gently held her chin with his thumb and finger. At contact, her eyes fluttered shut briefly as her hand came up to cover his own. Nuzzling into his hand, he could see her breaths were relaxed and deep while her glassy eyes still looked at him to say something.

 

"I thought I had lost you." It was quiet, but finally, he was able to articulate, albeit hoarsely, his appearance.

 

"So did I for a bit, but you know I always come back. I'm stubborn like that." They stared at each other for a long moment before he pushed his hand back through her hair, holding the back of her head. "Cullen, I'm sorry--"

 

"Shh, I don't want to talk about it now." With care, he brought her to him closing the distance between their bodies, as she welcomed the advance bringing her arms up around his neck. Despite the warm desert air, he felt goosebumps prickle up her arms at his touch. Their noses and foreheads grazed each other gently as he watched her eyelids become heavy. The pressure pulling him down towards her gave him all the permission he needed to let go of his tight restraint.

 

The sorely missed taste of her lips brought back a swelling of warmth to his heart. For months, he felt as if he had been frozen, numb to everything, but with one kiss she thawed his emotions breathing life back into him. Soon, the slow cautious kisses devolved into deeper hungrier ones. One of his hands dropped to the small of her naked back as she pulled him as close as possible by grabbing the sides of his airy shirt. She was slightly on her toes stretched up against him, melting into him. Taking a step back, he sat when his knees hit her cot. Without parting, she smoothly climbed atop his lap tucking her legs up on either side of his. Cullen could feel a smile spreading on her lips and wet tears on her cheeks, but he refused to surrender her lips back to her.

 

Despite his attempt, Evelyn pulled back taking his hand from her. His eyes watched transfixed as she brought it up her torso, and under her breast band. Releasing his hand, it naturally glided across her left breast and she watched him closely waiting for something…

 

"Is that…?" Cullen grabbed the small timeworn coin that rested against her moist skin. A small smile twitched at his scared lip, but it retreated when the tent flaps opened unexpectedly before he could retract his hand.

 

"Sweet Maker!" Cassandra walked in, quickly adverting her gaze. Cullen blushed before sliding his fingers clutching the coin out from her small clothes. Her voice lowered to a bit of a harsh whisper, as she searched for something in her belongings, "You two are going to do this now?!"

 

Evelyn's voice was froggy, but her stare conveyed her wish for privacy, "Cass..."

 

Having found what she came for, she simply said, "I apologize for the interruption." She eyed both of them as she backed out of the tent, adding one last sentiment, pointing to him sternly, "Watch her neck."

 

"Out!" He growled, having never taken that tone with the Seeker before - he'd probably regret it later. Turning back to Evelyn, she was laughing silently to herself, and he couldn't help but realize how long it had been since he'd seen her do that. "Maker's breath, am I ever going to live that down?"

 

"She was beside herself when she first saw it in South Reach, but then again, she was having a rough morning after my brother sent her sappy poetry."

 

"And yet, I'm the one constantly berated?"

 

"My brother is too stupid to care if he's made fun of. He did get the girl after all." He agreed with an unamused nod, before looking back down at the coin. Her voice was soft and melodic with her Marcher accent, "I told you I'd keep it safe, and now I return it to you." She stroked his hair, "That coin has literally been to the Void and back, it belongs in the Chanty as a holy relic."

 

He chuckled lightly, "All things considered, I think I'd like to keep it for a while longer. Corypheus isn't dead yet." They shared a knowing look before her grumbling stomach gurgled like a Rage demon. He groaned leaning down and straining his sore muscles trying to grab her clean shirt, "Come on, you need fed. Your initials are a constant reminder of it." He produced the monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket, also returning it to her.

 

Still seated on his lap as she pulled the short-sleeved blouse over her head, she couldn't help the growing smile on her face, "I missed this. I missed you." Despite the smile, he could see her eyes becoming heavy and glassy again, and leaned forward capturing her lips knowing exactly how she was feeling. Her hands cupped his face desperately during the slow sorrowful kisses, reflecting on the unresolved issues that still loomed between them. After another minute, they parted silently, walking over to the tent flaps, but before they left she stopped him, "Um, this might look suspicious."

 

He sighed giving it a moment of thought, "We could've been doing anything in here, who are they to say for sure."

 

"You have a point," she seemed to be thinking it through, but then her stomach growled again. "Ah, fuck it, there are already rumors anyway. Let's go."

 

Emerging into the light, they made their way over to their private mess tent. Looking at the spread, it was the best food they could afford to break out in celebration of victory and for the team that had gone days without food. As they got closer, Evelyn took the last few strides to the table quicker than he, eager to get her hands on a pickle, even pushing her brother out of the way to poach it before he could. Spinning in victory back towards him, she bit it as if she hadn't eaten one in years.

 

The chatter around the table was lively enough for him to feel comfortable speaking unguardedly to her, "Three days with no food and you're ready to fight your brother for a pickle?" They shared a small laugh, as she shrugged, "You are something, Trevelyan." Her radiant smile fought through the layers of their conflict to bathe him in its splendor at the usage of her surname. He struggled with himself, wanting nothing more than to grab and kiss her again, but instead, he passed her a plate so she could pile on the food.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Hawke's gaze watching them. His shifty eyes had black bags under them as he sat hunched over beside the fire before Varric joined him. Though the dwarf engaged him in conversation - at least he thought so, as Varric’s back was to him - Garret's eyes were still casually observing them. Squeezing in between the Trevelyan siblings, he grabbed himself a roll of bread unable to remember the last time he ate since his stomach had been too upset after the night terror. His hand hovered at the small of her back, then gently rested on it as he leaned over the table. Cullen felt her eyes on him, but he continued with his task, pretending to be ignorant of her gaze. His closeness allowed her to discreetly slip an arm around his lower back as well to gently massage circles into it. With no one, but the Champion to see the display, he hoped it was both a subtle and telling sign to Garret to back off. He hadn't had the chance to discuss him with Evelyn yet, but he fought against his treacherous mind recounting his nightmare of them against what he knew of Evelyn's character. Ignoring the chaos of his mind to look about, everyone was in a cheerful yet somber mood. The mission was a success, the rift was sealed, and the Inquisitor and her team were back safe.

 

"Excuse me, Commander," Solas cleared his throat eyeing his arm on the Inquisitor, "I need to examine the Inquisitor's mark." Trying to suppress the flush of his cheeks at the sudden intrusion, he simply replied with an innocent 'oh,' as if he hadn't known he had done it. Evelyn was biting her cheek trying not to smile at his reaction as she flipped her hand over for him to look at. Seeing the apostate's appearance, Leliana and the other four mages all convened around them to hear his assessment. After a few moments, he spoke, "Your mana fights the infection of the magic of the anchor. The veins have turned black because your fire has burned its advance up your arm."

 

Evelyn looked at him with hope, "So, it's not spreading, that's just scarring or discoloration?"

 

Suddenly the elf looked a bit uncomfortable, "No, I do think it is damaging your muscles and bone detrimentally."

 

Ilara chimed in, "Can we counter the damage? Rebuild what she loses with each use?" Vivienne seconded her need to know if there was another recourse other than the acceptance that her limb was deteriorating.

 

Solas sighed heavily, "I'm not sure. This magic was not meant for a human, or mortal for that matter it would seem, to wield."

 

As options were discussed, he turned his attention to Evelyn, who was staring off lost in thought. It was not what she wanted to hear, despite having even admitted to Arl Tegan that she suspected the mark would kill her. Part of her had to have held out hope that it could be removed or that the collective minds of the mages could come up with a treatment for its spread.

 

"If we can do nothing to slow the spread of the anchor's magic, can we stop Evie's from attacking it when it spreads? Would that help stop her hand and arm's deterioration?" Dorian asked. Solas' face held a sour expression, and the more they questioned, the less hope he had to offer. One by one he watched their expressions deflate in defeat as the conversation came to a halt.

 

Picking her head up and holding it high, she spoke with a practiced serenity, "Thank you all for your concern and efforts. We can discuss this later when we've all had some rest." As she walked through them, she patted some shoulders in passing, never stopping until she was behind the canvas of her tent. There was a despair in some of her companion's faces as if they had failed her. One by one they turned away heading for their respective tents. Owayne accompanied Cassandra, no doubt believing his sister needed some cheering up, and Cullen had to stop himself from following them in. Instead, he went back to work.

 

After an hour or two of quiet and dozens of reports indicating an increase in Red Templar activity in the Emerald Graves and Emprise du Lion, Evelyn emerged from her tent. She walked over to the fire waving a hand at it making it dance, before noticing him staring at her. Walking over to him quietly on the sand, she greeted him with a wan smile. Viewing the map and pieces placed about, he watched her finger the area of Orlais he had just been focusing on.

 

"With the threat of the rift gone, I issued orders for the army to pack up and head out in two days. The Trevelyan cavalry will secure the road back through Orlais for us. Despite the end of the civil war, a new enemy, the Freemen of the Dales, has emerged to take back Orlais for the people, so they say."

 

The Inquisitor looked up in thought, "There was a man who had sent word a while ago about them. Fairbanks, I believe that was his name. We should contact him immediately and set up a meeting to find out what he knows." She sighed heavily, "So much for some time off."

 

"Speaking of," Cullen tilted his head to look into her chocolaty eyes, "can't sleep?"

 

"I'd like to do nothing more than that, but… I fear the nightmares." The Inquisitor hugged herself and rubbed her arms.

 

He couldn't help but snort a small laugh, "You and me both." He groaned wiping a hand down his face before placing both hands on the table. For the next few minutes, he summarized the last few days of the Nightmare demon's effect on their people and what they were trying to do to bring them home.

 

"We lived our nightmares. If it wasn't for the spirit that guided us through, we would have been separated and picked off by Nightmare." He shivered at her words, thinking back to his night terror, imagining what it would've been like if his other senses were engaged. Her eyes grew distant, and though he wanted to hear more, she needed rest. There was a heaviness to her brow, like she was in pain and her yawns were contagious.

 

Catching her gaze, he walked around the table to take her hand, "You need rest, come on. We can speak of it after you've rested." Still grasping her hand gently, he began to walk in the direction of his tent, but she tugged his arm making him turn back to her.

 

"Only if you plan on sleeping as well?" A pointed look told him he better agree, and he consented with a nod hoping her presence at night once again would be enough to ward away the dark - for them both. Once inside, she stood back by the entrance as he pushed the two cots together, explaining that Rylen wasn't expected back until morning. Henley was taking the day shift and Rylen the night so the former could spend his evenings with Ilara when she was off-duty.

 

When the cots were ready, the two paused looking down at them as if they had never laid together before. The uncertainty only lasted a moment before she spun grabbing him by the shirt to pull him down with her. Their combined weight instantly collapsed the cots, shooting a fine dusting of sand out to the side. Thankfully the light padded bedroll helped cushion their fall, but when he looked over to make sure she was alright, she was quietly chuckling. Smiling over at her and shaking his head, he suddenly realized why he needed her. She lived in the moment, something that was hard for him to do always trying to plan ahead as if his life were a game of chess or stuck in his troubled past. He never simply enjoyed the present, and something as simple as her laughter after falling on their cots, made him realize this. If he were alone, he would've got up and cleaned it up, thinking that come morning or a pending emergency he didn't want his tent in such a state. But, her firm grip on his arm and laughter made him not care about anything beyond her smile.

 

"Oops," was all she whispered after calming down. Evelyn ran her fingers through her long hair, after shaking out her braid.

 

"I'm too tired to adequately make fun of you, Trevelyan," he opened his arms as she scooted over into his embrace. Even though they were still completely dressed, the Fade beckoned to them uncaring of their attire. Their leather boots kicked together with soft thuds as they wove their legs together. Her spicy-sweet scent floated about, coaxing deep relaxing breaths out of him.

 

She faced him looking up at him, stroking a finger along his jawline, "I appreciate that, though I fear exhausted or not, I still would've done it." Evelyn hummed a chuckle again, but despite the levity of their reconciliation their eyes were fighting to open.

 

Pulling her closer, before he fell asleep, he spoke into her hair, "I love you, Trevelyan."

 

Nuzzling up into his chin, he was awake just long enough to hear, "I love you more, Rutherford." In the safety of each other's arms, both slept soundly for the first time in days. He had missed the peace that her presence produced, as if he were a child again unable to sleep without his favorite toy. Except she was a living breathing woman who had him at her mercy. Having been without her for so long, this time he would not let her go again at any cost.

Notes:

Hi again!

How was the chapter?

Let me vent a bit about the game... I always hated choosing between Stroud and Hawke. With that said, I always chose Hawke to stay behind for a number of reasons. (1) Hawke is a mage and has knowledge of the Fade. (2) Hawke going to deal with Grey Warden matters sounds absolutely absurd to me. Why on Thedas would Weisshaupt listen to a non-Warden, it being the Champion or not. Nope, Stroud needs to take command of the Wardens. (3) At the very end of the game when the Inquisitor kills Corypheus and sends him into the Fade, he can respawn using the body of Wardens since they have the Blight... sooooo if you leave Stroud behind, then did you really defeat Corypheus? What happens if Stroud just happen to be nearby? Tell me if I'm wrong, but that is why I always leave Hawke behind.

Have a wonderful weekend!
Munklington

Chapter 29: Forging A Path Forward

Summary:

The Inquisition deals with the aftermath of the battle at Adamant. Evelyn and Cullen try and find a way past their issues.

Notes:

Warning: Sexual content at the end of the chapter.

Evelyn awoke the next morning to the soft mumbles of two people conversing. With her eyes unable to open as her exhaustion lingered, she grabbed at the firm mass shifting about beside her. A large calloused hand came to rest over her one ear to further block out the sounds of the talking. Though the gesture had been done out of courtesy, she plucked the hand from her, picking up her head to meet the gazes of Cullen and Rylen.

"Inquisitor," both men said as one. She might have been embarrassed if it had been anyone else aside from Rylen, but since Haven the two of them had a friendly repour. He had to know something was going on between her and the Commander, for she had a hard time believing he didn't since he and Cullen were best friends. His lack of surprise seeing them sharing their cots would support that theory.

She laughed, "I don't go by that title until after I get some coffee. And you," her shifty eyes went to Cullen, "don’t call me that in bed." He blushed a vibrant shade of red while she and Rylen chuckled. Standing with a stretch and yawn, the bright sunlight of the desert morning filtered in through the tent flaps. With a gentle finger, she peeked outside and up at the blue sky. The white wispy clouds were dragged into lines as if painted there by a brush. Seeing it instead of the dark, swirling skies of the Fade lifted her spirits considerably. With a sigh, she looked back at them, "We have a lot to discuss today, don't we?"

Cullen nodded, but Rylen began setting his cot back up, "Discuss away. I'll be here, Your Worship-- I mean Evie." He flopped down on the bed sending dust flying into the air. Swatting at it in an attempt to save herself from a coughing fit, she and the Commander exited the tent.

Blinded by the light, they bumped right into someone walking by. Cullen grabbed her waist instinctively to balance her as she was knocked back. "This looks cozy." Hawke slyly said as he slunk past them. "Your ties are undone, Commander." Cullen's eyes and hand shot down to his pants which were in fact in neat order, giving Hawke the satisfaction of a good laugh at his expense.

Cullen's brow drew down and he took a step forward when Evelyn stopped him with a hand. "Don't. He and I had a chat in the Fade." His heated gaze still didn't meet hers, watching until the Champion disappeared into his tent. With camp deserted for the moment, she moved a hand up and down his chest, enjoying the feel of his soft shirt. The thought of clothing made her want to go change again after sleeping all night into late morning in the same clothes, but she didn't want to intrude on her brother and Cassandra's solitude.

"I look forward to hearing about that, though I'm sorry you're the one who had to do it."

"There's not much to tell. I simply told him it was never happening." He raised an eyebrow at her brief summary as they walked to their mess tent. He was right to be suspicious for the truth was harsher than she let on. Having had a pleasant evening, she refused to taint it with talk of the Champion. After making themselves a plate they began eating and conversing about how well they slept, sharing a private smile knowing why. When Evelyn realized they had forgotten to grab coffee she stood offering to get them some. She left his black, knowing he didn't care for cream or sugar, but added it to hers along with whatever liquor had been left out. After three days of living through literal hell, she needed an extra kick. "You want a splash?" She shook the bottle at him as the dark amber liquid sloshed about in waves. Looking at her with concern, he shook his head in answer just before Owayne and Cassandra joined them. At seeing the libation, her brother's eyes lit up and he snatched the bottle from her. Evelyn looked at him incredulously as he downed several gulps, "I at least put mine in the coffee."

With a satisfied 'ah,' he nodded his head, "That sounds lovely too." He made himself a cup, "Cass?" He repeated the same proposal to the Seeker as she had just used on Cullen. She too refrained from spiking her drink, making Evelyn laugh internally; Owayne was courting the female version of Cullen. No wonder she and Cassandra got along so famously. After rejoining them at the table, she couldn't help but ask her older sibling why he was partaking in drinking so early. "Do you have any idea what you two," pointing to the two females with his knife giving it a flip before taking it to the food on his plate, "put me through?!" She and the Seeker narrowed their eyes at each other before leveling them back on Owayne as he shoveled food into his mouth.

With a deadpan gaze over to Cullen whom she was seated next to, she cast a force-push spell at him that was just strong enough to hit him off the bench. Cassandra didn't flinch and continued eating as the rogue's feet came to rest in an upward position.

The Commander huffed, "Couldn't you have just burnt his pants off? Seems like a waste of food."

The Phoenix answered with a gagging sound, "Seriously? I don't need to see what kind of smalls he's wearing these days."

From the ground came a retort, "That's a privilege reserved for Cassandra."

With a disgusted grunt, the Seeker shot to her feet and out of the mess tent. As he righted himself, Evelyn just shook her head at him, "When are you going to learn she doesn't like to be embarrassed like that?"

At the chastisement, Owayne took a quick sip of his liquor with a shot of coffee, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Shows how much you know." He placed his cup down with purpose before striding excitedly out after her.

She looked at Cullen, "What on Andraste's sacred ashes just happened?"

The Commander finished his current bite, before answering, "I think I just won a lot of coin, that's what."

"Are you referring to that bet Varric has going?"

He nodded, partly chuckling, "Everyone bet against your brother except for a few--" Just then Sera and Bull threw open the tent flaps, both looking over to the left with two shit-eating grins.

Sera giggled heartily, "Hey General Uptight, did you see--"

"I did," he said smugly, sitting back and dotting his mouth with his linen.

"Did you bet, boss?" He and Sera still had not taken their eyes off whatever the two lovebirds were up to, though by the way Bull said 'nice' she knew she didn't want to know.

"No, I abstained from this particular bet. Either way, someone was going to be angry with me." If she was being honest, the real reason why she didn't wager her coin on either side was because she had no idea who'd prevail. Owayne has the annoying ability to wear anyone down in time, but Cassandra is an unmovable force whose convictions are stronger than any that she has seen.

"Weren't you helping your brother though? I distinctly remember you telling him she liked poetry." Cullen raised his eyebrows at her as if waiting for a confession.

"Sure, I did, but that was before there was a bet even going! You'd think I'd bet on my simpleton of a sibling with the help I gave him if I was to. So, stop," she smacked his arm, "giving me that look Commander, and you're welcome for helping you win your earnings." It was her turn to give the smug smirk but she retracted it once their present company came fully in to grab some grub.

The short stocky shadow of Varric was seen against the canvas before he and Hawke entered. "Here are my winners!" The dwarf held his hand out in reception, "You'll get your payout back at Skyhold. And just what will you be doing with yours Daisy?" Sera giggled that laugh that meant nothing good.

"Everyone hide your smalls," Bull commented under his breath.

Hawke chuckled lowly, "I'd pay to see her run the Commander's up the flagpole this time." Striding over to the others, he asked, "What do you think, is he a brief or a tighties man?" After the lanky elf gagged while the others laughed, Garret turned his head over his shoulder to Evelyn, "Maybe the Inquisitor knows?"

Feeling Cullen grip the table with some force making it tilt, she squeezed his leg under the table to halt him. Keeping her expression neutral she replied, "Your guess is as good as mine. I heard you comment on his pant ties already this morning. I had no idea you took such an interest, perhaps Josephine can add you to the Commander's suitor queue behind all the Orleanians."

He gave her a look, and she knew he wanted to reply with a lewd comment about them, but at the risk of sounding uncouth, he said with a shrug, "Blondes aren't my type." When he sat across from her and stared, she knew this private battle was far from over.

Having finished, she stood, "I believe we have a meeting to attend, Commander." No one paid them any mind as they exited and once in the privacy of the Command Tent, she crossed her arms at him giving him a look. He massaged the back of his neck as she began, "You need to ignore him. He wants you to react." Her expression turned sad, "Ryker used to do the same thing to me."

"Is that what you did? Ignore him?" His scowl softened speaking of the subject.

She snorted a laugh, "No, but I should've. It never ended well for me." At the prolonged silence, she added, "There will be no reason for him to stay at Skyhold if he wants to pursue Corypheus, we'll be rid of him soon. If Josie was here, she'd say she doesn't need word spread how the Commander of the Inquisition bludgeoned the Champion of Kirkwall with his fists, deserving or not."

"Yes, but if he is going to insult your honor, I fear I won't be able to let it pass next time."

With a loving sigh at his chivalrous nature, she walked over placing a hand on his cheek, "That's sweet, and however much I would enjoy it…"

"I know, I know. I don't want a lecture," he grumbled. "Maybe his pants can be burnt off in front of the soldiers," a small smirk pulled on his scared lip.

She smiled brightly, "I may know a mage who could help with that." She leaned in closer meeting his lips briefly before listening to the approach of Leliana and Cassandra, the latter being teased. She whined at having to part from him but reminded herself that there would be time enough later.

"… I'm not disagreeing with you, I do indeed think Lord Trevelyan was looking rather flushed." As the Spymaster finished, she slid into the tent like a cat. "It was a good thing you were nearby," Leliana had that twinkle of mischief in her eye.

The Inquisitor crossed her arms matching the redhead's amused look, "Am I going to have to have a talk with my brother about his behavior?"

"Oh no, Inquisitor," Leliana's lilt was emphasized teasingly, "I believe it is Seeker Pentaghast here who is at fault this time from what I saw."

"Stop spying on people!" Cassandra's outburst was met with soft laughs, "You know what I mean!"

Leliana quirked a slender eyebrow up crossing her arms to match the Inquisitor, "Correct me, but I believe that's my job?"

Diffusing the situation before allowing it to escalate into the realm of personal affairs, Cullen, the sole male on the council, tried to focus on the women. "Let us tend to business before you tease Seeker Pentaghast, and do it preferably once I leave."

"Thank you, Commander." Cassandra said pointily to the two women and walked over to the improvised 'War Table.' Following her lead, Evelyn let the matter drop, especially when Cullen had an opportunity to get back at her for her comment when she had caught them in their tent together.

Wanting to keep the meeting small due to the sensitive and controversial news they learned in the Fade, it would be just her senior advisors in attendance this morning. After they briefed her on the three days they were missing, including the aftermath of the battle, Evelyn and Cassandra told them about the more pressing topic - their time in the Fade. They spoke of how a spirit imitating the Divine guided them through the labyrinth of Nightmare's domain. The monstrous demon had sought to separate them so its minions could pick them off one by one and at times they succeeded. The demon conjured visions of her greatest fears along the way, but unlike night terrors, these hallucinations had substance to them. Mentally the Fade had taken its toll on the whole party and they all struggled to keep each other focused and on task.

The Spymaster crossed her arms, "How is it the Elder One can control or command demons?" It had been the spirit that had told them of Corypheus' connection to Nightmare and the others.

"We asked the benevolent spirit, but even it did not know," Cassandra replied. "The Inquisitor and I believe the entity we encountered was a Spirit of Faith. Not only did it impersonate Divine Justinia, but it was sensitive to our state of mind and gave us hope when things seemed dire." In a rare moment of weakness, she shared a telling look with the Nevarran. Neither woman wanted to recount what had happened to them, most of it not being of any consequence to the other advisors, so they agreed back in the Fade to leave it out of the official report. "As we escaped back through the rift, it had sacrificed itself so we all could make it." The Seeker had been slightly more weary of the spirit as it retained Divine Justinia’s image, yet it had given them no reason not to trust it as it led them to the blood ritual rift at Adamant. In fact, they would’ve never recovered Cassandra from the demons without its’ help.

A few hours into their journey through the Fade, the raven-haired warrior had been taken. Evelyn had turned around amid a skirmish with Despair demons to see a dark cloud overtake her as she tried to claw away from the shades on her stomach. When the spirit had finally located her and pointed them in her direction, Evelyn sprinted off like a mad woman to save her friend, following the sound of her voice reciting prayers of protection. Spotting her at last, she dove into the clearing uncaring of the shadows lurking about. With the Phoenix wings splayed out in warning, the light from them seemed to ward the darkness away until the others arrived. As they dispatched the shades, Evelyn held Cassandra's face speaking softly to her, occasionally flicking her hand out to cast an immolation spell. The Seeker's eyes were wide staring off into the swirling sky. When she finally came to, she was emotionally drained, just wanting to sit with her head in her lap for a minute before regrettably, they needed to move on whether she was recovered or not.

Sometime afterward, Evelyn was snatched by Terror for the better part of what she believed was a day. Her night terrors have always lacked a few senses, like smell and touch, but not these visions; they were real until she summoned the courage to burn everything. It was how her companions found her, having set everything in her immediate vicinity on fire. When it recreated the Ostwick Circle, she burnt it, then again when she found herself in Sampson's tent in the Hinterlands. Only when she found herself in the grasp of Corypheus, did she almost ignite her core mana unable to take the false reality Nightmare wove for her. It showed her the fate of Thedas if she failed, and while she received a taste of it thanks to Magister Alexius in Redcliffe, that version paled in comparison to this…

The few times they stopped to rest the women sat back-to-back shivering at the thought of being taken again. The men fared no better, but they were all determined to put on a brave face. In time, Varric and Dorian's sarcasm became strained and more argumentative towards their predicament. Blackwall appeared to have completely shut down, unable to say much. The Warden looked years older as his face sagged and his eyes looked as if he was reliving a lifetime of horrors. When asked, he'd bark out that it was none of their business before once again becoming mute. Stroud and Hawke constantly fought, especially after learning that the Wardens had a hand in the death of the Divine. Evelyn could tell the guilt of his brethren's betrayal weighed heavy on him before the start of the siege, but now it did even more so. When they weren't arguing they were on opposite sides of their defensive formation quietly stewing. When Garret wasn't fighting with the Orlesian Warden, he was coming up with creative ways to slander the Inquisitor.

Becoming critical of her every decision, making sure to work in her Circle politics and apparent weakness for Templars, she truly felt like leaving him in the Fade. Varric didn't help when he mentioned the story of how she and Henley had once been an item and paired with the fact that Garret caught her making eyes at the Commander, it provided him with ample ammunition. Her companions were used to the rumors of Evelyn's personal life, as at one point or another there had been ones about her involvement with all of them, so his comments weren't taken seriously by anyone but she and Cassandra who knew the truth. For the most part, she ignored him, but as they neared the rift and had just been saved from her demon kidnapping, his commentary had pushed her to her limit.

Evelyn recalled as they waited for the spirit to break through one of Nightmare's barriers blocking their path, she grabbed Hawke by the collar dragging him away to have words. "What is your fucking issue? Is your ego so fragile that you can't fathom why a woman would find you repulsing?"

"No, no, you are the disgusting one, for the more I learn about you, the more I see you for the mindless tool that you are. The holy hypocrites should give you a medal for regurgitating their propaganda. But then again, I suppose thinking for yourself was never your strong suit, was it? It's pathetic, really, to be so brainwashed by the Chantry and their order of polished helmets. Speaking of which, you seem to have done a lot of polishing yourself," he spited.

"Mindless? Brainwashed!? It's always been mages like you who conveniently ignore the sins of their own kind. Do you forget who started this whole war and gave the Elder One the platform on which to build his army? Had I spent more time in Kirkwall I would’ve hunted your arse down and given you to Meredith."

“Oh, spare me your righteous indignation. It was your beloved Templars who abused their power, forcing innocent mages into drastic measures. Your blind allegiance to the Chantry's bullshit is laughable. Maybe if you spent less time polishing helms and more time sharpening your wit, you would see Rutherford for the mage-hater he is." He chuckled with disdain. "And as for hunting me down, you overestimate your abilities. Besides, Meredith knew I was a mage from the day I became the Champion, but she was too busy fucking her pet Knight-Captain to care. She poured the lyrium down his throat while he shoved something else down hers".

Fire surged through her veins as she kept an eye on the spirit's progress. Gritting her teeth, she turned back to him, "You Maker-forsaken piece of…” She exhaled, slow and steady, trying to calm herself a bit. “It's antics and attitudes like yours that poison the relationship between people of Thedas and mages. Yes, we need some real changes, and it's messed up that we're being treated like bloody prisoners, but you have to understand that people are afraid of history repeating itself, especially with the Tevinter Imperium still kicking. Trust isn't just given, it has to be earned! But of course, you'd only ever see it as the Templar's fault. The Chantry, the Order, and the mages, they're all responsible for this situation. The world isn’t just black and white. You must have seen that, when you took a stand against Anders.”

The Champion snorted, "Anders was fucking possessed! I'm all for mages being free, but I can't let innocent blood spill. I took down Anders, but Meredith, she got what was coming too."

"And it was Cullen who stood with you. I don't think a man who hates mages would have done that." They glared at each other when the sound of the barrier breaking was heard.

"Stop defending that Ferelden farm bumpkin. Between you and the other women infatuated with him, I'm not sure what there is to fawn over. He's as ingenuine as they come, believing his service was for the greater good. No doubt, he uses his time with the Order to his advantage. Maker, it makes me fucking sick to see him so revered. And you've encouraged his delusions, for all his high-ranking officers are Templars! He's building himself a perverted version of his former order to play soldier with."

Grabbing him by the breastplate again, she leaned in to make her point clear, "Let me make one thing clear to you…" For the briefest moment, she fought the urge to just walk away, but this needed to end here. "There is no one more deserving of praise than him after everything he has overcome, the half of which you don't even know! To think you know him, the real Cullen, as I do is absurd! And yes, I'll admit, he and I are romantically involved, so I take the things you say a bit more personally." He rolled his eyes and nodded at the omission. "Keep going on like this about us, and I assure you, there will be a price which I will exact personally. I take threats to those I love gravely seriously."

"You’re touched in the head. Thanks for saving me from your brand of crazy."

"That's Inquisitor to you," she growled in passing as she went to join the others, "don't fucking forget it, Champion." Garret had no power outside of Kirkwall, for it was only his reputation, greatly helped by Varric's novel, that lent him any influence. He was not of noble blood, nor did he seek to elevate himself. She would not be bullied by a man who saw the world through a limited perspective, let alone one who had never lived in a Circle. His assumptions about Cullen only proved that, as he was no different from any whiney mage who rather make themselves the victim over being part of the solution. The Inquisitor had neither the time nor patience for such people.

Returning to the present trying to calm her racing heartbeat from remembering the infuriating confrontation with Hawke, she listened to Cassandra lead into the most critical event from their Fade excursion. The only good that came out of it was having been shown what transpired at the Temple of Sacred Ashes right before the explosion.

"I've regained my memories of the Conclave." Evelyn jumped in, "Nightmare was charged with keeping them from me by Corypheus, but the spirit helped steal them back before we escaped." Cullen and Leliana looked at her with great anticipation, "As usual, my knack for finding trouble was validated again when I wandered off from the main halls at the Temple of Sacred Ashes after hearing strange noises. They brought me before a set of doors where I listened to the Divine pleading with who we now know is Corypheus and his Warden mages. It seems he had already corrupted a number of them even before all this. I truly don't know what they were planning to do, but they held her suspended in the air and the Elder One placed the orb beside her head. It was then I crashed through the doors startling them all. With the distraction, Most Holy knocked the orb away and I… picked it up, gaining the anchor. Then the orb's magic exploded creating the Breach. Afterward, I woke up in the Fade, and with me was Divine Justinia. She and I were lost in the Fade, very much like how we just were. The three days that followed the explosion, were spent trying to get to the rift at the Temple. I didn't know it then, but the demons left us alone so Nightmare could seep into my mind and steal my memories while we were too distracted. The way out was high up, and I had to all but carry the Divine to the top. We were so close, but then spider-like demons appeared and tore her from my grasp. At the time I couldn't use my magic, because the mark was trying to fight it for dominance. With only my boot dagger to wield in defense, The Divine knew it was futile. She told me to run and I did, for there was nothing I could do but escape." Leliana threw Cassandra a pained look, the same she had seen the Seeker wear when they had all viewed her memory in the Fade. "That's when I emerged from the rift at the Temple. The spirit who had helped us had watched the whole thing but had arrived too late to help us. What the soldiers saw was just Faith protecting my escape." After a profound and long contemplative silence having shared the truth, she sighed, "Josephine will need to be told and I trust her to do with that information what she will."

"Even if our soldiers are told the truth, that you were not delivered to us by Andraste, I'm not sure many will believe it." The Commander's brow was crinkled as he rubbed a hand about his jaw.

Blinking herself back to the present, the Spymaster recovered swiftly from the momentary lapse at hearing the truth about Most Holy's death. "Certainly. Some will be upset that we lied, despite not knowing ourselves, but I think the majority will simply not care." Her frankness caught Evelyn off guard, and she narrowed her gaze on her in question, "It matters not because of your actions. Take Andraste name out of every one of our victories and you are left with one woman fighting for the greater good - and a mage, no less. That should be what Thedas takes away from it, and that I can assure you with certainty, will be what Josephine proclaims."

The Inquisitor suddenly felt self-conscious, feeling the need to correct her, "One woman with three intelligent advisors, eleven companions, and the whole of the Inquisition behind her. Everything we have ever accomplished has been due to a coordinated effort."

"Yes, but you have always been our figurehead. This narrative could also appease the Chantry Mothers, especially the ones still claiming we are propping up a false prophet with a cult following." Cassandra shook her head at the absurdity of politics.

Evelyn nodded, "We'll see what the Ambassador thinks and revisit it once we have her opinion. Don't forget that it was also I who caused the explosion."

"Corypheus caused it," Cassandra corrected.

"But if I hadn't been there or picked up the orb…"

The Spymaster's brow furrowed while she crossed her arms, "Then the Elder One would've entered the Fade and fulfilled his plan of ascending to godhood. If hundreds of people had to die along with The Divine to stop all of Thedas from succumbing to his plans, then so be it." Her frown turned to a pained one, "Yes, Divine Justina died, but at least now we know it was not in vain given the alternative. I believe she would have willingly sacrificed her life had she been told that in the end, it would save more lives." The Left and Right hands wore steeled expressions and nodded in agreement. Evelyn knew Leliana, despite hiding it still carried around a heap of grief and guilt over Justinia's death. Now, she had the closure she so badly wanted.

In the meeting's lull, the Inquisitor's eyes roamed the map before them seeing tacked reports next to one spot in particular. With a heavy sigh, she looked to what she could only assume was their next crisis, "Tell me what you know about the situation in the Emerald Graves. You said these 'Freemen of the Dales' have been colluding with the Red Templars?" She looked to the Commander for an explanation.

"Yes," he began, pointing to the markers on the table, "Scout Harding and her scouts have been able to keep their presence unknown as they intercept messages between the Freemen and Sampson."

She looked up from the map in shock, "Sampson himself? Is he there?" Evelyn absently comforted her well-healed thigh thanks to the salve Ilara and Master Taigen whipped up back at Haven.

His eyes darkened and she couldn't stop her own expression from doing the same, "We are still unsure of his whereabouts, but he is directly corresponding with the leaders of the Freemen. It seems he's supporting their efforts in the hopes of keeping Orlais weakened as they transport red lyrium through the Graves. With Erimond's defeat and no demon army, in the last few days, we've seen a heavy increase in Red Templar activity in the area. Harding has also mapped several rifts in the area. With all this making the forest extremely dangerous and Emperor Gaspard's focus in the Exalted Plains still, this 'Fairbanks' isn't sure how long he and his resistance force will last without reinforcements."

"That's not good. We'll pass the Emerald Graves on our way back to Skyhold," her shoulders slumped and she rubbed her forehead wearily, "it's only logical that myself and a team divert from the army to join with Harding." She looked to Cassandra, thinking about having to ask her companions to forgo some much-needed rest at home, "They aren't going to be happy." The Seeker nodded to her in agreement, so the Inquisitor added, "I'll ask for volunteers first, I suppose."

"Then allow me to be the first," she announced with a faraway look.

Evelyn sighed, "Are you sure? I think you earned a break if you wanted it. Especially after… the Fade?"

"That's exactly why I need to go." There were many looks darting around the space, but neither woman was about to open up about what really happened to the Seeker. Not needing to say more she nodded, feeling the same, yet she preferred talking with Cullen over pummeling Red Templars and Venatori - a thought that made her battered muscles ache more. Having had no rest for as long as she could remember, in the back of her mind she wondered how much more her body could take.

"Inquisitor," the Commander's grim look told her she was not going to like their next order of business, "there is still the matter of the Warden prisoners. What would you like done with them?"

"How many surrendered?"

"About two hundred Grey Wardens. Erimond was also apprehended, though Leliana could tell you more."

The three of them looked to the redhead, whose countenance hardened at the mention of the Tevinter mage. "I have questioned him, but he remains loyal to his master."

"How hard did you press him for information?" Evelyn had a hard time believing that she had trouble extracting anything from the coward.

"As hard as your absence allowed."

Nodding, the Inquisitor understood, "I give you leave to use whatever methods you deem necessary, but keep in mind that I need him alive and seemingly unharmed for a public trial back at Skyhold."

A frightening feline grin spread slowly on her face, "Yes, Inquisitor." The Spymaster had her mouse in a cage and was now given leave to do as she pleased with the wretched creature. Evelyn would be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to hearing the man's tormented wails after everything he had done.

"As for the Wardens," Evelyn paused thinking about it with a heavy sigh, "what they did could have been catastrophic, yet dismantling them could be more detrimental in many ways for the future of Thedas. For one, the king and queen of Ferelden would take issue. Then, what if a Blight suddenly appears and there are no Wardens, or we find out we need them to defeat Corypheus, since he is a darkspawn? Their numbers were dwindling even before the battle. I think we have an opportunity here to both do good and benefit from the situation if we play this right."

Cullen rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, "We could offer them sanctuary at Skyhold. It would be an undertaking, but we could clear some land in the pass next to the training grounds for them to stay until they receive orders from Weisshaupt." He looked to the Spymaster, "Perhaps, Warden-Commander Cousland could be persuaded to take them in or be willing to send supplies to help us quarter them."

"Or," the Seeker cut in, "we let them fend for themselves. Why is it we should have to help them when it was their action or inaction that led to this battle? They are guilty of the death of The Divine and have wielded blood magic to summon a demon army." She scoffed, looking to Evelyn, "I'm having trouble seeing why we should invite those who plotted with the enemy, unknowingly or not, into our home?"

"They are Grey Wardens." Evelyn knew the great weight their name carried, as she knew the same was true of Templars which had been why she perused them first to help with closing the Breach.

The Nevarran took a step toward her, and it was then she forgot that even as she stood taller than average, Cassandra could make her feel small, "And how many times will they be able to get out of war crimes with that excuse?" She looked to her fellow Hand, "Leliana?"

With a frustrated sigh, the former companion of the Hero of Ferelden spoke her piece, "Of course, I want those responsible brought to justice, but with the Inquisitor's memories returned to her, we know that all but Corypheus died in that explosion." Leliana's gaze lowered darkly, "He will pay in time, and the man responsible for the corruption of the Wardens is chained in a cage right now. Typically, I'm the last one to offer such mercy, but these Wardens, are not the guilty ones. Clarel is dead and so are all maleificar. The survivors are fools for falling for Erimond's lies, but they did not kill Most Holy." Letting the weight of her words settle, the Seeker's resolve seemed to waver.

Evelyn shrugged, "Do I even have the authority to judge Wardens?" Everyone looked to each other for an answer. "We are in Orlais, I would assume Emperor Gaspard had authority on all matters within his borders."

Cullen added, "This was a sanctioned military action, and as such, their crimes should be judged by the Emperor, and yet," he rubbed the back of his neck, craning it from side to side as he navigated the politics, "wasn't the Lady Ambassador seeking the final approval from various kingdoms about our authority over matters related to the Elder One?"

"But would we want help to judge them?" Leliana placed a hand on the war table, looking at her from under her cowl, "Go on asking for authority and you will find that you have none. The Inquisition is growing in power and status. Kings now see us as a threat to their authority as the Chantry did when we first emerged after the Conclave. Should they side with the winning horse while it benefits them?" Sister Nightingale held her hands out to the sides like a human scale, "or oppose it before it grows into something more dangerous that they can't control. They already know they cannot control you, Inquisitor, because of how you have shown them you are and because of your mark - our only salvation. Make no mistake that without it, holy or not, they would seek to replace you with a pawn of their own. This cannot happen. We must control what we can to our benefit."

Leliana's cold steely eyes remained locked on her, despite her point being passionately made. Evelyn agreed most ardently with her for she knew The Game and its role in politics. Gazing around at each face, with the exclusion of Josephine, she knew they all put the Inquisition first and foremost; she trusted them that they were not serving an alternate agenda.

"She's right," the Inquisitor's fiery resolve appeared in her eyes as she looked up from under her brow, "we must protect this." She motioned around the room at them. "We are the only people we can trust, the only ones who are looking at the larger picture. The Inquisition was founded by the Left and Right Hands of the Divine upon her demise in a time of crisis. We answer to no one, but the Divine, and in Her absence, we carry out Her directive and answer to ourselves." With a fortifying deep breath, she continued, "Cassandra, I can't see how casting out two hundred Grey Wardens will do any good, guilty or not. I would like to hear what the Ambassador's thoughts are on this. For now, we offer them sanctuary until we uncover those responsible. They will come back to Skyhold with us and I'll judge them then."

"Does this mean you won't be diverting to meet with Fairbanks?" Cullen asked. The Inquisitor rubbed her face wearily at being torn in too many directions and time of the essence. "May I suggest, Seeker Pentaghast lead the team to meet with Fairbanks and assess their immediate need for reinforcements? He may wish to speak with you personally, but who could deny the Right Hand of the Divine and your close companion? In the meantime, we deal with the Wardens and once that is finished, deploy soldiers to the Emerald Graves."

Looking to Cassandra who nodded at her reassuringly, Evelyn readily agreed to his plan. "Would you like me to ask for volunteers or would you like to choose your team?"

She made her signature disgusted grunt, "I'd rather you do it… but if you don't mind, I'd prefer Varric and Hawke not be assigned. I can only take so much of them, and after being trapped in the Fade with them they are too much."

Cullen shot her a suspicious look, but she laughed it off, "Fair enough. I'll go speak with each of them and see who's up for it. Is there anything else before we get packing?" Everyone shook their heads. "Excellent. Commander, please speak with Ser Stroud and arrange for him to prepare the Wardens to leave with us tomorrow and Sister Nightingale, please keep me abreast of any information you learn from our Venatori mage. I will write to Josephine and tell her of our discussion regarding the Wardens. Dismissed."

The Hands of the Divine quickly flew from the tent, both seemingly having urgent business, leaving her and the Commander alone once more. With a wan smile, she trudged over into his embrace.

She began laughing to herself, catching his attention, "Something amusing, Trevelyan?"

"Do you remember back at Haven when I was hounding you all day about releasing those mages that surrendered at the gate? And I interrupted you and Rylen talking after you called me beautiful?"

He chuckled merrily at the memory, "Yes, I do. I wanted to move my tent after each one of your visits so it'd take longer for you to find me."

"And when I bumped into you that same evening at the tavern…"

"You had successfully ruined my day and then night it seemed." He stared off with a small smile, "Though I can't say I was put off by bumping into you, I was angry at the fact that you brought red lyrium into camp."

"Your face was priceless!" She went on to mimic him, lowering her voice and creasing her brow, "Maker's breath!" Then you looked down at what little cleavage I have--"

"Hold on, I did not," he gave her a pointed look before his eyes darted about searching his memory.

"Yes, you did, it's alright though I forgive you." As she laughed she noticed a frown forming on his face, "Cullen?"

He gazed up at her worriedly, "I remember all that, but… I can't remember what happened afterward."

After blinking a few times, she stood and moved closer to him as he stared at the ground, "Henley had taken red lyrium and we all went after him." Evelyn's voice was low and soft as she led him through the summary of the events that night. How they found him deep in the woods with the help of their friends and Cullen having to carry him back to Adan. At the story's conclusion, he simply shook his head, with a grimace on his face still unable to remember it.

"It's the lyrium, it's starting," he scowled, wiping a hand down his face, "I shouldn't be surprised by this. I knew this would eventually happen." His muscles tensed, and his eyes darted about looking at everything but her.

Guiding him to sit on the single stool in the tent, she knelt beside him, "You may have forgotten, but I haven't." She tapped her head, "I have it all right here for you." Keeping calm, she tried to dispel his fears.

Turning his head to look at her, she saw a looming dread settling in his amber eyes, "How do I even know what else I've forgotten? Is this just the first instance or is it farther along than I know, because I can't bloody remember!"

"It's alright--"

"No, it's not! What if it was critical mission information or if meant life or death for our soldiers!" At his harsh tone, she backed away slightly, taking her hand from him. This was out of her depth, and aside from trying to comfort him, she didn't know what he needed. Maybe some space would be best, especially since they weren't completely back to normal themselves. Seeing her paralyzed, he placed his head back in his hands, "Leave me." Not looking back up, he was shutting her out purposely. With a hard swallow and silent nodding of her head, she stood and slowly left.

She packed in the solitude of her tent for the next two hours. It shouldn't have taken nearly that long, but she found herself staring off in deep thought often, forgetting what she was doing. How did such a pleasant conversation go to the Void so quickly? Realizing afterward that she had yet to send her letter to the Ambassador, Evelyn reluctantly walked to the Command Tent to fetch paper. Not wanting to look suspicious, she simply pushed in but found the place empty. With a sigh of relief, she sat back down and finished her letter. Placing it in the pile to be sent, she stopped suddenly seeing one addressed to Cullen's family. When a warning began ringing in her head and heart studying the way his handwriting messily wrote Mia's name on the outside, she flew out of the tent bumping smack into Rylen.

"Andraste's tits, oh! Your Worship, apologies for meeting you like this but..."

"Not now, Knight-Captain, I need to find the Commander," her urgency was clear, but he held a hand out blocking her path.

"Aye, and I was comin' to tell ye he's in a bad way speakin' to the Seeker now about resignin'."

"Did he tell you what happened?"

Nodding, Rylen's concern was clear, "He knows it to be expected, but I think with all the stress he's been under lately between the operation and..." he guiltily looked at her, "pardon my impertinence, but yerself, he's making it into somethin' larger than it is."

The Inquisitor sighed matching his expression, "Where are they speaking?"

"They're in the Fortress, in what used to be the armory. And lass," she had made her way around him already but stopped to look back, "I think he needs some of yer haughty noble sass to kick him in the arse." Smiling she nodded and briskly made her way into Adamant.

Preparing a lecture for him the entire way, she ignored the salutes that followed her there. With the ancient fortress cleared out in preparation to move tomorrow, it was easy to find where they were meeting, simply following the faint echo of their voices. Standing outside the door, she paused listening to the two argue back and forth for a minute. Cassandra repeated that he was still fit for duty while he spiraled. When she could no longer suffer his excuses, which helped her rage rise to a bitter simmer, she threw open the door. Her scared jaw was set, and her raptor eyes locked onto him. Under her glare, his anger suddenly faltered.

The armory was dark, with the two of them only lighting a couple of candles, which she remedied with a wave of her hand. The tall ceiling boasted a large chandelier and the crude iron candelabras huddled in the corners. The wax from the old tallow candles made the armory smell smoky, leaving sooty black streaks up the walls. There were a few wooden tables with weapons left laid out for the fortress' fallen defenders. Long commissioned flags boasting the Warden's griffon insignia hung still, now left forgotten in the once legendary stronghold. In the aftermath of being beaten by the siege engines, a portion of the ceiling had fallen letting in a dusty beam of sunlight.

Cassandra crossed her arms, leaning back slightly, "We could feel you coming from a mile away, Inquisitor. You should probably--"

"Save it, I'm here for him." She was well aware her aura was running hot.

Squaring his shoulders to her, he took a deep breath willing his voice to a formal tone, "Inquisitor, I regret to inform you--"

"Shut your fucking hole. I'm the one who will be doing the talking here, Commander." Stalking closer to him from the doorway, she continued, growling out the words, "I deny your request to resign based on your belief that you are unfit for command. Unless you tell us that you simply no longer wish to serve, I don't accept your resignation." A scowl formed on his handsome face as it dawned on him what she was doing. "Go on, tell me you'd rather return home to South Reach and ignore all this going on."

"That is not why I need to quit my post."

Holding a hand up to him, her aura was such an accidental spark of flame spurted along with her hand flick. Turning now to the Seeker, she asked, "What is your official assessment of his condition?"

"That the Commander is still of sound mind and judgment to continue in his current position. That one lost memory is nothing to panic over." Evelyn could see Cullen's temper rising as his face flushed. "Before you came, I was trying to get him to agree to see Enchanter Ilara to further assess his memory loss because for all we know this is the first and only one. Not to mention if it was caused by lyrium withdrawal or just natural."

He shot back, "You damn well know it's not natural!"

Cassandra's glare became more lethal at his tone, "Everyone forgets. Without proper tracking we can't know for sure, but," she faced her tentmate, "I believe that he is still fit for duty. He's shown no other signs that he cannot perform his duty unless it is as you say and he wants to quit."

"Don't do that," the Seeker shrugged at him, "what she's doing." He pointed at Evelyn with an accusatory finger. "There is no room for sentimentality here!"

The Seeker scoffed with a grunt, "Me? Sentimental? I've never been accused of it, especially while performing my duty."

"Cassandra has given her assessment." She paused for effect, glowering at him, "So, are you quitting or not?"

"And what of your feelings, Inquisitor? Would you placate my ego to save me? To save face? As if that was your responsibility?"

The air in the room felt like the inside of a bread oven. The molten mana of her core pumped her magic up her veins. She raised her chin, about to breathe fire, but Cassandra strode over to her and placed a glowing hand on her shoulder. The two locked eyes in trust, as the Seeker used her power to reduce her magical wrath before leaving, whispering that she'd give them some privacy. Thanks to the Seeker, they were about to have a much more civil conversation.

"Save face? That is my responsibility, though I think my image has been well-smeared about by recent events! What exactly did you think I was trying to do going along with Ryker's scheme? He threatened everything I hold dear and was also ready to sacrifice me to Corypheus if I didn't do as he said. Nevermind, that for months I was subjected to his abuse! That every day that man beat me and tortured me mentally in ways you couldn't fathom." Her hands came up to animate her point, "I had no one to confide in! Sure, Ilara knew, but she cried every time he laid a hand on me, so how could I bear to speak to her about what it was doing to me? Everything was just bottled up and all I could do was pretend that I was fine! But you had it worse did you?" Her anger was slowly devolving into tears.

"You think this is some contest for who had it the worst? I hate myself for every minute of every day that monster breathed the same air as you, especially when I could've killed him that first night! I hate that he touched you and did those things to you! And you're telling me, you couldn't have told me what was going on?"

She nodded her head, knowing even back then when it was all happening that this was how he was going to react. The re-emergence of all the frustrations that had crippled her came flooding back, "No, I couldn't! He had spies watching me! You know that, but this here now is not about us, it's about you." Evelyn tried to switch back to the problem at hand. She hadn't meant for the conversation to bring up the Ryker issue. "I mean really? One memory and you're ready to give up your duty; your career; your passion to go home and waste away as another Templar the Chantry broke? Unacceptable!"

"You are so concerned about my livelihood, why is that? Is it because you know the future I'd provide you wouldn't be up to Trevelyan standards?" She groaned as he once again referred back to their relationship problem, "What's wrong, don't want to live on a farm in Ferelden's countryside having to do actual work? We may be paid a decent wage now, but that will end when the Inquisition is dissolved. I don't see you coming with a dowry or inheritance that allows you to sit on your noble arse the rest of your days! Perhaps it would be best for you to go home to Ostwick. I'm sure your mother already has her next pick of a husband ready for you!"

"You want to go there do you?!" The Phoenix was yelling now despite Cassandra's assistance cooling her mana, "Go ahead, Cullen! Tell me that I'm no different than any other noble you've met! That my only motivation is money and power. That day in the War Room when I was forced to end things with you, I only said all that so you'd believe I was doing it for family."

"And that right there is the other issue!" He paused a moment, his rage too morphing into hurt, "You knew exactly what to say to get me to react the way you wanted. From questioning my health to what happened that day at breakfast. You played The Game and I was your pawn." Evelyn dipped her head in shame, for it was true. Hot tears began to stream down her cheeks. "But first, you had to degrade me by telling me you didn't think me capable of supporting you. Evelyn, I'd do anything for you!" She placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry, now wanting to take back the horrid words she had spewed moments earlier.

"I didn't mean it."

"Maybe not, but there was some truth to it. You seemed surprised when I told you I was thinking about a life after the Inquisition. Well, I tell you now, as my mind deteriorates and I become a burden, my family may be the only ones willing to care for me. They are also the only ones I'd be able to afford with the coin I make from this post. No Chantry home will take me for I'm not a Templar any longer, not to mention a commoner. Why would they make an exception for me?"

Evelyn scoffed, "Cullen, you are in better physical and mental shape than most men. Don't resign yourself to a bed after one slip of the mind. Maker, you're acting like an old man who forgot his own name! It was one insignificant memory." He exhaled sharply looking away as her words seemed to sink in. "I feel the same way about my mark. I don't know when or how it will happen, but something will. Until then, I just wanted to spend my time with you. After South Reach, I had never planned for Ryker to come back to haunt me. Maker, I should've made sure he was dead back in Ostwick. It was all my fault, and I'm sorry." When he stayed quiet, she sighed and began to trudge her way back to the door, tired of constantly dealing with this problem. In the deep recesses of her mind, she could hear Ryker having the last laugh. She just wished it'd go away. With a tired raspy voice, Evelyn sorrowfully admitted, "You know, this was not the way I saw this talk going all the times I envisioned it in my head. Maker, if you can ever find it in you to forgive me..."

Reaching the door, she hesitated and placed her forehead against it, shutting her eyes and the world out of her sight. Leaving now meant just more complications, but they both seemed to have hit a wall. The wound had been torn open and they both found it stung still. Steeling herself to face the world of violence and chaos beyond it, she grasped the handle weakly. With whatever willpower she had left, Evelyn squeezed the handle as if she were trying to choke it, but a presence hovering just behind her took her hand. Lifting it gently from the handle, he wove his fingers in hers, resting his head on the back of her shoulder.

"I want to forgive you, but... I'm stubborn." His simple phrase made her snort a laugh through her tears.

At his touch, her eyes grew heavy again, "You and me both." Releasing his hand to face him, she forced herself to look up into his face as the mark cast its green light on them. "Please don't resign, I can't do this without you. I don't want to admit that I need someone, having always been independent, but I do. I need you." Her brow knitted together at the confession of the weakness, but was it truly? To admit that she needed a man was no feebleness; he was her strength, support, and heart. No, it was a strength, for it felt like the two of them together could move the Frostbacks if they wished.

Studying her hard, she watched his eyes trace the scar on her jaw, up across the nick on her nose, to then gaze into her eyes. With a sigh that seemed to let go of the weight of the world, he softly spoke, "I will submit myself to a memory examination by Enchanter Ilara and continue in my current post until I am found unfit for command." Evelyn flopped her back against the door in relief, nodding her head. Stepping closer to brush his body against her, his hands went to steady himself on either side of the door. The gentle honey hue of his eyes was intensified by the glow of the candlelight in the room. "Maker knows, I do love you, Evelyn. You and I are like two hurricanes, but when we are together we always meet in the calm of the storms bellowing about us. I need you as much as you think you need me."

Shaking her head, the Phoenix cupped his face, desperation filling her voice, "I do need you, you silly man. Just let me love you as you are. There is nothing else I want."

Pulling his face to hers, she kissed him with a sweet longing as his hands circled her body pulling her even closer. The thin linen of their shirts was easy to manipulate, feeling it wash over her skin as he explored her upper body. She broke away from his lips as he trailed down, opening the lightly tanned expanse of her neck. His mouth ghosted along her skin giving her goosebumps, causing her chest to heave at the sensation. His usual scent of oak moss and elderflower was dulled from being out in the field, but his heady masculine musk was intoxicating.

"Cullen," he hummed in response to her whisper, as he devoured the space just under her jaw on her throat like a lion, "take me." His mouth stilled, only his hot breath now touched her, and he pulled away as if in disbelief at what he had heard. Leaning slowly in for her turn, nibbling and kissing up his jawline to his ear, she bit his ear lobe. His deep breaths were coming in faster and heavier. Laden with desire, her voice was breathy as she pleaded with him, "Take me here and let us bury it all. Please..." Coming back to face him, Cullen searched her eyes for the truth of her words before he pressed his forehead to hers nodding and holding her gaze in a deep understanding. If talking was not enough to move past their problems, more powerful emotions were needed.

Vaguely aware that his hands had gone to her wrists, distracted by the directness of his leonine gaze, his hands slid into hers as their fingers intertwined against the door. Trapped, a moan slipped from her when their hips met. The feel of his hardening manhood grinding into her made her chest tingle with a heat her mana could never replicate, never mind that of between her legs. Despite everything, she wanted more, pushing her breasts into his chest and arching her body against his rigid planes. Cullen's mouth domineered over hers, as she submitted to his adventurous tongue.

Reaching for the hem of his shirt, he let go of her briefly to throw it to the side, coming back down on her harder. Evelyn's legs quaked from the sheer force he commanded through his battle-hardened body loving his dominance. Tangling his hands in her shirt, he growled out an 'off' to which she happily complied, sheading it while he rid himself of his sword belt. Before he could see, too busy neatly setting aside his things, she pulled the tie of her breastband loose. As she rolled it up and over her, when it cleared her view she found him frozen staring at her in heated awe.

Yet, his eyes weren't locked on her bare breasts, but her scars. Since the Conclave, she had accumulated several ghastly scars. Between the ones on her left shoulder, chest, and leg, she wasn't sure which was visually more horrid. Despite being marked himself viciously about his upper body, it was different for men. It made him look rugged and all the more attractive, whereas Evelyn was led to believe such marks were unbecoming on women – her mother always having said so.

Regret surfaced in his eyes, "How could I ever have even thought of leaving you after all you've been through – after all we've put you through." She realized the weight that her earlier words placed on him when she begged him not to leave. Evelyn smiled lovingly at him as she slowly relieved herself of her pants, followed by her smalls, transforming his guilt into smoldering lust, "Maker, Eve..."

Untying the cord around her braid, she shook out her hair and closed the distance between him. Taking his hand in hers she glided it up and down her skin, leaving in its wake a trail of gooseflesh. "Here I am, Cullen. It doesn't matter what they do to my body, my heart beats only for you. No one can't take that away from me – from us." At a loss of words, the intensity behind his gaze spoke volumes. She saw every emotion swirling within him, but an expression of shame was the one to win out in the end. Knowing exactly what he was thinking, she pulled his face to hers whispering against it, "Don't you dare think that you don't deserve this – us. You've become so much more than your past, don't you see?" Frustration began welling up in her wanting to pound her fists against him until he stopped blaming himself for what happened at Kinloch Tower and Kirkwall.

One hand trailed down to his pants ties pulling them open, which was enough to shake him from his thoughts. His hands found her again, realizing a rougher approach was needed.

"Cullen," his eyes flicked up to hers on command, "give it all to me. I want your guilt, anger, frustration, pain; I want it all. Use me, I can take it." He was thinking hard about it, fighting a silent internal battle. "Let it go," he pressed her lips to his, "I love you."

Grabbing her shoulders, he pushed her back into the door. The force of it shook the doorframe and one hand snaked its way up her throat, holding her back from him. "You know my shame, my guilt. Even so, I need to ask, are you sure? Me?"

She knew what he meant; they were standing on the edge of a cliff, slowly getting ready to fall into the murky waters of the future below. There were no assurances of what resided in its depths, and he was asking her if this was what she wanted. Whether it be their love, his condition, her magic, or the world crisis at hand, nothing was certain. The heartache at the thought of what he was alluding to pertaining to him was choking her more so than the hand on her throat.

Evelyn slowly brought her mana forth; her brown irises glowed bright orange, she brushed her two-toned hair off her scarred shoulder, and then she held up her marked hand. "I think I could ask you the same." The green light sparked, and she slapped her hand down against the door, biting back the sting. "I'm not asking you to fuck me, I'm asking you to make love to me, Cullen."

The words finally got through his thick walls of resistance. She could almost see the portcullis lifting like a weight was being taken off him. He understood.

Evelyn guided the hand at her throat down her body, arching up into its calloused contours as it passed over a breast. Rolling her curves against it and his body, his doubts were replaced with desire. When they reached the spot between her hips, they both let out a groan feeling how wet she was. The shift in their energy was profound, for both had made their choice, neither wanting to go back.

Cullen's fingers began to work her without any more encouragement, allowing hers to finish relieving him of his pants and smalls. When they were gone and kicked to the side, the velvety shaft pressed hard on her stomach. Evelyn moaned at the contact, gyrating wantonly against his hand for more friction. Guiding her legs up around his waist, she held on tight to him, not relenting on her motions.

Her moves were causing him to make the odd misstep here and there as he tried to find a place to satisfy her. "Maker, woman, you're impatient."

She smiled against his lips at hearing the lightness of his mood return. "Can you blame me? I've wanted you for so long."

"And I you." He walked them over to one of the Warden's pendants and tore it down with an impressive tug. Seeing what he was doing, Evelyn relented for a moment while he draped the clean side over a pile of stuffed archery targets that were stored there. Gazing back at her, he asked, "Will this do?"

"Yes—" Before she could say more he threw her down on it. With a surprised gasp, she bounced on the lumpy surface, which flung her hair about.

When she pushed it all back, he was already pouncing on her, "You alright?"

"Cullen, I've been tail-whipped by a dragon, I think I can handle a little toss."

Climbing over her, he pinned her hips down as if she were a wild Avvar bride after him. Amusing as it was, when her eyes took in the sight of his manhood it was like an electric jolt of magic vibrating in her core. Though remembering how it tasted, she had yet to feel it throbbing and thrusting inside of her. His lips came down on her, but she greedily pushed her tongue into his, humming at the lingering taste of his black coffee on his breath from earlier. Holding his stubbly jaw lovingly, she submitted to his pace as he lowered himself pushing her legs apart.

Cullen dragged himself along her entrance, occasionally dipping his tip into her teasingly. When she realized what he was doing, she nipped his lip before doing the same to his neck. With a growl at the sudden pain, he buried himself in her, pushing in slowly. Evelyn spread herself wider, wanting—no, needing him to bottom out.

When he reached her cervix, he paused gazing down at her. Something of pure peace and fondness washed over him, and a smile pulled at their lips. Their joining was breathtaking, having never coupled for love. Reveling in how whole she felt after all this time, she let her muscles stretch and tighten around him, enjoying the way it made him groan.

Their eyes communicated through this new heightened physical connection. When he shifted his weight drawing out to thrust back in, his hands fisted the fine fabric of the flag beneath them. White-knuckling it, Cullen's pace increased, and his muscles visibly flexed. Each thrust coaxed melodic moans from her, arching her back up off the pendant. Her pert rosy nipples dragged along his chest, but before long they proved too tempting not to touch. His rough hand fondled one, making her writhe under him more.

"Sit up, my love," he obeyed, and the two reversed their positions. With him sitting, she impaled herself down on him. His mouth immediately latched to her throat roughly as his arm hugged her tight against his sculpted body. Rocking against him, fully joined, it felt so right her eyes were rolling back in her head, "Ah, Cullen!" The change made his cock hit all the right spots, and her inner walls fluttered.

He growled against her neck, when she clamped down around him, "Keep doing that and I won't last long, Eve. Maker, you feel so good, like you were made for me." She couldn't help but smile at the way he affectionately spoke to her. Aside from calling her 'Trevelyan' he didn't use another nickname for her, and as no one called her 'Eve' it made it all the more perfect. His hips jerked, greedily wanting more friction, chasing the end with her. She didn't care if it was short and sweet, there would be time later to draw out their pleasure.

Her fingers grabbed and carded through this thick golden hair as she spoke into it, "Come with me, I need to feel it." There was no objection on his end, so she feverishly worked her hips with his assistance holding her ass firmly. Cullen leaned slightly back more, reaching deeper inside of her, "Yes, Cullen! Oh—" Evelyn's release was a blinding explosion that echoed about the spacious room. The flame of the candles grew unnaturally tall and volatile as they sparked and sputtered. The bloom of warmth spreading within her womb made her tremble, feeling his cock pulsate with each burst. Cullen's choked roar was cut off when she crashed her lips into his from above. When their cries ended, all the candlelight was snuffed, leaving them in the dark.

After a minute she waved her hand about relighting the armory. Watching his chest heave, he fell back against the targets before guiding her down against him. As she did, regrettably he slid out of her, making her miss him already. Cullen's arm was quick to hug her close to him despite the sticky mess and sweat moistening their skin. "I'm sorry, it has been a while," he panted.

Evelyn looked up with an amused smile, "It was perfect." Turning to face him, her fingers gently caressed his relaxed stomach muscles up and down, "That was better than anything I dreamt up."

He chuckled, combing his fingers through her hair, "A crumbling Warden fortress in the middle of the desert was better?"

She shrugged, "Yes, for who could've thought that one up?" Sitting up she dug out their handkerchiefs to clean up. Handing him one, she felt a wet trickle run down her leg. Cullen saw it and a smirk pulled at his scarred lip admiring the view. Evelyn couldn't help but mirror it glad to have been claimed by such a man – her man. Finger-combing her hair, she began to re-braid it with her practiced efficiency. The blonde ends stood out against her new tan from the dry desert sun. "What about you?"

"I had a bit more comfort envisioned," he sat up joining her, looking about and rubbing the back of his head, "you know, at least one pillow." After finishing her braid, she leaned over to him for another passionate kiss, seeing him start to endearingly fret. His fingers came up and lingered gently on the rosy scar on the inside of her right breast, tenderly caressing it.

Pulling back with a small laugh, she couldn't help but tease him, "Well, next time a fit of passion hits me I'll make sure there's a pillow around for your delicate head, Rutherford." She mussed his thick hair further, liking the way it softened his controlled appearance. Before he could grab her, she stood deftly dodging his arms, and made her way to dress, watching him huff.

"By the way... I do forgive you." She turned to face him suddenly. "It had been easier to stay mad than to confront it. You of all people know how I get with this sort of thing." She truly did, the only difference being that this time the wound was still fresh rather than a years-old scar. They had been through the cycles of their acceptance of their trauma multiple times, and by far, Cullen always put up the hardest fight.

Her heart leaped in her chest, "I do know. We'll get through it like everything else." Locking eyes, hers conveyed the depth of what those words meant to her – hope. Evelyn couldn't help but wear a smitten smile on her face as they dressed.

Evelyn felt more unburdened than she had in months. The first thing she wanted to do was speak to Bull and Rocky about destroying the rest of the ancient fortress before they left. Aside from the obvious reasons for it, she had been very serious about burying the issues once and for all between her and Cullen. With her personal affairs in relative order and their hearts mended, vibrancy could return to her life; a life with Cullen in it.

Finally, they had found their way out of the tempest they had been lost in for months. Like a ship at sea, the clear skies brought clarity and direction to where they wanted to go in their relationship. If the conditions stayed favorable, they were sailing towards calm seas and bright sunny days. The waters would test them, but they had navigated perhaps the worst of storms and grew stronger from it. Come what may, she was confident they'd face it together next time - though she would be damned before something else parted them.

On their walk back to camp, their quiet companionship was interrupted, when he stopped suddenly. He blushed lowering his voice, "Um, what were you planning on doing about..." he made a vague gesture to their lower regions.

"I'm headed to see Ilara before I do anything else, don't worry."

"Right," he swallowed hard and stiffened at the topic, resuming their walk. Gazing over at him out of the corner of her eye, she bit back the laugh knowing now was not the time. Not when they were now among their soldiers. Parting with nods, the couple went in separate directions having work to do though no doubt that the very same work would bring them back together.

At the healer's tent, her best friend had her nose stuck in a medical log. Upon her approach, she noticed her good mood, "Evie, is everything alright?"

"I need a favor," she intoned lowering her voice. "I need some witherstalk."

"For what?"

She huffed, "Do you absolutely have to know why I need it?"

"I keep a detailed medical log, something you agreed I should do. I also need to account for all my supplies to Quartermaster Morris."

"Fine, it's cramps."

"No, it's not. You and I are on the same cycle." Evelyn frowned and crossed her arms having been caught in a lie. "Fess up, what is it?" Knowing there was only a select number of things Witherstalk treated, like preventing pregnancy, Ilara narrowed her eyes on her. "Evie?"

"Can it be left out of your pristine medical log? Inquisitor confidentiality, something like that?" Smiling rather smugly, her friend nodded. Evelyn sighed, though she couldn't suppress a twitch of a smile, "I may have made up with a certain tall, blonde, and handsome man." Ilara's signature squeal rose up as her face scrunched up giddily. Needing to put a stop to it, she put her in a light headlock facing one of the canvas sides of the tent. "Lar, you need to try and not explode here."

Giving her a stern look, the pretty mage deflated, as she pushed away from her grasp and rummaged through her herbal supplies that she had packed for the trip home. Placing it in a small pouch and handing it to Evelyn, the Enchanter crossed her arms, "I'll be finding you later, and you will tell me all the details and let me squeal all I want in a secluded part of camp."

"If I must—"

"You must."

---

Back at the Command Tent, he was pleased to see Rylen was coordinating everything in his short absence. "Ah, Commander, everything 'ere is progressing smoothly. We should be ready to depart on schedule."

"Very good, no trouble then?"

He leveled him a pointed look, "Not besides you, ya stubborn arse."

Returning the look to his good friend, he rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, "The matter has been settled."

"And?"

"And... I'm not resigning."

Rylen's steel eyes brightened, "I knew she'd convince ye. Good thing I tattled on ye to the Inquisitor." He had been wondering how she found out, wanting to keep her out of it for the very reason that of all people she knew how to disarm him – she had been doing it since they met. Striding over to clap him on the shoulders, glad to know he was alright, the Marcher couldn't contain his smile, "I'm here for whatever ye need, and—hold on, what's that?"

Cullen's brow creased, "What's what?"

"Ye sly fennec. I'm happy to see ye and Evie are doing very well, it would seem." He gave his second a confused look, "You may want to wear a higher-collared shirt though. Ye have a bite mark the size and color of a plum on yer neck."

He slapped a hand to where she bit him, "Maker's breath, is it that bad? I just walked through camp like this?"

Rylen cringed slightly, "Well, at a glance, they may not have noticed, but ye don't need the rumor mill to start up just as we're headin' back." Nodding his head, the Commander went to leave before he was called back, "So how was it?" When he didn't answer right away, the Knight-Captain rolled his eyes with some exasperation, "The sex, ye nug-brain!"

In any other circumstance, to any other person, he would've been flustered, but the lingering effects of actually having been intimate with a woman – and Evelyn no less – had him riding a high. "Let's just say she plans on leveling the fort before we leave."

His wide eyes blinked a few times when a runner appeared. Covering the bite with his hand, Cullen quickly began the short walk back to his tent for a new shirt. Taking the message, Rylen called out to his retreating back, "Very good, Commander!" One look back showed the Marcher chuckling to himself shaking his head. Very good indeed.

Notes:

Greetings readers!

Apologies for the wait on chapters for all my works, but I can promise the next chapter of Advent of the Phoenix will be out next! With any luck I'll have it for you by the weekend. I don't believe in publishing chapters that are half-assed or unedited, which is another reason for delays. A huge shoutout to the lovely IrinaPalmova for always editing my chapters. If you haven't check out her work, I highly recommend it!

I hope you enjoyed their big moment, now on to more fun to come with our new couple!

Talk to you soon!
Munklington

Chapter 30: Strange Bedfellows

Summary:

Back at Skyhold an unexpected visitor awaits them and the fate of the Wardens is decided.

It had been a busy afternoon, having arrived at Skyhold around midday. Since they left camp at dawn, eager to return home, the most Cullen saw of Evelyn was the last few miles of their journey as they neared Skyhold. Trying to save himself as much time as possible, he had been riding up and down the column speaking with his officers, diving up the tasks that needed to be done upon their arrival. By the time it was all sorted, he fell in beside the Inquisitor at the front of the army for the Ambassador's fanfare welcome she planned - and had thankfully warned them about yesterday via raven. Evelyn wore her older set of armor having destroyed the one her father had made, much to Josephine's dismay, who had a ceremonial set sent to her. He too wore a secondary set of armor since it had the benefit of not smelling of demon bile. With Inquisition banners flowing in the stiff mountain breeze, the sun high in the sky, and the whole of Skyhold's residents and guests turned out for their return, it certainly was a sight to behold.

With only him by Evelyn’s side - Leliana never liked people to know of her presence - sharing the moment of his first major victory with her smiling beside him was surreal. For all the pain Adamant had brought them, it had also bridged the chasm that had been between them. Yet, after their reconciliation inside the fortress, there were few opportunities for them to steal some time together. Even so, just to be in each other's company and enjoy the repour they once had was enough to sate him. He found it was the little things, such as catching her staring at him while with the soldiers or grazing a hand or finger against him when no one was looking.

The moment the two were spotted on their mounts, the spectators lining the ramparts cheered wildly. He hated this sort of attention - any attention really, especially if Orlesians were involved. Part of him wished he had gone with Leliana, but Josephine had specifically mentioned he escorted the Inquisitor. It was his job after all, even if the Ambassador did not outline it for him in explicitly clear and concise terms: I kindly request that the Commander accompany the Inquisitor by her side, rather than blending into the ranks. I prefer to avoid any misunderstanding of his role in this victory. Furthermore, I would appreciate it if you could remind your valet to polish your armor. While engaging in battle is commendable, maintaining a proper appearance reflects positively on our collective image. And remember to wear a smile. Your cooperation in this matter is greatly appreciated.

"Wave and smile, Commander," Evelyn politely reminded him as they crested the hill making their way to the drawbridge. Her face was a serene façade paired with a bright smile as she began slipping into her role as Inquisitor. She lifted her marked hand to wave at those hanging off the crenellation, who they could just make out from their position. The decorative Inquisition golden-plated armor she was ordered to wear looked more like a red silk-blend formal gown with armor thrown over it. "What's wrong?" She elongated in a teasing tone as she threw a leg over her horse towards him to ride side saddle the remainder of the way. It was at times like these that he was reminded of her noble upbringing. While she complained at times, she mostly did as Josephine bid, knowing full well that each public appearance of hers was a different sort of battle.

"I'm simply trying to figure out how anyone would believe you fought in combat like that."

"Should we test it on the training grounds for fun later?" Her mirth was contagious and he ended up smiling.

"No need for a test, I could defeat you in one move."

"Oh?"

"I'd just pull your skirt over your head." Evelyn threw a surprised glance over at him as if he had just insulted her maiden virtue. "If I wrap it all about you, it'll catch on all those raised embellishments on that poor excuse for plating and you'll be packed in there like sausage."

She groaned, "Ugh, don't talk about food, I'm starving."

In an attempt to keep himself distracted from the many eyes staring at them as they approached the drawbridge, he inquired, "Didn't you eat at our last stop? I swore I saw you with a hunk of cheese the size of my fist as you headed into your tent to change."

She lowered an unamused glare at him, "Yes, but it was taken from me. My new lady's maid, Saphira, who Josephine sent along with the dress, is a stickler and seized it from me. She claimed I wouldn't fit in my corset if I ate it." Evelyn straightened her back and shoulders at the mention of the undergarment.

"I'm surprised the poor girl still retains her hand. I know how you get when you're hungry." He shook his head for emphasis.

They both bit back a laugh, "I did not maim her, Commander. And if you continue to tease me, I'll burn your pants off in front of the entirety of Skyhold."

"Maker's breath, isn't this bad enough," he said, motioning to the crowd as they crossed into the fortress. Thinking he was waving to them, many responded in kind making him awkwardly grab at the reigns while blushing. The two dismounted in practiced unison in the Lower Courtyard where Master Dennet's grooms were waiting to take their mounts. Offering her his arm, the two methodically made their way through the maze of congratulatory people.

"I wouldn't dare fluster you so, and besides, look. I think we have a bigger issue." As they walked up the long flights of steps to where the Ambassador stood, to their shock waited Queen Elissa Cousland, Warden-Commander of Ferelden, beside her. When they passed under the archway beneath where they stood and out of sight, they shared a knowing look. The Queen's ominous presence did not bode well, no doubt here about the displaced Grey Wardens. Noticing the tension in her jaw, his own flexed wondering what awaited them atop the next landing. Ascending the rest of the way, Josephine began her speech, first congratulating them on their victory before welcoming all the soldiers home. The queen was then introduced, though they had already met over a decade ago. Seeing her was…

Cullen swallowed hard trying to reign in his treacherous mind. He froze in his bow, and it wasn't until the Inquisitor's elbow nudged him that he rigidly stood at attention. Ignoring him, the queen addressed the gathering, but he was too busy trying to block out the screams of Kinloch Tower to bother understanding what she was saying. His breathing hastened as cold beads of sweat dotted his brow. A warmth shifted towards him, attempting to discreetly help tether him to reality. As he had done before, he picked apart the visions all the while concentrating on Evelyn's touch and smell hoping it would stop soon. Her dress fluttered over to him, grazing his fingers, which he grabbed feeling the smooth texture against his skin. The amount of scented oil she wore was overcompensating for the earthy musk from being in the field. It was a fact that he was grateful for at this moment, as he envisioned one of the demon's bloody carcass sacs. The spicy sweet smell banished it from his mind, revealing the lunacy of it smelling so nicely. He couldn't close his eyes, resorting to simply blinking away the hallucination because he was in front of the entirety of the Inquisition. Something like that would certainly be noticed, as would Evelyn's closeness, but better that than him ranting and raving publically. Calming, after what seemed like an eternity, the pattern of his breath slowed and he blinked dispelling the illusion around him for good.

Seemingly out of thin air, Leliana appeared on his other flank and protectively stood slightly in front of him as the Hero of Ferelden spun on her heel. Apparently, his brief lapse only lasted through her speech. "Elissa," the two nodded with a warm smile and Sister Nightingale guided her into the Great Hall alongside the Ambassador. The room had been cleared to give them some privacy with the queen, so the only ones walking about were the staff. Once inside the foyer, she spoke again turning to the couple behind them, "Inquisitor, there is an urgent message from Seeker Pentaghast here for you."

Handing the letter over and opening it with practiced speed, Evelyn gave a heavy sigh, "I should respond to this right away. Commander, I'll need your assistance as well. Please excuse us for a moment, Your Majesty."

"Josie, Elissa, and I will go on ahead. Meet us in Josie's office afterward." With a conspiratorial look to the Inquisitor, Leliana hooked arms with the queen chatting happily as they walked through the large hall.

Pushing him just to the side of the large doors out of sight, she studied him with soft concern, "Are you alright? It was her, wasn't it?" He nodded in response, unable to trust his voice. Still taking shallow breaths, she stood as a watchful guardian making sure they were not being observed as he composed himself. Satisfied, Evelyn took his arms and placed them around her hips, pulling his head down, supporting a third of his weight as he shut out the world for a moment. With his head turned to the side against her neck, her soft delicate skin dominated his sight and scent comforting him. Her hand rested on his out-turned ear muffling the sounds of the room, so all he could hear was her heartbeat. The moment of serenity she created, all the while swiveling her head on alert, was exactly what he needed. When he felt like himself, his hands gripped her middle and pushed up off her, unable to help deflating in shame. Stepping closer, her eyes scolded him, "None of that now."

Clearing his throat having no stomach to try and fight her, he motioned to the missive in her hand, "What did Cassandra say?"

Evelyn smiled smugly with a small chuckle, "Look for yourself." Passing him the note, all that was written on it was 'Take your time.' He should've known that Leliana had been aware of his episode, which explained her odd appearance out on the landing. Cullen exhaled forcefully, more angry at himself than anything. As if knowing his thoughts, the beautiful woman beside him slid her fingers along his jaw redirecting his gaze to her, "Don't you dare question being here. This had nothing to do with lyrium or your memory. We all care for you, and we are a team."

"But if I'm more trouble than I'm worth…"

Her finger jabbed him on the chestplate, "You have just planned and executed a successful siege against Adamant Fortress, Grey Wardens, demons, a dragon, and one deranged Venatori mage. Our losses were less than anything you had estimated, and the operation went according to plan… well, mostly, but you know I always like to make things more difficult for you." Her cheeky smile was bright, despite the lambent light of the corner they had tucked themselves into.

"I will admit, being swatted off the ramparts and opening a rift into the Fade was not something I anticipated. Would it kill you to be boring every once in a while?"

Unable to stop a full toothy grin, she leaned against him laughing, "Scared I'll give you more gray hair, Rutherford?"

He simply laughed along with her, "I'd be careful yourself, Trevelyan."

Pushing away, a look of horror was slapped on her face suddenly, as her eyes went wide. "You're joking, right? Cullen, tell me you're joking. I don't have gray hair. That's ridiculous… y-you know because of my mutation." She scoffed grumbling, "I don't have gray hair."

He began walking towards Josephine's office teasingly, "Don't we have a guest we need to placate?" Quickly following him, the rest of the way she muttered about her hair, but before they reached the door, he softly reassured her she wasn't graying, before opening the door for her. With a haughty look, she shrugged a shoulder at him with a 'I knew that.'

That was the end of their light banter as the mask of the Inquisitor was quickly donned as they joined the ladies sitting about in the Ambassador's office. An elegant seating area was arranged beside the large fireplace. It was as if Josephine squeezed all the trappings of a fashionable parlor into her rustic corner of the castle. Inquisition banners hung behind her desk on three of the walls, while on the fourth - beside the door - was one of the large golden murals the Inquisitor found displayed with a curated plaque. Above the fireplace were several other intriguing artifacts, no doubt to be strategically used as conversation starters with the visiting dignitaries.

"I apologize for the delay, Your Majesty. I trust these two have been entertaining you." There was not enough seating for the two of them, so naturally he offered Evelyn the seat while he paced about the office. After being on a horse for so long, his legs were restless, made only worse by his nervousness of looking upon the queen again. Perhaps if he kept himself distracted and just got used to her voice first, he could avoid another relapse. Looking about the room for a distraction, his eyes landed on the colorful arrangement brightening the Ambassador's desk. A fresh bouquet consisting of wildflowers from the outlying forest was placed in an expensive vase on the corner of her desk. After a bow to the queen in greeting once more, he moved to stand against the sturdy piece of furniture so he could still look as if he was engaged in the conversation.

"They have, Inquisitor, but today I'm here strictly as the Warden-Commander of Ferelden. As I've come to hear it from Arl Teagan, you are a woman of purpose, of which I can appreciate. Ambassador Montilyet has told us that you've saved a large number of our wayward brethren. I would very much like them released to me immediately."

"Commander," he picked his head up, "please have someone send for Ser Stroud. I believe he should be here for this."

"At once," he strode to the door, ordering one of the guards to find the man. He spoke to the Inquisitor on his way back to resume station beside the desk, "It may take some time for them to retrieve him from the training grounds, where our soldiers readied an area for them to be quartered. No doubt he's there." A glance from her told him to be on guard as she broke the news to Warden-Commander Cousland of the true extent of what had happened at Adamant. Leaning once more against it, he bumped it a tad too hard and a note fell from the flowers.

As it lay open, Cullen did a double-take as he read the short note that was hidden within it. Instinctually, he gazed up at Josephine, who seemed to blush at his stare. Realizing that he had just made the terrible mistake of getting himself involved in something of a personal nature, he blinked a few times as if it'd dispel the words of Blackwall's chivalrous poem from his memory. Unfortunately, his traitorous mind found itself stuck on fathoming the possibility of the odd pairing: Lady Montilyet and Blackwall?

"Before he arrives, there is a delicate matter we should discuss," thankfully disrupting his inappropriate and irrelevant train of thought. He pushed off the desk to reposition himself just at the Inquisitor's back and slightly to the side. Cullen watched the exchange of looks as Evelyn gave a pointed one to Leliana, who was seated beside the Hero. Turning slightly more to face her on the loveseat, the Spymaster's face was set forebodingly in a frown. "Before the battle, we came across something that could cause public outrage against the Wardens." Holding his breath, he peered up to finally gaze upon their prestigious visitor.

The queen didn't blink, but stared hard at Evelyn, "By all means, do not spare me. I'm well accustomed to bad news."

Observing these two women was like witnessing the final match of the Grand Tourney: The Hero of Ferelden versus the Inquisitor; the latter being the slightly younger up-and-coming challenger. Both of noble lineage, they seemed to be on equal ground when it came to intelligence having a wealth of experience with politics. Cullen found a number of similar characteristics between the two which was slightly unsettling, as he was still trying to repress the disquiet of his mind. Their brown eyes were sharp and perceptive constantly scanning each other for the slightest twitch. Both had striking features, with looks leaning more toward alluring than conventionally pretty as one would suspect from high-borns. The Warden-Commander had a notable scar crossing her high cheekbone, whereas Evelyn's made her look fiercer especially when she set her jaw. The only advantage each woman held was that Elissa was indeed a queen, and Evelyn was surrounded by her advisors.

"Very well," the Inquisitor rested both arms out on the plush chair, "before the battle at Adamant, we found a mass grave of bodies of those the Warden mages were sacrificing, and unfortunately… they were not all Wardens."

The queen placed her cup and saucer down without a clink, "I see." There was a pause as she was clearing thinking over the implications. "And who is all privy to this information?" Her hands folded neatly in her lap as she calmly waited.

"Just my advisors here and some of the Spymaster's agents. Not even Ser Stroud is aware."

Elissa's piercing eyes flitted around to all of them in turn, not moving her head, "And you are planning to keep this a secret?"

Evelyn nodded, "It is one thing to sacrifice members of your own order, it is another to waste the lives of those uninitiated and innocent while under the direction of a Tevinter Magister. If word were to get out, I'm not sure blaming it all on Lord Erimond will sate public outrage."

At that, the Warden-Commander's tough exterior finally succumbed to the seriousness of the revelation. Glancing at Leliana with fondness, no doubt knowing it was she who counseled discretion, Elissa's facial muscles softened, "You were right to withhold this information. I hope you would agree that Thedas cannot survive without the Grey Wardens." The Inquisitor nodded easing out of her own tough mask. "As it stands, peace has never been kind to our order. We always seem to find trouble in our vigilance, be it through the Elder One's treachery or our own. I'm sure Leliana has told you we are struggling to maintain our numbers as it is, a fact that few know as well. As the news of the Battle of Adamant spreads, it will make that task even more difficult. Clarel was a good woman, but it seems history will blacken her name despite the complexity of the truth. The loss of all the Orleasian mages is a devastating blow to us along with the other casualties. Yet, I have been assured again by Arl Teagan and Lady Montilyet that you laid siege with the intention of saving as many as you could." Elissa's demeanor was more accusatory now, wanting to be certain.

The Warden-Commander looked at him then at the Inquisitor, but her resolve didn't waver, "I assure you, and the Commander here can contest, that I made sure both Warden Blackwall and Stroud were able to negotiate a surrender with every soldier possible. The mages had been possessed by demons and we both know that is as unfortunate as it is irreversible."

Feeling the need to validate her words, Cullen found his voice, "Let us not forget that it was Warden-Commander Clarel who allowed this corruption in their ranks. We simply responded to the threat, without the aid of Emperor Gaspard or the other Grey Warden of Thedas."

Squinting at him, the Hero of Ferelden looked him over skeptically. No doubt if Leliana had been corresponding with her about key members of the Inquisition she mentioned the incident involving him at Kinloch Tower. "You are not wrong, Commander, but politics between Ferelden and Orlais have always been tumultuous, be it between monarchs or Wardens. There is no Blight, so our entry into Orlais would've been met with hostility. Emperor Gaspard will have no foreign armies cross his border for any reason, except for the Inquisition it seems. The late Empress Celene was much more diplomatic, cooperative, and understanding of the importance of preserving our lands, but once Gaspard rebuilds his empire, there will be a great war." Her ominous words made his gut uneasy at the prospect of another war between the two neighboring kingdoms - one being his homeland. She turned her attention back on Evelyn now, "You, Inquisitor, have guaranteed the coming storm by placing him on the throne."

Cullen held his breath as his love scoffed at the queen, which made him realize the kind of job he'd have in the future should she mouth off to the wrong person. Especially if she had no qualms about snubbing a queen of all… Maker’s breath, she was the Hero of Ferelden! As they conversed, he went through a mental checklist of how well-equipped he would be if Elissa decided to lash out at the insult. "Given my choices between him and Ambassador Briala, I chose stability." Elissa seemed thoughtful as she listened, "Briala harbored loyalty to no one, not even Orlais. If she ascended the throne, another civil war would've broken out that very night, and one that would see the elves of Thedas targeted. It would've resulted in a war of race, one that would've spread beyond the borders - into your borders to be precise. Ailenages would rise up and rivers of blood would run through the streets of Ferelden's cities." Evelyn paused, "At least with Gaspard he's the monster you know and there are diplomatic measures that you can take to protect your people. Not to mention the fact, that his military experience and reputation alone will hold Tevinter at bay from invading the south. Either way, he's weak right now, giving you the time to consider your options."

Surprisingly, the queen chuckled, making all the advisors shoot relieved glances at each other. "You speak true, Inquisitor. It's nice to meet a woman who stands by her decisions."

"Evelyn, please."

"Elissa," the Hero fired back, but looked to Leliana, "I have to say, when you insisted I come to meet the Herald months ago, I had no idea she'd be so reasonable. I expected some Chantry zealot, spewing the lies the hidden powers of the world want us to, to keep the sheep in line. I can see now why they are beginning to fear her influence." Cullen watched Evelyn visibly swallow. He remembered back to how anxious she was after Haven was destroyed when it was just Corypheus she had to worry about, but now others were wishing to undermine her. Feeling his heart beat faster at the thought of the unseen dangers, he couldn't help but place his hand on the pommel of his sword. "I would very much like to know your thoughts on several subjects, Evelyn."

"And who is I'd be speaking with: the queen, the Warden, or the Hero of Ferelden?"

She shook her head, "None of them. You'd speak with Elissa Cousland." The Phoenix snorted a laugh at the sentiment and even he felt his facial muscles twitch. "I'm interested to see if we share any common goals, ones that would benefit Ferelden and the Inquisition. I may not be able to aid you as openly as politics allow us to, but your Spymaster knows how to farrier messages back and forth without raising suspicion."

"That certainly piques my interest." There was a knock on the door, and in walked Ser Stroud. The queen leaned forward lowering her voice, but Cullen was too distracted by the interruption that all he was able to separate from Stroud's heavy intonation echoing through the chamber was Evelyn's reply of, 'Dinner it is.' After the introductions, their friendly chat returned to one of formal business, "Ser Stroud, The Warden-Commander has offered to provide the Orlesian Wardens with refuge. What say you?"

Stroud seemed slightly taken back, "That is extremely generous, of our Ferelden brothers and sisters. Thank you, Warden-Commander." He turned back to the Inquisitor, "If it's alright with Your Worship, I'd like to accept the offer. The Inquisition has done enough to help the Grey Wardens, I'd hate to keep imposing on you when you have the Elder One to defeat."

"I will grant the request and defer judgment of the Wardens to its highest-ranking members under one stipulation… that should the Inquisition require the services of Wardens in its fight against Corypheus, that you answer my call." Evelyn's words quieted the room, as the Warden-Commander thought it over for any pitfalls. Cullen thought her terms were more than fair, even too lenient given the consequences of what may have happened if the Inquisition failed. Yet, he understood not wanting to get the Inquisition involved in the messy politics of dealing out "justice" in whatever form that took. He could hear the uproar now of how the Inquisitor thought herself so mighty as to surpass the authority of all but the Maker Himself. Thinking back to the queen alluding to enemies abound waiting for their chance to strike, who would seize the opportunity in this case? The decision to leave the judgment of Wardens to Wardens was both practical and prudent. As far as the Inquisition was concerned, this was the best possible option to pair its military strength with its diplomatic prowess.

Queen Elissa studied Evelyn with an air of uncertainty, "That's all the Inquisition would ask of us?"

The Inquisitor looked at each one of her advisors for approval. The ladies just sat back and nodded content with the terms, and as nothing more came to mind, he set his jaw and gave a firm nod as well. They had discussed it, but never settled on a course of action, and with Elissa's surprise visit, Evelyn was forced to make this decision alone. "I speak for all of us when I say that the Elder One and his army are a threat to everyone, but the powers that be seem to be leaving it all up to us to deal with - no offense meant to you personally, Your Majesty. Yet, they will gripe that we are becoming too powerful without an elected Divine to steward us. The way I see it," Evelyn sat back tenting her hands, "I don't care if I have their permission to do what must be done to save the world. Something I'm sure you can appreciate." She directed the comment at the queen who smirked. "What I would like is to have allies who we can trust and who trust us in return to do the right thing by the people of Thedas when immediate action is called for."

"Isn't that what we Wardens do, save the world? Or in this case, help save the world." Elissa glanced at Stroud who gave her a suave nod. "We accept the Inquisition's terms. If you call Inquisitor, we will come."

With a smug expression, she looked up at him contently though the others would have trouble seeing it at the angle they were at. "Commander, would you have some soldier assist them in reading themselves to leave…?" she turned from him to the others, waving her hand in question.

"Tomorrow, if we can manage it. At least the men would have the rest of today to rest before having to set out once more."

"Very good," he bowed to the women and took Stroud with him, "To work?" Grateful for the distraction and an excuse if the Ambassador requested his presence at dinner, the two men walked to his office to work out the particulars. Evelyn seemed to have things well in hand with the queen, whom he hoped he never had the pleasure of seeing again.

 

---

 

After dressing for dinner intrigued at the prospect of gaining a secret ally - and it being the Hero of Ferelden, no less - she hurried down in a casual forest green silk dress. The neckline was wide but not deep, and she wore her two-toned hair of mahogany and birch to one side. Having expressly desired a private conversation over dinner, only Josephine was planning to join them as her other two advisors regrettably had matters to attend to having just returned. She had successfully given Cullen enough to do to dodge the invite, and she was almost certain Leliana declined knowing exactly what was going to be said already. To be honest, she had a pile of work on her desk as well, but when the Hero of Ferelden wants to discuss several issues facing Thedas and offers her aid, that pile can suddenly wait another day.

Entering the Great Hall, the guards announced her arrival at the orders of Josephine, still trying to impress Her Majesty with all the pomp. Before he could get halfway through her many titles, she squeezed the man's shoulder who was speaking, whispering with a hint of sarcasm, "That's plenty, thank you." The queen was already seated waiting for her, and she dismissed the nobles who were beginning to stand with a few stern waves of her marked hand. Sitting at the head of the table beside her guest with a huff, an amused smirk twitched at Elissa's lips. "Maker, I'm lucky they don't inform the keep when I make a bowel movement. Can't a woman just walk into a room for a meal? Our soldiers already seem to know too much providing these nobles with ample entertainment when asked." She gave the Ambassador - who was seated to her left - a pointed look.

Elissa chuckled, "It's the worst, but unfortunately I've grown used to it. I didn't have a fortress full of gossiping people, but every town or city I passed through made up plenty of tall tales."

Evelyn reminisced about the myriad of wild stories she had heard, musing, "Among them all, I must admit my favorite was the legend of your solitary escape from Fort Drakon, stark naked."

The Hero nearly choked on her wine, "That one is true, except I stole a guard uniform and had assistance from Leliana and my Mabari in escaping. It's utterly ridiculous that people would honestly think I wouldn't try to arm myself. I suppose I did distract the guards a bit in getting the key…" She threw Evelyn a cheeky smile. "You know, while I was dressing, I remembered that my mother had been looking to marry me off to a Trevelyan before the Blight hit."

"If there is a silver lining to that awful time," she placed a consoling hand on the queen's, "it is that bringing you and King Alistair together saved you from a truly frightful mother-in-law." They all shared a light laugh as everyone had now heard of the theatrics her mother had brought to Skyhold.

"Even so, treasure the time you have with her, you never know what the Maker has in store for us."

"I wholeheartedly share the sentiment, but it's different for us mages from a noble house. My mother hated me for it and my first two years in the Circle she never spoke to me. I was only ten. Many mages of noble birth suffer the same shunning or disinheritance altogether. Their parents get angry they wasted years of time and effort training them to be a pawn in their schemes."

"I'm sorry for your trials, and I can sympathize, for joining the Wardens saw me stripped of the status my family name granted."

The mage sighed, "It's not about the inheritance, it's about the treatment and perception of mages."

"I take it then you are against reinstating the Circles?" Evelyn leaned back, remembering that even it was a partial jest, she had warned Her Majesty about her opinions. As if reading her mind, Elissa chuckled lightly to herself knowing the deep rabbit hole they could be going down. "Please, go on, this is what I want to hear after all."

Scanning the others dining in the hall giving her a moment of reprieve before laying it all out before Elissa, Evelyn's gaze unfortunately landed on the one person she was purposely avoiding…

As if having a sixth sense, Hawke strutted his way over to the ladies. Only he would be so bold as to ignore the guards keeping the rest of their noble guests at a distance. Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose looking up with a frown as they watched him approach. Under her breath, she muttered, "Maker help us." Elissa raised an eyebrow, before sizing up the rugged-looking mage. Even Josephine looked at the Inquisitor incredulously, no doubt wondering what Evelyn had not told her yet that occurred between the two mages. His beard and hair looked groomed at least, but he had clearly been at The Herald's Rest most of the day. He moved to stand between the Inquisitor and Ambassador, resting his two meaty arms on the backs of their chairs. The rum he had been guzzling gave him a spicy scent that matched his attitude.

With a hum, the Ambassador patted her mouth with a linen, before launching into the Champion's introduction. "You Highness, I'm honored to present to you the Champion of Kirkwall, Ser Garret Hawke." He bowed with a dashing smile, "Won't you dine with us?" At the prospect of having the three greatest heroes of their time all at one table was too much for Josephine to resist it seemed, as well as the rest of the hall, as astonished gasps echoed about. The Inquisitor, however, grumbled a curse, to which Hawke gave her a pitiful yet, smug look.

"Come, Evie," his breath was strong enough to give her a buzz, "don't be like that." He addressed Elissa now, "It is an honor, Your Majesty. Don't mind the Inquisitor, she and I had a bit of a spat that she's still sore over."

Lifting her head from resting her cheek in her hand, Evelyn glowered over at him, "That's not how I remember it, Garry." She said his name with a bite. The Ambassador stood, moving over a place at the table, "Oh, Josie you don't have to--"

"Nonsense! This is a historic meeting, one that I'm honored to be privy to," while her words were filled with giddiness, the delivery was ever graceful. Her excited smile and the way she brushed down her silk dress displayed her pleasure at the turn of events. Pointing to her aides and directing them with hand gestures, there was a sudden flurry of movement about the hall. No doubt she was already drafting in her head what she would report to the public about the monumental meeting. Evelyn however was more inclined to call it a monumental something with a few more impolite words…

"Thank you, Ambassador." A shit-eating grin came to rest on his face, staring at Evelyn as he claimed the spot on her left.

"I do hope this 'spat' will not detract from our conversation, for I'm sure the Champion--"

"Please, Garret," he purred with a sloppy devenir smile that came so readily.

"-- Garret, would offer much to it as well," Elissa finished.

Evelyn gave a deadpan stare back and forth between them, "Maybe a bit too much. It was this exact topic that became rather heated a few days ago." Her cold glare landed upon Hawke, as the Inquisitor shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

"Well, to be fair," he paused to burp quietly into his hand, "we were under a lot of stress in the Fade." He tilted his head playfully toward her as if all was forgotten. It was not. Not by her. "Did you hear of it, Your Majesty?"

"You may call me Elissa, Garret. I heard something of it, though I must admit, my interest in coming here had more to do with the Warden you saved."

Garret leaned back creating a large dramatic flourish with his meaty arm, "You should've seen the way the fearless Inquisitor led us through the Fade." With a cheeky smile, he added sarcastically, "I think you only screamed like a girl twice at the demons."

She sighed thinking, Don't let him get to you. You know how he can provoke a reaction from you when he manages to stir you up. Look at poor Josie, she is smiling so hard she'll shatter her teeth. She changed the subject by speaking stiffly through her teeth. "Elissa and I were just about to discuss the issue of the Mage Rebellion, and you're welcome to add your perspective so long as you do it respectfully this time," her pointed look conveyed her annoyance at having to rehash it so soon with him.

Her scolding tone was amusing for him apparently, and his smirk grew as he swayed slightly in his seat. He held a hand up as if pledging an oath, "On my honor, no mention of the Commander."

Evelyn groaned, debating whether to get it out of her system and throw her wine in his face now rather than later. She thought better of it when she spied at least two Orlesians with sketchbooks out, hurriedly scribbling away. Thankfully, Josephine had her back to the other nobles, for her look of mortification at Hawke's words seemed to overwhelm her stalwart diplomatic mask. This "debate" was going to go very well for one of them, and Evelyn prayed Hawke's drunkenness would get the better of him. A spark of inspiration made her look at the glass in her hand, and she quickly finished her cup of wine, signaling for a servant to bring a glass for Garret. She staged a short toast to having a civil debate with him once more and tossed back the glass eyeing the Champion the whole time as he followed her lead.

With the most congenial smile she could muster, Evelyn decided to poke the bear, "Are you always such an arse, or do you like to show off when I'm around?"

His arm was resting across the table as he fingered the wine glass, "All for you darlin'."

"Darlin' me one more time, and I'll burn your pants off and really give these Orleasians something to sketch, that is if they could see anything from that distance," her politely terse glare flicked down into his lap for emphasis.

"You two remind me of Morrigan and Alistair," Elissa commented with a snort of a chuckle. "And while it is quite nostalgic, may we move the insults along?" They both expressed a short apology, but she waved it off in good humor. "Evelyn, I must admit, I believe I already know your stance on the necessity of Circles, for Alistair and I were passed several transcripts from proposals you gave to the White Spire years ago. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you believe that they are still useful, but would see various reforms enacted to give mages more freedom and opportunity. Is that right?"

Pleased that the Hero of Ferelden had taken an interest in her call for change, Evelyn straightened her back and happily expanded on the brief summary. "Yes, truly what we need is a change in the culture of how non-mages see us. Yet, this change must progress naturally otherwise it will be met with fierce resistance. In my experience, the majority of mages are resentful of Circles because they have become asylums to lock them away for the safety of the public. There are no windows, for fear of escape or suicide attempts, and what outdoor space mages can use is within view of a great wall manned by Templars. When I entered the Ostwick Circle at the age of ten, I was taught both by the Chanty and relations that I should feel shame for something I had no control over and that I needed to be locked away for the good of everyone. My father had said the Circle would teach me to respect my power and how to wield it responsibly to protect people. So when I first entered the Circle of Ostwick, I saw it as a school, not a prison. I resent that some mages believe me to be brainwashed, that my affiliation with working so closely with Templars has made me blind."

Hawke choked out a snarky laugh "Just remember what you said when I remind you of that fact."

She rolled her eyes continuing, "It was only when I proved that I could control my mana, was I worthy of the title of Knight-Enchanter and the trust of the Templars. Rather than complain I was some victim of circumstance, I studied and mastered my powers. As the Templars got to know me and trusted me - Evelyn - not mage Evelyn, they began to see beyond the fact that I was their charge, but their comrade. It took time, of course, to peel away the layers of prejudice and suspicion, but I earned it through my devotion to making sure I was in control of myself to not harm anyone."

A glance at the drunk on her left revealed he was hardly listening, picking at something under his fingernails. "Ah, such a heartwarming tale. I can barely hold back the tears,” he remarked dryly. "Thank you for being so brave and revealing the source of your undying love for Chantry boys."

"Ser Hawke," Josephine interjected, "perhaps you'd like to share your views. This is, after all, a polite debate." He stared at the Ambassador a bit too long for Evelyn's liking, and she kicked him under the table, pretending she was just trying to cross her legs. He was so numb from drinking that he hardly flinched though.

Turning back to them, his heavy lids made his every gaze seem more sensual than he intended, especially towards the Inquisitor. "You kick hard for a Knight-Humper."

"Enchanter," she corrected flatly.

"That's what I said."

She rolled her eyes and huffed, "You know, the queen doesn't need to sit here and be forced to tolerate your drunken stupidity as I must daily. You have the rest of your life to be an idiot, couldn't you have just taken tonight off?"

"It's quite alright, Evelyn. I think you forget who I'm married to. Childish insults and arguments consume my days while in Denerim." She was relieved to find Elissa taking it all in good humor, as she too sipped her wine with a smirk. "Please Garret, I'd like to hear what you have to say as a mage who evaded the Chantry all his life." At that, Evelyn swiftly finished her glass of wine and called for another.

The stare that he gave the queen was one of a man's undivided attention - though Evelyn mused in her head it was probably because his drowning brain couldn't manage much else. "Simple, Elissa: Here I stand, a shining example of a mage who has forged his own path, untainted by the Chantry's indoctrination. It's quite shocking, isn't it, that I haven't succumbed to becoming some accursed maleficar, as they would have you believe. Raised by a mother who embraced love and wisdom, I gained a deeper understanding of the world than those imprisoned within the Circle's walls, surrounded by their dusty tomes. My mother taught me morals, distinguishing right from wrong, rejecting the Chantry's narrow-minded perception of mages. I have no desire to see myself or any other mage subjected to the Templars' oppressive rule. They are nothing but relics of a bygone era, puppets controlled by the strings of the Chantry. Their purpose? Merely to suppress and subjugate mages, driven by their fear of our innate power. I say leave things the way they are, it'll work itself out in time."

"You're joking?" The Inquisitor couldn't help her gaping mouth, "Seems hypocritical of a man who took matters into his own hands quite often. 'Oh look, the Qunari are invading. I suppose it'll work itself out.' I'm sure that is what Varric quoted you saying in his book, right? There needs to be a balance and healthier change to how Circles are managed. They should be centers of learning not just for mages but for everyone due to their vast stores of scrolls and books. Every Circle should also have a healing center, where mages, surgeons, and alchemists work together. So many times we've seen infectious outbreaks in cities, yet, no one dares summons the mage healers to assist simply because of fear."

"The fear of mages runs deep in Ferelden's people." Elissa alternated her weary gaze between the two. "Horrid stories of Tevinter and the barbaric rituals that they perform on slaves do not help alleviate their fears. Now, an ancient Magister, one who breached the Black City, is trying to destroy our world. Things just keep getting more and more complicated for mages, and yet, the ones I know are some of the best people I've met - Anders excluded." Elissa's brow drew down and she looked to Hawke, "Your friend did mages no favors when he blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall."

Garret huffed, and for once Evelyn didn't blame him. He was asked more about his rebellious companion than anything else, and it always seemed to weigh heavy on him. "I'm not sure I could call him my friend, for I'm not sure if any of us truly knew the real Anders. I may believe Circles have outlived their usefulness, but I cannot condone the killing of innocents by them either. What he did was wrong, but the Templars have no doubt condemned more mages than the amount of people Anders killed that day."

The Inquisitor interjected, "It is the Chantry who is to blame; the Templars are merely their weapon." The queen looked expectantly at her for an explanation, "If we trace the path of treachery from oppressed mage, to the abusive Templar, up the chain of command, there is always a Chantry Mother at the end of it. There is enough blame to be shared between all the parties involved, but all the hate and fear is spread by the heads of the Chantry."

"I suppose then it is convenient that the head of it is dead now." All three looked in quiet shock at the Hero of Ferelden. "Come now," she said in a more hushed tone, "you've both seen the ugly truth of having had dealings with it now. Do you think we monarchs are unaware of it? We all call ourselves Andrastians, but are we really? Or do we follow the tailored teachings of the Chant of Light? How many times has it been reworded to their advantage throughout history? The Chantry wields its two most powerful weapons, fear and repentance, like a true master. All of us are seemingly on their leash, not just the ones they've convinced with lyrium. It is as you say, Evelyn, they preach to us from a young age to hate mages, then train the young minds who give themselves to the service of the Templar Order that they are above their charges, and you know the rest that follows. I've seen young untainted minds look at mages with awe and amazement, only to be reprimanded by an elder that they should fear it instead. Hate is taught and bred, we are not born with it." She took a slow sip of wine allowing her words to sink in. Her sharp eyes never left them, but were more focused on the Knight-Enchanter.

Hawke crossed his arms with another burp, "Let’s say you enact these changes and the Chantry miraculously stops spreading hate in its teachings, people are still people. They will always fear what they do not understand."

Evelyn shot back, "Then they need to learn. They need more interaction with mages to understand them, and to build trust. I've spent the last decade doing just that. I've taken their spite and kindness in kind simply for a chance to show them that we are just people like they are, just with a stronger connection to the Fade. We aren't Tevinter Magisters here to enslave them but stand beside them to stop that from happening. The South is literally the opposite of Tevinter! Neither way has it right, but we have to start somewhere that doesn't involve traumatizing the populace as this Mage Rebellion has done." The Inquisitor looked to her Ambassador, "Josie, how many officials have written to us to intervene in disputes between mages and a frenzied mob?"

"Too many, and they still are delivered to us in the dozens." Josephine's tone was somber, as this issue was a frequent discussion in the War Room. Even after all this time, there was no way to put a definitive end to it amidst the rest of the chaos. "Most of the time, our agents arrive too late. The mob has simply taken justice into their own hands and the mage dies. After investigating, the majority of cases have proven that the mage was simply trying to survive - begging, purchasing food, providing healing services, and so on. The times that were able to diffuse the situation, it was our Templars who talked down the mob or used justifiable force. The mages we save usually join the Inquisition for protection."

"The king and I personally believe reform is needed." She looked to Hawke now with a touch of disapproval, "However, this change cannot be the complete dissolution of the Circles, for the people will riot and mages will be the ones slaughtered." A glance back to Evelyn brought back the earlier sentiments she shared about the elves should Briala had become Empress. In both cases, it was too much change too quickly. It had nothing to do with race or magic, simply human nature that when such things are forced upon generations of people who have thought one thing for decades, public resistance was to be expected. "So, I ask the two of you, what is to be done then? We cannot reinstate Circles without change, yet we cannot simply let mages loose among the populace. What is the middle ground?"

There was a long pause as she and the Champion gazed at each other thoughtfully. It had occurred to her that on the day this matter was to be decided by the next Divine that she'd probably be standing beside Hawke looking at him in such a way. They were two of the most infamous mages in Thedas, and somehow it qualified them to decide such things. Evelyn had already been instrumented in the stewarding of Thedas' future, how much more would she be responsible for? "I'm inclined to believe that this is a bigger problem to solve than with just those of us at this table. Shouldn't we discuss it with--"

"Evelyn," the Warden's hand came to grasp her forearm with a will of steel, "you should've learned by now that if the Chantry didn't put your reforms in place then, then they weren't ever going to. No one is going to; you have to do it." The Inquisitor's eyes widened at the queen's firmness. There was an unapologetic resolve that dwelled in her, one that spoke of her rise to fame. She and a few companions against all odds saved Ferelden and the rest of Thedas a long decade ago. Yet, the fight wasn't out of her even having been elevated to a life of privilege beyond her birthright. Blinking them back into the present, her countenance became more congenial, "I've heard the sky here in the mountains boast an unmatched view of the heavens. I would love to see it from your highest tower." A glimmer of conspiracy brightened her eyes once more.

Catching on, Evelyn stood excusing them from dinner with the help of Josephine who took care of Hawke and guided Elissa up to her quarters to speak privately. "I know you were using that as an excuse to ditch dinner, but I really do have the best view," she said in good-natured as she opened the doors to the veranda. The women leaned against the windows, not wanting to go out in the cold, but wanting to take in the spectacular display of the moons and stars.

"Have you heard of the events that occurred at the Landsmeet back during the Blight when Alistair became king?"

Evelyn nodded, "That's when you were nominated for queen as well."

She looked over at Evelyn with a sharp stare, "No. I proclaimed myself queen. By all rights, Alistair should've married Anora Mac Tir. It would've pacified both sides of the schism, uniting one of Theirin blood and that of King Cailin's widow. It was the perfect solution." She gazed up at the stars again, "Tell me, would you trust the fate of the Inquisition, after this is all over and if you triumph, to whatever puppet they place on the Sunburst Thone?" Evelyn didn't answer but shrugged having not necessarily spent much time thinking about it. "When the new Divine is "elected," the first order of business will be to bring you in and have you surrender your authority back to Her. In that moment, you will give Her everything you've bled and suffered for, and She will undo it all. Everything you have fought for since you became the Phoenix would have been for naught." Feeling her eyes return to hers, the women shared an understanding of those thrust into the Void and forced to make something of it. "I love Alistair, but I became his queen because if I didn't, Ferelden would've been stewarded by a woman whose family had mine killed. Anora may not be a thug like her father, but she has ambition. My kind, innocent, and hopelessly immature husband," her eyes sparkled with the depth of her love as she spoke of him, "would've been simply a figurehead beside her. I may have designs for the country myself, but when Alistair is being especially king-like, he has made some excellent decisions with my full backing. I can confidently say he'd not have the chance joined with her."

"If this is a lead to asking me to become the next Divine, my answer is a hard no. Should I survive all this," she held up her marked hand, making it spark, "I wish to disappear, live in peace…" A smile graced her lips as she thought of her own Ferelden beau, "hopefully somewhere in your kingdom, actually."

Elissa chuckled, moving to face her more skeptically, "A Marcher preferring frozen Ferelden over the sunny north? You must be doing it for a man." Evelyn gave her a pointed look, smile, and wink at the truth. "Good to know, we'll have a woman such as yourself in residence, but no, not you. The Mothers are speaking of three candidates, all of whom are prominent members of the Inquisition." Walking to her sitting area in front of the fire, the queen took a seat rubbing at her arms from the chill. Stoking the fire with a wave of her hand, she bid the Warden to hold her hands out as she jumped a warming flame from the fire to circle her cold hands. "A handy trick, thank you."

Shutting the doors, the mage joined her and poured them both a glass of sweet red wine. "See, I'll do just fine living in Ferelden."

Elissa hummed in agreement, " I leave tomorrow to ready Vigil's Keep for our brothers and sisters." Evelyn would've thought she'd leave it to others to do, but after getting to know the queen, she knew she left nothing to chance. If she wanted something done, she did it herself - just like the Inquisitor. "I truly believe you and could be formidable allies, Evelyn. You seem to be a woman after my own heart and Leliana trusts you, which speaks volumes." Standing to retire for the evening, the two walked to the stairs, "A Warden's time is limited. It has made me consider the bigger questions in life earlier than one would expect to. Your time leading the Inquisition will be much shorter, so I'd advise you to use what influence you can now rather than later." She and Elissa grasped hands, "Call on me when you need my aid or rather have Leliana. The less people know about our partnership the better. And thank you again for doing all you could at Adamant."

"I will, thank you, Elissa. I look forward to our correspondence. May Andraste guide us both." Descending the steps, Evelyn's lady's maid, Saphira, was waiting in the stairwell for the ladies to finish. When they appeared, the Inquisitor had her show the queen back to her room and dismissed her for the evening. There was one more Ferelden she wanted to see...

Walking over to his office like she had a purpose, she bid all those exiting the Great Hall after dessert goodnight in passing. Though the hour was late, it looked like Skyhold's guests were still celebrating their victory and return home. Slipping through the bedizen nobles and diplomats, she caught two Orlesians gossiping. Typically, she ignored it, but she had an uncanny feeling that they were speaking of her:

"Would you have guessed such a pairing?" Out of the corner of her eye, Evelyn caught the woman who was speaking as she skirted around them.

"Oh, yes. The lure of command. Noble names. Classically arousing in every sense."

"Careful, ears."

"Of course," he whispered back.

She thought to herself, Command? Noble name? Was it a coincidence? Shaking her head at the oddly chosen phrasing, she continued in her mission only getting suckered into a brief conversation or two before finally slipping out through the rotunda and across the bridge. Pausing outside of his door she listened to him speaking to some of the messengers regarding supplies for the Grey Wardens. She gazed up to the sky saying a silent prayer to Andraste that that whole ordeal over… sort of. They still had to speak about her returned memories and spreading mark, to which she was not looking forward to either discussion.

Knocking when she believed he was done, she heard him bark out a 'Come,' and she entered. "Inquisitor. Why are you knocking?"

"Oh, I wasn't, that was me banging my head against the door after the night I had."

He chuckled, not looking up from shuffling the papers around into neat piles on his desk, "So long as you haven't started a war with Ferelden, it couldn't have been that bad." He gave her a sidelong stare, "Evelyn, you sassed the Hero and Queen of Ferelden… Maker's breath, the next time you plan on speaking like that to a monarch - and one who has killed an Archdemon - tell me so I can at least bring my shield!"

She just shrugged laughing, as she walked over to his bookshelf to peruse the titles, "Sometimes it just happens. You know me and my mouth… especially when I'm hungry."

He made a snort of a scoff in agreement still bent over his desk making notes, "You still haven't told me why you were banging your head on my door? What was so awful?"

"What would you say about debating the future of Circles with a drunk Hawke in front of the Queen of Ferelden?" Cullen's head snapped up with a scowl. She hummed raising her eyebrows and rolling her eyes.

He stared at her in disbelief, starting and stopping a few times lacking the articulation to express his shock. "And the Ambassador allowed it?!"

Evelyn spun from the shelf, chuckling lowly, "Oh if you could've seen her face! She had no idea Hawke and I got into it in the Fade and--"

"About that," he interrupted, "you've yet to tell me as well." He arched an eyebrow straightening to full height with his arms crossed. When the hour bell rang, he twisted about as if looking for something hidden beneath the papers cluttering his desk, "Shit, is that the bloody time already?"

She swallowed hard at being saved by the bell. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell him, she just knew it'd ruin his night because he'd blame himself for Garret acting like an arse to her when it was not the case - at least anymore. No, their disagreement was now political. Lost in thought for a moment, she realized he was trying to hurriedly organize his papers for the morning's messengers. "You have a date tonight that you're rushing off to, Commander? Does someone else command your attention?"

"Believe it or not, I need to get down to the tavern to see Varric."

"Either I drank too much wine tonight, or you just said you were headed to the tavern… to see Varric?"

"That's right," he still didn't look up, making marks here and there on several pieces of parchment before standing back with a final inspection. "Care to join me?"

Standing in shock and befuddlement with an expression to match, Cullen rounded his desk to place a kiss on her lips, looking amused by her state. "Having endured Garret's stench of the tavern for the past few hours, I think I'll pass and simply meet you in bed. Will you be long?"

"If I know you'll be waiting for me, not at all." He strode to the door, but looked back, "Lock the doors before you head up, I have my key. And then you can tell me about Hawke and the Fade." With that, he was off and after doing as he bid, she climbed the ladder.

As she changed into one of his shirts, she swayed her way over to the single window where there was once a gaping hole. The moons had moved since she gazed upon them with Elissa and the stars twinkled to a celestial tune. All was quiet, save for the occasional jingle of armor from the guards patrolling below. Propping herself up on the table under the window, she shivered when the cool breeze snaked its way in through the window as she unbound her not-graying hair. Hugging and tucking her legs up into herself, yet enjoying the way the chill felt against her bare skin beneath the shirt, she sat silently closing her eyes. It was the first quiet moment she had all day. As much as she loved Cullen and having him near, she still needed some time to herself now and then to sort through the chaos of her days. Having been away from Skyhold for almost a month and with the army, she had not had a minute to herself for the sake of her sanity.

When the door down below clanked open and closed, she smiled to herself. Even though he expected her to explain what was said between her and Hawke, the respite from everything and everyone was enough to bring forth clarity to her thoughts. Each boot hitting the rung on the ladder, getting closer and closer just made her breathe deeper. The veil of tranquility that settled over the room must have confounded the Commander for when his blonde hair appeared, it was followed by a look of concern.

"For a moment I thought you left," the rest of him followed, bounding up over the ladder.

"Shhh, listen," he froze as his eyes darted back and forth, "it's so peaceful." Her head fell back against the window frame as she closed her eyes once more. The loose collar of the shirt drifted down off her shoulder and she lost herself in the moment again. Listening to him trying to unbuckle his armor without disturbing her made her chuckle to herself and she slipped on the table to help him. He'd be at it all night at this rate. When his plates were off, they went back to the window and he embraced her from behind. They stood there in silence once more for a long time just listening to their steady breathing. She knew he needed this as much as she did.

"One day, perhaps you and I will be able to do this more often," he whispered sweetly.

She turned to face him, "I hope so." Elissa's words came back to her, "Do you think we'll be able to let go of our duty when the time comes? You know, leave the responsibility to someone else to carry?"

His face tensed with serious thought, "It'll be difficult, but hopefully, we'll find a new purpose."

She hummed in agreement, "I think you're right." She led him over to the bed and stripped him of his remaining clothing.

"If you think this is going to get you out of telling me what happened in the Fade--"

Evelyn pressed a finger to his lips, "Cullen, it's our first night back from being in the field. It can wait until morning… and until you're next to a practice dummy." She pushed him down and straddled his hips.

"It's going to make me that angry?!" Even in the silver moonlight streaming in from the window, she could see his cheeks already reddening.

"Yes, my Ferelden farm bumpkin." He scowled at her. "See," she pointed to his face, "his words, and that wasn't even the worst he said." He growled, but she claimed his lips swiftly, pressing his shoulders into the mattress. His hands grabbed her sides and pushed her off, but she was persistent grappling him with her legs and arms. She found the melee amusing, giggling every so often as she thwarted his attempts to unseat her. When Cullen finally freed one of his legs as she was all but laying flat on top of him, he hooked it around her and rolled them. With a grunt from the weight of his body landing atop hers, she flipped her hair back out of her face as she tried to reason with him, "If it makes you feel better, my shining reputation did not go unscathed either. Can we stop talking about him?" She forced her voice back to a soothing tone, closing her eyes for a moment with a deep breath, "I want to think about you. Us. Look, we even meet your minimum requirements of having at least one pillow."

Gyrating her hips up against him, he let go of a big huff gazing back down at her. A smile he was trying to suppress peaked through his rage, "Fine, but the first training dummy I see is getting splintered into a million pieces."

"I'm sure it had it coming anyway," her hands and fingers teased about his hips and thighs. Making their way up his back now, she dug her fingertips into the solid muscle, dragging them hard down his back. He let out a groan as if she released some tension in them. Massaging what she could from on her back, he closed his eyes and surrendered to her ministrations. When his anger fled a minute or so later and was replaced by arousal, she felt safe to speak again without flustering him, "No matter what each day brings, know that when we meet at the end of it, I'll be here to give you what you need. Whether it is this," she arched her body up against him, "or space, and everything in between, I'll be here."

"I don't deserve you," he kissed from her scared shoulder from Haven up to her jaw.

She couldn't help but chuckle, "Cullen, I'm not quite sure there is another soul out there that would put up with me as you do. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you're stuck with me."

He pushed the large shirt up out of the way, up past her hips, "I think you have it backwards, I'm the charity case after all."

"And I'm a magical time bomb. There we're even," she pulled him down into a searing kiss and after some time as the tingling between her legs began to coil, she murmured, "Now make love to me already before I throw all your pillows out the window."

Notes:

Greetings all!

Time for a shameless plug... if you're enjoying this, please go check out my original fantasy/romance/action series being released on RoyalRoad! There is no cost to read and your support is greatly appriciated as I follow my dream! It is a working draft of the book, so it is updated regularly. It can be found at the link below:

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Have a great week!
Munklington

Chapter 31: Affairs of the Heart Pt.1

Summary:

Evelyn surprises Cullen with some startling news while she prepares to leave for the Emerald Graves.

Notes:

Warning: Sexual content at the very end.

Having slept past their usual hour all on account of her leaving the next morning for the Emerald Graves, it was a pleasant, if indulgent, experience for Evelyn to be woken up by sunlight that reached her high up in her tower. Having spent the last four days in each other’s company had been exactly what they needed to rekindle their blooming relationship. The clear blue sky and white-capped mountains amplified the warm yellow glow streaming in through the leaded stained-glass windows. The rays were so thick, that it was as if she could breathe them in with each deep inhale while she stretched. Turning to look over her shoulder she was met with a shining head of golden hair melding in with the light as if he wore a divine halo. The creases and tension that typically adorned his face were smoothed while he slept, making him look carefree nestled into the pillows. Studying his face as if she were a portraitist, Evelyn tried to commit Cullen's current state into her memory to take with her when she awakened alone in a canvas tent.

 

Facing forward, she closed her eyes, savoring his body's feel against hers in his tight embrace. With her backside flush against his front and his arm and leg pressing her into the downy mattress, he held her as if she'd float away should he let go. They had not moved their position for the past few hours, a fact that was confirmed by the significant dribble of drool she left on the arm he tucked under her. Wiping the evidence away of her long night of serenading him with her snoring, Evelyn spun to face him. Maker, he was unfairly handsome, and she couldn't help but caress his face along with the sunlight. Their first night back at Skyhold he had a bad nightmare, but that was only one because of Elissa Cousland's surprise appearance. Every other night had just consisted of his usual restless turning and jumping in and out of the covers because he'd get too hot.

 

Naturally, the bright light and her loving touches stirred him from his peaceful slumber. The past week of sharing a bed still seemed like a novelty, for each time he opened his eyes to see her, it was always with a start before smiling. This morning was no different.

 

When his sleepy eyes met her sultry gaze, she whispered sweetly to him, "Why is it you always look surprised to see me in the morning?" He smiled that rare grin at her, the contagious one that had yet to be burdened by the day's challenges.

 

With a deep breath causing his solid chest to rise a few inches as he reached his arms above his head, he settled back into the covers with her. "I still can't believe it, that's why."

 

She laughed with a luminous smile and brought her hands up to rest on his pectorals. Her fingertips glided through their coarse light-colored hair and he chin rested on him as well, "Pray tell, what's so unbelievable about it? The fact that you can sleep through my horrid snoring? Absolutely."

 

They chuckled together and his hand found its way to her hip, kneading the muscles around it, "I appreciate you recognizing my aptitude for heavy sleeping, that comes with living in a barracks, but no, that's not it." His honeyed eyes gazed at her in such a way she found herself breathless. "I truly believed that I'd never have this."

 

With a sympathetic nod, she knew exactly what he meant. For how long had they been told that a life outside of the confines of the Circle was impossible? That simply enjoying the comfort of another person was forbidden, despite basic instinctual needs. That love was unattainable. It was something normal people took for granted, to wake up every morning beside their partner before beginning their day. Did they acknowledge each other? Ask how they slept. Ignore each other or kiss them? What simple and trivial interactions they must seem to them having never been told you were not allowed these moments. Yet, somehow these two former Circle residents had achieved the impossible. It reminded her of the debate over dinner with Elissa and Hawke. It made her wish more and more something could be done so mages and Templars could have a morning like this; to wake in the arms of the man or woman they loved.

 

"Nor I." She leaned forward placing a lingering chaste kiss on his lips, despite there being nothing modest in her nakedness pressing against him. "You definitely didn't think you'd have fallen for a mage either, right? Especially a crazy fireball thrower such as myself."

 

He chuckled, "I leave the Order to get away from Templars and mages, and then fall in love with the first mage I find in the woods during my first week of my new position."

 

"Just remember, later on when I drive you positivity mad, that you could've prevented all this if you would've just killed me then and there." He half frowned and scowled at her. She cupped his face, "You and I both know you're not capable of such a thing, my lion."

 

"But I was once."

 

"And now you're not," she shot back without missing a beat, nor losing the cheeriness in her voice. "I won't look back if you don't? I think I'd rather look to our future."

 

His hands glided up her body to her face, and he pulled it closer to his. She could see it in his eyes that he was chastizing himself for what he once thought of mages and no doubt, he was fretting over all those insecurities. His leonine gaze swept all about as if looking for a reason to doubt the weight of her words but finding no fault in her sincerity. "Our future?" It was a precarious topic between them, but she didn't want to leave without telling him what she had done.

 

Nodding in his hands, she then grasped them in her own to return them to him. Sliding out of bed, she sauntered over to her desk picking up a letter she recently received. As she returned to him, Evelyn couldn't help but smile at the way he watched her hips sway. Crawling over the satin sheets to sit beside him, her skin was bathed in the bright yellow beams. Though she held the folded parchment out to him, he blindly grabbed for it, too entranced with the woman teasing him with her nakedness. "Before you read this, I want you to know that my original letter and this one was delivered under the highest security our Spymaster can offer."

 

Cocking an eyebrow up after a deep satisfied breath, he finally tore his eyes from her to read it. Evelyn watched his face with careful precision wanting to catch every shift in his emotions at the letter's content. Starting with the face he always made to focus his eyes on the script like in the War Room, it soon changed to shock, "You told your father we're courting?!" She bit her lip nodding in excitement and nervousness, waiting for him to finish reading the rest of it. After stammering and gaping, he glanced back down quickly skimming the rest, "… And he approves? B-but he doesn't even know me? I-I'm a commoner--"

 

She placed a finger on his lips leaning toward him, "You are the Commander of the Inquisition and a good man, Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath. Most of all, you love me, and I you. No more needs to be said." Evelyn purposely left out his past affiliations, for he was no longer that man. Nor did she want to say it was also due to her mother's recent involvement with Ryker Aeron's plot. Her father had been vehemently enraged about that and forbade her mother from troubling her any more over suitors for the rest of her days.

 

"I should have met or written to him first for permission, is-isn't that how it's done? I mean… is it different for nobility or in the Free Marches? Maker's breath, I hardly know the custom in Ferelden! I… I…" At flustering him so, she couldn't help but smile at him. Catching her amused grin, he narrowed his amber eyes at her now displayed a resolve, calming himself down to a rational state. "I should write to him," he stated firmly.

 

She bit back a smirk, "That's the least you can do as you defile his favorite daughter nightly." Everything had felt so magical the past week, and their voracious appetite for each other was to be expected. At her words, his eyes mirrored a cat's when they'd just caught sight of their prey. With a burst of strength and speed, he tackled her back into the sea of sheets, which only made her squeal and laugh harder. Coming up for air, she jokingly added, "I don't think you should tell him that though."

 

"Please, I'm not that hopeless - out of my depth, yes, but not hopeless."

 

She claimed his lips passionately, murmuring against them, "You are mine, and I say you're perfect."

 

"Yes, my lady," he whispered back. After a minute or two, he pulled back with a saddened face, "I'm going to miss you and our mornings..." He buried his head in the crook of her neck as she hugged tight to him. "… And our nights," he muffled playfully biting at her shoulder. The more time they spent together, the more open Cullen was with her, even more than before their break.

 

Breathlessly, she sighed, "So am I, but I take comfort in knowing that while we may fight the Elder One now, one day - after I kill the bastard - there will be mornings where we're needed by no one. Having done our duty and served our time, I think it's the least we're owed--" A knock on the door froze the couple, as the Inquisitor called down to Saphira that she was in a meeting and would be down to breakfast soon. Her new maid was getting used to Evelyn's hectic schedule and her new increased need for privacy. She knew Josephine assigned her this one because she didn't take the mage's sass or 'no' even from her for an answer. "However, today is not that day."

 

To throw everyone off the scent of their nightly trysts, they've been up and about before most in Skyhold wake, making it infinitely easier to sneak about or pretend they had already been up training. It was widely known the two were early risers, so to see them up and about as the sun was just illuminating the mountains' silhouettes was a commonality to life in the Keep. This morning they were up far past sunrise, but since it was so much later than usual, they could pass it off as an early meeting about her trip tomorrow with no one the wiser. Getting themselves dressed, scooping up stacks of reports, and beginning a conversation pertaining to work as they entered the Great Hall, all was business as usual.

 

Except for the appearance of Leliana right outside the door waiting for them in the Great Hall...

 

"Erimond has finally given up something useful. Come." The Spymaster turned and they followed her down into the bowels of Skyhold's dungeon. Alone on the steep and narrow stairs, she asked, "Did you have a productive meeting this morning? You'll just have to fill Josie and me in later."

 

"Once a bard, always a bard, is that it Leliana?" Evelyn could not help but tease her back. Cullen however shot her a glance as if she shouldn't poke the bear.

 

"Remember, it was you who handed me that letter to your father."

 

"Silly me, to think you wouldn't read it," Evelyn replied in a droll tone.

 

"That is the price of my services. Secrets." They remained silent for a few more steps before she continued, "Evie, I think your description of your beau was accurate." Evelyn bit back a laugh at her caution in not mentioning him by name, though said person narrowed his eyes ahead on their guide. "I especially liked--"

 

"Shh! Really, Sister Nightingale? The Commander is right here. Surely, he does not wish to hear such gossip." Evelyn couldn't see Leliana's face but she knew she was wearing a smug smile from the way she looked back at her around her cowl. Cullen simply let go of an annoyed breath, shaking his head.

 

By the time they reached the cells and the guards were dismissed to wait outside, Evelyn asked, "Will the Ambassador be joining us?"

 

"No, she doesn't have the stomach for this." The once-light conversation turned suddenly dark as they approached Erimond's cell. Turning on her toes to address them, the two halted abruptly, "As requested, Inquisitor, the prisoner has not been harmed in a manner where it can be visually seen." The rush of rage she had felt back at Adamant for all the pain and manipulation he conducted to corrupt the mages came back. The sharp spike in her mana was hailed by the mark's green spark and the flash of her orange eyes. "He's been deprived of his magic for two weeks, by using one of our Templars to silence him a few times a day. I've kept with the traditional means of punishment, for his feeble mind and constitution away from the pleasures of Tevinter proved effective enough. I did, however… give him the push he needed to finally break."

 

Holding open her gloved hand, in her palm rested several Quillback needles. Evelyn knew of their uses in potions, but it was the Nightingale who had mentioned another use of them to her and Ilara one day in the Infirmary. If directly inserted into someone's skin, the traces of venom in the hollow barbs could cause immense pain. The more sensitive the location, such as under fingernails or behind the ear, the more it stings. The Inquisitor and Commander shared a knowing look, now understanding what that push of Leliana's entailed.

 

With that, she stepped out of their way to approach the cell door. Huddled in the shadow against the wall was the dirtied white coat of Lord Livius Erimond. His black greasy hair fell over his overgrown beard, but his prominent nose still stood out. As she had said, he didn't look harmed but he was certainly feeling the effects of whatever it was she did to him in addition to having his mana drained. His sunken eyes peered up at her with cold hate as he clung to his beliefs that his master was the god Thedas deserved.

 

"And what is it he gave up?" The Inquisitor crossed her arms looking at the redhead.

 

"One name. The Vessel, Calpurnia."

 

Cullen mirrored their intense looks but kept a hand on his sword staring Livius down. "A vessel of what?"

 

The prisoner choked out a laugh, his voice was hoarse from the evident screaming he had done lately under the careful attention of the Nightingale. "Your pathetic attempts to stop my master will come too late. You are months behind his plans. He will snatch victory from you before you are even aware you have failed." A sharp and sudden spin by Leliana had him cowering more so than Cullen's silent threat. Evelyn wouldn't have even known she turned having been so silent, except for the light brush of the Spymaster's chainmail against her leg.

 

"We don't know yet, but I already have people working on it. I should have a full profile on her soon, but as it happens, her name had come up in some documents we stole off Venatori messengers out of Val Royeaux. She's been speaking with a merchant by the name of Viscinius, but it's unclear yet as to their arrangement."

 

"Work out what you can while I'm away and send me a compiled report. In the meantime, Commander, prepare for his immediate execution."

 

Cullen looked curiously at her, "I thought he was to have a trial?"

 

"He is, but he's not going to plead for mercy." Evelyn growled over her shoulder to the Vint, "Are you Erimond?"

 

"Of course not, for the truth--" Leliana made him cower back further into his cell again with a look.

 

"Save it for the trial, maleificar," the Inquisitor spat. "As I said, ready the block."

 

"At once," he glowered lowly toward the cell before they all left.

 

---

 

After a speedy trial and even quicker execution doled out by the Inquisitor herself, the business from Adamant Fortress had been concluded to the relief of her and her advisors. Erimond did not disappoint, first noting that he did not recognize her authority then rambling on like a madman of how he has seen the one true living god. The Tevinter Magister even lectured on the idiocy of the Grey Wardens and their purpose. Denouncing them only helped save a portion of the order’s virtue, but in the coming days, Evelyn would receive a secret letter from Elissa Cousland thanking her and the Ambassador for their help in spreading his hateful speech. Though public opinion of the Wardens was still strained, Livius’ impassioned words stirred people – especially Fereldens – into a fierce defense of the Griffin-riding heroes. As the trial ended, having worked the crowd up into an uproar against him, they were all but begging the Inquisitor to put an end to the heretic. With one swift and graceful arch, Evelyn severed the mage’s head from his body with her signature spirit blade.

 

Despite her dealing out righteous justice, the looming dread that coincided with packing and preparing for the next day's journey grew stronger as the day wore on. With everyone having a week of rest, she had requested Bull, Varric, and Blackwall accompany her to the Emerald Graves to help clean up the forest of remaining Freemen of the Dales. Sera was off on a Red Jenny mission of her own, Vivienne was assisting Josephine with visiting dignitaries, Dorian researching the Corypheus’ Tevinter family lineage, and Cole was being Cole. Ilara had her hands full with the wounded from Adamant still and Henley and the Ostwick Templars were all back on their regular duty around Skyhold. All day she was approached to sign or approve things before she left to rendezvous with Cassandra, Owayne, Sorin, and Solas, whom she had hoped wouldn't need her assistance. However, the discovery of a Red Lyrium smuggling operation complicated matters.

 

Evelyn had been summoned by the Commander to meet with him at her earliest convenience, but it wasn't until just before the dinner bell rang that she finally made her way to his office. Having not been able to venture outside for hours for fresh air she paused taking in the sight of the sunset. The horizon looked like a painting, and ironically, there was someone on the far ramparts capturing the sight onto canvas. It seemed with each passing month, more and more people were making a pilgrimage to Skyhold for one reason or another. She didn't mind it so much, for these were strange times they were living in and every visitor leaving with a good impression only helped the Inquisition's reputation.

 

With the days getting shorter as winter was upon them, everyone in Skyhold was sporting extra layers. The Ambassador had a fine cloak made for her of red velveteen with golden embellishments that clasped at the neck and trailed down around her ankles. The council all had matching ones made for them as well, yet she only ever saw Josephine wearing it. After the difficult time the Commander gave her about dress uniforms, Evelyn was unsurprised to see his hung in his office as if a new wall decoration. Leliana wore hers a few times, but her desire to always be incognito outweighed the enjoyment of being fashionable. That left the Inquisitor, who despite seeing the cloak as a bit too flashy, wore it for the sanity of the Ambassador.

 

Arriving at Cullen's door and ushering in her burnt orange dress and Inquisitorial cloak, she quietly stood off to the side as he finished speaking with two of his Lieutenants about tomorrow's training. Having prepared the soldiers to combat possessed mages, he was now having them instruct against Templars. Running down a list of exercises he had jotted down, Evelyn could tell there was a sadness hidden behind his authoritative voice. This was not going to be easy for him…

 

"Dismissed," watching them leave, she approached his desk slowly unclasping her cloak, "Inquisitor, I've been waiting for you." His playful tone made her smile instantly.

 

Holding his gaze, she brushed her fingertips across the edge of his desk as she walked, until she stood as close as she could to him. She tilted her head looking up at him, "And now I'm here." Closing her eyes expecting him to meet her lips, instead, she was gently pecked by a piece of paper. Opening them suddenly, she daintily took the report, bringing it down, and leveled at him a pointed look. "I'm starting to get jealous of your mistress named work."

 

"You won't say that after you read it." Cullen went back to sorting his reports as she read. For the first few lines, she read it without a reaction until…

 

"Andraste's holy arse! Sampson may be in the Emerald Graves?!" The Commander stopped his organizing to nod firmly at the news. Evelyn's mind spun as she carded a hand through her hair, making the loose knot it was pinned up in droop. She didn't care though, Sampson was close by and there was the potential of a confrontation with him in the Graves. "Cullen, this means…"

 

"I know," his voice was grave now, "every day that we allow him to live, the more he recruits the Templars that have fallen through the cracks of the true Order and Inquisition. This could be our chance to end it, provided that he is there. We have yet to confirm it, but Cassandra has uncovered the route in which he imports the red poison."

 

"Even if he isn't, to stop his supply line would cause major complications to his operation." A cold shiver tingled down her spine, "Maker, could you imagine Red Templars having lyrium withdraw?" She undid her hair completely now to stroke it still stunned.

 

Cullen froze as a look of horror gripped him like she had never seen before. He could hardly speak, "They would tear themselves apart, and I mean physically claw and... Andraste preserve me, who knows what else!"

 

Evelyn's brow creased, "Cullen, they aren't your responsibility. They made their choice or fate decided for them. I feel the same about the displaced mages, but we are doing all we can for both sides of the rebellion. Do we even know if they retain any humanity? They follow orders well enough, but those we know are given through the lyrium somehow."

 

"It's uncertain, but what if…" he frowned wiping a hand down his face as if thinking better of it. Shaking his head, his voice was low, "No, they are abominations. You took it and almost lost yourself to it, and you're a mage. Knowing what I know about what lyrium did to me, there is no chance any of their former selves still exist." A stab of cold fear paralyzed her thinking about how Ryker planned to give it to Cullen. As horrid images of what could've been invaded her thoughts, she began to crinkle the parchment in her hands. The slow crunch and her faraway stare drew his attention, "Evelyn?" His hands now grasped for hers, "You're trembling."

 

With a sharp inhale, she shook herself but her mind was still hijacking her conscious stream of thought, "Ryker… he was going to…"

 

"Ryker? What are you talking about?"

 

"He was going to feed you red lyrium, and I couldn't let him because you'd lose your soul to it! I… I was going to…" Her eyes went wide realizing her private thoughts were spilling from her lips. A hand clasped over them, now lucid and aware, but it was too late.

 

The Commander's eyes narrowed, "What were you going to do?" Anger was already clouding his face, but her wide-eyed look made him think better of it. They had promised each other to talk through the Ryker incident slowly. Despite burying the hatchet back at Adamant, there were questions Cullen had, and in an effort not to overwhelm him with the gruesome truth, she vowed to divulge bits and pieces as they became relevant. Apparently, her subconscious mind thought now was a good time. "Evelyn, what did you do?"

 

Shutting her eyes tightly for a moment, she pressed a palm to her forehead as if in pain, but the only discomfort came from the memory of that night. He guided her to sit in his chair as he leaned up against the desk beside her. She didn't want to be doing this right before she left, but it seems she had no choice now. "That night when we kissed in the stairwell and I was throwing glasses," she sighed with resignation, "I had gone to Ryker to… give myself to him so he wouldn't feed you red lyrium. It was an ultimatum he gave me after I disobeyed him." Evelyn winced for whatever reaction was bubbling away under his unreadable façade. He adjusted himself on the desk, crossing his arms but didn't look at her "As it happened, I found him instead with Eira and we fought." Her fist clenched tight at the memory of cracking the Templar's nose off the wall. Chancing a sheepish look up at him through her long locks, he was boring another arrow silt into the wall beside the existing one. Cullen's jaw flexed, indicating he was angry, but he was keeping it in check as he processed the revelation.

 

When his head snapped to her suddenly, her eyes left him for her feet. In the bit she glimpsed of him, he looked livid. "You… you were going to…" He seethed, but it was a low growl rather than yelling. "Evelyn!" He commanded her to look at him, and when she finally did, it wasn't anger she saw but crippling heartache. They held each other in their gaze for a few moments, neither of them taking a breath. Tears wet her eyes, but she attempted to banish them, standing by her decision at that time.

 

Had things been different, if Eira hadn't been there… she finished her thought aloud, "I would've done anything to save you, and Ryker knew it." His eyes trailed away from hers getting further and further away into the recesses of his mind. When the silence became too much for her, she pleaded in a horse whisper, "Cullen, please say something." He just shook his head at her. She nodded in understanding, knowing the disgust he felt toward the whole affair for she shared it. Rising after he still couldn't bring himself to say anything, she thought it best if she'd just leave and walked around the opposite side of the desk away from him.

 

"Wait!" A sudden burst of movement from her stopped her dead in the center of his office. With almost crushing force, he embraced her, whispering into her hair, "I find myself speechless at the fact that you'd do something so horrid, just to save me from that poison."

 

"I love you. Of course, I would," she mumbled back into the fur on his coat. Her arms circled him and she gripped him hard. "I've taken it. I know what it does, and it would've taken you from me forever. I would suffer Ryker and worse to keep you from it, for without you I'd lose the other half of my soul."

 

"My Eve," he released her pushing her back so he could gaze slightly down at her, "know that I would go to the Void and back to keep you safe. I'm sorry for having ever doubted your affection. I'll never question it again, my love."

 

"I know, but at that time you had every right to. What matters is that we're here now. Together." Unable to keep themselves from each other, their lips crashed into a deep impassioned kiss. Serving to banish the demons of her mind, she surrendered to the moment, thankful that she could speak with him about what had happened unlike a few months ago. Nuzzling each other, she murmured, "Well, now that we've covered the spectrum of human emotions in a short time, may we adjourn for dinner?"

 

"I was going to--"

 

"It's my last night here," she whined.

 

His smirk returned, "So, that means you have to traumatize me one last time with your eating habits?"

 

She scoffed, "They're serving several tarts and a lovely vegetable casserole. I'm not sure how I could possibly ruin it for you." Placing her cloak back on around her shoulders with his chivalrous assistance, they began their slow walk to the Great Hall.

 

"I could think of several ways, especially when crusts are involved." He rolled his eyes, and she waited with some astonishment to hear why, "The cooks have been using that coffin Herrit made them look like Skyhold, and I swear on Andraste's holy pyre, if I have to watch you attempt to cut into that bloody crust, only to watch our fortress crumble into hundreds of pieces I'm going to start having nightmares! Or starve, because everything oozed out before it can get to a plate."

 

Pushing into the rotunda, she was thankful Solas was in the Emerald Graves, for her descent into boisterous laughter would've been met with his stern shushing. Evelyn could hardly stand, bracing up against the wall, "Dorian always said you were too sassy for your own good, and I do believe he's right!" When she was finished after some time, the two entered the hall and joined the others dining at the Inquisitor's table. Chief among them were her companions to the Emerald Graves who wanted one last decent meal before having to survive on preserved foods and stew.

 

"Well, well, Curly and Blaze finally show up. Say, why is your face all red?" Varric eyed her with a cheeky smile.

"The Commander made a rather humorous joke that I'm still recovering from." Evelyn grabbed her glass of wine and quickly took a few large gulps.

 

"And what was this witty quip of his?"

 

"It was about my eating habits," at that, everyone groaned and chuckled. "Seriously?" She grumbled eyeing all of them pointedly, "Fuck you. I could say something disturbing about all of you as well." As the food arrived, so did the infamous crust in the shape of Skyhold. Wearing a conspiratorial look, she stared at him, waiting until the servants handed her the cutlery, "I think we should let the Commander make the first assault on our beloved home tonight." She held out the utensils to him, blinking with a deadpan smile. "Go on. Let us see your martial precision in breaking the walls as you had at Adamant."

 

Taking the large knife and spoon from her with a scowl, he set his jaw, thinking for a moment before touching the metal weaponry to the crust. A side glance at her showed that she was intently waiting, and all the others had gone silent observing this challenge. Applying pressure, Cullen cracked the hard pastry shell, but the walls held. Evelyn's eyebrows shot up to her forehead in disbelief and there were some 'ahs' from the audience. He smiled smugly at her, but his victory was short-lived as he went to cut further down, causing the keep to crumble.

 

"Commander, I do believe it is oozing," she tutted at him. With a defeated sigh, the two looked at each other amusingly, "It's harder than it looks, isn't it?"

 

"I'd like another try with it, Inquisitor. If you'd allow it? I will not be bested in battle by some… pastry."

 

"Whoa, bold words, Curly! Go easy on our poor dinner, I'd still like to eat it despite how you just destroyed it."

 

"I can hear our cook crying from here." There were snickers and laughs, "But I accept your desire to try again. When we return from the Emerald Graves, I shall request a special dinner and you can try your hand at it one more time."

 

"Varric mumbled through his teeth over to Bull and Blackwall, "I feel a wager coming on…"

 

"My coin is on the Commander," without much prodding, the Warden passed a few coppers across the table to the dwarf slyly as if it were a Carta lyrium deal.

 

"Sorry, Cullen but I'm with the pastry." Bull slapped his massive hand down revealing a nice pile of silver. "After seeing how many times the Inquisitor has tried and failed, the odds are against you."

 

"I'm with Tiny," Varric added some more coins while Cullen glowered at him. "What? I call it how I see it, Curly, and you are a hammer to which everything you look at is a nail. And while that has its uses, in this case," he frowned and looked at their dinner now plopping off the plate, "it doesn't."

 

"And what say you, Inquisitor?" Blackwall inquired and just like that all attention was on her.

 

She looked at Cullen then to the crust that once looked like Skyhold, "You know, normally I would've been behind you in this endeavor," she paused looking up to him with a haughty expression, "but, since you sassed me about my terrible cutting, my coin will forever be with the crumbly crust." Bull and Varric let out a cheer as the other two men shook their heads. Sitting back smugly, she tossed a few gold coins at their bookie, who diligently made notes on the bets. Nodding curtly at her, he scooped up the spilled innards of the casserole and plunked them in the center of her dish. "Hey!" Cullen tried to hide his smirk but was doing a horrible job as he served the others. When his back was to her, she swapped her plate with his. He only noticed when he piled a second helping onto his dish.

 

"This is becoming sickly adorable, I might just lose my appetite," Varric commented.

 

Ignoring the resident author, Evelyn looked at Cullen with indignant impatience, "I'd like you to try that again, but this time, do please place it to the side, Commander." She loved watching his ire flush his cheeks, and right before he spoke, he clamped his jaw shut and did as she bid. His gaze was intense, so much so that she almost instinctively snapped up a barrier. "Thank you," she said condescendingly. Cullen didn't say anything, but when a servant came by to fill their glasses, he whispered and passed something to the man. Continuing with their meal, the food became a bit too dry for her liking and she asked about for the gravy, but no one could find it on the table. Flagging one of the servers, she inquired about their gravy bowl.

 

"Apologies, Inquisitor, but the Commander said you wanted it cleared from the table." The man stood between the two of them who were now having a private staring contest. Cullen continued to eat, gazing over at her unamused and unafraid by her glowering. "S-should I return it, Your Worship?"

 

"No." Evelyn tilted her head slightly, "No, thank you. The Commander was only doing as I asked." The fact was Cullen, knew exactly what he was doing. It was a sound strategy to hit her where it would annoy her most after she stole his plate. The servant bowed and rushed back towards the kitchen at such a pace that Evelyn's foot tapped in irritated synchronization with his quick footfalls. "Well, played Commander." Their captive audience wore shit-eating grins, chuckling to themselves.

 

"I have some gravy on mine, would you like to switch plates again?" Studying his for a moment, it looked much more appetizing than her own, but she stubbornly declined. Pouting the rest of the meal, she finished it in complete defiance of Cullen's expectations that she could not eat a meal without drowning it in sauce. Placing her silverware and napkin on the table she stood and bid everyone a good evening, except the Commander who received a pointed look. The former Templar looked somewhat perplexed at her leaving, but as she reached the door, she glanced back mischievously. The faint echo of Bull's voice followed her, and she laughed knowing that whenever Bull began a sentence with, 'Let me give you some advice,' it was the type to make Cullen blush like a Chantry Sister.

 

Later that evening after a bath, Evelyn sat beside the fire reading a book, ignoring the work she had yet to finish. Having thought about it, she was resigned to packing it to take with her while on the road when she didn't have anything better to do. For once, she was being selfish and reading a classic adventure tale she found in the library. The frigid nights were setting in and the one major flaw of her opulent quarters was the draft from the windows and doors to the balconies. Her soft white wool nightgown fell off her shoulders hugging her for a sultrier and cozier look. The mage's two-toned hair had dried with its natural waves intact at the ends and she pushed it to one side in an attempt to control it. Few candles were lit about the room making the central seating area in front of the fire all the more welcoming with its warmth. Saphira had brought her a dessert tray after her bath made up of sweets and spiced hot cider. The spicy scents of the cloves and cinnamon sticks drifted about the room mingling perfectly with the glazed rolls and piece of pumpkin pie.

 

Despite the decadent desserts calling to her, she waited for her guest to sneak his way up to her quarters before digging in. When he finally arrived, she snapped her book shut and shielded the food with her arms, "Before you take another step," he froze with wide eyes meeting her lethal glare, "promise me you'll not ruin this dessert for me."

 

With a chuckle, Cullen held his hand up as if taking an oath, "I promise." Walking over to her, he gave her a sweet kiss and the two sat on the loveseat to partake and spend a slow lazy evening together before she left. "I'm going to miss you. I know it's only been a week of this, but I'm not sure what I'll do without you now."

 

"Well, some work I hope," she winked at him with a bright smile, before biting the sweet roll with a satisfied hum. "I share the sentiment, but we both know duty comes first." She looked at him sharing a knowing look with a deep understanding of what that meant. "Any news from home?" She asked wanting to change the subject.

 

"Yes, actually," an eyebrow arched up at her as he finished a sip of cider. "It seems Richard now has a horse, and a Ranger at that." Evelyn stilled looking guiltily over at him.

 

"Branson said it was all right and as it happened, my father had a foal born late this season."

 

"You wrote to Bran?"

 

She nodded grabbing a fork for the pie, "He loved Nelson so much how could I not!" After another respite to partake in dessert, she continued eyeing him hesitantly, "I also sent gifts to Rosemary and Arthur, since it'd be unfair not to." Cullen gaped at her slightly, "Oh, it was nothing! I sent along a paint set and some toy soldiers for them, that's it!"

 

He huffed, blowing off the surface of his mug of cider, "You're not making being an uncle easy, Trevelyan. How am I supposed to top that?"

 

"Well…"

 

"What?"

 

"I told them that the gifts were from both of us as early Satinalia gifts. It only took this long to send because my father was waiting for the foal to be weaned from his mother. Mia held the gifts until the Ranger arrived so they all received something together. Your status as the best uncle has been preserved." He sat there quietly drinking staring at the fire with an unreadable expression. "Are you cross with me? It had slipped my mind with trying to pack and all."

 

Placing his mug down, he wiped a hand down his face but it revealed a smile, "No, I'm not. It's just… an odd sensation sending my nieces and nephew holiday gifts. It's something normal people do, you know when the world isn't going to the Void."

 

Evelyn couldn't help but laugh in agreement, "I only get to send things to Hector's two boys since I'm not really on speaking terms with my eldest sister. But those boys have everything they could possibly want thanks to their doting grandparents, so I usually end up sending them something I collect in my travels. It was nice buying something for your family that would be appreciated. Not that my nephews wouldn't, it's…"

 

"I understand," he held her hand, "thank you. At least now I can write back as if it was planned all along." They chuckled together, and she fell back onto him. His arm circled her and rubbed up and down the soft arm of her nightgown.

 

"It's our little secret." Tucking herself into him more, she lost herself in thought as his deep relaxing breaths rocked her gently. There were a lot of things she wanted to say like 'as the future Mrs. Rutherford, of course she took care of it,' but decided against it. Was it too soon to say something like that? She had just told her father officially about them, and she still sensed a hidden tension in him about it. Perhaps, for now, she'd let it lie until he made the next advance, like in their chess games. Of all the things she didn't want to do, among them was fluster him about getting too ahead of themselves. There were still many uncertainties and variables before they'd attain the future they sought - chief among them being Corypheus.

 

After both falling into silence, enjoying the sounds of the night and the other's breathing, he whispered in her ear, "May I take you to bed, my lady?" In the past few minutes, he was becoming increasingly restless, the kind when something was on his mind.

 

Gazing up into his rare amber eyes with a smile, she replied, "I thought you'd never ask." Reconciling her thoughts, she realized it was for the best to live in the present, for tomorrow was not guaranteed. With a show of strength, Cullen lifted her in his arms as she held fast, walking her slowly to the bed. Planting kisses up his neck to his ear, she hummed taking in the scent of oakmoss and elderflower on him. Dropping her on the blankets, she laughed and rolled on her side watching him intently as he took his boots and shirt off. Biting her lip, a slender finger trailed up from the hem of her nightgown, pulling it up around the curve of her hip to display the single limb of hers that wasn't scarred. The molten hunger in his look viewing her as she reached back loosening the ties on the back of her dress told her what had been nagging his mind.

 

Pointing her foot out towards him, Cullen pulled his way up her toned leg over to the side of the bed, but quickly swung her around so both legs dangled off the side. Pushing the rest of her gown up over her hips and sliding off her smalls, Evelyn pushed up to her elbows tilting her head to the side with a sultry smile.

 

Kneeling before her his rough hand grazed down her thighs and grasped her behind the knees. "Are you alright with this?" His fingers teased about causing her breath to hitch and waves of heat to roll through her. Feeling his stubble scrape her inner thighs, followed by his tickling warm breath was causing her to throb.

 

"Yes," she whispered, "please." Though he looked endearingly unsure, probably due to inexperience, he dove into her without abandon.

 

Cullen made love like he fought, with painstaking and methodical concentration. The focus in his eyes was always unnerving, making her feel both vulnerable and safe at once; she was both prey and precious to him depending on their chosen dynamic. Evelyn knew when they made love she was the one singular thing on his mind, making her affection swell to overwhelming heights within her chest. It was more than blinding lust, it was soul-searing ardor that burned hotter than even her own primal mana. It was in the throes of such passion that she felt bold enough to say the things she had held back earlier; how she wanted all of Skyhold to hear her screams of ecstasy when they were together; how she wished he'd desperately ask for her hand in marriage; how she wanted to beg him to fill her womb with his child. Then the anchor's emerald lightning flashes about in the subdued candlelight as a stark reminder of the pain such hasty declarations could bring. Still, they linger on the tip of her tongue as they imbue her cries.

 

The sight of him between her legs and then the feel of his tongue on her had her seeing stars instantly. "Maker, Cullen!" Evelyn couldn't help but cry out as she fell back reaching the precipice quickly. She wanted to run her hand through his hair, but if it was his first time she didn't want to fluster him, even though he had the precision of one with practiced experience. The concupiscence sensations were too much, and she moaned longingly as she lived through a longtime fantasy. One last hard flick and suck had her bucking and screaming his praises into the blankets.

 

When she came to from nearly blacking out with pleasure, she sat up, grabbing his arms aggressively to pull him up with her. Throwing off her nightgown before deftly undressing the rest of him, they knelt before each other bare. Warmed from the heat of his attentiveness, her hand grasped and fondled him, though he needed no preparation. Instead, Evelyn pulled him in, sucking on his bottom lip that retained a hint of her sweet and tangy essence on them. His hand found her ass and made her fall against him. The two ravaged each other, though it was measured trying to commit the feel of their lover to memory.

 

Pushing him down and climbing over him, she couldn't help but comment, "Whatever woman you learned that from, I'm extremely jealous of her."

 

A small satisfied smile tweaked at his scared lip, "Well, it was The Iron Bull actually…"

 

She narrowed her eyes at him confused before realizing, "Is that what he told you to do as I left dinner? I would've liked to be a fly on the wall for that conversation."

 

He turned a shade of scarlet, "Yes, it was all rather mortifying, and yet prurient, that I found myself curious. Your reaction made it all worthwhile. Maker breath, the sounds you made, Eve." He pushed his hips up into her and they became one once more before they would be parted for some time by duty.

 

"And I'll gladly make them again," Leaning over him, she began repaying the favor late into the night as the moons reached their apex.

Notes:

Greetings all!

Apologies for the wait, April has been a busy month for me. The next chapter for WTPF will be scheduled to come out next week, so don't forget to subscribe for the notification! If you're following my other stories, the newest chapter are in the works as well.

Also, I've mentioned our Discord server in the past, but I wanted to once again share the info with you. The server is not simply to talk about my works, but help writers find other writers/readers of every genre and skill level to receive encouragement, feedback, and promote their own stories through thoughtful discussions. It is a small active community of a few writers/readers right now (including that of AO3's IrinaPalmova and GalenMarek227), but if you're looking for a great place to find the kick in the butt to write or get honest constructive feedback to help you improve, the "Munklington Writes" server is the server for you! I hope you'll join us!

Here's the link:
https://discord.gg/WhxxBDfY

Until next week,
Munklington

Chapter 32: Affairs of the Heart Pt.2

Summary:

Evelyn leaves for the Emerald graves leaving Cullen with plenty to think about regarding their future.

"Cullen," she placed a hand on his forehead, "you're burning up, and your hands are like ice. Let me fetch Ilara or Dorian." The next morning, the former Templar had awoken with a fever most likely brought on by the stress of her leaving.

 

With a groan, he sat up squinting in the pale light of morning, "I'll be fine, it's just a withdrawal flare-up. Perhaps, I'll feel better once I force myself to eat something." Watching him intently, the mere mention of food seemed to make his stomach churn and his face green. For a few minutes he pressed a palm to his eyes and forehead trying to relieve some of the pressure.

 

"I really don't like the idea of leaving you when you're like this." The more she watched him, the more she cursed having to leave so early.

 

Getting dressed with the finesse of an elderly man, he walked wearily over to her and pressed a kiss on her head, "You must, and I'll be fine. As you're well aware, I have my good and bad days." Holding fast to him, they needed to say their goodbye while still in the privacy of her quarters. Cupping his stubbly face and finding the strength of his resolve still holding strong in his golden eyes, she pressed her lips to his. "Please take care, and do not put yourself in undue danger," he murmured into her mouth with his eyes shut tight.

 

"I'll be fine, my love." She parted slightly back, "I'm sorry I can't be here for you."

 

It was his turn to hold her face gently in his hands. Cullen thumbed the scar on her jaw, "It will pass. Each report letting me know you're safe will bolster my strength and spirits. And no dragons." She laughed, and he smirked back at hearing it, "Finally, a smile from you."

 

With one more lingering kiss, they hooked arms and left to meet the day together. Though he tried to hide a cringe of pain as they walked down the stairs, she caught it. Through breakfast and all the way up until she was checking the saddle on Nelson, guilt gnawed at her having to leave while he was suffering. He had tried to pretend that he was managing just fine with jokes or a strained smile, but Cullen wasn't fooling her.

 

Thankfully, Dorian had been on hand to see them off and immediately upon seeing Cullen knew without an explanation what was ailing him. "Fret not, he's in good hands. I'll personally see to it that he's feeling better in no time, Inquisitor." With the pretense gone, the Commander settled into a more sedate state while the two mages discussed his health.

 

Skulking by, no doubt seeing Varric off, Hawke added, "I'd feel the same way if I spent as much time with Trevelyan as you do, Rutherford." The two of them glared at his back, while Dorian simply looked on with a cocked eyebrow. "Once she's far, far away playing hero we'll all be feeling much better," Cullen growled, but his sorry state didn't allow him to be very intimidating. His watchful friend cleared his throat and held him back as Evelyn was already snapping at the heels of the Champion like a trained Mabari.

 

"Hawke, out of curiosity, does your arse ever get jealous of all the shit that spews from your mouth?" At the conclusion of her words, he stopped and turned, opening his mouth to say something, but she held a finger up, not wanting to spend her last few minutes bickering with him. "Enough. Need I remind you that you are in my keep and I can have you thrown out at my pleasure."

 

"Blaze, are you two really still going at it?" Varric questioned as he rode past towards the gate with a nod to his longtime friend. Evelyn wasn’t sure how serious the dwarf took their squabbling, or rather knew the extent of it. She simply gave him a pointed look while placing her hands on her hips.

 

"A fact I have yet to forget, Your Worship," Garret exaggerated a courtly bow. Rising and walking off, he waved back at her, "Safe travels. I’m sure that fat arse of yours is good for long journeys." He gave a short gallop at the end to punctuate his point.

 

Shaking her head, she flicked her fiery fingers at him and spun back to the others. "Dorian, don't let Hawke near Cullen until he's feeling more himself."

 

The blonde Ferelden scoffed, "I'm more than capable of ignoring the imbecile."

 

Evelyn placed a finger on her chin, tilting her head forward, "Are you?" They both knew that was nearly impossible for Cullen to do.

 

"My sharp wit is at the Commander's disposal. It’ll be like a ventriloquist show; Cullen scowls and I’ll do all the talking from behind, surely no one would know the difference," the Altus joked, patting Cullen on the shoulder. "And I will make sure, after your departure, that he sees the lovely Enchanter Ilara." When he huffed at Dorian, making him balk back as if he had just been told his mustache looked like a caterpillar, Evelyn knew her love was about to get lectured. "Excuse me, Commander Sassy-pants, I believe you are to be tracking your health closely, not just for your own sake but for those who also wish to quit lyrium. It’s all very academic, really."

 

Cullen looked at her like a sad lion cub, as she mounted her prized Ranger, "The Commander will follow your orders to the letter, is that understood?" When the Tevinter mage looked exceedingly too pleased, she amended her statement, "When it comes to his health, Dorian. No ventriloquist stunts."

 

"Well, there goes my fun. Very well, my dear, be safe, and don't worry about tall, blonde, and brooding here."

 

"Remember to send word back to Skyhold once you've reached camp. There's still a civil war going on in the countryside. Trust no one." She nodded to him, despite knowing that tidbit already, and he straightened grasping the pommel of his sword, "May Andraste guide you and keep you safe, Inquisitor." The two men gave a shallow bow in unison, all for a show of anyone watching the exchange.

 

Bull wheeled his mount around, "We'll look after the Boss. I trust you can keep my boys in line, Commander? When they get bored they tend to like roughing up the garrison troops."

 

"Krem and I can handle any unruliness."

 

“If not, I would suggest doing the dummy act. The boys always loved a cheap show.” Bull gave a wink to Dorian.

 

“Cheap? I’ve been called many things, but never cheap! That’ll cost you later, Bull!” The two shared an impish smirk as the Qunari spurred on his mount.

 

At last, when there was nothing more to say and her companions were already headed across the bridge, they shared one final gaze of solidarity before duty once again wedged itself between them. As she sped out the portcullis she yelled back, almost forgetting, "By the way, if there's screaming coming from the tavern, it's because I burnt Hawke's pants off!"

 

---

 

With Evelyn gone, Cullen's free nights were spent working himself to exhaustion or hopelessly gathering the courage to write to her father. In his sessions with Enchanter Ilara, as he recovered from a hard week of lyrium withdrawal, he found the courage to ask if she knew anything about the man. Her only insight came in the form of the old metaphor, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. One evening in particular, he sat at his desk besieged by failed letters he crumpled and tossed to the floor. Shaking his head in disgust that he even allowed himself to waste a whole bloody forest on his idiotic ramblings, he decided he needed a new strategy. Unfortunately, he also knew whose help he needed to elicit, he just dreaded doing it…

 

Hesitating before her door, Cullen forced himself to knock, trying not to draw attention to him from those milling around the Great Hall. He knew it was all in his head, but the guests bending to whisper to their neighbor had him blushing already as if they could read his thoughts and knew his secret purpose. Cullen was about to bolt when her Antivan lilt reached him from beyond the door, beckoning him inside. "Commander, what can I do for you?" As her eyes fell on the crumpled paper he clutched in his fist, she studied him intently, searching for clues.

 

"Um," he rubbed the back of his neck, slamming the door shut behind him, " I need assistance-- that is, I need your expertise in a... personal matter." Looking intrigued, she motioned for him to sit, but he refrained not wanting to be confined to the chair with his nervous energy. His eyes darted briefly to the slightly wilting arrangement of flowers on her desk and he reminded himself not to pry, especially when he had problems of his own.

 

"Cullen, whatever it is, I will do my utmost to help you, and keep it strictly confidential." While Josephine wore a trusting smile, he knew as soon as he gave her the parchment that promise would be hard to keep from a certain nug-loving Orlesian. 

 

With a heavy resigning sigh, though not able to meet her eyes, he admitted, "I require assistance in writing a letter to Evelyn's father of my intentions." He braced for her to laugh or take on that diplomatic face when someone said something ludicrous about the Inquisition, but instead, it softened deeper with a lovelorn look. At this point, he might as well stop the pretense with them, despite how openly affectionate he was during the Ryker intervention. In fact, there was quite a number of their close friends who knew, yet thankfully aside from some veiled teasing, no one spoke of it. Knowing that, it suddenly became easier to breathe, and perhaps he owed their inner circle of friends more credit for their discretion.

 

The Ambassador spoke gently as if anything more would cause him to flee the room, "Of course. May I express my joy at hearing such news? Strictly confidential news, but I am happy that you both have found happiness in times such as these." Swallowing hard, he nodded, finally braving himself to look up and thank her awkwardly. Standing, Josephine rounded her desk to place a hand on his shoulder, "May I see what you have?" Begrudgingly, he surrendered the draft to her. Her gray eyes moved from him to the words, skimming through the cross-outs and margin notes. "Come," she waved with a hand gesturing for him to follow her around the desk.

 

"I fear my experience with writing is limited to military reports."

 

"To which you are exceedingly gifted, but this is quite a different type of request. We need to make it sound like you are in love with his daughter more, and less like you are requisitioning her like a Ranger from the Bann," she gave him a coy smile. "I think in this case, a bit more passion is needed." He immediately frowned as if he drank soured milk. "There is the Orlesian way where--"

 

"Absolutely not."

 

"But you haven't even heard what--"

 

He crossed his arms replying gruffly, "Anything that is done "the Orlesian way" can't be prudent in this case, nor in any other circumstance."

 

"Very well, though commissioning a bard to recite a poem or ballad of your declared love would have been romantic."

 

"To send to Evelyn or her father?" His incredulous tone rang throughout the room.

 

She scoffed politely, "Her parents, obviously."

 

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, squinting his eyes at the absurdity of sending her father a love ballad about his daughter. "Maker's breath, why don't I just send them fine wine and chocolates from Val Royeaux as well?"

 

"Her mother may enjoy those," he slapped a hand to his forehead, "but what of the Marcher way? It is similar to the Ferelden custom of treating it as a business transaction."

 

Though it certainly sounded more appropriate, the word business made him cringe. "Josephine, I have no assets to barter with. You know that." Sure, he had quite a sum of coin saved that could be used to purchase something, but he had yet to do anything with it. He suddenly became defensive as the shame of his inadequacy surfaced, "I have no title, no land, or income outside of the Inquisition. My family's farm in South Reach belongs to my siblings, so I cannot even boast of that to the Bann." His shoulders slumped, "Perhaps, I should just leave it be. Evelyn has already written to him, maybe I shouldn't push my luck for fear he'd truly understand how undeserving I am of his daughter."

 

The Ambassador sheathed her quill, turning to him from her plush high-back chair with a scolding look, "Cullen, that is extremely unfair to say about yourself. I am still receiving marriage proposals for you from several Orlesian houses that outstrip the Trevelyans twofold, and even more proposing to make you the household mistress…" She paused to allow him to pace, mutter curses, and throw his hands up at the very notion of any of it, all while trying to hide her amused smile.

 

While he refused to be handed a single one of those proposals, he gave her and Leliana leave to keep them for their own entertainment and leverage, so long as he didn't have to hear about it. On occasion, as he drifted through the Great Hall, Josephine would ask that he exchange pleasantries with a noble before tending to his business, and for the longest time, he wondered why, until he began to notice odd things appearing the same day: dropped monographed handkerchiefs in his path that he often had to kick off his boot, notes or sappy poetry slipped into his pocket, or the late-night dainty knocks on his locked office doors. When he confronted his two counterparts, barking at them that he was not bait for their political schemes and amusement, Leliana simply replied, 'Hush, and just look pretty.'

 

After a short tantrum, he grumbled, "I doubt my looks will be of any consequence to her father. Though I'm quite positive if you sent all those proposals to her mother she would quite readily accept me."

 

"That would certainly give her something to brag about at parties," she genuinely laughed. "Come, I think I have a way to play up your strengths while sounding genuine and reassuring." He nodded wearily and moved behind her chair to observe her wordplay:

 

 

Esteemed Bann Drexford Trevelyan,

I extend my sincerest gratitude once more for the invaluable aid lent by the gallant Trevelyan Calvary at Adamant Fortress. The steadfast protection rendered by your seasoned horsemen proved instrumental, ensuring the very foundation of our endeavor remained unshaken.

Yet, my purpose in scribing these words transcends mere expressions of gratitude. With your indulgence, I humbly implore your forgiveness for this audacious correspondence. As soldiers, we both hold dear the virtue of clarity over undue embellishment. It has come to my attention through the words of Evelyn, whom I hold in the highest regard, that you have bestowed your blessing upon our burgeoning courtship. Although decorum dictates that it should have been my pen that first ventured into this realm of discourse, Evelyn's spirited resolve often steers the course where it wills. Hence, I beseech your consent to undertake the pursuit of courting your daughter.

As we stand poised against the encroaching darkness of the Elder One, the future remains veiled in uncertainty, held within the hands of the Maker. That is why up to now, my thoughts have seldom strayed beyond the demands of our present struggle. Yet, recent moments have found me contemplating the prospect of life beyond the mantle of the Inquisition. Unexpectedly, it is Evelyn who has illuminated this path, revealing the possibility of love amidst the tumult of our times.

I solemnly pledge, upon my honor, that until I secure a suitable abode and means of livelihood beyond the confines of military service, I shall not press upon Evelyn for her hand in marriage. Her life and happiness are of paramount importance to me, and I consider it my duty to furnish her with every comfort and safeguard within my power to provide.

As a former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, I bear knowledge of arcane arts that may serve to aid Evelyn should necessity demand. However, in all my years as a Templar, never have I encountered a mage so profoundly attuned to the intricacies of her mana as she. With the divine mark of Andraste yet adorning her palm, we do not know what challenges the future holds for us, yet we shall confront them as one.

In earnest anticipation of your response, esteemed sir, and the auspicious occasion of our eventual meeting, I remain.

With the utmost respect,

Cullen Stanton Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition

 

 

"Thank you, Josephine. I'm not sure I could've managed this without your help. At least now the Bann won't think I'm a knuckle-dragging ex-Templar with no refined skills… well, at least not until he meets me."

 

"Cullen," her countenance turned thoughtful, "if you apply the same vigorous attention you have towards your duty to your relationship, the Bann will be bound to see how deeply you care for her. We all do, at least those you’ve let in on the Inquisition’s biggest secret."

 

"Yes, but no one is supposed to see it, remember?"

 

Cocking up an eyebrow with a conspiratorial smirk, she chided him, "Do you honestly doubt that Leliana and I couldn't arrange meetings with a suitable cover if they were to ever visit Skyhold? If so Commander, you have vastly underestimated our combined abilities."

 

"For the time being, let us hope we will not need such skills." He sighed looking at the carefully drafted letter in his hand, "Maker, it feels like just the other day we were back at Haven coordinating the arrival of the mages together for The Divine, before she was even The Herald. How long has it been?"

 

"Nearly a year now, " Josephine had a nostalgic and dreamy look as she listened to him.

 

"Who knew then where we'd be now? Can it happen that way? So quickly?" Cullen was too far gone lost in memories to hear himself babbling absently.

 

"Yes, very much so." Josephine gazed at her flowers, brushing a manicured finger along one of the delicate petals, causing some to fall. Her gray eyes turned thoughtful, and a sad smile graced her face, for it seemed she was missing Blackwall like he missed Evelyn.

 

"At what point then will Evelyn wake up and realize what she has condemned herself to?"

 

Shaking herself from her own musings, Josephine gave him a pointed stare, "Evie is many things, but she has always known her own mind and heart. The two are nearly the same, in fact. Is it she who you doubt, or yourself?"

 

The trance broke and his head snapped to her, "No, I…" The Ambassador's face was sympathetic and didn't make him so ashamed of speaking with his heart, "I've never been more sure."

 

"Then some advice," she placed a hand on his arm and her voice soothing, "allow no room for doubt to poison your affection. Evie will sense doubt, but she will blame herself for it." A numbing wave of truth washed over him as she was absolutely correct. "She is an intelligent woman, you should give her more credit for choosing to give her heart to you. Look at all she has accomplished, I'm sure she has weighed every option and thought through every scenario, and yet still she chooses you. We've entrusted her with the fate of Thedas, so trust her to know her own heart."

 

He met her gaze sheepishly, clearing his throat, "Thank you, Josephine. Truly."

 

The Antivan simply nodded with a warm smile as she walked back to her desk chair, "Take that straight to Leliana, I believe she's expecting it."

 

Cullen let go of a large breath as he opened the door, grumbling low, "Of course she is."

 

After a rather screwed and shady handoff of his letter to Leliana in her rookery involving no words at all just a conniving smirk, Cullen was feeling less anxious about the whole ritual around courting. His message was off soaring through the sky on its way to her father and nothing was to be done about it now. It was in the Maker's hands and with one problem solved, his mind roamed for something new to fixate on. The past month of only speaking to each other through reports gave him time to reflect on what she had at the time yelled at him for at Adamant, easing much of his uncertainty. If anything, he now looked at his situation in a completely new light.

 

Unlocking the hidden compartment of his old Templar chest in his room, he opened it revealing a large hefty draw-string coin purse. Cullen was frugal and practical, having been brought up in a household where coin was scarce and spent with purpose. After Mia told him she didn't need the coin, he had simply saved it all - for what, he knew not. He required little in terms of personal care, and the Inquisition was supplying him with weapons, armor, clothing, and food, so there wasn't much to spend it on. He wasn't a chronic gambler, with the wager he made pertaining to Cassandra and Owayne done mostly in jest. The amount he had won was nothing to scoff at however, and the more he stared at the substantial pile, the more the light glanced off the gold in the moonlight revealing a world of possibilities. A frightening and enticing prospect presented itself of a future after the Inquisition; a homestead, a family, a wife. Maker, how does one be a husband?

 

She had said she only wished to be with him, but as an avid chess player he knew one always needed to be several steps ahead of the game. He needed to anticipate her needs and wants, and though he truly believed she'd be happy with him whatever the situation, she deserved a good life - "they deserved a good life" he could almost hear her scolding him in his head.

 

His hand tightened on the worn bag, brooding now if he could afford to harbor such hope for a picturesque future with Evelyn. Was it too soon? What if they separated? What if she… died? Despite correcting everything she had said about his ability to provide, there was one glaringly obvious thing he lacked…

 

Hastily locking it all back up along with his doubts, he slid down the ladder and hopped into his chair to write one last letter.

 

---

 

"We've lost the forward camp, Inquisitor." Scout Harding rarely ever brought her bad news; concerning news, yes, but never news such as dire as this.

 

"Any survivors?" There was a long silence and a slow shake of the dwarf's head. "Fuck!" She punched a fist down on the table making her mark sputter green sparks. "Alright, let's review who we have to utilize in defense because you know those bastards will be headed here next." Huddled under the canvas shelter of the newly dubbed "Command Tent," after the first had been taken out by a large boulder hurled by one of Sampson's Behemoths, Evelyn and her inner circle tried to organize a defense through their chattering teeth.

 

After arriving in the Emerald Graves, they weren't there long before Sampson's trail led them to the Emprise du Lion. After being there for several weeks it was clear there was a large red lyrium operation in an old granite quarry that had been sold to none other than Sampson. When they stumbled upon the heart of his base camp, they met fierce resistance being pushed back further and further. They had already lost their furthest camp, and now they had lost a second. There was nowhere else to fall back to without being completely pushed from the area and losing the sizable town of Sahrnia, which had pleaded for the Inquisition's protection. The Orlesian country settlement had quaint streets beside a large bend of the Elfsblood River. Its colorful pastel buildings and town square would have been charming had it not been recently attacked with only Harding and her contingent of scouts to defend it against the Red Templars. 

 

With a heavy sigh, Korbin, who had been sent as reinforcement when Harding's scouts first encountered the Red Templars, stepped forward. His partially bearded face was tattooed as a skeleton in typical Legion of the Dead fashion. He had a permanent snarl etched into his rigid features, yet he spoke rationally and evenly. Their enlistment, a commitment for life, marked them as guardians destined to confront the darkspawn threat, ready to sacrifice themselves in defense of their people. This Legionnaire, however, was reassigned to assist the Inquisition thanks to the alliance Josephine struck with Orzammar. Since then, he had proven himself invaluable to the Commander with his legendary martial prowess and sound tactical mind. Most known for holding off hordes of darkspawn in the Deep Roads for two days alone, he had recently saved the Cumberland Circle of Magi and its resident mages from an angry mob that was threatening to burn it to the ground. A man of action, he preferred to be deployed and volunteered to lead a contingent of soldiers to help hold the Inquisition's position in Sahrnia as Evelyn and her team were en route.

 

"As it stands Inquisitor," Korbin's heavy rasp made it sound as if he smoked a pipe since his emergence from his mother's womb, "we do not have the manpower to hold this position, and this "position" was nug-dung to begin with. By the teats of my ancestors, we're completely exposed here!" She frowned at the hopeless summary of their predicament. "We've no cover, no fortifications, and are vastly outnumbered by the blasted red bastards from what we've seen."

 

"And yet, we need to hold this position or risk losing this foothold. If we retreat now, it will take immense Inquisition lives and resources to break back in. Not to mention, we'll have to evacuate the town. The Elfsblood River is frozen - as is every bloody thing for miles around - we are low on supplies, and should we try to flee the Red Templars will catch up to us with ease." The Inquisitor looked around at the many faces gravely, "I will not forfeit the town so easily. So I ask again: What. Are. Our. Options?" Her fiery aura was providing visible relief to the frozen fighters.

 

To their credit, they all looked at the map and considered the best possible course of action. In addition to their Legionnaire was chevalier Ser Michel de Chevin, former champion of Empress Celene. After leaving the court due to a scandal, he traveled Orlais doing chivalrous deeds. In pursuit of a demon named Ishmael, the skilled swordsman found himself in the heart of a more sinister operation. Michel, his tone ever calm and eloquent after years at court, spoke first, "Perhaps we can keep them distracted and away from town with a small force?"

 

"You mean like us?" Owayne scoffed and gestured around the table, while the blonde swordsman inclined his head toward him.

 

Bull hummed in agreement, "Hit them hard with the biggest hitters, I like that."

 

Varric shrugged, "And with the Inquisitor there as well, it sweetens the pot for Sampson. Though I doubt he'd make the mistake of giving you red lyrium again." There were nods, but they were all still deep in thought.

 

Evelyn crossed her arms, "And yet, will it be enough? For all we know, Sampson knows our numbers and will know it is a trick. What if he attacks us and the town at once?" Her stomach churned at the thought, and she was desperately wishing the Commander was present. He always had a plan and was two steps ahead of the enemy. In the pit of her stomach was a cold fear that came from his absence.

 

"Sampson scouts aren't as stealthy as ours," Harding offered, "they've been blundering through the mountainside like a herd of Brontos, and that red glow coming off them is hard to miss in the dark. I doubt the enemy knows the size of our force here." Lace seemed confident in her assessment and Evelyn had no reason to doubt her yet. She too had proven to be a great asset as lead scout of the Inquisition's expeditionary force.

 

Trying to channel her inner Commander, she remembered the battle in the dark future that he had coordinated. Evelyn pointed decidedly to a spot on the weathered map. It had been pulled in and out of her armor's pocket so many times, that the edges were torn from the friction and wet from the snowy weather. "What about the entrance to the trail through the mountain? It's the only easy route here. Could we keep them bottled up there?" At Redcliffe, he had controlled the flow of the enemy force coming at them by using the doorway, and she wondered if they could do the same here. "What about it? Cassandra? Korbin? Blackwall?" She asked of her three warriors, who passed each other promising looks. "We form a shield wall with you three and Michel, Bull and Owayne provide backup, Varric you get up high and give callouts, Solas provides defensive support, and Sorin and I set magical traps."

 

A huge rumble echoed down from the mountain, causing everyone to look behind them for a moment. "I should go see what the scouts think that was," Harding quickly raced toward the front of the town.

 

When the sound died, the Seeker weighed in, "It could work, for a time at least, until they figure out how to thwart us." Blackwall and Korbin nodded with agreement but Evelyn could tell they too were trying to calculate in their minds how long they could hold out for.

 

Sorin shook his head grimly, "E, you said it yourself, we're low on supplies and fighters. We're going to need help and quickly."

 

"You're right." They couldn't do this with the resources they had. The situation was truly dire and now the enemy was closing in. If they could hold out just a little longer, it'd give the Commander time to reinforce and resupply them. Evelyn knew he'd agree with her on the necessity of holding the position within reason, and she knew between the ten veterans gathered around the tent that they'd fight for as long as they could grip a weapon.

 

"Inquisitor!" Harding returned out of breath, "Red Templars… spotted coming down the mountain pass. There's a Behemoth with them."

 

Her companions all armed themselves and readied for battle, but there was one last thing Evelyn needed to do. "Quickly, someone fetch me something to write with, I need to send a raven to Skyhold immediately. Then we head to the caves."

Notes:

Greetings all!

I hope you enjoyed this two-part chapter! I have to say after all the drama it was a nice break to write the the fluff. What do you think, will there be another Trevelyan family visit to Skyhold after Cullen's letter?

Have a lovely rest of your week and I'll talk to you next time!

All the best,
Munklington

Chapter 33: Emprise du Lion

Summary:

Evelyn and her team of ten companions are in dire need of aid, but will it come in time before she resorts to desperate measures?

Cullen was meeting with his senior officers in his tower that evening, when a messenger barged in unannounced, "Ser, an urgent message from the Inquisitor!" The man ran it over to him and caught his breath as he read it. At a glance, Evelyn's script appeared rushed and somewhat sloppy by her standards, indicating it had been done in a hurry. This made his stomach knot up. The paper looked as if it was once wet before drying, puckering in places, and upon opening it and seeing multiple smudges, he realized the author had done it:

 

Commander,

This matter requires your immediate attention. Extreme resistance from Samson's Red Templars in Emprise du Lion. Request immediate aid. Facing bulk of his army, not just a fragment. Need at least one company of soldiers, preferably two, and the Chargers if available. Coordinate with Spymaster for intel on Samson's position. Townsfolk say he's entrenched in granite mine bought from Mistress Poulin. Whole area swarming with Red Templars, unable to gather intel. Currently camped in Sahrnia. Holding position but need reinforcements and supplies urgently or will be overrun. Area frozen beneath foot of ice, making evacuation difficult. Arrange aid from Emperor for people of Emprise du Lion: food, blankets, healers.

Make haste.

Inquisitor Trevelyan

 

Looking to the messenger panting heavily before him, he ordered, "Send word to the Ambassador and Sister Nightingale to convene in the War Room immediately." At the Commander's urgent tone, he flew out the door, leaving it slightly ajar. "You there, soldier!" He called to the guard just outside, "Get down to The Herald's Rest and find Krem. Have him ready The Chargers for immediate deployment. Tell him I'll meet with him as soon as I can, and pack for the cold. Go!" Looking to the officers before him all on alert after hearing him bark out orders, Cullen brought them up to speed. "The Inquisitor requires immediate assistance in the Emprise du Lion for they are facing the main force of the Elder One's Red Templars. Dane and Foster, ready your soldiers, we leave at first light." The Captains saluted and strode out the door with purpose. "Rylen, have a message sent to Lieutenant Reid in the Emerald Graves and have his men get to the Inquisition camp in a town called Sahrnia in the Emprise du Lion with all haste."

"All of 'em? The whole unit?" His second-in-command questioned as his brow creased with worry.

"Yes, I'll send men to replace his, but the Inquisitor's need is dire and his men are the closest to her location. The scouts can hold the camp, and even then, Fairbanks has the situation in hand for the time being."

"Aye, Commander."

"And Rylen," the Marcher stopped and turned as his hand reached the door latch, "I'll be going with the men to assess the situation and coordinate. I leave you in command here and will let you know what more we'll need. I'll meet with you back here in an hour for a run-down of our military operations." His old friend nodded firmly before hurrying out to carry out his orders.

Dismissing the rest of them, within minutes the Commander had all of Skyhold in a frenzy over the news from Orlais. The Inquisitor was in trouble and there was not a soul who was left sitting idle to help the troops get ready for deployment. Some time ago he had made an emergency plan in case the army was needed to respond immediately to a threat, and though the hour was late, they'd be ready by first light to leave. Making his way briskly to the War Room, his counterparts awaited him anxiously.

"We assume you've had word from the Inquisitor," Leliana studied him as he strode purposely toward the table. In the light of the moons and shadows of the room, she seemed in her element.

"Yes, there is a situation that requires our immediate action." He passed the letter to Josephine - who took the soiled report with two fingers as if it were a dirtied handkerchief - as he began lighting more candles and sliding the pieces representing their troops around on the map. "The Inquisitor believes the heart of Samson's operation is in the Emprise du Lion, and she needs more soldiers, supplies, and reconnaissance." He relayed the contents of the letter to Leliana as Josephine pulled a fresh piece of parchment from her board and began drafting a letter to Emperor Gaspard.

"I'll pull agents from other assignments to help scout the area and speak with locals to find out what has been happening. If he's been there this whole time he must have a large base and a regular supply line." Taking the letter from Josephine, she skimmed it, "And I'll find her notable targets within the quarry."

He nodded, standing back to view the whole map, "I'll be leaving with the men in the morning, so Knight-Captain Rylen will take over for me here. There's an old abandoned elven fortress near the Inquisitor's location which may be of use to us if Samson hasn't taken up residence there. If he has, then we'll be planning an assault to capture it. Either way, with as many men as she's requested, and facing an army of Red Templars, I better go and assist her."

"And what of Samson himself?" The redhead's unflinching gaze held meaning as she watched him like a hawk. "An added incentive to go?" His scowl drew down, unsure of her facial expression that was hidden by the shadow of her cowl. She crossed her arms, "I'm not judging, Cullen, simply asking."

"I will admit, if he is there I'd like nothing better than to tear down his operation with my bare hands after all the Templars he has misled and corrupted. I may no longer be a member of the Order, but I still respect those who serve and sacrifice. If the twisting of the Chantry isn't bad enough, Corypheus and Samson have expertly convinced these men and women to into taking red lyrium." He sighed, tightening his grip on the pommel of his sword. "I wish I could let it go, but I can't. I knew Raleigh and bunked with him for years until he was expelled. If we had stayed friends, I could very well be one of those blighted mindless creatures with crystals growing from me." He stared off for a time as horrid scenarios played out before him.

Josephine had paused her writing, exchanging concerned glances with Leliana. The weight of his words and visions of the Commander as a mutated red monstrosity must've also filled their minds. "Thank the Maker that you were separated before such taint could touch you," the Ambassador's eyes shifted with genuine care.

But he was tainted. The lyrium he took may not have been red, but for the rest of his days, he'd live with the repercussions of his usage. The very thought of how much he dumped into his veins while in Kirkwall - with the approval of Meredith - made his hands shake. All that raw power at his fingertips and the things it did to his mind and personality... how could he be the person he once was after the damage it caused? He thought he was serving the Order and a higher purpose, but what he was doing then was no better than what Samson was doing; it was he after all who told Cullen that taking more than the issued draughts would help him forget. A spike of rage caused him to painfully squeeze the wooden marker he was moving in his hand painfully.

Josephine placed the report back on the table, and his eyes landed immediately on the signature of the author. Like the clouds parting for the sun, his anger was replaced swiftly by burning love and concern for the Inquisitor. In his mind’s eye, he envisioned her always bathed in light that grew with intensity until her fire chased away the shadows. Despite the scars that marked her face and body, in her warm brown eyes was a tenderness. Her supple lips mouthed ‘I forgive you, now forgive yourself,’ speaking of his past sins. Though he was unsure he ever could truly absolve his own guilt, her could hold onto her words with hope of it one day. She was still his guiding light out of the dark; the torch that banished all the shadows in his mind.

He needed to remember that he was also one of the luckiest ex-Templars having survived this long. By all rights, he should be going mad rotting in a bed, or even dead having not taken lyrium for nearly a year. The Maker showed him a path to redemption, and while risky, he knew it was the right choice. It also helped to have met people who cared enough to check on his health. Having had no intention of telling anyone except for Cassandra, he was glad he did. And lest he forget Evelyn's part in all this; fate or coincidence brought the two of them together. Between his nightmares, trauma, and withdrawal symptoms, he's not sure he would've endured had it not been for her steadfast support. Thinking back to their time at Haven when he summoned the courage to speak with her about her similar issues following her encounter with Samson, it truly had been one of the best decisions of his life.

Relenting his iron grip from the marker, he placed his down beside Evelyn's on the table. His fingers grazed the large eye of the Inquisition's symbol and he shut his eyes whispering a prayer under his breath. Leliana had been studying him, and meeting her steely gaze, she offered a resolute nod, "Give our best to Evie when you see her, Cul. We'll be eagerly awaiting word from you. May the Maker guide you in this endeavor." The duality of Leliana at times gave him whiplash; one moment she was plotting intrigue, dissecting every nuance with cold, calculating eyes. The next, she was transformed, radiating kindness and warmth, her words full of genuine affection. He found himself puzzled by the mystery of her nature. Which was the mask? Which was the true self? Or perhaps, in some perplexing paradox, they were both real, two sides of a single, unfathomable soul.

Following the Spymaster, the Ambassador stopped suddenly causing him to peer back curiously at her. Her heeled shoes made a squeal against the stone, and he straightened turning towards her. The Antivan looked to be readying herself to ask something of him, but for some odd reason, he knew and beat her to it. "I'll give Blackwall your regards, and keep an eye out for him."

Josephine's eyes went wide, but quickly gave way to relief, nodding. He found it funny that for all her experience in diplomacy, she had trouble voicing her sentiments for the Warden. "He's still alive then?"

"Well, he's not dead." His dismissal of it so bluntly had her taken back, and he quickly amended his statement, "I mean, wounded, maybe. That is, Evelyn would've noted such news in her letter if something happened to him or any of her companions. You haven't seen them in battle as I have, for if you had you'd feel better about their chances."

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Cullen." He gave her a reassuring smile that seemed to bolster her with hope. Stepping closer, she slipped something small into his hand. By the feel and shape, it was a folded letter. Her round gray eyes met his for a moment in a wordless agreement and before leaving she simply added, "May Andraste watch over you all."

Returning to his tower, he felt the adrenaline rush of getting the opportunity to go back out in the field. While he understood the importance of his careful attention to overseeing all of the military operations they had spread out on both sides of the Waking Sea, he always preferred to be a boots-on-the-ground sort of presence for his men. His meticulous organization and attention to detail was why Cassandra had first recruited him, after seeing his coordination of relief efforts in Kirkwall, but he had years of battle experience – not to mention a young and fit body – that were going to waste being cooped up and chained to a desk in Skyhold. As he met with Rylen and packed, his heart-pounding anxiousness churned his stomach, remembering who'd be waiting to greet him upon his arrival. Maker, he missed Eve. Each morning, he had been surprised to wake up beside her, and now it was a shock that she wasn't there. In the middle of the night, he found himself drawing the sheets and blankets to him, as if trying to pull her ghost into his embrace. Skyhold seemed devoid of life without her; she was his world and future.

Sweet Andraste, would she still be alive by the time he and the men made it…

Josephine's concerns did nothing to silence his own, nor did his own words in response. He tried not to dwell on the dark thoughts that stabbed into his gut every so often as well, trying to scry into the night sky to see how she was faring. Resting his elbows on the window sill, he closed his eyes, reciting another prayer of protection to the stars. He reassured himself that Evelyn was perfectly capable of defending herself and had the aid of her formidable companions, not to mention Korbin. That dwarf could be two days dead and still swinging his maul with lethality. They could hold on until they arrived... they had to.

It'd be days before they reached Sahrnia, and something in his churning stomach was telling him the men that he diverted from the Emerald Graves would buy them time, but still wouldn’t be enough. Such a massive concentration of Red Templars could only mean that they had finally tracked down Samson With growing fortifications in the Western Approach and Crestwood, along with Skyhold in the Frostbacks, the Inquisition's influence and legions were growing, but so too were their operations. The Commander was trying his best to provide the manpower they needed to not only hold key areas from Corypheus' forces trying to retake them but also stabilize the region.

At the incessant sound of his office doors opening and closing below, he knew it was going to be a long night and headed back down to ensure everything would be ready. Soldiers, supplies, and healers, her words kept running through his head.  Make haste, that one line haunting his every move. Time was of the essence and ready or not, they were departing upon the rising sun. Make haste.

 

---

 

Night had fallen, ceasing the constant strings of attacks from Samson's abominations. The more time they spent in the company of the Red Templars, the more they learned about them, including a working theory that they were unable to see well. They responded to movement with jerky reflexes of their own and their eyes were inflamed by the poison, leading them to believe this was the reason for their aversion to the night. Had they the men, they could easily attack their camps after dark, but they were hardly holding on as it was. Whatever the reason for the nightly truce, as soon as darkness swallowed the landscape, their attacks would stop giving Evelyn and her team time to recover their injuries and mana.

Their plan to hold the enemy at the caves failed a few days ago, and the combined elemental power of Evelyn, Sorin, and Solas was able to cause a large enough explosion to collapse the tunnels. However, it would not be secure for long as the scouts reported that they could hear the Red Templars clearing the rubble. The blockage was causing the enemy to traverse down the steep slope on the far side of the mountain and traverse down the ice. When Harding braved a hike out at night to scout their path for anything they could use to slow them, she was surprised to find a few of their Knights dead from the cold. Their bodies littered the trail and some were even trampled on without a care. From where they were now camped on the bank of the Elfsblood River, she swore she could hear the echoes of their pickaxes tapping away at the stone getting ever closer to breaking through. If she wasn't already freezing, it would surely wrack her back with chills. If they were to clear the passage, her team would be forced to fall back to the town and hold until reinforcements arrived, but that was their last resort. As Korbin drilled into her head through the weeks, Sahrnia was indefensible.

The beaten and battered crew boasted plentiful bruises and cuts. They were out of healing potions, and low on lyrium, which they saved for Solas to use for healing the group. Aside from non-magical methods of healing, the elven apostate was all they had for the major wounds. He stayed back from the fighting, casting barriers and patching up the fighters when need be. The rest of the party threw their magic, blades, and bodies at the enemy all day. It was almost comical the way they slunk back to camp after dark hunched over from exhaustion only to collapse, sometimes in a heap, until Solas pulled them apart for healing. Any surface cut was painful if left untreated, for the water from melted snow would freeze and expand within it. Each of them had their share of broken bones, knockouts, and moments of their lives flashing before their eyes, yet they awoke every morning ready for the next fight.

Their armor was sundered, and some were missing pieces that had been ripped from their bodies by the brutish Knights. They were at least seven feet tall with their skin puckered and pulled taught like Corypheus' face. They had incredible strength that sent all those without a shield ducking behind someone who had one. The most annoying were the ones they called 'Shadows.' They were former rogues, able to turn invisible and stab at you with their crystalized arms that were sharpened like a blade. Aside from a magical barrier, the only way to thwart them was with traps and mines. Varric and Owayne both had a trained eye to give warning as to their whereabouts on the field of battle, but the bastards were still quick to slice and stab you in the back. The other monstrosities they coined 'Horrors,' ugly hunchbacks with the ability to cast energy barriers, fire, and accelerate the corruption of the red lyrium to make their allies stronger. The worst of the bunch were the Behemoths, but they were saved when the enemy believed them to be close to defeat.

Put waves of those blighted creatures together and Evelyn truly began to wonder what it felt like not to be in pain, for it seemed never-ending.

Then there was the red lyrium…

As if things weren't bad enough, the giant primordial crystals protruding from the ground were messing with her mana and mind. Solas and Sorin were simply agitated when they were near it, but having taken it twice, Evelyn noticed a crippling pull toward it. Its deafening resonating hum when they came close to a large vein rang in her ears upon approach. The anchor would flare defensivly as would her own mana, causing her heart to race with an anxious nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach. Nightmares threatened the three mages' sleep, and more and more they felt the presence of demons lurking and watching them from in the Fade. Their screams punctuated the silence of the twilight, waking up a portion of the camp while the others slept like the dead. The voices from her dreams haunted her constantly, putting an almost unbearable strain on her.

"Oh brave, brave mage. You will never escape us. You can slip into your salvation, the arms of the Templar, and those who you think can protect you in ignorance. There are ways in which you cannot even protect yourself, but eventually, you will slip. You will take your bow and in your moment of greatest triumph, you will stand only to fall back into the arms of those who would wait an age for their piece. Have you a clue how popular you are here? The anchor, fighting the Nightmare, galivanting through the fade. There isn't a demon here that doesn't want a piece of you, I merely hope there is enough to go around. You are so very small after all, such a meager fish to be moving so bravely in a pond toward the bottom of which is a concept you can never understand. Don't worry, mighty Phoenix, we will not act without knowing we will succeed. And when we do, we will ensure there is enough of you left to hate."

They are the words of evil incarnate, do not give in. Do not falter. You cannot fail, for so many depend on you, she chants it like a mantra in her head against the dark. Looking around at her companions only made the latter part more evident. When one of them went down and was dragged away for Solas to tend to them, the call of the red lyrium was that much stronger. Secretly, she had tucked a shard of it into her armor to use if necessary. It was her fallback plan. It was also a promise of power to crush her enemies definitely but at a cost. What would the song ask of her this time?

"Boss, someone should tell you before it's too late but… your hair looks like shit."

Evelyn stopped her brooding and shuffling feet to glare at Bull, acknowledging her nervous habit of always fixing her hair. "Thank you, as if I truly needed confirmation of that fact. These past weeks have taught me why Cass wears her short. Long hair was not meant for helmets." The Qunari shrugged and kept walking. "I'd fix it but my arms are so sore and tired I don't want to lift them."

"I'm sure Chuckles knows a spell or two to remedy that… Oh, wait," Varric's voice was made humorous from his attempt to stop a nosebleed.

"Hilarious," was all Solas offered in his defense of his baldness, waving a hand in front of the dwarf's face to staunch the bleeding.

Having finished the spell, Varric settled into a comfy spot but was jostled when Bull's heavy axe and then body hit the ground in a huff beside him. "Tiny, no! Get your shit, and get as far away from me as you can. You're really starting to smell like a bull!" Solas glanced back at the dwarf with a smirk, having got a smidge of revenge having restored his sense of smell. "Laugh it up, Chuckles."

"Surely he can't smell--" Cassandra bent and took a whiff, coughing a few times, "Maker Bull, you really… and he's asleep already. Amazing."

"Cass, no roses in the bath…" As the slumbering Qunari spoke in his sleep the others shared amused looks, though the Seeker was blushing something fierce. "…Violets or a nice frangipani."

Faster than anyone had a right to in their condition, Owayne began knocking on Bull's forehead, "Hey, no sexy dreams about Cassandra! You hear me, you big meaty ox?" Ignoring him, the Ben-Hassrath simply turned on his side and snorted a long snore.

Michel clapped her brother on the shoulder with a look of sympathy, "I am sorry, but it seems you are sharing your lady tonight." The chevalier cast a glance at Sorin, and Evelyn quickly joined him, giving the Orlesian a cold stare. One night, as she and her friend were getting ready to sleep, the smooth-talking swordsman approached with a proposal to find a secluded spot in the ruins. She quickly shot him down with a ‘not happening,’ but to her surprise, Michel wasn't interested in her; he was eyeing Sorin. The young Knight-Enchanter, with a face as expressionless as stone, responded with his own curt, ‘not happening.’ And even Owayne, who was nearby, let go of a sleeping Cassandra to add, ‘You're barking up the wrong tree.’ From that night onward, Michel refrained from direct propositions, yet his longing glances towards Sorin persisted. Knowing too many Orlesian nobles who saw "no" as a challenge rather than an answer, Evelyn resolved to remain ever watchful and stay close by to protect her friend.

From Evelyn's place of rest lying propped up against her bedding, she winced reaching for a cup of water. She had fade-stepped into the fray to flank a Shadow but was caught and pummeled into the rockface by a beastly Knight. The pyromancer had suffered injuries to her ribs many times, so she knew at least two were broken. The hit had also aggravated the stab wound in her chest as well, taking the wind out of her. Thankfully, Sorin had materialized to slay them, and she repaid the favor the next raid when a Horror had him pinned to the ground with its long claws dug deep into his shoulders. Looking over at him now, he was trying to heal his injuries to save Solas from bearing the brunt of the healing for the group of ten. As her one-time apprentice's frustration grew, he released the spell with a hardly detectable huff that was only discernable by his close friend with the trained eye. Meeting each other's gaze, she smiled wanly back understanding the feeling, for she gave up on healing a long time ago.

Moving over closer beside her, the two lounged back looking up over the red halo the lyrium crystals made over the mountains. They settled into a comfortable silence simply taking comfort in the other's presence as they had on Circle missions over two years ago. Evelyn couldn't help but muse on some of those adventures, causing her to think how drastically life had changed.

"We've been through some shit, haven't we?"

Sorin snorted, "We really have."

"It's odd. I can't imagine going back to live in a Circle, can you?"

He pursed his lips together and slowly shook his head against his bedroll, "No. Do you think we'll have to go back?"

They turned their heads to look at each other, propped up on their packs, "We may not, but others will. Josie thinks some in the Inquisition may get special dispensation."

"You will. If not, I think there would be an uproar." He paused a long moment searching the heavens with his pale blue eyes. His raven hair fluttered back with the harsh wind that made the two of them hug themselves shivering. Dried blood and dirt blotted his pale skin, as did a bruise along his angular jawline.

Being separated from Cullen and able to spend more time with her other friends made her realize she had been so focused on her future, that she forgot about the others. "Any plans for when this all does finally end?"

A pained look made his eyes squint slightly, "No. I'm sure you do though." There was a quiet sadness in his voice, one that threatened to break her heart.

Having met when they were very young, Sorin became attached to her after an incident involving some Chantry Sisters who had shamed him for being half-elf. His mother, Eliza Cyrus, had an extramarital affair with one of the serving elves while her husband was away on business. Thaddeus Cyrus, adhering to the principles of Andrastian forgiveness, had endeavored to raise the boy as his own. Having heard this, not only did they torment the young boy for being a mage - as they did them all - but because he was part-elf. One day Evelyn had enough, not only threatening the Sisters by invoking the Trevelyan name but using her fiery rage to frighten them into leaving their post. Naturally, the Templars silenced her until she blacked out, but never again did she find herself without the boy with stormy black hair.

Her brow creased, "Not as many plans as you'd think. I only just told my father about Cullen." Sorin hummed in acknowledgment, looking away. "Are you still angry with him?"

"Why would that be of any consequence?" He seemed defensive.

"Because I love him and you're like a brother to me, and I want you to get along in case you want to come with us after this is all over."

"You-- what?!" He looked at her as if she was crazy in a rare show of emotions.

She huffed, "I have no idea what he and I are doing after this. Maybe going off somewhere quiet to live in peace, maybe it'll be back with his family in South Reach, or maybe we'll still travel and just take dangerous jobs to help people. It's all a lot of 'ifs' and 'maybes,' but you'd be welcome to come with us."

"Sounds like you haven't spoken with him about that." Sorin's head fell heavy back looking up towards the sky again. "This is fucking stupid anyway, for we don't even know if I'll be free or you'll live through the mark's magic. Maybe we both die tomorrow here in fucking Orlais, of all places."

"Always the fucking optimist, Sorin" she smiled at him even if he couldn't see it. "First off, if the Chantry wants to do anything with you, they'd have to go through me; that much will never change. Secondly, Cullen would not have an issue with it because, in a world that wants people like me dead, one's safety relies on numbers. He's a rational man, I don't suspect he'll trade his sword for a scythe so readily. And I don't delude myself with the idea that once Corypheus is dead, that our enemies, both old and new, will simply leave me alone." She had his attention now and she lowered her voice more, "When I spoke to the Hero of Ferelden back at Skyhold, she mentioned my actions and my power will be the first thing the new Divine will strip me of. That I should wield what influence I can while I have the backing of the Inquisition and Queen Elissa. All the reforms we advocated for, all the ideas we had to make the lives of mages better we can push for now, but it will make more enemies for us."

"But if it means bettering the lives of mages, and even Templars, we must try."

"And we will, soon. The Elder One must be dealt with first."

"But what if the Mothers elect a new Divine in the meantime?"

Evelyn smirked conspiratorily, "As I've heard it, the candidates in consideration are in the Inquisition, so there is a good chance whoever is elected will be willing to work with us toward reform." A wave of understanding washed over him. "For now, we have time as they are just beginning to nominate potential candidates. But back to my original point, if I implement major change, a target will appear on my back bigger than before. Anyone who hates mages will have their sights on me. If you decide you want to come with us, know that our "peace" would be an illusion."

"Does Cullen know all this?"

"Not really, but I suspect he does to an extent." She smiled smugly, "We had other more satisfying matters worth tending to when we returned." Sorin rolled his eyes in quiet disapproval. Chuckling as much as her injuries allowed, the crunch of snow made them turn to look behind them.

"My apologies for the interruption, but you're next in my rounds, Inquisitor," Solas spoke with a droll tone.

"Sorin before me, I can wait."

"Very well, but one way or another tonight you will allow me to look at the anchor." Having been busy this week with a plethora of wounds, the elf's inspection of how her mark was spreading had been postponed. Since arriving in the area, she closed several rifts and had to use her mark's power in a few dire situations amid the fighting.

If she was being honest, she didn't want to know how it was spreading or how they couldn't do anything to stop it. All she could do was pick and choose the right moments when to use the mark. Every rift sealed was coming at a price now, but there was nothing to be done, they needed to be closed. The more she used it, the more powerful its magic became, adapting to her carry out her will. At Adamant, it had given her the strength to break down the gates, when all it could do before was suck demons back into the Fade. The red lyrium had certainly messed with it, but the collective minds of the mages of the inner circle were unable to discern how.

"Inquisitor," Solas broke her of her thoughts, "your hand, please." Gazing into his pale eyes, she huffed in defeat placing it in his. His long fingers traced about her palm, "Do you still have feeling in your hand and fingers?"

"It's hard to tell being all but frozen for the past two weeks." The ache in her muscles from continuous shivering was verging on insufferable.

He snorted, "Good point." When she stared at him pathetically, he sighed heavily, "I may have found a spell to help stop the spread. I don't know much about the particular spell, so I didn't want to get your hopes up before I was able to conduct thorough research." At his omission, her eyes went wide. "But regardless, it is not a solution, simply a temporary remedy."

"What is it?! How did you learn of it?!" It was a surprising reveal, but something about it seemed as if he had been hiding it.

"From my Fade walks speaking with the Spirits. It has finally bore fruit as we've sorted through the past's wisdom."

"Why don't you seem thrilled by the notion of using this spell, Solas?" Both she and Sorin narrowed their stares at him. A glance at her friend found that his lip was slightly twitching up as if in a snarl. She and Sorin had always distrusted him. It had been ingrained within them that they could trust an apostate as much as they could trust a maleficar. Ever since Solas began helping with calming the anchor in Haven, Sorin was always on hand to assist the elf, fearful of what he was doing to her, especially when she was in and out of consciousness. Solas typically did not tolerate any of the others, making her former apprentice the perfect mage to quietly observe and assist him as he tended to Evelyn. This, the two Knight-Enchanters kept to themselves, allowing the others of the Inquisition to question him openly, like how Madame Vivienne was constantly doing.

"It's an ancient elven spell that has a connection to the orb, but the Spirits cannot tell me more than that. It's a risk, as with all forgotten knowledge."

"If you trust the Spirits and believe it will be beneficial, I'm willing to try it. You don't think it would cause harm, correct?" He shook his bald head confidently. "In any case, I'd like the Seeker here as you administer the spell. Please get her and bring her up to speed." Nodding, Solas left to find her, leaving them alone once more.

The dark-haired mage crossed his arms, "E, you don't really think this is a good idea, do you?"

She shrugged, "We've had our suspicions about him, but he seems to genuinely want to keep me alive. I think it may be time to consult Sister Nightingale. I'm sure she's already investigated him, but she's an expert on motives. "

"I agree."

"For now, we let him cast his spell, and when we return to Skyhold--"

He scoffed, "You mean if we return."

Evelyn smacked his arm, "Shut it! When we return to Skyhold, we'll speak with her. For now, just pay attention to the energy in the spell. Reinforcements are no doubt almost here. We just have to hang on a little longer." Easier said than done, she thought to herself.

 

---

 

A few days later…

"Fall back to the wall!" Evelyn yelled over the din of battle. Crimson lightning zigged and zagged through the air missing her as she ducked behind a portion of the ancient highway cutting high above them. When the attack ceased, she spun out firing off a slew of fireballs at the enemy in an attempt to cover the retreat of the others. A chain of lightning accompanied it as Sorin - from wherever he was -was synchronizing their attacks. She couldn't help but observe the fatigue and loss of discipline in her companions' movements, including her own. Yesterday, they noticed a sharp increase in Red Templar numbers, and today it felt as if they were facing double what they had been. The fighters were yelling out their kill numbers periodically for Varric to keep track of in his mathematical mind.

"Blaze, we're nearing our daily average total already!" The dwarven rogue fired off several explosive shots to keep the enemy off balance.

"You're fucking with me?!" She kept herself behind cover panting as she realized they weren't going to last the day at this rate. If she was already exhausted, the warriors on the ground were well past that. "Shit! Solas," the elf peered around from a wall further from the fighting, "get to Harding, tell her to expect us soon! She knows what to do!" Nodding, he fade-stepped towards town leaving the group without a healer.

From her position of cover, the Inquisitor took stock of their battle – a losing battle. Despite how many of the enemy were slain, their exhaustion and poor position gave the Red Templars the advantage. The battlefield was the only equalizer; the frozen river. To get to them, the monsters had to trek down a substantial length of the solid Elfsblood River, so in the meantime, they had planned to hound them on their slow march, but not break the ice. Should they compromise it, the Inquisition camp would be cut off from reinforcements and their only means of escape. The town boats had been scrapped for firewood, not doing anyone any good grounded. It seemed even the Red Templars had no desire to destroy it either, at least until they cleared the collapsed cave path to get at them. On its banks were ruined homes and other buildings that they used for cover, but each Behemoth let loose on them and destroyed more and more of it. The ranged fighters kept to the sides, while the warriors were out on the slippery ice, relying on the cover of the mages and Varric's crossbow for support.

The deep blue hue of the frozen waters was scarred by blades and chipped by heavy hits, yet it held as if made of gemstone. Evelyn had no fear of using her magic on it, for as hot as her magic was, the cold of winter was stronger. It would take excessive amounts of her mana to melt it, and as things stand, she could not afford to do that unless defeat was imminent.

"Uh, Blaze…" she turned back to Varric, "look!” Caught on the ice was Korbin and Bull. Everyone else had retreated into the cluster of ruined buildings, but the two Reavers must’ve got caught trying to provide cover. “We may need to retrieve Dwarfspawn and Tiny, I’m not sure they’ll be able to handle them all!"

"Where's my brother?"

"Pickle? He's two buildings in front of you with Champ."

"Thanks! And Varric," the dwarven rogue fired off another explosive volley before turning to look at her, "these nicknames are about the only thing keeping a smile on my face."

He gave her a smirk, "I do my best."

With that, Evelyn spun around the corner, holding a lesser barrier up in front of her as she made her way to Owayne and Michel. Ducking behind their cover - a tall peach-colored wall with a broken window in the center - she huddled shoulder to shoulder with her sibling. "Bull and Korbin need help against the Shadows, do you have any more grenades or bombs? Something to help them see the blighted things?" With Korbin relatively new to fighting them and Bull's one eye, when the Shadows turned invisible, they began shredding the sides and limbs of the two warriors.

"I've been out of bombs for days, Evie! And apparently, I'm not talented enough to concoct them in my sleep." Owayne was slashed all about his leather armor and heavy coat. There was a cut resembling her own scar etched across his nose dribbling blood. "What I wouldn't give for one of Sera's Jar of Bees…"

"Well, we have to do something! I won't leave them!" A green spark lit up the ruined building, giving her an idea. Solas had cast a protective spell around her mark, perhaps it was time to put it to the test. The Inquisitor sighed heavily, "I'm going to open a rift to keep the bastards distracted while we retrieve them. Michel, can you help get me there?"

The Orlesian looked as if he had a pile of debris dumped on him, his golden hair was more gray as dust fell from him with each of his movements. His cheeks were bloodied and the shine on his armor had been gone long ago, yet he still managed to look dashing. "Oui, ready when you are, Inquisitor."

Owayne held out a hand crossing the swordsman quickly across the empty window before he could get hit by the Horrors' magic. "What do you want me to do, sis?"

"We're retreating to town," he gave her a disappointed face, and though she shared the sentiment, they were out of time. "We can't hold out on our own, we're nearly dead on our feet as it is! I don't like it any more than you do, but we have no choice. I have no idea how close our reinforcements are. I sent the raven four or five days ago, so they should be here soon. I told the Commander I'd hold this position, it's too valuable to lose!"

"Then you know Cullen is hauling arse to get here!"

Michel was in front of her peering around the wall waiting for the opportunity to make a break for Bull and Korbin, but she lowered her voice anyway. "You think he'll actually be with them?"

He scoffed at her, but a cough from the cold choked him mid-sass, "Of course! His damsel is in distress, there's no way he'd be content sitting around at Skyhold."

A small glimmer of hope twinkled in her eyes; when she had written the request for aid she didn't think he'd personally lead the soldiers. However, the more she thought about it, it was silly not to assume he wouldn't be in route with the troops considering it was his job. A jolt of resolve hit her, clearing the clouds of doubt as to her duty. They could hold on for a little longer.

A firm hand grabbed her forearm, "Now! Move, move!" Michel tugged her out from cover behind him but released her a moment later so they could dash forward in a line protected by his shield. His golden lion shield was tarnished, but still flashed in the lambent sunshine that tried to break through the heavy snow clouds. Owayne trailed them for a bit but broke off as they got closer.

Evelyn pulled her staff, hoping the enchanted weapon would help stretch her mana reserve. In her head, she solidified her plan of attack, and letting go of Michel, the Phoenix fade-stepped through him between the two meaty warriors. "Time to go, boys!" A quick set of stabs and spins with her staff took out two Shadows.

"By the Stone, no nug-shit, Inquisitor!" Korbin's gravelly voice rasped out as his maul cleaved a Knight's head open as if it were a plump melon.

"Harding is readying an ambush in town, fall back there!"

The Iron Bull was swinging his greataxe in circles trying to knock back the encroaching Shadows. "That sounds great and all, but… how do suppose we fucking get there, Boss?!" With a roar, the Qunari's frustration was showing as he wildly swung, severing crystal limbs off the corrupted rogues. Tapping into the anchor's magic, Evelyn's fiery wings spread as she prepared to open the rift. Rigidly she faced her palm toward the ground as the mark gathered strength from her mana. "Whoa, no need to be rash now…"

"I'll be fine," she gritted out and aimed her hand up above them, "start running!" The Red Templars seemed to be interested in her magical display and allowed the three warriors to clear the area. Just as she was about to release the anchor's power, a familiar voice paralyzed her.

"Inquisitor!" Samson greeted her with a cheery lilt. Her fellow Marcher came forward, flanked by Templar archers. When he halted, the ones in front took a knee, drawing their bowstrings back tightly. For the most part, he looked the same as when she saw him last with the addition of a carved red lyrium crystal protruding from his chestplate. It pulsed every so often like a heartbeat. "So good to see you again! You've been a very busy little mage rooting out my suppliers and destroying my supply lines. Though I'm rather surprised you bothered to do it yourself. Would've thought the Inquisition had people for that now."

"I'm the hands-on sort, always have been." There was a great skidding and shuffling behind her as her companions closed ranks on her. She didn't bother to look, but she assumed everyone was there. "Care to fill me in on your latest project here? You seem to not want me to see it."

"Simple," he gestured back over the mountain to the left, "I'm mining."

Evelyn scoffed, placing her hands on her hips, "Let's not lie to each other, Samson. I thought you and I were past such things." She chided him, making him chuckle.

"Fair enough, I suppose it's unlikely that you'll survive the day - well, you will Trevelyan, your friends not so much. The Elder One has plans for you."

"Forgive me for not leaping with joy, I'm terribly sore from slaying all your precious experiments."

"Yes, it was quite rude, which is why I'm here, to crush you and your merry little band of followers. You're ruining my plans of mining the primeval crystals that have grown here to feed to our recruits. With the help of a friendly demon by the name of Ishmel, the whole area has become a fertile bed for red lyrium." At his words, Michel hissed a curse at the demon in his native tongue. Even Korbin grumbled, lowly grumbling about what he was doing to the Stone. "High up in Suledin Keep, I've been keeping my eye on you down here, running ragged like pesky ants in a vegetable garden, destroying my crystals. Well, no more."

Evelyn was committing his words to memory, wanting to remember them for later when the reinforcements arrived - if they were still alive by then. "And how are you planning on stopping us? If you've been watching us then you know we've been kicking your arse for weeks!"

Even from this distance, she could see his face darken, "If I wanted to overwhelm you, I would've done so long ago. I admit that when you collapsed the cave trail, it did hinder us a bit, but I was just buying time to try out a beast of mine on you." Any smugness the Inquisitor was still wearing was whisked away as the ground trembled with heavy footfalls. Rising over the hill was the gigantic form of a grotesque giant. The shaggy blue skin of the monster stood out in contrast with its mantle of crimson spikes adorning its shoulders and upper back. From its forearms grew thick pointed shards like two large daggers. Red lightning crackled around its head and each step jingled with broken chain links from wherever Samson had the beast imprisoned.

"Craaap," Bull growled.

"By the beards of the Paragons… can your rift swallow that thing, Inquisitor?"

"No, Korbin, I don't believe it can," Evelyn's voice sounded distant and weary. With a groan, she tilted her head to the side, now addressing Samson, "Can we save the fight for tomorrow after some rest? I promise we'll give you a good show then."

"Tired, Trevelyan? I think I have something for that," signaling to an archer at his side, the glowing red-tipped arrow was aimed and fired at her. The missile flew with frightening speed, faster than her friends' shields could move to cover her. As she began casting a barrier, the arrow snapped and shattered in mid-air, hit by an expertly shot crossbow bolt. Looking back over her shoulder, Varric stared down the sights of Bianca, giving her a nod. Letting go of the breath she was holding, a steaming stream blew out of her mouth in relief. Seeing Samson bar his teeth at the failed attempt, he tried to get the other to shoot her, but in the small fraction of the time that they used to find the right arrow, the Herald used to release the rift magic that had built up in her marked hand. 

With a call to fall back, Samson's seemingly foolproof plan fell apart around him. Clawing, scraping, and guttural growls followed the emerald explosion as it sucked the corrupt back into the Void. In the distance, she could hear that their leader had escaped, leaving the clumsy giant and a few dozen men to finish them off. For now, the rift was enough to keep the Red Templars back, but the colossal monster stood in front of the tear in the Veil with its eyes fixated on the Inquisitor and her party.

Owayne whispered, "Maybe if we don't move…" There was a moment where no one did, but with a mighty bellow, the giant charged and the Inquisition's best fighters all screamed, "… it'll squish us like grapes! Run!"

Scattering in all directions like a game of marbles, they circled the beast. It was incredibly powerful, but also unsteady in its movements as if it wasn't used to having to fight with the extra weight of the crystals. The deep sound of the ice bucking deep below them was unnerving, and if it were possible despite already being frozen, a cold pit opened within Evelyn's stomach. The giant whipped its head back and forth as they spread out around it, unable to choose his first victim.

"Inquisitor?" Cassandra called from beside her, flicking her gaze between her and their enemy. The battered Seeker was favoring a leg. "Maybe now would be the time to break the ice?"

Evelyn switched out her weapons, brandishing her dragon bone spirit blade. "The river isn't going to kill that thing! Between the heat from the red lyrium and the fact that the giant is, well, a giant, it'd be more trouble than us hacking it down." There was some agreement from those around her, as well as mental hyping for the battle to come.

"Can we just… get this beating over with?" Owayne whined.

Blackwall, never easily rattled, tried to reassure her brother, "Easy lad, if we can slay a dragon, we can kill a giant. How bad--" But a surprisingly quick punch from the creature broke the two apart, "-- fuck, it's fast!"

The memory sparked something in the Inquisitor's frozen mind, "Blackwall's onto something. Let's take it down like we did the dragon in Crestwood! Sorin and I will blind it with spells, and the rest of you cut it down from its legs; alternate runs in and out from underneath it. Varric, start breaking it's crystals to weaken it!"

"This is a rotten plan," Owayne grumbled.

"Shut it!" Growled Evelyn and Cassandra in unison.

"Alright, I'm going in first! Who's with me?!" The Iron Bull roared with renewed vigor, followed by Blackwall, and the two of them rushed its legs slashing at the thick leathery skin. Sorin buzzed the giant's face with lightning making the big oaf swat at it like flies and Evelyn tried to set its straggly hair on fire. Cassandra and Owayne paired up for the next run, followed by Korbin and Michel.

For a time, this method worked, but when the rift closed itself, nothing was preventing the small force Samson left behind from attacking them. As the situation deteriorated rapidly, the group found themselves fighting for their lives. Swords and shields flashed through the cold gray fog; fire and lightning spells tore through the fighting, causing their targets to cry out; and pink mist from landed hits was the only color to be seen against the drab backdrop. Her swordsmen and woman were changing shields as they could upon finding ones in better condition than their own, and the same went for everyone's blades as they dulled from the carnage.

Fade-stepping to Sorin, she knew something drastic needed to be done, "I need you to impale the back of the giant's knees with me!”

"What?!"

"You get the right, I'll get the left leg. We'll cripple it for the others." His shoulders slumped, and she was going to say something like Owayne's whininess was rubbing off on him, but now wasn't the time. "Come on, we need to do something before we're overwhelmed again, and our spirit blades can cut right through its ligaments!" He nodded though clearly not happy about it, and the two shot into the beast like two angry wasps using their fade-step abilities.

An enormous roar descended on the battle, causing everyone to stumble back at the sudden noise. Meanwhile, the two Knight-Enchanters buried their magical blades deep in its flesh, cutting away at it and using their primal spell to increase the damage dealt until its legs buckled, grounding itself on the ice. At that, Bull and Korbin charged it like two berserkers landing devastating hits to the giant’s chest. Owayne climbed its spine with his daggers, bounding up to its neck, and stabbed his dual blades into the base of the monster's skull. Two hard kicks to the pommels later, and the beast was flat on the ice, dead.

From atop the creature, Owayne shouted, flexing his muscles, "You see that, Cass?!"

The Seeker dropped her weapons in exhaustion but found it within herself to smirk and shake her head. "Yes, now get down!"

As he did so, his sister was already pacing and scrambling for a plan, knowing the reprieve from fighting was going to be a short one. "Even with Harding's ambush, there are too many."

"What are the sodding chances the reinforcements are here, taking their bleeding time back at camp?" Korbin panted leaning on his maul.

"I think we're on our own again," she frowned over at him. "There is one thing we, rather I, can do to buy us more time… I can take red lyrium." Evelyn hardly finished her sentence before mostly everyone yelled a stern 'no' at her. "You saw what I can do with it! I could easily kill all those bastards!"

Cassandra grabbed her arm, "This place isn't worth whatever price it decides to exact from you this time! Let us retreat, abandon the camp, and when our soldiers arrive we'll take it back."

"We've held it this long, " Bull cut in, "why give it up now?" The Legionnaire and Warden were quick to agree.

"Um, because there is an army of Red Templars a few dozen yards away and there are ten of us?" Owayne shrugged, then turned to Evelyn, "Evie, we've done all we could here, let's be reasonable."

Clenching her fist, green sparks sputtered out of it, "Samson is right over there! I'll not--"A sudden shock wave hit them all, sprawling them down on the ice. The force was such, that Evelyn barely had time to catch herself before cracking her skull against the frozen river. Picking her head up, she saw their glowing forms approaching through the mist. There were too many. Samson wanted them dead and her captured, and the only logical move was to overwhelm them with numbers. "Sorin, on my command we blast the giant at them… now!" The two Knight-Enchanters force-pushed the giant's body through their line. The slow and uncoordinated jerky movements of the abominations couldn't dodge the hulking body quick enough, toppling them and giving the Inquisitor's party time to get back on their feet.

Evelyn didn't, however. Digging into her coat pocket, she felt the warmth the crystal emitted. Bringing it out, she stared at the red lyrium in her hand. It was their only salvation. She had to use it. The demons, song, and nightmares be damned, she was going to use it.

"No!" Sorin rasped over to her from on the ground, "Don't do it!"

"I'll not let you all die!"

"At what cost?" His desperate plea was not enough to make her second guess her choice.

She shook her head, time was running out. Holding it steady before her, she pushed up her sleeve. Her veins began to throb and ache as if sensed the red taint. With the enemy bearing down on them she raised her hand, aimed her stab, praying whatever this demon wanted, she could afford to pay it.

 

---

 

The Commander was both relieved and aggrieved to arrive at Sahrnia. The whole journey he was plagued by terrible nightmares. Most were of the disastrous situation he was walking into and the fate of Evelyn and her party. A few days ago, word ceased coming from the camp altogether. Not helping his anxiety, he pushed the men to travel a few more miles a day than what was scheduled knowing that each stop could mean life or death for the Inquisitor. Despite his desire to not rest as they neared their destination, if his men were spent, what good would they be to step in as relief? Evelyn was a powerful mage, but only so much as she had mana, and if supplies were low somehow, they were surviving on their natural stamina alone - all of them were.

Arriving at the Inquisition's camp, he found it in a worse state than what he was prepared for. For one, there were hardly any soldiers around for the Inquisition to lay claim to it. The only ones they came across were wounded and bedridden in shabby tents. The village of Sahrnia looked as if it had been shelled by catapults for days. Cullen had yet to see a building that remained even partially intact. The homes of the once prosperous mining town looked ravaged by war as did the people. They absently walked around in a daze as he had seen in Kirkwall following the Chantry's explosion. Debris littered the ground, and his war horse grunted at having to step around heaps of it that no one bothered to clear from the road through the town. Watching the procession pass, the frozen citizens stood, speaking praise for their salvation.

On the outskirts was a haunting red glow rising from the earth. It distorted the horizon with a mirage effect, accompanied by a maddening hum the close one got to it. His head ached at the vibrations while his mouth ran dry - this would be a true test of his will and fortitude against lyrium.

"Commander, over here!" Scout Harding called and waved him over. He was shocked to see her and her scouts looking so slovenly. Yet, he supposed by everything he saw already he shouldn't be surprised.  "Apologies, ser, that no one was here to greet you, but…" she turned with a cringe at hearing the fighting getting closer, "we have a situation."

"Report," he barked eager to find Evelyn. He hopped off his horse so the poor woman didn't strain her neck. Her red hair was torn messily out of her braids and bun by the harsh wind. Smudges of dirt stood out against her freckled skin, matching the other faces that flanked her.

"The Inquisitor sent word that she wanted us to set up an ambush for incoming hostiles. They swarmed their advanced position, overrunning them about an hour ago. They are leading them here as we speak. As you can see," she gestured with a hand to the dozen battle-weary scouts, "we won't have quite the impact as your men would."

"What happened to Captain Reid's men?"

Harding's green eyes betrayed the depth of their predicament as her posture slumped, "Captain Reid and his men tried to hold the forward camp… all were lost except for a few men. This is all that remains of us, with the exception of the Inquisitor's team. It was decided that her party pose as bait and hold them back from taking the town. We've blocked every trail here, forcing them to trek around the mountain and across the frozen river. They've kept them at bay for almost a week and a half. How they're managing to stay on their feet holding the line, I'm at a loss to explain aside from divine intervention. I suppose though I shouldn't be surprised, we are talking about the Inquisitor, after all."

"Get yourselves some rest and await instructions here." Missing her usual optimistic sarcasm, Harding saluted and signaled to the others to retreat. Turning to his men he relayed his plan, "Foster, we won't be setting up an ambush, but I want this place fortified the best you can. Join with what's left of Reid's force and find out what to expect from the enemy from Scout Harding. Dane, The Chargers, and I will lead the men to intercept the Inquisitor and her team, then we'll re-establish the forward camp. I'll send word once we've secured the position."

In the distance, he could hear Evelyn's distinct voice shouting back and forth with the others. Its sound gave him a fluttering jolt mixed with an impatient need to find her. With that, he pulled his weapons and donned his lion helm, for she needed him and he would not waste another second. His officers dismounted along with him spurring their horses with a smack towards the camp, for no one would be sidelined from this fight. They were facing augmented Templars. If their professional combat training and special skills weren't enough of a challenge, now the enemy was enhanced by red lyrium. They had fought them at Haven, but it was only a taste as they were spread out with the Venatori army. This force, however, was comprised entirely of corrupted Knights.

As he marched to the front of the column, he began reciting his orders, "Listen up! Out there, the Inquisitor is facing a large force of Red Templars. Our task is to rendezvous with her team and relieve them of the fight. Samson's creatures are incredibly strong, so do not seek to overpower them. Use speed and opportunity to strike at them, and work together! They cannot be taken down by one soldier alone. Stay by your officers and they will see you through whatever is up and over that hill." There were resolute nods but even more nervous ones. He knew they were thinking of the beating that awaited them from the brutes. He couldn't blame them, as he tightened his grip on his shield, hoping his healed fractured arm wouldn't splinter on the first hit. "Steady men, your Inquisitor needs you. She has been fighting them for weeks, are you going to let her do it alone?" There was a resounding 'no' that seemed to harden some of their faces. "Nor I! Maker watch over us, let's move!"

Notes:

Greetings all!

I'm so sorry for the huge delay in pumping out chapters between my three stories! I am committed to trying to finish the next installment of Advent of the Phoenix next, and I make no promises, but I will try to finish it by next weekend!

Shoutout to GalenMarek227 for writing the amazingly haunting demon speech in this chapter! It has been so great connecting with people on AO3 who have been inspired and excited enough to comment on this work, I am truly awestruck by your kindness and your own creativity! Thank you!

Have a wonderful rest of your weekend!
Munklington

Chapter 34: Who's Saving Who?

Summary:

The Commander makes it in time, but Evelyn's rashness causes Cullen and Sorin to band together (for once) and give her a talking to. A quirky healer comes to aid the Inquisition and seems to have her eye on a particular Knight-Enchanter...

As Evelyn stood ready to embed the red lyrium crystal in her arm, a scream tore through the air, "No!" Sorin's voice, raw with desperation, echoed as a bolt of lightning shot from his fingers, striking the crystal and knocking it from her hand. The glowing shard shattered in mid-air, the fragments descending in a slow, almost dreamlike motion, each piece glittering as it fell. Time seemed to stretch and contort as the pyromancer watched the crystal disintegrate, her heart sinking into an abyss of hopelessness.

She turned to face the thunder mage her eyes burning with fury. "What have you done!?" she cried, her voice a symphony of anguish and rage. "It was our last chance of survival!" Her mind, usually sharp and calculating, now whirled in a chaotic frenzy, grasping for any semblance of a plan, any thread of hope.

Instead of replying, the young Knight-Enchanter pointed with his finger behind her, urgency flashing in his eyes. "E, look!"

Turning over on her side, she watched as a great swell of soldiers rose over the horizon behind them through the squall. The familiar shining uniforms and singular commanding voice echoing out over the field brought on such a rush of relief she could've sobbed Sahrnia another frozen river. The soldiers of the Inquisition charged into the fray in a controlled swell. At the new threat, the enemy turned to meet the onslaught coming for them. The right flank of the Inquisition column swung wide out onto the ice to protect Evelyn and her companions, but also pinch the Red Templars in an attempt to surround them.

 

Numb, she placed her head against the ice smiling, whispering a quiet prayer of thanks to Andraste for their deliverance. When the crunch of boots beside her halted her words, she looked up to see a tall warrior wearing the likeness of a lion for a helmet. His warm bulky mantle lined with bear fur fluttered in the stiff wind, keeping the snow from accumulating too heavily on him. A leather glove reached down, and through his helm, his golden eyes twinkled with resolve. She watched him blink a few times, the corners of his eyes crinkling like he was smiling.

 

"Inquisitor, thank the Maker you're all still intact!" Cullen swiftly helped her to her feet. "I came as soon as I could!"

 

"Impeccable timing, Commander," Blinking away some tears, she couldn't help but beam at him, wincing as she was pulled up. He was truly a sight for sore eyes.

 

Turning to help Sorin to his feet, his tone was strong, but urgent, "Can you get the Inquisitor back to town?" The Knight-Enchanter's wind-swept black hair bobbed with his nodding. "Good man, I must catch up with the men. We'll finish the Red Templars then reestablish the first forward camp at the mouth of the caves." Looking at her specifically, he added, "Once secure, I'll ride back and check in with you. You're alright then?" His hard determination softened for a moment and pushed some hair off her face in a quick inspection. Sorin gave her a pointed look, no doubt still not over her attempt to use red lyrium.

 

"Nothing major, I assure you."

 

"Glad to hear it, now go! Leave the rest of the fighting to me!" He partly shouted back at them as he jogged off toward the front line.

 

For a few minutes, she watched alongside Sorin as their force began to push back the Red Templars. The clang of steel erupted along the riverbank. Loudest of all were The Chargers, who quickly greeted their Chief with a 'horns up' cheer before plowing into the enemy. With her fellow Knight-Enchanter beckoning her to walk with him back to camp for some much-needed rest and healing, the Phoenix turned from battle for once.

 

She only took a few steps toward the safety of camp before freezing in place. A terrible, yet all too familiar rumbling cadence was stomping down the mountain. Rounding the bend of the river were five Behemoths. The enemy had made a tactical retreat to ensnare the Inquisition forces in the narrow pass of ice. As the order to fall back and regroup was given, their soldiers slipped and fell trying to scramble away from the hulking masses of crystals. As the monsters gained on them, any stragglers were flattened in a red puddle upon the ice. A pink mist shot into the air and blood-curdling screams were silenced with each driving punch of the Behemoths.

 

Wheeling around, a cold hand halted her. Sorin's face blanched, "E, I'm sure the Commander can handle it. Come on."

 

"I'll not leave it to chance." Summoning her remaining strength, her eyes flickered orange and her veins ignited with flame. The rising of her mana seemed to cause a chain reaction in Sorin, whose countenance suddenly darkened like a storm cloud and flickered with white lightning. Taking back her arm, her practiced footing on the ice after fighting on it for days, helped carry her swiftly to the Inquisition's line.

 

Easily spotting the Commander, she pushed her way through the regrouping soldiers. Cullen had a hand on the shoulder of one of his officers, huddling in conference, "Dane! If we break the ice, we could eliminate this entire force!"

 

"Yes, but with what?! Our weapons?! Commander, the ice is too thick!"

 

"You can do it with my help!" Both men picked their heads up to look behind them with a surprised greeting of 'Inquisitor.' "I've mana enough to weaken the ice but not melt through it. He's right, it's incredibly thick!"

 

Cullen was swiveling his head back and forth between her and the Behemoths closing on them. She knew he wanted to send her away, but she was also their only chance to stop the Red Templars from crushing their campaign before it had even begun. Previously, breaking the ice was not an option, but with a cleared road of snow thanks to the reinforcements, as well as more supplies and security, they could do it. There would be no retreat. "We don't have a choice! Dane, get everyone with a heavy axe up front with the Inquisitor, Sorin will cast a barrier. Move!"

 

Clearing a path for her, Cullen stood beside her with his shield raised until all was in place. With her command to give her some space, both he and Sorin cautiously backed away. Igniting the last of her reserve of mana, she took a knee placing her bare hands on the ice. Her purple fingers barely registered the aching cold beneath them, but when her flames sparked to life, sharp hot needles stabbed into her frozen flesh. The pain was excruciating, having only been casting spells using her staff, and her orange and green Phoenix wings shot out. Unyielding to the immense prickling pain, she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, pouring more magic out to her sides in two lines. As soon as the fire reached the warriors spread out on either side, they began hacking away at the ice. Chips and flakes flew out in all directions as the first thin fractures appeared.

 

Exhausted and in pain, Evelyn let out a growling wince. Unafraid of approaching her, Cullen leaned over her, "Are you alright?"

 

"How are we doing? Are we close?"

 

There was a telling pause, "I'm afraid not. We'll have to stand and fight." Pushing out her mana with all her might, the increased temperature was hardly starving off the bitter cold. "Inquisitor, don't! Save your strength, and fall back!"

 

"They'll kill our people!"

 

"I trust in their abilities and bravery. We will not fail you." She sucked in another breath, trying to draw out every last ounce of her power. "Evelyn, they are upon us, you need to cease this so I may get the men back into line!" Dispelling her magic and standing, chest heaving as frustration gripped her, she shot Cullen a hard look. The Commander and his officers quickly backed their men up from the fractured ice, not wanting to be on it if it did happen to break.

 

Having not moved, Evelyn stood alone out before the line of soldiers. Sorin and Cullen began calling to her to fall back, but she ignored them holding up her sparking emerald mark. Its flash drew the attention of the Behemoths, and with everyone a safe distance from her, she prayed the spell Solas had cast on the anchor could withstand what she was about to attempt.

 

Channeling everything she had into her enchanted staff, she slammed it down causing the thick river ice to creak and buckle. As she pounded the frozen ground, the mark engulfed her in its luminous emerald glow. As it had done at Adamant, it increased her strength making the ground tremble with each hit. Enemy arrows and crystal shards sailed at her, but the anchor's barrier deflected them. From behind her, she heard the Commander roaring at everyone to get off the ice, and Sorin, among others, yelling back and forth trying to get to her before the inevitable occurred.

 

With one last battle cry and stab from her staff blade, the tip finally drove completely through. The force shot the fissure through the enemy line with the speed of a dragon. Huge jagged blocks of ice tilted away from the divide, throwing the Red Templars into the frozen water. Having weakened the integrity of the solid surface, the stomping of the Behemoths only helped to spread the first fracture. They scraped and clawed the ice as it flipped and rolled to no avail, unable to escape their doom. Their gutteral roars turned into a sickening gurgling as they sunk to the bottom of the river.

 

Watching their demise distracted her from her footing, which shattered causing her to fall into the frigid water. What remained of her mana ignited against the cold, causing her veins to glow hot as her armor began dragging her into the murky depths. Panic began to grip her, but so too did a strong hand, hauling her back up into the light.

 

"Thank the Maker!" The Commander groaned struggling to keep his footing and pull her along. He must've sprinted and dove across the ice to catch her, for her dip was a quick one. The ice was still breaking all around them, "I've got her!" He yelled back over his shoulder as another numbing wave from the river crashed over her making her gasp and choke.

 

"And we've got you!" Cassandra called back grabbing Cullen's heavy armor and mantle with the help of Owayne. Their feet slipped but they were undeterred, using their remaining strength to pull them to safety

 

"Shit, incoming! Cass your shield, now!" Her brother dodged the first arrow while still holding tight to them. As the Seeker tried to bring her shield to bear, it wasn't in time as two arrows hit Evelyn and Cullen. The Inquisitor reached down feeling the shaft that was lodged in the muscle of her thigh. A few moments later, more arrows whizzed by missing the Inquisitor, but one more hit the blonde Ferelden, who growled a choleric curse at the hit. "We need cover!"

 

Cullen continued to bring her up into his embrace until she circled his middle, he tensed slightly, "Are you alright?!"

 

"Are you?!" Their eyes frantically searched each other's for insight, both finding the other still alert. She broke away to stare at the arrow protruding from his chest, while the other one seemed to have only just missed his neck, though it left a deep cut through the side. "Cullen, there's an arrow in your chest!" Evelyn realized how panicky her voice sounded.

 

"You don't say," he said with mock amusement as they flopped back down on solid ground. Suddenly his eyes went wide. "Cover!" A hard jerk on her sundered armor's shoulder strap sent her into his arms as he rolled over to shield her with his body. On her back, Cullen was hovering over her, unable to press any closer due to the length of the arrow's shaft jutting out of his chest. Blood from his neck wound was rolling off his chin, impacting what was left of her breastplate. Seeing the thin silhouettes of the arrows falling toward them, Evelyn's chapped lips parted unsure if she wanted to curse, scream, or pray. The Commander closed his eyes awaiting impact, but there was a voice grumbling like distant rumbling thunder over to them.

 

"You can get off her now," Sorin was on one knee with a hand raised holding a barrier above them to deflect the arrows. He was shaking from the cold and his wounds, but his will was unyielding toward either.

 

"How are they still firing arrows?!" She called out from under Cullen as he slowly got to his feet, groaning steadily and holding his punctured chest.

 

"Looks like they're just below the bank of the river and having trouble climbing out. They're persistent, I'll give them that," the storm mage panted over.

 

"Think you can shock them? Like that time in Tantervale?"

 

At the memory of that particular mission from their Circle days, Sorin snorted and nodded his head. "Yeah, I'll give it all of what I have left in me. Everyone needs to get off the ice though."

 

With a deep breath, Cullen filled his lungs about to call out the order, but he began coughing. Undeterred, he took another sharp inhale quickly yelling for everyone to get to land even if it was a bit strained.

 

With everyone off the ice, Sorin shocked the water by thrusting the head of his staff into it. Everything nearby was electrocuted, finishing off any of the Red Templars in the river. They watched as the enemy tensed and shook violently before collapsing beneath the current. When a few fish floated to the top, he flipped them onto the bank. "Fish, anyone?"

 

"I'd laugh if this arrow didn't sting like a bloody Quillback spine," Evelyn muttered trying to figure out a good angle to pull it from as she sat in the snow shivering. She felt as if every part of her was stiffening in the cold having been soaked to the bone. Cullen was already calling for a healer for her, draping his warm mantle over her shoulders before yelling to his captains to regroup the men to retake the forward camp. Apparently, while she was distracted by Sorin's delightfully smelling fish, he had yanked out his own arrow. Blood was trickling down his front, but it wasn't an alarming amount. Still… "H- he-hey! W-where are you going?!"

 

The Commander stopped his barking of orders to turn back to her, giving her a shrug as if it were obvious. "To retake the forward camp while we have the advantage. Scout Harding told us of the enemy holding it. We'll secure it, get defenses up, and--"

 

"You were just shot in the chest!" She hated that her voice was verging on the pitch of a shrill like her mother's.

 

He waved a hand dismissively at her while holding his glove against the cut on his neck. Checking the extent of the bleeding, that wound too he seemed unfazed by. "It's a flesh wound, the armor stopped it. You, on the other hand," one of their mages arrived and quickly knelt beside her, "need healing, warmth, and rest. That's an order, Inquisitor!" Cullen scowled and pointed around at her companions scattered about, "Don't let her follow us this time! Seeker, please," he implored to the most likely one Evelyn was bound to listen to, "I'll report back as soon as I can."

 

"D-d-don't you want this?" She pointed to his maroon bear fur mantle.

 

"I'm Ferelden, remember? This is hardly what I'd call cold. Now, you have your orders." He then proceeded to jog off, pulling on his helm and picking up his weapons.

 

Owayne was sprawled out on the ground nearby in a heap of exhaustion. His head rolled to her with a baffled expression, "Is he allowed to do that? You know, order you about?"

 

"He just did," added the Seeker dryly. Evelyn shared a look with her shrugging.

 

"Someone found his balls. Good on you, Cullen!" Bull yelled after him, though said quieter now, "Considering, you know, who's had him by them for the last week."

 

"Bull," Owayne's face scrunched up sourly, "no one wants to know where they've been, especially me!" Evelyn couldn't help the flush of her face, and while it was a pleasant heat in the wintery frost, she couldn't help but slowly blink over at the two of them while shaking her head.

 

The pale eyes of the young Orlesian healer tending to her leg were bugged out for a moment, flicking up to hers momentarily. She felt she needed to say something at that point, "Don't mind them, they've been hit in the head a few too many times in the past week. Seems they have cheese for brains."

 

"As you say, Your Worship," the healer uttered hastily, her cheeks flushing, before returning her attention to her spell.

 

"Cheese!" Korbin bellowed, "That's what these sodding fish need with it." He was seated beside Sorin knawling on the lightning-roasted fish. Even her fellow Marcher was partaking in his culinary creation. "Blackwall, you got any cheese hidden in that glorious beard? I'd ask the Surfacer but he lacks his Stone-given hair."

 

The Warden had just finished a large swig of water from the soldiers that had come to tend to the group. Water skins and blankets were quickly passed around. "I'm afraid I do not carry cheese about in that manner. Any food in it is purely accidental, I assure you."

 

"The 'Surfacer' has a name, Dwarfspawn. And I have plenty of hair where it counts." Varric placed Bianca down on his lap as if one more crack about his chosen lifestyle would earn Korbin a warning shot.

 

"Everyone's lost the bloody minds," Evelyn muttered to herself, her gaze unblinking as she observed the healer's efforts. Despite appearing visibly confused by the banter, the woman continued to perform her duties with a remarkable sense of composure and mastered precision. The mana flowed steadily into Evelyn's wounds, each infusion gentle and deliberate, easing the pain of her injuries. She was good, Evelyn thought to herself, almost as good as Ilara. As she considered the resemblance between the two—both petite, young women with an aptitude for healing—a flicker of nostalgia for her friend tugged at the pyromancer's heart.

 

Meanwhile, the Orlesian worked swiftly, her hands glowing with a soft, ethereal light as she carefully removed the arrow embedded in Evelyn's leg. The wound, which had been bleeding profusely, began to close under the mage's touch, the flesh knitting together almost seamlessly. The woman extended her healing magic to Evelyn's other injuries, substantially mending them with practiced skill. She even warmed her back to a safe temperature after her chilly plunge. "I did what I could, Your Worship," she uttered as she stood up, her tone respectful but weary from the exertion of her healing efforts. "The rest is in the Maker's hands. Please take a few moments of rest before putting weight on your leg." As the healer bowed in reverence, her long brown braid slipped from her back, falling over her shoulder and dipping into the snow. The icy crystals clung to the strands like glittering jewels, catching the light and adding an almost festive shimmer to her appearance. Evelyn sighted and gave her a nod. With that, the woman moved on to attend to others in need. She moved gracefully from one injured member of her party to another, tending to their wounds with practiced care, her movements confident and efficient. But when she reached Sorin, she froze for a moment, her demeanor shifting from composed to nervous in an instant.

 

The young Knight-Enchanter raised an eyebrow as he watched her hesitation. "Is something wrong?"

 

The healer stumbled over her words. "N-no, nothing at all," she stammered, her hands trembling slightly as she reached out to examine his injuries. Of all the times she had seen Sorin treated for wounds, never had he eyed a fellow mage like he did this one.

 

"Hey, woman, your nugs in a bunch? What gives?" Korbin asked, a grin playing on his lips.

 

"I just... uh..."

 

"Aw, she just got a good eyeful of Flash, the hero of the hour!" Varric winked at him, and Evelyn couldn't help but laugh to herself knowing that Sorin hated any and all nicknames for himself.

 

Looking pointedly up at the healer through his messy sweat-frozen locks, Sorin huffed a bit annoyed, “You can start patching me up whenever you're ready.”

 

"Hey!" She pointed at him as she stood, testing her leg, "Did the Knights beat the manners out of you?" His mentor shook her head, though her words leaned on the side of sarcasm. "I raised you better than that."

 

Giving her a look that verged on sassy, Sorin turned to the mage with a grumbled apology. The young woman nodded and got to work, her hands moving rather deftly despite the occasional tremble. Evelyn watched Sorin's face soften as the healer’s magic took effect. The tension in his muscles eased, and he let out a small sigh of relief.

 

“There,” the Orlesian said finally, finishing her incantation. “That should do it, fine Ser.” She stepped back, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

 

“Forget about, Flash,” Varric chimed in with a chuckle. “I will call you 'Fine Ser' from now on.” From all around, there was a chorus of voices playfully singing and chuckling to the sound of the Knight-Enchanter's newly bestowed title.

 

The woman's cheeks flushed a deeper red. "I-hic I should-hic go," she stammered, her lithe frame convulsing with sudden hiccups. She turned on her heels, attempting a hasty retreat, but managed only a few steps before stumbling. With a small cry, she fell face-first into the deep snow, the cold, powdery surface cushioning her fall but leaving her prone and embarrassed.

 

Forgetting her tender leg, Evelyn hopped over and scooped the mage up. Knowing the struggles of being an outnumbered woman in a military setting, she harbored sympathy for the Orlesian who was simply trying to help. "You all are about to find yourselves with crispy breeches if you don't shut it!" Brushing off the snow from her heavy robes, the Inquisitor gave a reassuring smile before she hurried off back towards camp, the occasional 'hic' echoing off the walls of the ruined buildings. "All of you need rest, you're getting punchy," she said in passing through her companions with a limp on her way back into town where their tents were. Michel was quick to offer to lend her an arm, but it was Blackwall who swiftly claimed the honor.

 

As they hobbled along, she couldn't help her mind wandering back to Cullen, hearing fighting in the distance. When she halted abruptly to look over her shoulder, her companion seemed to know exactly what was troubling her. "Cullen will be fine, if anyone knows how to kill Templars, it'd be him."

 

"Yes, but he was shot in the chest with an arrow."

 

The Warden took a step urging her along, "Ah, it hardly pierced his chest. I've had it happen to me, the point goes in but nothing else. If it had hit his heart or lung he'd be dead by now." Evelyn stared at him with a deep frown. "That was supposed to be comforting."

 

"And you were supposed to have cheese tucked away somewhere in your beard according to Korbin, yet neither are true."

 

He chuckled, "You mean Dwarfspawn." He waited, knowing she couldn't help but laugh anytime Varric said it. Sure enough, she smiled at his contentment. "Out of all Varric's nicknames, I think his is by far the most fitting. The dwarf is a legend with that maul of his."

 

"Maybe one day the two of you will fight down in the Deep Roads together - not that I'm hoping that time comes anytime soon."

 

"We've still got plenty of arses to kick and taverns to drink dry before that blighted day comes."

 

"Good, after everything we've been through, it's got me feeling more sentimental than usual." She couldn't help but hold onto the Warden a little tighter. Blackwall was like the fun uncle she never had; always caring, and yet was always ready to stir up trouble. He had a listening ear but tale at the ready with a lesson attached. A prolific drinker like Owayne - and herself to an extent - there had been plenty of occasions where something had been troubling her and he simply passed her his flask discreetly without questioning.

 

"Ah, you're just tired. Let the sound of the Red Templar's arse-kicking up the way put you to sleep. When you wake up from a nice nap, you'll be ready to sling fireballs at them once more." Stopping at her tent which had hardly been used since she arrived, he held the flap open.

 

"Thanks for the arm, it was much preferable to the alternative," she tilted her head back in the direction of their guest chevalier.

 

"Careful with that Orlesian. He talks sweet enough, but he's been disgraced at court, and who knows what he'll do to try and get back to it. I have a hard time believing a man like that, who had been the golden boy of the Empress, would simply be content to live out his days like a traveling Red Jenny. We've got our eyes on him, but Sorin most of all should be careful." Evelyn nodded in thanks, but a disgusted look had her lips drooping much to Blackwall's dismay. With a hearty rumble, the bearded Warden began to snicker, "I'm not sure who's been more horney, Michel or Bull."

 

"My coin is on Bull, especially after we spotted those dragons. Maker, if we thought one drove him into a state, imagine three!" To their horror, they had spotted not one but three distinct dragons circling overhead. When the heavy fighting left a battlefield of hundreds of bodies, they had been curious and saw an easy carrion meal. However, the lingering hum of the red lyrium messed with their heads as well, and they left them be.

 

"There's not enough redheads in all of Thedas to sate him," at that the two chortled, parting in their respective directions.

 

Inside her tent, she quickly stripped he wet clothing, pulling on some wool ones. Flopping down on her cot uncaring that her heat stove was barren, she wrapped up in the heavy blankets. The wood had probably been taken for people who actually slept in the camp. Yet, she had been so frozen that the blankets and dry clothing alone promised comforting warmth that had been denied to her for so long. Snuggled in, she touched her core mana, which was finally able to sufficiently heat her frozen limbs.

 

"Inquisitor," Evelyn recognized Scout Harding's voice calling from outside.

 

"Come in, Lace," came a grumble from within her blanket cocoon.

 

The dwarf popped her head in, "The Commander has secured the forward camp. He wanted you to know he'll be there fortifying the area before they start clearing the caves."

 

"Thank you," Evelyn yawned.

 

"He also said, he doesn't want to see you up there until tomorrow."

 

At her words, Evelyn gave a weary snort of a laugh, her eyes still closed and her head resting heavily on her pillow. "Any other special requests from the Commander?"

 

"That's all, but it's good to have you all back safe. Get some rest, Inquisitor." Leaving her to her solitude once more, Harding's news was enough to satisfy any concerns she had about what was transpiring without her. Away from the red lyrium crystals and safe from the enemy as the Commander kept vigil, Evelyn succumbed to exhaustion at last.

 

---

 

Waking later than usual after sleeping like the dead, Evelyn was pleased to find various amenities had been left for her. The cold stove had noticeably pulsing out heat into her tent for an hour or two, chasing away the lingering chill. An enchanted rune stone used to keep water defrosted sat at the bottom of a bucket for washing. The brief warmth of the cloth against her grimy skin was luxurious after all this time. Soon the bucket was so murky she could no longer see the glowing stone as layers of dirt, dried sweat, and blood were removed. Afterwards, she grabbed some clean clothes from her field trunk and a hairbrush. Combing out the weeks’ worth of knots that were making her hair look more like a bird's nest, her eyes fell on a pair of fur-lined leather gloves. A small smile pulled at her lips as she realized how they came to be in her tent. Cullen must've come to check on her during the night, leaving behind a pair of his gloves for her. The rich brown hue and rabbit fur poking out from the inside promised not only physical warmth, but the caress of his tender memory everywhere she went.

 

With her braids redone and feeling refreshed not having to wake up and prepare for a long day of fighting, she nearly skipped up the hill to the forward camp until she caught sight of Sorin. He was staring at her with a frown, leaning up against one of the town's crippled buildings. As a contingent of soldiers rushed between them on the main road through the camp, Evelyn shrugged at him asking a wordless, 'what?' Looking away annoyed, she saw his eyes fall upon one of the broken red lyrium crystals jutting up from the ground. She knew exactly what he was brooding about…

 

Pushing off the wall, the Marchers met at a nearby fire, still unused to the bitter cold. "After you retired yesterday, I had some time to think about what happened with the red lyrium," his downturned mouth softened, "I'm not sure, how-- I mean, this is… difficult for me…" At his distressed state - at least to her, anyone else would've thought he was simply put off by something - she waited patiently for him to find the words. With a resigned sigh, he glared her right in the eyes, "You scared me." Surprised, she blinked at him a few times feeling the guilt well up in her, as his pale blue eyes conveyed his deep concern. "You spoke of a future after all of this; a life away from Circles to live free. I know I'm bad at… talking about…" He made a sour face, "… feelings, but without you, I have no future. You're all I have."

 

His words made her heart melt even in this Maker-forsaken frozen wasteland. Impulsively, she hugged him tight to her. Evelyn had two extra inches on him, pressing his head to her shoulder. Sorin's arms hung by his side, and she could feel his warm exhale on the exposed skin on her neck as he tried to avoid the Commander's thick mantle.

 

"E," she broke their embrace, "no offense, but I feel like I'm hugging Cullen, and I just… it's weird." She laughed, finding humor in it unlike him. "Are you sure you want to wear that? People are going to talk?"

 

"Well, then they can fucking lend me their coat because mine's destroyed! That's the real and perfectly unromantic reason… though I don't mind the other perks." She gave the fur a smell, reveling in his lingering scent. "Gloves are his too," she winked.

 

"Fine, but if you borrow his helm we'll have issues-- rather, I'll have issues. I may not be able to look at you."

 

"You have nothing to fear there, I know what sweaty man smells like and I will gladly pass on that one. Come on, I'm headed to see the Commander now, but you can walk with me." Falling into stride with her, as they reached the outskirts of town, two soldiers followed them up the hill. Upon asking why they were following them, they replied that it was on the orders of the Commander that she be escorted.

 

"That's cute," Sorin grumbled lowly, "he's coddling you. As if you couldn't bloody well walk the short distance up the hill without incident."

 

"To be fair, it is me we're speaking of."

 

"Maybe he has more sense than I give him credit for. At least they'll keep you from the red lyrium."

 

"Quit it! I'm not addicted to it, I only meant to use it in case death was upon us, which it was!"

 

Recognizing Cullen's tent, the two stopped outside of it. Flicking a lock of hair out of his face, Sorin scowled at her, "So, do you plan on telling him about it?"

 

She shook her head about to give her answer, when his rich baritone rang out through the canvas, "Tell me what?"

 

Taking a menacing step close to Sorin, she growled, "Andraste's knickers, if you get me in trouble, I'll--"

 

"Inquisitor," Cullen's voice sounded slightly accusatory as if she was a misbehaving child. "You both may enter." Flicking Sorin's nose, the two entered with angry pouts on their face. Cullen was in the middle of shaving his strong jawline when they walked in, looking between the two of them in the reflection of his breastplate. He had yet to put on his armor but wore a heavy gambeson. A bandage was tied around his neck that sported light blotting of blood from the arrow that had grazed him.

 

"That seems hard to do," the Inquisitor tried to say as congenially as possible, referring to his current task.

 

"You get used to it, though I will say this armor polishes nicer than my set from the Order. Makes it substantially easier."

 

"It should, it might not be silverite, but it's the best ore our mines have produced, and shaped by the best smiths in Thedas. Herrit and Dagna are unmatched in their craft."

 

"I suppose that trade meeting months ago was worth it then." He gave her a sideways glance and a smirk at the memory of their first moment of intimacy.

 

"So it would seem." She smiled back brightly, while Sorin rolled his eyes.

 

The storm mage leaned toward her, whispering, "Must I suffer through this? Why do I need to be here?"

 

Wiping his blade on a linen having finished shaving, Cullen stood towering over them. Suddenly the tent felt smaller with him raised to full height. "Actually, I'm glad you're here for if she's keeping from me, it's probably something concerning." He flashed her a pointed look before turning back to him, "So, what is it? If it's important to her safety, you'll tell me."

 

Both she and the Commander crossed their arms as they waited for him to decide. Sorin's eyes were fixed on her, but just before he spoke, they flashed over to Cullen, "It is. She was going to take red lyrium right before you showed up with the reinforcements."

 

"You snitch!" Evelyn punched his arm.

 

Cullen was pinching his nose as if he had a nosebleed, musing on the implications of her taking such a risk. "Evelyn…"

 

"I didn't take it! No harm, no foul," she shrugged, watching the blonde's jaw muscle flex in warning of the lecture she was about to get.

 

"That's because I zapped it out of your hand," her fellow Marcher added cooly.

 

"Which, by the way, hurt! Not to mention, you could've gotten us all killed if Cullen hadn't arrived!"

 

"Evelyn," Cullen's voice was one of desperate anger and disappointment, "each time you've taken it, it's altered your mana. Maker's breath, you are too important to lose to take such a risk!"

 

"Hence, me saving all of our arses by taking it."

 

"No! Your duty is not to save us," Cullen gestured around the tent, though she knew he meant the Inquisition in whole, "your job is to use the anchor to close rifts and kill Corypheus. Something no one else in Thedas can do. None of our lives matter, we would all die in the line of duty to protect you, it's not the other way around. You know this!" Sorin nodding in agreement with him only served to help her recovering mana flare hotly. 

 

As the heat rolled off her, a familiar polite voice called from outside, "Your Worship? I'm here to check on your wounds, my lady. I was told I'd find you here."

 

Evelyn kept her raptor-like gaze fixed on Cullen, who answered for her, "You may enter."

 

The same Orlesian healer who treated them yesterday stepped into the crowded tent, bowing slightly. "Good morning, Inquisitor, Commander, and—oh." She froze, her slender fingers fidgeting as her eyes fell on the young Knight-Enchanter.

 

“Sorin Cyrus, but you can call me Sorin,” he introduced himself, a touch of vexation in his voice.

 

“Also known as 'Fine Ser,'” Evelyn added, still bitter that he ratted her out. She watched with satisfaction as her friend shot her a lethal glare.

 

The young woman glanced around nervously, no doubt sensing the palpable tension in the tent, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I could come back later if you'd prefer, Your Worship," she suggested, her voice uncertain.

 

“No, now is as good a time as any, Enchanter…” Evelyn paused and looked expectantly at the Orlesian.

 

“Senior Enchanter Miriam De Montfort of the Circle at Montsimmard, at your service.” Despite the heavy navy robes she wore, Miriam managed a surprisingly graceful curtsy. Her white fur cowl lent her pale face more color, as did the cold causing her cheeks to turn bright pink.

 

The Marcher couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. The De Montfort family, also known as the Montfort dynasty, was one of the most influential noble families in Orlais, with blood ties to the late Empress Celene herself. They were also famous for their beautiful women, but it looked like this particular De Montfort didn’t quite hit the genetic jackpot. Her small, deep-set, pale blue eyes, overly long face, and petite frame didn't conform to the dynasty's usual standards of gorgeous, full-figured ladies. To be honest, though, those features gave her a unique, almost quirky cuteness—kind of like the charm you find in a nug. Evelyn suspected however that it wasn’t the lack of looks or impressive medical skills that got De Montfort chosen to be sent here. Gaspard wouldn’t shed a tear if a member of the family who backed Celene ended up dead on the battlefield. The political intrigue in Orlais was always a twisted game, and most likely Miriam was just another pawn in it.

 

"A pleasure, Enchanter De Montfort. I appreciate you answering the call to aid the Inquisition. If you're from Montsimmard, you must know Vivienne."

 

Miriam nodded her head excitedly, her pale eyes brightening, "Yes, the First Enchanter is a good friend of mine! She speaks highly of the work of the Inquisition, sending news back of your adventures to the Circle in the hopes that more join her."

 

Evelyn smiled politely back, through her simmering anger, "She is truly an asset to us, as I'm sure your help will be here. As it happens, Madame Vivienne has been assisting our Ambassador more with wrangling the noble's support lately, rather than using her healing talents."

 

"Yes, she had always been good at that, if I may say so, Your Worship."

 

"Evelyn, please. 'Your Worship' makes me feel like an old Chantry relic." Miriam's face took on one of horror, Evelyn having forgotten that some people can't fathom calling her anything but a fancy title. "Or… you can keep calling me whatever you wish."

 

"Thank you, Herald, now if I may," the healer gestured to her hurt leg. Giving her a nod, Miriam began her examination while the others resumed their conversation.

 

"Look, Inquisitor," Cullen began back up, "I would be wasting my breath asking you to stay behind in camp while we push through to Samson's operation, so for the love of Andraste, just listen to us when we advise caution." Evelyn's lips formed a pout, knowing that he was right. "You are still recovering, so for now, leave matters to me. And stay away from the red lyrium! I'll have our dwarven allies clear as much of it as possible near our camps."

 

She crossed her arms, "Enchanter, how long until I can see action again?"

 

"I would say two days at the least, Inquisitor. Aside from injuries, all of you have been under extreme stress and run down. Your bodies need nourishment and rest to be fit for fighting."

 

"Understood," Evelyn looked to the Commander, reaching out to jab him with a finger, "you have two days to do as you please without me, then I'll be right beside you the rest of the way. Now, if you two would excuse us, the Commander and I have a matter to discuss in private." Sorin, eager to escape, bolted out of the tent followed by the flustered healer. Still looking angry with her, she sauntered over closer to him taking off the gifted gloves. She smiled up into his softening gaze, untucking his shirt to feel up his chest to his wound, where a soft bandage was wrapped around his chest. "How's the wounds?" She asked in a soft velvety voice.

 

Evelyn felt his heartbeat quicken a bit, and her hands marveled at how warm he was. "Both wounds were easily stitched."

 

"Stitched? But a healer such as Enchanter De Montfort could have completely healed them if it were so."

 

He sighed heavily, "I'm still… easing into having magic used on me. I did have her repair the muscles so I wouldn't be hindered by it, but I trust more in our surgeon than mages I have only just met. I would've gone to Solas but he too needs to recover."

 

Evelyn wasn't going to push the issue with him, relieved that he was intact. "I'm just glad you're alright, I was worried."

 

"You were worried?" Cullen chuckled harshly, "Eve, after reading your letter, Maker, you had me scared to death! Then upon my arrival, I find you surrounded by the enemy, you run out to break the ice, fall through it, and then get shot with an arrow! Now, I learn that you also almost took red lyrium," he cupped her face more so with his rough fingers than his gentle palms, "Andraste preserve me, what were you thinking?!"

 

"Which time?"

 

Watching his ire rise at the quip, she bit her lip finding herself funny, and rather than scold her, he swept her up in a desperate kiss. Evelyn's arms reach up around his broad shoulders, while his arms locked around her middle. She eagerly moved her lips against his in open-mouth kisses, wasting no time. She missed him dearly, the past week amplifying her longing just to be held.

 

Gently parting them, although still a breath away, his sweet honeyed eyes gazed down at her, "No. More. Rash. Actions." She nodded at his quiet but stern tone, still seeing stars. "You have the support of your army and of your Commander, so we strategize and plan. We do this together. Promise me?"

 

"Yes, my love." She nipped again at his lips, "I'm incredibly glad you're here."

 

"As am I," he bent as if to kiss her, but froze a hair breath away from her lips. Her eyes popped open as he spoke, "for I would appreciate having my coat back."

 

Evelyn pushed him playfully by the shoulders, careful not to touch his wound, "What am I to wear then? That was extremely warm." She pouted and he turned to his trunk, searching through it.

 

"Here, this is my old one. It'd suit you better in the field anyway. I don't want to have to worry about you setting all this fur on fire." She accepted the heavy leather and fur-lined jacket. Anything considered flammable was safely tucked inside the thick outer leather. The material of the arms down to the top of the chest was dark mahogany, and worn well in the usual places about the joints. Below it, the deep brown was replaced by a rich earthy red. Slipping it on, the weight recommended its warmth, though it'd be too big for her to use the fasteners, but she could belt it. "I also wouldn't want Samson mistaking you for me from afar. Everyone knows me by this," he held the mantle up between them and she couldn't deny the truth to his words.

 

It was his identifying marker, as much as the anchor was hers. Though parts of his armor had once been from his Templar days, slowly he had been letting go of that life piece by piece as it were. Each battle had seen some part of that armor ruined, and without remorse or nostalgia, he let it go. Though the scars from his service would remain, he was forging a way farther away from Knight-Commander Rutherford to simply Cullen.

 

"Where did that come from anyway? Did you buy it or you truly don't know?"

 

"Ros made it. She sent it to me when I was at Greenfell recovering. I… wanted nothing to do with it, or them at the time, so I packed it away. Never touched it or anything else they sent me until after I left Kirkwall. I found it again while packing to go to Haven and… well, it seemed the practical thing to do and not let her time go to waste."

 

"This is from Ros?!" Evelyn grinned a bright toothy smile, "That makes me love it even more!" He chuckled rolling his eyes at her sentimentality. "So all those times nobles have asked you about where you got it from, you've known?"

 

Cullen had always just answered the question with a 'I haven't the slightest' or a 'in my travels.' She had never directly asked about it until now, believing all those lies he told the nosey nobility. "And tell them my sister made it? It doesn't really do anything for the image."

 

Evelyn covered her mouth trying not to burst out laughing, "Image? My, my, are we vain! You won an epic victory at Adamant Fortress against Wardens, no less, and now you have an image, do you?"

 

"That is not what I meant," he scowled over at her teasing, "and you know it." He turned to finish armoring up when a loud explosion erupted from nearby. When she jumped and fire danced around her, she nearly burnt his tent down. The continuous fighting for days and being sensitive to every sound was taking its toll. Cullen tried to calm her quickly, "It's alright! Evelyn, it's alright!" Just the sound of his voice was enough to break the trance, and she dispelled her magic at his assurances. "It's Rocky and the other dwarves clearing the cave passage. He was eager to try his new powder concoction, believing it equal to Gaatlok. Bull's probably there too already, as it's a matter of pride for him."

 

Even after his explanation, she placed a hand on her heart attempting to halt its pounding. Swallowing hard she took some deep breaths watching Cullen frown with concern. Taking her hands, he enveloped her, helping her to shut out the world for a moment as she had done when he had seen the Hero of Ferelden back at Skyhold. The solitude paired with his presence brought her anxiety down and she pushed away conveying her thanks.

 

Watching her face contort in guilt and shame, she watched his golden eyes soften. "Eve, you're safe with me here. I won't let anything or anyone hurt you. You've been through a lot lately, so get some rest and in two days you can rejoin me. I will post ample security around you, and you have your companions. I'm sure Sorin won't stray far from your side." When another explosion shook the tent, he finished getting ready, by pulling on his returned mantle. Taking her head and pressing her forehead to his lips, he sweetly kissed her, "I love you. Just get some rest, I'll send messages to you of our progress as we go."

 

"Please do, and be safe my love."

 

The two exited the tent to find Sorin sitting outside by the forward camp's main fire. He was hunched over holding his head in his palm staring off, his wavy black locks hanging about his face. With him chatting away nervously was Miriam De Montfort. Her back was to Evelyn, and seemingly too distracted by her own story, Sorin picked his head up out of his hand and shrugged, mouthing something like, 'She won't leave me be.'

 

"Seems I have one more rescuing act to do before I rest, Commander. Maker watch over you."

 

"And you Inquisitor." With that, as he walked up the path, he was assaulted by several runners, reading the missives as he walked. It was a wonder he never tripped doing so.

 

Turning back to her fellow Knight-Enchanter, she watched as he stood all but shouldering the Senior Enchanter out of his way to get to Evelyn. "Oh, I-I suppose I'll see you later to check on that fracture, ser-- I mean, Sorin!" When she caught a glimpse of Sorin's scowl, Evelyn smiled and waved to the healer before the two walked back towards their tents, followed in tow by their faithful guards.

 

"Nice coat."

 

"Thanks. So, what's with you and Enchanter De Montfort?"

 

"She talks endlessly; I sit there mute; that's about it," he grumbled. The hard-packed snow crunched beneath their feet as they walked. The sloping landscape around them was blanketed in about three feet of snow. The Inquisition soldiers must've worked through the night clearing the paths in and out of their camps, for the accumulation under her boots hardly crested her toes.

 

"Miriam seems nice, maybe she doesn't have any friends here and she's finding it easier to speak to another Circle mage."

 

"Annoying people is no way to make friends."

 

"By annoying, you mean talking? I'm pretty sure that's the only way to begin an acquaintance."

 

Sorin exhaled forcefully, "I'm not here to make friends."

 

"Oh, lovers then?" His head snapped to hers with such a look of disturbed shock, she found herself biting back a laugh. "Well, if you're not here to make friends… I mean, she's cute, right?" As they stepped into camp, Sorin stomped away as if a storm cloud was riding him. With restoration efforts underway and the rest of her companions resting, Evelyn sought the solitude of her tent to catch up on work that had piled up over the weeks of neglect. Happy to do something other than fighting, she sat at the small table, lit her candle, and whispered to herself, "To work."

Notes:

Happy weekend!

Surprise! This chapter wrote itself, enjoy the extra chapter!

Munklington

P.S. "The Veilguard?" Asking for a friend, WHAT?!

Chapter 35: The Enemy Within

Summary:

Evelyn and Cullen are suffering from odd symptoms caused by the bleeding of the red lyrium's energy. Is it a coincedence?

Two days of rest had passed by quickly catching up on intelligence from Leliana and diplomatic affairs from Josephine. Evelyn had had time to write the Spymaster about her concerns regarding Solas, Michel de Chevin, and Miriam De Montfort. Something fishy was going on between the three of them, but what it was, even a moderate player of The Game like herself could not fathom. Plus, she had enough on her plate as it was, and her mind could only be pulled in so many directions before she forgot the whole purpose of being in the Emprise du Lion altogether.

 

Solas' spell had worked, preserving her blessed arm from degrading further. Pleased - but seemingly not surprised that it had - the elf explained that the spell would wear off after so long, but would hold strong until it did. However, he did not know how long it lasted, so he still needed to keep a personal eye on it. When asked if he could teach the spell to Sorin or one of the Senior Enchanters, he replied that it was an ancient elven spell so complex that Circle mages hadn't the skills to cast it correctly. Sharing a knowing look with her fellow Knight-Enchanter, the two played it off as if they understood and let the matter drop - though the Spymaster would hear of it.

 

Even with their personnel problems, by far the biggest challenge was the red lyrium tainting everything.  In the aftermath of the battle, the dead Red Templars oozed the red poison into the river and when her valet gave her river water to wash with, some soaked into Evelyn's skin. Though it was a small amount, it was enough to make her feel as if her skin was being bitten by thousands of fire ants. The pyromancer nearly itched herself raw until Enchanter De Montfort was able to give her some relief. Though the incessant itch stopped, she was left with a massive headache. With the river water unsafe for use, they began collecting snow water to boil, which was better, but the more ground they uncovered, the more the crimson crystals poked up out of the soil as if they were spring flowers.

 

The constant buzz of the charged lyrium put a ringing in all of the mages' ears and they became testy towards their fellow soldiers. Blundering around with their eyes half squinted, it was becoming a real problem. For the Inquisitor, it was drastically worse, having consumed the poison twice before. Evelyn had been confined to her tent, unable to walk about without vomiting. Her hands shook, and it was as if she was suffering from lyrium withdrawal. Miriam stayed with her most of the day, along with Sorin who worried that the longer she stayed in the Emprise du Lion, the worse she'd become.

 

The other mages and Templars had become frightened of the Inquisitor's reaction, having burned a few in her treatments. Miriam, to her credit, was the only one who had stayed regardless of the burns she received. The Enchanter was a devout Andrastian, and just as her advisors predicted, it did not matter if people knew the truth of how her mark was etched in her palm. Evelyn couldn't help but feel guilty for the wounds and scars she was suffering on her hands and wrists and had begged the healer to relent on numerous occasions to prevent further injury. Sorin had even tried to talk sense into her, but even as stubborn and blunt as he was, he failed. Miriam De Montfort believed in her heart that it was her sacred duty and honor not to waver before the Herald’s holy flames, as she was being tested by the Maker. The resolve that dwelled deep within her pale blue eyes seemed to mirror the Knight-Encanter’s own in a sense and yielded to her desire to serve.

 

Fade-bent on being a part of the operation, Evelyn was desperate for relief, "Isn't there anything you can think of Enchanter? Why is it the Templars cannot Silence me?" At first light, Evelyn and her companions would be trekking up to meet with Cullen to formulate a plan of attack. The Commander had been busily retaking their camps up the mountain and was now in a position to assault both Suledin Keep and the quarry. He was currently holding their position at what they were calling the 'Tower Camp,' aptly named for it sat at the base of the Tower of Bone.
 

"Please, Your Worship, call me Miriam." As much as they were a bit weary of the Orlesian Enchanter, she could not fault the woman's dedication having scarred herself for life simply to bring her relief. When it came to Sorin, from what Evelyn had observed, it seemed she had a harmless crush on the Marcher.

 

"As soon as you start calling me Evelyn-- ow!" A groan of agony split her head in two and her veins pulsed with fire.

 

Blue glowing hands were hovering over her in an instant, "I can quell the pain as much as I can, which in turn will lessen your mana's reaction to it. I feel it is as you described to me before, where your magic is trying to protect you." With the help of Sorin, Evelyn divulged her history of red lyrium poisoning to the Orlesian. "If I can catch it before it flares up, I can lessen the impact greatly. However, I do not understand why it is our Templars cannot calm your mana without them becoming completely spent. And even then, it hardly helped you."

 

"Unfortunately, I think we need to consult Solas." Sorin crossed his arms and looked between the two women.

 

Miriam's eyes darkened, "Why should we bother with the apostate?" Like her good friend Vivienne, she was clearly an Aequitarian, and staunch believer in the role of Circles in Thedas. "What could he tell us that we haven't tried already?"

 

From under his raven locks, he sighed annoyed, "He knows things. He's the only one who can cast the spell to protect her mark from spreading. Look, we don't trust him either, but he has helped."

 

With a hoarse rasp, Evelyn countered, "Yes, but I don't see him anywhere to be found. Where was he with the other mages before I frightened them away? All but Miriam, that is, and I agree with her. He can cast his spell of preservation on the anchor, but we don't need him for this. Miri is more than capable and I trust her assessment." Grateful for her confidence - and possibly the nickname signaling their new friendship - Miriam nodded with a sweet smile.

 

"Very well, but E, how in the Void are you going to make it to the Tower Camp?" He had a valid point.

 

"I will simply have to deal with it."

 

"I'm afraid I have to agree," her soft Orlesian accent was soothing, "the sooner you are away from the energy bleeding from the crystals the better. Let us hope Commander Rutherford has been able to clear the camp of the primeval crystals. It'll help all of us mages immensely, but you Evelyn, I fear will suffer regardless. I can make a tonic that will help replenish and fortify you after each purging. No need to have you weakened further by that. I'll start making them, call me if I have not returned before the next wave." With her gaze lingering longer on Sorin - who hardly glanced her way - she left the two brooding Knight-Enchanters.

 

"Right," she resigned herself to the thought that there would be no remedy for her, "well, if there's nothing that can be done, there is no sense dwelling on it. We leave for the Tower Camp tomorrow and I'll just have to suck it up." He nodded, his pale eyes holding hers still, "And for the love of Andraste, would you please acknowledge that poor girl!" Sorin shrugged defiantly, and Evelyn threw her arm above her head in a huff. "Out of my sight, you're hopeless." She turned her back to him under her layers of blankets, snuggling down as much as she could in them.

 

"Finally, smells like shit in here from all your vomit." When she poked her head up and looked at him over her shoulder, he was smirking at inconveniencing her, "Goodnight, E." After he left, Evelyn grumbled at the remark, envisioning burning his pants on in front of Miriam. The thought alone imagining their reactions lifted her spirits as she drifted off into the Fade.

 

---

 

The Tower of Bone seemed out of place, even as a relic from a different time. The glare from off its immense metal chains reminded him too much of The Gallows as did all the red lyrium. In two days, he had pushed his soldiers hard to get to the "crossroads" of Samson's operation. With his placement of the Tower Camp, he successfully cut off the supplies to the mine and fort from Judicel's Crossing - a long and terribly high bridge that connected to a major road through Orlais. He made a note to himself to warn Evelyn about the height, knowing her fear of them. The guards had already intercepted several supply wagons bound for the fort, no doubt in a rush to get them to Samson before the Inquisition descended upon them. Their position also cut off the fort and mine from each other, so there would be no ability for either to call for reinforcements. He had Samson right where he wanted him…

 

How long he has waited for this moment of retribution? Cullen was wound so tightly, that it took everything in him to patiently wait for the fortifications of camp to be built before launching his assault. Samson was watching; now and again from high in Suledin Keep, the glare from the sun glanced off a looking glass from the fort's battlements. Twice, Cullen had reached for his own in time to see the man himself snarling back down at him. He had even placed his Command Tent in the perfect position so he could see each time he spied on their camp. It brought him no small amount of satisfaction seeing Samson rip his straggly hair out over having been outmaneuvered by him; it was a small victory for all the lives of his brothers and sisters of the Order he wasted. But he wanted more…

 

There was something odd drifting in the mountainous air; Cullen was feeling more aggressive and anxious than usual lately. He contributed it to Samson's presence, but lately, he had been seeing red. A tight coiling in his chest wound him tightly up in anticipation of release. After much thought, he realized he hadn't had a single headache, any trembling limbs, fatigue, no physical withdrawal symptoms at all. In the battles up the mountain, he felt a dominance in his swordsmanship. Enemies crashed against his unmovable shield before being quickly cut down. It was too good to be true, for these were Red Templars with augmented strength, speed, and endurance; he should not have been outpacing them. 

 

Then it hit him.

 

If the mages were suffering in its proximity, what would prevent him from such side effects? Except for him, his lyrium-starved body was blissfully drinking it in greedily without his consent. The red lyrium was bleeding into him and he was getting a high just by being near the largest deposit of the mineral they had ever discovered. It needed to be destroyed.

 

Trying to suppress the renewed effects of its corruption, he clenched his fist feeling the intoxicating strength and stamina that lyrium gave Templars. No, he was not part of the Order; he did not want to feel its raw addicting power again. The red stuff didn't bring the clarity of the cool blue lyrium, clouding his mind instead with vengeance. His private thoughts raced with the calculating speed he once relished, but its return made him feel dirty. It was as if he had drunk a barrel full of Antivian coffee, and he could do nothing but pace like a caged lion waiting, hoping, Samson would attack to grant him some physical outlet from its bleeding effects.

 

When a scout reported that the Inquisitor and her team had departed Sahrnia, it filled him with crippling shame and anxiety. She shouldn't see him like this; he shouldn't see her like this. What if he did something, what if he hurt her? Surely, he wouldn't be that affected? He could reign in his darker impulses for a day until they destroyed the mine. Yet, there was a voice from deep within the shadows of his mind that was growing in boldness. Bolstered by the familiar essence soaking into his skin, the ugly visage of what he had once let himself become after the events of Kinloch and that which flourished in Kirkwall begged for confrontation - an idea he would not entertain.

 

Absorbed in his duty, he had his army running ragged in preparation, for time was not on their side - nor his. What would happen if he consumed too much? Would this set him back in his recovery from lyrium? Most certainly, but how much? Maker, the fallout from this would be excruciating…

 

"I want the number of guards on each rotation doubled. If Samson attacks, I want us to be ready to react. Dane's men will prepare to make the first assault on the mine at dusk tomorrow. Everyone else will be assigned to the guard rotation and the construction of the remaining defenses."

 

"Commander, how fares the good fight?" The Marcher's melodic intonation was carried to him on the stiff breeze.

 

Turning his head back to gaze at her, he couldn't help his smile seeing Evelyn ascend the stairs to the Command Tent but reigned it in quickly, standing to salute her with the rest of the soldiers. She was still wearing his gifted coat and gloves, which suited her well. "Inquisitor, I trust you are in good health?" He was relieved to not only have her back with him but that no old repulsions reared their ugly heads.

 

Evelyn smiled her polite Inquisitor grin, but there was a strain in her eyes, "As well as can be, thank you, Commander. What's the latest? You have quite the camp here."

 

Looking to his officers, he dismissed them having given them their orders. After explaining the significance of their position to her, he began his debriefing of their upcoming operation. "Our attack will be two-pronged. At dusk tomorrow, Knight-Captain Dane will take a sizable force to attack the mine. As you relayed to us, the Red Templars have trouble seeing in the dark, so our force will be comprised of our stealthier units. I've asked Owayne, Varric, Bull, and Scout Harding to assist with the endeavor. They will each command teams to sweep and clear the mine, without alerting the fort to the situation. Rocky and our dwarven allies will prime explosives to level the mine and time it as we begin our assault on the Keep in the morning with the main Inquisition force." Cullen couldn't help the bloodthirsty smirk on his face, relishing his coming victory, "Samson is cornered, I don’t think he was expecting us to arrive with such numbers."

 

"Yet," the Inquisitor's face was seriously studying the map before her, and he noticed a bit of an unusual rasp to her voice, "if Corypheus' dragon shows up we could be in trouble. Erimond summoned it, what's to say Samson can't either?" Pointing with a finger, her eyes bore into him, "Our forces will be vulnerable here and here on the way to the fort."

 

"That's why this will need to be a hard and fast push into the Keep. It will be hard-fought, make no mistake, but the men are up to the job."

 

It didn't seem like she was listening to him. The way she slowly milled the idea around annoyed him more than it should. He had a plan; he did not need her to start picking it apart. "Perhaps, I can wound the dragon as I did at Adamant, but that is leaving a lot to chance." She squared her shoulders to him, but upon seeing his intense look, she balked back, eyeing him cautiously.

 

"Evelyn, we have Samson cornered. There is nowhere he can run. Dragon or no; Red Giants; Shadows, and whatever monstrosities he can throw at us be damned! Samson is right there!" He pounded his fist on the table causing his markers to jostle out of place.

 

After a minute she nodded her head, her squinting eyes searching for something in his, "You're right." Before she continued, she went to place a hand on his shoulder, but he shuttered and flinched away at her touch, "Oh, I'm… sorry?"

 

He sighed heavily, knowing sooner or later he would have to divulge his shame. With a resigned huff, he took a deep breath to calm his temper. "It's the red lyrium. Its effect is bleeding into me, making me feel as if I'm taking lyrium again. Your mana is…" He paused trying to think of something politer than prickling. "I'm just not used to feeling magic that strongly again. I apologize."

 

To his despair and frustration, Evelyn took two steps away from him, meeting his eyes with loving concern, yet he could not will his muscles to reflect the same warmth. "I'm probably the worst person for you to be around then. Will you be alright?"

 

"The sooner the mine is destroyed the better." He looked over at her noticing strange rolling waves coming over her. Her face paled, and he reached out instinctively for her despite the distance, "Evelyn--" Cullen was halted by a sudden retch as she emptied her stomach under the table. The glow of her core mana ignited, making it look like she was choking on lava.

 

"Shit," she said hoarsely standing and wiping her mouth. Her eyes were blazing orange as her mana was fully engaged, "I was hoping it'd be better up here. Stupid me." He tried to place a comforting hand on her, but her magical aura was so hot, he couldn't. Instead, his hand hovered awkwardly in the air as if bouncing off an invisible barrier. "I have not gone unaffected by its power either," she gasped for air, blinking up saying another curse under her breath. The two of them, separated by more than just a table, gazed into each other's weary eyes, wanting nothing more than to console the other.

 

Feeling as though they stared at each other for an eternity at a loss as to what to do, footsteps running up from behind them broke the trance. "Inquisitor?" It was the healer, Enchanter De Montfort, "I sensed trouble, and we came as quick as we could." On her heels was Sorin, bounding up the makeshift spiraling staircase they constructed. When their eyes fell upon her pulsing mana and puddle of vomit, concern creased their faces.

 

"Is it no better here, E?" The Phoenix shook her head at him unable to answer as she covered her mouth looking as if she'd be sick again. "Damn."

 

"Sorin, the fucking mine is right there. Of course, I'm not going to feel better." It seemed her sickness was grating on her spirits. "I didn't know it was that close to camp."

 

Observing quietly, Cullen noticed Sorin suffering from the telltale signs of a headache as well. He rubbed a hand down his face, "Maker willing, by tomorrow evening we'll be rid of it when we lay waste to the mine."

 

The Orlesian mage, gazed over at him pressing a hand to Evelyn's forehead, "I pray you're right, Commander. The other mages, myself included, aren't suffering nearly as bad as Evelyn and I fear what prolonged exposure will do to her." The Inquisitor shut her eyes tightly, seemingly trying to calm her mana, but was struggling to control it as it dimmed and brightened erratically. "It's most likely due to her having had it in her veins before."

 

The three of them and their magic was becoming insufferable, making him feel as if they were sucking up all the air in the bloody mountains. His fists clenched tight and he fought for control of his spiraling, but he couldn't think with their blabbering on about things not having to do with the upcoming operation or Samson. A darkness sprung up unexpectantly in him, bringing with it his repulsion of their combined mana. When a scout carrying the latest report of the quarry's defenses came, his tolerance for them ran out.

 

"If you all wouldn't mind," he bellowed over their discussion, "I have important preparations to see to before tomorrow, and your magic is a distraction. Remove yourselves from my Command Tent!" The Commander's voice fell harshly upon the mages and the three stared at him in a bit of shock. Glowering at them, he felt his power surging forth as it once had a year ago when magic threatened him. It was both familiar and alien; comforting and unstable.

 

"Come, Herald. I'll see to your comfort as you rest up for the operation. We should start with a tonic."

 

Not budging from her spot even with Miriam tugging on her arm, Evelyn's face was set like stone but the fire in her eyes burned into him. "No," she said with a haughty and arrogant tone, "I wish to hear the latest report. If you two would excuse us, surely the Inquisitor's presence alone does not bother you, Commander?"

 

He ignored her, setting his jaw and glaring straight ahead at a nondescript point on his map. As the other mages moved off, Sorin naturally couldn't leave without the last word, throwing a 'still an arse' at his back. To his surprise, it was the Orleasian who chastised him for his language.

 

"Your report," he ordered, barking at the nervous man who was looking between the two heads of the Inquisition with some apprehension. Listening to the scout, who swallowed a lump in his throat before beginning, Cullen realized his error. He needed to keep himself in check, this bleeding effect would not own him as lyrium once had. Once the update was complete, he thanked the soldier with a softened tone, which he could see visually granted the man some relief. When he was out of earshot, he blurted out, "Inquisitor-- I mean, Eve." She turned, her face looking at him unsure of who she was talking to, as if he were a stranger. The sight of her anger dissipating into fear was enough to sober him, for he never wished to give her reason to gaze at him like that again. Aware that they were in the middle of a bustling camp, he ignored the hum of her magic, and closed the gap to her, "Forgive me, I don't know what came over me."

 

Searching his eyes, she found he spoke true and the tension in her shoulders relaxed. Just as she was about to say something, it was interrupted by a sharp gasp, as the mark bit her and her mana surged forth again with a vengeance. Stumbling back away from him, she cried out for the Enchanter. She collapsed to the ground with ethereal flames rising from her limbs. He peered down over the camp and roared out another call for De Montfort. Thankfully, she was already being fade-stepped through the throng of soldiers by Sorin. Materializing in the tent, Miriam raced to the Inquisitor as Cyrus, having spent a lot of mana to get the healer there, joined his mentor on the floor of the tent while regaining his stregnth.

 

"That's it, I'm getting Solas!" Surprised that his voice could reach such a stressed and voluminous level, Sorin tried to push himself up, and Evelyn growled after him not to. Unsure of what was happening Cullen took a step toward her, but was halted by the Knight-Enchanter's hand as he passed, "Don't she'll burn you."

 

Evelyn was clearly not in control of herself, between her wild breathing and mana, the situation was becoming dangerous. "Why isn't there a Templar assisting her?!" He called to Miriam whose hands were glowing fiercely against the Phoenix’s magic. His own weak power tried to shield him from her aura, but was failing. It was so hot, he might as well had walked into a bake oven.

 

"It agitates her magic-- ow, even more!" The flames of the Phoenix licked up the Enchanter's hands and the familiar stench of burning skin accosted him. She whimpered and sucked her breath in through her teeth. “It’d only get worse!”

 

At the scene unfurling before him, something impulsive and instinctual went off inside him, readying a power he no longer possessed. Acting fast, he stepped forth and grabbed Evelyn’s flaming hand releasing what would have been a mind-numbing Silence upon the Inquisitor if he had been at full stregnth. Locking eyes with Evelyn, there was an inner calm that using his old abilities touched, and by her reaction after seeing it in his eyes, it had transferred to her. His power whispered up her body like a soothing mist, quenching the flame roiling through her veins. The Phoenix let out a long breath of relief, though shocked by what he had done - as was he that it worked.

 

"Cullen…"

 

He saw the frantic look in her eyes and knelt beside her, still holding her wrist, "I told you, it's the bleeding effect, I feel like I'm taking it."

 

"But--"

 

"I know! I know…" He quickly added releasing her, and she finally relaxed. "I'm not sure why I was able to help you when the Templars who are actually taking it weren't. Perhaps, it has to do with its color…"

 

Catching onto his line of thought, she sat up, "If, what you did was caused by red lyrium, and my mana is craving it… and the Templars take the blue lyrium, then… you may be the only one who can help me." They stared at each other for a long moment, "Isn't that ironic?" She gave him a wan smile, but it only made him frown more.

 

"Remember when Dagna said she believes it's a living essence?" Shaking herself from the fog of her illness, her whole energetic countenance seemed to have been revived, looking at him attentively. "What if it 'knows' things?"

 

"Oh, it most certainly knows what it's doing! I've made deals with it. The last time was when Ryker stabbed me." Startled by this news, he shook his head having not heard this. "I told it that so long as it helped me defeat Ryker, it could have access to my mana and mark. Bu tit would cease when we defeated him."

 

Forgetting where they were, his rage surfaced, causing him to scrunch his face in anger, "You-- you did what?! Maker's breath, Eve, what would possess you to give it so much?!"

 

"Revenge."

 

As they were locked in a telepathic conversation, observing each other's reaction as his mind processed the significance of this, slowly the tension abated. Cullen slowly came to the realization that since arriving in the Emprise du Lion, he had been consumed by his desire for revenge on Samson. "You think the red lyrium is attracted to me because of my want for vengeance?" She nodded. "But you want it as well, and look what it's doing to you."

 

She leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice as if the crimson menace could hear them, "I've been here for weeks, and it hasn't gotten worse until you showed up. Whatever it's after, it has to do with you. Maybe it knows I'll get in its way so it's trying to weaken me."

 

His eyes wandered to her strong features, "But what would it want…" And then it hit him. For a moment, he felt as if he was studying a chess board, watching the players move its pieces around. When it seemed it was his turn, he found his Queen had a direct line across the board to the opponent’s Knight standing between him and the King: Samson. His eyes widened and Evelyn's matched his, "Maker, it wants me to replace Samson! Think about it, it's coaxing me into wanting to take lyrium by giving me a taste of it again. What if it is weakening you because it knows I'll do anything to help you? It takes away my withdrawal symptoms and gives me purpose in caring for you. It knows we will kill Samson; we have him trapped up in his bloody fort! With no one to lead Corypheus' army, it's already looking for a replacement. I suppose in my state I'm an easy target."

 

He watched as the Inquisitor's face morphed into a snarl. "That manipulative little shit! We can't let it do this, it will not have you!"

 

"E!" The couple turned their heads to Sorin now standing to try and block some of the attention they were garnering from the soldiers walking past. "People are listening."

 

Evelyn quickly sat back leaning up on her hands. Even through the thick borrowed coat she was wearing, he could see she was breathing heavily with slight panic on her face. "The rules of the game have now changed with this. Whatever is waiting for us in that fort tomorrow, it will not be under the command of Samson…"

 

Cullen pressed his face into his hand, still kneeling a few feet from her, "Samson I could have countered, anticipated his moves, but this… how do you even fight this?" Time was dwindling until their attack tonight and even more so now for the assault on the Keep having no idea what they were up against.

 

"So," Sorin's voice interjected into the conversation, "if red lyrium is in control of everything corrupted by it, does that mean it's controlling Corypheus? Is our enemy really the essence in red lyrium?" Holding their breaths at the thought, the many revelations were rapidly becoming overwhelming.

 

"Void take me, this is becoming one giant fucking shit show." Ever eloquent with her swearing, he couldn't help but mumble a curse of his own. Watching the weight of things come crashing down on her, he asked the other two mages to close the sides of the tent for some privacy. He knew that these matters fell heavily on her despite the aid of the Inquisition’s members, she alone carried the anchor. Evelyn was already crumbling inward on herself, hugging her legs, all but ready to fall over in a fetal position.

 

In the darkness of the tent, out of the harsh glare of the sun's reflection on the snow, Cullen tried to place a loving arm around her, but she pushed him away. “Don’t, I’ll hurt you,” she grumbled, though he knew her frustration was not directed at him. “I don’t want to burn you.” Her eyes flickered up to him guiltfully and he knew she spoke of the scarring on his shoulder from Kinloch.

 

Seeing the private conversation to come and wanting nothing to do with it, Sorin asked Miriam to wait outside with him, which she did enthusiastically. He could hear the Knight-Enchanter speaking to her about how the Inquisitor and her Commander were "close friends." Whether she bought it or not, he didn’t care. The red lyrium essence had it right; Cullen most certainly would do anything to help Evelyn. What it didn't account for was their combined intelligence. Perhaps others would've dismissed it as a coincidence that these things were happening, but not them. They had seen too much to know there was no such thing.

 

“Your mana has calmed, you’re no danger to me. I do know I’m talking about, having been a Templar for over a decade. It’s just… a lot for me to handle again.”

 

Staring over at him with a pout, she rested her head on her arms over her knees. She changed the subject, seemingly unwilling to push his boundaries, "You still have that lucky coin?"

 

"I do."

 

"Good. I'll have your back, but just in case… make sure you have it tomorrow." Eve's eyes drifted away and he knew that she was mentally preparing herself for whatever the essence could throw at them - at him. Her fierce will to protect him always surprised him, having never had someone who would do so with every fiber of their being, though he knew the sensation well, reciprocating such feelings for her.

 

His voice was low but forceful, "It cannot win so long as we are together. Whatever it has planned, we'll overcome it." The shift in the light in her eyes told him he believed her, and it was enough to silence his doubts as well.

 

Helping her stand, he parted the tent flaps for the two mages waiting patiently out in the cold. The Senior Enchanter was the first to break the awkward silence, "Um, I'm not quite understanding of everything you said before, but, um, how do you feel, Inquisitor?"

 

"Nearly normal."

 

"Amazing! Commander, you did it! Again, I'm not sure how, but it worked!" Miriam's eyes flickered about to the three of them who gave constipated looks back at her. "Am I missing something important here?" Her sweet innocent voice was quiet as her pale eyes widened.

 

Wiping a gloved hand down his face, he knew he had to tell her. "I haven't taken lyrium for about a year. I shouldn't have been able to do that."

 

Standing paralyzed in a bit of shock, the petite mage's mouth opened, "Oh, sweet Maker."

 

Sorin strode over to the healer, leveling a stern look at her, "We would appreciate discretion in this matter, Miriam. The Commander's business is no one's but his own."

 

The Orlesian nodded her head enthusiastically, "On my oath as a healer! Not a word, Sorin." He stared hard at her for a few more seconds, but it was interrupted by her nervous hiccups. "If it's not too-- 'hic' bold to say, I would recommend that you two-- 'hic' bunk together tonight in case the Inquisitor's mana surges again." Cullen felt the warm flush on his face, and it increased when he glanced at Evelyn biting back a smirk. "I know it's not ideal--'hic'"

 

"It absolutely is not, I heard the Commander snores."

 

His jaw all but hit the ground, turning to her, "I snore?! Me?! You... you..." He realized the trap she had just put him in, as she stood there baiting him with an innocent look. She was most definitely feeling back to her normal self. Anything he'd say would reveal that he had an intimate knowledge of her sleeping habits. Even Sorin had a slow smile starting on his face, amused by her antics. "Lucky for you then, Inquisitor, I'll be seeing to the mine infiltration all night. I can make a point to stop in and check on you periodically."

 

"Thank you, Commander! I could use the rest in case my healing skills are needed-- 'hic' following the missions."

 

Evelyn took the healer's hands in hers briefly viewing the burns adorning her hands and wrists. "Take care of yourself too, Miri. Sorin, go with her and see to it she gets settled in."

 

"But--" Came the rebuttal from her long-time friend.

 

"Do it. I will find someone to help me move some things into Cullen's tent." Accompanying the Inquisitor on this task, they bumped into Warden Blackwall and elicited his help. While they went to her tent, he cleared a space for her to rest for what remained of the day. So it didn't seem odd, he tied open the flaps and conducted business out of his personal quarters. Those delivering reports and messages from his officers were politely told why the Inquisitor was staying with him. There would be rumors regardless - there were enough already - but at least if they weren't hiding her in there, it would be less suspicious.

 

Before he left, Cullen made up his mind to deliver the Ambassador's letter. Josephine's note was burning a hole in his pocket, wanting to deliver it and be done with it to focus on tonight's mission.

 

"Warden Blackwall, a moment!" He called at the man's back, having waited until he was a short distance from the tent. Though he wasn't trying to keep it from Evelyn, it wasn't his secret to share. Turning, Cullen wasted no time rummaging through his pocket to find it. Lowering his voice, he imparted, "From the Lady Ambassador." The bearded man stared at it as if he had just given him the cure for the Calling. With his secret quest complete, he turned to leave but was stopped.

 

"Um, thank you… I, ah, appreciate it. Did she… say anything?"

 

"I would rather not get involved--"

 

"Right, yes, I'm sorry."

 

At seeing the man's morale deflate clearly smitten with Josephine, and she having done him a favor in helping with his proposal to Evelyn's father, Cullen sighed having ensnared himself regretably in someone else's affairs. He added, "She was concerned for your safety." At the news, his steel blue eyes lit up, nodding in thanks before leaving for his tent, no doubt, to read his letter.

 

Later that evening while sitting in his tent, some forwarded mail of his own reached him, and in it was the reply from Bann Drexford Trevelyan. His heartbeat hastened holding the folded parchment in his hands. Sitting at the small desk in his tent in his untied gambeson and breeches, despite the frigid cold of the night setting in, his skin was moist with sweat suddenly. Should he open it now or wait? Maybe he should do so in the presence of the Ambassador to elicit her help again? Could he wait until they were back at Skyhold to reply?

 

"Commander, open up!" Scrambling to hide the correspondence, knowing how her eagle eyes took in everything, he slid it between some of these other reports for the time being. Evelyn had left for a bit to check in with her brother and other companions before the quarry mission commenced. With her arms full of extra blankets, he opened the flap letting the Inquisitor inside. Looking at him with a grimace and a red nose from the cold, she asked, "How's my aura? Am I too hot?"

 

He chuckled, thinking if he wanted to reply seriously or not, "Getting there, but I can handle it until I need to go. I am relieved you didn’t bring your friends though, for your mana is more than enough for me." Relief washed over her, and he was pleased to see her face had regained much of its normal color. Shaking his head with a small smile, he stretched a hand out to her. Hesitant after what happened earlier that day, she gazed back and forth a few times between him and his eyes, slowly moving to grasp it. When they met and he gently closed his fingers around her small hand, he ignored the prickling heat on his skin just to reconnect with her. He whispered sweetly, "I missed you."

 

"I missed you more." He loved the way how such simple words could life the tension from her face.

 

Holding each other in a longing gaze, footfalls outside of the tent made them let go abruptly. A soldier called for him with an update and was permitted entry. Upon parting the tent flaps, his casual relay turned into a formal one as he eyed the Inquisitor. "Ser, the Knight-Captain is readying to begin final checks. He wanted me to inform you of such."

 

"I'll be there presently," nodding to the young man who saluted once to him, then again to Evelyn.

 

"I suppose I'll wait here and keep the blankets warm," she said a bit disappointed. “You know, it figures the one time we have an excuse to share a tent that I can hardly touch you.” Shimmying out of his old coat in favor of the heavy wool blankets she was about to pile over herself, he got an eyeful of her divine womanly figure. He realized how long it had been since he had touched the silky expanse of her skin.

 

"Come here," he called softly, holding out his hand again. Pulling her by it closer to him, he placed it on his heart. Cullen startled slightly that the feeling of her mana over his beating heart, concentrating on his ardent love rather than fear. Like the sun, she was always the radiant light in the dark. "Do you trust me? I didn't get to ask it of you before the last time I Silenced you."

 

The rich light brown hue of her eyes engaged him, "You know I do, wholeheartedly. It's just odd, seeing you use your old abilities like you're my Sentinel." He knew exactly what she meant. He had never been one himself, but he imagined fondly what being Evelyn’s Sentinel would’ve been like during her Knight-Enchanter training back in the Circle. With care, he released his power feeling the air around them cool and quiet. Her eyes blinked a bit heavily a few times, and she let out a slow breath. It seemed not only did such usage greatly help her, but him as well, feeling less sensitive than before.

 

"Get some rest while I'm gone." His hand caressed her cold cheek and scar, feeling the intensity of her mana subside. Needing to hurry, he quickly began armoring up once more with her assistance, shivering the whole time.

 

"What about you? I'm sure you've been running yourself ragged all day, not resting once."

 

"The bleeding of the red lyrium has me in an anxious and energized state. I couldn't sleep if I tried." After putting himself back together and seeing her sad Mabari face, he cupped it in his thick leather gloves, "I'll come back to check on your mana, but please, get some sleep before the mission tomorrow." He could tell she was already tired, probably having not been able to sleep due to her fluctuating magic. 

 

Coaxing her to lay down and covering her up in the layers of blankets she brought, her eyes fixated on him as if she read his thoughts. "And… you are alright with feeling the effects of lyrium again?"

 

Cullen's hands stilled without their usual shakiness, and he swallowed hard, "I'm… just glad it is not hindering me from performing my duties, and that I can help you. Though I will be happy to go without feeling it again regardless of the consequences."

 

She nodded, adorably nuzzling her head into her pillow, "You and I are a bloody mess. If it's not one thing, it's another."

 

He laughed at their expense as well, "As you once said, no one else would want to put up with us." Kissing her goodnight, he resisted the urge to stay as her eyes twinkled up at him, "Sleep, Trevelyan. We have a fort to take in the morning, and I need you at your best."

 

"Yes, Rutherford," she yawned back finally able to drift off without the threat of her magic. "I look forward to battle beside you tomorrow, my love." As her eyes closed, he smiled, struck oddly by her words. He felt like it should’ve worried him more, but instead he too was comforted that she’d be with him. So often he had sent her into battle without him, but this time he’d be able to lead from the front.

 

Battle. Revenge. His love beside him. What more could a warrior want?

 

---

 

Unsure when she fell asleep or for how long, Evelyn awoke in the dark of what she assumed was the early morning. Eager to know how the operation was going, she bundled up and hurried up the snowy path to the Command Tent. Runners were rushing to and fro from the northern gate and back, but oddly the Commander was alone standing staring off toward Suledin Keep. As she quietly approached, watching her footing on the frozen steps, she peered up at him again there was a man hovering closely behind his shoulder.

 

Evelyn did not recognize him, but at the sight she instictivly stopped as every hair on her body rose. Something was not right. Unblinking, she studied them opening her senses. Her raptor eyes picked up every movement as the man made motions as if conversing with Cullen. Yet it seemed to be a one-sided one, as the Commander seemed paralyzed in place. The whole scene screamed danger and the Phoenix immediately took flight, fade-stepping to rip him away from Cullen. Reaching out with her ethereal hand, time seemed to slow as the mysterious man turned flashing a sinister grin before disappearing in his own cloud of smoke.

 

When she materialized behind the golden-haired Ferelden, he scolded her, "Now is not the time for your pranks! I'm glad you're feeling better but--"

 

She didn’t bother listening to him, cutting him off, "There was a man standing here behind you. What was he saying to you?" Her tone was urgent and the soft torch light revealed to him the serious nature of her question.

 

"What? What man? I wasn't speaking to anyone."

 

"What were you just thinking then?" He shook his head unsure of where this was going. "I can feel something is off in the air here. Whatever I saw may not have been human." Cullen's hard amber eyes locked on hers, "You were staring up at the Keep, what were you thinking about?"

 

"I... I was thinking about revenge. That had I been in Samson's place, I wouldn't have been so foolish as to get cornered or waste the lives of my brothers and sisters of The Order in pointless attacks. That I was superior." His words stirred a chill in her colder than the night. The notion of superiority was inherently in the essence of the red lyrium. Her first encounter with it back in Haven made her feel the same. He shook his head running a hand through his hair briskly. "I should've been thinking about the quarry mission, why was I..."

 

Evelyn's dangerous look halted his words, "A being that can influence thought sounds like a demon to me. And... oh, Maker!"

 

"What?!" His eyes were alert and trained on her every reactive movement.

 

She threw her hands up and they landed in her hair remembering what Michel had relayed to her when they first met. "Michel has been hunting a demon here who is helping the red lyrium flourish. What if... that was him? Working with the red essence to ensnare you with such thoughts. This can’t all be a coincedence." She watched his fists clench at his sides and his eyes shut tight at the demon's invasive violation. She knew what it would do to him. Evelyn immediately reached out and grabbed his shoulders, but it was impossible to make contact with him through his armor and layers, "I'm here, Cullen! Look at me!" He forced his eyes open, and her hands moved to his face but he dodged away from them. His back was to him with a gloved and over his face, lost again in the darkness. "I'm real, and I'm here. Don't go down that road; don't shut me out!"

 

Frustrated that she could not soothe him with her touch, she could only pray – and curse – that her pleas found her way through the chaos erupting in his mind. Reduced to a spectator’s role, she gripped the map table with such a force, knowing without it’s support she’d fall to her knees in tears at his pain. After another stressful minute watching him fight internally for control, the faraway glaze of his eyes blinked back to the present. "Thank the Maker! Breathe, my love, I'm here," she sniffled back her emotions.

 

With a heavy breath that puffed out a hot stream of air, he slowly calmed. Cullen was so practiced in hiding it, that he hardly showed signs of an attack. Anyone passing by was more likely to believe she was the hysterical one. Approaching the opposite side of the table, she watched him flex and relax his fist. "I'm alright. I'm alright…"

 

One more visual inspection revealed he was in control to her relief. A low simmering rage came to replace her anguish, though her eyes were still moist, "Ishmael will not have you, of that I can promise you. I'm a Knight-Enchanter; no demon can hide from me."

 

"We'll fight him together," the leonine resolve on his face was worn like another piece of his armor. Cullen was strong, he had been dealing with his trauma well before she came into his life, much like her.

 

She nodded firmly back, her senses now all on high alert for any strange energies. "Let's just worry about the quarry mission first. How fares the men?"

 

His golden eyes reflected the light with their normal luster, re focusing on the task at hand. “All is going according to plan. All the major fighting is done, so the sappers are headed in to lay the charges. It’ll take them several hours to do so, but we are still on track to begin the assault at daybreak. You should arm and prepare yourself for battle, Inquisitor.”

 

“I’ll have it brought to me here.”

 

"You're staying?"

 

"Yes, Commander, unless you'd like another visit from Ishmael, I'm not leaving your side. Consider me your Sentinel." The irony of her words was not lost him.

 

Evelyn couldn't help the small smile that grew on her lips. Demon hunting was her calling and she relished the hunt. The stakes were higher this time, however, with Cullen stuck in the middle of the war for his soul. She knew she should be more concerned, but deep in the fire of her core, there was an unshakable confidence that was beaten into her since her days as an Apprentice mage. This demonic creature had made it personal; Ishmael knew she’d see it and what it was doing to her love. No demon had bested her yet, and now she had caught the scent of this particularly devious one if her memory served her right from Michel’s assessment.

 

Staring into the waning darkness, her raptor eyes burned orange searching out over the horizon for a glimpse of her prey. “I’m coming,” she whispered, “and when I find you, I’ll show you what a real demon is.”

Notes:

Hey all!

I have a super exciting announcement!

The first few chapters of "Phoenix Origins" has been posted! IrinaPalmova and I so excited to share this story with you, as we've been working on it for quite some time! PLEASE go check it out, it has been added to the Phoenix Chronicles series and we have SO much fun planned for it! We have a double contrasting relationship throughout the work between Evelyn/Cullen and Miriam/Sorin. The story will differ from this one, so expect similar themes, yet a different storyline. I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it!

Hope you all had a lovely week,
Munk

Chapter 36: The Trap

Summary:

The attack on Suledin Keep begins. Despite their efforts, Evelyn and Cullen fall into Ishmael's trap.

"Are you ready?" Cullen asked her as he donned his Everite lion's helm. He was wearing the new battle armor Herrit had made for him after ruining his last set at Adamant. Evelyn had always thought the whole 'knight in shining armor' cliché was gag-worthy, but watching him stride toward her, she couldn't help but admit she had been proved wrong.  

Beneath her 'Inquisitor's Helm' as Dagna called it - a special and unique design with enchantments that had been rushed to her for battle - the shadow hid her roaming eyes. "Ready. Perfect timing too, my mana's starting to bottle up." She flexed the power at her fingertips, making him cringe. 

"No sense in me Silencing you, I'd rather you save it for the enemy."  

The two of them stood at the head of the column of soldiers ready to lead the assault on Suledin Keep. The previous night's mission had been a success. Not only was all the red lyrium destroyed, but a large number of the townsfolk were recovered. Apparently, they were kidnapped and forced to work the mine. Leliana's people were handling the situation as they took care of the second prong of the attack. 

"You look handsome, by the way," she whispered as he took his place at her side. 

"Focus, Eve." 

"I am focused." Her head was turned to him.  

He did a double take, staring into the darkness of her helmet. The sliver of light that showed her face, revealed her toothy smile. "Preferably, not on me this time." Little did he know that her flirting was part of keeping his lust for revenge at bay. He hated compliments almost as much as she did, so every here and there she threw him one. The two were still in a delicate balancing act; she with her magic, and he with his lyrium high. "On my command, you go and turn the door to ashes, then pull back. Sorin will provide you with cover." 

"My pleasure, Commander." For once, Cullen was utilizing her immense power. That and by his twitching, she could tell her mana was running too hot and needed to be released. Sorin's presence wasn't helping his sensitivity either, but soon he'd have other things on his mind that would distract away from their magic. 

"Go, Inquisitor!" 

With that, her gaze narrowed on her task and she and Sorin fade-stepped to the large wooden door. Her partner threw up a barrier around them and gave her a wide birth as she placed her hands on the rough wood. Evelyn touched her mana, releasing the pent-up fury of her core engulfing the door in thick flames. The air around her waved from the magnitude of the heat, blurring out Sorin's outline off to her right. Evelyn listened to the creaking and crackling of the wooden fibers breaking, unable to withstand the Phoenix's might. When it’s fate was certain, she nodded to her fellow Marcher and they fade-stepped back to the line. 

The ethereal mist revealed her form back beside him, "It's as good as gone, Commander. And I didn't even mess up my hair." 

Pointing to one of the other archers, Cullen made a gesture and the signal to light the explosives flew into the sky. Owayne, Varric, Harding, and The Iron Bull were all down coordinating the effort led by Rocky to blow the mine into the next age. "We charge on the first explosion." Even if the enemy wasn’t aware yet of the stealth mission in the mine, they would be as soon as the first fuse was lit. His command was carried back to the men behind them by his officers. From what was passed up to them, the mine operation was a success with minimum casualties.

Evelyn's heart pounded as they awaited the first boom. Whatever was behind that door - Red Templars, Samson, or Ishmael - would not know what hit them. A glance to Sorin on her right showed him smirking at her, cocky bastard , she thought. "Think you're going to beat me in there, don't you?" He simply shrugged and turned his gaze frontward. 

The clang of Cullen's visor going down, made her turn to him, "Inquisitor, do not get too far ahead of us. You don't want to walk into a trap." His stern voice and eyes from within the lion helm carried a heavy weight looking so fierce. 

"As your Sentinel, Commander, I have no intention of straying far from you." 

"Nor I," Cassandra seconded, "If it is as powerful as Michel says, you may need me to weaken it." 

"There will be plenty of demons to go around," Evelyn had informed her inner circle of the shocking discoveries and theories that yesterday brought. With a few of them resting and helping with the destruction of the mine, it left the Seeker, Korbin, Blackwall, Sorin, Solas, and Michel de Chevin for the assault on Suledin Keep. "Besides," she rolled her eyes and headed over to Cullen, "we know it's a trap already. It's too quiet for a fort with their front gate burning." Dark sooty smoke drifted high into the sky like a beacon, yet there were no sounds beyond the sounds of their rustling armor. 

BOOM!  

The ground trembled while the concussive force of the explosion echoed in the surrounding mountains. As soon as the initial shock of the detonation was over, the Inquisition's forces charged forth. The Knight-Enchanters fade-stepped ahead of the soldiers, giving a blast of force to the crispy door, easily obliterating it. A strong brassy baritone called to her before she could get through the opening, however, and she fell back with the Commander. 

"Let Sorin and the others go first!" He yelled at her as they approached the gate. She grumbled back a few curses at him, but they went unheard. 

Looking ahead, she watched as her protégé cleared the gate, materialized, and signal the all-clear. Evelyn should've felt relief that there wasn't a wall of Red Templars waiting for them, but it only meant there was an ambush prepared further in. Reading her thoughts, Cullen's sharp gaze cut into her before sweeping his eyes around the area.  

Evelyn snapped a barrier on the two of them and gravitated closer to his side. "A trap it is then?" 

Giving her a knowing look, he pointed and shouted commands for reformation, all the while never stopping their brisk pace. It was a bold strategy to continue the push deeper into the coming ambush, yet she wasn't sensing the Red Templars or the demon close by. They were certainly near, but it seemed they were going to sit and wait for them at the heart of the Keep.  

"Seeker Pentaghast, I want you to lead an advance force ahead of our main one. Take Knight-Enchanter Cyrus with you and a dozen men. If there is an ambush ahead, let it not take our main force by surprise." 

"Yes, Commander," Cassandra affirmed striding ahead and taking the men with her, including Evelyn's pupil.  

The Inquisitor called after them, "Be careful!" Watching them jog ahead, she felt something akin to a mother longing after her child. She would've argued with Cullen, but she needed to stay beside him. Demons were screwed and slippery, and Ishmael was a powerful one able to cloak himself to Cullen, influencing his mind. Hoping Sorin would trip over Ismael and kill him was wishful thinking. As skilled as her good friend was, he had not experienced such a powerful being as this one. This demon didn't fall under the usual classifications. He was a different beast with free will, not a slave to his inherent nature, such as Despair or Envy. They were predictable - Ishmael was not. 

Moving through the fort, everything was eerily quiet. The snow had stopped, but the frosty air still held a deep chill that was painful on one's skin. The old elven statues were layered in ice, yet the heat from the red lyrium crystals thawed areas and cracked some of the ancient statues beyond repair. Their dead eyes followed them as they searched for the enemy deeper within its bowels. Passing abandoned cages of cruel experiments involving several different species of creatures - from Mabaris to people to giants – a swell of nausea churned in her gut remembering her own experiences with it.  

Cullen muttered bitterly beside her, "Samson is ill. There is no excuse for this. Nor is there reason as to what he did to your leg, the Order, and--" She could hear the rage bubbling up as his tone became harsher. 

"It is the song of the lyrium. Its will is hard to deny. You need to settle your anger, otherwise it will open you to Ishmael's influence."  

A hot breathy sigh steamed through his visor as he tried to steel his emotions. After a moment, the Commander cast a wary eye at her, "You resisted it though, twice." 

She snorted a clipped laugh, "My stubbornness is good for something it seems." Turning to Blackwall and Solas, she ordered them to collect what they could from the experiments Samson was conducting. The field tents around had been left at a moment's notice, with notes and supplies right where their owners left them. Dagna would certainly want to see their research - if one could call it that - into the crimson poison. 

"Inquisitor!" A scout's voice carried to them from up ahead, "Seeker Pentaghast requests your presence immediately. We found something." Sharing a look with the Commander, they pressed forward spurring their soldiers on behind them through a large vacant courtyard. The only sounds to be heard were the booms of the explosions from within the mine and the crunching of the snow under their feet.  

On the other end was a large archway sealed by a magical barrier. Cassandra waved them over, "Inquisitor, Commander, what do you make of this?" 

The glowing blue wall emitted an odd energy. Evelyn moved inches away from it, but its resonance didn't change. "I hate to ask, but has anyone touched it?" 

Sorin snorted a laugh, "Of course, I did." 

"Naturally," the Phoenix gave him a pointed look. Cullen joined her after forming up the army behind them into defensive positions. "If I was Ishmael, what purpose would this have? Entrapment?" 

He shook his head, "The courtyard is far too large to trap our force here." 

"Hmm, a distraction?" They could just see to the other side, but it led to nothing but an empty barracks.  

"For who? Who would he make this for?" The two snapped their heads to each other realizing the answer. It was for him.  

"Wait, no!" 

Cullen placed a hand on the force field, but rather than repelling him, his form was swallowed by the shimmering barrier. Grabbing onto his pauldron reflexively, Evelyn was dragged after him, joining him on the other side. Looking back, they could see their friends trying to shoulder their way into the portal. Cassandra was using her dispelling abilities on it, but none were effective by the expression on her face. Korbin charged through the group with his battleaxe, only to be shot backward after striking it. Sorin shared a look of concern with her before his head snapped to some commotion behind them. 

Torn, they could see Cassandra barking orders at Sorin, Korbin, and Michael. The Knight-Enchanter quickly fade-stepped away, while the others raced from the archway as a battle erupted; Samson and his Red Templar army were upon them. They had sprung the trap. 

The Inquisitor threw her hands up, "You remember that thing about a trap? Fuck, Cullen!" 

Cullen's palmed his helmet, adjusting it, "Bloody fool, why would I do that?!" 

"Because Commander, you're already falling under my control." The breath left their lungs as they turned to find Ishmael sauntering towards them. Evelyn placed a hand on Cullen's chest putting herself between the two men. "Now, the fun begins. I have to say, Inquisitor, I didn't expect I'd catch you both, but this turned out better than I thought!" His sinister chuckle and grin made his features dark and dangerous. The demon didn't appear threatening, but there was something in the way he carried himself that told her, he was in control. "So, who would like to break first? Who is the weaker link?" 

"We will not yield, demon!" She knew she had to stay strong. This situation reeked of Cullen's past experience in Kinloch. It made her hand clench on the cold metal of his chest plate as if trying to anchor him. 

"You both reek of fear and rage, delicious," he hissed. Ishmael smugly crossed his arms and tapped his chin with a pale finger, "I could torture you until your minds break or I could take Desire's approach and give you both everything you want until you willingly let me in... what to do, hmm?" 

Evelyn spun to face Cullen, "Hey!" His distant eyes shot down to her, brimming with rage, "I'm with you in this, you're not alone. Understand?" This would not be another Kinloch for him. They were together, and together they were stronger.  

His shield wrapped around her back, "Don't let go." There was an encroaching shadow creeping slowly towards them and she couldn't help but tremble slightly. 

"I won't. We'll beat him, whatever is coming. Together."  

"That's right," Ishmael's tone was mocking, "love conquers all, and all that other shite that mortals like to quote to make them feel better. The truth is far less romantic. Your love is your weakness, and when I'm through with you, you'll be submitting to my every whim in its name." 

The darkness swallowed everything around them until all she could feel was his body against hers. When they were ripped from each other's arms by an unseen force, she cried out into the nothingness until the unnerving silence snuffed out everything like she was the flame of a candle. Panic filled her; she had lost him; he was alone and about to live his worst nightmares. In the dark she had no orientation; up was down and down was up. Evelyn felt like she was screaming his name but there was no sound. Cullen needed her, and she used every instinct she had to fight what Ishmael was doing. When her mana - flame and anchor combined - spraked, it created a hole in his plane of oblivion, yet it wasn’t enough. In an instant, a hot burning pressure reached her ears and like hitting a wall, she succumbed to the Void.

Notes:

Hi all!

Sorry for the long delay! I've had a lot going on personally, including expanding my works to other sites and starting two new projects. If anyone is on Wattpad or Webnovel look me up, these stories are there too! I would certainly appreciate your support!

I am consciously trying to shorten chapters (starting with this one), keeping them to 2000 to 6000 words for easier reading. The good news is, that will hopefully mean more frequent uploads!

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think or what you think Ishmael's plan will be...

Have a great week,
Munklington

Chapter 37: Blurred Lines

Summary:

Evelyn and Cullen find themselves on opposing sides in the future...

The familiar sounds of a bustling camp made it through his dreamless sleep. The clanks of armor were like soothing chimes and the barking of orders was like reverent chanting. The first orange rays of light were peeking through his tent flaps as he ran a hand through his thick straw-colored hair. Turning over, he couldn't help but take in a deep inhale letting the crisp air of the Frostback Mountains - that he had once called home - fill his lungs. Swinging his legs over the side of his cot, Cullen stretched feeling no aches or pain. Even though it had been months without the crippling effects of lyrium withdrawal, it was a bone-aching pain one never forgot. 

 

"Ser, you're wanted in the Command Tent," called a voice of a Knight from outside. 

 

"I'll be there presently," his voice came out deeper with a hard rasp. Cullen's brow knitted finding it odd, but ignored the peculiar feeling.  

 

Quickly making himself presentable, he walked to the large tent at the center of their camp, watching his soldiers with a scrutinous eye. They straightened and saluted stiffly as he passed, unwilling to risk his ire. Cullen ran a tight ship, and he held his Knights to the same standards as himself. 

 

Waiting for him in front of the tent, he greeted the Elder One. Taking a knee and clasping his hand to his heart, he spoke with fervent devotion, "To what do we owe the honor, master?" 

 

The blighted towering figure crossed his spindly arms, "The hour of our victory is in hand. I wanted to make sure all was ready." 

 

The General's jaw flexed at his lack of faith. Had he not proven himself after Samson's disastrous operation in the Emprise du Lion? Had he not forsaken the Maker and His Bride for his new living God? Everything he had ever believed had been turned on its head, and his faith shattered in order to accept his new role. He was to be the Elder One's sword, cutting him a path to the Black City. When his Godhood was achieved, Cullen would be granted a place in the new world – or what would be left of it.  

 

By all accounts, he should be terrified, but everything and everyone he ever cared for had failed him; he had nothing worth living for, or so he thought until the song sang sweetly to him. Taking lyrium again had not been easy, but neither was Evelyn's betrayal. It was a hundred times worse. Yet, a silver lining came in the fact that eventually, his mind would forget it all, and so he took it hoping that his memories would fade until he no longer cared about anything. Not even that the world would end.

 

"Is the army prepared to make the final assault on the heretics?" 

 

The General sneered with confidence, "They are. The ancient walls are weak and the enemy are trapped like rats within it. It will be a simple matter for the Knights to cut them all down." 

 

When Cullen had been appointed General of Corypheus' army, the Red Templars were a rabble, the only discipline to be found in their old habits put there by The Order. From their appearance to the impulses caused by the red lyrium, he took it upon himself to see to it that the Knights found pride in their new Order. In no time, Cullen had instilled strict regulations for his officers similar to that of what they had once been familiar with. Those who were uncontrollable were given over to the Tranquil, led by Maddox, to turn them into more suitable units like Shadows, Horrors, or Behemoths. The rest could serve out their limited days with purpose under his leadership. The heavy cumbersome crystals that invaded the bodies of some of the Knights were trimmed, most growing to become cumbersome in battle. It also didn’t help their “new” image to have the Templars scaring the populace with their marred bodies. Cullen himself kept the fissure on his back in check, having the surgeon file it down weekly.

 

"Calpurnia," the Elder One's deep booming voice called for his prized 'Vessel.' Cullen didn't have to see the mage approach to know she was close by. Her mana had been soured by some ancient elven magic that had been stored in the Well of Sorrow. Having beaten the Inquisition to it – thanks to his effort to hold them in the jungle of the Arbor Wilds – the Inquisition's slow demise was at hand. He had fought her there; Evelyn. He had ordered his men to leave her for him. Only he would snuff that flame. Yet she escaped, licking her wounds back to the ancient elven fortress. Now, camped before Skyhold, their last stand, the army of the Elder One was poised to crush them before turning to Orlais and Ferelden. 

 

Peering down at the woman cooly, their master continued, "I believe the General has the battle well under his control. But I didn't summon you here to boast. Tell him of our plan to secure the anchor. We cannot allow the fools to destroy it." Turning to Cullen now, his claw-like hand firmly grasped his shoulder, "I have faith in you that you will not fail me." 

 

"I would rather die than stand before you in shameful defeat, master. Victory will be yours." The conviction in his voice was firm and confident. A pleased smile pulled on the God's taut lips. If he grinned any wider, what little skin he had left on his face would tear. Turning and gliding away, Corypheus was swallowed by his devout priests, leaving the General alone with the Tevinter mage. 

 

"Cullen," her arrogant voice cut through him like a jagged edge, making him grip the pommel of his sword tighter, "before you assault the Keep, our master has a special task for you." Since she was named the Vessel, she had treated him as a subordinate. He was no stranger to this sort of treatment, but now in a great position of power – including the return of his Templar abilities to wield over the mage – he detested the way she flaunted her seniority in the pecking order. 

 

Inviting her into the privacy of the Command Tent, he asked, "And what is this task? Assuming it has to do with the retrieval of the anchor as mentioned." 

 

"Yes, very good." He bit his tongue at the chiding remark. "You are to lure the Inquisitor out from behind her walls and cut it from her." She smirked, the gap in her front teeth begging to be punched, for she knew all too well his feelings about Evelyn. 

 

There was a piece of him that felt a profound sense of loss amidst the empty numbness of the red lyrium coursing through his veins. He had loved her once – his Eve – but that was before she abandoned him after she promised not to; at least that's what they told him. Cullen's memory right before the time he joined Corypheus was gone. Considering that she made no effort to recover him made him believe the word of his new allies. The red lyrium filled in the cracks of his very being protecting him from all that sought to cripple him. From Kinloch to withdrawal symptoms to his broken heart, all was repaired and forgotten, nearly. Even now at the mention of the Inquisitor, it moved to protect him from stirring up his old feeling for The Phoenix. 

 

"If you think Trevelyan is stupid enough not to suspect a trap, then you are woefully mistaken. Her experience as a Knight-Enchanter makes her incredibly perceptive, and let's not forget how dangerous she is." He side-eyed the short skinny mage, "She may have been a Circle mage, but I'd bet on her against the fiercest Tevinter caster any day." Calpurnia stiffened, knowing the kind of experience and sound judgment he possessed on magic. Cullen enjoyed making her squirm, for her ego since becoming 'The Chosen One' had become insufferable. "I doubt even you pose a threat to her." 

 

"Well, then aren't we lucky to have you, General? Someone who knows her intimately. " He ignored her teasing, remaining stoic and composed. "The master cares not how you do it, just that it is done. Surely, you can manage a ruse to get her alone?" 

 

"Why not simply do it once the battle is won?" 

 

"You heard the Elder One, those fools would deprive us of it at all costs. Trevelyan herself could have the inferno of her mana destroy it before her capture. No, you must sever the marked hand from her. Only then can the anchor be used by our master to get us to the Black City." 

 

"Very well." She stood there looking at him expectantly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have important matters to attend to." 

 

"Don't you want help? We wouldn't want you to slip up like Samson did. I keep telling Corypheus his trust in Templars is misplaced--" 

 

Cullen's hand found her throat before even he could register he had done it. A sharp staggering wave of his power swept into her, taking her breath away, "Remember, mage, that you have no power over us. Our master's good word is the only thing keeping my soldiers from eradicating every last one of you blighted abominations." Fear glistened in her eyes knowing she was no longer in Tevinter – this was the south where Templars reigned. Ferelden had welcomed them back, the populace uncaring that they were taking a more aggressive form of lyrium. So long as the rebel mages had been eliminated, they cared not about what else the Templars did. 

 

“I’m surprised your precious Inquisitor failed to see the depth of your hatred of our kind.” She laughed wickedly, “Or was it that the former Circle mage was used to the abuse of Templars she hardly noticed your disdain.” 

 

Shoving her away toward the tent's flaps, he glowered down at her, "Know this, not even your elven voices have the power to protect you from being Silenced into submission. I suggest you remember that the next time you disrespect me. Now, get out." 

 

With a lethal glare, the thin sandy blonde left him with a huff. He would probably regret that later, Calpurnia being the Elder One's pet, but he would not suffer her impertinence having been so favored by their master as well. With a deep breath, he skimmed over the building plans of Skyhold that he personally drew up. Knowing all the weak points of the Keep, it was no challenge for him to bring their walls down ironically beginning with the tower he had once resided in. He almost wished it was as simple as that, but now he had the added task of recovering the anchor. 

 

No one here knew Evelyn as well as he did, so he was alone in his scheming. Having tried so hard to block her from his thoughts, here he was now needing to remember everything just to fool her into getting close enough to remove her hand.  

 

An unexpectant wave of nausea washed over him violently as his sight blacked out for a moment. In that short time, he heard a distinct woman's voice crying out for him. "Evelyn?" In the distance, he saw the warm glow of what looked to be a flame in the distance, still calling out to him. Before he could reply, the world came crashing back to him. Blinking everything back into focus, he quickly took out a vial of red lyrium and downed it – he must've forgotten to take it recently. Yet, even after feeling it trickle down his throat, he didn't feel the rejuvenating effects. Odd.  

 

With little time to waste before he would have to move his timeline for the battle back, he needed a plan and quickly. Evelyn Trevelyan was many things, but being easily fooled was not one of them. She was the most powerful mage he had ever met and a Knight-Enchanter at that. Fire was at her fingertips, and one wrong move on his part would see him dead in an instant. The Phoenix was also duty-driven, and it would take the best bard in Orlais to concoct a performance good enough to trick her.  

 

The more he thought about her strengths, the more he felt his heart pumping hot blood through him, warding away the numbness. She loved when he called her 'Trevelyan' and teased her about her eating habits, hair, or snoring. She was competitive, always making bets or challenging him. Evelyn turned to mush whenever he thumbed the scar on her chin and combed his fingers back through her hair. A flood of tender memories began drowning him unexpectedly.  

 

When his vision went black again, he cursed under his breath, once again hearing haunting cries through the void. This time a pang of panic stabbed him in the gut, and he heard himself yell back involuntarily, "I'm here! Find me, please! " 

 

Again, he was back in the Command Tent panting for no reason. "Maker's breath--" he caught himself. No, that was blasphemy, why would I say that? What's going on?! He needed to focus, but it seemed thinking about his target was dredging up repressed feelings. But why the extreme reaction? And why wasn't the lyrium acting to protect him as it should? 

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he decided it would be best to keep it simple. Get her alone, Silence her, and remove the anchor. Cullen was not one for elaborate plans, but effective ones. He could do this, for she would listen to him. She'd want to speak with him at any cost to her own safety. For all her strength, she had always had one glaring weakness: himself. 

 

---

 

"Inquisitor, wake up," Cassandra's voice was insistent as she shook her shoulder. "There's a situation at the gate. We need you." 

 

Sitting up, Evelyn looked around her quarters with some confusion. "What the..." There were cots and belongings piled everywhere.  

 

"Come on! Everyone up, this is it!" The Seeker clapped her hands and shook whoever she could on her way to the door. "Inquisitor, now! " 

 

Her words chilled Evelyn and seeing as she was already dressed in a shirt, leather vest, and pants, hurried behind her close friend. "What happening?" 

 

"We have visitors under the flag of truce at the gate. Prepare yourself." 

 

For what? she wanted to ask but she figured she'd find out soon. The two rushed down the steps of her tower and into the Great Hall. More cots were spread about and there looked to be some wounded resting as mages tended to them. Searching her memory as to what in the Void happened, she was drawing a blank. "Where's the Commander?" 

 

"He's already waiting for us in the Lower Courtyard. He has the men ready in case Corypheus and his General try anything." 

 

The blood in her veins chilled beyond what her mana could heat, "The Elder One is here?! " 

 

Cassandra gave her a concerned look, "Yes, do you not remember?" Evelyn shook her head with wide eyes. "His powers must be affecting your memory again." Stepping out of the Great Hall, a bleak scene met them. 

 

Her battered soldiers were mustered and in formation by the gate. Tents and fires were littered about the grounds. The gray sky was ominous of the outlook of their predicament, as camped outside the walls was a vast army. The surrounding forest had been decimated and replaced with blood-red canvas tents. Skyhold's walls had been ravaged by missiles, and their dwarven allies were franticly racing to repair them. 

 

"Are we under siege?!" 

 

Just then, Owayne joined them, "Hey, I heard who was at the gate and thought I'd--" 

 

"She doesn't remember." A knowing and exasperated look between the two told Evelyn this had happened before. 

 

Her brother ran a hand down his face, "Shit. Now of all times?!" 

 

"My thoughts exactly." The swordwoman's usually terse face, softened along with her voice in sorrow, "You explain it to her this time. I can't... not after last time." 

 

"Explain what?!" The Seeker kept walking while Owayne pulled her aside under the privacy of Skyhold's staircase to the Great Hall. A twisting anxiety began to grip her and from the far reaches of her mind, there was an echo of a question gnawing at her. "Where is Cullen? I need to see him and understand what's happening." 

 

His face contorted into a wince, "That's what I need to speak with you about." He gripped her shoulders tightly, holding their identical eyes in an intense stare. "Cullen is here, but he's... with Corypheus. They turned him a while ago and twisted him with red lyrium. He serves the Elder One as his General." It was as if an exploding arrow had just opened an unsealable void in her heart cavity. She blinked back at him through tears acknowledging that she heard.  

 

She needed him more than she needed air to breathe. Cullen was a part of her as much as her arm was, and his loss would leave her with a pain she'd feel until her dying breath. The inferno of her core was bursting through her chest as if protecting her from the grief she wanted to wallow in.  

 

"How?!" She screamed, her Phoenix wings flying out to the sides, " How in the fuck, did that happen while I still breathe?! " Her wrath was verging on dangerous as her mana burned through her. 

 

He shook his head, "Save it for them – the enemy – Evie! They are the ones who corrupted him! If you want revenge, start with Corypheshit!" 

 

"I will!" She seethed, shoving him off her flaming like a Rage demon, " I will. " Her fury was boiling at the surface, and for a moment the world around her flickered into complete darkness. In the distance, it looked like there was a person shrouded in light, but Skyhold came crashing back into her view before she could discern any more. The feral yell of a familiar otherworldly voice overwhelmed her mind like they were standing close to her. Looking back to Owayne, he was wearing an odd expression with his hands poised to choke her.  

 

Something was wrong. Something was not what it seemed, and her Knight-Enchanter training began kicking in. It was as if her mana had overwhelmed whatever power was at work, causing her mind to act more rationally. 

 

Before she could think anymore about it, Cassandra and Rylen appeared at the bottom of the stairs beckoning them to hurry. Clearing his throat, her brother guided her along, "Now, just focus on being the Inquisitor. We are besieged and losing this fight. We need your hot-headed wits, so when you see him, don't fall apart - again. Remember your soldiers, they're watching, we all need you to be strong." 

 

Trying to process everything the heat of the moment was making her head spin even more. Why couldn't she remember recent events? The last time her memory was taken, it had been by Nightmare. By a demon . At the realization, the scene before her blinked out again to the dark void she had seen. The glowing golden figure was still in the distance but closer now. The yellow halo about them brought one name to mind, "Cullen?!" She cried out to him in the darkness, but a jarring jerk of her consciousness brought reality back with a vengeance.  

 

Grasping her head at the disorientation, her Commander steadied her. She stared at Rylen, who wore a grim expression, "Steady, Inquisitor. It's not easy for any of us to see Cullen again. Let alone like that ." 

 

"Like what?" She uttered, instantly regretting it. 

 

The others seemed to give Rylen stern glares. "Come now, ye think it'd be better to send her out there without warnin'? Best the lass know now what she's in for." His gaze softened and he led her to the portcullis.  

 

As they approached she could see him, the familiar broad silhouette of Cullen and his golden hair standing on the bridge. One hand rested on the pommel of his sword, the other held his helmet, but everything else about him was foreign. A red halo radiated from him and his Templar armor. He was unnervingly still as if a statue placed there to torment her soul. Yet, in the very fibers of her being, she wanted to run to him without a second thought. 

 

Unable to tear her haunted gaze away, she absently asked, "What does he want?" 

 

"We don't know, but he's asking to speak with you, alone," Cassandra imparted, joining them. Evelyn looked around at their faces, her mind racing with so many questions. "Good, you're here," the Seeker nodded over to the approach of her two advisors, "I assume you've heard the situation." 

 

"Yes, and I hope the Inquisitor wasn't seriously about to walk out there and give him what he wants?" Evelyn hardly heard Leliana's words. Seeing her unnerved state, a knowing look passed between them all. The Nightingale hooked a finger under her chin, her voice soft yet cold, "Listen to me, that man out there is not the man you knew. He cares nothing about us. He has brought us to our knees, all of this," she gestured around her, "he has carefully orchestrated. This is our last stand."  

 

The Ambassador stepped closer, her face beside Leliana's, "He knew where we were weakest, and without remorse, dismantled all he helped us build." 

 

The pale eyes of the Spymaster commanded her attention again, "We will die, all of us if we fail to defeat him here." 

 

The gravity of that fact made her tremble. He had betrayed them, and now the world would burn because of it. It was so unlike him though. The Cullen she knew would've died rather than take lyrium again. Something had happened, something was still very, very wrong. The world flickered again. There was a pattern to the blackouts emerging accompanied by the chill of an otherworldly presence breathing harshly down her back. The more she studied the world constructed around her, the more things seemed out of order. From her memory loss to Owayne's off behavior to these moments of lost consciousness. It had the stench of deception – of a demon.  

 

As if validating her theory, a cold stab pierced her temple, yet no one around her asked if she was alright. They continued to talk amongst themselves as to how to deal with the Command—the General.  

 

If she was trapped in a waking dream, there were a few options she could try to break the spell. The problem was, she didn't know what had ensnared her. Desire would've shown her a perfect world with all her dreams fulfilled; this was clearly not its work. Envy was typically not subtle, needing to interact with their victims to mimic them, so that possibility was out. The only others powerful enough were Despair or an ancient powerful demon. She would have to watch carefully for clues and test the strength of her cage. 

 

The fire in her eyes returned, as did the heat beneath her skin much to the relief of her so-called 'friends.' She looked out at the bridge where Cullen stood waiting. That was Cullen – her Cullen – under the influence of a demon. She could feel the pure pull of his life force calling to her from across the Fade. He needed help and Evelyn would need to find a way to break through the façade.  

 

"He needs to die." Sister Nightingale's voice pierced through her thoughts. "This is our chance. The Inquisitor can easily overpower him, cutting the head off the crimson snake." 

 

Evelyn allowed her mana forth as protection, though to this demon, it would think she was playing into his hand. Her orange eyes snapped to Leliana, "Even as powerful as he is with his Templar abilities, you're right, he'd have trouble fully Silencing me. But he would know this, so why take the risk?" 

 

"He must believe you still have feelings for him and would seek to convince him to come back to you. He may even know how the Elder One affects your memory and looks to use it to his advantage." The redhead crossed her arms, "Perhaps, he may be the one trying to turn you against us." 

 

"That's ridiculous," Cassandra grunted. 

 

"Or perhaps he has terms of surrender. Either way, I'm going to speak with him and hear what he has to say," Evelyn tried to make it sound as believable as she could. The demon was setting them up for a confrontation and she would thwart it... whatever it was. "If there is a chance he'd be willing to spare our people, I have to try!" Marching away in her usually haughty manner, pushing her advisors aside for show, the familiar Marcher lilt carried over to her, stopping her. 

 

"Let me go with her," Hawke interjected, "there is no one Cullen hates more than me here. Perhaps I can get under his skin, and throw him off whatever game he wishes to play. Plus, it's always good to have backup."  

 

Evelyn couldn't help but eye him skeptically as he caught up with her, Since when is Hawke so helpful? He's a demon alright... What would be its purpose for choosing the Champion to accompany me?  

 

"Very well, but not a blighted word out of you. Your very presence is provocation enough." 

 

He smirked at her, "Yes, Inquisitor." 

 

The portcullis was raised and closed behind them for good measure. If there was trouble she could simply fade-step them back through it. Having hastily rushed to the gate, it was only now that she realized how cold it was, shivering from exposure to the harsh wind outside the walls. The walk out to meet him seemed longer than it was as her mind grasped for a plan. Yet none could be made without knowing Cullen's purpose or a clue as to the demon's nature. Stopping before him, she wondered how to play this; should she be the dreaded Inquisitor or his longing lover? 

 

"Inquisitor, it's good to see you." Cullen's voice was cold and even. She needed to remember that the real Cullen was beneath all the lies. Upon seeing Hawke stand beside her, his brow dropped, showing off that signature scowl. 

 

Disregarding her order, Hawke piped up and greeted him, "Well, Blondie, to what do we owe the pleasure? I'm afraid your old post has been filled, so if you wanted your job back you're shit out of luck." 

 

Cullen only moved his glowing red gaze to The Champion as an acknowledgment of hearing his words. Despite the monstrous version of the man before her, she still recognized his signature tick of annoyance in his jaw. "Inquisitor--" 

 

"It's Evelyn, Cullen, I think you and I are well past formalities," she frowned at him, deciding to play the middle ground. She was his enemy, but could also play The Game. A flicker of a memory of a fight between them burst through her head, accompanied by his words of anger: "You knew exactly what to say to get me to react the way you wanted. You played The Game and I was your pawn." That was it! Regardless of this trap, the demon had set, Cullen would still react like Cullen.  

 

"How does it feel to be so easily replaced?" Hawke's large hand gripped her shoulder, retrieving her from her thoughts, "Honestly, I'm not sure why you didn't do it sooner. Rylen is so much more fun." The General eyes flared red at the contact, taking a menacing step forward. "Oh," he laughed airily, "I didn't mean in the bedroom! No, in fact--" 

 

She needed to sow the seeds of chaos quickly before anyone could properly reason it out. She needed to make a scene, and thankfully for her, she had several dramatic friends to draw inspiration from. "Hawke raped me!" Cullen froze, his eyes growing large as they hung on her words. Taking a chance she stepped closer to him, with pleading eyes, "He forced himself on me! I-I couldn't stop him! He was using blood magic on me!" Evelyn held her breath waiting for the drama to play out. 

 

" What the fuck are you talking about?!" Hawke raged, taken completely off guard. Standing halfway between the two men, she kept her wounded gaze on Cullen, feeling the painful jerk of the mage's hand on her arm.  

 

"Don't believe him, he's a liar! You know that. He's a wretched maleficar, twisting everyone's mind so they can't see what's really happening!" Cullen didn't need details, for it was Hawke . Anyone else and it would've been more difficult, having to concoct an elaborate story, but Cullen's contempt for him had been there for years. It didn't matter if they were estranged, according to this demon's lie, Cullen would still snap at any chance to deliver retribution to The Champion. Evelyn saw the violence in the coil of his muscles and felt it in the power that was building within him. She tried to pull her arm free, shrieking like a helpless victim, "Don't touch me!" When Hawke pulled her back hard causing her to stagger, the General did not disappoint. 

 

With a large stride toward her, the ring of his sword being drawn from the scabbard rang out. The General's arm closed around her in a headlock, but it was more protective than dangerous. As the weight of her ploy played out on "Hawke's" face, it morphed into someone else's likeness. The demon was livid, watching a smug and knowing smirk form on Evelyn's face. They may be trapped in its curated world, but the one major flaw in his plan was how well she knew Cullen. 

 

As her rescuer swiftly Silenced and cut down the mage in cold blood, all of Skyhold erupted in an uproar. Archers knocked arrows on the ramparts and the gate was opening, no doubt to rush to her aid. Even the Red Templars were rushing the bridge to protect their General. She raised a hand snapping a barrier around them, but Cullen's abilities weren't letting it take hold. 

 

"Back off on the dispelling, Rutherford, so I can protect us! We need to get out of here!" Looking around they had a few options that didn't involve running to either side of the bridge into the enemy's clutches – and they were all enemies.  

 

Cullen however, had other plans and he was starting to drag her away from Skyhold to the safety of his Knights. His heavy footfalls were neither frantic nor concerned as arrows began to fly. "There's no need, you're coming with me. I promise to make it quick." 

 

"Make what quick?" 

 

"The Elder One desires the anchor be removed from you. Only then will he leave you be." He shot an unreadable expression down at her, "You need to trust me. I have a plan." 

 

"No, you can't remove it! It's what the demon must want!" If this was a waking dream, what she and Cullen were doing in the dream was also happening in real life; wherever they were trapped, if someone saw them, they would see Cullen dragging her about. Someone could hurt him and think he was a threat! Or worse if he succeeded in cutting off her hand, she would actually lose it. As soon as it was cut from her, the demon could take it and give it to Corypheus and they could do nothing until they escaped this nightmare. Craning her head down, looking over the edge of the bridge and down into the deep ravine below Skyhold, cold fear gripped her. The mage tightened her grip on the Red Templar, "Oh, I hate heights!" Something about her simple omission of fear made the red haze on him flicker as if the truth would set him free. He peered down at her with an expression of concern. "I hate that you're making me do this! If we survive this dream, I'm going to kill you, Rutherford!" 

 

"Hate wha--?" 

 

Dropping herself down in his hold, she squatted with her strong legs and pushed off the ledge. He caught her, as expected, but Evelyn planted her feet on the side of the bridge and cast a force spell from her feet. Propelling them away, a scream escaped her as they plummeted down, holding fiercely to each other. Having time to recover her wits before hitting the ground, Evelyn looked down and timed another force spell to cushion their fall. It blasted them up about six feet from the ground, then dropped them in a heap. Rolling from each other, the mage arched her back up groaning from the pain, although she was more grateful to be alive. 

 

Regaining her limbs, she flipped over gazing to Cullen who was recovering as well. When his glowing red eyes locked onto her, the two scrambled to their feet, but he was quicker and plowed into her. Tackling her legs, Evelyn fell back hard with a grunt as the air left her lungs. She fought off his strength by shielding herself with the heat from her mana. Forcing him to release her, he backed up a few paces looking for his sword that he had let go of as they fell. Seeing it behind her, the race to get to it began. Fade-stepping to it, Evelyn melted it in her grasp making a show of it. Cullen watched as his blade was liquified before him, having now to rely solely on his concealed dagger.  

 

"Put it away, Cullen, I'm not your enemy here!" Unarmed she slowly made her way to him with her hands up. His eyes snapped right to her marked hand, to which she shut, trying to make him forget about the lies he was caught up in. "We don't have long before the demon returns." 

 

"Demon?" He growled, "If there was a demon, I'd sense it." 

 

Evelyn shook her head insistently, "Not this time. We're in its twisted world. If you were a real Templar in the real world, yes, but not here. None of this is real!" 

 

"Then what does it call itself? Name it." 

 

"I don't know," he shook his head and rolled his eyes, "I can't remember anything! I don't remember how this all came to be!" At her words, his gaze faltered, suddenly unsure. "Do you recall how we got to this point?" Gesturing up at Skyhold in the distance, her arms flapped with exasperation. "Do you remember last week? Yesterday? Because I don't! It's all a lie!" 

 

His fighting stance relaxed slightly, sliding his dagger back into place. "How do I know this isn't some trick?" 

 

She placed her hands haughtily on her hips, "Use your head, Rutherford. You don't have to be a Templar with your abilities to figure it out."  

 

"My abilities..." His eyes narrowed, and like a concussive wave, he tried to Silence her. Unfazed, she simply staggered a step backward, coming back to face him with a huff and eye roll. She decided then to take two more large strides forward, and again he tried to deprive her of her magic.  

 

"You know you can't fully Silence me, so knock it off! You're really annoying me with your Templarness." Evelyn muttered the last part as he tried to Cleanse her. With a growl, she staggered him back with a light spell, " I'm not the demon, you arse!" Off to the side, a black shadow appeared its dark silhouette in complete contrast to the rest of the snowy landscape around them. "That's the demon," she pointed to the Elder One slowly materializing. 

 

"General Rutherford, why do I not have the anchor in my possession yet?" Cullen looked back and forth between them. "Get it now! " With that Cullen charged her, pulling his dagger, as if unable to resist his command. Casting Dispel at her, Evelyn could do nothing before the brawny Ferelden pinned her on the ground again. He held her small wrists in one hand as she struggled against him. The sharp edges of his armor dug into her unprotected flesh as Evelyn kicked and squirmed. Physically he was much stronger than she, and with the added advantage of having on full Templar armor, he was a Silverite fortress. When at last he got his dagger by a naked strip of skin at her wrist, Corypheus goaded him on, "Yes! Sever it from the pretender so your rightful God can fulfill his destiny!" The deep voice echoed about off every rockface around them.  

 

Unable to accept defeat, Evelyn moved her arms to the side to shoot a fireball at the Elder One. It ignited his tattered rags as he yelled in anger. Cullen's momentary distraction allowed her to headbutt him, though she came to realize his head was much harder than hers. Both of them still groaned at the impact, but she pushed through the throbbing pain to kick him off her.  

 

Surprisingly, the act seemed to elicit some normal response from him. "Trevelyan, what in the bloody Void was that for..." He growled holding his head. 

 

"I'll admit, it wasn't my brightest idea, but you're leaving me little choice here without burning you." Even though she was slowly breaking through to him, she used the distraction to try and get the dagger away from him.  

 

Anticipating it, he sheathed it again, "Good to know you'll not hurt me." He gave her a hard uppercut to her weak chest, sprawling her on her back in immense pain. Crying out and gasping as she curled in on herself, she fought her tears. Cullen knew right where to hit her, but so did she. Standing, he towered over her, his head still causing him some lingering discomfort as evident in his eyes. Before he could capture her, she fade-stepped up and behind him, casting a force blast at his shield arm, causing him to whip about. That arm had been taking a beating since he joined the Order – almost two decades now – and she knew how increasingly bothersome it was becoming for him. She hated having to do it, but he was leaving her little choice.  

 

Off balance, she kicked his legs out from under him. Pinning his left bicep under her foot and making the mark spark menacingly at him, Evelyn leaned down, for it was time for a new tactic before they seriously injured the other. "Cullen!" His resistance to her shone in his red eyes, but she backed down anyway. Dispelling her magic and letting her guard down, she gazed down at him softly, "I can't do this, you're going to force me to harm you, and I won't do it." He stared at her confused and he cautiously got to his feet. 

 

"General, the anchor!" The demon's command went unheard as they held each other's gaze. 

 

"I know you'd never harm me either. You can't.” They were standing but a few feet from each other, locked in a private battle. “I know you better than anyone, my love. You'd never take lyrium again, for any reason. Think. You know something is wrong." His eyes searched the depth of her chocolate pools for validation, and once again, the crimson was replaced by his amber irises. Evelyn's hands came up and gripped his face, placing an unreciprocated kiss on his lips. She felt his hands gliding up her body and over her shoulders until one grabbed her left wrist and the other her throat. She gasped as he squeezed her windpipe, bringing her to her knees before him, yet stayed oddly calm. She closed her eyes for a moment, showing him her complete trust even as she heard the dagger slide from its sheath. 

 

"Do it now!" The demon bellowed out, his disguised voice echoing about the ravine. 

 

Opening her eyes, to her surprise, Cullen was frozen with the blade pressed lightly into her skin. His eyes watched as a trickle of her blood glided down her exposed arm, staining the sleeve of her shirt. Seeing himself making her bleed, seemed to have caused him pause, and it was now or never. The demon was trying to break them; sever their inseparable bond and who knows, perhaps this was their future if he was successful. The betrayal of the Inquisitor’s Commander would be a devastating blow not even the Ambassador could fix. It was a genius plan killing multiple birds with one sweep of a blade.

 

"Master," Cullen called out, but held her in place, "why is it you're here? And having just got the Inquisitor alone, why is it you haven't killed her already?" His eyebrow cocked up and he turned his head to glower at Corypheus.  

 

"You dare question me? Sever the anchor from her! I command it!"  

 

Throwing her back on the ground, he disobeyed, "You do it. If you can." His dagger clattered to the frozen ground between them. 

 

Evelyn needed no invitation, her raptor gaze snapping onto her prey like a trained falcon having been freed. Fade-steeping to the demon, she grabbed onto it for dear life releasing her inferno upon it. Screaming in Corypheus' voice, he writhed into a smaller form laying beneath her. 

 

"Your name, demon! We will have it!" The monster unleashed his foul magic on her in retaliation. Its’ dark and twisted mana was suffocating, "Ser Rutherford, I could use your assistance... anytime you want to--" Cullen used Wrath of Heaven on the monster weakening it considerably as it flailed, yet he was not powerful enough to kill it.  

 

"Ishmael!" The demon screamed with an unhinged fury. The dream around them began to crumble and deteriorate into a black expanse revealing their true selves again. Their memories returned as the demon vanished leaving them in a strange limbo between worlds. 

 

Pulled up from the ground, arms circled her in a fierce embrace as Evelyn realized her Cullen was back. The warm caress of his mantle brushed her frozen cheeks. His fingertips dug into her between her plates of armor. It was a desperate hug, and she knew with certainty that Cullen’s past trauma was threatening to cripple him. His head was buried in her shoulder as she stood guard, watching the world shift. As the present returned, she whispered sweet assurances to him, her body his only lifeline.

 

“Together?” He found his voice, imbuing her with confidence.

 

“Always.”

 

Before relief could take hold, the piercing cold of the Emprise du Lion returned with a vengeance followed by Ismael’s voice. They weren't out of danger yet.

Notes:

Hi there!

Was that fun or what? My apologies to those wanting a bloodier battle between the lovebirds, but I'll either rewrite the chapter or do a one-shot based on this alternate future later. Will that appease you all? (Talking to you IrinaPalmova!)

On a completely different topic, I have a little CONTEST for you all. The winner, chosen by me, will get their Mabari's name put into a future chapter. HERE'S THE QUESTION: If Cullen had a Mabari, what would he name it? Channel your inner Rutherford and answer in the comments! The winner will be revealed/announced in chapter 39 (two chapters from now).

Can't wait to hear from you!
Munklington

Chapter 38: Ishmael & Samson

Summary:

The Inquisitor & Commander have their final confrontation with Ishmael and find out the fate of the battle with Samson.

The harsh cold of the Emprise du Lion cut through them, and in an instant, Evelyn cast a barrier around the two of them as they came to. Ishmael was already having a fit of violence after being thwarted, battering her shield with vile energy. His voice hissed in foul curses in dead ancient tongues, but she ignored it for the sake of the man holding onto her for dear life. 

 

Evelyn tightly hugged his head to her chest, covering his ears and sight. She could hold Ishmael off while he took a moment, as she knew by his grip and ragged breathing this was his living hell. She knew it was bad when he was even ignoring the pain she was most certainly causing him with his mana sensitivity just to seek comfort. At the first sign of her barrier weakening, it was only a matter of time before it failed entirely. "Cullen," she slowly brought his head up, her voice urgent, "I need you to fight!" His eyes honed in on her with an unmatched focus, cutting through the chaos of his mind. "I cannot defeat Ishmael alone, I need you!" 

 

At that, his body stilled as he regained control of his limbs. The Commander bent at the knee to retrieve their helmets that had been cast aside. Pushing hers into her hands while placing his on his head, she could see by his expression that Cullen was back; he was ready for a fight. His brow had drawn down into a cold, fierce determination; his top scarred lip was just barely perked up in a snarl; and he stood tall, lightly testing the weight of his armor and weapons as if calibrating himself to their weight. 

 

The sudden flash of her barrier having failed blinded them, and when their vision returned, they were surrounded by pawns of the demon’s likeness. Evelyn's magic was flickering at her fingertips ready for any one of them to be so foolish as to come closer. Instinctively turning back to back, she could feel Cullen's every shift of his armor trying to anticipate the enemy's moves as the Ishmaels before them taunted and looked for an opening in their defenses.  

 

"Hold steady, we let them come to us. I’ll protect your right and you protect mine," the Commander imparted to her. Relief flooded her that his mind too was in the fight. 

 

"Right. I got your back." With a whirl of her hand, a ring of fire surrounded them, pushing back the enemy. The Phoenix poured an immense amount of mana into the flames making them lash out at the demons.

 

"Too much, Eve!" Cullen growled. Remembering she couldn't use that much magic beside him without hindering him, she dispelled the flames.  

 

A new tactic was needed, "I guess we're doing this the hard way." Her Spirit Blade blazed forth, "Do you think you can Cleanse?" If he could, they could start weeding out the doppelgangers from the real demon. 

 

"I was just thinking that. Hold them off, it's been a while." Cullen began gathering his strength, a void of magicless pulling at her from behind. It was still so strange to see him use his former abilities. 

 

Knowing what was coming, the demons lunged at them as she slashed with her blade and swept the area around them with bursts of thick flames. "A little quicker please, Cullen!" 

 

With a sweep of his shield, his power was unleashed banishing the fake demons, leaving one standing before him. The unnatural speed in which Ishmael jumped Cullen was dizzying, over before a blink of an eye. The demon pressed his hand to his forehead growling as the blonde Ferelden grappled with him from the ground. Green and black ethereal light emitted from his hand, and it was then she realized Ishmael was trying to enter his mind to take control like Envy had done to her back at Therinfal. 

 

The Commander's arms were shaking trying to hold the demon back, chanting prayers through his gritted teeth. "There is a new god who will command the realm, Commander. One with the power to grant your every wish, if you'd just submit to me!" The creature growled and hissed in his wicked human voice, "You will lead his armies and be rewarded. I've shown you this. No more pain from lyrium withdrawal; all your painful memories lost to the Void; and you can even be with the woman you love." Evelyn froze in horror. "Isn't that what you want? To live in peace with her? So long as she surrenders the anchor to my master, all is forgiven. She will be yours forever and you won't have to hide it like a shameful secret." She knew well the allure of the promises demons used to lure people like sirens to their demise. Their words affected people differently, sounding all the sweeter from their immortal tongues. 

 

The Inquisitor took a step forward, but not before being hit back by a force equivalent to a hard punch to the face. She spat out the blood from the cut within her mouth, "Don't listen to his lies! You know he'll pump you full of red lyrium! He has also shown you that!" 

 

Like a feral bear, Ishmael bared his teeth at her for her interference. "A small price to pay to erase all memory of what happened in Kinloch and Kirkwall. You won't be broken anymore. You could go back to your family whole, and unashamed." The fight Cullen was putting up began to lessen to her dismay. 

 

"You are not broken! Do not listen to this demon's filth--" Evelyn cried out in pain as he struck her again with an unseen hand. Sprawled on her stomach, Ishmael held a hand out to her holding her against the cold stony ground with his magic. She grits out, "Resist him, Cullen!" Flame cloaked her as she brought her mana forth with a vengeance to fight against the demonic force pressing on her. She was breaking his hold on her slowly, pushing up from the cold stone with her hands. 

 

Ishmael gripped Cullen's chin turning it over to face her, "She really is a rare woman. I think you know as well as I do, that she deserves better than having to deal with all your flaws. You don’t want to be a burden, do you? I can make you one worthy of her affection. You can be happy and proud. Let's not forget that artful letter you wrote to her father. You, a commoner, want to be worthy in his eyes as well, don't you?" 

 

"You fucking bastard! You'll never have the anchor!" 

 

The demon ignored her, "All you have to do, Cullen, is let me in. That's not so bad, is it? She'll come around, you're her one weakness after all. If anyone can get the anchor, it is you. We know it's true." A shiver pricked down her spine at the way he said 'we.' Who was we? The two of them? The three of them? Corypheus? Maker forbid... 

 

"No!" Evelyn pleaded with her love, "You're stronger than this trickster, do not give in! He speaks only lies, you know this! Cullen, please!"  

 

"See, if I do this..." Ishmael conjured a flame and pressed it to the pauldron on his scarred shoulder where the blood mage back at Kinloch had burned him. His voice grew darker, "… watch how she squirms." Cullen tried to fight the terror, she could see him squeezing his eyes shut and biting his tongue. Panic and fire pumped through her veins knowing exactly what this demon could trigger within the former Templar. "I said look at her!" Ishmael jerked Cullen's head up with a fistful of his hair. 

 

"Stop it!" She sobbed, "I'll..." Evelyn stopped herself realizing it was all true. She'd throw away everything for him, but not at the cost of the world; the same world that would end with him in it should she give up the anchor. A bottomless pit opened in her gut at the thought of losing him and this new revelation. Duty had to come first, it had to. Learning this lesson from a creature such as Ishmael enraged her beyond reason. "… I'll kill you! " 

 

With great speed, she fade-stepped but her mana was running so hot, she morphed into an ethereal mass of fire. Evelyn whirled around the Commander, causing Ishmael to back off, but he somehow grabbed her essence out of its spectral form. The demon had her by the throat, lifting her toes from off the ground. His grip was so fierce the sudden loss of air from her lungs was too much for her limbs to fend him off properly. 

 

"You will not interfere any longer, Phoenix! He's mine , he's already considering my offer." Ishmael growled and his form flickered between his hideous demonic self and the façade of a man. "The Commander will belong to Corypheus, and I will be the one to deliver--" 

 

His words were cut off by a blade to where a mortal's heart would reside. She could feel the cold steel under her arm, as Cullen had stabbed around her with unmatched precision. His shieldless arm gripped her around the waist as he twisted the blade forcing the demon to drop her. Delivered from the grasp of the demon, she gasped for breath falling back against the Commander's chest. He immediately turned her away from Ishmael, still holding her tight to his side. 

 

"Together," he intoned with renewed strength.  

 

Holding herself up using his armor, her right hand wrapped around his back and the other reached for his sword. Turning their gazes on the demon, they pulled it out, watching the black bile pool on the gritty stone. With Cullen's sword before them, Evelyn cast her fire upon it. The molten flame snaked its way up, coating his blade before she let go of it, not willing to hinder Cullen's dominant arm. Without hesitating a moment longer, the Commander raised his arm out to the side and severed its head from the body. An otherworldly scream erupted, but faded quickly, signaling Ishmael's departure for the Eternal Void.  

 

Dropping his sword, their arms embraced each other tightly. Evelyn grabbed on to his mantle fearing someone would tear her from him again. Fuck their secret and fuck having to pretend she didn't love him with every fiber of her being. Her hands found his face, traveling from his forehead down to cup his chiseled jawline, "Are you alright?!" 

 

"I think so," she could see he was breathing a bit heavily. His eyes flicked about as if taking stock of his mind making sure all was as it should be. When they came back to rest on her, she pulled him against her lips instantly regretting it. The unbalance in their energies made it painful. He winced and groaned, yet didn't pull away, and neither did she, feeling her shoulders muscles tense. They pushed away gasping, feeling the coiling of unsated desire continuing to tighten. "Maker, I cannot wait to leave this bloody place. Red lyrium, demons, and not being able to… simply touch you." 

 

"Me too." She sat back away from him on the ground, massaging her jaw in an attempt to make it relax. The remains of the demon had melted into a puddle of black bile beside them, reeking of death. 

 

"Thank the Maker!" They turned to see Cassandra and Sorin running through the archway and over to them. With Ishmael dead, the barrier dissipated into nothing. "Are you two hurt?!" 

 

Sorin knelt next to her with a perplexed look, "We saw you fighting each other. What happened?" 

 

Evelyn sighed heavily, "Ishmael was recruiting for Corypheus. He wanted Cullen and had us trapped in a waking dream." She looked over at Cullen, the same expression of exasperation on his face. “We’ll tell you about it back at camp.” Cassandra was next to him, trying to help him up, but he waved her off unwanting of the assistance. 

 

"Samson, what of him? What of the battle?" Cullen's question brought a sense of urgency back to the other matter at hand. 

 

"Our soldiers were outmatched, but their training saw them through." The Seeker clasped a congratulatory hand on the Commander's shoulder. "We won the battle and captured Samson. He had nowhere to go after we got the upper hand." 

 

"Where is he now?" The Inquisitor's tone darkened and she stood. 

 

"In a cage like one of his creatures awaiting your word, Inquisitor." 

 

Wasting no time, the group headed for where they were holding Corypheus' General. Upon seeing him sitting comfortably, and not at all like a man who just lost his army, Evelyn frowned. When he spied her approaching, his crooked grin spread across his face. He was hardly bloodied as she examined him, and he had an odd set of armor on, sporting a rather large and pointed crystal of red lyrium in the center of the chest. His eyes glowed red as Cullen's had in the nightmare they had just come from. 

 

"Inquisitor," she said coyly, "how's the leg?" 

 

Without skipping a beat, she embraced her haughtiness, "Well enough to shove up your arse, thanks for asking." Samson chuckled, biting back a smile. "As a former Templar, I would've thought you knew better than to strike a deal with a demon such as Ishmael."  

 

Cullen chimed in, "One who so readily abandoned you and your army for its own ambition." He shook his head scowling at his fallen brother. "You've surrendered  yourself, I assume?" 

 

"Didn't have much of a choice when our battle plan went to the bloody Void once Ishmael disappeared. Where is that blighted demon anyway?" 

 

"Dead," Evelyn answered definitively, crossing her arms. She swiveled her head to Korbin, who was watching their caged guest, "And where is the rest of the Red Templar force?" 

 

"Eatin' dirt and nug-shit, Inquisitor." The dwarf spat at the ground. 

 

"Very good. Commander, Seeker, a word," and with that the three walked a few paces away. "Recommendations on what to do with him? You think he'll talk?" 

 

Cullen nodded his head, "If given the chance Samson will talk. His desire for self-preservation and lyrium usually outweighs all else."  

 

Evelyn cocked an eyebrow up at him, “I’m not sure he’s in want of lyrium with that crystal attached to him.”

 

"If he indeed has valuable information worth sharing, we should take him to Leliana. Let her deal with him." She was inclined to agree with Cassandra on that point. 

 

"No," Cullen looked between the two intensely, "put him in my custody. I'll be able to get you the answers you want. Sister Nightingale's methods will not work on him and he may then decide he's unwilling to share information about this 'Vessel' and Calpurnia that we need badly." Studying his amber eyes, his will was set on this matter. She trusted Cullen not to botch an interrogation due to vengeance. He had a tight grip on his emotions, as she well knew, and above all else, his duty came before personal vendettas. 

 

"Very well. The prisoner will be placed in your care. Let Dagna take a look at that armor of his. I'll send word to Leliana explaining my decision on it. Anything else, the Commander and I missed?"  

 

The Seeker shook her head, "No, though we did have casualties being taken by surprise. I’ve already sent for the mages from camp for the wounded. We have yet to hear back from Solas and Blackwall on their findings about the experimentation Samson was conducting, but it might be irrelevant with the General here." 

 

The Inquisitor turned around and walked back over with them to their sole prisoner. "Provided he wants to talk in exchange for his life?" 

 

Samson scoffed, "I would've thought Rutherford could answer that question for you." 

 

The Ferelden's brow drew down, "Cooperate and you'll live. Step out of line once Raleigh, and I will end your miserable life."  

 

Evelyn shot him a scolding glare, before addressing Corypheus' General, "You will be under the Commander's care. I would caution you from angering him or any of our loyal Templars."  

 

"Wouldn't dream of it, Inquisitor." 

 

---

 

"How are you feeling?" Cullen turned to see Evelyn ducking into his tent. Her wrist had been healed from the cut he had scored there in the waking dream, though she looked a bit pale most likely from having gotten sick again. 

 

"I'm starting to feel the onset of withdrawal symptoms. With the mine destroyed and the soldiers now hacking down what red lyrium crystals they can find in the area, I fear I can no longer Silence you." 

 

She held a shaky hand up, "I'll be fine, I feel slightly less... volatile. I was more concerned with you." 

 

"I knew this was coming, so I’m doing everything I can to prepare us to leave as soon as possible." He rubbed his forehead before combing his fingers through his hair, "The Lady Ambassador knows a local Baron who will be arriving tomorrow and he will see to the readying of the fort. I... will not be unable to perform my duties in the days to come, so I'll give command over to Captain Dane as we head back to Skyhold. Scout Harding and her scouts are set to leave tomorrow to make sure the route is secure." 

 

As he spoke, his love's face was twisting into deep concern. The dark bags under her eyes spoke of her hardship through the past month of being in this frozen place. "And... how will you be getting back to Skyhold?" 

 

"On horseback preferably, but," he sighed heavily, "I've had a wagon converted into a rough carriage with a palette for me to rest in. I don't want our soldiers seeing me like... that, but neither can I remain here." 

 

She swallowed hard and nodded her head, the worry etched on her face, "That’s a good idea. I'm going to send Miri with you. I need to stay and close the remaining rifts. With any luck, I won't be far behind you and will catch up with the others." With everything going on, he had forgotten about the rifts. 

 

“Maker, Eve you can’t stay here much longer either!”

 

“I know, I know, but neither can I leave the rifts to spew demons as the town recovers. It’s my duty.” The word weighed heavily on her. She needed rest as much as he did, though she’d never admit it. He sighed heavily leaning back on his desk chair in understanding, but he was seriously starting to worry about the toll her duty was taking on her. With all that she had been through, it was more than what most people survive in a dozen lifetimes. Her voice broke through his thoughts, "You promise you'll be alright? I'll waste no time and join you as soon as I can. I don’t like leaving you knowing what will happen to you." 

 

"I'll be fine, Eve." 

 

And he was fine for a day or so into the journey back home, until two days in his body failed him. Evelyn had sent Owayne, Cassandra, and Miriam ahead with him, so when he woke up in his field tent that morning unable to move, he was fortunate that the Inquisitor had them checking on him like the invalid he was.

 

“Stop styling your hair and–” Owayne popped his head in, finding Cullen’s pallid and sluggish form slumped over the side of his cot. “Shit! It’s happening, stay calm! Evie will kill me if you die on us.”

 

“I’m not going to–” The rogue was already gone, “–die. I hope.” 

 

In a moment, his three guardians were inside the tent hovering over him. His half-lidded eyes focused on the mage kneeling beside him waving her hands about. Miriam and Cassandra were comparing what they were sensing, but he knew despite their academic efforts, he needed to be slugged into the wagon he had prepared and simply wait it out. After coming to the same conclusion on their own, Owayne helped him discreetly into the wagon with the Enchanter, while the Seeker went to inform Dane he was leading the column home.

 

Two more days later as they passed the halfway point in their journey, the Inquisitor and her party arrived. "Cullen? How are you feeling, love?" Evelyn had vaulted up into his private “sick room” so suddenly, he thought he was dreaming. He didn’t answer her, knowing with one look she’d be able to see as his companions imparted to him frequently. Cullen’s eyes were sunken with dark circles under them. His skin was pale, missing its usual rosy undertone. His hair was slightly messy from tossing and turning, as evident by his blankets. 

 

He tried to sit up, grumbling the whole time. "Could be worse." She gave him a pointed look telling him she didn't buy it. She at least looked better having left that Maker forsaken place. Evelyn poked her head out to yell something at her brother, who he could hear cursing right back at her as she caught up to the slow wagon. The bright light from outside blinded him to what she was doing, but after hearing Owanye’s heavy footfalls cease, he blinked over at her again. In her arms, she held a thick wool blanket with something moving within it. "Eve? What is that?" 

 

"I've brought you something," it seemed she couldn't help the bright grin spreading on her face. "We found them amongst Samson's experiments." She hushed the two squirming bundles in her arms. They whimpered and cried, and he found himself craning his head up more to see what she was bringing him. "Hold your arms out." 

 

He obeyed without a second thought, anticipation building of what the surprise was. When she plopped them into his grasp, unable to hold them any longer, he couldn't help the warmth spreading through him as he untangled them from the blanket.  

 

"Mabari pups?" 

 

She nodded though with a sad smile, "They are the only ones who've survived, and they still aren't out of the woods yet. Their mother was given copious amounts of red lyrium which killed her. Their siblings didn't make it, they died from lyrium withdrawal." 

 

It shouldn't have affected him so deeply, but gazing down on the few week-old pups suffering from a substance they had no right being given brought on a profound sorrow. Their eyes were bloodshot, and from the way she had wrapped them, it was clear the daylight had been hurting them as well. He petted one’s head with a few fingers, but it yelped at the light pressure. There were bald patches in their coarse fur, displaying the baby-pink skin underneath. Both pups were males - brothers - one with rich brown fur and the other with a sleek gray coat.

 

“Careful, they are in a lot of pain.” Evelyn watched him uneasily as he observed the poor little things writhe in his arms. They were about the size of newborns - large newborns - so he was struggling in his weakened state to hold them. She was clearly taken with the pups, but it was hard not to seeing them suffer as he was. He absently wondered if she saw him the same way.

 

“Have they imprinted on you?”

 

She smiled, “No, they are unable to do much of anything right now, as I’ve been told. I was hoping you all could comfort each other. You know better than anyone what they are going through. I believe their best chance is with you.”

 

“Thank you, Eve.” Cradling the Mabaris in his lap, he freed an arm and reached for her. Hesitantly, her palm met his, and when no pain pricked him - or if it did he didn’t feel it over his current discomfort - their fingers intertwined. 

 

Evelyn sighed with relief, “Rest now, my lion. I’ll be close by.” 

 

Releasing him and heading for the back of the wagon, he spoke quietly, “After I get them some water.” Reaching for the pitcher beside him, he began pouring some into a cup, seeing Evelyn had stopped to smile fondly back at him before hopping out the back. Holding the two pups up so they could drink, he looked once more at where she had been. A small smile of his own relaxed his facial muscles as he thought that even when he was feeling his absolute worst, how Evelyn had found a way to give him clarity of mind. He didn’t need her to watch him with pity or sit for hours by his side wasting precious time when she could be battling the Elder One. No, she knew this; this is why Ishmael’s plan was doomed to fail. 

 

With his mind busily trying to come up with a course of recovery for them, his pain dulled. Every fiber in his being wanted these pups to live regardless if they imprinted on him or not. Having had their fill, the two looked up at him, able now to see who cared for them out of the painful daylight. Their brown eyes studied him with their innate intelligence, and he knew they knew they were all suffering. Sitting unsteadily, waiting for direction, he nodded to them resolutely. Coaxing them down onto the blankets with him, Cullen knew then that either they would all perish or survive together - and they knew it too.

Notes:

Hello lovelies!

I know I promised a chapter of Advent of The Phoenix first, but it is in the works! I swear on Andraste's pyre it is almost done!

Thank you to those who have commented on Mabari names for the next chapter, all have been amazing and so thoughtful! Kudos to you! I will add the winning name(s) to the next chapter so stay tuned! I'll be shouting out the winner(s) as well.

If you are on any of the other story platforms (RoyalRoad, Wattpad, Patreon) be sure to find me on there! I have many exciting original stories in the works, like a historical drama and even a mafia dark romance coming! I'm also on Discord! Same crazy name - Munklington!

Have a wonderful week!
Munklington

Chapter 39: Well Laid Plans

Summary:

Evelyn prepares for her next mission and Cullen finally reads the letter from Bann Trevelyan.

Notes:

Thank you to everyone who came up with amazing names for Cullen's Mabaris, it was so hard to choose! Kudos to you all for your thoughtfulness and creativity.

The winning names came from danganmiko (Scout) & macha1313 (Calenhad)! Thank you both, your names were the inspiration for the pups' personalities!

Honorable mentions go to iduna and IrinaPalmova for their fantastic entries as well!

"Inquisitor, darling, may I have a moment of your time." 

 

"Of course, Vivienne," the Inquisitor replied with a hint of tiredness in her voice. Inquisition business did not wait for Evelyn to recuperate upon her return home. That very evening she was buttoned into a gown and thrown into a sea of nobles by Josephine to mingle, taking advantage of The Herald being home after a month away. Forcing Sorin along with her, she sent him off to find something stronger than wine to help them cope with the evening festivities.

 

"I've just welcomed one of my close friends from the Circle of Montsimmard to Skyhold. Apparently, she had assisted you while you were in the Emprise du Lion, and wishes to join the Inquisition officially! She is a Senior Enchanter of great breeding, and unmatched in her healing abilities." 

 

"Can't have too many of those, but I already know who you speak of." 

 

Vivienne looked disappointed at having been robbed of the opportunity, "Oh?" She gestured at someone amongst the crowd in the Great Hall. 

 

It was then that Sorin reappeared with two questionable tankards, settling comfortably by her side. “Cabot sends his regards. Quick, before the Lady Ambassador sees,” he whispered over to her. They clanked mugs and tried to down it before Josie caught them. 

 

When they finished chugging it down, a familiar face poked through the throng of nobles milling about. "Well, then you already know Lady Miriam de Montfort, Senior Enchanter." 

 

Her fellow Knight-Enchanter gurgled his sip, giving her a sideways glare as he spoke into his tankard, “She’s still here?”

 

"Sorin,” her tone was one of chastisement, “Miri will be staying on with us. She's joining the Inquisition." Evelyn smiled looking at Sorin for his reaction. The raven-haired mage froze, then tipped his cup up as he walked away. Miriam stood rigid watching him with anticipation, but her lower pink lip slowly drooped down. “It’s not you, Miri, he’s mad at me for dragging him to this dinner.” 

 

Having regained his composure, the broody hybrid returned with a glimmer in his pale eyes. Evelyn looked at him curiously knowing he was up to something, when through the raven locks spilling on his forehead she saw his eyes narrow. “E, your hair. How did you mess it up already?”

 

Her eyes widened, whispering harshly, “What’s wrong with it?!” Her hands quickly patted her usual half-up style, checking for any stray pieces. As the two went back and forth over it, he eventually pulled a lock that made one of her braids bunch and frizz. When Sorin began laughing having succeeded in his trick to mess her hair up, a glance at a reflective tray nearby confirmed it was ruined. She should’ve known that if something had been wrong Vivienne would fixed it. With flaring nostrils and glowing eyes, she spoke through her teeth, “I’m going to fucking kill you in your sleep next time we are on the road.” He smiled smugly back at her like a troublesome child, unfazed by the threat.

 

“Language!” Both of the Montsimmard Circle mages scolded.

 

Uncaring of the scolding, Evelyn was more irritated by her best friend’s enjoyment. His subtle chuckling made a rare smile appear which Miriam caught, immediately making her descend into a hiccup fit.  

 

Looking at her Orlesian friend with a bit of undignified horror, Vivienne gracefully hooked arms with the Inquisitor for a side conversation. "Excuse us a moment, dears." Out of earshot, she imparted, "Now, she may appear demure and comely, as I'm sure you are aware of, but aside from her talent in the healing arts, there is no better player of The Game. We would do well to have her on our side."  

 

Evelyn stared at her skeptically, her rage abating for confusion. "Miriam? That Miriam? Is an expert player?" 

 

"Yes," the mage's gray eyes conveyed the weight of truth in her words, "make no mistake, her whole façade of innocence is a move in The Game. Who her patron is, no one yet knows, but they must be incredibly powerful to be able to afford one of her lineage and… skill." 

 

"Leliana has not found anything tying her to a patron or any dubious activity, and I've been with her for a few weeks now, surly if she was up to something I would've caught it." That was a bit of a lie, for the only thing the girl seemed interested in was her unreciprocated crush on Sorin. 

 

"That only proves her exceptional abilities, dear. The De Montforts are second to none when it comes to the Game. Every move is calculated, every word measured," she murmured with a kind of resigned admiration. 

 

From behind, Miriam's voice floated over, as she was speaking to another noble having been abandoned by Sorin. “It’s true, I did assist Her Worship in Emprise du Lion. She is very skilled in the Inferno school. One would think they'd call her a firebird!” 

 

The Ferelden noble speaking with her, blinked blankly at her a few times, "They do. She's called the Phoenix of Ostwick." 

 

Vivienne's eyes glinted with satisfaction as she nodded. “You see, now everyone will think she is dull and naïve, not taking her seriously. They'll let slip important bits of information in her presence... As I was saying, a true master of the Game.” 

 

Evelyn, her skepticism still lingering, raised an eyebrow but held her tongue. Arguing with Vivienne, the undisputed expert in such matters, seemed futile. Perhaps there were subtleties at play that she could not grasp. Yet, she felt like their recent trials had brought them to work closely enough that she could say for certain she was harmless. 

 

As they turned to rejoin the gathering, a scene unfolded before them. Miriam, with an air of desperation, attempted to catch Sorin's attention. The young Knight-Enchanter, however, was determined to look anywhere but at the healer. In her frantic attempts, the Orlesian collided with a woman holding a glass of wine. The red liquid spilled across the elegant dress, and a chorus of fussing and complaints followed. Miriam's face turned pale with mortification as she stumbled over apologies. 

 

Vivienne leaned in close to the pyromancer, her voice a soft, conspiratorial whisper. “Another excellent move. She has just arrived, and already she has made an impact. The woman she bumped into is Lady Monu, notorious for her stinginess with donations to the Inquisition. Lady De Montfort has put her in her place with a single, bold stroke. Lady Monu cannot spend days here building connections and enjoying our wine while neglecting her contributions. This ‘accidental’ spill will be the talk among the nobles in Skyhold for days.” 

 

The Inquisitor simply hummed unsure of what in the Void was going on. Needing to tell Sorin, she called him over much to the dismay of Miriam. "Vivienne just told me Miri supposedly has a wealthy patron and is an expert player of The Game."  

 

His nose scrunched up at her as if she were daft. "No." 

 

"Yes." 

 

"No." They glared at each other. "E, there is no way she is playing The Game. Did you not just see her spill wine over that lady?" 

 

"I did, and was informed by Madame de Fer that it was an effective move."  

 

He turned his back to the mage and the gathering muttering as he walked away. "Oh for fuck's sake. This is getting ridiculous. Where's the Commander? I'm sick of escorting you to these dinners. At least he was good for something." 

 

Her heart sank at his mention. Cullen was not having an easy time after his exposure to red lyrium. Though he did show improvement on their journey home, no one knew when the effects would wear off. Unlike his two furry friends who were sharing his sickbed, he hadn't taken the lyrium, so his recovery was expected, whereas the Mabari brothers' fate was still unknown. The Commander was taking their struggle personally, sympathizing with their ups and downs as reflected in his own health. 

 

Evelyn punched his arm, eliciting an 'ow' from the Storm mage. "Speaking of, cover for me while I go check on him." 

 

“Go on, ruin my night further.” Sorin rolled his eyes, "And if the Ambassador asks where you've gone?" 

 

"Dorian and I accidentally went back to the future; I opened a rift and hopped in; I was stolen by Avvar; I don't care, just don't tell her I went to see him, she’ll hunt me down. I'll be back... maybe. Use this time to go talk to your beau." She couldn't help but bite back a laugh, giving him a wink. 

 

"She's not my--" The Inquisitor fade-stepped away before he could finish. 

 

Making her way invisibly into the Commander's tower, when she materialized in his office she hesitated before climbing the ladder. From above her, she could hear his hoarse voice reading to the pups, giving them lessons out of his technical guides to battle. A small smile spread on her lips listening to him and his blunt commentary on the author's methods. Now and then his two companions barked or whined back in agreement, making her heart melt when he praised them back. 

 

"Are you well enough for a visitor?" She called up, listening to the Mabaris attempt to growl at the sound of her voice. 

 

He shushed them before answering hoarsely, "As if you have to ask!" 

 

Climbing the ladder, noting the new pulley system for the dogs, she snorted a laugh, "Will your pets let me?" 

 

"Of course, they're in training. They'll get used to you, if not, you'll have to go." 

 

Popping her head up over the floor, she frowned, "You better be kidding, Rutherford. I took a crystal to the chest for you, surely that put me above two mutts." She laughed just to be sure he took it as a joke and not to rehash anything about Ryker. 

 

"We Fereldens take our dogs seriously. They are an excellent judge of character." The gray pup growled again at her, "Enough, Calenhad." He gave him a stern look and the Mabari quieted. Granted, the poor thing was still sick, so he wasn't as vicious as he could be.  

 

The brown one was much more curious, belly crawling over to sniff her foot. "And what do you call this one?" 

 

"That's Scout. He's more adventurous while his brother here is more guarded." 

 

She bent and gently petted Scout who sat languidly wagging his tail. "Poor love, are you feeling any better yet?" The Mabari's eyes were still bloodshot in the corners. He looked up at her with a pitiful whine and she couldn't resist the descent into babbling at him like he was a baby. 

 

Cullen groaned, "Don't talk to him like that! He's a fierce warrior, not a lapdog!" She ignored him to nuzzle Scout's nose. "Today was one of the better days, but I fear it's not passed through them completely yet." Cullen patted Calenhad's thick head. 

 

Evelyn broke her attention away from the dog to get closer to her Commander. "And what about you? I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner, but you know how out of hand things get when I get home." 

 

"I know, no need to apologize. I'm in good company." Scout and Calenhad scooted over to flank him on either side atop the bed. She sat in front of the gray Mabari, who growled a short burst before watching her.  

 

"Can I touch you without pain finally?" Reaching up timidly, her hand reached for the short beard he had grown after being bedridden. The dark blonde and almost brown hair of his face only served to make him more handsome – if it was possible. As her fingers brushed against it, she was ready to pull away at the slightest sign of discomfort, but it didn't come. With sighs of relief, they embraced in full. 

 

The feel of his arms around her felt like she was home. It was a hard sensation to pin down; it was longing, warmth, safety, and love. The wider his hands spread about her form, the tighter she curled into him. It was like its own form of healing as she listened to the beating of his heart and the pulls of his breath. The ache that sat like a rock in her chest ever since Evelyn never thought she could feel so connected to another's soul the way theirs was. Wherever he was, was where she wanted to be too. 

 

Turning her head outwards, Evelyn caught the eye of Calenhad staring her down. "Um, I'd venture a kiss, but your guard dog here looks none too pleased I'm touching you."  

 

He chuckled with a slight cough, "He won’t hurt you." 

 

"Remember that when he's chewing on my face–" Cullen cut her off, turning her face to meet his lips. Though she held her breath at first, when the large pup hopped off the bed she felt more at ease to melt into him. Evelyn could've lived in the moment forever. She treasured every kiss, every embrace, not knowing what lay ahead for them in the future. Not being able to touch him because of her mana had been gut-wrenching. Her thoughts began spilling into his lips, "I just want you better, I don't like seeing you like this." 

 

Parting, she was happy to see some vibrancy return to his rare eyes, "If it's any consolation, I don't like being like this." His eyes trailed down her front, "By the way, where did you just come from? You know your hair is– I mean, it… looks nice." 

 

She huffed angrily having forgotten about Sorin’s trick until now. Quickly unraveling it all until it fell loose, she sat rebraiding it. "I magically escaped one of Josie's dinners," a cheeky smile graced her face. "Sorin is covering for me."  

 

He laughed lowly, "I'm sure he's just thrilled that you abandoned him. As you can see, I'm well-attended. I suggest you go back and rescue him because he's probably cursing the both of us." 

 

"He’s a big boy… no–"

 

"I'm fine, truly, Eve. No need to babysit me." 

 

"I worry yes, but it's not that, it's," she nodded toward the short train of her gown that had a wet stain on it, "Calenhad just peed on my dress." 

 

---

 

"I believe the most urgent matter is the alliance proposal from the Qun. The Storm Coast beckons you, Inquisitor." Leliana's smirk was unappreciated, knowing just what kind of misery that blasted strip of Ferelden caused her. It would be a few weeks of soggy socks and earthy-smelling wet hair plastered to her face.

 

With a small groan of disappointment, Evelyn's shoulders sagged, "Is there a nice place you can send me to for once? The Free Marches, maybe?" 

 

The next morning they had moved their council meeting to the Commander's Tower. Cullen was well enough to climb down the ladder but nothing else. He was under strict bedrest orders from the mages to give his body every chance to focus on calming his lyrium withdrawal. Yet, he refused to let it hinder his abilities to command his forces, saying that it was his body, not mind, that was recovering. 

 

His aide, Loren, was in a constant state of exhaustion on personal errands for him all around Skyhold. The Surfacer dwarf was a relative of Scout Harding who spoke well of her, and needing someone reliable and detail-oriented, the Commander offered her the job back in the Emprise du Lion. Cullen had runners and a valet, but Loren’s role was to help manage his growing stack of clerical work. Now with him recovering, her role has become even more critical even if the job needed to be filled a long time ago.

 

Above them, his trusty Mabaris whined and huffed at his absence. Occasionally, he barked up at them to behave with a command, but after so long the creak of the bed signaled their surrender in favor of a nap.  

 

Sitting behind his desk, Cullen squinted his eyes in pain and tried moving the tight muscles of his shield arm. Josephine, always politely asking after everyone, especially following a mission, noticed his discomfort immediately. "Are you alright, Commander? Did you injure yourself in battle?" 

 

"Oh, yes. It's just sore. I don't recover as quickly as I used to, it seems." 

 

Evelyn bit her lip, unable to resist, "Getting old, Commander?" 

 

"The only thing getting old is your sass--" His jest came so naturally that he didn't even perceive the slip until afterward. He cleared his throat, "Apologies, that was unprofessional." He didn't seem to be addressing the Inquisitor so much as the other advisors. 

 

"Speaking of," the Ambassador began with a coy, yet scolding look, "rumors about the Inquisitor's secret affair with her Commander are beginning to get out of hand. More so since you've returned from Orlais. Did something happen that we need to be aware of?" 

 

Evelyn thought back, but couldn't think of a thing. She looked up at Cullen for confirmation, "No?" He looked as baffled as she. "I mean, we could hardly be in each other's presence due to the red lyrium's bleeding effects." 

 

The Commander rubbed his chin with his hand, "You did wear my mantle and my old coat." 

 

Evelyn huffed, "Yes, but not because we're courting! I was freezing! You just pulled me out of the frozen river!" 

 

Leliana fingered her pink lips, "How romantic." It was more accusatory than wistful. 

 

The Inquisitor shot her a look ignoring the comment, "And you said yourself you never wore the old coat for people to know it belonged to you, and again, it was for good reason! All my clothes were ripped, soiled in blood, or beyond use. Every instance could be easily explained and dismissed as kindness. We do work closely together, don't people think it would be odd if we weren’t—" 

 

"We shared a tent." All three women froze looking at him. Evelyn had forgotten about that. She had been so sick, that most of that time was a fuzzy unpleasant memory. 

 

"You did what?!" The Ambassador's face was rising in color, but the Spymaster was biting back a smirk, blinking at them. "No wonder the Orlesians are writing wild accounts of your time there." 

 

The Commander held his hands up in defense as he explained the situation they had found themselves in and how they had taken precautions against rumors. "I temporarily had use of my Templar abilities granted by the red lyrium, as you know, and was the only one who could help the Inquisitor. Everyone saw how sick the mages were, including Evelyn. We were completely transparent about her presence in my tent. I wasn't even present half the time!" 

 

"Regardless," Josephine cut in, "we need to dispel some of the rumors. These things need to be done properly and a statement should’ve been made before things got to this point." 

 

A warm heat began to spread in the usually cool stone tower. All eyes looked to the pyromancer eluding a soft orange glow from her veins and eyes. Her raptor glare flickered between all of them as she relayed her displeasure. "I have had about enough of everyone , and I do mean everyone , sticking their noses in my personal affairs." Seeing the Ambassador raise her quill to protest, Evelyn's marked hand halted her, "I understand I am the Inquisitor and the implications such a title brings, but have I not done all you've asked of me? Have I suddenly given up the cause to elope? No! Nor would I!"  

 

Cullen's eyes were on the ground, trying to be a neutral presence — or maybe he was hoping the ground swallowed him, it was hard to tell. Josephine's face was sympathetic while Leliana was unreadable. Not needing to play neat and clean politics with the other nations any more, Evelyn felt there was no reason why they needed to address such silliness. It was a chronic issue she was tired of wasting time on. They had done it to her from the start, why was this time any different?  

 

The Inquisitor placed her hands on her hips deepening her glower, directing it at the Ambassador, "We will do nothing to abate the rumors and we shall ignore their games for our mission comes first. I will not waste resources and time just because a bunch of Orlesians mock my personal affairs for their amusement. I owe them no explanation." Her emotions were overflowing after everything that happened in the Emprise du Lion: the bitter cold; battling for weeks without aid; red lyrium poisoning; Ishmael; and Samson's army. The unfairness of her circumstances hit her, for as they lounged in comfort gossiping about her, she was out fighting for her life – their lives!  

 

Then there was Cullen who was private and guarded by nature. It pained her that they'd drag him through the dirt, no doubt repeating the very list of insecurities that he had about himself courting her.  

 

"Yes, Inquisitor." Josephine sighed in resignation on the subject. Evelyn knew if the situation was critical she would've made a bigger fuss about it. "What would you like our official stance to be on the matter if asked?" 

 

"The Inquisitor's official stance is," the Antivan readied her quill, "for them to fuck off." 

 

"To the point as always, Inquisitor," she dryly replied.  

 

Breaking the tension the Commander interjected wearily, "Back to the Storm Coast mission... give me a day and I can have everything ready for your departure and have the route north secured." 

 

"Very well. I'll ready my team. They did say no reinforcements, correct?" She directed her question to the Spymaster. 

 

"Yes, our Qun contact said too many soldiers will spook the Venatori smugglers. I'll send scouts with you though, they'll never know they're there." With business concluded, Evelyn was about to dismiss them when she added, "And Inquisitor, I have the information you wanted on Solas, Enchanter Miriam De Montfort, and Michel De Chevin. If we're done here, I'd like to discuss it in the rookery." 

 

"After you," she gestured and they filed out. 

 

---

 

Commander Rutherford of the Inquisition,  

 

It is a pleasure to hear from you, I always appreciate a man who doesn't shirk their duty – though if what my daughter has written of you is true, you have devoted your life to duty much like herself, so I expect no less. I am quite used to the unconventional when Evelyn is involved, so I hope her writing to me first did not cause injury to your pride. Though again, courting Evelyn speaks volumes of the type of patient man you must be, ser.  

 

I cannot tell you how crushing it was as a father to learn of the life she would live under the Chantry law in the Circle. As I'm sure you are aware, Evelyn is as uncontainable as a wildfire. From her strong will to magic, I was never surprised to hear from the Knight-Commander of Ostwick – Andraste watch over his soul -- that she was the cause of most of the quiet Circle's disruptions. If she can live a semblance of a normal life, I would aid her however I can.  

 

Having been honest with me about your station, I respect that you wish to provide a suitable living for her. I recall that I made you an offer to command my company of Rangers, that would provide a comfortable wage. I also appreciate your eventual desire to retire from the life of a soldier. I have other business ventures here in the Free Marches that I’d be happy to discuss with you. Having been separated from my daughter for most of her life, I would be remiss if I didn’t try and tempt you to settle on this side of the Waking Sea.  

 

I must confess, Evelyn is very dear to me and I swore never to part from her unless I was absolutely sure she was safe and happy. Honestly, I never expected to marry as a mage, and now that the opportunity has presented itself – even if the circumstances were unfortunate – I understand your wishes to seize it.  

 

I suppose what I'm trying to impart to you, ser, is that regardless of what I say, my little firebird will do as she wants. I would ask that we meet, for I'd like to acquaint myself with the man who possesses her affection. I shall arrange a visit to Skyhold in the future. I look forward to our meeting, ser. May the Maker watch over the Inquisition.  

 

Sincerely,  

Bann Drexford Trevelyan of Ostwick  

 

---

 

"Ambassador, a moment," Cullen's voice was strained when he called her back at the conclusion of the meeting.  

 

Closing the door that led to the Main Keep once the other ladies exited, she tilted her head in question, "Yes, Commander?" 

 

He swallowed hard, looking around once more to make sure they were alone. "I received word back from Bann Trevelyan." 

 

"And?" Her large gray eyes blinked in anticipation as her heels clicked along the floor toward him in tandem. 

 

"I believe it was favorable, but he wants to meet with me... here. I was hoping..." 

 

She cut him off with a graceful wave of her hand, "Leave the finer details to me! This is wonderful news! I know what I said in the meeting was not what Evie wanted to hear, but I do only meant to help. You both are public figures now of great interest to the world. Your personal affairs will always be a desired distraction from the Elder One’s plans to destroy the world." 

 

"I know that, and while I agree wholeheartedly with the Inquisitor in her handling of the matter, I worry about what is to come. We haven't formally announced anything yet and look how people are acting. I feel Evelyn will want to... move things along, but I fear the consequences." 

 

"I understand. Perhaps, we can persuade Bann Trevelyan to intercede, or better yet, Lady Trevelyan." 

 

"Maker, I almost forgot about that woman," he pinched the bridge of his nose at the memory of her. 

 

Josephine laughed lightly, "She will be your mother-in-law, and while she is an... energetic and opinionated individual, those strengths could be of use to you." 

 

He chortled sarcastically, "I don't think you understand what Evelyn would do if her mother found out, let alone became involved with any... plans. Besides, as I heard it from Owayne, she has been expressly forbidden from any involvement regarding her marriage by the Bann after the Ryker Aeron affair." 

 

“Then simply tell her father you wish to wait until you have a suitable living, not to mention a home.”

 

“Well, I may have… made some progress in that area.” Raising an eyebrow, she settled herself on the corner of his desk with poise waiting to hear more. “I wrote to my eldest sister, Mia, asking her help with a land purchase just outside of South Reach. If my memory hasn’t failed me yet, it was a beautiful spot beside a lake where my siblings and I visited often. It was always unclaimed, just far enough away from the village where most don’t wander, yet close enough to get supplies…”

 

“It sounds lovely, Cullen.” Josephine smiled reassuringly. “So, did you purchase it?” He nodded definitely, a small proud smile playing on his scared face. “Congratulations! I’m sure Evelyn is—”

 

He cut her off, “She doesn’t know.”

 

Cullen watched as Josephine’s face shifted between several conflicting emotions. He supposed this was a good practice run in what to expect from Evelyn once he broke the news to her. “But you’ve spoken to her about living in Ferelden, no?” His souring expression clued her into the answer. “I see.”

 

“She’s never been particular about anything like that. We’ve lived in the Circle half our lives and it was never home. Home has always been more about who you were with or…”

 

She raised a hand between them to halt his rambling, “I wasn’t necessarily disagreeing with your decision – you know her the best – but I also know this is very new for the both of you. Typically, a couple does talk about this sort of decision.”

 

Doubt began to plague him. Had he been the one to move too fast? Even her father expressed his wish to have her close to him, willing to provide him with a position and living just so they were near. Evelyn was always unsure of the future – aside from wanting to be with him – thanks to Corypheus. Had he selfishly made a major decision for them, wanting so badly to prove to her, the Bann, and himself that he could stand on his own? 

 

“Cullen,” Josephine’s soft voice broke him from his troubled thoughts, “do what you feel is right for the both of you. The Bann will certainly have his opinions about what he wishes for his daughter, but you are the one she loves. If you have doubts, I know of another Trevelyan here in Skyhold who could help.” He nodded, tenting his hands retreating again into his thoughts as the Ambassador made for the door. "I believe I owe you my thanks for delivering my letter." 

 

He picked his head up, "It was no trouble." 

 

Her face became thoughtful, "Perhaps, I should follow the Inquisitor's lead and keep what company I wish regardless of what people may think of us." 

 

Cullen's chuckle was combined with a light cough, "It can't be any worse than the Inquisitor and Commander – a mage and Templar at that." It wasn’t that he was ashamed, he just didn’t like people making up their own opinions about their relationship. He knew for Josephine that it was a different matter entirely. “If people truly knew about us, you’d really have your hands full.”

 

She sighed, “Even so, it would be much cheerier than most of the news of late despite our victories. I do hope you’ll let me know when you plan to propose. I have so many ideas–” Watching his face pale, she cleared her throat, “One thing at a time, meeting with the Bann first! You will not regret eliciting my help!”

 

“Maker, I hope not.”

Chapter 40: Trouble With Trevelyans

Summary:

The Trevelyans arrive at Skyhold... again.

A week later Cullen, Calenhad, and Scout were finally out of bed and able to get around Skyhold without assistance – not that he’d taken any of the help offered to him anyway. The two pups flanked him all around the Keep, happy to finally be out in the crisp mountain air and busily making rounds. Making sure they didn't push it, the Commander lingered in conversations or by the training grounds longer than he would so they kept up their strength. Both pups seemed to have imprinted on him, having all suffered alongside each other through their withdrawal. The Mabari brothers seemed happy to share their new master, with Calenhad staying so close that Cullen had to watch where he stepped, and Scout guarding his perimeter. 

 

With his face buried deep in the latest report from the Inquisitor, Cullen marched across the Lower Courtyard heading for the stairs to his office. Enthralled in the news from the meeting with the Qunari on the Storm Coast, the caravan of carriages that had pulled in escaped his notice. He was vaguely aware of the people standing outside of the carriages watching him. 

 

It was what they typically did upon arriving at Skyhold to see for themselves - the home of the Inquisition. To them, he was like some sort of animal to inconvenience and observe in its natural habitat. Since the rumors of his affair with the Inquisitor out of the Emprise du Lion, more and more people whispered as he passed. With their actions having lent credence to the gossip constantly surrounding them, he worried their every interaction would be under closer scrutiny.

 

As his plans for their future progressed, he hoped his efforts to buy land and begin to build a homestead went unnoticed. Josephine and his family knew, but they were the only ones and he was hesitant to tell anyone else for fear that his plans would only fuel the rumors or Evelyn would find out before he could tell her himself.

 

"Commander Cullen," an airy voice called to him from the tall staircase of the Main Keep where he had just come from. Holding a board like her superior, the woman - whom he had encountered many times before - had a thicker Antivian accent than Josephine, making him have to concentrate more on her words. He swore Josephine sent her to him on purpose to help with his 'people skills.' 

 

He stopped, finally looking back after hearing Calenhad growl as she caught up with him, "Yes? What can I do for the Lady Ambassador this morning?" Scout ran over sniffing the woman cautiously making her lift a foot uncomfortably. With a whistle, the Mabari perked up and ran back to his side, sitting at attention with his brother. 

 

The woman bowed her head, "With respect, she requests your presence for a tour of the Inquisition's barracks and training grounds with the Comte de Cleron." 

 

He huffed in annoyance, "She will have to forgive me, for I haven't the time. The field report from the Inquisitor has just arrived and it takes priority." He almost let it go, but having been bothered with more and more requests like this, he continued unable to resist, "Not to mention, this is a working fortress, not a theater production for the nobility to gawk at!" 

 

"But she–" 

 

"Please remind Lady Montilyet that we are at war, and until we achieve victory, I have more valuable uses of my time than entertaining every stuffy noble who waltzes through the gate!" The woman balked at his barking and swiftly left not wishing to be treated like one of his soldiers. Cullen sighed heavily knowing that he was starting to take his frustration out on the staff, but the needs of the Inquisitor far outweighed whatever coin Josephine was hoping to get out of the Comte.  

 

Maker, he missed Eve. Her presence was calming and after everything that happened in the Emprise du Lion, he ached for her in more ways than one. 

 

"Excuse me, did I hear her address you as Commander Cullen?" Turning to face the source of the inquiry, he found a tall man with the lean build of a horseman studying him. His hair was almost completely steel gray except for some faint auburn streaks. His face... 

 

Oh, sweet Maker!  

 

A woman abruptly exited the carriage behind him with a shrill huff, "Drexford, did you not hear me? Drex-- Oh, my dear Commander Rutherford! How lucky we are to have stumbled upon you on this bleak morning." She held her hat to her head looking towards the cloudy sky with displeasure. 

 

He gaped as he bowed slightly at the waist, "Ah, Lady Bann Trevelyan, how... good it is to see you again." Scout once again ran over to the woman claiming his attention, vetting her. 

 

"Oh, shoo!" With a whine after being batted with a fan, he retreated towards his master.  

 

Evelyn's mother was lucky Scout was more personable than his brother, otherwise she could've lost her hand. Good first impression to the Bann, Rutherford, your dog mauls his wife.   

 

"I see Evelyn has done nothing about this mud," grumbling and turning up her nose, she lifted the hem of her dress out of the dirt... which really wasn't mud for it was dried. It was uneven, yes, but not messy which he considered more inconvenient.

 

"You must forgive my wife, Commander." Drexford threw her a sideways glance, bending to pet the brown Mabari sitting and making eyes at him. “What a fine animal!”

 

Cullen laughed to himself, Of course, Scout would approve of Evelyn's father.  

 

"I find no offense in your... Rhiannon, this is hardly what I'd call mud." Cullen bit back a chuckle having just mused on that point, helping to quell his nerves. He remembered multiple people having told him of Drexford's reasonable nature. The Bann shook his head looking at him, "It's as if she hasn't lived with horses for the majority of her life." Cullen saw where Evelyn got her mannerisms and attitude from. "Well met, Commander. It's a pleasure to finally meet you after hearing so much about you from my children." Standing, Evelyn's father extended his hand out and he grasped it firmly. 

 

"Nice to meet you as well, ser and please, call me Cullen." Like a flip of a coin, his nerves were back. Still in shock over their unexpected appearance, he suddenly didn't know what to do prolonging their awkward handshake. The Bann was here! He needed to tell Josephine... 

 

"Commander!" The silky and stern voice of Madame Vivienne floated over the din of Skyhold. She walked with purpose over to where they stood, placing her hands on her hips, with a haughty sway, "Cullen, darling, the Comte is waiting... oh, Lady Trevelyan how lovely to see you again, my dear." The family matriarch greeted her in kind. "Is this your husband?" Lifting her chin with guile and extending out a manicured hand, the Bann took it and bowed his head in respect. "First Enchanter Vivienne de Fer of the Circle of Montsimmard, Mistress to Duke Bastien de Ghislain, and close friend and companion to the Inquisitor, it is a pleasure."  

 

"As you can see, Enchanter, I am currently engaged —" he nearly choked on the word trying to shake his nerves, quickly adding, "—with settling in the Trevelyans as the Inquisator is away. I've also had word from her regarding the current mission on the Storm Coast which takes precedence over diplomatic matters."  

 

Looking put off, she pouted, "Is there not someone equally as qualified as you to show the Comte around the barracks and training field?" 

 

Just then, the perfect man for the job walked into his view on his way to the Infirmary. "Knight-Captain Henley!" He waved him over, but the Templar caught sight of Evelyn's relatives. 

 

Meeting the gaze of the Bann, the two beamed with warm familiarity. "Ser Henley! Or is it Knight-Captain now? Good to see you in good health!" They embraced briefly with stout pats on the back.  

 

Byron laughed heartily, "And you, ser! Evie didn't tell us you were coming otherwise I would've been the first to greet you!" 

 

"Ser Henley," Lady Trevelyan said coyly, "handsome as ever. The ladies of Ostwick are certainly missing seeing you at our Harvest Ball – though I can't say the same about your charge." Drexford shook his head, trying to hold back his ire at the slight against Evelyn. It seemed to come so naturally off Rhiannon's tongue, making his heartache at the childhood memories his love shared with him about her mother.  

 

Byron gave a gracious bow grinning at the compliment, "Thank you, my lady. It is truly good to see you both after so long. We are living in strange times, and Evie seems to be in the thick of it." Cullen and Vivienne both quietly observed the conversation before them, dissecting it for a glimpse into the relationship between the three Marchers. "And you know where she goes I follow – as well as all these people now too. It truly is extraordinary what she has accomplished as Inquisitor." 

 

"Well, I rest easier already knowing you are here keeping her safe." At Drexford's words, Cullen couldn't help but feel a stab of jealousy. Rightfully, he had no need to, yet the Trevelyans obviously liked Henley, already possessing a close relationship with him; even Lady Trevelyan was gracious towards the Knight-Captain, who was a commoner despite his rank.

 

Henley was charismatic, which is the reason he had summoned him for this particular task of playing tour guide to the Comte. He seemed comfortable speaking with anyone, another trait the Commander lacked unless they were in armor. His inadequacies began to weigh on him, causing his expression to darken.

 

Sensing his mood sour, Vivienne placed a hand on his shoulder, "Commander, perhaps you can move this reunion along?" The Enchanter's iron eyes directed him pointing over to the gathering. When he gave her an unsatisfactory 'um,' she tutted at him, pulling him along by the arm. "My apologies my Lord and Lady, but I require the presence of the Knight-Captain." 

 

With that lead-in, Cullen found his voice, "Yes, Madame Vivienne needs someone to show the Comte de Cleron around our military facilities, I'd like for you to assist with the tour." 

 

"I'd be happy to, Commander," he brightly smiled as he saluted. Prickles of jealousy prodded him as he watched the reaction of the women to the Templar, and he couldn’t help but envision Evelyn enraptured by that same look. She didn’t talk much about her relationship with him and their casualness, as if pretending that they were ‘just friends’ annoyed him at times. Yet, he had not even known her when they were ‘close’ so what justifiable right did he have to make a fuss over?

 

"The Comte de Cleron, you say? I haven't seen him in ages! May I join, I am the mother of the Inquisitor after all. Surely, it will be a benefit when she is absent." Lady Trevelyan raised her chin walking with airs. At least now Josephine would be alerted to the Trevelyan's arrival. 

 

Vivienne's jaw slightly flexed, "Of course you may. Come, we must make haste, he is still waiting." With a nod to the Commander, the three were off, with Henley escorting Evelyn's mother by the arm. 

 

Wanting to bury his face back into the field report, he remembered he was not alone... 

 

"Well, Cullen," the aging lord quirked up an eyebrow having been left in each other’s company, "I believe we have a matter to discuss unless I'm being as much of a nuisance to you as the Comte is today?"  

 

"No, ser, I…" he looked from the Bann to the report in his hand, remembering his own words. This was not how he imagined this going. "This report from the Inquisitor truly does take presentence, if you would allow me to read it first?" 

 

He chuckled heartily, "Of course, duty comes first – especially when it is my Evie who beckons. Is there somewhere we may talk in private then or would you prefer I wait elsewhere?"  

 

He stared at the man for a second paralyzed. Josephine should be here or the Bann should've sent word that they were coming. Did Evelyn know? A glance around the Lower Courtyard saw none of the Ambassador's staff around to help him... he would even settle for Dorian at this rate. 

 

"N-no that's unnecessary. My office is right over here." 

 

"Excellent, lead the way." At that, Calenhad and Scout barked and ran ahead, having one of their few spurts of energy. They nearly knocked over a soldier on their way up the narrow staircase. 

 

Disturbing Loren from her paperwork, he cringed seeing the large stack of nonsense that he had once been plagued with. The dwarf usually worked at a table that was set up in a corner of his office, hardly actually sitting there for long before rushing out on an errand. She was a woman of few words, blunt, and starkly honest which were traits he typically admired making her the perfect person to help him administer the office of the Inquisition's Commander.  

 

"You must be hungry after your long journey, Bann Trevelyan. Loren, would you have the kitchen prepare something for the Bann to tie him over before lunch?" 

 

Their guest looked back over his shoulder at her, "Coffee, in particular, would be much appreciated, Loren."  

 

They smiled politely at each other and she gave a bow. Leaning around Bann she asked, "Shall I make that two, Commander?" 

 

He leaned back, straightening out his coat, "Make it a pot, the Inquisitor sent a long report on the situation on the Storm Coast, so it's bound to be a long day as I sort through it." Calenhad grumbled but made himself comfortable at his feet. 

 

After she left, an awkward silence filled the air, but just as it happened at the start of their relationship, the ease of the Trevelyan way of conversing dispelled it. "Would you mind if I perused your books while you read the report, Cullen?" 

 

"Not at all." The many titles resting on the shelves flashed through his mind hoping they would be up to his standards. He was a fellow soldier, so at least he'd appreciate the lack of variety. Scout, seemingly taking on the role of ambassador, accompanied him to the shelf sitting and watching him curiously peruse the collection. Focusing back on the task at hand, Cullen unfolded the letter attached to the front of the report once more: 

 

Commander,  

 

There will be no alliance with the Qun. In short, everything had gone according to plan until a large Venatori force threatened to eliminate The Chargers. I ordered Bull to sound their retreat, causing the enemy to focus fire on the Qunari ship in the inlet, sinking it with efficiency. Saving our people over the Dreadnaught will cost us the alliance, as well as earn Bull a Tal-Vasholth rank, but I couldn't allow our people to be slaughtered. My full detailed report is enclosed and I hope the council will understand my decision.  

 

The only solace comes from the fact that we were able to dismantle the smuggling operation on the Storm Coast. And there were no major injuries having taken the enemy by surprise.  

 

We are en route back to Skyhold with all haste, as Bull believes an attempt on his life is imminent, and doesn't wish for me to be caught in the crossfire. I trust you and Sister Nightingale can prepare Skyhold for such an incident.  

 

See you in a few days,  

Inquisitor Trevelyan  

 

With a deep sigh of relief, Cullen sat back in his chair, garnering the attention of the Bann. "I trust Evie is alright by the look on your face?" 

 

He nodded in confirmation, "Thank the Maker, she is unharmed, but the mission…" He pinched the bridge of his nose, supposedly an alliance with the Qun was too much to hope for. After a contemplative silence, he called out to one of his soldiers who waited outside, "Wellard!" The young man popped in with a salute, "Take this letter to the Spymaster. Tell her that I intend to station extra guards and alert the gate guards to question anyone entering the Keep thoroughly. No one will be allowed to pass unless they have an express invitation." He made a mental note to himself to inform the Lady Ambassador of the change as well. 

 

Striding over to retrieve the parchment, "Right away, ser!"

 

Just as he opened the door to deliver his message, Loren returned with the aromatic coffee setting it down on his desk. “Loren, find Dane and tell him the Inquisitor is en route back to Skyhold. I want the north road secured from a possible ambush. The safety of the Inquisitor is paramount.”

 

“On it, Commander.”

 

The Bann raised an eyebrow in the same manner as his Eve walking back to his seat to partake of the tray of assorted pastries. "Expecting trouble? Both my youngest have relayed that there's never a dull moment here." 

 

"I assure you, your family is in no danger. For once, it was not a threat made against the Inquisitor. Still, it would be foolish to take any chances. Owayne is with her, and between him and The Iron Bull, they should be able to sense an attack before it happens." 

 

I trust my son to protect her above himself, as I know you are as well." The love for his daughter glistened in his eyes, "I pray for her safety through all of this. I assume more enemies wish her ill than just the Elder One?" It was as if the words caused him physical pain. 

 

Cullen's face tensed at the subject, knowing the feeling and hating the long list of adversaries they still have to deal with. Even with the largest threats like Floriene, Ryker, Erimond, and Samson defeated there was a long list of people who'd like to see harm come to the Inquisition, and Evelyn in particular. Not to mention the anchor eating away at her arm.

 

Unaware of how the Bann studied him when their eyes met, his narrowed for a moment before continuing, "You care for her a great deal." 

 

Cullen knew his cheeks were reddening at the statement of fact; damn him and his fair hair and skin! Without averting his gaze, he managed a strong, "I do."  

 

The answer fell woefully short of his true feelings, yet it was not something men talked of in length. Her father, like him, was a soldier; men of action, not frivolous declarations of love. The Bann would glimpse more into his love for Evelyn through his training in the army, his strategy, and most of all, his interactions with the woman herself. He would see the lengths he went to ensure her safety and to ensure her victory over the Elder One. 

 

“Tell me,” he took a sip of the fortifying beverage, “will she survive this?” Cullen took a breath ready to answer, but the Bann stopped him, “Man to man, Cullen, I want to know what I must prepare for. She would not tell me the truth if I asked her, you must know this.” The man looked as if he aged in the short time it took him to form the sentence.

 

“I have no doubt she will defeat the Elder One, but the cost of victory…” The Commander looked to Scout who had laid next to his brother. The Mabari gave a pitiful whine putting his ears back and his head down. “The anchor is unstable and it is causing irreversible damage to her arm.”

 

Drexford nodded solemnly, again pausing to sip his coffee before answering, “And is there nothing to be done?”

 

“Not that we aren’t already doing. We have at our disposal the best minds of the Southern mages, an elven apostate well-versed in ancient magic, allies in Tevinter thanks to Altus Pavus, and a brilliant Archanist all of who have been working relentlessly on studying it. The more she uses it, the more powerful its magic becomes. She cannot physically withstand its effects no matter how hard her mana fights it.” Cullen’s heart sank in his chest, staring at her father intensely, “I fear her every success is also leading to her doom.”

 

---

 

They were a day’s ride from Skyhold when they were attacked by their own soldiers.

 

Evelyn had been informed by a patrol of theirs that the Commander had ordered the road to be secured after the threat made against The Iron Bull. Inquisition soldiers had made their presence known to everyone traveling, and while the Qunari kept telling her the formality of Gatt’s official declaration that he was Tal-Vasshoth was nothing, she had not taken it so well. No one threatened her friends and left unscathed. She remembered her words well, having left a bitter taste on her tongue:

 

“Tell your superiors that if they wish to not make an enemy of me, then they will let the matter rest. One day they may need my help to seal the rift spreading to the north, and I may choose not to hear their pleas.”

 

Gatt scowled at her, “The Qun begs no one for help.”

 

The Inqusitor’s gaze was heated, “Oh? Well, remember that when demons pour from the rifts continually with no reprieve terrorizing your land, killing everything in sight. They will be a blight upon your land, one in which your people will not recover from. Tevinter and Orlais will see the opportunity and invade as you are all backed into a corner waiting to be slaughtered. And in that moment, you will realize that all Par Vollen had to do was leave my ally be.” The weather and the mission’s partial failure had put her in a foul mood that only fueled her words.

 

“As I hear it, the Sarabaas are already working on something that will close rifts. You may be obsolete soon, Inquisitor.”

 

She shook her head gravely, “You play with forces beyond your understanding. Opening rifts have proven to be far easier than closing them.” Evelyn stepped closer to the elf, batting off Bull’s large hand when he tried to stop her wrath from surfacing. “For now I’m your only hope, and you’ve just pissed me off. Good fucking luck.” She turned glancing at Bull who glared at his former friend before following.

 

“Maybe you should call her Gaatlok instead,” Gatt shouted at their backs, though no one looked back.

 

They had been distracted with making camp for the night when it happened. She and her companions – Bull, Owayne, Cassandra, Solas, and Sorin – had their heads down busily going through their packs as the Qun agents approached Bull from behind. The Qunari hardly made a sound that would signal he was being attacked, grunting as they stabbed him with their poisoned daggers.

 

“Shit!” Came Owanye’s voice as he pushed Cassandra to safety, throwing a knife of his own at one of the assailants. 

 

Evelyn turned to see the shredded skin of Bull’s back, before trying to make sense of why her soldiers were attacking him. As the man her brother killed fell to the ground in a heap, the other woman tried to escape. Before she could do so, lightning struck and she jerked about before joining her comrade. 

 

In the quiet that followed the companions looked around at the other Inquisition soldiers sent to reinforce them. “Would anyone else like to do something stupid?” Evelyn’s gaze lingered on each person. In turn, they voiced a ‘No, Inquisitor,’ before nervously looking at their feet. “Pack up, we’re not stopping tonight. Get the horses watered and fed and then we push on to Skyhold. And someone get me a raven.”

Notes:

Hi all,

I hope you are having a lovely weekend! I hope the fluffy chapter helped with however you like to relax and kick back. If you are waiting for things to pick back up again, I promise it won't be too much longer until we head to the Arbor Wilds for that mission storyline. If you are enjoying the fluff, then I'm glad about that too! I always found it interesting how much protocol and tradition were skipped in the telling of the Inquisitor's relationship no matter who it was with (minus Josephine, at least they gave a little of the politics there), so I beg your indulgence as I explore their romance.

And if anyone has played DAV, let me know what you think of it!

Looking forward to hearing your thoughts,
Munklington

P.S. ... Yes, I totally got the chapter name from Star Trek's 'Trouble with Tribbles' episode title...

Chapter 41: Destiny Calls

Summary:

Warning: Sexual content.

Cullen comes to Evelyn's aid, and she returns home to a surprise. The Inquisition readies for its next march...

"Maker's breath!" Cullen slammed his fist on the table, standing abruptly having read Evelyn's hastily scrawled note. The heavy wooden chair groaned against the Great Hall's floor catching everyone's attention at the head table.

All but throwing it at Leliana, she caught it, skimming it before she too jumped up leveling him with a lethal gaze, "This can't be." Rounding the table to join him while passing the note to the third advisor, they stood close together conversing, "We've been infiltrated." He saw her mind working, checking through all her security measures. This was as much her failure as his, putting the Inquisitor's life at risk.

"I'm going to intercept them with more men, ones I know are not Qun agents." As he spoke, he checked the items on himself, hoping he could leave right away.

The Left Hand nodded with a snarl, "Detain the other soldiers for questioning. I have cracks to find and seal. Permanently." Turning on her heel, she whirled through the room like a dark shadow, causing their dining guests to quiet as she passed, as if speaking would incur her wrath.

Turning to leave, Drexford halted him, "I'd like to come too. One more sword arm for you, Commander." The Ambassador seemed to have filled the table in on the situation that had them scrambling to leave.

Cullen looked intensely at him weighing the consequences in his head, yet time was of the utmost importance. "So long as you can follow orders. This is not the proper time for a reunion. We need to reach them and get them back behind the safety of Skyhold's walls." He nodded resolutely and was not in the least offended by his stern tone. Continuing, the Trevelyan patriarch matched his strides out to the stables, "We leave immediately."

Alerting and collecting soldiers as he went, the small retinue mounted up and sped out of Skyhold into the cold inky, night. He approximated that they were a few hours away at a hard ride. With the road supposedly secured he didn't expect any surprises until they reached the Inquisitor.

The dark woods flew by in his peripherals as his mind chastised himself for not meeting her himself after her report from the Storm Coast first came in. The Bann's arrival had distracted him and he didn't take the threat too seriously having not been made against her. He wondered how mad she would be, secretly hoping around every bend in the road to see her glowing warmth in the distance.

When at last dots of flame were seen ahead of them on the road, he was glad to be met by the advance guard of the Inquisitor halting travelers. "Commander Cullen, ser!" The men hailed him and the others as they slowed. "The Inquisitor ordered a brief stop for the wounded."

Acknowledging them before galloping the rest of the way to their spot beside the road, he found the Seeker, Owayne, Sorin, and Evelyn standing guard on some of their own soldiers while Solas tended to Bull's back. Enough bloodied bandages to make a gauzy ball gown littered the ground having come from their new Tal-Vashoth comrade. Seeing him approach in the light of the flame she conjured in her hand, the Inquisotor's expression softened to one of relief.

Holding her eyes through his helmet as if in a trance, over his shoulder he ordered his men to detain the other soldiers who Dane had sent. With his horse's reins in hand, he walked over to her, flipping up his visor, "Inquisitor, apologies. I should've come personally after receiving your report." The deep concern on his face couldn't be helped, as his gaze swept over her for injuries.

Evelyn's smile was brilliant in the moonlight gazing back at him, "You're here now, for which we are grateful. Since I've written to you, we haven't encountered trouble... but that doesn't mean there isn't any still to be had." He agreed with a nod, happy to see for once she was taking a threat seriously. Under the cover of darkness and hidden by his Ferelden Forder, she reached for his hand wishing to simply connect with him physically. Her warm fingers tingled in his from her magic as they intertwined. As much as he was appraising her condition, she was his, "Are you well? And the mutts?" She looked about expecting them to be on their master's heels.

"I am and my two war hounds are resting with Loren. I was at dinner when I received your message, and apparently, Josephine has a new rule about dogs in the Great Hall. I hope they aren't tearing up Skyhold looking for me..."

She stifled a laugh trying to keep their conversation quiet, "Well, we better get moving before they miss you too much. I know the feeling." Evelyn winked and it took everything in him not to sweep her up in his arms. "I don't like being exposed out on the road if there are more assassins either, even though... wait, father?!" Cautiously approaching them from the side, the Bann's smile matched that of his daughter upon seeing her.

As she leaped into his arms, spinning her – which was an impressive feat alone for a man his age with a woman her size – he hugged her tightly. "I promised the Commander no reunion until you're safe back at Skyhold. We'll continue there, alright my little firebird?" She nodded, holding back tears of joy, and called Owayne over. Her brother was alarmed at first by her croaky voice until he saw why, embracing his father with less gusto but the same level of warmth and love.

Giving them a moment, Cullen set to organizing everyone for the remainder of the trip. As soon as Solas patched Bull up, they began again and reached Skyhold without further incident. If there was another agent of the Qun among them, his leonine glare as he kept careful watch made them think otherwise. On the ramparts, he glimpsed Sister Nightingale stalking in the shadows like a cat making sure the prisoners made it to the dungeon immediately for questioning. Spycraft had become her identity and having let infiltrators in, feeling as though she had failed. Even more so, she was feeling unbridled rage at having been taken for a fool.

Once through the gate, the peaceful night was shattered by the sounds of Scout and Calenhad tripping over each other to get to him. Holding up a hand the two Mabaris skidded to a halt before him, "Now, is that any way to behave?" The two whined, their tongues out to the side and short tails swaying to a stop. "No, it isn't. Get back up there, help Loren up, because I'm sure you plowed her over on your way out, and show more discipline next time." His scolding was met with droopy ears but they needed to have better conduct while in Skyhold.

"Is that any way to treat your children?" Evelyn came to stand at his side smirking at her own jest. Keeping her voice low, she tried to look as casual as possible with everyone bustling around them, "I'm going to get my father settled, then I'll come find you."

"Take your time. I need to make sure Sister Nightingale doesn't do anything rash. I believe she is taking her mistake harder than necessary. Besides, you know I don't sleep."

"Not without me tonight you don't."

---

The puffy whites and grays of the winter clouds sped by her window in a stiff dawn wind. The fresh crisp sheets were a nice change to her cold and wet... everything from the past week at the Storm Coast. So was the company of the warm naked man sprawled against her backside.

Cullen's stubbly cheek scrapped against her shoulder blade as he murmured in a rough voice, "Good morning." The feel of his lips and breath had her smiling.

Evelyn hummed with a slight stretch of her limbs, inhaling his oaky scent on the bedding. Curving her back like a cat into him, his morning wood slotted into her backside making them both moan pleasantly. She had been exhausted after last night's events of the attack and then seeing her father that the moment she fell into bed with him she was out. Spinning in his arms she was met with that unfairly handsome face and messy golden hair of his. The blankets twisted around them like a great serpent as she pulled him in for a kiss, aiming playfully for his scar.

Hearing them awake, Scout and Calenhad jumped up accosting them with slobbery tongues before their master ordered them off. "Sorry," he huffed, the early gravel in his voice rumbling in his chest, "they are still learning." He rolled up and had them go wait downstairs in his office.

Evelyn flopped onto her back with a groan at his absence, but nothing could spoil her mood, "Nothing like being trampled by husky war hounds first thing in the morning." Turning back after using the pulley for the dogs, he gave her a spectacular view of his front that sent a hot wave through her. Raising an eyebrow, Evelyn's eyes floated down between the sculpted V of his hips. He absently palmed his heavy hardened shaft. Throwing the blankets off her to stand up, the chill of the morning was forgotten as searing desire pulsed through her. "Andraste preserve me, you make me never want to leave the bedroom."

Closing the distance, her arms draped around his broad shoulders, feeling every hard plane of his chest and stomach. His chest rumbled with that deep resonating chuckle, craning his head down for her, "I'll be a wanted man if I allow you to do that." Playfully he nipped her lips, making her smile, stumbling back toward the bed. The wood from both the old floor and bed creaked under their combined weight. Pulling him down, she guided him to a seated position up against the headboard.

Climbing into his lap, she pushed her breasts up into his face, his mouth instantly pulling a pert nipple into it. It had been so long since she had felt any part of him that her slow movements were rapidly becoming desperate. Her hands took over pumping his fully erect cock, occasionally rubbing it on her pulsating clit to wet him.

"The Inquisition will have your head after you kill me with pleasure, but at least I die a happy woman." His hands roved up her body and pinched her now sensitive nipples causing her to loudly cry out, "Cullen!"

"Shh, you'll wake the whole barracks, or Maker-forbid your father," he rasped out smugly.

Cupping his stubbly face in her hands she pulled at his bottom unscarred lip, "Stop being so fucking witty, I'm the witty one in this relationship."

Done teasing him, Evelyn sank down onto his girth until he bottomed out. For a long moment, she sat sheathed to the hilt with him throbbing against the fluttering of her inner walls. Their foreheads came to rest and their eyes closed savoring the peace of their deep connection. Within it, nothing could penetrate the bond they created between their very souls that transcended the mortal plane of existence.

"I missed you, Eve." Cullen's voice was soft with a strain of the desperation she had felt a minute ago.

"And I you, my love." Their pace was slow and steady wanting to reconnect after not being able to touch each other for so long. Evelyn's fingers kneaded into his firm shoulder muscles eliciting moans from him that drove her mad. With their spiritual selves reunited, she now craved the physical manifestation of their love.

Grinding and gyrating in his lap, her body worked to pleasure him in the ways she wanted to since he came to her rescue in the Emprise du Lion. She watched his head fall back against the wall, making her smile as the pressure mounted. His hands held her hips adding his strength as he bucked hard into her. Driving up into that sweet spot with force, his abs flexed tightly as he utterly penetrated her. The tension that had been building for a month suddenly burst, blinding and deafening the world around her. Falling into him, their lips connected as if magnetized, yet her orgasm was so strong – especially after feeling him come inside her – she arched back writhing. She must've screamed so loud for the first noise to reach her ears after the ringing was the howling of the Mabaris below.

Coming down from the high like a limp ragdoll, her highly amused partner was smiling and chuckling at her with a heavy lust-ridden gaze. Knowing he was laughing at the chorus of off-key howls, she couldn't help but blush and join him as he laid her down beside him. "That may be a problem. People will want to know who the Commander is taking to his bed. There will be Orlesians weeping in the streets when they hear." She dramatically threw her arm over her forehead and he simply gave her a pointed look.

"They're dogs, they bark at everything. You should probably thank them, you were quite loud."

"War hounds," she corrected. Evelyn scooted closer to him uncaring for the mess between her legs having missed it, "Smother me with a pillow next time then, I can't help what you do to me."

At the praise, his eyes darkened, "Train with me this morning." Her eyes softened with unanswered questions, at the topic change. "Any excuse just to be close to you today. I need it – I need you." As they lay there, he pulled her close against him, burning his face on the crook of her neck.

Her heart skipped a beat, "I don't need excuses, I'm the Inquisitor. If my father wished to talk then he can do it with both of us. As much as I missed him, you are my heart and I cannot be without you."

"I don't wish to keep you from your father, I just..." He rubbed the back of his neck not wanting to seem selfish for wanting her attention. Silencing his doubts with a deep kiss, she patted his cheek as if to say 'I know.'

Sliding out of bed to ready for the training grounds, Evelyn had to reassure him multiple times that wanting to spend time with her was not selfish. Between training, the War Room meeting, and then spending time with her family they would be with each other most of the day anyway. However, she did want to slip away for a bit to hear what her father thought of Cullen since he had been at Skyhold for a few days already. He had mentioned the Commander playing the gracious host, but he didn't say much else.

Donning a gambeson and his practice gear, he stood by the ladder running a hand through his hair, "Ready, Trevelyan?"

She smirked, "To kick your arse? Yes, I am, Rutherford." Passing him and sliding down the ladder she called up, "There is no shame in losing to me in front of my father." She had mentioned to him what her schedule was like today and knew the Bann couldn't resist a good sparring match. After not seeing her for years, no doubt he'd be interested in seeing what kind of warrior his daughter turned out to be.

Joining her at the bottom with his trusty mutts excitedly wanting to go out, his brassy voice sounded amused, "You need close-quarters combat practice. When you and I fought in Ishmael's twisted dream you used my weaknesses against me, but the Red Templars and Venatori will not be so predictable."

She hummed pleasantly, "I like the sound of that, though I can't promise I'll be able to control where my hands go."

"Eve," he scolded. She was about to tell him to save the lecture, but his will and commanding voice overpowered hers, "I would take this seriously if I were you. Don't get all huffy with me when I start throwing you in the dirt. I know how you get when you lose."

The pyromancer scoffed, "So that's how it's gonna be?"

With a firm slap on her ass followed by a swift kiss, Cullen headed towards the door, "Yes, it is, my dear." Unable to hide her smile, she bit her lip and headed out the door after him, set on proving him wrong.

---

After cleaning up from training with Cullen, Evelyn briskly made her way to the War Room for their daily meeting. Having bitterly wiped the dirt from her body from being pushed about by the brawny Ferelden – though he said she improved greatly – she reminded herself of the many embarrassing stories she could tell to get back at him in front of her father. Looking forward to getting down to business and back to her family, she had her list of updates needed at the ready.

Opening the door energetically, she was met by two of the three advisors. Evelyn shrugged, "Where's the Commander?"

Before she reached the table, the door swung open hard behind her followed by their missing member and his faithful companions. "Apologies," he eyed Calenhad with a scolding glare, "we had an accident on our way here."

The Ambassador winced, "Oh, Commander, please tell me he didn't... not again..."

"Do what?" Evelyn asked innocently.

"Whose dress am I paying for this time?" Josephine lifted her quill ready to scratch the name onto her parchment.

Cullen's eyes dropped to the floor with a grimace as he took his place. He pointed at the Inquisitor as his face flushed, "Er, your mother's."

Evelyn burst out laughing to the point of tears. When she was finished, she called the big gray furball over. After no doubt receiving a tongue lashing from Cullen, Calenhad's tail was tucked partly between his legs unsure of what she was going to make of it. "Good boy! I don't blame you, the perfume she wears stinks! Maybe she'll finally get the hint." The Mabari fully wagged his tail, for once happy by her attention.

Cullen's brow furrowed together, "You shouldn't praise him for that... not that he'll listen anyway."

"Commander, this is precisely the reason I do not want them in the Great Hall during meals." Josephine gave him a pointed look, "Perhaps I can find you someone who can properly train them--"

"You can't be serious! I train our bloody troops, I can train a few Mabaris!" That was enough for Cullen to forget his mortification, replacing it with undignified anger.

The Antivan's tone was playfully strict seeing she hit a nerve, "Then do it before I start making you personally apologize to the nobles. I know how much you would love that."

"Alright, enough," Evelyn cut in, holding a hand up, "no need to fret over my mother's dress. I'll see to appeasing her, though I'm sure my father had a good laugh about it and told her to forget it already." The Commander gave her an awkward nod at knowing her father all too well. "Speaking of, I only have a few more days with him, so I'd appreciate it if we got to the matter at hand. Calpurnia is our next target, where are we with her?"

Leliana placed her hands behind her back as she spoke, "We've had word from Emperor Gaspard that she and the Elder One have crossed into the Arbor Wilds. I sent my people to follow them and it seems she's desperately searching elven ruins. Whatever she is looking for, she hasn't found it yet and the Wilds are proving to be treacherous for them. The jungle is too dense for red lyrium to grow as in the Emprise du Lion and having destroyed Samson's mining and smuggling operation, they are weakening."

"So we have some time, but not much. What kind of resistance are we looking at?"

The redhead shifted to eye the Commander, "The entirety of Corypheus' army." Cullen wiped a hand down his face, shaking his head and leaning over the map of Orlais.

She gave him a moment as he studied the large blot of painted green on the timeworn table, "What is it, Commander?"

He sighed heavily straightening, "It's a jungle. The logistics alone will take considerable time. I'll need the most recent maps of the areas; a small expeditionary force to cut a path and establish a camp; immense supplies; a naturalist to advise us on dangers and useful resources; siege equipment; and then there is readying the soldiers to march—"

The Inquisitor held up a hand, halting him, "What do you need from us to get our army there? We are a team; we cannot waste the opportunity of having the entirety of the Elder One's force in one place." All agreed readily, "Right, so first we call in favors, every one, Ambassador. You tell them I am personally calling everyone to fall in with the Inquisition. This could be our chance to end it. To kill Corypheus."

"I will write to the Emperor, let him know our army and our allies will be entering Orlais and that we expect him to uphold his vow to aid us this time. Ferelden, Vigil's Keep, Therinfal Redoubt, and the rest of our allies will be summoned." Evelyn could see the wheels in Josephine's head turning as to how she was going to assure Emperor Gaspard that none of them would cause trouble. "Negotiating with him may take as long as our army's preparations."

The Inquisitor shook her head, "No, draw up an oath to be sworn to the Herald of Andraste, that upon damnation to the Void will they wage war and overstay their welcome in Orlais." Evelyn's bold statement garnered varied looks from her advisors. "What? There is little time for petty squabbles as every hour Calpurnia gets closer to what she seeks! They are willing to throw their whole army at finding whatever it is, it must be something incredibly powerful."

"Or," Leliana's steely eyes shifted between them all, "he's found another way to enter the Fade." A cold shiver crept up her spine at the thought, as the air in the room seemed to thin.

Spinning on a heel, the Inquisitor opened one of the doors and asked the guard to find Solas and bring him to them immediately. Pacing impatiently before the door, when it creaked open she stopped abruptly, "Inquisitor? What may I do for you?"

She motioned for him to follow her over to the table with the others, "Corypheus is in the Arbor Wilds scouring elven ruins. Knowing that his end goal is to enter the Black City within the Fade, do you know of any elven artifacts that could do such a thing aside from the anchor?"

He blinked with immediate recollection, "Eluvians."

"Of course," the Spymaster's face was quiet chagrin toward herself, "I should've remembered. Morrigan was always going on about those things when I traveled with the Hero of Ferelden. They are like doorways through time and space, leading to... somewhere."

"They lead to what some call The Crossroads," the apostate added, his voice sounding academic, "a place where all Eluvians connect. The best way I can describe it to you is that it is a place beyond the Veil but just outside of the Fade."

"So... it's an anomaly that he could use to enter the Fade?" Solas nodded in confirmation. An alarm sounded within Evelyn. "What are the chances of him finding an intact Eluvian?" Her mark sputtered green light as she looked at Solas wide-eyed.

His gray eyes shot down to it before meeting her gaze again, "Impossible to say, but it should be incredibly difficult." Thanking him for his input, Evelyn dismissed the apostate, using the brief reprieve to think.

She stared hard at her Commander, the two having a telepathic conversation through their eyes. "Cullen, what is the soonest we can leave? Even if we take a fragment of the troops just to cause enough of a distraction to delay their search, how long would you need?"

He began to pace back and forth from his side of the war table, ruffling his golden hair endearingly as he thought. His scarred lip muttering calculations to himself, and he occasionally shuffled through some papers. The women looked at each other, but Evelyn could tell they too were working out how long it would take for their tasks, though they were second to that of Commander's timeline.

"Three days," the stern crease of his brow prevented her from asking otherwise. "Three days to deploy the scouts and expeditionary force and move our available supplies towards the Arbor Wilds. This will be a test for our officers, for I'll have them ready their men and leave as soon as they are ready."

Sister Nightingale quickly added, "My people can be ready and help harass Calpurnia's camps and I'll get you any recent reports and news from the area."

"And I'll send out ravens immediately to our allies," the Ambassador scratched notes on their timeline down in her meticulous meeting notes. "I will persuade Emperor Gaspard to send aid immediately as our forces and allies are en route."

The Inquisitor placed her glowing palm on the war table feeling a rush of adrenaline. This could be it. "I will go with the expeditionary force," Evelyn firmly announced, "my team and I, that is. All of them, even Cole if I can find him." The Commander wanted to protest but her stare held its resolve making him think otherwise. "This could be it. I want everyone sufficiently prepared. Commander, Spymaster, I expect you to join me in the Wilds as soon as you're able. Lady Ambassador, you have command of Skyhold."

The four looked between themselves knowing they had come a long way since the explosion at the Conclave. From a condemned heretical movement to Thedas' only hope, the Inquisition was built by their guidance. Leliana had spun an intricate web of spies and agents all across the continent and beyond, ready to act upon her word and always listening. Josephine's expertise in navigating the troubled waters of Thedas' politics and ability to "friend-raise" – as she called it – helped support their endeavors. Now, she was calling in favors from kings and queens. And Cullen's recruitment, training, and command of the army was second to none. She was sure he would have books written of his martial prowess and management of soldiers that would become regular curriculum for officers and soldiers alike.

As for herself – The Phoenix of Ostwick, The Herald of Andraste, The Inquisitor – she didn't stop to think about her legacy. Why the Maker decided she was worthy of the task of defeating Corypheus was beyond her ability to understand, yet she felt made for it; molded for it. Whatever her role was in this saga, it was nearing the end.

Her gaze floated up to Cullen – the future – who was staring back at her. There was no horror she wouldn't face down to get a chance at such happiness after living a lifetime under guard in the Circle of Ostwick, being told she would never live a normal life. After two decades of being a magical abnormality, she was ready for boring... well, as boring a mage and a former Templar could be living out their days.

With a resolute nod, the Inquisitor repeated the call of destiny, "We have three days."

Notes:

Hi all,

I just wanted to wish you all a happy New Year! I hope 2025 is full of positivity and creativeness! May only light and love come to you.

I hope you enjoyed the long-awaited chapter (sorry!!!), let me know in the comments! See you in the Arbor Wilds the next time we meet (I promise to make it worth it if you hated that mission)!

All the best,
Munklington

Chapter 42: No Rest for the Weary

Summary:

The Inquisition prepares for the Arbor Wilds. Cullen tells Evelyn of his future plans.

Notes:

Warning: Sexual content after the break.

After a long day of getting the operation to the Arbor Wilds off and running with the looming ‘three-day’ timeline, Evelyn decided it was time to excuse herself from coordinating allies with Josephine and spend what little time she had left with her family. Owayne had been keeping them company in the meantime, but she just couldn’t find an opportune moment to escape without feeling guilty about the amount of work she had just heaped upon her advisors – namely the Commander.

“Josie,” she whispered, bending down beside her at the grand Ambassador’s desk. Evelyn eyed her staff hurrying about in a flurry of papers, ribbons, and quills, making sure none could overhear them, “I know you’re a responsible woman and can take care of yourself, but Cullen isn’t during times like this, and I’d bet coin on the fact that he hasn’t stopped to eat today. Would you mind if I stepped out to see how he’s faring? Or more likely, tie him to a chair and force him to eat.”

The Antivan laughed lightly, “Your help was invaluable today, Evelyn, thank you. Please, go and see to him, I’m sure your presence alone will be distraction enough for him to take a break.”

“I think you overestimate his dedication to his mistress named duty, but I will try.” With a wink and a knowing smile, Evelyn made her way to Cullen’s tower.

Inside, it was what she suspected as she snuck in and leaned against the wall to observe the Commander’s expert orchestration. He worked diligently from his desk between sips of coffee, having sorted several piles of parchment about. Loren was vetting all messengers, directing them to the pile in which the note needed to be placed. Rylen stood steadfast at Cullen’s side offering him quiet conferences about decisions and such, as well as conferring with the lower-ranked officers coming in with questions. It was a familiar cadence that he and his staff fell into, and a punishing pace was set from the top. If it weren’t for the doors constantly swinging on their hinges, his office would’ve smelt like sweat and steel with all the people crammed in it.

When she was finally spotted by Loren, the dwarf stuttered her step at her unexpected presence, “Inquisitor!” The busy hive of soldiers stopped and turned to her, quickly pounding a salute to their hearts.

What she really wanted to do was dismiss them all, but that was up to the Commander, knowing how sensitive he got when she did that when there was work to be done. As selfish as she'd like to be, Corypheus wasn't going to sit back and allow her the luxury of handling the family's affairs.

Rylen offered her one of his signature smirks, rolling his eyes at his commanding officer for bending back over his desk to work rather than paying a woman proper attention. “What’s the status here, Knight-Captain?”

“Better than expected, Inquisitor.”

“We’re behind,” grumbled the Commander, still not having looked up. He held out a paper and a runner quickly grabbed it from him and rushed out the door.

“Requisitions have been placed, the Rangers – as we call the expeditionary force – have been mustered, ravens have been sent to all our camps to secure the road for the army, and supplies and equipment are readyin’ for transport. Aye, we are in good shape!”

“We are in poor shape,” again, Cullen dryly added, “we require more wagons for transporting supplies, reports from Leliana’s scouts have yet to arrive describing the Wilds’ current conditions, and Sera has…” he trailed off with a huff.

“Sera has what?” Evelyn curiously asked. Rylen coughed trying to hide a laugh, but his face flushed anyway.

Cullen flashed him a scowl, his own face reddening for a different reason, “It’s not funny.”

Unable to hold it in, his second burst out a chesty chuckle, “Yes, it bloody is!” Smiling along with him, Evelyn shrugged still waiting to hear what mischief her elven companion had caused this time.

With a sigh, the Commander moved the books and papers around his maps of the Arbor Wilds. She hadn’t noticed until now that he had covered certain parts and land features purposely. As he revealed them, Evelyn embarrassingly choked on her spit at the sight. All over his maps were crude drawings of various individuals and their exaggerated anatomy helping to mark all the area’s landmarks from mountains to lakes. Even the dense jungle was used creatively. She looked up with tears in her eyes, and meeting Rylen’s gaze, the two nearly rolled on the floor in roaring laughter. It wasn’t so much at the artistry itself, but the Commander’s abundant vexation over it.

“What’s the matter, Cullen, who wouldn’t want to stare at a Qunari with a bosom like that!” She couldn’t help herself, willing to endure his disapproving glare. Soldiers dropping off reports bit their lips as she and Rylen made colorful commentary on the various scenes.

Breaking up their laughter, the Commander’s voice boomed around the tower, “It will take ages for me to acquire new maps of an unexplored forest in the arse-end of Thedas!”

“Hmm,” she made a show of studying the map, “I don’t think that an arse, Commander…” When she glanced up, she could see he was at his wit’s end; his anger making him fiercely handsome. “Rylen, kindly dismiss everyone for the evening. They can report back in first thing tomorrow, that goes for you too.”

“Aye, Inquisitor,” he nodded then stepped in front of the desk, “All ye are dismissed! Ya have yer orders, finish out yer task, and report back here early tomorrow!” When everyone was gone, he bid the two of them good evening and left, still chuckling out the door.

When she turned back to Cullen he was angrily pouting, “Oh come now, don’t be mad. Look, you can still see the forest trail, she made it a vein on that huge—”

“Eve!”

She pursed her lips together in amusement, making her way over to him, “You poor thing. Come on, it’s time you take a break anyway for dinner. I did promise my father we’d both be there since we hadn’t time to visit with them.”

He sighed, his glum mood unaffected, “From the planning of one battle to the fighting of another, although this time we are throwing words, not weapons, about.”

Cupping his face, she kissed him playfully trying to get a reaction out of him while he sulked. The pyromancer stroked his face and hair all while trailing her affection over him. When she, at last, pulled a smile from him – along with affectionately being called a ‘pain the arse’ – she ceased her ministrations to hold his mantle firmly by the ends so he couldn’t look anywhere but into her eyes. “You’ve already won that battle,” his eyebrow cocked up in question, “I’m yours already.”

The Ferelden shook his head, “Your father has to approve of me.”

“No he doesn’t, and he knows that. He’s here to get to know you, not test you.” Pulling on his arm, the two began the trek back into the Main Keep with two Mabaris in tow. When they entered the rotunda, Evelyn lowered her voice, "My father did say he was impressed with you last night."

His brow creased slightly, "What for?"

"He said you had little care to all else, including properly addressing him when my note reached you. He said he knew then and there that it was far more than duty that was driving you."

He stopped abruptly, the golden light from the sconces caught on the dust motes floating about. Cullen spun on her with some intensity, "I love you, Eve. Nothing else matters."

"And what of Corypheus?" Her smitten gaze had a cheekiness to it. They made their way into the Great Hall, still in close confidence but not touching each other anymore. Their honored guests watched them carefully, parting to make them a path with polite bows.

He huffed, taking on a joking yet serious tone, "Yes, Inquisitor, I would be grateful if you'd just kill the blighted bastard already so I can get on with what's left of my life."

Heading to where her family had been gathering in one of the Ambassador's salons, "Why, Commander, do you have big plans I'm keeping you from?"

"Yes, actually." She cocked an eyebrow up at him amused. "I've met someone who I wish to impose on for the rest of her life." Evelyn schooled her expression, but his endearing words were making it difficult.

Her eyes floated about the sea of nobles watching them, trying to listen in to pick up any little gem they could. Josephine had told them to keep away from each other to let the rumor mill find something else to fixate on, but this new information he was sharing was just too good to resist. He didn't seem bothered by their stares either, more worried about her reaction than theirs.

To their left was a poorly concealed conversation between two nobles. "Perhaps there will be gowns," the woman's velvety voice implied.

The Orlesian man answered, "The signs are there. They'll be sewing in Val Royeaux even now."

"They are fools for it. As am I."

Evelyn spared a moment to wonder if they were talking about them, but unconvinced, returned to the Commander's bold omission. Leaving the stuffy and over-perfumed hall behind in favor of the serenity of the garden, they made their way to one of the private salons Josephine used for entertaining Skyhold’s guests.

Pushing open the door quietly, they were met by hearing Rhiannon’s boasting, “Ariella’s wedding will be the talk of the Free Marches! Lord Trumbull is sparing no expense! All of Tantervale will be celebrating a most fortuitous union between our families.”

Owayne rolled his eyes, kicking his legs up on the expensive furnishings, “Good thing Evie sent that letter to Lord Trumbull. Though I don’t believe Ariella ever thanked her for saving the union.” Seeing that they had entered, he winked at her but kept their presence a secret.

“What are you talking about, Owayne?” Their mother clanked down her tea.

Her brother smiled mischievously, “Would you like to tell her or can I?” At that, Rhiannon and Drexford turned to see they had arrived.

“Go on, Owayne, she wouldn’t believe me anyway.” Dragging Cullen along by the arm, she mirrored her sibling’s smug grin.

“I see this is still going on,” Lady Trevelyan grumbled, pointing to the two of them.

Drexford fixed a chastising glare at her before greeting them pleasantly. “Evie,” her father kissed her cheek, then extended his hand to the man on her arm, “Cullen, glad you could both join us.”

“It was not easy to get away, and unfortunately Cullen and I will be busy with the coming operation. We,” she gestured at Owayne, “will be leaving in three days for the Arbor Wilds.” At its mention, he slumped further down in his seat with a groan.

“How long will you be visiting there for?” Rhiannon brought the porcelain cup to her lips, her eyes blinking off as if bored.

Evelyn wanted to spill it in her lap, her face tensing, “More like battling, mother, for weeks, maybe months.”

“What?! You will be missing Ariella’s wedding?! I told everyone you were coming… they expect to meet the Inquisitor in person!”

“Then I suggest you write to Corypheus and ask him to hold off on destroying the world while I attend my adoring sister's wedding. Do you not remember me being stabbed by his lackey at the Winter Palace? No, of course not! And Ariella has yet to speak to me since I entered the Circle. For a sister whose good fortune in landing Lord Trumbull is due to my intervention, she has some nerve to invite me and act like dear friends.” Her mother’s eye widened in shock and her hand went to her heart briefly as was a habit in her theatrics.

“Aww, Evie! You said I could tell her?!”

“Sorry, Owayne, if you want, you can tell her Cullen and I are officially and secretly courting.” She laughed at her brother’s expense, and he stuck his tongue out at her. Her poor Commander simply remained stiff, standing out like a tall golden beacon amongst the brunettes.

“Drexford?! You knew all this?!”

The Bann sipped his tea, completely unsympathetic to his wife’s dismay, “Mmhmm. I approve, wholeheartedly.” Evelyn elbowed her love’s ribs as if to say ‘told you so.’

With a huff, Rhiannon stood facing her daughter, having to look up into her face due to the height difference, “Evelyn, you have influence to better your family. Why are you settling for a commoner? He can give you nothing.”

Even though she knew this was coming – had prepared for it – hearing the words tumble without care from her callous mother after Ryker, after everything, broke what little tolerance she had for the woman who bore her. The heat of her fury blazed forth putting the fear of the Maker in the Lady, but before she could breathe a breath of fire, Cullen’s hand tightened on her arm.

“If I may interject,” it was a stern command directed at the Trevelyan women. Both clamped their mouths shut to look at him, but his gaze was directed at the pyromancer with flaming eyes. “I believe we can settle this without burning a new hole in Skyhold.” A pointed, yet commiserating, look was aimed at the mage. Slowly, she felt the snarl on her face relax the longer she gazed into his amber eyes, whose intensity had softened. He took her by the hand, “I don’t want you to constantly feel like you need to defend my station. I’m capable of it myself, civilly.”

With a snobby once over, her mother yielded to him, “You do yourself credit, Commander.” She waved a flippant hand about, “It’s nothing personal, for you are perfectly agreeable, you just lack the proper station to be eligible for my daughter’s hand.”

Evelyn growled, “I’m only ‘your daughter’ when I’m useful to you.”

The Commander pinched the bridge of his nose, then turned to the Bann, “I’ve acquired a piece of property in Southern Ferelden.” The room quieted, and Evelyn suddenly felt numb, her jaw dropping of its own accord. “It’s a large tract of land outside of South Reach. It’s wild, having never been claimed, and rich in lumber. The Arl is in need of forestry services so I made a bid on the land with the intention of starting a business.”

Her father nodded, looking between them, “That is a sound plan, and there will be ample opportunities in that line of work. Everyone needs wood in some capacity. What’s your timeframe—”

“You bought land?” Evelyn’s soft awestruck voice halted the discussion, “You bought us land?” Cullen’s brow creased in concern searching her eyes desperately for a hint as to how she was about to react. She turned away from him walking away a few paces, stopping to let the words sink in.

Her mind was having difficulty grasping onto thoughts as they swirled around in her head. Every choice she had was taken from her upon entering the Circle was null and void. Every hope and dream of the future that slumbered in her heart awoke with a vengeance.

A dizzying excitement overtook her, and she spun bounding into Cullen’s arms. Catching her, he was still caught off guard, stumbling back a few paces flopping down on one of Josephine’s dainty armchairs, splintering it apart under their weight. Their legs kicked up upon impact, but in the commotion, she found his scarred lips with an unconcealable smile.

“Happy news! Perhaps we give them a moment,” Owayne ushered their parents out of the door.

Parting, cheeks burning red, he seized the opportunity, “So, you’re not angry?”

She shook her head adamantly, “No! Cullen… you bought us land!” Up until now, she didn’t think herself capable of acting as giddy as Ilara.

“What about everything else? Income and— well, I really didn’t get to explain the rest before you tackled me.”

She thumbed his cheek, and her braided ponytail slid off her shoulder pooling on his, “You’re having one rough night, aren’t you?”

“That’s a fair assessment.” He groaned, arching up to pull a piece of the chair out from under his back.

“You know what will make everyone feel better? If I put my mother in the cells.” She rose to her knees, “I’ll call the guards—”

He chuckled, pulling her back down, speaking against her lips, “She only objects to my station, perhaps I can charm her over dinner.”

Evelyn stiffened, “That’s about the only thing that’d make me lose my appetite. It’s like befriending a blighted genlock. But you are very charming.” She rolled her hips into his groin, “And you’re a notable man with land now, you’re just missing a wife.”

“Defeat Corypheus and I’ll have that too.”

Popping up and helping him to his feet, she made for the door, mark sputtering green light, “Fuck dinner then, I’m leaving now to kill that ancient arsehole!” Opening the door, they shared a laugh as the others joined them again.

The rest of the evening progressed well. To her immense satisfaction, her father genuinely enjoyed Cullen's company speaking of everything from family to military endeavors. Her father’s constant desire to practice the latest in martial strategy with his cavalry spurred a spirited conversation between the two, concluding in an invitation to the family estate to see their operation in case the Inquisition wanted to field mounted units.

Despite her mother’s backhanded remarks at times. To Cullen’s credit, he handled her mother frighteningly well, making her wonder about this hidden talent of charming potential mothers-in-law. Rhiannon had a weakness for strong handsome men – Henley always being on the receiving end of her flirting – and the way she eyed her Commander was thankfully not as aggressive as she knew she could be. That was likely due to the fact that she was bound to turn her nose up at anything her youngest daughter liked. There was a silver lining to their spite after all.

---

As the evening of the third day was upon them, Cullen received an urgent summons from the Inquisitor to come to her quarters. Having a few last-minute things to discuss with her regarding the operation, he gave the reins over to Loren and headed up to see Evelyn. He knocked once and pushed in, jogging up the steps.

“Inquisitor— Maker’s breath!”

Evelyn was naked lying on the bed, her curves melting into the silk sheets. Her sultry voice and smile floated over to him, “Good you’re here, I was wondering what was keeping you.” Sitting up, her two-toned hair fell like mahogany and golden silk down her shoulders and back.

He swallowed hard, holding the paper in his hand up, “Um, the list of…” Sliding off the bed he watched entranced by her nakedness. No matter how many times they had been intimate, the sight of her wiped his mind of all other thoughts leaving him breathless. In fact, he could hardly remember a time when she wasn’t an utter distraction.

Taking the paper out of his hand, she tossed it aside not looking away from his gaze, “You’ve been overworking yourself. You need a break.” Her hands slid up to circle his neck and her warm scarred body pressed against him, making her ‘oh’ when she felt his cold chestplate. Undeterred she pulled him down into a searing kiss, tangling her tongue in his. With him right where she wanted him, Cullen heard the clicks and pulls of his armor being taken off, though he was surprised it didn’t just melt off with the heat pulsing between them.

He cleared his throat, “I’ve already forgotten why I came up here.” Normally it would worry him, brushing off a task or thinking his mind was failing him, but he was certain the reason for his forgetfulness was her.

Evelyn smiled against his lips, “Good! I suppose I don’t need to tie you down to the bed, you’ll come willingly?” With pieces of armor clanging to the floor, he pulled off his gloves to run his hands up her body. The world around them melted away as her vanilla and embrium scent relaxed him. His mouth traveled down to her peaked nipples made so by the touch of his cold plates. As his shirt was thrown over his head, the momentary separation gave him the room to push her back towards the bed, but she resisted, “No, no, I’m in command tonight, my lion.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “Oh you are?” His playful challenge was met by the strings of his pants being torn open and Evelyn eyeing him as she slid down his body.

“Yes, I am,” she murmured against his tented smalls. Using her teeth she slid them down to free him, letting out a hot breath upon the sensitive flesh.

Her tongue licked from shaft to tip, making him suck in a sharp breath. His stomach muscles tightened watching her work her mouth on him. She grasped his ass and thighs as he pushed farther into her mouth, unable to resist the way she knew exactly what he liked. The rolling and flicking of her tongue, then the look on her face when she popped off for air and used her hand made his legs quake. The heat of her breath and the pressure from the suction caused his release to come too quickly, having overwhelmed his senses from the start.

Cullen filled her mouth with a grunt, but some escaped having not been ready for it, dripping out the side of her mouth. Standing with a blissful hum, she made a show of swallowing it. With one of his fingers, he slid the spend that escaped her between her lips and she sucked on his fingers, seemingly still wanting to have him in her mouth. Evelyn was continually finding ways to show him how much she wanted him and every part of him, leaving him with no doubt about how much he desired him.

“Cullen…” she moaned with a pout when he took back his digits, but it was a short-lived disappointment as she stepped her back a few paces to push her flat on the bed. Her legs dangled off the bed, and it was his turn to kneel.

As always, he began by paying his respects to the long scar he left on her leg months ago. A small sultry laugh floated in the air as she knew what he was doing. Evelyn repeatedly told him to stop feeling guilty about it, but it had become something of an inside joke between them.

Despite having been satisfied, his vigor was returning as he pleasured her. Aroused and wet, the flat drag of his tongue stoked the heat of her mana. It pulsed with her every breath and her hips pushed into him greedily. When he speared her through the folds, she cried out, arching her back and grabbing at the covers above her head. Holding her to his face he nipped and sucked at her, watching her come undone. She was a beautiful mess of long limbs expressly writhing in euphoric bliss at his direction.

When it ceased, she lazily held her arms up, beckoning him to come to her. He chuckled, draping his body over hers. Pushing some of her locks out of the way, her lust-leaden smile was a vision, though he crashed into it a moment later shattering it with a kiss. Her pink lips were swollen, making it easier for him to tug and suck on. As they kissed her hands roamed about, stopping to trace the scars scored in his side and back, but as she became aware of his second wind, they went to teasing him.

“Insatiable you are, my lion.” Rising, he sat back on his knees as she turned on hers to grasp the headboard. With her back arched like a cat and her heat spread for him, she gazed back at him, “Don’t hold back.”

“Eve…”

“You need this. We are going to battle. Fuck, I need it too.” They stared at each other, words not needing to be said. They were tense and stressed, and, Maker forbid, they could lose each other in the coming days. There were no guarantees; never were in battle, a fact both of them were well aware of.

Had Evelyn not lived the life of a Knight-Enchanter, their last night together might have been more tender, full of sweet moments to draw from when alone in his field tent having to keep up the ruse. But she wasn’t and didn’t want gentle caresses under the blankets. No, instead she white-knuckled the headboard needing something to overpower her nerves; something that would make them feel alive in case this was their last night together. Pushing such horrid thoughts away, he knew she was right.

“If I get too rough—”

“You won’t. Don’t spare me—”

“I won’t,” and he spanked her hard making her mewl to punctuate his point. He dipped himself into her, wanting to start slow. Her tight muscle walls were always a marvel to him. Holding her by the hips, he began to quicken his pace making her arch deeper into his thrusts.

Her loud moans echoed off the stone walls of her chamber, “Yes, harder!” At her request, he slammed into her with more than he ever had. Her arms trembled against his strength, fighting to keep her in place. Evelyn’s praise and urging not to relent had him at a euphoric yet punishing pace. Sweat began to dot his brow as he fucked her like a madman, chasing their release.

The bed shook beneath them as the tension brimmed at the surface. Evelyn's muscles were starting to flutter and her limbs her shaking as she withstood his onslaught. Her hardened stance was beginning to waver as her muscles surrendered to the explosive sensation. When she came, her melodic voice rang in his ears while she clamped down on his cock. The devastation she brought upon him was swift though and he stuttered a few more hard thrusts into her, emptying himself in her.

Cullen felt as though he was as made of air, as his muscles burning with a warm numbness. After pulling out soaked in cum, Evelyn collapsed with a moan on her stomach and he fell in beside her. “Maker, are you alright?”

A bright lazy smile spread on her face as she turned towards him, “Yeah, you?” Her breathy response had him mirroring her.

“Yeah,” he stretched his arms over his head, listening to their panting for a few minutes.

When their bodies had recovered slightly, making several jokes about not being able to feel their limbs, they rolled to embrace each other. Their foreheads rested together as they pulled themselves as close as humanly possible. Even as amazing as he felt, the battle ahead still loomed over them.

“Eve,” she hummed and gazed up at him, her lively brown eyes like a comforting hearth, “I need you to know that I love you.”

“I already know that, you silly man.”

“No, I mean, I need you to know it with every fiber of your being and promise me, you’ll come back to me.”

She cupped his face, “Nothing will stop me from it. You made us a future!” Sealing her vow with a kiss, she added, “I love you, Cullen Stanton Rutherford. I will always come back to you so long as you’re always waiting for me.”

“Always. Though you’ll be the one waiting for me once you get to Orlais. I promise I will not keep you waiting long, not like what happened in the Emprise du Lion.” The thought made him grip her tighter remembering the state he found her in.

“We made a promise to do everything together, remember? Ancient Tevinter Magister arse-kickings and all.” They smiled, and he took comfort in her confidence.

Through the rest of the night, Cullen couldn’t help hoping that this could be it; the final battle. A little over a year they had been fighting Corypheus, yet this time felt as if it had a touch of destiny to it. Something was stirring, he felt it in his gut. It was all or nothing; there was no room for error.

One thing that was certain, and that was if this was indeed it, the first chance he got he was going to get down on one knee and seal their future. Together.

Notes:

Hi all!

I want to put the offer out there that if there is any part of this story that you wished was longer, from another POV, etc. let me know! I'd love to hear if your favorite part was lacking something, chances are you aren't the only one. I have been going back and editing and adding, so while I do this (and have my own wishlist of things to expand/fix), I'd be glad to add your suggestions.

Thanks for reading and supporting the story!

Love and hugs,
Munklington

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of The Phoenix Chronicles