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.
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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.