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.
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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."
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"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."
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"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.
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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.
"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?"
She 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 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, 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.
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. "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 back down to massage her thighs. 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 them, 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. Dipping a finger into her, 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 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 in pursuing 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 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 growing erection, he involuntarily bucked up into her hand. She leaned back to kiss him breaking their rhythm occasionally to whisper his name 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. 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 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 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 closed his eyes as the hot breath from her pants made him tingle as he awaited what evidently was coming next. 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. 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 filling her mouth with his spend. 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. With a deep breath through heavy eyelids, she smiled lazily at him. 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 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 was 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 happy 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. In a childish manner, 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 is 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 pretend 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 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 a 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.
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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 of 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.