Chapitre 16: Chapter 16: Spilling Secrets
Skyhold was magnificent. It was just what they needed when they needed it. The ancient and mysterious fortress was spacious allowing for the Inquisition to grow and strong enough to withstand a dragon. Josephine wasted no time in getting restoration efforts underway and slowly by slowly the old bones of the elven fortress came back to life. Its restoration spurred on the healing of its occupants as well providing shelter from the freezing wind and snow of the Frostbacks. Evelyn mended, but her shoulder would cause her pain for the foreseeable future having been wounded so severely.
At the end of their first week of occupancy, the Ambassador sent word out to all of Thedas that the Inquisition, along with its Herald - and newly appointed Inquisitor - were alive and well. Unanimously, the council had decided to appoint her Inquisitor in the wake of the events at Haven. Standing on the steps that led into the Great Hall and before all its members, she ceremoniously vowed to defeat Corypheus, repair the Veil and restore peace to Thedas. Easier said than done.
Her new title brought a new dynamic to the leadership of the Inquisition. With a single decisive voice to settle matters, meetings ran smoother, though the actual matters at hand were vastly more challenging now as they navigated their new power status. The King and Queen of Ferelden openly pledged their support of the Inquisition, recognizing the service done within their borders, giving them the backing they needed to approach the Empress of Orlais.
Preventing the fall of Orlais became their primary concern. In typical Orlesian fashion, the Empress was hosting peace talks under the auspices of a grand masquerade at the Winter Palace. The talks had temporarily called a truce to hostilities raging between her and her cousin, Grand Duke Gaspard. Her advisors had uncovered troubling evidence that the Elder One's assassination attempt on the Empress' life would happen at the ball. Their biggest problem though was that they had yet to gain enough influence to get an invitation. Though word of her heroism facing down Corypheus had spread, along with news of what the monster had planned for Thedas, it still wasn't sufficient to impress the Orlesian court. Evelyn's only choice was to continue closing rifts to show people the value of the Inquisition.
With that, preparations were being made for the Inquisitor and her party to head north to Crestwood. A rift that had opened in the lake was having a terrifying effect on the land, reanimating the dead who were attacking the village. She was also eager to meet with Ser Stroud, a senior member of the Grey Wardens who had information on their sudden disappearance. Varric had enlisted the help of the Champion of Kirkwall in the matter who had reason to believe it had to do with Corypheus.
Things were different between her and Cullen since that night in her tent. Neither mentioned it again, so their every interaction was shadowed by the incident, at least when they were alone. Their work was a comfortable topic to which they stuck to most of the time trying to shake the awkwardness. For Evelyn, it wasn't so much embarrassment as it was the way he hesitated that bothered her. There had been some sort of argument with himself going on in his head, and even if ultimately, he had gone to kiss her, he had still stopped himself to consider something. She wanted to know what that something was. It was a fact that was beginning to fester within her. To know she had some flaw that despite their shared feelings just unsettled her. It was making her do odd things like constantly making sure her hair was perfect or that she smelled nice. She went through the trouble of having Ilara mix a new scent of Embrium and vanilla for her, thinking the rose and peony were too flowery. Though she couldn't be certain, she had a nagging feeling it was because she was a mage; a mage who wielded powerful, and at times, unstable magic. He had admitted his fear of magic to her, but he always talked as if it was in the past. Now she wondered if that was true.
A new gut-wrenching feeling developed from thinking about her feelings toward him, one that questioned if she was willing to let her heart get broken. It was easier to leave things be, and she even considered a similar arrangement to what she and Henley once had. If Cullen would rather just keep it physical, she supposed she could deal with that again, and the more she thought about it the more she believed it may be best considering their roles within the Inquisition. Or maybe one night would be enough to get it out of their system and they could go on as before. As much as she wanted to believe that and tried to convince herself of it, she knew she was just lying to herself. He made her heart ache and when her thoughts were able to drift away from the Inquisition they went to him.
In the War Room one morning, Dagna joined them to discuss her findings regarding why Evelyn could no longer seem to wield a spirit blade.
"It's not a question of 'why,' but a question of 'what.' We've tested so many, so so many, different conduits, but we've only tried dead metals."
"Dead metals?" Evelyn put her hands on her hips. "What are 'dead metals?'" Her new Arcane Enchanter was quirky and spunky, and at times a bit odd.
"You know metal! We need something living like..." she paused thinking aloud, "bone! Dragon bone to be precise."
"You want me to slay a dragon?" She looked wearily over to her three advisors. The only one who seemed concerned was Cullen, while the other two were pleased by the news.
Josephine pointed her quill at her, "Slaying a dragon would help secure more interest from Orlais."
"And it so happens my agents in Crestwood have sent word of a dragon attacking travelers on the King's Road. Killing it would make it safer for people to travel the route again. Particularly, couriers traveling between Val Royeaux and Denerim. More people means more information."
"So let me get all this straight," Evelyn leaned over the war table, "while in Crestwood - which by the way, I can only be there for five days, not counting those it will take us to travel to and from there - you want me to meet with Stroud, after finding him of course, deal with the dead that are coming from a rift in a lake and now slay a dragon? I think I may need half the army if you want me to accomplish all this within the month before we need to prepare for the Winter Palace! That's if we even get invited after all that."
"There is an old abandoned fortress, Caer Bronach, located to the south of the village," Cullen push a map of the area over to her pointing at its location. "Bandits are occupying it now, but clear it out and we'd have a strong base of operations for you in the area to aid you."
"Right, let's add it to the list then. Wardens, the dead, dragon slaying, fortress full of bandits. Got it."
"If you'd prefer Inquisitor, I can assist you with the fort. I'll take men to rid it of the bandits and get it operational while you focus on the other tasks."
"That would help make the most of our time there. Are you sure we can spare you right now?"
"Rylen can handle everything from here, specifically the training of all the new recruits. With the way things are, the Inquisition is going to need fortified bases of operation through Ferelden and Orlais. As situations arise, I will need to be able to travel at a moment's notice and still perform my duties. How effective can I be if I'm constantly stuck behind a desk here?" She conceded to his point.
"One last thing, before we end, Dagna, what do you make of my ability to now wield magma as I do flames?"
"Right, right, I remember you mentioning that. You said after you took red lyrium it broke something within you. Think of it like an onion," Evelyn made a face just thinking that if Henley were here he'd never let her live down the fact that her mage powers were being compared to a stinky onion. "In the center is your mana, over the years as the "onion" grew larger gaining more layers, it blocked out the ability for the core to expand and grow. Everybody with me still?" Slow nods and inquisitive looks followed. "I think the red lyrium stripped your "onion" of a few layers. Your mana can now see what more it can be and do."
"How can my mana 'see?' Are you implying that it's alive."
"It is alive. You're alive are you not? It'd be pretty gross having a dead thing inside of you. How did you know to crack the ground open and pull out the magma?"
"Instinct."
"So, your "instinct" or mana told you. It was helping."
"Dagna, if what you're saying is true, then you believe that mages coexist with a living being within them."
"Yes! Though I'd call it more of an 'essence' than 'being.' And I believe it varies from mage to mage. That's why some can control their abilities and others cannot. It would also explain why you were hearing a song while on the red stuff. That "essence" was attempting to control you and the other "essence" inside of you." Evelyn didn't know what to say. She felt as if she needed a chair before she'd fall over. Up until this moment, she had believed her power to be a part of her, as much as her arm was; just like her arm, she learned how to use it and perform more tricks with it. Now she felt as if she didn't know herself. She touched her mana for comfort, feeling its soft warmth ignite in her veins. It still felt the same, and not like a stranger, calming her nerves.
"Then it would also mean lyrium is alive as well." Cullen looked at Dagna hard, and she knew what he was going to ask next. "What of it then when Templars, non-mages, take this "essence?""
"Hmm, hard to say, I've only just started looking into it from the mage perspective. If I had to guess, and do I ever mean this is a guess, then I would say it's like an infection or a parasite. It finds a happy place to live where it's constantly fed so it's content."
"And when it stops getting fed lyrium?"
"Like a hungry child, it will react and cry out until it gets more." At her words, they looked at each other in paralyzed realization. She had so many more questions, but looking as if Cullen had just gone through the same internal crisis she just had, dismissed Dagna. The four stood quiet until the door shut and the scurry of her small feet was no longer heard.
"So," Leliana eyed them suspiciously, "what is it that you aren't telling us?"
"I-I," he began unsure, but Evelyn nodded with resolve. "I no longer take lyrium. I haven't for months since before we ever arrived at Haven." He explained his want for secrecy and that they were now only the fourth and fifth person to know. Josephine asked after his health several times in several different ways and Leliana merely placed a hand on his shoulder in solidarity. Evelyn was happy to see him letting more people know, especially ones who would care and look out for him. They spoke briefly about Dagna's implications of what that meant for him before then moving on to Evelyn.
She laughed sarcastically, "Am I alright? No, in fact, I feel worse knowing I'm like a magical onion bomb primed to explode. Not to mention I'm host to two "essences"; the mark and my mana - if I can even call it mine anymore." She grabbed her single relaxed braid and flipped it over her shoulder so she could play nervously with it. She sighed heavy and long, "I'll be fine. I'm actually more concerned about what would happen if that knowledge was found out before we could properly look into it. Templars with parasites; Mages who can increase their power by taking red lyrium. Leliana, will you see to it?"
"Of course, Inquisitor."
"The only person I want working with Dagna on it is Ilara. She and Master Taigen were working with lyrium, perhaps what she knows can aid Dagna." She slightly bowed again in confirmation. "Josephine, please make a note to have an update on their progress by the time we get back from Crestwood. Now, I have some packing to do."
***
After making contact with Hawke and Stroud in Crestwood, a raven found her with a message from the Commander saying they had taken the fort. Sure enough, as her team walked the King's Road, a large Inquisition flag flew over it in the stiff wet breeze. With half their tasks complete and four days to go before needing to head back, Evelyn was pleased. Rather than stay at one of their base camps, she opted to let everyone rest at the fort.
Cullen seemed to have everything running smoothly with repairs being made from their battle. Rain still hounded them, but the added cover of the stone keep helped them stay dry for the night. A few hours had passed since arriving and oddly there was no sign of Cullen. Charter, one of Leliana's most trusted agents, was in the courtyard and relayed to her that the Commander retired for the evening. She found that odd, because it was Cullen they were speaking of, and thought she should go check on him. Charter gave her a master key to the fort and pointed her in the direction of the officers' quarters.
As she approached the door to his room, she tried to smooth down some arrant strands of wet hair. She knocked a few times with no answer when that cold gut feeling sent a wave of nausea through her. Taking out her key, she unlocked the door to find Cullen slumped unconscious against the side of his bed. It looked as if he was trying to get into it, but was too late. One arm was propped up on the bed and the rest of him sagged towards the floor.
Rushing to his side she put a hand under his nose to check his breathing. He was thankfully, so she held his head stroking and patting it to see if that'd wake him, but there was no response. Her voice grew gradually louder calling his name as she frantically tried to rouse him. She tried the healing spell she used for his headaches, but no luck. Grabbing him under his arms she tried to lay him down, but his solid muscular form paired with his armor made him incredibly heavy. Her shoulder burned with a firey pain, still in no condition to lift such a weight. The best she could do was lay him on his stomach and then roll him to his back. When his face hit the floor, perhaps harder than she would've liked, he at last made a noise.
"Cullen, you son of a... very nice woman, wake up!" She placed his head in her lap and petted his head affectionately. His lips were dry and cracked and his skin was pale. On his desk sat a pitcher of water. As if to agree to her next action, he let out another grumble, as she lowered his head to the floor.
His desk had papers scattered everywhere on it, it was a wonder he didn't set the place on fire as she pushed aside some piles that were too close to the candle. She slid the pitcher closer to her and rummaged around for a cup. Finding one on the floor under the desk, she picked it up, pouring the water into it. When she turned around she gasped. Her hand struck out hitting him across the face. Somehow, he had gotten up and over to her. His face had turned out to the side with one hand over the reddening skin on his cheek. 'Ow,' was all he said weakly.
"Oh, Cullen! What are you doing?!" She lost a bit of her articulation in the shock of suddenly seeing him behind her and not limp on the ground.
"I think it's fairly obvious. Getting up."
"Maker's balls Cullen, what happened?" She touched his sweaty brow which had broken out now in a fever. While he could stand, she made the best of it, guiding him over to the bed to recline. He was still dazed wincing in pain from his head. She tried the spell for his headaches again, this time bringing him visible relief. She ran her fingers through his golden locks asking if he was alright, replying that he just needed a moment as he sat with his eyes shut. The heat from his strightened curls warmed her chilly hands. His hair was thick, and from being able to study it closely saw he was beginning to grey.
"It's the withdrawal symptoms, but they all happened at once and..." his words were labored.
"Was there any warning?"
"No. It started normally with a headache, but by the time I made it back here I could barely stand, then everything went black." She reached an arm around him and pulled his head to her shoulder. "I suppose I'm lucky you came along when you did." The thought unsettled her. What would've happened if she had not? Maybe nothing, but she wasn't willing to take chances when it came to his health. Her other arm hugged him now too as horrid thoughts clouded her mind.
They stayed like that for a while until he voiced that the shakiness had passed, though she noted how drained he looked. She decided he needed to rest and recover for the remainder of the night and she was to stay with him. Proving to be no match for her stubbornness in his current state, he surrendered to her ministrations on the condition that he could still go through his reports from in bed. She agreed and had his valet, who had been gone on an errand when he had collapsed, discreetly fetch them food. When he inquired after the Commander's health, she just replied that he had over-exerted himself and needed rest.
When his color returned, he insisted he needed to go check on how things were progressing, having been gone for hours. Since he insisted, she ordered him to stay in bed - since she could do that now.
"That's not fair."
"Are you pouting Commander? Shouldn't you be happy I'm at least letting you read reports? I could take those away too." She walked over to the bed and began removing his armor from the back.
"W-what are you doing?"
She looked around his shoulder staring at him like it was obvious, "Taking off your armor since you won't need it to rest." As she worked, he squirmed trying to fend her off. She knew he hated people fussing over him. Each one of his swats was met with giggles as she dodged and weaved about them, proving to be easy as he began to tire again.
"Maker, you're insufferable at times!" She scoffed at his slight annoyance.
"If only Corypheus thought that, maybe he'd leave me alone." With a huff, Cullen ceased his grappling with her and his face shifted to one of amusement. Evelyn used the window to continue unstrapping the plates unhindered. "That's funny, is it? Feel free to propose it at our next council meeting. Pray tell, what do you find so 'insufferable' about me that I may use it against our enemy, Commander?"
"Hmm, well your haughty attitude, especially when you don't get your way; you are always fixing your hair when you don't even have to; when you eat you keep everything organized into neat sections on your plate, except when there is gravy involved then you just make a bloody mess--"
She burst out laughing, "My eating habits offend you? It's a wonder we're even friends."
"You snore so loud you could wake an archdemon."
"How would you even know that?! Did Cassandra tell you that?" She put her hands on her hips eyeing him while he chuckled at her.
"Don't blame her, I asked. I was up late a few nights ago on our way here and there was this horrid sound coming from your tent. She was quick to blame you." Finally, having relieved him of his armor, she neatly placed it on his chest in the far corner of the room. She was about to give him a piece of her 'haughty attitude' when there was a knock on the door.
"Commander, is the Inquisitor with you?"
"Yes, Cassandra what is it?" She walked to the door and opened it, all the while keeping a finger pointed at her patient to make sure he stayed in bed. The Seeker looked at her with a mix of emotions looking back and forth between the two. "Something the matter?"
"The dragon has been spotted nearby. I know you wanted to drain the lake to go after the rift, but perhaps we can delay it until after we deal with the creature?"
She nodded her head thinking it over, "The rift is the higher priority, but if the dragon has come to nest we should seize the opportunity. We'll leave at first light, no later."
"I can organize an escort and come along as well," Cullen called over from his bed swinging his legs over the side.
"Absolutely not! Would you like to tell Cassandra why I'm here or can I?" He bent over his knees and rubbed the back of his neck and hair briskly in frustration. Even as he protested through the entirety of Evelyn's explanation, Cassandra paid him no mind, in the end agreeing with her. They assured him that everything would be fine, especially since she had brought the Iron Bull along. Once she told the giant Qunari they were going after the dragon, he'd have enough adrenaline and testosterone pumping through him for twenty men. "You can, however, send men, other than you, to defend the village until we can get down to that rift."
"Yes, Inquisitor," he said in defeat.
With official matters settled, she turned back to her loose-lipped tentmate with a frown. "By the way, you told him I snore?! Now I'm not sorry I told my brother you like dirty poetry."
"That was you!?"
***
The rest of their time in Crestwood went according to plan and they even concluded business there with a day to spare. Even the dragon slaying, though hard-fought, successfully wielded enough raw materials for Dagna to make use of. And once more, trade and commerce were restored now that the King's Road was safe for travel again. She did not, however, want to linger there for longer than she had to, not when they had a fort and garrison of soldiers to handle any problems. Having been traveling with wet socks and soaked to the bone for days, she was ready for a change in scenery. On their way back to Skyhold, Cullen brought his horse up next to hers.
"I was, uh--," he rubbed the back of his neck, "wondering if we could make a quick detour to South Reach?"
"To see your family?"
"That's right. You remembered." He gave her a small smile, but it faded to flushed embarrassment. "But we don't-- if it's too far out of the way--"
"Of course, we can stop! I think after Crestwood we all need an afternoon to rest. Especially you. Besides, what kind of leader would I be if I didn't abuse my power every once in a while to grant favors to friends?" They both shared a laugh before he galloped ahead to inform the men at the front of the column of the change. She remembered back in Haven when he had told her and her brothers about his estrangement from his family. If he meant to set things right, she would help in whatever way she could. She couldn't imagine not having her family in her life.
He rounded the column and joined her again, "Thank you, Inquisitor." The faintest trace of a smile poked its way through his tough Commander's mask. She eyed him from out of the corner of her eye, suppressing her own tight-lipped smile.
The company arrived in South Reach around midday. There was a flurry of excitement as they approached since the small town had probably never seen a procession such as this in their lifetime. The townsfolk swarmed around her, wanting to catch a glimpse of her and the blessed mark. She wondered who they were more interested in The Phoenix, Herald of Andraste or Inquisitor. She dismounted graciously greeting all those who gathered, while Cullen saw to organizing the guard to keep the crowd at a respectful distance.
"It's alright, Commander. I don't think there's any Venatori here." He just gave her one of those pointed looks in response. With their valets off renting rooms at the town's only inn, she was free to talk to the town folk. As before when she was just merely The Phoenix, she made it a point to be a model mage. She took the good with the bad with equal grace, as not everyone was accepting of her. In her travels as Inquisitor, she heard a lot of reactions to her presence ranging from marriage proposals to slander about blood magic and her more intimate relations with a certain Tevinter. It was always something. This town however seemed more curious than fearful. The children approached her without pause and their mothers didn't hide them behind their skirts, as she had experienced in the past. She did a few harmless magic tricks for them as they babbled question after question to her. To her surprise, Cullen was fielding questions from the crowd, all with a roaming eye out for his relations.
When at last they were informed their rooms were ready, she and her companions made for the inn to freshen up while the rest set up a camp on the outskirts of town. Evelyn washed up as best she could and changed, trying to rid herself of the stench of the dead from Crestwood. The stench of wet rotting bodies of Old Crestwood would not leave her for some time, not at least until the Mayor was dealt with and justice was served in whatever form it took.
After dismissing her lady, who had her arms full of stinky soggy armor, there was a knock at the door. Cullen poked his head in, always under the impression he was an unwelcome disturbance.
"Heading out?"
"Soon, yes." He lingered by the door having more to say but not saying it. She continued to brush her hair giving him time to find his words. "I sent word ahead to Mia and she… invited you to dinner as well."
"And… you'd rather I decline to give you privacy, I understand." She said melodically, as she had no intention of interfering with his reunion. She knew how much of a distraction she could be.
"Actually, I was rather hoping you would accept?" He said sheepishly averting his gaze. She eyed him suspiciously seeing that there was an ulterior motive to his invitation.
"Is something wrong?" She stopped her brushing of a particularly stubborn knot to give him her full attention. He was still standing halfway in through the doorway and strode over yanking him the rest of the way in before shutting the door.
"It's just... I haven't seen them since the day I left for Templar training when I was thirteen, a lot can change - I've changed. I thought if you – no, I'm being a bother, forget it. I'm sure you were looking forward to a relaxing evening--"
"I'd be happy to come along! Where else am I going to hear all those embarrassing family stories to tease you with later!" She laughed and he groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. She stopped her laughter short after looking him up and down, "Cullen, you aren't going like that are you? In your armor?" He looked down at himself, then back up at her shrugging.
"I was," it sounded more like a question. Evelyn shook her head her blonde tips dancing about her shoulders.
"We're seeing your family, not fighting Red Templars! Take that off!" He tried to put up a good defense as to why he should wear it, but in the end huffed and looked towards the heavens saying a prayer under his breath. "You want me to come, then change. If we're attacked on the way there you can not only have bragging rights, but I'll clean your armor--"
"Oh no! I'm not making any more bets with you after Haven," he grumbled as he went to leave with his orders. "Especially when it comes to your armor. Your lady passed me with it in the hall, it stunk like a corpse. I'm not sure how you managed to get it that filthy in Crestwood when it rained the entirety of the time we were there."
"In case you forgot, I had to fight an army of the dead, hordes of demons and a dragon. Stop changing the subject and go get changed. While you do that, I'll ask Dorian for a bottle of his dessert wine." He was headed for the door but stopped and turned arching an eyebrow. "Or did you get them something already?" He made a face. "You expect me-- us to show up empty-handed to dinner at your family's home?" He gave her a pained expression. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, "Just go change! I'll see to it, Rutherford. Do I also need to remind you to run a comb through your hair?" She shook her head as he left looking a bit bewildered.
***
The two rode side-by-side in the early afternoon sun. The sky was blue and cloudless. Cullen looked over at Evelyn who closed her eyes and soaked up the rays. She was used to the warm northern climate, not the temperate, and at times frozen temperatures of Ferelden – his home. The day was cool but the constant presence of the sun took away the chill, making him glad he had listened to her forgoing his armor. The only distinct difference in his attire was a fine cotton shirt Josephine had got him for occasions where armor was not fashionable. It was maroon with the slightest bit of gold embroidery about the collar. It was nothing flashy as he fought her tooth and nail about alternate wardrobe options. This was their compromise, plain, comfortable and slightly less intimidating. The shirt struck the perfect balance between loose comfort and hugging his body too tightly - a testament to the skill of the tailor Josephine hired.
Evelyn was a vision of subtle sophistication, not wanting to also intimidate his humble family. She wore a clean pair of leather pants with her polished thigh-high boots. The arms of a sheer white puffy-sleeved shirt poked out from her cerulean wool body wrap that belted at the waist and flowed down about her hips. Her hair was pinned up with small braids coiling their way into a bun. Though the horses were only trotting, small wisps of her hair still fell out about by her ears. He watched as she checked the saddlebag to make sure the wine was still intact when she noticed him paying her attention. They hadn't said too much aloud the whole time as they were being escorted by a small contingent of men.
"Cullen, you're making that face you made when that Orlesian noble insisted we try the chocolate-covered Druffalo phallus he brought as a gift." They simultaneously cringed at the memory. One of the soldiers looked back at her wide-eyed, and she nodded at him scrunching her nose playfully.
"Mason, keep your eyes forward!" He barked. Knowing they were being listened to, she resorted to sign language. She shrugged and mouthed a 'what?' He sighed and made a motion with his hand as if he was snapping a stick in half, 'broken.'
She moved her horse as close as she could to his and leaned over whispering, "No. They will be proud of you and the man you are, as I am." He turned his ear away to look at her seeing the fire in her eyes and the truth they conveyed. He felt his face finally relax as they shared a rare moment of being close to one another in more ways than one. She gave him a warm smile of reassurance and it bolstered his resolve knowing she was there to support him. Their horses bumped them together and apart several times as her eyes wandered down from his to the scar on his lip. Realizing what she was doing, she met Cullen's eyes who were watching hers with a look that she couldn't quite place. That was until he caught the same soldier gazing back again at them who earned himself a good chewing out.
As they reached the dirt road up to the farm, he again took in the serene landscape. A split-wood fence bordered the road up to the farmstead, holding back the wheat that swayed in the stiff breeze. The colors were magnificent; golden crops, blue sky and green trees surrounded the fields as wind buffers. Occasionally he'd spot the odd farm tool or equipment strewn away to the side of the fence. Off in the distance was their mill with its busy water wheel turning slowly with the current. The birds chirped along happily gliding on the wind. He commented to her about the beautiful land, and she hummed in agreement looking completely absorbed in the scenery as well. It was enough to make him wonder about what if he hadn't join the order and had a simpler upbringing: no Circles, no lyrium, no darkspawn magisters aspiring to godhood.
As they approached the house, a young boy darted in front of the entourage with another small boy on his back, followed by a girl with a full head of curly blonde hair. The children giggled looking at them and ran up the road kicking clouds of dirt up behind them. Those must be my niece and nephews. Maker, how does one be an uncle? Cresting the hill, they saw what looked to be the whole family gathered out front to greet them. Evelyn wore her best diplomatic smile as she glanced back and forth from his family to him. He swallowed hard, but he couldn't bring himself to smile and settled for his diplomatic face: serious and stoic. His heart pounded and he began to sweat when their horses stopped in front of the welcome party. He suddenly felt like he was out of his depth. That warm familial interactions came as easily to him as speaking Orlesian. Any doubt of whether he was to receive a warm reception was quickly forgotten as he looked at the beaming and bright faces before him, even if there was a tension lurking beneath the smiles.
It was easy to pick out his siblings as it seemed only time had touched their appearances. Mia, his older sister, had more gray and white streaking through her long blonde hair than he had. They shared the same amber colored eyes as their father, even if her looks favored their mother more. Branson reminded him of his younger self in looks, missing the scars and signs of battle. His skin was smoother around the bones of his face, whereas Cullen felt his looked as if he got hit in the face one too many times. It seemed he was the only one to come close to him in height, having to be a few inches shorter than Cullen. He was also the only one of the four Rutherfords who had inherited their mother's dark auburn hair, and shared her chestnut eyes with Rosalie. The blondest of the three and seven years his junior, Rosalie radiated with the untainted purity and glow of youth. He felt as if he was staring at the image of his mother when he looked at her from her mannerisms to sweet deposition. Cullen knew he was a splitting image of their father and wondered if his siblings would feel the nostalgia of looking on him as he did Rosalie.
They dismounted with practiced synchronization, since the Inquisitor refused to let anyone help her down; an argument rehashed between she and the Ambassador each time she did so in front of visiting nobility. He looked to her over his saddle, receiving a wink. He had fought battles and demons without so much as a tremble of his nerves, yet here he was facing his family ready to retreat. Evelyn must've sensed it, when she motioned for him to escort her to be presented to them. Upon receiving her, she discreetly squeezed his arm and gently stroked him with a finger trying to calm him.
"Inquisitor, it's an honor to meet you, my lady. Welcome to our home." The whole group began to bow, as if badly rehearsed.
"Please, there is no need for the formality! You may all call me Evelyn. I'm so pleased to meet you all and for your invitation." When her Inquisitor smile once again graced her face, he felt the wind be knocked from him knowing it was his turn.
"Cullen, we are so happy to see you, it's been," she sighed heavily almost in sorrow, "too long." He bowed his head, wishing he would've thought over in his mind what he was going to say to this very fact. He had plenty of time, why hadn't he prepared something, anything! The Inquisitor's light squeeze indicated to him that he had removed himself for too long and looked up.
"I, uh, I know. I-I hope I haven't become too much of a stranger to you." He looked to Evelyn, who while wearing her mask, only broke it momentarily to urge him to keep going. "It was my fault for the lapse in communication, but I'd like to make amends for the time lost, if-if you'd allow me?"
"Welcome home, Cullen," Mia's words struck him in the heart. She was the eldest and since the time they were little they had all done as she said – most of the time – as if her word was law. The words also seemed to break some of the tension in the air, as the children could no longer stay still and curiously examined their two guests. Evelyn broke contact with him to ask after the names of the children. While they were occupied the rest of the group approached him.
Mia began introductions and first introduced her husband, Thomas Thornton, then pointed at their two children. The eldest was Arthur at eight, and the younger Rosemary who was five. Thomas was polite and didn't at all seemed affected by the awkwardness of the situation. If his sister was anything like he remembered, then he knew who ran the house – and it wasn't him. He had a thick gray-red beard and mustache that complimented his wide and sturdy frame. If there was a man alive who looked as if born for farm work, it was him. Looking at their children – rather all three – it seemed the Rutherford traits were strong in their appearances.
"Big brother, it has been too long," Bran had always had an easy-going, but this time it was veil by uncertainty; an uncertainty that he had created through his prolonged absence. He held out a hand and Cullen gave it a shake. "This is my wife, Michaela and son Richard. He's three." Michaela looked back and forth between the two clearly studying them, and he blushed suddenly under her wandering eyes, no doubt seeing the striking resemblance. "Do you think I'd look as rugged as Cullen with a scar? What do you think, Michaela? Do I need one?"
He had gotten the scar fighting Knight-Commander Meredith. It was a constant reminder of his failure to see what she – and even he - had become until it was too late, and yet that in the end, he stood against her – which earned him a red lyrium fueled punch from his former Knight-Commander. When he snapped out of the memory, he realized he was being stared at. How many times was he going to do that in front of them? He was away from his element and the distracting sounds of armor and swords clanking, men running through drills and messengers with reports keeping his mind busy. It was quiet on the farm, making it easy for his mind to slip away from him.
He sighed knowing sooner or later he was going to have to explain his odd behavior. "I apologize, I got this," point to the scar, "in Kirkwall. It's not a particularly nice memory." He cringed when everyone exaggerated their understanding with nods and comforting words before moving on. A dull ache began in his head, and it could not have come at a worse time.
"Hello Cullen," said the sweet voice of Rosalie, "I've missed you." He was overtaken by another memory suddenly of the day before he left for Templar training. Rummaging through his pocket, never breaking eye contact, he pulled out a coin. "Oh! Bran look!" They had given it to him for luck. The worn and dirty face of Andraste in peaceful contemplation still visible.
"I've carried it with me all these years, it has seen me through the Blight, blood mages, demons, Kirkwall and now the Conclave and the Breach in the sky." As he spoke he studied it, unaware of the affect of his words on his family until he heard a stunned 'Maker' come from Mia. Looking up, realizing that even for seasoned soldiers his list of horrors was harrowing, and his family stood in quiet shock, unsure how to react.
"Well, I'm certainly glad you gave it to him. He needed it for when I came along too. I'm surprised you haven't added me to that list." Evelyn was a much-needed interruption, as was her guarded humor for once.
"I have considered it." He said arching an eyebrow up as she beamed at him. She held his gaze seemingly engaging him to allow him to regroup his thoughts. The woman had an uncanny knack for commanding his full attention, so much so she lulled him back into a more comfortable state. He turned back to Rosalie, "I think I still have need of it," he tucked it back into his pocket, "the Inquisitor has a gift for finding trouble."
"Speaking of gifts," she presented Dorian's wine to the eldest Rutherford. "Please take this for your table." Mia took the bottle graciously and studied its label.
"Oh, thank you Inquis-- Evelyn! What a lovely… wine."
She laughed lightly at Mia's reaction, "I forgot the label is in Tevene. It's a dessert wine, courtesy of our resident Magister. I don't even know what it says, but it tastes good." Mia looked at her a bit surprised most likely by the informality in which she spoke. He remembered back in Haven when he too was surprised when talking with the three Trevelyans so casually. When the horses had been seen to and the men awaited further instruction, Evelyn took it upon herself to dismiss them. "If we don't return to the inn by midnight, you may send riders for us in case of trouble."
"Yes, Inquisitor, but the Commander had originally ordered us to guard the perimeter." She turned to look at him with a haughty stare. Her eyebrow quirked as if to ask 'oh, you did?' He glanced equally as stern back to her, knowing that to argue with her would be fruitless.
"It won't be necessary, but I understand the Commander's caution," though she didn't undermine his authority through words, she still scoffed and rolled her eyes, "if between the two of us, we can't handle a bit of trouble then we don't deserve our posts." The soldiers smiled and gave a snort in laughter, quickly reigning it in as the Commander scowled at them. "Dismissed." They saluted and headed back down the road with much more favorable orders. When they were out of earshot, she rethreaded her arm in his sighing and shaking her head. "I've seen you take on six men in the training ring, even starting with your weapons on the ground, and have come through unscathed. Between the two of us we could take on at least… eighteen enemies."
"Eighteen? That's oddly specific."
"Your six to my dozen."
"Why do you get more?"
"Because I just slain a dragon. That doubles my enemy count." She looked at him utterly pleased with herself and he almost forgot where he was if it wasn't for some snickering coming from nearby. A flush of red brightened his cheeks realizing she had done it again, distracting him to the point of short-term amnesia. It must've dawned on her seeing his face that their friendly banter had a captive audience.
Having lingered outside too long, according to Mia and her plan for the evening, the reunion was ushered inside for dinner. Evelyn hung back, wanting to make sure Cullen was doing alright. As she pretended to look about at the scenery, she caught his eye and gave him a knowing look. A nod and smile were better than she could've hoped for from him, and he offered his arm to her as they walked in.
As they moved indoors, conversation through the afternoon was surprisingly lively. They sat around a table made of thick wood planks with two long benches and chairs on either end. He had yearned for this moment during many lonely nights listening to the men talk of home around the fires, imagining the warmth and familiarity of family gatherings. Thomas and Cullen both sat at the heads of the table and Evelyn sat just to Cullen's right. Rosalie sat on the other side of Cullen engaging them in all manner of topics to try and reacquaint themselves. The house was charmingly rustic with a large hearth centrally located for both function and warmth. Herbs and braids of garlic were hung to dry near its heat, and large well-oiled cast iron pots and pans were piled underneath awaiting use. The aroma from the hearth filled the room with hearty comfort. The women took turns turning the spit with two small birds and a pig skewered on it. The was a pot sitting on some hot embers with a thick brown sauce beginning to bubble out. Evelyn had leaned over and joked that she hoped it was gravy. Little would upset his stomach more than it was already, including her eating habits.
As they sat around the table, the conversation flowed naturally among the siblings. They reminisced about their childhood adventures, laughed at old stories, and updated each other on their lives. He listened intently, grateful for the opportunity to be present in their lives once again. Yet, despite the joy of the moment, he couldn't silence the nagging guilt within him. He had missed so much—birthdays, weddings, and countless other milestones. Everyone had been changed by time and their experiences – experiences that he would've shared had he not joined The Order. The realization weighed heavily on him, threatening to overshadow the happiness of their reunion. In a moment of vulnerability, he decided to share his feelings with his siblings. He confessed how the guilt of his absence haunted him as he apologized for not being there for them for so many years. As he unburdened himself, Evelyn placed a hand on his knee under the table, giving him reassurance knowing that he had carried the guilt for a long time. She had heard it as part of their talks, and it was only because of her urging that he had first written to Mia. His siblings, understanding and compassionate, reached out to him with open arms.
Mia spoke first, her voice filled with empathy, "Cullen, we know with all that you've been through it couldn't have been easy. We only ever wanted to help you, be there for you. You've nothing to be ashamed of."
Branson added, "We may not be as close as we once were, but that doesn't mean we love you any less. We've all changed, but you're still our brother. It has always been the four of us, things haven't been the same without you. Right, Ros?" He hugged her shoulders and she smiled sweetly agreeing.
When Bran released her she reached for Cullen's hand to hold. He felt Evelyn's hand leave him as he reached for Rosalie, squeezing it in earnest. Cullen felt a sense of relief wash over him, like a weight being lifted from his shoulders. He realized that his siblings loved him, just as he loved them. They understood that time and circumstances had transformed them all, but it didn't mean their bond was irreparable.
He assumed from their economic status and business that while they could afford to slaughter a large pig, they probably didn't do it often; something reserved for special occasions. Back in Haven before it was destroyed, when Cullen had rekindled correspondence with them, he had immediately and without cause sent them a month's worth of pay. It wasn't a bribe, nor was it meant to be repaid, he just felt it was the right thing to do. He had no need of such coin, having neither a homestead or family of his own to support, and thought it prudent to send it to them something during such times as these. Mia had written back to thank him, but did tell him that it was not necessary, that they had a good buisness and that they did not live frivolously. Of which was obvious given that everything in the home seemed to have a purpose rather than sentimental value. There were no trophies, art or books, for which saddened him because it was one of his favorite things about when he went away for training. Circles were repositories for books and not even the First Enchanters knew the extent of the vast collections. Perhaps, he'd send some books as thanks…
"Cullen," he grunted at his name being whispered, "pass the gravy or do you plan to guard it all night?" Evelyn was giving him that look again, smirking and trying to get a rise out of him. He passed it to her, but she never broke his eye contact and she drowned her bird and vegetables in it. He shook his head but it was done ever so slightly as to not draw attention from the others. He rolled his eyes and when they landed they fell on Rosaline, who eyed him suspiciously before giving a smile and returning to fixing her plate. A prayer to the maker and his bride was said and they gave thanks for returning their brother back to them. He just hoped he was living up to what they wanted him to be.
For the most part, the children ran around them stealing the occasional bite of food from everyone's plate. Rosemary seemed the shyest around him, looking up with a smile before hiding herself away in a long ongoing game of peekaboo. Her brother, Arthur, had joined them for a time asking him about what life was like being a soldier. His explanations of his life as a Templar and now Commander were far too humble for Evelyn's liking and she chimed in here and there to explain that he was one of the finest warriors she had seen. Arthur's face lit up more and more with each interruption and he had no doubt the boy would be bragging about having a famous uncle to everyone in town thanks to the Inquisitor's embellishments. Richard took the most interest in Evelyn. He was very content to sit on her lap and play with her marked hand. She assured his parents, it could not harm him as he spread her fingers and looked into the light. She found out that he was particularly interested in horses, to which Cullen muttered a 'now you've done it,' and the two quickly bonded as she told him everything there was about horses.
As the siblings reconnected over dinner, they moved on to the major highlights in their life such as marriage, children and the like, all the things both he and Evelyn had yet to experience in their thirty years of life. He supposed being married figuratively to their jobs counted for something.
"Ros has been refusing suitors left and right, doing Bran's job for him. Though I can't say I'm disappointed since she's invaluable to me here helping with the home and children."
"Mia, the men here are so boring! I'd like to get out of South Reach and meet new people, travel a bit before settling down," she said it with a bit of a dramatic flair which Mia raised an eyebrow to at the same time Cullen had. At least some things never changed. "Evelyn, you must understand?" Eyes were all were on the great Inquisitor now to give some sage advice or life lesson.
"I do understand, my mother had started grooming me for marriage at the age of five to be the most idyllic wife. Manners, etiquette and feminine pursuits were drilled into me as it had been done to my sisters before me - maybe even more so after getting caught sword fighting with my brothers. Since I was the youngest child, she couldn't really look for a match outside of the Free Marches, since I had nothing but may name and connections to bring to the marriage. After narrowing it down to the small pool of eligible men, there were only a few possibilities, all dreadful - even by my childhood standards. Thankfully, I came into my magic, thus rendering myself ineligible, much to the dismay of my mother though who lamented for months how all her hard work was wasted." They all listened on with interest, though Cullen was reading between the lines, knowing what a hard time that was for her as a new mage with a mother who couldn't accept it.
"Did you know them?" Evelyn shook her head at the question, answering that saying hello once or twice a year at balls didn't count as knowing someone. "If you had been forced to marry, do you think you would've come to care for them? I've heard of some arranged marriages that turned into true love like in books. Or you could've taken a mistress, one who'd steal you through your window and..." There was a collective grumble and eye rolling at the romantic ideals of his sister.
"While Varric and his romance novels would have you believe the prospect of having your marriage arranged to a man you hardly know, then falling madly in love with him enticing, I assure you it is not and rarely is the case in my experience."
"Wait," Cullen's sudden interruption and tone seemed to make her review what she had just said in her head. "You've actually read his books? Swords & Shields?" A flush of her cheeks and a few stuttered words told him the answer. Rarely was she ever so embarrassed as he had seen her in that very moment. For all her sarcasm, teasing and opinions of such romantic ideals, she read Varric's books? He covered his mouth to hide his laughter.
"Well, I-- I didn't, um, Cassandra gave it to me and--"
"Cassandra?!" Now he couldn't help but laugh at her and Cassandra. The two of them reading Varric's books, was just too much for him to handle. Oh, to see his face if he ever learned that the Seeker read his books…
"Don't tell Cassandra I told you, if she finds out she'll punch me like she did that bear! You too probably once I tell her you laughed like this!" The others in the room just looked on with fascination at their exchange. He supposed it was a bit odd watching two powerful figures whose names were on the lips of everyone in Thedas bantering back and forth like children. As he continued to laugh trying to stop at times only to continue, she and the others began to join in, "You're an arse. Stop laughing or I'm going to punch you!" Bran quickly encouraged her, and the room filled with more boisterous laughter.
When it died down, she reiterated that he better not tell a soul if he knew what was good for him, but Mia was quick to come to her aid with a few embarrassing childhood stories to blackmail him with. He groaned as each sibling had to tell their own story of him to the Inquisitor, even if he may have deserved it after laughing at her. It was then he was thankful that she came along, not only for her support, but because she seemed to be the catalyst in helping him open up to his siblings again. It was still awkward at times, but he felt the divide between them closing little by little.
When a raven landed in the open window of their common room squawking for attention, the mood shifted slightly away from the ruckus it had been moments earlier. He stood to go retrieved the message.
"What is it?" Everyone seemed very interested in the sudden interruption, gaining a glimpse of him at work.
"Our men have picked up Mayor Gregory Dedrik near Jader. Seems he was attempting to flee across the Waking Sea. He's being transferred to Skyhold as we speak." She sighed heavily. Without her knowing, her face morphed from Evelyn to the Inquisitor. At seeing the sudden change, he tucked the message back into his pocket. "The, uh, rest can wait."
"Thank you, Commander," she absently replied. "I think I'll take some air before dessert, I'm sure the fields look just as beautiful in the moonlight." She stood and gracefully exited. As Cullen watched Evelyn leave, he immediately regretted reading the message. He cursed himself for not just telling her it could wait to begin with. Instead, in front of their very eyes, the burden of Inquisitor fell on her like a ton of bricks. He stared at the door for a long minute after it closed before turning back to his family.
"Will she be alright? She didn't seem pleased by the news." Mia, always the concerned mother hen, was the first to ask after her.
"It's a particularly complicated issue we uncovered while in Crestwood. During the Blight, refugees came to Crestwood, but they were infected. To save his people the Mayor herded the sick into the lower village and flooded it, blaming it on the darkspawn. He saved many lives from an outbreak but murdered many others. It was so long ago, there is no way of knowing how many innocents were killed along with them. She'll be deciding his fate once he's brought to Skyhold. I don't envy her."
"Are you not her advisor? Can you not help?"
"I can-- I do, but," he rubbed the back of his neck, "I think she already came to a decision, she just fears having to make it." By his words, it seemed everyone had caught his implied meaning.
"I'm going to make her a cup of mother's special tea. She likes tea, Cullen?" He nodded.
"Now for the question we all really want to know," Cullen braced himself for it, "how long have you two been together?" He frowned at first thinking he meant working together, but his brother's ever-raising eyebrows conveyed a different meaning.
"Together-- she and-- Andraste preserve me, Bran! She's the Inquisitor, we're good friends, yes, who happen to work closely together." He said it in a harsh whisper as if Evelyn would be able to hear.
"It's cute really." Rosalie teased. Cute was not a word Cullen would use to describe anything about him.
"Leave him alone, if there was something I'm sure he would've at least told his favorite sibling, me." Mia chimed in with a knack for ending disputes. "Regardless Cullen, you should go out there. Ros, Michaela, come help me clean up before dessert. "
While women cleaned up, Thomas took a nap in the Common Room leaving Cullen alone with his brother. Bran scooted closer, all the while keeping a trained eye on the ladies and their comings and goings.
"Come on Cullen, I'm a married man and you aren't fooling me with how you two look at each other."
"Truly, nothing has happened. Why are we even discussing this?"
"But you want something to happen. I can tell. Despite what you may think, you haven't changed that much." Cullen just ran a hand through his hair in response, leaning back in his chair. "That's what I thought. Do you remember what father used to say? 'Do what makes you happy, because life's short then you die.'" Cullen gave a short chuckle as memories of his mother and father resurfaced from the depth of his mind. His father always said that while looking at his mother. Growing up he had never questioned that they had married for love. Life on the farm was hard but at the end of the day, they were always in each other's arms. He couldn't help but be a bit jealous of his siblings, happily married with children and all helping to run a successful farm and mill. They had each other to lean on. Life was simple; he didn't choose simple. He chose a life of service, one that had scarred him almost beyond repair until she came along. He couldn't remember the last time he was happy, maybe back when he became a Knight? Before he lost faith in The Order.
Was it that long since he had felt any semblance of true happiness? Maybe happiness wasn't the word for it; contentment; belonging; love? The thought that he could be falling in love jolted him to his core more than any lyrium ever could. 'Do what makes you happy,' could life be simplified so? His duty made him happy; seeing his family made him happy and whole again; she made him happy. For all the trouble and teasing, he felt happy thinking back to moments with her. She was a steady presence in his life and seemed to enjoy his company as well; maybe Bran was on to something.
"You think it's as simple as that, but it's not. There's politics and the fact that she's nobility. Not to mention a mage and I, a former Templar. You have no idea the implications of that--"
"Sounds like a lot of bullshit excuses to keep you from being happy. I haven't known her long but something tells me she would agree." Michaela returned to the table to set it, all the while curiously eyeing the conspiring brothers. Bran smiled at her lovingly, "Where did our son get to, my dear?"
"Ros put the children to bed," she said placing the last setting in front of her husband. "It'll just be us for the evening," she bent over him giving him a flirtatious look.
Bran laughed, "Maybe if we disappear for a bit, Cullen would be kind enough to cover for us? What say you big brother?" He pulled his wife's waist towards him running a hand about her curves.
"Ah- I-I better go check on the Inquisitor."
"I think you mean Evelyn," Bran gave him a wink and a nod. Knowing what he was insinuating that he do, Cullen just sighed.
Walking out and closing the door tightly behind him, he found her sitting up on a table by the laundry line. The paddles and buckets for washing clothes were still there, although the laundry was not. She absently ran a finger along the grain of wood on one of the paddles, occasionally picking at a splinter.
"There you are." She jumped in surprise holding the paddle as if she was going to swing it at him. He laughed, "You're one of the most powerful mages in Thedas and you were going to use that to defend yourself with? A bit off your game Trevelyan." She began to laugh along with him at the ridiculousness of it. He was relieved to see it wasn't going to be a particularly difficult task to cheer her up as a mischievous smirk spread up one side of her face.
"Shall we test that?" He scoffed at her challenge.
"The day I get taken down by a laundry paddle is the day I'll read one of Varric's books. I'll even borrow it from Cassandra." She scrunched her face up at the mention of the ladies' outed secret. She swatted it at him and he disarmed her with ease before tossing the paddle aside.
"You're no fun, Rutherford."
"Sore loser."
"Careful, or I'll ask Mia for more embarrassing stories." With a huff, he joined her up on the table, placing himself shoulder to shoulder with her. The peaceful sounds of dusk were all he could hear. The quiet gave him an unmatched clarity as his mind wandered from his duty and solely onto her. A rising nervousness began to grip him again, but his want for something more was stronger driving his actions.
He leaned back and put his arm behind her in quiet invitation. He was surprised how quickly she folded into him as if it came so naturally without a thought. Perhaps it was the sheer fabric of her shirt, but he thought for a mage particularly talented with fire, she'd feel warmer. The coolness was welcome though as he was always so hot from his body trying to heal him from lyrium deprivation. She shimmied her shoulders back into his embrace, reclining her head to rest on him. He breathed deep inhaling her scent as he placed his head atop hers. He noticed recently whenever she was close to him - which was happening more and more frequently - that she had changed her scent. Before it was flowery, and while pleasant, he didn't feel like it fit her. Now it was sweeter, like one of those tiny warm spiced cakes the Ambassador ordered for banquets. If there ever was a moment to tell her how he felt it was now.
"Ev--"
"Cullen, do you think you could ever have feelings for a mage - for a mage like me?" She spat it out so fast he paused trying to catch up. She had beaten him to it.
"I could, a-and I do. I was about to ask you the same about a former Templar, but…" She pushed up off of his shoulder to look at him.
"But?" They both paused unsure as they entered new territory. "Does this have to do with why you hesitated to kiss me back at Haven?" His breath caught in his throat not thinking she would've noticed it.
"You're the Inquisitor now and I'm your Commander. There are a lot of things that could go wrong and make working with each other difficult." There were a lot of implications that went along with that statement and she knew it by the way her shoulders sagged. The Inquisition was becoming powerful, so powerful their army could rival that of Ferelden or Orlais'. If their relationship was found out, they could be in serious danger thinking the two to be usurpers. Not only that, but their credibility would be questioned on every decision. Was it for their own personal gain? Was the decision skewed due to their feelings for each other? There was also the consideration of her marriage. She was of the nobility and he the son of a miller with no title, land or means to support her aside from his salary from the Inquisition. Surely even if her brothers approved of him, her parents would not - especially from what he knew of her mother.
"But I wasn't the Inquisitor then," a pained looked showed in her eyes. "It is because I'm a mage, isn't it?"
"Not in the way you think," he sighed trying to find the right words, swallowing hard. He looked off down the empty road knowing what needed to be said, but searching for the courage to manifest them aloud. His throat suddenly went dry and he cleared it a few times before continuing. "I was tortured by blood mages when I was stationed at Kinloch." His breathing hastened and out of his peripheral, he saw her head whip around. "I watched as my brothers and sisters of The Order were slaughtered, and could do nothing but pray to the Maker. They imprisoned us, subjected us to torture from demons who tried to break our minds. Some succeed and we had to… cut them down ourselves."
A warm calloused hand timidly rested on top of his. He fought the urge to pull away, trying to separate the past from the present, though he couldn't bring himself to look at her. He had never told a soul of what happened to him and revealing it to her, the one he cared most for, made him feel weak, ashamed, and relieved all at once. Even with how profoundly it had affected him his whole life, he couldn't help but feel guilty knowing how it'd make her feel.
"Those who didn't break were taken by this one maleificar who," he looked down cringing not wanting to say it, but knew she needed the truth, "was a pyromancer to be executed." Her hand dropped away from his and he glanced over to see her staring at a spot on the ground chewing on her bottom lip. Her chest heaved as she sniffed back tears. He hated having to burden her with this, why did he have to be so broken? Fingers quickly wiped away some of the water pooling in her eyes, but the flow was too swift for her to keep up with. He knew she was trying to keep her emotions in check - for him - making him question whether or not he should go on.
"What happened then?" Her voice trembled, not unlike when she spoke of her own horrors.
"Evelyn, you don't--"
"It's alright, we can do this," she grabbed his hand again with a reassuring squeeze, "together. Besides, I'm supposed to be the one trying to make you feel better, not the other way around." He searched her eyes for any sign of doubt, but after a quick roll of her shoulders and stretch of the neck, she looked back at him with that fiery resolve he admired and it gave him the strength to continue.
"They tried to break me with a Desire demon, but when I didn't and found myself alone, the maleificar came for me." He omitted the part where he saw the charred remains, rivers of blood and innards of his friends displayed before him for blood rituals. How many times had he grieved in the solitude of his own mind over them? It was as if their final sacrifice never mattered, he being the sole person who would remember it. To hear the words aloud was like a righteous reckoning. "That's when I was saved by the future King and Queen of Ferelden, of all people, back when they were Grey Wardens. I pleaded with them and my Knight-Commander to kill all the mages in the Circle, I didn't think any of them deserved to live. That hatred carried me to Kirkwall where Knight-Commander Meredith encouraged it. Maker, the things I did…" he covered his eyes before running the hand down his face in astonishment of the terrible things he had done while fueled by his hate while taking excess lyrium. "The way I saw mages then, I'm not sure I would've cared about you. The thought of that sickens me."
"Look at me," he faced her as if a prisoner awaiting judgment, the apprehension clearly written on his face. "This weight you've carried for all these years… I forgive you." He blinked a few times wondering at her meaning. "I know you'll never forgive yourself for what you thought of mages, so I am because you're not that man anymore, I forgive you." She rendered him speechless and a bit numb as his mind sought to wrap around her words. Her face was one of serenity as the moonlight twinkled in her eyes and bathed part of her face in its light. Every few seconds she searched his eyes for any sign of reaction. He let out a breath as if he'd been holding it.
"I've never told that to anyone." He watched her grab at her heart as if trying to make it beat. Without warning, she lunged into his arms nearly knocking him off the table. They held tight together, his large hands on her back pressed her closer to him and they buried their faces into the other's shoulders. Breaking away, they once again found themselves in a familiar position brushing cheeks and noses. Her eyelids fell heavily as she watched his lips, but she began to pull away. Knowing that if he didn't do something now, he'd risk losing her, he made his choice.
He leaned in capturing her lips for the first time. She let out a surprised gasp, but then let her mouth melt onto his. He cupped her face angling it up to his while deepening the kiss. With a breathy hum, she flicked her tongue across his lips in invitation. Her hands slid up his chest to circle his neck as she moved closer into his embrace. Fingers massaged his neck and up through his hair, but it was her lips that occupied his present thoughts.
They had just thrown away their friendship in exchange for something more, which was nothing to take lightly. It was frightening for him, but Evelyn made him want things he thought would be denied to him in this life. Seeing his family and how happy they were only intensified these desires. He wanted a family, a house, a life outside of the Inquisition when he had fulfilled his duty, but would she be the one to share that life with?
After they parted, he rested his forehead to hers, still close enough to feel her breath. "You don't regret it do you?" Her eyes searched his for any sign of doubt.
"No," his voice was firm and sure. He pressed a kiss to her again to make drive the point home. She hummed happily as she pulled him now closer to her.
After a few more moments, she murmured against his lips, "Are you alright?"
"I am now." Inside they were both raging maelstroms fueled by past trauma from Circles and lyrium, but her kiss had calmed his tempest. For the first time in years, his mind felt like a calm sea. He had been drunk only a handful of times in his life, and felt as if he was without the dizziness.
"Good. We better head back in before we miss dessert. Your sister's pie smelled amazing. Hopefully, I didn't ruin your appetite with all the gravy I poured on my plate." She smiled as she watched him jump off the table and offered a hand to help her off.
He laughed and shook his head, "Always thinking with your stomach, Trevelyan." As they walked back to the house, he put an arm around her shoulders as she hugged his middle smiling up at him before having to part to fit through the door.
When they entered, everyone was still comfortably sitting around the table seemingly busy with something or other when they walked in. The table had been adorned with delectable desserts, including the bottle of Dorian's wine. Mia immediately strode over placing a mug of hot tea in Evelyn's hands. She smiled, happily holding it up to her lips to inhale the smell of the herbs and spices. He reclined in his seat watching her with an odd feeling, one that was hard to place. His brother's eye caught his attention while the others were distracted and he merely quirked up a corner of his mouth in a smile. His brother gave a nod and let the matter be without another word or teasing look. Nothing flustered him, nor did he scowl at their teasing once during the rest of their visit, for it seemed for once he was a happy man.
***
On the way home, she stopped them just up the road from the inn. It was far enough away that no one would see them, yet if the soldiers came looking there they were. There was a feeling she couldn't shake and had to repress all through dessert. If she didn't do something she felt as if she'd combust, so she tied off her horse on a tree and told him to do the same.
"What is it? Is something wrong?"
"So many questions, just come here!" she whispered loudly grabbing him by the hand. The two of them ducked into the wood line a short distance. When she was certain the casual passerby wouldn't be able to see a thing, she turned all but jumping him. He grunted in surprise at the sudden additional weight he was meant to support, but recovered quickly as she found his lips. After a few hurried kisses, she pulled back, "I'm sorry I had to before we go back and have to pretend nothing happened." Even in the darkness, she saw the twinkle in his whiskey-colored eyes.
"I'm glad you did," he began kissing her slowly as he spoke, "for I don't think I could've slept without one more kiss." She sighed longingly as they continued at his pace. She smiled in spite of herself at the obvious difference already in their affections. He was slow and methodical and she was hurried and slightly aggressive. She figured years of sneaking around in and out of the Circle for a quick tryst made her so. When he moved his attention to the pale column of her neck, she moaned as if he had taken her breath away.
"Maker, that sound…," he growled into the crook of her neck laving harder, clearly trying to get her to do it again. She giggled at the attempt, throwing back her head to let him endeavor to pull another salacious sound from her. Having worked the spot quite vigorously, he pulled her face to his and she bit at his lower lip. One of the hands holding her up grabbed at her rear jerking her hips against him. It was enough to draw out more pleasurable sounds from her.
"Careful Rutherford, or we will have a lot of firsts in one night," heavy desire tainted her every word. He reluctantly parted from her and they both huffed knowing it was too fast, too soon - even if the temptation was there. She was no blushing virgin and from the way he carried himself through their first few intimate interactions, she doubted he was. That didn't mean they could just jump in bed - not when feelings were involved. The anticipation was already delicious, and she would draw it out for as long as she could, especially if it meant getting to tease him. She wondered at how far his the tight hold on his restraint would go.
"Wouldn't want you to tire of me just yet." He let her down slowly and they walked back to their horses. Though she could've kissed him all night caught up in all the feelings of a new chapter in their relationship, she knew their soldiers would be heading out to retrieve them soon if they did not return. With sense reasserting itself, the two mounted their horses again and slowly made their way to the inn's stable chatting about the lovely evening with his family.
At the stable, she gave Nelson a pat goodnight and made her way to the side door of the inn. As her hand touched the handle, he gave her a playful spank on the rear. She yelped and swatted at his chest. "You brigand! I ought to hand you over to my Commander for punishment."
His hands went to either side of the doorframe, and she stood with her back against the worn wood. It was smoothed from decades of use as her hands leaned against it. "I hear your Commander is a reasonable man, I'm sure he'll understand."
"You're making it exceedingly difficult for me to go to bed being so charming." They couldn't hide their smiles if they tried. The thought occurred to her that, while testing his restraint, she had better keep her own in check. She tilted forward off the door whispering in his ear and sucking his earlobe, "Since I can't have you tonight, I'll just have to pretend that these," she brushed two fingers about his jawline, "are yours touching me." His chest heaved and his eyes darkened while he studied her face when she pulled away. Pleased by his reaction, she pressed the two fingers to his lips before sliding them in. She bit her lip feeling the warmth of his mouth, his covetous eyes never even so much as blinking as if burning this moment into his memory. The feel of his tongue sent a wave of hot pleasure through her as she imagined it elsewhere on her body. Retrieving her wet fingers, she went to lean in for one last kiss when the door behind her opened.
"Oh, Inquisitor! Commander. We were just about to come find you." She stopped herself before falling in on the soldiers and hid her hands behind her back like a misbehaved child.
"And so you have," she said slightly nervous, slightly sarcastic. "We were just heading in." The men backed away from the doorway, allowing the two to pass with salutes. They didn't linger in the bar, making their way for the staircase leading to the rooms upstairs. Cullen had the first room on the left, wanting to be as close to the stairs as possible in case of trouble. Cassandra's room was nestled between theirs, giving Evelyn the one on the corner boasting the best views - so the innkeeper claimed. They unlocked their doors simultaneously, but before she pushed in, she looked over one last time to suck teasingly on those two fingers before disappearing into her sanctuary.
***
In the morning after a very satisfactory night despite being alone, she was visited by Cassandra who joined her for breakfast in her room. From outside she could hear the soldiers getting the camp packed up and themselves organized. She estimated she had about another hour before they would be set to leave, so she worked on getting into her leathers that went under her onyx chainmail and plates. She laughed to herself recalling how Josephine suggested nugskin and velveteen for her color palette for this excursion to make her stand out as a 'white knight.' If she hadn't shot that down to opt for bear skin instead, she would've been more like a 'grimy knight' after Crestwood. Especially when the Commander was too busy to clean her armor.
As she drizzled honey over her muffin, she listened to the glorious voice of her golden-maned Commander bellowing out orders. It was pathetic how girlish she was over him and she found herself shaking her head or rolling her eyes at her own romantic musings. Cassandra was smearing some jam on her toast when she thought her indulgence in romance serials might be to blame. Yet at the same time in a world that was quickly circling the Void, he at least made her feel whole.
"Though I missed your company, I did not miss your snoring." Evelyn gave her a pointed look, as the Seeker distracted her from her muffin. 'The Inquisitor snores' had become the rolling joke of the trip back to Skyhold among her party. Cassandra had with her a few folded papers that she was skimming through, but she had also brought a letter in with her that she kept eyeing now and then with a disgusted look. After ignoring it through most of her meal, Evelyn finally gave in and asked her what it was. "What you've condemned me to endure. It's from your brother."
Just barely holding in her laughter, she held out her hand, "Don't tell me you brought it here just to glare at, give it here. Unless of course, it's filthy, then you two can keep it between yourselves." With a grunt, Cassandra flicked it at her from across the small table. As she opened it she stared coyishly at her friend who wore a nauseated expression. She read it with trepidation, unsure she wanted to know the machinations of her brother's mind when it came to women. Her expression quickly turned to disappointment after reading the first few lines. "Oh, Owayne," she sighed pitifully.
Oh Cassandra, my sweetest delight,
In your presence, my world shines bright,
With every moment spent by your side,
My heart swells with an overflowing tide.
Your eyes, like stars in a moonless sky,
Draw me in with their captivating light,
And with every smile that graces your face,
My heart quickens its steady pace.
Though my words may falter and fail,
And my efforts may seem small and frail,
Know that my love for you will never pale,
For you, Cassandra, I'll always set sail.
So let us embrace under the moon's soft glow,
For with our bodies entwined, my love will grow.
"Well, at least we know he wrote this one himself." She laughed.
"What do you mean?" The Seeker eyed her viciously from her seat as Evelyn gave her a look of pity. "Evelyn…" she growled drawling it out.
"Varric wrote the other one." A slow hue of red spread all over her face, and for a moment even The Phoenix was afraid of the fire that she was about to breathe at her. As she went to open her draconic mouth, she cut her off, "I did not tell him to do that, before you try to blame me. Be mad at the other Trevelyan for it." She knew why Cassandra was so upset by it, knowing that wherever Varric was he was probally still laughing having been given an excuse to mortify her in poetic verse.
After throwing a short fit, Evelyn guided her friend over to the windowsill where a bottle of the inn's finest whiskey was sitting. Pouring her a shot, and herself another she clinked their glasses together.
"It's only a few hours after sunrise-- wait, what are those?" Evelyn looked out the window trying to see what had caught her eye.
"What is what?" She craned her head about still trying to catch sight through the leaded paned window.
An amused smirk spread across her lips, "On your neck, are- are those love bites?!" She quickly covered her neck with a hand, the only word in answer to the accusation being an unconvincing 'no.' "You have a lover, and you didn't tell me?! Who is he?" As her hand pointed accusingly ast her she all but spilled her shot on Evelyn.
"Oh no, no, no." She wagged a finger at her tentmate. In the yellow glow of the morning light, Cullen's affections stood out in contrast against its sun-kissed canvas. "You can't even keep my snoring secret, what makes you think I'm going to tell you something like that?"
"Evelyn, you can't keep a secret either the way you carry on. Besides I didn't give the information up freely."
"Cullen literally said you were quick to blame it on me."
Cassandra gasped covering her mouth with a hand, "Cullen!" She tried not to react to her correct guess, hiding her trembling hands taking the shot before she moved back to sit and eat. "You were with him all last night!" She debated in her head briefly if it was worth lying to her. Despite evidence to the contrary, she knew she could keep a secret when it mattered.
"So what? We kissed, is that so terrible?"
Cassandra scoffed with a smile a mile wide, fighting her need to reprimand her. "As long as that's all it was."
For now, she thought, "That's all it was." She walked over to the mirror examining the marks, "He was rather thorough, wasn't he?"
"Evelyn!" She laughed knowing that Cassandra was still pretending to be disappointed by her rash actions before interogating for more intimate details a minute later.
After finishing breakfast and getting strapped into her armor, she descended the stairs of the inn and thanked the innkeeper for accommodating them all at such short notice. Outside, her men were in formation under the watchful eye of the Commander. Nelson was brought to her, and when she mounted up she saw the Rutherfords quickly coming down the road. Cullen sat astride his war horse with his back to them. As he was waiting on her word to move, she knew he'd notice if she discreetly nodded her head in his family's direction. The visor on his helmet was up so she could see his eyes widen in understanding. Turning first his head, then his horse, he trotted over to them as if trying to cut them off from the eyes of his men. Once Evelyn got herself situated, she rounded the back of the column to join them.
"Uncle Cul, can I pet your horse? What's his name?"
"Can I try on your helmet, Uncle Cul?" The children were as enthusiastic as ever seeing their uncle in full armor. It was utterly adorable, as was their uncle's attempt to answer their rapid onslaught of questions. Watching Rosemary run around with his lion helm was priceless and so was watching Nelson lap up treat after treat from Richard. Evelyn received a similar barrage of questions when she joined them, although she was more than happy to talk of the prized Free Marches Ranger her father had sent her - again.
When Richard asked her for more treats to feed Nelson, she had to decline, "If you give him anymore treats I'll never make it back to Skyhold with him!"
"That's alright, you could stay, and we go to the lake!"
"That sounds wonderful Richard, but unfortunately your uncle and I have to go teach some bad people a lesson."
Arthur, who had been mesmerized by Cullen's sword chimed in, "Yeah, they have to go save the world silly!"
"Way to really lay that pressure on them, bud," his Uncle Branson added. "Come on you lot, let's let them get to it. Richard say bye to the horse, you heard the Inquisitor, no more treats." With a disappointed whine, Richard gave a hug to Nelson who had bowed his head for his new friend. Having completely been absorbed with Richard, she hadn't noticed that Cullen had actually dismounted to say goodbye and to run after Rosemary to retrieve his helm. She waved to them all thanking them once again for their gracious hospitality. She made a mental note to pick Josephine's brain about sending them a thank you gift, knowing Cullen probably wouldn't.
Once he had said his goodbyes, promising to visit again, it was back to business, "Commander, if you would."
"Inquisition, move out!" The column began to move and she maneuvered her steed into the pack alongside her companions while Cullen made for the front. With fair weather for their journey home, she hoped Ilara was waiting in her quarters with a hot bath, a bottle of sweet wine and a sturdy chair for when she'll fall over after hearing about what she had been doing the previous night with the Inquisition's Commander.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone