Having left him only two days after returning to Skyhold from Halamshiral, Ryker stewed after emerging from the Herald's Rest. Sitting on a bench against the building in a fog of drink, he watched as some of the Inquisition's mages train in the yard as he had done back in Ostwick. It reminded him of the fateful day he first encountered the lovely Evelyn Trevelyan, forever changing his life. He hadn't been drunk then, as he was now, which allowed him to burn into memory every sinful detail of the beautiful abomination that would forever haunt him.
He remembered thinking how he could've missed such a creature roaming the halls of the tower, never having seen her before. Up until then, he had eyes for only the pure - Templar women - having never tasted the forbidden fruits of his charges. They were ugly, tainted by their magic and he believed to touch one would condemn him to the Void for eternity. As he watched this mage move and dance with fire before him something in his world shifted.
It may have been the look and tone of respect she gave to her Templar comrades or the way she responded quickly to their every instruction, but there he stood completely enraptured by a mage. She was physically resplendent, yet danger lurked beneath her bewitching façade. She was sin incarnate, a desire demon in human form luring him like a siren to his doom. When her session in the training yard was over, he took a chance as she was leaving and complimented her performance, to which her light brown eyes tried to meet his through the shadow of his helmet. Time slowed and his heart beat faster than it ever had before basking in her attention. She simply nodded and smiled gratefully before passing through the door back to the tower.
From that day on, he found out everything he could about her; her name, her background, what she was training to be, who her friends were, what she liked, her schedule, where her quarters were located - everything. He had friends in the Circle of Ostwick, many of whom owed him favors. He had done their dirty work, keeping watch for officers when needed, providing an alibi and he even held some whore mage down for a friend once as he fucked her. It was a lesson he quickly learned would benefit him and once he finally found something worth cashing in those accrued favors for, nothing would stop him from making her his.
Eventually, he found out everything possible about her, even going so far as standing watch outside her room. All the while, she had no idea who it was complimenting her, watching her. He had such plans for her and when he finally was able to get on a mission outside of the Circle with her, he knew this was his chance to finally confront her about his feelings. However, when he finally did one night after a successful mission, she rejected him with such insolence his rage took hold of him. After everything he had sacrificed for her, she dared to spurn him. His eagerness cost him dearly, as did underestimating the bitch who ruled his heart. He hated her for it. The tenderness which he once held for her turned into a need to help her repent for her wickedness.
Yet, here he sat in a fortress in which she owned, surrounded by people who served her. The nerve of this mage to believe she had any authority over the Maker's true and pure children. It was up to him to teach the abomination her place, to make her do penance for her sins so she could walk in His light. Whatever these members of the Inquisition had told her lied, she was no prophet of Andraste, holding her up as a puppet for their political gains, and even worse she had fallen for one. Clearly, Knight-Commander Rutherford saw what he saw and was using her for his own gains, why else would anyone want her? To be subject to her depravity, when he was the only one who truly loved her.
Evelyn's arrogance towards him had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he would have his revenge. Even before he came to Skyhold he had known she would push him to punish her, so he came prepared. Watching the mages train, one caught his eye. She was young, reminding him of the eighteen-year-old Trevelyan of his past - respectful, eager, wanting. Having no helmet and looking the fine lord that he was, he made eyes at her, and the slut she was enjoyed it. She was shy at first but grew bold with every tilt of his head, and smile, even as he grabbed himself while she watched biting her plump lower lip. It was too easy, and she would be perfect in helping him exact revenge on his beloved fiancée upon her return. Ice never did mix with fire.
----------------------------------------
The three weeks spent in the Western Approach flew by as she and her team worked to cross the items off of Ser Hawthorne's long list. It had been a much-needed break from the drama awaiting her at Skyhold, no doubt ready to suck her in like the Void. The deep resonance of the horn alerted everyone to her triumphant return and she and her team were greeted fervently by her people. Stepping off of Nelson and handing his reigns to a groom, she stretched and acknowledged her soldiers with a wave and smile. Somehow Evelyn had managed to bring half the desert back in her boots and armor. The metal was warped from being sandblasted and the shine had been sanded off the leather. Master Harriet had been in the courtyard to watch as she plunked her helmet off on the ground. She shrugged, and he trudged off towards the Underforge nodding, knowing it wouldn't be long until she'd be waltzing through his door to test his skill with a forge once again.
"I'm parched. Three weeks without a drop of alcohol has taken its toll. Care to join me, little sis?"
"Gladly."
"No greeting for your poor worried mother?" The two Trevelyans turned with pained looks as their mother held her arms out in a pitiful display of motherly affection. She hugged them both simultaneously as they craned their necks down awkwardly for her. Pushing them back to arm's length, Lady Bann Trevelyan had already come up with an agenda for her children, "Evelyn dear, you must go see Lord Armand immediately. The poor man has been neglected for long enough." She lowered her voice, nudging her coyly, "I don't care what you do, just give him some attention. He's been making eyes at the help."
She rolled her eyes, "I won't be doing anything with him, mother. You do realize that I could die at any time, right? From the mark, Venatori, Corypheus… maybe even Cassandra after making her suffer three weeks with Owayne." Pulling off her helm, the dusty Seeker rolled her eyes with a grunt, but as she passed, she and Owayne shared an odd stare. The youngest Trevelyan eyed her brother with suspicion, grumbling over to him, "Or maybe not?"
Having ignored most of what Evelyn said, as usual, her mother continued, "Must you talk like that? Look at what this appointment is doing to you! Your skin is tan and scarred, it used to be so even and youthful. I'm sure even your father would be aggrieved to see you like this, and your sisters would hardly recognize you!"
"You do know I'm almost thirty? I'm no child."
"Trust me, it shows." Evelyn retracted back insulted. "Now, in an effort to help, Lord Armand and I took a trip into the boutiques of Val Royeaux and he bought you several beautiful and expensive dresses, but now I fear you will look like a barbarian in them in your state!"
Seeing a glowing pulsing rising out of the collar of her armor, Owayne quickly hooked his sister's arm and led her away, "A pleasure seeing you as always, mother! She'll be more grateful for such gifts after a drink!"
Their mother made a disgusted huff, "So much like your father. Don't be long! The dinner bell will be sounding soon and I expect to see you in a dress!"
Away from everyone as she, Owayne, Bull, and Cassandra ascended the stairs to the Upper Courtyard towards the Herald's Rest, she mumbled to him, "I'm gonna fucking walk off the ramparts, you watch."
"Nah, you just need a drink. A little whiskey and you'll put on that dress and suck it up for one evening. How bad could it be?"
"Pff, how bad could it be? It's our mother and Lord Armand we're talking about."
"You barely say a word about the man the whole trip, yet when you do, you speak as if he's an old acquaintance. Is there something you're not telling me?"
"N-no, I only meant men like Armand are predictable." The small party found their usual reserved table in the back and drinks were immediately brought to them. As she gulped it down, she was curious as to why Cassandra had joined them, since she never had before. Typically, she went off to her quarters skipping the drinks, as Hawke and Stroud had done this time seemingly. Placing her cup down with a frown, she stared at the raven-haired warrior who seemed to know what was on her mind, "It's nice to have you with us this time, is there a particular reason?"
Unnerved slightly, the Seeker tried to regain her usual stoic demeanor, "I-- no, I simply wanted a drink. Is that such an odd thing?"
Evelyn hummed, tilting her head back and forth, "I suppose not. What do you think, Bull?"
Bull's smirk and eye lowered as if waiting to be asked, "I think--"
"Why is everyone being so critical of a woman just wanting a drink, for fuck's sake. Just leave her be Bull, or I'll tell my sister what you did with that cask of Chasind wine that apparently went missing."
The Qunari's eye flitted between the two Trevelyans, "I think I'll stay out of this one, boss." The Inquisitor pinched the bridge of her nose grumbling, "Did you pick that tick up from all the time you've spent with Cullen?"
"No!" She said more defensively than she wished. Cassandra hid a small smile behind her next sip, as Owayne now looked back and forth between them. It had been a long three weeks and she had forgotten about her sibling's perception as he scrutinized and asked about everything, claiming he was just trying to be a good big brother. The clang of the dinner bell sounded through the keep, saving her from a potentially awkward conversation. Especially when Owayne had insisted since the day he arrived in Haven that something was brewing between her and the Commander. Though the chime saved her for the moment, she banged her head down on the table with a drawn-out groan having been condemned to another form of torture. Shamelessly, she grabbed the nearly empty bottle off the table and carried it back to her quarters, uncaring of the looks she received from Skyhold's bystanders.
Placing the empty bottle down on a table in her quarters, she began discarding her beaten armor when she was startled by dark showy silhouettes standing in the corner of her room. There were five black dresses placed on dress forms. Black. She would've said the color choice was appropriate for her to be buried in as both her mother and Ryker were pushing her to an early grave, but they were completely inappropriate for a corpse, or anyone living for that matter. If the neckline didn't plunge to the waist or show the entirety of her chest, the back was completely missing down to her arse. Gapping at them, trying to pick one to wear was worse than getting tail-swatted by that High Dragon. She wondered what would happen if she torched all of them, but while it was a satisfying fantasy, she knew for the sake of Ilara one would have to be worn. Calling in her ladies, they quickly readied her as the second dinner bell rang. She would be late, but she was the Inquisitor; in Skyhold, time waited on her.
"Lady Inquisitor, would you like powder for…" she pointed to the ghastly scar on her left shoulder and then to the bruise from the dragon. It was a deep blotchy purple and brown that divided the pale expanse of her mid-back.
"No, thank you," the elven woman looked dubiously up at her. "I'm not ashamed of it, but I thank you for your concern." They shared a smile and the ladies filed out leaving her alone before the tall looking glass. From the front, it was a modest dress that hung slightly off the shoulders, but turning revealed the entirety of her back. The dress was hanging on to her by its tight long velvety sleeves as it had no straps or fabric whatsoever in the back. It was fitted to expose the length down to her dimples, draping on the curve of her bottom. In an attempt to cover anything she could, she had them only put half of her hair up, hoping its length would cover a portion of her back. She could also stand and sit with her back away from everyone so no one could see the sheer volume of skin she was boasting.
Making her way down the staircase to the door, she paused before facing whomever it was joining them at the table. While dinner in Skyhold had always been dressier than other meals, she never appeared in anything more than her green velveteen dress. Now, it seems that was about to change. At least Josephine would enjoy Skyhold dinners becoming a formal affair.
With her stomach protesting against the delay, having been on a horse most of the day, she smoothed down her dress and reminded herself to go straight to her seat. The latch to the door was obnoxiously loud, alerting everyone to her arrival. Seated at their usual long table - the first on the right out of her door - were most of her companions, advisors, her two family members, and the esteemed Lord Armand.
Rising from their seats, taking their cue from Lady Bann Trevelyan and Lord Armand, she quickly walked to her seat, "For Andraste's sake, sit down, all of you!" She motioned with her hands annoyed that they all went along with the two Marchers.
"Looking good, sis," Owayne smiled stupidly at her. Cassandra, surprisingly seated next to him, smacked him, though it wasn't as discreet as she probably hoped for.
"Shut it, Owayne," she grumbled trying to get comfortable in her chair, attempting to evade eye contact with everyone - especially one man in particular, seated as far away from her as possible. As a cold mountain draft crept up her back, it chilled her to the bone, having gotten used to the arid climate to the west. Cupping her hands, a small flame appeared that she stoked and snaked about her hands and fingers in an attempt to warm them.
"Evelyn dear, no magic at the table." A deadpan stare at her mother, followed by a sudden clap of her hands, snuffing the flames made the aging matron jump. "Really, Evelyn! It's a wonder how these people put up with you!"
"The same can be said of you," she mumbled under her breath, hiding her mouth with her wine glass. Unfortunately, the two people she couldn't stand the most sat to either side of her, she being at the head of the table. Next to her mother was the Ambassador and Leliana, and next to Ryker was her brother. At the far end of the table were Cassandra, Varric, Ilara, Leliana, Dorian, and Cullen. At this rate, she would rather sit at the other end of the table and allow Cullen to just spitefully stare at her all night, though he seemed content with ignoring her existence at present. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying the show or awkwardly sipping their wine.
"Lord Armand was telling us of his trip to the Val Royeaux boutiques, we are looking forward to seeing what he bought you," Josephine and Leliana nodded along with polite smiles. Ryker gave her a pointed look no one could see, reminding her of her obligation to pretend she was enjoying their engagement.
"It was very kind of him to think of me, though I fear there will be little occasion for me to wear such fine pieces here at home."
"Nonsense," he chimed in, "dinner is enough of a reason. Do you not think the other nobles may like a more formal atmosphere? The Lady Ambassador is working so hard to create a culture here in the mountains, perhaps seeing you in more attire fitting your station would help her cause?" Josie beamed politely, ever the gracious host and naïve to his true purpose.
She bit the inside of her lip trying not to snarl, "How insightful, I will bear it in mind, my lord."
"We never did get a proper look at your dress, Inquisitor. Would you do us the honors?" Halfway through a large sip of wine, she parted with the glass to give him a dead stare. There were a few agreements from the others, but it was the far end of the table to which her gaze flickered to briefly. Cullen was distracted by something in the opposite direction, but Ilara was giving her a sour face indicating the current mood down there.
"Dinner is about to be served, surely--" Ryker eyes intensified, as he white-knuckled a knife, "very well." She stood, the whole time listening to her mother hound her about her posture. She smoothed down her dress again, flipping all of her hair back over her shoulders and turning slightly from side to side before going to sit again.
"Do a full turn for us, dear," she may not be able to exhibit her annoyance at Ryker, but she could at her mother, huffing with growl.
Begrudgingly, she turned showcasing the expanse of her back. Though she was far from it, she felt naked as she felt phantom eyes roam about her form. As her long hair did its job of hiding her injuries, Lady Trevelyan stood brushing it off to the side. Her latest scar was still a shade of dark pink over top of the original tear. There were a few wincing sounds made at her grotesque bruise, which felt tight and sore as she focused on it. Her face flushed and realizing they had enough time to gawk, she flopped back down in her seat. To her dismay, her distressed eyes met with those of the Commander who quickly turned away. The first course arrived and was placed in front of everyone simultaneously, however, the brief reprieve did not stop her mother from continuing her complaining.
Lady Trevelyan huffed, "I told those servants specifically to use the power and clay I bought you. I will be having a talk with those disobedient wretches come morning!"
"No," her voice was a low growl. "I was the one who refused it. The typical response from a worried mother, as you said earlier, would be 'are you alright, dear?'" Her raptor glare burned deep into her, "My scars and bruises I bear proudly in the service of the people of Thedas. Just because you take issue with it, mother, doesn't mean others do." In an attempt to smooth Ryker's hackles, she asked his opinion on it.
"As ugly as those particular injuries are, I find no issue with them, Lady Inquisitor." Of course, he wouldn't, though he'd rather them be from his hands.
"Would you like me to…" Ilara's voice was hardly audible from the other end of the table, but Evelyn shook her head with a heartfelt smile.
"Hawke was able to mend the ribs after it happened. For as often as you're injured, you'd think you'd know some healing magic," Owayne shook his head while she shrugged over at him.
"Yes, it's a good thing he was there, with the updates your mother and I received on your condition, one would think you'd rather die than marry me." Lady Trevelyan laughed obnoxiously along with Lord Armand, though his was a laugh with an edge to it. An uneasy silence settled over the table as if everyone, was too afraid to talk, including Varric who was jotting down something on a piece of parchment, giving her a wink once he finished. She wondered if it was a new bet or if he was planning to write a comedy based on her family.
After some silence as the first course was cleared, and the second placed, conversation began up again. "Commander," at hearing her mother say his title, Evelyn immediately perked up, looking at him with dread.
"Yes, ma'am." He continued eating eyeing both the Trevelyan women.
"My eldest son, Lord Hector just raved about your talents. So, why is it my daughter comes back more beaten and battered than the last? Is it not your job to see to her protection?" Owayne immediately reacted with a huff and roll of his eyes. Cullen froze for a second, putting down his fork and wiping his mouth with his linen to answer, but the Inquisitor was on her like lightning.
She held a hand out to Cullen, stopping him from troubling himself any further, "Andraste preserve me, mother! It's not the Commander's fault! Do you think he ordered me to attack the High Dragon? No! In fact, most of the time he's telling me not to do something so reckless and I simply don't listen!" Beside herself at her mother's brazen attack, she sat back slumping in her seat shaking her head.
As Lord Armand went to speak, he kicked her shin hard in warning and jealousy, "I not sure why you're so upset with your mother, my lady, she simply is concerned for your safety," his false concern may have fooled the others, but she knew what game he was playing. He'd play the middle and pit her mother against Cullen. "Surely, something more could be done?"
"Nothing will be done, because there is nothing that isn't being done already to ensure my safety."
"If I may address Lady Trevelyan's concerns, Inquisitor," came a commanding voice from the opposite end of the table. "Ma'am, I assure you everything within conventional means to protect your daughter is being done. But we do not face a conventional enemy. Our enemy has the ability to tear open the veil, destroying all life as we know it. I could lead all the armies of Thedas against Corypheus and I would never defeat him without the Inquisitor. Her training and experience as a Knight-Enchanter have served her well, and while I do counsel caution when action is expected, she is more than capable of felling her enemies. I have and will endeavor to provide her with whatever support she needs, as I’m sure everyone at this table will as well.” There were nods of agreement all around.
“She has my eyes,” Leliana added.
“And my voice.” Josephine smiled at her. Suddenly, she felt unworthy of her friends as guilt welled up in her.
She squeaked out a thank you to them, as it had definitively ended her mother’s questioning, finally allowing them all to resume eating. While pouring gravy into the center of her plate, her mind drifted to her time in South Reach and she absently locked eyes with the Commander. He stopped chewing, eyeing what she was doing, but she was too far away in her memories to notice. "Evelyn!" The shrill of her mother's voice could call her back from the most remote places of the Fade, "You've all but drowned the poor bird!" She glanced over to Armand, "She'd done this since she was little. The girl has a talent for making the most seasoned cook cry." Her gaze flicked up again to Cullen, who had lost himself in the same memory it seemed. Coming to, he almost smiled at her, but another hard kick to her shin from her right made her break away from him regrettably. If this was how every night was to carry on, she wanted no part of it.
Unfortunately, the following four nights had gone similar to the first, in which everyone, not just herself, became weary of. For the sake of her friends, she tried to be as patient as possible, especially with her mother, but she could only endure it for so long. Varric and the others began taking bets on how long she'd last, and while it was laughable for them, for Evelyn it was mentally straining and exhausting.
Soon, her friends began sitting somewhere else and the nobility moved into their places. Even her brother had abandoned her to suffer their endless prattling. Her mother finally broke her down and she allowed the servants to hide her offending scars and paint her face, though she only allowed concealing powder for her scars, lip stain, and charcoal for her eyes. She supposed the cosmetics did wonders for however dead she felt inside, those who now surrounded her seemed to think otherwise.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
----------------------------------------
The next day the whole team met in the War Room to discuss their time in the Western Approach and their newest adversary, Lord Livius Erimond. Dorian in particular was outraged that it was one of his fellow countrymen orchestrating the corruption of the Grey Warden mages. At the ritual site, Erimond had been binding the Wardens to summoned demons. Once bound, they were subject to his control. With an army of demons being created to crush southern Thedas, a large-scale confrontation loomed in the near future. Orlais was still too weak after the civil war, still trying to recall its armies from the Exalted Plains to be of any help. All hope rested on the Inquisition to stop this growing army of demons from heralding in the dark future Evelyn had seen at Redcliffe.
"Are our mages in danger of such corruption?" The Commander asked the question but didn't look up from moving troops about the map.
"No, Erimond had them cast a spell. It was only afterward that he used his magic to bind them. He was however able to control my mark as Corypheus had. Who knows how many more know how to do it."
"Control how?" Leliana crossed her arms.
"At Haven, Corypheus had tried to remove the anchor and the magic he used was incredibly painful. Erimond certainly isn't as strong as his master, but he was still able to make my hand feel heavy. So heavy, that I couldn't lift it. I went straight on the ground, but that was the worst of it."
"How did your mark react to it?" Cullen stood tall, placing his hands on the pommel of his sword.
"It sparked but he couldn't control it, nor could the Elder One for that matter."
The next month would be spent readying the men, finding siege equipment, and gathering allies together for the assault on Adamant Fortress. It would be the first large-scale battle for the Inquisition and its Commander, but Evelyn had every faith in him to be victorious. She would endeavor not to become a personal distraction for him. And having time to think while away from the toxic atmosphere clouding every corner of Skyhold, she had a plan to rid herself of one of her own distractions.
Following the meeting, she lingered behind to speak to Josephine, "May I have a word, Ambassador?" With a wave of her wrist, she guided her over to her desk. "I wish to give my mother some incentive to leave Skyhold, but I'll need your assistance."
"Yes, I have noticed the strain she has put you under of late."
"She is an unnecessary distraction, especially now with the upcoming battle. I can't have her disrupting the running of Skyhold. This is a fortress, not a castle." If she could rid Ryker of his biggest supporter, perhaps it would make him nervous, reckless even. "I remembered my mother telling me that my sister Ariella's marriage to Lord Phineas Trumbull of Tantervale was called off due to my supposed involvement in the rebellion in Ostwick. While the arrangement was one of business, the two fell madly in love. If we could reconcile with him, it could be enough to reunite them. Then my mother would have a reason to leave for home to prepare for her marriage and leave me alone."
"I will write to Lord Trumbull with all haste. I had heard through gossip that he was entertaining other proposals, but if they were in love, as you say, an explanation and perhaps blessings on their union from the Herald of Andraste herself would be enough for him to pursue their former arrangement. I hear he is a very pious man."
"Excellent," for once Evelyn smiled genuinely at having some hope that soon she'd be rid of the meddlesome woman, though to be fair she had no idea of Ryker's scheme. She simply wanted her children to live comfortably while strengthening the family, even if she drove certain members of that family insane. "Thank you, Josie. I appreciate you taking care of this, though it's a Trevelyan problem."
She sighed with a polite smile, "Evelyn, if I may, I'm worried for you. Since your mother and Lord Armand have joined us, matters seem to weigh more heavily on you. If I can make the burden lighter I will, both as your Ambassador and friend."
A shallow pool of tears formed in her eyes, causing her to clear her throat, "I, um, thank you. I have work to do." Quick as she could, the Inquisitor left before too many more questions were asked. She knew that wouldn't be the first or last time someone would ask after her, and she chastised herself for not being stronger, succumbing to tears. She'd need to be more careful in the future, especially if Ryker's spies were watching. Suddenly, the problem of her mother seemed minor compared to the supposed network he had within her own people. Stopping short before the door to her quarters in the Great Hall, she nimbly turned on her heel and headed for the shrine of Andraste to pray - a lot.
----------------------------------------
After the fifth night of watching her degrade herself for the sake of family duty, Cullen stopped eating in the hall. In fact, he began to skip dinner altogether. His stomach churned constantly as if he were crossing the Waking Sea again. Memories of that time were enough to disturb his mind, but between not sleeping and his nausea the hauntings of his past bled into the present. It was easier to hide the hallucinations in this office, but with the majority of his time spent outside of Skyhold on the new training grounds they cleared in a nearby forest, it was more difficult.
A hot rush of nausea would make his ears burn, followed by the distant sounds of whichever memory his mind chose to take him to. All he could do was brace himself until it passed, trying to focus on one thing in his present reality to anchor him. Most of the time, it was soldiers, another time it was the coin in his pocket, but on one rare occasion, it had been the Inquisitor. Her back was to him, but it was her hair that drew him in. Though she was at home, she had braided it for battle, having most likely come from the training herself to observe his progress. His vision narrowed and blurred, but the blond and chestnut of her hair shining in the sun shone brightly.
Through the explosion of the Chantry to his right, the bodies flying before his eyes, the mages and Templars killing each other before him, he still fixated on her hair swaying slightly as she shifted her weight. Evelyn was engulfed in the morass yet she stood watching something calmly, ignoring all else. What is she watching, try and remember? What were you doing before this? His mind was blank, but he fought to stay in control. He took the vision apart one sense at a time, inhaling deeply the strong scent of pine. There were no pines in the middle of the city. The hand on his blade's pommel squeezed tighter trying not to instinctively react as the ghosts charged right through him with weapons drawn. When the Inquisitor turned walking back toward him, she was nearly run through by Meredith Stannard, who had just charged into the fray. The Knight-Commander stopped to recite a speech he tried to forget as she declared the mages hostile, ordering him to kill them on sight. Pointing seamlessly to where Evelyn had stopped, crossing her arms in defiance of the command, her mark flared and she raised it to flex her fingers, taunting the Templar with the otherworldly magic. As the reenactment continued, he was slowly coming to, remembering that the women existed in two different narratives - his past and present.
Blinking, the landscape of the mountains returned in time to address the Inquisitor, "Commander, I have something that may make your day a bit brighter." She held up a letter with a broken Trevelyan seal, "My father is sending his company of cavalry down to assist us. He's confident in your ability to properly utilize this asset after Hector gave such a glowing account of your ability." He didn't say a word, swallowing a few times to wet his dry throat before clearing it. The woman was perceptive, her eagle eyes catching every one of his movements, every one of his efforts to shake the visions. When she took a step closer, studying him brazenly, he straightened. Having not said anything, she deflated, simply nodding her head and passing him the letter before walking on.
"Inquisitor, Commander, a moment," Cassandra jogged her way over to them, "Some of our mages have requested the services of a Mortalitasi for training. They've been asking for some time, and are becoming agitated over the issue not being addressed."
Evelyn stared blankly at them, "And you take issue with this?"
With Meredith's claws deep in the back of his thoughts, it was easy for him to formulate a reply, "Yes, necromancy is one step below blood magic. They would be practicing on the dead! Are we to start collecting the bodies of our fallen soldiers for them to use as cadavers?"
"What if we sent them to Nevarr to learn, where the school is accepted? Not only would they be assisting real Mortalitasi, but they would learn the culture behind it. Gain a healthy respect for it."
"These are southern mages we speak of, mages who have been sheltered, given an ounce of freedom to which they have taken full advantage. Isn't it bad enough we have several mages, yourself and Solas included, studying rift magic here in Skyhold? A force we barely understand, that we have left our Templars to figure out on their own at risk of their own lives. Must we now desecrate our dead for a school that has been forbidden in the Circles?"
Cassandra nodded her head, "I agree with the Commander. My uncle is a Mortalitasi, there is nothing to be gained by our mages learning it. The magic they practice is for rituals, not battle."
"Dorian uses it in battle. You've had no issue with him wielding it."
"He is from Tevinter where the attitude towards magic is more liberal."
"Our mages are like horses that have lived in a pen all their lives. Open the gate to freedom and they run in every direction without thinking." Old wounds were surfacing the more his past was dredged up. He was losing himself in the shifting timelines unsure of what was true.
"You're comparing us to animals?" Evelyn's whole countenance began to morph into something completely hostile. Her lip began to curl up into a snarl and her nose crinkled at the brow as she faced him looking as if she'd hit him.
He scoffed, meeting her stance, "No, I'm simply saying that there is no good reason to sanction this. The safety concerns associated with it alone should be enough to deny this request. Not to mention the issues our Templars would have with it. They and the mages have only just begun to trust each other, this would complicate matters right before a major offensive."
"Right, because we "animals" lack the intelligence and decency to know right from wrong. We don't deserve your full trust having never been given the opportunity as has been recently granted to us by circumstance to explore knowledge in a safe environment."
Cassandra jumped to his defense, "The Commander was not insinuating we cannot trust our mages, simply that without the proper screening as to who wishes to learn necromancy, we can't be sure of their true intentions behind such a request."
The Inquisitor rubbed her fingers in thought across her chin and mouth, "And what would you say if I said I wished to learn necromancy?" The Seeker went to respond, but Evelyn held a finger up, "I'm asking the Commander."
His eyes narrowed at seeing the corner she was backing him into, "I did not mean for you to take this personally."
"No, you didn't, but neither am I an exception to such opinions just because I'm the Inquisitor. I'm still a mage and one who will be thrown back into a Circle when this is through. To be a caged creature on display with my marked hand, provided it doesn't kill me first." Both he and Cassandra frowned, unused to her hearing her speak about the mark, at least aloud. Aware of the effect her comment had, she tried to dispel the effect of her words with a wave of her hand, "I am well aware of the flaws people see in mages and of the fear which the Chantry has used to control public opinion against magic. I thought the Inquisition was to be better, do better than the Chantry?"
"The safety of our people and security of our base is my chief responsibility. It is my professional opinion that this request be denied on the grounds that it jeopardizes it due to lack of experience in the Templars we have to relegate it and the personnel issues it would cause. The majority of our soldiers are from Ferelden - and if we're making it personal, you can count me in that group as well - who will take offense to the dead being used in such a way. This could lead to conflict between them and the mages, all on account of you wanting to placate a small minority. It is unacceptable!"
He was right of course, she knew it and he knew she agreed. So why was she arguing with him? Now was not the time for a cultural revolution, not when their survival was still at stake. Back in full command of his mind, he stared at her intensely watching her resolve waver. She was fighting some internal battle of her own, one of their talks and their bond typically helped sort through, but alone, things were muddled. Evelyn was fighting everything and everyone lately, herself included.
She smoothed her hackles back down with a mental sake, wiping a hand down her tired face, "You're right, my apologies. The request is denied." Her voice lost all its bravado, "If you'd excuse me, I'm expected back." The two lingered watching her walk away, but a sharp stab of pain in his temple broke their silence.
"Are you alright?"
He sighed, feeling the pounding of a headache threatening to take him from his duties, "It's a headache, nothing more."
"Cullen, do not lie to me. I'm not the Inquisitor, there's no need to pretend if something is seriously wrong."
He rolled his eyes scowling at her, "Fine, yes, I have not been well. It's been worse since-- Dorian has been monitoring it, but I fear he's only treating the symptoms to make it manageable."
"Come, I think Rylen has the training under control. If we will be forced to confront the Wardens at Adamant, we'll need you at your best." The two began the short trek back across the bridge to the fortress and up to his office. "I know things have not been easy for you regarding the situation between the Inquisitor and Lord Armand." He groaned at her chosen topic, "You both have not been the same since."
He wiped a hand down his face, the pain clouding his better judgment, "I knew something like this would happen and still I--" He stopped up on the ramparts next to his office door looking out towards the training he abandoned.
"Her heart is clearly not in it--"
"That's not the problem," he growled having not meant to, rubbing his temples, "I trusted her, I let her in, let her see every dark corner of my mind and for what? The more light she brought to the dark, the easier the walls came down until... Then to be tossed aside in the name of family obligation."
Having found him downtrodden after the events in Kirkwall, Cassandra knew a bit more than others as to the darkness he spoke of. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Talk to Owayne," he craned his neck over squinting against the pain, "he is convinced Evelyn is caught up in something. Perhaps the two of you, knowing her best, can figure it out. She has become distant to even me of late, I'm worried for her."
"Maker's breath, I'm not about to come between her and Lord Armand. She made her decision very clear."
"That's your choice, but if you truly care for her, maybe make sure all is what it seems. In the meantime, I will try to keep her focused on the mission." Leaving him to consider her words, he closed his eyes trying to ignore the throbbing as it progressively worsened. Despite trying to lie to himself, he still cared for Evelyn as much as he ever did. It slumbered within him like embrium in the winter before the thaw of spring. Buried beneath layers of stubbornness, scars, and old habits hiding the seed from everyone including himself, but the light from her flame was too strong at times. It burned through his defenses touching the seed rooted within his chest. Having been planted there long before even he had become aware, for the roots ran deep. The night after the destruction of Haven when he had carried her up the mountain half-dead, he knew he was in trouble; that the Phoenix had gotten her talons in him.
Part of him wanted to mourn the loss, but the stronger rational part pointed him to his duty. It reminded him of who he was and his responsibilities. She was not the only person in Thedas who mattered; he had family, friends, and subordinates who counted on him to see them through the coming fight. How many of them had families praying for their safe return? He held their lives in his hands with the power to decide their fate, albeit indirectly. The trust and repour he created with his troops was vital for their success. Regardless of the reason he had their trust, be it his experience or his former rank within the Order, he could not fall to pieces over a broken heart - a condition that did not physically affect him. Whatever his inner struggle he needed to forget it and soldier on. If his men could do it, he could do it, and he needed to do it better - the best even.
He wouldn't talk to Owayne, as Cassandra suggested, he hadn't a reason to without admitting to him more than he'd like about the nature of his relationship with his sister. If the need arose he would, but not now when she was clearing just suffering as he was. If he could endure it, so could she.
----------------------------------------
There had been no word from Henley and Sorin in the two weeks since they left. She didn't expect word due to the secrecy of the mission, but she wished she had some news of their progress. It was the only hope she had to cling to, yet her only lifeline was plagued with uncertainty. So many things could go wrong, from Henley and Sorin dying to Ryker finding out, the whole plan was risky. What else could she do? The problem was, the only thing she knew how to do was fight, it was what the world had molded her for. Throughout her life, people sought to tear her down for one reason or another. She had seen rock bottom numerous times, and it was becoming a familiar place of rest of late. In recent memory, she had seen it after red lyrium poisoning, the explosion of the Conclave, and the defeat at Haven. Each time, through the pain and trauma, she picked herself up with or without help.
Her current predicament was no different. Ryker was an infection; her unsuspecting and all too willing mother was his first victim, followed by her and Ilara, though they had no choice. Had he not involved Ilara, things would have been so much easier. Though no fault of her best friend, Evelyn had become subject to the ex-Templar's abuses once more. Her only way to fight it was to endure it, and she was nothing if not resilient, but at what cost?
In the past weeks of hell, she had been dressed up like a trophy and paraded around like a prized Ranger. The illustrious Lord Einar Armand had done what others failed to do and claimed the Inquisitor's hand; A marked hand that was Thedas' only salvation, and one that was bound to be forever remembered in the annals of history. What history would fail to note, was the sudden arm jerks into a private enclave to be threatened for stepping out of line or the quiet beatings to tame her fiery spirit, though he preferred if Ilara was there to patch her up afterward. The physical and mental abuse was taking its toll and it had not gone unnoticed.
Josephine and Leliana were quick to question the loss of life from her personality. She was living in a husk of her former self, looking every bit the Inquisitor, but acting as if she had been made Tranquil. Cassandra too, looked at her good friend with apprehension, unsure as to how to help her. She'd drag her to the training grounds to spar, but she'd tire quickly at having the fight beaten out of her daily. The hardest people to deal with were her brother and Cullen. As Cullen recovered from a bout of terrible withdrawl - which he had tried to hide from her - she found the two of them in each other's company more than she would've liked. Their eyes never left her, picking up every faked smile, every wince from her invisible bruises, yet they said nothing to her. A reckoning was coming, she just wasn't sure how soon.
Until then she held on to anything to keep her going. It's all she could do to get through the day. The year, the month, or week didn't matter, just the today. If she could end it standing and fighting, it was a victory over Ryker. It was one more day Henley and Sorin had to destroy their phylacteries; one more day Ilara was safe; one more day she had simply survived. But from within the deep pit of darkness, the one Ryker and the red lyrium had dug in her mind, her demons were always watching and waiting for her to slip.
The first time they had tried to snare her was on the training grounds one afternoon, sparring with Blackwall. Normally, she enjoyed her sessions with the aging Grey Warden, but the recent troubles involving his brethren had sobered him, contributing to her somber state. Bull and the Chargers had been on hand watching and cheering when she absently let her barrier go, taking a devastating hit to the head. She remembered seeing it coming, but subconsciously in her mind, she wondered if such a hit could make her forget the past week. Coming to after what she was told was a few minutes, flat on her back and surrounded by people, unfortunately, she still remembered.
Another time, she had met with Dagna, Ilara, and Leliana to follow up on some of the research they were conducting. Upon the table were several potions that they had improved upon to make them more potent in the field. Most were restorative, but there was one acid for coating blades and arrows. Her mind blocked out the conversation as she picked up the dark flask, holding it up to the light. The liquid within looked so inviting, so harmless.
As she brought it to her lips, the Nightingale's hand quickly reached out stopping her, "Inquisitor, that's the wrong one. Here." She slowly switched the bottles, yet Evelyn's gaze longingly looked after the former glass. Leliana eyed her, shaking herself from her trance-like state.
"Oh, I'm not sure what I was thinking."
"I don't think you were," Dagna innocently implied, as Leliana gazed over to Ilara. The mage quickly covered for her stating that the concussion received from Blackwall must still be affecting her.
The only surprising reprieve came at night, as Ryker left her alone and unmolested. He knew the time after dinner was risky, as she had all manner of visitors, he discovered, from drunken Chargers to the scholarly Solas and everything in between who came to see her when she retired from her Inquisitorial duties. However, it was short-lived as night terrors gripped her each time she slept. It was all becoming too much and one night, she had finally hit her breaking point. Losing herself to the demons of her mind, there was only one person in all of Thedas who kept her grounded. Despite the risk and in the cover of dark, she donned a cloak and fade stepped through the keep as if she were a specter. When she reached his office, all was quiet except for the creek of the wooden floorboards above someone alerted to her presence. Evelyn climbed the ladder, finding Cullen asleep in his bed and his sentry on duty.
"Dorian."
"Sneaking around in the dark? So cliché." She pushed her hood down as she stood from the ladder. Her expression was one of pure exhaustion, but the kind that lacked peace rather than rest. "If you're here to speak with him, I'm afraid he needs his beauty rest. Hopefully, this is the last night he'll need my assistance." He frowned in concern looking at his charge, but a deep inhale as he stood dispelled it.
"That's fine, he shouldn't hear what I have to say anyway." She wrung her hands together anxiously, as if ready to jump out of her skin.
"Quite the paradox. This is why I make sure never to fall in love."
"Don't tell him I was here." They shared a pained look before he mounted the ladder he slid down to sit at his desk.
Alone with Cullen, she knelt beside the bed, since he was rolled on his side. Her eyes swept up his face taking in the rejuvenating effects of sleep. He looked younger when the stress and weight of his symptoms were forgotten and the creases of his skin were smoothed. His lips were just parted, allowing a stream of warm breath out at her. Though his skin was still pale, lacking its warm underglow, it was no longer clammy or feverish. A gentle finger traced his face from his forehead down to his stubbly chin.
Tilting her head to the side to match his angle, a soft smile graced her lips, having already relaxed from his presence alone, "If only things were as simple as this, as innocent as your sleep. I came here because I'm lost. It's like I've been thrown into a pit and forced to dig it deeper every day. The light above is fading and there was a time when you always saved me from getting too deep. I fear now that I won't be able to climb out." Though her voice was soft and steady, she caught a twitch in his fingers.
She caressed his face with her whole hand now. The faint green glow illuminated his face casting half in a shadow. She sighed, "What I wouldn't give to go back to South Reach with you, live simply with your family. You probably think I'd hate that, but that's far from the truth." She chuckled lightly, "You and I are getting too old for this shit - the fighting, the politics. When this is over, let's just run away. Let the others sort things out, we've given as much blood and sweat to this cause as any, and the least they can do is leave us alone… if there is an us. I suppose it's just a pleasant fantasy now after everything I've done. I know that your trust, once broken, can never be regained, so I have no expectation of forgiveness.” She sat back on her heels, "I don't know what I expect or if I will even be able to get out of this mess." Against her better judgment, she pressed a lingering kiss on his forehead. The simple act flooded her with a plethora of warm feelings as if she had dipped herself in a hot bath. She tingled all over as every fiber pulsed back to life. Closing her eyes, still close to him, smelling his various scents, Evelyn took one more moment to savor the sensation of their closeness.
Opening her eyes, she stepped back and the further away she got, the colder and darker it became. Sliding down the ladder, she met Dorian's eyes for a second before fading back through Skyhold to her chambers. Lying in bed, she tried to relive the moment in her mind's eye, and though it fell short missing the sensory details, it was enough to invoke a peaceful slumber.
The next morning, she awoke with a start, "Good morning, Inquisitor." Ryker sat with his leg crossed and fingers tented gazing over at her from the day bed. "I hope I didn't startle you."
Rubbing the sleep frantically from her eyes, she sat up, "How did you get in here?"
"Pff, I paid off your servant, how else? The same way I found out who you visited last night." Though bathed in bright morning light, his face darkened. "I told you to stay away from him. And I think I've been rather lenient as of late, so now I must exact punishment."
"How is it you expect obedience from a woman you've tormented for years? On what grounds do you dare to demand such respect?" Unsure of where the sudden fire sparked from within her, something, perhaps her visit to Cullen last night, had rekindled some of the old Evelyn back to life.
Getting up from the bed, she gracefully stalked towards him, one foot after another. Releasing a mind blast spell that sent him flying off the couch and to the floor, then again into the wall. "You call me an abomination, yet I don't actually think you know just how much of one I am. Go ahead, silence me, Templar, if you can." Snarling with a crooked smile at the challenge, he obliged her. The first merely took her breath away as she took another step toward him. "Pathetic." The next blast hit her harder, staggering her but still she came at him, "Is that all you've got!" Visibly enraged now, he threw every last ounce of his augmented strength behind it. She winced, having to take a knee, but rose again to her feet with fire dancing at her fingertips.
She laughed at him wickedly, "Look at what the rebel Templars and their red lyrium have made me into, not to mention the gift from Corypheus." The mark flickered to life and she held it out to him. He backed away reluctant to show her weakness, yet he was fearful having now witnessed the full extent of her corruption. She let the grip on her mana go, standing before him with a serious countenance, "Remember, that while you may have the means to command me now, one day when all my enemies lay dead, you'll be next." The Inquisitor walked over to her half-eaten breakfast shoving the muffin in her mouth.
Ryker was beside himself, looking like he wanted to rip her apart with his hands. Continuing to eat her breakfast with an unamused stare, he left with one final warning, "I will be back to collect my punishment. You've gone too far this time, darling." The ex-Templar's look could've killed as he descended the stairs and slammed the door. She blinked and exhaled, knowing that he'd make good on his threat, and she'd regret having ever provoked him. Yet, there was only so much she could take, and after her one-sided talk with Cullen, it had emboldened her. It had made her remember who she was and what had been taken from her. Ryker's blackmailing had cost her dearly, but she was determined in the end to make sure he knew one way or another just how far she'd go to see him burn.
----------------------------------------
Cullen awoke with renewed vigor, having had Dorian stay with him one last night to keep him all but sedated. After a terrible few weeks of fighting off his relapse, it had left him exhausted physically and mentally. Having returned from a productive workout in the ring and hearty breakfast, he was making up the work from the past weeks that he had set aside. The day was going smoothly when he had an unexpected visitor trespass in his solitary tower.
"Commander Rutherford, I don't suppose you could spare a moment for a fellow ex-Templar?" Though he asked, having not yet heard his answer, Lord Armand stepped inside already familiarizing himself with his office. He slowly walked about the room studying everything with his hand clasped behind his back, "I had hoped to speak with you about a troubling message I received from a Templar by the name of Raleigh Sampson. Have you heard of him?" Cullen picked his head up from his desk at the name, "You are familiar with him then?"
"Of course. We served together in Kirkwall for a time. He was my bunkmate until he was expelled from the Order. Now he serves Corypheus, and you had contact with him?"
"Yes, months ago he wanted me to help supply his forces with food, which I refused. The Inquisitor is well aware. I have no desire to serve others anymore, especially those who don't pay. When I refused he tried to persuade me by offering to give me a more powerful form of lyrium. I wonder if you know of it?"
"Red lyrium, yes I am… familiar." Everyone, especially Templars, knew about it after the events in Kirkwall. Something in the way the man walked and his choice of words had Cullen on edge. Aside from the fact that this was the man responsible for taking Evelyn away from him, while in Kirkwall, Cullen had developed a better knack for when people were trying to deceive him, and the more he watched the lord's easy-going manner, the more suspicious he became.
"I refused it, but I find my curiosity getting the better of me. How exactly is it more powerful?"
Ever weary of the corruption of the addiction to lyrium of any kind, he chose his words carefully, "Whether it is more powerful, I cannot say, we don't know much about it yet to safely say. However, we do know it is inherently evil. You would do well to avoid it for the sake of your sanity, especially if you're still taking regular draughts of lyrium." He knew the man was, sensing it on him anytime he was in the same room as him. Knowing he wasn't getting it from the Chantry, he must have contacts within the Carta supplying him, like everyone else these days.
"Evie, I mean, the Inquisitor has told me the same." The man wore a grin that was hard to read. It was genuine, but his eyes made it seem as if there was something hidden behind it. "She said the Red Templars corrupted her magic with it. Bent her to their will."
"I'm surprised she'd speak of it. It was a particularly traumatizing experience for her. Though I don't remember her doing their bidding, it was more of the lyrium that sought control of her, but she fought it."
"I see. I suppose her strong will saved her yet again." A thoughtful faraway look had his eyes glazing over. "Well, she wanted me to be aware of the effects of it on her mana being that I will soon be her only sentinel, to whom her wellbeing will rely on completely." He flashed the same goading smile again. His anger peaked slightly, but he suppressed it, remembering that the man had no idea of Evelyn's former attachment to him, so it had to be a coincidence. What reason would she have to tell him? "From one Templar to another, I wanted to know if there was anything specific I could do to help her."
"Not that I'm aware. The Inquisitor is one of the most responsible and experienced mages I've met, she knows the dangers and has been monitoring her mana since losing control of it."
"You mean after she took red lyrium?" Cullen eyed the man suspiciously, saying nothing. "Right, of course. It's hard to keep up with all her issues."
Armand half-heartily laughed, but the former Knight-Commander saw no humor in it, "Regardless of leaving the Order, as former Templars, you and I owe it to her and other mages to keep our oath of protection for the sake of the mages and of the people of Thedas. The Inquisitor's "issues" must be taken seriously and with compassion, for they were not done to her on her own volition. She was forced to drink the red lyrium and now lives with the consequences of it. Between the mark and her increased power, she's somehow keeping it all in tight control through her will alone. Surely, you feel the struggle and the way her magic spikes at times?"
"Of course," he said with a frown before it relaxed, "I only meant to say that our training didn't exactly cover it. I didn't mean to upset you, Commander. I had no idea a man with your reputation had such a soft spot for mages." Cullen hated when he heard that of his reputation and he found himself clenching his jaw tight, but his gut was telling him not to engage this man. Seeing him shift uncomfortably, Armand continued, "Apologies, it is not a weakness. I was just pleased to hear my Evelyn is surrounded by those who do not judge her for what she is."
The Commander cleared his throat, his Evelyn, he couldn't help the jealousy as it surfaced. His hand gripped the pommel of his sword a little tighter. Thankfully, a messenger arrived with a field report out of the Emerald Graves about the red lyrium smuggling operation there, "If you'd excuse me, my lord, this requires my immediate attention." He turned his back on the man pretending to read the report, though all the while listening for his exit. When he was at last alone, he placed the report on his desk and headed for the Herald's Rest where he'd no doubt find Owayne. Something was indeed amiss.