As Evelyn stood ready to embed the red lyrium crystal in her arm, a scream tore through the air, "No!" Sorin's voice, raw with desperation, echoed as a bolt of lightning shot from his fingers, striking the crystal and knocking it from her hand. The glowing shard shattered in mid-air, the fragments descending in a slow, almost dreamlike motion, each piece glittering as it fell. Time seemed to stretch and contort as the pyromancer watched the crystal disintegrate, her heart sinking into an abyss of hopelessness.

She turned to face the thunder mage, her eyes burning with fury. "What have you done!?" She cried, her voice a symphony of anguish and rage. "It was our last chance of survival!" Her mind, usually sharp and calculating, now whirled in a chaotic frenzy, grasping for any semblance of a plan, any thread of hope.

Instead of replying, the young Knight-Enchanter pointed with his finger behind her, urgency flashing in his eyes. "E, look!"

Turning over on her side, she watched as a great swell of soldiers rose over the horizon behind them through the squall. The familiar shining uniforms and singular commanding voice echoing out over the field brought on such a rush of relief she could've sobbed Sahrnia another frozen river. The soldiers of the Inquisition charged into the fray in a controlled swell. At the new threat, the enemy turned to meet the onslaught coming for them. The right flank of the Inquisition column swung wide out onto the ice to protect Evelyn and her companions, but also pinch the Red Templars in an attempt to surround them.

Numb, she placed her head against the ice smiling, whispering a quiet prayer of thanks to Andraste for their deliverance. When the crunch of boots beside her halted her words, she looked up to see a tall warrior wearing the likeness of a lion for a helmet. His warm bulky mantle lined with bear fur fluttered in the stiff wind, keeping the snow from accumulating too heavily on him. A leather glove reached down, and through his helm, his golden eyes twinkled with resolve. She watched him blink a few times, the corners of his eyes crinkling like he was smiling.

"Inquisitor, thank the Maker you're all still intact!" Cullen swiftly helped her to her feet. "I came as soon as I could!"

"Impeccable timing, Commander," Blinking away some tears, she couldn't help but beam at him, wincing as she was pulled up. He was truly a sight for sore eyes.

Turning to help Sorin to his feet, his tone was strong, but urgent, "Can you get the Inquisitor back to town?" The Knight-Enchanter's wind-swept black hair bobbed with his nodding. "Good man, I must catch up with the men. We'll finish the Red Templars then reestablish the first forward camp at the mouth of the caves." Looking at her specifically, he added, "Once secure, I'll ride back and check in with you. You're alright then?" His hard determination softened for a moment and pushed some hair off her face in a quick inspection. Sorin gave her a pointed look, no doubt still not over her attempt to use red lyrium.

"Nothing major, I assure you."

"Glad to hear it, now go! Leave the rest of the fighting to me!" He partly shouted back at them as he jogged off toward the front line.

For a few minutes, she watched alongside Sorin as their force began to push back the Red Templars. The clang of steel erupted along the riverbank. Loudest of all were The Chargers, who quickly greeted their Chief with a 'horns up' cheer before plowing into the enemy. With her fellow Knight-Enchanter beckoning her to walk with him back to camp for some much-needed rest and healing, the Phoenix turned from battle for once.

She only took a few steps toward the safety of camp before freezing in place. A terrible, yet all too familiar rumbling cadence was stomping down the mountain. Rounding the bend of the river were five Behemoths. The enemy had made a tactical retreat to ensnare the Inquisition forces in the narrow pass of ice. As the order to fall back and regroup was given, their soldiers slipped and fell trying to scramble away from the hulking masses of crystals. As the monsters gained on them, any stragglers were flattened in a red puddle upon the ice. A pink mist shot into the air and blood-curdling screams were silenced with each driving punch of the Behemoths.

Wheeling around, a cold hand halted her. Sorin's face blanched, "E, I'm sure the Commander can handle it. Come on."

"I'll not leave it to chance." Summoning her remaining strength, her eyes flickered orange and her veins ignited with flame. The rising of her mana seemed to cause a chain reaction in Sorin, whose countenance suddenly darkened like a storm cloud and flickered with white lightning. Taking back her arm, her practiced footing on the ice after fighting on it for days, helped carry her swiftly to the Inquisition's line.

Easily spotting the Commander, she pushed her way through the regrouping soldiers. Cullen had a hand on the shoulder of one of his officers, huddling in conference, "Dane! If we break the ice, we could eliminate this entire force!"

"Yes, but with what?! Our weapons?! Commander, the ice is too thick!"

"You can do it with my help!" Both men picked their heads up to look behind them with a surprised greeting of 'Inquisitor.' "I've mana enough to weaken the ice but not melt through it. He's right, it's incredibly thick!"

Cullen was swiveling his head back and forth between her and the Behemoths closing on them. She knew he wanted to send her away, but she was also their only chance to stop the Red Templars from crushing their campaign before it had even begun. Previously, breaking the ice was not an option, but with a cleared road of snow thanks to the reinforcements, as well as more supplies and security, they could do it. There would be no retreat. "We don't have a choice! Dane, get everyone with a heavy axe up front with the Inquisitor, Sorin will cast a barrier. Move!"

Clearing a path for her, Cullen stood beside her with his shield raised until all was in place. With her command to give her some space, both he and Sorin cautiously backed away. Igniting the last of her reserve of mana, she took a knee placing her bare hands on the ice. Her purple fingers barely registered the aching cold beneath them, but when her flames sparked to life, sharp hot needles stabbed into her frozen flesh. The pain was excruciating, having only been casting spells using her staff, and her orange and green Phoenix wings shot out. Unyielding to the immense prickling pain, she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, pouring more magic out to her sides in two lines. As soon as the fire reached the warriors spread out on either side, they began hacking away at the ice. Chips and flakes flew out in all directions as the first thin fractures appeared.

Exhausted and in pain, Evelyn let out a growling wince. Unafraid of approaching her, Cullen leaned over her, "Are you alright?"

"How are we doing? Are we close?"

There was a telling pause, "I'm afraid not. We'll have to stand and fight." Pushing out her mana with all her might, the increased temperature was hardly starving off the bitter cold. "Inquisitor, don't! Save your strength, and fall back!"

"They'll kill our people!"

"I trust in their abilities and bravery. We will not fail you." She sucked in another breath, trying to draw out every last ounce of her power. "Evelyn, they are upon us, you need to cease this so I may get the men back into line!" Dispelling her magic and standing, chest heaving as frustration gripped her, she shot Cullen a hard look. The Commander and his officers quickly backed their men up from the fractured ice, not wanting to be on it if it did happen to break.

Having not moved, Evelyn stood alone out before the line of soldiers. Sorin and Cullen began calling to her to fall back, but she ignored them holding up her sparking emerald mark. Its flash drew the attention of the Behemoths, and with everyone a safe distance from her, she prayed the spell Solas had cast on the anchor could withstand what she was about to attempt.

Channeling everything she had into her enchanted staff, she slammed it down causing the thick river ice to creak and buckle. As she pounded the frozen ground, the mark engulfed her in its luminous emerald glow. As it had done at Adamant, it increased her strength making the ground tremble with each hit. Enemy arrows and crystal shards sailed at her, but the anchor's barrier deflected them. From behind her, she heard the Commander roaring at everyone to get off the ice, and Sorin, among others, yelling back and forth trying to get to her before the inevitable occurred.

With one last battle cry and stab from her staff blade, the tip finally drove completely through. The force shot the fissure through the enemy line with the speed of a dragon. Huge jagged blocks of ice tilted away from the divide, throwing the Red Templars into the frozen water. Having weakened the integrity of the solid surface, the stomping of the Behemoths only helped to spread the first fracture. They scraped and clawed the ice as it flipped and rolled to no avail, unable to escape their doom. Their gutteral roars turned into a sickening gurgling as they sunk to the bottom of the river.

Watching their demise distracted her from her footing, which shattered causing her to fall into the frigid water. What remained of her mana ignited against the cold, causing her veins to glow hot as her armor began dragging her into the murky depths. Panic began to grip her, but so too did a strong hand, hauling her back up into the light.

"Thank the Maker!" The Commander groaned struggling to keep his footing and pull her along. He must've sprinted and dove across the ice to catch her, for her dip was a quick one. The ice was still breaking all around them, "I've got her!" He yelled back over his shoulder as another numbing wave from the river crashed over her making her gasp and choke.

"And we've got you!" Cassandra called back grabbing Cullen's heavy armor and mantle with the help of Owayne. Their feet slipped but they were undeterred, using their remaining strength to pull them to safety

"Shit, incoming! Cass your shield, now!" Her brother dodged the first arrow while still holding tight to them. As the Seeker tried to bring her shield to bear, it wasn't in time as two arrows hit Evelyn and Cullen. The Inquisitor reached down feeling the shaft that was lodged in the muscle of her thigh. A few moments later, more arrows whizzed by missing the Inquisitor, but one more hit the blonde Ferelden, who growled a choleric curse at the hit. "We need cover!"

Cullen continued to bring her up into his embrace until she circled his middle, he tensed slightly, "Are you alright?!"

"Are you?!" Their eyes frantically searched each other's for insight, both finding the other still alert. She broke away to stare at the arrow protruding from his chest, while the other one seemed to have only just missed his neck, though it left a deep cut through the side. "Cullen, there's an arrow in your chest!" Evelyn realized how panicky her voice sounded.

"You don't say," he said with mock amusement as they flopped back down on solid ground. Suddenly his eyes went wide. "Cover!" A hard jerk on her sundered armor's shoulder strap sent her into his arms as he rolled over to shield her with his body. On her back, Cullen was hovering over her, unable to press any closer due to the length of the arrow's shaft jutting out of his chest. Blood from his neck wound was rolling off his chin, impacting what was left of her breastplate. Seeing the thin silhouettes of the arrows falling toward them, Evelyn's chapped lips parted unsure if she wanted to curse, scream, or pray. The Commander closed his eyes awaiting impact, but there was a voice grumbling like distant rumbling thunder over to them.

"You can get off her now," Sorin was on one knee with a hand raised holding a barrier above them to deflect the arrows. He was shaking from the cold and his wounds, but his will was unyielding toward either.

"How are they still firing arrows?!" She called out from under Cullen as he slowly got to his feet, groaning steadily and holding his punctured chest.

"Looks like they're just below the bank of the river and having trouble climbing out. They're persistent, I'll give them that," the storm mage panted over.

"Think you can shock them? Like that time in Tantervale?"

At the memory of that particular mission from their Circle days, Sorin snorted and nodded his head. "Yeah, I'll give it all of what I have left in me. Everyone needs to get off the ice though."

With a deep breath, Cullen filled his lungs about to call out the order, but he began coughing. Undeterred, he took another sharp inhale quickly yelling for everyone to get to land even if it was a bit strained.

With everyone off the ice, Sorin shocked the water by thrusting the head of his staff into it. Everything nearby was electrocuted, finishing off any of the Red Templars in the river. They watched as the enemy tensed and shook violently before collapsing beneath the current. When a few fish floated to the top, he flipped them onto the bank. "Fish, anyone?"

"I'd laugh if this arrow didn't sting like a bloody Quillback spine," Evelyn muttered trying to figure out a good angle to pull it from as she sat in the snow shivering. She felt as if every part of her was stiffening in the cold having been soaked to the bone. Cullen was already calling for a healer for her, draping his warm mantle over her shoulders before yelling to his captains to regroup the men to retake the forward camp. Apparently, while she was distracted by Sorin's delightfully smelling fish, he had yanked out his own arrow. Blood was trickling down his front, but it wasn't an alarming amount. Still… "H- he-hey! W-where are you going?!"

The Commander stopped his barking of orders to turn back to her, giving her a shrug as if it were obvious. "To retake the forward camp while we have the advantage. Scout Harding told us of the enemy holding it. We'll secure it, get defenses up, and--"

"You were just shot in the chest!" She hated that her voice was verging on the pitch of a shrill like her mother's.

He waved a hand dismissively at her while holding his glove against the cut on his neck. Checking the extent of the bleeding, that wound too he seemed unfazed by. "It's a flesh wound, the armor stopped it. You, on the other hand," one of their mages arrived and quickly knelt beside her, "need healing, warmth, and rest. That's an order, Inquisitor!" Cullen scowled and pointed around at her companions scattered about, "Don't let her follow us this time! Seeker, please," he implored to the most likely one Evelyn was bound to listen to, "I'll report back as soon as I can."

"D-d-don't you want this?" She pointed to his maroon bear fur mantle.

"I'm Ferelden, remember? This is hardly what I'd call cold. Now, you have your orders." He then proceeded to jog off, pulling on his helm and picking up his weapons.

Owayne was sprawled out on the ground nearby in a heap of exhaustion. His head rolled to her with a baffled expression, "Is he allowed to do that? You know, order you about?"

"He just did," added the Seeker dryly. Evelyn shared a look with her shrugging.

"Someone found his balls. Good on you, Cullen!" Bull yelled after him, though said quieter now, "Considering, you know, who's had him by them for the last week."

"Bull," Owayne's face scrunched up sourly, "no one wants to know where they've been, especially me!" Evelyn couldn't help the flush of her face, and while it was a pleasant heat in the wintery frost, she couldn't help but slowly blink over at the two of them while shaking her head.

The pale eyes of the young Orlesian healer tending to her leg were bugged out for a moment, flicking up to hers momentarily. She felt she needed to say something at that point, "Don't mind them, they've been hit in the head a few too many times in the past week. Seems they have cheese for brains."

"As you say, Your Worship," the healer uttered hastily, her cheeks flushing, before returning her attention to her spell.

"Cheese!" Korbin bellowed, "That's what these sodding fish need with it." He was seated beside Sorin knawling on the lightning-roasted fish. Even her fellow Marcher was partaking in his culinary creation. "Blackwall, you got any cheese hidden in that glorious beard? I'd ask the Surfacer but he lacks his Stone-given hair."

The Warden had just finished a large swig of water from the soldiers that had come to tend to the group. Water skins and blankets were quickly passed around. "I'm afraid I do not carry cheese about in that manner. Any food in it is purely accidental, I assure you."

"The 'Surfacer' has a name, Dwarfspawn. And I have plenty of hair where it counts." Varric placed Bianca down on his lap as if one more crack about his chosen lifestyle would earn Korbin a warning shot.

"Everyone's lost the bloody minds," Evelyn muttered to herself, her gaze unblinking as she observed the healer's efforts. Despite appearing visibly confused by the banter, the woman continued to perform her duties with a remarkable sense of composure and mastered precision. The mana flowed steadily into Evelyn's wounds, each infusion gentle and deliberate, easing the pain of her injuries. She was good, Evelyn thought to herself, almost as good as Ilara. As she considered the resemblance between the two—both petite, young women with an aptitude for healing—a flicker of nostalgia for her friend tugged at the pyromancer's heart.

Meanwhile, the Orlesian worked swiftly, her hands glowing with a soft, ethereal light as she carefully removed the arrow embedded in Evelyn's leg. The wound, which had been bleeding profusely, began to close under the mage's touch, the flesh knitting together almost seamlessly. The woman extended her healing magic to Evelyn's other injuries, substantially mending them with practiced skill. She even warmed her back to a safe temperature after her chilly plunge. "I did what I could, Your Worship," she uttered as she stood up, her tone respectful but weary from the exertion of her healing efforts. "The rest is in the Maker's hands. Please take a few moments of rest before putting weight on your leg." As the healer bowed in reverence, her long brown braid slipped from her back, falling over her shoulder and dipping into the snow. The icy crystals clung to the strands like glittering jewels, catching the light and adding an almost festive shimmer to her appearance. Evelyn sighted and gave her a nod. With that, the woman moved on to attend to others in need. She moved gracefully from one injured member of her party to another, tending to their wounds with practiced care, her movements confident and efficient. But when she reached Sorin, she froze for a moment, her demeanor shifting from composed to nervous in an instant.

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The young Knight-Enchanter raised an eyebrow as he watched her hesitation. "Is something wrong?"

The healer stumbled over her words. "N-no, nothing at all," she stammered, her hands trembling slightly as she reached out to examine his injuries. Of all the times she had seen Sorin treated for wounds, never had he eyed a fellow mage like he did this one.

"Hey, woman, your nugs in a bunch? What gives?" Korbin asked, a grin playing on his lips.

"I just... uh..."

"Aw, she just got a good eyeful of Flash, the hero of the hour!" Varric winked at him, and Evelyn couldn't help but laugh to herself knowing that Sorin hated any and all nicknames for himself.

Looking pointedly up at the healer through his messy sweat-frozen locks, Sorin huffed a bit annoyed, “You can start patching me up whenever you're ready.”

"Hey!" She pointed at him as she stood, testing her leg, "Did the Knights beat the manners out of you?" His mentor shook her head, though her words leaned on the side of sarcasm. "I raised you better than that."

Giving her a look that verged on sassy, Sorin turned to the mage with a grumbled apology. The young woman nodded and got to work, her hands moving rather deftly despite the occasional tremble. Evelyn watched Sorin's face soften as the healer’s magic took effect. The tension in his muscles eased, and he let out a small sigh of relief.

“There,” the Orlesian said finally, finishing her incantation. “That should do it, fine Ser.” She stepped back, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

“Forget about, Flash,” Varric chimed in with a chuckle. “I will call you 'Fine Ser' from now on.” From all around, there was a chorus of voices playfully singing and chuckling to the sound of the Knight-Enchanter's newly bestowed title.

The woman's cheeks flushed a deeper red. "I-hic I should-hic go," she stammered, her lithe frame convulsing with sudden hiccups. She turned on her heels, attempting a hasty retreat, but managed only a few steps before stumbling. With a small cry, she fell face-first into the deep snow, the cold, powdery surface cushioning her fall but leaving her prone and embarrassed.

Forgetting her tender leg, Evelyn hopped over and scooped the mage up. Knowing the struggles of being an outnumbered woman in a military setting, she harbored sympathy for the Orlesian who was simply trying to help. "You all are about to find yourselves with crispy breeches if you don't shut it!" Brushing off the snow from her heavy robes, the Inquisitor gave a reassuring smile before she hurried off back towards camp, the occasional 'hic' echoing off the walls of the ruined buildings. "All of you need rest, you're getting punchy," she said in passing through her companions with a limp on her way back into town where their tents were. Michel was quick to offer to lend her an arm, but it was Blackwall who swiftly claimed the honor.

As they hobbled along, she couldn't help her mind wandering back to Cullen, hearing fighting in the distance. When she halted abruptly to look over her shoulder, her companion seemed to know exactly what was troubling her. "Cullen will be fine, if anyone knows how to kill Templars, it'd be him."

"Yes, but he was shot in the chest with an arrow."

The Warden took a step urging her along, "Ah, it hardly pierced his chest. I've had it happen to me, the point goes in but nothing else. If it had hit his heart or lung he'd be dead by now." Evelyn stared at him with a deep frown. "That was supposed to be comforting."

"And you were supposed to have cheese tucked away somewhere in your beard according to Korbin, yet neither are true."

He chuckled, "You mean Dwarfspawn." He waited, knowing she couldn't help but laugh anytime Varric said it. Sure enough, she smiled at his contentment. "Out of all Varric's nicknames, I think his is by far the most fitting. The dwarf is a legend with that maul of his."

"Maybe one day the two of you will fight down in the Deep Roads together - not that I'm hoping that time comes anytime soon."

"We've still got plenty of arses to kick and taverns to drink dry before that blighted day comes."

"Good, after everything we've been through, it's got me feeling more sentimental than usual." She couldn't help but hold onto the Warden a little tighter. Blackwall was like the fun uncle she never had; always caring, and yet was always ready to stir up trouble. He had a listening ear but tale at the ready with a lesson attached. A prolific drinker like Owayne - and herself to an extent - there had been plenty of occasions where something had been troubling her and he simply passed her his flask discreetly without questioning.

"Ah, you're just tired. Let the sound of the Red Templar's arse-kicking up the way put you to sleep. When you wake up from a nice nap, you'll be ready to sling fireballs at them once more." Stopping at her tent which had hardly been used since she arrived, he held the flap open.

"Thanks for the arm, it was much preferable to the alternative," she tilted her head back in the direction of their guest chevalier.

"Careful with that Orlesian. He talks sweet enough, but he's been disgraced at court, and who knows what he'll do to try and get back to it. I have a hard time believing a man like that, who had been the golden boy of the Empress, would simply be content to live out his days like a traveling Red Jenny. We've got our eyes on him, but Sorin most of all should be careful." Evelyn nodded in thanks, but a disgusted look had her lips drooping much to Blackwall's dismay. With a hearty rumble, the bearded Warden began to snicker, "I'm not sure who's been more horney, Michel or Bull."

"My coin is on Bull, especially after we spotted those dragons. Maker, if we thought one drove him into a state, imagine three!" To their horror, they had spotted not one but three distinct dragons circling overhead. When the heavy fighting left a battlefield of hundreds of bodies, they had been curious and saw an easy carrion meal. However, the lingering hum of the red lyrium messed with their heads as well, and they left them be.

"There's not enough redheads in all of Thedas to sate him," at that the two chortled, parting in their respective directions.

Inside her tent, she quickly stripped he wet clothing, pulling on some wool ones. Flopping down on her cot uncaring that her heat stove was barren, she wrapped up in the heavy blankets. The wood had probably been taken for people who actually slept in the camp. Yet, she had been so frozen that the blankets and dry clothing alone promised comforting warmth that had been denied to her for so long. Snuggled in, she touched her core mana, which was finally able to sufficiently heat her frozen limbs.

"Inquisitor," Evelyn recognized Scout Harding's voice calling from outside.

"Come in, Lace," came a grumble from within her blanket cocoon.

The dwarf popped her head in, "The Commander has secured the forward camp. He wanted you to know he'll be there fortifying the area before they start clearing the caves."

"Thank you," Evelyn yawned.

"He also said, he doesn't want to see you up there until tomorrow."

At her words, Evelyn gave a weary snort of a laugh, her eyes still closed and her head resting heavily on her pillow. "Any other special requests from the Commander?"

"That's all, but it's good to have you all back safe. Get some rest, Inquisitor." Leaving her to her solitude once more, Harding's news was enough to satisfy any concerns she had about what was transpiring without her. Away from the red lyrium crystals and safe from the enemy as the Commander kept vigil, Evelyn succumbed to exhaustion at last.

----------------------------------------

Waking later than usual after sleeping like the dead, Evelyn was pleased to find various amenities had been left for her. The cold stove had noticeably pulsing out heat into her tent for an hour or two, chasing away the lingering chill. An enchanted rune stone used to keep water defrosted sat at the bottom of a bucket for washing. The brief warmth of the cloth against her grimy skin was luxurious after all this time. Soon the bucket was so murky she could no longer see the glowing stone as layers of dirt, dried sweat, and blood were removed. Afterwards, she grabbed some clean clothes from her field trunk and a hairbrush. Combing out the weeks’ worth of knots that were making her hair look more like a bird's nest, her eyes fell on a pair of fur-lined leather gloves. A small smile pulled at her lips as she realized how they came to be in her tent. Cullen must've come to check on her during the night, leaving behind a pair of his gloves for her. The rich brown hue and rabbit fur poking out from the inside promised not only physical warmth, but the caress of his tender memory everywhere she went.

With her braids redone and feeling refreshed not having to wake up and prepare for a long day of fighting, she nearly skipped up the hill to the forward camp until she caught sight of Sorin. He was staring at her with a frown, leaning up against one of the town's crippled buildings. As a contingent of soldiers rushed between them on the main road through the camp, Evelyn shrugged at him asking a wordless, 'what?' Looking away annoyed, she saw his eyes fall upon one of the broken red lyrium crystals jutting up from the ground. She knew exactly what he was brooding about…

Pushing off the wall, the Marchers met at a nearby fire, still unused to the bitter cold. "After you retired yesterday, I had some time to think about what happened with the red lyrium," his downturned mouth softened, "I'm not sure, how-- I mean, this is… difficult for me…" At his distressed state - at least to her, anyone else would've thought he was simply put off by something - she waited patiently for him to find the words. With a resigned sigh, he glared her right in the eyes, "You scared me." Surprised, she blinked at him a few times feeling the guilt well up in her, as his pale blue eyes conveyed his deep concern. "You spoke of a future after all of this; a life away from Circles to live free. I know I'm bad at… talking about…" He made a sour face, "… feelings, but without you, I have no future. You're all I have."

His words made her heart melt even in this Maker-forsaken frozen wasteland. Impulsively, she hugged him tight to her. Evelyn had two extra inches on him, pressing his head to her shoulder. Sorin's arms hung by his side, and she could feel his warm exhale on the exposed skin on her neck as he tried to avoid the Commander's thick mantle.

"E," she broke their embrace, "no offense, but I feel like I'm hugging Cullen, and I just… it's weird." She laughed, finding humor in it unlike him. "Are you sure you want to wear that? People are going to talk?"

"Well, then they can fucking lend me their coat because mine's destroyed! That's the real and perfectly unromantic reason… though I don't mind the other perks." She gave the fur a smell, reveling in his lingering scent. "Gloves are his too," she winked.

"Fine, but if you borrow his helm we'll have issues-- rather, I'll have issues. I may not be able to look at you."

"You have nothing to fear there, I know what sweaty man smells like and I will gladly pass on that one. Come on, I'm headed to see the Commander now, but you can walk with me." Falling into stride with her, as they reached the outskirts of town, two soldiers followed them up the hill. Upon asking why they were following them, they replied that it was on the orders of the Commander that she be escorted.

"That's cute," Sorin grumbled lowly, "he's coddling you. As if you couldn't bloody well walk the short distance up the hill without incident."

"To be fair, it is me we're speaking of."

"Maybe he has more sense than I give him credit for. At least they'll keep you from the red lyrium."

"Quit it! I'm not addicted to it, I only meant to use it in case death was upon us, which it was!"

Recognizing Cullen's tent, the two stopped outside of it. Flicking a lock of hair out of his face, Sorin scowled at her, "So, do you plan on telling him about it?"

She shook her head about to give her answer, when his rich baritone rang out through the canvas, "Tell me what?"

Taking a menacing step close to Sorin, she growled, "Andraste's knickers, if you get me in trouble, I'll--"

"Inquisitor," Cullen's voice sounded slightly accusatory as if she was a misbehaving child. "You both may enter." Flicking Sorin's nose, the two entered with angry pouts on their face. Cullen was in the middle of shaving his strong jawline when they walked in, looking between the two of them in the reflection of his breastplate. He had yet to put on his armor but wore a heavy gambeson. A bandage was tied around his neck that sported light blotting of blood from the arrow that had grazed him.

"That seems hard to do," the Inquisitor tried to say as congenially as possible, referring to his current task.

"You get used to it, though I will say this armor polishes nicer than my set from the Order. Makes it substantially easier."

"It should, it might not be silverite, but it's the best ore our mines have produced, and shaped by the best smiths in Thedas. Herrit and Dagna are unmatched in their craft."

"I suppose that trade meeting months ago was worth it then." He gave her a sideways glance and a smirk at the memory of their first moment of intimacy.

"So it would seem." She smiled back brightly, while Sorin rolled his eyes.

The storm mage leaned toward her, whispering, "Must I suffer through this? Why do I need to be here?"

Wiping his blade on a linen having finished shaving, Cullen stood towering over them. Suddenly the tent felt smaller with him raised to full height. "Actually, I'm glad you're here for if she's keeping a matter from me, it's probably something concerning." He flashed her a pointed look before turning back to him, "So, what is it? If it's important to her safety, you'll tell me."

Both she and the Commander crossed their arms as they waited for him to decide. Sorin's eyes were fixed on her, but just before he spoke, they flashed over to Cullen, "It is. She was going to take red lyrium right before you showed up with the reinforcements."

"You snitch!" Evelyn punched his arm.

Cullen was pinching his nose as if he had a nosebleed, musing on the implications of her taking such a risk. "Evelyn…"

"I didn't take it! No harm, no foul," she shrugged, watching the blonde's jaw muscle flex in warning of the lecture she was about to get.

"That's because I zapped it out of your hand," her fellow Marcher added cooly.

"Which, by the way, hurt! Not to mention, you could've gotten us all killed if Cullen hadn't arrived!"

"Evelyn," Cullen's voice was one of desperate anger and disappointment, "each time you've taken it, it's altered your mana. Maker's breath, you are too important to lose to take such a risk!"

"Hence, me saving all of our arses by taking it."

"No! Your duty is not to save us," Cullen gestured around the tent, though she knew he meant the Inquisition in whole, "your job is to use the anchor to close rifts and kill Corypheus. Something no one else in Thedas can do. None of our lives matter, we would all die in the line of duty to protect you, it's not the other way around. You know this!" Sorin nodding in agreement with him only served to help her recovering mana flare hotly.

As the heat rolled off her, a familiar polite voice called from outside, "Your Worship? I'm here to check on your wounds, my lady. I was told I'd find you here."

Evelyn kept her raptor-like gaze fixed on Cullen, who answered for her, "You may enter."

The same Orlesian healer who treated them yesterday stepped into the crowded tent, bowing slightly. "Good morning, Inquisitor, Commander, and—oh." She froze, her slender fingers fidgeting as her eyes fell on the young Knight-Enchanter.

“Sorin Cyrus, but you can call me Sorin,” he introduced himself, a touch of vexation in his voice.

“Also known as 'Fine Ser,'” Evelyn added, still bitter that he ratted her out. She watched with satisfaction as her friend shot her a lethal glare.

The young woman glanced around nervously, no doubt sensing the palpable tension in the tent, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I could come back later if you'd prefer, Your Worship," she suggested, her voice uncertain.

“No, now is as good a time as any, Enchanter…” Evelyn paused and looked expectantly at the Orlesian.

“Senior Enchanter Miriam De Montfort of the Circle at Montsimmard, at your service.” Despite the heavy navy robes she wore, Miriam managed a surprisingly graceful curtsy. Her white fur cowl lent her pale face more color, as did the cold causing her cheeks to turn bright pink.

The Marcher couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. The De Montfort family, also known as the Montfort dynasty, was one of the most influential noble families in Orlais, with blood ties to the late Empress Celene herself. They were also famous for their beautiful women, but it looked like this particular De Montfort didn’t quite hit the genetic jackpot. Her small, deep-set, pale blue eyes, overly long face, and petite frame didn't conform to the dynasty's usual standards of gorgeous, full-figured ladies. To be honest, though, those features gave her a unique, almost quirky cuteness—kind of like the charm you find in a nug. Evelyn suspected however that it wasn’t the lack of looks or impressive medical skills that got De Montfort chosen to be sent here. Gaspard wouldn’t shed a tear if a member of the family who backed Celene ended up dead on the battlefield. The political intrigue in Orlais was always a twisted game, and most likely Miriam was just another pawn in it.

"A pleasure, Enchanter De Montfort. I appreciate you answering the call to aid the Inquisition. If you're from Montsimmard, you must know Vivienne."

Miriam nodded her head excitedly, her pale eyes brightening, "Yes, the First Enchanter is a good friend of mine! She speaks highly of the work of the Inquisition, sending news back of your adventures to the Circle in the hopes that more join her."

Evelyn smiled politely back, through her simmering anger, "She is truly an asset to us, as I'm sure your help will be here. As it happens, Madame Vivienne has been assisting our Ambassador more with wrangling the noble's support lately, rather than using her healing talents."

"Yes, she had always been good at that, if I may say so, Your Worship."

"Evelyn, please. 'Your Worship' makes me feel like an old Chantry relic." Miriam's face took on one of horror, Evelyn having forgotten that some people can't fathom calling her anything but a fancy title. "Or… you can keep calling me whatever you wish."

"Thank you, Herald, now if I may," the healer gestured to her hurt leg. Giving her a nod, Miriam began her examination while the others resumed their conversation.

"Look, Inquisitor," Cullen began back up, "I would be wasting my breath asking you to stay behind in camp while we push through to Samson's operation, so for the love of Andraste, just listen to us when we advise caution." Evelyn's lips formed a pout, knowing that he was right. "You are still recovering, so for now, leave matters to me. And stay away from the red lyrium! I'll have our dwarven allies clear as much of it as possible near our camps."

She crossed her arms, "Enchanter, how long until I can see action again?"

"I would say two days at the least, Inquisitor. Aside from injuries, all of you have been under extreme stress and run down. Your bodies need nourishment and rest to be fit for fighting."

"Understood," Evelyn looked to the Commander, reaching out to jab him with a finger, "you have two days to do as you please without me, then I'll be right beside you the rest of the way. Now, if you two would excuse us, the Commander and I have a matter to discuss in private." Sorin, eager to escape, bolted out of the tent followed by the flustered healer. Still looking angry with her, she sauntered over closer to him taking off the gifted gloves. She smiled up into his softening gaze, untucking his shirt to feel up his chest to his wound, where a soft bandage was wrapped around his chest. "How's the wounds?" She asked in a soft velvety voice.

Evelyn felt his heartbeat quicken a bit, and her hands marveled at how warm he was. "Both wounds were easily stitched."

"Stitched? But a healer such as Enchanter De Montfort could have completely healed them if it were so."

He sighed heavily, "I'm still… easing into having magic used on me. I did have her repair the muscles so I wouldn't be hindered by it, but I trust more in our surgeon than mages I have only just met. I would've gone to Solas but he too needs to recover."

Evelyn wasn't going to push the issue with him, relieved that he was intact. "I'm just glad you're alright, I was worried."

"You were worried?" Cullen chuckled harshly, "Eve, after reading your letter, Maker, you had me scared to death! Then upon my arrival, I find you surrounded by the enemy, you run out to break the ice, fall through it, and then get shot with an arrow! Now, I learn that you also almost took red lyrium," he cupped her face more so with his rough fingers than his gentle palms, "Andraste preserve me, what were you thinking?!"

"Which time?"

Watching his ire rise at the quip, she bit her lip finding herself funny, and rather than scold her, he swept her up in a desperate kiss. Evelyn's arms reach up around his broad shoulders, while his arms locked around her middle. She eagerly moved her lips against his in open-mouth kisses, wasting no time. She missed him dearly, the past week amplifying her longing just to be held.

Gently parting them, although still a breath away, his sweet honeyed eyes gazed down at her, "No. More. Rash. Actions." She nodded at his quiet but stern tone, still seeing stars. "You have the support of your army and of your Commander, so we strategize and plan. We do this together. Promise me?"

"Yes, my love." She nipped again at his lips, "I'm incredibly glad you're here."

"As am I," he bent as if to kiss her, but froze a hair breath away from her lips. Her eyes popped open as he spoke, "for I would appreciate having my coat back."

Evelyn pushed him playfully by the shoulders, careful not to touch his wound, "What am I to wear then? That was extremely warm." She pouted and he turned to his trunk, searching through it.

"Here, this is my old one. It'd suit you better in the field anyway. I don't want to have to worry about you setting all this fur on fire." She accepted the heavy leather and fur-lined jacket. Anything considered flammable was safely tucked inside the thick outer leather. The material of the arms down to the top of the chest was dark mahogany, and worn well in the usual places about the joints. Below it, the deep brown was replaced by a rich earthy red. Slipping it on, the weight recommended its warmth, though it'd be too big for her to use the fasteners, but she could belt it. "I also wouldn't want Samson mistaking you for me from afar. Everyone knows me by this," he held the mantle up between them and she couldn't deny the truth to his words.

It was his identifying marker, as much as the anchor was hers. Though parts of his armor had once been from his Templar days, slowly he had been letting go of that life piece by piece as it were. Each battle had seen some part of that armor ruined, and without remorse or nostalgia, he let it go. Though the scars from his service would remain, he was forging a way farther away from Knight-Commander Rutherford to simply Cullen.

"Where did that come from anyway? Did you buy it or you truly don't know?"

"Ros made it. She sent it to me when I was at Greenfell recovering. I… wanted nothing to do with it, or them at the time, so I packed it away. Never touched it or anything else they sent me until after I left Kirkwall. I found it again while packing to go to Haven and… well, it seemed the practical thing to do and not let her time go to waste."

"This is from Ros?!" Evelyn grinned a bright toothy smile, "That makes me love it even more!" He chuckled rolling his eyes at her sentimentality. "So all those times nobles have asked you about where you got it from, you've known?"

Cullen had always just answered the question with a 'I haven't the slightest' or a 'in my travels.' She had never directly asked about it until now, believing all those lies he told the nosey nobility. "And tell them my sister made it? It doesn't really do anything for the image."

Evelyn covered her mouth trying not to burst out laughing, "Image? My, my, are we vain! You won an epic victory at Adamant Fortress against Wardens, no less, and now you have an image, do you?"

"That is not what I meant," he scowled over at her teasing, "and you know it." He turned to finish armoring up when a loud explosion erupted from nearby. When she jumped and fire danced around her, she nearly burnt his tent down. The continuous fighting for days and being sensitive to every sound was taking its toll. Cullen tried to calm her quickly, "It's alright! Evelyn, it's alright!" Just the sound of his voice was enough to break the trance, and she dispelled her magic at his assurances. "It's Rocky and the other dwarves clearing the cave passage. He was eager to try his new powder concoction, believing it equal to Gaatlok. Bull's probably there too already, as it's a matter of pride for him."

Even after his explanation, she placed a hand on her heart attempting to halt its pounding. Swallowing hard she took some deep breaths watching Cullen frown with concern. Taking her hands, he enveloped her, helping her to shut out the world for a moment as she had done when he had seen the Hero of Ferelden back at Skyhold. The solitude paired with his presence brought her anxiety down and she pushed away conveying her thanks.

Watching her face contort in guilt and shame, she watched his golden eyes soften. "Eve, you're safe with me here. I won't let anything or anyone hurt you. You've been through a lot lately, so get some rest and in two days you can rejoin me. I will post ample security around you, and you have your companions. I'm sure Sorin won't stray far from your side." When another explosion shook the tent, he finished getting ready, by pulling on his returned mantle. Taking her head and pressing her forehead to his lips, he sweetly kissed her, "I love you. Just get some rest, I'll send messages to you of our progress as we go."

"Please do, and be safe my love."

The two exited the tent to find Sorin sitting outside by the forward camp's main fire. He was hunched over holding his head in his palm staring off, his wavy black locks hanging about his face. With him chatting away nervously was Miriam De Montfort. Her back was to Evelyn, and seemingly too distracted by her own story, Sorin picked his head up out of his hand and shrugged, mouthing something like, 'She won't leave me be.'

"Seems I have one more rescuing act to do before I rest, Commander. Maker watch over you."

"And you Inquisitor." With that, as he walked up the path, he was assaulted by several runners, reading the missives as he walked. It was a wonder he never tripped doing so.

Turning back to her fellow Knight-Enchanter, she watched as he stood all but shouldering the Senior Enchanter out of his way to get to Evelyn. "Oh, I-I suppose I'll see you later to check on that fracture, ser-- I mean, Sorin!" When she caught a glimpse of Sorin's scowl, Evelyn smiled and waved to the healer before the two walked back towards their tents, followed in tow by their faithful guards.

"Nice coat."

"Thanks. So, what's with you and Enchanter De Montfort?"

"She talks endlessly; I sit there mute; that's about it," he grumbled. The hard-packed snow crunched beneath their feet as they walked. The sloping landscape around them was blanketed in about three feet of snow. The Inquisition soldiers must've worked through the night clearing the paths in and out of their camps, for the accumulation under her boots hardly crested her toes.

"Miriam seems nice, maybe she doesn't have any friends here and she's finding it easier to speak to another Circle mage."

"Annoying people is no way to make friends."

"By annoying, you mean talking? I'm pretty sure that's the only way to begin an acquaintance."

Sorin exhaled forcefully, "I'm not here to make friends."

"Oh, lovers then?" His head snapped to hers with such a look of disturbed shock, she found herself biting back a laugh. "Well, if you're not here to make friends… I mean, she's cute, right?" As they stepped into camp, Sorin stomped away as if a storm cloud was riding him. With restoration efforts underway and the rest of her companions resting, Evelyn sought the solitude of her tent to catch up on work that had piled up over the weeks of neglect. Happy to do something other than fighting, she sat at the small table, lit her candle, and whispered to herself, "To work."