The familiar sounds of a bustling camp made it through his dreamless sleep. The clanks of armor were like soothing chimes and the barking of orders was like reverent chanting. The first orange rays of light were peeking through his tent flaps as he ran a hand through his thick straw-colored hair. Turning over, he couldn't help but take in a deep inhale letting the crisp air of the Frostback Mountains - that he had once called home - fill his lungs. Swinging his legs over the side of his cot, Cullen stretched feeling no aches or pain. Even though it had been months without the crippling effects of lyrium withdrawal, it was a bone-aching pain one never forgot.
"Ser, you're wanted in the Command Tent," called a voice of a Knight from outside.
"I'll be there presently," his voice came out deeper with a hard rasp. Cullen's brow knitted finding it odd, but ignored the peculiar feeling.
Quickly making himself presentable, he walked to the large tent at the center of their camp, watching his soldiers with a scrutinous eye. They straightened and saluted stiffly as he passed, unwilling to risk his ire. Cullen ran a tight ship, and he held his Knights to the same standards as himself.
Waiting for him in front of the tent, he greeted the Elder One. Taking a knee and clasping his hand to his heart, he spoke with fervent devotion, "To what do we owe the honor, master?"
The blighted towering figure crossed his spindly arms, "The hour of our victory is in hand. I wanted to make sure all was ready."
The General's jaw flexed at his lack of faith. Had he not proven himself after Samson's disastrous operation in the Emprise du Lion? Had he not forsaken the Maker and His Bride for his new living God? Everything he had ever believed had been turned on its head, and his faith shattered in order to accept his new role. He was to be the Elder One's sword, cutting him a path to the Black City. When his Godhood was achieved, Cullen would be granted a place in the new world – or what would be left of it.
By all accounts, he should be terrified, but everything and everyone he ever cared for had failed him; he had nothing worth living for, or so he thought until the song sang sweetly to him. Taking lyrium again had not been easy, but neither was Evelyn's betrayal. It was a hundred times worse. Yet, a silver lining came in the fact that eventually, his mind would forget it all, and so he took it hoping that his memories would fade until he no longer cared about anything. Not even that the world would end.
"Is the army prepared to make the final assault on the heretics?"
The General sneered with confidence, "They are. The ancient walls are weak and the enemy are trapped like rats within it. It will be a simple matter for the Knights to cut them all down."
When Cullen had been appointed General of Corypheus' army, the Red Templars were a rabble, the only discipline to be found in their old habits put there by The Order. From their appearance to the impulses caused by the red lyrium, he took it upon himself to see to it that the Knights found pride in their new Order. In no time, Cullen had instilled strict regulations for his officers similar to that of what they had once been familiar with. Those who were uncontrollable were given over to the Tranquil, led by Maddox, to turn them into more suitable units like Shadows, Horrors, or Behemoths. The rest could serve out their limited days with purpose under his leadership. The heavy cumbersome crystals that invaded the bodies of some of the Knights were trimmed, most growing to become cumbersome in battle. It also didn’t help their “new” image to have the Templars scaring the populace with their marred bodies. Cullen himself kept the fissure on his back in check, having the surgeon file it down weekly.
"Calpurnia," the Elder One's deep booming voice called for his prized 'Vessel.' Cullen didn't have to see the mage approach to know she was close by. Her mana had been soured by some ancient elven magic that had been stored in the Well of Sorrow. Having beaten the Inquisition to it – thanks to his effort to hold them in the jungle of the Arbor Wilds – the Inquisition's slow demise was at hand. He had fought her there; Evelyn. He had ordered his men to leave her for him. Only he would snuff that flame. Yet she escaped, licking her wounds back to the ancient elven fortress. Now, camped before Skyhold, their last stand, the army of the Elder One was poised to crush them before turning to Orlais and Ferelden.
Peering down at the woman cooly, their master continued, "I believe the General has the battle well under his control. But I didn't summon you here to boast. Tell him of our plan to secure the anchor. We cannot allow the fools to destroy it." Turning to Cullen now, his claw-like hand firmly grasped his shoulder, "I have faith in you that you will not fail me."
"I would rather die than stand before you in shameful defeat, master. Victory will be yours." The conviction in his voice was firm and confident. A pleased smile pulled on the God's taut lips. If he grinned any wider, what little skin he had left on his face would tear. Turning and gliding away, Corypheus was swallowed by his devout priests, leaving the General alone with the Tevinter mage.
"Cullen," her arrogant voice cut through him like a jagged edge, making him grip the pommel of his sword tighter, "before you assault the Keep, our master has a special task for you." Since she was named the Vessel, she had treated him as a subordinate. He was no stranger to this sort of treatment, but now in a great position of power – including the return of his Templar abilities to wield over the mage – he detested the way she flaunted her seniority in the pecking order.
Inviting her into the privacy of the Command Tent, he asked, "And what is this task? Assuming it has to do with the retrieval of the anchor as mentioned."
"Yes, very good." He bit his tongue at the chiding remark. "You are to lure the Inquisitor out from behind her walls and cut it from her." She smirked, the gap in her front teeth begging to be punched, for she knew all too well his feelings about Evelyn.
There was a piece of him that felt a profound sense of loss amidst the empty numbness of the red lyrium coursing through his veins. He had loved her once – his Eve – but that was before she abandoned him after she promised not to; at least that's what they told him. Cullen's memory right before the time he joined Corypheus was gone. Considering that she made no effort to recover him made him believe the word of his new allies. The red lyrium filled in the cracks of his very being protecting him from all that sought to cripple him. From Kinloch to withdrawal symptoms to his broken heart, all was repaired and forgotten, nearly. Even now at the mention of the Inquisitor, it moved to protect him from stirring up his old feeling for The Phoenix.
"If you think Trevelyan is stupid enough not to suspect a trap, then you are woefully mistaken. Her experience as a Knight-Enchanter makes her incredibly perceptive, and let's not forget how dangerous she is." He side-eyed the short skinny mage, "She may have been a Circle mage, but I'd bet on her against the fiercest Tevinter caster any day." Calpurnia stiffened, knowing the kind of experience and sound judgment he possessed on magic. Cullen enjoyed making her squirm, for her ego since becoming 'The Chosen One' had become insufferable. "I doubt even you pose a threat to her."
"Well, then aren't we lucky to have you, General? Someone who knows her intimately." He ignored her teasing, remaining stoic and composed. "The master cares not how you do it, just that it is done. Surely, you can manage a ruse to get her alone?"
"Why not simply do it once the battle is won?"
"You heard the Elder One, those fools would deprive us of it at all costs. Trevelyan herself could have the inferno of her mana destroy it before her capture. No, you must sever the marked hand from her. Only then can the anchor be used by our master to get us to the Black City."
"Very well." She stood there looking at him expectantly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have important matters to attend to."
"Don't you want help? We wouldn't want you to slip up like Samson did. I keep telling Corypheus his trust in Templars is misplaced--"
Cullen's hand found her throat before even he could register he had done it. A sharp staggering wave of his power swept into her, taking her breath away, "Remember, mage, that you have no power over us. Our master's good word is the only thing keeping my soldiers from eradicating every last one of you blighted abominations." Fear glistened in her eyes knowing she was no longer in Tevinter – this was the south where Templars reigned. Ferelden had welcomed them back, the populace uncaring that they were taking a more aggressive form of lyrium. So long as the rebel mages had been eliminated, they cared not about what else the Templars did.
“I’m surprised your precious Inquisitor failed to see the depth of your hatred of our kind.” She laughed wickedly, “Or was it that the former Circle mage was used to the abuse of Templars she hardly noticed your disdain.”
Shoving her away toward the tent's flaps, he glowered down at her, "Know this, not even your elven voices have the power to protect you from being Silenced into submission. I suggest you remember that the next time you disrespect me. Now, get out."
With a lethal glare, the thin sandy blonde left him with a huff. He would probably regret that later, Calpurnia being the Elder One's pet, but he would not suffer her impertinence having been so favored by their master as well. With a deep breath, he skimmed over the building plans of Skyhold that he personally drew up. Knowing all the weak points of the Keep, it was no challenge for him to bring their walls down ironically beginning with the tower he had once resided in. He almost wished it was as simple as that, but now he had the added task of recovering the anchor.
No one here knew Evelyn as well as he did, so he was alone in his scheming. Having tried so hard to block her from his thoughts, here he was now needing to remember everything just to fool her into getting close enough to remove her hand.
An unexpectant wave of nausea washed over him violently as his sight blacked out for a moment. In that short time, he heard a distinct woman's voice crying out for him. "Evelyn?" In the distance, he saw the warm glow of what looked to be a flame in the distance, still calling out to him. Before he could reply, the world came crashing back to him. Blinking everything back into focus, he quickly took out a vial of red lyrium and downed it – he must've forgotten to take it recently. Yet, even after feeling it trickle down his throat, he didn't feel the rejuvenating effects. Odd.
With little time to waste before he would have to move his timeline for the battle back, he needed a plan and quickly. Evelyn Trevelyan was many things, but being easily fooled was not one of them. She was the most powerful mage he had ever met and a Knight-Enchanter at that. Fire was at her fingertips, and one wrong move on his part would see him dead in an instant. The Phoenix was also duty-driven, and it would take the best bard in Orlais to concoct a performance good enough to trick her.
The more he thought about her strengths, the more he felt his heart pumping hot blood through him, warding away the numbness. She loved when he called her 'Trevelyan' and teased her about her eating habits, hair, or snoring. She was competitive, always making bets or challenging him. Evelyn turned to mush whenever he thumbed the scar on her chin and combed his fingers back through her hair. A flood of tender memories began drowning him unexpectedly.
When his vision went black again, he cursed under his breath, once again hearing haunting cries through the void. This time a pang of panic stabbed him in the gut, and he heard himself yell back involuntarily, "I'm here! Find me, please!"
Again, he was back in the Command Tent panting for no reason. "Maker's breath--" he caught himself. No, that was blasphemy, why would I say that? What's going on?! He needed to focus, but it seemed thinking about his target was dredging up repressed feelings. But why the extreme reaction? And why wasn't the lyrium acting to protect him as it should?
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he decided it would be best to keep it simple. Get her alone, Silence her, and remove the anchor. Cullen was not one for elaborate plans, but effective ones. He could do this, for she would listen to him. She'd want to speak with him at any cost to her own safety. For all her strength, she had always had one glaring weakness: himself.
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"Inquisitor, wake up," Cassandra's voice was insistent as she shook her shoulder. "There's a situation at the gate. We need you."
Sitting up, Evelyn looked around her quarters with some confusion. "What the..." There were cots and belongings piled everywhere.
"Come on! Everyone up, this is it!" The Seeker clapped her hands and shook whoever she could on her way to the door. "Inquisitor, now!"
Her words chilled Evelyn and seeing as she was already dressed in a shirt, leather vest, and pants, hurried behind her close friend. "What happening?"
"We have visitors under the flag of truce at the gate. Prepare yourself."
For what? she wanted to ask but she figured she'd find out soon. The two rushed down the steps of her tower and into the Great Hall. More cots were spread about and there looked to be some wounded resting as mages tended to them. Searching her memory as to what in the Void happened, she was drawing a blank. "Where's the Commander?"
"He's already waiting for us in the Lower Courtyard. He has the men ready in case Corypheus and his General try anything."
The blood in her veins chilled beyond what her mana could heat, "The Elder One is here?!"
Cassandra gave her a concerned look, "Yes, do you not remember?" Evelyn shook her head with wide eyes. "His powers must be affecting your memory again." Stepping out of the Great Hall, a bleak scene met them.
Her battered soldiers were mustered and in formation by the gate. Tents and fires were littered about the grounds. The gray sky was ominous of the outlook of their predicament, as camped outside the walls was a vast army. The surrounding forest had been decimated and replaced with blood-red canvas tents. Skyhold's walls had been ravaged by missiles, and their dwarven allies were franticly racing to repair them.
"Are we under siege?!"
Just then, Owayne joined them, "Hey, I heard who was at the gate and thought I'd--"
"She doesn't remember." A knowing and exasperated look between the two told Evelyn this had happened before.
Her brother ran a hand down his face, "Shit. Now of all times?!"
"My thoughts exactly." The swordwoman's usually terse face, softened along with her voice in sorrow, "You explain it to her this time. I can't... not after last time."
"Explain what?!" The Seeker kept walking while Owayne pulled her aside under the privacy of Skyhold's staircase to the Great Hall. A twisting anxiety began to grip her and from the far reaches of her mind, there was an echo of a question gnawing at her. "Where is Cullen? I need to see him and understand what's happening."
His face contorted into a wince, "That's what I need to speak with you about." He gripped her shoulders tightly, holding their identical eyes in an intense stare. "Cullen is here, but he's... with Corypheus. They turned him a while ago and twisted him with red lyrium. He serves the Elder One as his General." It was as if an exploding arrow had just opened an unsealable void in her heart cavity. She blinked back at him through tears acknowledging that she heard.
She needed him more than she needed air to breathe. Cullen was a part of her as much as her arm was, and his loss would leave her with a pain she'd feel until her dying breath. The inferno of her core was bursting through her chest as if protecting her from the grief she wanted to wallow in.
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"How?!" She screamed, her Phoenix wings flying out to the sides, "How in the fuck, did that happen while I still breathe?!" Her wrath was verging on dangerous as her mana burned through her.
He shook his head, "Save it for them – the enemy – Evie! They are the ones who corrupted him! If you want revenge, start with Corypheshit!"
"I will!" She seethed, shoving him off her flaming like a Rage demon, "I will." Her fury was boiling at the surface, and for a moment the world around her flickered into complete darkness. In the distance, it looked like there was a person shrouded in light, but Skyhold came crashing back into her view before she could discern any more. The feral yell of a familiar otherworldly voice overwhelmed her mind like they were standing close to her. Looking back to Owayne, he was wearing an odd expression with his hands poised to choke her.
Something was wrong. Something was not what it seemed, and her Knight-Enchanter training began kicking in. It was as if her mana had overwhelmed whatever power was at work, causing her mind to act more rationally.
Before she could think anymore about it, Cassandra and Rylen appeared at the bottom of the stairs beckoning them to hurry. Clearing his throat, her brother guided her along, "Now, just focus on being the Inquisitor. We are besieged and losing this fight. We need your hot-headed wits, so when you see him, don't fall apart - again. Remember your soldiers, they're watching, we all need you to be strong."
Trying to process everything the heat of the moment was making her head spin even more. Why couldn't she remember recent events? The last time her memory was taken, it had been by Nightmare. By a demon. At the realization, the scene before her blinked out again to the dark void she had seen. The glowing golden figure was still in the distance but closer now. The yellow halo about them brought one name to mind, "Cullen?!" She cried out to him in the darkness, but a jarring jerk of her consciousness brought reality back with a vengeance.
Grasping her head at the disorientation, her Commander steadied her. She stared at Rylen, who wore a grim expression, "Steady, Inquisitor. It's not easy for any of us to see Cullen again. Let alone like that."
"Like what?" She uttered, instantly regretting it.
The others seemed to give Rylen stern glares. "Come now, ye think it'd be better to send her out there without warnin'? Best the lass know now what she's in for." His gaze softened and he led her to the portcullis.
As they approached she could see him, the familiar broad silhouette of Cullen and his golden hair standing on the bridge. One hand rested on the pommel of his sword, the other held his helmet, but everything else about him was foreign. A red halo radiated from him and his Templar armor. He was unnervingly still as if a statue placed there to torment her soul. Yet, in the very fibers of her being, she wanted to run to him without a second thought.
Unable to tear her haunted gaze away, she absently asked, "What does he want?"
"We don't know, but he's asking to speak with you, alone," Cassandra imparted, joining them. Evelyn looked around at their faces, her mind racing with so many questions. "Good, you're here," the Seeker nodded over to the approach of her two advisors, "I assume you've heard the situation."
"Yes, and I hope the Inquisitor wasn't seriously about to walk out there and give him what he wants?" Evelyn hardly heard Leliana's words. Seeing her unnerved state, a knowing look passed between them all. The Nightingale hooked a finger under her chin, her voice soft yet cold, "Listen to me, that man out there is not the man you knew. He cares nothing about us. He has brought us to our knees, all of this," she gestured around her, "he has carefully orchestrated. This is our last stand."
The Ambassador stepped closer, her face beside Leliana's, "He knew where we were weakest, and without remorse, dismantled all he helped us build."
The pale eyes of the Spymaster commanded her attention again, "We will die, all of us if we fail to defeat him here."
The gravity of that fact made her tremble. He had betrayed them, and now the world would burn because of it. It was so unlike him though. The Cullen she knew would've died rather than take lyrium again. Something had happened, something was still very, very wrong. The world flickered again. There was a pattern to the blackouts emerging accompanied by the chill of an otherworldly presence breathing harshly down her back. The more she studied the world constructed around her, the more things seemed out of order. From her memory loss to Owayne's off behavior to these moments of lost consciousness. It had the stench of deception – of a demon.
As if validating her theory, a cold stab pierced her temple, yet no one around her asked if she was alright. They continued to talk amongst themselves as to how to deal with the Command—the General.
If she was trapped in a waking dream, there were a few options she could try to break the spell. The problem was, she didn't know what had ensnared her. Desire would've shown her a perfect world with all her dreams fulfilled; this was clearly not its work. Envy was typically not subtle, needing to interact with their victims to mimic them, so that possibility was out. The only others powerful enough were Despair or an ancient powerful demon. She would have to watch carefully for clues and test the strength of her cage.
The fire in her eyes returned, as did the heat beneath her skin much to the relief of her so-called 'friends.' She looked out at the bridge where Cullen stood waiting. That was Cullen – her Cullen – under the influence of a demon. She could feel the pure pull of his life force calling to her from across the Fade. He needed help and Evelyn would need to find a way to break through the façade.
"He needs to die." Sister Nightingale's voice pierced through her thoughts. "This is our chance. The Inquisitor can easily overpower him, cutting the head off the crimson snake."
Evelyn allowed her mana forth as protection, though to this demon, it would think she was playing into his hand. Her orange eyes snapped to Leliana, "Even as powerful as he is with his Templar abilities, you're right, he'd have trouble fully Silencing me. But he would know this, so why take the risk?"
"He must believe you still have feelings for him and would seek to convince him to come back to you. He may even know how the Elder One affects your memory and looks to use it to his advantage." The redhead crossed her arms, "Perhaps, he may be the one trying to turn you against us."
"That's ridiculous," Cassandra grunted.
"Or perhaps he has terms of surrender. Either way, I'm going to speak with him and hear what he has to say," Evelyn tried to make it sound as believable as she could. The demon was setting them up for a confrontation and she would thwart it... whatever it was. "If there is a chance he'd be willing to spare our people, I have to try!" Marching away in her usually haughty manner, pushing her advisors aside for show, the familiar Marcher lilt carried over to her, stopping her.
"Let me go with her," Hawke interjected, "there is no one Cullen hates more than me here. Perhaps I can get under his skin, and throw him off whatever game he wishes to play. Plus, it's always good to have backup."
Evelyn couldn't help but eye him skeptically as he caught up with her, Since when is Hawke so helpful? He's a demon alright... What would be its purpose for choosing the Champion to accompany me?
"Very well, but not a blighted word out of you. Your very presence is provocation enough."
He smirked at her, "Yes, Inquisitor."
The portcullis was raised and closed behind them for good measure. If there was trouble she could simply fade-step them back through it. Having hastily rushed to the gate, it was only now that she realized how cold it was, shivering from exposure to the harsh wind outside the walls. The walk out to meet him seemed longer than it was as her mind grasped for a plan. Yet none could be made without knowing Cullen's purpose or a clue as to the demon's nature. Stopping before him, she wondered how to play this; should she be the dreaded Inquisitor or his longing lover?
"Inquisitor, it's good to see you." Cullen's voice was cold and even. She needed to remember that the real Cullen was beneath all the lies. Upon seeing Hawke stand beside her, his brow dropped, showing off that signature scowl.
Disregarding her order, Hawke piped up and greeted him, "Well, Blondie, to what do we owe the pleasure? I'm afraid your old post has been filled, so if you wanted your job back you're shit out of luck."
Cullen only moved his glowing red gaze to The Champion as an acknowledgment of hearing his words. Despite the monstrous version of the man before her, she still recognized his signature tick of annoyance in his jaw. "Inquisitor--"
"It's Evelyn, Cullen, I think you and I are well past formalities," she frowned at him, deciding to play the middle ground. She was his enemy, but could also play The Game. A flicker of a memory of a fight between them burst through her head, accompanied by his words of anger: "You knew exactly what to say to get me to react the way you wanted. You played The Game and I was your pawn." That was it! Regardless of this trap, the demon had set, Cullen would still react like Cullen.
"How does it feel to be so easily replaced?" Hawke's large hand gripped her shoulder, retrieving her from her thoughts, "Honestly, I'm not sure why you didn't do it sooner. Rylen is so much more fun." The General eyes flared red at the contact, taking a menacing step forward. "Oh," he laughed airily, "I didn't mean in the bedroom! No, in fact--"
She needed to sow the seeds of chaos quickly before anyone could properly reason it out. She needed to make a scene, and thankfully for her, she had several dramatic friends to draw inspiration from. "Hawke raped me!" Cullen froze, his eyes growing large as they hung on her words. Taking a chance she stepped closer to him, with pleading eyes, "He forced himself on me! I-I couldn't stop him! He was using blood magic on me!" Evelyn held her breath waiting for the drama to play out.
"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Hawke raged, taken completely off guard. Standing halfway between the two men, she kept her wounded gaze on Cullen, feeling the painful jerk of the mage's hand on her arm.
"Don't believe him, he's a liar! You know that. He's a wretched maleficar, twisting everyone's mind so they can't see what's really happening!" Cullen didn't need details, for it was Hawke. Anyone else and it would've been more difficult, having to concoct an elaborate story, but Cullen's contempt for him had been there for years. It didn't matter if they were estranged, according to this demon's lie, Cullen would still snap at any chance to deliver retribution to The Champion. Evelyn saw the violence in the coil of his muscles and felt it in the power that was building within him. She tried to pull her arm free, shrieking like a helpless victim, "Don't touch me!" When Hawke pulled her back hard causing her to stagger, the General did not disappoint.
With a large stride toward her, the ring of his sword being drawn from the scabbard rang out. The General's arm closed around her in a headlock, but it was more protective than dangerous. As the weight of her ploy played out on "Hawke's" face, it morphed into someone else's likeness. The demon was livid, watching a smug and knowing smirk form on Evelyn's face. They may be trapped in its curated world, but the one major flaw in his plan was how well she knew Cullen.
As her rescuer swiftly Silenced and cut down the mage in cold blood, all of Skyhold erupted in an uproar. Archers knocked arrows on the ramparts and the gate was opening, no doubt to rush to her aid. Even the Red Templars were rushing the bridge to protect their General. She raised a hand snapping a barrier around them, but Cullen's abilities weren't letting it take hold.
"Back off on the dispelling, Rutherford, so I can protect us! We need to get out of here!" Looking around they had a few options that didn't involve running to either side of the bridge into the enemy's clutches – and they were all enemies.
Cullen however, had other plans and he was starting to drag her away from Skyhold to the safety of his Knights. His heavy footfalls were neither frantic nor concerned as arrows began to fly. "There's no need, you're coming with me. I promise to make it quick."
"Make what quick?"
"The Elder One desires the anchor be removed from you. Only then will he leave you be." He shot an unreadable expression down at her, "You need to trust me. I have a plan."
"No, you can't remove it! It's what the demon must want!" If this was a waking dream, what she and Cullen were doing in the dream was also happening in real life; wherever they were trapped, if someone saw them, they would see Cullen dragging her about. Someone could hurt him and think he was a threat! Or worse if he succeeded in cutting off her hand, she would actually lose it. As soon as it was cut from her, the demon could take it and give it to Corypheus and they could do nothing until they escaped this nightmare. Craning her head down, looking over the edge of the bridge and down into the deep ravine below Skyhold, cold fear gripped her. The mage tightened her grip on the Red Templar, "Oh, I hate heights!" Something about her simple omission of fear made the red haze on him flicker as if the truth would set him free. He peered down at her with an expression of concern. "I hate that you're making me do this! If we survive this dream, I'm going to kill you, Rutherford!"
"Hate wha--?"
Dropping herself down in his hold, she squatted with her strong legs and pushed off the ledge. He caught her, as expected, but Evelyn planted her feet on the side of the bridge and cast a force spell from her feet. Propelling them away, a scream escaped her as they plummeted down, holding fiercely to each other. Having time to recover her wits before hitting the ground, Evelyn looked down and timed another force spell to cushion their fall. It blasted them up about six feet from the ground, then dropped them in a heap. Rolling from each other, the mage arched her back up groaning from the pain, although she was more grateful to be alive.
Regaining her limbs, she flipped over gazing to Cullen who was recovering as well. When his glowing red eyes locked onto her, the two scrambled to their feet, but he was quicker and plowed into her. Tackling her legs, Evelyn fell back hard with a grunt as the air left her lungs. She fought off his strength by shielding herself with the heat from her mana. Forcing him to release her, he backed up a few paces looking for his sword that he had let go of as they fell. Seeing it behind her, the race to get to it began. Fade-stepping to it, Evelyn melted it in her grasp making a show of it. Cullen watched as his blade was liquified before him, having now to rely solely on his concealed dagger.
"Put it away, Cullen, I'm not your enemy here!" Unarmed she slowly made her way to him with her hands up. His eyes snapped right to her marked hand, to which she shut, trying to make him forget about the lies he was caught up in. "We don't have long before the demon returns."
"Demon?" He growled, "If there was a demon, I'd sense it."
Evelyn shook her head insistently, "Not this time. We're in its twisted world. If you were a real Templar in the real world, yes, but not here. None of this is real!"
"Then what does it call itself? Name it."
"I don't know," he shook his head and rolled his eyes, "I can't remember anything! I don't remember how this all came to be!" At her words, his gaze faltered, suddenly unsure. "Do you recall how we got to this point?" Gesturing up at Skyhold in the distance, her arms flapped with exasperation. "Do you remember last week? Yesterday? Because I don't! It's all a lie!"
His fighting stance relaxed slightly, sliding his dagger back into place. "How do I know this isn't some trick?"
She placed her hands haughtily on her hips, "Use your head, Rutherford. You don't have to be a Templar with your abilities to figure it out."
"My abilities..." His eyes narrowed, and like a concussive wave, he tried to Silence her. Unfazed, she simply staggered a step backward, coming back to face him with a huff and eye roll. She decided then to take two more large strides forward, and again he tried to deprive her of her magic.
"You know you can't fully Silence me, so knock it off! You're really annoying me with your Templarness." Evelyn muttered the last part as he tried to Cleanse her. With a growl, she staggered him back with a light spell, "I'm not the demon, you arse!" Off to the side, a black shadow appeared its dark silhouette in complete contrast to the rest of the snowy landscape around them. "That's the demon," she pointed to the Elder One slowly materializing.
"General Rutherford, why do I not have the anchor in my possession yet?" Cullen looked back and forth between them. "Get it now!" With that Cullen charged her, pulling his dagger, as if unable to resist his command. Casting Dispel at her, Evelyn could do nothing before the brawny Ferelden pinned her on the ground again. He held her small wrists in one hand as she struggled against him. The sharp edges of his armor dug into her unprotected flesh as Evelyn kicked and squirmed. Physically he was much stronger than she, and with the added advantage of having on full Templar armor, he was a Silverite fortress. When at last he got his dagger by a naked strip of skin at her wrist, Corypheus goaded him on, "Yes! Sever it from the pretender so your rightful God can fulfill his destiny!" The deep voice echoed about off every rockface around them.
Unable to accept defeat, Evelyn moved her arms to the side to shoot a fireball at the Elder One. It ignited his tattered rags as he yelled in anger. Cullen's momentary distraction allowed her to headbutt him, though she came to realize his head was much harder than hers. Both of them still groaned at the impact, but she pushed through the throbbing pain to kick him off her.
Surprisingly, the act seemed to elicit some normal response from him. "Trevelyan, what in the bloody Void was that for..." He growled holding his head.
"I'll admit, it wasn't my brightest idea, but you're leaving me little choice here without burning you." Even though she was slowly breaking through to him, she used the distraction to try and get the dagger away from him.
Anticipating it, he sheathed it again, "Good to know you'll not hurt me." He gave her a hard uppercut to her weak chest, sprawling her on her back in immense pain. Crying out and gasping as she curled in on herself, she fought her tears. Cullen knew right where to hit her, but so did she. Standing, he towered over her, his head still causing him some lingering discomfort as evident in his eyes. Before he could capture her, she fade-stepped up and behind him, casting a force blast at his shield arm, causing him to whip about. That arm had been taking a beating since he joined the Order – almost two decades now – and she knew how increasingly bothersome it was becoming for him. She hated having to do it, but he was leaving her little choice.
Off balance, she kicked his legs out from under him. Pinning his left bicep under her foot and making the mark spark menacingly at him, Evelyn leaned down, for it was time for a new tactic before they seriously injured the other. "Cullen!" His resistance to her shone in his red eyes, but she backed down anyway. Dispelling her magic and letting her guard down, she gazed down at him softly, "I can't do this, you're going to force me to harm you, and I won't do it." He stared at her confused and he cautiously got to his feet.
"General, the anchor!" The demon's command went unheard as they held each other's gaze.
"I know you'd never harm me either. You can't.” They were standing but a few feet from each other, locked in a private battle. “I know you better than anyone, my love. You'd never take lyrium again, for any reason. Think. You know something is wrong." His eyes searched the depth of her chocolate pools for validation, and once again, the crimson was replaced by his amber irises. Evelyn's hands came up and gripped his face, placing an unreciprocated kiss on his lips. She felt his hands gliding up her body and over her shoulders until one grabbed her left wrist and the other her throat. She gasped as he squeezed her windpipe, bringing her to her knees before him, yet stayed oddly calm. She closed her eyes for a moment, showing him her complete trust even as she heard the dagger slide from its sheath.
"Do it now!" The demon bellowed out, his disguised voice echoing about the ravine.
Opening her eyes, to her surprise, Cullen was frozen with the blade pressed lightly into her skin. His eyes watched as a trickle of her blood glided down her exposed arm, staining the sleeve of her shirt. Seeing himself making her bleed, seemed to have caused him pause, and it was now or never. The demon was trying to break them; sever their inseparable bond and who knows, perhaps this was their future if he was successful. The betrayal of the Inquisitor’s Commander would be a devastating blow not even the Ambassador could fix. It was a genius plan killing multiple birds with one sweep of a blade.
"Master," Cullen called out, but held her in place, "why is it you're here? And having just got the Inquisitor alone, why is it you haven't killed her already?" His eyebrow cocked up and he turned his head to glower at Corypheus.
"You dare question me? Sever the anchor from her! I command it!"
Throwing her back on the ground, he disobeyed, "You do it. If you can." His dagger clattered to the frozen ground between them.
Evelyn needed no invitation, her raptor gaze snapping onto her prey like a trained falcon having been freed. Fade-steeping to the demon, she grabbed onto it for dear life releasing her inferno upon it. Screaming in Corypheus' voice, he writhed into a smaller form laying beneath her.
"Your name, demon! We will have it!" The monster unleashed his foul magic on her in retaliation. Its’ dark and twisted mana was suffocating, "Ser Rutherford, I could use your assistance... anytime you want to--" Cullen used Wrath of Heaven on the monster weakening it considerably as it flailed, yet he was not powerful enough to kill it.
"Ishmael!" The demon screamed with an unhinged fury. The dream around them began to crumble and deteriorate into a black expanse revealing their true selves again. Their memories returned as the demon vanished leaving them in a strange limbo between worlds.
Pulled up from the ground, arms circled her in a fierce embrace as Evelyn realized her Cullen was back. The warm caress of his mantle brushed her frozen cheeks. His fingertips dug into her between her plates of armor. It was a desperate hug, and she knew with certainty that Cullen’s past trauma was threatening to cripple him. His head was buried in her shoulder as she stood guard, watching the world shift. As the present returned, she whispered sweet assurances to him, her body his only lifeline.
“Together?” He found his voice, imbuing her with confidence.
“Always.”
Before relief could take hold, the piercing cold of the Emprise du Lion returned with a vengeance followed by Ismael’s voice. They weren't out of danger yet.