The brothers looked at each other with identical weary expressions, Bran then asking, "The Phoenix is a member of our Hold. You said she's your sister?" The resemblance was uncanny, and Cullen remembered her speaking of a brother close to her in age that often had been mistaken as a twin.

"Lord Owayne Maxwell Trevelyan, at your service," he bent with a slight bow. "Evie is my younger sister and I would very much like to see her," his face took on a sincerity mixed with relief at the news that he had at last found his sibling. Looking between the two Rutherfords, he sheathed his two short swords on his back. The man was dirty, having looked like he had indeed searched the Frostback Basin for months. It was a wonder he made it all this way on his own…

Cullen's brow drew down, "Are there more of you out there?"

"No, I couldn't chance it, not when the Chantry hunts her." His eyes darted around to the brush around them cautiously, "To be honest, something has been following me since I passed through the mountains. I'm not sure…" With a roar, Kitsa strolled out towards the men. The Lowlander drew his swords but was quickly chastised by the others to sheath them.

"It seems you had help reaching us, as your sister had," Cullen held out his hand as the large golden and red lion pushed up into his palm. "Kitsa kept the beast of the Basin at bay for you. She likely directed you as well. You owe her your thanks."

Owayne gapped at the lioness who licked her lips feeling proud of herself, "I-I-I, um, thank you, Kitsa. Though you scared the shit out of me last night! Maker, I nearly soiled myself when I heard what must've been you and that wolf fighting!"

The Thane's eyes narrowed as a scowl overtook him. He looked their Hold Beast over for injuries, and sure enough, she had the jaw of a large Dire Wolf imprinted on her back leg. "Come with us. You too Kitsa, so Dhara can tend to your wound." Many thoughts ran through his mind. The first was that Wolf-Fang's beast had encroached on Kitsa's territory - Redhold's territory. Was it looking for the other Trevelyan? What did his coming mean? He and Evelyn had just come into a good place in their relationship, and surely the brother's appearance would stir up feelings of homesickness in her causing conflicting emotions. The knotting ceremony was a week away, things had finally fallen into place, and now this…

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your names?" Cullen noted the same accent and intonation of his speech shared by his sister. It almost made him feel as if he knew the man already.

"I'm Branson and this is my brother Cullen, the Thane of Redhold." With Bran watching the Lowlander, Cullen walked on ahead ignoring them, lost in his troubled thoughts. His stomach rolled uneasily as a nauseous look settled on his face.

"A Thane, is that like a Lord or Bann here?" No response. "Evie was the student of history, not me." He had the same smooth way of talking as her as well.

Bran, probably expecting him to chime in, decided to answer, "He is our leader, yes."

"I see. Thank you, Thane, for saving my life and I suppose for taking my sister in. She wrote to our father of your kindness."

"You're welcome," he grumbled eyeing the man over his shoulder with a hint of gloom.

Walking through the gates, he spotted Ros in her olive-green embroidered dress inspecting the dwarven merchant's latest bolts of fabric, "Ros, where is Evelyn?" Kitsa didn't stop but continued on to her den within the Hold where Dhara would eventually find her.

She eyed the stranger just behind him with curiosity until it hit her, clearly seeing the familial similarities as her eyes widened, "She's... at home. Who's this?" Flicking her long half-pulled-up locks over her shoulder, she looked pointedly around her brother.

With a bow and that charming Trevelyan smile, he replied, "Owayne Trevelyan, my lady." She smirked at him amusingly and hummed looking up at Cullen before they started towards home, leaving her to her errand. No doubt she was buying more cloth for their wedding clothes.

"My sister," he said in a definitive tone and scowl that made the man straighten and wipe the smirk off his face. Leading the Lowlander in silence to his longhouse, he opened the doors stepping inside first. Sunlight streamed in through the high slits in the windows as daylight waned. Darkness had settled in the center of the room, but it was brightened by the dancing fire.

A figure sat at the table unaware of their presence as she hummed a foreign melody. "Evelyn," his tone sweetened walking to stand at the opposite end of the table.

"You're back already?" One finger painted circles in the air as the fire in the hearth danced to her direction about one of the deep-lidded oven pots. Her silhouette was cast in the soft orange glow as she flipped the page still unaware of her relation in the room. She was enthralled reading a book which blocked the view of her face. He had granted her an allowance when she asked to buy some things from the merchants to make the house feel more like a home. He owned very few books, but she was quickly filling the shelf, buying and requesting titles from the dwarven peddlers. As Thane, a tribute was paid by his people to him quarterly. It could be in the form of coin for trading with the wandering merchants or goods of various kinds. Having no family of his own, it was more than enough for him to live comfortably with his two younger siblings, even if they both had their own ways of earning income. Evelyn had been making potions, but typically the Lady of the Hold was not required to work outside of her home and hearth duties.

"You have a visitor."

"Tell Dorian we aren't in Tevinter, you don't need to announce him every time he enters like some damned--" She placed the book down flat on the table, finally looking up from its pages. At the sight of her brother, her jaw went slightly slack before suddenly jumping up and bolting into his arms as the chair skittered across the floor. Torn between sobbing and squealing excitedly, she hugged him tightly. They happily exchanged greetings and she stuttered in shock at his appearance.

Assuming that they may want some privacy, he stalked quietly back towards the door. "Where are you going? You just got back," she sniffled out trying to compose herself.

"I thought I'd step out, and give you some time alone." He could see the wheels turning in Owayne's head of questions wanting to be asked. If he was indeed like his soon-to-be wife, the brother must be just as perceptive.

"I want you to stay. There's nothing that needs to be kept secret. In fact," she walked briskly to the hearth testing the contents of the pot, "dinner is ready. Are you hungry because I've prepared a Free Marches feast" She placed the pot on the edge of the fire and walked over to the two men, "Ironically," she sniffled happily, "I've made a few favorite dishes of mine from home for you to try. I had learned how to cook while traveling, though I'm not sure if I'm up to Rosalie's standards." Cullen quirked up an eyebrow in surprise, smiling all the while at her thoughtfulness. Turning to her brother, "I hope you're in the mood for a spinach tart, Owayne."

"Always," she turned back to her culinary creations spread about the hearth, but the Marcher called her attention back, "Ah, Evie, is there something you want to tell me?" She spun with a frown and Owayne inclined his head towards the large blonde Avvar, "You live with the Thane?" When she looked at him, Cullen gave a quiet snort of a laugh before starting to unlace his leather hunting armor. Flecks of the dry clay camouflage paint fell from his chest as he carelessly removed it. He turned his back, stripping off the other layers of armor placing them in the basket in the corner of the room.

"Oh, yes, I do. Cullen is my, um, well," he felt her eyes roaming about his bare back as he bent to remove his boots. "We're getting married… in a few days." Continuing to undo a knot he accidentally made pulling too tightly on his laces, he gathered from the silence behind him that there was some disbelief.

"You? You're getting married?"

At that, he stood and turned, wearing nothing other than his thick pants and partial paint, "Is that a problem?" The brother gapped slightly at him, his eyes going right to his chest. Cullen knew the effect he had on people and it was a rare occasion where he felt the need to use such an advantage, but things had been going well and he didn't want this to change them. Despite the Lowlander having no real power to do anything about it, as he had done many a time to the sister, he felt this Trevelyan needed humbling.

Evelyn, used to her intended's growling, ignored his polite threat, "Yes, I am," her tone was firm, yet sincere, without any traces of sarcasm or scolding. She sighed heavily, "Owayne, so much has happened and I will explain it all but…"

The front doors opened and in stepped Rosalie with Cassandra, and Dorian. "Look who I found! How did we forget to tell them about tonight?" Ros chirped happily, "Rylen will be along soon and Ilara and her husband will be here as soon as her mother comes to collect their boy for the night. Dhara said she had to see the Augur, and not to wait for her."

The Phoenix chuckled, "Goodness, good thing I made extra, but we may be short on seating, but that doesn't matter we'll figure it out."

Dorian walked forward into the light of the central fire, twisting his mustache, "And who is the newcomer? He's certainly not an Avvar."

"Owayne Trevelyan," he bowed slightly again, "Nice mustache."

"Thank you!" He said looking at the others accusatorily, "No one appreciates how difficult it is to do this using a hand mirror." The three women rolled their eyes.

Cullen couldn't help but chuckle, "Women don't get it, that why I just shave." He rubbed at his stubble.

"Exactly!" Dorian looked back over at his friend, "By the way, you missed a spot on your neck. It's been bothering me all day. It had me so distracted, that I nearly struck you instead of that smelly wolf who tried to stab you."

"Who tried to stab you?" Evelyn pooped up to look at him, as did the other women, seemingly now interested in what they had to say.

"Your brother had stumbled into a pack of hunters from Wolf-Fang Hold." At the news, her chocolaty eyes moved to assess her brother before returning to him, "They were poaching, I thought I was being fairly reasonable?" He directed his comment to the men, who nodded and shrugged approvingly. "Instead, they decided to attack, even knowing we had a mage with us."

Bran then entered with his head down not paying attention, "Evie, mind if I…" the rare brunette Rutherford froze looking at the crowd inhabiting his home, "Whoa, full house tonight! I better get more ale from the cellar." He began disarming the same way Cullen had causing Evelyn and Ros to shake their heads at the dropping clay paint. "Anyway, I was going to ask if I could bring a lady friend to dinner?"

"The more the merrier," she threw her hands up.

Amid the lively conversations, he spied Cassandra eyeing the elder Trevelyan. She froze frowning and moving her eyes between the two Trevelyans. When the man caught her, he reciprocated her stare, "You're not related to the Thane in any way are you?"

"No," she answered, looking between the siblings again, unsure of why he'd ask such a thing.

"Good," he perked up, "Lord Owayne Maxwell Trevelyan, it is a pleasure, my lady." Evelyn nearly choked on her drink, but coughed it down. Cullen quirked a brow up at her, but she continued to drink it laughing quietly before tilting it all the way up.

Moving to the pitcher by the far wall, he joined her. She looked up at him once she had finished her task, leaning into his ear, "My brother believes he is the Maker's gift to women." Turning simultaneously, they watched Owayne attempting to woo the unmovable force that was Cassandra. The poor woman's face contorted into such a look of constipation, that the two had to turn away to hide their laughter. He was relieved to see her spirit intact and not thinking of the Lowlands. Passing him a tankard of his own, she whispered, "Best get your seat now, this show is just starting. The poetry usually comes next."

"I should probably go put on a shirt, but you can fill me in on what I miss." She nodded, her eyes looking him over before taking both drinks over to the table as he retreated quietly away. By the time everyone dressed, swept, poured drinks, and set the table, all their guests had arrived and dug into the exotic foods from the north. Though Cullen was rather picky, having a select number of Avvar dishes he enjoyed and would happily eat for the rest of his days, Evelyn had put in a whole day of work preparing the feast, so the least he could do was try everything. With limited space Ros and Rylen doubled up on their chair, and being the good host, he and Evelyn also shared. Both women were busy serving and warming the different portions of the meal, but once all was served, she sat to eat with him.

He thought there would be some reluctance on her part, but she sat like she belonged there. Since Wintersend, he had become more comfortable in her close proximity, trying not to think too much about their tryst. He had a tight grip on such unruly feelings, but there were times she pushed the boundaries of it. They were friends, and she treated him like such helping dispel any awkwardness on his part with wit or sincerity, though they did flirt - a lot. It was almost as if she could sense when his nerves were getting the better of him, always jumping in with a joke or simply pretending, like in the case of sitting in his lap, that there was nothing wrong or out of the ordinary about it - though she did ask several times throughout the evening if her positioning was comfortable for him, wiggling her bottom on his thigh… Hakkon take him!

As she spoke about the food and her old home back in Ostwick, with the welcome assistance of her brother, she'd occasionally turn to him with a forkful for him as if he were a pup. He scowled at first, protesting that he was perfectly capable of feeding himself, but she shushed him continuing speaking to the others and giving him orders. Sometimes he'd be in the middle of a mouthful he shoveled in himself with his free hand when she'd whip around with another. Due to the sheer volume of food always occupying his mouth, he was only able to listen to the conversations happening. Peeking around her curves, he spotted Dorian who took the opportunity to tease him relentlessly, as he sat unable to defend himself without food tumbling from his mouth. He'd embellish hunting or drinking stories with Cullen doing something ludicrously out of character, and while all knew him incapable of it, he still went on to protest with his hands or a glare.

Naturally, Evelyn encouraged her fellow mage by agreeing with every foppish and silly story told, which normally wouldn't bother him as much, but tonight Owayne joined them. He wasn't sure how the meeting of kin was handled in the Lowlands, but typically the man needed to be presented as strong and capable of caring for the woman. Listening to tales of Cullen missing easy shots with his bow or clumsily tripping mid-battle did not inspire such a vision. His only saving grace was Cassandra and her inability at times to tolerate Dorian's antics. Seated beside Lord Trevelyan, she would commentate defending his reputation. He also reminded himself that he did save the man's life earlier, which hopefully was still fresh in his mind.

As they digested, bellies full to bursting, which was a nice change, compared to the last few barren springs, Evelyn leaned back on him with a victorious sigh. The flickering firelight bathed her in a warm orange glow that melded complimentarily with her skin and two-toned hair. He took in her vanilla and embrium scent that he had come to enjoy, and he felt a sense of peace feeling her relaxed breath wash over his skin. Her dark blue dress hugged her body allowing the smallest bit of her breasts to peek out on each inhale from his angle. His arms circled her tighter, prompting her to fold in closer into his embrace.

Sensing his eyes, she looked over at him studying his face before whispering, "Something on your mind?"

Confused, his eyes roamed around the room before shaking his head. When theirs met again, she flicked down quickly, and he leaned back with a sigh, "Typically, virility is a good thing in one's partner. You can hardly blame me, especially as you're the one grinding on my leg." She teasingly bit her lip. Truth be told, he wasn't even that hard, she just liked to tease him especially when they were drinking.

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His intended enjoyed drink, especially the mead they brewed. He shouldn't have been surprised, as her Lowlander counterpart Dorian preferred the mead to ale, though complained for the lack of a good red wine. Occasionally, the dwarven merchants brought an assortment of spirits, to which his friend would buy the lot. Then for the next few weeks, Dorian could be found sauced before sunset. Some of those nights, Evelyn joined him. Cullen never said anything about it, after he overheard them speaking of home and family politics one night. It seemed they consoled each other in speaking frankly of the past without having to explain Lowland culture and society to them.

"Just don't try to kiss me, I'd hate to have to slap you in front of everyone," she giggled. "And, my brother's here, he can be a bit protective and may want to hit you too."

He scoffed, "You forget that I won you, there is very little he could do to me under Avvar law."

She rolled slightly to the side, pressing her chest closer to him, "You 'won' because I surrendered. You didn't best me. Am I allowed to challenge you again?"

"Only in the sparring ring, and not for anything but bragging rights."

Her lips formed a pout, "What's the matter? You scared you're going to lose," she looked intensely at him leaning closer. Her sweet and spicy scent filled his senses, "I think you are. You got a taste," her finger traced his pectorals, "and that was me being nice, and not trying to kill you."

He raised his eyebrows, "You almost took my head off with a fireball! You mean to tell me, you purposely missed by an inch?" A slow cheeky smile revealed her charming smile, "Hakkon's breath, why do I put up with you," he said smiling back.

With dramatic flair, she leaned away letting her hands out to the side, "Well, there's this prophecy--" he bumped his leg up like he was going to throw her off, all the while keeping a hand to make sure she didn't. She laughed, grabbing hold of him to steady her. He couldn't help but feel swept up in her energy. It was a hard emotion to pin down because it was unlike anything he had before with a woman, for no one ever blatantly hounded him as she did. It was both incredibly insufferable and seemingly never-ending, but he wanted more basking in her full attention. "Arse! No, Thane Arse of Arsehold!"

"That does it," he scooped her up throwing her over his shoulder, much like after the challenge, and headed towards the front doors. She squealed, laughing and cursing all while her limbs flapped about. At this point, the whole table was laughing wondering what the two of them were up to this time. With a solid kick, the door opened with the assistance of the howling storm outside. Having grown up in this longhouse, as reliable as the rising sun, whenever it rained a large puddle formed at the base of the house's steps. For years he cursed having to jump around it and even tried to fill it, but no matter what, it seemed Korth was determined to keep it there. Now finding a purpose for the bloody thing, he popped her up into his arms smiling at her shock and realization of what was happening, and dropped her into it.

"I just washed these!" She held out the drenched dress on the sides.

"That'll teach you, Trevelyan!" He stood on their porch chuckling at her.

Her anger seemed to subside too quickly, looking up at him, "Oh yes, you sure showed me!" A sly smirk began to pull at her lips, "I do hope you have a clean pair of smalls on. Wait, do you Avvar wear smalls?" His eyes narrowed at her before looking down seeing his pant legs were on fire and burning their way up past his knees rather quickly. Evelyn splashed and cackled from her puddle as their friends cat-called after him jokingly. He pushed his way through the onlookers, sprinting for his room making it just before all was revealed - even if he indeed had clean smalls on.

With a sigh of relief, he went in search of another pair of pants. He was just lacing them up when he heard the roar of the party move back to the table. Running fingers through his hair, he realized the rain had started to make it curl. With boyish-blonde hair, the curls only made him look more so, and he typically put beeswax on a coarse brush to smooth and straighten it. A minute later while looking for the small container, the door quietly opened, but having been so attuned to its creaks and groans, few ever surprised him when they entered. He continued to rummage through his chest to find it, knowing all too well who had also come in for a change of clothes.

He stood tall and the two exchanged glares before bursting out laughing. One thing he knew about the Phoenix was that she gave as good as she got, and he couldn't fault her for that. Walking over to her chest and dropping pieces of wet clothing in her wake, she pulled clothes and moved behind the screen to change. Still not having found his beeswax, he huffed ruffling his hair.

"Something wrong?" She moved back over to him, rubbing her arms reveling in the warmth of a dry dress. Her eyes however were locked onto his hair. Trying to hide her laugh with a polite hand, she simply said, "I had no idea your hair was so curly."

"Go ahead, laugh. That's exactly why I…" he stopped, not wanting to admit aloud to styling his hair every day.

Biting her lower lip, she strolled over to her toiletries pulling out the small wooden box. "I found this and didn't even think it could've possibly been yours for…" he felt his cheeks flush as she handed it to him, "your secret is safe with me, though it does look cute like this." He rolled his eyes, popping the box open.

"I am not cute." As he went to smooth down the wayward strands, he realized she hadn't moved, "Was there something else?" He watched her sheepishly chew her lip, lingering before him, debating something in her head. Suspicious now, he narrowed his gaze, "What is it?" He half expected another trick or jest, but her eyes were locked on his. Seeking a clue as to her dilemma, he found nothing of consequence until she was toe to toe with him. Craning her neck up and pressing down on his shoulder, he watched her lips part. When she made contact with his cheek, his brow furrowed slightly at the sensation.

The warmth of her breath lingered on his skin for a moment, before she retreated slowly. "That's for saving my brother."

"Well, it was mostly Kitsa who helped keep him safe," still close, he softly spoke, "I only helped a little."

"My brother is precious to me. Even if you would've pointed in the direction of Redhold and let him find it himself, I still would've thanked you."

A roar of laughter from the other room distracted them both away from each other, remembering that they would be missed. Evelyn skittishly headed for the door but stopped at the screen to look back. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she slipped out without another word.

Cullen sat on the bed trying to figure out the enigma that was Evelyn Althea Trevelyan. She had kissed him, but it wasn't the type of kiss that she forbade. Was this a step closer to it? There had been a debate in her head right before it. Was she developing feelings for him?

Compared to their first encounter all those months ago, recently she was acting like a whole different woman. This Evelyn was warm and considerate, most of the time, not making him fight for affection or his attention. Part of him wondered if there was a duality to her as she accepted her changing circumstances. She was a wild fiery spirit, as her namesake dictated, but she had proved on occasion to be capable of compassion befitting of her sex. When their passions had bubbled over they were incredibly physical, but tonight it was almost loving.

As he combed his hair back, he couldn't help but stare at her clothing chest beside his, like an old friend returned once again. Ros' room, having been built with one occupant in mind, was too small to hold Evelyn's things and they were going to be moved eventually, so they had decided it was best to store them in his room. Opening the lid, he found Kattrin's favorite dress on the right and one of Ninne's on the left, as if left there purposely for him to compare. Furthermore, looking beyond it further to the left was Evelyn's armor, proudly resting on its stand. Kattrin had been his young sweet love, his first. He was gentle then, always worried about hurting her or whatnot when they laid together. Their love was warm and bright like a spring day, unknowing of the darkness lurking nearby in the shadows. After her death, when he married Ninne, it was no longer light, just gray and unfeeling. It wasn't her fault, and at times he made an effort to love her properly, but it was a duty, leaving him feeling guilty.

Evelyn, however, had the gift of riling him up in some manner, enough so to awaken the beast inside of him. It was never a kind invitation, it was a challenge given to make him prove himself - or was it a test to remind him of who he was? She enjoyed being physical, and so did he like they worked out the frustrations of life on the other. He could've never roughhoused with Kattrin or Ninne in such a way, having both been smaller and not battle-hardened like Evelyn. The repurposed dresses of his former wives never fit her properly. They were not long enough for her shapely legs, causing Ros to have to add several inches of fabric to the hemline. The body of them clung to her athletic form. Neither woman before her had boasted a scar, not even from the clumsiness of youth, whereas the first thing he had noticed when he met the Phoenix were the lines cutting across her face. When he had taken her that night on Wintersend, he saw more littered about her sides and back and he wondered at just how much violence she had seen to be marked so. Their texture was a contradiction to the rest of her silky skin, befitting her rank in Lowland society. After learning about her Templar abuser, he wondered whether all were from battle.

Evelyn had told him she never expected to be in these circumstances since mages from the Circles had no rights. The Spirits said she was his last chance for children, but was there something more to be had from marriage to her? Of all the men he talked and listened to about their women, not one ever mentioned them wanting to be that rough, dominated yes, but not wrestled and pinned. Perhaps, it was because she was jaded by the past, never experiencing tender love from a partner. He sighed thinking guiltily and longingly about Kattrin. Part of his heart had died with her, no longer feeling he had it in him to delicately care for another's feelings. Cullen had always had a temper, but Kattrin tempered it. He could never get mad at her, not that she ever did much to anger him. She had the patience of The Lady, staying by his side through the deaths of his parents, carefully helping him navigate troubled waters.

The Thane's brow knitted together again, looking to the fireplace. Whereas Kattrin was a comforting, soothing presence, with Evelyn he felt he needed fewer words having had shared experiences. After growing up with his first love and all the years he spent with her, why did it feel that speaking with a woman he only knew for a few months was so much easier? What were the gods toying at?

Evelyn had seen great violence and had killed enemies herself, which was something he had tried to shield his women from. Kat was a tailor, who taught Ros everything she knew, and Ninne was a skilled weaver from another hold. Ninne had gone on hunts with him a few times, but Kat was never interested. Avvar women could indeed become hunters or warriors, but most chose domestic skills like childrearing, healing, farming, husbandry, dying, butchering, brewing, and other vital jobs to keep the hold clan fed, clothed, and cared for. Though the men did those tasks as well, most were hunters and warriors, even if they only picked up a blade in defense of the Hold when called upon. That was his role after all - as Thane, a brother and a husband - the protector. Evelyn didn't need protecting though, he knew that firsthand, at least when she wasn't in over her head caught in some scheme drained of her magic. It was different, to say the least, to have his woman accompany him to the training grounds every morning to practice. She was a weapon with the wings of The Lady, one that was tempered by the Templars for their bidding, but having been unleashed by Hakkon, only the gods know her potential.

A thought suddenly popped into his head, and he stood purposely walking to the doors to rejoin the group. When he appeared before him, they gave him some cheers for the good show. Shaking his head, he stopped before his seat at the head of the table, gazing upon Evelyn with a sigh. The mage had her feet propped up on the table reclining comfortably with a sly smile. Her defined left shoulder poked up out of the dress, displaying the knick on her collarbone.

That smile got him every time, and his annoyance turned to a smile as he pushed her feet off the table, "Get." She stood, going to fetch the pitcher of ale, topping off drinks as she returned to him. Pouring them more, he nodded his head signaling for her to sit.

"Need something?"

"No, I wanted to ask you something," she took his offered hand and sat. "Would you like to go hunting with me?" Hunting was a rite of passage for children usually. Every Avvar had at one time or another gone hunting and learned the basics of it for survival.

"You mean go out with the hunting party?"

"No, I mean with me -- just me." The impact of those words seemed to hit her, but she didn't hide the emotions playing out on her face. Cullen kept his expression sincere, allowing her to make up her mind. There was a shocked astonishment that brightened to pleasantly surprised.

With a slight tilt of her head, she pushed a stray lock behind her ear in the same shy manner as before, "I… would."

"I'll make the arrangements." Pleased, but not wanting to look it, he took a sip of his drink.

"May I also ask you something?" He looked up finishing his sip, making a sound of affirmation. "I would like to travel to the Eye of the Lady to give thanks for delivering my father's letter to me. May I go?"

"Why don't we go together when we go hunting? There is a nice hunting spot near there. U-unless, you were planning to go with someone else?"

"No, I think that's perfect!" Her smile was back, "I better practice with a bow tomorrow, haven't shot one for some time." She took a sip of her drink as he watched her lips.

"Typically, one's aim is better sober," he chuckled, and she stopped mid-sip to eye him. Keeping her eyes trained on him, she gulped the rest of the drink down in one go. He watched her lashes flutter the way they do when she's about to give him hell.

"Dorian, Owayne, you hear this shit?" The other conversations around them stopped to listen as she raised her voice. "Cullen thinks come dawn, I won't be able to shoot a bow because I'll be too hungover."

Owayne scoffed, "I think one shoots better drunk, less calculating more doing."

"I have to agree, with Evie's better-looking half. Everything is better done drunk, in my experience," Dorian added, as Owayne lifted his mug to him in cheers.

"I like these Avvar," Owayne remarked with a cheeky grin.

"Dorian's a Vint, dear brother. A convert as I will be."

"Someone needed to bring some class to the wilds. Thought I was the perfect candidate to do so. Your sister has been so fortunate to have chosen Redhold over the others."

"As if it was a choice," came a low response from the woman in his lap. He sighed, knowing this was exactly what the appearance of her kin would dredge up. He couldn't help but deflate, listening to them absently. He had thought she was happy having accepted the outcome of the challenge, or at least if she wasn't it was kept to herself, but it seemed there was still a part of her that still resisted the change in her life.

The rest of the evening passed and it was time for their friends to retire for the night. Ros had laid out a bedroll on the floor for Owayne and everyone was headed to their rooms - almost everyone.

As he reached his doors, a hand grasped his, "Did you want company tonight?" Taken by surprise, he took in her hungry eyes. He blinked, almost believing for a moment he had drank too much at the question asked of him. Her cheeks were pink, though he wasn't sure if she was blushing at the question or was flushed from drink, but concluded it was the latter by the stare he was receiving.

"No, I don't think so," the melancholy of her earlier comment had tainted his mood. She blinked a few times before her face bore a look of shame. Her once lustful eyes widened as if coming to her senses at the rejection.

"Right. I, um, don't know what I was thinking," she smiled awkwardly embarrassed.

In an attempt to save her feelings, he reasoned, "You'd be breaking your declaration of not sharing a bed until of wedding. We take oath seriously."

"Yes, your right. Silly me. Goodnight then."

"Goodnight," he replied softly as she turned from him. He watched her make it to the hall, flexing a hand the whole way. Her shoulders were rigid and her head bobbed as if she was chastising herself.

Closing himself in his room he debated if he had said the right thing all because his ego couldn't take one small comment. Why was he suddenly so sensitive to it? He rubbed the back of his neck heading towards the bed, sitting on it with a huff. He could hear Rylen and Dorian in his mind hounding him for the mistake, but was it truly? Just when he thought he was starting to figure her out.

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When the Thane emerged early the next morning from his room he was met by only Rosalie. "Where is everyone?" He asked while pulling his chair out to sit.

"Well, Bran is still asleep, no doubt hungover, and Evie is giving her brother the tour of the Hold. It seems the Trevelyans can indeed drink like the fish and rise early unbothered by it." He hummed, not thinking much of it, but his sister eyed him suspiciously. "Did… something happen last night? Evie was grumbling to herself before bed last night. Since you're the only person who causes her grief, I'm assuming you did something."

"I didn't do anything," he shrugged, but she stared hard at him, "I didn’t do anything." He repeated with emphasis on the words so she'd catch the double meaning.

Catching it, she turned back to her meal preparation, "Oh, Cullen."

"Spare me your criticism, Ros." He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Did she say she'd be back in time for training?"

The petite blonde smacked the cakes down on the cutting board with some force, "No, she didn't. And if I were you, I wouldn't hold your breath. If you were going to piss her off, maybe you should've just let her punch you. Maybe besides knocking some sense into you, it would've helped in another way. I hear you're into that kind of thing now."

He straightened in his seat flabbergasted, "Enough! I'm not discussing this with my sister."

"Discussing what?" Right on cue, Rylen stepped through the door. He kissed Ros on the cheek before joining his friend at the table. His face soured the more he appraised his looks, "Oh, I know that face. What happened now?" Rosalie dropped the wooden plate down with a thwack before heading back to her room. Cullen groaned wiping a hand down his face. Watching the scene with interest, he added, "Right, well, best spill it or I'll hear it from 'er later."

He looked over to the Master of the Hunt as if in great pain, "I may have insulted Evelyn last night." Rylen raised his eyebrow and nodded his head for him to continue, "She asked if I wanted 'company' last night and I said no."

He stuttered and started before, finally just asking, "By Hakkon's balls, why man?!"

"She told me we were not to share a bed until we were wed!"

"Ye do realize she could've just wanted to spend more time with ye?"

He looked stupidly back at him having never even considered if that's what she meant. "No, no, she had that look in her eyes…"

"You two flirt constantly, how do ye even know?"

"I just… assumed, ugh." He felt like the biggest arse, now unsure of her true intention. By this time Ros rejoined them, the subject was dropped as the Thane receded into his brooding thoughts. They were to be wed in four days. Four. Shoving food into his mouth, he stood and flew out the door, he knew what he had to do.

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"I have to say, sis, this place is beautiful."

"It is but don't let it fool you, it's more deadly than pretty. The same goes for the people." As they were heading back to the longhouse to break the fast after a brief tour, Redhold's residents began to awaken. The roosters called back and forth and smoke was beginning to billow out of the houses in the village.

"So, are you going to tell me why you're marrying a man you just met? I know you're not that naïve."

"That prophecy I just told you of has made me a target for the other Holds. Not to worry you, but I've been captured, silenced until I blacked out, stabbed, and kidnapped a few times already." She left out the part about the dozen of men who sought to rape her - it was for the best.

Owayne stopped dead in his tracks, raising his voice, "What?!" He spat, "That's not supposed to worry me?!" He looked beside himself, "You seemed to have left that out of your letters to father!" She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to a hip as he went on, "Andraste's tits, father would've sent the whole company of Rangers had he known!"

"If you're finished, may I point out that I am intact before you."

"And all this is why you're marrying him?"

"Partially. Cullen has been the only one who has not tried to harm me in his pursuit to help the prophecy along. If it weren't for him… well, let's just say death would've been preferable compared to what the others had planned for me." Evelyn had never seen such deep concern and fear cross his features. "I'm marrying him for protection."

He ran his hand through his brown hair a few times, taking a deep breath, "So, you don't love him?"

"I care for him as a friend, but no, it's not love just necessity." Her thoughts drifted to the offer she had made last night. If she was honest, she didn’t know what exactly she was putting on the table, but at the very least she thought perhaps he'd want to sit by the fire and talk - alone. There always seemed to be people around them, due to him having to constantly be on duty. Having had a bit too much to drink, she knew she was muttering as she dressed for bed, but her temper seemed to have gotten the better of her. Hopefully, Rosalie hadn't heard what she had said…

"Yes, Evie, but you are aware of what marriage entails, don't you?"

She huffed rolling her eyes, "I am well aware, just because I was in a Circle most of my life doesn't mean I'm that sheltered. You know that," she gave him a knowing look. "Look, I can't go home without being made tranquil or executed wrongfully. The Templars who came to hunt me were instructed to capture me dead or alive. They would've killed me if not for Cullen. I've fought this prophecy, and I'm tired of it. I just want peace, and he can give me that. Besides, Avvar marriages aren't forever. I could be bound to him for a few years then I'm a free woman again."

Owayne inhaled through his teeth, "I'm not here to tell you what to do, having just heard all this." He grasped her shoulders lowering his gaze to hers, "I came to make sure you were safe, and you're not. So, whatever you need, I'm here… so long as it's alright with the Thane, I suppose."

She couldn't help the tears that blurred her vision, falling into his embrace. "Thank you, I've missed you so much. There is one thing I can think of."

"Name it."

She pushed away, "Will you walk me down the aisle in a few days?"

The tension fled his countenance, relaxing into a soft loving smile, "Of course, little sis." They hugged again. She was still in disbelief that he was actually here, for he looked so out of place as she must've looked when she first arrived. Owayne's presence had brought with him a piece of home that was sorely needed. By Korth, she was getting married! A mage!

Sighing into his shoulder her words were muffled, "We better write to father telling him you're here." He nodded atop her head. "He may want to know about the wed--"

"Evelyn!" They parted watching the large blonde Thane approach at a brisk pace. Her mind scrambled as to how she was going to play off her blunder from last night, but nothing came to mind. "Evelyn, may I speak with you," he was slightly out of breath, flicking a gaze to her brother, "alone."

"O-of course," she directed Owayne back to their home to get a head start on breakfast. Alone, her jaw flexed as a stretch of silence settled between them. Wanting to just get it over with, she asked what he wanted.

"I wanted to… apologize for last night. I was being stubborn."

That was not what she expected he'd say, "What do you mean?"

"I think I… misunderstood your intention."

"Oh, well truth be told I'm not sure what I intended either, I just… wanted to spend more time with you, I suppose. I really enjoyed myself last night." She wanted to smack herself, since when did she become a total sap?

"I realize that now, and I'm sorry. I'm just so used to being alone."

The Phoenix smiled sincerely up at him, "Thank you for coming to talk to me about it, I, um, did you eat?" She didn't want the conversation to turn awkward. She looked up to see a piece of Ros' breakfast cake on his chin though he had answered 'no.' Picking it off of him, inspecting it she said, "You sure?" He shrugged and the two walked closely back to the house bumping shoulders the whole way. Evelyn sighed heavily, "Maybe you and I will get this right one day."

He looked at her with some amusement, "Which do you think is harder, that or fulfilling the prophecy?" She couldn't help but laugh in response, but secretly she thought it might just be the former.