Two days of rest had passed by quickly catching up on intelligence from Leliana and diplomatic affairs from Josephine. Evelyn had had time to write the Spymaster about her concerns regarding Solas, Michel de Chevin, and Miriam De Montfort. Something fishy was going on between the three of them, but what it was, even a moderate player of The Game like herself could not fathom. Plus, she had enough on her plate as it was, and her mind could only be pulled in so many directions before she forgot the whole purpose of being in the Emprise du Lion altogether.
Solas' spell had worked, preserving her blessed arm from degrading further. Pleased - but seemingly not surprised that it had - the elf explained that the spell would wear off after so long, but would hold strong until it did. However, he did not know how long it lasted, so he still needed to keep a personal eye on it. When asked if he could teach the spell to Sorin or one of the Senior Enchanters, he replied that it was an ancient elven spell so complex that Circle mages hadn't the skills to cast it correctly. Sharing a knowing look with her fellow Knight-Enchanter, the two played it off as if they understood and let the matter drop - though the Spymaster would hear of it.
Even with their personnel problems, by far the biggest challenge was the red lyrium tainting everything. In the aftermath of the battle, the dead Red Templars oozed the red poison into the river and when her valet gave her river water to wash with, some soaked into Evelyn's skin. Though it was a small amount, it was enough to make her feel as if her skin was being bitten by thousands of fire ants. The pyromancer nearly itched herself raw until Enchanter De Montfort was able to give her some relief. Though the incessant itch stopped, she was left with a massive headache. With the river water unsafe for use, they began collecting snow water to boil, which was better, but the more ground they uncovered, the more the crimson crystals poked up out of the soil as if they were spring flowers.
The constant buzz of the charged lyrium put a ringing in all of the mages' ears and they became testy towards their fellow soldiers. Blundering around with their eyes half squinted, it was becoming a real problem. For the Inquisitor, it was drastically worse, having consumed the poison twice before. Evelyn had been confined to her tent, unable to walk about without vomiting. Her hands shook, and it was as if she was suffering from lyrium withdrawal. Miriam stayed with her most of the day, along with Sorin who worried that the longer she stayed in the Emprise du Lion, the worse she'd become.
The other mages and Templars had become frightened of the Inquisitor's reaction, having burned a few in her treatments. Miriam, to her credit, was the only one who had stayed regardless of the burns she received. The Enchanter was a devout Andrastian, and just as her advisors predicted, it did not matter if people knew the truth of how her mark was etched in her palm. Evelyn couldn't help but feel guilty for the wounds and scars she was suffering on her hands and wrists and had begged the healer to relent on numerous occasions to prevent further injury. Sorin had even tried to talk sense into her, but even as stubborn and blunt as he was, he failed. Miriam De Montfort believed in her heart that it was her sacred duty and honor not to waver before the Herald’s holy flames, as she was being tested by the Maker. The resolve that dwelled deep within her pale blue eyes seemed to mirror the Knight-Encanter’s own in a sense and yielded to her desire to serve.
Fade-bent on being a part of the operation, Evelyn was desperate for relief, "Isn't there anything you can think of Enchanter? Why is it the Templars cannot Silence me?" At first light, Evelyn and her companions would be trekking up to meet with Cullen to formulate a plan of attack. The Commander had been busily retaking their camps up the mountain and was now in a position to assault both Suledin Keep and the quarry. He was currently holding their position at what they were calling the 'Tower Camp,' aptly named for it sat at the base of the Tower of Bone.
"Please, Your Worship, call me Miriam." As much as they were a bit weary of the Orlesian Enchanter, she could not fault the woman's dedication having scarred herself for life simply to bring her relief. When it came to Sorin, from what Evelyn had observed, it seemed she had a harmless crush on the Marcher.
"As soon as you start calling me Evelyn-- ow!" A groan of agony split her head in two and her veins pulsed with fire.
Blue glowing hands were hovering over her in an instant, "I can quell the pain as much as I can, which in turn will lessen your mana's reaction to it. I feel it is as you described to me before, where your magic is trying to protect you." With the help of Sorin, Evelyn divulged her history of red lyrium poisoning to the Orlesian. "If I can catch it before it flares up, I can lessen the impact greatly. However, I do not understand why it is our Templars cannot calm your mana without them becoming completely spent. And even then, it hardly helped you."
"Unfortunately, I think we need to consult Solas." Sorin crossed his arms and looked between the two women.
Miriam's eyes darkened, "Why should we bother with the apostate?" Like her good friend Vivienne, she was clearly an Aequitarian, and staunch believer in the role of Circles in Thedas. "What could he tell us that we haven't tried already?"
From under his raven locks, he sighed annoyed, "He knows things. He's the only one who can cast the spell to protect her mark from spreading. Look, we don't trust him either, but he has helped."
With a hoarse rasp, Evelyn countered, "Yes, but I don't see him anywhere to be found. Where was he with the other mages before I frightened them away? All but Miriam, that is, and I agree with her. He can cast his spell of preservation on the anchor, but we don't need him for this. Miri is more than capable and I trust her assessment." Grateful for her confidence - and possibly the nickname signaling their new friendship - Miriam nodded with a sweet smile.
"Very well, but E, how in the Void are you going to make it to the Tower Camp?" He had a valid point.
"I will simply have to deal with it."
"I'm afraid I have to agree," her soft Orlesian accent was soothing, "the sooner you are away from the energy bleeding from the crystals the better. Let us hope Commander Rutherford has been able to clear the camp of the primeval crystals. It'll help all of us mages immensely, but you Evelyn, I fear will suffer regardless. I can make a tonic that will help replenish and fortify you after each purging. No need to have you weakened further by that. I'll start making them, call me if I have not returned before the next wave." With her gaze lingering longer on Sorin - who hardly glanced her way - she left the two brooding Knight-Enchanters.
"Right," she resigned herself to the thought that there would be no remedy for her, "well, if there's nothing that can be done, there is no sense dwelling on it. We leave for the Tower Camp tomorrow and I'll just have to suck it up." He nodded, his pale eyes holding hers still, "And for the love of Andraste, would you please acknowledge that poor girl!" Sorin shrugged defiantly, and Evelyn threw her arm above her head in a huff. "Out of my sight, you're hopeless." She turned her back to him under her layers of blankets, snuggling down as much as she could in them.
"Finally, smells like shit in here from all your vomit." When she poked her head up and looked at him over her shoulder, he was smirking at inconveniencing her, "Goodnight, E." After he left, Evelyn grumbled at the remark, envisioning burning his pants on in front of Miriam. The thought alone imagining their reactions lifted her spirits as she drifted off into the Fade.
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The Tower of Bone seemed out of place, even as a relic from a different time. The glare from off its immense metal chains reminded him too much of The Gallows as did all the red lyrium. In two days, he had pushed his soldiers hard to get to the "crossroads" of Samson's operation. With his placement of the Tower Camp, he successfully cut off the supplies to the mine and fort from Judicel's Crossing - a long and terribly high bridge that connected to a major road through Orlais. He made a note to himself to warn Evelyn about the height, knowing her fear of them. The guards had already intercepted several supply wagons bound for the fort, no doubt in a rush to get them to Samson before the Inquisition descended upon them. Their position also cut off the fort and mine from each other, so there would be no ability for either to call for reinforcements. He had Samson right where he wanted him…
How long he has waited for this moment of retribution? Cullen was wound so tightly, that it took everything in him to patiently wait for the fortifications of camp to be built before launching his assault. Samson was watching; now and again from high in Suledin Keep, the glare from the sun glanced off a looking glass from the fort's battlements. Twice, Cullen had reached for his own in time to see the man himself snarling back down at him. He had even placed his Command Tent in the perfect position so he could see each time he spied on their camp. It brought him no small amount of satisfaction seeing Samson rip his straggly hair out over having been outmaneuvered by him; it was a small victory for all the lives of his brothers and sisters of the Order he wasted. But he wanted more…
There was something odd drifting in the mountainous air; Cullen was feeling more aggressive and anxious than usual lately. He contributed it to Samson's presence, but lately, he had been seeing red. A tight coiling in his chest wound him tightly up in anticipation of release. After much thought, he realized he hadn't had a single headache, any trembling limbs, fatigue, no physical withdrawal symptoms at all. In the battles up the mountain, he felt a dominance in his swordsmanship. Enemies crashed against his unmovable shield before being quickly cut down. It was too good to be true, for these were Red Templars with augmented strength, speed, and endurance; he should not have been outpacing them.
Then it hit him.
If the mages were suffering in its proximity, what would prevent him from such side effects? Except for him, his lyrium-starved body was blissfully drinking it in greedily without his consent. The red lyrium was bleeding into him and he was getting a high just by being near the largest deposit of the mineral they had ever discovered. It needed to be destroyed.
Trying to suppress the renewed effects of its corruption, he clenched his fist feeling the intoxicating strength and stamina that lyrium gave Templars. No, he was not part of the Order; he did not want to feel its raw addicting power again. The red stuff didn't bring the clarity of the cool blue lyrium, clouding his mind instead with vengeance. His private thoughts raced with the calculating speed he once relished, but its return made him feel dirty. It was as if he had drunk a barrel full of Antivian coffee, and he could do nothing but pace like a caged lion waiting, hoping, Samson would attack to grant him some physical outlet from its bleeding effects.
When a scout reported that the Inquisitor and her team had departed Sahrnia, it filled him with crippling shame and anxiety. She shouldn't see him like this; he shouldn't see her like this. What if he did something, what if he hurt her? Surely, he wouldn't be that affected? He could reign in his darker impulses for a day until they destroyed the mine. Yet, there was a voice from deep within the shadows of his mind that was growing in boldness. Bolstered by the familiar essence soaking into his skin, the ugly visage of what he had once let himself become after the events of Kinloch and that which flourished in Kirkwall begged for confrontation - an idea he would not entertain.
Absorbed in his duty, he had his army running ragged in preparation, for time was not on their side - nor his. What would happen if he consumed too much? Would this set him back in his recovery from lyrium? Most certainly, but how much? Maker, the fallout from this would be excruciating…
"I want the number of guards on each rotation doubled. If Samson attacks, I want us to be ready to react. Dane's men will prepare to make the first assault on the mine at dusk tomorrow. Everyone else will be assigned to the guard rotation and the construction of the remaining defenses."
"Commander, how fares the good fight?" The Marcher's melodic intonation was carried to him on the stiff breeze.
Turning his head back to gaze at her, he couldn't help his smile seeing Evelyn ascend the stairs to the Command Tent but reigned it in quickly, standing to salute her with the rest of the soldiers. She was still wearing his gifted coat and gloves, which suited her well. "Inquisitor, I trust you are in good health?" He was relieved to not only have her back with him but that no old repulsions reared their ugly heads.
Evelyn smiled her polite Inquisitor grin, but there was a strain in her eyes, "As well as can be, thank you, Commander. What's the latest? You have quite the camp here."
Looking to his officers, he dismissed them having given them their orders. After explaining the significance of their position to her, he began his debriefing of their upcoming operation. "Our attack will be two-pronged. At dusk tomorrow, Knight-Captain Dane will take a sizable force to attack the mine. As you relayed to us, the Red Templars have trouble seeing in the dark, so our force will be comprised of our stealthier units. I've asked Owayne, Varric, Bull, and Scout Harding to assist with the endeavor. They will each command teams to sweep and clear the mine, without alerting the fort to the situation. Rocky and our dwarven allies will prime explosives to level the mine and time it as we begin our assault on the Keep in the morning with the main Inquisition force." Cullen couldn't help the bloodthirsty smirk on his face, relishing his coming victory, "Samson is cornered, I don’t think he was expecting us to arrive with such numbers."
"Yet," the Inquisitor's face was seriously studying the map before her, and he noticed a bit of an unusual rasp to her voice, "if Corypheus' dragon shows up we could be in trouble. Erimond summoned it, what's to say Samson can't either?" Pointing with a finger, her eyes bore into him, "Our forces will be vulnerable here and here on the way to the fort."
"That's why this will need to be a hard and fast push into the Keep. It will be hard-fought, make no mistake, but the men are up to the job."
It didn't seem like she was listening to him. The way she slowly milled the idea around annoyed him more than it should. He had a plan; he did not need her to start picking it apart. "Perhaps, I can wound the dragon as I did at Adamant, but that is leaving a lot to chance." She squared her shoulders to him, but upon seeing his intense look, she balked back, eyeing him cautiously.
"Evelyn, we have Samson cornered. There is nowhere he can run. Dragon or no; Red Giants; Shadows, and whatever monstrosities he can throw at us be damned! Samson is right there!" He pounded his fist on the table causing his markers to jostle out of place.
After a minute she nodded her head, her squinting eyes searching for something in his, "You're right." Before she continued, she went to place a hand on his shoulder, but he shuttered and flinched away at her touch, "Oh, I'm… sorry?"
He sighed heavily, knowing sooner or later he would have to divulge his shame. With a resigned huff, he took a deep breath to calm his temper. "It's the red lyrium. Its effect is bleeding into me, making me feel as if I'm taking lyrium again. Your mana is…" He paused trying to think of something politer than prickling. "I'm just not used to feeling magic that strongly again. I apologize."
To his despair and frustration, Evelyn took two steps away from him, meeting his eyes with loving concern, yet he could not will his muscles to reflect the same warmth. "I'm probably the worst person for you to be around then. Will you be alright?"
"The sooner the mine is destroyed the better." He looked over at her noticing strange rolling waves coming over her. Her face paled, and he reached out instinctively for her despite the distance, "Evelyn--" Cullen was halted by a sudden retch as she emptied her stomach under the table. The glow of her core mana ignited, making it look like she was choking on lava.
"Shit," she said hoarsely standing and wiping her mouth. Her eyes were blazing orange as her mana was fully engaged, "I was hoping it'd be better up here. Stupid me." He tried to place a comforting hand on her, but her magical aura was so hot, he couldn't. Instead, his hand hovered awkwardly in the air as if bouncing off an invisible barrier. "I have not gone unaffected by its power either," she gasped for air, blinking up saying another curse under her breath. The two of them, separated by more than just a table, gazed into each other's weary eyes, wanting nothing more than to console the other.
Feeling as though they stared at each other for an eternity at a loss as to what to do, footsteps running up from behind them broke the trance. "Inquisitor?" It was the healer, Enchanter De Montfort, "I sensed trouble, and we came as quick as we could." On her heels was Sorin, bounding up the makeshift spiraling staircase they constructed. When their eyes fell upon her pulsing mana and puddle of vomit, concern creased their faces.
"Is it no better here, E?" The Phoenix shook her head at him unable to answer as she covered her mouth looking as if she'd be sick again. "Damn."
"Sorin, the fucking mine is right there. Of course, I'm not going to feel better." It seemed her sickness was grating on her spirits. "I didn't know it was that close to camp."
Observing quietly, Cullen noticed Sorin suffering from the telltale signs of a headache as well. He rubbed a hand down his face, "Maker willing, by tomorrow evening we'll be rid of it when we lay waste to the mine."
The Orlesian mage, gazed over at him pressing a hand to Evelyn's forehead, "I pray you're right, Commander. The other mages, myself included, aren't suffering nearly as bad as Evelyn and I fear what prolonged exposure will do to her." The Inquisitor shut her eyes tightly, seemingly trying to calm her mana, but was struggling to control it as it dimmed and brightened erratically. "It's most likely due to her having had it in her veins before."
The three of them and their magic was becoming insufferable, making him feel as if they were sucking up all the air in the bloody mountains. His fists clenched tight and he fought for control of his spiraling, but he couldn't think with their blabbering on about things not having to do with the upcoming operation or Samson. A darkness sprung up unexpectantly in him, bringing with it his repulsion of their combined mana. When a scout carrying the latest report of the quarry's defenses came, his tolerance for them ran out.
"If you all wouldn't mind," he bellowed over their discussion, "I have important preparations to see to before tomorrow, and your magic is a distraction. Remove yourselves from my Command Tent!" The Commander's voice fell harshly upon the mages and the three stared at him in a bit of shock. Glowering at them, he felt his power surging forth as it once had a year ago when magic threatened him. It was both familiar and alien; comforting and unstable.
"Come, Herald. I'll see to your comfort as you rest up for the operation. We should start with a tonic."
Not budging from her spot even with Miriam tugging on her arm, Evelyn's face was set like stone but the fire in her eyes burned into him. "No," she said with a haughty and arrogant tone, "I wish to hear the latest report. If you two would excuse us, surely the Inquisitor's presence alone does not bother you, Commander?"
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He ignored her, setting his jaw and glaring straight ahead at a nondescript point on his map. As the other mages moved off, Sorin naturally couldn't leave without the last word, throwing a 'still an arse' at his back. To his surprise, it was the Orleasian who chastised him for his language.
"Your report," he ordered, barking at the nervous man who was looking between the two heads of the Inquisition with some apprehension. Listening to the scout, who swallowed a lump in his throat before beginning, Cullen realized his error. He needed to keep himself in check, this bleeding effect would not own him as lyrium once had. Once the update was complete, he thanked the soldier with a softened tone, which he could see visually granted the man some relief. When he was out of earshot, he blurted out, "Inquisitor-- I mean, Eve." She turned, her face looking at him unsure of who she was talking to, as if he were a stranger. The sight of her anger dissipating into fear was enough to sober him, for he never wished to give her reason to gaze at him like that again. Aware that they were in the middle of a bustling camp, he ignored the hum of her magic, and closed the gap to her, "Forgive me, I don't know what came over me."
Searching his eyes, she found he spoke true and the tension in her shoulders relaxed. Just as she was about to say something, it was interrupted by a sharp gasp, as the mark bit her and her mana surged forth again with a vengeance. Stumbling back away from him, she cried out for the Enchanter. She collapsed to the ground with ethereal flames rising from her limbs. He peered down over the camp and roared out another call for De Montfort. Thankfully, she was already being fade-stepped through the throng of soldiers by Sorin. Materializing in the tent, Miriam raced to the Inquisitor as Cyrus, having spent a lot of mana to get the healer there, joined his mentor on the floor of the tent while regaining his stregnth.
"That's it, I'm getting Solas!" Surprised that his voice could reach such a stressed and voluminous level, Sorin tried to push himself up, and Evelyn growled after him not to. Unsure of what was happening Cullen took a step toward her, but was halted by the Knight-Enchanter's hand as he passed, "Don't she'll burn you."
Evelyn was clearly not in control of herself, between her wild breathing and mana, the situation was becoming dangerous. "Why isn't there a Templar assisting her?!" He called to Miriam whose hands were glowing fiercely against the Phoenix’s magic. His own weak power tried to shield him from her aura, but was failing. It was so hot, he might as well had walked into a bake oven.
"It agitates her magic-- ow, even more!" The flames of the Phoenix licked up the Enchanter's hands and the familiar stench of burning skin accosted him. She whimpered and sucked her breath in through her teeth. “It’d only get worse!”
At the scene unfurling before him, something impulsive and instinctual went off inside him, readying a power he no longer possessed. Acting fast, he stepped forth and grabbed Evelyn’s flaming hand releasing what would have been a mind-numbing Silence upon the Inquisitor if he had been at full stregnth. Locking eyes with Evelyn, there was an inner calm that using his old abilities touched, and by her reaction after seeing it in his eyes, it had transferred to her. His power whispered up her body like a soothing mist, quenching the flame roiling through her veins. The Phoenix let out a long breath of relief, though shocked by what he had done - as was he that it worked.
"Cullen…"
He saw the frantic look in her eyes and knelt beside her, still holding her wrist, "I told you, it's the bleeding effect, I feel like I'm taking it."
"But--"
"I know! I know…" He quickly added releasing her, and she finally relaxed. "I'm not sure why I was able to help you when the Templars who are actually taking it weren't. Perhaps, it has to do with its color…"
Catching onto his line of thought, she sat up, "If, what you did was caused by red lyrium, and my mana is craving it… and the Templars take the blue lyrium, then… you may be the only one who can help me." They stared at each other for a long moment, "Isn't that ironic?" She gave him a wan smile, but it only made him frown more.
"Remember when Dagna said she believes it's a living essence?" Shaking herself from the fog of her illness, her whole energetic countenance seemed to have been revived, looking at him attentively. "What if it 'knows' things?"
"Oh, it most certainly knows what it's doing! I've made deals with it. The last time was when Ryker stabbed me." Startled by this news, he shook his head having not heard this. "I told it that so long as it helped me defeat Ryker, it could have access to my mana and mark. Bu tit would cease when we defeated him."
Forgetting where they were, his rage surfaced, causing him to scrunch his face in anger, "You-- you did what?! Maker's breath, Eve, what would possess you to give it so much?!"
"Revenge."
As they were locked in a telepathic conversation, observing each other's reaction as his mind processed the significance of this, slowly the tension abated. Cullen slowly came to the realization that since arriving in the Emprise du Lion, he had been consumed by his desire for revenge on Samson. "You think the red lyrium is attracted to me because of my want for vengeance?" She nodded. "But you want it as well, and look what it's doing to you."
She leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice as if the crimson menace could hear them, "I've been here for weeks, and it hasn't gotten worse until you showed up. Whatever it's after, it has to do with you. Maybe it knows I'll get in its way so it's trying to weaken me."
His eyes wandered to her strong features, "But what would it want…" And then it hit him. For a moment, he felt as if he was studying a chess board, watching the players move its pieces around. When it seemed it was his turn, he found his Queen had a direct line across the board to the opponent’s Knight standing between him and the King: Samson. His eyes widened and Evelyn's matched his, "Maker, it wants me to replace Samson! Think about it, it's coaxing me into wanting to take lyrium by giving me a taste of it again. What if it is weakening you because it knows I'll do anything to help you? It takes away my withdrawal symptoms and gives me purpose in caring for you. It knows we will kill Samson; we have him trapped up in his bloody fort! With no one to lead Corypheus' army, it's already looking for a replacement. I suppose in my state I'm an easy target."
He watched as the Inquisitor's face morphed into a snarl. "That manipulative little shit! We can't let it do this, it will not have you!"
"E!" The couple turned their heads to Sorin now standing to try and block some of the attention they were garnering from the soldiers walking past. "People are listening."
Evelyn quickly sat back leaning up on her hands. Even through the thick borrowed coat she was wearing, he could see she was breathing heavily with slight panic on her face. "The rules of the game have now changed with this. Whatever is waiting for us in that fort tomorrow, it will not be under the command of Samson…"
Cullen pressed his face into his hand, still kneeling a few feet from her, "Samson I could have countered, anticipated his moves, but this… how do you even fight this?" Time was dwindling until their attack tonight and even more so now for the assault on the Keep having no idea what they were up against.
"So," Sorin's voice interjected into the conversation, "if red lyrium is in control of everything corrupted by it, does that mean it's controlling Corypheus? Is our enemy really the essence in red lyrium?" Holding their breaths at the thought, the many revelations were rapidly becoming overwhelming.
"Void take me, this is becoming one giant fucking shit show." Ever eloquent with her swearing, he couldn't help but mumble a curse of his own. Watching the weight of things come crashing down on her, he asked the other two mages to close the sides of the tent for some privacy. He knew that these matters fell heavily on her despite the aid of the Inquisition’s members, she alone carried the anchor. Evelyn was already crumbling inward on herself, hugging her legs, all but ready to fall over in a fetal position.
In the darkness of the tent, out of the harsh glare of the sun's reflection on the snow, Cullen tried to place a loving arm around her, but she pushed him away. “Don’t, I’ll hurt you,” she grumbled, though he knew her frustration was not directed at him. “I don’t want to burn you.” Her eyes flickered up to him guiltfully and he knew she spoke of the scarring on his shoulder from Kinloch.
Seeing the private conversation to come and wanting nothing to do with it, Sorin asked Miriam to wait outside with him, which she did enthusiastically. He could hear the Knight-Enchanter speaking to her about how the Inquisitor and her Commander were "close friends." Whether she bought it or not, he didn’t care. The red lyrium essence had it right; Cullen most certainly would do anything to help Evelyn. What it didn't account for was their combined intelligence. Perhaps others would've dismissed it as a coincidence that these things were happening, but not them. They had seen too much to know there was no such thing.
“Your mana has calmed, you’re no danger to me. I do know I’m talking about, having been a Templar for over a decade. It’s just… a lot for me to handle again.”
Staring over at him with a pout, she rested her head on her arms over her knees. She changed the subject, seemingly unwilling to push his boundaries, "You still have that lucky coin?"
"I do."
"Good. I'll have your back, but just in case… make sure you have it tomorrow." Eve's eyes drifted away and he knew that she was mentally preparing herself for whatever the essence could throw at them - at him. Her fierce will to protect him always surprised him, having never had someone who would do so with every fiber of their being, though he knew the sensation well, reciprocating such feelings for her.
His voice was low but forceful, "It cannot win so long as we are together. Whatever it has planned, we'll overcome it." The shift in the light in her eyes told him he believed her, and it was enough to silence his doubts as well.
Helping her stand, he parted the tent flaps for the two mages waiting patiently out in the cold. The Senior Enchanter was the first to break the awkward silence, "Um, I'm not quite understanding of everything you said before, but, um, how do you feel, Inquisitor?"
"Nearly normal."
"Amazing! Commander, you did it! Again, I'm not sure how, but it worked!" Miriam's eyes flickered about to the three of them who gave constipated looks back at her. "Am I missing something important here?" Her sweet innocent voice was quiet as her pale eyes widened.
Wiping a gloved hand down his face, he knew he had to tell her. "I haven't taken lyrium for about a year. I shouldn't have been able to do that."
Standing paralyzed in a bit of shock, the petite mage's mouth opened, "Oh, sweet Maker."
Sorin strode over to the healer, leveling a stern look at her, "We would appreciate discretion in this matter, Miriam. The Commander's business is no one's but his own."
The Orlesian nodded her head enthusiastically, "On my oath as a healer! Not a word, Sorin." He stared hard at her for a few more seconds, but it was interrupted by her nervous hiccups. "If it's not too-- 'hic' bold to say, I would recommend that you two-- 'hic' bunk together tonight in case the Inquisitor's mana surges again." Cullen felt the warm flush on his face, and it increased when he glanced at Evelyn biting back a smirk. "I know it's not ideal--'hic'"
"It absolutely is not, I heard the Commander snores."
His jaw all but hit the ground, turning to her, "I snore?! Me?! You... you..." He realized the trap she had just put him in, as she stood there baiting him with an innocent look. She was most definitely feeling back to her normal self. Anything he'd say would reveal that he had an intimate knowledge of her sleeping habits. Even Sorin had a slow smile starting on his face, amused by her antics. "Lucky for you then, Inquisitor, I'll be seeing to the mine infiltration all night. I can make a point to stop in and check on you periodically."
"Thank you, Commander! I could use the rest in case my healing skills are needed-- 'hic' following the missions."
Evelyn took the healer's hands in hers briefly viewing the burns adorning her hands and wrists. "Take care of yourself too, Miri. Sorin, go with her and see to it she gets settled in."
"But--" Came the rebuttal from her long-time friend.
"Do it. I will find someone to help me move some things into Cullen's tent." Accompanying the Inquisitor on this task, they bumped into Warden Blackwall and elicited his help. While they went to her tent, he cleared a space for her to rest for what remained of the day. So it didn't seem odd, he tied open the flaps and conducted business out of his personal quarters. Those delivering reports and messages from his officers were politely told why the Inquisitor was staying with him. There would be rumors regardless - there were enough already - but at least if they weren't hiding her in there, it would be less suspicious.
Before he left, Cullen made up his mind to deliver the Ambassador's letter. Josephine's note was burning a hole in his pocket, wanting to deliver it and be done with it to focus on tonight's mission.
"Warden Blackwall, a moment!" He called at the man's back, having waited until he was a short distance from the tent. Though he wasn't trying to keep it from Evelyn, it wasn't his secret to share. Turning, Cullen wasted no time rummaging through his pocket to find it. Lowering his voice, he imparted, "From the Lady Ambassador." The bearded man stared at it as if he had just given him the cure for the Calling. With his secret quest complete, he turned to leave but was stopped.
"Um, thank you… I, ah, appreciate it. Did she… say anything?"
"I would rather not get involved--"
"Right, yes, I'm sorry."
At seeing the man's morale deflate clearly smitten with Josephine, and she having done him a favor in helping with his proposal to Evelyn's father, Cullen sighed having ensnared himself regretably in someone else's affairs. He added, "She was concerned for your safety." At the news, his steel blue eyes lit up, nodding in thanks before leaving for his tent, no doubt, to read his letter.
Later that evening while sitting in his tent, some forwarded mail of his own reached him, and in it was the reply from Bann Drexford Trevelyan. His heartbeat hastened holding the folded parchment in his hands. Sitting at the small desk in his tent in his untied gambeson and breeches, despite the frigid cold of the night setting in, his skin was moist with sweat suddenly. Should he open it now or wait? Maybe he should do so in the presence of the Ambassador to elicit her help again? Could he wait until they were back at Skyhold to reply?
"Commander, open up!" Scrambling to hide the correspondence, knowing how her eagle eyes took in everything, he slid it between some of these other reports for the time being. Evelyn had left for a bit to check in with her brother and other companions before the quarry mission commenced. With her arms full of extra blankets, he opened the flap letting the Inquisitor inside. Looking at him with a grimace and a red nose from the cold, she asked, "How's my aura? Am I too hot?"
He chuckled, thinking if he wanted to reply seriously or not, "Getting there, but I can handle it until I need to go. I am relieved you didn’t bring your friends though, for your mana is more than enough for me." Relief washed over her, and he was pleased to see her face had regained much of its normal color. Shaking his head with a small smile, he stretched a hand out to her. Hesitant after what happened earlier that day, she gazed back and forth a few times between him and his eyes, slowly moving to grasp it. When they met and he gently closed his fingers around her small hand, he ignored the prickling heat on his skin just to reconnect with her. He whispered sweetly, "I missed you."
"I missed you more." He loved the way how such simple words could life the tension from her face.
Holding each other in a longing gaze, footfalls outside of the tent made them let go abruptly. A soldier called for him with an update and was permitted entry. Upon parting the tent flaps, his casual relay turned into a formal one as he eyed the Inquisitor. "Ser, the Knight-Captain is readying to begin final checks. He wanted me to inform you of such."
"I'll be there presently," nodding to the young man who saluted once to him, then again to Evelyn.
"I suppose I'll wait here and keep the blankets warm," she said a bit disappointed. “You know, it figures the one time we have an excuse to share a tent that I can hardly touch you.” Shimmying out of his old coat in favor of the heavy wool blankets she was about to pile over herself, he got an eyeful of her divine womanly figure. He realized how long it had been since he had touched the silky expanse of her skin.
"Come here," he called softly, holding out his hand again. Pulling her by it closer to him, he placed it on his heart. Cullen startled slightly that the feeling of her mana over his beating heart, concentrating on his ardent love rather than fear. Like the sun, she was always the radiant light in the dark. "Do you trust me? I didn't get to ask it of you before the last time I Silenced you."
The rich light brown hue of her eyes engaged him, "You know I do, wholeheartedly. It's just odd, seeing you use your old abilities like you're my Sentinel." He knew exactly what she meant. He had never been one himself, but he imagined fondly what being Evelyn’s Sentinel would’ve been like during her Knight-Enchanter training back in the Circle. With care, he released his power feeling the air around them cool and quiet. Her eyes blinked a bit heavily a few times, and she let out a slow breath. It seemed not only did such usage greatly help her, but him as well, feeling less sensitive than before.
"Get some rest while I'm gone." His hand caressed her cold cheek and scar, feeling the intensity of her mana subside. Needing to hurry, he quickly began armoring up once more with her assistance, shivering the whole time.
"What about you? I'm sure you've been running yourself ragged all day, not resting once."
"The bleeding of the red lyrium has me in an anxious and energized state. I couldn't sleep if I tried." After putting himself back together and seeing her sad Mabari face, he cupped it in his thick leather gloves, "I'll come back to check on your mana, but please, get some sleep before the mission tomorrow." He could tell she was already tired, probably having not been able to sleep due to her fluctuating magic.
Coaxing her to lay down and covering her up in the layers of blankets she brought, her eyes fixated on him as if she read his thoughts. "And… you are alright with feeling the effects of lyrium again?"
Cullen's hands stilled without their usual shakiness, and he swallowed hard, "I'm… just glad it is not hindering me from performing my duties, and that I can help you. Though I will be happy to go without feeling it again regardless of the consequences."
She nodded, adorably nuzzling her head into her pillow, "You and I are a bloody mess. If it's not one thing, it's another."
He laughed at their expense as well, "As you once said, no one else would want to put up with us." Kissing her goodnight, he resisted the urge to stay as her eyes twinkled up at him, "Sleep, Trevelyan. We have a fort to take in the morning, and I need you at your best."
"Yes, Rutherford," she yawned back finally able to drift off without the threat of her magic. "I look forward to battle beside you tomorrow, my love." As her eyes closed, he smiled, struck oddly by her words. He felt like it should’ve worried him more, but instead he too was comforted that she’d be with him. So often he had sent her into battle without him, but this time he’d be able to lead from the front.
Battle. Revenge. His love beside him. What more could a warrior want?
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Unsure when she fell asleep or for how long, Evelyn awoke in the dark of what she assumed was the early morning. Eager to know how the operation was going, she bundled up and hurried up the snowy path to the Command Tent. Runners were rushing to and fro from the northern gate and back, but oddly the Commander was alone standing staring off toward Suledin Keep. As she quietly approached, watching her footing on the frozen steps, she peered up at him again there was a man hovering closely behind his shoulder.
Evelyn did not recognize him, but at the sight she instictivly stopped as every hair on her body rose. Something was not right. Unblinking, she studied them opening her senses. Her raptor eyes picked up every movement as the man made motions as if conversing with Cullen. Yet it seemed to be a one-sided one, as the Commander seemed paralyzed in place. The whole scene screamed danger and the Phoenix immediately took flight, fade-stepping to rip him away from Cullen. Reaching out with her ethereal hand, time seemed to slow as the mysterious man turned flashing a sinister grin before disappearing in his own cloud of smoke.
When she materialized behind the golden-haired Ferelden, he scolded her, "Now is not the time for your pranks! I'm glad you're feeling better but--"
She didn’t bother listening to him, cutting him off, "There was a man standing here behind you. What was he saying to you?" Her tone was urgent and the soft torch light revealed to him the serious nature of her question.
"What? What man? I wasn't speaking to anyone."
"What were you just thinking then?" He shook his head unsure of where this was going. "I can feel something is off in the air here. Whatever I saw may not have been human." Cullen's hard amber eyes locked on hers, "You were staring up at the Keep, what were you thinking about?"
"I... I was thinking about revenge. That had I been in Samson's place, I wouldn't have been so foolish as to get cornered or waste the lives of my brothers and sisters of The Order in pointless attacks. That I was superior." His words stirred a chill in her colder than the night. The notion of superiority was inherently in the essence of the red lyrium. Her first encounter with it back in Haven made her feel the same. He shook his head running a hand through his hair briskly. "I should've been thinking about the quarry mission, why was I..."
Evelyn's dangerous look halted his words, "A being that can influence thought sounds like a demon to me. And... oh, Maker!"
"What?!" His eyes were alert and trained on her every reactive movement.
She threw her hands up and they landed in her hair remembering what Michel had relayed to her when they first met. "Michel has been hunting a demon here who is helping the red lyrium flourish. What if... that was him? Working with the red essence to ensnare you with such thoughts. This can’t all be a coincedence." She watched his fists clench at his sides and his eyes shut tight at the demon's invasive violation. She knew what it would do to him. Evelyn immediately reached out and grabbed his shoulders, but it was impossible to make contact with him through his armor and layers, "I'm here, Cullen! Look at me!" He forced his eyes open, and her hands moved to his face but he dodged away from them. His back was to him with a gloved and over his face, lost again in the darkness. "I'm real, and I'm here. Don't go down that road; don't shut me out!"
Frustrated that she could not soothe him with her touch, she could only pray – and curse – that her pleas found her way through the chaos erupting in his mind. Reduced to a spectator’s role, she gripped the map table with such a force, knowing without it’s support she’d fall to her knees in tears at his pain. After another stressful minute watching him fight internally for control, the faraway glaze of his eyes blinked back to the present. "Thank the Maker! Breathe, my love, I'm here," she sniffled back her emotions.
With a heavy breath that puffed out a hot stream of air, he slowly calmed. Cullen was so practiced in hiding it, that he hardly showed signs of an attack. Anyone passing by was more likely to believe she was the hysterical one. Approaching the opposite side of the table, she watched him flex and relax his fist. "I'm alright. I'm alright…"
One more visual inspection revealed he was in control to her relief. A low simmering rage came to replace her anguish, though her eyes were still moist, "Ishmael will not have you, of that I can promise you. I'm a Knight-Enchanter; no demon can hide from me."
"We'll fight him together," the leonine resolve on his face was worn like another piece of his armor. Cullen was strong, he had been dealing with his trauma well before she came into his life, much like her.
She nodded firmly back, her senses now all on high alert for any strange energies. "Let's just worry about the quarry mission first. How fares the men?"
His golden eyes reflected the light with their normal luster, re focusing on the task at hand. “All is going according to plan. All the major fighting is done, so the sappers are headed in to lay the charges. It’ll take them several hours to do so, but we are still on track to begin the assault at daybreak. You should arm and prepare yourself for battle, Inquisitor.”
“I’ll have it brought to me here.”
"You're staying?"
"Yes, Commander, unless you'd like another visit from Ishmael, I'm not leaving your side. Consider me your Sentinel." The irony of her words was not lost him.
Evelyn couldn't help the small smile that grew on her lips. Demon hunting was her calling and she relished the hunt. The stakes were higher this time, however, with Cullen stuck in the middle of the war for his soul. She knew she should be more concerned, but deep in the fire of her core, there was an unshakable confidence that was beaten into her since her days as an Apprentice mage. This demonic creature had made it personal; Ishmael knew she’d see it and what it was doing to her love. No demon had bested her yet, and now she had caught the scent of this particularly devious one if her memory served her right from Michel’s assessment.
Staring into the waning darkness, her raptor eyes burned orange searching out over the horizon for a glimpse of her prey. “I’m coming,” she whispered, “and when I find you, I’ll show you what a real demon is.”