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Chapter Text

Cullen remembered the back wrenching smack into the rolling waves after he fell from the floundering ship.  The hurricane’s slapping waves gave him only a moment to process he was free falling before submerging him with tossing sea water.  Salt, sea weed, and grime from the turbulence flowed up his nose and down his throat.  His body naturally closed off his lungs to not instantly drown.  Instead, he slowly drifted downward into the briny deep, his stinging whiskey eyes seeing the black waters roll and twist above him.

The templar’s ears briefly caught the call ‘Man overboard!’ before seawater gulped and muddled the scream.  The next, a muted snap echoed under the ocean as the once hardy brigandine that was slowly carrying him to Kirkwall broke in the middle like soggy hardtack and filled with more salt water.  Once the cargo ship hit a rogue reef off the Free Marches’ shore, the hold filled with water.  The stern filled faster, the textiles and cotton in its hold soaking with sea slug to the point it lifted the ship on its stern.  The once strong hull’s wood planks and spine could not support the angle as the hurricane force winds ripped the tattered main sails.  The sailors could not climb the mast without falling into the Waking Sea themselves.  The winds combined with the unnatural position snapped the ship in two like a twig under a heavy boot.

So, this is how Cullen will die.

While his mind resolved he was at the end of his life path, the young Fereldan’s body refused to submit.  Unconsciously, his heavy legs weighed down by leather boots and tweed pants kicked with all their might against the under currents.  His lungs naturally swallowed one last heavy breath before his back slapped the waves.  While the fall felt like a punch in the gut, his diaphragm held onto the life essential air.  It might have been years since the templar swam in his childhood lake haven, but his lung capacity still stretched the available expanded space to keep oxygen flowing through his struggling body.

Kick, kick, kick.

Paddle, paddle, paddle.

The ships descent into Dave Jones’ Locker suctioned the twenty-one year old knight downward and away from the twirling waves at the surface.  His mind told him to give up, while his controlled movements and calm pumping heart pushed to live and survive.  Just die, his brain screamed.  His body and heart hollered back no.  All the while, his left pectoral muscle pulse, the unnatural mark burned into his Fereldan fair skin controlling his pleading spirit.  Damn Fate.  He only wanted to control his own destiny!

With each life-saving paddle, those iconic amber orbs flicked at the waves.  With each massive lightning strike, blood, debris, and crates floundered beneath the water.  Sailors cut in half or impaled by wreckage.  Frozen shocked faces floated by him, the men’s final moments captured in a twisted painting to only be seen by Cullen.

No, not again!

The dark suction pull was like those blood magic spells so long ago.  The spray of blood mixing with the sea water just cemented that linger nightmare over and over again in the templar’s mind.  Let me just die! His broken brain pleaded.  No!  No! went his body and that blasted brand.  Let me just forgot and die in peace!

The more the templar kicked and struggled to the surface, the more that crumbling ship’s gravity clawed and yanked at his legs and boots.  One heavy boot flew off his bare feet, its loose leather laces twisting around his ankle.  The suction shifted the footware and instantly snapped his ankle bones to sawdust.  His knee pulled from the socket as it had that one hot day in the templar academy’s practice yard.  Damn that Alistair and his fumbling hands tossing his quarter staff into his knee behind.  Cullen hollered, the sound swallowed by the sea.  A gulp of carbon dioxide popped and bubbled from his mouth. 

That is what happens when a man is not prepared.  That is what occurs when you believe you can sleep off the seasickness.  Cullen should have never taken that sleeping draught the first mate offered.  Once again, improper preparation will kill him.  The same mistake twice in over a year.  Cullen should have learned, but ignored the signs written across his fated wall.

Since leaving Denerim, Cullen’s body yearned for sleep.  His abdomen constantly puked bile.  The rough Waking Sea waves tossed and turned the ship.  He ventured on deck to avoid his tight cabin.  Its wooden walls climbed inward on him like that purple magical cage had just a year before.  Alas, on deck, the turbulence only amplified rocking the brigandine like a child sailing toy.  Cullen spend most time with his head in an old bucket or over the side. 

Feeling pity for the young knight, a sea harden first mate offered a sleeping potion that will knock him out for bells.  The officer carried on his person because a midshipman snored worse than a darkspawn ogre.  The sailor guarantee the templar would not dream, an added bonus that called to the knight-lieutenant like a piece of bread to his constantly empty stomach.

Now, the knight swam underwater in a destructive storm without a shirt, torn heavy pants, and now only one boot.  Hadn’t Kinloch Hold taught him anything?  He should have never placed himself in another compromising position.  His mind was foggy from the sleeping draught and the quickly dwindling oxygen.  If it had not been for the sailor screaming like a banshee down the galley and the tolling bell for all hands on deck, Cullen would not even have any clothes or boots.  He would have likely drowned in his hammock right now sinking and into the abyss with the ship.

The cargo ship left port two weeks late.  This storm season wreaked havoc on ships transporting goods between Val Royeaux and Denerim.  The Templar Order paid thrice the normal passage amount to transport Cullen from Denerim to his new post in Kirkwall.  After Knight-Commander Meredith wrote to Greenfell regarding Cullen’s condition and status, the knight rushed to leave, never wanting to think about that “recovery and retirement chantry” ever again.  With enough lyrium to last him the voyage, the templar paced anxiously to depart in his dockside tavern room. 

Still, the captain delayed and used every excuse possible to wait.  He was an old man who spent his life on the sea.  He knew when it would be safe to travel at full speed.  However, the Order and Cullen pressed daily to depart and begin.  The Grand Cleric of Denerim threatened excommunication if he dallied and stalled any longer.  This knight has a service to complete, and you are obstructing it!  Everyone felt Kirkwall’s knight-commander’s wrath with each new correspondence.  A devote Andrastian human, the captain finally pushed his seaworthy knowledge aside and set sail-

-right into a rogue hurricane.

Cullen’s new post did not matter now.  He would never reach the city-state of Kirkwall to continue serving the Templar Order, his childhood dream now his reality.  The Order gave his crumbling crazed mind another chance.  After his freak out on two apprentices at Kinloch Hold, Knight-Commander Greagoir sent the young templar away to Greenfell to recuperate.  Cullen saw through the lie.  The knight-commander did not want the only surviving templar from  the blood magic siege screaming and pushing for stricter practices.  Every one of the mages entering Kinloch was a potential blood mage, especially those who fought at the Battle of Denerim.  How else did they survive but cut down refugees and their wrists to summon demons and control the armies.  They should be all made tranquil or killed to protect everyone.  They were monsters, beneath non-fade touched people.  Just as the Hero of Ferelden demonstrated, a mage was just a weapon to use, not a living being.

Cullen left the Circle kicking and screaming.  He spent those months consuming lyrium and chanting Andraste’s words with the sisters at Greenfell.  He believed in serving and watching mages more now than as a recruit.  Knight-Commander Meredith Stennard heard about Cullen and his dedication and deep understanding of the Order’s true purpose.  Unlike Greagoir, she too knew the dangers of magic.  Only she saw Cullen’s vision.  You will do well here at the Gallows.  I see you climbing through the ranks and serving the Templar Order.  You and I both know what is necessary to stop blood magic.  The knight-commander wrote in her introductory letter.

The opportunity shined as the first good news in the young knight life in over a year.  He still wanted to serve, but no one in Ferelden wished for his aid.  Now that the blood mages assisted the Hero in stopping the Fifth Blight, many people were open to have them serve beyond Circle walls.  Cullen could not believe people how naïve and idiotic they acted.  The populace forgot Andraste’s teachings.  The Blight originated from magisters worshiping the old gods and tainting the world with the first darkspawn.  The whole Fereldan tragedy resulted from the same blood mages Cullen swore to protect them against!

Now, it did not matter.

Each kick and paddle pulled and twisted the young man’s muscles.  He felt his biceps burn while struggling against the currents.  His ankle and knee pulsed and stung as the swelling fought the cold waters rushing to the new shattered bones.  His lungs felt like they were being squeezed as his body used every fresh breath efficiently to continue living.  His body did not give up even if his amber eyes saw how far away the ocean surface was.

Cullen will die in this darkness.  Why did the Maker save him this last year if He intended the knight die this lonesome dark death again?  The templar wanted to die with his comrades, his friends in that bloody and decaying tower.  He watched each slowly succumbed to blood magic, possession, or were murdered in the Harrowing Chamber.  Even underwater, he heard his friends’ screams inside his soul.  They were never drowned out by the roaring rains and clashing thunder.  No dreams meant not reliving over and over again those long weeks.  Triple doses of lyrium kept the psychological scar lingering at bay, forgotten.  Yet, the inner rage pull him towards purpose again.  Why did his mind save him from weeks of lyrium withdrawal in that purple magical cage if he willingly gave up now so easily?  Why chant and pray through the multiple days of torture and grief against that desire demon if his life would end in the ocean sailing to a new life?

Hope was just a fantasy.  Love never existed.  Life was simply the Void in the flesh.

An air bubble broke through the sinking ship and propelled Cullen upward until he crashed out of the waves and took his first breath of fresh air.  He gasped and coughed, while flailing his arms and legs.  Salt and heavy rain stung his whiskey eyes as he whipped his head around.  His water-logged blond curls slapped his temples and cheeks as the wind whipped the strains all direction.  Sea spray felt like a thousand needles against his skin.

Before Cullen could fill his lungs with another oxygen gulp, the next tidal waves batted him below the surface again.  His muscular cut body whipped and pulled in all directions.  Debris now bang against his harden body.  A pewter cup now felt like an arrow in the shoulder.  A broken mast smacked his cheek like a club.  Ripped sails wrapped around his legs and tugged him under the surface repeatedly.  With each dip, Cullen struggled for a refreshing breath.  Panic set in.  Seawater ran down his nose and throat.  What once breathed life into his frantic body now filled with liquid death.

Smack!

A nailed board from the ship’s hull smacked the side of his face, tearing open his lip with rusty sharpness.  Consciousness now fogged his stinging vision and mumble ears.  Finally, his body seceded, the fight officially lost.  He will die alone in a turbulent dark stormy sea, a fitting match to his blacken soul and lost innocence.

Like the Void, you will die tonight. A voice called somewhere outside of him, or was it in his heart?  Instantly, the burning lyrium mark exposed in his left pectoral muscle pulsed and steamed the water surrounding him. 

No, leave me alone, Fate. 

No, I will never leave you alone.  We share a bond, and I will save you.

You are dead.  You do not exist!

No!  I swear I live and breathe!  You will live, damn it!  You will always live as long as I fight for you! This, I swear!

Chapter Text

A brutish shoulder muscled the estate’s twin entrance doors open, smacking the antique vases and tiffany windows decorating the front entrance.  No one was behind the slamming doors, thank the Maker.  Although, none of the thundering herd of soaking wet sailors, attendants, and transporters cared one way or another.  Their attention laid on the mass barely dangling hammock in a spare folded sail.  All the while, their leader shouted orders with lifesaving urgency.

“Take him immediately to the West Wing!  Start a fire in the designated room and call for the estate healers!  Chantry sisters too!”  A dripping wet woman hollered as the men carried the mass up the grand entry stairs and towards their ultimate location.  The hive worked around their hollering queen to carry out each request, they faith solely on the soaked-through conflagration.  Patiently servants jumped into action, carrying logs, clean and warm blankets, and lit candles to guide the hive through the estate’s winding halls as the midnight hurricane raged outside.  “Elfroot salves, lyrium, and rejuvenation potions!  Watch his head wound!  Check his lungs for water again before giving any medicinal liquids!  He already nearly drowned twice!”

“Evelyn.”

The dripping woman halted before approaching the grand staircase.  Muddy boots and salt water dripped all over the fine Antivan lined carpets and marble and painted tiles floors.  The hive of men and attendant continued to carry the patient out of their leader’s sight.  Once shining marble now will take days of scrubbing and polishing to gleam like majestic mirrors again.

All attention stopped on the recused wounded man.  Backing away one step up the entry staircase, her manner shifted, daring a confrontation.  Her fiery disposition focused now on a man feet taller than her who stepped out of the burning candles’ dancing shadow.  He did not feel threatened or relieved, only blank and unreadable.  Even his hands just gently sat on his cane’s carved pommel waiting for a response.  Batting her long fallen windswept bang from her chocolate brown vision, the woman leader stiffened her back, rolled her shoulders back, and presented herself confidently to the head of the house.  “Father.”

One man at the back of the hive broke from carrying the patient up the stairs and turned towards the lady.  His stringy blond hair could not hide his pointed elven ears listening to the exchange below.  At the landing up to the second floor, the massive Rivaini human door ram also paused and studied the scene below.

“You were not to go.”  The father reaffirmed while standing still by one of the marble busts decorating the grand entryway.  His coarse red beard had not been attended to that night, hiding his pursed lips from anyone’s view.  Yet, his pressed three piece suit and wavy red-grey hair denoted he had not taken to bed or dressed in haste.

The thundering storm outside banged the carved entry doors against the side windows.  The city elf silently walked passed the father and daughter who just stared and challenged at one another.  With quick hands, the elf closed the slamming doors, shutting out the passing hurricane wreaking havoc across the Waking Sea.  With the doors locked and secure, the elven man waited in shadow and out of sight.

“If I had not, that man would be dead.”  The woman snipped with her Free Marcher tongue.  Sea water continued to run out of her auburn braids broken from the bun at the base of her neck.  A sea captain’s coat laid unbutton over her chest, demonstrating she only wore a thin cream tunic and a breast band underneath.  Her once shined brown leather knee-high boots squeaked as she shifted her weight between one leg to the other.  She moved not because her father intimidated her, but from the frigid seawater.  Nothing was dry on her person, especially her small clothes under her tight riding pants.

“So could be you.”  The father huffed back, his bass voice rattling the brass candle scones nearby.

“It does not matter now for both he and I live.”  The daughter concluded, her chocolate brown eyes glancing up the staircase where the patient disappeared.  “The lighthouse saw the wreck.  Only The Rising Phoenix was properly manned and ready for sail.  Who else was to command but its captain?”

The head of the house glanced over his shoulder, watching with his dark hazel stormy eyes at the lumbering Rivaini man joining them at the staircase’s base.  His attention shifted to the city elf still standing in shadow.  “I assume you two assisted her on this great rescue?”

Hemmingway, the Rivaini powerhouse, shrugged and stood by his elven partner.  “You think we would let her have all the fun?  She at least took my advice and tied a harness to the mast before diving into the brackish deep.”  The soaking captain clicked her tongue and threw her bodyguard a look.  “Oh, he knew you would.  Might as well get all the yelling out now than at breakfast in front of your mother.”

“Evelyn…”  The father hissed through his beard.

“Evie, I-“  A tall young man dipping with water from outside came from around the west hallway that continued to the kitchen and dining rooms.  He slid to a stop, his tan face blanching seeing the father gritting his teeth at him, pivoted, and walked back through the doorway like he forgot something.

“Esme.”

The third young man stopped, hunched his growing shoulders, and twirled around.  His curling brown hair sprayed sea water all over an antique Exalted Age painting.  His panicked face shifted to a wide grin.  “Father!  Did you know Evie went out in this storm!?”  His thumbed outside like no one knew the sky thundered and flooded the region.  “Plucked a templar right out of the surf!  I saw the swinging ship lanterns from my bedroom window and ran down to the dock to discover what-“

“Save it, Esme.”  The family head snapped before turning his rigid body enough to have both children visible.  “I knew you disappeared before I realized she took off.”  His stormy swirling eyes flicked between his offspring several times.  “Do you know how your mother panicked so!?  She already lost her father to such a storm.  She does not need to lose her children too over a foolhardy arrogant stunt!”

“It was not a stunt, Father!”  Evie, the daughter, hollered stomping forward.  “He was the only survivor!  If I left it to my first mate or one of the other ships, he too would be dead!  Isn’t Bold in Deed our house motto!?”

The father’s eyelid ticked once.  “You forgot the first half of House Trevelyan’s motto:  Modest in Temper…?”

“Between you and I, Father, that is the biggest load of pig swallow.”  Evie flipped her damp bangs behind her ear, chin high and proud.  Hang proper speech among the nobility.  They were a wealthy merchant family with a long and strong heritage.  However, no race or class existed while serving a ship, which relied on every person to do their duty.  “We established ourselves on the sea, raging against the land lovers for ages.  Why gift me a frigate for my eighteenth birthday if I can only sail it by the coast on tempered waves?”

“It was either a frigate or sending her to Great Uncle Philliam in Val Royeaux, and we all know a ship is easier to steer than that old man.”  Esme commented, leaning against the archway frame.

“I still wonder if I did make the right choice…”  Bann Ian Trevelyan, head of House Trevelyan, mumbled while massaging his left temple.  His swirling eyes lifted to the two guards by the front door.  “Just as I think having you two teaching her to swim might have taken a decade off my life.”  His gaze shifted back to his son.  “Esme, go clean up before you give the maids a heart attack slinging mud everywhere.  You specifically should not have been anywhere near that ship or storm.  After all-“

Esme rolled his light brown eyes, stomping passed his sister and up the stairs.  He flung his pimpled face back dramatically.  “Enough.  I know I’m the spare.  It’s been a shitty night, Father.  I hear it enough during the day.  Rian and that damn seeker better have a child soon or so help me, I better get a Man O’War for my eighteenth celebration.”

Bann Ian did not turn his body, his hazel eyes boring into this foolish daughter.  “You will not live to see your eighteenth name day, my son, if you keep acting like an imbecile…”  Esme mumbled to himself once he reached the first landing towards the East Wing.  “If your lip continues, your fifteenth will never arrive either.”  That shut the lad’s murmurs up.

With one child partially dealt with, Bann Ian could focus on his disobeying beauty.  “You two are dismissed.”  His eyes remained on his child as her two bodyguards shuffled out of the foyer and to their quarters.

“I am wet and cold, Father.”  Evie huffed and took a step towards the staircase.

“You would not be, if you just followed my request.”

Her fiery chocolate glare bore into the older man.  “I explained myself.  I knew where he-“

“This is a very delicate situation, Evelyn.”  The father interrupted, using his ironbark walking cane to block her path.  “I warned you from the beginning.  This requires special attention and specific actions.  Now, you placed this whole household and yourself in a highly precarious situation.  That man is a templar.  I could smell the lyrium on his rotting corpse before you all but plowed through that door.  When the lighthouse reported the wreck, I was handling everything.  Once you galloped off, everything felt into chaos.  Esme follows your every step, searching for a heroic feat without any care for himself.  I know you had Hemmingway and Knotts smuggle you out of this estate.  I know they will do your every whim just as I know your planning and observant brain.  Now, more than ever, you must follow my lead or all will be for not!”

Evie swallowed and glanced away, her dripping clingy tunic denoting her short panting breaths.  Her poked temper raged inside.  Unconsciously, her right hand rubbed her shoulder.  She squeezed her teary eyes shut, the salt water stinging her tear ducts.  “I could not just stand by.”

Bann Ian sighed and shook his head.  “I can only imagine the…effect this is having on you, but that is why you must keep your distance.”

Evie whipped her head upward, lips parted in shock.  “How can you-“

“You must fight it.”  Ian gripped her shoulders tightly, his cane tumbling to the marble floor.  He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers.  “After so long, you must keep it all to yourself.  You feel it, I know.  You can tell the healers better than their abilities where he is wounded and how, but you must keep your distance.  Until we are aware of his state of mind, you bottle this up inside to yourself.  Did you touch him bare handed?”

The female captain, panted her breast pocket, leather gloves’ fingertips poked out the top.  “No…”

“Good.”  The father applauded still resting his head against his daughter’s.  “That avoids on catastrophe.”  Evie hissed through her teeth, irritated her father believed her foolish to make such a mistake.  Bann Ian ignored the sound, continuing his warnings.  “Instinct and proximity state to reach out every way possible, but you have not survived this long by running off and risking everything.  Your patience is awe-inspiring.  Once the connection was made, you waited and only rejoined when necessary.  Now is the true test of your patience and control.  Do that for me, my daring daughter.  I beg you…” 

The bann’s bass tone now sounded like a beggar starving on an Ostwick street corner, fearful and hopeless of his future.  The sound coming from such a prideful man broke Evie’s fiery temper to embers.  Ian fingers dung into Evie’s burning shoulder, while her right hand massaged the shoulder blade under her armpit.  The burning simmer just under the surface was unbearable and refused to break.  Whispers and calling wrapped around her heart and soul to respond and heal.  Her father was right.  She has done all she can.  Patience was not her strong suit.  Never had or will be.  However, the ship captain must heed her father’s pleading advice.  “I…I will.”

Ian leaned back just enough before hugging his trembling daughter close.  Evie’s shudders no longer resulted from the cold waters, but the warring being swimming within.  “Thank you, my daughter.  I will tell you when you may emerge.”

“Can I at least-“

“No.”

Evie exhaled into his padded coat, biting her lower lip hard.  That new facial wound even made her lips pulse.  Nothing could have prepared her for the rolling and chaos.  With one last tight squeeze, the daughter sighed and nodded.  “Make it fast.”

Chapter Text

Cullen wished he could scratch the tinging itch beneath his breastplate.  The aloe and elfroot salve the officers gave him only took away part of the annoyed.  The cream created a barrier between his linen tunic and the new lyrium scar.  Other templars described the initial branding like a tattoo needle or what they heard about Dalish vallaslin rituals.  Instead of voluntary tattooing, this one was just the next defining mark that the young Fereladan man passed his Vigil and survived first draught of potent lyrium.

The young adult attempted to use the sharp edges of his steel chest plate to satisfy the twinges and needles agitated his once bare skin.  He already scratched himself to redness and rash throughout the last two night before his first official rotation monitoring apprentices during meals.  While the salve healed the self-inflicted damage, the internal stinging persisted.

The Fereldan knight did thank the Maker for some care through the process.  At least the mark did not show up on his rump or other sensitive areas.  Prior to his Vigil, the other Circle templar joked about the different spots the mark appeared during their first draught.  One woman had it appear on her large breast nipple so it looked like an arrow every time she got chilled.  Everyone at the templar academy in Denerim heard about the poor soul who got it on his penis.  Evidently, the initial documentation and tracing had to occur while the man was erect, difficult when surrounded by enchanters and Templar officers.  Rumors swirled the knight had to beat off just enough to keep an erection but never release.  Talk about torture.

Still, the pectoral muscle over the heart was cumbersome.  Any time he bathed or trained without a shirt, Cullen noticed templar and mages alike staring at the large nearly round rune and symbols.  The rune was deep red, less like the color of wine and more of sitting blood not washed away after dripping.  Some templars huffed Cullen had been paired with a blood mage, which the knight dismissed instantly.  Maleficium only occurred when a mage was left as apostates and not watched in a Circle. 

The majority of onlookers remark it was a true sign he was Fereldan, the main color matching the kingdom’s flag, while the letters and symbols reflected gold against his chest hair.  Cullen did not mind that comparison for he was prideful Fereldan who loved his kingdom and its king.  Although, one templar retorted the writing sometimes shined like a lion outline, which brought on teasing that blond young man was actually Orlesian.  Bah!  There was no way Cullen would align himself with those masked buffoons, beaten conqueror of his homeland!

For a typically private person, Cullen did not appreciate everyone’s appraisal of his right-of-passage.  Internally, he kept reminding himself that he reached his childhood dream.  He could gaze at the brand in the mirror, tracking the blocks of missing information where the mage’s brand would overlap.  The only person beyond the Circle who knew was Mia, his greatest supporter in becoming a knight.  He had yet hear back from his eldest sister, but Cullen knew she will be ecstatic, telling his childhood doubters in Honnleath that her brother was a true templar of Andraste’s blessed Order.  At least he could watch and follow his fingertips over the runes instead of sitting on the needle pain all the time…or stand in a room with an erect member for it to be documented and categorized. 

“Give up.  It’s going to do that for a while.”  Knight-Captain Hadley chuckled while looking over his left pauldron.  “You’re just going to make it hurt more.  The skin will settle down, just like your stomach after a few full lyrium draughts.”

“Will finding the match settle it?”  Cullen squeaked, digging his glove gauntlet fingers over the breastplate.  Maybe imagining to scratch it will settle this brand.  “Or am I in this for the long haul?”

Hadley chuckled again, his long bangs shifting with each laugh.  “No, when your match is within a league of your position, it will be the most unbearable feeling in the world.  If you aren’t like a compass and running through the Circle to find the end, you will just get used to the stinging.  It does simmer after a month.  Right now, your skin is healing from the strange scarring suddenly appearing.  Some knights get a tattoo right after just to have something to control and focus on.  A mabari and/or a Sword of Mercy are the most logical choices.  After all, the whole ritual is like a mabari imprinting on you except the loyalty is so strong you will risk life and limb.”

Cullen exhaled and squeezed his amber eyes shut.  This was his new norm.  “Here I thought it would be a quick match.”

Hadley nodded, turning down the stairs towards the apprentice level of Kinloch Hold.  “Well, a round of new harrowings are planned in the next few months.  Most new full templars have matches with a new harrowed mage.  Don’t be surprised if you’re selected for duty then.  They say having the match occur during the harrowing means a higher success rate.  I don’t know about that personally.  I was one of the lucky ones whose match already passed their harrowing.  He found me right after the Vigil.”

Cullen wondered if his envious expression was clearly displayed across his fair face.  That was what he prayed for the night before his Vigil.  Like Hadley stated, most matches occurred during harrowings.  Templar vigils always occurred at least a month before the newest harrowings.  While the apprentices were not supposed to know when their final test occurs, logic dictated the pattern.  A month passed to allow the new templars time to settle their bodies to the new potent lyrium doses and act clearly if and when an apprentice may fail their own lyrium test.

“Oh, don’t worry, young man.”  Hadley called reaching the mid-landing before the first floor.  “Your mark has been sent to the Spire.  Even if the senior apprentices aren’t a match, the Spire will know.  Your mage is most likely still an apprentice and no official connection to the Fade hasn’t occur.  You would know if your match already passed otherwise.  If they have, they must be in another kingdom like Navarra if you aren’t going crazy.”  Hadley stopped on the landing, eying the newest full templar closely.  “How have been your dreams?”

Warmth.

Peace.

Gentle melodies.

Violins sing.

Go north.

Cullen gritted his teeth.  He was just dealing with lyrium stability.  There was nothing different…just that strong patience and soothing music across all his dreams.  The lyrium’s blue song?  That must be it.  He trained to expect it. 

Instantly, the new brand sung his chest.

“Just the lyrium, sir.”  Cullen bit through the burning pain.  “Nothing like you or the knight-commander warned.  It isn’t what I suspected.”

Hadley slapped Cullen’s right pauldron.  “It never is.  The Order and the Seekers of Truth try to literate the feeling of the connection, but only experiencing it yourself answers the lingering questions.  I can’t promise you that your bond will occur quickly.  It might take the White Spire a year to search the database of mage runes, which is why the compass direction after the Vigil is so important.  I always wondered why the Inquisition thought long ago to establish a lyrium-Fade connection between the Magi, templars, and seekers.  Maybe it was a part of Andraste’s teachings to make sure mages served man, not rule.  It would be difficult to rule over non-mages if your soul is lyrium connected to a knight or seeker that can silence you with just a feeling.”

“Do you hear and see everything your bond does?”  Cullen questioned curiously.  His blond eyebrow perked a little, while his barbute T-helm sat against his left arm and hip.

Hadley sighed and glanced at a nearby candle wall hanging.  “Mine isn’t as strong as others.  We are twin spirits, not soulmates or even twin flames.  We never performed the full connection to open our mind, heart, body, and soul avenues.  It was discussed, but he did not feel comfortable about it.  He stated if I ever become knight-commander when Greagoir retires, we might just for security purposes.  He is up for a senior enchanter position now as it is.”

“I thought pairs must be fully bonded for higher positions.”  Cullen remarked, his mind remembering his strict studies.  “How else is a mage to be monitored if travelling beyond the Circle?”

The knight-captain glanced away from the wall scone, his though deep beyond his tighten brow and grey eyes.  “Some connections are just stronger than others.  I hear your brandings denote a possible strong soulmate?  Even with a twin flame, a Fade spirit split in two and attached to a person’s soul at birth or even two spirits’ halves given to each person individually for twice the enforcement?  Those are even rarer.”

Cullen blushed and squirmed in his mint new full templar plate armor.  “I-…”  While Cullen prayed for such an opportunity, the idea of a mage finding him desiring enough to even kiss…  Cullen pinched his nose, then rubbed his neck.  Maker, an awkward young man who cannot even think of a mate without running for the hills!  “Yes…but, it’s only a half brand.  The knight-commander and first enchanter stated the mage will have the second complete half that will overlap mine.”

“If yours is on the front of your left chest, it must be an extremely rare connection.  Over the heart…well, it depends on their placement to confirm that.”  Hadley retorted, rubbing his chin.  “Any of the runes mention anything?”  The new templar stared at the floor.  Cullen could hear Hadley wince.  “I know that is a personal question, but it does assist the White Spire and the leadership here where to look.”

The young Feledan pushed his nerver to the side, his hand resting over the lyrium brand forever printed on his pale skin.  “Fire and Balance…everything else can be anything.  The symbols and runes are incomplete.”

“An elementalist primal mage perhaps?”  Hadley suggested with a deep tone.  “Not many inferno wielders.  Most are encouraged to other schools to avoid revolt.  However, balance suggest their skill will match your own.  That is saying something since you completed the academy and recruit training in only five years.  I would put in some extra time in the practice ring and your studies, just in case.  You are going to have your hands full.”

Cullen smirked, imagining the possibilities.  “I look for to the opportunity.  I am the only balance that protects the innocent from the dangers of magic.  If you say is true, I must work exponentially more than anyone else.  The world depends on us to guard against the Fade and its demons.”

Hadley grinned proudly.  “That’s what we like to hear!  If anyone can do it, Cullen, it will be you.”

Cullen bowed his head and saluted.  “Thank you, Knight-Captain.”

Clicking door locks and squeaking hinges alerted the two templars on the spiraling staircase apprentice classes were finishing for dinner.  Instantly, Cullen’s templar senses reached out and felt the wave of recently active apprentices walking out of the classrooms and towards their corners.  His amber eyes searched for just a moment and locked on a specific student.

She was shorter than her fellow classmates, but the young templar always knew her magical aura.  Ever since he arrived at Kinloch Hold, he felt her deep within his soul like a ray of light over Lake Calenhad.  The blonde young lady wore her hair in a braid today while discussing the lecture with her friend Jowan.  She gently smiled at a response before her sky blue eyes glanced up the stairwell.  Cullen knew the candle light reflected off his armor and curly blond hair.  Her expressive orbs reached out to his like a magnet.  Her small smile grew into a happiness Cullen only ever witness across her fair features and chubby cheeks.

Maya.

“I’ve kept you from your post, Templar.”  Hadley commented, pulling Cullen’s attention back to the officer studying him.  “You better get to the dining hall before they eat everything.”  With that, Hadley continued down the stairs to meet with other templar officers for dinner.

Cullen shudder and quickly saluted, praying his ogling expression did not display his hopes and dreams at the moment.  From Hadley’s chuckles, he knew exactly what captured the young Fereldan’s heart.  Still, it was improper to show preference to a potential non-matched mage.  There always needed to be a barrier between mages and templars, unless a bonded pair.  How else was he to keep an impartial mindset in case of an emergency or attack?

The young woman’s pink cheeks glowed in the hall line as she slowly shuffled through the students and out of sight.  Every once in a while, her sky blue gaze glanced over her Circle robe shoulder and locked onto the star-struck templar with a gapping mouth and easily idiotic insecurity around the fairer sex.  They gravitated towards each other strongly than anyone in Cullen’s life.

But she was an ice healer.

That does not matter.  Maybe her rune will right their suspicions.

Go north.

Violin strings humming and vibrating.

Go north.

Cullen shook his head.  With a shaking hand, he put on his barbute, officially denoting he was a templar on-duty watching over the Circle mages, his charges.  Still, his heart ached with a longing hope.  Maya Amell had nearly completed her studies.  Perhaps she will be one of the apprentices tested in next harrowings.   Possibly Cullen could be called to watch over the test and do what is necessary if she fails, which he highly doubts.  She was an experienced and aware mage, who controlled her gift with grace.  Yes, she was shy, but he was bashful and an utter emotional mess.

Maybe she was Cullen’s match, the great soulmate that will fully bond their mind, body, and souls as one to protect the world from maleficium.

With a resolving sigh, the new templar knight stepped down the stairs.  The smell of Fereldan stew hitting his sensitive nose as he approached the dining hall.  Until his match became known, he will protect and watch his charges.  That is why he joined the Order.   He wanted to serve Andraste and the Chantry, a barrier between the physical world and the Fade’s dangers.

If Maya Amell is his bonded soulmate or just his twin spirit, Cullen knows he will be living his dream.  To serve.  To worship.  To love.

Go north…!

Cullen’s heavy eyelids flashed open, while his whole body wrenched forward.  His hand flinched to his left pectoral muscle, clawing into the burning brand smoldering his chest and heart.  A series of coughs echoed from his lips as his mind willed the mark to calm, to leave his dreams in the past, and not remind him what now forever marked him against his will.

Dreams?  Coughing?

The young templar’s whiskey eyes slowly cleared after tears washed the remaining salt and sweat from his vision.  With each continued cough, his lung demonstrated he still breathed air not salt water.  His warm clothed body laid comfortable on a geese down and cotton mattress, not the cold tossing Waking Sea.  Every gasp and mental will to stop the sting igniting his heart demonstrated to the lucky man he was still alive and not traveled across the Veil.

“Easy, Sir.”  A calm female voice cooed from his right.  The being jumped from her seat nearby.  A pale hand grasped a porcelain pitcher of water and a clean glass.  The sound of gushing water sent Cullen back to his last memory, resolved to die alone tossed overboard into the hurricane.  Still, the sounds around him sounded nothing like a ship or the sea, but birds chirping and a violin…?  He shook his head a few times, the saltwater trapped in his ear canals muting the world.

Or was this the Fade after all?

“Here.”  The women spoke, placing the crystal glass into his right hand with a ginger touch.  The contact jolted Cullen, nearly splashing the women’s face with the clean potable water.  Her apron caught the liquid, but not before the slop poured down a clean bedding tunic covering his body.  “Oh my!”  She twisted her waist and reached for a clean linen towel by a steaming bowl of water and quickly dampen the wetness away.  “My apologies, Sir.”  Cullen just sat forward his mouth gapping, trying to process his new blurry environment.  A few more coughs escape his scratchy throat.  “Drink slowly.  The salt has left your parched for days.  You might cough it up, a natural reaction after nearly drowning.”

Was this the Fade or was he alive?

Cullen slowly lifted the glass to his lips, taking slow sips.  Instantly, the refreshing liquid moistened his dry mouth, but stung an open wound on his upper lip.  The first sip of water ran down his chin, catching bits of salve and other medicines administrated while he laid unconscious.  As the attendant warn, his esophagus and throat muscles made him coughed several more times, thinking again he was drowning in the sea.  The water gulped over his lip and all over his chest again.  In his peripheral vision, the burning brand that marked him over two years ago peaked through the linen tunic, unrelenting and momentarily glowing.  Strange, it never did that before.

Bloody monster.

“I will have a new shirt brought up.”  The woman stated, bowing her head.  She quickly stepped towards a set of double doors opposite the large four-poster bed.  She poked her head out in the hall, speaking softly.

Taking a few more slow sips, Cullen’s whiskey eyes grew accustomed to the bright light streaming through the open glass door at the foot of the bed.  From his limited vision through shifting chiffon curtains, the glass doors led out to a balcony with wrought iron fencing and sitting furniture.  The bright light shifted with the blowing breeze through peach and plum trees somewhat battered and broken from strong wings.

“W-where…”  Cullen stopped using his voice, massaging his throat with his other free hand.  Soft wool and linen covered his fingertips.  Lowering his left hand from his neck, he realized his left arm was fully dressed in bandages and salve.  “What… happened?”

The attendant heard the rasps, shooing the person at the door away to fulfill her request.  She straightened her back, pressing her wet apron down over her light grey and red robes.  Her red hair laid against her shoulder in a horsetail tied off with a red ribbon.  Her manner of walking, a lack of habit, and soft expression told Cullen everything he needed to know:  a Chantry lay sister.

“You nearly died, Sir.”  The lay sister whispered, returning to her rocking chair not far from the steaming water bowl and his bedside.  “Our ship saved you from the sea after the lighthouse saw your vessel succumb to the waves.  Any sailor worth his salt knew this is no time to travel the Waking Sea.”

After a few more gulps of water, now trusting his gag reflex, Cullen finished the water.  He handled the empty glass to the sister, who poured more refreshing liquid inside before sitting it down on the close by end stand by his bed.  “Is everyone else okay?”

The sister’s expression muted as she slowly sat back down.  “My condolences, but you are the other survivor.  You were the only person our ship was able to retrieve before potentially succumbing to the same possible fate.  The captain dove in after you, I heard.”

“I…”  Cullen blinked, trying to search his memory for the event.  “I will have to give my thanks to him when I may meet him.”  Something Cullen said brought a brief smile to the attendant’s lips before it wisped away again.  “May I ask…where am I?”

“Morcant Estate, Sir.”  The sister informed with a confident tone.  “Ten nautical miles off the coast of Ostwick proper.  His lordship, Bann Ian Trevelyan, made sure you were taken care in the best of our abilities while in his country residence.”

Ostwick was nearly four hundred leagues from Kirkwall.  Both city-states were practically opposite ends of the Walking Sea.  He could have sworn the ship passed Ostwick over two days before the storm.

If like reading the templar’s mind, the attendant tilted her head and answered his puzzling expression.  “The hurricane’s strong currents and overbearing winds swamped your ship and threw it towards the ocean again.  Luckily, the winds were in your favor and sent you north rather than into strait and possibly into Brandel’s Reach’s unavoidable coral reef to the south.  Your captain knew the south route through the strait was a certain death sentence this time of year.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Nearly a week unconsciousness but with fitful dreams.  We thought your wounds only came from the drowning and your leg, but we located an infection in your lung where you had broken two ribs, which nearly took your life.  If it was not for her ladyship, you would surely be dead twice over.”

“Located…?”  Cullen suspiciously questioned.  “Was magic casted on me…?”  Instantly, panic and rage rolled through his spirit.  He wanted to run and throw everything in sight.

The Chantry lay sister shook her head frantically.  “No!  Absolutely not!  You are a templar!  We know only your bond may cast on you while unconscious for everyone’s safety.  No, the other healers on the island estate evaluated your condition.  Based on your bruising, we only assumed you bruised your ribs when they pumped the water from your lungs and not from hurricane debris.  Her young ladyship informed us that based on your symptoms to check for further infection, but with no magical abilities whatsoever.”

“How did you all know I was a templar or never to cast magic even if a mage healer?”

The lay sister smiled and giggled.  “Lord Rian is a Knight-Divine in Val Royeaux and serves Most Holy with his bond, Right Hand of the Divine, Cassandra Pentaghast Trevelyan.  Do you know him?”

Cullen never heard of a templar by that name, but every recruit knew of the extremely rare bond between a seeker and a templar, especially that of Dragon Hunter Seeker Cassandra and her loyal templar husband.  Based on rumors, he found her following her seeker enlightenment ceremony.  They were married within months and serve as a true example of a soulmate bond from the two negating orders against magic.  Together, the married soulmates carry out Divine Beatrix’s will throughout southern Thedas and policed the Circles.

And Cullen had been saved from a hurricane by the famous templar’s noble family.  “Is Lord Rian in residence?”

The lay sister shook her head no.  “Alas, he has not come for a visit in about a year.  However, Bann Ian, Lady Gwen, and their son and daughter decided to stay here throughout the season.  Strange, since everyone knows as soon as the hurricanes and whirlpools begin, it will be months before anyone can arrive back on the mainland.”

That caught Cullen’s attention.  Instantly, he swung his feet from under covers to stand.  The lay sister jumped to her feet, trying to stop the templar before shifting his weight.  Pushing with his bandage hands, he went to stand but instantly felt white burning pain throughout his right leg.  His hands grasped his wrapped leg and ankle, hissing through his teeth in agony.

“Please, good knight!  You are in no condition to move and stand!”

“I must report to Kirkwall!”  The templar roared while throbbing pain rolled through his entire body.  The burning brand doubled its stinging against his chest and heart.  “I am already weeks late to arrive at my new post!”

“There is no way you can reach the city-state now.”  The Chantry lay sister warned, trying to lift Cullen’s legs back into bed.  “No ship can pass the strait safely for another month or so!  Even if there was a remaining ship at port here to transport you to Ostwick, no one would transverse the Vimmark Mountains to Kirkwall during this season.  All land passages are blocked by blizzards and flooding brought on by the hurricanes.  Very little occurs either mode of travel!”

“Please, I am to report to Knight-Commander Meredith Stennard of Kirkwall’s Gallows immediately.  To deny me passage is in direct violation of the Chantry and the Templar Order!”  Cullen threatened through gritting teeth.

“That may be the case, but you must make your case to Bann Ian personally.  His Lordship has already sent the lyrium fleet to port until the hurricane season has eased.”

Cullen blinked a few times.  “Lyrium fleet?”

“Yes!  Most Free Marcher templars know House Trevelyan is the sole transporter and supplier of all the Templar Order’s arms, weapons, and lyrium from Ozammar.  Every grand cleric this side of the Waking Sea knows him personally as he works with the Chantry and the Order to supply the knights.  To avoid loss of cargo, all shipping on behalf of the Order or the Chantry has cease until next month at least.”  The templar slowly stopped his movements, truly absorbing the new and unique situation he found himself in.  Seeing that her patient was finally giving into his wounds, she tucked him back into bed.  “The last lyrium ship carrying goods beat the storm just ten days ago.  The last ship, The Rising Phoenix, delivered the estate’s merchant goods from Ostwick, seven days ago, thus why it was here when your ship wrecked.  Another storm is to hit in the next three days, so the last ship was sent to the House’s safe port north of Ostwick.”

“Then what can be done?”  The Fereldan knight quizzed, seeing his new knightly opportunity slipping through his fingers.

“If you promise to rest the remainder of the day and eat something without succumbing to illness, I will have the steward arrange a meeting between you and his lordship tomorrow morning.  Can you agree to take care of your needs?”

Cullen exhaled and thumped his back against the geese down pillows supporting his battered frame.  “Do I have much choice…?”

Chapter Text

Evie dropped her embroidery frame, grasping her right knee and ankle.  Lumber huffs escape her lips.  Instantly, her face flushed and her body shuddered thankful for the loveseat with carved arms cradling her.  The spiking pain and its unknown origin threw her for a loop.  As soon as the pain flashed, it subsided back into her heart, replaced with the burning pain in her shoulder overcoming all shock.

The young maiden jumped to her slipper feet.  Weight on her right leg inducted the white agony for a moment before her body reminded her soul it was physically fine.  In a hasty pivot, Evie turned towards the sitting room’s double doors.  Her whole body and soul pulled to the western side of the manor with such intensity she felt her spirit would be ripped from inside herself.  She could see her father’s closed office door across the hall.  He would not know until it was too late if she rushed and allowed her whims rule.  Her fade-connection flared defensively, but the amber teardrop pendant around her neck glowed and morphed, negating and absorbing the magical turbulence threatening to spill from her hands and eyes.

“Easy, Evelyn.”  A calming motherly voice called behind her.

Evie came back to her senses, shoving down the magic, instinct, and purpose pulling her away from the family sitting room towards where the agony originated.  Several long mediating breathes inhaled into her nose and exhaled out her mouth.  Slowly, the amber pendant’s glow subsided until no magic could be identified by any searching person in the area.

With the magic contained and recognizing what occurred, Evie nearly passed out, slumping against the loveseat across from her mother.  Lady Gwen studied her panting daughter, witnessing drips of sweat running down her sun-kissed skin from her temple to her chin.  The lady of the house offered the maiden a handkerchief lace-knitted and embroidered with her iconic lily blooms.  Evie barely had the strength in her left hand to grasp the handkerchief.

The lady of the house watching Evie dabbed her face and nose, mindful to remove her makeup and light eye kohl.  Gwen slowly evaluated her daughter.  “Will you be well?”

The maiden squeezed her eyes shut.  “I think I might be sick.”  Rolling her head, she attempted to think where might be a chamber pot to spill her stomach contents in.  One of her auburn braids fell from her neck bun over her pierced ear.  The amber studs pulsed with energy like the pendant around her neck.  Her free hand rubbed her left shoulder, wincing at the stinging resonating from something hidden under her linen dress.  “What did they do…?”

“I wager your dashing knight is awake and immediately attempted to flee.”  A raspy developing bass Free Marcher lilt proposed from the large bay window overlooking the Waking Sea.  Both mother and daughter gave an unamused glare at Esme, quill still in hand hovering over a piece of parchment.  A geological text laid on the table to his left, his current studies enforced by his absent scholars.  As much as the adolescent wished to be doing anything else, Lady Gwen guilted her son with test questions and continue his studies while his teachers remained on the mainland.

Evie squeezed her fiery brown eyes closed and processed her brother’s obvious observation.  Her soul pulled west, while hopeless and disappointed stung her emotions.  “I could have told you that.”  Her glare returned to her brother.  “And he is not my dashing knight…!”

Esme perked an eyebrow, his facial expression calling he did not believe her one bit.  “Say that the first time you pumped water from his lungs, Evie.”

A single tongue click broke the mounting staring contest.  Both attentions flashed to their mother stopping a spat argument before it begin.  The lady placed her embroidery in her knitting basket and smoothed her corset and skirts before standing.  “If that is the case, it is time for me to prepare the household that our guest for the foreseeable future will be up and about.  Now is the time to present a homely, welcoming environment for a man who has barely survived a tragic episode.”

“Aren’t you meaning the third tragic event?”  Esme corrected with a grin.

Only turning her head, dark brown waves of hair slid over the lady’s shoulder, her everyday bun loosening from its ties.  “We have no idea what you speak, Esme.”  Her tone demonstrated a dark warning that made the young man shrink into himself.  “Besides, what is the mineral composition of the Bannorn that makes the region the bread basket of Ferelden?”  Esme bit his lip, sighed, and returned to his studies, mumbling under his breath.

“My Lady.”

All three sets of eyes flicked to the meek red headed elfen girl curtsying by the sitting room’s fine Fereldan hardwood double doors and carved frame.  By now, Evie lowered the offered handkerchief from her brow, her tight fingers twisting the used linen like a vice.  Her ears redden as she held her breath.

“Yes, Fesill?”  Lady Gwen tilted her head, her face blank, but her brown eyes twinkled innocently of the panic that erupted just moments ago.

“Sister Abigail just informed Jim that the patient has awaken, but will stay bedridden for the remainder of the day.  The young man agreed to rest if only he may have a meeting with his Lordship tomorrow.”  The young elven girl’s eyes flicked between the head lady of the house and her mistress looking distressed on the loveseat.

“Thank you, Fesill.”  Gwen smiled, pointing towards the staircase.  “Please retrieve the tailored clothing delivered for our new guest.  Make sure his basic necessities are met with most urgency.  He must crave a warm bath, but his condition does not allow him to the estate marble baths quite yet.  Make sure a brass bath is brought to his private lavatory.”

“Want to warm up the water for him, Sis?”  Esme joked with a smirk.

Evie threw him a look that nearly ignited the teasing brother.

Another tongue click from Lady Gwen vibrated without even turning her head.  “The kitchen is to prepare the designated Fereldan stews.  We may not be in Ferelden, but any person away from his homeland wishes a hardy meal to make him feel at home.”

“So overcooked vegetables and nug meat?”

Lady Gwen just lifted a finger behind her.  “Test me once more, my son, and you will be on mucking duty for a year.”

Esme audibly gulped.

“You are a hip deep in horse dung, Ezzy.”

“That goes for you too, Evelyn.”  Gwen warned with a snap.  “Now, if my children can behave as true nobility in my absence, I have household duties to prepare.  Fesill, please have Sister Abigail informed me of all information she has told our guest to properly inform and organize the meeting with the bann.”  With that, the elven attendant bowed and followed Lady Gwen out of the sitting room.

Once Gwen’s flowing chiffon skirts disappeared down the hallway towards the central mansion, Evie exhaled and slid out of the loveseat.  “The Maker is a royal arsehole…”  She swore, allowing her braided hair and head rest on the cushion.  Her body stretched all directions, while sweat rolled down her brow.  Every so often, she massaged her ankle, cursing any god who might be listening.

Esme placed his quill back in its inkwell and closed his study book.  “Is it that terrible…?”  His sarcasm lilt shifted to great concern as he watched his sister ache and moan on the Orlesian carpet.  His swirling eyes glanced at the discarded embroidery frame with a stretched red linen cloth.  The first lines of golden yellow thread decorated the fabric, the final figure obscure to anyone but Evie.

Evie rolled her head to the left, her long lashes hiding her long gaze but screamed the hopeless and lost ripping inside.  “There is no word for this.”  Her melancholy huffed through her Free Marcher accent.  “I knew it would be difficult, but now…”  she waved to herself.  “…this.”

“Have you gotten to see him?”  The young man leaned back in his writing chair, his research forgotten.  He crossed his hidden muscular arms over his light vest and shear tunic.  “I’m surprised you even let him out of your sight that night.”

“Father forbids it.  I already pushed the bounds playing my violin a few days ago.”  Evie explained, curling in a ball against the sofa.  “Apparently, he sang the tune in his sleep, but then it invoked a nightmare nearly sending him in a seizure-“

“-You mean sending you into a seizure.”  Esme corrected with a scrunched brow.  “Good thing Knotts was in the ballroom or you would have impaled yourself with your bow.”

 “It wouldn’t have taken so long for any of this if Father just let me evaluate his health like I asked!”  Evie raged, throwing herself into standing.  She paced around large high valeted ceiling room like an impatient starving tiger.  Her light green dress flowed like sails behind her as she twisted and turned her body like she was dancing.  “I could have safely noted all his wounds before he nearly went septic.  It wasn’t until my lungs filled with infection that anyone knew his broken rib punctured his lung and allowed blood to seep.  Ugh!  This is so infuriating.”

Esme watched the agitated woman stomp and smack the furniture as she passed.  “As much as you don’t want to hear this, if you had been allowed, he would have smited you into next week and likely killed you both.”

“You don’t know that.”  Evie snapped, throwing her brother a glare.

“After everything you know about his history, you think he would have been okay with a spell flowing him while unconscious let alone making a connection that neither you or him are prepared for.”

“This coming from the guy who doesn’t have to worry about any of this.”  Evie hollered back with a forceful pointing action.

“Who says I can’t drink lyrium and begin this Void of a custom?  Nothing states an average joe cannot drink lyrium and find their mate or whatever.”  Esme remarked with a shoulder shrug.

“Has anything you seen not convince you how absolutely horrific that would be?”  Evie warned with a blasting middle finger to the vaulted ceilings, her only way to visually curse the Maker.  “It’s bad enough Rian raced off and joined the templars after his parents died.  When I was born…”  The woman rubbed her shoulder.  “…Father was so disappointed.  A simple solution too many problems, but no, Fate, the Maker, or some sea creature screamed nope!”

“You would have been happy with this arrangement if it had been Rian?”  Esme exclaimed with a snare.  “While, I don’t get what you all go through, having first cousins that close is even gross by nobility standards.”

Evie flopped herself back into the loveseat, her light touch following the embroidery threads on her current project.  A small gentle smile graced her face.  “No, I wouldn’t have liked it, but I wish he was here now.  It is too risky for him and Cassandra to visit while this all plays out.  He wrote me that I already fought some of the worst already.  He knows it will be a long road to complete this, but if anyone can be resilient, it that man in the West Wing and I.”

Esme rolled his stormy eyes.  “The whole process is absolutely fubar personally.  Binding two people via the Fade and lyrium to control and secure.  While anyone who dreams is connected to another somewhere in the world, this specific custom is harsh and forces two strangers together into an arrangement where one has all the power.”

Evie grimaced.  Her cheek twitched, new found resolve written across his jaw and cheekbones.  “I will not be controlled.  I decided that long again.  Once Father made the decision to never send me to those prisons, I have threatened our whole world.  For once, our gilded cage served more than just pompousness.  I’ve waited for this opportunity for years.  To finally live as a person and never fear exposure.”  Her fiery chocolate orbs bore into her brother, then the bay window showing the sea.  “However, I will not submit.  It is a partnership, not dominance and submission.  The Chantry polluted this union once sacred and an Andrastian honor.  If I sense it will be shifted to such hells, I will take drastic measures.”

Esme did not like that vow, but let it slide.  The young man had his own plan to deal with this issue if things came to blows.  “He’s been fill with that moronic sewage for years.  I know you have been planning constantly nigh three years, but now, being so close, do you think you can change his mind?”

 Two expressions graced his sister’s face, one of hope and the other insecurity.  “I know him enough…and what was done to him.  I felt it all because it was so heart-wrenching and tragic.  However, I am the very thing that did that all to him.  If…if he cannot look past what I am, all my planning, skill, and hope…it means nothing.”

“Do you even like the guy…?”  Esme scrunched his nose.  “Like, any choice of free will is gone.  It is either him… or-“

“-Yes, I do…”  Evie wisped, her eyes staring into space.  “The first moment I gazed upon him…even in the ocean darkness…”  She held her shoulder.  “That piano…”  Her gaze slowly shifted to her seating brother.  “I would die for him…and he doesn’t even know I exist.  And it sucks!”  Evie dramatically threw herself against the loveseat.  “Fuck all of this!”  She grabbed her braids and pulled.  “You think just being me is bad enough let alone having no control of a shitty situation!”

Esme laughed a few times, the light bass echoing through the room.  “Yeah, I think Father would agree too.”  He slowly pushed out his chair, stood, and stretched his body.  “Tell you what:  Mama’s not hear to hound me, and Father isn’t stopping you from doing your daily ‘chores.’  He has already taken away your ship.  He knows you’ll kill him if he touches that violin or piano.  He never said anything about the undercroft though…”

Evie perked an eyebrow, a wicked grin plastered across her high cheekbones.  “I’ll get Knotts and Hemmingway.”

Hemmingway tossed a roasted almond into his mouth, his fisted hand allowing just one finger point at the two teenagers facing off below.  “Five sovereigns on Esme he will take her out before maximum levels.”

Knotts, crossed legged on an old wall surround a fallen family member, perked an eyebrow at his associate.  His elven ears shifted towards the center croft.  His icy blue eyes evaluated the challengers and weapon choices.  His orbs continued left until the lyrium growing glass pipe with dwarven runes glowed.  The lyrium was low, still primarily in the feeder container nearby.  Dwarven number runes indicated the level was at 0.5 percent, typical reading once a Fade-connected individual entered the space.  If it reached one-hundred percent, carved negating runes will ignite throughout the croft and isle’s underbellies to avoid magic detection.  That included draining the mage of all mana as punishment.  Knotts shook his head, reached into a breast pocket passed his dozens of throwing knives, and slapped ten sovereigns on the wall beside him.

Hemmingway cackled like a banshee.  “Ten on the lady…?  We trained her, yeah, but she isn’t as focused like usual.”  Knott silted his eyes, still not speaking.  With an exhale, he rolled his icy gaze and shrugged.  “You know something I don’t, mate?”  The city elf paid no mind to his partner.  “Fine.  You’re on.  You haven’t seen Esme’s new shield breaker move.  Even if she summons a barrier, he is going to smash it.”  Once again, Knotts reached into his breast pocket for another five sovereigns.  That really got Hemmingway laughing.  “Fine, bro.  A fool and his money are soon parted!”

“You betting against me again, Hemmy!?”  Evie called twirling her silverite arming sword around her body before tossing it in the air.

“Your head’s not in the game, Girl.”  The Rivaini bodyguard called tossing his remaining coin on the wall.  He popped another almond into his mouth.  “Ever since you laid eyes on that addict, you’ve acted like a firefly dancing around a lantern.  Thought we taught you better than that.”

Evie rolled her chocolate eyes, catching her arming sword with one hand.  She withdrew her accompanying dirk from his waist band.  Her young maiden finery was now gone, replaced with tight leather riding pants, laced knee high boots, a qunari breast band, and a loose tunic over top.  Her braids now were tight against her skull to avoid further slipping.

“I saw something similar on your expression the last time you fucked that Antivan crow.  You didn’t even get in shadow.  Just slung his blond head against the dock tavern back wall and had your way.”  Evie sassed back, pointing her dagger at her bodyguard.  “After all his purrs in your ear playing strip Wicked Grace, I’m surprised you didn’t spurt immediately!”

Hemmingway crossed his arms over his chest.  He glared at Knotts.  “You had to test her on disguises that night, not any other.”  His gaze flicked back to his charge.  “I knew you were cheating.  You used those damn dread beads and false beard to hid cards.”

“Had to hide my tells somehow, you sex machine.”  Evie winkled and giggled proudly.  “Even after fifteen years, I still can be read like an open book.”

“Thus why all your sailors and half the household knows how that templar twists your loins, Sister.”  Esme chuckled, finally happy with the halberd he chose from the weapons stand.  The young man preferred two-handed weapons, but had not chosen a specific weapon to specialize in.  He still had three years before his Trevelyan tests to decide.  “I’m surprised Knotts stopped you from breathing life in that jackboot.  Or touching skin to skin.  Good thing you were wearing your rope gloves.  That would have caused an explosion!  After you grabbed him from the briny deeps, everyone thought you might jump him right there.”

Evie’s fiery gaze turned to an orange light haloing her swirling eyes.  Knott’s attention shifted to the meter beside him.  Lyrium shifted into the measuring tube to one percent.  “I am a lady, Ezzy.  I at least make introductions.  You just kissed Lady Josephine Montilyet like a buffoon at Great Aunt Lecille’s summer ball all panicked just to prove a point in front of those nitwit friends.  Then, the classy ambassador called you ‘adorable’ instead of smacking you across the mansion.”

Hemmingway burst out laughing, slapping his knee.  Every stolid Knotts smirked for a second.  “Friend-zoned!”

Esme gritted his teeth, lifted the halberd over his head and slammed it down on his sister.  Instantly, Evie fade-stepped away, allowing the silverite blade smack against the bedrock.  The metal echo rolled through the family croft, sparks igniting the different urns of fallen Trevelyans over the ages.  The young man swung again at his reappeared sister, who just held her arming blade to block the blow before mind blasted her brother into Great Great Uncle Marcel’s statue.

Esme coughed as dust few in all directions upon landing.  “Fucking arseballs!”

Evie just shined her nails against her tunic and checked if her brother messed up her arming sword’s shine.  “Just tell Father you have no interest in all those noble women he throws at you hoping a union will stick.  Everyone knows you prefer anyone but them.”

Esme stumbled to his feet.  “Aren’t we dueling to break your aching lust right now, Evie?”  With a halberd whip, the air pressure blasted his sister four feet on her boots.  “First man in all your life that you can’t get out of your head.”

“You forgot her meeting Cassandra.”  Hemmingway laughed when Knotts reminded him of the moment with a poke.  “You two bonded would have been hot!”

Evie fade-stepped from her brother’s blows, knowing every spell rose the meter.  She employed her stealth dueling tactics to get hits on her sibling.  “That was admiration!  The women practically single-handedly stopped a thunder of dragon!  She is a legend!”

Esme caught her shift in actions, using his metal handle to smack her in the shoulder.  Evie was forced to fade-step away to save her face.  “I thought that fight included Underground Collective Mages.”

Evie back flipped out of her brother’s incoming blow, smacking him in the back with her dirk hilt.  “It did!  The seeker even kissed one!”

Hemmingway blinked, watching the dueling siblings challenge each stamina and magic to new heights.  Knott’s eyes just remained on the meter climbing over twenty percent.  “Wasn’t she bonded with Rian by then?”

“Nope!  They weren’t bonded-“  Evie punched Esme in the cheek when he lodged his halberd in a funeral pillar.  “-until they got married.  I think she was fighting the union personally.  No woman likes to think a nobleman will make her just have three children and sit at tea!”

“And if your templar asked that of you?”  Esme kicked his sister away and pulled hard on the blade to free it.  Rock and marble broke from the pillar by their ancestor’s urn.

Evie flared, flames and magic swirled around her whole body as she sent two fireballs at her running brother.  “He’ll have these shoved up his farming arsehole!”

The meter jumped to forty percent.

Esme twirled and immediate went on the attack with a grapple hook that dispelled the fireballs.  The third hook caught Evie’s right leg and pulled her to the ground.  The fire mage roared, rolling away from his next halberd strike.  She threw up a barrier.  Esme laughed at the game.  “You know he will know you just thinking about summoning before you actually do it.”

Evie threw up a fire wall, stopping Esme’s assault before nearly digging her arming sword into his chest.  His practice breastplate blocked the blow.  “As I will know when he will silence.  Of course, that is if the bonding is complete!”

Esme threw her a look.  “Isn’t that the point?”  Just as Hemmingway commented before, Esme shield broke his sister’s barrier and ripped her arming sword from her grasp with his spike side of his halberd.  “You’re not going to commit?!”

From her belt band, Evie withdrew another hilt, igniting a fiery blade from her magic.  Instantly, all known knight-enchanter skills flared around her.  “He will have to show me he can truly challenge me first!”

Sixty percent.

“I will admit, I do want to be a fly on the wall when he realized you were trained as a duelist knight-enchanter, Girl.”  Hemmingway commented, poking the stolid Knotts in the side.  “He will shit his pants finding out not only are you a mage but one who has been beaten templar relatives who challenged you with physical swords.”

“Burton is still recovering from the burns.”  Esme added with a few giggles as he swayed and dodged his sister’s magical blade.  “Any one of them could have told the Chantry you were a mage, but signed away that right when they lost to you!  You outwitted the Chantry sisters and outperformed the templars.  That Fereldan brute won’t know what hit him!”  Esme used the handle staff to smack Evie’s aching ankle to the point the inferno mage was forced to flip in the air off a wall and force push the man away.

Seventy-five percent.

Evie smirked, proud of what she accomplished outside the Circles.  When not caged like a demon, a mage can truly learn and prepare their gifts.  Since she was a toddler, the young noble woman was tutored by Dalish keepers, Tevinter moderate altus, runaway Circle mages, and even knight-enchanters loyal to the Divine.  Even the escaped Malcom Hawke and his runaway noble wife spent time training the young mage, while raising their own mage children at Morcant Estate.  They left with handfuls of money and safety in Ferelden’s Lothering so that their mage daughters will not fear the same threats that constantly challenged Evie Trevelyan.  Templars and assassins were her physical weapon and tactics teachers, while Chantry sisters and Dalish story tellers educated the lady on mediation and keeping control of her short-temper.  She passed her harrowing on her fourteenth birthday, more intense and potent than Circle apprentices’ experiences.

All action occurred because if a non-Trevelyan discovered she was a mage, the whole house would crumble.  Bann Ian Trevelyan, her father, bound her relatives to a pact that if Evie beat them in skill, knowledge, and technique, they can never utter her true abilities.   To break the pact will kill them and their surrounding kin instantly.  His daughter won every challenge easily after years of preparation. 

Now, that study, practice, and control will be placed on the highest test known, her branded soulmate.  The young templar recovering from certain death did not know his Vigil connected him to a young woman waiting from such a moment for over three years.  Once the branding occurred, the timepiece began bleeding sand.

Evie summoned a fire storm, giving her brother enough time to drop his halberd and hide behind an obsidian shield.  Hemmingway ducked behind Knotts’ rune ring-induced summoning barrier, watching as the young maiden rained fire throughout their family crypt deep under Morcant Estate and the surrounding isle. 

The city elf glanced left at the meter once the flames disappeared, recalled by the fire elementalist.  Ninety-nine percent.  Knott held out his hand to his partner, one perked eyebrow silently saying ‘I told you so.’  Hemmingway grunted and smacked the bag of sovereigns in his hand.

“I hope he is up to the challenge, balancing you, Evie.”  Esme snarled while patting flames off his breast plate and shoulders.

Evie tiled her head and smiled.  “Isn’t that what his branding says?  Make no mistake, I will enjoy this challenge very much.”

Chapter Text

Cullen did not receive his important meeting with Bann Ian Trevelyan until two days after he awoke.  It was not the bann’s fault, but more Cullen could barely move without screaming in pain.  His cracked ribs made breathing and twisting his waist a nightmare.  Furthermore, his ankle and knee made him bedridden, unable to sit in a chair without swelling up like a melon at each wound site.  The estate healers stated he could not do anything until both major issues subsided.

The wealthy family did offer Cullen a magical solution.  Apparently, Ostwick Circle actually allowed the harrowed mages and bonded pairs to serve outside the Circle, including in noble houses.  On Epona Isle, where Morcant Estate resided, there was a local bonded-soul pair that acted as port security and a healer for the isle’s local residents, primarily sailors, their families, and attendants to the wealth family. 

Of course, Cullen shot the idea down instantly, nearly raging for half a day on how that Circle risked the hundreds of locals with possession and demonic presences.  Even the Chantry sisters in the family’s service or extended Trevelyan relatives just rolled their eyes at the raving templar.  None of these “faithful Andrastians” recognized the risks of magic so close to the non-magical populous.

Alas, Cullen did not relax until the family attendants assured him such healers would remain beyond the estate’s walls and under close watch.  There were other templars on the isle too, but mostly recruits or retired knights spending their last years in peace and comfortable care.  While still not healthy vigil knights like himself, knowing he was not alone on the isle soothed his quaking soul.  At least that meant there was available lyrium and draught kits on the isle to replace his lost travelling supply.  Being the sole transporter of Chantry lyrium across the Waking Sea made Bann Ian very rich as well as a storage stop for any visiting templar low on their allotted dosage.

However, the strangest thing occurred on the second day stuck in bed.  Cullen had been writing a letter to his awaiting knight-commander, muttering about delays and stupid broken bones.  Then, an icy-hot tingling sensation pulsed through his ankle.  He removed the quilt draped over his body.  No one else was in the room.  The Chantry healer left after placing a new salve on the site after a barber surgeon attempted to set the bones correctly.  The surgeon secured a splint parallel to either side of his leg belted in place to avoid bending or further agitation.

Cullen knew his lyrium draught worked like a rejuvenative way.  The draught enhanced his senses, physique, talents, and abilities.  If the templar received a minor scar or twisted ligament, the special blue potion sent his immune system into overdrive to seal wounds, but never like this.

Whatever the barber surgeon or the salve did, Cullen felt the first signs of healing since waking.  Strangely, the infusion felt like magic healing, peculiar since he sensed no magic within the guest wing or elsewhere.  He reached out with his templar senses to detect the dreadful magic, but nothing responded.  Only his ghastly brand burned and pulsed.  The wounded sites slowly mended and reduced swelling.  Every time he smited the healing leg, the mending never stopped, but his lyrium brand bit like a thousand needles.  He began feeling the nerves awakening around his lungs.  He could breathe a little better. His ankle swelling actually reduced to the point Cullen could see his toes again.

The young Fereldan questioned the Chantry sister when she returned a bell later.  That means the rejuvenation salve worked, Sir.  She explained with a coy smile.  The surgeon devised it just for templars.  Cullen felt uneasy, her twinkling eyes saying one thing while her words spoke another.  All the while, the lyrium brand on his pectoral muscle stung and pulsed with a warming sensation.

Whatever that salve and the surgeon’s techniques, Cullen finally could leave his room.  Relying on a heavy wooden cane to move about, the selected servant to his every need, Jim, escorted him to the bann’s private office.  The servant was not particularly helpful, more likely to break Cullen’s neck while walking to the dwarven supply elevators connected to the servant stairwell. 

The templar almost wished to take the stairs just to avoid the tight space and the rambling buffoon who kept apologizing for kicking Cullen’s wounded ankle entering the pulley-based elevator.  Still, the attendant was a Fereldan, born in Amaranthine, and a stowaway on a Trevleyan vessel as a kid just to prove to the local children he was as brave as any sailor.  Evidently, the young boy discovered he was deathly afraid of sailing and got so seasick it nearly killed him.  Instead of sailing him back home, the family offered him a runner position on the estate with accompanying education until the time he could face his fears and return home.  He evidently made good money in the employment, enough that his mother said take his time traveling again.  Knowing this moron, Jim’s mother probably was sighing in relief that some other poor soul dealt with his accident-prone nature instead of fumbling through the newly-declared Grey Warden arling.  Unfortunately, that poor soul was Cullen, who gasp in relief with the elevator’s dwarven doors open on the estate’s first floor.  The templar practically three-legged raced out of the tight servant hallways to open space.

Damn claustrophobia.

Curse Kinloch Hold.

Cullen was a weak man whose fear fueled his hatred of every single mage that was born and walked Thedas.

On cue, his lyrium branding that connected him to such a horrific monster stung and twisted beneath his skin.

Death to you, mage.

The brand snapped back with a scolding stab, sending Cullen nearly off his cane and splinted leg.  He stumbled a few steps, holding his chest and digging his nails into the brand that argued with his head.  Sweat dripped from his brow, his unruly curls plastered to his temple.  Once the pain subsided, the knight ran his hand through the curls, hopeful his bell of hair care with a sage-based product will be enough to impress this minor noble that saved his life.

The young Fereldan felt unprepared and vulnerable without his plate mail, sword, and shield.  To think he lost the first items gifted to him as a full templar.  Now, he stood and leaned against a wing-back chair in the lord’s private office.  The hunter green walls contrasted with the known Circles’ cold stone.  Fine dark hardwood lined the doorways, ceiling edge, and plank floor.  Intricate wool rugs covered the hardwood so a person was not stepping on the finery too much.  What was the point spending money on such flooring if the person did not want to walk or see it?

Ugh nobles…

Jim offered Cullen a second wingback chair by the office’s fireplace, but Cullen dismissed him.  He finally could stand, although with assistance, after weeks in bed.  He felt his toned muscle atrophy after so many years of building them up.  He used to be a skinny kid, who only grew some leg muscles running after his siblings, swimming in his favorite childhood lake, and tilling the fields.  When he joined the templars, he loved the new exercise and sparring routines.  After what happened during the Blight, that focus-based routine became his safe haven.  Alas, all of that kept slipping through Cullen’s fingers the longer he was stuck on this isle.

Hanging his head in disappointment and nostalgia, it was then the young knight’s eyes drifted above the black granite mantle.  This particular room featured dozens of portraits of people at different ages and activities.  The largest was of a family of six:  mother, father, and four children ranging approximately between ages three and seventeen.  Cullen could tell the eldest stood like a trained templar, his hand resting on his sword pummel and shoulders squared while stand behind the rest of the family.  Yet, the templar did not look like the family completely, only sharing the same dark hair and stormy eyes.

That must be Knight-Divine Rian Trevelyan, Cullen thought analyzing the young man standing proudly.  He remembered the Chantry sister remarked the man was the bann’s nephew living in Val Royeaux with his wife-bond.  The young templar stared at the man in envy and awe.  He was an example of Cullen’s hopeful dreams before the Circle rebellion.  While Cullen knew he would be unlikely to reach such a position, it did push the once recruit to study and train twice as hard.

The Feledran’s amber gaze searched the other family members portrayed in the portrait.  There was a blonde young lady that look completely out of character to the red-headed father and dark brown-haired mother presented.  Even this child’s expression screamed she wanted nothing to do with the others or thought herself better than her siblings.  Another adopted sibling perhaps?  Cullen mentally hoped such a woman was not present at the estate.  Orlesians shared similar disgusted scowls, specifically towards Fereldans.  Maker willing, that horrible empire was her place of residence, meaning very far away from him.

The seated mother on a lavish sofa and youngest child on her lap drew the templar’s whiskey eyes next.  The mother was plain, but beautiful in her own right.  She wore no finery, preferring practicality over fluff.  Her two other children shared this trait as well with the young boy dressed in a tunic and pants.  Likely, the toddler refused proper attire. 

The father to the mother’s right was stern and tight jawed.  He seemed like a man not to cross.  That did not bode well for Cullen if that was Bann Ian Trevelyan.  The templar already felt beneath his class in the fine clothing gifted to him for the meeting and his stay.  The trousers were tight, while the one boot he could wear had been tightly belted to his thigh by servants since Cullen could not bend over yet without gasping.  He refused to wear an ascot meant to be stuffed into the belted vest tailored to restrict movement for medical and fashion purposes.  The grey linen coat finishing the ensemble laid unbutton, too snug for his liking.  However if that scowl was his lordship, maybe he should…

Any concern or insecurity towards the upcoming meeting melted once Cullen’s whiskey orbs settled on the last member in the painting.  She was young, at most eight in the portrait.  Her auburn waves twisted down her shoulders, while her flowy skirts hugged her legs while seated by her mother.  Her brown eyes reached out for Cullen like a siren singing to a mesmerized sailor.

The knight’s covered chest brand warmed and pulsed again.

The templar ignored the annoying signal, his eyes searching the portrait wall for other depictions of this woman.  There were many with her as a young child, then young adolescent, and finally more recently a young adult based on the dates painted in the corners.  In each depiction, her beauty and imaginative pull on Cullen only increased, her chocolate eyes calling to him through each paint strokes and mixing colors.  She shared her father’s high cheekbones and flame-touched locks, but her mother’s caring gaze through hooded eyelids and plump pink lips.  Her lightly olive tan skin demonstrated she spend time outside, while her shapely form denoted she exercised and took care of herself, toning and stretching instead of eating sweets and lounging in salons.  

This artistic portrayed lady as an adult was not overly full-figured per say as Cullen blushed staring at her chest.  She also did not present the breasts openly like at a brothel whore or Orlesian noblewomen looking for a new sexual conquest.  While the square corset neckline and ribbon denoted where her dress ended, soft shear chiffon gave a peek to the rounded flesh that entranced the young templar.  How would her skin feel against his sword callused hand?  Would she smile so gently while he brushed his fingertips against the meaty flesh or lean her cheek into his palm?  Her hidden and hinted features just increased the imagination, while her expressive face demonstrated she was even more majestic within.

Maker’s breath, Cullen never believed such an exquisite and rare spirit truly existed…!

“Sir Rutherford.”

The templar dropped his cane, nearly flipping over the wingback chair he used as hip rest.  Cullen stumbled and grabbed onto the dark wood mantle, but bumped an expensive vase with a bouquet of fresh lilies.  All prancing shifted to stop the vase from breaking on the fire hot stone hearth.  Evidently, Cullen succeeded but used his left hand to stop himself from falling into the flames in said hearth, nearly burning his palm.  Thankfully, the vase’s water hit the stone first to cool away the heat generated by the roaring flames.  With one last shift, busted leg up in the air like a ballerina, Cullen slumped into the wingback chair.

The flush of shame, embarrassment, and mortification brought a burning heat to Cullen’s pale skin and sweat to his brow.  With a slow glance, his amber eyes shifted to the owner of low bass voice several paces from his position.  Maybe he could pass off this imbecilic perverted moment as part of his recovery…like he hit his head or lost his marbles.

Stern, rolling grey eyes bore into Cullen by the office’s double door.  A trimmed curly red beard blocked most of the man’s face, but his tall square stature and right-waving grey auburn hair screamed this man knew what this sophomoric knight had been ogling at like a lurch.  The Fereldan’s worst thoughts finally connected that his assumption about the father in portrait was indeed the Bann Ian Trevelyan of Ostwick.

Cullen swallowed, searching with heat-redden hand for the cane that fell from his grasp, while the other secured the fragile vase and its high pollenated flowers close to his frame.  A few fumbles and under-breath curses and Cullen finally reached his feet again, bowing lowly.  “Bann Trevelyan, I presume?”

“Yes.”  The bass voice rattled the clear glass paneled window that made the left furthest wall.  Outside, rows of blooming flowers soaked in the last sunlight before storm clouds blew debris and poured rain on them again.  The bann just lifted his chin enough for the beard to denote a pointing action.  “A fan of lilies, Templar?”

The oblivious knight scrunched his brow, trying to figure out why the nobleman assumed that.  Then, Cullen sneezed, blasting a few orange pedals off a couple flowers.  “Oh!  I-I, yes?”  Cullen pivoted on his good foot and placed the vase on the mantle, his hands hovering over the porcelain just in case it fell again.  With his back turned away, the knight pinched his nose and took two deep breathes.

“Of course you do…”  The bann rumbled deep in his chest as if giving the fumbling fool an out on a platter than force Cullen to admit he was drooling over his daughter.  “Please sit…again.”

Cullen slowly returned to the wingback chair that caught him just moments ago.  A matching ottoman sat a few inches to its side for his maimed leg.  Once again, he took the opportunity to mentally pep talk himself out of his foolishness, while the bann slowly strutted to his own seat across from him.  However, before the bann took his seat, his stolid unimpressed expression softened a brief second while gazing at the same portrait that caught Cullen’s full attention.  The man could have smiled, but that blasted beard covered any facial tells south of the bann’s nose.

“If I may ask, your Lordship, but who is that?  You have many portraits of her throughout this room.”  Cullen’s voice sounded like he swallowed a frog, but somehow got it out without stuttering.  He will consider that a win.

“James is bringing us some tea.  The healers state you are still highly dehydrated from the saltwater and recuperating.”  The bann stated with a formal tone before smoothing his coat tails and taking a seat.  His hunter green coat and tan pants nearly made him disappear against the plastered painted walls and the chair’s leather covering.  If it was not for the blaze in the hearth and his red-grey locks, Cullen would suspect him to be a rogue.  Cullen just nodded a thanks instead of verbally answer.  He mentally excused it to the new red rip on his upper left lip instead his debauchery.  “To answer your question, she is my precious daughter, Evelyn.  She is nearly twenty next month in fact.  You seem much older.  Almost thirty but only a knight-lieutenant?”

Cullen knew the bann purposely estimated his age almost a decade older.   The man possibly did it as a slant since he caught Cullen essentially pawing like a barbarian at his daughter’s painting.  Another explanation could be that without using blunt words, the nobleman screamed she is too good for you, something Cullen would absolutely agree.  Most of all, the young knight knew those long weeks trapped in the Circle and months at Greenfell aged him a hundred lifetimes.  Before those traumatic weeks, he barely could grow a goatee so the barmaids at the Singing Maiden stopped calling him ‘boy’ or adorable.  Now, nearly twenty months since that nightmare, grey and purple bags constantly adorned his hollow eyes.  His cheeks sunk inward and wrinkled from weeks bathing in the Void’s fires during and after the fact.

“Not too far off, your Lordship.”  Cullen mumbled between calming breaths.

“It must be from surviving such a certain death.”  Bann Ian remarked with a stern gaze.

If this man only knew.

“I was told I was saved from the hurricane waves by one of your captains.  If the man is still at port, I would like to personally thank him for rescuing me.”  Cullen requested, hoping to move the conversation along.  “I heard I was the only survivor.”

The bann did not show it physically, but a little twinkle flashed in his stormy eyes like Cullen said something he did not know truly about.  Still, the man stone expression remained.  “Yes, you were the only person we could retrieve from the water that night.  Alas, only the fallen reached our shore in the days following the storm along with some wood planks, battered sails, and some personal belongings.”

“Personal belongings?”

“The sails caught hold and acted as a floating device for some templar’s items, just a lyrium box, shield, and sword.  Yours, I presume, or were there other knights on board?”  The nobleman questioned like he already knew the answer.

“Only I, my Lord.”  Cullen somberly replied, his mind not forgetting the number of sailors, the considerate first mate, and the Andrastain captain who warned everyone it was not safe to leave Denerim.  Alas, their shocked expressions mixed with the screams and blood splatter of his fallen comrades at Kinloch within his horrid mind.  “I was a late transfer.  One reason why I requested this meeting was first personally thank you and ship for saving my life, but to ask if I may make haste to Kirkwall or at least to Ostwick proper to travel by land.”

“Oh?”  The man quipped with a raised red eyebrow.  “Has my staff or I caused offense?”

Cullen quickly shook his head.  Thank the Maker he took a draught before coming here or his head would be swimming with a headache at the moment.  “No, my Lord.  I am already almost a month late to begin my next duties at Kirkwall’s Gallows.  The cargo ship that was destroyed left Denerim’s port over two weeks late.  The pressure to get me this far came from the Grand Cleric and Knight-Commander Meredith Stennard.”  Cullen’s voice turned harsh, his bubbling rage that his new life so far away from his torture continued to leave him behind.  “I do not wish threat or worse on you or your kin if I cannot resume my travel.”

Did Cullen just indirectly threaten this nobleman if he did not give into his demands?  Yes, yes he did.  Yet, there will be no apology.  This bann allowed mages to walk freely as did the city-state’s Circle.  Hang that they were bonded and other templars were present.  The only safe place for anyone was mages of all ages were behind Circle walls and restrictively watched by the most able bodied and gifted templars the Order ever produced.

Even with a scowl on Cullen’s face, the threat and expression harked no response from the nobleman.  If anything, he looked bored and unimpressed.  “And how would you like to me do that?  I have no ship here knowing within the next day another hurricane will blare down on this isle and the city-state.  I could call back the ship that saved you, but the captain is not even on board to receive my message.  The first mate only responds to her order, but I doubt if I contact her, she will be willing to risk her men’s lives again.  What your cargo ship captain forgot quite stupidly is nearly all travel via the Waking Sea slumps for four months as the summer’s warm waters bring hurricane after hurricane from the eastern ocean.  Travel by land is ten times worse with landslides, mountain blizzards at high altitudes, and bandits aplenty hungry and desperate.  Such loss of life, ships, and resources over the ages has made the Chantry itself nod to me, its main supplier of Templar weapons, armor, and lyrium, to not move any supplies until myself—a seasoned sailor and merchant—and my captains feel we can do so without risking Andrastian lives and Chantry resources.  As your knight-commander doubly knows, as I have met her many times over her accession through the Gallows’ ranks, that I make sure all Free Marcher Circles and templars are well supplied via material goods and lyrium during such periods.  Even if a shortage occurs, there are multiple on-land warehouses that Grand Clerics can commission resources to last until the storms have quieted in late autumn.”

The noble’s bass voice began to grow louder as he continued his in-depth explanation.  “While I am more than willing to send correspondence to Grand Cleric Elthina and Knight-Commander Meredith, they both know I will not risk your life, the life of my sailors, and my ships recklessly.  That is how House Trevelyan has always served the Free Marches’ Circles and Templar Order over the last three generations.  We have had many knights in transient to new posts stay at our country estate until the weather permits.  Many knights, including some recruits here as part of training under retired templar’s guidance, have thanked the Order and my family for such an opportunity, receiving more education here than at some academies.  As a rising officer yourself, you would be more than welcome to these opportunities.  Meredith herself would encourage the chance as she is in great need of a third knight-captain at the Gallows.  Your and her rush to your duty tells me she already has such a position in mind for you.”

With a hand flip, Bann Ian exhaled.  “But if now is your only option, it will not be under my family’s fleet, nor the grand clerics’ or Order’s protection.  You will risk just yourself and no one else.  It would be a shame really since the captain had two sailors suffer with more serious injuries to their organs the night she saved you.  To learn you go once more into the Void without a care if you live or die will agitate her more than me.  I should know because she disobeyed her own father to save you from the briny depths.”

Cullen’s amber eyes widen, his attention flickering between the stolid-but-annoyed bann and the angelic portrait that kept drawing his gaze throughout the exchange.  “The captain…was your daughter?!”

“Is that a problem, Templar?”

“I-“  Cullen did not know much about sailing or life on the seas, but you only heard about women being on board as a curse or some silly pirate tale.  Of course, there was Fereldan legends where now noblewomen were captains during the Orlesian occupation, but never a nobleman’s young daughter so beautiful her orbs reminded Cullen of a sunset.  “No!  O-of course not.  Just surprised she would take such a risk and that you allowed it.”

That got the bann chuckling, more at Cullen than at the comment.  “My daughter has her own mind, but she does pull on my nerves like a kitten chasing yarn.  I have never limited her as other lords do.  I do not see the point as she is like-minded as I.  While her blazon action nearly gave her mother and I strokes, she always does what is fair and right.  She risks much to save many, even a man who barely values his own life for a post that will still be there even if he waits a few more weeks.”

“I see…”  Cullen mumbled, leaning back in his chair.  His whiskey gaze kept shifting back to this surprising woman’s portrait.  That siren’s pull to learn more about her beyond an artist’s depiction made Cullen realize that he was being foolish.  He would have died in that sea alone with only his mental hells because people kept pushing when wisdom stated to wait and be patient.  Andraste’s chants engrained into his brain declared arrogance and pride likely kills more people than waiting and taking a steady pace.  The Maker works through such events in help his children. 

Furthermore, the bann made it clear he will not support Cullen’s rash moves if the knight did so and likely more punishment will wait for him in Kirkwall if he does not take this opportunity that he has landed in his lap, one likely only noble’s sons promised to the Chantry may have access to.  “If I do remain, will you still agree to notify my knight-commander, Ostwick’s Circle, and the grand clerics in both city-states my whereabouts?”

“I have already sent word ahead of the storm to our Circle and clerics once I learned your name and rank.”  The bann smiled briefly.  “Once this next storm passes, I will send our strongest raven to the Gallows, this I swear.  A letter to your family can be sent, if you wish.”

The templar just exhaled.  He refused to think about that situation at the moment.  None of his siblings knew he was not even in Ferelden anymore.  It was better to ignore the bann’s last offer.  “Then, I accept your hospitality, my Lord.”  Cullen bowed in his seat.  He winced as his ribs ached.

“Only when your health recovers, you are more than welcome to meet the isle’s other templars and their bonds, if you wish.  By the by, my forgetfulness.  Shall I include a letter to your bond?  Or…were they too lost on that ship?  If yes, my deepest sympathy and lack of proper care.  Their remains might be among those washed ashore, if you wish to check.”

Cullen gritted his teeth, wounded lip jumping.  “My potential bond died long ago.  Before I met them.”  Instantly, the brand on his chest burned and snapped his heart at the lie.  It just needed to learn even if that monster still lived, Cullen will just strike it down.  No mage will hold sway over him ever again.

“I see.”  The stolid man was back.  “My condolences.  I’ve heard of cases of templar’s mage-bonds lost before discovered.  However, I always assumed the brand shifted to connect you with another potential.  Depending on the bond strength, of course.  Some bonds are once in a lifetime.” 

Of course this lord knew the bonding practices.  He served the Chantry and the Templar Order.  His own nephew was one of the strongest templars bonded to a rare seeker.  “I am bondless, but that does not mean I cannot still serve.  I live and serve just fine by myself.”

“To live this long, I do not doubt.”  The bass rumble called from under that red beard.  He knew otherwise like her could read the knight for what he was, broken and ruined, but backed away from that discussion.

Clinging tea cups and splashing steaming water caught both men’s attention.  Fumbling at the door, Jim tried to twist and turn a brass cart into the office.  His Amaranthine grits and cusses caused Cullen to wince that hopefully he had not look so foolish before, while a quick smirk graced the bann’s suddenly visible lips.

“Tea, Sir Rutherford?”

Cullen snarled and pinched his nose.  While he had a new opportunity on this isle, it did not mean Cullen will not leave unscathed.  From Jim’s one final push over a hump and scratching the expensive door, the young templar might not be so lucky anymore if that runner continued to act with his ‘best’ interests at heart.

Chapter Text

The dreams were getting worse.

Evie poured her soul into her violin, ignoring the piano that kept hammering at its keys in the background.  Her right index finger plucked the beginning notes, short and sweet to settle her thumping heart.  She closed her eyes, feeling the strings vibrate against her chin and shoulder the faster she plucked.  All the while, her horse hair bow made from her mare’s trimmed tail hung off her pinky finger, waiting for its turn to cast its sweet tune.

The young woman only allowed herself to move her legs and hips if she felt in control of everything.  Little steps in place tapped against the Music Room’s hardwood mosaic floor.  She avoided her traditional ankle dress boots, thankful for the pair of soft soled nug slippers her brother Rian bought her for Satinalia last year.  She knew they were high quality for they were very soft, cupped her feet like tight gloves, and were crafted by the same cobblers that made Orlesian ballerina slippers.

With each hip sway, her linen flowing dress fluttered like wind swept curtains.  Unladylike, the dress had no sleeves, reliant on the accompanying sage green long sleeved clasp-front overdress and matching lace gloves lying on the piano bench nearby to keep modesty covered.  Evie preferred no sleeves while dancing and playing.  She easily sweated in the late summer humid following a hurricane.  Even with the music room’s tall picture windows open to the morning soft breeze, Evie herself felt a thousand degrees for the concealed magic and pounding emotions rolling inside her soul.  Furthermore, she already torn a few dress sleeves at the armpits from her strong bow strikes and intensity, the fabric to tight in those regions for such vigorous movements.

The emotions, the inner music, and dreams kept pushing her to release the magic dying to break through her obsidian barricades she spent years developing and reinforcing.  Her teardrop amber foci pendant kept itself ready, either to center her mana into her spells or negate the unexpected magical connections that became her daily life’s struggle for two years.  The invisible scar-like tattoos that flowed like water’s streams and elven ivy across her entire back since her harrowing drained the fade-touch mark on her back so that if gaze upon, no other unknowing soul will see evidence that she was marked like druffalo.

However, all those safeguards researched and applied by her family’s need to protect her kept failing Evie the longer she remained in his proximity.  It was a wonder the person meant to be oblivious of her presence had not seen into her mind yet even as the lyrium branding pulsed and shifted while he slept.  Since her magical ‘gift’ manifested over eleven years ago, her lessons always returned to one fact:  control your dreams.  While she was not a somniari, thank the Maker, bonded-potential people still sensed one another while asleep.  The practice was meant to quickly establish connects between the templar and mage not in the same region, acting like a compass over thousands of leagues.  Some bonds went so far to cross the breath of the Fade to emerge into their bond’s personal dreams before they even met.  After the bond had been made post-harrowings, demons flood their dreams in hopes to not only beat the bond connections that will bar them from the mage, but potentially possess and control without blood magic. 

Non-bonded harrowed mages were the most dangerous magic welders, according to the Chantry.  While schooling and techniques can make sure such mages did not accept a demon’s offer, the longer no bond was initiated, the more their state of mind, spirit, and body became weakened.  It was a miracle Evie lasted those three years between her harrowing and his lyrium bond.  However, since that moment, Evie’s world slowly crumbled upon herself.  She spent more time at the country estate or at sea on a family frigate, her father’s way of giving her freedom to live without becoming a flaming beacon in a middle of a town square.

The more Evie focused her soul into the music, the more she allowed herself to begin dancing.  Her fingers shifted from plucking to bowing the notes, rolling her head side to side as her self’s melody overrode the torturous ache and gnawing slowly consuming her.  While she was not the source of the anguish, she fell every emotions flicked between one another.  Hate, rage, defeat, disappointment, confusion, and longing were just a few that warred and rolled inside her spirit.  To counter such feelings, just as she has done for years, she played her violin melody of care, peace, triumph, encouragement, knowing, and hope.  It was her only weapon and release for no one in her life knew what she knew.  She refused to tell them too, too personal and not her own secrets to divulge.  Alas, that did not mean her rogue father had not discovered such secrets through other means when Evie refused to divulge the secrets.

Bann Ian spent these last adolescent years searching for Evie’s bond.  While her mark was not very helpful with the descriptors Rebirth and Affliction, the yank southward and dreams of amber at least notified House Trevelyan’s templar spies and associates not to waste time searching Antiva, Navarra, Rivain, and the Free Marches.  However, Orlais and Ferelden contained more than over half of the Templar and Seeker Orders.  Still, those agents could not just waltz into the White Spire and studied the multiple categorized lyrium brands on full Vigil templars.  Bann Ian surmised not to attempt checking the Seekers of Truth as two once-in-a-lifetime bonds within a single family was even beyond Chantry chances.

Then those long weeks of void occurred.

The dancing violinist pushed down the anguish and regret, focusing on her music, her internal violin that sang her Fade connection into the dream world.  Evie’s hip sways and bow strokes intensified.  She absorbed herself in the music, but enough placed control to keep ashes and sparks from swirling around her like fireflies.  Focus on the music.  Lose yourself in its melody where not even demons can break through.

Maybe such tunes will push those ghastly images away.

One leg kick, Evie’s head leaned back absorbed in the song pouring from her antique violin.  Her body naturally bent like a trebuchet before flinging forward and prance around the second largest room in the manor.  If she had opened the side doors, her melody would echo throughout the ballroom next door alerting the house that the young maiden was awake at sunrise fighting her sleeping demons through song and dance. 

It would not be the first time the musician’s attendant, Fesill, or others waking servants heard their mistress at dawn.  Over the years, it became one of the servants’ favorite times.  As they prepared breakfast or assisted other house members on bathing and dressing, Evie caught many humming the tunes with smiles and calm demeanors.  Some bold servants would actually stop outside the music room’s doors and just watch and listen as what they called “The Sun Nymph” welcomed the sun again with majesty and love. 

All the while, none of them knew what plagued Evie’s mind, heart, and soul.  None knew what haunted her for bells after waking in a cold sweat and tears.  While he might be able to drink lyrium to forget or block those terrors, she cannot and will continue to feel those emotions buried deep inside him.  That was why music was her outlet, her holy sanctuary.  Where prayers and blesses might satisfy someone with strong faith, music and dance expressed those feelings with care and beauty.  Something beautiful must come out of this disgusting situation.

Now, Evie kicked, bent, and jumped throughout the large room, mindful of the chairs, and tables nearby.  They were never in their proper place because everyone knew Evie loves the openness to perform her crafts.  The music room’s echo was not obnoxious like the ballroom where she has performed from family friends and associates.  The valeted ceiling barely consumed the sound.  The non-textured walls bounced the notes back and not distorted them via carvings.  This was Evie’s room, designed with her music and dance in mind.

Her safe haven.

The violinist’s world became her melody.  No longer did the passing hurricane’s mellowing wind beat against the outer stone walls.  The struggle inward became a distance memory, light finally breaking through the darkness.  Even the piano’s hammering keys sync with her music, forming a duet that uplifted the once trouble woman into happiness and newfound bless.  Her leaps and bounds grew in distance, as if she was floating on air.  Those haunting nightmares no longer swayed her.  She had conquered the darkness-

Bang.  Clash.  Tumble!

Instantly, Evie pulled her magic around her, twirling on the ball of her left foot.  Her fiery eyes flashed to the open double doors out into the ground floor hallway.  The mass of fumbling and cusses stumbled by the door frame, trying to rearrange a fallen chair.  His cane twisted around one chair leg as he struggled to bend and reach.

The musician relaxed her magic, twisting her teardrop pendant to muddle the magic signature seeping back into the Fade.  Faithfully, the pendant nor the magic notified the peeping tom of her Fade-connection, too focus on his interrupting mistake.  Thank the Maker for small miracles.

Evie’s chocolate gaze soften, tilting her head as she watched the recovering man right the furniture and himself.  It was the first time she saw him alive and active, the image of that soaked corpse that could barely take a breath will be forever burned into her memory.  In the week since his waking, the color came back to his cheeks and hands.  His exhales, though hinted with anxiety and shame, were deeper and less encumbered.  He placed more weight on his ankle and knee, demonstrating that Evie’s disconnected healing via her own right leg was helping at night.  She knew she should not have done it, but she felt his rage about being laid up and inactive.  She knew bonds could heal the other via their own body.  Since they had not even touched skin to skin, Evie was not sure if it would even work.

The greatest surprises though were the templar’s lip, hair, and eyes.  What torn open his upper lip left a lasting deep red scar.  Evie had been informed the surgeon was forced to sew it shut to heal since the man refused magical healing.  While others or he might find it disgusting, Evie wanted to run her finger over the scar and kiss it.  The new scar just made him all the more charming.  With the trimmed whiskers along his jaw that formed a goatee and a broken blond beard, he was a handsome and delicious package.  She will have to apologize to her cousin, Siana, who said scars were sexy and late day beards were manly.

The knight’s golden blond hair was wild.  The captain knew that from when she pulled him from the sea.  The curls were twice the length wet than dry.  Evidently during the week he was recuperating, one of the attendants gave him a haircut, a form of control over the noodles twisting throughout his head.  The person must have given him a homemade Trevelyan pomade because it was pulled back and out of his muscular face.  The style provided a full view of his Fereldan features lightly sunburnt by being on the water for weeks before the wreck.  It gave him color, especially to contrast his shadowed tired eyes.

Maker’s arse on the back of a horny dragon, those amber eyes trapped Evie in a daze that she nearly dropped her violin.  In her dreams, she has seen those amber gems time and time again.  That is why she chose an amber foci stone and jewelry since their connection.  She only saw them via a mirror when he gaze upon himself in dreams, but she never forgot their lightness when he first became a templar.  A sense of accomplishment pride rolled through him, his attention flicking between his looks and the lyrium brand on his chest, their connection linked over worlds.

The man no longer looked at either with the same positive conviction.

Now what, Evie?  He discovered you.  What will you do now?

The Maker was a royal arsehole.

It took Cullen a few moments to right himself and the damn wooden chair he walked right into like a moron.  As soon as he heard the clash, his cane caught the chair legs, nearly busting a music box on a side table, and practically sent him flying.  How had he lost his stable legs just over a few weeks at sea and ill in bed?  Could Cullen no longer walk on land as he could barely handle a rolling ship?  Sheesh!

Then that all too familiar melody stopped.

A young woman gasped echoed off the walls.

A touch of…magic?  Where?!  No, the knight just made a fool of himself, likely hoping a maleficium popped out somewhere to just to pull away attention from the face he been watching while this maiden danced and played a song that cried out to his broken soul.

Unconsciously, the knight’s free left hand rubbed the back of his neck while hanging his bright red face.  It was one thing to be caught by her father gawking at a portrait, it was a completely different matter lurching by the door watching this angel play and twirl so early in the morning.  He knew if he looked up, those chocolate brown eyes that always seem to be in his mind’s eye will be annoyed or disgusted by his intrusion.  It was better just to grasp his cane from the floor and hobble out of sight, hopeful their path’s never crossed while he stayed at the residence.

“Are you well, Serah?”

Cullen’s head flew upward, mouth gapping.  He could not catch himself from meeting her eyes.  Her Free Marcher lilt echoed throughout the room, the walls much plainer than the others he had seen throughout the manor.  He could not explain it, but the voice was both strong and coy, not the deep bass her father had but still smooth and lower-pitched than most women.  It felt like a gentle palm touching his jaw and following the line to his chin.  Such a heart-pulling sound forever burned into his psyche and soul.  To hear it again was a gift from the Maker.

Maker’s breath, she was more gorgeous —exquisite even—than her adult portrait.  The maiden’s head tilted to the side barely touching the violin’s scroll.  Her auburn waves were braided and tied behind her head, but some stubborn strains hung around her pierced ears and neck.  Her long bangs laid free, frizzing a bit in the room’s humidity seeping in from the outside.  Her olive skin was darker and rosier than her sun-kissed skin depicted in paint, likely from sailing.  The tanning intensified closely around her upper cheekbones highlighting the strong bone structure.

What caused Cullen’s chin to drop was her chocolate brown eyes.  They had the characteristic swirling her father had, but a softness that did not scare him as easily.  Their intensity bore into him like they could search his soul and discover all his thoughts without trying.  Surrounding the features was a light brown kohl eye that made her resemble a lightly colored cat than a person, especially considering her dancing around the room.

Maker’s breath, Cullen, you are in absolute trouble!

“Serah…?”

Cullen jolted out of his ogling and immediately pinched his nose.  He would not be surprised if he just drooled all over the floor like a thirsty mabari.  Good job fighting stereotypes, Rutherford.  He prayed mentally he could speak.  “I—uh—didn’t m-mean-   Oh, Maker’s breath…”  Welcome to this conversation, you strutting juvenile idiot!  Somewhere, his old templar recruit friends were rolling laughing like when they trapped him in the privy following his first secret admirer note.  “I-I’m fine.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Cullen scrunched his brow, suspicious of her reply.  Planted on her face was a sassy smirk, not of malcontent or mockery, but intrigue and mirth.  The knight did not know if he should be offended or not.  “Despite my f-fumbling,”  Cullen took a deep breath again.  “I meant to say my apologies for interrupting you.”

The gentlest smile crossed her lips, bringing a rose hue outward along the soft facial feature.  “Just as long your battle against the chair was a victory.”

Cullen could not help but partly smile, mindful of the stitches still in his upper lip.  His hand tapped his templar longsword finally back on his hip belt.  Although he was still stuck in these finery clothing, at least he was no longer unarmed.  Having it on his person again felt like half of himself returned.  It did take a day of sharpening and polish to rid the steel of sea and corrosion damage.  “It yielded before I had to draw my longsword.”

The woman’s brown eyes stared at the sword, her smile disappeared.  Something passed over her face, but quickly shifted away before Cullen could analyze it.  “But your cane fell in the chaos.  Do you need me to retrieve it?”

Cullen held out his free hand before slowly kneeling on his good leg.  “No, but thank you.  I have been recovering quickly the last few days.”  His right hand found the wooden knob cane before slowly standing again.  Once upright, he watched her cross the room to the large grand piano.  “I believe I have you to thank for that.”

The maiden laid her violin on the larger wooden instrument, while the bow hung from a few tiny fingers.  She froze mid-bow placement by a pair of gloves and a light sage overcoat.  Surprised flashed over her cheeks, one of both confusion and alarm.  “Come again…?”

The templar referenced behind him.  “Bann Ian Trevelyan informed me you pulled me from the ocean…or am I mistaken?”  Did Cullen confuse her with the woman in the portrait?

Relief sighed from her lips.  She quickly slipped on her overcoat, clasping the front.  The tight fit on top made her peeking breast perk upward, a feature Cullen quickly tried to forget and falled miserably.  “I see.”  She grasped her overcoat’s skirts and curtsied.  “Apologies for my rudeness, Serah.  My name is Evelyn Tesni Trevelyan, second daughter of Bann Ian of Ostwick.  As you stated, yes, my crew aboard The Rising Phoenix and I journeyed out to where your ship crashed.  Alas, I only could reach you in enough time before the hurricane dragged you downward.  We believed for a time that you too were lost.  My condolences for your losses.”

Cullen flushed again, rubbing his neck.  Nervousness overruled the dark images pounding behind his mental chained door that wished to replay the shipwreck.  He only knew one bow, formal templar formation salute done for ceremonies.  He never lived this fancy life.  The longer in her company, the more he felt beneath her gaze and care.  Still he thumped his fist against his heart and bowed.  “Knight-Lieutenant Cullen Rutherford, soon of Kirkwall once the storms pass.  It is an honor to meet you, my Lady.”

Many emotions flickered across Evelyn’s face.  Some were sorrow, others of hope.  “Please, I am not the lady of the house.  If you have not met my mother yet, she would surly say I was no lady.   If anything, she would remark I had the noble manners of a druffalo running around an Orlesian tea house, breaking all that fancy junk with a tail fling.”  She flicked her hand to demonstrate the action.  Her other hand grasped her lace gloves to begin pulling them over her fingers.

“Actually, druffalo are quite nimble.  They would more likely break those silly cups just so people would drink from a proper size.”  Cullen froze.  Did he just mock nobility and Orlesians in front of a woman whose whole life could have been spent in such a place?  Maybe he should go and drown himself at this point.  “What I meant to say is that you are nimble like a druffalo, but are nothing like one, I swear.  Just from your dancing…Oh, Maker’s breath…”  He facepalmed and covered his ashamed whiskey eyes.

The woman giggled, covering her mouth to simmer the sound.  “Orlesians do drink from non-existent cups.  I starved during this one tea party with one of my mother’s friends.  I snuck off afterward with my guards and ate two plates of rye bread, pork, and beans at a dock tavern just so I would not pass out at the next party!”  Cullen’s mouth gapped again before smirking again, shaking his head.  “Just to be clear though, I am not a druffalo, but I will not forget that slant.”   She placed her now gloved finger against her nose and pointed at him teasingly.

“I will hold you to that.”  Cullen sang and smirked.  “My apologies.  I quite honestly get my foot stuck in my mouth more times than I wish to admit.”

“Is that what happened to your ankle?”  The maiden referenced his still braced leg.  “That’s quite a distance to shove in your mouth.  I should have all my leg bones broken by this point.  There is a reason why I am no longer invited to my Great Aunt Lucille’s summer balls anymore.”  She began putting on her gloves and jacket, covering her bare arms from Cullen’s hungry gaze.  “Apparently, being blunt and honest is not very ladylike.”

“If more people were that forward, the world would be a better place.”  Cullen comment, thankful he had not offended the woman.  “More people should follow your example, Miss Trevelyan.”

The maiden shook her head; her voluminous auburn strays fluttered against her temples. With tremoring hands, she straightened her overcoat and linen skirts and adjusted her nug-skinned slippers like she needed to do something with her hands.  Was she nervous too?  No, she likely had to quickly right herself in a guest’s presence.  After all, Cullen did interrupt her private moment.  “Please, my friends call me Evie.  Only my parents and other nobles call me Evelyn.  I even have a friend in Ferelden who nicknamed me ‘E-vers’ because I used to gnaw on wood posts like a beaver when bored and restless.  The arl had to replace all the wooden post down his staircase when my teeth first came in.”

“Oh!   You have been Ferelden?”  Cullen perked, getty that she knew of his home kingdom despite his own aversion to it at the moment.

“Not for a few years.  I had not seen my friend since we were children.  His guardians sent him to the templar academy after he threw horse manure at my older sister who was teasing me.”

“He became a templar?  There only one major templar academy in Ferelden.  What is his name?  Maybe I know him.  ” Cullen felt like he was drifting on air.  He actually had common topics in common with Evie.  Still, her nickname did not seem right in his mind.

“Alistair Theirin, the King of Ferelden now, believe it or not.  I thought he hated nobility more than I did.”

Cullen’s world crashed around him.  That floating air feel fell like he tumbled off a cliff into the cold sea.  Of all the templars this woman knew, it was Alistair fucking Theirin, the biggest misfit templar recruit that left the Order to join the Grey Wardens.  Alistair then saved the world during the Fifth Blight, along with a few other wardens, one of which was that mage! 

A spring of jealous roared inside the knight right then.  Alistair was charming, witty, and always had the stupidest puns.  Cullen should not be surprised this beautiful and talented woman knew the king.  She was worth a king on her arm, and she would still probably still shine brighter than all his richest and glory.

However, the crestfallen templar knew that was not why Alistair’s name soured his stomach.  He knew his face paled and his world suddenly tumbled inward.  The only reason why he was awake at dawn was because of his nightmares, that damn desire demon’s torture rousing him from a deep sleep in cold sweat and tremors.  He resigned himself to just stay in his room that day, cursing mages and those long weeks in the Circle.  However, he slowly dressed in the tailored noble finery that left him stiff and groin crushed.  Cullen had been hopeful to find a place to train and rebuild his lost muscle.

Cullen took the stairwell down to the ground floor, cursing his ailing leg each step.  He refused to take the dwarven pulley elevator again, the tight area too much for his fragile mind at the moment.  Thank the Maker, Cullen suffered that slow descent because by the second floor, he hear the most peaceful music flowing through him.  He forgot the rest of his journey, his ears following the melody that called out into the darkness like a beacon of light.  He did not realize he reached the music room until he unconsciously wandered into the chair.  The song called to him, so familiar as if she played from his own soul, his memory.  The sight of this majestic woman prancing, bending, and swaying throughout the room just enchanted him more.  He never learned to dance, but watching her he wanted to learn and join her merriment.  Until she uttered Alistair’s name, he forgot completely he even had a nightmare.

“Cullen…?”

The knight jolted from him brooding, shaking his head.  “My apologies.  I had a rough sleep last night.”  Why did he tell her that?!

Evie pursed her lips and stepped forward.  With each step, the soft breeze wafted the scent of oranges and cloves that tickled his nose.  The combination reminded Cullen of a citrus tea his mother used to make for Satinalia.  It matched his amazing woman approaching cautiously.  Her eyes searched his face as if he might bit her like a rabid mabari.

“It will be a long time while before breakfast.  Today is when the servants are given some free time, while the family snacks and care for ourselves.  If you are able, I can show you around the manor and gardens.  Maybe getting out of this house for a while will bring you some peace.  I know where the cook keeps some bagels, jams, and other goodies we can eat outside.”

“What about the passing hurricane?”  Cullen questioned, his amber gaze glancing outside.

Evie pursed her lips again.  “The worst is over.  It was not as strong as the one you survived.  There might be a few sprinkles, but I have an umbrella that will keep us from the worst.  There are gazebos and overhangs we can use if it downpours again.  Although, more hurricanes and tropical storms are drifting in from the ocean.  It will be windy and humid, but not too much.”  She hung her head.  “However if you do not want to…”

Cullen smirked and nodded.  “I would love to.  Maybe you will know somewhere I might train while I am healing.  Your father offered to introduce me to the recruits and older templars on the isle, but explained they were quite a walk or horse ride from here.”

“That is right.  I have a few places in mind you might like.  I train there myself.”  That sassy grin graced her lips again.  “Maybe we could spar sometime.”  She held up one finger.  “And don’t give me that lady-should-not-fight-knights nonsense because I have bested my cousin templars repeatedly.”

The knight actually truly smiled, feeling lighter already.  When was the last time he smiled?  “If I have learned anything about you already, Eve, it is not to underestimate you.”

Evie blushed, her covered chest panting through her see-through lace coat.  Cullen searched for the reason, reviewing what he said.  Then it hit him.  He said ‘Eve.’  “Forgive me.  I should have-“

Evie held up a finger again, shutting down Cullen’s apology.  “No one has ever called me ‘Eve.’  I…I like it, actually.”

Cullen’s smile filled his entire face.  Hang the pulling on his upper lip stitches.  He wanted to smile!  “It is nice to meet you then, Eve.”

“You too…Cullen.”

The knight’s name on her Free Marcher lilt sang like the heavens.  Nothing sounded sweeter.  Cullen could listen to that song for years, encourage her to repeat his name every moment.

Oh, you are in deep, Rutherford!

Chapter Text

Evie Trevelyan was a gift from the Maker himself.  For the next three days, Cullen smiled and almost laughed after each one of her sassy jokes or remarks.  Her speech relaxed the more they spoke and explored the estate grounds, sounding more like a cursing sailor than a noble lady.  She enjoyed making Cullen blush and nervous, which turned into a game between them.  She could be embarrassed too, demonstrating she too put her foot in her own mouth.  Too many times they both ended up stuttering and facing away.  Then her lively laugh rang through the bushes and stone walkways, bring back that giant smile that nearly always plastered Cullen’s face.  If not, their topics and activities quickly brushed away any awkwardness.  Cullen found himself no longer stuttering every sentence.  Speaking and interacting with this woman was like breathing fresh mountain air mixed with a cooling sea breeze.

The knight found each night he fell asleep easier and suffered less horrid dreams.  It might have been those second lyrium draught before bed each night, but he attributed the happy uplifting feeling to this young woman who danced into his dark life.  Instead of the recurring nightmares in Kinloch Hold, Cullen dreamed of Evie’s laugh and sarcasm, how her chocolate brown eyes glowed explaining her fighting techniques, or her irritation while debating historical battles with the educated knight.  Each time he closed his whiskey eyes, her recurring violin melody soothed his broody and harden soul like a lullaby just for him.

Cullen woke up more refreshed than in years.  He actually began reducing his lyrium draught from three-times the amount a day encouraged by Greenfell to one and a half multiplication of a beginning full templar.  He wanted to feel again instead of hiding behind the lyrium’s apathy and indifference.  The knight felt no different physically, his abilities still as strong as ever.  He knew he would be able to face an apostate if approached, but he felt mentally stable to process where his life came upon.  Cullen wanted to be more forward and open with this mysterious lady, even risking the demons hissing at him each dreaming night.

The Fereldan’s leg and knee healed alarmingly fast despite the lower lyrium dosage.  So, on the third morning since meeting Evie, he actually felt comfortable running light drills.  The healers gave him leave to exercise a little, but to be mindful of swelling and possible re-injury.  Evie found him in the small wooded clearing she showed him that initial day, watching him move and strike strong maple trees with his longsword.  She sat in the trees, climbing up each trunk like a spider, not minding if her linen dress got stuck on a branch or leaves stuck out of her braided hair. 

The maiden’s melting chocolate gaze never wavered from Cullen’s sweaty form.  His tunic stuck to his cut muscles constant exercise built over the last eight years.  Unlike the gawking city women at the Denerim academy, he actually preferred feeling her shimmering orbs on his strengthening body.  The small quick peeks over his shoulder allowed Cullen to see she too felt something between then, at least on a physical level.  Evie’s expressions screamed hungriness and imaginary pleasure, hopefully similar to his own thoughts late at night.  After all that Cullen went through—his sensitivity to exposing his body and expressing sexuality—the knight felt comfortable in his beaten body again.  However, only this maiden may see it and gnaw her fingernails to the quick.

The templar trained alone.  The two young people had not sparred.  Cullen’s personal reason was that he did not want to get so physically close to her to the point he might pass out like a fumbling idiotic adolescent.  Evie stated she did not want to hurt Cullen while still meddling.  She retorted that it was not pride or bluffing.  In the past, she injured her sparring partners, her mind so on a single track to just strike and move no matter it may be a friend or foe.  However, there was something in her eyes that sang a different song than her worries.  Cullen felt he could feel a hesitant ache from Evie like he could reach into her soul and know her emotions.  It reminded him of someone regretful and waiting for disappointment and disgust.  Like Evie could hurt him.  Bah! 

Maybe the templar wanted that connection, the ability to share their emotions without speaking.  Prior to Cullen’s traumas, the dynamics between bonds excited him.  He had always been a man of action rather than of speech.  The idea he could just internal admit his thoughts and feelings felt.  Alas, that was not meant to be.  Now Cullen cursed that such connection including a mage somewhere who still lived but had not been found.  Strange really, since it had been over two years since his Vigil.  Any archive search of both mages and templars would have shown some results by now.  Cullen considered it a positive side from the Maker.  Maybe somewhere his mage bond will die and free him from the curse.  If the person is presented to him in the future, he might just cut him or her down to just be rid of that deep seeded fear of magic and those creatures…

Still, Cullen wished for that connection in Evie just to avoid being a fool.  Bah, she would not have a brand.  She neither wielded magic nor drank lyrium to develop templar abilities.  She was nobility.  Her only purpose in that pompous world was to marry a strong and wealthier family to strength both houses.  Ugh, the thought of her with a man she did not care for just because of her lineage made the templar just want to run into her father’s office and demand she run free and choose her own life.

It was strange though.  Every time Cullen dismissed such a possible bond connection, the lyrium brand on his chest ached and pulsed like he was ignoring the obvious.  Even more peculiar was that always felt a pull to be in her presence even at night.  The yearning sometimes overpowered him, nearly touching her neck or cheek just to make skin contact while walking or resting on a garden bench.  Thankfully, he caught himself every time, cursing in frustration. 

After each fumbling attempt to confirm how Evie’s skin may feel, Cullen stepped away and mentally scolded himself that he was dirty, broken, and ruined by life.  He was born in a low class and only achieved being a templar knight after years of hard work and proving himself over and over again to neigh says, including his own brother, Branson.  After what happened to him in those damn weeks in the Void, Cullen’s shame and doubt returned in full force like a slaver’s wooden yoke around twisting and rubbing his neck raw. 

Cullen’s fear already impacted Evie and his friend.  The fearful knight requested they walk in open spaces, knowing his claustrophobia will rage and control his broken mind.  He snapped and threatened when she would phrase something that sent him off.  Afterwards, she would just apologies and hang her head.  Evie would refuse to meet his gaze of several moments.  Then her soft understanding tone reemerged and directed the conversation towards more positive aspects, relaxing Cullen back into a safe place internally.

The broken man did not deserve this maiden’s kindness, distraction, and company.  He never feared she would do him harm thankfully, but he struggled constantly not to hurt her feelings or possibly physically by a grab or pushing as Cullen had done to those apprentices in Kinloch Hold.  He was ruined and could taint her pleasant innocence just standing nearby with this disgusting beaten body.  Her patience and attention to the templar’s likes and enjoyments washed away the darkness within, but he still could not break the tendencies that felt forever part of his psyche again.

Another matter flared the templar’s burning rage and fear deep inside.  Cullen could not break for the life of him this feeling that he was constantly watched while the lady and the pauper walked places.  At first glance, it looked as though they were alone.  But, were they?

The blond Fereldan remarked once would anyone wonder about her modesty, which Evie just laughed and rolled her dazzling eyes.  She did not care about reputation and etiquette while on her family’s isle.  Hang what those nosy slutty inbreeds wearing clown suits think about me while enjoying myself.  I rather spend my time with a lower class young man who acts more like a gentlemen that half of those spoiled bratty boys who do not know which end of a sword they should hold—and I don’t mean the weapon!  Most aristocrats have darker, more sinner skeletons in their wardrobes that should make them quiver in fright each night instead of fainting that I speak with a knight below my station! Evie spat and flicked her fingers during her ranting and insults.  She bound forward on the garden path, acting like she was in heels and held out her linen dress to mock Orlesian fashion.  She held a large leaf like a fan, covering her face and mimicking noblewomen’s silliness they repeated daily in their snotty salons.  Cullen joined in on the ridiculousness by ripping two holes out of another leaf and wore it like an Orlesian half mask.  That was how Evie’s personal attendant, Fesill, found them to announce dinner was served.  The knight nearly jumped into the nearby fountain out of sheer embarrassment.  Evie fell over laughing and covered her dress in grass stains and dirt.

Still, the knight felt they were never alone.  Someone always lurked at a distance and likely followed them.  Icy blue elven eyes kept flashing out from shadow, the race’s iconic night vision glowed like a beacon indicating another’s presence.  If completely honest, Cullen was thankful for this presence for both Evie and his benefit.  Maybe this lurker will protect her if Cullen’s dark side raged beyond those moment of snaps and growls.

Could that elf have been another family member or friend?  Unlikely, which meant the knight stood at a loss.  The remaining members of House Trevelyan and the templar finally met while in a better mood, after a few nights of good sleep, and saving lyrium draughts.  When still barred from training, he joined the Trevelyans for meals.  Lady Gwen Trevelyan was sweet and understanding, although strict and aware of her children’s shenanigans in front of company.  She knew at great deal about Ferelden, modeling her private rooms like the nobility and the countryside.  She was easily aware of Cullen’s sourness on specific topics like Evie, likely a talent the young woman learned from her pleasant mother.  When Cullen gave short answers about his once home, the lady of the house changed the subject, offering her ear if he ever wished to talk.  For a few moments, the knight missed his own mother lost during the Fifth Blight.  He shoved the sorrow away instantly, knowing now was not the time to mourn for the fallen.  If he did, he would crash and crumble within for all his templar friends lost to blood mages…

-Not now!

Meanwhile, Bann Ian just sat and slow scooped his poached egg without uttering a word.  The knight felt his gaze on his cheek when Cullen spoke to Evie about their plans each day.  Those swirling grey eyes revealed his unhappiness at the knight and maiden meeting.  He did not approve despite his face remaining stolid like a marble bust in the gallery halls.  Yet, the bann never once told such opinions to his daughter or his new knightly guest.  Evie admitted she knew her father was not fond of such circumstances, but “he can just shove it” to quote the maiden directly.

Evie’s younger Esme seemed like the typical rebelling young teen, who preferred practicing with his two handed weapons than reading and studying.  Evie explained her brother was the “spare heir”, expected to know everything about what it takes to run the family enterprises even if he did not earn the title.  Esme grew up hearing about great heroes, wishing to be one someday.  One time, the young boy told his sister he will run away and join the Grey Wardens.  After the Fifth Blight, Esme doubled down on the declaration, which nearly gave their mother a stroke.  He was young and struggled in the real world.  He thought differently from other people, quick with math and sciences, specifically metallurgy.  Esme took longer to learn and understand versus other child, demonstrating such tendencies since a baby.  Still, the young man persevered and beat the odds even when their relatives called him “retarded” and “invalid.”[1]

Cullen got the sense Esme was not a fan of him either.  Unlike his father, Esme grimaced and mumbled under his breath about Cullen and Evie’s exciting conversations.  Lady Gwen would correct his manners to speak clearly.  The young man just ignored them afterwards, keeping his disgust to himself. 

Evie told the Fereldan knight to not take offense.  Esme disliked anyone who kept Evie’s attention and occupied her time.  For a long time, the brother and sister only had one another.  Evie understood Esme and never mocked his disabilities.  Now that she was a young woman and he still out of society’s gaze, he felt left behind.  He is likely envious of you, Cullen.  You’re the fable knight who is traveling Thedas on many adventures.  You are free to live your life, while only my brother’s books can keep him company.  He will be thankful for such knowledge in the future. 

Cullen knew of such young men in the academy and as a templar recruit stationed at the Circle.  They all believed themselves men, while they were ignorant of the real world.  Maker, Cullen’s wakeup call slapped him out of his stupidity into being a proper templar.  Mages were not people, but weapons to use and control.  Alas, the templar never told Evie that thought, unsure of her opinion on Circles.  They likely aligned with his own for the maiden’s family were strict Andrastians, holding services in the manor chapel nearly every day before lunch.

However, nothing prepared the Fereldan warrior for so many souls in his presence beyond the manor.  Evie’s latest introduction involved the isle’s small village occupied by the Trevelyan’s workers, hired merchants, and the sailing fleet’s sailors and the different group’s families.  The maiden seemed especially eager that Cullen could walk the league to the other coast and docks.   

Apparently, Evie came to the village almost every free day possible.  She knew everyone.  The children would hear her voice and bolt out their doors to greet her.  The shop owners and artisans always had a new product for her to try or give opinions on traders and ports who might be interested.  Neither Cullen nor she had to stop for food because the fishermen and other foodstuff merchants kept their hands food of delicious treats like smoked salmon and fresh garden produce.  In the pantry shop, the bakers and Evie nearly rolled over laughing discovering Cullen had a strong sweet tooth, especially for sugar cookies and plain wafflers.  The baker commented she will have a dozen of each delivered to the manor tomorrow morning.

Their last visit was to the dock tavern.  A heavy thunderstorm rolled in at late dusk.  Evie and Cullen enjoyed their time in the town so much that they completely lost track of time.  They spent nearly dawn to past dusk in the small, close knit port village. 

Evie skipped ahead to the tavern door.  She kept sassing Cullen for being too slow and allowing himself get soaked to bone.  Evidently, the maiden forgot about his leg.  Although, the wounds felt completely healed like they never happened.  Finally, the meandering knight reached the loud rumbling building at the end of the middle docks.  She practically kicked the door down and called inside.  The knight missed what she hollered, but instantly laughter and cheers sang through the shuttered windows and open front door.

“Isn’t it improper for a lady such as yourself to be in such a seedy establishment?”  Cullen cautioned reaching the canvas awning covering the doorway and barrel seats outside.  He could smell the wafting of beer, wine, and liquor smacking his wrinkled nose.  He could not tell if that was just sea and dead fish stench from the docks or from the pub’s sweaty and dirty patrons.

Evie rolled her eyes and chuckled.  Her Free Marcher lilt sassed at his apparent concern for her ‘noble’ reputation.  “I practically live here.  This is how I met and found friendship in every sailor on my ship.  No one worth their salt will go to sea with you if you can’t even handle a dock tavern.”

“If she challenges you to an Antivan tequila drinking contest, decline!”  A tall muscular dark skin man called from a tavern corner.  His dreaded and braid ringed hair and massively long beard made him look like a giant bear mulled by a giant!  His tunic laid untied, while he kicked his black boots up on a nearby table.  With one hand, he lifted a pint tankard to his covered lips and the other held his Wicked Grace hand.

“Hemmy, you drink rotgut rum!”  Evie hollered, stomping into the seaside pub with a thrusting offensive leather gloved finger.  “Don’t you dare ever think about insulting my liquor choices!”

Once the maiden wandered inside, a few men and women stood from their seats or behind the counter to hug and kiss Evie’s cheek like they were all part of her family and she theirs.  Cullen huddled by the door, the breezy thunderstorm air cooling his sweaty wet skin.  It was not how everyone could touch and spin Evie everywhere—although a bit of foolish jealousy did peek its ugly head—that kept the young man by the front door.  No, the place was crowded and loud.  Mugs clicked together as bartenders washed the dishes and put them on the tall expansive liquor shelves.  Stools and chairs squeaked against the old hardwood floor.  Boots and shoes crushed shucked nut shells and tracked spilled drinks everywhere.  The windows allowed some fresh air in while protecting the two-story building’s interior from lasting rain damage.  Only a small purposeful hole in the tiled building’s ceiling allowed the roaring spit-fire smoke out and called surrounding people to the roasting pig with an apple its mouth.

The walls slowly climbed inward on Cullen’s psyche.  The sounds shifted between cheers to cries.  Beer turned blood red dripping from cast taps and down the shifting stone walls-

-Not now!

Broken.  Beaten.  Tainted.  Scarred.

“Cullen…”

The knight squeezed his eyes shut, finding a way to separate his environment from the trauma.  All he saw was that purple cage, its magical walls climbing inward.  Long purple nails reached out.  Purple tinted skin with those damn nipple piercings cooed against his ear.

Leave me, demon!

“Cullen…Listen to my voice.”

Stop, demon!

“You are safe, Cullen.  Breathe deeply with me.  In….hold….and out…Again.”

Panting.  Panic.  Chest tightening.  That demon is reaching through the cage!

The demon whispered, “What do you hear?”

Screams.  Sadistic laughter.  Blood drips.

Notes?  A melody…so sweet and caring.  Is that a violin?  Where have I heard this music before? Cullen thought to himself, his heart slowing and breathing as instructed.  It was dark around him, but he just focused on the music.  Demons do not produce music.  Why is there music in the Circle?

  “Good job.  Keep breathing slowly.  Keep humming.”

Such a calming voice, like a warm blanket on a chilly night.  I don’t feel alone.  I’m not alone.

Sound of talking, external music, and clicking cups filtered through Cullen’s darkness.   The light beyond his eyelids started to intensify.  The sound of rain batted a clay-tiled roof.  None of those sounds where present in the Circle…?

“Now, open your eyes and see that you are safe and with friends.”

Slowly, the templar’s amber gaze focused and defogged.  Shimmering chocolate brown orbs stared up at him, her gloved hands hovering nearby like she would catch him if he fell.  She smaller, shorter frame would likely crumble under his harden body.  The tavern’s soft candlelight glow haloed around her single-braided auburn hair, slightly soaked by the roaring downpour behind Cullen.  The woman’s unruly bangs stuck to her red cheeks like how the knight wished to come them right then.  The maiden kept biting her lower lip, studying his sweaty facial features to denote what he was thinking.  All the while, guitar music intertwined with a violin piece within the knight’s soul.

“I’m so sorry.  I should have known.”  Evie whispered just for Cullen’s ears.

How can Evie know about Kinloch Hold…?

“The storm probably reminded you of the shipwreck.”  The young woman’s chocolate orbs flashed to the pouring rain behind him.  “Maker, I am a royal arse.  You must have suffered during the last minor hurricane.  I wish I hadn’t listened to my father.  You must have suffered alone…”

Cullen sighed in relief.  Evie misunderstood his panic for the shipwreck, not that ghastly horrific hell in Ferelden.  Of course she knew nothing about what happened to him.  No one knew except his former knight-commander and those damn Grey Wardens.

-Include that damn mage bitch!

“You’re a strong and courageous man, Cullen Rutherford.”

The Fereldan’s whiskey eyes widened, his mouth gaping at this woman.  If she only knew the truth.  If she knew what how he cowered while his friends were tortured and murdered! Or how he allowed himself to be disarmed and so easily captured by those blood mages…no, she was absolutely wrong.  He was a weak and broken boy whose hatred kept him waking every morning. 

Cullen’s only reason why he remained standing laid in the fact he still controls himself versus those stupid and faithless templars who easily gave into the demons and their blood mage slavers.  His urge to protect all people from the dangers of magic became his new mission, his Andrastian purpose to keep going.  That was not strength or courage, but his blessed duty.

Evie tilted her head, a gentle smile gracing those pink rosy lips.  Her kind eyes reached out towards him, softening the harden knight still trembling before her.  Those auburn bangs slid away and highlighted her strong cheekbones and pierced ears.  She studied her subject closely, searching what changed the man over the last few moments.

“You survived, Cullen.”  That Free Marcher lilt sang like that violin melody in his soul.  “I know that is difficult to accept, especially if you found friendship on that ship.  While I have heard of men and women suffering so much guilt surviving alone after such events, you will preserve and continue onward.  Don’t forget that.”

Cullen will never forget.  Guilt, rage, and cowardliness were his only companions.  No matter what Evie said, he knew what he really was.  She might believe him better, but Cullen just had to look in the mirror to remember he will never be naïve and caught off-guard ever again.

Chapter Text

The maiden pivoted away on a muddy boot.  Like an imaginary chain around his neck, Cullen followed closely, finally letting the tavern door slam shut.  The thunderstorm’s hollering winds and thunder muted with the wooden barrier.  The crowded tavern seemed sparse and less caging than before.  No one left, but the first floor had more open stools and chairs now.  The knight’s amber orbs shifted to the second floor railings.  More candles and lanterns swung and remained lit over tables, but Cullen could not tell if there were people relaxing there.  Even the laughter and stomping boots simmered like everyone knew of the templar’s panic attack.  Bloody great.

Evie kept her steps short and her body protective winding through the small paths between tables.  She led the knight towards a back corner somewhat covered by open stairs and another door back to the kitchens.  At the corner table sat the large Rivaini man she had called to earlier and few other men and women of multiple ages.  On a barrel sat two guitar players dueling an unfamiliar composition that they likely made up on the spot.  The Antivan man and elf rumbled back and forth, changing the beat every so often, fast and slow with different feels.  Evie nodded her head to the two players, who just briefly smiled at the young woman.

“Nice to see you walking instead being stiff as a board.”  The massive man’s accent only confirmed he was not local.  The templar scrunched his nose, his hand lying on his longsword.  This was a pub and probably just someone would get too drunk and pick a fight.  Cullen really did not need that. 

Evie just walked over to the Rivaini man who just spoke, resting her right arm on his large muscular shoulder.  She glanced at his Wicked Grace hand as his brown eyes waited for Cullen to respond.  “That bad of a night, Hemmy?”

Instantly, a few people around the table rose their bets, while Evie smirked at the irritated Rivaini.  “Now it is, Girl.”  He tossed his hand down to drink out of his dark rum glass.  “Got caught in the rain?”

Glancing down at her, Evie realized her puffed long sleeve tunic was nearly water logged.  Her tan olive skin peeked through the white linen.  The only thing that kept Cullen from seeing her perked nipples was her outer corset joined to her skirt and an under-shift.  The knight lifted his eyes, trying his best not to stare at the swell of her breasts or imagine what they might look like sans shirt and undergarments.  “Yup, we spent over a bell in the bakery.  Apparently, templars have a sweet tooth.”  Evie grinned at Cullen, while he just shifted on his feet.

“Maybe I should get him a pint of my rum-“

Evie smacked the huge man upside the head.  Her chocolate eyes flashed to Cullen.  “You can have a drink just not his bootleg swill.  You’re too nice to make drink that acid.  I have a feeling we will be here awhile until the storm passes.  They have a variety of liquors and beers here.”  She thumbed back at the man rubbing the back of his head.  “Just not his junk.”

Cullen shook his head.  He avoided alcohol since leaving Greenfell, especially around people he did not know.  The Chantry sisters drilled into recovering templar alcoholics that liquor was the darkspawn’s taint.  Just being around the drinks reminded him of their chanting and disgusted stares.  Anyway, he felt it was his duty to protect Evie from these lurching sailors, especially if someone drank too much.  “No, thank you.”

“Well, I’m grabbing some mead at least.”  Evie shrugged before heading towards the bar.

“I’m not carrying you home again, Girl.”  The Rivaini huffed.  “You puked all over my new boots last time.”

Evie spun on a boot, her flowy puckered skirt lifted enough to show her heeled laced knee boots.  For a blink, the knight swore he saw the edge of her white tights are her smooth upper thigh.  He quickly looked away, praying his blushing stopped before anyone noticed.  “Fine, I’ll just ask Cullen to.”  She winked at him.  “You sure you don’t want anything?  Patty doesn’t water anything down, and the first drink is always free.  Or, we can share a bottle of mead?  Locally made from the estate’s apiaries.” 

Cullen just shook his head again, rubbing the back of his neck.  Now he knew he was crimson that creeped up around his ear and cheeks.  The idea of carrying that beautiful woman home in his arms lit a fire in his soul.  The repeating vision of her opaque shirt cupping her breasts as the storm poured over them will likely give him a stroke.  Catching Evie’s wink nearly sent him running from the building to cool himself in the rain.  He instantly started sweating and tensed like a child caught stealing a cookie.  If he had to touch her at all, the response alone will nearly light the tavern aflame!

“She can take care of herself, by the way.”  Cullen broke out of his boyish nervousness and locked eyes with the Rivaini man, who sat out the remainder of that specific card game.  “While it’s chivalrous that you feel you must protect her, but a part of her training included fighting while drunk.  She caught on faster than I thought, using her wooziness to her advantage.  Nearly busted my jaw with a left hook.”

“Her training including drunk fighting?!”  The templar quizzed, visibly taken aback.  “Doesn’t seem like something a noblewoman needed to know.”

“You apparently haven’t observed a Navarran bridal shower then.  Maker’s balls, Cassandra could not stop challenging the bridal party to arm wrestling contests.  Evie said the seeker got so frustrated at one point, wandered into the woods, and punched a bear.”  The Rivaini commented with a perk brow.  “How else is that girl going to survive on a ship if she could not handle herself in different states?  It’s part of the Trevelyan’s unofficial Right-of-Passage.  There was no way her father was going to let her on board a ship with a whole bunch of sailors without being prepared for everything.  Knotts and I’s duty was to make sure she could handle the world’s evils.  There are a few things she can still learn, but only experience can really get through her stubborn skull.”

“And you are?”

The Rivaini laughed.  “Lekan Hemmingway is what everyone knows me by.  Very few Southerners can pronounce my given name.  Knotts and I are Evie’s personal bodyguards and physical fighting trainers.  I’m her swamp barbarian, as her damn relatives like calling me, while Knotts is her knife-earred assassin.”

Instantly, a throwing knife hurled at Hemmingway’s head from a corner shadow.  Cullen reached for his longsword until the Rivaini man just burst out laughing, pulled the knife out of the pillar behind him, and threw it back into the shadow where it came from.  “I’m just telling how those cunts nicknamed us, Knotts.  I don’t need you showering our new friend here with my blood!”

Cullen squinted into the shadows, searching to whom Hemmingway was talking to.  He only noticed the small reflection off the retrieved throwing knife.  Almond-shaped glowing eyes opened and bore into the knight.  “You have been following us.”  Cullen said more to himself than to discover the truth.

“If you saw him the last few days, or just his creepy eyes, it means you aren’t on his shit list—yet.”  Hemmingway advised as the dealer started tossing out cards.  “Knotts is a man of very few words, but lets you know his opinions one way or another.  The fact you haven’t been found with a knife in your heart and your balls fed to the isle’s wolves is a success.  Typically, any man who even looked twice at that girl’s breasts did not have a pleasant death.”

Cullen froze, whipping his head between the Rivaini guard organizing his card hand and the shadow that could unman him with a hand flick.  “I- um- haven’t, I mean we-“

“Oh, shut it, Templar.”  Hemmingway waved his hand without looking up from his cards.  “Don’t even try to deny it.  Knotts really doesn’t like liars.  He has cut out enough tongues for just tiny fibs that you should quit while you’re behind.”

“Cullen, are you alright?”  Evie called, returning to the corner with a goblet of fragrant wine.  Cullen just gulped and nodded quickly.  The lady did not buy it.  “Hemmy…!”

“Oh, relax, Girl.”  The Rivani barbarian chuckled, tossing down a card and some coins.  “I just introduced myself to your friend here, and Knotts demonstrated he has known all your activities the last few days.”

Evie’s eyes silted and glared at the shadowy area.  “Knotts, no throwing knives.”

Cullen blinked a few times.  He searched the shadows again for the man.  “How did you-“

“Where I am, Knotts is about ten paces away up a tree or knocking potential threats unconscious for interrogation.”  Evie muttered while glaring at the barrel spot beyond light.  “I should have told you we would be followed, but people in the past thought I was talking about an imaginary friend.”

“That one time he kept slipping threats into young cousin Burton’s pockets after he called you crazy is still one of his best stunts.  That prick still thinks this isle is haunted.”  Hemmingway chuckled before taking another drink.

“I loved it that when Burton went to tell Aunt Teresa, all the notes disappeared except one that stated ‘Snitches get stitches’.”  Evie nodded with a huge smile on his face.

“What happened afterwards?”  Cullen asked curiously.

“He asked for a reverend mother to sleep in his bedroom and chant constantly for his soul.”  Evie proudly sang.  “Fucking prat.”

Another throwing knife flew through the air and pegged one of the card players’ fanned hand.  The card stuck to the knife and embedded into the table for all to see.  Hemmingway perked an eyebrow at the stiffened card player.  “Now Parker, what did I just say about liars?  You know cheating is lying.”

Cullen quickly paced away from the table, checking all his genitals while his back was turned.  “On second thought, maybe there is a Fereldan ale.”  Evie and Hemmingway burst out laughing as the knight shuffled away like a yipping scared dog.

The Fereldan laid his arms out on the bar, taking deep breaths and willing away his fear of the tight space and potentially being stabbed by a throwing knife.  He asked the barmaid for a beer.  Evidently, Fereldan beer was a special item and cost more.  Since the Blight, imports had slowed, but the Trevelyans always found a few brews for all the Fereldan sailors and guards in their employment.  The barmaid winked, saying she would not charge such a handsome man.  Unlike when Evie did it, Cullen shrank in on himself, his fingers feeling the physical and emotional scars left by those demons under his loose tunic and vest. 

Since those horrid weeks, the knight hated people’s gazes and flirts.  However, Evie’s quips and teasing sent his heart into overdrive and stumbling like a fool.  Maybe it was because Evie never pointed out his boyish looks like other women and some men. 

Glancing over his shoulder with his elbows still on the bar, he watched the young lady laugh and comment on the card game.  She spun Knotts’ throwing knife in her hands, while sipping mead.  She was unlike any nobleman he had ever met.  She had all the manners engrained in her psyche, but looked and acted if such a dock pub was her home.  That day in the village demonstrated that she did not wield her status like a huge flag like other nobles.  Her acts and understanding made her noble.  She cared and listened.  Her chocolate eyes caught the smallest details and formed well-defined conclusions based on her own observations and facts.

Evie Trevelyan was everything Cullen believed nobility should be.

And he should not be in her presence in fear of tarnishing that blessed soul.

“If you hurt her, you’ll have words with every person on this isle.”

Cullen’s head spun back to the bar.  A tattooed Starkhaven man stood where the barmaid had been, smoking his pipe and puffing rings at the startled templar.  His beer sat in a wooden mug before him.  “Do your ears work or did the sea drown them too?”  The bartender grumbled while biting his wooden pipe.

“I heard you.”  The Fereldan’s baritone rasped as he reached for his beer.  “She is just showing me around the isle.  I am a guest at the manor.”

“That might be, Templar,” The Starkhaven brute huffed with a few more puffs.  “But our Evie is one in a million.  Half the people you see in this place volunteered to serve under her command.  All of the people here would take a stab or an arrow to save that maiden.  From what we hear, she risks much by having you around.”

“I am just a templar.  Her father stated there were many here on the isle.”  Cullen remarked, his amber eyes analyzing the bar.  Evidently, everyone seated nearby watched him like a hawk.  “I’m no one special.”

“That’s a load of pig swallow.”  Another man down a few stools mumbled, glaring at Cullen.  “You might not think you’re nobody, but she’s thinks you’re special.”

Cullen whipped his head around, catching Evie swaying and laughing at the dueling guitars playing nearby.  Every once in a while, she glanced over her shoulder towards Cullen.  Catching his eye, she waved and grinned before returning to her conversations.  Did she like him or something?!

“Point is, Templar, know you’re being watched.  If one tear falls from her eye, they will never find your body.”  The bartender threatened between smoke puffs.

“It is unwise to threaten a knight of the Order.”  Cullen growled deeply.

“On this isle, there is no Thedas, Chantry, or your fucking Order.”  Another person hissed, an elven woman with pixie hair.  “We pledge ourselves to the Trevelyans and in turn, we have never been stirred wrong.  No matter your race, gender, faith, or whatever, they welcomed and treated us better than by any other noblemen, knight, or Chantry slut.  ‘Modest in temper’…”

“’Bold in deed.’”  The rest of the stools around the bar quoted in unison, but just low enough Evie would not hear.

House Trevelyan wielded a powerful alliance on this isle.  Whoever this family was, their servants, families, and followers pledge life, soul, and arms to their cause.  It felt strange to Cullen to be in an area where a templar was not honored and given respect.  From the glares and mistrust shined his direction, many of these people, probably once poor and ostracized by society, were burned by the Chantry and the Order at one point possibly repeatedly.  It made sense for the dwarves and elves throughout the tavern.  However, the humans felt this way too.  A part of Cullen wanted to shout and call out their lack of faith and trust in the holy institution.  However, he knew when to pick his battles.  For Bann Trevelyan to open trade and work for the Chantry and the Templar Order, it was shocking that his people shared no love.  All that matter was the Chantry and serving as a templar.  What could have happen to turn such heretics from Andraste’s teachings?!

Cheers erupted behind the Fereldan knight.  People began clapping and calling towards the corner where he had left Evie and her bodyguards.  Cullen pivoted on one boot, searching over the sea of people for auburn braids and sun-kissed olive skin.  The whole pub’s attention focused on the spot where a single pair of boots stomped and skipped around the area.  Outlining bar residents began shuffling their tables and chairs out of the way.  A dance floor emerged with little beer spills and crushed nuts.

Puckered and wavy skirts fluttered in Cullen’s peripheral vision.  He pushed himself off the bar, abandoning his beer to find out who this mysterious woman was that could raise a full pub.  A pull of violin’s strokes and internal happiness guided him through the sea of people like a mabari smelling a meal from across a continent.  His heart hammered in his throat.  His whiskey eyes stayed forward, while his claustrophobia told him to run out of the building.  Still, his curiosity controlled his movements.  That melody will always call him.

With one last shoulder shove, the knight pushed out of the crowd.  His amber eyes widen in shock and amazing.  By herself, Evie twirled and kicked like a Starkhaven jig dancer with each guitar chord.  She slid on her leather boots and leaped like a fox over remaining chairs and tables.  Every so often, a random person joined her as their spun and danced to the dueling guitars.  Her smile was infectious, spreading her fun and joy to each partner moving with her.  Once the person filled themselves on her mirth, they passed back into the audience and another person joined her for his or her turn.

Cullen could not stop smiling and watching the expressive show before him.  Her movements seemed similar to when he fell into the music room, but there was a relaxed feeling in each movement demonstrating her lack of fear or anxiety.  With her hands free to move and swing, she expressed herself twice as much as with her violin.  She led and was led by each partner, easily moving into each role like a new perfectly tailored dress.

Then this beautiful maiden stopped in front of Cullen.  Her gloved hands shoved outward, waving to Cullen.  “Dance with me, Cullen!”

Oh Maker’s breath!  There was one thing Cullen will never do and that was dance.  It required two abilities he has yet to overcome:  rhythm and touching a woman.  If a beautiful woman just winking at him made the knight want to jump into the Waking Sea to cool off, touching her so closely will explode the entire isle.  If it was any other woman, Cullen would be scowl and turn away, but this was Evie. 

Furthermore, musical talent and dancing passed over him and only blessed his brother and sisters.  Rosalie and Branson could dance and sing to anything, while Mia taught each siblings the needed steps for an autumn festival or Satinalia gathering.  Yes, Cullen had been a part of the Order’s academy choir, but no one here knew that!  His eldest sister gave up teaching Cullen after the young boy broke her big toe a third time. 

In the templar academy, the recruits went dancing at local pubs on free evenings, while Cullen preferred to stay in and study.  Even the knight masters remarked that templars attended balls regularly at noble manors as a way to make connections and rise through the ranks.  So, such nights will become his norm depending on future rank.  Cullen just decided to decline such offers, wanting to avoid such pompous people and affairs. 

But, this was Evie!

Despite his shaking head, Evie just stood with her hands on her hips waiting for him to join.  Cullen tried to back into the crowd, but two Rivaini hands landed on his broad shoulders.  The knight whipped his head around to see Hemmingway close by.  “The fact that she had to ask you and wait might reward your penis as tomorrow’s shark chum, Templar.”  The Fereldan’s amber eyes flicked to the shadowy corner had been avoiding.  A single throwing knife glinted in the candlelight, waiting to meet his skull.

Cullen quickly stepped forward, stumbling into Evie.  The whole pub whistled and cheer as Cullen’s calloused hands met Evie’s soft leather gloves.  The sheer terror must have been written across his face because Evie leaned forward.  The scent of oranges, cloves, and sea salt washed over him.  He unconsciously stepped closer, intoxicated by the smell.  So close to her, Cullen could see faint freckles across her cheekbones and nose.  Her auburn bangs stuck to her temples from dancing.  “There’s nothing to fear!”  She yelled over the chapping and music.  “They like you!”

Apparently, this maiden was not that observant.

“I-I don’t know h-how to dance!”  Cullen admitted, covering his mouth instantly.  Why did he just blurt that out!?  She will surely mock and push him away!

Instead of shying away, Evie’s bright eyes shimmers and a full smile graced her face.  “You know how to fight, right?”

“Of course!”  His baritone voice confirmed confidently.  They both knew he was not boasting either.  She commented such skills while watching him train the last few days.

“It’s just like sparring.  Offense and defense.  React to everything I do and show me how to react to your movements.”  Evie explained clearly.  She stepped away and held up her skirts showing her laced boots.  “If I step forward, what would you-“

Cullen stepped back defensively.

“And if I circle…?”

Cullen followed.  “But we aren’t-“  Holding hands.  Maker, he wanted to be close to her again.  Her fragrance made him yearn and crave more worse than lyrium.  He wished to feel her hair slide through his fingers and following her jaw to her neck and towards her covered breasts hidden under her damp tunic.  His hands hovered in the air.  Evie grasped them tightly.  However, she placed one on her curving hips defined by the skirt’s corset that perking her covered breast nearly into his face.  He visibly gulped waiting for the throwing knife in the spine.  He will definitely lock his door tonight and sleep with his longsword under his pillow.

“One, two, three…!”  Evie counted while nodding to the beat. 

Reacting, Cullen followed the enchanting woman’s movements like if they were sparring.  His feet missed hers, strong and ready like in a sword battle.  His arms worked with her hips like he was swiping at a dummy.  His whole body moved like a templar training session, but in a fun and easy way.  He felt himself lift off the ground because there was not the weight of his armor and gear keeping him lumbered.  In many ways, he was thankful for the lack of metal shell, feeling Evie’s cut muscles under her clothing.  They spun like a waltzing spar, their hips nudging one another with each step. 

The more the Fereldan moved in sync with this beautiful young woman, the greater the smile spread across his worn face.  Gone was the worry and hatred of himself and all that he had been through.  In Evie’s exciting presence, Cullen was alive again and enjoying the life he damned each night before falling asleep.  For the first time in nearly two years, he felt happy and alive, that life was not just about his duty and keeping the world safe from magic. 

With Evie so close, he could feel her beating heart against his chest.  Hers thumped with his own, even has he spun her outward and back against his body.  No longer did he fear he might step on her toes or make a fool out of himself.  All that matter was this amazing and interesting woman who took it upon herself to save this broken man and show him her world.  What made this experience all the more amazing was that his lyrium brand did not burn or twitch throughout his body, finally at peace over his heart to enjoy himself.

As the tune slowed and ended, Evie leaned against him and whispered over the cheers, “Dip me!”  Cullen freaked, too afraid he will drop her.  “I’m your shield!”  She added, continuing with her sparring lesson.  With one last turn around the makeshift dance floor, he swirled her away and back before draping her bent over his left arm.  Her spine popped against his forearm as she bent like a pretzel and kick her one leg in the air.

Cheers and applause roared throughout the tavern, blotting out the pouring rain and thunder threatening outside.  Cullen could not hear any of the surrounding environment, his attention laid in the maiden draped over his arm, her chest gasping with each airy breath.  They were alone in his mind, so close but so far away.  She slowly brought her brown eyes to match his, twinkling chocolate to the point Cullen wish to try their specific sweetness again and again.  Throughout their activities, her covering tunic scoop exposed her breasts, showing the swell produced by her corset.  How the knight kept himself from kissing her, only the Maker knows.

A new sound echoed in the gathered clapping and whistle, one Cullen had not heard in all his memories.  The tone seemed foreign and owned by someone else.  Yet, he knew it as his own, one he never imagined the knight would make again.

He genuinely laughed!

Chapter Text

“We’re running out of time.”  Bann Ian concluded, looking out his massive office window.  His wife of nearly twenty years sat among her tiger lilies, picking out weeds and smelling the newly opened flowers.

Evie kept her chocolate brown eyes on the parchment, not reading it but knew exactly what the report entailed.  Her hands trembled grasping the letter like a vise squeezing her neck.  The implications of its contents might has well be a torture device.  She had no solution to the issue. 

“We still have time.”  The hunched over maiden added, her eyes dulled.  “Has the other potential targets been secured?”  Her voice turned strong and angered.  She wanted to rage at the world, but it would do no good.

“Yes, with sufficient money and goods.”  Her father did not act like her relative, but the sneaky businessmen who had people work in the shadows to protect everything he cared about.  “With the land tainted mostly west, it is unlikely the targets will be endangered, but if things continue to sour, we…we must prepare for the worst.”

“ ‘Act rational in the moment, but always prepare for the worst.  To do so is to be ready for all possibilities.’ ”  Evie quoted her father from her childhood life lessons.  She was excellent about thinking of the worst outcome because her life was filled with such moments.  It changed her psychologically, emotionally, and physically.  This situation was no different…but now included people close to Evie’s heart.  She might have never met the people her family now protected from afar, but she saw them as her own kin.

How did this get so out of hand…?

“You know the only solution to it all.”  Bann Ian directed, his grey swirling eyes meeting his daughters.  They softened, almost pleading the Maker it was not so.

“And you know what that all entails.”  Evie bit back, rubbing her shoulder with her free hand.  She crumpled the parchment and threw the paper ball into the nearby fire hearth.  “We were already in a hellish situation, and now those cretins do these monstrous things just to avoid my future!  All my people’s futures!  Am I so filthy in their eyes that they attempt to murder innocent lives who don’t even know our existence?!”

“It is being done to show what mages can become.  Want you can become.”  Ian reminded his pacing daughter.  He felt her magic swirl around her, but knew the wards hidden under the wall paintings will keep everyone nearby none the wiser.  “The corruption in all sacred places has grown to these actions.  You are just an example, a personal vendetta, before they march and destroy the decaying orders.  We and our associates fight this chaos to avoid a war based on lies, abuse, blind faith, and addiction!”

Ian stepped around the desk and grasped his daughter when she paced by.  He held her biceps, almost hugging Evie tightly, but could only approach so far because of the ashes and heat radiating off her body.  “You stand defiant despite all the chaos.  They searched as we searched from that man.  There no hiding his existence after that Circle’s bloody fall.  All of this has been a race against time.  Now, the home stretch is near.”

“I don’t even know him!”  Evie cried, ripping herself from her parent.  She rubbed her shoulder again and again, the sleeves of her dress riding up and exposing her sun-kissed olive skin.  “Yet, I do!  Father, when he finds out the truth, it will be all over!  His hatred is deep and for very good reason!  How am supposed to change his mind when we practically caged him on this isle?  I am supposed to seduce him when I knew a single touch will make him either stab me or run away in fright.  You know nothing of the trauma he suffered.  You can have all the spies send you everything written down or seen, but you will never know the experience!”

Bann Ian’s right cheek twitched, watching as his daughter hollered at the pressure to complete everything to save herself, her family, and those outside their realm of influence.  Ian never meant her to become the model of mage possibilities, but over the years, she fell into this role and carried it willingly.  Now, the weight is buckling her spine until she might crumble and fail.

“You have kept those secrets…”  Ian spoke with a low bass lilt.  “Admirable, though buckling.  You do not know what we witnessed though or what we imagined what was happening.  I respect your silence, but it does not change the task at hand.”  He slowly approached the window again, his hand touching one of the wooden bracers keeping the glass planes in place.  In the distance he witnessed the topic of discussion whacking away at a straw dummy, rubbing his forearm slowly healing after the shipwreck. “Tell me the connections, Evelyn.”

The falling tears shifted to a mute dull expression.  Evie never wiped away the tears, while the magic ash slowly disappeared.  She mechanically walked over to a wooden chair in front of the desk.  She shifted her linen skirts and sat like a perfect lady with a straight back and imaginary five books on her head.

“The Level Senses of Bond Connections…”  The maiden sounded technical and book read.  Information stated within those books will be forever burned into her memory.  “Level One:  Sixth Sense, the ability to reach out and know which compass direction the future bond resides.  It is open minded, an inner sight that allows the bonds to reach one another’s dreams, making their existence known.  In this currently discussed case, no known deliberate dream contact has been made currently due to multiple mental barriers.  However, the sixth sense allows transference of experience, emotions, and indirect magic contact.  Suspected long-term connection has been suggested since participants witnessed major life events before even drinking lyrium, a possibility depending the strength of the bond.”

Evie finally rose her deep brown eyes, watching her listening father studying the garden’s occupants closely.  “Level Two:  Sight, the outcome of the six sense bringing the bonds to the same area.  ‘Love at First Sight’ has occurred in many bonds.  Sight is considered the precursor of all other sense levels, inducing a quick bonding practice.  Due to the circumstances leading to this particular bonded reunion, it is not surprising emotional draw was not invoked completely.  This person has theories that hiding magical connection during the first meeting likely broke this possibility, but does not mean when the knowledge occurs it will not cause a….reaction.”

The maiden hated how she had to analyze this whole process, but her father knew this was only way to process what was wrong, what needed to happen, and discover a solution.  Hearing the words spoken in her own voice allowed Evie to rationalize and approach the problem with a clear mind rather than allow the warring emotions from her potential bond and herself from mudding the waters.  She had made mistakes in the past because she jumped head first into an issue, driven by her short-temper and longing to help.

Still, to repeat those analytical texts, her one of few references for the original purpose of bonds, royally pissed her off in a different way.  Evie allowed her voice to turn stern to demonstrate her annoyance.  “Level Sense Three:  Smell, a sensory connect usually occurring at the same time as sight, but requires the bonds to be very close to occur…”

Evie had not been prepared for impact of smell on her whole world.  While they had walked close together the last few days, it was only when they danced at the tavern the night before did she truly breathe his scent.  Cullen’s was mind-blowingly fantastic.  The sea spray barely hid his elderflower and oakmoss musk, two commonly used herbs in muscle aches and pain salves. 

Evie and her mother practiced apothecary medicines together, a way to bond between the former governess and mage daughter.  Lady Gwen loved plants and Evie enjoyed discovering their alchemic properties.  The duo created new soaps and ointments for their guards, sailors, and healers on the isle, and later inventing their own that they began producing for larger markets.

It should not have shocked Evie that Cullen used such mixtures.  She wished she had thought about offering her supply instead of the isle’s healers indirectly giving him the salves.  She watched him practice and never considered he would be achy and worn, especially since recovering from the shipwreck. 

It was easy now to think about all the smells after nearly burying her face into his vest and tunic after their long jig.  For a sore ankle still mending, Cullen kept up with her.  He did not need his cane on their village walk, a testament to his perseverance and need to be ready for everything.

The mage assumed it was the other scents that made her think like a fool and not for his condition.  Campfire smoke, lavender, and sage danced in her nostrils once he stepped into the dancing ring and grasped her gloved hands.  His amber eyes showed panic and embarrassment, but something passed over his face that made him melt and she in turn.  This is why the texts and other bonds stated smell was one of the most powerful of all the sense levels.  She could guess the smoke came from the torches and random fireplaces throughout the manor. 

However, Evie knew exactly where the lavender and sage originated.  After waking so many nights with her own nightmares, she made sure Fesill had lavender tea delivered to Cullen’s bedroom every night before he retired.  The first two nights he did not use the offering, but after the third night, he stated he slept well and rested.  His tea cup was empty.  He began asking for a larger cup or a second tea cup because he enjoyed the nightly bedtime ritual.  When Fesill told Evie, she sighed in relief, thankful she could ease his pains and suffering somehow.

The sage continued as another alchemic gesture Evie sent with Cullen’s assigned foot boy, Jim.  The humid Waking Sea air kept his unruly blond curls puffy and unmanageable.  They would slip over his face to only pull the curls apart and fluff them higher.  Even with his shorter haircut, the curls continued to be the bane of his existence.

Sympathetic to such hair troubles, Evie sent over a special hair tonic she devised for Esme once the young boy shifted into adolescence.  Evie only inherited a slight kink to her hair, waves of auburn that reflected more her mother than her father’s twisted red coarse hairs.   However, Esme matched their father.  The first time a cousin teased him about his coarse wild curls, Evie began researching products to help.

Evidently, Cullen found great use for he used a great deal of tonic in his twisting hair.  His curls remained twirling around his temple and neck, but he no longer cursed their existence while walking outside or arriving at dinner with the family.  He acted like he needed to impress everyone.  Evie found him handsome with and without his curls.  It was becoming quite apparent she did not mind him in any way, shape, or form, even old and bald as her brother joked in private.

Still, the combination of all his scents, along with a mystery aroma that Evie could only describe as male—not just any man either, Cullen male—nearly sent her whole body trembling.  She died to rip off her gloves and touch him with her bare hands.  She could not do so there surrounded by people who did and did not know her secret.  Instead, she just directed his hand to her hip and squeezed his other hand tightly.

“Sense Four:  Sound…”  Evie wisped, her mind still planted in the past.  “Every person gives off a sound either by voice or deep inside.  In this study, sound was the first connection with the sixth sense.  There is something about their voice or soul that calls to one another, especially twin souls or flames.  Across the Fade, awake or dreaming, they can hear it and respond in turn.  However, the first time a pair hear a specific sound ignites the most basic need to be in one another’s presence.  It is the driving force combined with sight and smell that fuels the later levels.”

Evie heard Cullen first before any other sense, demonstrating the listed sense levels were subjective and could occur out of order sometimes.  Even when she did not know she was a mage or he would becoming her potential bond, she heard his piano over the breath of the Fade.  It always occurred with her violin, waltzing in song together like no other composition.  One late night as a very young girl, she sat at the music room piano and began to replicate the piano inside her soul.  Apparently, the beautiful music awoke the house.  Many servants called her a prodigy, but she just explained it was what she heard.

It was not until her magic manifested that her father discovered this musical connection with a violin and piano were open expressions of her special bond with still Fereldan farm boy.  In those long days, the nobleman had to decide what to do with his magical daughter and how rare her potential bond actually was.  Even if she did not have the brand from her harrowing’s lyrium, the connection had been established and could be potentially be taken away.

There was no way to block the piano.  To do so would be blocking Evie’s violin as well, her connection to practice and learn her inferno magic.  Instead, her teachers taught her mediation and mental exercises to block the bond from her dreams and emotions.  Evie hated doing it, but after learning what happened to discovered mages, she realized she had little choice.

The maiden always wondered what would have happened if Cullen never became a templar or seeker.  Everyone seem sure he would because of their deep connection.  You are a twin flame, child, her old Rivaini magical seer told her.  Your spirit or spirits have been connected time and time again throughout the ages.  Spirits are knots in the Fade, while Souls are thread and needle sowing a great tapestry throughout the Veil.  Some spirits and souls cross again and again, their lives and death so strong they will never go to meet the Maker.  The Maker recognizes this and the importance of such souls that he blesses them and strengthens such bonds.  People don’t realize it, but we wish for our previous life achievements in every new life.  You were likely a mage in the previous lives, while your bond is a knight then and now.  Esme’s teasing as “your dashing knight” came from this explanation.  Even before Cullen took his Vigil, Esme only called this mystery man such a name.

No matter this history, Evie knew the true sound connection occurred last night, at least for her.  When the guitars wound down and ended the duet, Cullen did as she requested and dipped her low, nearly touching her hair against the hardwood.  He held her close for a few moments.  Time frozen around her.  She heard no whistles or clapping, only feeling of his beer-touched breath on her cheeks.  Her eyes finally analyzed the new scar on his upper lip.  The healers took out the stitches, satisfied he healed well—with her indirect magic too.  Somehow, she avoided leaning up and rubbing her nose against his.  Only his pull upward yanked her from her deep study of Cullen’s chisel and strong facial features.

Then Evie heard it.  Her heart jumped into her throat.  The air in her lungs exhaled and left her breathless.  She knew she blushed hearing that deep rich sound.  There will never be anything else that will be as so filling and craving to hear again. 

Cullen laughed.  

 His muscular chest jumped with each chuckle, shocking him as it was for her ears.  The smile beaming across his face linked with the richness.  Evie vowed in that moment she will make him laugh every moment possible.  She knew the reaction was rare for him after so many life defeats, but she made it her life’s mission.

That was why she hated Level Five now.

“Level Five:  Touch, the first physical contact between potential bonds.  Any unknown information between potential bonds will be revealed once skin-to-skin contact occurs.  This is the most basic level of physical bond connection, usually suffice for the Chantry to call a pair bonded.  Any barriers utilized to block dreams, thoughts, or emotions are typically destroyed, although that does not mean bonds are in sync.  Seeing, smell, and sound through one another can occur, if willed enough.  This is why touch in so important in Circles, all the better to spy on the bonded mage and their associates.  Most mages practicing blood magic are found through such matters.  Typically in Circles, bonds begin sparring and practicing together, although most spells and negations occur as reactionary rather than knowing their bond’s full abilities.  The quicker bonds sync, the more likely control over one can occur.  The Chantry always under-prepares the mage on what to expect and over-prepares the templar so today’s bonds are more dominance and submission, not a partnership.”

“Despite being so sure of yourself, you still keep your hands, legs, and arms covered.”  Bann Ian remarked without turning her direction.  Evie instantly rubbed her linen gloved hands together.  She pulled down her sleeves.  “You are delaying the inevitable, my daughter.”

Evie avoided telling her father her dread of breaking this lie-based friendship she formed with Cullen.  Instead, she remarked, “No, I wish him to see me as me, not learn my entire life by touching my skin.  Most templars just grab their potential bonds by the wrist to create the initial physical connection, not even caring who their mage bond is.”  Evie spat with a twitching lip.  “Touching anyone in any way, shape, or form without their consent is wrong, especially when the mage is tricked into the room with the templar.  Yes, they might be aware they are meeting their bond, but not if there are more negating runes in the walls than most Harrowing Chambers.”

“He will learn one way or another, Evelyn.”  Her father stated so matter of factly.  “If not by touch, you better tell him yourself before something slips.”  He placed his hands behind his back.  “Continue.”

“None of the rest matters right now.”  Evie squirmed in her chair, disliking her father wanting to continue the lesson.

“You are keeping yourself narrow-minded.  It does nothing for you or him.”  Bann Ian’s grey eyes drilled into his daughter’s hanging head.  “It is better to face it now than be unprepared and caught unaware.”

“Fucking shit biscuits…”  Evie cursed, throwing herself standing again.  “Fine.  Level Six:  Taste, typically the first kiss shared between bonds.  If in a Circle, the only way mages and templars advance in rank is if their bond connection strengthens.  In most cases, such intimate acts occur without both consents, which I plan to fucking light his ass on fire if he even tries.  I am still a noblewoman who requires modesty and respect to occur!”

“I wish it could be that way, Evelyn…”  Bann Ian sighed, hanging his head.  “I wish you could control your own life and life partner, not shoehorned into a relationship with man none of us truly know.  I don’t care of his or her status or origins just as long as your future mate treats you well.  I know more than anyone knows what marrying for love over status and title entails, and I will do all that heartache and pain again and again to be with your mother each day.”  By his softness, Evie knew he was watching her mother in the gardens again.

“Then why did you not buck expectations the first time?”  Evie snipped, knowing the answer but pointing out why time was against them at all was his fault.

The single grunt told Evie she irked the man.  “Life was different in this house backed then.  I was still the spare, while my brother’s chosen bride was his true love from Antiva, a wealthy merchant’s first born daughter.”  His grey eyes drilled into Evie’s critical gaze.  “You did not wander this house wondering when your father’s lyrium-crazed mind might reward you will a sword or arrow in your throat.  You did not have to watch your mother, the noblewoman passed over time and time again because that lyrium connected that lunatic to his true mage love.  My mother shared her bed with her husband’s mage bond, but was the only one allowed to carry his child.  Then that mage jumped from the cliffs once the lyrium craziness became too much.  Days later, my father nearly kills his children and sister before being pushed to his death.  But his sword did find a target in my noble mother.  My mother was innocent of everything but still forced to live by the rules and customs established by the Chantry.  If my father could have married and father children with his bond, my mother would have been in a marriage she wished instead of forced to marry my father to end her family’s debt created by my own grandfather, your great grandfather.  Then Rian’s father died, Rian joins the templars like my foolish father, and then…”

“…Say it, Father.”  Evie spat, waiting for her father to say what all the Trevelyans called her.  The Blight, cursed, blemish on the house, a cancer to their perfect existence…

“…and you were destined to be that ‘other woman’, to never marry or have a family of your own just because you summon magic.”  Bann Ian corrected his daughter, pacing up to her and hugging her tightly.  “I could not do it.  I could not have you and some templar’s wife live in a hellish relationship neither chose for themselves.  I hid you away when I just wanted to show you to everyone.  Your talents, creativity, and beautiful personality…  I would not change that I had to marry that wretched woman first if it meant I would meet your mother, then later marry her—my love—and conceive you.”  There were tears in his voice, buried into her shoulder while he squeezed her close.

Evie kept in her own threatening tears.  “You could have not touched her…not bring forth…”  Evie’s chocolate eyes glanced up at the family portrait above the mantle.  Icy blue eyes glared back at her.

Bann Ian leaned back, wiping his embroidered handkerchief across his high cheekbones to remove any signs of emotion.  “They might call you my greatest sin, but no.  We both know what is the true blight on this family.”  Once his small tears were gone, he tucked the fabric into his breast pocket.  “But that will not be a problem once the levels occur, especially the last.”  Evie hugged herself, blushing and scared all at once.  “I wish there another way, but only a full bond will only protect you, him, and everyone caught up in this stupid practice.  It will be your choice.  Nothing can make bonds complete the process without consent.  Both bonds die if either feels forced.  Even in the Circle, you have that choice over your mind, body, and soul.”

“Is this actually a choice though?”  Evie whispered, staring at the fireplace flames dancing beside her.  “You said yourself only a full bond between Cullen and I will protect everyone.  That’s…that’s a great deal of pressure for something so intimate.”

“I know.  It is reserved for marriage and no other instance.  You are a noble lady, who should have control over such instances.  You do though, more than my mother and other noblewomen who are matched for political and economic reasons.  I had no choice in marrying that wretched Orlesian woman because ‘such a union will cement House Trevelyan’s power for generations’ as my father lied on my wedding day.  After he and that horrible woman died, for the first time, I could finally choose.”  Bann Ian laid his hand on Evie’s branded shoulder.  “You have the choice if it happens or not.”

“So does he.”

“Yet, you avoid coming clean even now, covering your skin and not telling him who and what you truly are inside.  You still block him out in your dreams and emotions.”  Her father pointed out.  “You are taking away his choices as well.”

“He cannot run away and tell the Chantry here.  You made sure of that.  That isn’t giving choices, Father.”

“No,”   The Ostwick man huffed.  “Nature took away that choice.  We are stuck on this isle for another month.  Even though that report states we have even less time, you can still do this.  The alternatives are too tragic.”

"I hate this.”  Evie whimpered, finally allowing a few tears fall from her eyes.

“So do I.”

“I don’t know if we will ever reach Level Seven, Father.”

“There are many more to do first.  Things can change as swiftly as the ocean breeze.  You might wish for it like other twin flames, fall in love, and willingly give yourself.  It is your choice.”

Evie hung her head.  “Yes…because Level Sense Seven:  Consummation, the ultimate connection only can be preferred by both consenting bonds for their mind, body, soul, and heart become one.  In twin flame bonds, only through consummation can the divided soul or souls rejoin and strengthen the bond beyond the world’s physical institutions.  Nothing can stop the bonded pair, only death of both.  To fight a full bonded twin flames pair is to fight an army of millions able to heal, cast, and fight as one.  Only a few such bonds have occurred throughout the ages, all known historically as the greatest and world changing.  King Calenhad Theirin, the first Inquisitor Ameridan, and so many more.  Only a single true twin flame match is born each generation, said to be reincarnated from the last ones, reborn and searching for one another through the Fade and the world, destined to love and bring light to the world’s darkness, just as the Maker loved his bride, Andraste.”

“That is your destiny, Evelyn.”  Bann Ian whispered with heartache.  “I wish it was anything else, but if anyone who can carry such timeless Fade spirit or spirits, it is you.”

Evie took a deep breath.  “Give me one more day, then I will tell him everything.”

Bann Ian eyed her critically.  “One day more might be one too late, my daughter.  I have given by advice.  Only you can continue this crusade to completion…”

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe you never learned how to ride a horse!”  Evie bellowed over her mare before sliding her saddle on the animal’s back.  “Weren’t you born on a farm?!”

Cullen searched his mind for when he mentioned Honnleath, a topic he blocked from his memory after all the pain that occurred during the Blight.  However, he quickly dismissed it, knowing Evie could surmise many things from tidbits of information.  She likely hypothesized his background based on his conversation knowledge and desires to be a templar despite not being of a higher social class and too old to begin training.

“Well…”  The knight rubbed the back of his neck, now raw from the blushing moments while in this woman’s wonderful company.  Since their tavern jig dance two days ago, he has become very nervous in her presence, the urge to smell her scent and hold her close becoming quite unbearable.  The few bells out of her company yesterday when a pressing issue called her away to her father’s office nearly gave him a panic attack.  “I-I mean we did have an old cart horse, but Old Bert was in no condition to carry riders.  His whole life entailed pulling the family cart and towing the plow.”

Evie continued to prepare her horse, tightening the billet strap beneath the animal.  Her Antivan mare, Tequila, was the younger of the two horses they were taking out today.  When Cullen admitted he knew practically nothing about horses and riding at breakfast, Evie nearly jumped out of her chair and placed it upon herself to be his teacher.  House Trevelyan’s whole enterprise began breeding and transporting horses throughout the Free Marches.  We cannot have a guest stay here and not enjoy horseback riding, she exclaimed like Cullen’s admission broken every Trevelyan rule known to man.  Esme slightly added that most of that business conducted including stealing Imperium steeds and selling them to rebelling former slaves and Alamarri fighting for independence.  Evidently, House Trevelyan’s dealings originated giving Tevinter the middle finger and sailing away laughing.

The knight expected Bann Ian to confirm or deny the allegation.  Instead, those grey swirling eyes bore deep into Cullen, watching his every move.  Something happened in the last few days that intensified the man’s glare, which Cullen considered a feat.  Did the bann discover their conduct at the tavern?  Did Evie’s bodyguards or townspeople tell the nobleman how the templar held his daughter and swooned in her presence?  Or was it the fact both templar and daughter arrived back in the manor soaked to the bone and smelling of alcohol and sweat so late neither could see through the summer darkness?

Cullen could not tell, but he also did not really care what this father thought now.  Somewhere deep in Cullen’s soul, Evie wiggled in and relit a flame Cullen thought dead long ago.  Hearing himself laugh brought a joy he thought not possible. 

What was more inspiring was Evie’s expressions.  Following their dance and wandering home, she hung onto his shirt, mouth gapping and blushing so beautifully that he physical ached not to hold her any closer than was socially appropriate.  Her chocolate eyes glistened and searched his face.  Most of all, her hand landed over his heart.  Cullen knew she felt it racing.  The lyrium brand warmed his sweaty skin with a soothing effect he never knew possible from the vile tattoo.

No, Cullen, it was wishful thinking.  There was no way the maiden’s looks and actions were not of care and yearning like his.  Evie would never want to be with such a damaged and blemished individual.  She was a noble lady who deserved the love of a man complete and financially providing.  The templar could do neither thing, forever darkened by his past.  He chose to marry his duty, the Templar Order.  In a month’s time, he will gone and she will continue her life and find someone else to bring blush to her high cheekbones and a gentle smile that constantly swooned Cullen.

Oh, Cullen knew when that moment comes, a part of him will die again without her company.

You like her, the Fereldan’s broken mind wisped barely audible through the screams and hells bolted behind his mental door.  The ache brought by this unbelievable admission cause Cullen to squeeze his amber eyes shut and push it back underneath that chained purple door.  That means he could feel, and there was no way he could allow that.  He was a fool to reduce his lyrium intake a week ago, desiring to feel.  Now, Cullen paid the price.

The young templar dreamed about this beautiful maiden last night.  The lyrium dosage barred the Kinloch nightmare.  Instead, that beautiful familiar violin melody drew him towards the Fade’s representation of the Trevelyan manor’s music room.  There Evie was again, playing her violin and dancing around and around, her flowy chiffon skirt like white ship sails catching the breeze.  Her auburn waves laid across her shoulders and down her back.  They were long, only her bangs laid shorter and cupped her cheeks. 

Instinctly, Cullen wandered to the available grand piano and sat down.  He never had been musical inclined.  Although, he did sang in the templar academy choir and enjoyed performing at Satinalia services at Denerim’s main cathedral.  He opened his mouth to sing instead tried to tap the keys, but instead of his voice, piano chords echoed from his lips and fingers.  His song transformed into a piano harmony.

The sudden duet pulled Evie away from her playing and dance; shock and panic written across her face much like the first time he witnessed her performance.  It was his dream.  Why would she act so when all he wanted to be in her presence, harmonize with her enchanting sound?  She stepped forward and leaned over, her breath so close to his flushed and confused face.  She whispered, “Not yet.  Forgive me, young templar.  Please…wake up, my Lion.”

Cullen bolted forward in bed, panting and searched everywhere.  It took him a few minutes to remember where he laid his head.  The reminders he placed the room blocking out his anxiety that he might be in Kinloch Hold again.  The orange bloom of lilies, the empty tall tea cup of lavender tea that now was a nightly routine, and an ripe orange with cloves impaled throughout its peel told Cullen he was safe and alive.

The knight could not fall back asleep.  He feared what might wait there.  Dream Evie twisted in his mind, no explanation of how and why she refused his company.  It bothered him more than it should allow.  It was his dreamscape.  All the while, his lyrium brand pulsed and twisted against his chest in sync with her aching heart.

In some ways, it was for the best.  The knight could not live with himself if his dreams turned…intimate.  His dreams could imagine her entering her room in only a see-through night shaft.  Each step she would approach, while he laid on the bed nearly naked as the day he was born.  Would she just sit down to lean over his body and kiss his scarred lip or would she be more confident and a straight approach, dropping her gown from her sun-kissed muscular body to show him her virgin intoxicating shape completely.  What could follow afterwards could be…

Maker’s breath, how could Cullen face her in the morning if he dreamed of Evie in such a way?!

“I’m surprised horse-backing riding wasn’t part of your templar training.”  Evie commented, pulling Cullen out of his deep, private thoughts.  His amber eyes searched quickly only to have the maiden pop up beside him.

The lady’s attire that mid-morning ride did nothing to calm Cullen’s attraction and unruly thoughts.  Unlike her previous flowy modest linen dresses, Evie surprised the blushing Cullen dressed in a suede tan and green corset over a medium scooped neck cream blouse.  If she turned in such a way, the swell of breast perked by the corset would send Cullen stuttering like a young adolescent.  Her tan leather and cotton riding pants acted like a second skin to her behind and long legs.  When she began teaching the knight how to equip a horse, she kept bending over instead of kneeling at her knees.  Her curvy bum would just be there begging Cullen grasp with both hands like a barbarian.  To finish the look were knee high leather boots with a bit of heel that likely hugged the stirrups just right to be able to govern the horse and get proper seating on the saddle. 

Cullen was pretty sure the noble lady was not aware of her movements and the impact on Cullen’s whole body.  Since not wearing a dress and petticoat, Evie moved and acted more like a rogue commoner, even more relax and comfortable than any other interaction.  The knight thought this shift probably related with their closer friendship and Cullen did not shun her lack of social skills in his presence.  The templar preferred her like this than acting of her social class.  More of her true personality and mannerism shined through the stuffiness expected from nobility.

“There were stables at the academy, but mostly for the lords’ third sons who joined the Order once they realized they would not see any of their family’s wealth.”  Cullen explained, mimicking Evie’s movements placing the tack on his stallion, a Fereldan Forder with rich black, brown, and white coat.  The red, brown, and black of the animal’s main body reminded the templar of Evie’s eyes in different light, so mysterious and expressive all at once.  “Since the majority of knights are stationed in Circles, it does not make sense to teach everyone how to ride.”

Conflicting emotions crossed Evie’s face so quickly Cullen could not read them fast enough.  “I assume you chose to stay in the Circles then?”

This was the first time they actually discussed Circles and the Templar Order in depth.  From her harsher tones in that beautiful Free Marcher lilt demonstrated she did not like thinking about such institutions.  She attempted to hide it, but as her bodyguards mentioned at the pub, Evie was an open book.

“Templars train for all positions in the Order.  I just happen to prefer studying or exercising than take the minimal opportunities to learn riding when they were offered, a failure on my part.  I just never imagined myself travelling much.”  Cullen admitted, keeping specifics to a minimal.  Evidently, speaking about the Circles made her uncomfortable.  While a part of his life now, Cullen did not want to chase away this woman who was now very comfortable in his presence.

Maybe you should make her run, forget you, you blood disgusting tainted commoner.  Cullen knew his thoughts had a point.  He should not allow them to become so close, especially with his departure following hurricane season.  Alas, he could not bring himself to create distance.  Each time he debated the move, the lyrium brand on his chest burned and twisted his skin like it had a mind of its own.  Maybe it responded to his lighter soul since meeting her.  For the first time in years, he felt semi-relaxed and possibly trusting of another soul.  A counterargument to being distant is that still had another month on this isle.  It would be rude to essentially ignore this woman who wanted to show him around and learn new trades.  It only took just that to shove the doubt away.  Cullen knew his place as she probably knew, but it did not mean it should rule them each bell.

It will just make leaving that much more difficult.

No, when that time approaches, Cullen will open the Pandora’s Box inside his mind and twisted soul and show this fine woman how ugly and rotten he actually was.  He will show her why nothing will keep him from fulfilling his duty:  stopping mages and making sure they all were where then needed to be, in a Circle and watched like the animals they really were.

“That’s a shame.”  Evie lilted, checking the tack buckles before reaching for the saddle and padding for his stallion.  “I long to travel, see the world beyond Ostwick and this isle.”

“Didn’t your mother say you all visited Ferelden in the past?”  Cullen questioned, remembering the short times Lady Gwen mentioned their family travels to his homeland.  She only stopped once Cullen’s answers became short and irritable.  He should be nicer, especially to the lady of the house, who has made sure he felt at home at the manor.

“When I was a child, I did, but mainly to Denerim and Redcliffe.  As we grew older, our focus laid in our education and training.”  Evie explained, handing Cullen his special saddle from the family selection.  The format looked something akin to a warrior’s saddle running into war than her riding seat on her mare.  Evidently, when Evie teaches someone something, she makes sure everything is specific to one’s required task.  “Much like your urge to learn and practice at the academy, my brother and I’s attention shifted to our education and expectations once we entered society.  While I would love to shove manners down some relative’s throats, there are certain expectations of a noble lady’s life.”  She stopped what she was doing and stared Cullen in the eye.  The look she gave could set him on fire.  “I fucking hate it.”

Cullen chuckled instantly, while Evie joined him a few moments later once her point was made.  “Does your parents know about your foul mouth?”

“Where do you think I learned it?  At the pub!?”  Evie laughed, pointing Cullen on where to set the saddle and strap around the stallion’s legs.  “My father, when you hit that trigger point, is a shower of curses so creative I imagine the Divine’s ears burn from Val Royeaux!  My mother, while a calm and gentle woman, has her moments, usually when she can’t find something.  Typically, Esme hides it to avoid his daily duties, which just sends her into all these different languages of cuss words.  I still don’t know where she picked up Anderfel’s ‘So ein Mist!’  I asked her for a translation once, and she just blushed and muttered ‘A pile of manure.’”

Cullen giggling continued, bringing that beautiful redden color to Evie’s cheekbones.  One of these times when she blushes, he will unconsciously reach and touch them and have no excuse for his behavior.  The urge to feel her skin kept him up at night.

Alas, Evie always seemed covered even in the heavy humid late summer heat.  She always wore gloves and kept her sleeves tucked into her bracers.  The only places he witnessed her soft sun-kissed olive skin was her face and neck…well expect her peeking breasts today.  She kept her modesty, while accenting her assets in clothing.  Still, Cullen felt slanted she always kept a barrier between their skins.

Blah, Cullen!  She is a lady.  Such homesome connections were not permitted to such chaste women.  If he touched her, his infection—his ruin—will likely blacken her as it has him.  Cullen wanted nothing to block this ray of sunshine and mirth.  He personally thanked and cursed such barriers. 

It was then Cullen slipped on the soft leather gloves placed with his riding outfit this morning.  Lady Gwen apologized to the templar knight that templar full plate armor made the staff nervous, thus why the replacement templar armor taken from the Trevelyan stores still sat on the armor stand in his guest bedroom.  The lady of the house made sure he had tailored clothing for any event.  Although Cullen had not worn clothing beyond a tunic and breeches for much of his life, he did not feel too constricted in the finery that was his to own and take with him once he leaves.  You lost all in the wreck.  It is the least House Trevelyan can do for you, good man, Lady Gwen remarked once Cullen felt well enough move around the house.  Besides providing clothing and new armor cleaning kits, Lady Gwen made sure at least one meal a day was Fereldan-based and there was at least one Fereldan liquor or ale available for his tastes.  While Cullen had never had half of this fanciness in his homeland, it did remind him of holidays and merrier moments with his family that he long pushed away and buried behind that purple chained door.

Yet today, Lady Gwen outdid herself.  Laid out on his bed was a full leather riding outfit dyed in golds and red like the Fereldan flag.  The leather red jacket could remain half untied and belted to breath, while the draw strings at the sleeves and armpits could be fitted to the person’s choosing.  The newest tunic in his clothing stock contained Avvar and ancient Alamarri designs Cullen only saw in books at his local childhood Chantry or a random ancient statue in the woods.  Evie remarked Lady Gwen loved to embroider and likely searched her library for knots and designs to sew onto his tunics.  His riding pants were double layered in the groin area with snoufleur leather to avoid harm to sensitive regions.  His boots were belted and tied tightly to his calves and feet to avoid directing the animal a wrong direction.  Everything was soft and comfortable, especially around his nearly-healed ankle.  Cullen will likely never own anything this finely constructed again, and he will cherish from this point forward in his templar career.

 A glint of silverite caught Cullen’s eye as Evie assisted Cullen into his saddle and she into her own.  On her hip was an arming sword, while on her back hip belt was a dirk with a strange sapphire.  “Are we expecting trouble?”  His hand naturally fell on his longsword always on his belt loop.

The lady naturally touched her sword hilt, surprised at first that Cullen commented on the weapon.  “Oh!  That’s right.  You’ve never seen me carry my gallowglass sword around.  There are some wild animals on the isle.  Nothing terrible.”  Evie admitted, showing Cullen via hand tugs on the reins how to direct the steeds while mounted.  “My father is fond of bear hunting.  To avoid poachers, he allows brown and grand bears to wander the isle’s forest where we will be heading.  I wanted to show you the islet on the other side.  It is a great sight.”

“Bears?!”  Cullen hollered, eyes wide.  His gloved hand patted his templar shield attached to the saddle.  “And we are only taking swords?  I feel like I should have put on my plate mail.  This leather will not stop their claws.”

“I doubt we will run into them.”  Evie commented like they were talking about rabbits.  “They don’t like the heat that much.  We will just avoid the salmon spawning areas, then we should be good.  We might encounter a pack of wolves or several packs, but they scare easy if you scream just right.  There might be a Dalish hunter around.  She is only a danger if you disturb her hunt, but knowing her, she is probably asleep in a tree.  She prefers to hunt at night anyway.”  She kicked her mare to start into a trot.  “If worse comes to worse, I have a few tricks to keep them all at bay.”

Cullen mimicked the kick, his Fereldan Forder, Griffon, jumping to a trot to catch up.  “No, that doesn’t worry me at all.”

The two riders took their sweet time to the wilderness side of the isle, a downward slope from the high cliffs where the manor sat to the designated islet Evie mentioned before.  She explained that ships were often caught unaware of how many boulders laid under the sea surface at high tide, so there were several old shipwrecks and driftwood to observe by the lighthouse.  Noticing Cullen’s apprehensive expression mentioning shipwrecks, Evie mentioned this was not where his ship met its fate but off shore where a rogue coral reef grew off an old isle since eroded away.

Once the pair reached the forest path, Evie demonstrated where to avoid horse walking and how to govern the animal around obstacles.  She commented he was quick learner.  Griffon and he responded well together.  Typically, the stallion gave riders a hard time if not Evie, but she giggled he must recognize a fellow Fereldan.

The longer they meandered in the forest, Cullen found himself calming down and enjoying himself.  The tall tree shadows cooled the humid air dynamically versus the open fields and gardens around the manor.  All sorts of bird calls and animal noises brought Cullen back to his childhood, wandering around the forest and fields around Honnleath.  Sometimes, he would catch himself thinking he was heading to his favorite lake for a quick dip or reprieve from his siblings.  Alas, the different species of trees or random berry bush would remind him that he was in a more temperate, seaside climate versus the short summers and mountains regions around his once home.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”  Evie mentioned with a meek voice.

The knight jolted his head at the woman, her shoulder slumped and burdened.  “Yes, of course.  What gave you the idea I wasn’t?”

Evie opened her mouth a few times, then pursed her lips.  She rubbed her left shoulder a few times, diverting her eyes elsewhere.  Her expression demonstrated she was in deep thought.  She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and finally smiled.  “You just…had a nostalgic expression that…well…”

Good going, Rutherford!  She caught your brooding over the past.  “Apologies.  I was just thinking about my childhood.”

“I hope good memories.”

They were once such, but more recent events soured such moments.  Alas, Cullen could not tell her that.  Instead, he pushed through the dark thoughts behind that barred door to give at least the appearance of happiness.  “Some great, actually.”  His voice hitched while attempting to sound perky.  Instantly, Evie’s eyebrow jumped upward.  Evidently, he was an open book too.  “I just…”  He rubbed his neck.  “…haven’t thought about my childhood in a long time.”  He sighed.  “The truth is…I lost my parents during the Blight.”

Absolute guilt and sadness blinked across those beautiful high cheekbones.  Her chocolate eyes, randomly brightened by a passing strip of sunlight through the leaves, called out to Cullen like she might jump on his horse and hug him tightly.

You wish, Rutherford.

“I’m- I shouldn’t have pushed…”

Cullen felt confident enough in their horse pace that he ungrasped the reins and waved his hand.  “No, it’s fine.  These woods are similar to the ones around the farm in Honnleath.  There was this lake far away where I would go to get away from my siblings.  I…I don’t know if the site was spared from the infection.  I hope so…”

“You have many siblings?”

“Yes, two sisters and a brother.”

“Three like me.”

Cullen perked a blond eyebrow.  He had heard about Rian and met Esme, but never about a third.  Evie had said when she introduced herself she was the second daughter of Bann Ian.  That blonde woman with that disgusted look on her face flashed across Cullen’s vision.  “A sister, possibly?”  Evie threw him a look, her glare of mistrust and caution evident in her face.  “I noticed the family portrait in your father’s office.”

Evie’s stare lessened, but the caution still remained.  “Right.  That portrait.”  She spat with hunched shoulders.  Her gloved hand continued to rub her left shoulder and bicep.  Each rub pulled her sleeve out of her bracer.  Cullen finally saw the first peeks of her sun-kissed skin and elbow.  Again, she stared at the saddle horn like she could make it catch fire if she focused hard enough. 

“Well,” Cullen felt he needed to bring back that gentle smile, willing to dive into his own past to do so.  He found himself willing to do much for this lady riding beside him.  Strange since no one in the last two years broke his harden exterior formed to protect the fragile and broken boy underneath.  “My siblings were always loud.  I preferred quiet and studying, so I would go to the lake to just think and some reprieve.  Sometimes, I fished or swam.  Other times, I would hide there after chasing the chickens all over the farm with a barrel lid and a broken fence post, my first sword and shield.”  Evie giggled at that remark. 

Keep going, Cullen. 

“They always found me in time and joined in my activities.  At one point, I spent days practicing chess by myself after long matches with my sister.  Mia always got this smug look on her face every time she won, which was all the time.  Branson and I practiced for weeks once to finally beat her.  When he would get tired of it, I brought the chess set to the lake and strategized.  The look on her face when I finally won…”  He allowed his smug baritone accent to echo throughout the forest thinking about such time.

“You never mentioned playing chess before.”  Evie commented, engrossed in his story.

“I haven’t played in years, not since I left home.”  Cullen sang with a deep sigh.  “Apparently, such games are not preferred in the academy or in the barracks.  Most of the templars betted their wages on Diamondback or Wicked Grace.”

“Not even the mages played?”

Innocent Evie.  She did not understand templars and mages could not socialize, the important barrier between the watched and watchers must always be in place.  Yet, Cullen did not feel like he wanted to discuss Circle dynamics at the moment.  After her sour expression and sadness in the stables, he really did not want to break her mindset.  She would have never been a great templar, skilled in swordsmanship and educated otherwise but too soft on those creatures.

“Do you play chess?”  Cullen asked, acting like he never heard her question.

Evie pursed her lips, her stare resuming on her saddle horn.  “It was part of my Trevelyan studies.  Father taught Rian after his parents’ death, a way to distract the young man from the grief.  It only reinforced his desire to find their killers.  When that fell through, he stole a horse and raced to Ostwick’s Grand Cleric and dedicated his life to the templars.  He is an excellent chess player, a challenge against my father.  When Rian went to the White Spire for training, Father taught me in hopes to teach me strategy and think before my temper got out of control.  I’m not very good and am a horrible sour loser.  Very competitive.  However,” Her lips smirked at Cullen.  “I’m willing to play a few rounds against you.  Possibly bet on the game.  Nothing like gamble, but stories.  I enjoy hearing about yourself.”  Evie blushed and pursed her lips.  Cullen grinned to himself, glancing around the woods for danger.  She took a few moments, but Evie cleared her throat before continuing with her thoughts.  “It also might be a good idea to challenge my father since Esme isn’t fond of the game.”

The templar laughed and quickly shook his head.  “I don’t think that’s wise.  Your father demonstrated enough over the last week I am his least liked person.”

“You mean his stolid expression?”

“No, the glares he keeps sending my directions.”

Evie took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving the saddle horn again.  Still, she trusted her mount enough to govern herself through the forest bushes and out into an open field.  In the distance, Cullen could hear the crushing low tide waves batting against wooden and stone objects.  They must be close.

“Those glares aren’t at you, that I swear, Cullen.”  Her voice was muted and dead like someone blew out her internal candlelight.  With a small tug, she slowed Tequila, happy that they reached a proper place to dismount.  Yet, she remained seated, never moving.

“Did something happen?”

Evie whipped her head at Cullen, her long ponytail with different smaller braids hanging out the back smacked her exposed left arm.  “Why do you think that?”  Her voice wavered like she was scared and cautious.

“You haven’t been smiling—truly smiling—today.  You said after meeting your father yesterday you would return and possibly spar, but I didn’t see you until dinner.”  Cullen’s amber gaze studied her every move.  She started to shake, while she refused to meet his concerned whiskey eyes.  “Did something happen?”

Evie shrunk into herself.  Her rubbing became constant, an unconscious tick she was not even aware exposed her entire arm now.  “A…a recurring problem that won’t go away.”

Cullen felt comfortable enough to dismount his stallion alone, hopping off.  Once his boots crunched under the tall grass, he pulled off his leather gloves.  His palms kept sweating in the heat and gripping the reins so tightly.  Griffon began munching on the nearby grass.  Tucking the gloves into his sword belt loops, he wandered towards the still mounted Evie.  “Anything I can help with?”

Her chocolate eyes just stared into nothing, her personal shoulder massaging slowing.  “Not…at the moment.  It is my problem, one I have had since childhood.”

Now by her left leg, Cullen reached upward and offered his naked hand.  “Just know I am here.  I know we haven’t know each other long, but I hope you can trust me.”

Evie’s chocolate eyes met his whiskey orbs, her mouth open.   “The question is, do you trust me?”  She laid her left gloved hand into his offered palm.  She swung her leg over the saddle, staying seated for a few moments, searching his face.  Her left foot remained in the stirrup like she could kick Tequila into a run to get away from Cullen.

Why did she this beautiful woman feel she needed to question Cullen with such a simple question?  Evie had and continued to be the only person Cullen wanted to be around.  She listened, laughed, and never shunned him for anything.  Yes, they knew little about each other, but Cullen attributed that to only meeting officially only days ago.  She saved his life from a hurricane that almost drowned him.  She introduced him to enchanting and fun places.  This maiden opened her world to him so easily, and she asked if he could trust her?!

You really like her.

Cullen could not deny it now, seeing how scared and timid she was asking such a question.  She really wanted Cullen to like her.  It was easy to when she opened herself so much to him, a practical stranger.  Had she been burned by others in the past?  Was it that glaring blonde woman who made her shrink within and question if someone so low of class, abilities, and trouble might deny her?

Cullen just smirked up at Evie, stepping back so she could slip from the leather saddle.  Evie began to fall away, but her foot remained on the stirrup.  She stumbled for a moment when her boot refused to break form the stirrup instantly, tumbling into Cullen’s chest.  Cloves and oranges filled Cullen’s nose, while those chocolate brown eyes drew him into her soul, her heart.  “You haven’t-“ He loosen his grip on her hand, naturally following his hand up her uncovered left forearm to-

"-MAGE!”

Chapter Text

It all happen in a blink, but felt like a lifetime.  One breathe to the next occurred to slowly to demonstrate the speed, but Cullen felt like he was moving through time and space at a wandering pace on a very specific path that alighted his whole sensory system.  His world was his own, but not…?

In that slowed seconds, Cullen was not sure which senses to focus his full attention on.  On one hand—literally—he felt the softest skin and fine hairs, much like a baby bottom just a few weeks old.  It felt like satin weave, cooling to his callused fingertips, but somehow tougher than any expensive silk or woven cashmere knit.  This was just this woman’s arm.  Imagine what more delicate areas across her shapely body might feel under his touch.  Would they too goosebump as her forearm did the first time they touched skin-to-skin?  An urgent need to feel more of this woman’s body enveloped him like a man parched and near death finding an oasis in the desert.

On the other hand, emotions and visions clouded his soul and mind, overriding Cullen’s enjoyment caressing the sun-kissed skin.  The images flickered by like that flip book Rosalie received for her fifth name day.  They past so quickly, but yet Cullen felt he was there, witnessed and experienced each moment in person and felt the same feelings as the person they originated from.

First vision contained a sickly baby, so small some people could hold her close in the palm of their hand.  A mother laid in bed with healers surrounding her.  A spirit healer sealed her womb to stop both the external and internal bleeding.  The head midwife and another healer made sure the baby could breathe on her own, struggling in this new world without fully growing in the womb.  Magic and alchemistic healing save both mother and child.  A worried father vows his home is welcome to all, no matter their social status, magical identification, and vocation.

The flipping shifts.  The now toddler, at most four summers old, sits in front of a roaring fire no one lit.  She cries as her sister has her pet nug piss all over her wooden toys.  The parents arrive, splitting up the fight.  The elder sister blames the toddler for everything before running away.  Cleaning up his daughter, the father ask the nearest attendant who set a fire in that room with no one watching the toddler.  No one admits to lighting the once dormant and soggy logs.

Again, a new scene.  The whole house awakens to the sounds of piano music.  Servants and the steward run to the music room to discover the young girl of six, sitting at the piano and playing as proficient as an Orlesian concert pianist.  Her parents arrive, spellbound by the melody.  Once she completes the tune, the child turns on the bench.  “I heard the music.  Amber music calling out to me.  I wanted to replay it.” She says confidently like it was common for everyone.  Her family believes she is speaking in riddles and ignores the potential signs.  Soon afterward, piano classes are added to the child’s education on top of violin and dancing lessons.  Her rogue skills mix with her dancing for she can only focus when she quote, “moves with the duet.”

Another memory.  Eight years old and the girl stands with her hands over her mouth as tears stream down her cheeks.  Her sister teases her again and again, causing the stable boy the child befriend come from the shadows and throws manure in the sister’s face.  Yet, when the child threw her own poop, a fireball flickers from her fingers.  No one else saw but the children.  The elder sister tells her father, demanding the thing be sent away to the prisons.  The family rushes back to their country home across the sea.  The father already plans on how to handle the situation.

Ten years have passed since the child’s birth, and she grows stronger every day.  The sickly premature infant now a growing young lady is surrounded by teachers and scholars from all walks of life.  Most time is spent on the family isle retreat, reading, studying, and practicing her craft.  Mental and soul-connected walls are being built so her potential connection cannot learn and expose the truth.  Her sister was already sent away, sworn to secrecy on exposition of title and future.  Although, the threat do not shut down her hateful curses and revenge.  All others who meet the talented girl or accidently discovers her secret all swear to hide her dangerous talents.  They all recognize she is unique and special, the music inside her a way of learning magic.  They must keep that “piano” from discovering her identity.

Lyrium sings before her, more potent than any Circle mage’s harrowing dose.  The fourteen year now is turning into a young lady both in nobility and dangerous skill.  The fight against the tempting demons was easy, a test she knew she could pass after so many years of study and focus.  Yet, conspiring family members tainted her lyrium, made it potent and poisonous.  The mixture changes her mana, fueling the deep heat burning inside and expanding the pool in which she may charge her massive casts.  Cullen only sees bright light consuming his vision.

The brand is firmly in place on her shoulder blade, but its rune patterns are obscured from the templar’s vision.  Now, she walks among nobility and commoners alike, no fear of discovery.  Now sixteen, she has bested another templar cousin, lying on the ground with her gallowglass sword nicking his chin.  The grumbling man now swears to same oath as the ones before, sealed in blood.  They can never tell a soul, the same threat and consequence on them as her sister who has not returned home in nearly a decade.  The powerful noble lady walks among people when introduced into society, her magic concealed and controlled.  Yet, Cullen feels her wariness.  They have not found the other connection.  Nearly two years have passed without a clue.  How much longer can she hold this all together alone?  The demons are starving and have picked her as their hopeful prize.

The images flask like lights across his mind’s eye.  Cullen cannot differentiate the feelings and sights to see what they entail, to learn.  They only stop with a splash.  A slender woman jumps into the sea, shouting from her ship is cut short by the thundering waves.  She paddles and swims with all her might.  She uses multiple force pushes through the currents to reach her goal so not to wear out her muscles.  Hang possible discovery.  She must save her query.  The rope around her waist grows taut right as her target is in sight.  A few misses with her gloved hands finally grabs the corpse no longer bubbling breathable air.  She holds him close, pulling on the rope for her crew to pull her back to safety.  The backwards tugs resume again, all the while her eyes burn in the sea.  Her chocolate brown eyes stares at the body she holds so dearly, dread, prayer, and hope all fill her mind and heart.  The urge to pump fresh air into his lung mouth to mouth so strong even under so much water.

Back on deck, the woman pushes away her crew that have laid the young blond man down.  He is not breathing, but his pulse is there, yet not strong.  She wants to tear off her gloves and kiss his lips, knowing the connection will bring him back to life.  No, not like that.  He deserve a choice just as she.  She wants him to know her first before he discovers her secrets.  It take all her willpower not to pump her magic into his body.  She begins to pump his chest instead, smacking her gloved hand and fist against his stubble cheeks.  Her screams can be over heard through the harsh wind and battering sails.  “You will live, damn it!  You will always live as long as I fight for you! This, I swear!”

Cullen jolted backwards out of the flip book memories as a boot kicked into the chest and pushed him away from the horse and rider.  Cullen slid back on his boots, watching the woman dismount her horse and flip in the air.  She landed a few feet from Cullen, ash and flames dancing around her body.  She had not drawn her sword yet, her stance demonstrated she felt threatened and would defend herself if necessary.

“-Mage!”  Cullen bellowed across the field.  His baritone shriek mimicked an alpha lion alerting his pride being ambushed.  He raced to Griffon, already withdrawing his longsword.  His left hand ripped his templar shield from the saddle, sending both horses running away in fright.  Finally feeling fully armed as possible in that moment, Cullen pointed his longsword at the thing standing several feet from his position. “Apostate!”

Everything Cullen felt and experienced towards that monster flew into the sea.  That impossible fear gripped him like a shackles and vises all over his body, waiting to see her cut her arm open and call forth the demons and possession.  He grasped that fear, shoved it down, turning and twisting it in his heart to hatred and duty. 

The knight let his guard down again!  The templar allowed his judgment to be abused again by these creatures.  First, it was that blonde demon that made him think they were all harmless.  Second was his charges spraying his friends’ blood all over the Circle library, laughing and torturing his fellow templars for weeks on end.  Now, it was this apostate acting so sweet and caring when actually she hid her demonic side from a fully trained templar.

It was the templar’s duty to put down this mage.  Chantry decree dictated every discovered mage must be brought to the Circle, imprisoned to protect the innocent and vulnerable.  If they call further blood and demons, his templar duty demanded he must cut it down to save all.  If he fails to do either, he is a failure and risks the populous the same agony he endured in that lone room over a year ago.

“Stand down, Mage!”  Cullen hollered, his shield up in front of him and his longsword ready to strike.  He danced on his feet, slowly approaching the animal like the wild thing it was.

“Is that what you see?”  The thing’s voice still had that Free Marcher lilt, but it deepened.  Its intentions were well known to both, but still it has not used its magic or withdrawn its weapon.  “After all this time, you just push away everything you learned about me and just see a single label?”

“You lied!”  The knight hollered back, approaching another step.  “You withheld your nature, deceiving everyone with your lies and misinformation.  Your family will pay for harboring an apostate.  You made all see your façade without a care what you will do with your curse!  I will bring you in and personally make sure you are given the proper punishment for your deceit!”

The thing perked an auburn eyebrow, understanding immediately what punishment fit the crime.  “I would rather die than become tranquil.”

“That can be easily arranged!”  The templar thundered forward, shield bash summoned with all his stamina.

“Very well.  You templars are all the same.”  The mage fade-stepped through Cullen’s shield bash, reappearing behind him with her gallowglass sword ready to strike him behind.  When the creature passed through him, he felt an icy heat all over his body from the spell.  However, she reappeared before Cullen could smite the bitch.

The knight pivoted in his momentum and easily blocked the sword slash.  He bashed her away into another fade-step, but this time he anticipated it and smited the air around them.  Instantly, its hand grasped the dirk on its hip and summoned a barrier.  Strangely, the smite did not break through.  Cullen’s amber eyes glanced at the end of the dirk.  The sapphire glowed and twisted with its barrier rune.  Depending on the enchantment and its strength, there was no way his templar abilities could break through without needing another draught or becoming vulnerable.  The knight decided he will need to bide his time when it uses the enchanted barrier.  The prickling across his skin told him she used a bit of magic to summon the barrier.  He can wait until he feels the spell end and begin and to disrupt it.

It was Cullen’s turn to be offensive.  He pivoted around the barrier, attempting to swipe its feet.  The mage jumped back, twisted the dirk with the blade forward and used both sword and dagger to block the sword blow to follow. 

The templar never met a mage who fought like a duelist.  All mages relied on staffs and focus stones to conduct their power.  Cullen assumed such limitations were why the apostate had not summoned a spell.  Its magic swirled and sang around the body, but never amounted to anything.

Their battle dance continued throughout the open field.  The apostate dodged and weaved around Cullen’s templar moves, only approaching each other to stab and cut.  It only engaged when he demonstrated an opening in his guard.  The monster primarily stayed defensive like the coward all mages are, but no fear or exhaustion graced in her face or body.  Each movement was planned and easily conducted.  With one sword swipe, the apostate bent over backwards, her head nearly touching the ground.  Cullen swiped air, never making contact even to its breast.

Any offense occurred with elbow punches, swinging kicks, and knee in the gut.  It was evident it trained in physical hand-to-hand combat and swordsmanship.  Cullen felt like he was sparring with a templar rogue than an apostate.

It was only when the mage reached the rocky coast did its tactics change.  Suddenly flames burst from either hand, covering the dirk and gallowglass sword in burning light.  With each armed swipe, it sent two fireballs at Cullen.  Templar instincts kicked in, directing his shield downward and away.  The flames bounced off the shield and scorched the rocks and boulders at his feet.  His left hand reeled in pain, feeling the heat generated in the metal through his riding gloves.

Almost as soon as the fireballs left its weapons, another spell sprang forth with ease at the templar’s feet.  The immolate was smited away, but the explosion blew dust and debris into Cullen’s face.  He spat, while his watering eyes searched for the monster.  What he would give for his helmet and plate mail.

Must stop the creature.

Must serve his Order.

Must protect the innocent!

The templar gripped his betrayal and hatred and lunged forward.  Rocks scattered under his boots as the mage led him out on an outcrop.  Battering waves hit the slimming battlefields.  Both combatants stood nearly a hundred feet in the air.  If either fell from the skinny cliff, every bone in their body will become sawdust against the water impact.

Cullen will do anything to capture or kill this creature!

The apostate sent two more spells at him before flipping over his head to strike with its sword.  While it floated over his head, Cullen saw a pulsing orange light dangling from its neck.  So, it does have a foci stone.  It was not a large one, but enough to control its magical strikes and generate more mana.  Cullen saw his way around all its magic since it never allowed him near enough to purge and silence its whole being.

The knight took his moment.  That distinctive tickled across his arm and the hairs on his Cullen’s neck stuck up, feeling the next spell cast.  Finally!  He purged the next spell forming in its hands.  It stumbled backwards, exposing its back while pivoting, Cullen sword swiped across the left shoulder, cutting like butter through the green and tan suede corset that it attempted to attract its prey just a bell before.  It stepped forward, brought its arming sword its head to block the neck swipe before kneeling and thrusting its dirk towards Cullen’s kidney.  A flaming roar echoed off the rocks as she launched towards the knight. 

The knight was not quick enough.  Although, his defensive step turned him fast enough to protect his vital organs, the dirk’s follow-through cut open his leather jacket and tunic.  A small spray of blood flicked off the dagger blade.  Another blood spatter trickled off the apostate’s left shoulder.  Cullen’s back strike caught more than the mage’s corset it seemed.

Then, it stopped so quickly.  Cullen froze for if he moved the gallowglass blade with cut his entire throat open and all over the monster holding the weapon to his neck.  However, the apostate also knew if it moved as well, the knight hidden boot knife will sever its spinal cord.  Cullen’s templar shield cracked and clanged against the boulders under their feet.  The knight was lucky his quick release to obtain his boot knife did not thrust the kite shield off the high cliffs and into the raging sea.

Cullen panted and felt dizzy, feeling in his weakened muscles and still mending ankle that he used too much lyrium and stamina.  From his minimal abilities, the mage was no better.  Its mana pool still had multiple spells ready, but her body could not escape its possible fate fast enough.

What now, Cullen?  One flick will kill this deceitful bitch, but also end his life.  It seemed the mage concluded the same.

The templar lived to serve.  It was his duty to stop and punish apostates not locked in Circles.  That duty included sacrificing his life to complete the task.  He was trained for such moments since a young man.  The Chantry dictated drastic measures needed to occur against these foul bitches.

Then, those chocolate brown eyes flicked up and met his.  Its panting slowed as those eyes glanced over its own shoulder, puzzled and wondering.  After a few moments, those beautiful orbs wandered down his exposed chest and focused on his left pectoral muscle.

Cullen mimicked the look, but at the beast’s exposed left shoulder specificaly.  Cullen’s whiskey eyes widened.  His breath quickened faster than during their battle.  An over half rune mark laid against sun-kissed olive skin.  The blue circle with golden runes and symbols twisted and glowed like a beacon off that tantalizing satin skin.  Drips of her blood ran through the mark before its textures directed the red liquid out of the way.

He recognized those runes.

The knight spent weeks after his Vigil, learning each letter marking his skin.  Other templars laughed at the young man’s obsession and fascination with the brand imprinted on his chest.  His fingers traced the circles and words until he could do it with his eye shut and in his sleep.

Those nearly same runes and shapes now pulsed and flashed back at him, no mirror required.  The blue rings jarred him a little, expecting the dark red that burned and warmed his chest.  Yet, that Fereldan golden words and symbols told everything Cullen needed to know.  He too had those same words on his flesh.

“You’re…you’re my b-bond!?”

Chapter Text

Evie hated when her father was right.  It happened more often than she cared to admit.  It was like the aging man could see into the future and come back to the present and warn her of impending doom, but still knew he could not change fate.  Evie evidently was quite predictable and stubborn.  She took her father’s advice sometimes, but her hard head typically kept on a track where she will crash a carriage and burn down the entire world when things went to shit.

That was exactly what happened in the quick moments.  As the mage’s chocolate eyes flickered between that brood chest slightly cut by her weapon and those amber disgusted eyes, she knew she royally fucked up.  Any head way she gained for this man not to hate her instantly evaporated with a single touch.  Evie was not exactly surprised by the result, but it did not mean living that moment her hopeful world went up in smoke was any easier.

Evie saw bits of Cullen’s life in that brief touch communication.  Some events she knew herself already like a ghost in his memories while he slept.  Others were… she avoided reflecting on them at the moment.  She had more pressing issues.

One thing was certain.  Cullen’s impression of her and her entire existence rested on single word:  apostate.  He felt the instant shift in his emotions:  that deep fear twisting his soul, hate spilled from his pores to protect himself, and rage against a class of people who caused that grief, wariness, and abuse.  Evie knew that such feelings laid inside the templar, but she thought maybe a few happy days in ignorance might crack that hard exterior and possibly begin healing when he discovered the truth. 

The maiden’s whole plan was to bring the knight to the cliffs and watch the sea, something she enjoyed after discovering some hurtful news.  There, admiring the waves and enjoying the sea breeze cooling their skin as the sun beat down from above, she would tell him the truth.  Evie knew he would react poorly, thus her weapons and advising him to bring his shield.  Maybe—just maybe—these last few days would show she was a person, not just a mage.  She held many titles and being fade-touched was just one of them.

Now, as those whiskey orbs stared at her branded shoulder, piecing together the truth, Evie knew she will never crack through that hate.  His emotions rolled through her heart.  He referred to her as an “it”.  She was not even a person to him, but an inanimate object.  He thought her as something beneath dirt, a blight connected to the same magisters who created the first darkspawn that infected Thedas.

No wonder it was so easy for him to draw his sword and shield.  This knight wanted to personally take her life, either by his blade or placing that sunburst brand upon her forehead.  Evie refused to lose herself—her soul—and be a shell moving a corpse about like an oversized doll.  Yet, this templar would not think twice about branding her, even if-

“You’re…you’re my bond!?”

And there was the worst part.  Her brown eyes met his shocked gaze.  She could read the implications flooding his mind like that sinking ship she saved him from just weeks before.  Those amber eyes connected the pieces together from their friendship.  Evie suspected there were pivotal moments in their interactions that related to his own levels of sense connection.  They matched in his mind as his gapping mouth open and closed, his nostrils flared, and brow wrinkled.

Evie knew her worst nightmare became reality.

The largest surprise occurred during their fight.  The maiden sensed none of Cullen’s actions, only reacted like he was just another knight, not her bond.  Neither person could predict or sync with the other.  Was it because Cullen has not figured out who she truly was to him?  It was a difficult battle only because Evie did not want to harm him, keeping a defensive approach in hopes to talk him down or wear him out.  She used his size against him, while embracing her rogue techniques.  The knight figured out her tactics, a limited barrier enchantment on her dirk and she summoned her magic without a staff by utilizing her teardrop amber foci.

What probably never occurred to Cullen was that Evie only used her magic when they were out of the field and on the rocks.  She led him that way, avoiding catching the swaying grass on fire.  The pasture was an important place where the local residents harvested and fed their animals for the winter months.  During the summer, those same livestock and the Trevelyan horses grazed in the meadow without a care in the world.  She could not allow anything to happen to the land.  She will not be the cause when her people’s livestock starved during the winter or required the residents to buy hay and grass at high prices.

This urge to protect the land and people gave Evie a disadvantage, nearly meeting Cullen’s blade multiple times.  He shield-bashed her many times, her body aching and cursing at her for not healing yet.  He held no mercy, but limited himself.  Templars relied on the plate armor and lyrium supplies.  Cullen had neither on his person.  That will likely change now that there was an apostate in his presence.

Evie waited with trembling hands to what the knight holding her left kidney hostage decided and she his throat.  Slight movements cut his skin a little so a trickle of blood ran down the heavy pulse in his neck.  His boot dagger, an undersight that Evie should have expected, tore through her corset so the tip just grazed her skin.  She will heal them both later, if he allows her indirect healing again.

What now, Templar, the mage’s mind questioned with her eyes.  What will you do now you discovered what and who I am?

The knight gritted his teeth.  He repositioned his feet on the rocks.  His shift made some pebbles break off the cliff and into the sea.  Would he be stupid enough to grab them both and fall into the Waking Sea?  His life ended to ‘protect the world from a dangerous apostate’?  Does he want to die so badly because the guilt and agony broke him into nothing?  Did he not value himself at all?

Cullen’s hesitancy to do anything lingered, a good prospect in Evie’s eyes.  Still his knife could sniff her life in an instant.  All the while, her brand burned and flared being so close to his.  Could he feel it?  Could he feel the pleas inside her heart?!

“Stand down!”

Both mage and templar whipped their heads right, searching for the newest threat.  Evie immediately felt the knife slightly leave her lower back, while her gallowglass sword move just enough from his neck so that she may parry if attacked.  It seemed both individuals could back off their stalemate and fight another enemy at the moment.  At least that was a positive sign.

Light-grey dreads and braids weighed down with glass and wooden beads fluttered in the meadow.  Piercing stormy blue-grey eyes glared at both fighters, two arrows drawn across her horizontal bow to strike both individuals if provoked.  While her brown leather mask obscured most of her face, Evie knew those hints of bright lines across a canvas of dark deep tan and told her exactly who challenged them.

So, she was on the isle after all.  Bann Ian remarked guards noticed a familiar rogue racing around the woods, killing over-populated animals, preparing hides, and drying meat.  She too was likely hanging around on the isle until trade resumed.  She had little time for games now, her clan will likely be heading to Wycome this autumn.

“Adelheid, it’s me!”  Evie snapped with a deep tone.  Her words spoke through her gritted teeth as she felt the knight replace the knife back against her flesh.

“I don’t give a shit, Lady Shem.”  The rogue spat back with a heavy elven accent.  “A trap notified me of magic and lyrium in the area.  I figured another of those freaks in that barracks wondered off and out of a Chantry cunt’s gaze.  Instead, I found you fucks.”

Evie rolled her eyes.  Her interactions with this individual had been little.  She usually only discussed business with her father and Rian.  Most of the time when she was on Trevelyan land, she ignored everyone, unless a little bird sang something unpleasant occurred to an elven family on the isle or a major threat walked about with no way to catch them doing a crime.  The Trevelyan guards usually found the person’s body on shore the next day or that criminal tied up right by the offense he committed. 

Still, the elf remained wary of anything else on the isle while there.  Bann Ian called her useful, a contact with the Dalish clans the family desperately needed.  After all, one of Evie’s mage tutors had been a former First from that specific clan.  The woman gave up her wandering life to marry a human sailor.  Knowing she risked her life among Andrastians and being a mage, her father’s open door policy to all people, including mages, protected her until she and her husband could safely buy land elsewhere and live off the grid with their elf-blooded children.

However, this Dalish elf was unlike any other.

The best word for her:  trigger happy.

“Identify yourself, immediately!”  The knight roared behind Evie.  His baritone growl made her ears ring.

The rogue just shifted both arrows at Cullen, directed at his amber eyes.  “I don’t think you need your eyes, if you keep that tone.”

“I would recommend taking her at her word.”  Evie muttered over her shoulder.  “She’s found creative ways to make men scream while taking away some senses because they had no common sense to keep their mouths shut.”

“Shut up, Mage.”  Cullen spat like the word was a curse.  His attention returned to the elf he knew nothing about.  “You are interfering in a capture of an apostate, a violation against the Templar Order and the Chantry.  State your business now, or find yourself arrested for obstructing justice.”

Evie rolled her eyes again.  “From what I can tell, Templar, you are just asking for my sword gussing your blood all over my back.  You already ruined my favorite corset, and blood is so difficult to get out of leather.”  The mage was internal screaming in fear and alarm, but of course she could not shut up that sassiness.  She could not anticipate what Cullen will do.  That sixth sense meant to connect bonds was foggy, partly because he held his body’s limited lyrium as a gate against her senses and she masked hers since she was child.  The barrier weakened when he touched her skin, the untested techniques to mask pair bonding connections.  However, her obsidian and silverite mental gate held.  Essentially, their bond was non-existent at the moment, bringing a terror to Evie’s heart she never wanted to feel again.

Will she live or die through this?

Even if Cullen pushes the maiden off the cliff or stabs her back, he was coming with her to the Maker’s side.

The elf twitched her head a little, gazing over her shoulder.  Since her ears were covered, Evie could not witness how they shifted and indicated whatever captured her attention.  Still, the two arrows remained drawn and tracked on them.  How long can this young adolescent withdraw a thirty-pound recurve bow string?!

Then Evie and Cullen heard them at the same time.  Horse hooves.  Fast beating around the forest from the far eastern cliffs.

Fuck.

“Are we doing this, Cullen?”  Evie questioned with a calmest tone as possible.  She even released her magic shielded around her to denote he was not going to be a threat.  “Are you killing us or will you hear and see this through?”

The blond Fereldan still kept his glare on the archer who shifted on her feet.  However, his set jaw targeted Evie.  “If I keep you here, I will break from the bond.  Touch alone will not cement it, although it does impact me.  But it will mean I am rid of this curse.”

Ouch, that stung.

Evie kept her shock and betrayal buried deep inside in that dark hole her soul created years ago to throw all the insults, tricks, and actions everyone has done to her since birth.  However, to hear Cullen actually considering break their bond with her death brought a wave of pain and depression she could not exactly deal with right now.  It would not matter though.  If he killed Evie right then, her torment would be over.

Losing a bond was purposefully made easier for the templar than the mage, as was everything else the Chantry twisted over the ages.  If a templar lost his bond only on the touch level, yes, he or she would feel the death and receive some repercussions from the Fade connection being severed, but they would survived.  They would have no more bond.  Only thoughts before touch would receive a new brand possibly, especially if the original bond was weak and nothing special.

However, theirs was very special.

“Yet,” Cullen began. Evie took a deep breath, feeling the knife leave her back more than the few millimeters he allowed before.  “You saved my life.  Now, I know.”  The knife completely disappeared from her back.  Instantly, she removed her sword from his neck.  “A life for a life, although that does not mean you won’t be brought to the Circle immediately.”

The horse hooves thundered closer.

“So, no way to explain.  No time to figure out why the fuck all of this happened?”  Evie cursed as she stepped away from his core.

“Your family was thought Andrastian and faithful.  Yet, they let you so close to innocent people when you could be possessed easily without proper supervision.  You could be practicing blood magic, influencing your family and this whole isle…!”

It was the elf’s laughter at the statement that broke Evie before she replied to the nonsense.  “You are a fucking idiot.”  The Dalish elf remarked with a hand flick under her chin.  “I would like to see you to drag this shem to the mainland.  You’ll have to swim it and beat back that!”

A regiment of mounted warriors crusted the eastern hill, crowded together to avoid the forest trees.  Out front was Knotts and Hemmingway.  Knotts looked like he had sticks in his hair so the leaves looked like feathers.  He followed them on this ride even when Evie told him no.

Now, things were about to get from bad to worse.

Cullen recognized it immediately, grasping his longsword beside him and pointed it at Evie’s chest.  “Call them off, Mage!  Call your minions off or I will cut you where you stand!  Whatever power and influence you have over them will be broken and their minds returned!”

It felt like Evie had been hit with a battering ram.  All the air busted off her lungs.  She stumbled, searching for any feeling anywhere.  The Fade left her.  No music sung in her soul.

He silenced her knowing-

The templar hollered in pain as Evie kneeled on one knee.  He grasped his chest brand, twisting at the hip.  Both marks flared and pulsed, searching for the other across the Fade, but the lyrium connection had been cut like shears to thread.  Both beings moaned and hissed in pain.  Evie searched and searched for her music, her magic.  The knight used his sword to keep himself standing, but his weakened knee and ankle gave out and sent him dangerously close to the cliff edge.  Fighting through the pain and panic, Evie lunged and grabbed his elbow right before some rocks slipped from under Cullen’s boot.  The templar got out half a yell before being yanked back to safety.  Evie flung her other glove off, making sure to touch his forearm skin-to-skin.  The burning and pulse simmered, still itching under the skin, but a connection occurred physically not in the Fade.

Cullen winced at the change, finally kneeling in front of Evie.  The maiden hissed, “You owe me again.”

The templar’s scarred lip jumped, muttering under his breath.  “Evidently, killing you would be worse than expected.”

“Good thing you chose to listen to what we got to say then, huh?”  Evie sassed back with a smirk.

With one amber eye staring at the nearly-there herd of horses their direction, he mumbled.  “I don’t think I have much choice.”

Again, that man’s words stung worse than most abuses Evie experienced throughout her short life.  Bann Ian and she took away his choice.  She knew that quite well.  He knew that approaching group was loyal to her and House Trevelyan.  He had no allies on this island.

You just have to be his ally, the person he can turn to, her father remarked when Cullen was first saved from the wreck and laid unconscious.  Evie pointed out this tactic, uncomfortable about taking power away from the templar.  She knew he needed control of something in his life.  Going to Kirkwall seemed the opportunity.  Those people removed that again from him, while House Trevelyan essentially imprisoned him on this isle.

“Please, trust me.”  Evie whispered as the horse slowed to their position.  They privacy will be gone in a moment.

“I will never trust you, Malificar!”

And there was third great wound deep inside.  Evie knew once this man discovered her magic, he will never believe a word from her mouth.  Gone were those smirks and shy innocent fumbles.  No longer can she watch him train and he feel at peace in her presence.  Those long talks, music, and dance now laid in the past.

Deep from that depressing and haunting hole, Evie reached for her noble stolid mask.  Or was it taking off a mask?  The mage did not know for sure nowadays.  She wore her mistrust, caution, and bitterness on her sleeve.  That innocent noble woman might return, but Evie found it unlikely.  This next row will be gloves off and dirty.  To break through that hatred guarding that the knight holds like a shield, measures will have to be taken.  She planned for this moment, determined for him to see reason, to see her as a person not a weapon!

“About time you showed up…”  The elven rogue huffed, placing her arrows back in the quiver.  Her free hand still remained by her hunting knife.

“Your service is no longer required, Mistress Adelheid.”  Hemmingway officially remarked dismounting his black steed.  “Go back to punching bears again.”

“Who in the Void are you anyway!?”  Cullen quizzed again, still kneeling by Evie.  His skin sweat and tremored under her forceful touch.  Slowly, her Fade connection return.  That silence was one of the strongest she ever experienced.   However, her large mana reserves typically kept her going.  Evidently, pair interactions towards each other were the most powerful, true balances of abilities.

The mother fucker better not do it again!

The Dalish young woman slowly removed her mask and ear covers.  Her vallashin shined in the afternoon sun while her dark tan skin absorbed the rays more.  Hemmingway thumbed at the rogue.  “Hunter Adelheid of Clan Lavellan, a liaison to Bann Trevelyan.”  Adelheid muttered in elven to herself as she pivoted and slowly walked through the meadow.  She flipped off a few guards attempting to round up the horses Griffon and Tequila munching on tall grass.  “Not her real name because if you think my given name was difficult to say, her elven one is impossible.” 

“Fuck off, Shem!”  Adelheid hollered before running back into the woods. 

Hemmingway thumbed at the retreating elf.  “Spit fire.  Permitted to live in the forest throughout the hurricane season to catch game and trade with the family.  We call her ‘the Wild Child’.  We let her scare all the Orlesian nobles who come around.  You should be glad you’re not wearing an arrow like a deceased forehead ornament.”

“That might be the case,” Cullen began pushing his arm away in disgust as the brands settled.  “I demand to speak to Bann Trevelyan immediately to transport this mage and myself to Ostwick for trial and imprisonment at the Circle!”

Knotts perked an eyebrow, glancing at the other guards in the group.  No one seemed surprised by the declaration Evie was a mage.  Evie knew all these men and women.  She bested them with wits and skills when they learned her status and her ultimate goals.

Cullen noticed the stillness.  “It is a mage!  An apostate!  Here, living among you!  It has warped your minds with its magic, likely blood magic!  React, damn it!”

“I…I’m sorry, Knight-Lieutenant…”  A meek changing voice from the back whimpered.  The guards shifted to allow a man in different armor than most in attendance.  Cullen’s whiskey eye widen.  “Templar Recruit!  Why have you not arrested this thing!?”

Knotts’ brow turned stern.  His hand slid inside his leather tunic.  Evie just shook her head once.  Stand down, Knotts.  I can take the insults of unpersonhood…mostly.

“I…we can’t.”

“You swore your life to the templars!”  Cullen hollered, disbelieving a templar recruit was not upholding the Order’s rules.

“What lil’ cousin Malcolm is trying to say is that they do and they will fall.  What they value will be gone.  Not my doing, although I bested him and all the templars here in a duels for it.  It is my father’s threats and consequences.”  Evie’s glaring shifted to Hemmingway.  “Give him his horse!  I believe my father can explain best.”  Her chocolate fiery eyes flashed back to the knight threatening her whole life.  “You’ll get your audience, Templar.  Just remember, it changes nothing.”

“I greatly disagree on that, Mage!”

Evie stomped away towards Tequila.  Luckily, the guards separated the steeds so Evie did not have to walk with that templar.  She approached her mount and hopped up as she started trotting back into the forest.  She needed somewhere to scream.  The deep hole ached too much.

Damn it, Evie hated when her father was right!

Chapter Text

Bann Ian heard the stomping boots across marble and hardwood from across the manor.  The aging head of House Trevelyan quilled a smirk leaking upon his lips, reminding himself that his footman shaved back his beard whiskers earlier and exposed more of his lips than he cared for.  Still, the sound of hollering and demands from his steward, Byrnmor, told him enough about what all the turbulence was about.

Evidently, Evie’s abilities were known to the Fereldan addict who has watched his daughter like a rabid mabari this last week.  More so, the introduction was not as she probably planned, something her father warned her just the day before.  From the man shouts and alarm, apparently, level sense three had commence.

If there was some other way…

The blond Fereldan bronto kicked and threw open the expensive wooden doors leading into Ian’s office.  The knight looked like he rolled with the pasture pigs.  His red leather jacket covered in horse manure and hay, likely the man fell off his steed racing back to the manor.  Evie likely did not cover stopping a horse at full sprint or that Fereldan Forder sensed that man harmed his master and bucked him off the saddle.  The tips of his blond hair laid fluffed and singed.  Evie restrained herself enough to not make the man bald and more ridiculous than he already was.  Most of all, a single strike across his left pectoral muscle cut through the leather jerkin and tunic underneath.  Shame, his love Lady Gwen, really loved that jerkin and had commissioned another in green for Esme.  Bits of blood trickled from the wound, but instantly melted away once touching the flashing and warping red branded rune on the templar’s chest.  Ian hampered a guess that Evie likely had a similar wound on her shoulder.  At least she had not disrobed completely to make this nitwit either never register or consciously ignore their growing bond since the moment she pulled him from the sea.

The steward raced in and directed the man out before turning around and noticing Bann Ian slowly rise from his leather desk seat.  The retainer apologized about the interruption, trying with all his old might to remove the assaulter.  Ian just lifted one hand and closed his eyes a moment.  It was enough for the house lead to stop and leave alone.  No one will interfere in this discussion. 

Ian had informed the household prior to the templar’s tragic fate that things will be shaken up.  While Gwen, Evie, and Esme prepared at their Ostwick City home, he designed the whole mission, specifically choosing the people allowed within their isle country home during this upheaval.   He only allowed staff completely loyal to him and his family.  He selected people who knew Evie’s secret even Evie did not know they knew concealing her magic tightly inside herself.  Most people under his command were former rogues, warriors, and bards that worked in the family’s networks across Thedas.  The younger ones were agents in training or family of agents lost in their fight against their enemies.  Ian always made sure his people were cared for and could aspire to anything they wished.  Elves and dwarves in his employment gained more status and opportunities, thankful and considerate of House Trevelyan when those chances arose.  They might not be Trevelyan by blood, but their service made them part of his family and House Trevelyan, even more than some of his cousins and extended relatives. 

The people within the estate now were the small group Ian trusted and vetted for years for such a moment.  He weeded out those tempted by money, status, and betrayal with a cutting gruesome precision.  His father and grandfather taught him well the signs of treachery and personally motivated.  However, unlike them, he did it and gain trust and loyalty in those who remained with a sharp mind.  His grandfather executed such actions by scheming and backstabbing.  His father conducted business like a brute who always made his enemies bleed at his feet.  Death is sometimes the easier way to deal with the problem.  Ian preferred to learn his enemies’ worst fears and provide punishment in the most twisted way without even batting at eye. 

When the bann was done combatting the Trevelyan enemies, his children will be safe and never bloody their hands.  Ian’s soul was already lost to the underground world.  He refused to drag his children down with him.  His acts will already discolor their innocent souls, but he will wipe away the gore as much as possible before his death.

However, Evie will need to act and battle for such a future.  The family enemies were not just their own now, but Thedas’.  In this mounting war, the first blood spilt will be on their isle.  The fight now came home, not just for this arrogant farmer boy too oblivious to see the larger picture but to the whole family, their legacy and dreams.  When the time comes—sooner than expected—Ian only wanted people around him who could not be bought, coaxed, or threatened to turn their allegiances.  This specific enemy threating the Trevelyans used such tactics for ages already and only improved and perfected their tactics. 

Unfortunately, Ian could not vet the coastal village, but Evie acted as a representative and great friend to many of them, making this little warrior before him more of a risk than any magic.  Even worse, House Trevelyan must rely on this filth of a man glaring at him and threatening with his longsword.  That thought alone nearly made the tea Ian drank earlier roll up his esophagus.

“Lovely ride, Ser Rutherford?”  Ian happily sang like he had not a care in the world.  Instantly, the boy’s jaw clinched as he slowly approached the office desk.  In his right hand gripped his withdrawn sword.  His shield must be wherever Evie whipped his arse.

“You call yourself Andrastian and a man of the Chantry!?”  The uncivilized brute hollered, thundering forward and slamming his bare free palm against Ian’s carved desk.  Parchment and books flew in the air and fluttered throughout the office.  “You believe yourself a man of the people, a noble meant to protect, while you actually threaten everyone with your choices?!  You let a thing worse than darkspawn crawl around this house and isle like it has the right to be there?!  Think of the people that will die brutal and nasty deaths when that creature cuts its wrist and summons hordes of demons through the Veil!  Men, women, and children slaughtered like cattle because you let a monster think it is a person, roaming unwatched and free!  You are a fake and disgusting bastard to actually believing it deserves not to be in a Circle!”

Bann Ian heard such accusations in the past, specifically from the templars within House Trevelyan.  Each time one of the templar cousin became a full templar, they were invited to the isle where they were isolated, separated from the orders and beliefs that cultivated their arrogance.  Evie would show her bright and beautiful fire, leading to the knight ravaging like a mad man or woman.  Ian used to not have his daughter hear the slander, but she stepped forward anyway.  ‘To know a man’s dark heart, all must be heard, processed, and unmade.  To hear their thoughts before their trails only lets me know how to beat them faster, Father.’  Evie had stated that after the second trail.  Still, each rant brought a dullness to his daughter’s beautiful brown eyes.  Ian noted over the years, the knights’ slander became more radical and bloodthirsty.  The Order’s academies trained monsters in plate armor vomiting hate and disattachment, a great distance from what their vows once intended.

It was always the greatest satisfaction when each and every one of those pompous bastard knights fell and were forced to yield to his fire mage daughter.  Evie never openly smirked or taunted the knights.  She kept her pride inside and never let it make her egotistical.  Just her expansive mana and aura demonstrated how wrong they all were about mages and the Maker. 

However, Bann Ian did gloat and laugh openly as he watched each knight sign their name and press their thumbprint in blood on each contract detailing the ramifications if they even thought of Evie’s status.  It was not exactly blood magic, more a signature of blood that be led back to the signer.  Although, having an idiotic templar use blood magic had been crossed the bann’s mind as twist to their already humiliating defeat.  Many knights quivered in fear about losing their lives just uttering Evie’s name.  Most templars were concerned about their titles or careers.  Others were ashamed they were blood related to a mage concluding no noble family will want to marry anyone ‘magically tainted’.  Very few thought beyond themselves, despite the House instilling good vows in everyone.  Every person had at least one secret or weakness, one Ian used against them for the sake his daughter may walk free and demonstrate what mages could actually be if given a chance.

Alas, such tactics cannot be used with this templar.  “Have a care, Ser.”  Ian hissed as calmly as possible.  Ian disliked not having the upper hand.

“I will not!”  The Fereldan beast roared, pushing himself off the desk and brandished his longsword at Bann Ian.  The nobleman just blinked, his mind and body already planning to execute the knight four different ways if he even thought of striking.  “I demand you to call back your fleet and transport that animal and I to the nearest Circle.  Once it is dealt with, I will report you and your entire family for harboring that monster to the grand cleric.  I will personally make sure you lose your trade deals, land, and title!  You know Chantry law.  It dictates that all mages must be housed inside a Circle under constant watch by the Templar Order, blessed by the Maker and Andraste to protect the innocent and blessed!”

Bann Ian blinked slowly, his rage burning behind his hazel swirling eyes but not openly evident to anyone who does not know him.  His hand still held the letter he had been reading when the brute thundered in to his office.  “I can name only four templars in my life who actually did the Maker’s will, Ser Rutherford, and you are not one of them.”  His bass voice was calm and collected with no huff or cracks.  Anyone who knew the bann would know death will be preferred than what he will greet the target in a few moments.

The Fereldan hound pushed his longsword forward, not to strike, but to threaten forcibly.  Ian saw it as his moment.  He dropped his letter, grasped the knight’s wrist and twisted to nearly breaking, while Ian’s thumbnail dug into the exposed tendons and blood vessels just below the skin.  The boy hollered, feeling all muscle control in his hand go numb.  The templar dropped the longsword.  Ian caught it, and twirled it around and behind his back resting between his shoulder blades.  It all occurred before the letter hit the cluttered desk.

The bronto reached for a second weapon, likely in his boot.  Ian picked up a letter opener and threw it right through the man’s palm.  The wounded bronto grunted and grabbed the bleeding hand, his burning stare still trying to intimidate the older gentlemen.

“Now,” the bann called with a perked brow.  He offered one of the guest desk chair across from him to the night.  “Are you to listen or do I need to bang your head against my marble bust of my ancestor, Third Bann of Ostwick, to get through your thick empty skull?”

Ian truly enjoyed every moment of this.

The templar glanced around, his amber eyes betraying every possible plan flickering across his mind.  After finding every option could easily turn against him, the man sat down.  His one hand, still speared with the letter opener, laid outstretched in front of him and held by his other numbed hand.

Ian sat as well, resting the templar’s blade on the desk and reached into a desk drawer.  He pulled out a wooden box and sat it on the desk by the resting blade.  Ian wanted the knight to think he could reach for the sword and give him a sense he could possibly strike the older man.  People spoke more openly when they believed they had a chance.  After removing the rubbing alcohol, elfroot salve, and bandages, he handed the items to the man to operate on his stabbed palm.

Rutherford slowly accepted each item before attempting to remove the letter opener.  He grunted once he grasped the handle tugged it free.  He immediately wiggled his fingers testing for any damage.  As Ian predicted, the dull blade did not cut bone, blood vessels, or tendons, only muscle and meat.  From its blood oozing, it did not require a healer to stitch.  Knowing Evie, she felt the strike and will indirectly heal it in the night.  Oh, how his daughter thought she could hide that from him.

“Let me tell you a story, Ser Rutherford.”  Bann Ian began, closing the medicine box while the man tended to his wounds.  “A tale about two sisters, born from very different mothers.  One was a mage and other not.  Even before the mage’s manifestation, the sisters taunted and teased each other, the elder one—the non-mage—more so than the younger.  At first, it seemed like sibling rivalry.  The elder felt slighted that her father chose a governess as his bride and conceived children beneath their perceived noble status.  Alas, the elder sister’s true colors shined through when she attempted to poison her pregnant stepmother’s drink at her name day celebration.  The mother survived, but lost the baby.  The poison left her barren.  Thankfully, she had two blood-related loving children already.  If only the elder sister realized the woman just wanted to care for her as well…”  Bann Ian glanced over his shoulder to his beautiful wife walking the gardens.

Bann turned back to the knight, clapped, and leaned back in his seat.  “Just a month later, the younger sister’s powers manifested.  Now, magic had always been strong in the family, may it be in actual mages or the templars and seekers.  For example, the father’s father had been such a templar…”  He pointed to a portrait on the wall.  “…with his mage bond the love of his wife.  His actual wife simply carried their children with no control over her life, much like the mage mistress in a way.”

Ian knew by the boy’s stare that he caught on to the bann’s snarl that his father scorned his mother so openly, making her essentially a breeding mare stuck in a barn stall.  His mage lover loved her bond, but was it a loving relationship or one developed and forced upon by the Chantry?  Ian wondered that constantly, especially after Evie’s magic appeared.

“The elder sister—remember an attempted murderer—demanded the other sister be sent to the Circles.  Now, the father of these two warring children knew one thing:  if his daughter went to the Circles, she will die even before finding her bond.  Because she was a mage from a strong noble family, the other family members would quickly get rid of any hint of mage blood much as they had done in the past generations.  No, the child could not go. 

“Meanwhile, the elder had to be kept from stating the secret, so she was sent to her great-aunt instead of being turned over to the authorities.  It was a deal really:  one child would not go to the Circle and the other not to prison for attempted murder.  Personally, I find both places both one and the same.  No places for children, no?”

The templar rubbed elfroot salve into his wound following cleaning off any blood and infection.  “Circles are not pri-“

Bann Ian did not let the man finish.  “Time passed.  For the younger sister, she had all the magical teachers possible assist in her training.  As your order states, a mage must understand and control her gifts, and I completely agree.  Just, it is how is what worries me.  She learned blood magic created maleficium and led to the same faults as the Tevinter Imperium.  She learned what made templars an important part of society and met seekers who spent decades honing their skills.  She learned hands-on the dangers of magic…but also of man.  A staff was the same as a sword or pike.  Weapons hurt, the people who wielded them the cause, not the actual item.  One’s goals should always help and protect everyone.  War created more war.  Hate fed battles.  Mistrust led to such paths.  Most of all, Man is fallible, even a religious institution that declares it acts on behalf of their god.  ‘Magic is to serve man, not rule over him’ is very true, but what is the definition of serve from one person to another, hm?  The debate of the ages, would you not agree?”

The templar gritted his teeth.  Ian continued on his lesson with a wave of his hand.  “For the elder sister, she was not forgotten.  No, the family attempted to show the child her faults and steer her towards a happy and good life.  Alas, not all the family did this, specifically the great-aunt who housed her.  The woman introduced the child to the crueler parts of society, the backstabbing and deceit of her ancestors.  All good in the child was tainted by these associations.  Those associations grew into secret cults in Orlais, where her mother’s family resided.  She wanted to learn and act with those who used the word serve as an opening to rape, imprison, brand, and abuse mages.”

For a brief moment while the man wrapped his hand, Bann Ian noted as the man’s cheek twitched and scar lip lifted in disgust towards the description.  That was a relief.  At least the boy had the decency to see the issues inside Circles, specifically rape and abuse.  From what Ian read about him, he wondered if the templar had been swayed towards such abuse or do such act himself.  Yes, the Chantry ‘outlawed’ it, but did not stop mentors in academies engraining the notion that mages were not people and did not deserve basic rights and law.

Seeing the templar finish his bandaging, Bann Ian leaned forward again, rested his arms and hands on the wooden desk, and cupped his fingers.  “Now that you have heard that, Ser Rutherford.  I have one question:  which sister is currently demonically possessed?”

The templar reared back and glanced back towards the broken door like he needed to go demon slaying immediately.  His amber eyes flicked back the bann, who knew he threw the man for a loop.  Good.  “The mage of course, which is why-“

“-Wrong, Ser Rutherford.”  Bann Ian snapped like a crocodile jaw.  Now it was time to let the rage ooze out and scare the living shit out of the poor excuse of a knight.  “It is my elder daughter—well, former daughter—Patricia!”  Bann Ian stood up with a snap and thundered towards the family portrait above the mantle.  He pointed at the demon blonde girl, his own flesh and blood.  She was everything Ian wanted to avoid passing on, but it seemed his forefathers’ traits for murder and cruelty were genetic.  “In your accusation, you forgot that even non-mages can become possessed by demons.  Anyone who dreams can have a demon crawl out of their body like the Void.  Clerics, nobles, and even templars can fall to those creatures.”  He slightly turned his head so his hazel eyes boar into the shocked knight.  “I expected you know that most of all.”

The Fereldan winced, that panic look written across his jagged features.  Ian knew this man’s history even if Evie never told him personally.  After discovering the boy’s name and location, the search into his background and life began.  Within weeks, the bann’s spies delivered pages upon pages about Cullen Stanton Rutherford.  As soon as the nobleman read about Kinloch Hold, he knew Evie’s future will be damned and difficult.  The templar did not disappoint either with his wild accusations now.  Ian felt pride reminding the brute what happened to him, especially after referring to his beloved daughter as an object!

“Have you heard of the Order of Fiery Promise, Ser Rutherford?”  Bann Ian questioned with his hands behind his back.  The knight thought for a moment and shook his head.  He truly sat puzzled now that he has been reminded that demons can possess anyone and he witnessed it personally.  “That does not surprise me.  Not openly ‘discussed’ during your templar lessons likely.  The Seekers of Truth have been in this underground war with them for ages.  They were one of many cults that formed to demonstrate their faith to Andraste, one of the groups that did not fit Emperor Drakon’s imagined fantasy of the Chant.  They believe that end of the world is nigh and necessary.  Their goal is to see Thedas cleansed with fire and reborn as a paradise of sorts.  Most people believed their parshed during the battle recorded as ‘Cleansing of Churneau.’  After that, they randomly popped up like a disease and fought the seekers.  No one thought much of them.” [1]

“What does this have to do with a possessed sister?”  The man mumbled, trying to follow the discussion.

“Because they are why you sit here today and not dead at the bottom of the Waking Sea.”

The templar’s head popped up, his scarred mouth gapping.  “But the hurricane-“

“Tell me, did anything strange happen on that cargo ship, Templar?”  Bann Ian was actually interested in how this man was not aware of a conspiracy against him.

The Fereldan blonde knight stood and stared at the floor.  His brow was crested in a V as he searched his memories—well, whatever the lyrium allowed him to remember.  He gulped the stuff like air.  “I know it took two weeks for the captain to leave dock.  The Grand Cleric of Denerim and Knight-Commander Meredith both had to push him to disembark even knowing about the hurricanes.”

“I can answer that for you, actually.”  Bann Ian smirked a little.  “Because that ship was not the one supposed to transport you, but a hidden Trevelyan vessel organized by myself and several clerics from throughout the Free Marchers wishing to protect you.  The ship captain was to stall until the ship arrived, but a hurricane stalled my ship’s progress to port.  The ship captain gave in because agents for the vice grand cleric captured his family and held them hostage.”  Bann ian exhaled and shook his head.  “My scouts found them dead two days after your ship set sail.”

The templar’s eyes widened farther.  “Are you saying Grand Cleric Elemena is a murderer?!  What kind of Andrastian are you!?”

“One who knows about the disgusting happenings during Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir’s reign during the Blight.  Who else would allow Tevinter slavers into Denerim’s alienage and not alert the grand cleric.  The Grey Wardens themselves confronted Elemena after the Blight ended with evidence, and she admitted to not knowing a thing.  Yes, she spoke against the teyrn at the Landsmeet, but to cover her own behind and inaction.  She might have not played a direct part in it, but inaction is an action itself.  She was lucky that Loghain was behind the missing templar case, or her dismissive role would have been more visible.[2]  Alas, she is not aware I assisted capturing that slaver fleet and have all dealings with her vice clerics, the teyrn, and the Imperium in my vault.  Do you want to see the documents of children as young as two caged like cattle, while elven mothers gave birth during the voyage witnessed their newborns thrown overboard?  The Chantry’s letter said one less elf meant one less ‘inferior’ mouth to feed when they came begging.”

“If this is true, how is she still in power?!”  The knight hollered fuming at the description.

“Because she like many in the Chantry are a member of Fiery Promise and Divine Beatrix is so elderly she cannot do her divine duty any longer.  Her court is flooded with the Promisers, causing the Right Hand of the Divine, Cassandra Pentaghast, and my nephew Rian to work constantly to hunt the evils down.”  Bann Ian waved his hand, trying to pull everything back on track.  “So, with that explained, anything else on the cargo ship strange to you?”

The knight gritted his teeth, pacing around the office.  Some of the initial rage that sent the boy flying into the bann’s office had dissipated, but still simmer under his fair skin if necessary.  “I…I remained below deck mostly.  I…don’t do well at sea, motion sickness.  The first mate was kind.  He gave me a dreamless sleeping draught the night of the hurricane.  I nearly never-“  The warrior froze, his head flashing to the nobleman.

“…awoke?”  Bann Ian finished with a knowing gaze.

“You’re implying-“

“You already survived one assassination, Ser Rutherford.  That one was supposed to do it.  However, it wasn’t for my daughter, they would have succeeded the second time.”

“Was the other…!”

Ian knew what the boy meant.  No, Kinloch Hold was beyond anyone’s control.  However, if it had never happened, the family would have never discovered Evie’s bond identity.  “Does the name Sister Rosamond ring any bells for you?”

The Fereldan stilled and eyed the nobleman.  “How much do you know about-“

No need to openly state why the man was in Denerim.  “Does it…?”

Rutherford gritted his teeth and looked away.  “Yes…”  he hissed through his teeth.  “She used to be a chanter in Denerim, but was transferred to that…place…after the Blight.”

“Say no more.”  Ian sang, knowing the man likely did not want to speak about his time in Greenfell.  “She delivered your meals and reaffirmed the Chant to you constantly, right?  Anything taste off…?”

The man stumbled back to the desk seat and sat down.  “I thought…the lyrium wasn’t right.  They said I survived a dangerously high fever and nearly died if it hadn’t been for a healer coming to check on me.”  His words were not for Ian, but himself.  He pinched his nose.  His dulled whiskey orbs met Ian’s as the bann watched the templar’s world unravel.  “Why…why me?”

“You haven’t figured it out, boy?”  Ian huffed, rolling his grey hazel eyes until they landed on the warrior’s cut chest.  “I am even looking at why right now.”

The templar followed the nobleman’s gaze and padded his exposed branded chest.  “Because of her?!” 

At least he referred to Evie as a person for once.  “Not just her, but what you two are.  After Patricia arrived in Orlais to marry some damn geriatric grand duke, her mother’s family aligned with the Cult of Mask Andraste joined the Order of Fiery Promise because their influence had regrown and seeped into the Grand Cathedral.  About to marry into a very wealthy and powerful family, Patricia no longer feared what kept her quiet about Evie’s ability.  Patricia knew her half-sister was a twin flame connected by halves of two different spirits, a very rare bond.  You must know this yourself as the other half of this fiery balance.  At least for her, she has been aware of you since she was two, speaking to air long before she expertly played the violin and piano and her magic manifested.”

From the man’s shocked expression, no, he did not notice at all.  Truly!  Is this man invalid or received too many concussions in his life?!

“Even if you did not, Patricia did.  While barred from our home after nearly killing her stepmother, my wife and love Gwen, my Aunt Lucille’s agent informed her of how unique her mage sister truly was.  This information allowed Patricia to become a willing member of the Order of Fiery Promise.  Alas, it also led her to be in the state she is in now.”

“How did she become possessed?”  The warrior quizzed with full intention to understand this situation.  Yes, very good.

“As I stated, the Promisers decree only through fire and death can Thedas become a paradise as the Maker intended.  They experimented in all matter of ways to bring about Thedas’ collapse.  Blood magic, elven foci, razing full Circles to the ground via annulments, an area in Amaranthine where the Veil was thin for a long bloody history, but nothing tipped the scales to end the world.[3]  Then a Forbidden One whispered in their ears…”  Ian whispered, but the knight heard his words.  The warrior blinked in horrific shock at the news.  “Yes, they turned to demons—even the most evil—as they thought even more evil would tip the world’s scales.  If my sources are right, even in Kirkwall right now seeker scholars called the Band of Three are searching the city-state for the Forgotten One to end its life once and for all because of this bloody mess.[4]  Corrupted seekers and rogue templars that are secretly Promisers found a way to have a Forbidden One possess a physical form via tranquility-“

“Tranquility is supposed to protect people from possession, not encourage it!”  The templar huffed, jumping out of his chair.  “You are spatting lies!”

“And I will show you personally that tranquility has been reversible for ages, just not known to anyone beyond Lady Seeker Nicoline…and now us.  I will let you in on a little secret…actually a few.  One, tranquility and its reversal was discovered by the Inquisition ages ago.  Two, it is bestowed on candidate seekers in their own Vigil, then the reversal is completed by summoning a spirit—usually Faith—to touch the tranquil to reconnect them to the Fade.”

“They’re…abominations!?”  The warrior roared stomping around the office.  “You lie!  No order would police templar and mages by being the very monsters they search and destroy!”

“And phylacteries are not blood magic, Templar?”

That shut the man up.

“I have all the documentation and cross references in our dedicated library that I openly share with you, even at great risk of my House and those who fight the cultists I mentioned.”  Ian offered lightly.  Typically, the secret collection would take years of trust and loyalty for Ian to even reveal, but it was high time this misguided brute learned the truth about his beloved Order and everything the Chantry twisted and tainted.

“Absolutely, I want to see it.”

“Search for the Swords & Shields in the library.  Have fun with that rabbit hole.”  The Bann Ian rolled his eyes.  It was Evie’s idea to have the lock hidden behind that horrible series this year.  “Continuing, the same practice that gave seekers their powers can also coax non-friendly spirits to touch or possess the individual.  Patricia likely had no idea she was made tranquil for weeks waiting for the final preparations.  The reason seekers spend years in isolation and bleeding their emotions is that just one negativity can invite demons to their Vigil.  Very few seekers have been slayed during such practices, but it has happened.  Patricia, with all her hate and blame towards Evie, Esme, and Gwen, carried that into the ceremony.  She was the prime candidate to hold the Forbidden One, The Formless One.  They called the creature and possessed Patricia, but it kept her deceitful shape.”

“Have you done nothing to stop this creature then?”  The Fereldan questioned with a scowling brow.

“My allies and I have for the last three years.  Hundreds of loyal Chantry, Trevelyans, and other order’s warriors, mages, and rogues have attempted and failed to stop the Promiser’s dealings.  Patricia is kept out in the open, on the arm of her oblivious husband Duke Laurent de Ghislain.  In that time, Evie has passed her Harrowing even when others outsides the Promisers wanted her dead.  The Promisers killed the people who poisoned her Harrowing lyrium and even increased the potency to make her stronger.”

“But why do they want her?”

“They want her to hold the Formless One to begin burning the world, Ser Rutherford.  To tip the scales and begin the burn.”  Bann Ian blurted straight and to the point.  “But, she—a rare Twin Flame—can only become possessed if she is not bonded fully with her destined templar soulmate.”

Ian watched as all the pieces clicked into place inside the brute’s mind.  He stopped his pacing, his hand over his face, and his shoulder hunched.  “That’s why they wanted me dead…why I am here.”

 “And just another reason why my daughter is not a Circle mage.  A Twin Flame—no matter a bonded one—rarely lasts in the Circle, but that is a different bomb shell for another day.”  Ian mumbled under his breath.  He was not going to do everything for Evie.  This was her mess she needed to clean up.  If she had just listened!

“Would they go after my family…?”

Ian’s eyes returned to the defeated knight gripping a bookshelf with his good hand.  It was the first time the man openly discussed his family.  Every time the topic came up at meals, she shied away and avoided answering.  “They are protected and safe in South Reach.  They do not know they are even threatened.”  Bann Ian sighed, wishing none of this ever had to happen.  “The enemy only learned you survived the wreck two days ago…with a report that stated their fleet of three Man O’ Wars left Val Royeaux had already left port.  They carry the possessed Patricia here to arrive in about two weeks to do whatever necessary to commence the blood magic ritual on Evelyn.”

“How did they learn of my survival then?”

“Your future knight-commander…Meredith Stannard is a Promiser, a specific branch of them that acts more brutally than any other.”  Bann Ian shuddered at admitting that detail, forcing himself to sit down in front of the fire.  That particular issue was his failing.  He should have known there was a reason why Meredith wanted Cullen so badly beyond to have him killed.  She saw a use in the young man, especially after his life experiences.  Cullen wandered over and flopped down in the opposite wingback chair.  The man sat across from him much like the day they first met.  However, his amber eyes looked at him pleading rather than in hateful demand he entered with just minutes before.  “Her intention was to convert you to their cause and be used against Evie to accept the demon.  Her methods…Well, let’s just say you would have quite convinced and have no problem making an abomination.  I’ve already lost a nephew, Burton, to her…tactics.”

“Maker’s breath…”  The young man wisped, pinching his nose.  “You know this is too unbelievable to take at face value.  Also, it does not excuse having an apostate that is still dangerous to people, bond or no bond.”

Bann Ian exhaled and shook his head.  His trimmed beard rubbed his tie and tight collar.  He felt like he has aged a decade during this conversation, but to save all he loved, it had to happen.  This man seating by him must help them.  “Were this anything else, you would never have known.  However, you know as well as I that life is filled with the unimaginable.  My question to you, Ser Rutherford, what are you going to do with all this information…and are you to harm or help us?”

Chapter Text

Cullen’s palms kept sweating through his leather gloves as he gripped his templar shield and sword at formation height.  His amber eyes watered from not blinking, his attention fixated on the double metal doors in front of him.  He held himself stiffly so that Knight-Commander Greagoir and Knight-Lieutenant Hastings did not see his anxiety and question why he was so tense.  They could not know he dreaded this moment since the templar selection meeting, not because it was his first Harrowing as the administrating templar over the apprentice, but who that mage will be.

Knight-Captain Hadley warned the templar knight he would likely be summoned for the next set of Harrowings.  Since his Vigil over a month ago, his body acclimated to the blue lyrium pulsing through his strengthening body.  He no longer woke with stomach pains or felt dizzy.  Instead, a deep, beating song drowned out his own heartbeats, a song surging the longer Cullen waited for the apprentice and First Enchanter Irving to arrive.  The new hum woke him at all hours and only got louder the longer time stretched between draughts.  He could barely think straight if he missed a single lyrium draught.  The hunger constantly gnarled at his insides and was all that matter now. 

When Cullen questioned his superiors if this continuous need for lyrium was normal, each commanding officer looked at him with a sad expression and nodded a confirmation.  He never understood why they seemed sad and defeated with the concept.  Nearly no one elaborated on their silent answer, just hung their heads and went along with their days.  The only knight who even spoke, cryptically whispered, No one leaves the Order…willingly.  Typically, Hadley would joke about such matter and give him some pointers he learned from his younger years, but lately, the man seemed less himself nowadays, overworked and exhausted.

Cullen had overheard some knight-lieutenants whispering outside the training rings.  Evidently, Greagoir forgot a few reports and circumstances the last few weeks.  With a hesitant eye, the knight glanced to his right.  His commanding officer’s profile was straight ahead as was every knight present.  The man looked a little older than when Cullen first arrived at Kinloch Hold over a year and a half ago as a templar recruit to complete his training.  More noticeable wrinkles splintered across his cheeks and forehead.  The crow’s feet became more pronounced with each eye blink.  Why had the other templars mentioned he was slipping and will likely be asked to retire soon?  Yes, he was older, but Greagoir seem as strong as ever.  He believed in the Templar Order.  He did not need to retire at the height of his career.  Cullen knew the older templar was not ready to step down.  The knight-commander had many years of service ahead of him.

The new full templar mentally shook his head, his whiskey eyes returning to the Harrowing Chamber’s double doors.  Cullen knew better than to listen to rumors, but he could not shake the feeling that the new hunger that bit deep inside related to those shadowy lies.  So unlikely, but his gut instinct never steered him wrong.  However, his faith was driving force in life.  He nothing else to keep going and serving the Templar Order and the Chantry.

If that was the case, why did Cullen have his brother’s coin in his palm inside his gauntlet?  Wasn’t faith all he needed?  No, that was just to reaffirm his commitment to his family and the Order.  His gut and the coin were aligned supporting his absolute faith in the Maker.

Go north!

Well, then there was that …

Ever since his discussion with Hadley all those weeks ago, the pull to travel northward strengthened in tandem with his body’s ability to handle drinking lyrium.  As soon as he took his morning philter, the blue hum would simmer and hush, but that magnetic pull jolted him elsewhere.  The more it yanked at him, the more difficulty Cullen had covering up the feeling.  No, his place was there in Kinloch Hold-

-and his bond was able to be confirmed night.

That is if she survives, that conscious doubt wormed inside his mind the longer the templars stood at attention.  With a thumb flick, the knight rubbed his brother’s lucky coin under his leather gauntlets sown into the gloves to avoid detection.  She will survive, Cullen had no doubt.  He watched Maya Amell closely this last week after receiving notice it will be her Harrowing that he will watch and judge.  Her control over the elements and proficient technique demonstrated this test into the deep Fade will be a walk in the park for her.  Greagoir warned him not to assume any component mage will pass their Harrowing.  It was usually one of the first Harrowings that teaches every knight that important lesson.

Maya Amell’s Harrowing was not the first Cullen participated in throughout his career.  As a templar recruit, he watched and stood guard for two others, both failures.  He did not know the charges well.   In one exam, the mage never awoke, left in the Fade for all eternity because their body was struck down, the boy’s head sliced from his still sleeping body.  In the other exam, he only engaged when the mage’s demon passed through the Veil and got passed the head templar administrator.  The devilish creature barely lasted seconds once it reached the real world.  The Harrowing Chambers engraved runes and the seven vigil templars present acted to weaken the monster until it was bled dry and turned to dust.

That particular moment was the first time Cullen saw a despair demon.  He quickly left the chamber and vomited for a bell, its cold and great sadness haunting the templar recruit for days.  Evidently, the childlike form was one of the nicer looking demons.  Templars always remarked pride demons made any knight poo himself at least once in their careers, while desire demons allured any person sexually before ripping the templar to shreds.

Go north!

Cullen ignored the lyrium brand pulsing, twisting, and aching on his chest beneath his plate armor, gambeson, and tunic.  Since he had taken an extra philter prior to reporting to the Harrowing chamber, the lyrium brand directed him on where he needed to go and not on the one that will be confirmed tonight.  The itching subsided some in the last month.  His skin peeled a little and he finally found a salve and shirt combination that did not agitate the pectoral muscle.  The knight slowly grew more used to its presence and little nuances.  Yes, he had been caught with his hand mirror tracing the runes and designs by his fellow knights.  Yes, his fingers lingered on it while bathing.  And yes, he did smile like an idiot every time he thought about it.

With that thought, the templar wiped the happy expression from his unblemished lips.  All he needed was the knight-commander seeing him grin like an imbecile right before a Harrowing.  His thoughts should lie on the task at hand, not on what happened afterwards.  Stay mindful in the moment.

Cullen finished mentally chastising himself like the academy masters used to and began scanning the chamber tentatively.  He ignored how his knees kept locking and making him dizzy.  If he could chant the full Transfigurations while watching a candle melt, this should be nothing.  Yet, it was not.  His soulmate will be confirmed tonight, and he worried for her.  Again, he rubbed his hidden lucky coin and prayed to the Maker for her success. 

In the center of the expansive room straight ahead of him was the lyrium vessel, filled with the humming liquid.  The lyrium present was not the same as what mages drank to replenish their mana or what templars prepared with their kits each morning.  Instead, specialized potions and mixtures had been added to send the apprentice’s subconscious deep into the Fade, specifically into areas where some of the most powerful demons lingered rather than the potentially calm dreamscape a mage might visited each night.  Three templars each stood on either side of the testing aisle over intricate runes and carvings in the floor.  Above their heads, twinkling stars shined through the specialized magic-shield glass.  Dusk fell only a bell before and neither Thedas moon shined in the sky.  Luna was in its new monthly cycle, while Satina had not risen for the second half of the year.  That black expansive night sky will be either the first or last sight any testing mage will remember for the rest of their lives.

Two apprentices will receive their Harrowings tonight, Maya Amell and her friend, Valren Surana.  Cullen will oversee Amell’s test, while another templar, Jankin, will conduct Surana’s vigil.  Everyone will be present for both, just the templar watching over the mage will change.  The attending knights sometimes betted on which mage will pass or fail before reporting to the chamber.  Cullen thought that callous and beneath their blessed roles.  Alas, the bets assisted some templars in getting through the waiting, seeing too many times someone they watched since childhood be cut down or bring forth a demon into the physical world.

Cullen refused to ever make this holy role tainted with gambling or other immoral activities.  If Harrowings wounded his psyche as some templars claimed, he will find a purposeful way to overcome the moment.  Although, most templars just took more lyrium to overcome those difficult times.  Their draughts doubled after walking enough times in the barracks screaming and panicking.  Cullen found the technique more honorable, but its purpose lose to him.  Perhaps a way to strengthen themselves for the next failure?

Right then, the two engraved double doubles creaked open.  A small skinny figure stood by First Enchanter Irving with her hands cupped in front of her.  Her blonde hair sat in a long Orlesian braid down her skull and over her shoulder.  Each step she took, the twisted strains bounced against her right breast drawing Cullen’s eye to her shapely assets.  The knight quickly told himself no, but those dark thoughts always will find him again.  She was a beautiful lady and a disciplined mage who did as she was told and acted always on behalf of the Circle. 

Even from his position, Cullen could see her wandering eyes taking in the expansive chamber.  Irving took the first steps inward, the young woman following behind with a bracing expression.  If Cullen did not know her face so well—he stared at her enough for the last year to be borderline creepy—he would have missed how she bit the inside of her cheek to release her anxiety.

Then two sparkling sky blue eyes landed on Cullen.  He could feel her studying him curiously.  A calm refreshing breeze glanced his flushed cheeks.  Thank the Maker for his T-helmet to cover his blush or even Greagoir and Irving would know his feelings towards this specific mage.  Even with his face covered, he could tell Maya knew it was him and who may end her life.

We are bonds…she will not fail.

The two mages approached the lyrium vessel.  Irving explained why Maya was present and what was required for her to rise to be a full mage.  She nodded and expressed she understood, her shy voice now stronger knowing why she was called there.  Mages could not ask questions or defer to another time.  The suddenness was to teach them that their abilities hold many unpredictable qualities and that demons could possess them at any time.  The apprentice must decide then and there is they will take the exam…or wish to be made tranquil.  There was no other options.  The Circle’s safety and the outside world depended on this single life-changing choice.

Maya elected for the exam, her meek voice filled with confidence in her abilities.  She approached the vessel.  Cullen stepped forward to stand at his post.  Maya’s sky blue eyes met his one last time before she plunged her face into the lyrium, drinking the liquid completely.  Irving caught her slumping body as she slowly drifted into the Fade and laid her down on the glowing carvings in the center of the chamber.  The first enchanter removed the collar of her apprentice robes and showed her porcelain upper chest above the breast bone.  One way of seeing if an apprentice passed the demons was that their brand will alight their skin.  Though it itself might not be visible in the exposed areas, the lyrium brand will be quite noticeable glowing as it etches on the skin elsewhere. 

Once the first enchanter set the unconscious apprentice down with her lifeless hands on her stomach, Cullen kneeled by her side.  He unsheathed his longsword and rested the tip on her neck’s other side into a supportive groove in the stone floor.  The hilt laid on his armored knee.  All he would have to do was push down and the longsword will cut her main arteries in her small neck and chop off her head.

Those bells waiting became some of the most difficult in Cullen’s young life.  His quaking whiskey eyes were not allowed to wander at all.  He had to watch her delicate eyelids flutter or her tiny fingers twitch for any sign of possession.  His attention must analyze every groan or lip quiver for spells or demonic chanting.  Every overseeing templar must be sharp and ready no matter if their muscles ached in the same standing or kneeling position for the allotted time.

One bell passed.

Then the second.

Cullen could only hear Irving and Greagoir whisper to one another or their bonds elsewhere in the Circle.  It made sense Greagoir’s soulmate bond, Wynne, would be so invested in the test.  Maya was her favorite student, while the apprentice considered the older healer a close mentor and confidante.  In many ways, Amell benefitted more by being Wynne’s students than most apprentices, permitted to be out the barracks with the older woman studying.  If other rumors were to be relieved, Wynne and Greagoir treated Maya more like a daughter than a charge.  Cullen definitely did not believe that because it spat in the face of al templar-mage relation regulations.  Still, the administering knight quickly glanced at his knight-commander.  By Greagoir’s relaxed expression, Wynne kept confirming she will pass with flying colors. 

No other templar spoke in their lined formation on Cullen’s every side.  Even the ones who manned the doors after Irving and Maya entered did not shift.  All Cullen could hear was his heightened senses reaching out for any sign of magic or Fade summoning-

-Go North!

And bloody that.

However, the awaiting knight did stretch out with his brand in hopes he could possibly reach Maya through the Veil.  Each time he did only the lyrium’s humming echoed in his ears.  With his latest attempt, a strange violin echoed back.  A demon?  No, those blasted monster never made such sounds so strong and majestic.  None of his studies identified clear and beautiful music with demons…maybe spirits though.  The instrument’s beautiful harmony entwined with a piano closer to Cullen than he perceived.  Together, they soothed his jaded soul the longer the mage beneath his blade laid unresponsive.  His muscles relaxed.  The worry simmered.  He felt so much more alive and trusting the longer the piece enveloped his entire being.  Is this the Maker or Andraste hearing his prayers?  The music danced around him and calmed his aching heart.  Yes, his god would surely hear his pleas.

“Mmmm…”

Cullen readied himself, releasing his branding hunting.  The violin and piano disappeared back into the Ether as a great pushed directed him away from the Harrowing Chamber and tugged him like a rope snapping taut.

GO NORTH!

The templar searched his charge beneath his longsword, watching as her head turned to the side away from his face.  Her braid fell to the floor uncovering her small fair-skinned neck and left ear.  The lyrium hum he discovered during his Vigil pierced the air.  It felt like an ice storm whirling around the chamber outward.

“Be ready, Templar.”  Greagoir warned the kneeling Cullen as the other knights held out their shields and swords.

Then all the cold and blizzard snapped back to the mage.  Behind her ear bright blue etching began its drawing like frosted needles against the fair skin.  Cullen searched out if he recognized any of the symbols or runes.

No…

The shape of the circles were wrong.  Cullen had never seen that rune before.  Maybe it was the second half of his…No, it would have ended on the other side.  More and more of the brand formed down the mage’s neck and spine, spiraling sheets of ice and green until a completed white and green brand formed.

Maya gasped for air, her sparkling sky blue eyes flash open.  Cullen was so shocked by not seeing his matching brand he forgot to lift his sharpened sword out of the way.  A few drops of blood coated the edge as the mage cut her chin on the blade.

“Move, you daft knight!”  Irving hissed, kneeling by his student. 

Cullen withdrew his blade and stumbled backwards.  His knees had been locked kneeling for so long he fell back on his bum.  His eyes flashed to Greagoir, who too sent mental daggers at Cullen’s clumsiness.  Touches of magic dusted the air as Irving analyzed the apprentice for any damage.  He quickly healed the dripping chin, but a scar formed since her body and soul was so shocked by the exam and the sensitive branding.

Maya was not his bond.

Go north.

“Templars, assist the first enchanter taking the mage to her rooms.  Everyone else, reset and prepare for the other Harrowing.”  Greagoir ordered with a hand swipe through the air.  Still Cullen did not move from his seated position.  He heard plate armor clicking to follow orders, but he just sat and gasped for air like he had never took a breath in his life.  A gauntlet patted his pauldron.  “You did well, Knight.  Your first Harrowing was a pass.  Congratulations.”  The knight-commander stated the facts with a relieving huff like he too had been holding his breath the entire time.  “However, not all of them will be.”  Greagoir’s rough voice cracked a few times as he lowered it and advised behind Cullen with a veil threat.

Cullen did not give a damn about the exam or future ones he will oversee for the rest of his career.  The one Harrowing that he thought meant the most ended up shattering all his preconceptions.  There was only one person Cullen only wanted by his side.  Yes, she still lived, but…

Maya was not Cullen’s bond, his soulmate.

Maya was bonded to another, not him.

How can Cullen watch her fall in love with another templar?

Who was Cullen’s true bond?!

All the while a faint piano tapped its keys in his head before being muted by his lyrium hum.  Hi ‘trusty’ gut instinct just hollered again and again:  GO NORTH!

Cullen jolt awoke, bolting upward and nearly hitting his head on his sword pommel.  Pants and pains coughed out of his dry mouth, while sweat dripped down his trembling arms inside his templar plate mail.  He kicked his legs out from under him until he was in an outward sitting position and leaning against the guest bedroom far wall opposite of the hallway door.  His shield still laid strapped on his arm, while his left hand grasped its leather and metal grips tightly like to let go would mean death.  He slipped his longsword and scabbard onto his Chantry skirt lap, gripping the wrapped hilt like an enemy might charge into his estate’s guest bedroom with weapons flailing.

The knight expected nightmares tonight, but not that specific memory.  He had taken an extra draught before sitting in his prepared position opposite the door.  He must have fallen asleep glaring at the battered wood.  The double draught should have refused rest and prevented any night terrors.  He needed to be ready for a night magical assassination…from those ‘Promisers’ or House Trevelyan’s many agents, he was not sure.  Glowing city elf eyes and their twirling throwing knives flashed behind his eyelids with each blink.  Laughing Rivaini pirate and his huge hands hung off the templar’s tense shoulders.  Flames erupted from mysterious lying hands as a wicked noble apostate sneered in his soul.  He would not be caught unprepared again, especially to act against the creature that he was forever bonded with somewhere in this bloody house.

Slowly, the Fade’s hold on Cullen’s mind dissipated to him to suppress the old memory and think clearly.  He had not thought about that depressing night for months.  His mind and heart tore the templar apart thinking about that mage, especially her haunting erotic images used against him for weeks on end.  The knight consciously blocked that mage’s face from his heart and soul, but it seemed neither part had let go of what happened and that deceitful woman’s parting words.

Maya Amell was never his bond.

That lying and manipulative creature inhabiting this manor was now level three senses connected to the knight-lieutenant.

If the templar had known the apostate was his bond, he would have made every effort not to get close to it.  His silence and the unbearable pain that followed from being disconnected the apostate demonstrated he was stuck with the monster.  If had not touched its silky olive skin, he could have severed it with little ill health effect to him.  Now, it seemed whatever pain that will occur will mimic and cut him a hundred fold.

Cullen exhaled and thumped his head against a dresser across from the barred and bolted bedroom door.  The suite’s lock was not strong, but he engraved a nullification rune into the wood so if that mage forced blasted it open, it would cancel the spell and alert him of a magical attack.  Under the door handle, he shoved an ornate chair that had sat behind the writing desk as a first-level barricade.  For safe measure, the knight pushing some other furniture in front until the doorframe disappeared behind the piled items.  Those preventions meant he was trapped in his allotted bedroom, but at least it was larger than that blasted purple cage.  There was the small balcony with the glass door doors if he needed to escape, even if it was a several stories drop down into the ocean.  He could see the night sky and the sea and not those stone walls that plagued his mind and soul with every breath and blink.  He was armed and ready for anything in this space.  Well…as much as he could be at least.  It was better than the other event.

The knight-lieutenant was trapped here.  In this room.  In this estate with a mage.  On this isle surrounded by rough seas.  Even seeing the distant mainland from his bedroom, Cullen knew if he attempted escape, he will die on whatever vessel he stole to cross the channel by unknown assassins crawling in the same orders he believed holy and just.  He never wanted to be so caged again, but circumstances dictated he must remained confined.  The bann argued it was for his own safety, but Cullen knew it was a veiled excuse to save his daughter and family from whatever travelled to the isle.  Evidently, the noble bastard did not see that the true horror and danger walked among them.

Cullen pinched his nose, while rolling his head against the dresser.  He rubbed his neck, almost forgetting his gauntlet edges could rip skin if he was not too careful.  The man did not need any more scars across his pale body.  The templar will likely have dozens more before this shitshow ended. 

The blond Fereldan used his right hand to comb his curly hair after attempting to relieve his stiffened neck muscles.  His left hand clenching his shield ached painfully from being wounded with such precision earlier.  Branson’s lucky coin did little to lessen the pain within its little sown pouch inside the gloves.  Cullen never expected the bann to move so quickly and spear him with a random object.  His assumption the bann was bard-trained rang true the longer the two men occupied the same space.  His swirling analytical orbs read Cullen thought-to-thought until he could correctly assume Cullen’s next action.  Maker, he must be ruthless during chess.  However, the nobleman’s bard tactics sang while he weaved his wild tale of possession, death, and war.  If the knight had not been so doubtful, he might have bought it word for word.  Bann Trevelyan probably assumed Cullen was a warrior brute, too idiotic to see he was being fed lies and excuses.  What gave away the bann was that he said he did everything for his family, but still risked hundreds by keeping his daughter outside the Circle.

However, just because the knight discounted the story initially did not mean it was not completely false?  If one fact was confirmed, it made all the other possible.  One truth in that fantasy broke all known perceptions of everything Cullen cherished.  The knight could not determine truth from lies with the bann.  The patriarch rarely allowed his facial expressions to denote his deep emotions and not because of his red-grey beard masking half of his face.  He was controlling and manipulative, persuasive and cunning, and most of all, extremely perfidious.  He could argue the sky was purple and nearly make Cullen believe for a few seconds before he glanced outside.  But all this?  Tranquility reversal?  Secret cults?  A Forbidden One walking in a human’s noble form?  Assassinations on the templar’s life by respectable Chantry leadership?  Corrupt templars and clerics?  A plan to use a single mage to initiate the end of the world?!  Most of all, only Cullen could do something to stop it all?!

The last two mental questions made Cullen stop and think.  While Bann Trevelyan illustrated a way to avoid everything via the knight, he neglected to mention another method to stop everything with a finger snap.  The Harrowing dream reminded Cullen that there was a way to avoid possession and demons.  He performed that method himself during the rebellion.  Still, remembering the drops of blood on his blade from accidently nicking that mage’s chin reinforced Cullen could save everyone by doing one single task.

Knowing now that he was bonded to that apostate meant the knight was the only person he could successfully do it, albeit likely inducing horrendous pain on himself too.  Hadley’s words from so long ago reminded him that the monster was likely extremely strong.  Cullen’s lyrium brand over his heart and observing its magical brand on its shoulder blade denoted they were bonded via the heart.  The locations acted an arrow tied the two spirits’ halves together at a single striking point.  Those Promisers would not bother will all these obstacles if that fact was not completely true and likely even more threatening than Cullen initially anticipated. 

Alas, Cullen and the creature were a supposed balance, equal parts of nullification and primal elemental magic.  His runes did state its abilities very clearly, fire.  Not to egotistically boast about himself, mentors and officers alike praised the blond templar’s abilities and techniques to any listening person in his presence.  For all that mage’s mana, spells, and physical abilities, his own countered them one-to-one.  From what the bann implied about the other templars within the family following Cullen’s fireside questioning, none were able to make the mage yield and bring her to a Circle.  Yes, their own dueling in the meadow ended in a draw, but the Fereldan was not prepared properly to face such a perilous foe.  He had all the lyrium he needed on his person now and enough lyrium mineral to make more in his kit.  He was fully armored and mentally focused instead of being surprised about finding an apostate acting like a maiden and discovering the beast was lyrium-bounded to him for eternity.

Cullen quickly crawled to his armored feet.  He sat his longsword and shield to the side to begin deconstructing his furniture barricade.  His mind focused on a plan to end this before it proceeded into darkness.  He knew her rooms were a next floor above his guest suite, but did not know the exact location.  The family kept to themselves separate and in a different wing than visitors and attendants.

Then that bloody lyrium brand brought the blessed knight to his knees!  He tossed an empty brass chamber pot over his shoulder before slamming onto the hardwood and rug-covered floor.  The mark brought him crawl and shaking in trembling agony, so much worse than when Cullen silenced the monster earlier in the day.  He held his lucky-coin gauntlet over his cuirass, clawing into the metal and cursing the mark that allied him was such a menacing animal.  The more his mind processed an effective way to end it all with could possibly him too, the more his soul and heart burned him from the inside.  They were a part of him and should listen to his rational mind that.  This was the only guaranteed way the innocents here will live to see the end of the hurricane season and get off this blasted isle!

Yet, like during the shipwreck, his soul and heart refused to let his mind control his body.  The templar never felt so torn into pieces.  Even his whole being was not his own anymore, trapped arguing and warring.  He snarled at the very brand pulling away from his blessed duty!

The templar thought back to his academy lessons on bonds.  If a templar received such spike and body-tearing anguish, it was because the halved Fade spirit-demons connecting the bonds fought against the knight’s ultimate intentions.  The demons worked counter to the task at hand in a form of self-preservation.  To act without their consent meant destroying them from across the Veil.  Silences would not stop the pain, only a ‘rational’ spiritual debate.  Ha!  Good, they feared Cullen’s quest, his mode of everlasting freedom from anything magic and its hostile beings. 

Alas, the only way to move forward would be to communicate with the demons.  Cullen sneered that he would actually have to associate himself with the spirit halves that caused this whole connection in the first place.  Hang that they have done so over several lifetimes.  This was his life, not some other templar who might willingly embrace an apostate!  They were in the wrong, and the templar acted as his Order proclaimed.

Still, if he wanted to leave this room, the demons will get their stupid debate.  Cullen kneeled like he was praying at Andraste’s alter and focused his breathing.  Instantly, his whole being sync as one and mediated to sense these demons halves.  He reached out his templar senses, preparing to self-silence if either half attempted to possess him.  Instantly, a frantic piano that seemed familiar, but so foreign responded.  The extra lyrium in his system attempted to blot out the hammering ivory keys with its own hum.  Its argumentative tune flowed from himself through the unseen dream world.  A violin replied, relieved the templar had stop his pursue.  Its strong lilt was nearby outside the suite.

The knight gritted his teeth.  How could he be so blind!?  The facts had always been there, but Cullen kept himself ignorant to self-preserve what remained of his polluted being.  For years, the compass pulled him to travel north.  After discovering that blonde harlot was not his bond, Cullen fell into a depression and lonesomeness.  He continued to ignore the brand’s pulls and warping.  Yes, it took all of Cullen’s strong will to silence these spirits, but he was successful in never informing his fellow knights the officers he knew where his bond was.  Maybe if he had spoken up instead of saying the mage was likely dead, none of this nightmare would be happening.  He blocked out any and all outside influence.  He wanted nothing to do with whatever called from the other side.

But that violin melody…?

In that righteous stubbornness to block and shield himself, Cullen missed all the warning signs that his time on the isle pointed at that monstrosity.  Everything Cullen felt towards that creature made sense.  The fucking bond told him what it was all along, but he still believed his self-told lie and again made him unsuspecting.  Her majestic image in the portraits were the first definitive levels of bonding.  Its violin song pulled him into the music room where he watched it dance and play with ease.  The piano called to him to echo the sounds just like when it appeared in his dream as its true self and pushed him away.  The allure of being in its presence and smelling its citrus and orange aroma, all deepening bond senses meant to connect the halves back together swiftly.  To dance with the creature and hear the first audio senses alit his whole world like a lone candle drowning in darkness.

Then to touch her skin. 

Cullen jolted himself out of the mediation.  No, he could not think about that monster as something more than evil.  They all might call it ‘daughter’ and ‘family,’ but Cullen could not and will not ever again.  He knew what it could do if a drop of blood fell from anyone or itself.  He had a duty.  The Greenfell Chantry mothers engrained in him that it was dangerous and evil, wicked and turned from the Maker once entering his Golden City.  His mentors repeated it must be watched and sent a Circle, made tranquil, or die.  It could never run free, unbound, and unchecked.

For a brief moment, the brand’s aching ended.  The templar took the short reprieve to unlock the bedroom door and began his blood mage hunt.  The halved spirits pressed through the mark to make him think otherwise, to reach deep into his soul untouched by his tainted existence to see the truth.  He ignored them again and again, banishing their pleas with mental silences.  He closed his inner ears so that their lying melodies fell on deafness.

However, the templar knew how exactly to find his query.  Cullen reached with his bond senses, an inner phylactery of a sort to find the creature.  His sword and shield were in each hand as he descended the main stairs.  The estate was quiet and dark sans for the random guard patrolling the hallways.  The knight paid them no heed.  They meant nothing while his giant white whale still lived and its blood called to his awaiting longsword.

The inner compass pull the knight once ignored like the plague directed him away from of the manor’s family specific wing upstairs and towards the more public areas on the first and second floor.  He kept a battle stance, no longer gullible.  If the monster was up at this time of night, then it might know he was hunting its soon-to-be corpse.  He kept his thoughts and emotions close behind that dark chained door he constructed to protect himself during long weeks over twenty-some months ago.  The filthy maleficar must not know his intentions or may call forth floods of demons to kill anyone who threatens its existence, just like in Kinloch Hold.  Now that they had touched skin, hearing and witnessing such things was possible, though the bond was quite weak and he made it as thin as spider silk with each breath.  The knight meant to severe what he could internally in hopes to save himself such anguish once it felt his blade sever its head from its body, much like he had been trained to do with desire demons.

 This slow breaking can be use to his advantage elsewhere too.  He will be free of this monster.  It will be painful to him no matter what, but the man knew true pain and agony.  Cullen survived that hell.  This one will be easier because it meant he will be free and himself again!  That was the best part of this plan.  No more compass tugs or involuntary actions.  His mind, body, soul, and spirit will be just his and not shared with that damn blood mage!

The knight reached the first floor and turned left pass the display armory.  He followed the long hall through the first floor open gallery filled with marble busts and statues.  Each frozen person seemed to snarl at Cullen like they knew his purpose, his duty!  The task might kill him before dawn, but if Branson’s lucky coin allowed, Cullen will be far away and risking crossing the canal to the mainland by the time anyone knew he saved them from a deathly fate.

Then the man suddenly stopped, greeted with ajar double doors.  A single candlelight danced to the right within the two-story library.  Cullen checked his senses again.  Although he could not sense the creature’s magical aura—another question to ask the bann to add to his Chantry criminal report—his internal compass told him how close he was to the animal.

This was it.  The end.  He will stop a potential end of the world.  He will break from of the bond.  He will be free!

It has to die. 

It will die. 

Cullen will be the one to reward its death.

The knight knew stealth was not in his favor at the moment.  The new templar plate mail was not worn in yet.  The leather squeaked and rubbed itself and the layers of metal click-clacked with every body movement.  There was no way he would remove his armor now so close to this dangerous monster.  He learned the difficult way one too many times what happens if he was not fully prepared.  If he wore his armor earlier that day like he should have been doing all this time, he could have killed the creature already without much injury…without touching it. 

Still, with the expansive library with its open grand center, Cullen could still observe his target by the door.  Maybe he can rush the animal and strike it down before it even realized there was another presence.  This was its home and likely unaware its life may be threatened at any moment.

Cullen glanced down the expansive hallway through the statue gallery.  Similar foot falls as his own click clacked down the different hallways each holding a candle close.  Neither moon was out that night.  The spiraling clouds from passing storms obstructing their grey light. The patrollers relied on their small torches to navigate the halls.  If the Fereldan warrior planned it right, he can sneak into the library concealing his noisy plate armor as if it was patrol passing by.  So, if the monster heard the clicking, it may assume it was a guard and not his striking blade.

Using the time still allotted before the patrol came down the main hallway and towards him, the Fereldan edged the ajar library door open a little.  The metal hinges groaned and creaked under the hardwood weight.  Cullen winced and stilled.  Thankfully, his brother Branson taught him a useful but revolting trick to oil the hinges.  Instead of directly spitting on it like Bran had done that one time they snuck around the house looking for Satinalia presents, Cullen pulled out a clean handkerchief tucked into his hip belt while swirling building saliva in his mouth.  If only he had some water or just a bit of sword oil instead…but he was not expecting acting like an Orlesian bard when he left his suite.  Once he was sure no one would hear, Cullen hocked into the cloth, shuddering at the moist bubbly spit soaking the linen.  Then, he rubbed the runny egg-white liquid over the hinges.[1]

Satisfied he just oiled the door hinges in the most repulsive way possible, the knight tested the ajar door again.  It moved with little sound.  Glancing over his right pauldron, Cullen observed the patrol’s torch in the distance.  The guard will be making the turn down his hallway in the next few steps.  His amber eyes glanced inside, thankful for being in so much darkness after leaving his suite so his eyes acclimated to the night.  His vision easy saw the creature’s form in a lounging open shell chair by an open bay window.  The stars shined like haloes over the form.  A book sat open across its chest and one leg tucked up over a chair arm.  It never moved to turn a page or adjust itself.  Good, it was asleep.  Luckily, it will not know what hit it when he strikes. 

With target in sight, Cullen glanced back down the gallery.  The patrolling guard was approaching his position.  He quickly ducked into the library and slid the door close just as he found it right as the guard’s candlelight to hit the surrounding area.  The would-be assassin used the armored guard’s click-clacking to his advantage, taking a step in line with the guard and creped towards the sleeping mage.  Right as he heard the guard reach the door, Cullen withdrew his blade so the sling would be timed with the guard’s loudest movements.  As the steps started away from the library, Cullen used the last steps to close the last several feet.

There, standing just a foot from his query, laid the apostate sound asleep and wandering the Fade.  Those pleading halves screamed through his lyrium brand, preparing to inflict the level of pain when severing the connection.  He lifted his longsword high in the air, tip down and angled at its neck and both hands on the hilt.  He took a deep breath and thrusted down-

-and froze right as the tip nearly nicked the sleeping woman’s exposed neck where a man adam’s apple would be.  Cullen tremored with the blade in his hands.  He could end it all here.  He would never have to worry about a dangerous mage bond ever again.  Those Promisers—if it was at all true—would not get their flaming vessel for the Forbidden One.  Yes, he will likely not survive getting off this isle or the mainland, but he would take his chances once this blood mage was dealt with.

But why couldn’t he do it!?

The lyrium brand did not stop Cullen.  The spirits connecting the two individuals together over several lifetimes went silent the moment he stopped his thrust.  This had nothing to do with the etching that marked his skin since his Vigil.

No, Cullen stopped because he saw a person—an enchanting maiden—sleeping before him.  He could not mentally call her a thing so vulnerable and relaxed in the candlelight.  She was and will never be a thing, even to him.  Yes, he hated mages with a fiery passion, but they were still living, breathing people.  However, his psyche kept chanting they were things, weapons to use to fight their own kind.  Alas, his hate stemmed from fear and layers of pain no living soul understood.  Fear was not the sole reason to end this person’s life despite what she was and could do.

But they are weapons!, those Greenfell clerics ingrained into him.  They turned against the Maker and poisoned the Golden City.  They infected the world with darkspawn and the Blight.

Cullen’s heart and soul shouted back at his confused mind, forcing him to pinch his nose with one hand.  But not her specifically.  That was committed by the Tevinter magisters.  She has never used her magic as a means to kill...yet.  She did not like act a malicious weapon!

His faith and instinct screamed facts and preconceptions inside the knight whole being.  Cullen did not know which one was right.  His faith countered his inner buried instincts and knowledge building since he was small boy!

Alas, this was a person before him at his mercy, a lying deceitful bitch, but still a human being.  She wore a loose embroidered see-through robe over a night chemise.  So much of her baby-soft sun-kissed skin laid there exposed and open to Cullen’s wandering whiskey gaze.  Her auburn waves were down, cascading down over her exposed shoulder and arms.   Her long bangs cupped her cheek like a hand resting and caressing her strong angled jaw. 

Her face was devoid of any makeup, the first time Cullen saw her so bare and natural.  That feminine paint actually masked her unique beauty, not enhanced her striking features and…she had small light freckles over her nose and cheekbones.  How had Cullen missed that in their conversations and their close dancing just a few nights before?  The man preferred her so genuine and real.  Freckles, no cat eyes, and just those hauntingly beautiful chocolate brown orbs.

Her eyelids fluttered every once in a while, the Fade projecting her dreams so vividly.  One hand laid against the book tucked close to her chest, while the other sat in her lap.  One elbow grasped a plaid Trevelyan-tartan blanket she used to keep the chill from the nearby window from biting through her thin night clothing.  Every so often, a sea breeze tickled the two people’s bare skin.  Her sun-kissed olive skin would goose bump.  The wind wafted her unique orange and clove scent into the Fereldan templar’ waiting and thankful nostrils. 

Cullen lowered his trembling blade, all the fight and duty bled out of him like a thirsty leech.  He could not kill this woman.  He wanted to kill her to free himself, but Cullen could not do it.  He wished he could blame her beauty, her scent, and tantalizing skin on their bonds and the connections already established in their short relationship.  He could state to any other person but himself that he was attracted to her because they were supposed to be yearning for one another.  The templar will remark it was their unique bond that stopped his thrusting blade, and he likely will if anyone caught him gazing down at this maiden with his longsword at the ready. 

However, Cullen will know that is not why he could not free himself that night.  Yes, she lied to him by omission.  Yes, she was a powerful mage untrained and unwatched beyond the Circles.  Yes, her life will likely introduce the world’s ending if nothing else is done.

But. This. Was. Eve!

Eve who played her violin with ease and comfort that anyone and everyone will stop to listen.

Eve who sassed and joked like a commoner, but had multiple qualities all nobles should embrace.

Eve who could make a two left-footed swine like him dance a jig with ease.

Eve who made him laugh and smile for the first times in so many years!

Were all these acts a lie too?  Seduction to make him compliant?  Did she play him like a fiddle to give a false-sense of peace?  Was her personality so different that the lady he grew to know was a complete and utter lie?

For once, their weak bond gave Cullen some relief.  Through it, he felt hints of her emotion throughout their time conversing and learning about one another.  No, it was not all a façade.  Yes, it was not her whole being, but a major component of who she was.  She might fool those who do not know her Fade connection, but was it more to protect those same people from the demons that haunted her family now?

Cullen exhaled and sheathed this longsword.  He did not know this person enough one way or another to properly conclude.  His gut, which usually served him so well, was also inconclusive and encouraged his rational, intelligent mind to jump down this rabbit hole to investigate.  Branson’s lucky coin cooled his letter open wound, giving its own support to wait and see.    His faith should be his driving force right then, but for once, he wanted to ignore it and find out for himself.  This whole mistake will likely kill him as such hesitations had done time and time again.  The knight knew he was an utter fool, but for once, he actually accepted whatever result willingly.  Maker, maybe Cullen was acting on faith after all…

Knight-Lieutenant Cullen Rutherford considered himself a man of honor—a man tainted, polluted, and broken—but still someone with some type honor.  Striking down this woman without complete and definitive cause—well, beyond not being sent to the Circle—was not right and unjust.  He will just need to build his evidence before he concluded her life should be forfeit.  Fear and lying by omission should not return a guilty verdict and immediate execution.  Her death could save many if the tale her father weaved was true.  However, the bann stated Cullen’s willing participation can also avoid this impeding cataclysm.  Wasn’t it the Fereldan’s sworn oath at his Vigil to everything in his power and life to protect the innocent from maleficium even if it was not coming from this specific apostate but those in his own Order and faith?

It was then the warrior’s amber eyes landed on the book laying on Evie’s chest.  Swords & Shields, Volume II.  Bann Ian mentioned the book series when inviting Cullen to visit their specialized library containing all the texts he referenced in his long explanation.  His attention shifted to an empty gap on a book shelf nearby.  Picking up the candle sitting on the table by the sleeping beauty, the man searched the space and saw the other volume in the series written by a dwarf storyteller named Varric Tethras of Kirkwall. 

Cullen pulled out the book to gaze at its cover when rusty gears wound and groaned, but nothing open.  He stepped back and searched around the bookcase with the limited candlelight.  There was a strange gap around its frame and a cold breeze wafted from behind it, batting at the candle flame.  That meant air movement beyond the library and the nearby open window.  He searched for a switch until he remembered the bann stating the book covered a lock.  Glancing into the large gap where both books should rest was a slightly discolored piece of wood that did not match the bookshelf’s ring designs.  He puressed and pushed the panel to the side.  Underneath were a metal push button and turning knob.  Curious to if it worked as he thought, the Fereldan tentatively rotated the knob then pushed the button. 

The hidden gears wound back and the bookcase slowly unsealed from the wall and swung backwards.  Dust tumbled from around the frame as a blast of cold air from behind the bookcase hit Cullen and nearly blew out the candle.  Once the portal opened enough, he searched inside with his small light to see a spiraling stone staircase downward. 

Studying the environment behind him one last time, Cullen stepped onto the stone stairs.  He hear the gears wind up again.  His wide eyes and quaking hands searched for the release or a way to halt closing him in.  That was how he was going to die:  trapped behind a false bookcase after unsuccessfully trying to kill his apostate bond!  Thank the Maker the candlelight reflected off an iron wheel by the entrance.  He turned it with his free hand.  Instantly, the door began opening again.  Good, a way out.  He won’t die down here tonight at least.  Who knows what the morning will bring though…

“Of course it had to be underground and tight…”  The templar muttered under his breath, studying the tight and twirling stone staircase.  He held in his dust coughs, knowing the staircase will echo the sound and likely wake that fire mage.  Cullen began his descent, his mind ready to gather the required evidence to determine a final judgement and not freak when he sees how constrained he was at the moment. His claustrophobia flared with each panicked heartbeat.  “Maker’s breath, what am I fucking doing…?!”

Counting the winding gears locking back into place, Evie slowly opened her chocolate brown eyes.  Instantly, she summoned a magelight orb, barrier, and prepared a fireball in her open hand.  Her fiery chocolate brown eyes glanced at the closed bookcase.  Her whole body tremored as the boiling terror finally poured out of her soul.  She took a few deep panicked exhales and inhales, fighting the anxiety and fear nearly crippling her entire being.  The mage snuffled out her fireball, but kept the incantation ready and waiting.  She tried to stand and run for her bedroom, but her legs turned to jello and collapsed her seizing body in a heap on the library’s central Tevinter rug.

He came here to kill her.

He nearly massacred her!

Evie nearly died, and he was going to execute her!

Evie bit the tartan blanket lying over her elbow.  The cotton and wool dried her mouth as the fibers swallowed her frantic screams and river of tears.  Never in her nearly twenty years of life had the mage come so close to meeting the Maker than by the hand of the very person meant to protect her!

But Cullen didn’t.

Even if the mage summoned a barrier instantly, that templar longsword would have snuffled her life out before it fully formed.  A mind blast would have pushed the templar back enough, but his angle blade would have still cut her neck open.  She would have bled out in the matter of three breaths.

Evie nearly died to her bond’s own fucking templar longsword!

But she did not.

That man stilled his blade…why?

Cullen did not want her dead…?  At least not yet…?  When?  Tomorrow?  Next Tuesday?  When they’re hundred-and-two and bickering like the elderly couple in the village?!

She hoped now the answer was never again because if that Fereldan bastard stupidly did it, his handsome form will be coming with her.  It will be the last thing Evelyn Tesni Trevelyan will ever do!

Chapter Text

The estate’s high bell tower rang its bronze gong nine times, waking Cullen from his long deep stare.  He recognized the dawn had come and went.  For the last few bells, the knight sat on the secret library floor leaning against a stone space between the old text bookcases.  Each minute, his little world crumbled as the information he consumed like a sea sponge broke every misconception with the written truth.

When the templar wandered down the spiral staircase, he prepared himself to race back up and away from the enclosure.  However, once his foot landed at the last stair, all fear dissipated.  The library was expansive, a single long floor instead the two story open library above.  With his presence alone, activated runes lit the dwarven smokeless torches down the long hallway.  The flashing light highlighted from the stone floor to the lower ceiling thousands books, scrolls, and other items.  The ceiling was low just inches above his head, but did not crowd the muscular man like he had feared.  The iconic smell of old parchment and velum filled his nostrils like when he entered Kinloch Hold’s libraries, but because of the tight underground area it was so thick he could taste it.  It was a scholar’s paradise.  Brother Genitivi, Cullen’s favorite author, would die happily among these documents.

That little nerdy boy inside the knight beamed at all the knowledge at his fingertips, hidden away to protect the family harboring the blasphemy and the texts themselves.  Cullen never openly admitted it, but he loved to learn.  As a young boy, he rushed to the local Chantry and read all the available texts to prepare for templar academy.  While a templar student, he spent much of his free time in the academy’s specialized library, educating himself on famous battle tactics and history he enjoyed learning about.  He always applied his reading with actual physical experience, besting his sparring partners over and over again.  One templar master even remarked Cullen would be a great commander if an exalted march was called on heretics.  Alas, the other recruits called him nerdy insults and mocked his good attentiveness.  He felt wrong about his yearning to learn and expand his mind after a while, but he could never back away from a good book.

When Cullen was posted at Kinloch Hold, the expansive library called to him, but much of those texts were magic-based for the apprentices.  Yes, he was allowed to read the scrolls, but his attention required him to watch and be vigilant constantly.  His free time did not allow him to consume the library’s collections.  Instead, he read to fall asleep, but still got teased because he did not go drinking with the other knights or gambled.  Cullen felt shameful for such knowledge-building hobbies.

Now though, bells surrounded by such knowledge, Cullen grasped his favorite hobby with somber thoughts.  When he first wandered into the secret archive, he noticed a large open book in the center setting on an expansive podium with a blank parchment, quill, and ink ready for use.  After a few moments of analyzing the text, the knight concluded it was an index of everything present as well as a sign-in book to track who accessed the area.  Feeling proper at the moment, Cullen signed his full name, rank, and the date wondering if it was past midnight now after wandering the estate halls for so long. 

Once completing that task, the templar flipped through the index.  There were hundreds of texts with columns of titles and topics.  Too curious about the bann’s tall tales and what this archive contained about his own order, Cullen searched the registry for the history of the Templar Order.  Utilizing the provided blank parchment, Cullen scribbled the locations of where to find a full volume set of the Order’s history.  He quickly jotted down that specific text too that Bann Ian stated demonstrated seekers were created via tranquility, too suspicious of his claims to let it fully rest.

Now, staring at the far wall with the third volume of The True History of the Templar Order across his lap and the sacred seeker text beside him open to tranquility, Cullen knew everything he had been taught was a lie.  The bann was telling the truth.  Tranquility could be reversed, utilized to create abominations to police mages and templars.  It was not applied to mages because most were made tranquil against their wills, thus the transition back broke their minds.  The one fail-safe Cullen believed that protected everyone from magic was an absolute lie, subterfuge to give the illusion of prevention and control!

The truth about the Templar Order only sullied his mindset further.  The volumes were written by the first people who created the Order and those who led it over the centuries.  The Chantry, Templar Order, Circles, and the Seekers of Truth existed because Emperor Drakon created them how he saw fit.  The same cults Bann Ian protected his daughter, family, and Cullen from were other potential beginnings snuffed out by Drakon I.  Other interpretation of Andraste’s Chants and other religious belief once sacred were burned and slain by the sword by a conquering man who believed himself working for the Maker to mold the true faithful world.  Drakon believed himself blessed and connected to the Maker as well, using religion to expand the new Orlesian empire and control the other races.  In many ways, the first emperor was no better than the Black Divine and the Imperial Chantry!  Ferelden’s own history slowly decayed by the emperor’s actions until nothing remained of the people that bore Andraste and her clan.[1]

Just another reason to hate Orlesians.

What broke Cullen the most was how the Order shifted over the ages based on power and strength.  In the beginning, the Inquisition was a coalition where mages, templars, and other fighters worked together towards a common goal.  They never believed magic was the root of all evil, only if used to harm via blood magic or governing extreme power as demonstrated by the Tevinter Imperium.  Those two facts were the reasons for it to be controlled and Circles established as places to learn, not imprison.  There was nothing in Andraste’s words that told mages should be separated from society and watched like animals.  The text confirmed scholars’ prediction that she herself was a mage!  The Bride of the Maker?!  A mage!?

What caused Cullen to stop reading was that Andraste herself was not bonded directly to the Maker as the Chantry stated now—of course never saying she was mage—but to the ex-slave Shartan who rushed into her pyre to free her.  They were the strongest documented twin flames ever seen in the history of bonds, connected by five different spirits each signifying a spiritual train and powerful in their own right.  Evidently, Shartan heard the Maker’s chants to Andraste through the bond, which was why he was so effective in leading the elves to their freedom.  The Maker loved all His children and wished Qunari, elves, and dwarves into his new faith, not excluded as the Chantry had done.

The first Inquisitor, Ameridian, was an elf mage, also a twin flame with his love, another mage named Telana, a somniari or dream walker.  Learning this fact really threw Cullen for a loop.  The Chantry stated only bonds can be between mages and non-mages, but the Order’s history in his lap disconnected the lie.  Ameridian embraced the Maker and the Elven pantheon, utilizing ancient elven practices to link bonds.  He was the one who utilized bonds to straighten the world.  Bonding predated the Chantry and Andraste by millennia, a practice used via vallaslin for married elves to communicate and share emotions with each other.  It was not just for love either, but platonic friendships, family ties, and other relationships.  Some scholars theorized there could more than one type of bond between people.  For example, a soulmate bond might be bonded to another too as family or friendship.  The more bonds, the more the individual strengthen and became protected from maleficium and demons.  Through Ameridian’s introduction to bonding, the Chantry utilized the bonding practice to strengthen their fighters against maleficium so blood magic cannot break or harm them.

Regrettably, bonds soon turned into a control and imprisonment method a few ages later.  Cullen read the shifts in ideas, followed them with his finger across each page.  The corruption was slow and stead.  Each divine, knight-vigilant, lord seeker, and other leadership adjusted the tactics enough until it was slippery slope into abuse he saw daily in the Circle.  Templars and scholar’s chose which parts of the Chant and the bonding practices to follow and which to weed out and slay from occurring again.  Mage-to-mage bonds were forcibly separated by tranquility until the spirits connecting them were destroyed.  Bonds existed in non-lyrium induced people, just not visible, meaning there was a bond for everyone, thus explaining how a mage’s bond could not be found or a templar never connected to a mage. 

Those other bonds just were not encouraged because of the shifting Chantry changes.  Templar and mages bonds were forced so imprisoned mages were constantly controlled and utilized when needed as the weapons during an exalted march.  Thousands of people exterminated because of what they were and how they loved one another.  Religiously-driven bigotry and racism ran free and unchecked simply because the Maker blessed them with someone who cares!  Cullen nearly vomited reading the practices used to erase age-old practices just because they did not fit in where the Chantry wanted now!

…and he swore to do whatever he was ordered, including murdering innocent people who did not fit the wanted corrupted society.  Different mage-hunts, child captures, and slayings, and tranquility flickered in his history that fully supported these lies-turned-to-doctrine.  Cullen participated in that genocide just by never questioning why!?

The systemic destruction of bonds and elven genocide occurred the most right before the Chantry sent the Exalted March against the Dales.  They had to remove evidence that Andraste loved an elf, her greatest ally who likely blessed her with daughters hidden away and unknown to the world, the future of the Maker’s True Chant.  Inquisitor Ameridian, who had disappeared long before Drakon’s death, was made a warrior human, not an elf mage bonded with a dreamer.  So, when the Seekers and Templar Order marched into the Dales to take away the elves’ homeland, there was not visible evidence that the race had fought and died for the Maker thrice over.

All the while, the records stating the past were systemically burned and stripped from archives.  Former faithful practicers and bonds had to hide the texts in hopes future people will learn the truth.  Many people harboring the texts were murdered, their family names stripped and forgotten to history.  According to the side scrolls to the volumes, the Trevelyans began their mass hidden library very early in the family’s history.  They were smugglers fighting with Andraste and helping runaway slaves flee the Imperium.  When Drakon sent his brand of Chantry through the Free Marches, the Trevelyan nearly died, but hid in Tevinter with distinct relative for a time before successfully returning to Ostwick and beginning again.  That Tevinter tie for a few generations was why the House was so interlinked with magic and that Evie’s mage status was not a huge surprise. 

The city-states rebelled against the Orlesian Empire.  The Trevelyans utilized the battle for freedom and self-governance to rise within the nobility, becoming the whisperers and agents for the Teyrn of Ostwick the last few ages.  No one in Ostwick’s nobility knew of their true activities, on witnessed their expansive enterprises in Chantry arms, weapons, and lyrium, and their operations in mining, horse breeding, shipping, and other diverse businesses.  Meanwhile, their actual smuggling never stopped.  They worked to free slaves in Tevinter, pirated off coasts to undermine enemies, and smuggle mages, templars, and other unwanted southern bonds to safety before their spirits were killed and ripped loving innocent people apart.

Everything Cullen thought about his order, religion, and duty were actually corrupted ashes of its original intent and Maker’s Will.

Bann Ian was right.

“I brought your breakfast.”

Cullen broke out of his trance and reached for his longsword resting beside him right leg over a few scrolls written by fleeing bonds persecuted by the Chantry.  His somber, watery amber eyes flicked to the secret entrance to find Lady Gwen Trevelyan standing with a tray of tea, cut fruit, baked goods, and of all things freshly baked sugar cookies.  Cullen smelled their bland sugar aroma from across the library.  Her Ladyship’s dark brown eyes called to Cullen to calm and be well.

Cullen hung his head and exhaled.  He adjusted himself on the stone floor.  His plate mail bit into his behind and his legs went numb in the metal shell.  However, he refused to remove the armor, not knowing if he must act against the mage who now haunted his each waking thought.  “Forgive me…I was lost in thought.”

“This place will do that.”  The lady of the house agreed, glancing around the underground crypt.  “Forgive me if I am imposing, but this dark, dreary place is likely causing more harm than good.  May I convince you to take your reading and come to the conservatory for your meal?  Maybe seeing the sun and being around the plant life will rise your spirits.  I would invite you outside in the gardens, but a random rain shower is soaking everything to the bone.”

Cullen’s ears perked, searching for the rain drops dripping pitter-patter.  He heard nothing.  Lady Gwen giggled, reading his face like the open book in his lap.  “You will not hear it here.  This hall was built with specialized runes on each stone to block out mold, mildew, wetness, sound, and other features.  It is meant to protect the sacred texts from destruction both by the elements and human error.  If the manor burned down, the flames will never lick this place.”

The templar nodded, his lips shaped like an O.  “A great deal of thought was put into this place.”

“It was one reason why the Treveyan bought and established on Epona Isle.  While the House country estate on the mainland and the massive townhouse in Ostwick proper, it is this estate that its true seat of power.  Geography protected whatever is built here, especially the cliffs on this side.  The dwarves built this room, their natural connection of the Stone is why it will last the tests of time.  Some recorded builders rumored it was built with Titan stone and dragon bone.  It will survive until Thedas’s magma from below reclaims the isle.”  Lady Gwen explained with a gentle smile.  “Please, Ser Cullen, come out.  You are pale and quite troubled.  A good Fereldan breakfast and some light will do you well.”

Cullen chuckled two times, slowly crawling to his feet.  His joints and muscles ached after bells sitting on the stone floor and trapped in his armor.  His right hand clasped his longsword, he strapped his kite shield on his back, and closed the ancient text that made him rethink his whole life.  “Let me put these away first…”

“No need.”  Lady Gwen cooed.  “Mother Moira, the estate’s live-in Chantry cleric, comes down her to check the texts and archive new ones smuggled from elsewhere.  I will inform her you are reading and researching so she will not fret.  Just take one text per time though.  They do not do well exposed to open air for long period of time.”

Cullen nodded, holding the third volume of his Order close to his cuirass.  “I wondered about that.  The temperature here is nothing like outside, but not cold and damp like a cave.”

“Another set of runes controls the environment.  Some incantations and arcane circles even act to avoid bookworms and other creatures wishing to eat or decay the texts.  That is why there are no spider webs down here.  Evelyn would never come down here if they were, but do not tell her I told you.”  The mother giggle, tilting her head.

Hearing his bond’s name immediately sent conflicting emotions through Cullen’s soul.  His actions the last day and night thundered through his head like his lyrium migraine from missing his morning draught.  But not having the drug allowed him to slightly sense that strange piano spirit half.  Peculiar. 

The idea of drinking lyrium again suddenly tasted toxic on his tongue.  Reading primary accounts of templars and mages forced-fed lyrium to create unwanted bonds made the mined mineral comparable to poison in his heart now.  Is this why his fellow templar brothers said templars never left the Order willingly?

Lady Gwen stated nothing about Cullen’s grimace hearing her daughter’s name.  Instead with a head tilt, she directed the aching knight towards the spiral staircase and into the open manor.  The knight followed clutching the ancient book close and hearing his nearly-new armor click against one another.  As the two people walked through the manor halls towards the conservatory, Cullen noticed the servants wince and attendants cry out in fear at the armor sounds and hide at the sight.  That was right, Bann Ian encouraged the knight not to wear armor inside the manor.

“Many of the attendants have been abused physically and sexually.”  Lady Gwen explained with a knowing eye.  She seem to know Cullen’s thoughts before the templar developed them.  “Several are former freed slaves from the Imperium or nearly died to slave gladiators for sport.  House Trevelyan works with an underground Tevinter magister who wishes to abolish slavery in their homeland.  House Pavus is actually linked generations back to our house, and still sends slave-bonded individuals south for us to help recuperate and assist with a new chance at life.  Fesill’s mother was such a freed slaved, pregnant with her daughter when our pirate ship rescued her.  The woman had been a personal slave toy for her master.  Fesill was born here and has never left the isle.  We have encouraged her to find her own life, but her loyalty and gratitude to our House keeps her here aiding Evelyn night and day.”

Suddenly, Cullen wanted to rush to his guest suite and take off the noisy shell for the attendants’ sake.  He knew what sound and smell did to a damaged and abused psyche.  The rain outside alone induced great paranoia.  Every once in a while, the estate’s halls ran read with templar and mage blood. 

But that mage was still around.  He must remain vigilant.  He cannot be caught unaware!

Hang his duty now.

No, Cullen can be a good templar, his childhood dream.

The Fereldan will never be that fantasy fed to him by the Chantry knights.  It was all lies!

But Cullen could rise above that hate!

Broken.  Tainted.  Polluted.  Touched by demons and blood magic.

Never will be innocent and whole again.

The internal conflict burned Cullen’s soul and heart.  Each lingering scar from those weeks trapped burned under his armor and linen clothing.  His mind screamed each time he thought that demon was coming to inflict more agony using that mage’s shape and tarnish everything he once cherished and loved.  Was ignorance better than this pain now?  No, because he has already killed many just being fed these lies.

Do not assume all those texts are truth, Templar.  Your faith is all that matters.  Your Duty!

Yet, those supposed texted explained more about the Chantry and the world’s past than any academy lessons.

Do not lose your faith in the Order just from reading a few accounts, Knight!

Thank the Maker Cullen and Lady Gwen reached the conservatory so his focus could be on the glided room and the exotic plants everywhere.  His teary amber eyes glanced around, taking it the forest inside a home with a pond filled with wildlife and natural local plants.  While Cullen found a comfortable seat by a snowberry bush from the Frostbacks, Lady Gwen set the silver tray down in front of him and walked to a potted plant along one of the far wall glass windows.

The blonde Fereldan had never ventured into this expansive room yet in the weeks since he found himself imprisoned here.  Morcant Estate contained hundreds of rooms open to most people.  Alas, discovering an underground, temperature-controlled library made the knight question how many more were secret and not easily seen with the naked eye.  His amber eyes scanned the green foliage throughout the two-story high glassed addition connected to the manor.  Lady Gwen was right, the bits of light shining through the glass and the leaves above his head did wonders for his consciousness.  The rain drops and winds now sang like a natural melody around him.  It ran sheets down onto the piled glass above that made the dome center and circular out wall.

Where Lady Gwen worked sat rows over rows of planter boxes filled with healthy bountiful herbs and flowers, many Cullen recognized from the apothecaries inside the academy and in the Circle.  “You study herbal medicine and potion making, Lady Gwen?”  Cullen tentative asked pouring himself a sweet lemon tea.  Honey and other additives sat by a large tea cup for his use.

“I always loved plants and animals.”  The lady of the house mused with a small smile.  Her dark brown eyes caught a slimy toad sitting in a nearby planter.  The noble lady petted the warted animal like it was a cat.  In her other hand, she used some shears to cut leaves, flowers, and roots from different plants.  “They do not harm as people do.  They live in a cycle that benefits all…a symbiotic relationship.  Humans broke from that cycle and disregard where they began.  While gardening has been a passion for me since I was a child, I did not venture into apothecary until Evelyn’s magic manifested.” 

Again, Cullen winced at the name.  The sting of being lied to and trapped still lingered strong inside himself.  Lady Gwen again said nothing.  He wished she would actually shout and rant at him so he just had an excuse to bleed the rage out more.  Instead, the practical simply dressed woman tied back her bell mid-shelves and continued working on her herb garden.  “I wished to help her education and she wanted to share what she learned from her tutors and mentors.  Potions became a bonding moment between us during a time I felt I was losing my child.  Many of the teas, tonics, hair products, soaps, and other potions you might have utilized during your stay her have been hand made by us personally.  Evelyn and I have a standing appoint every Tuesday afternoon to replenish the stocks.  Although, we gossip like frilly noble women who would never get their hands dirty.”  The lady flashed her tiny fingers, the same hand that petted the toad.

Instantly, Cullen’s gauntlet swiped through his hair.  His sage pomade tonic waned over the night of reading and restlessness.  His fluffed, unruly curls came back in full force.  Suddenly, he realized everything he drink, washed, and utilized had been touched by her.  “By your own hand, your Ladyship?”  The knight ignored the daughter’s contribution to scowl and pout over later.  “Couldn’t a servant or the estate’s healer do that for you?”

Lady Gwen grimaced at the question, her trimming done.  With an empty finger and thumb, she picked up a nearby marbled mortar and pestle and took a seat in front of Cullen.  She began tearing up the snipped leaves into bits before dropping each into the mortar cup already discovered green from past mixtures.  “Most ladyships would, true, but not I.  First, please reference me as Gwen or at most Lady Gwen.  I feel you and I are of the same station.  Just because my marriage elevated me to nobility does not make me your better, Ser Knight.”  She requested while meeting Cullen’s shocked expression.

“I…I don’t think-“  He shook his head.  “Wait, my same station?  Yes, I am a templar knight, but still born to farmers.  Surly-“

Gwen shook her head once, her dark wavy hair in thick braids tapped her temple.  “I am the daughter of a fallen noble, Ser Cullen.  In all rights, I am beneath you in most people’s eyes.  A fallen daughter who eloped with a sailor of all types...the things I have been called over the years.”  She puffed out her cheek while exhaling.  “Yet, I dot no care because look at me now.  I’m happy with my children and loving husband while they groan and cheat on their spouses.  They are no better than Maferath and his sons.”

The warrior froze, his tea close to his scarred lips.  Well, Lady Gwen’s snapping tongue demonstrated where Evie got her distain for Orlesian nobles specifically.  Alas, his mind searched for an answer to explain the ladyship’s personal circumstances.  Only Bann Ian’s story of his daughters and the possessed one’s hatred for her step mother shined through his confusion.  “Fallen or otherwise, you are still nobility.”

“My mother’s crimes are many in regards to society, Dear Knight.”  The lady sighed, stilling her hands for a moment.  “My mother was the only daughter of a minor lord of Highever.  Before you say, yes, I am half Fereldan, and quite proud of that fact as much as some Orlesian snub their noses.  Her family were land merchants who had shipping ties to the Free Marches.  She fell in love with a first mate of one of the ships, a strapping Free Marcher strong and ambitious.  They both loved adventure.  They wished to learn everything about the world, travel to every port, and learn about culture and history by doing, not reading or daydreaming.  My father’s ultimate goal was to save enough money to buy his own ship and begin his own shipping enterprises, hopefully with my mother’s family.  He wished to have their union be proper and blessed.  Elopement was never a thought in the beginning.  Alas, my grandfather was narrow-minded, a brute who fought against the Orlesian occupation with Fereldan ferocity.  He wished his daughter to marry other freedom Fereldan nobility to strengthen his lordship, Teyrn Bryce Cousland’s influence, to officially push Orlais once and for all out of Fereldan.  My mother refused to marry for war’s sake, fled the planned arrangement, and stowed away on my father’s vessel.  They married once landing in Tantervale.  Within a few months, she was with child.  Her family disowned her, denounced the marriage…and the child.  They called her unpatriotic, exiled her and her descents from ever returning to her kingdom, specifically Highever.  We actually had to seek permission from the crown every time we visited Ferelden, always blocked from my mother’s birth lands.  Even when my husband offered to assist the Cousland heir, Fergus, in rebuilding his castle following the Great Betrayal, he refused on the pressure of his vessel, my elderly uncle that I have never met.”

“My condolences…”  The knight whispered, thinking thoroughly about all the information.  “Was that past why Patricia…”  Cullen could not finish the sentence.  This woman never purposefully dredged up his hells.  He won’t make her relieve being poisoned by that child, making her miscarry her last child, and become barren.  Cullen had overheard from servants that the babe was another little girl surely magic-touched like Evie. 

Huh, which Trevelyan sister was the real monster here…?

Lady Gwen pursed her lips and squeezed her eyes shut.  Before Cullen could apologize, Gwen began.  “I was Rian and Patricia’s governess, thus how I came to Ostwick and served House Trevelyan.  When my mother died of the wasting disease—likely caused by a broken heart—and my father in a rouge hurricane just as the one you survived, I was forced to live with a distant relative who reminded any and all what I was.  The Maker smiled on me as my love for reading and teaching led me to be educated by a local Tantervalen scholar and inventor.  When His Lordship Trevelyan called for a governess, I had already had several references to enhance my possibly employment.”

The mother stopped her pestle mashing for a moment, her herbs turning into a green and purple mush in her marble container.  Her dark brown eyes met Cullen’s as he took a bit of fruit.  “Dear Ser, the state of this estate when I arrived was…there is not a word.  Something haunted this place.  His Lordship lost his father, mother, and brother within a few months of one another.  He never believed he would become the next bann.  His babe daughter, Patricia, was ignored and neglected by his first wife, and Rian…he was filled with a deep hate of anything magical.  I do not know if you were informed that his parents were murdered by rogue elven blood mages.  He watched the whole slaughter while faking death until the family carriage.”

The knight dropped his silver fork.  His mouth gapped, not caring he was showing his half chewed melon.  He quickly swallowed and replied, “How old was he?”

“Just ten winters.  A broken young man lost to the darkness.  He relived the nightmare ever night exactly as what he witnessed and experienced.  He felt tainted and his childlike innocence destroyed by the encounter.”

Cullen knew that feeling quite well.

“I did what I could for the broken family.”  Gwen sighed resuming her potion making.  “The former lady, Lady Sabine of House Callier was a deceitful vengeful woman.  She tortured me and the staff when the bann did not see.  I feared for my life, but concern for the children and the attendants who already escaped such hells kept me here.  I endured all sorts, my body blemished from the instances, thus my simple practical clothing.  I cannot show myself off at balls or fancy parties.  I did not learn until after Lady Sabine’s death why she burned my hair and mix nightshade into my porridge…the bann had fallen in love with me.  I could not admit it to myself either that I fell in love with him too.  I was to heal this family, not shatter it.  Alas, I still feel I only brought more pain.  My daughter is a mage.  My son is teased for thinking differently.  All the while, I cannot carry another child in my lonesome womb.”

“How, Lady Gwen?”  The templar questioned with a wrinkled brow, tears welling in his eyes at her heart-breaking confessions.  “There is so much happiness in this house.  I do not agree with your…the mage roaming freely, knowing fully what they can do, but…”

Lady Gwen could have snapped at him like the bann had the day before.  Instead, she smiled with kind dark brown orbs.  “You remind me much of Rian...even after finding happiness with Lady Cassandra, he and you still look like ships drifting on the seas, lost without a compass.  I still remember what my father’s ship looked like on horizon on the voyage that took his life.  You all have suffered so deeply…innocence lost at the hands of this cruel world.”

Something broke in Cullen right then.  A single tear rolled from his left eye and down his cheek.  He did not feel sad or upset, but yet the tears continued.  His face was blank, but redden as the tears created rivers down his chiseled face.  He touched the foreign droplets with his gloved leather fingers, the same one that stored Branson’s coin for safe keeping.  Why were there so many…?

Ruined.  Broken.  Torn.  Lost innocence.

His whiskey eyes caught that a beautifully embroidered handkerchief slid across the mosaic table by his breakfast.  Small tanned hands pushed it forward and waited if he might grab her palm for comfort.  Cullen’s gaze followed the hand to a linen covered arm, then a shoulder, and finally stolid face with burning brown eyes calling to his soul.  Without saying a single word, Lady Gwen told him to let it out.

The Fereldan crumbled into a metal heap, his wailing echoing throughout the conservatory like a banshee.  The tears flowed like the rainstorm above their heads.  The floodgates he kept so reinforced broke under the single observation.  He knew he did not conceal his inner pains well, but Lady Gwen reached for the gate barricade and snapped the lock with a hand flick.  She gave him a space to leak at least some of the hells out.  The dam broke enough for the floods to breach the banks but not swamp the valley houses inside his mind and soul.  She never asked for the cause or gave comforting words.  It was her presence alone that told him, You are a safe.  I will protect and hold you.

Cullen did not know how long he sobbed, but by the times the tears slowly stopped, his face hurt from the multiple frozen expressions.  Snort ran down his scarred lip and around his chin.  His hair puffed from grabbing the roots and pulling on the curls.  The leather gloves were soaked through.  The embroidered handkerchief was saturated, the twisted lily treads broken and twisted from his constant fisting.

“My deepest apologi-“

“-No, Cullen.”  Gwen stopped him.  His whiskey eyes glanced at her uniquely beautiful face.  She too had tears streaming down, though the crying only made the woman more stunning.  It was by watching her then that Cullen saw were Evie got her inner spirit and charm.  “I do not know your past.  I purposely asked to not know.  I know my husband—my love—dissected your life like a butchered animal.  I also know my daughter has a sense of it through this troubled bond placed on you both since birth.  I personally find their methods inhumane and invasive, although Evie has little control over your rare bond.  To understand and learn about someone, they must speak with you, release their darkest secrets on their own terms, not through spying agents and magically-induced links.  Your life, heart, soul, and mind are yours alone.”  She used her hand to wipe her tears a little.  “That being said, I want you to know with my heart and soul, you may speak to me when you may feel the need.  Wake me in the night.  Holler and scream throughout this house like a madman.  Send for me, please Ser Cullen.”

Cullen just shook his head, the feeling of being raw and so exposed…soul ripping.  “But…why?”

“Why not…?”  She puzzled back with a gentle smile.  “Because of my daughter and husband?  It is true I love them both and are family-connected to each.  I purposefully stated and demanded to them both in the beginning of these hells to keep me out of it all!  I have no clue of their plans.  I had no idea of why you were on that ship or what fate laid in front of you.  I wanted to learn from you, another lost soul on a turbulent sea of life.  The Maker is a cruel god for what he has done.  Many use his words and say He has plans for why he does these things.  I find that more painful because that means He allows it to happen.”  Her crying and whimpers resumed as she gave her observations.  Her words came from a deep dark place inside herself.  Cullen knew she understood.  “You are stuck here in a stinky position.  You likely feel alone, trapped.  Imprisoned.  For an independent man like yourself, they essentially placed you in a metal cage after running wild and free to only succumb to the very things you never wished for yourself.” 

Lady Gwen shifted her patio chair closer to the knight with both hands open if he wished to be held.  “You may not believe me, Ser Cullen.  But know, any words spoken between us are kept in full confidence.  I brought you to this specific room because I knew my husband’s little ears will not hear.  This is my sanctuary, my personal Eden.  I offer it to you for whenever you need to free you have a choice…a place be safely break without the cruel words and glances so common in the broken human society.”

Cullen slid out his seat onto all fours.  The tears began again.  When was the last time he felt safe anywhere?  When did he have a moment to process events without snide words and judgement?  Not at Greenfell.  Definitely not at Kinloch Hold.  His childhood lake popped into his mind, his little getaway where solitude and peace flowed through him.  No, it longer exist.  The fifth Blight destroyed that beautiful sanctuary.  His watery eyes glanced around him.  He recognized the plants and trees in the conservatory as the same ones around the docks.  Even in a nearby stone pond he saw water lilies and cat o’ninetails sticking out like the very ones he used to swordfight on the lake dock.

Templars were never meant to breakdown and sob like a child, but be stolid and dutiful.  Their faith was meant to see through their inner troubles without telling another soul or shedding a tear.  Men were supposed to be strong and show no weakness.  If anyone inside the Order saw him bawling and crawling in his templar plate mail he would be excommunicated and removed from his rank.

But the dam broke.

The crumbling walls around his fragile heart and soul bled out of every orifice.

A heart-breaking truth rolled through his heart.  He did not even has his own mother and father to hold him like when he was just a small boy waking from a terrible nightmare.  His family…his parents were the last part of his innocent self…now broken and lost after so much death and destruction.  How were Mia, Branson, and Rosalie?  Did they have enough money?  Have they turned to immoral ways to survive as he witnessed wandering Denerim waiting for the ship to help him escape his own mind and past?  He had never cared enough to think about them until now.  Not only was he broken as a templar and a man, he abandoned his siblings instead of rising up and being the eldest son meant to protect them.  That was what his parents taught him to do for thirteen years.

If he could not even protect his innocent siblings, how can Cullen do so for thousands throughout Thedas!?

He was waking from the worse terrifying nightmare of his entire existence.

His faith and Order was a lie.

He was the sole survivor of two different life-threatening events.

He lived through weeks of mental, sexual, emotional, psychological and physical torture inflicted by demons and blood mages.

He abandoned his family when they needed him the most after the parents’ deaths.

And now he was trapped on an isle with his mage bond while a Forbidden One came to kill or use him and set in motion the end of the world.

Cullen briefly felt two gentle hands directing his head into a linen covered lap.  He noted gentle hands removed his left gauntlet, exposing the crude bandages around the letter opener wound, while caring for the small coin in its hidden pocket.  Wetness was rubbed into the wound as a soft motherly voice sang sea shanties loud enough to hear over his sobs and low enough no one else knew what occurred in the glass flora sanctuary.

All he remembered was weeping for the young man forever lost in his inner sea.

Chapter Text

Esme listened.  Since he was a toddler, people underestimated him even to the point they forgot he was still there on the sofa or entered a room without someone looking up.  Even if he made the biggest racket, most people never lifted their heads to see he was the cause.  They more likely assumed it was a servant or their imagination.  Being essentially invisible and quiet allowed people to speak their minds openly around him, while he remembered every word so clearly and exactly that he could completely reiterate it at a later time.

The youngest Trevelyan’s immediate family did not forgot him or assume he would not understand.  They included him in conversations and knew Esme had a type of mind that worked differently from others.  His parents and sister knew loud noises fried his mind if he was unaware.  Esme analyzed at objects through a different lens than everyone else, seeing how they were constructed and ways to improve on the designs.  Bann Ian valued the young man’s differently-wired mind, especially when Esme would report to his father what a specific nobleman stated when they forgot he was still in the room or how businessmen responded to his repetitive tapping demonstrating how easily annoyed the man could be and thus easily angered.  Lady Gwen encouraged her son’s favorite activities, especially ones that preoccupied his thoughts to the point he discussed them with any and everyone who might listen.  Although, his mother never let him skip the studies that he struggled with constantly.  Reading, social manners, and foreign languages immediately came to mind.   Science and math excited him, especially metallurgy and dwarven mechanics.  However, those particular subjects became linked with business, economics, and Trevelyan enterprises, which Esme snoozed through any chance he could. 

Most of all, Evie allowed him to be the aspiring hero her younger brother desired, sparring with him and helping him improve his two-handed techniques.  Evie recognized when Esme missed social cues, directing him away from a wrong impression and embarrassment.  She included him in her activities even if Esme sometimes extended the task longer than necessary.  His sister never forgot or thought him invalid.  Much like her magic, Evie saw the world differently and did not mean he was stupid or slow…just unique with qualities their world desperately needed to be able to shift and change.

The other Trevelyans and nobility were why the adolescent wanted to run off, stowaway on a merchant ship, and become a pirate.  When they did dismiss him for stupid or mentally handicapped, they teased and beat him up until he was bloodied and bruised.  They knew he did not do well with language and behavior cues, directing him like a puppet until he fell into a pond or an entire ball saw him with his pants down around his ankles.  Even armed with a halberd, the other cousins always seem to knock him on his behind and laugh that he landed in horse manure.  They retorted no army or order would ever want such a moron in their ranks.

Apparently, they forgot they dismissed Alistair Theirin for similar qualities, and now he was the King of Ferelden, an important Grey Warden, and a national hero!

Esme listened and what he heard around him both made for good entertainment and worried him.  For example, that particular morning sitting in the morning room eating his fruit and porridge.  His father mumbled under his breath thinking himself quiet enough so that Esme’s keen ears did not hear the letter’s contents capturing his attention instead of eating his usual poached egg and sourdough toast.  From the bits Esme could understand, the letter was a business proposal from two dwarven brothers in Kirkwall.  They offered Bann Ian a stake in an Deep Roads expedition to a recently discovered ancient dwarven thaig completely sealed and never plundered.  Evidently, the brothers did not do their full homework because there was one thing you never ask his father and that was anything about the Deep Roads.

Obviously, having a first wife thought dead found months later as a darkspawn broodmother changes one’s perception of the already dangerous place.  Esme only heard the whispers in his youth about how is now possessed sister’s mother had to be hunted down by the House’s army and the Free Marches Grey Wardens before she repopulated all of the Deep Roads with darkspawn.  Although, Esme still searched for his father’s Grey Warden contact by the name of Jean-Marc Stroud in hopes to be recruited to the griffon-riding order.  Maybe he will meet Alistair again and become a Ferelden warden now that the warden-commander saved Amaranthine and began rebuilding the kingdom’s order…

Stomps from down the spiral case outside the room caught the young man’s attention.  “She’s still pissed.”  Esme mumbled between bites.  He did not need to look at his father.  The old man could probably tell what soap she used for her bath just based on sound alone.

“Leave it alone, Esme.”  Bann Ian hissed through his front teeth.

Esme rolled his big brown eyes before taking a big bite of oats.  Things were intense around the estate the last two days.  Esme heard the ramming druffalo Evie saved the sea charged into his father’s office day before yesterday, hollering like a lunatic.  Esme desperately wanted to go to his peeking spot and listen into the conversation.  His father had not figured out Esme built a littler mechanical machine that utilized magnets and static electricity to break the different listening fail safes installed throughout the grand office.  Alas, his mother kept him on his Anders foreign language essay until dinner.

To discover all the details, Esme sneaked out and overheard everything in the barracks compound.  He rigged up his invented sleep device that fooled the manor guards that he was in his room, then raced outside and into the barracks rafts where he knew Knotts, Hemmingway, and the head guards played diamondback every Thursday.  Esme knew what likely happened, but he could have never predicted that the ‘dashing’ knight and his fire-breathing sister had a brawl in the southern meadow.  The brute found out Evie’s mage status accidently causing him to lose his poo. 

Esme would have loved to ask his sister directly about it, but the raging mage kept herself outside the estate since the discovery.  She did not return the first day until after dinner and then was too angry to go to bed.  The next morning when Esme thought she would come to breakfast, her lady Fesill commented she left on horseback with the dawn to assist at the Sanctuary below the cliffs.  Once again, she did not show up for dinner, instead spending her time in the barn with the stray dog that came in on a merchant ship pregnant and assisted the still exhausted hound with her small and weak, closed-eyed pups still struggling to nurse.

If Evie was still in the manor now at breakfast maybe-

“-Fuck everything!”  Evie hollered, stomping into the morning room and flinging herself into her usual seat in front of Esme.  She grasped a scone from the platter and shoved it in her mouth.  Seeing that their mother was not present, the mage kicked her shined boots up on another empty chair.  She ripped the scone with her teeth and munched on a chunk.  “Everything royally blows!”

Esme snickered into his porridge, while Bann Ian ignored the cursing.  The daughter and father were more alike they either person wanted to admit.  However, Evie still stewing over events two days past meant Esme might get to personally witness a blow up in front of him…or if their mother waltzed in make him leave before Evie sent fireballs flying at a specific templar’s groin.  That little trick still made their templar second cousin, Logan, run from the room at summer parties.

Bann Ian waved his correspondence.  “No, this mimics such immature perverted swallow, my Dear.”

Evie turned her head a little to read the address on the side.  “Kirkwall.  Greeeeaaaatttt…What’s Meredith done now?  Drowned the alienage in hopes to summon a godlike octopus from the bay?  Name it Cthulhu and show it off at noble parties until it eats Hightown in one gulp?”

“Not the knight-commander, but the Tethras Brothers.”

Esme piped up.  “They asked him to fund an expedition into the Deep Roads.  They got the goods on an non-plundered ancient thaig.”  Ian threw his son a look.  “Oh, don’t be so surprise.  Any time you think about that broodmother that you once called a wife, your brow twitches along a specific wrinkle.”

Evie pointed with her scone, referencing their father’s forehead.  “He just thought of that expedition again.”

“Quiet, Evelyn.”  The head of the house snipped while his swirling eyes stared at Esme.  “I should have pushed you more to become a rogue, my Son.”  The bann commented with a blank face.

“Esme stomps too much to sneak anywhere.  Besides, he can’t keep secrets.”  Evie remarked talking with her mouth full.  She apparently did not fear their mother at the moment or Lady Gwen would be threatening to make the mage clean the whole room with a wire-toothed comb again.

“And you look as unladylike as Great Aunt Lucille when she loses her gurn-ivory teeth.”  Esme snarked back.

Evie tilted her head and smiled.  “Thanks.”  She flicked him off with a quick hand gesture before their father caught it.

“Talking this whole thing a little too personal, Evelyn?”  Bann Ian questioned with a quirk brow.  His assumption laid in how his daughter dressed for the day.  Her flowing linen dresses were traded with quillback skin leather pants dyed dark brown, reinforced leather corset with belts and riveted seams to hang pouches, weapons, and other necessaries that did not fit on her accompanying hip belt.  The corset was Trevelyan hidden armor with spaces for metal plates and chainmail with matching belted arm and shoulder pads also with such pockets.  To protect her arms and chest, dragon weaved blouse buttoned to her neck with just an enough open hole for her amber foci stone to peek out.  Lastly, complementing dragon skin gloves and knee-high riding boots with a sharp heel with hidden blades inside for emergencies finished the rouge-like outfit.  The last item was a suggestion by Esme after Evie kept having to leave her gallowglass sword on her saddle when visiting nobles in Ostwick proper.  Based off the enhancements and runes sewn and etched into the leather, metal, and belts, she expected at any moment to be in a battle that required deep mana reserves and multiple protections.  On her hip sat her knight-enchanter hilt disguised as a dagger, her sapphire-pommel Starkhaven dirk, and silverite gallowglass.

The woman’s eyes narrowed at her father.  “Too personal, Father?”  Oh yeah, she was still boiling with rage.

“He has yet to say anything that you have never heard before.”  Ian replied with a knowing twinkle in his eye.  “Or is it because that he said it and not one of your ridiculous relatives?”

Esme slowed his bites.  There was no way he was finishing his breakfast without hearing this entire conversation.  The teen’s eyes flicked back to his sister with an excited glint into his eyes.

Evie kicked her boots down off the empty chair, tossed her half eaten scone on the lace table cloth and smacked her palms on the table.  “Oh, I think when you nearly killing your bond in library warrants taking it quite personally!”

Esme’s eyes bugged out of his head, while Bann Ian did not flinched.  The young man searched his mind on anything other gossip in the last two days.  That particular spectacle would have been all over the kitchen staff rumor mill if anyone else had known.

“Yet you still live.”  Their father bluntly observed.

Evie’s cheek twitched.  “Barely!  That motherfucker stupidly came into the library two nights ago all decked out in his silly little plate mail and nearly made me eat his fucking longsword…through my neck!  He thought I was asleep—the prat—forgetting that as every time he uses his senses, I hear him twice as strong!  His spirit piano thumped right down the gallery thinking Williams’ patrol would dampen his click-clack.  The only reason I did not throw up a barrier and mind-blasted him into next week was that his thrust was so quick I still feel the whoosh across my cheeks!  Fucking bastard!”  Evie grabbed her scone and shoved it into her mouth, gnawing on the pastry like a lollipop.  They were extra hard that day.  Evidently, the baker was not tending her baking fires as well as usual.  Probably still remembering the dashing knight from Evie and Cullen’s village visit…

“He thought different it seems.”  Ian replied still not rattled that his daughter nearly died.

Evie removed the scone and spat.  “No shit!”  She took a bite and muttered under her breath.  Saliva and scone crumbles trickled out of her mouth and teeth.  Maker, their mother would have had a heart attack by now.

Ian folded up the proposal letter and set it by his plate.  “I consider it a win.”  Both children threw their father a surprised look.  No one threatened Bann Ian’s children and survived the hour.  “Your few days of friendship must have made a major impression on the boy.  If not, he would have not hesitated.”

“Because that should make me feel right as rain, Father!”  Evie hissed before taking another scone bite.

“It means he is not completely lost.”  Ian rephrased.  “He spent much of yesterday reading from the library and in your mother’s company.  Your mother is a gentle, understanding soul.  Although…”  Bann Ian’s bearded chin nudged towards Evie’s scone mess all over the table.  “…she might lose her temper if she witnesses how unrefined you eat at the moment.”

“I think only Hemmy eats messier than that.”  Esme joked with a smirk.

  Evie threw the last bit of scone at Esme’s face.  The hard pastry bounced off his nose and landed in his half-eaten porridge.

            “The point is,” Ian ignored the threatening food fight between his adolescent children.  “Ser Cullen can be persuaded to think beyond his academy teachings and see the issue at hand.  Now that he knows your sister travels here to invoke a demon’s will to burn down Thedas, I believe he can begin to process why you still live and were never sent to the Circles.”

“So you told him about the Sanctuary then.”  Evie assumed with a knowing glare at her father.

“I never stated that.”

Evie rolled her chocolate eyes and groaned.  She flung back in her seat and covered her face with her gloved hands.  “Fucking…”

“I am not going to do what you need to do, Evelyn Tesni.”  Ian growled with his bass tone rising from his seat.  Esme winced, quickly taking a quick bite from his bowl.  The first and middle name meant Evie might need to start writing her will today.  “This is your bond, thus your responsibility to see through.”  He began his walk towards the main hallway with his letter in hand.

“Ugh…”

Ian stopped right by the door.  “And Esme Ian Trevelyan, please see that you dismantle your mechanical machine in the office rafters, your sleeping device you use to sneak out of the manor…and stop deactivating the runes in the conservatory to listen into your mother’s private conversations.  I built that space just for her so she could speak and assist others without prying ears.”  Esme dropped his spoon.  Oh shit.  He as a dead man.  How did he know Esme figured out how to break the silence enchantments in the conservatory?!  His brown eyes met his father’s swirling irises.  “You forget gold leaves a chemical signature on silencing runes.”  Esme winced and bit his lip as his father left the private dining area with a deep bass chuckle.  “You should have listened to Tutor Emmanuel before chasing the man off with your automaton.”

Esme rubbed his face several times until his father’s footsteps disappeared down the main staircase.  How quickly can he rewire that water-pump motor to flee the isle?!  Evie might need to write her will, while Esme had only two bells to live. 

With a quick desperate exhale, he glanced at his sister.  Evie hung her head staring at the lace table cloth.  “How are you really holding up…?”

“Worse than that time against Burton and the thugs.”  Evie admitted with a lost expression.

“Ouch.  That bad…”  Esme leaned back in his seat, his porridge forgotten.  “The dreams…?”

“All the time now.”

“Started hearing his thoughts already?”

Evie shook her head.  Her auburn hair was back in a high ponytail and wrapped in a bun with a wooden comb.  However, her untamed long bangs kept dancing against her jaw each time she moved much like her flames when she danced and casted.  “That’s the thing.  There is nothing.  Everything said skin connection breaks down the barriers, but it feels like more are up than ever before.”

Esme pursed his lips and thought.  “You still have your blocks up…why shouldn’t he utilize the same?”

Evie glanced at her brother and sighed heavily.  “That’s why I can’t let go of what he said about me and what he almost did.  If…if he dropped his mental gates, maybe I could see what Father thinks is possible, but we are so far from the center that…”

The young lad perked an eyebrow.  “That what…?”

Evie met his eyes fully now, demonstrating she was tearing up.  “You must know…I cannot let that demon and those Promiser get their firestorm.”

Once again, Evie’s words scared Esme.  “And if you cannot convince him…?”

“I end myself.”

Esme bit his tongue.  He feared that was Evie’s intentions since the very beginning.  Even before that knight nearly drowned in that rogue hurricane, he knew Evie had a backup plan if everything went south.  Once news reached the family that the Promisers wished to complete their dark ritual before Evie turned twenty in the next couple of weeks, Esme witnessed his sister staring out over the cliffs at the jagged low tide reefs below with a contemplative expression.  Just as other Trevelyans forgot Esme’s presence most times, his own sister never sensed her brother’s worried stare from a manor tower.

Evie planned to kill herself if this stupid Fereldan knight did not look past her mage status and help her.

“He cried for bells yesterday.”  Esme admitted, revisiting what his little mechanical set up allowed him to hear from the typically private conservatory.  “He laid his head in Mama’s lap and just sobbed like a newborn.”

Esme expected Evie to be surprised by the news, but instead, she just continued to blink slowly.  “It does not surprise me.  Out of anyone in this disgusting world, Esme, that man deserves to weep.”

Evie always knew more about her soulmate bond than she let slip throughout her life.  In the last two years, she aged four lifetimes experiencing what he lived.  She kept his secrets, while the bastard never asked her about her own life’s troubles.  Esme’s sister loved all who tried in the world.  She defended her little brother multiple times when their cousins beat him to a pulp.  She spent every possible moment in the village or on her ship conversing and assisting the people.  Most of all, she served at the Sanctuary knowing she dodged such a fate when their father refused to send her to the Circles.  Maker, Evie did all those things because she felt guilty for not going to the Circles.  She escaped a life worse than death by being kept hidden and protected by her wealthy family.

Heavy boots broke the siblings from their staring contest.  Both sets of brown eyes flashed to the morning room’s double doors to see that very craven man who threatened Esme’s sister life and happiness.  Evie stiffened and straightened her back.  How she laid her boot to the chair side demonstrated she could move, fade-stepped, and race away at a moment’s notice.

Ser Cullen did little to settle Evie’s hesitations either.  Dressed in his evil templar armor, the knight instantly gripped his sword hilt like a vise and stood ready for an attack.  “Mage” the Fereldan spat like a curse.

Esme’s eyes flicked back to his sister.  Something about that single word broke something in Evie right then.  Her leather gloves fisted tightly nearly ripping the lace they accident caught with the gesture.  Her eyes narrowed and cheek jumped.  She slowly rose to her feet.  “I have a name.”

“Yes.”  The blonde warrior hissed through his teeth.  “One I will refuse to use again.”

Like a candle flicker, a brief moment of pain danced behind Evie’s stoic face before morphing to rising rage.  “Yes, because objects don’t have names.”  Evie spat until she was at her feet again.  “Apparently, you forget people name their swords, toys, and penises too.  You would have too if you could find yours.”

Esme thank the Maker to have front row seats for this fight!

“Mocking a man’s genitals.”  The man rolled his amber eyes.  “I did not think you would stoop so low.”

“Sorry I don’t have a special mage whip with my name embroidered on the handle so you can use to flay my back open.”  Evie snapped back with gritting teeth

“Just because your family and those library text state Circles should not be as they are now does not mean they are not necessary!”  The templar hollered back defensively.  “It is a place as important to your safety as it is for others.  That is what Emperor Drakon, the Chantry, and the Inquisition intended all along and it still holds true!”

Evie laughed sarcastically, placing her hands on her hips.  “I love it!  You use Drakon as a defense to everything right about the world.  He was root cause of this fucked existence already!  Furthermore, it really says something about the Templar Order when a mage says that they don’t have a whip for just them that you respond that Circle and their tactics are necessary.”

“She has you there.”  Esme giggled into his porridge.

Both mage and templar threw him a dirty look.  “Stay out of this!”  Esme quickly took a bite of cold porridge, but braved glancing up and watching each person step closer to one another.

“I am not say it is perfect, by crucial!  I know what happens when magic is used for ill intentions.”  The Fereldan explained like no one knew his history.

“And I’m the one standing here with an abomination for a sister and cultists wanting to take control of me and you to begin burning down the world!  Do you really think that ritual will not happen without blood magic, Cullen!”  Evie hollered in his face.  Evie forcibly pointed at Esme.  “Who do you think will be the blood sacrifices to shove a Forbidden One into me!?”  That caused the man to step back and think.  Esme rolled his eyes at the daftness.  “They’ll kill you and use my family and everyone on this isle to possess me using the very thing you say Circles are supposed to protect from.  I’m sorry that you hadn’t realize but not all maleficium are mages!  That’s what you should have gotten in your thick skull about anything you have read from the library!”

“If you have been placed in the Circle as a child like you were supposed to, none of this would have been happening!  Instead, your family’s scheming has led to this whole situation!”  The templar accused back with a gauntlet finger in Evie’s face.

Evie laughed to herself, shaking your head.  “You really don’t get it.  You haven’t figured out why?!  You really don’t know, do you?”

“Enlighten me, oh all-knowing mage.”  The blond warrior mocked in Evie’s face.

Esme pursed his lips, hoping his bubbling laughter threatening to spill out was silent enough to not get yelled at again.

Evie smiled wickedly.  She stepped forward, forcing the templar to step out her way.  Her head poked out into the hall, searching for a servant.  “Jim!”  The templar warrior winced at the name.  Esme knew that nitwit runner drove that knight up the wall.  Good going, Father!  “Have the stables ready Griffon and Tequila immediately.  Ser Rutherford and I are going to the Sanctuary!”

“R-right away, M-me Lady!”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”  The Fereldan declared right into Evie’s left face and ear.

Evie, still smiling, met his threatening gaze with a sassy statement.  “You wanted to see your fellow knights, right?  Learn from them?”  Her smile disappeared into a cold glare.  “It’s about high time you learn what your fate will be.”  With that, Evie stomped out of the morning room and up the spiral staircase.

Esme slowly rose to his feet as the knight sighed and rubbed his neck.  Esme overheard the templar mumble, “That could have gone better…”

“No, that was everything I hoped for.”  Esme chuckled, rounding the table.

The knight froze.  Evidently, this Cullen forgot too Esme was still present.  His fair face paled realizing someone else heard his admission.  Esme just bounced towards the door with a hop in his step.  He passed the knight to find something to get into, but stopped.  The glee disappeared from his face.  He took two steps back and stood on his toes to meet the tall man’s wary gaze.  “If Evie throws herself from the cliffs, I will personally cleave off your head off your shoulders.”

The knight stumbled back a few.  “What?!”  His amber gaze followed where Evie had disappeared moments before.

“You don’t think killing her was your idea alone, Ser Curly?”  Esme spat in the warrior’s face, flicking a twisted curl by his temple.  “Since we discovered what happened to Patricia, Evie has planned to end her life before any blood magic ritual can even hurt a single hair on any person’s head on this isle.  You might find her worse than a rabid dog, but my sister cares more about innocent people than herself.  She took more punches, kicks, and whippings from our own family to protect me than anything your Circles could have done to her.  If it looks like your bonds cannot protect everyone, she will do what is necessary to save and protect everything she loves.”

All the anger deflated out of the man’s face.  “How do you…?”

“She just told me, but she has been planning it even before we found you!”  Esme bit in the man’s face.  “The only reason why she hasn’t yet is because if she dies, so will you!  Even before you grabbed her, she knew your bond was too strong that death will likely kill the other person.  All of this is not happening because of what she can do, but because you are too important to her to let die!”  Esme flopped back down on his shoe soles.  He glanced over the knight unimpressed.  “Maker knows why she could care for an arsehat like you.”

Esme continued out of the room and down the hallway.  He heard nothing behind him.  The templar stood frozen and shocked by Esme’s threat.  Esme listened, but it was about high time someone started to listen to him!

Chapter Text

Evie knew she was riding Griffon too hard down the upper cliffs while skirting around the village.  The stallion under her grunted and struggled on gravel a few times to catch his footing, avoiding throwing himself and his precious rider over a cliff side or break a limb.  Griffon was not her sprinting horse.  That title went to Tequila.  Yet, once again, that damn templar decided to make everything difficult.

Cullen demanded to wear his templar plate mail, his growing mistrust and hatred rolling off him like sheets of glacier ice meant to protect him from Evie’s fire.  When the stable master, Filib, saw the fully armored man approach, he freaked and stated neither selected horse could accommodate such a heavy warrior.  The stables roared with activity as Filib decided which stabled horse would work.  Evie personally hoped he would choose the Avvar Frostback Mountain Horse just to watch the mare buck Cullen off every five seconds. 

Alas, Filib concluded one of the new breeds devised by the famous Master Dennet of Redcliffe would be a good match. The stallion was a true war horse, but still a newcomer in the Trevelyan stables.  The Barded Charger was the size of a carriage, black as night, and several hands taller than Griffon.  It looked wrong without its special imbued armor, but there was no time of need for that at the moment.  The knight’s eyes seeing the massive beast nearly made Evie bust out laughing, but her own burning rage about his stubbornness and prejudices kept her stolid and simmering internally.

The maiden glanced behind her right as she stirred Griffon down a side path through a smaller patch of forest Cullen had never traveled yet.  Since both animals were at full gallop, Cullen nearly fell off at how swift the Barded Charger took the turn.  Its glassy eyes followed Griffon’s every movement not relying on his novice rider for direction and control.  On the outside, Evie thanked herself for not educating the man more on sprinting and fast-paced riding, while the decent side of her grimaced and worried he will fall and break his neck.

Why did Evie still care for this abuser?  That man thought her low as dirt, overlooked everything else about her, focused on her mage status, and fucking nearly murdered her.  Just one of those things would have stop Evie from giving a damn.  People had done less hurtful things to her in the past, but here was this Chantry-blinded brute walking all over her spitting out hate and she kept being nice.

You did lie to him.  Her rational brain noted as she zoomed passed oak, hickory, and maple trees towards her important destination.

And what makes me think he could be rational about it if everything worked to plan?

You know why he thinks and acts that way.

And that does not excuse being a righteous bastard.  Just because….terrible events occur to a person, does not mean it is a get-out-prison pass to be abusive and overlook your Order’s crimes.  He was not the only person who survived that nightmare.  No one else is acting like a madman kicking down doors and threatening everyone with excommunication.

Yet you keep to yourself why you know.  You keep the mental barriers up that he has yet to break.  How is he to trust you when you won’t let him in?

Evie gritted her teeth, seeing the morning sunlight reflecting off the dewy grass and leaves close to the ultimate destination.  She knew things would be easier if he just chiseled away at the very mental walls and reinforcements she created as a child to protect herself.  Yet she knew she could not.  That dark deep hole that contained all her hells and damnations would be unleashed.  He will feel all of it.  He will know the truth.

“I can’t do it.”  Evie whimpered to herself, thankful for the quick breeze created by Griffon’s galloping for blurring her cracking words so that the person in question will not hear.

The forest began to clear until the wall of trees opened into a wide grove.  At the grove’s center sat a large two story building older than most on the isle.  The lime render protecting the stone architecture underneath yellowed since its last painting, while moss and algae colored the roof, corners, and stone door arches in a bright and hunter green.  The iconic chapel arches over the nave and building’s body and the grand tiled steeple denoted its purpose.  If the surrounding trees were chopped down, Ostwick proper across the channel would easily see the holy place, but that would mean everyone inside would be threatened and harmed.

No one must know about the Sanctuary.

Evie’s ear listened as Cullen struggled to rein in his massive beast until he was just a few feet behind her.  She sensed his piano playing so loudly, his emotions rolling off him through the Fade.  However, unlike the feelings directed at her, the expression on seeing this ancient holy site flowed with positive awes and excitement.

“A Chantry…”  Cullen’s baritone voice cooed while his amber eyes scanned the structure.

“No,” Evie snapped, although she did not mean to.  Instantly, his negative emotions flickered back through their bond.  “It has never been a Chantry, but an asylum.”

Evie knew the word ‘asylum’ would induce deep fear in Cullen.  Through the bond, his heart wrenched and he became wary of the whole expedition.  Just a moment of regret flicked in her heart before allowing that boiling frustration at his entire person thundered back in.  As much as the Chantry called Greenfell a sanctuary, both places were one and the same:  hospital asylums for the crazed and disabled.  However, unlike Greenfell and other templar locations across Thedas, the Sanctuary actually worked hard to heal and aid those inside.  Lyrium and the Chant were not the end-all cure used to remold broken templars into the abusive gangsters.

“Shall we?”  Evie sang happily, kicking Griffon into a walking pace.  She was not happy about any of this, but Cullen pissed her off to the point she was going to shove his scarred-lip face into the deepest hell his beloved Chantry and Templar Order created.  “The Sanctuary has shifted throughout the ages.  It was one of the first Chantry locations built in Thedas, but for the followers of Andraste’s Chant that opposed Emperor Drakon’s view of what it should be.  I cannot tell you how many times Tevinters, Orlesians, pirates, and others have burned down the place with people squeezed inside like a bountiful fisherman’s net.  Forewarning,” Evie glanced over her armored corset shoulder.  “The Veil is very thin here.  Demons don’t like it here because of all the holy relics and blessings upon the place.  They cannot possess the inhabitants, their connection to the Fade long gone or beyond repair.  If you hear whispering, it is likely spirits of Compassion, Faith, Love, and Wisdom desperate to help those inside to find each other again.”

The mage spoke so casually about everything, but she knew each statement made Cullen squirm in his plate mail.  He constantly rejected the spirits bonding them together the last few days despite the spirits being with them throughout multiple lifetimes.  They were the actual piano and violin melodies, just associating one person with one instrument to the other. 

Since they touched skin-to-skin, the spirit halves reached out to the inferno mage too.  She listened a little.  However, as soon as they wanted access—thus giving Cullen reach and more connection—into her deep soul, Evie pushed them away.  She avoided playing either musical instrument, her peaceful hobby, to inadvertently strengthen the bond.  When she came here yesterday to assist the aids and Chantry clerics with their charges, other spirits rushed towards the twin flame in hopes to guide her towards their destiny.  The mage thought she might go insane with all the voices in her heart.  So many Fade instruments banging out of tone…

A metal door opened in at the front of the Chantry building, awaking Evie from her inner thoughts.  She approached the tack log nearby and hopped off her Fereldan Forder.  She quickly made work tying the reins to the hitching post.  “Ah!  Sister Abigail!  You remember Ser Rutherford, yes?”

Sister Abigail was actually one of Evie’s younger second cousins.  Siana and she remained close to Evie after her magic manifested.  Both girls were educated by Evie’s Aunt Anna Maria, Siana’s mother.  Their aunt taught the more level minded relatives the truths about the Chantry, mages, and the nullification orders.  With their baby cousin and Anna Maria’s son, Malcolm, the trio were the only Trevelyan members not bound into one of those tell-and-die contracts, believing whole heartedly Evie would surely be dead had she had gone to the Circle.  

Siana decided her personal contributions against the fanatics and cults was to enter nobility society.  She sought out the typical donors to the religious institutions and directed funds truly good people, academies, and Reformists instead of indirectly funding terrorism, abuse, and murdering cults.  She met and married into House Buttleford, a minor Ostwick house with a large outreach through the Free Marches. 

Malcolm because a templar recruit.  Even though he did not want to take lyrium, he could protect their underground reformist movement by working within the Templar Order.  However, Malcolm was a push over and easily swayed by other cousins like Burton.  He continues to be a work in progress, thus while he served as a recruit on the isle as much as possible.

Sister Abigail found her calling in the Chantry—the real devote institution and not the high-class one who just wanted power and say they were blessed.  She kept an eye on each Chantry member who might become mentors for future sisters.  She enjoyed serving Ostwick’s poor and maimed.  She became a healing apprentice to the head mother at the Sanctuary and became Morcant Estate’s primary healer for individuals who needed to be kept on the down low, thus how she aided Cullen the weeks he was recovering.  Abigail knew before even Hemmingway and Knotts who Evie’s soulmate bond was as she was the young woman who treated Evie following…those horrific weeks.

“Evie!  A-a-a-and good morning, Ser Cullen.”  Abigail stumbled, biting her upper lip.  The sister had a worse Wicked Grace face than Evie, and that was saying something.  Her distant cousin glanced at the mage, her tone rough and tight lipped.  “Evie, I thought you were not coming today.”

The fire mage knew she threw her cousin and friend for a loop.  Bann Ian and Mother Giselle, the head Chantry cleric for the Sanctuary, agreed the Fereldan templar could know the secretive place after he pledge fealty to helping stop Patricia and the Promisers.  Evie, in all her stubbornly fieriness, threw the agreement out the window the moment Cullen swore that a Circle was where Evie belonged for her own safety and others.  Oh how Evie’s blood boiled when he concluded none of what was happening would have not occurred if her family followed Chantry rules. 

Evidently, the thought of transferring the fire mage to Orlais and being directly possessed by the Formless One never crossed his idiotic mind.  Evie still has all the letters from her Chantry cleric family ‘wishing she would visit Val Royeaux.’  Chantry slut cultists caught in the silence agreement desired revenge just because Evie outwitted them more on Chantry history and society than the very women who was supposed to serve the institution.

“Is Mother Giselle inside?”  Evie questioned with a perked brow.  She knew the mother sometimes journeyed to the village to give last rites or prayers in the mornings after breakfast.  “Some change of plans shifted and I determined now was the best time to inform Ser Rutherford on the Sanctuary’s charges and why this place is kept secret.  Her chocolate brown eyes flashed to Cullen.  “You do understand this has cannot be told to anyone.  When I said the people here have been burned alive locked inside, the last time it occurred was six years ago.”  Evie’s eyes glazed over and visibly shuttered.  “I was only thirteen but I assisted searching the bones for last rites.”

Did you do it?

Evie jumped a little.  That was Cullen’s voice…in her head.  Oh fuck.  It was starting.  Her big brown eyes glared at the templar.  He was not look at her, but the building, his whiskey eyes critical of its long and deadly history.  That was the first time Evie ever directly heard him through the connection, but he did not realize he transmitted it.  The emotion and disgust pushed the internal thought through the Fade to her thinking it was his alone.  The question held so much venom it passed over their bond. 

You son of a bitch!  Evie snarled in her head hoping that got through to him, but by how Cullen never looked away from the building, he did not hear it.  Good, at least she can continue calling every curse under the Veil privately for now.  She tried once more just the fucks of it, Your mother was a hamster, and your father smells of elderberries!

Nothing.

Damn.

“And before you think it, Templar:  No, I was not involved!”  Evie spat causing Cullen to hop back a step.  “The damn Masked Andrastians did it after Father and the other counter-cultists killed their vice leader in Serault.”

The knight’s amber eyes widened a moment.  “They killed how many…that horrifying way?”

“Seventy-five.”  Evie clinically stated with a stolid stance.  “Most were children.”

“Maker’s breath…”  The blonde Fereldan muttered to himself before saying a quick prayer.  He paused for a moment before looking up at Abigail and Evie. “I will say nothing…” He began, then his scarred lip jumped.  “Unless there are those inside who should be in a Circle.”

“Everyone here came from a Circle, Ser Templar.”  A thick Orlesian accent informed from the double doorway.

All three people present pivoted to see an aging dark-skinned Orlesian Chantry mother step out of the vestibule to the Sanctuary’s stone front stairs.  “My name is Mother Giselle of the Eponon Sanctuary.”  She nodded her head.  “I run this place of healing on behalf of Revered Mother Dorothea of the Valence Chantry, recommended successor of Divine Beatrix III.  Mother Dorothea, Ban Ian Trevelyan, myself, and many more are known as the Reformists, a counter movement against the multiple cultists rising through the Chantry swaying the institutions toward brutality and death.  We believe that if nothing is done to stop the rising rate of violence and destruction with the Circles, the Templar Order, the Chantry, and the Seekers of Truth, all those holy places will fall into revolution and exactly into the cultists’ hands.  This holy place is for the victims of the brutality and misguidance.”  The gentle mother waved inside.  “Please, follow me.”  Her brown eyes flickered to Evie saying nothing but everything.  ‘You have put everyone and thing at risk.’

Evie rolled her eyes as a reply.  So sue me.  It is the only way he will see reason.  Evie froze, watching her bond.  Good, he did not hear that thought.  Maybe he should have, the bastard.  She was going to keep her connection and thoughts very separate from this point onward.

Passing under the entrance arch, the instant smell of lyrium overwhelmed Evie.  Her magic reacted to the potent air, threatening to blast outward and beyond her control.  Before she could speak, Abigail slipped the inferno mage’s special filter mask into her hand and smiled.  Evie quickly put it on, but not before she received a questioning glare from Cullen.

“I have an…adverse reaction to lyrium.”  Evie quipped, her voice muted by the leather and cotton over her nose and mouth.  “See if you enjoy the smell if your Harrowing lyrium was three times the strength and heavily poisoned.”  At least the warrior winced a little, but said nothing more, only turning his gaze towards the second set of double doors into the nave and different wings.  Obviously, Evie’s father must have mentioned her Harrowing in his pick-and-choose decision after their brawl.

Shaking away the stirring pain from Cullen’s words from that day, Evie stepped forward and blocked Mother Giselle’s way.  “Please, Mother Giselle, allow me to head Ser Rutherford’s tour.  If he has questions, I will defer to you.  You know your charges deeply.”

“Oh course, Lady Evelyn.”  Giselle nodded, but her eyes knew Evie too well.  ‘Do not make my charges pawns in your spite, girl.’

No, Evie would never.  These people already suffered worse at the hands of people who were supposed to be protecting and educating them.  It did not matter if they were templar or mages, they did not deserve their fates.  They were examples of what Evie and Cullen’s fate would have been if the Chantry knew her abilities.  She was powerful.  So was Cullen.  The magic prisons could contain most beings, but the religious institution eliminated threats such as Evie and Cullen to avoid revolution.

“Eleven different former bonded pairs live at the Sanctuary at the moment, Knight.”  Evie began as Abigail opened the door.  Out of her peripheral vision she saw Cullen’s mouth fall open observing the scene before him.  Through the bond, Evie sensed his horror, shock, and confusion.  “They found themselves in this position because a) they did not fit into the Chantry’s imagined frame for bonds, b) broke another rule, thus punishment was ‘served’ on their bonds, and/or c) they were too powerful to let exist.”  Evie stopped her progress and met Cullen’s surprised whiskey eyes.  Maker, he is still absolutely gorgeous even if he was a bastard prat.  No, Evie!  Don’t let your attraction sway you.  “I believe we would have fallen directly in the C Category.”  She hissed through her teeth, lifting an index finger in the Fereldan face as a warning.  Her next sentence came out like a whip snap.  “Keep that in mind.”

The group arrived in the nave, but it was not arranged with pews, a worshipping stage, and other relics expected in a religious building, but couches, tables, books, and many many people hunched over in different catatonic states.  The smell of lyrium was so strong, Evie nearly puked into her mask.  Cullen likely was getting a contact high on the blue vapors.  Alas, there were not lyrium bottles visibly anywhere, only the people…well, who were once called people.

“You wondering about the lyrium…but don’t see any?”  Evie assumed, eying her bond.  She waved him towards two sets of former bonds in different alcoves lined with bookcases and stain glass windows.  “Let me introduce you to the two potential reasons.”

The first bonds Evie approached were two men:  a tranquil mage and a kneeling templar drinking bottles upon bottles of blue dyed water.  “Meet Claudius Lorenza and Fallon Tracey, a homosexual soulmate bond, not twin flames but mean to love one another for all their lives.  Fallon became a templar because he wanted to protect people from the Imperium for he witnessed how Tevinter treated non-mages.  Claudius was a homosexual man who fled Tevinter before he was found guilty of sodomy and quickly executed.  He was captured in Navarra and sent to the Cumberland Circle.  He feared and hated templars who could separate Claudius from the Fade.  Fallon hated Tevinter, but fell in love with Claudius at first sight.  Alas, the Chantry frowns upon homosexual relationships despite the multiple relationship most Orlesians have…especially with young boys.”  Evie growled and clenched her jaw at the fact.  “When the Circle saw that Claudius and Fallon’s relationship and sexual intercourse was not just to reaffirm their bond, they made Claudius tranquil.  Fallon drank so much lyrium to help find Claudius through the Fade and reconnect their bond that he went insane.  He consumed so much lyrium it seeps out of his skin pores, thus the potent smell.  He isn’t drinking lyrium here, but colored water with blueberry juice.  He is only allowed one draught a day for any more will making his abilities unstable and threaten the people here caring for them.  His mental state is broken.  He can see his love right in front of him, but that bond they cherished and had assisted overcoming their prejudices will never be reconnected.”  Evie sorrowful eyes studied Cullen mute face.  “They made Fallon watch Claudius be made tranquil.  Chantry practices dictate that mages are to be blindfolded so they don’t see the brand coming…  With Claudius, Fallon’s fellow templars at his last Circle gave the Tevinter a draught that make him hyperaware and overly sensitized and never blindfolded him.  So, as a tranquil, he remembers everything in his disattached mind.  Because Claudius felt everything…so did Fallon.”

Evie did not wait for Cullen to fully process the pair before move the group to the other example of lyrium use in the Sanctuary.  “Mabyn and Wayne North are the opposite of Claudius and Fallon.  However, they suffered the same ending result.  They are brother and sister.  Mabyn’s magic manifested and Wayne was forced to become a templar because he was his sister’s bond, family bonded.”  Evie allowed a moment for Cullen and those present to observe the siblings.  Mabyn and Wayne were in the fifties with the sister cradling her mindless brother like a baby on the sofa.  She sang a Tantervale lullaby into his ear, while Wayne drooled and never blinked.  “Wayne did not want his sister made tranquil just because he was not within the nullification orders.  You do know non-lyrium drinkers have bonds, right?” 

Cullen said nothing, his alarmed amber eyes trained on the former templar.  Evie knew the answer and continued.  “Of course not.  The Chantry does not want to admit that there are soulmates for everyone in this world.  It means the selected bonds between templars and mages are not unique as they promote in their propaganda.  Furthermore, nobility would have to recognize making their children marry against their wills for the family is wrong and disgusting…well, more than it already is.  My mother’s parents were such a bond, forced to elope, leaving her mother being disowned by a father who was more focused on the civil war than his daughter’s happiness.”

Evie shook her head and returned to the subjects in question.  “Wayne passed his Vigil, their bond cemented to a familial kiss and that’s it.”  Evie shuddered.  “No Level Seven required for their Circle roles.  They both were model bonds in the Circle…then the lyrium madness set in.” 

Evie glanced at the Fereldan templar.  “You know lyrium is slowly killing you, rotting your brain until the Order forces you to ‘retire.’ That means you are given enough lyrium to last the next two years before you go insane and die alone.  That was what this Sanctuary started as, what Greenfell actually is.  Greenfell was lyrium drug den feeding their older templars until they die in their own piss, shit, and puke.”  Cullen opened his mouth, but Evie cut him off.  “And you know it’s true even if you want to ‘protect’ your recovery shithole.  Templars serve their Order until they are too old and mentally decayed to be of any more service.  Most die alone because their bonds are not allowed to leave the Circle with them.  When the templars die, most mage bonds feel those last few months of agony and throw themselves out of windows to end it all.  We were able to get Mabyn out so she could care for her brother.  She is a healer, so the document falsifications stated she was serving as a healer at his retirement location, they just don’t know where.  They are the lucky ones if you can call being brain dead and essentially killing your sister by the very drug they made him drink to protect her.”

Evie exhaled and rubbed her forehead.  “My paternal grandfather paid the Circle to allow his bond live with him on the isle with his wife and children.  However, no one knew how violent lyrium insanity can be.  His bond, Juliet, attempted to keep him calm and focused, but he beat my father and his siblings.  It got so bad that Juliet knew she could never reach my grandfather through their soulmate bond.  They were being forced apart by the lyrium addiction.  She…she jumped from the cliffs two days before my grandfather went on a rampage and murdered my grandmother…almost killed his own sister, Lucille, and Rian’s father.”

The fire mage turned to Cullen, who was now visibly shaking and panting.  “Cullen, you might hate me, but if you can take anything I say as truth…that is what awaits you… and us.  I know you take three times the amount of lyrium now than when you took your Vigil.  You don’t realize when you drink it, I get power too.  That’s why such rare bonds are destroyed because the mage and templar can essentially trade the lyrium consumed between each other to keep fighting.  The more you drink, the more I have to bleed off with my mana.  I wish you didn’t…”  Evie squeezed her chocolate eyes shut.  She waved to the siblings spending the last years of life fighting to keep each other close.  “…because in a decade this will be us.”

“I forgot to inform you, Mother Giselle.”  Sister Abigail whispered behind the bonds, thinking she was being discreet.  She never was a quiet person.  “Archmage Wynne’s courier arrived in the night.  She is returning from Cumberland trying to stop the Circle fragmentation.  She wishes to review the Sanctuary one last time before have Greagoir transferred here.”

“Greagoir?!”  Cullen called, pivoting on his boot and staring at both Chantry sisters with both shock and rage.  Evie bit her lip and mentally cursed the Maker.  So, that was why their visit threw Abigail for a loop.  She had that bullshit to drop on Giselle and the bonds disrupted the announcement.

“Please, Ser Templar, keep your voice down.”  Mother Giselle hissed as she saw Wayne whimper in fear in the alcove.  “There are patients here.”

“You are meaning Knight-Commander Greagoir of Kinloch Hold.”  Cullen continued, barely lowering his baritone voice.  “He was my commanding officer in Ferelden.  He is coming here?!”

Mother Giselle sighed and shook her head.  “I typically do not discuss patients, but it better you know, Ser Cullen.  Before the fall of Kinloch Hold, Greagoir’s mind began to slip and now makes him unfit for duty.  Archmage Wynne, his soulmate bond despite reporting her son’s father was Aneirin, requested he be transferred here instead of Greenfell.  Because she contributed to the Grey Wardens during the Blight, she has more sway on his fate.  Even though they cannot be with their son, Wynne want Greagoir to have a happy end somewhere that will treat him well…well, at least remarkably better than Greenfell.  They know what happened to you while there because Greagoir contacted us to bring you here and not that…void.”

“You knew?!”  His quizzed focused on Evie.

“She did not.”  Giselle snapped, her eyes burning because he kept rising his roaring voice.  “We had no idea you were Lady Evelyn’s bond yet, a secret only known to those within House Trevelyan.  No, Greagoir knew you needed care and proper treatment.  He believed in you, an example of what the Order could truly be.  However, the Reformists’ enemies learned who you are bonded with and made all transfer documentation send you to Greenfell instead.”  Giselle sighed and shook her head.  “I am just thankful you did not succumb to the lyrium poisoning by that cleric.”

“You all know everything about me!”  The templar huffed and shaking, trapped like a caged lion.  “Is nothing my own!?”

Abigail grimaced, stepped forward, and tapped Cullen’s breastplate with an index finger.  “If you raise your voice one more time, I will kick you so hard in the groin your grandchildren will feel it!”  Cullen froze and shut his mouth.  Abigail threw Evie a look, knowing the threat also meant something to her too.

Ugh, Abigail has been looking at bridal dresses and making wedding plans on Evie's behalf again.  Evie nearly vomited thinking she will have to marry this handsome arsehat if things actually worked.  Level Seven alone nearly drove the fire mage to go drown in the sea.

You do find him handsome though.

SHUT UP, BRAIN!

Instead, Evie spit laughing so hard to cover up her internal panic.  “I love you, Abby…”  The Chantry sister blushed and sang a few lines to the Maker for making such a warning, only making Evie laugh more.

“It is not that we know everything about you, Ser Cullen,” Giselle sang with her thick accent.  “It is more the trials you have experienced are time-tested…and unfortunately those before you did not have the same ‘lucky’ fate.  They died brutal deaths at the hands of the corrupt and evil.”

The templar glanced away and exhaled.  He kept pinching his nose and squeezing his eyes shut.  Evie did not know what to say to calm his mind.  If she could hear more thoughts, maybe she could do something.  Instead, she guided him to the next sets of broken bonds.

“I won’t introduce you to all the bonds, Cullen.  I’m not that cruel to them and you.” Evie admitted, using his name for the first time in days.  It tasted weird on her plump pink lips.  The burning rage that brought them here had died to embers the longer the truth sunk into Cullen’s mind.  She felt his walls of fear and hate breaking more with each discussion, but still that rage from his past still existed and he used her as the root of it all.  That was not right.  “I think you are getting the gravity of the situation, but to really see why you and I could have never existed in the Circle, I need to introduce you to two more bonds…broken ones.”

The warrior just nodded and followed the group to the other side of the nave.  They approached two children with sunburst brands on their foreheads.  The handsome Fereldan froze, his mouth dry and eyes watering.  “They’re…they’re just babies…No older than my baby sister when I left for training.”

Cullen was right.  The two identical elven twins sat facing one another were no more than seven years old.  The girls rarely blinked, their unique magic forever gone.  “This is Gamila and Magaliene Hurst from the Anderfels.  They were abandoned by their city elf merchant parents in the Free Marches when their magic manifested.  Their parents used tan paint to mask their lyrium brands already on their backs at birth.”

The knight met Evie’s eyes.  “They were connected…at birth?”

“At their conception actually.”  Evie sorrowfully smiled.  “They were unique twin bonds, each housing a separate duplicate spirit in each body…The templars considered them possessed even though all evidence showed they were spirit dreamers actually completeky protected from possession.  The spirits inside them would never let a demon near.  They ran around the Fade killing demons threatening other young mages, especially during failing Harrowings.  They were just children who were doing more good than any Circle education…and the moment they were picked up, the Chantry sisters and templars deemed them too power to let exist…just like our fate.”  A single tear dropped from Evie’s watering orbs.  “They killed the spirits inside them first so their recurring bond would never happen again.  There will never been another set of twins who could do so much good because the Chantry believed them so dangerous to let live…and possible end what the Circles and Orders corrupted.” 

Evie openly sobbed right then, not caring how many people saw her lose her composure.  She stepped forward and kneeled by the two girls, rebraiding Magliene’s pretty black hair and handing a cup of water to Gamila.  “I personally smuggled them out of the Gallows and onto my ship.  There is a former Grey Warden in Kirkwall helping the Mage Underground, one of the Reformist’s branches to combat corruption and abuse.  I didn’t care I was risking my own capture.  If we have just been faster, then they would be…”

“…They were from Kirkwall’s Circle…?”  The blonde Fereldan knight whispered more to himself and to us.

“All these people sans two are from the Gallows, Ser Cullen.”  Giselle clarified with a steel stare.  “Most of the pairs here became this way following Knight-Commander Meredith Stennard’s appointment as head of Kirkwall’s Circle referred to as the Gallows.”

“She is her own brand of evil.”  Abigail spat through her teeth.  “She leads a branch of the Promisers who actually promote templars killing their mage bonds.  The templars go through their Vigils.  While they are in recovering, they find their bonds and bring them to the Gallows.  They force every sensory level but intercourse on the mage before having the templar bond cut them down.  Some templars die from the shock, but most became harden…brutal and aggressive.  If they can cut down their own bond, no mage is safe under their watch.  That’s how Meredith became powerful…she killed her own sister mage bond when the girl was thought a blood mage, but just blooded from being repeatedly raped by the town’s men.  Meredith killed her and they blessed her with oversight over Order education and the highest rank allowed!”

“That’s why she wanted you, Cullen.”  Evie explained with silted eyes.  She met Cullen’s hollow blank look of total shock and disgust.  “The Promisers want you dead so I will accept the Formless One more easily during their ritual.  Yet, Meredith doesn’t agree with the plan to possess me.  She believes I am too powerful to let live even if under the Promiser’s control.  She wanted to use your past to harden you.  Use your pride, belief, and honor of being a templar to elevate you to knight-captain…then set you loose as your final test to strike me down.”  Evie stood up and encroached into his personal space.  “Like when you attempted to kill me in the library.”

The bonds ignored the surprised gasp from their Chantry companions.  Cullen’s amber eyes nearly fell out of his head.  His hair laid out of his face so Evie saw all the facial features flickering one right after another.

You were awake.

Yes, but you were too quick to protect myself.  I was at your mercy.  Evie replied back, unsure if Cullen would hear the thoughts and emotions.

The templar flicked, grabbing at his brand under his cuirass.  I-I just heard you!  I’ve been blocking-

So have I.  I don’t want you in my head.  I don’t want to hear you curse my existence and wish to soil your blade with my noble blood.  I thought you an honorable man, Cullen Rutherford.  I have been with you since we were young children, but you never acknowledged me and the spirits who connect us.  Now, you blame me for all of this.  You are blind.  You refuse to see everything you believed was an absolutely lie.  I hate I had to tear apart your dreaming fantasy, but this has been my life since birth. 

Even before my magic, I was educated and trained to take my father’s place to protect those innocent but stuck in this corrupted Chantry world.  You were the only being who could help me, but you call me the very curse I have sworn to fight and protect.  That is what I mean earlier that you JUST. DON’T. GET. IT.  I was saved from the Circles not because I was noble or special, but because you and I would be those twins DEAD to the world and life to rot.  We still exist because my father and his allies recognized how rare we are in this shitty world.  The Circle leadership would have seen me and immediately slayed me and hunt you down like a pig and done the same, templar or not.  They have entire libraries documenting reborn bonds throughout history, and we are such a pair.  Since not instantly massacred, you could still become one of Meredith’s sickening templars who gets hard-ons raping mages and whipping them before branding them because their mage bonds meant to temper them were murdered!

I…I…I’m sorry.  I d-didn’t know any of this.

You’re not just one of the lucky ones introduced to this crazy underground war because you went searching, but because I wanted to protect you from lyrium insanity, becoming an abuser, and succumbing to your past.

Evie whipped the falling fat tears from her chocolate eyes.  All the thoughts flowed between them like waterfalls now.  Evie should have left the channel open, but she closed the gate.  Cullen needed time to absorb that his thoughts were no longer his own.  He must come around to see the Circle were no place for Evie and him.

“One last bonded pair…”  the fire mage advised with a soft words.  Giselle knew which pair she was meaning too.  Evie interacted with this pair the most, seeing herself in them…or rather Cullen and that other mage he used to love so much.

The Fereldan pair were in a far room off the nave alone.  The blonde templar leaned against the glass window crying endlessly as he held his love’s hand with his gauntlet, while the tranquil mage read a book, not even looking up when the group approached.  Both people were about five years older than Cullen.  Evie kept her space from them, but Cullen thundered forward.  “She looks …”  Through the bond, but regret and poisonous curses flowed from him seeing that woman’s doppelganger.

“This is Aeronwen and Tristen…their surnames have been lost.  Neither have spoken to anyone in years.”  Evie explained with great sorrow.  “They are the only pair not from Kirkwall…but Denerim’s templar academy and Scholar Capital Circle.”  Cullen met Evie’s long stare, understanding how rare it is that two people met in such conditions.  “Tristen never took his Vigil, but found Aeronwen without any bond.  They found each other in their dreams.  Aeronwen was a Harrowed mage with no brand.  We determined them a single halved spirit twin flames.”

“…Like us…”  Cullen kneeled by the couple.  “What happened…why is she…?”

“He killed the templars trying to take their newborn baby.”  Abigail answered when Evie could not find her own voice.  “They performed the bonding levels with no one’s knowledge.  No one knew they were even bonds.  They planned to run away…stowaway on a ship for Rivain.  Then Aeronwen became pregnant and became quite ill during her pregnancy.  Tristen had found passage on a Trevelyan ship when templars ransacked Aeronwen’s rooms and discovered the evidence connecting them.  Tristen started slashing, but stopped when the academy mentors stated he could stay with his bond until she gave birth.  Everyone knew they could not keep the baby, but Aeronwen wanted to be a mother.  Tristen always wanted to be a father and have a family, but was forced to join the templars because was a Chantry orphan…likely a product of a similar undesired union between knights and their charges.  Aeronwen’s water broke, but when Tristen went for her and the baby, the templars blocked them.  Aeronwen was giving birth when they branded her as punishment for Tristen disrespecting the Order and Chantry rules.  Tristen began killing.  He…accidently killed his own new son in the fight.  The newborn only lived for a bell before dying from blood loss.”

“Tristen asked to be made tranquil too.  They refused stating it his fault this all happened.  It was his punishment to feel this tragedy for the rest of his life.  We smuggled them out of Denerim with the help of a young elven girl being trained by a group called the Red Jennies before either endured more abuse.”  Giselle finished the story and said a few short prayers to the Maker.

Cullen stood up and grabbed Evie.  He pulled her close so she could see the tears pouring down his eyes.  “Why!?  Why did you show me these people?!  Her!?”

Evie bit her lip.  Years of jealousy rolled up from her stomach.  She hated that woman she had only seen in Cullen’s happy dreams.  “Because if Maya was your bond…they would have been your and her ends, Cullen.”

The Fereldan let go of Evie.  “How do you…?”

“I felt your love for her…”   Her hollow words visibly made him wince and stumbled back against a wall.  Apparently, he never admitted to himself he had been in love with a warden hero of Ferelden.  Evie simply pivoted away and moved towards the nave.  She stopped one step, and barely looked over her shoulder.  “I will never be Maya Amell, Cullen.  I am not her.  I will never be.  I refuse to be her replacement.  You can hate her all you want, but I refuse to be the blunt of that deep seeded hate.”  She continued on her way.  “I will be by the cliffs when you’re ready…”

Evie needed to leave.

All her possible fates laid in that small sanctuary.

That room contained the result if Cullen got his wish with Maya Solona Amell.

Cullen Rutherford will never want Evie, but Evie will not be placeholder for someone else either.

Chapter Text

Evie’s hands still trembled a little each time she needled the golden thread through the dark red fabric.  Her embroidery project from a week before finally had a basic shape, but her time just focused on filling in the face before she needed to change out colors to make defined shading and characteristics.  She forgot she kept this particular project on her person the last month, something to do with her hands when she could not play her violin or spar.  Most of the color filling occurred the day of the brawl when she escaped and fumed privately while mourn the loss of a new friend.  While she found the hobby tedious and boring, it did give Evie’s unsteady hands something to do as she let her thoughts run wild.

Every so often, the fire mage glanced up and look out over the sea.  As she promised, she waited for Cullen by the southern cliffs by the meadow.  She did not know why she offered the chance for the templar to speak with her, but it felt only fair dragging him into a recovery Chantry for former bonded pairs violently abused by the very institutions he swore to protect and uphold. 

The maiden’s anger and frustration finally died enough to look back over the last few days with some rational thought.  The Tevinter Imperium was not built in a single day, and here she expected the Fereldan swordsman to cast aside years of engrained prejudice and misinformation on the word of a minor lord who acted under false pretenses and his mage daughter who purposefully hid her status for a week.  Still, the constant hate and rolling loathing spilling from his scarred lips burned worse than Evie’s own magic, constantly stabbing her even when his sharpened blade never stuck her down in the library.

In those bells alone on the cliffs, Evie recognized part of her rage towards that man had been from buried resentment towards his life since he drank the lyrium at his Vigil.  While Evie knew of his existence prior to her Harrowing, his Vigil finally allowed her to put a face to the emotions she felt while asleep every night.  While it was easy for him to ignore the brand’s connection all those years, Evie spent three out of the last five years alone fighting demons.  Demons loved non-bonded harrowed mages.  They desired to utilize her lack of bond and growing power to hopefully possess her.  While harrowings demonstrated mages can suppress possible demonic possession, it did not mean it could never occur.  Even when Cullen had recognized who his bond was, the demons continued to get more and more powerful to the point that Evie just avoided sleep.

This all had been so easy for him these years…well, mostly.

The most irrational part of Evie’s personal anger came from the fact that the first time she even saw Cullen face in a dream, he dreamed of that other mage.  Evie had been more hyper-aware since the compass pulls and connection had been fully established in those weeks after Cullen’s Vigil.  She utilized every trick in the book to keep her presence unknown until her father and the Reformists could pinpoint his identity and whereabouts.  What Cullen had assume was Bann Ian protecting his daughter had been her father protecting an ages-old institution who fought corruption and abuse from the shadows.  If it had been about just House Treveyan, yes, she would agree completely with the knight’s anger and deep betrayal, but it had never been about just that, especially after Patricia housed the Formless One.

So, that night when Evie was sucked into Cullen’s dream had been a complete accident.  Evie did not even know where she was or how she ended up in that part of the Fade until she witnessed through his amber eyes tracing his lyrium brand on his freshly washed chest.  So confused by the sight, her Fade eyes just watched and absorbed the expansive muscular chest and and callused manly hands that reflected back via the hand mirror and into her dream’s eye.

If had not been for his iconic orange orb light she knew for years, Evie would have assumed it was a demon torturing her like any other night.  Evie kept her fear and confusion close to her heart and mentally gated, so this peculiar stranger could not sense that his dream was not his alone anymore.  She still remembered how he beamed into his hand mirror at the sight of the fresh new brand and his pride of being a full templar.  She heard all his thoughts in the dream.  She watched through his whiskey eyes as he dressed in his mint new plate mail and attempt to control his unruly curly blond hair before hearing knocks at the door.

The person on the other end was a templar officer, making Evie wary and want to pull away.  Even in another’s dream, it did not mean her deep seeded fear of other templars lessened.  She did not hear their discussion well, just the knight’s irritability of how the brand itched and burned upon his skin.  Still, its presence brought a proud noticeable smile to his face, his whiskey eyes alight with excitement for the future.

Then Evie felt it.  It felt like ocean waves batting her into rocks it was so strong.  The dream shifted until the knight was standing at attention on-duty in a Circle library.  There, a meek sweet voice read aloud an old folktale Evie’s mother had told her as a child about the Avvar.  From the low dim light, the fire mage concluded it was after dark, but other people were present, just off a ways to not overhear what the woman read aloud.

The Circle mage’s sky blue eyes glanced up and around before settling upon this templar standing against the wall.  “My, I’m so glad I can sit here and read instead of standing around like a statue all evening.”  The young woman’s voice unsarcastically mocked like she was not speaking directly to the knight.  “If I had too, I would be so relieved someone was reading aloud to give me something to do.”

Again, that emotional ocean waves hit Evie again.  The feelings were of mirth and appreciation…and something else Evie never personally experienced before.  It felt so foreign, but so addicting she wanted to feel it again and again.  She kept her presence unknown in the dream but her curiosity made her bold and solidify herself a bit more.

“Now…” The blonde lady cooed while adjust her old tight apprentice robes, flipping through her folk book.  “What would be more interesting:  a Chasind battle or…”  She glanced at the book’s table of content.  “…a star-cross love story?  Cough one for the first or two for the second?  My throat is very dry so I feel like I need to cough.”

The templar cough once, cleared his throat, and rubbed his bobbing adam’s apple.

“I guess I want a battle story then.”  The blonde lady smirked at the knight.  Her high pitched voice began into the tale, her sky blue eyes flashing up at the warrior every so often.  Her majestic blonde waves fell off her slender shoulders as she tilted her head just so.  Evie felt the templar smirk under his helm and listen intently.  He closed his amber eyes and relaxed, allowing the words to flow through him like a cool sea breeze.

Oh!  He likes her!  Evie remembered concluding and giggling to herself.  I wonder who he-

Then it hit Evie like a ton of stone.  She disconnected herself from the dream, her sleeping mind connecting all the pieces together.  She woke herself up and raced to her full length mirror in her dressing room.  The mage untied her night chemise and turned around, so her lyrium brand was clear.

Almost all the runes and designs were the same.

The fire maiden did not know how long she cried, but Fesill found her the next morning, face swollen and puffy eyed while curled up in a ball, clawing at her brand still aching from the crushing realization.  Her first time seeing her bond after over a decade of hearing his piano through the Fade and sensing his color in the Fade, and he was infatuated with another mage.

At that breakfast, the depressed mage informed her father where to narrow his search, knowing many Fereldans enjoyed such folktales about great ancient battles and the Avvar.  She still reflected on her foolishness and her irrational emotions over that initial meeting, but she could not blot out the deep betrayal that this man, this person she knew so well for years could just assume the Maker marked his skin to be linked to a pretty Circle apprentice who did not know what her fate could be in that Harrowing chamber.

Evidently, even Evie misinterpreted the woman’s destiny with her jealousy and distaste.  When the Blight ended in just a year, flyers flew to all corners of Thedas celebrating the group of novice Grey Wardens who saved the world all alone.  Warden Alistair now became King Alistair with his fellow warrior warden, a noble woman named Astrid Cousland.  A casteless dwarf took the final blow against the archdemon and died bringing more honor to the forgotten dwavren casteless than even their new monarch.  Two elves head one another on the announcement, although the younger alienage elf lost his life in the Deep Roads against a broodmother so his friends could escape.  His love, a former Antivan Crow, kept his memory alive in the drawn picture.  Lastly, there was mention of Dalish elf warden who had disappeared with one their companions just after the Battle of Denerim

Then there was that pretty blonde, sky blue eyed Circle mage hugging a Chantry lay sister tightly.  Evie nearly vomited reading her name at the bottom:  Maya Solona Amell alive and triple -twin flame bonded to a lay sister from Lothering.  Evie and House Trevelyan knew the Amells well.  An Amell married a once ally, Malcolm Hawke, who the Trevelyans assisted leaving the Gallows and sail to Ferelden. This was a different family branch, but still a noble-born mage who publicly announced her bonding with a non-templar.  Everything Evie and her family fought to protect laid in this such rare bond.  Yet, no one—especially the Chantry—was going to kill these two because this beautiful and talented mage was a warden and a considered savior of Ferelden.  Even those cultists would not dare strike down the pair because the lay sister was not ordinary Chantry cleric, but a student of Revered Mother Dorothea of Valence.  They were essentially untouchable.  All of House Trevelyan’s enemies would have to out themselves just to attempt a possible risky assassination.

All the while, Evie had to conceal her true nature and always look over her shoulder in fear a witness will see her cast while breaking branded pairs out of the Gallows.

Evie awoke from her inner rage to see she had stuck herself with her embroidery needle and nearly bled all over her project.  Her fist gripped the holding loop so tightly her knuckles were white as sea foam.  After all this time, she could not let go of her stupid idiotic sinful envy.

That beautiful meek mage captured her bond’s heart.

That slender and magestic mage lived freely outside of Circles with her bond, openly loving one another without any fear that those who wanted to control mages and bonds will harm them.

A single tear rolled down the sorrowful maiden’s cheek.  Evie swiped her ungloved hand over the wetness.  There was no reason to cry about this anymore.  No, her rage against Cullen and Maya Amell stemmed from the fact that Cullen now hated that warden mage now more than ever.  It began with when she was not his bond and then what happened during the Blight in the Circle.  He blamed Maya for everything that happened to him even thought it was irrational to think so, but it was easier than the truth. 

Because of that fear and hatred, when Cullen learned it was actually Evie he was bound to through the Fade, she heard and experienced his wrath like multiple blade stabs in the heart.  It was her duty to make him see through the prejudice and pain.  It was her existence why he was trapped on that isle with a possessed ancient demon coming to cut him down and begin burning down the world.  Evie was sick and tired for being blamed for things she had no control over.  For the mistakes she should be blamed for, no one else knew because she shoved them deep and tight in that black dark abyss she has lived in for over twenty months.

With a watery gaze, Evie glanced out over the cliffs and downward.  Low tide was in full effect, so Evie could see clearly the multiple shipwrecks.  The jagged rocks of ancient reefs and parts of eroded isle called to her.  She still had time.  There was many things she could still do to avoid that tragic end.

“You’re still here.”

Evie jumped to her feet, her embroidery forgotten.  A barrier flipped over herself and Griffon munching on some tall grass nearby.  Her stinging chocolate brown eyes stared down the baritone voice’s owner.  Cullen looked a decade older, his dull whiskey eyes sunken and bruised from bells inside a high lyrium environment.  In his time at the Sanctuary, he had removed his cuirass, gauntlets, and greaves and lashed them to his horse, a surprise after his paranoid behavior and disgust for being trapped on an isle with an apostate.

“I told you I would be here when you’re ready.”  She hissed through her teeth.  She bit her lower lip and squeezed her brown eyes shut.  Wasn’t she just spending the last few bells trying to think rationally and not let her stubborn, misguided rage ruin this forced partnership than she already had?!  “You surprised or something?  As much as you think I am a lying bitch, I do keep my word.”  She spat.  Yup, she too angry for politeness still.

“It is just so late in the day.  You must be hungry.”  Cullen assumed, studying where and how she spent her time.  He dropped his stallion’s reins and adjusted his stance.  He was not preparing for combat, but more swayed and acted…sheepishly?

Evie glanced up in the clear sky.  The sun hung lower than the last time she checked, while her stomach growled like a bear.  Evidently, Cullen heard it and chuckled once.  “I only had a scone today.  You didn’t get anything before I dragged you to…there.”

“I ate at the Sanctuary.”  The Fereldan admitted, rubbing his neck.  “I spoke with some of the retired templars there assisting the Chantry clerics and learned more about the other pairs saved by you and your family from the Circles.  Even Dalish mages were among them, bond to hunters forced to drink lyrium so they could justify bringing both into the Circle.”

“Ah.  Mahanon and Adren.”  Evie knew exactly the pair he referenced.  “We got them free from mage-hunters before Mahanon was branded.  Clan Lavellan hopes they might get to return to the Dalish soon, but Adren is afraid to be away from anywhere that doesn’t have lyrium.”

“I knew the…addiction was strong, but he said he has tried to quit three times, and almost died.  You actually saved him the second time.”

“He puked any liquid we fed him.  He essentially was wasting away.”  Evie reflected on that particular endeavor.  The mage visible shudder remembering all the puked blood coming from the skinny elf.  For a few bells, Evie thought him already dead, but Mahanon swore he still felt his clansman.

“He mentioned you and the few other Reformists were forming your own little library on how to possible break lyrium addiction.”  Cullen stated, actually sounding happy at the news.  “Even if he cannot try again for a long time, it gives hope that templars and other lyrium non-mage users might break free.”  He signed and allowed his hand from his neck.  “I…I never knew the consequences of consuming lyrium.  If I did before my Vigil I might have thought a little more about it all.”

Evie pursed her lips.  She waved to where she had been sitting.  “Want to take a seat…if you can stand being around an apostate for more than a few moments without trying to make me swallow a sword?”  Evie joked with a smirk.

Cullen did not notice the sass in her voice.  “I-I…you’re fine, and I mean to say-“

So, don’t joke about that quite yet.  “I was kidding, Cullen.  Still sit though?”

“Oh.”  The templar echoed through the meadow, turning red.  Maker’s butt and Andraste’s cleavage, it was so nice to see him so awkward again.  “Yes, I-I’ll sit.”  He cautiously approached the outcrop, his whiskey eyes realizing it was the same one they battled on just two days before.  As he kneeled to sit on some grass, his bare right hand petted blacken rock.  His fingernail picked at a particular reflective bit.  “You turned it to glass.  Your flame was so hot it melted the sand into the rock.”  His baritone voice was both awe and caution, likely thinking how he avoided burns during the initial fight.

“Yeah, I keep the temperature controlled as much as possible, but that day trying to avoid burning down the meadow, it just came out once I could use my magic more freely.”  Evie flopped down beside him, grabbing her embroidery loop to begin sowing again.  “I was not going to burn you, more trying to keep you from killing us both.”  Evie rolled her chocolate brown eyes.  “Well, maybe set your crotch on fire, but that’s a signature move…”

Cullen gripped his crotch after pulling off his left gauntlet, checking the glove’s palm strangely.  He grinned as a small silver coin popped out of the glove.  Without looking, he caught it before the coin tumbled away.  “That’s why you didn’t use your magic initially.”  His amber eyes searched the long grass stocks.  “I thought it was because you didn’t have a staff.”

“This meadow is sickled three times throughout spring, summer, and autumn so the hay can feed the isle’s animals through the winter.  I knew if I torched it, the villagers and the stable master would pay thrice the amounts to import feed.”  Her chocolate eyes met Cullen’s watching her with an open mouth.  “I could not let everyone become destitute for something I created.  The one time I did it when I was twelve fighting off a pack of wolves led to me to steal from my father to make up for the undersight.”

“Everything you do has purpose.”  The knight’s baritone’s voice filled with awe and admiration.  “You think of everyone else but your own safety about everything, don’t you?”

“Shouldn’t everyone?”  Evie questioned with a perked brow before returning back to her project.  She already poked herself with her needle twice watching him so closely beside her, specifically how his callused hand rubbed the silver coin with purpose.  The mage never thought he would even want to be in her presence ever again.  This all felt surreal.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean they do.”  Cullen replied with a grimace.  “I can think of an entire empire who would consider the common folk last if it meant they had the upper hand.”

“Tevinter or Orlais?”  Evie smirked with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“Fine, two, but you know I meant Orlais.”

“So Fereldan.”  The inferno mage giggled.  Even Cullen chuckled and joined her mirth after a few seconds.

A peaceful silence fell over the two people then.  Evie worked on her sewing and Cullen watched the Waking Sea, processing everything he had read, witnessed, and experienced over the last few days.  Evie allowed him those moments of reflection knowing she had years to absorb what had been thrusted on him like carts of boulders.

“I have…reasons…why I…”  He picked up a flat stone and tossed it over the cliff.  His amber eyes watched it spintered against the jagged reefs below before plumping into the sea.  “Well, I’ll just say it.  I fear magic.”  The knight openly admitted in defeat, holding up his hands like a surrender.  His chiseled face was pale and sunken, waiting for the news to be turned against him.  “I won’t state them.  I can barely think about it all without wanting to run and hide.”  His amber eyes glared at her.  His thumb kept rubbing the coin like a worry stone.  “You know how difficult it is for a knight to admit that to a mage too.  However, it does not excuse me blaming you for anything and everything wrong with the world.”  The blonde Fereldan’s curls bounced in the late after breeze against his temples, his gaze focused on horizon.  Those unique eyes danced from object to object demonstrating the forced will to admit his faults and hesitations. 

Wow, Evie definitely did not expect that.  “You were right at the Sanctuary.  You’re at an extreme disadvantage.  We know all these things about you, trapping you like a scared puppy in a hardwood crate with no way to escape.”

“I’m glad I could not immediately race off to the Ostwick Circle now.”  The blond warrior reflected, his lips pursed and thin.  “I would have exposed ages of texts and so many people to harm and misery.  Just thinking about the Chantry finding that secret library alone and just burning all evidence of how far they have strayed from Andraste’s vision would have broken my heart.  If they found those people already victims of abuse and pain… burning them again in that Chantry just because they did not fit the narrative.”

“I will admit, to hear you say such things makes me wonder if I’m dreaming.”  Evie confessed so confused and surprised how easily he has come to defend what he should hate.

“I am not completely unreasonable, Eve.”

Evie audibly gasped.  “You said my…name.”

Cullen hung his head.  “The more I learn about you, the more difficult to think of you as a monster.  If you are a monster for everything you have done, I am demon spreading the Blight everywhere.”

Evie pursed her pink lips.  She had to choose her words carefully.  “You are not terrible, Cullen.  I don’t know everything about you, but I can say with confidence you are not what you think you are…just as I am not as angelic as you believe.”

“That’s just the thing, Eve.”  The templar turned himself toward her.  His eyes caught the needle threading through the red cloth, watching Evie’s movements with fascination.  “I don’t know what to believe about anything anymore…or even about you.  How am supposed to trust you if I don’t know if you are actually what you say and do?”

“We did essentially dump you into a latrine of knowledge that soiled your shiny armor that was your childhood misconceptions about the Templar Order, Circles, and the Chantry.”

The knight swallowed hard.  “I still believe in the Order and its core purpose.  Am I am going to begin question everything heard from superiors?  Yes.  I know don’t want to blindly follow each and every edict thinking every slaying and branding is me during my blessed duty.”  He poked towards the forest and the beyond that the Sanctuary.  “If I did that, I will adding more to the number of pairs you and the Reformists must rescue and support.  Do I think that would have been our fate if you were sent to the Circle, I want to believe no, but now I am not looking through shiny stain glass at the lie I was fed since I was a young boy.”

A tear rolled down Evie’s flushed cheek.  “You have no idea how relieved to hear you say that, Cullen.  I know…I have felt what being a templar means to you.  I don’t want you to stop being one, just be properly informed about what it truly entails.”  She took a deep breath.  “As for not knowing what to believe and trust about me.”  She squeezed her chocolate brown eyes shut before meeting his intense amber scrutiny.  She held out a bare hand, palm up.  “Just know I have never meant to hurt you.  The Evie you met a week ago?  That is still me.  It was a part of me just as a mage is just another aspect.  I fear you and your abilities just as you fear mine.  I fear you can turn me over and press the brand into my head or follow Meredith’s methods and strike me down to save yourself from being burdened by a mage.”

“I will never harm you again like I nearly did that night in the library.”  Cullen swore taking Evie’s hand.  His fingertips and callused palm enveloped her smaller gentler hand.  Instantly, Evie felt a deep connection within her heart and soul  The spirit halves sighed at the potential reunion, rewarding the mage with the emotional pull flowing from Cullen willingly. It was the first they openly touched since that moment days ago.  Everything stated in this conversation began reaffirmed by the physical contact.  “I stopped because you showed me there was more to you than being a mage.  Just as you said, I wanted—and sometimes still do—to be ‘free’ of the bond, but it stems back to many things that have nothing to do with you.”

“It has everything to do with me, Cullen.”  Evie revised with a knowing eye.  “I know you cared for Maya Amell and wished her to be your bond.”

“So you have been aware of me and my emotions for a long time…”  Cullen sighed, pinching his nose with his free hand.  His cheeks blushed and bleached as the feelings flashing off him stated his embarrassment and loathing.

“I think if we talked a little more, I believe we’ll discovered we have known each other for decades.”  Evie smiled and tilted her head.  She nudged her embroidery towards Cullen.

“Is that… a lion…?”

Evie nodded, her gentle smile growing.  “The first time I felt you more clearly than beyond your Fade connection melody, I heard a group of children laughing and playing in a meadow just like this.  There was this one particular kid roaring like a Forstback red lion with what I assumed were his sisters and brothers racing away to not get caught.”

“Maker’s breath…”  Cullen laughed and shook his head.  His free hand combed through his tossed curls.  “Lions and bandits…This silly game my baby sister Rosalie made up after overhearing my parents talking about red lions eating a group of thieving fugitives trying to flee into Orlais.  One of us Rutherford kids was the lion because our curly blond hair looked like manes and the other siblings and village kids were the bandits.  It was tag with hide and seek rolled into one.”  He lifted his chin proudly.  “I was the most successful lion in all of Honnleath.”

Evie giggled and rolled her eyes, tightening her grip on Cullen’s hand.  “I didn’t see anything, only this rich orange color dancing, piano playing happily, and roaring in my dreams.  I was so confused when I would wake up from such dreams.  I even chased Patricia around the house with a stuffed lion head just to understand what I overheard in the Fade.”

“Is this before or after she had her pet nug pee on your toys?”

Evie blinked then looked at their touching skin.  “You saw that in the initial touch?!  Oh, afterwards!  I fucking hate nugs!  I risk discovery to potentially light one of the hairless rabbit-moles on fire.  She might be an abomination, but owns dozens of those damn things.  I bet one of those Man O’War houses them just so she wouldn’t have leave them at home.”

Evie watched Cullen’s expression shift to contemplation.  “Why do they think our bond is strong enough that we can survive what those cultist will do?”

The fire mage hated she indirectly brought up the future now after sharing laughter with this man again.  Evidently, he had not realized what ways the bond connection requires to even have a fighting chance.  “You mean what they say if it is unbreakable, we will be more powerful and unstoppable?  Our bond…has reoccurred many times.  We might not remember those past lives, but it’s in history books.  If we do this…Not even an army of crazed cultists and a Forbidden One stands a chance.”

“Do you believe it…that together we can survive?”

“Right now…”  Evie exhaled and squeezed his callused hand for strength.  “No.  But if we train…strength each other…really let the other in….I have to hope, but no matter what that blood magic ritual cannot occur.”

Cullen nodded and squeezed Evie’s hand back.  “Then we train.”  His amber eyes glanced over the cliff side.  “The alternative can’t happen.  Failure is not an option.  I will do my best if you’re willing to.”

Evie let a few more tears fall from her glassy eyes before sassing him.  “I gotta because I’ve never let a templar beat me.”

Cullen perked a brow with an egotistic smirk that made his scarred lip pop out and leave Evie speechless.  “I’m not any ordinary templar.”

Evie made sure her thought was completely her own.  No, you’re not…and I’m thankful for it.

Chapter Text

The training started immediately.

Bann Ian had both Cullen and Evie up with the dawn—although both people were already awake and restless in their rooms bells before.  Their nightmares never left them at night.  With how many muffle runes carved into the bonds’ suites, the manor still heard when they awoke sweaty and screaming.  The ironic thing was that Hemmingway knew neither pair realized the other experienced such restless nights.

This will be a hundred-carriage pile up in a busy Val Royeaux crossroad for sure.

The morning dew dripped off the open tiger lilies when Cullen walked out of the manor’s rear foyer into the open expansive back garden.  Hemmingway perked an eye at the stumbling piece of metal.  The Rivaini had his feet on top of a mosaic table on the back terrace, while whittling a piece of ironbark one of the Dalish traded him a few months ago.  Much like Knotts sitting on the second-story balcony above everyone, the brute analyzed the templar, now as their so called attentive ally.  While the knight agreed to at least attempt bonding and fighting the Promisers, Knotts and Hemmingway were still wary of his ultimate intentions.  Both bodyguards suffered at the hands of demons and torturers throughout their lives and knew such deep seeded fears did not just disappear after two days of learning the truth about everything thought holy.  They would not be excellent bodyguards to just assume the Boy, as Hemmingway had been referring to him the last few weeks, turned a new leaf and exposed their charge to a potential trap. 

Bann Ian too gazed at the lad critically, but for the first time looked hopeful and desperate for this to work.  The older nobleman stood off the side with his hands behind his back.  He watched and studied the templar just as the bodyguards did as the morning’s oranges, purples, and finally yellows sparkled off his new templar armor.  As a form of trust, Bann Ian commissioned a silverite and dragon scale leather templar plate mail for the Boy.  Now that the knight was not just a hateful madman around the isle, Bann Ian wanted to denote his lifted status from the other templars present.  The armor contained multiple protections engraved in gold, platinum, and other precious metals.  Each rune glimmered in the sun’s early rays.  While Hemmingway did not agree with giving such protections to the lad immediately, Bann Ian knew the man might not be expecting all of Evie’s talents immediately, thus likely leading to injury during training.  If this man was injured when the Promisers arrived, Evie and he both might get killed.

This smells rotten.

Hemmingway’s dark brown eyes glanced upward at the city elf perked on a banister watching the seen below.  Knott’s icy blue eyes glowed as his elven heritage allowed him to see more than humans.  The Rivaini knew he could pop into his partner’s mind and see through those special eyes, but he knew Knotts disliked it during such tense eyes.

Aye, Hemmingway agreed, returning to his whittling.  But the Boy is still being daft.  Our Girl will rearrange his colon.

Our Lady too is souring this.  Knotts replied in their minds, their single spirit connecting them in the Fade react to their conversation.  By not being forthcoming, she complicates matters.  This man deserve straight answers just as Our Lady warrants being treated well.

Hemmingway grimaced, watching the templar walk down the back stairs towards the open gardens.  Bann Ian thought it best this initial training occur close to the manor for in the ground laid thousands of magical runes which protected and muddled the presence of magic from any intruders.  House Trevelyan truly was paranoid throughout their long existence.

Aye, but sometimes such stubbornness and mistrust is needed to break decades of voids, Compadre.  The Rivaini admitted with pursed lips.  They got to see how similar they really are on their own.  Sometimes you got to bend back metal puzzle pieces to fit them together again.

And if they do not do so?

Then we’re fucked.

Right then, Hemmingway’s ears perked to the very muffled sounds of chainmail clicking together.  Within seconds, a second heavily armored individual exited the manor, adjusting her hard leather gauntlet plated over the buckles to avoid any weak spots.  The Boy lifted his head to the nearly silent jingles.  His amber eyes widened and almost fell out of his head.  Hemmingway chuckled to himself before slicing off a piece of wood from his project’s face. 

Evidently, this templar expected some form of mages robes and a staff, but good ole Evie turned every notion of battlemages on its head.  While she did have a collapsible staff on her armor belt, she rarely used it, finding staff fighting and channeling just did not work for her.  Constant casting drained mage’s mana pools.  While hers was expansive, she hated limiting herself to just magic.  Furthermore, if she was smited or silenced, the only effective way to replenish her mana was a lyrium draught and that alone was a terrible idea.

Hemmingway shuttered remembering that event.

Remembering her Harrowing?  Of course Knotts saw the brute visibly tremble.

Yup.

 Just another partial secret she keeps from him.  The city elf counted with a blank stare.  That alone might make him jump to our adversaries.

For a guy who just learned if he keeps drinking lyrium like it is the newest Orlesian fashion trend, he’ll be brain dead by the age of thirty.  Hemmingway wondered why he was defending this boy.  He might understand more than anyone else why she avoids the stuff.

More blue.  It keeps the demons at bay.  It keeps her from seeing how tainted and broken I am.  Have to risk insanity to save myself from the purple one’s nightly attacks…

Both bodyguards jumped, not expecting Compassion, which they nicknamed Cole, to jump through the Fade to speak.  Typically, Cole just watched and listened through the bodyguard’s senses, giving bits of information to help.  When he openly spoke in his riddles, Hemmingway and Knotts listened because the information could be more valuable than any espionage.

So he is so high right now he might silence all of Ostwick from here…  Hemmingway concluded, rolling his eyes.  Goodie.

“Cole spoke to you.”

Again Hemmingway jumped in his seat.  His eyes flashed to his maiden charge pressing her fingers against her armored leather glove seams to properly fit.  Evie wore her entire specialized armor set with neck gorget belted to her slim pauldrons, multiple looped weapons belt, and overhanging chainmail skirts that laid such a way it protected her thighs until her tight-high greaves and boots protected her legs.  The tightly woven small chainmail, dragon leather buckles and overlaying abdominal scale sheets, and breast-hugging cuirass displayed Evie’s shapely body to the point the templar’s stare briefly turned dark and hungry before shaking his head and remembering what she truly was.

“Focus on the task at hand, Girl.”  Hemmingway muttered, sinking into his metal lawn chair.  “Keep out of our heads.”  The Rivaini’s eyes flashed to Evie’s complete armor belt.  On her left thigh laid her collapsible silverate staff, meaning she was wearing her large amber foci stone around her neck that fit on the top…or maybe she went with the fire opal today.  Her gallowglass scabbard hung from two loops, while her Starkhaven dirk buckled upon her back right where her rump curved.  From the knight’s second lusty stare, he too noted how the metal skirts accented her behind.  With a quick glance, Hemmingway noted Bann Ian too saw the lust stare from the Boy and fisted his wooden cane in disgust.  Hemmingway could not keep in that chuckle.  Oh the next few weeks was going to be stressfully entertaining.

And Hemmingway’s new friend, the new hero Antivan assassin, was nowhere nearby.

I refuse to help you on that.  Knott snapped in their minds.  Ask Murphy.  He’s been eye you like a dog in heat for a month now.

The brute ignored that his bond felt his heighten hormones.  Instead, his attention caught that Evie kept her knight-enchanter blade in a long rectangular pouch on her left hip.  Hemmingway reached into his pocket and flipped down five sovereigns.  “I told you, Knotts, that particular talent will make someone shit himself.”

A bag of sovereigns flew from above and landed by Hemmingway’s bet.  Another souring.  Yes, he will be surprised, but it will quickly turn to anger.  That helps no one.

“Always the pessimist.”

Bann Ian’s hazel grey eyes landed on Hemmingway.  “This is not about you two.  Stay out of your heads.”

Worried.  I cannot protect her now.  I have to believe in this Fereldan fool.  I feel so lost.  I deepest apologies, my Daughter.

Man, Cole was talkative today.

The Boy scowled up at the strange conversation.  “We aren’t talking, Sir.”  Cullen glared at his bond, while Evie flicked him off.

“I was not talking to you two…”  Bann Ian clarified, pointing upward towards Hemmingway and Knotts.

The Boy blinked a few times.  “They’re bonds too?!”  He stared at the nobleman.  “How many are here!?”  He pinched his nose.  “Maker’s breath…”

“Don’t shat yourself, Boy.”  Hemmingway exhaled, rolling his eyes.  “We’re not mages, but a false bond.”

The knight’s scowl deepened.  “False bonds?”

“Knotts here was kidnapped from his alienage as a boy by the Promisers.  They wanted to see if they could make bonds artificially as the ancient elves had done with their marriages and their gods to make an abomination army of sorts.  They experimented on him so much that if he made a single sound, he bonded to someone.  Unfortunately, the experiments and his speaking made people become abominations in the process with no way to control what spirits and demons came through the Veil.  When I was a pirate sinking Tevinter slaver ships, I got captured by Tevinter not-templars and put in the same cell as Knotts.  They were going to execute us in the morning…Well, execute meaning used a blood sacrifice knowing those prats.  Through hand signals, I learned his predicament.  We escaped in the night, with Knotts slicing through the jackasses until we took a small schooner.  The bann here saved us and found a way to help Knotts via that little secret library.  Because our favorite elf here saved me life, I offered to be his bond, thus he can talk via our minds and he won’t risk making abominations.”

Cullen’s eyes stared at the city elf twirling a throwing knife.  “You mean a single word from him will make them possessed?!  And you let him live?!”

“Not anymore.”  Evie added, crossing her arms over her chest while walking down the terrace stairs.  “The full bonding to Hemmingway keeps it from happening.  A Spirit of Compassion they named Cole witnessed what happened to them both and keeps other spirits and demons from being drawn through the Veil.  However, Knotts was so scarred from witnessing his own voice harming innocent people like a weapon he cut open his own throat to damage his voice box.  Just to make sure.”

Knotts lowered his neck cowl to show where he stabbed his own throat open almost twenty years ago.  The Boy stiffened and rubbed his own exposed neck, nodding an understanding to the city elf.  Hemmingway greatly approved.  “The goof just enjoys throwing knives at lusty templars now.”  The Rivaini ex-pirate winked at Cullen with a knowing smirk.

“Ugh…”  Bann Ian rubbed his temple and looked away.  That just got Hemmingway laughing more.  Even that ionic Trevelyan spiraling irises could not stop Hemmingway’s chackling.

“We miss anything!?”  Esme jumped out of the manor with a bagel in one hand and a spy glass in the other.  Behind him, Lady Gwen stepped out in her typically practical dress that most noblewoman called plain and unfaltering.

Bann Ian’s anger flared.  “Esme, back inside immediately.  This does not concern you.”

Esme hopped into a seat beside Hemmingway, ignoring his father.  “You should be happy I am up, Father.  You’re usually having Odin drag me out of bed for lessons by now.”

“This is no joking matter, Esme Ian Trevelyan.”  The bann barked in his deep bass tone.  Hemmingway perked an eyebrow.  Maker, Bann Ian was angry today.  This cannot be about this whole mess.  Is he still fuming about that Thetras proposal still?  “Please return inside with your mother this instant.”

Esme slowly slid out of his seat.  He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.  He slowly passed his mother by the door, grumbling about nothing was fair.  Lady Gwen reached out a single hand to her son, then laid the other on her husband fisting hands on top of his ironbark cane.  “My Bann, my Love, please.  This is not just about them anymore.  We are all pulled into these circumstances.”  Her dark brown eyes landed on the templar shifting uncontrollably out in the garden grass.  He probably felt like a circus performer with all these people watching.  A small knowing smile from the matriarch steadied the man, who returned it in kind.  Hemmingway was impressed.  So, Cullen did see Lady Gwen as a confidante just after one conversation.  Good to know.  “Let us stay.”

All the frustration rolling inside of Bann Ian bled out with his long heavily exhale.  “Esme, join Knotts upstairs.  If things get unpredictable, his dagger barrier will shield you.”  Esme jumped for joy and raced inside for the balcony terrace above.  Ian’s calming eyes rested on his wife, “My Love, please avoid this…”

Lady Gwen kissed her husband’s clean-shaven cheek above his trimmed beard.  “Through better or worse, my Bann.”

Evie watched her parents with a longing expression that broke Hemmingway’s twisted heart.  The Girl never said it but she was a hopeless romantic, reading those terrible smutty literature series by the very dwarf that annoyed her father at the moment.  Alas, Evie spent her life surrounded with people but felt completely alone.  It was like she stood in the middle of ballroom with dancers all around screaming at the top of her lungs, but no one looked up or even acknowledged her presence.  She had nearly no one to share her troubles with, keeping this templar’s secrets to herself, a heavy burden from what Hemmingway knew of this Fereldan warrior.

If he breaks her heart, we’re tearing him limb from limb then going fishing for sharks with his head.  Hemming grumbled to his false bond above.

Just as she can break him further, Hemmingway.  Knotts replied with a warning tone.  This is their maze to navigate through.

“Let’s get this started, then?”  Hemmingway placed his forgotten whittling on the table in a particular position facing the fight and dusted off the bits of wood in his lap.  His brown eyes flashed to his employer.

Bann Ian nodded.  “Places.  On Knott’s mark.”

Bann Ian shifted enough that he stood almost completely in front of his wife, his House Trevelyan ring shining proudly in the morning sun.  One hand flick and a barrier would form from the signet ring.  Lady Gwen allowed her husband to shield her with his body, her gentle hands encircling his left bicep in a hugging matter.  The husband and wife watched as their eldest full-blooded daughter hips swayed to the right across from the templar positioned in the grassy yard.

Cullen withdrew his trusty steel sword from his scabbard, while dispatching his templar shield from his back.  Unlike the fancy armor, the templar knight stated he preferred to keep using his standard issue sword and shield.  As a fellow warrior, Hemmingway understood the gesture.  Especially in such a tight training schedule, the knight wanted to utilize arms he was familiar with and trusted with his life.  While the gifted silverite longsword and shield were definitely more powerful than standard issued templar weapons, these were Cullen’s and had been by his side since his Vigil, the same ceremony that landed him in this situation.  The arms survived a shipwreck and a rebellious Circle.  Cullen probably considered them blessed and holy.  If only the Boy registered everyone present knew they too were Trevelyan made as was the lyrium draughts on his belt he used to nullify magic.  Being shipwrecked on this isle did not trap him in these circumstances.  No, the moment he signed up with the templars, his fate was sealed.  It was never clearer as when he slapped his barbute helmet over his unruly curly hair.

Meanwhile, Evie elegantly withdrew her gallowglass arming sword and barrier dirk from their sheaths. Yes, she was born into money and her own personal connections to the House’s personal blacksmiths and weaponsmiths allowed her to custom make everything she wore.  While the resources were available to her, Evie painstakingly designed, assisted forging, and tempered each piece, each steps requirements for all Trevelyans to understand their family’s origins and contribution to the world.  The tight small silverite chainmail that made her armor took her a year itself to slowly weave together and interlink.  While the templar saw a pompous little rich mage with all that silverite and dragon coverage, everyone present saw the end results of Evie’s studying, artisan practice, and fighting prowess.  The Girl might be nineteen years old, but her mind, heart, and soul carried generations of skill, techniques, and appreciation of every single person who ever served her House and its allies.

A hush fell over the area as Evie pointed her sword at her challenger and rested her left hand with dirk across her lower back.  With a single pinky finger, Evie lifted her chainmail and dragon leather hood up over her tightly braided auburn hair and the leather cowl over her nose and mouth.  For most people, they would assume Evie wanted to protect her face, but Hemmingway knew otherwise.  Any sniff of lyrium bothered her, so she kept a thick protection against it, especially when fighting a drugged up templar.  The bodyguard prayed that by the end of this, maybe these two twin flames came find a way to reduce Evie’s weakness to the stuff.

Cullen staggered his armored boots with his shield just below his eyes he could see just above the swiping top of the kite shield.  His stance screamed templar, but there was a touch of something more there that Hemmingway had never seen before in the other templars who faced off against his charge.  The Rivaini brute eyed both sparring partners, wondering if they were communicating in a way sight alone did not denote, but their blank peeking faces demonstrated nothing different.  Being so weakly bonded at the moment, they would have to fight pretty hard to hear one another.  Alas, isn’t that what this whole exercise was supposed to strengthen?

If Hemmingway was completely honest at the moment, he looked forward to this battle.  Calling it sparring would be like labeling a dragon a lizard.  This was the first time two very powerful opposites faced off.  While the bodyguard never saw the squabble by the cliffs a few days ago, he knew both people held back partly for where they fought and how unprotected they were.  He knew Evie did not want to hurt this templar yet, while the knight was without lyrium draughts and his armor, thus knew anything more would likely lead to death.

No, this challenge would be their first all-out war.  Yes, the Boy agreed to assist them for now.  Yes, Evie could overlook to a degree the knight’s slander and curses.  However, no one fully believed they put everything behind them.  Evie hiding some of her skills in a pouch demonstrating she wanted to surprise this templar more, likely thinking there was no way he could be her balance, while by that particular extra whatever Cullen had denoted, he was not some ordinary Chantry-trained templar.  Hemmingway thought then there might be more to why this templar was already a knight-lieutenant, Meredith wanted him as her knight-captain, passed his academy training in four years, only needed one year of Circle education before his Vigil, and was the sole survivor of a blood magic rebellion.  

Hemmingway glanced at his little wooden idol, thankful that his Rivaini witch mother taught him such things as a lad.  With a quick prayer to his ancestor’s gods, he tapped the idol and sat back.  This was going to be both awesome and catastrophic.  Damn it!  He forgot a beer and some roasted almonds.  He knew he was forgetting something-

-A pouch of almonds landed on the table by Hemmingway’s boot.  Thanks, Knight-Ear!

I will kill you in your sleep, Pirate.

Hemmingway gaze up at the terrace, catching Esme holding a halberd like he was going to join the fight.  Knotts had a single throwing knife twirling on an index finger.  Then-

-Flick.  Whoosh.  Thump!

The throwing knife stuck up out of the grass like a glimmering beacon in the morning sun right as the burning star crested the walnut trees.  Two set of armed boots launched off the grass, thundering towards the other like two gurns about to lock horns.  Evie ducked to dodge Cullen’s longsword, targeting the templar’s exposed thighs.  His shield lowered and met the gallowglass sword, while her dirk pushed away from his longsword re-correcting to hit her skull.  The mage rolled on the ground, trying to get behind the knight for a backstab, but Cullen just shifted his shield to keep her sword from following her, while her dirk attempted to disarm him via his grip on the hilt.  Cullen anticipated her disarmament, breaking off his sword strike and stepped back to protect his flank.  Evie noted the approach was fouled and fade-stepped through Cullen to a safe distance.

The burning cold freeze jarred the templar, who cleansed the magic while using barely any lyrium.  Evie used his misdirected focus to come back into his space, slide on her knee, and kick him from behind.  Again, the knight adjusted, pushed down and away with his shield, but quickly used the close proximity to smite the air so any fade step could not form, a reactionary tactic than actually feeling Evie already cast.

So, this was all cause and effect, not dancers who can feel and sense each other’s moves through one another.

Hemmingway’s brown eyes flashed to the bann.  As predicted, the nobleman’s scowl noticed the development too.  However unlike Bann Ian, Hemmingway recognize this was just the start.  It was not going to be an automatic puzzle click, but turning the pieces to see how they were supposed to fit.

Evie kicked the templar in the guard face, grunting as she ran to escape any retribution.  To give herself time, she threw two fireballs at his chest and an immortalize rune under his feet.  Cullen hissed pointing his shield down and away to block the fireballs from burning him before racing backwards before the rune exploded.  Pissed but still very level headed, the templar glowed blue as a film fell over his whole being.  Hemmingway recognized it was an ability called ‘There is no Darkness’, thus making any mage elemental attack weakened.  To reaffirm himself, a ‘Champion of the Just’ powered him to fight harder than ever imagined.  The bodyguard was impressed.  Typically, templar could only do one or another passive ability at a time.  This man could do both one after another on himself and likely could add more if needed.

The fire mage must have sensed the buffering abilities on her opponent because her fireball shifted away.  With a single gallowglass strike in front of her, she threw a massive force push at Cullen, sending the knight sliding back about ten feet. Dirt and grass went flying under him.  Lady Gwen is going to have a mabari after this all over.  The gardener and she worked weeks to keep this lawn beautiful this summer, especially after the hurricanes.

Cullen’s amber eyes glared at Evie fade-stepping towards him again with her gallowglass ready to strike through his defenses.  Before he could spell purge she kicked off his shield and circled around with a flying kick into his shoulder, sending him off-balance before mind-blasting his passives abilities away.  With his reactionary movements, Cullen he swung his longsword around so quickly Evie had to bend backwards to miss the sharp blade and back flip with the follow through.  Her left boot kicked his chin in the helmet before she landed.  Her leather creaked as she pounced up with her feet a fire wall forming in her hands.

A Wrath of Heaven thundered down on Evie as she lunged up, the spell lost, but both blades still aimed at her opponent.  Even stunned, she attempted to stab at the open points in the templar’s armor.  Cullen’s sword caught them and thrusted around so that she was falling towards the ground.  Hemmingway could feel the smite to empty Evie’s mana pool from the terrace.  On top of the smite was a Blessed Blades side-effect to reduce the amount of lyrium required for a silence, another Wrath of Heavens, and spell purging.  While Evie could do nothing about the Blessed Blades, she did free herself from the fall, swing up over the templar’s left pauldron and kick his back to escape before the smite wreak havoc on her mana.

Maker’s balls, this guy was a hellish templar.  While Hemmingway saw other abilities with sword and shield and heavy armor through Cullen’s tactics, his templar specialization alone was frightening enough.  The fact he had not reached for another lyrium draught on his belt was enough to make the Rivaini glad his seer mage mother was very far away from this knight.  He was a metal golem who responded to Evie’s magical and rogue spells and techniques with a stone cold expression and calculating precision.

She pushes, he pulls.  He strikes, she counters.  Up, down, back, forth, in and out…balance on the sharpest knife blade.  The halves split so cleanly by an obsidian razor, perfect equals.  Once back together and lock back into place, they will look like they have never been cut.

Cole reminded the bodyguards why Evie and Cullen were twin flames, a rare and unique double-spirit pair only seen once a generation.  Separately, they were a challenge.  Together, not even a Forbidden One could beat.  During this battle, there were no signs they were understanding one another and still two very different people.  However, it demonstrated their full potential if they just allowed the bonding to happen.

“Mac na galla…”[1]  Bann Ian hissed under his breath.  Hemmingway woke from his inner thoughts to see the battle escalating but no clear progression.  The longer it went on, the idol by Hemmingway glowed and shielded the brute from the glowing flames rolling off Evie’s fiery rage.  It demonstrated anything she was doing was not as effective or precise as in the past.  On the other hand, the cold blue buffing off Cullen’s silverite armor kept him cold and protected, but his stolid finesse wavered as each lyrium abilities fell on nothing or barely countered the mage’s spells.

They were losing their cools.

That was the opposite of what this training was supposed to accomplish.  How were they to listen through their connection if they got so frustrated they barely can handle themselves?!  Bonds were balances, but they only reacted as such as if they just saw each other as regular people.  Cullen still saw himself just fighting a mage, and Evie likely envisioned him as a templar cousin who she must beat to keep their silence.

Glimmering flipping end over end caught Hemmingway’s eyes flying over the terrace towards the high balcony.  With a hand flick, Knotts summoned his dagger shield before Evie’s gallowglass speared Esme in the face.  The youngest Trevelyan crawled away on his hands and knees in fright as the silverite weapon cracked the balcony stone.  Knotts just pulled it out and rested it on his lap like he owned it.

The Rivaini’s brown eyes flashed back at the sparring seeing Evie blocking Cullen’s strikes with his sapphire barrier dirk.  The templar thought himself the likely winner, a grin peeking from under his helmet.  Meanwhile, Evie’s chocolate brown eyes glowed fiery orange as she collected the rest of her mana.  She knew if Cullen smited her now, he would win.  With an Avvar cry, Evie summoned a massive flame wall, forcing the templar to break off the attack and protect himself from the heat.  Hemmingway witnessed the knight take a draught from his belt and quickly drink it.  Finally, the knight was out of lyrium.  His stamina was likely low too.

In those few seconds, Evie’s right hand flipped to her weapons belt and unbuttoned her rectangular pouch.  So that is why she was collected her mana.  In her gauntlet grasp, the knight-enchanter blade formed and shaped similarly to her physical gallowglass sword she just lost moments before.

“You’re a fucking knight-enchanter too!?” The Fereldan baritone hollering indicated he really was not expecting something else about this mage.

“I too have multiple specializations, you fucking armored human barricade!”

“I trained years for my abilities, you bloody witch!”

“I did the fucking same, you short-cocked arsehat!”

“That’s the best name-calling you can do, Walking Rage Demon!?”

“Oh, I am just getting started, you Barbaric Half-Minded Orlesian Wannabe!”

“Take that back…!”

 “…oh fuck no!”

The squabbling continued in the background as Hemmingway rolled his eyes and slid his hand over his face.  Even stoic Knotts just shook his head, already knowing how the sparring will end.  Bann Ian waved his hand at the battle and pivoted back in the manor.  “They officially lost focus…”  He rubbed his temple, continuing his mumbling in his ancestral language deep into the manor.

Lady Gwen grimaced, trading glances with Hemmingway before returning to her study regarding the fighting templar and mage.  “Will they stop now…?”

“Nope.”  Hemmingway exhaled, popping an almond in his mouth.  “They’ll fuck up in a second.”

Evie flashed her knight-enchanter blade above her head.  Her mana swirled around her as she called forth a firestorm over Cullen, her insulting shouting never ceasing.  With the new lyrium draught flow through him, Cullen called down a Wrath of Heaven and smited the area around him so the firestorm never approached.  However, the ash and smoke sent the whole grassy area on fire, blocking the pair’s sights to not knowing where their opponent went. Two flying swords, one on fire, the other glowing blue met in the middle, pushing one another back and forth.

“Wanna almond, my Lady?”  Hemmingway offered his bag, his attention lost on the pushing and pulling bonds nearby.  Lady Gwen just blinked at the bodyguard, worry written across her face.  Hemmingway did not even look back before counting down and pointing. “And three, two, one…and-“ 

Two hollering screams echoed off the ash and smoke before both Evie and Cullen fell over holding their brands through their armor.  Lady Gwen gasped and covered her mouth.  “Maker!”

“Their spirits essentially silenced them.”  Hemmingway explained, kicking his feet off his table.  He popped another almond in his mouth.  “The halves got so frustrated that they were not listening, they put the kibosh on the whole exercise.”

Hemmingway did not exactly know what that type of silencing felt like since Cole connected he and Knotts artificially and neither had ever drank lyrium willingly.  Knotts jumped down from the second story to collect his betting winnings.  He ignored his partner’s glares before heading back into the manor.  Lady Gwen watched as the knight and mage rolled on the burnt grass, wincing in pain by being cut off from one another by the very spirits that connected them. 

“There’s nothing you can do, my Lady.”  Hemmingway placed his palm on her shoulder.  “They got to lick their wounds and try again tomorrow.”

“It will take them that long to recuperate?”  The woman questioned with a concern look at her bodyguard friend.

“Nah.”  Hemmingway smirked, glancing at the nitwits still trying to bicker while in horrific pain.  “The spirits will stop in a few moments.  Nope, it will take the rest of the day to calm down and see how much they fucked up.”

Lady Gwen sighed and shook her head.  “We all knew about Evie’s stubbornness…”  She placed her own hand on Hemmingway’s.  “I guess it only makes sense her bond would be just as bad.”  Her dark brown eyes studied the burnt grass that once was her beautiful lawn garden.  “I supposed I should let Gardener Deacon know we have some work to do.”

“Do it now.”  Hemmingway chuckled, waltzing into the manor.  “Maybe a rake to the face is just what those two jackasses need.”

“I think you are right, Master Lekon.”

Chapter Text

“Knight-Commander, what happened!?”  Knight-Captain Hadley called, racing into the side ground floor hall with Cullen, the mage-hunter name Ser Rylock, and several other Circle templars.

Cullen stopped and stare at the scene before him.  There was blood everywhere.  Bodies of at least four templars laid scattered across the Circle’s stone floor.  Standing by a knight-lieutenant was a lay sister Cullen had seen around the Circle’s chapel, her hands bound in rope.  Part of her robes dripped with blood.  It did not look like her own, utter shock and shame written across her blanched face…?

Off to the side stood Knight-Commander Greagoir staring down First Enchanter Irving.  Both men looked like they were about to rip each other’s hearts out of their puffed chests.  Off to the side was Greagoir’s bond, Wynne, who tended to several wounded templars leaning against the wall or sitting holding their wounds.  Her older eyes met Cullen’s amber surprise before looking back at the knight-commander.  Her expression muted, but something in that brief eye contact told Cullen something beyond even her knowledge or experiences had occurred, something that impacted him as much as her.

Hadley, Cullen, and other Kinloch Hold templars spent the last week with a group of mage-hunters led by Rylock searching for an escaped healing mage named Anders.  Every templar at Kinloch knew Anders.  The man made escaping the Circle a life mission, doing it at least seven times throughout the last ten years.  The templars always had to rely on his phylactery to capture the man since his potential bond had never been found, a strange situation that did not surprise Greagoir.  No one in power explained it to Cullen, the newest full templar. 

Throughout Cullen’s station at Kinloch, he only heard and rarely saw the healer because after his sixth attempt he was stuck in solitary confinement.  He had only been released in the last month after the Circle’s cat, Mr. Wiggles, became possessed by a rage demon and nearly burned down the confinement area.  While most of the mage hunters and the officers figured the mage healer would be heading to Kirkwall for some odd reason, searching for him included much of northern Ferelden between Lake Calanhad and the Storm Coast.  However, unlike the previous attempts, this last time the templars could not locate his phylactery even from the stores in Amaranthine. 

Hunting Anders had been Cullen’s first mage recovery mission as a new full templar.  He had been on two others prior to his Vigil, part of the final requirements before he took his first lyrium draught.  The first mission required retrieving a bonded pair, the mage working as a healer in a small city who had been sanctioned to work outside the Circle under his bond’s watch.  When the templar did not report on time, Hadley had Cullen and a group of templars investigated.  They arrived to find everything in order.  The templar had sent his report as usual, but there was something strange going on.  Hadley made the call to return them both to the Circle.  When they returned, they discovered the templar was not the bond, but actually the mage’s cousin who had killed the knight just days before and hoped to free his only surviving family.  The mage never gave a fuss, but Cullen never saw him around Kinloch again. 

The other mission had been to retrieve a mage child and remove her from her family’s household.  The experience was one he would rather forget, but Greagoir warned most children escorts did not result in the mage child killing her family and herself.  The mother resisted and hid away her child in hopes to talk down the templars, but the girl became scared in the cellars and became possessed with a despair demon, freezing the whole house in ice even before Cullen and the templars arrived.

With little to go on, the current search had been futile.  After a few weeks on the road, Hadley made the call to return to Kinloch Hold, resupply, and trade out the templars for another group so Cullen and the others could rest.  Meanwhile, Rylock would contact the templar hunters she knew at the port cities to vigilantly search any disembarking ships in hopes to capture the mage before it was too late.  Evidently, the idea to return had been a good choice if the current gory scene before them was a reference.

“Knight-Captain…”  Greagoir broke his glowering with Irving to respond to his second in command.  “It is good you are here.  There has been a…situation.”

“W-who did this…?”  Hadley’s voice crackled, stepping around the blood of fallen templars.  His mind caught up with him.  He pointed to the platoon of templars from the search. “Tend to your brothers, Knights.”

Cullen obeyed, but decided to keep close, while ‘examining’ a body.  He recognized the female templar recruit not much younger than Cullen.  She had joined Kinloch from the academy a few months before.

“A blood mage, the apprentice Jowan.”  Greagoir’s bearing eyes landed on the lay sister bound nearby.  “He discovered he was to be made tranquil and rebelled…”

Cullen’s whiskey eyes enlarged, searching the blood soaked area.  A blood mage…in the Circle?!  Circles were meant to protect mages and the innocent from blood magic.  How did one learn the craft from within and as an apprentice no less!?  Yes, a mage could cut themselves to cast, but to kill all these templars…it meant the maleficar must have learned some powerful evil spells, but that knowledge was not available in the Circle!

Then the young templar’s mind filtered back to what he heard on the road.  The other templars whispered around the campfire that Anders was a suspected blood mage.  They mentioned a cat cannot be possessed unless spells casted on it by a maleficer.  Other knights commented how else could he have escaped so many times after several new safeguards had been placed in Kinloch Hold to prevent him from doing so again.  Almost the entire mage hunting group kept saying he was to brought back…dead or alive, but the alive part always was added almost as an afterthought.

Then the name ‘Jowan’ sunk in.  That was Maya Amell’s only remaining best friend.  Valren Surana died the same night she passed her Harrowing.  He never emerged from the Fade in time, slain while lying on the Harrowing floor unconscious.

It was too much of coincidence …right?

“Give me five minutes, Sir, and we will begin our pursuit!”  Hadley vowed with a salute.  “Will you be retrieving his phylactery now with Irving?”

“That’s just the thing, Knight-Captain.”  Greagoir glared over his pauldron.  The first enchanter lifted his head in defiance before gritting his teeth.  “It has been broken…all the apprentices’ phylacteries have been broken.  The basement vault trashed.  Artifacts removed.  The damn mages ever stop to question that statue.”

All the templars present overheard the news, unable to mask the shock and gasps.  Cullen’s whiskey eyes landed on the supply cellar door nearby left ajar by the very blood mage who slaughtered his knight brothers and sisters.  How did an apprentice get in there and survive?  Only select templars and full mages…

No, she wouldn’t….would she?

Greagoir did just say mages….No, impossible.

“All the sentinels have been destroyed by all the blood mage and his…accomplices as well.”  Greagoir exhaled, rubbing his head.

“How did he access the basement?”  Rylock stepped forward, her mage hunting skills sussing out what she needed to know about her new target.  “How did he learn such effective blood magic skills if he was just an apprentice?”

Greagoir’s brooding only grew as Irving approached.  The older mage spoke instead, only infuriating the knight-commander more.  “A full mage acted with my blessing to follow the apprentice and his lay sister lover on their quest to retrieve his phylactery.  The mage informed me of their plans, but I knew if they were confronted without evidence, Greagoir would have not believed a lay sister was involved.  I believed in the mage and her judgement.”

“And look how well that turned out, Irving!”  Greagoir growled, gripping his sword hilt.  “A blood mage is running free, dozens of apprentice phylacteries are ruined and must be remade, and now we have no way to pursue because of the very mage you trusted so foolishly.”

“How was I to know there was evidence to suggest Jowan was blood mage when you refused to tell me anything!?”  Irving hollered back at the knight-commander.  “Our positions are as such to make accurate assessments on everyone present here!  I was acting on the information I knew.  If you weren’t acting so insensible about Ostagar, I would have felt I could have informed you of the situation instead of assembling you all here as that blood mage and his whore of a lay sister emerged from the basement!”

“It matters now!  This is why I denied the king’s and your request for more mages at Ostagar!”  Greagoir shouted back with a forcible pointed finger in Irving’s grimacing face.  “We have a blood magic endemic, Irving.  First Anders, now this apprentice!  I am already allowing a third blood mage to leave here today as it is!”

Rylock and Hadley traded looks before meeting Greagoir’s fiery expression.  “A third, Sir?”

“Yes, but my hands are tied.  The mage acting on Irving’s orders has been conscripted by a Grey Warden commander.”  Greagoir barked, running his armored hand through his hair.

“A Grey Warden recruiter is here?!”  Rylock gasped, then looking at this.  “And you are letting a blood mage leave with him?  Chantry law states-“

“There is enough evidence to support that a Blight is occurring, thus why a very small number of mages…” Greagoir reiterated in Irving’s face. “…are leaving with a full platoon of templars at King Cailin’s request.  Because it is likely a Blight, the commander has full rights to conscript whoever he deems capable and that includes a potential blood mage.  He has been travelling all over Ferelden gathering recruits for his budding warden order here in Ferelden.  He already has a gaggle of recruits behind him from Denerim and Ozammar waiting at the inn across the lake.  My hands are tied on the matter.”

“That might be the case for you, Knight-Commander, but we mage hunters can do much more.  However, I cannot pursue that warden mage when another confirmed blood mage with no phylactery or bond is running free.”  Rylock hissed through her teeth.  She pivoted on her boot.  “We will begin our search immediately.  I would highly suggest you straighten up matters here and join my hunters when possible.”

“Thank you, Templar Rylock.  I will be in contact with your superiors in Denerim in the meantime.”  Greagoir sighed as the mage hunter stomped towards the Circle’s outside doors.

“You cannot let that mage leave, Sir.”  Hadley whispered loudly.  His own temper flared enough that his voice echoed off the bloodied room’s stone walls.  He realized his mistake, glancing around to see if anyone overheard.  Cullen quickly looked busy preparing the templar recruit for purification and the burial pyre.

“There is not much I can do while the commander is about to leave with the mage.  They are collecting her belongings now.”  Greagoir must have not seen how close Cullen kneeled by or he would have never stated the next words within earshot.  “That does not mean you can’t handle the matter in Ostagar.  That’s where she is to be tested for the wardens.”  Hadley only nodded.

Cullen quickly turned away more once Greagoir’s head leaned back and glanced over his shoulder.  The templar prayed his face did not scream utter dismay and shock over the implications.  “Wynne, please escort Hadley to my office and review the final list of approved mages and templar bonds allowed for Ostagar.  The list of non-bonded templars accompanying you all to the encampment is with the document.”

“Now wait a damn blasted moment, Greagoir-“  Irving stomped forward, but Greagoir blocked him.

“Your judgement is severely tainted at the moment, First Enchanter.  Unlike you, I can sense everything Wynne does as we are fully bonded.  Your own bond must be fully questioned by me before I let you anywhere near current Circle matters.  Evidently, Hastings has been keeping your secrets again.  His loyalty should be on the Templar Order, not his mage bond who acts so irrationally for a first enchanter!”

Irving’s wrinkled face turned purple.  His mana pulsed from his body, while glaring at his supposed equal.  “Your superiors will hear of this!  The king will hear of this!”

Wynne approached her associate and set a gentle hand on his shoulder.  “Irving, consider your heart condition.  I know this is difficult, friend, but please keep calm.”

Irving deflated before glancing at the senior enchanter.  “I will never understand how you can stand being bonded to this fiend.”

“Just as I will never comprehend she still considers you a friend.”  Greagoir muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.  Wynne’s eyes landed on her bond, but no words were spoken.  The older woman was always calm, but could make her words sting and cut like a knife if necessary.  She reminded Cullen of his sister Mia in that regard.  One bark made Cullen and siblings stand at attention.  No wonder his mentors at the academy did not scare him as much.  Mia could be an absolute terror in comparison. 

Whatever Wynne told the man through their connection, it caused Greagoir to huff and pout.  After a moment of deep breath, the knight-commander continued.  “Besides, Irving, it seems we need to do a sweep of all mage and apprentice quarters.  Jowan did not learn those forbidden spells on his own.  There is a mage teaching apprentice blood magic somewhere.”

“Just as we should consider reviewing your templars and the Chantry clerics as blood mage sympathizers.”  Irving added, eying the lay sister arrested and waiting for transport.  Two templars flaked her either side and gripped her biceps.  She gave no resistance, her future bleak and dark.  The knights directed her away and out of sight, likely to the confinement level until she could be transported to a Chantry prison.

Right then steps from the nearby spiral staircase leading to the blooded room alerted everyone present.  The templars closest to the stairs went to stop the people coming down, but ceased once a dark-skinned rogue wearing high ranking blue and silver Grey Warden armor appeared.  Behind the bearded man meandered a shorter cloaked individual with a basic mage staff on the back.  Even from his kneeling position, Cullen tried to discern anything about the person.  They were short and shied away from the spilt blood running along the stone cracks in the floor.

“First Enchanter, Knight-Commander, we will take our leave now.”  The dark-skinned man nodded to the Circle leaders.  “I pray you quickly capture the blood mage responsible.”

By now, Hadley saw who stood behind the Grey Warden, trading a gapping look with his knight-commander then Wynne.  Cullen turned away.  He stood up and acted like he was conversing with the other returning templars.  Still, he could not see around Hadley’s shoulder to know how the knight-captain’s target will be at Ostagar.  Cullen should not care.  A suspected blood mage was being allowed to waltz out of the Circle with no repercussion.  All the rumors flowing outside Kniloch stated there was no Blight.  King Cailin just wanted to play hero with the fable Grey Wardens, doing whatever nonsense like a spoiled little nobleman.  If he only knew what his little game was costing right here…!

“You and we both, Commander Duncan.”  Irving replied with a nod.  “It was good to see you again, Friend.  May the Blight end swiftly for all our sakes.”

“Yes…”  Greagoir bit with a clinched jaw.  “May His Highness and the Grey Wardens win at Ostagar and save us all.”  Sarcasm dripped off every stated word in his gruff tone.

“May the Maker go with you all.”  Commander Duncan added before walking towards the front vestibule and to the awaiting ferryman, Carroll.

Shifting mage robes caught Cullen’s attention right as the warden commander and his newest recruit passed.  It was like time slowed as amber eyes met sky blue.  A chilly breeze cooled the air and wafted that iconic embrium scent into his nostrils.  Her hair was down and unbraided today, allowed to flutter in its natural waves behind her.  Her skin was paler than at her Harrowing, likely from the chaos that just occurred.  Upon her chin and jaw was that small scar caused by Cullen’s blade during her Harrowing.  Her expression was blank but there was a haunting dread behind those beloved blue eyes that told Cullen she was frightened and wary of everything she was leaving behind and what laid in front of her.

“My travels take me to Highever next, Mistress Maya.”  Duncan whispered to his newest recruit.  “Warden Alistair will take you, Mistress Natia Brosca, and Mister Cyrian Tabis to Ostagar.  Another recruit by the name of Theron Mahariel has already arrived there ahead of you all.  His declining health did not allow him to come with me.”

“I-I thought you were going to Ostagar as well, S-sir.”  Maya’s meek shaking words nearly broken Cullen’s heart as her Circle flat shoes pattered against the bloodied floor.

“I am.”  Duncan replied louder than he likely meant.  “My friend there informed me of a potential recruit among his knights…although his noble daughter has been rumored to be as talented in skill like you.”

“So, I…I won’t be the only girl?”

“No, actually Natia is…”

Their conversation was lost as the entered the vestibule and beyond Cullen’s sight.  The blond templar just stared at the wall where they had disappeared, dumbstruck that his meek gentle Maya Amell was responsible for this chaos.  Never in her time at Kinloch had she had been an issue, but within a single week of being a full mage, she broke dozens of phylacteries and allowed a blood mage to escape.

How?  Why?

“You’re lucky, Rutherford.”  A knight-lieutenant in his huddle of returning knights from Anders’ search sang with a knowing eye.  “You could have been bonded with a blood mage.”

“Explains why I had to cut down Surana now.  If she and Jowan were maleficar, it is easy to peg he was one too.”  Another knight, Jankin, added with confidence.  “Cullen and I both dodge an arrow.”

“Could there really be more maleficer in the Circle?” A templar recruit gulped nervously.

“Likely.  Four uncovered in just the last week alone…”  The lieutenant remarked with a long stare.  “All low ranking, easily influenced by the higher ranking mages.  We’re likely infested.”

“Think Greagoir will ask for an annulment?”

“And let his precious Wynne be among the dead…pssf, doubt it.”

“She’s going to Ostagar.”  A templar who had been helping investigate the mess approached the returning group.  “Could happen while she’s gone…?”

“This is what happens when you let mages think they have rights…”

“Should just brand them all…”

“Cullen…?”  The templar bolted up in bed, panting to himself.  His bare muscular chest heaved searching for a calming breath.  He ran his hand over his sweaty face before rubbing his neck.  “You okay…?

The knight’s amber eyes caught a candle being lit nearby and a presence shifting to grasp it.  Pale porcelain fingers cupped the candleholder before pulling it close to the people in the double bed.  Maya’s sky blue orbs sparkled in the candle light, her blonde hair pushed enough over her bare freckled shoulder to expose her matching lyrium brand behind her ear and neck.  “Cullen?”

Cullen instantly glanced down at his chest at his lyrium brand, noting the usual runes and shapes he traced so many times.  His watery whiskey eyes flicked back at Maya’s, her bare breasted alluring body looking so concerned beside him.  Her brand matched his, letter for letter and in color just as he always predicted since they met years before.

The knight smirked and shook his head.  They were in her mages quarters—their quarters now that their bond was fully cemented.  “Nothing, Love.”  Cullen’s baritone voice chuckled.  He combed his long unruly curls with his fingers.  “Just a dream…a very scary dream.”

Maya let out a relieving sigh before returning the candle on the stand.  “The same one?”

“The same stupid dream that is so unbelievable.”  Cullen laughed to himself.  “I wish my mind would stop it.  I have no idea how it even came up with blood magic in Kinloch.”  He leaned towards his beautiful mage bond and kissed her forehead.  “You’re the love of my life, my twin flame.  Well, I guess twin ice spike is more accurate.  Nothing can tear us apart.”

Maya leaned into his forehead kiss, moaning softly.  “I love it when you tell me that.  Tell me you love me.  Please?”  She leaned back, resting her unblemished chin on his shoulder.  “I cannot stop hearing it.  I’ve wished for it the moment our eyes met.”

“I love you.”  Cullen whispered in her ear.  His breath tickled the lyrium brand bounding them together through time and space.  “I will have always loved you.  I will never stop loving you.”

Maya jumped forward and kissed Cullen hard on his smooth lips.  Her naked form crawled into his lap, the sheets pulling away to expose her porcelain perfect skin.  Her large breasts bounced against his stubbled chin before pressing against his lyrium brand.  Instantly, Cullen’s hands were rolling up her back, his member stiffening the moment her shapely behind and hips grounded into him.  A lusty growl rolled through Cullen as his hands slipped forward and grasped her chest, tweaking her nipples as he found she deeply enjoyed.  They had already lain together several times that night, only stopping and falling asleep after an on-duty templar banged on their door and hollered to stop letting the whole Circle know Cullen made Maya cum multiple times in a single round.

“Can you be quiet enough this time?”  Cullen groaned as Maya’s hands followed his shoulders before scrapping down his back in a rough way.  He loved Maya’s fierceness in bed, such a counter to her meek shy nature.

“Why would I want to do that…?”  Maya coyly grinned before pulling Cullen’s flawless upper lip with her teeth.  “I want everyone to hear me and you, and be jealous.  At breakfast, Surana turns this specific shade of red every time we waltz into the dining hall.  I want to see if we can make him so embarrassed he might blow a blood vessel in his forehead.”

“You tempest!”  Cullen chuckled, pulling his lover close.  His erection aligned just right with her dipping entrance.  He hitched his hips upward and filled and stretched her in one swoop.  Maya’s blonde waves fell back with her head.  She sighed at the feeling of being connected.  “And I know which blood vessel you’re meaning.  It connects right back with his long pointed ears so his whole head is blushing.”

Suddenly, a violin echoed from behind the bedroom door.  Cullen stilled his hips with Maya’s hops on his swollen erection.  She continued to move over him as Cullen tried to figure out why there was a violinist in Kinloch.

 “Cullen, my love?” Maya glanced back at her lover with a concerned expression.  “What’s wrong…?”

“Don’t you hear that?”

“Hear what…?”

“Someone has a violin the Circle.”  Cullen glanced over Maya shoulder at the door.  Something was not right.  He knew this melody.  It was calling him out of bed, away from Maya, but he did not know why.  “I better go find out for Greagoir.  He’ll want to know immediately-“

“-Someone else can do it, my love!”  Maya moaned, encircling his body with her smooth perfect legs.  She pulled him deeper inside her to the point Cullen could not ignore the warmth and wetness gripping him.  “You’re not on duty.  Besides, we are still bonding and becoming accustom to one another.  Greagoir gave you the week off so we can be prepared for missions soon.”

“And you know how seriously I take my duties.”  Cullen snapped back with a scowl.  She never questioned his templar tenants.  She always supported his dedication.  “A violin is not permitted, even among the templars.  If I am going to be a law-abiding knight-lieutenant, I must report this.”

Now, all Cullen could hear was the violin melody.  It was erratic, almost like knives rubbing across its strings.  Its pace intensified the more Cullen stayed with Maya in bed.  He let go of the ice mage and covered his reddening ears.  The urge to have sex disappeared instantly, but he remained stiff inside Maya.  “Maker, how can you not hear that racket!?”

Maya dung her fingernails into Cullen shoulders and biceps.  “Stay with me and ignored whatever is bothering you.  I don’t hear a thing.  Cullen, you’re worrying me.  Did you take you evening draught?”

Cullen glanced to beside the lit candle where his lyrium kit typically sat.  Instead, the flame whipped in all directions, but Cullen felt no air moving.   “Are you messing with the flame?”

“Cullen, I’m an ice mage…”  Maya whimpered, pulling his face back to her. She used her darkening blue eyes to keep his attention away from the horrible violin and the growing flame.  “Why would I want to control it?  Please, my bond, you’re frightening me!”

The templar squeezed his eyes shut.  “Sorry…I just can’t think straight with all that noise!”

“Then just listen to my voice, our bond inside us, and focus on our moving bodies.”  She cooed.  She leaned forward and kissed her bond tenderly. 

Cullen jolted away, tasting copper on her lips.  He reached for his mouth to only feel a deep scar bleeding on the top.  His confused eyes searched Maya’s face to see a bleeding scar on her chin with blood dripping from the wound.  Instantly, his eyes flicked to his trusty longsword beside the bed.  The sword was missing, but more of Maya’s blood sat puddled where the tip would be.

“Kiss me, Cullen…!”  Maya’s voice distorted as her fingernails turned into claws into his shoulders and biceps.  Cullen hollered in pain, his arms flaying only deepening the knife-like fingernails.  He sat god-smacked as the woman in his lap shifted to a lilac purple with golden piercing hanging from the same nipples he had just twisted.  Cullen turned to push the creature off his penis and body, but it dung into him deeper.  He attempted to smite and purge the demon, but he was useless and stuck in place.  Rivers of blood streaked down his scarring back the more he fought the monster.

Suddenly, the quarter’s wooden door kicked open.  Bright orange and red light flowed from the darkness as the violin melody formed back into strong supporting music from deep within Cullen’s struggling and fracturing soul and heart.  A rolling flame burst forth into the room.  Before it reached Cullen and the demon, Desire turned and hollered “He’s mine and will always be mine…!  LEAVE!”

Chapter Text

Cullen flew forward in bed, scrambling from the fine linen and cotton sheets to escape the bed.  His quivering hands reached for the longsword beside it before falling out of the tall furniture.  His panic made him grip and unsheathe his weapon incorrectly, cutting his left hand again.  He hollered in pain and the sight of his own blood oozing from his already injured palm.  The hyperventilating knight crawled on the floor.  Tears, sweat, and other bodily fluids ran down his cheeks, eyes, brow, and neck.  His night tunic and thin trousers were soaked through with sweat and blood.

Like an infant escaping a bed monster, Cullen stopped crawling when he reached the open suite balcony and leaned against the Orlesian glass paneled doorframe.  Still silently crying, he reached around his body with his bloodied hand.  His shoulders ached.  The scars of a terrifying past still remembered the agony.  Tentatively, the templar’s hand tested his privates.  He winced as the tacky texture of semen mixed with his sweat.  He ejaculated dreaming about that monster violating him again.

            “Blessed are they who stand before

            The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.

            Blessed are the peacekeepers,

            The champions of the just…”[1]

Cullen gripped his sword with his good hand, ready to attack anything that neared, repeating constantly the Chant of Benedictions and others the Greenfell cleric recommended when he awoke from such nightmares.  He rocked in place, cupping his injured hand close to his body.  At one point he raced to his lyrium kit, prepared, and drank a draught in hopes the horrors his mind produced in the Fade will be blocked away. 

Fuck losing his mind!  He needed to block it out!

Darkness slowly shifted to sunrise the longer Cullen stayed in his fearful panic state.  He felt the peaking sun through grey swirling clouds begin drying his sweat and tear-streaked cheeks.  A soft ocean breeze cooled his puffed and uncontrollable curls tossed in his nightmare struggles.  His palm slowly stopped bleeding the longer he kept it above his heart and wrapped in a part of his ruined tunic.  Every so often he heard a violin melody in his soul before he visible watched the gash slowly heal like magic.

The violin…

Being completely honest with himself, the blond Fereldan had been ignoring all the knowing tells that Evie was his bond the last five days.  Since their initial training sessions, things have grown bad to worse.  Neither bond heard the other thoughts even when trying.  They could not predict each other or sense their actions.  Everything happening countered all written texts and experiences about bonds.  Even in this short time, the mage and templar should have improved, but ended up getting silenced by the spirit halves connecting the individuals.

You just don’t want to be bonded to anyone, Cullen’s heart mumbled in his brain.

The knight did not want to be himself let alone tied to an apostate that could be a whole number of things.  Just as the first nightmare reminded him, Cullen was not a great judge of mages’ characters.  Look how much he got wrong about Maya Amell.  She looked sweet and innocent, but assisted a blood mage to run away from the Circle and destroyed all the apprentice phylacteries.  She stole from the basement vault.  All those crimes and she simply waltzed out of the Circle free and happy.

Maya’s haunted expression flash across his mind.

Well, maybe not completely happy.

The coy grin the desire demon personifying Maya followed that thought.  Cullen immediately shuddered again and teared up.  He was ruined, broken, and tainted.  He allowed that desire demon access to his mind, heart, and body for weeks.  It sensed all his desires and just soiled each and every one and thing Cullen loved.  Any time he looked at a beautiful woman—Evie flashed to mind—he wanted to run.  Not just because he had no confidence, but because if he even felt an erection with a lusty thought, he knew that night the desire demon will use it against him.  A kiss should not make a man scramble out of bed, screaming, and drinking lyrium by the gallons just to block of the feelings inside.

Cullen vowed consciously Evie could never see this disgusting broken man inside.  Even as an apostate, over the last weeks, she demonstrated she was a pure soul who saw all the wrongs in the world and fought against them.  Alas, Cullen abused mages like her after the rebellion, seeing a blood mage casting in each apprentice.  Those three students he had attacked repeatedly that ultimately sent him to Greenfell laid in the infirmary for a week.  Thank the Maker, Cullen kept dropping his sword in the chaos or he would have likely killed them both just because they were connected to the Fade.

A violin melody soothed the repulsiveness rolling around Cullen’s soul.  Eve.  Was that her consciously or unconsciously reaching through the Fade to help him?  No, he did not need a mage’s help, but he could not stop listening.  Did he bleed out his emotions through this broken connection and she responded with this kindness?  Did she…pity him?!  No, he cannot show weakness.  He must be in control.  But…Cullen sighed.  He was out of fight at the moment.  He just listened to the internal violin music instead.

His soul and heart wandered with the tune, while his mind argued to stop listening.  The templar felt like he should have recognized it from other times, but nothing was clear.  Every thought felt like bricks tying him down in a deep ocean.  He has felt this softness so many times, but no exact memory cleared up the confusion.

Fisting his hand and fingers, Cullen noted the gash and earlier letter opener wounds were mostly closed, but not completely.  Yes, she had healed him through their bond.  Cullen heard of such instances from older bonds.  He always felt it wrong that a mage bond could cast over the templar with no limitation.  Cullen did not want her magic on him, but he still let it.  His heart reminded how he felt magical healing on his leg and ankle when he awoke.  Evie had been casting this ability since the beginning.  She likely felt the physical pain and could not sit idly by.  Evie hated being still even during meals, tapping her foot or annoying her little brother with ‘why’ questions like a toddler. 

But, how did all this make the man feel?

Lied to.

Thankful.

Tainted.

Physically better.

It was done for her benefit, not his.

She had done it so many times without asking anything in return.

Cullen kept breaking this connection.  Kinloch ruined any chance at being the templar bond he always desired.  It was not just Maya Amell either or the fact Eve Trevelyan was an apostate.  This dealt with him specifically.  That desire demon and its blood mages overlords broke Cullen.  Barely any of the trapped mages suffered such effects.  Why him?  Was it because he watched Walsh get disemboweled from the inside as a rage demon busted through his form?  Or seeing Norman so willingly give into that other desire demon’s family illusion?  Cullen was the most junior templar captured at the beginning, but he somehow survived!?

No, Cullen did not survive.  Young, innocent, and naïve Cullen Rutherford died in that purple change nearly twenty-one months ago.  He died after weeks of non-stop physical, emotional, psychological, and sexual abuse that no man will ever repeat on another living soul.  Could Cullen ever be intimate with anyone now?  Or wonder if his partner will transform into a desire demon when they orgasm?!  The knight never laid with a woman before the rebellion.  He got teased enough by the other templars for it, especially after hearing how he ran away when the family’s milkmaid neighbor wanted to give him a goodbye kiss.

Horrendous, damaged, contaminated…

No one in House Trevelyan fully stated it yet, but they hinted Cullen and Evie had be fully completely bonded if they have any chance against this Promiser army and that demonic Patricia.  Evie mentioned nothing on what that entailed, but she likely knew Cullen was appalled by a Level Seven connection.  A lady like her—though still a mage—was not meant to lay with a common dreadful templar.  She made it clear over the last five days of training she despised Cullen’s guts now after he tried to kill her and send her to the Circle.  Yes, she was kind on the cliffs and said she was willing to strengthen their bond, but anyone with a straight mind would do anything instead of jumping to her death to avoid starting the end of the world.

Eve is going to kill herself to stop this!

That fact alone made the tears fall again.  Why was Cullen crying for an unwatched mage?  He would likely be free of her if she did.  However, after that initial silence committed completed by the spirits binding them together, her suicide will likely kill Cullen too via their twisted and ugly connection.  Maybe if Cullen had never touched her. 

No, he does not want to die!  Now his brain fights to live after giving up so easily in the hurricane!?  Maker’s breath!  Meanwhile, his heart and soul weeps at the idea of Evie falling all alone off the bluffs just because Cullen was broken and repulsed by her, himself, and everything involved.

Cullen hung his head, silently sobbed.  His hands laid over his back neck, fluffing the dirty curls with each movement.  Look at him crying like that little eight-year old not allowed to go to templar academy yet.  Observe the templar who screamed through a purple electrified cage at his rescuers thinking the demon returned as her to force itself on him again and again.  Usually when the blond Fereldan lost all control, he turned this dark seeded fear into rage and aggressive.  After seeing what that aggression does to others, especially Evie the last week, the tactic did not work.

He wants to live.  He wants to serve, to be the templar he always dreamed about as a child.  However, that Templar Order never existed.  It was corrupt like the Circles and the Chantry.  He wished he did not know, to live in that fantasy with his hate and go on and become a knight-captain.  Now, he know if he ever reached Kirkwall, he would be like those Promisers sailing here to strike Evie down or help use blood magic to end the world so everyone in Thedas could feel what he experienced in that high tower for weeks!  There was nothing he could grasp onto anymore.  His faith laid shattered on the floor.  The lyrium draught pulsing through him was not dampening the anguish rolling through him like its own deadly hurricane.

The trickling morning rain from a nearby passing tropical storm began bouncing off the balcony and onto Cullen.  His left shoulder soaked in the thick droplets.  With each blink, the water turned red and returned clear again.  The thunder strikes mimicked the shocks he felt in his bones when he attempted again and again to break through that cage.   He used to love summer rains.  The refreshing scent now mixed in his nose with decay and bile from ripped intestines and stomachs at his feet.

All of this was his fault.

Time passed slowly around Cullen as he allowed his thoughts to go around and around from self-loathing, to hate, to regret, to uncertainty, etc.  All the while, that soft gentle violin inside his soul continued, singing from that mage somewhere in the house and attempted to keep him centered and calm.  There was just too much darkness.  Give up, Eve.  He was not worth the energy.  Still, he yearned to see that flicking flame in that trouble dream that denoted somewhere beyond the nightmare someone tried to help him.  Instead, he ignored the mage who just wanted to be that somebody who cared.

Cullen can’t let his infection break her too…

Three knocks broke the warrior from his twisting repugnance.  Slowly climbing to his feet, Cullen stumbled a little since he sat on the hard floor in a particular position for what felt like years.  He waddled towards the door, noting how much sunlight shined through the rain.  He likely missed breakfast.  Maker, he needed a bath.  At this rate, he will be late for sparring to just to repeat the same mistakes over and over again.

Opening the suite door just a little so only a single whiskey eyes wiped of any remaining tears poked out into the west wing halls.  His nose got bopped as the nitwit Jim tried to knock again while looking down the hallway.  Cullen growled and knocked his head back.  He stopped the idiot runner’s moving fist with his mostly healed left hand.

“What!?”

Jim yelped like a dog smacked with a willow switch and hopped backwards.  “M-my apologies, S-sir!”  He mumbled wide eyed at Cullen gripping his fist like an oil press.  “I didn’t s-see y-you open the d-door.”

“Then pay attention to what you doing.”  Cullen hissed with a deep scowl.  “If this is about my tardiness, tell his lordship I will be late-“

“-A-actually, Sir,”  Jim lifted his other hand with one finger present.  “Bann Trevelyan wished to tell you training was cancelled today.  He suggested you rest and study for tomorrow in the meantime.”

Bann Ian did not think Cullen could do it today.  Aggression boiled up Cullen’s soul.  How dare that pompous man think Cullen will shuck his vows despite the little sleep and self-loathing Cullen mulled over for the last few bells!  “I am fully capable to continue-“

“-No, not you, S-sir!”  Jim halted the knight from continue.  “It’s actually Lady Evelyn who is unable.  Fesill, her lady-in-waiting, informed Bann Ian she had taken ill in the night and needed this morning to recuperate.”

“Evie’s unwell?”  Cullen questioned.  Instantly, Cullen reached out with that channel he had heard her thoughts just days before.  Instantly, his brand slammed the senses back like a thick metal wall blocked him.  What in the Maker’s name…?  He had heard templars able to completely shut off the connection to hide Order secrets from their mages bonds, but not anything like that the opposite direction.  However, Evie’s spiritual violin still played that calming melody for him.  How?  Why?

“Well, not lately, but before you shipwrecked here, it was kinda common.”  Jim blurted before yanking his hand away from Cullen and covering his mouth.  “Oops!  Forget I said that.”

“I cannot and will not under these circumstances.”  The Fereldan barked with a scrunched brow.  “You will tell me what is going on, boy.”

As soon as his rage built, Cullen pulled it back.  This moron might not even know what is going on, especially Evie’s mage status.  In all purposes, Cullen should be screaming there was an apostate among these innocent people, but he kept her secret.  Again, the knight thought one way and acted another.  He should have no loyalty to anyone in this house.  They lied and tricked him, especially imprisoning him against will on the isle.  He felt no choice but to collaborate against these Promisers. 

Alas, just like that night he attempted to slay Evie in the library, Cullen could not bring himself to betray her.  He hated everything she was, but still could not wish her harm or injury.  Actually, hearing she was unwell and could not sense her through their bond scared the living shit out of Cullen.

How?  Why?  Did this mage control him too now?

Jim gulped and hung his head.  “Just over the last few years…Lady Evelyn gets sick during the night.  There are always whispers about her like she is a mage or something, but there would be no way she was a mage in this faithful Andrastian family.”

Once again, Cullen’s original assessment of this numbskull proved very accurate.

“Apparently, she is getting sicker…disappears in the night to only be brought to her room battered and beaten like she was in a bar fight….well, like twelve fights if you forget the time she and Hemmingway bar crawled in Ostwick City.”  Jim mumbled to himself, then continued with his gossip.  “I only saw it once, and it was like she was flayed alive.  By the afternoon or next morning, she is completely fine.  Of course, with that many healers coming in and out of her private rooms, if she did not exit right as rain, none of them would have a job.”

Cullen’s brain went into overdrive.  First, he had to consider the source of this information.  One thing Cullen learned immediately about Jimmy Seaman was that he walked the estate oblivious of anything happening around him.  He would likely walk onto a battle field and not get slashed, hit, or arrowed in the knee. 

When the runner did pay attention, he usually misinterpreted what was going on.  For example, the Fereldan watched as Jim thought Bann Ian was done with his afternoon tea when the man set it down to begin writing a letter in the withdrawing room.  It was comical to see the bann reach for his cup to see it gone and washed by Jim.  The nobleman would have to get a new cup and fill it with tea again.  He happened about five times in a roll to the point Cullen, Evie, Gwen, and Esme nearly rolling out off the sofas laughing.

However, there was one person Jim watched like a hawk and that was Evie.  It was easy to see that the moron was in love with her.  The fire mage would smile and nod her head to him when passing down the hall.  She did that for all the servants, but Jim believed it was reserved for only him.  The first time Cullen caught the man’s puppy dog love eyes, he blistered and openly confronted him as if the boy was an actual threat to Evie’s modesty.  Jim denied his emotions, blushing so deeply he matched the hardwood floors.  The knight scolded himself later, remarking to himself he had no stake on the maiden, only as her bond and the person meant to control her from hurting others.  Still that brief row of jealous and possession from the tavern flushed every time a kind and innocent man approached her within Cullen’s eyesight…

Knowing how Jim loved Evie, his information was likely sixty-five percent correct.  Which meant Evie had night activities that left her severely wounded and out of sorts.  The first thought Cullen imagined was witch-like blood magic, but her flawless skin now shined more openly in corsets and short sleeves.  It demonstrated she never purposefully hurt herself.  Even if she healed her silts, blood magic tainted the mage, thus it would still scar.  Knowing about the Sanctuary and her actions to smuggle broken bonds out of Circles, the injuries could have been on those raids.  Unlikely in this current time because her frigate was still docked above Ostwick.  The late summer hurricane and tropic storm season caused all travel to cease off the isle. 

Lastly, there was nothing on the isle that Cullen knew about that could require to leave in the night to fight and risk herself.  Bann Ian and his associates on the isle opened all their secrets to Cullen in the last few days so he was fully informed of what he had been dragged into by being Evie’s bond.  The isle itself was like Redcliffe Castle.  No army could invade without suffering horrific causalities, thus why it was three Man O’Wars bring the invading force to corrupt Evie.  Epona Isle had been constructed by House Trevelyan for ages to be a secretive protective fortress for relics, artifacts, and other forbidden Chantry-related items and people.  With how much Cullen knew now, he could easily be accepted by the Promisers and allowed to go scot-free if he was that type of dishonorable person. 

No, the Fereldan warrior could never live with himself and allow hundreds of innocent men, women, and children be burned, sacrificed, and bound with blood magic before the end of the world commenced.  Oh, how much he was already changed for the last three weeks he had been conscious on this isle.  If he discovered he was actually assisting the enemy, he will strike down every one of these liars before throwing himself at the Order for execution for all crimes against Andraste. 

Alas, deep in Cullen’s heart he felt redeemable here.  For the first time since before the Circle rebellion, the Fereldan felt like he was doing the right and fair thing, acting and serving as the templar he believed the Order should be.  The blinders were off now and seeing what he truly signed up for…

Repression.  Abuse.  Torture.  Genocide.  Misuse of power.  To die crazy and alone addicted to a blue mineral…

Maker’s breath…

With a head shake, Cullen directed his quickening thoughts back to the gapping mouth boy standing at his door.  Something happened in the night that Cullen did not sense or know about before.  It seems Bann Ian and Evie were keeping more secrets from him.  Maybe Lady Gwen will know and be that confidante she pledged herself as last week.  Will he believe in what she said?  …Actually yes.  With everything Cullen learned about the gentle and kind woman, she was not lying or deceiving him.  She truly wanted to help him heal and move on.

“Thank you for informing me, Jim.”  Cullen groaned, pinching his nose.  Maker, he had the worst headache right now thinking so much about everything.  “I will be out after a bath.  If you can inform the Lady of the House I wish to speak with her after lunch in the conservatory, I would deeply appreciate it.”

“Really?!  You’re giving me a duty!?”  Jim beamed and then attempted to salute.  Cullen’s face fell.  What did he just do?  He might never get rid of this nitwit now.  “I-I mean, y-yes, I will deliver you message, S-sir!”  The runner raced off down the hall with a skip in his step.

Cullen rolled his red-rimmed whiskey eyes.  “Idiot…”

Chapter Text

The pitter-patter of rain against the conservatory’s glass dome ceiling made for the perfect white noise backdrop of the scene.  Esme entered the room and watched his sister sitting in one of the vine-weaved lounging sofa by a curved corner in the circular outcove.  Her knees sat bent up from the cushion, while bare feet and toes fisted the fabric.  Her head leaned on the back wicker so she could press her forehead to the cold glass panels.  Her naked arms rested on her knees, her fingers lightly grasping each bicep.

Esme recognized the sheer, tapestry-type dress Evie wore as one of her personal favorites, sewn for her for sixteenth name day.  The fragile sheer fabric had different horizontal designs embroidered into it, while layers upon layers of lilac-grey blue fabric kept her covered and acceptable.  The sheerness thinned the higher up her body until the tight neck and shoulders’ sewn designs looked like they were floating on her olive tan skin.  She left her auburn waves down and unrestrained, not bothering with her intricate braids or half buns she wore depending on the day’s tasks.

The youngest Trevelyan knew why his lovely sister choose that dress to watch the outside world with a lonesome face.  The sheer fabric was extremely expensive, but did not agitate her sensitive skin.  She loved the dress, especially for days where her mood soured and she felt all hope was lost.  What was the point to do one’s hair if just a comb through the strains felt like a dozen needles stabbing her scalp and skull repeatedly?  The conservatory was cooler than the rest of the house when it rained, and the greenery gave the mind an illusion that one was truly free to roam outside even when the world thundered and lightning.

“I brought you lunch…”  Esme whimpered, his changing voice deciding right then to quirk.  He coughed to cover the squeaking.  Maybe he should drink more of that special tea his mother prepared.

On any other day, the adolescent’s slip would make Evie joke and tease her pubertal brother, but she did not even shift her gaze.  Her eye lids just blinked lazily.  “I’m not hungry.”

“You didn’t eat breakfast either.”  Esme quipped back, continuing into the flora room with the tray.  “Fesill reported to Mother you did not take a single bite.”

“Chewing is difficult at the moment.”

Esme reached the tea table near where his sister lounged and set down the assortment of cheeses, meats, and finger foods the kitchens prepared for Evie on such days.  A single serving bottle of dark gold liquid sat in a decanter with a matching crystal glass.  Esme saw such liquids in the wine cellar.

“Maybe this mead will help it then.”  Esme pointed at the decanter.  “Ferelden, if I remember right.  Your new favorite…well, besides your Antivan tequila that is…”

Evie winced at the news before squeezing her dark dull brown eyes shut.  “Maybe in a little while.”  She opened her dull brown eyes devoid of her usual rouge or other makeup.  “Thank you, Ezzy.  Truly.”

Her body was recuperating.  Healing can only do so much for soreness and overuse.  Healing draughts slowed and stopped bleeding.  Healing spells can sew up gashes and slices and rarely leaves scars.  Salves can loosen overused muscles, but that same skin, bone, and muscles still required time to rest and finish the mending process on their own.

Thank the Maker their father cancelled their stupid sparring today or surely Evie would have fallen in the first thirty seconds of un-bonding.  Esme himself had grown bored of the battles.  They started the same way, progressed to that same infuriating pace as the first attempt, and ended with those weird spirits scolding the very people that held their halves.  Esme decided to skip Day Five’s practice.  Suddenly, his studies interested him instead of the drama flowing between the two most stubborn individuals he ever knew.

Weren’t they supposed to be a balance of one another?

Esme flopped down in a wicker seat near his sister’s lounging couch, watching her with sympathetic eyes.  In some ways Evie and Cullen, were exactly the same:  passionate in what they believed, hardheaded, not easily swayed or pushovers, and highly moral.  They enjoyed learning and expanding their minds.   That fact was evident in that Cullen was never without a secret library book in hand, while Evie spoke to anyone she met knew to learn a little more about the world. 

Then the opposites began:  Evie used sarcasm and sassiness to cover her irritation before it turned into full blown rage.  Cullen just turned sour and broody when he got agitated and frustrated until he started barking and yelling when he reached his limit.  He did not do well with sarcasm, while Evie always became defensive when yelled or unnecessarily blamed her.  Both reached their limits within moments of entering the same room.

From what Esme overheard at Hemmingway’s diamondback nights, neither had this type of problem prior to Evie’s mage status discovery.  If anything, both people constantly stumbled over words and listened intently at what the other said.  They have multiple common hobbies and favorite topics.  So, this constant arguing and butting heads made little sense.  Hemmingway’s theory proposed that both people still felt betrayed and hurt by the fallout after finding out the truth.  Not all was forgive and forget because it was something they could not just reconcile overnight.

If things were allowed to progress naturally, time would benefit the mage and templar.  It might have felt like a lifetime since their initial brawl by the cliffs, but it actually just happened last week.  Alas, time was not on their side.  The Promiser fleet was a little under two weeks away and closing in quickly.  Yes, a part of the Trevelyan secondary battle fleet not involved with shipping was attempting to stale the ships off of the Orlesian coast.  However, they were no match against three fully gunned Man O’Wars.  Furthermore, the constant flow of hurricanes flowing into the Waking Sea just batted the Trevelyan ships like children’s toys, while the Man O’Wars just sailed on as it was a small popcorn storm.  Of course, Esme was not supposed to know any of this, but his father continued to mumble under his breath during meals.  He had stopped telling Evie though, wanting her mind focused on the task at hand and not at the impending doom that awaiting them all.

At least one portion of the house enjoyed the drama.  The kitchen staff found the whole bonding situation golden entertainment, although they did not know why the rush.  When Fesill and Esme made the platter for Evie, the youngest Trevelyan overhead the servant sharing what they personally witnessed doing their daily chores.  Evie was known as the Sun Nymph for her early morning violin playing everyone heard throughout the manor.  The nickname shrank to Sunny for gossip sessions.  Cullen got the nickname ‘Sullen’ or ‘Adonis’ depending on who was speaking because of his handsomeness and dark moods.  Evie would hate the second nickname because the idea of Cullen dying for love was what she had been trying to avoid since his Vigil, even if he did not know it.  Sullen, on the other hand, might have been suggested by her after the first day of training.

The mage and templar became the talk of the entire manor staff, much to the disgust of both people if they discovered the truth.  There were very few conversations the bonds could have without lashing out at one another.  They could have a decent conversation during meals involving their common hatred of pompous nobility, including extended family Trevelyans.  Lady Gwen usually scolded her daughter for being harsh, while Bann Ian advised Evie and Cullen will have to deal with such people no matter the social class.  Still, if either person discovered their antagonizing relationship was the hotbed topic of both the manor and the village, no one on the isle was safe.

“He doesn’t know, does he?”  Esme concluded by how Evie stiffened with movement.

A few moments had passed while Esme wandered his own mind before Evie finally sighed and responded to his question.  “No, he doesn’t…”  Her dull brown eyes bore into her brother.  “…and he never will.”

“Might help.”  Esme shrugged.  He knew his sister’s hesitation on the matter, especially with what Esme overheard about Cullen’s life prior to arriving.  However, it was another lie by omission.  The first one nearly got her killed.  This one will for sure.

“It won’t.”  Evie punctuated her sentence to state the matter was done.  Her face turned towards the glass once more until her breath fogged the glass panels.  The tip of her nose cut through the fog before an exhale filled it in again.  “He will only hate me more.”

“Why do you think he hates you?”  Esme quizzed with a perked brow.  His eyes flicked to the mead decanter.  He poured some of the amber honey liquid into the glass.  For a brief moment, he considered it for himself, but if his mother smelled it on his breath, horse manure shoveling would be in his future.  Instead, he kicked himself out of his seat and reached out to give it to his sister.

Evie just eyed him lazily before rolling them back outside and grasping the crystal glass.  She gulped the fermented bee spit once before resting the glass on her knee.  “There is not enough parchment paper on this isle that will not be turned black with the amount of ink required to answer that question.”

“Isn’t that assuming much?”  Esme flopped back down in his chair.  He snagged a bit of cut roasted lamb and threw it in his mouth.  “Shouldn’t that be his call?  For all your concern you and Father not giving him a choice, you’re removing his conclusion on this topic.”

“I feel his emotions and hear his thoughts, Ez.”  Evie turned her full body away from him.  She was behaviorally telling to fuck off and leave her alone.  “Even the ones he think he blocks.  He keeps reaching out, and I can’t let him in.  If he knew just one bit, I’ll be dead.”

“It isn’t even your fault, Evie.”  Esme smacked his chair arm.  “If they hadn’t increased the potency and poisoned you, you wouldn’t have to-“

“This discussion is over…!”  Evie snapped, kicking her feet out.  With a bit of force magic, she caught the crystal glass before it shattered on the floor.  “Shut. It!”  She grabbed it floating in front of her and down the rest of the mead.  She jumped to her slipper-covered feet, walked over to the platter, and slammed the glass down.  With a twirl, she stomped towards the interior doors.

Esme huffed and crossed his arms.  He pouted, listening to his sister walking away.  “Stubborn arse…”

Uff!

“Evie-“  Esme hopped to his feet and raced towards the door, then slid on his boots.  Wide eyed, Esme wished he had not a) made himself known and b) witnessed what he did.

Evie hovered about two feet off the tiled floor, her auburn waves dusting the wooden tiles like a peacock fan.  Around her tight waist where her sheer dress layered into long skirt was a leather jacket arm gripping tightly on her hip so her head and back would not smack the mosaic table behind her.  Evie stared up at the arm’s owner, her bare hands and arms grasp the man’s jerkin tightly and thankful for avoiding the likely horrific injury if she had smack the sharp table edge.

Esme’s widen eyes flashed to the man who caught his sister.  Cullen’s redden face displayed both shock and determination, a feat within itself if not overshined by the fact how quickly he caught Evie in her fall.  He looked like one of those dramatic marble status in the gallery Esme though stupid and his mother found charming and romantic, thus why the young Trevelyan wish he could wash out his eyes with acid.

“I-I’m s-sorry.”  Cullen mumbled quietly, his nose just millimeters from Evie’s.  Their lips looked closer than Esme cared to admit.

Evie turned a bright red, the blush hopefully from the mead she gulped down and not the precarious situation she stumbled into.  By the quickly rising and falling of her sheer and embroidered dress top, it was complete shock and embarrassment.  Evie kept her mouth closed and breathed through her nose in hopes to cover up the fact she drank liquor right before smacking right into the six foot-something muscled Adonis.

If that did not sicken Esme enough to make the lad lose his lunch, the pairs’ abdomens, legs, and arms were so tightly intertwined they looked like the third day of sparring in the mudd and name calling.  This time Cullen’s left knee supported him from crashing down with Evie, while his other hand caught the table before Evie’s head smacked it.  If she had fallen those last few inches, he made sure it was his hand she would knock, not the sharp seams of tile and mortar.  The guy acted so quickly to cover all bases that Esme was mildly impressed. 

 “N-no, my a-apologies, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”  Evie stuttered like the man had caught her setting fire runes on his behind like during their fourth sparring match yesterday to set his plate mail rump alight because he smited her firestorm and shield bashed her flipping head over foot into their mother’s favorite Tevinter miniature maple.

“W-well, I admit I-I didn’t think anyone else was in here.”  Cullen admitted, cradling Evie closer to steady both himself and his caught bond still hovering off the floor.  With each little movement, Evie’s long sheer dress and lose brown-red waves danced against the wooden tiles.  However Cullen was not letting go, his arm like a hardwood board, but his hand cupping her hip like she was made of glass.  “Although, I’m glad it was you and not your mother because this would have been quite awkward and made dinner with your father even tenser.”  The templar rambled like he said one sentence as one long word.

“He still glaring you down?”  Evie quipped with a perked auburn brow.  “Wait until he see this…”

“Maker’s breath, please let’s avoid that!”  Both people chuckled in each other’s arms.  The fire mage actually leaned more into the knight, her eyes half open.  Cullen responded by holding her closer until there was no space between their bodies.  Evie patted his shoulder and rested her forehead on his collar, while…did Esme just catch the templar smelling her hair?!

They were blocking the exit.  The Maker must absolutely hate the youngest Trevelyan!  He can’t run away!  No brother should see his sister and…whatever Cullen was macking and flirting right in front of him!

“I would advise you two come to rights before he turns the next corner then.”

Cullen’s knee gave out as a new voice behind him broke his concentration.  The knight tumbled with Evie to the tiled floor.  Evie lost all the air in her lungs with his solid muscle weight on her diaphragm, while Cullen face-planted right into her breasts barely covered by embroidery and sheer fabric.  Esme lost it laughing, holding his stomach and gasping for air.  Both bonds look up at who had spoken to see Lady Gwen gently smiling and blinking like she had done nothing wrong.

“Mother!?”

“Maker’s breath, Lady Gwen!”

Esme fell over laughing, rolling where he fell in a fit of giggles.  A single blast of hot air made Esme roll away and hold his behind.  He felt a few flames go out on contact but still warm his pants.  “Hey!”

Evie glared at her brother from the floor with a single finger lit on fire.  “Next time it is a rune, Ezzy.”  Cullen threw her a look with narrowed eyes for using magic so carelessly especially in front of him.  As if she knew what her bond was thinking, Evie pointed the index finger at Cullen.  “Yell at me.  I dare you.” 

Cullen pursed his scarred lip and rolled away.  He jumped to his feet and offered his right hand to his bond, who watched him closely before sliding her palm into his grasp.  He pulled once and she lifted to her feet with ease.  With the momentum, they collided chest to chest, but they froze on contact before both shook their head and took three very large steps away from one another.

As Evie adjusted her dress and Cullen watched her darkly—frustration or lust Esme did not want to know—Lady Gwen began speaking again.  “I am glad you all are present and in one place at the moment.  Ser Cullen, I hope our conversation may wait a few minutes.  I think this bit of news will even make you quite happy.”

“Patricia drowned?”  Evie sarcastically hoped with a twinkle in her eye.

“Abominations don’t drown, Eve.”  Cullen rolled his whiskey eyes.  “Else Circles in lakes would be more effective for multiple reasons.”

“It’s called a joke, jerk off.”  Evie huffed, crossing her arms over her sheer breasted dress, noticing Cullen’s eyes lingered there a little longer than she liked.  “Try it sometime.  Maybe your brow wouldn’t stay scowling after you frown.”

Esme smirked, seeing the knight dying to respond back, but Lady Gwen beat him to speaking.  “No, it is not Patricia, but something very innocent…”  She paused as the people present attempted to figure out the clue.  “…They opened their eyes.”

Both Evie and Esme through their mother a surprised look.  “What?!”

“Take a look.”  Lady Gwen grinned coyly.  Like a crossbow bolt, the siblings dashed out of the conservatory for the stables.  Thank the Maker it was covered from the manor to the barn.  Her dark brown eyes shined at Cullen.  “Mabari puppies, Ser Cullen.”

Like a second arrow shot, Cullen raced out of the room.  “Wait for me!”

Cullen thought there was no way that day—no, his whole stay on this isle—would turn around and be pleasurable.  He was happy to see himself proved wrong for in an empty horse stall by the black warhorse he had been using was a full grown mabari bitch with six little mabari puppies running around.  He never thought he would ever get to see mabari puppies so up close, let alone possibly play with them and potentially imprint.  Mabari were proud war hounds and very expensive, yet here off the coast of the Free Marches was a full litter just over a few weeks old like it was normal.

“I’ve died and gone to heaven…”  Cullen mumbled in a childish voice beaming ear-to-ear.  He knew his smile stretched his entire face because the scar tissue on his upper lip stretched and slightly tore at the expansive glee.

“A true Fereldan.”  Lady Gwen grinned at the templar standing beside her.

“Dog lords…”  Esme rolled his eyes as his sister nodded in agreement.  The mabari mother heard this slant and growled at the adolescent deep and rough.  Esme took a step back from the stable door and pointed at his sister.  “She said it.”

Cullen perked a brow and smirked.  “They can tell who isn’t Fereldan, Esme.  You better watch yourself.”

“I’m a quarter Fereldan, Sullen.”  Esme stuck out his tongue.  Evie smacked him upside the head, but briefly winked at her brother.

“Not Fereldan enough, my son.”  Lady Gwen cooed knowingly.  “She barely lets me near as it is, although she did raced to my side as soon as she disembarked the merchant ship.”

“Is that how she arrived here, my lady?”  Cullen questioned curious on how such a hound found itself so far from its homeland.

“The captain explained they found her onboard one night after leaving Denerim the week before.”  Lady Gwen began explaining while watching the puppies yip and jump through the straw bedding.  “She had killed a few chickens to feed herself.  Luckily, the sailor who found her was a Fereldan with his own mabari and recognized she was heavy with pups.  Evidently, future Queen Asta’s mabari named General MacBarkspawn of the Grey Wardens had been spreading his seed far and wide across Ferelden during the Blight, especially in Amarathine and Denerim.  There are dozens of female mabari heavy with pups at the moment.  It is safe to assume such a strong bitch likely mated with him because the port the ship left from was directly connected to the royal palace.”

“Busy hound…”  Evie whistled through her teeth.  “That is one way to repopulate the royal kennels.”

“I’ve heard of that mabari.”  Cullen admitted, keeping his attention on the pups instead of envisioning how he actually saw the black and brown mabari in person at Kinloch Hold in the months after the rebellion.  “His pedigree is generations long.  The Couslands and the Theirins traded mabari to keep diversifying the breed.”

“Did you have a mabari, Cullen?”  Lady Gwen asked tentatively.  Cullen knew the look she gave him was an open door to speak about his family if he wish or walk away if the discussion made him uncomfortable.  From their private conversations, she let him decide what information he wished to share.

“No, my family never had the funds to go a kennel or even travel to puppy introductions in hopes for one to imprint on us kids.”  Cullen explained, his amber eyes focusing on the small pups racing about instead of the stinging burning deep inside his soul.  “However, I’ve always prayed to have one imprint on me.”

A gentle touch appeared and disappeared from his right.  He looked out of his peripherally to see Evie biting her lower lip and struggling with something.  Cullen winced.  He did not even register she might sense his apprehensions.  Instead of closing himself off, he opened the channel a little more.  His whole mind told him no, but the lyrium brands’ burning and his soul relaxed with the gesture.  Instantly, quickened violin notes flowed them him from not his own struggle, but Evie’s unsureness on what to do.  She wanted to help, but did not know how.  Apparently Cullen was not the only one not sure how to handle this new intrusive communication.

Evidently, Evie must have sense the flow of emotion from him because her head whipped around and looked him in the eye.  She opened her mouth before snapping it shut.  She looked like a deer staring a carriage lantern thundering towards it.  She likely wondered why he did not close her out over something noticeable uncomfortable for him since he was shipwrecked.

“Why don’t you go see if that might change now…?”  Lady Gwen nudged with her chin.  A mischievous glance screamed this had been her intentions all along.  Cullen recognized the look as the very one her daughter gave when she was about to do something unladylike.

Cullen reared back and held up his hands.  “Oh no no nonono…”  Cullen stepped away.  “I’ve heard horror stories about mabari mothers ripping men’s throats out for approaching their pups.  I like living, thank you.”

“You hear that, Evie,”  Esme elbowed his sister in the side.  “There’s hope for you yet!”

“Not if you keep that up, Ezzy…”

“Children.”  Lady Gwen snapped, her dark brown eyes looking skyward for the holy strength.  Both of her own children snapped to attention leaving the knight chuckling to himself.  The mabari mother actually nodded like she understood the motherly struggle well.  Still, a bit of that warning reminded Cullen of his own mother ending rough housing in the living space of their Honnleath farmhouse-

Honnleath.

Again, a tentative touch could be felt through the jerkin vest Cullen currently wore.  However, unlike the last time, Evie never removed it, her slim fingers curling around his elbow in a fashion that let Cullen know she was there if he needed an out or anything.

Thank you.  The templar replied in his mind, unsure if the mage even heard him.

I am trying to respect your personal space…  Evie visibly sighed beside him, while she squeezed twice.  …just quick changes in your piano tell me with you actually telling me.

Cullen perked a brow.  Piano?  I have heard it time to time, but not now. 

Evie rolled her chocolate eyes before returning her gaze on the mabari family.  You actually don’t hear yourself.  It isn’t caused the lyrium in your blood, but the spirit that selected you, thus is essentially unique to you.  I heard your piano since you were a kid, much like your lion roars during the children’s games.  Through it, I was called a piano prodigy by my tutors.

Just like your violin.  Cullen spoke through the link, but his response reaffirmed it was Evie he heard in his nightmare and throughout the last few weeks.  Or he remembering wrong…his head started to ache. 

Instead, Cullen realized a potential horrific fact.  Maker, did that mean she saw what that nightmare was about too?!  Maker’s breath…

“I think if you asked her nicely, Cullen, she might give you a pass.”  Lady Gwen stated confidently after a few minutes.  The knight wondered if Evie and his mental discussions were also clear on their faces as much as it mentally sounded in his head.  “She is not unreasonable.  She lets me know she needs something, while I give her the needed space she requires when she barks.”  The lady glanced at her daughter’s hand gripping Cullen elbow.  Her advice was as much for Evie as for him.  Evie dropped her hand instantly.

Suddenly, his elbow was the chilliest part of his body.

You just want her to touch you because of the bonding connection, his mind commented.  It had nothing to do with fact you like having her near, Cullen scolded himself.  The brand bit back at the thoughts. 

Cullen frozen and waited.  Nothing changed about Evie’s violin.  Thank the Maker that was just his thought.  Maker, this was going to get complicated quickly.  He already had enough problems communicating with this woman without face-planting into her breasts as it is.  Now his own brain was not even safe.

Although her chest was landing on the softest cotton feather pillows…

Stop thinking about my breasts please.  Evie quipped with a mischievous grin that matched her mother’s.

Culen frozen and gulped.  Maybe a mabari death is better.  “May I, my lady?”   Cullen squeaked before mentally cursing.  The mabari barked happily and panted at him.  Cullen took the greeting as a positive sign and slipped into the stall.

Smooth.

Cullen threw Evie an annoyed look.  I do just fine making myself feel a fool.  I don’t need you commentating in my own bloody brain!

I find your blunders adorable.  Evie giggled with a knowing grin.

Yes, what every templar wants to hear.

Then the damn woman had to reply with such unexpected response that nearly sent Cullen falling on his face into mabari poop:  You’re not any ordinary templar though, Cullen Stanton Rutherford.  Yes, it had been stated several times by himself and others throughout the last week, but her mental tone was completely different in intention.  She said it with an awing desire and sorrowful regret.  Cullen registered Evie had no idea he actually heard it.  That was a personal thought with a matching soft expression Evie would not likely let him see any other time.

Nope, not touching that right now.  Later. 

Then, his brain instantly brought it front and center again.  Wait, how do you know my middle name?!

Evie stiffened and locked eyes with him.  Yes, that last thought was not meant for his mental ears, but was heard nonetheless.  Her violin played a dozen wrong notes before she glared at him.  You got in trouble a lot as a kid.

I blame Branson.  Cullen rolled his eyes.  She likely had an idea that was his younger brother, but he did not elaborate.  Just knowing he caught her doing the very thing he had been doing moments before was enough.  And never tell anyone my middle name.

You know you just invited me to essentially find a way to integrate it into every possible conversation from this point forward.

Maker’s breath…

“Evelyn, allow him a moment of peace, please.”  Lady Gwen warned her daughter as Cullen continued into the stall towards the mabari mother.

Haha, got in trouble.

Quit Stanton’, Templar.

Cullen turned around and glared at her.  “Okay, Alistair!”

“I said nothing.”  Evie held up her hands in defense.  Instantly, her brother searched the mage and templar to understand what he just missed.  Lady Gwen just giggled and shook her head.  Her dark brown wave batted her face as her bun slowly came free in the humid drizzle.

About half way into the stall, Cullen kneeled and continued crawling on his hands and knees.  The bitch nodded an understanding and appreciation.  About a foot from her back legs, Cullen sat down and leaned against the stall wall.  Instantly, five mabari puppies rushed him and started to smell his clothes, climbing into his lap, and nibbling his fingers.

“This is the best day ever.”  Cullen chuckled as he watched the babies tackle one another and use him as a jungle gym.

“I think you lost him, Evie.”  Esme sassed his sister.  Evie pushed him into the rain and muttered under her breath something Cullen did not quite catch.  He personally did not care because he was surrounded by mabari puppies!

It was then Cullen counted the animals around him.  “How many did you say was here, Lady Gwen?”

“Six, Ser Cullen…”  The lady of house replied.  She too began counting.  “Where is the last…?”

Evie must have felt Cullen’s piano panic as he searched the hay and the area around the mother for the last puppy.  The bitch whimpered before nudging the last puppy out from under a pile of hay under her nose.  It barely moved.  It was considerably smaller from the others.

“Oh Maker Above…” Lady Gwen sobbed, holding her chest.  “Is it…?”

Whatever horsing around Evie and Esme were doing ceased once hearing their mother sob to herself.  Cullen tentatively reached for the pup in the mother’s mouth.  It was colder than the others, barely shivering, but he felt its little heart beat in his fingertips.  “Yes, but just barely.  It’s the runt, barely holding on...”  Cullen instantly looked at his bond.  “Eve, can you do a gentle enough warming spell on…”  He check behind under its tail.  “…her?”

“I would have to get closer.”  Evie advised, looking at the mother war hound.  “Will you let me help?”

Cullen watched the mother contemplating the additional human in her space.  She glanced at Cullen with a worried expression.  From the templar’s limited knowledge of his countryman’s war hounds, mabaris could established connections with imprints much as like templar and mage bonds.  I know she looks dangerous, but she is innocent as a Chantry mouse.

I resent that!

“I’m trying to help you here.”  Cullen grumbled at his bond.  His whiskey eyes flashed back to the mabari mother, licking her runt child in Cullen’s hand.  She glanced at Evie and woofed both as a warning and permission.

“Evie, your dress…”  Lady Gwen sighed as her daughter entered the stall.

Evie flashed a spell over herself.  “Madam de Fer’s personal spotless spell, Mother.”  Evie explained before kneeling beside Cullen.  She sat down on a patch of hay and cupped her hands.  Cullen handed the small puppy to her.  The mage pressed herself close to him so not only the mabari saw what she was doing, but also not to startle Cullen with her magic.  Her aura alone echoed through Cullen as she first sent a type of triage spell through the animal.  “She’s weak.  Another few bells and she would not been able to breathe.”  She assessed with her magic.  Her worried gaze fell on the mother.  “We need to feed her by hand.  She doesn’t have the strength to suckle right now.  She needs it all to keep her heart beating.”

The mabari bitch woofed an understanding.

“Esme, get the goats milk from the kitchens.  Ask Allen where he keeps the nipples for when he bottle feeds the lambs in the spring.  We need the smallest one he’s made.”  Lady Gwen commanded her son.  Like a flash, Esme took off for the manor not caring if he got rained on or mud on his boots and clothes.  At least these nobles did not mind getting filthy with the common folk.

Cullen watched as Evie sent a small healing spell through the pup, then a slight warming cast.  She handed the pup back to Cullen.  “Tuck her into your jerkin and close to your heart and brand.  She needs to hear a heartbeat to think it’s her mother, brothers, and sisters, while the brand will keep the spell going through our bond.  Since I did not cast it on you, the brand should act with enough magical connection and mana to sustain it even if I’m called away.

Cullen understood, tucking the small pup inside his clothing skin to fur as instructed by the calm brand.  He leaned back and kept his right hand on the animal and his left hand free.  Evie glanced down to his palm, grimacing.  “It didn’t close.  Shit.”  Her chocolate brown eyes studied his with a concern tentative request.  “May I?”

Cullen offered it despite shaking his head no.  “It isn’t necessary, Eve…It’s my own fa-“

Evie poured her healing to his palm, cupping the hand like it was as precious as the runt puppy.  “It’s difficult to do it indirectly.  My mana…well, I was weak this morning and couldn’t navigate the Fade well enough to do it properly.”  She grimaced as her fingers touched the letter opener wound nearly fully healed.  “And there is my father’s handiwork…”  She cursed under her breath before working on that wound too.  “Good wrapping and salve, Mother…”  She smirked up the family matriarch.

“I have no idea what you mean, my dear.”  Lady Gwen winked at Cullen.

“The green tint tell me otherwise…”  Evie retorted before smiling.  Her attention flicked back at Cullen, who watched her magic work through him.  She released tension in his shoulder and back, lessen the headache that followed his nightmare, and even reduced swelling from an occasional popped joint from he was ten and the family bronto butted him out the barn.  “You had a good healer tending to you there, Cullen.”  Evie giggled as she pumped more magic into the wounds. 

Cullen noted the mage gave full credit to her mother, and never considered what she was doing to him mattered.  Her violin crescendo inside Cullen’s soul from being in direct contact with her spells.  She might have been healing the wound, but it felt like his whole mind, body, and soul refreshed and felt protected.  “She will never say it herself, but she has a unique bond with plants and herbs.  Each plant receives her blessings and in turn serves its purpose tenfold and efficiently.”

“Well, I had an excellent fellow to learn with.”  Lady Gwen gently smiled as her magical daughter worked.

“It’s…jarring to hear such noble parents speak so highly of their child.”  Cullen admitted once Evie completed her healing.  He felt somewhat lost and alone hearing her violin soften in his soul.  Her aura retreated back through that open channel in their hearts that Cullen kept widening every moment.  Alas, he felt Evie close her connection to a pinpoint, regret and fear leaking through the needle-sized opening.  “All the prior nobles whose children were mages I have met were the opposite…almost crueler than Tevinters to their slaves.”

Evie seemed woozy against him, using his shoulder and arm to keep herself up.  In all their sparring, Cullen knew her mana pool was deep and massive, but here just a few spells drained her like she had been fighting for days straight with no lyrium.  Peculiar.  He shifted himself a little so he could settle in and support both the runt and his bond along the wall.  Evie rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes lid fluttering as she attempt to keep herself conscious. 

Cullen gulped once Evie gave into her tired body, but he could tell by her violin she was in light twilight and still listening.  With a ‘please don’t tell your husband’ look to Lady Gwen, Cullen settled in too, figuring he was stuck with a beautiful maiden against his left arm, a mabari pup under his jerkin by his heart, and acting like a playground of the puppy’s brothers and sisters.  Lady Gwen placed her finger by her nose and winked.  His predicament was safe with her.

“It should not be so.”  Lady Gwen replied to his observation.  “Much like my mother’s family disowning her for loving someone below her class, noble parents are forced to ditch their flesh and blood because if they do not, the Chantry will work against them until no one wished to be near them.”

“It’s encouraged…by the Chantry?”  Cullen should not be surprised, but still was shocked by the news.  They should be helping everyone no matter their status or fade touch.  Mother Giselle, Sister Abigail, and all those clerics and templars at the Sanctuary flashed across his mind.  Evie must have felt it as her body relaxed, her tight grip on his shoulder syncing with his thoughts and disgust.

Lady Gwen nodded.  “A friend of the family’s son was found to be a mage.  Of course no one knows about Evie, but we tried to be supportive to our friends nonetheless.  We saw our other fate in them when the boy was taken from his home.  The first party where we asked if they had heard from him in the Circle, a local Chantry mother came across the ballroom, cursed us for mentioned ‘the demon’, and stated they never had a son!”  Gwen gritted her teeth and shook her head.  More of her dark brown hair fell from its loose bun.  “The mother cried on my shoulder in private, missing her child like someone had ripped him from her womb.  Meanwhile, that very Chantry mother worked throughout Ostwick to make sure any record stating the boy’s name was destroyed.  The father never wanted to forget his son, but the other businessmen said if he wanted to continue to do business with anyone in Ostwick, he must do so.  After a while, any notion of the boy’s existence evaporated.”

“I knew many Circles discouraged children from writing their parents…but because they never received correspondence from their families.  There is no ruling on the matter, just…assumptions.”  Cullen added, feeling horrible knowing Greagoir and Irving purposely burned dozens of letters written by apprentices to their family in hopes they could have contact.

“I know personally my friend wrote her son…”  Lady Gwen continued with a heavy heart.  “She even asked Rian to deliver them to Ostwick’s Circle since no other correspondence went through.  When Rian inquired about the boy, evidently the young man killed himself via starvation while in confinement because he truly believed his parents would come for him and show everyone that mage or no mage, they loved him.”

“How did they take the news?”   Cullen did not want to know, but felt it was only right to know what separation tactics did to all parties involved.

“The parents murdered the Chantry mother before drinking poisoned wine at their final meal…fitting since their son starved for food as much as for his parent’s love.”  Lady Gwen wiped a tear away.  “They could not live with the guilt they essentially killed their own child.”

Cullen squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to pinch his nose, but the runt and Evie successful claimed his hands.  He did not mind.  “Maker’s breath…”

“Here, Mama!”  Esme cried racing back through the rain.  In his hand was a small milk bottle with a tiny nipple. 

Lady Gwen took it, nudged into the stall and gave Cullen the milk before exiting again.  She turned away from the stall, an expression that staying any longer will disrupt this growing sweet moment.  “We will check on you again soon…Come, Esme…”

Cullen lowered the little puppy from his jerkin and showed it the nipple.  It took a few tries, but once her little tongue tasted the liquid, she happily licked at the dropps, squeaking with each swallow.  Cullen smirked at the little runt nursing and happy to finally get the attention she truly needed.  His whiskey eyes flashed to his left where Evie rested her head.  Long slow breaths tickled his stumbled jaw.  She had fallen asleep within a few minutes, her violin melody so soft and gentle it made Cullen feel like he was floating on his back on his favorite lake.

“Eve, wouldn’t you feel better sleeping inside?”  The templar whispered into her hair, taking a deep breath of her citrus and clove scent.  Esme had caught him before doing the same in the conservatory.  The lad rolled his eyes in disgust forcing Cullen to quit when he only wanted bury his face in croak of Evie’s neck for more of her aroma.

Evie nudged herself tightly against Cullen, her hand wrapping around his biceps like he might disappear.  “No…must protect you…keep the demons away…Let me stay please…”  From the soft tune ringing through his heart, she was speaking in her sleep unaware she slipped such details about her nightly activities.

Cullen rested his temple on the top of her head.  So she had been fighting his demons while he slept.  This news should have terrified Cullen, but somehow it make him feel not as alone in his own head, heart, and body.  She did know about his nightmares—at least that they troubled him—but never stated a word.  Why?  Shouldn’t she be happy such a templar feared closing his eyes just as a mage did so every night?  Shouldn’t she beam at the prospect that a templar cowered, afraid that someone might cut him down on this isle if he ever lifted his blade and slayed her for being a dangerous apostate?

Just turning his chin enough, Cullen gave the gentlest kiss on the crown of his bond’s head before saying, “You already are…”

Chapter Text

Evie barely kept on her feet racing through the maze garden towards her destination.  Small magelight orbs hovered around her as her untied ankles boots tangled together and her loose fitted pants.  The sun was not up, but she had to get away from the manor—from him.  She had a place she could go in the house, but she could not go there for a fourth time in a week.  Instead, she dressed in random trousers, a bra-like chemise, a loose too big tunic, slipped on her boots, and took off.  The linen oversized shirt disguised her magic pouch containing her grimoire, magical relics, and other items that would surely get her arrested if discovered on her person.  The pants and chemise worked enough that if she decided to some mage sparring.  The amber foci stone bouncing against her chest under the chemise and the collapsible staff strapped to her leg would be enough over her typical gear.

These types of moments were becoming too frequent.  Evie confidently knew she did not forget anything and effectively, really not fooling anyone who saw her racing through the garden woods before dawn.   Even Adelheid Lavellan rarely investigated her sudden appearance anymore.  Evie’s early morning wandering to the hidden grove had just become a common everyday occur, one that waned on the mage more and more each and every time.  When will this not help anymore?  How will she cope afterward?  Will that dark abyss be her only option then?!

Evie finally fell on her face, too exhausted to catch herself or reflexively roll.  Just lifting her matted haired head enough, she realized had reached her quiet spot.  Only Cullen knew the spot since she introduced it to him during their initial garden walk just weeks before.  Had it been weeks now?  It feels years ago after so much chaos.

It could all end if you just gave in…

Let us in, unbound one…

We feel your power…

You can stop all her enemies if you just accepted my prideful offer…

No, choose me!  Fight fire with fire...!

So much pain and despair, give up and accept me…

Evie grabbed her head and pulled her hair.  Tears rolled down her dulling eyes and into the grass scratching her flushed face.  There were so many talking at the same time.  Had there always been so many monster pushing?  Five years of fighting alone against them.  Each night in the constant battles now weakened her so much she could barely keep her light orbs alight around her now.

Give into them and let me have him!

“Shut up, you fucking bitch!”  Evie sat on her legs and screamed into the dark woods.

All of his pain is your fault!  You are the cruel one, mage.

Evie fucking hated that particular demon.

Evie reached into her pouch for a handkerchief.  Her fingertips felt the red one, her personal project since Cullen arrived sixty percent complete.  Her trembling fingers moved to an older one her mother made with different healing herbs.  She wiped her face clean of dirt, grass, tears, and snot.  Slowly making herself not look like a horror, she stumbled to her feet nearly falling again on her boot laces.  Each step was slow and heavy.  Her body was exhausted and battered.  The spirit halves clinging to her struggled to keep the demon voices at bay.  The spirits pushed against her mind and heart to open the connection to access their other selves and finally end this constant war five years in the making.  Evie ignored their desperate pleas, shutting out Cullen’s piano as much as the bond allowed.  She fought through the shoulder brand’s defiance, just another struggle on her already weakened body.

“I’m sooooo tired...”  Evie flopped down by the center maple tree she climbed in the past to watch Cullen train.  She kicked her legs out.

Let us in.

You can finally sleep.

Leave me him and you will be free!

“For the last time, you lilac horror…no!”

You denying me him only makes the pain worse…!

Evie withered in agony as she felt the demon torturing the spirits connecting her and Cullen.  Fat tears rolled down Evie’s face as she just simply endured it.  However, she knew somewhere Cullen dreamed the hells it was inflicting on him. 

“All my fault…”  Evie whimpered once the assault simmered and left her be for a moment.  Her hooded eyes glanced at her shoulder. 

Blood dripped down from her ear and towards the fabric.  With the dirty tear-stained handkerchief, she wiped it away.  She could not leave any evidence of her burden.  She gripped the tree trunk and reached into a hollow hole right above her head where owls, squirrels, and other woodland creatures utilized, carved, pecked, and lived in throughout the years.  Her hand caught the side of a canvas bag.  The animals usually left it alone.  Evie shoved the soiled cloth in to join the dozen others from the last few months.  She needed to have another purification fire here soon to get rid of all the blood caused by the demons.  All she needed was someone to think she was doing blood magic alone.  Oh Maker…

With soiled bag tucked back into the tree trunk and out of sight, Evie turned her attention to her disgusting sight.  If she had gone to her hideaway in the estate, she knew the special healers and attendants would have bathed and tended to her afterward, but they too were exhausted from the increased occurrences over the last month.  How much more could anyone endure?

So, Evie began her morning routine half-dressed and withering in pain in a wooded grove.  She pulled out any items needed from her pouch hanging on her trouser belt.  She combed and styled her hair in a twisted neck bun held in place by a wooden comb.  Her bangs were longer than the wavy strains, so they never stayed in the style.  Maybe that was a good thing to hide the purple bruising forming from endless broken sleep.  You slept so well on his shoulder just three days before.  Nope, forget that awkwardness.  Out came a hand mirror next to review her hair style and clean her face.  The lady staring back at her looked like she was fifty, not turning twenty in a week’s time.

Ugh, Evie’s birthday…

Evie finally tied her ankle boots properly through her unsteady hand termors.  She buttoned her tunic neck so the chemise did not show the whole forest her loosen bound breasts. 

He might like the sight.  Shut up, heart! 

Slipping her comb and mirror back into her pouch, the maiden’s fingers graced a gem hexagonal in shape.  Evie’s eyes looked up gauging the time.  The trees and sky glowed soft reds and oranges.  The sun was rising over the horizon.  The person in her mind and she were technically at the same latitude, so maybe he was awake.  He slept with the matching gem under his pillow as their gossiping conversations sometimes went into the deep night while each person laid in bed thousands of leagues from one another.  Maker, Evie would give for that distance to be none right now.

Maker, he is going to flip if Evie wakes him from his beauty sleep.  Last time he shocked her through the gem he was so angry.  However, Evie needed a friend, someone who knows all her truths because there was no one she trusted anymore.

The dragon’s breath fire opal left her pouch.  She cupped the jewel in her hands, pumping a little of her fiery aura into it.  “Dorian…?”

Evie waited.  Sometimes it took a long time for the message to reach the companion gem.  Still, she pumped a little more magic through.

“…Ev…ie?  Is that you….—yawn— Sunshine…?”

Evie teared up hearing her altus cousin’s voice.  “Yup, Lightning Strike.  I’m sorry I woke up.”

Another yawn echoed from the gem.  “What time is it…?  Venhedis…the sun isn’t even out!”

“It’s sunrise here…”  Evie sassed with a giggle.  “Long night of drinking…?”

“Yes…”  Her cousin Dorian groaned.  He might be so hungover he had been puking his guts out, but Evie knew he would be so put together already that if someone waltzed into his suite, they would think he just laid down completely somber.  Maker, what she would not give for that magical handsomeness!  “…Felix and I ended our…companionship.”

Evie winced, throwing her head against the tree trunk.  “Shit, Lightning Strike…I’m so sorry.”

“We knew it could not last.  Alexius got suspicious.  Felix did not want me to lose my patronship and friendship, especially after my father threatened to disown me if he caught me with another man and not one his tart lady suitors he keeps tossing at me.  They’re horrid, Evie.”

If there was one person that deserved to be loved and cherished, it would be Altus Dorian of House Pavus.  Evie’s kindred spirit who lived in the dreaded Tevinter Imperium.  He was a noble mage, powerful in storm magic and necromancy.  However, like Evie, he had to hide himself.  He could use his magic freely in his homeland unlike Evie, but could not love men without becoming a victim of abuse, blood magic, and other tools.  His father wished him to act like a good little magister’s son and proper heir to the Magisterium.  Produce the best mage that could become the next Archon, as Dorian mocked after a parental fight.  His mother was complacent, hating her husband her life.  She did not support her son as Lady Gwen did with all her children.  Evie mourned deeply for her only other magical kin, calling through the Fade and pleading to the Maker that nothing terrible happens to Dorian. 

For a time, there was a high chance Evie would be sent to the Imperium.  When Patricia still lived with Great Aunt Lucille and threatened to expose Evie’s existence, there was hidden plan to smuggle Evie out of Ostwick on the drop of a hat and sent to live with her distance mage relatives in the Imperium.  Her olive skin would make her blend in with the empire, while she learned the language fluently in Ostwick as a precaution. 

Dry runs of the escape occurred a few times both by sea and land.  On the land trip, Evie met her distant cousin, Dorian, went they were ten.  He was about six month older than her, but they quickly became fast friends, sassing and teasing one another.  Their sense of humor, disgust of their countrymen, and wit matched like they were twins.  Since Dorian’s father, Halward, and Bann Ian communicated by gems on their different secret tasks, they decided it would be good for the children to have the same opportunities for if Evie had to flee, she would essentially become Dorian’s adopted sister and part of House Pavus.

Alas, neither children wanted that fate for each other, knowing the outcomes if such a future occurred.  Still, Dorian lived alone and isolated from the society around him, but could never travel south to see his best friend because he would sent to a Circle instantly or ostracized for his heritage.  Meanwhile, Evie did not want to leave her loving family and close friends, working twice as hard to avoid being exposed growing up.  Still, that did not mean the children could not be family too, developing a bond that made Evie wonder sometimes if a person could have more than one bonded connections, platonic in nature than Cullen and she’s soulmate link.

“No one as beautiful as you?”  Evie smirked at the crystal. 

Her friend was a vain man, but absolutely gorgeous.  The last time they saw one another was about four years ago, Dorian was a sculpted god that made all the men and women he passed gawk and pine.  It was Evie’s personal damnation to have such a beautiful cousin.  It was even proposed that if Evie had to become a House Pavus member, she would have married Dorian as her magical abilities would be seen quite positively in Tevinter society and in the Magisterium as “new blood”.  The only problem with that was that even marrying very distant cousins grossed Evie out, while Dorian was attracted to men, admitting pretty women simply were not his type.  The fire mage had no problem with her cousin’s preference, but it made his father fume and do everything possible to change his mind.

“Sunshine, there is no one as beautiful as moi.”

Evie busted out laughing, rolling her head against the tree trunk.  “The Maker broke the mold with you, Dorian Pavus.”

“And sobbed with glee creating you, Evie Trevelyan.”  Dorian’s voice soften through the gem.  “You did not call to hear about my problems though…I feel your aura.  What troubles you…?”

“You know what.”

“How many times have you hidden down that blasted thing?”

“Three out of the last seven days…almost four today, but I could not delay another training session recuperating.”

“Your bodyguards never minded delaying until you recovered.  How is your dear Hemmingway anyway?”

Evie smirked.  Hemmingway was Dorian’s first sexual partner occurring on the same trip as the last time she saw her cousin.  Evie walked in on them, quickly snuck out, put up several muffle arcane circles on the outside walls, and let them enjoy themselves.  Dorian thanked his cousin afterwards, feeling like he was truly himself for the first time in his entire life.  Magister Pavus exploded and blamed her for polluting his son.  Evie shrugged and said it was better than him spending his life screaming in the inside while acting happy in a loveless marriage like his ‘perfect’ parents.  That nearly got her shocked by the magister, but she dodge the attack in time.

“Still hung up on that Antivan Crow.  They should write one another, by Zervan is still mourning loosing Warden Tabis, and Hemmingway is too focused on the chaos around here.  I swear those two have nothing to say about Cullen and me though.  Ugh!”

“Cullen…?”  Evie could feel the mischievousness pour with his electric aura through the crystal.  “Evelyn Tesni Trevelyan, you have been hold out on me…”

Evie blushed and hid her face from the crystal.  Yes, Dorian could not see Evie anyway, but he knew he could make Evie squirm like an earthworm after a heavy rainfall.  Once she trusted her voice again, she spoke,  “My bond’s here, Dorian.”

“What?!”  The altus hollered through the gem, making the fire mage wince.  “Start from the beginning!  How?  What happened?  Does he know?  What he like?!”

 “Cool yourself, you damn drama queen!”

“Damn straight!  Start talking.  NOW!”

So, Evie started telling about what had been happening.  Her father had asked her after the Trevelyan vessel meant to transport Cullen in the first place left port to keep everything to herself.  Even if Dorian was thousands of leagues from Epona Isle, it was no way of knowing if one of their supposed allies had a way to listen in or use Dorian against the Trevelyans.  Now, after a nearly six weeks since the hurricane, Evie could not keep the information to herself anymore.  She did not discuss openly about Patricia coming to possess her, but Dorian knew the family’s activities well enough to know things were serious and life threatening.

Dorian listened intently through the crystal, rarely interrupting Evie to ask a question or comment.  Her friend knew she needed someone to vent to or she will explode.  He knew Evie’s deepest secrets and regrets, except she still kept Cullen’s bond connections to herself.  Dorian respected her need to protect her bond, finding her loyalty to a practical stranger admirable and a very rare world trait.

“…So, I found myself a few bells later stiff as a board leaning against him sound asleep.  All these mabari puppies were sleeping on us, while the runt still sat peacefully against his bare chest with my warming spell holding strong.  I had drooled down his jerkin, Dorian!  I was horrified.  Thank the Maker he didn’t wake up too.  He was stuck in that position for bells and refused to move.  He slept with the biggest smile on his face, this personal happy fantasy every Fereldan must have.”  Evie finished recounting how she had awoke in the stable at dusk three days ago with her head cradled against Cullen’s chin and neck while drool covered her chin.  “Still, he smelled so good it took all my willpower to pull away and leave.  I couldn’t have him finding me there stare at him like a majestic statue in the gallery.”

“Oh I doubt your dashing knight would have minded.”  Dorian chuckled knowingly.  “If anything, he might be that bubbling buffoon you describe the first time seeing you dance and playing your violin.”

“Ugh, you sound just like Ezzy.”  Evie rolled her brightening eyes, curling her legs close to her chest.  By now, the sun crested and colored the trees in so many mesmerizing colors.  The sky look like it was on fire and so alive that late summer dawn.  Every so often, Evie saw a bright green shimmer from the Veil keeping the Fade so far away. 

Then the fire mage’s mirth subsided so reality set in.  “He hates my guts, Dorian.  I am everything he was taught to fight against, while any connection to a mage reminds him of that damn Circle blondie hero.  What’s worse is that warden is so beautiful and angelic, while I sit here covered in grass and dirt having not slept soundly for years.  Furthermore, I’m a global threat, while she commands the reestablished Grey Warden Order, saved Amaranthine during the Great Thaw, and can be in a well-knowing lesbian relationship with a not templar with no consequences.  Who wouldn’t admire and fall in love with such a perfect example of what amage should be while being Fade-connected and stuck with an ill-tempered, unladylike shitshow so ugly and disgraceful it would be a cosmic mercy to just drown in the ocean than pollute the world more with my existence!”

“And there is that self-loathing.  Even before this Cullen arrived, you compared yourself to people you have never met and only saw through your bond.  You have no idea if his view of anyone is correct!  The Fade purposefully molds perceptions to fit the person’s interpretation of their own little world.  Magic 101, Sunshine!”  Dorian scolded gently like a beginner apprentice’s new tutor.  Dorian and she had such mistrust and loathing venting sessions in the past.  This was just the first time Evie spoke so openly about her jealous streak about Maya Amell and how much Cullen must hate the inferno mage for everything she is and does.

“I don’t invade his dreams, Dorian.”  Evie corrected, eyeing the crystal sitting on her knees perfectly balanced.  “I try to avoid them because I’ve had to for so long.  I’m just pulled into them when…well, you know about the demons.”

“But have you told him, hmmm…?”

“Absolutely not!”  Evie shouted strongly and with conviction.  “There is so much I can tell you, but for what you know about southern templars, just the idea an incomplete bond mage with a rare twin flame connection being bombarded by demons every night just screams for him to run me through, no follow-up questions.  He might have seen me as a person in the library.  That does not mean he won’t revisit the idea hearing how long and how many I fight nightly.”

“And you forget how he let you sleep for bells in a horse stall with a bunch of stray dogs.”  Dorian countered with a giggle.  “Or danced with you surrounded by the entire village even with you know he absolutely does not dance.”

“I think demon attacks are on the opposite end of the templar-slaying spectrum from forcing him to dance a jig.”

“You don’t know that.  From everything you told me, I can definitely say he does not hate you, but really likes you.”  Dorian concluded with confidence.  “My question to you is do you like him?”

That was the million sovereign question of a lifetime.  There were so many ways Evie could answer, but all would still give Dorian the conclusion that yes, absolutely.  Evie just did not think about it.  She could and should not think about it with so much hammering her heart, mind, and soul.  Every time her mind hears the words ‘romance’, ‘love’, and ‘happiness’, Evie shuts down.  She did not deserve such possibilities, especially with Cullen.

“By your silence and heavy panting, you are telling yourself over and over again you don’t deserve to even consider the possibility.”

“I bloody hate you.”  Evie bit back, crossing her arms her chest.  “You’re reaffirming my personal belief that a person can have more than one type of bond.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.”  Dorian laughed with deep understanding mirth.  “That would require there is some guy out there that will not try to change me and actually love me unconditional.  It sounds as unlikely as you believing you’re not desirable and not exactly what that Fereldan templar needs.”

“You’re Fade connected, Dorian.”  Evie sighed, praying silently the Maker blesses her cousin with a great and happy love.  “Even if the southern Chantry tried to erases all other bonds, they still exist in every dreamer.  I think you’re connected to a big Qunari guy will a dick so huge your gag reflex will finally have a challenge.”

“Okay woman who deep throated her hairbrush during truth or dare!”  Dorian shouted through the jewel.  “That was the only time I was all in for you and me marrying!  However, we would have to have side lovers to cover all our itches.”

“You slut.  Can’t go a day without a penis up your butt?”

“This coming from the woman who says I’m bonded to a Qunari, of all races!”

“If you’re going to piss off your father and countrymen, might as well be with the race in an all-out war with the Imperium for ages.”  Evie shrugged seeing nothing wrong with the idea.  “Besides, you would love such a big dick.  The lube required alone would bankrupt your father…Hemmingway spoiled you as your first sexual partner.”

“Isn’t that the truth…”  Dorian.  He must have turned over in bed because Evie heard rustling.  “We, once again, have gone off course.  If you are not going to answer my big question, answer this instead:  is he handsome?”

Evie bit her lip and blushed.  “You mean does he pass the Dorian Pavus Exam of Hot Guys?”

“Of course.  My opinion is all that matters beyond yours.”

The maiden sighed and closed her glimmering chocolate eyes.  “The staff call him Adonis, the old goddess of love’s lover.  I hate it because Adonis died in the myths.  Templars—real ones not the thugs you all have—all have muscular bodies, but his…”  Evie squirmed as a deep burning heat in her core and groin awoke.  “…I know it isn’t even the bond, but after I watched him spar, I have to have a bell-long cold bath, avoiding touching myself for any relief.  Every time I touch his bicep since the mabari pups, I just feel a hard mass of layered muscle and barely an inch of fat.  When he caught me, I felt both his strength and gentleness that made me want to tear off my clothes and feel his hands explore me.  Cullen lifting me with one arm and flexing those biceps…”  Evie openly drooled to herself.  “But, it isn’t just his overall body.”

Evie rubbed her legs together, the burning rising up her spine and her heart hammering in her chest.  “The shipwreck cut his upper lip open on the right side.  Since he refused magical healing and he definitely didn’t know about me yet, the surgeon did a terrible job sewing it up.  It’s healed now, but the scar tissue is still red and just ties all his facial features together.  I scuffed at Siana Buttleford, one of my first cousins, for saying scars were sexy back in the day.  But Maker above, on the right man…Perfection…”

The mage stared up through the maple leaves above her.  The golden rays reflected off the leaves while they twisting in the morning breeze.  The rising humidity did not help the building sweat clinging to her skin the more she envisioned her bond. 

“I see why his family were called lions as children.  Even with his curls shortened and the hair tonic, the blond curls give him a halo effect in my firelight when we can have an actual conversation.  He always runs his callused hands through the curls like a comb to keep them out of his face.  I’m so jealous of each finger, dying to comb them myself and grasp them as he holds me close.  I’ve seen a few mornings when he is late for breakfast what his bedhead looks like, and…Argh, sinful…”

“Are his eyes like your amber stones…?”  Dorian question softly not wanting to break this serenity Evie imagined to herself alone in the woods.  One hand quaked, dying to following her abdomen down under her trousers and tight small clothes.  She would handle that much later!  “And why you drink mead over tequila nowadays?”

“Nature will never form two perfect gemstone such as that man’s whiskey orbs.”  Evie wisped, twirling her amber foci stone out in front of her on its silverite chain.  The sun’s morning rays highlighted the shifting orange and golden colors inside the fossilized harden sap.  “Just like amber, he has flecks of brown and black.  However right by his pupils are gold chips and halos that brighten each time he genuinely smiles and laughs, which is rare unfortunately.  I’ve made It a life mission to mahe Cullne at least chuckle once a day.  Only Fereldan mead can shine like those eyes.  It makes me wonder and fantasize if that is what his lips will feel like against mine.”

The deep urge to kiss him had become unbearable since the horse stables.  Each moment in his company, she wanted to reach out and kiss him.  Her inner strength kept her feet planted on the ground, hands to herself, and lips pursed.  No, she cannot force him into Level Six Sense connection. 

Cullen will never want a mage like her.  He yearned for sky blue eyes and flowy blonde hair…

“He has a chiseled jaw that’s usually covered in stubble even if he just shaved two bells before.”  Evie swayed as her memory revisited every little bit of that face she yearned for deep inside but can never have because of her own crimes.  “His jaw is strong and clinches like a lion’s when he is irritated, usually with me.  He bears his front teeth as his scarred lips jumps.  His cheekbones are pronounced and strong after being hit in the face so many times at the academy.  You can see the calcification just under the skin.”

Evie smacked herself forgetting about a important feature on her bond.  “Oh, and his skin.”  Evie swooned and bit her lip twice.  “His hands rough from years of gripping his sword and shield training and fighting.  Each finger is strong and confident every time we train and try to unarm one another.  Yet, that day in the conservatory…and later as I healed his wounded hand, so soft and gentle like he could never crush that little puppy…or me.  It makes no sense because I know he can snap a neck with just one hand, but hold me so tightly to him like I was made of glass.  I barely felt his fingers through my dress.  What does that say about a man who can kill and save with the same bare hand?”

“I don’t wish it break your daydream, but a man who holds his bond like that grips his member and rocks his hips the same while alone at night imagining the same bond…”

Evie rolled her eyes.  Of course he went there.  “Dorian…”

Suddenly, Evie’s imagination presented the secene.  She wondered how endowed Cullen really was.  No!  Stop that! 

“Do you know for sure if he has not taken himself in hand and thought of you?”  Dorian quipped with a knowing tone.  “No, because you cannot allow yourself to hope.  To hope means you can be hurt again.  Yes, this man might have every right to hate mages and fear magic—you didn’t say it directly, but it is implied.  However, it does not mean he fears your magic and you, Evie.  By keeping yourself from hoping and dreaming, you keep him from seeing the scared, lonesome, and hopelessly romantic young woman underneath all those tough layers.  He will never see the physical, psychological, and emotional scars.  You wait for the day someone calls you possessed or blood mage and kills you.  You spend too much of your life caring for others that you leave nothing for yourself.  The very man who needs your love is the very person who can give you love and finally meld that tattered heart who blames herself constantly for every world wrong.  You are not a goddess, Evie Trevelyan.  You aren’t the Maker or His Bride.  You don’t have that power, but you still hold yourself accountable for the world’s voids.”

A single tear dropped from Evie’s eye.  “If he sees…”

“First you have to tear down those gates you constructed to protect yourself so he can see…”

“But if he rejects me…”  Evie whispered with a hollow tone.  “I will never recover.  I…I care…”  She quickly corrected herself. “-Cared for him for so long both inwardly and outwardly that a single word of hate will destroy me.”

“Isn’t it worth the risk for a chance at the Maker’s blessed happiness?”  Dorian questioned hopefully his best friend will listen.  “I would in a heartbeat.  The idea that just one person could love me for me and not for power, status, beauty, and whatnot…I would not think twice.  You just described the man’s looks, yes, but your admiration and care for his actions, knowledge, rationality, and morality shined through your words.  He is what I dream for myself.  What is right in front of you watching for you to take the first is what romance authors make up so their readers experience such love.  It is all at your fingertips, Sunshine.  You just need to do is let him in!”

The first of the mortar and bolts holding up her mental and spiritual barriers inside Evie began to crumble.  Many mental blocks still remained and stood strong, but Evie knew Dorian was right.  She had a chance to have someone who fucking cares about her for once.  Her entire life had been spent helping others avoid life’s hells or recover in safety from brutality.  The one person she dreamed could carry all these burdens with her had always been that piano across the Fade’s expansiveness, playing its strong marching tune and filling her with the will to continue onward through another day.  Even during those times like now she still will wake in the morning broken, battered, and bloody.

Evie described Cullen’s physical qualities, but Dorian and she both know she was illustrating his character and inner handsomeness buried under years of fear and abuse.  The fire mage described her cousin the same way once, which made Dorian sob like a toddler and thanking her for allowing him to see what she sees.  Yet, when Dorian or any other person describes Evie, the words are lost and pushed away, denied by the maiden as lies told to gain her trust.  Those barriers blocked out the good as well as safeguarded her fragile soul from the bad.

If Cullen could not see beyond the masks Evie created to protect herself, what hope was there for anyone else?

Evie’s internal gates kept that Fereldan knight away and from strengthening their bond.  That was why each sparring training was futile and ended with the spirits silencing them both.  Nothing will change or improve if Evie did not at least give Cullen a chance.

“I’ll do it, Dorian…”  Evie whimpered, scared out of her being.  What will await her making herself so vulnerable?  More of the inner stone fortress walls tumbled and turned to dust inside herself.  Absolute fear of reject and more pain poured from her heart.  “Maker, please…”

She did not need to finish her sentence.  Dorian disconnected from their communications jewels, knowing Evie’s true battle was only beginning.  Only prayers to the Maker and bridging the altus’ hopes and wishes for his dear and loving friend may help her now.

Chapter Text

Cullen was staring at the empty seat when it happened.  Evie typically sat in front of him in the morning, drinking her morning tea and picking verbal fights with Esme and the templar.  Lady Gwen had been quiet this morning, confused as well to why her daughter was missing.  Esme flipped his scrambled eggs lazily just to annoy his mother, bored not to have his bickering sister around.  All the while, Bann Ian read morning letters, grumbling about Kirkwall dwarves and the Deep Roads under his breath.

The female runt pup sat in the knight’s lap, the newest family member commonly found at breakfast.   She had finished her morning goat milk and slept close to Cullen’s warm stomach in his lap while the knight ate his bacon, eggs, and hashed potatoes, the go-to Fereldan morning meal.  The little hound spent nights with her mother, but always yipped and annoyed the horse master if Cullen did not come for her at sunrise.  Her mabari mother permitted Cullen taking the baby with him everywhere he went to keep an eye on her condition, only returning her child to spar or exercise.  The mabari bitch had enough problems keeping her other pups straight to rights and appreciated a fellow Fereldan’s assistance with her under-developed and special needs puppy.

Evie never arrived at the morning meal.  The last few days she rarely had been in any condition to eat with the house, but today absence was noticed more to her family than the others.  Instead during the other morning, she showed up dressed in her armor and weapons to begin training.  Her once expressive chocolate eyes dulled each day a little more, while her mana never reached the same deep pools Cullen had become accustomed to shielding himself from during their sparring sessions.  Just the day before when he had tackled her after being disarmed, she hollered in agony that rippled through him in sympathy.  When Cullen paused the dueling to ask if she was well, she just told him to shut and put up, giving him no reprieve to point out how tender the spot he grabbed felt and that she should stop to heal herself. 

When he questioned the bann about Evie’s condition later that afternoon, Ian just stared him in the eye.  Typically the man who be calm while ripping Cullen a new arsehole, but in those twisting Trevelyan eyes was absolutely worry and pleading for something to change.  He never said anything except, “I’ve done all I can.”

Did something new occur with that fleet sailing towards the isle?  Had assassins found their way on the isle?  Had the Promisers figure out a new way to harm Evie?

No, Cullen knew nothing had changed with Evie specifically, such as an attack or way of breaking the powerful mage.  Bann Ian might know something about the Promisers, but he kept his own daughter and the templar focused on strengthening themselves and each other than on what laid over the horizon.  No, the nobleman’s terrified glare at Cullen stated he could not do anything more to protect and help Evie.  It reaffirmed this was an older problem prior to Cullen’s arrival…but one slowly slipping from anyone’s control.

Instead of fighting the bond, the knight slowly opened the Fad channel wider and wider, curious to all the little tells that Evie seem to know like second nature about him.  Cullen ignored it all so strongly since discovering Maya was not his connection.  Since the horse stall, Cullen listened intently to the melody waltzing with his own piano, another sound that just became second nature to his lyrium hum. 

Cullen always knew where she was in the house by the pitch and intensity.  Secretly, the knight tested himself on guessing what she was doing and her mood.  There was a difference in staccato violin notes and long strokes when she did something that annoyed her versus something that seem easy as breathing.  He figured out the specific task in hand was that embroidery piece of a lion she had been sewing by the cliffs last week.  When reading, her notes were simple if she was pretending to read but actually listen to Cullen and Bann Ian conversing while playing chess.  If she reached a passage that drew her in, the melody would be deep and distracting because Cullen would want to stop playing chess to listen and ask what the text said.  One curious time, Cullen saw just a breath of words in a book before getting pushed away.  Evidently, Evie would recognize the shift in focus in his own music, closing her book and finding something else to do like she knew she was distracting him.

Alas, everything sounded muted like both instruments were vibrating strings deep underwater.  Cullen registered this specifically if he listened while falling asleep.  The deeper into his dreams, the more her music disappeared until it was completely gone.  Shouldn’t it be a loud and comforting as when she slumbered in the horse stall on his shoulder or even easier to hear while both people travelled the Fade? 

Just that last night, the Fereldan struggled to find her music in the midst of the nightmare.  The desire demon realized its trick of using Maya’s form did not work as effectively as before.  It grew aggressive, ripping into Cullen’s flesh more than during the blood rebellion.  At one point, it seemed like it gave up as Cullen’s ear heard Evie’s violin howl throughout the dream with such intensity that the monster essentially punched Cullen awake and left for another part of the Fade.

All of those facts was why the suddenly wave of music over Cullen at breakfast made him feel like someone smacked him hard with a frying pan.  He dropped his tea mug and held his head, grunting in agony.  Evie’s violin boomed in his ears, but there was nothing different about the tune.  It was so pronounced compared with any other time he listened before.  For brief moments, he smells fresh dew grass and saw the sunrise through the trees.  The knight felt ten different parts on his body bruised and battered felt like someone beat him with a club.  He even touched his ear and saw drops of blood on his fingertips.  Alas, before Cullen could grasp on the sensory overload, they all disappeared sans for the drop of blood on his fingertip. 

Still, Evie’s music called to him, more pronounced and encouraging than his entire expectation of what bonds could do.  In many ways, his imagination as a recruit barely registered what a bond could actually become.  A deep boyish part of him actually got excited at the prospect, while his tortured mind hollered and screamed he was making a major mistake buying into this apostate’s evilness.

In Cullen’s strange panic, Lady Gwen called for her lady in waiting to retrieve a heal potion and some rags to wipe up the mess.  Esme’s eyes bugged out of his head, meeting Cullen’s heavy worn gaze.  The lad essentially asked by eyesight if he was okay or was he about to die right at the dining table.  The only person not rattle by the display had been Bann Ian.  Once his wife rushed from the room, he sent his son help his mother.  Once alone, he grinned.  The visible facial expression threw Cullen for a loop.

“Go find her.”  The sneaky noble advised before taking a bite of his daily poached egg.  “Sparring can wait.”

And the search for Evie commenced.

With mabari runt in hand close to his chest and forearm, the templar recognized the grove for trees in front of him as the place Evie showed him when was he recovering, but the smell and sights rang a bell in his mind that he saw it just that day before walking there.  But…how?  In his search, Cullen listened to the violin rolling so clearly through him that his piano played that name echoing game the village children loved while hiding behind buildings while the blindfolded kid began his search by the village golem statue.  Cullen remembered the name was Brother Genitivi after the now famous Chantry scholar.  The mage’s violin continued its usual tune that early morning, but guided Cullen through the garden maze and into the woods.  He let the music surround him for a few moments, floating inside him to the point he began whistling along.  It was not until he saw his bonded prize leaning against that expansive maple tree that Evie enjoyed climbing while he trained before. 

Evie stared up at the sky, her dark brown eyes bruised and sunken worse than the last few days of sparring.  When Cullen reached out with his senses, her mana aura responded but was barely there like she had been purged and smited repeated for bells.  He kept asking himself why she had not drank any lyrium yet to help rebound it, but that little mask and verbal slip she admitted at the Sanctuary bit back.  Her Harrowing lyrium had been tainted.  She could not handle the smell despite the mineral quite beneficial for mages.  Her remark that the more he consumed, he charged her as much as him, thus leading to lyrium insanity.  So his impending addiction will likely harm her too.  Yes, he had cut down his draught back to two a day and saw no diminishment in his abilities during sparring.  Yet, Evie look liked someone beat her repeatedly.  Shouldn’t the connection help her?!

The maiden’s sleepy confession worried him the most.  She had to protect him from the demons.  However, the same desire demon still haunted him every night.  Evie personally never appeared in the dreams, thank the Maker.  Or at least what he could remember…  Still, were there other demons?  Was that lilac monster actually multiple Desires and she fought different ones nightly?  It was all these questions that circled Cullen’s fearful mind back to the fact he could not trust Evie…and she knew it.  She did nothing to change it despite saying to Cullen she never lied to him about herself by the cliffs.

This woman was both so infuriating and curious that Cullen could not spend a single moment wake or sleep without her in some thought and physically drifting close in her company.  He knew it had nothing to do with the bond too because the lyrium brand still twisted and the spirit argued with him to do something.  What that something was exactly would be anyone’s guess.

The mabari runt in his hands wiggled and gnarled on his thumb to let her go.  Cullen set the animal down.  Its still short legs took leaps and bounds towards Evie through the growing late summer grass.  After a few moments, the pup finally reached the mage, bumping her elbow and tugging on her tunic sleeve.

The maiden looked down at the animal and smiled.  Nothing about her actions stated she was surprised to see the baby there.  Evie probably heard Cullen as much as he followed her inner violin to the grove.  Instead, Evie pushed some dirt and weeds away from her position until a little hole formed.  She summoned some ice magic, pulling more on her mana than her typical pyromancy, and filled the hole with ice.  Her violin excitedly danced across the bond as she summoned her favorite fireball and melted it enough that the puppy could drink and not freeze or burn her tongue.

“You’re going to spoil her, you know.”  Cullen predicted slowly stepping out into the open grove with one hand on his sword hilt and the one he had been holding the puppy in his trouser pocket.  Each step, he felt Branson’s lucky coin wishing him luck on this conversation. 

The templar was not wearing his armor.  If Bann Ian knew his daughter was not going to pop into the morning room with her gear, there was no need for Cullen to return to his suite for his plate armor.  He actually enjoyed walking around again without the heavy templar mail.  Lady Gwen enjoyed embroidery and commission new shirts and items for Cullen.  She admitted to doting on him as if he was her own child.  Essentially, the Lady of House Trevelyan adopted Cullen and made sure he was always clothed, fled, and loved.  Maker, the woman indirectly gave him a mabari, for Maker’s sake!

“She is worth spoiling…”  Evie replied, scratching the drinking mabari behind the ears.  “She gets to go on adventures with her imprint, while her brothers and sisters have to stay in the barn.”

“Imprint?”  Cullen questioned, now about three feet from Evie.

The fire mage glanced at him with a knowing look.  “Oh please, Mister Fereldan.  There would be no way that mother war hound would let such a sickly baby out of her sight if she did not know the pup had already imprinted on you.  The Fereldan sailors at the village concluded the mother imprinted on my mother, but is just being overly protective while caring for her young, much like my mother had been when we were just toddlers.”

Cullen kneeled by the puppy.  Once the mabari drank her fill, she raced back to Cullen and barked up at him.  Her yellow eyes sang up at Cullen with appreciation and love.  The knight scooped her up and petted her white and grey coat growing stronger each day.  Just in the last few days, the pup grew to the size of his forearm.  Soon, the pup will be just like her brothers and sisters.  Yet, she wanted to be with Cullen instead.  “Is that right, Pup?  You chose me?” 

The puppy yipped happily, then glanced back at Evie with a ‘he’s mine’ glare.  “You can have him.”  Evie joked, holding up her hands.  Instantly, Evie’s violin shifted to worry and concern.  She hid her face from her bond by looking away before taking a deep breath.  “I take it we’re expected at the training grounds to get silenced by the spirits again?”

“Actually, no.”  The blond twenty-one year old smirked, sitting fully so the puppy could rest on his knee.  Cullen slowly petted the animal like another lucky item blessing him with courage and strength.  “Everyone noticed you never came to breakfast.  I volunteered to find you.”

“Thus why we were playing Brother Gentivi through the maze?”  Evie added with a smirk.

“You’re louder today than any time before.”  Cullen sighed, deciding to be more open with her in hopes to get some answers.  “I actually dropped my mug at breakfast it hit me so hard.”

Evie bit her lip and hugged her bent knees.  “Yeah, sorry about that.  I finally listened to this majestic peacock I know and reacted accordingly.  Its caws can be eye-opening for sure.”  She rolled those majestic brown eyes and stared off into the grove like a peacock was going to fly out of the woods and accost her again.  “The males are not bad, but Maker’s arse, the pea-hens are terrifying.”

Cullen covered the puppy’s ear.  “Don’t cuss around the baby.”  Evie glared at him before both adults burst out laughing.  The puppy barked at the sudden shift.  “She’s just a few weeks old.  You can’t introduce an intelligential war hound to cuss immediately.”

“Since the moment you met me, Cullen Rutherford, I have demonstrated I have the refinery of a drunk sailor during a Grand Cathedral sermon.”  Evie pointed out with that sassy Free Marcher lilt.  He no longer minded the biting and slurring letters, especially in her beautiful voice.  It made his heart jump each time this woman sassed him.  “If I am more than willing to tell the divine how much of a crusty old bat she is, don’t think I’ll hold my tongue around a mabari puppy.”

“You would insult Divine Beatrix III?”  Cullen did not believe that.

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maker’s breath, no.”  Cullen shook his head.  “I’ve heard enough horrible puns about my middle name the last few days to know not to push you into such a dare.  That makes Hemmingway’s advice about not accepting you to a tequila shot game very wise words”

Evie laughed and covered her mouth when the sound echoed through the forest.  “Too afraid to get stupidly drunk and lose your templar skirts?  That’s the Starkhaven Order’s favorite pass time.  There is this one knight who believes his piss blesses the city’s alienage tree.”

“You mean he pees on their vhenadahl?!”  Cullen’s mouth fell open in shock.  “Why hasn’t the Order stopped him?!”

“Oh please!”  Evie waved her hand.  “Rylen is a good guy, and there is no reason to stop him because that bloody tree is now twice the size of Ostwick’s!  Wink wink!  When Mother heard the story, she secretly asked Knotts when my ship ported and resupplied there to get a sample to help her dying rose bush!”

Cullen chuckled shaking his head, pinching his nose.  The idea of Lady Gwen watering her flowers with a Starkhaven knight’s urine seem to be a hoax, but from the ringing mirth flowing through Evie from their connection, he knew it was absolutely truth.  “Sounds like the templar would actually do it.”

“He wasn’t around to inquiry, but it does not mean we won’t hear from him.”  Evie concluded, leaning back against the tree trunk.  “He is one of the Reformists informants, stumbled upon some of Meredith’s templars trying to expand their bonding slayings in Starkhaven.  Rylen stopped them, but started poking his nose into all of the shady stuff.  Some Reformists saved him from assassination, and he asked to get involved afterwards.  He called such abuse deportable and everything the Order shouldn’t be.” 

“I know that sentiment well…”  Cullen exhaled and nodded.  A bite of jealousy rolled over him from Evie’s tone like she admired this random templar.  Stop that, Rutherford.  “Should you be saying his name so openly?”

Evie sighed.  “Before you arrived, we heard that there was horrific fire at the Starkhaven Circle.  Many mages and templars died.  Hope Rylen’s well.  Because of Patricia and your arrival, I had to pass on trying to help.”  Evie shrugged and look Cullen squarely in the eye.  “No matter what happens here, Cullen, you’ll be leaving Epona Isle after hurricane season.  There is no point keeping things quiet when you know about our entire operation than most agents who have been fighting in the organization for over twenty years.  You could bury us on the secret library alone.  We’re at your mercy.”

“But…why let me know?”

Evie smiled at him and tilted her head.  Her hair bun was slowly coming undone from her wooden comb.  Her bangs cupped her cheek like when Cullen found her fake sleep in the library.  “Because I trust you.  You are good and honorable man who has been placed in this position just because of who you’re bonded with.  I know your character.  I will regret telling you every fact and news since the shipwreck.  I don’t know what your future choices will be, but I want you to have a choice since so many have been robbed from you.”

“Isn’t that like the blind leading the blind?”  Cullen quizzed with a pinched brow.  “How are you so definitely sure I am a good person and don’t say much through our bond.”  He adjusted himself sitting crossed legged and lean forward.  The puppy moved with him, flipping onto her back to sleep. “I’ve been raking my mind the last few days how you know so much detailed from my childhood that I barely remember.”

The maiden sighed and squeezed her eyes shut.  “You did remarked on such in the barn.  We should have a long discussion about this.  Have some time?”

Cullen looked around the grove.  “I’m game, if you are.”

Evie nodded and hugged herself, but not in a scared way just uncomfortable.  “Before my magic, I had dreams occupied with a dancing orb of orange light.  I knew nothing about the Fade, just that people dreamed there.  The orb played a piano and mimicked my violin sound.  Of course, it’s the spirits that make the music, just reaffirm to one or the other like a musical Fade Brother Genitivi game, calling the missing piece back to itself.  I woke up one morning and confidently played the piece on our grand piano, not knowing anything about the instrument.  It was as natural as picking up my violin a few years before.”

“I remember the memory when we touched skin.”  Cullen confirmed, holding out his right hand.  His fingertips still reminded him of what her arm felt like against his calluses…what she might feel like beneath him nude and calling for him to continue to touch her.

Then black demons eyes flashing up at him.

Stop it, Cullen!  Evie cannot know!  Block it out!

Broken, polluted, tainted, disgusting…

“After my magic manifested, one the first things I was taught to do was block you out.”  Cullen scowled at her, but she continued.  “I was an apostate child.  If I was already hearing your laughter and music across the Fade, you could give me away and not even register how or why.  It did not mean you did not pull me into your dreams.  I couldn’t see anything per say, more hear the conversations and activity.  Know your dreams are your own, Cullen.  Even if I knew everything I do now, I would have likely not had access.  I had to be invited by you…although you had no idea you did pull me into them several times.”

Suddenly, Cullen felt confident his night terrors were just his after all.

A deep lonesome and fear rippled through him.  Cullen watched Evie’s face to see if she felt it.  No reaction, good.  He effectively kept his fears and brokenness to himself.  She cannot be tainted and ruined by him.

“I remember the feeling of your music.  Sometimes it was utter frustration about something or the need to be somewhere quiet.”  Evie finished, glancing away and squeezing her eyes shut.

Cullen chuckled.  “I had three very loud siblings who would not leave me alone.  I would have to run away to that lake I told you about just some reprieve.”

“I know.”  Evie giggled.  “When you told that story, it made me realized why I always heard running water in your dreams and far off calls by other children.”

“Honnleath was a small village, but noisy and busy.  There was always something going on.  For example, we did have a wizard settle there who served and help free Ferelden from the Orlesians.  As thanks, he didn’t have to go the Circle.  He ended up inventing different things for the farmers.  I grew up knowing magic was not completely horrible, but it got tainted…after.  The mage had a stone golem that stood in the middle of the town like a statue.  Apparently, the Grey Wardens came and found a way to activate it.”

“I know.”  Evie grinned excitedly.  “Archmage Wynne travels with Shale everywhere.  When she stopped on the isle to see if the Sanctuary was where she could bring Greagoir, Shale was with her.  I kept asking her questions, and she threatened to smash my head like a pigeon.  She even demonstrated it on an annoying wild turkey that keeps eat our grain.  It was so cool!”  Evie’s chocolate eyes glowed and sparkled at the memory, even when she admitted the giant rock statue wanted to kill her.  She rambled on about the statue.  “Their ship always sunk lower in the water wherever Shale stood.  Did you know she was actually a dwarf whose soul was transferred from her fleshy body and placed in the golem as part of the dwarven defenses against the darkspawn ages ago?!  Think about the possibility that even dwarves have a type of bonded society based on soul transfer!”

Cullen shook his head, wearying of this woman’s excitement.  “Well, the golem never walked around town while I was growing up.  The only reason why I even registered it was a golem was that it was part of the celebration announcements after the Battle of Denerim.  My siblings saw it walking out of the village once the wardens helped free everyone from the wizard’s basement.  Mia, Branson, and Rosalie survived because of the crazy man had this special lair for a dangerous demon underneath that attempted to escape in the mage’s granddaughter.  Alas, my parents perished before joining them in safety.”

Evie bit her lip.  She looked down at her trembling fingers.  Cullen could feel her shame for bringing it all up.  “I apologize.  I know it’s still a sensitive topic.”

The knight actually thought about it all within himself.  Instead of that lonesome, sickening despair of lost and death, he actually felt better.  “Actually, it doesn’t feel as horrific as before.  What does that say about me?”

“That you’re coming to peace with their deaths.”  Evie replied confidently in that soft tone meant as respect and thoughtfulness.  “I doubt the Order gave you a moment to mourn the dead.”

Cullen exhaled and pinched his nose.  After a few moments of self-reflection, he rubbed his neck.  The little mabari in his lap whimpered up at him fighting sleep.  “No, the officers didn’t.  They gave me the correspondence, stated they are sorry, and never mentioned another word.   However, that was not why it was difficult or why Mia does not know I am not even in Ferelden anymore.  Please, don’t ask me for details.  It is my failing both as a brother and a man.”

Evie hung her head and nodded.  “I feel through our bond the Blight was not kind to you, Cullen.  I also respect you, your privacy, and will never push.”

The templar reached out and grasped Evie’s hanging hand on her knee.  “Thank you.  I can feel you are drained of mana, but you haven’t done anything about it.”  Evie’s violin panicked inside his soul.  The open channel he had been enjoying since breakfast slightly closed and attempted to cut him off.  “But I will give you the same space and privacy.”

“W-why…?”  Evie muttered with terrified eyes.

“It is only right.  You don’t push me, and I won’t push you.  Yes, you might have an idea of why I am like this because of our bond, but you have yet to use that to your advantage or abuse it.  I…I was taught at the academy to do those very things to my bond to uncover any secrets that threatens the Circle or the Order, but…”  He squeezed her hand a few times.  Her fingers wrapped around his, not wanting to let go.  “That’s wrong.  Intrusive.  A blatant disregard that a mage is their own person who wouldn’t even know it was happening until forced and after the fact.  I wondered if that is why our training hasn’t been responding.  Yet that pushing alternative is not how you would learn about someone.  Your mother, Lady Gwen, reminded me of that.  Knowing what I do now, I wish I had no knowledge of how manipulate you into confessing something with a silence or other scare tactics.  My parents taught me to respect people, especially women.  To use those abilities would be spitting in their faces.”

Tears dripped from Evie’s eyes.  Relief and terror rolled together inside her and through their bond.  She wanted him to know what impact his words were having on her.  This must have terrified her for so long.  Yes, she was a strong powerful mage, but she feared he may use something so unique in such heinous ways.  

“You call me a man of good character.”  Cullen smirked at the maiden tearing up in front of him.  “I feel I need to live up to that title despite feeling quite the opposite.”

“I will keep telling you, Cullen.  You’re smart, creativity, hungry for knowledge, rational, and just…good.  Your family taught you well.  I know you learned much from the templars, but your family gave you a base to grow on.”

Cullen exhaled and shook his head.  “Yet I don’t even tell them where I’m at or that my association puts them in danger.”

Evie pursed her lips, thinking.  “Maybe when this is all over, we can write them.”

“We?”

“Knowing you, you told them all about bonding practices and your lyrium brand.”  Evie smirked with a twinkle in her eye.  “I think it’s only fair they know about me…if you wish.”  She hung her head like knowing she was a mage would reward her similar treatment as Cullen had done to her in the past.

Cullen’s mouth gapped.  “But that risks your safety.”

“And I’ve already told you I am showing and telling you all these things to do what you want with them.”  Evie gripped his hand tightly.  “I am at your mercy just as you are at ours in this whole chaos.  It will never be equal, especially in this crazy world, but it is the least I can do.”

“But why, Eve?”  Cullen could not get his head around it.  All the things he heard since arriving on the isle kept pointing him to the same thing:  Evie thought Cullen more important and special than her own family and life.

The knight nudged himself until he was sitting to her side trans-currently.  Their knees, naked arms, and hands touched with no signs either person would pull away.  He could feel fire heat rolling off Evie.  Being so close without fears allowed Cullen to study her sunken pale face and bruised eyes.  Her little freckles he enjoyed follow across her nose and cheekbones disappeared in the blue and black.  However, each time the wind shuffled the leaves above them, he enjoyed a waft of her orange and clove aroma, while her hair fluttered off her shoulder towards him.  To just run his fingers through those silky strains…

 “Why not…?”

The knight rolled his amber eyes, mentally cursing the deep desires bubbling up within him.  “Give me a straight answer, please.”

Evie bit her lip, reaching under her loosely tied chemise.  The knight had luckily not seen the swell of breasts being so close, but there was no denying he wanted to lay his head against them just listen to her heart beat.  He smited the fantasy, scanning his bond just in case she caught him staring. 

Cullen blushed and watched that same amber focus stone she wore constantly and used to cast fall out of her tunic.  “You know what type of gem this is?”  She held up to the sky so Cullen could look through.  He noticed the flecks of debris trapped inside and its strong dark orange color.  He grimaced and shook his head no.  “It is called amber, fossilized tree sap from ages ago that hardened into stone.  My family owns many mines throughout the Free Marches.  When I stated I did not want to rely on a staff, my father inquired about focus stones small enough to use for channeling, while still use their abilities and powers.  Typically, they weaken the smaller they get.  I have a huge selection tuned to fire, my element of choice, along with other gems for other elements if necessary.  I could use a number of gems in my arsenal, but I always go back to amber.”

“Is there a reason?”  Cullen questioned, confused why she was explaining this.  “I know you all have the means to get rubies and rare stones that most Circle mages only dream about.”

Evie bit her lip and redden.  She squirmed a little in her loose clothing hiding her alluring shape.  She let go of his hand to cup the gemstone in her palms.  She rubbed her eyes, mumbling curses.  “Uh…ummm…oh, fuck it.”  She declared, rolling her chocolate brown eyes.  “Ummm...The gemstone reminds me of your eyes.”  Evie hide her face behind her legs, her emotions of embarrassment, regret, and potential scorn flowing from the maiden. 

The blonde Fereldan just blinked and stiffened.  Like a magnet, his hand rubbed the back of his neck like Evie just told him he was handsome.  Maker, he knew he was blushing worse than when the milkmaid chased off him the day he left for the academy.  “C-come again…?”

Evie’s violin matched his piano as her own embarrassment rocked her soul.  “…It was the first thing I noticed about you after your Vigil.  You pulled me into your dream, likely indirectly thinking about your future bond.  I finally saw your face after decades of curiosity.  Instantly, I remember understanding why your orb was orange and golden.  It always had been your eyes, not just your dominant spirit.”

Cullen cackled, shaking his head.  “Why do you remember all this and I have no clue on anything about you prior to meeting you!?”

Evie shrugged.  “Apparently, I am forgettable.”  She crossed her arms over her loose tunic and grimaced.  However that mischievous smirked on her pink lips told Cullen she was joking.  “Look, I remember these things because it was usually drastic changes in your piano that called to me.  You jolted me more times during balls than I care to admit.  I would be thinking about dancing, and suddenly, you would force me to leave the room with such running terror I figured you were getting chased by bears or something.”

“Wait…jolting much like the compass pull you mean?”  Cullen quizzed, a specific memory coming to mind.

“Yeah, and don’t deny you did not feel the need to go north like you practically calling me south.”  Evie huffed with crossed arms.

Cullen pointed at her, while holding the sleeping mabari in his lap.  “Did you ever have a bad circumstance with water?”

Evie perked a brow and silted her eyes.  “Why…?”

“I remember I was eleven.”  Cullen laughed to himself, shaking my head.  “Everyone thought I was nuts.  We were sitting around the table eating lunch before us kids had to go out with my father to help weed the garden.  I just bit on my pull pork sandwich, and suddenly I was freezing and struggling to breathe.  I kicked the table so hard my chair fell back and slammed on the floor.  I just kept kicking like crazy, dying for a breath of air but I couldn’t do a single thing.  It was like my whole body forgot what to do.”

Cullen repositioned himself in the grass as he got excited recounting the strange event.  “My parents thought I was choking, patting my back to get the bite out.  Yet, on the floor already was that first bite of sandwich and I hadn’t eaten or drank anything else.  I remember my vision getting cloudy.  I panicked so strongly it overruled all sense in my mind.  Every time my vision cleared, I saw water waves and felt it seeping into my ears.  ‘I’m drowning?!’, I remember thinking.  But, I wasn’t at my pond.  I was in my house surrounded by my family!  So, I closed my eyes and tried to calm down.  Most people drowned because they panicked.  Rosalie nearly died the year before from panicking.  So, I pretended to kick and swing my arms like I am searching for the surface.  Each time I opened my eyes, I felt a little closer to the surface waves.  It was working.  Then right as I crested the water, a big hand reached out and grabbed me.  I burst out in panting breaths and actually spit up saltwater all over my mother’s clean floors.  It was not just a mouth full, but a lung!”

Evie held her hands over her mouth while her violin boomed in Cullen’s ears.  He continued with his strange tale.  “Ma was crying by the time I calmed down.  Mia looked at me like I was possessed.  Rosalie bawled and hugged me screaming to never scare her again.  As for Branson and Pa, they just traded looks before helping me to my loft room.  I wasn’t allowed out of the house for four days until a healer could examine me.”

“I. Am. So. SORRY!”  Evie hollered through her fingers. 

“What in the Maker’s name happened?!”

The maiden rubbed her frightened face, the blushing now a deep purple.  She was actually sweating.  “It was the first time I ever saw a Qunari.  I was about to turn ten.  Hemmingway and my father was coming back from a mission that involved a Qunari spy trying to disrupt lyrium trade.  I was so excited to see my father and bodyguard again that I took off running down the docks.  Boom!  Right in front of me came this massive horned man.  I shit you not, Cullen, I pissed my pants.  Urine rang down my leg and stained my dress.  I started taking huge steps backwards until there was no dock left and fell right into the bay.”

“But you know how swim!?”  Cullen spat unbelieving.  “You used force magic to reach me during a freaking hurricane!”

“Not back then!”  Evie admitted with her hands up.  “I learned because of this! I was surely dead, but I remembered hearing inside myself:  Keep calm, hold your breath, and keep kicking upward.  I broke through the waves and nearly didn’t make it if it was not for Knotts jumping in and keeping me up above the waves and Hemmingway pulling me out of the surf.  I was a dead woman if it wasn’t for you!  You saved my life that day!”

The Fereldan just kept laughing and shaking his head.  Suddenly, dozens of instances such as that strange lunch flowed through his mind.  Each one had no explanations except deep fear and lonesomeness.  “How about a time with a terrible head wound…?”

Evie rolled her brightening chocolate eyes.  She reached out for his hand.  He gave it freely and watch as she placed his fingertips on the back of her skull where weird ridging could be felt through her hair and skin.  “There?”  Cullen nodded.  “Patricia tried kill me with a vase on the top of my aunt’s staircase.  She tossed it down on my head and one of the pieces cracked my skull.”  Evie lowered his hand, but did not let go, and he did not mind.  The skin contact just made remembering the events more clearly.  “What happened with your knee…and not from the shipwreck?  It happened before.”

“Maker’s breath…”  Cullen groaned.  “Alistair during a sparring session lost ahold of a quarterstaff and dislocated my knee after smacking it from behind.  Do you have a broken toe?”

Evie referred her left foot.  “The middle one?  Horse hoof.  The healer put the break back into place, but no magic was used.  Bones fused together.  I cannot scrunch it for shit.”

That was their next few bells.  They traded different old wounds and strange events in each other’s lives like they happened to everyone.  Many occurred even before Cullen went to academy and Evie’s magic manifested.  Evidently, when Evie stated they had been connected since children, she actually meant as babies.  While Cullen was over fourteen months older than her, things during her own birth translated to him as a baby.  He remembered his mother telling him the strange things he did when he was too young to remember.  Evidently, such instances stemmed back to Lady Gwen being stabbed while Evie was in the womb, and thus led to her premature birth and being saved by the healing mages serving the Sanctuary.

Since Evie’s first breaths, Cullen and she had been thick as thieves.  Cullen always felt so alone, but now realized those weird events in his life had a reason.  The Fereldan templar registered he always had a friend beside him through thick and thin who kept him going.  Alas, those events slimmed and almost stopped after his Vigil, partly because Evie had to be careful of alerting him of her presence while her family searched for him.  It explained when they first touched why he never saw anything pass her Harrowing…

…and why Evie never mentioned Kinloch Hold in his own past.

Chapter Text

The next two days continued the multiple connective memories and experiences between Evie and Cullen.  While their sparring and physical training rarely improved, their bond shifted in other ways.  When one would remember a specific event, the other noticed the realization more quickly from the shifting music between them.  The longer they discussed their childhoods and did not limit the flow of information, Cullen and Evie began to get a grasp of how each thought, processed information, and felt towards specific topics.

The other Trevelyans contributed to these new topic discussions.  Lady Gwen remarked during their time in the Drawing Room different things Evie did as a toddler that Cullen actually remembered as a young boy.  That particular conversation dove into the more embarrassing movements in Evie’s young life that the young maiden would rather her bond not knowing.  Esme found the experience a gift from the Maker, having his sister be the center of idiocy than his humiliating instances.  Although, that did not stop his older sister tackling him to shut up and tell the time about Esme’s shedding-stage as a young boy.  Oh, how everyone still gossiped about him removing his clothing during a Chantry service and waddling up to the Revered Mother with his dingle berries out for all to see. 

Cullen sighed in relief knowing there was no one around to recount his own childhood blunders.  The young knight knew though if his siblings ever encountered the Trevelyans, Mia would recite all his other stupidities, such as the milkmaid story and the time Cullen got caught fighting the chickens while reenacting the great battle that unified Ferelden.  However, he did not push thoughts about his family aside, discussing his parents without seizing up.  The more he spoke about them and what he learned from them and other extended family now passed on, the heartache and shame simmered.  Cullen also noted any time the subject came up, even if he introduced it, Evie somehow was at his side by the end of the tale, her hands touching his right elbow on the sofa as a physical message, I’m here if you need me.

Meal times became less tense with such story times.  Cullen noticed Bann Trevelyan kept his letters out of the dining room so he could focus on the discussion.  The knight nearly fell out of his chair hearing the minor nobleman chuckle at Evie’s expense during such childhood stories.  His hazel grey eyes sparkled reminiscing about his children’s younger years, even adding insights not discussed yet, such as Rian noticing Evie’s magic before the rest of the family and the few times Patricia was a happy accepting child before Ian and Gwen married.  The Fereldan knight noticed how both Esme and Evie quieted during such remarks with Evie admitting later she never heard those sides of the stories in her entire life.

For the first time since he was thirteen, Cullen felt like he belonged to a real family.  Well yes, templar recruits became each other’s families being so far away from blood relatives, a mentor or master at the academy was not a man or woman a young knight went to discuss specific topics.  The templar academy instilled in the future knights rank and file, discipline, and etiquette on how to speak to all walks of life with rarely an opportunity to relax and find a personal mentor beyond Chantry lectures and physical training. 

Now though, Cullen realized how much he missed out on with his family by leaving so early in adolescence, but late by templar standards.  It explained why some templars were just head-wired to be yes-men and never question orders.  The younger a child was, the more the basis of such attitudes developed and became so difficult to break.  Just for the shorter time Cullen was at the academy, so many of the goodness his parents taught him towards other races, religions, and social classes was essentially erased and rewritten to the Chantry doctrine. 

Cullen remembered several moments in his first few months when he asked why elves and other races did not participate in the academy despite no rules against their enrollment.  The question nearly got him thrown out of templar training.  The most minor punishment the recruit incurred was being put on cleaning duty or severely punished with his mentoring officer stating, Never question the Order or the Chantry.  Your faith is what matters.  All other thoughts demonstrate you are not serious about becoming a knight, your faith is weak, and will be easily corrupted by a blood mage.  Within those first months, Cullen feared being denied his dream, so he threw what his parents taught him and replaced that advice and ‘guidance’ with whatever the clerics and teachers stated.

Looking back on the education now, Cullen realized clearly he was brainwashed, to eat the lies and propaganda.  His educators knew he wanted to serve and protect, threatening him with excommunication and exposition if he wandered outside their confines.  He remembered seeing such recruits being removed forcibly.  Some of them had been raised by the Chantry since birth, likely children of mages in Circles.  As soon as it became clear they were not mages themselves and they were not buying the lies, they were kicked out and left to fend for themselves in Denerim’s streets.  One such young woman turned to prostitution, becoming a ‘favorite’ among the recruits and officers at the academy at the Pearl.  Talk about adding salt to an already gaping wound.

Cullen confessed such rising shames with Lady Gwen during their midday talks.  The templar found solace with Evie’s mother, recounting wrongs that if his parents knew now would disown him.  He remarked they would holler they taught him better than that and he should have never gone to training.  Alas, Lady Gwen would reject his assessment and give her motherly opinion almost like Cullen’s own mother, Eleanor, sat across from him with tea in hand.  Her ladyship gave him much to ponder, such as his mother’s possible view to his whole dream of being a knight.  She confessed her constant denial of Esme going off to be a pirate, Grey Warden, or other hero-driven person he reads in his books as being part of not willing to give up her son so soon.  Your mother, Cullen, did what I consider a living nightmare.  She worried for you every day you were not in eye sight, praying to the Maker you were treated well and ate your vegetables.  She would never disown you.  She loved you unconditionally as she loved your siblings.  She died protecting them as she would for you in the heartbeat.  That’s a mother’s love.  The ladyship also confessed that she has officially adopted Cullen as one of her own, just as she did with Rian and Patricia.  Whatever your endeavors take you, Dear Knight, know you still have a mother’s love, may it be mine and your mother’s from the Maker’s side.  We both love you.

The blond Fereldan swore at least one time he will have such discussions with Lady Gwen and will not leave like a sobbing little boy.

Bann Ian did not exactly warm up to Cullen, but at least his iconic swirling eyes did not constantly warn him every time he went to bed, ‘You do anything stupid, I will personally murder you in your sleep.’  It took the templar a few days playing chess with the nobleman that Bann Ian was an example of a tough-love type of parent.  He analyzed all situations, proposed possible solutions, and gave guidance on each approach even if not asked.  The interactions became enlightening for Cullen because the bann taught him even more about chess and forward thinking.  The father admitted that was one of Evie’s weaknesses:  while yes she was observant and critically minded, she had difficulty thinking ten years into the future.  That was why she fumbled constantly in chess and other forewarning mind games. 

Bann Ian admitted he was glad to see such skills in Cullen and remarked it was not the academy that taught him, but his own sister Mia.  Just the night before, Cullen and Bann Ian’s chess game went on so long it as past midnight before both men called a draw.  Evie had fallen asleep in a nearby chair with her embroidery loosely on her lap.

“Sleep does not come to her naturally anymore.”  Bann Ian lamented, gazing upon his daughter drooling down her chin.  “If others are up, she feels she needed to safeguard even her aging father before she fights to get some rest.  Evidently, it is her need to protect that allows her to finally sleep around such company.”

Cullen thought the observation an excellent time to ask about Evie’s nighttime ventures, but decided against it.  He watched as Bann Ian studied his daughter with such deep concern and helplessness.  When he caught the knight observing such a weakness moment, all Bann Ian did was patted his shoulder, wished him safe dreams, and to resume their chess mind games tomorrow night after dinner.  Cullen asked about moving Evie, the nobleman waved him off, and replied “Once she hears you in her dreams, she will move.  Keep her safe and wandering, Templar.”

The cryptic advice made Cullen notice something:  he knew when a nightmare approached by how much Evie’s violin died and silenced.  It was never louder than waking, contrary to what should happen, and actually sounded more muted and almost non-existent.  Just the night before, Cullen hung onto her instrument tune the deeper he fell into the Fade in hopes to find her and be pulled into her dreams just as had remarked occurred to her since childhood.  Instead, the melody sunk deeper in the muted waters until it vanished…and the desire demon in Maya’s form appeared.  Unlike that specific dream a few days before, Cullen did not hear the violin make noise in his dream or flutter the candlelight he purposely kept focusing on through the torture, but the desire demon did give up Maya’s form quicker and turned to physical torture more readily than sexual.  Neither was pleasant, but at least Cullen knew he was not reminded more intimately how much he had been ruined during those past weeks.

The experiences did prompt Cullen to ask Evie more about the history of their specific bond.  The mage mentioned days before their specific pair had been recorded throughout history.  Now that Cullen had resigned that this was his bond and the spirits involved had been involved with his type of soul for generations, it was high time he learned more.

That was why the bond found themselves wandering the hidden library that morning after breakfast.  Cullen learned to ask such information before sparring, knowing that by the end of that failure path neither he nor Evie could likely speak until after dinner.  Bann Ian seemed impress with the question, remarking that sparring could wait until the afternoon in hopes to change the outcome.  Both Evie and Cullen knew that was very unlikely as they had grown frustrated with the draws and requiring their spirit halves silence them for not listening again.

“I will admit, Cullen, the history isn’t pleasant.”  Evie warned, flipping through the tomes on a bookcase.  She hung her head and glanced up through her eyelashes at him.  “Many don’t have happily ever afters.”  She scrunched her mouth.  “There is a reason why you have Affliction and I Fire in our brands.”

Cullen ignored his label on her lyrium brand.  The day before they had a two-bell conversation about each arcane rune etched into their skin.  It was the first time Cullen traced and analyzed his brand since before Maya Amell’s Harrowing.  For the first time in nearly two years, he gazed on the mark with indifference than cursing its existence.  Cullen considered it a win, while Evie attempted to hide her regret from him through the emotional channel.

“I had just assumed Fire meant your magic.”  The knight quipped with a blond perked brow.  “Not completely, I take it.”

Evie rolled her eyes.  “While yes, I am a fire mage, my predecessors hadn’t always been.  The past bonds had been templar and mage, but the mage had been all types.  However, witch hunts and fire executions have been a favorite Thedosian historical past time.”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen pinched his nose.  “The mage has been burned at the stake and considered witches?!”

Evie glared at him with those expressive chocolate brown eyes, the orbs that have been the last Cullen envisioned before allowing the Fade take him each night.  “If one thing you should have realized in your history lessons is that women being called witches and burned at the stake occur all the time.  The thing you should take most out of the past bonds is that in our case, the templar and mage have shifted, but the woman and man connect has always been constant.”

“You mean the man has been a mage…meaning the past version of my dominate spirit has been a mage?”  Cullen felt somewhere nauseous.  The idea of reincarnation itself did not sit well with him, but being a mage at that!?

Evie must have noticed his apprehension and his thought process because she corrected him instantly.  For the first time since the though channel opened, he actually did not care.  “Don’t think of it like that.  We are not reincarnations, but more our own souls with a specific signature that the spirits recognize when we are conceived.  Scholars debated for ages that souls flow through the Fade to the physical world at conception just as they do to heaven or the Void at death.  The circumstances have to be just right to make the connection, thus the different rarities between bonds.  Very few bond relationships are based on specific souls being born again.”

“So in our case, the ‘signature’ to induce our spirits is a male and female and mage and templar, right?”  Cullen concluded taking the book from Evie so she could search the archive more.

“One last factor:  upheaval.”  Evie added with an index point.  “The pairing occurs in our specific bonds during times of great difficult, thus why some of the endings are not encouraging.  Just as Divine Beatrix stated the Dragon Age will be of time of great strife, our specific bond pops up to be involved or contribute.”

Cullen leaned against the bookcase Evie skimmed over the book spines with a pensive expression.  “We’re destined to get involved even when most people want to high tail it and run.”

“Or we are just the type of people not stand by and let people suffer.”  Evie amended with a knowing smirk before pulling a scroll from a stack.  “We exhibit those qualities now.  You have always wanted to help people, while I was born into a family trying to correct past wrongs and avoid calamities.”

“How do you know all this?”  Cullen questioned, crossing his exposed forearms over his chest, while holding the ancient text close to his body.  “This seems quite extensive than what I was educated.”  He grumbly added, “Of course this news would not  make any Chantry cleric happy.”

Evie pursed her pink, plump lips and scrunched her nose.  After a few moments, those intoxicating chocolate brown eyes studied Cullen.  “Do you really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”  The templar replied with a shoulder shrug.

The fire mage held up a single finger and walked down the archive towards a bookshelf in a darken corner.  Her white linen dress flowed behind her like ship sails, the first time in weeks since she has worn such innocent clothing.  Since Cullen learned her mage status, she kept to her restrictive corsets and leather pants, her gallowglass strapped to her belt hip and her knight-enchanter hilt always within reached.  However, today was the first day day she resumed her flowy dresses, the one she wore in the horse stall not included.  Even Cullen knew that was a specific day that Evie needed to feel herself.

Today though, the Free Marcher maiden wore one of the white linen dresses with specific sewing and embroidered down the v-neck front and back that accented her small waist and called Cullen’s wandering amber eyes to her swaying hips.  The lightly belled sleeves accentuated her muscular biceps but skinny forearms.  The v-neck and back highlighted her modest bosom and tan unblemished back.  Where the v-shape in the back ended drew Cullen’s analyzing eye to her shapely behind that made her bell skirts flow behind her.  Meanwhile, its white fabric looked translucent against her sun-kissed olive skin. 

In all the dresses and outfits this minx mage wore in the templar’s presence, this specific one brought urges to Cullen he never imagined having.  Already three times since breakfast, Cullen caught his callused hand reach out to touch the flower and uniquely sewn seam in the V back.  His eyes constantly view the amber foci stone that hung between her barely exposed cleavage drawing his darkening eyes downward.  Lastly, the knight scolded himself with thoughts of grasping her arm as she turned away, pulling her close, and shoving her against a bookshelf to kiss breathless.

But Cullen was not a daft man.

The templar knew Evie had no idea what she or her clothing were doing to him today.  He closed those lusty deep urges off from their connection, a new trick Cullen adapted over the last few days.  If she did know, if unintentional, she would have forced blasted him over the cliffs.  If intentional, she was probably annoyed he had not emotionally expressed anything yet.  In either case, Cullen knew for sure the fire mage was armed with her dirk, magic, and collapsible mage staff under the skirt because she told him so via their bond communication that morning during breakfast when he caught him silently challenging her to duel in that dress.

That alone nearly made Cullen flee to his room for very private time.  The idea of dueling and slowly tearing away that dress until she was bare beneath him induced about a bell of self-pleasure he quickly regretted afterwards.  Maker, he was a disgusting man…

After moving some relics and scrolls away, she pulled out a vellum envelope.  She stared at the document for a few moments before returning to Cullen’s side.  “Let’s go outside to read this stuff.  We’re between hurricanes and it is actually not humid and hot at the moment.”

“Avoiding answering the question, Eve?”  Cullen guessed as they walked towards the spiral staircase.  The knight had slowly learned Evie’s tactics to avoid specific topics, such as how she got her eyebrow scar from a drunk night on her ship. 

Evie elbowed him in the solar plexus, all the air kicked out of Cullen’s lungs instantly.  “No, arsehat, I don’t want to go blind down here.  I figured the open air would do us both some good.”  She stopped and pivoted on a foot.  “But if you want ruin your sight, we can stay down here.”

Cullen waved her onward, coughing a few times.  He sent his apologies for the crude joke/assumption through their bond.  Evie groaned, rolled her eyes, and sent a healing spell indirectly into him to stop the muscle spasms.  “Thank…you…”

“You know better than that.”  Evie grinned over her shoulder.  She waited a few steps ahead for Cullen to catch up.

The knight did not get his breath fully back until they were half-way through the hedge maze to their tree grove beyond the main gardens.  Even when their spars failed and they were pissy, both young adults ended up there reading until their spirits were done punishing them and their rational minds returned.  Cullen did not even need to ask that was where Evie intended.  It was just part of their days now that at least Cullen looked forward to the moment in her personal place.

“How do you feel about Rivaini seers and Avvar augers?”  Evie quizzed with a knowing glare.  Cullen stiffened despite trying to avoid the reaction.  Evidently, his behavior reaction was enough to tell her, despite Cullen coughing to try to say otherwise.  “They are the only two remaining groups of spiritual mages who can effectively and efficiently locate bond histories.”  Evie answered, referring to his question about her knowledge of their bond.  “They are the few people who can communicate with spirits without possession or being executed for the practices.  In some scholar research, they are the first humans to do what elven keepers accomplish with ancient elven marriage bonding.  The augers communicate with Avvar clan spirits—the clan’s protective spirits.  Meanwhile, Rivaini seers and witches are respected women of their lands.  Not even the Chantry and Emperor Drakon’s conquest could turn the people away from their original beliefs.  I personally believe there is a third Chantry based solely in Rivain that cannot restrict like the south, but is not so open to mages as the Imperial Black Divine.  It was such a seer who educated me on our bond.”

Cullen stopped their walking and stepped in front of Evie.  “Eve, you that is extremely dangerous.  You have no idea what they can do.”

“Thus why you respect them nonetheless.”  The fire mage quipped back with a glare.  “It was not like I traveled there and lived among them.  Even I know not to fuck with such people.”

The knight started walking again, his left hand gripping his longsword hilt tightly.  “Then how did you learn such information.  They rarely leave Rivain because of the persecution and their demonic connections.”

Evie rolled her eyes at his opinion and he refused to back down, reaffirming his views about the witches of the Chasind, the Wilds, Avvar, and Rivaini through their bond.  Cullen knew some of those feelings developed from his childhood hearing about Flemeth and other folklore mages that scared him around a summer campfire.  The fire mage did not shun him for the view, but demonstrated through their bond such views might taint such information in his mind, but were likely true nonetheless.

“Thus why Hemmingway’s mother only agreed to meet us at sea between Rivain and Ostwick.”  Evie replied as they began walking through the woods.

“Wait, Hemmingway’s mother is a witch?!”  Cullen coughed, his diaphragm still aching from her elbowing.

Evie shrugged.  “She was the head council member of his village and highly respected.  Hemmingway only left to see the world and send money home during destitute times.  He would have never gone without her blessings.”

“A Mama’s boy?”  Cullen joked with a smirk.  Evie giggled that rich Free Marcher laugh that sounded like singing when it came from deep within Evie’s heart.

“Don’t ever tell him that unless you want to end up fish bait.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time the man’s threaten me such a fate.”

“He likes you too much to say that now.”

“I’ll believe it when he calls off Knott’s throwing knives.”

“Get used to them as they will always being a threat.  That’s just Knotts for you.”

Cullen exhaled and pinched his nose.  “Grrreeeeaaattt…”

Evie slapped his bicep, her steps slowing the closer to the grove they got.  “When my magic manifested and my father decided not to send me to the Circles, we wanted to know all could about the bond.  My music proficiency finally had an explanation.  We reached out to the Avvar contacts the House had, but none of the augers were willing to go to the lowlands and quote ‘deal with the weak lowlander.’  Hemmingway had been my mother’s body guard before mine, while Knotts took to me right at birth.  Hemmingway contemplated contacting his mother who knew he gave up piracy for honest employment with a nobleman that had all his previous crimes expunged.  He still sent money home, but never visited the village like he once did.”

Evie sighed and hugged herself, the vellum by her heart.  “My father never asked him for such contacts, allowing the man protect his own mother.  So, when Hemmingway told him he asked his mother, my father knew he sacrificed much for the meeting.”

“What did he give up?”  Cullen questioned, his brow scrunched.

“He gave up his opportunity to go home.”  Evie’s Free Marcher lilt highlighted her sorrow on the subject.  “He could never visit and took full responsibility if something happened to his mother while beyond her village’s walls—essentially a honor suicide.”

“Maker…”  Cullen whistled through his teeth.  He was thankful to see the sun through the large maple tree in the grove out in the distance.  “He must love your family…”

“I think it dealt with an honor to be more beyond what future in Rivain included.  He knew his options were limited, and that he cared about this little girl whose life would be constantly at risk if kept out of the Circle.”  Evie proposed with a dull expression.  “I think his mother agreed because she already sensed we were not some usual falsified bond created by the Chantry, but one of the few that lasted the ages organically chosen and can do some good.”

Evie shook her head.  Her auburn waves were only half up today in a lose bun held in place by a metal sculpted comb and the rest left loose to cup her shoulders and draw Cullen’s eye to her slim neck and beating pulse.  Those wavy shorter bangs cupped her cheek just Cullen wish to draw her near him.  “Whatever the reason, the deal was done, and she travelled to meet a Trevelyan ship off the coast of Antiva.  I don’t remember much about the meeting even if I remember clearly what the elderly seer looked like.  She was my first tutor and confidante.”

By now, the bonds reached the grove.  Evie walked to her strong maple tree, leaning against the trunk.  Cullen slowed is step, hearing her violin struggling with the words.  Her heart tormented her then.  Her violin whistled a tune before she turned and met his wandering whiskey eyes, hopeful she made the right choices.  “Our halves spirits are Purpose and Hope.  Neither spirits actual interact with dreamers or are interested in the real world.  We used to have others connected…Valor being one, but that spirit sacrifice itself during the Exalted March of the Dales as the one of us—an arcane warrior of the Emerald Graves—sacrificed themselves to protect his elven clan against the Chantry.”

“You mean one of the past was an elf?”  Cullen felt foolish not thinking beyond human as past bonded pairs in their history.

“He fell in love with a templar invading on the Chantry’s demand, who attempted to stop the march, and died when her fellow knights thought her deceived and corrupted by the elven arcane warrior…what you know as a knight-enchanter mage.”  Evie wisped, her eyes blurring from unshed tears.

“She was burned at the stake, charged with being possessed, bewitched, didn’t she?”  Cullen theorized already knowing the answer.

Evie nodded.  “That was one reason why I wanted to study the specialization.”  Evie confessed, stepping forward and towards Cullen.  “Commander Helaine thought I was honoring her People’s past with the move…and that it aligned with my rogue education.”

“What else did the seer tell you?”  Cullen questioned, smelling Evie’s orange and clove scent on the morning breeze, thank the Maker for this time and opportunity to gaze on this person’s unguarded nature, her heart on her dress sleeve as the first tear fell from her eyes.

“There have been more spirits supporting us…”  Evie took a deep breath.  “…but only the true strongest have made it through the ages.”

“Hope and Purpose…”  Cullen repeated, reaching out and cupping Evie’s elbow grasping the envelope.  “It seems even when it seems hope is lost, it never left us.”

Evie bit her lower lip and nodded.  “And the world keeps dragging us back with another purpose…no matter the pain and heart-ache.”  Cullen was not surprised Evie accepted his comfort.  She stumbled right into his personal space, his piano calling out to her lonesome violin.  She rested her forehead on his chest, his arms grasping her shoulders and rubbing the skin uncovered by her linen dress.

Leaning enough so her cupped envelope was noticeable, the maiden clung to Cullen, her teary chocolate brown eyes reach out to him.  “She wrote this to you.  Hemmingway’s mother knew she would never meet you and that you would likely not accept her words, but still.”  She took one of Cullen’s callused hands from her shoulder, and placed the vellum sealed close by both magic and wax in his left hand.  “Here.”  Evie curled Cullen’s left fingers around it.  “You never need to read it now or ever.  I am just following her request.  She gave me advice…and only wanted you to have the same.”

There was something in Evie’s eyes that Cullen could no longer deny.  She was scared of his response.  Not just about their past, but about everything that had happen.  Cullen felt it all flowing from her pressed against his harden body, her violin begging he listen to her words and her heart.  She offered him her trust and belief in him so openly and purely that Cullen’s self-control waned.

Evie leaned into his right hand that slid from her shoulder, up her bare neck, nudging her silverite chain a bit before cupping her soft cheek.  Her bangs swept enough out of her as the knight’s thump enjoyed the feel of her facial features, ones that haunted his every waking moment since they met.  With a little nudge, her chin and face gazed up at Cullen, her pink lips just slightly open and her tongue dancing behind her teeth in both anticipation and nervousness.

Cullen could not deny himself any longer.

In a rush, the Fereldan leaned out down, pulled her chin and face up and met lips to lips.  The hand grasping the envelope encircled her lower back and pulled her closer and flush to him.  Her body heat and flush reacted to his both physically and through the bond.

It all felt right and too long denied.

Too long since the last life…too long in this life-

Evie had never been kissed in her life.

Since a young little girl, she fantasized what the first proper kiss with someone she care for would feel like…taste like.  It was normal for a little girl to dream of being kissed breathless by a knight like the fairy tales.  However, her imagination and her Fade dreams never prepared her for such a moment.

No dream would mimic what that his scar tissue would feel like against her upper lip or properly compare what his growing stubble would scrap her chin as he pressed further into the kiss.  Evie read about the little nudges a man’s opening lips and asking tongue would mean, but never prepare her for the gratification of tasting him fully and waltzing with his tongue and lips inside her mouth.

In all intensive purposes, the fire mage had been fighting this moment since the moment she saved him from the deep sea.  Her lips screamed inside her soul to breathe life back into this drowning man.  They nearly gave in and pecked his lips after their tavern jig, her whole being so elated to be in his company and smell his scent.

Then those same scar lips cursed her existence first on the bluffs when he touched her accidently and the multiple times afterwards as he uncovered the lies he was fed by the very people he swore his life to uphold and protect.  Even as his most venomous and nearly striking her down in the library, her lips craved to know what his felt like, to show him her world, and that she was not to be feared.  Even during her physical descriptions to Dorian and letting the first walls crumble away from her scared heart, she still wished to kiss him.

Evie waited and lonesomely hoped the time may come Cullen might feel as Evie felt for a long time.  By his tighten grasp on her hip and chin, she knew that moment at had come.  He felt their connection beyond their bond.  Their struggle was never about past bonds, the urges the spirits seem to nudge them towards.  No, it was what they had felt for one another since young children—birth even.  Even seeing him pine for another woman as she craved from him, Evie knew if she waited, Cullen will care for her as she had always cared of him.

-Then it was over in a heartbeat.

One moment, Evie’s heart connected her love for Fereldan mead to the taste of his tongue inside her own lips.  The next, she is silenced, smited, and her back smacking a such a deep force against the her favorite maple tree her spine wraps around the trunk and the back of her head healed from Patricia smashing a vase over her skull.  The spiritual, magical, and psychological disconnection made her chocolate brown eyes swim in her skull.  She felt the drips of blood leak out of her hair onto her white dress and down her bruising spine.

“Stay away from me!”  His baritone roar blared around her dizzy mind, but her soul and heart felts the disgust and anguish stemming from this man who stole her first kiss…who initialed Level Six Senses.  Even as Evie fought the bond connections forming, she smelled as he smelled and saw his anger and hate at the withering mage he bonded himself to more than he ever wanted.  “I will not be tempted by you, you demon!”  His words were said, but Evie already knows their truths, the emotional limitations lost.  His left forearm wiped her lingering lips from his scars as he stumbles away.  “I WILL NEVER TRUST YOU!”

And there it is.

Evie warned Dorian this would happen.

That templar will never want her.

The hope was a lie, the spirit doing whatever it can to reunite with its other half.  Purpose just pushed to complete the connection to fulfill their destiny.  Both halves lied just to increase their reunions.

Evie saw through his watering eyes, disgusted he kissed an apostate, a mage, a demon as he rushed away.  The further he went, the more the spirits stretched and fought through the silence until they are ripped back apart, bringing deep agony to Evie’s whole world.  She accepted the anguish because it was reflective of her crumbling world.  The last internal barriers held, but all the others that guard her heart turned to dust.  She cannot reconstruct them to hide away again.  She did not want to deny the truth anymore.

Evelyn Tesni Trevelyn loves Cullen Stanton Rutherford since birth.

She—the very type of mage who he fears and loaths—only accepted that she loved this beaten and bruised templar now as her consciousness floundered and she slipped into the Fade unwillingly.

Evie accepted she loves Cullen all mind, body, soul, and heart…and he will always hate her.

Chapter Text

It took about two bells for Evie to fully regain consciousness and stumble her way back to the estate.  She got lost in the hedge maze four times.  Her memory and cognitive awareness struggled, not sure if she was actually taking the turns she was supposed to or even remember the path she memorized when she was eleven.  When she reached the back gardens, her mana slowly returned.  Cullen’s smites and silences impacted her far worse than other templars, especially this deep into their bond thus why the Circles demanded mages to be bonded to level six quickly.

Once the battered maiden reached the rear foyer, she wanted no one in the household to know what transpired mainly from embarrassment and shame.  Knotts will definitely slaughter Cullen in his sleep tonight if he discovered her condition.  Once her magic slowly came back to her and the spirits stopped panicking to sense their other halves, she casted a triage spell on herself.  She suffered from a bad concussion, but thankfully no skull fracture.  The blood was skin torn against the tree trunks’ gnarls and rough bark.  Her back and shoulders suffered deep muscle bruises, while her spine was thankfully unharmed.  Evie had worried he broke it with his shield bash with just the knight’s arm, but she would not be walking if that was the case…if one could call stumbling and swaying walking.  One arm was partly fractured. 

When Evie felt comfortable with her slow building mana pool, she mended herself together.  The mage fixed her ulma, lessened the bruising, and decreased the swelling around her neck and shoulders.  However, nothing could be done with the concussion, only another mage casting on her would work or days of rest.  The maiden did not trust her healing abilities on head injuries and doing so while with swimming vision and struggling thoughts did not sound wise.  Once she was up in her suite, she will have Fesill send for Prunella, an older healer on the isle who lived with her bonded templar in the village.  The healer was knowledgeable and snarky with her bond Spirit of Faith assisting with healing dangerous wounds.  However, Evie needed to figure out a lie to tell to avoid the old mage hunting Cullen down like a rabid mabari and pulling his intestines out of his gut with just a fist.

Nothing the templar did was his fault, but Evie’s own failure allowing her hopes and wishes for this man to potentially love her as she had loved him for years.  She knew when her father approached her that she could be saved if she full bonded with the templar, it will never happen.  Bann Ian convinced her to try even if it concluded with Cullen’s general indifference.  Evie knew it was and always will be an unrequited love, a power dynamic horribly imbalanced and manipulative.  She knew that was why the sparring would never work.  Dorian should have never convinced her to open her heart.

And Cullen’s hate towards her was her own fault.

“What to do you mean the fleet is gone!?”

Evie stilled on the servant stairwell further down a main hallway from her father’s grand office.  That was Bann Ian’s bass voice hollering.  He never lost his cool so easily.  Her hands gripped the banister to keep her balance.  She struggled on each step, her boot heels catching the carpet wrong.  All she needed was to fall down the stairs break open her head like a melon.  The fire mage was already half way there…

“Two nights ago in a thunderstorm, the Promiser fleet ambushed the defending Trevelyan fleet meant to slow the Man O’ Wars…there were no survivors.”  Evie recognized the female commanding voice as her father’s naval commander, Marisol Seymour, who handled all the military operations and merchant fleet escorts.  How was she on the isle?  No, Evie knew that was a dumb question.  Blasted concussion.  The woman could navigate a dingy through a hurricane alone and come out dry as a bone and umharmed.  The naval officer was one of Evie’s first sailing tutors after passing her Harrowing.  “Evidence at the location showed our ships were ripped to shreds like whales pulled them apart, but the incisions on the drift wood…I have never seen anything like that.”

Evie slowly slid down the wall and sat on the staircase, thankful for its tunnel echo effect to listen in on the conversation.  Stupidly, someone left her father’s door open and no one inside noted the security risk.  Over the last few weeks, her father distanced her on the Promisers’ progress, likely protecting her from the inevitable doom awaiting her.  He likely theorized her mind should be on the task at hand.  Well, just look at the blood on her dress and dripping from her ears on how well that ‘task’ continued at the moment.

“The Formless One no doubt.  With Patricia trained as a templar by blasted Lucille and the amount of lyrium poured down her throat to keep her from going insane housing the demon likely has turned her into a mage of sorts.  Demons, especially a Forbidden One can cast magic, and with it in the physical world with a vessel trained to kill mages, it will surely know how to destroy a fleet.”  Bann Ian’s bass tone sounded more like a growling bear or wild horse fighting to be free again.  He was Wrath himself, his rage pouring from his mouth.  “We knew the fleet would be in an unwinnable battle, but we had precautions to allow a safe retreat.  Evidently, when the Promisers threatened to eradicate us, they meant everything and everyone connected to us and our cause.”

Evie had never heard that before.  So, Evie was not the only goal in this upcoming war.  Her whole family and their roles as hidden Reformists also played into everything.  This was not just going to be about fighting a Forbidden One wishing to assist ending the world with fire…but destroying everything that fought against tyranny and hate.  If the Reformists fall, the world will surely fall into revolution in war within a few years.  What better way to end the world than to take out the nail holding a rickety house together.  Once House Trevelyan and the Reformists fall, the world will burn on its own.  Knight-Commanders like Meredith will have no one challenging their brutality.  The infection of cultists in the Grand Cathedral will inflict all until one of their own holds the Sunburst Throne.  There would be no way to protect Revered Mother Dorothea, the Reformists’ grand leader in this chaotic war.  The Promisers would get their conflagration one way or another.

The library…the Sanctuary…the people on this isle…lost because of Evie and the Trevelyans will fall in this coming massacre.

“My Bann, your isle guard and personal army have been preparing for the invasion for over a year.  All safeguards and fortification were completed before you and the family arrived.  We have supplies for months here to fight a siege.  All evacuation orders have been given and wait your order.”  Evie knew that deep rasp as the head of House Trevelyan guard captain named Ceolmund Meurig.  The man served the House for decades, his loyalty strong and unwavering.  He too was a Reformist working to make sure nothing came to harm the Trevelyans and their supporters.  “Our only weakness is how quickly they can establish themselves on the isle if they reach our shores.  They know they cannot win a siege.  The world will know their actions within a week.  This is their Hail Andraste, a one-shot opportunity to challenge us and hopefully win.  I will not allow a single adversary set foot land on our beaches.”

Bann Ian exhaled, his office chair creaking as he sat down.  A strong Dalish accented woman spoke; Kavra Alerion, a Dalish ex-slave the family rescued a decade ago who lead the House’s spy network.  “They know that as we do, however they will only need a night for their operation.  Before our spies were executed in Jader, we discovered someone slipped them the improved defenses built on the island.  Even with the adjustments to keep the element of surprise, they still know too much.  All they need is one night.  If they don’t complete their mission within that time, they know the attempt failed.”

“You are saying they will throw everything and all their rogue templars at us at once.”  Bann surmised.  “They likely planned flash squadrons against our small army, attacking by land and sea at the same time.  They do not care if they harm their own.  All that matters is capturing Evelyn and razing us to the ground.”  He exhaled deeply.  “They will leave no survivors.  They can weave whatever tale they wish to why we fell…How long before they reach our shores?”

Evie gulped and squeezed her eyes shut.  She covered her ears with her hands.  She did not want to know how close everything was from burning.

“A week at most.”  Naval Commodore Marisol Seymour replied with a strained grunt, frustrated she cannot do more with her available ships.  “The demon must be aiding the trade winds too.  There is a high category hurricane strengthening each hour and heading directly at us from the Amaranthine Ocean.  It will hit within the same time that they will arrive.  Maybe will be Mother Nature is on our side and destroy their ships before getting here…or aiding them to annihilate the isle.”

Bann Ian stood up, his cane clicking against his hardwood floors denoting to Evie he is pacing in his office.  “Start the evacuation plans.  Call in the merchants vessels from Ostwick.  It is time to get the villagers off the isle.  One less blood sacrifice for those cretins is a win for us.  Tell them the hurricane coming will likely destroy local infrastructure and the typically utilized caves will be too dangerous to house everyone.  Livestock will not be taken.  If we survive this, I will pay for the losses.  Just get them out of here before that fleet arrives!”

“It will take three days for the fleet to disembark based on time of notification, supplying, and leaving port.  If winds are in our favor, they will arrive before the hurricane hits.  We will have a small window to get everyone out before the massive hurricane makes the channel impossible.”  Marisol’s naval expertise shined with her analysis.  “You agree to take them to Ferelden, correct?  Highever?  You are not exactly welcomed there, my Bann.”

“In trade of merchant deals to rebuild the teyrnir, Teyrn Fergus Cousland permits a temporary refugee camp on his lands.  I disguised the offer as precautions during a terrible hurricane season.  King Alistair approved the request.  Alas, my family cannot go there.  That matters not at the moment.  If I send the villagers to Ostwick, they will be hunted down by the Promisers just by association.”  Bann Ian took a deep inhale before his bass voice boomed throughout the manor.  “You have your orders.  Dismissed!”

Evie quickly climbed to her feet and up the stairwell as she saw those in attendance exit the office.  One such person was none other than Knotts, his glowing elven eyes finding hers immediately on the stairs.  So, Knotts purposely left the door open so she heard, knowing her father would keep her in the dark.  If that is true, he already knew about what happened in the grove.  Was Cullen going to be found dead in the morning?

The fiery mage gave little thought on that clusterfuck, hustling up the stairs before anyone other person saw her condition or that she overheard the impending doom.  By the fifth floor, Evie slowed her stumbling pace.  Her mind twisted her senses while the spirits called out to their halves somewhere in the house.

“Lady Evie!”

Thank the Maker.  “Fesill, please help me to my quarters…”  Evie meekly commanded.  Her elven lady in waiting and close friend took her left arm and placed it on her slim shoulders.  The young teenage elf assisted Evie up the last few flights of stairs and towards her suite.  Once Evie caught her breath while leaning on the double doors, she looked at the attendant.  The young elf looked up at her with such concern it almost broke her into tears.  “I can take it from here.  Please, bring Prunella to my quarters immediately.  I have suffered a terrible fall in the gardens and is concussed.  I do not trust my magic at the moment, and the elderly mage knows my specific…”  Evie searched for a good word for her hells at the moment.  “…condition right now.  Before you fetch her, bring me the swiftest raven orientatedly aware of The Rising Phoenix.  I require my crew’s assistance in the next week.”

“Isn’t it too risky to have your frigate here, my lady?”  Fesill quizzed with a puzzled expression.  Her eyes glanced down the stairs towards the guest wing.  Evie knew her meaning, while her words continued in a misdirection.  “Isn’t there a huge hurricane coming this way?”

“Let me worry about the hurricane.”  Evie cautiously stated, her chocolate eyes widen with her perked brow to denote what she actually meant.  The two women knew each other so well that two conversations could occur at once.  “In the meantime, after Prunella attends to my concussion, I wish to visit the purification pool.”  Evie bit her lip once Fesill searched her whole body, her watery eyes now knew the signs that required such treatments.  The mage shook her head, regretting the movement instantly as the massive migraine burned inside her skull.  “Nothing like that…just…”

“A bath does wonders…?”  Fesill stated and questioned at once.  A small smile pulled at her tiny lips.

“Exactly.”  Evie sighed and hugged her friend who had served her so well since she was thirteen, a playmate prior to that.

Fesill squeezed Evie.  The noble maiden bit back a whine where her friend compressed her bruised back muscles and achy spine.  “It will be done.”

Cullen flinched when he heard the arched stairwell doorway open from the lower floors.  He shifted away from the purple cage.  Although, the blood mage or demon did not actually notice grown man slowly pulling himself away, but a battered little boy with trails of blood and sweat smearing against the flagstones.  He visibly shook while trying to press himself against the back wall past Andrew’s rotting corpse that a terror demon torn apart a few bells…days…weeks ago?  Cullen was not even sure he was still actually breathing or just unconscious and sucked into another nightmare the demons and maleficarum conjured the last few torture sessions.

Time no longer existed in Cullen’s final prison, his stone and purple tomb that will house his starving, lyrium deprived body.  Piss, shit, and blood—some his, some his former brothers- and sisters-in-arms’—covered his barely clothed body.  He remembered when this hell started the templars were deprived of their weapons, shields, and lyrium and just caged in their armor or sleepwear recuperating from their long ride from Ostagar.  After Henderson figured out a way to reflect the cuirasses specifically to break the magic electricity enough for a knight trying to crawl through, the plate mail had been forcible removed from each templar.  Every knight attempted to use any remaining lyrium in their blood to smite or silence than give up their armor.  Many died in front of their comrades after bells being toyed with like a bunch of cats playing with a baby mouse for resisting.

How had this all began again?

Ostagar templars and mages returned.  Greagoir and Hadley left the Circle to do another hunt for Jowan, putting Lieutenant Hastings and Oscar in charge for the three days Greagoir would be gone.  Uldred demanded the leading senior enchanters meet in the Harrowing chamber to discuss what happened at Ostagar and possibly find freedom if aligning with Loghain Mac Tir.

Uldred.

 Just thinking of the maleficar’s name in his head made Cullen curl up in a ball and hug himself lying on the stone floor against the wall, his dull amber eyes turned away from the door.  He heard the wooden door slowly opening, but it could also be a despair demon using its small frozen ragged form to squeeze through.  Likely, it was that damn desire demon.  Just the idea it was back to play brought so much fear inside the young man’s soul that it likely enjoyed that just the creaking hinges brought him pain and suffering.

Uldred.

Greagoir had shouted at Irving that there was likely a senior mage behind teaching two apprentices and confined healer how to conjure with their own blood, human sacrifices, and how to summon demons through the Veil despite the Circle’s safeguards.  Within three bells of Greagoir leaving Kinloch Hold, Wynne revealed Uldred’s treachery.  Irving attempted to stop the fleeing traitor.   The blood mages reacted and stormed through the library where many of the mages had been studying for the evening.  Their ambush went perfectly planned.  The younger full mages were the first sacrifices to summon demons and continue the attack.  Everyone was unaware.  Those not part of the maleficars’ ranks were either captured or killed for more demons and power.

Cullen remembered hearing the laughter up the stairwells, maniacal cackles like what children imagine witches sounding like stirring their cauldrons of poison.  The young templar first thought it was just a few apprentices goofing off until he registered he was in the high levels restricted from apprentice and junior mages.  Hastings had asked him to put something in Greagoir’s office so the lieutenant could continue his double inspections in the mage quarters.  Since the blood magic attack weeks before, Hastings had been placed on a short leash, believed not acting in the Order’s best interests.  He was put in command with Oscar because what better way to figure out if he was hiding Irving’s secrets than to give him the feeling he was trusted again.

The door creaked a little more.  A single step squelched in rotting organs and coagulated blood.  Cullen knew that squish sound well now after days…weeks…months possibly stuck in this damn Void.  There was not a single place where there was not blood and rotting corpses.  The maleficarum complained about the smell, then cackled like that initial attack so long ago…or could have it been yesterday? 

Some of the blood mages would cast and draw with the blood or hang blood vessels on a wall torches like they were decorating for Satinalia.  They always enjoyed popping a severed head on a templar spear in front of the cage, molding the flesh to make the face of a once innocent person to look like a jester.  It turned into a game with Jordon’s corpse after the female templar was dragged into the Harrowing Chamber.  The desire demons did not have fun playing with her and just wanted her dead.  Apparently the longer her skin disattached from her muscle and skull, the easier it was to mold like clay and hold in place with needles.

A shine glimmered off the gore and into Cullen’s wide eyes.  No matter how much he attempted to close those dull orbs, he knew he could not.  The warped images constantly played like a flip book.  That form that he once thought beautiful and kind now truly demonstrated what damnation looked like. 

Still, that shine across the room was as much torture as the false images burned into the bloodied templar’s retinas.  Propped up in a corner was his slime-covered shield and longsword.  Once the blood mages pounced on him in the stairwell, he retreated back up the stairs.  He ran right into Uldred, who casted a blood magic disarming spell and incapacitated Cullen before he had time to act.

It was a junior mage’s idea to line the knight’s weapons and shields along the wall.  After seeing where Cullen’s longsword landed, it gave the monster an idea to begin their sick games.  For every templar still alive and captured, their weapons sat across from their cage taunting them to just attempt to reach out.  Almost every knight captured attempted at least once to fight the surging electrical magic cage to just touch their weapon.  That was why Henderson just kept trying to use his armor to weaken the cage. 

Another torture technique the maleficars enjoyed taunting the withering knights with was drinking lyrium in front of them.  They would sit pulsing vials by their weapons and armor to tempt the more die-hard resisters.  Sometimes, they would drip the liquid over the purple cage, making the withdrawing templars race forward with begging tongues for just a taste.  Murphy actually died shocking himself continuously licking the prison walls just in hope a speck of lyrium would pass over the barrier and into his mouth.  He was one of the older templars, attached to the blue liquid for many years more than most other knights present.

Alas, whatever knight possibly reached for their goals, they were chosen next for the torture games.  Each templar went through rounds of physical, mental, emotional, and sexual anguish and mutilation before being dragged up into the Harrowing Chamber.  By that time, all the others had drown out the person’s screams, but still hearing that final agony in the chamber.  The sounds cemented themselves in the living’s minds.

Cullen will remember each final scream as long as he lived, which will likely not be long based on the slow opening door right by his teasing sword.  The youngest full templar never reached for his longsword, instead chanting in his head.  Along with the chant were the statements:  Never be caught unprepared again.  Never be unarmed again.  Always be prepared for anything.  Always be armed.  In his twisted fucked up mind, the sentences were now part of the Chant of Transfigurations because each Andrastian line was follow with the sentences.

“Maker above!”  An Orlesian accent hollered from the door.  The next words were blocked by a hand.  “There is someone alive here!?  Dear Andraste, he’s delirious.  He’s been tortured…and has probably been denied food and water.  I can tell.  Here, I have a skin of—”

So now the desire demon shifted onto Orlesian women.  The milkmaid and that mage’s forms must have made it bored, trying a new form that many men thought sexy and sweet.  Orlesians were anything but that to Cullen.  Good, that will make this torture session shift from sexual to physical quicker.  Maker, he was now weighing which agony was more preferable.  All of it was horrific.  It was miracle—or sadistic—he had not bled out yet.

Cullen hollered while trembling, “Don’t touch me!  Stay away!  Sifting through my thoughts…tempting me with the one thing I always wanted but could never have…Using my shame against me…my ill-advised infatuation with her…a mage, of all things.  I am so tired of these cruel jokes…these tricks…these…”

“Leliana, keep back.”

How did Cullen know that voice…or yeah, that nitwit who fucked his knee at the academy.  Alex…No, Arthur…Allison?  What did it matter? 

Was it getting desperate?  Using people he used to know in his youth?  No…no, it enjoyed its fun seeing new ways to twist and crush Cullen.  If the blood mages acted like a bunch of cats with a dying mouse, that deman—his personal bailiff—was an Tevinter magister circling and lashing their elven slave.  Cullen’s once pleasant memories and day dreams were its leather whip, enjoying bringing him worlds of hurt each taunting session.  It never messed with the other templars when it was called through.  Its fellow desires did, even possessing some knights to act like brutes to protect the blood mages.  No, that particular desire demon never targeted any other knight or remaining mage.  It stuck to Cullen either when his body gave into his exhaustion or when it physically appeared and jolted him in tight purple cage.  The cage shrank the more templars fell to possession or were toyed with and then sacrificed in the Harrowing Chamber.

That demon rarely spoke to him as itself, usually enjoying that mage’s form.  The one relief to Cullen was that that mage died at Ostagar with the rest of her fucking blighted Order when the darkspawn overran the ancient fortress.  That was what kept him going in the beginning when Desire would show up in her skin.  Cullen just reminded himself when the mental attacks began she was dead, although she should have been branded or slain in the Circle instead for assisting killing the other knights after robbing the Vault.  However, their lives ended swiftly while Cullen’s mangled body and broken heart and mind still continued onward.  Why did he still live on?

The violin began playing in his heart again.

Cullen closed his eyes knowing nothing could harm him while the violin played.  His body stilled and his breath slowed.  It disappeared for long period of times, but would sometimes play so loudly in defiance when the torture occurred.  It played softly like now when he was alone.  He slept when it was gentle.  It was like it could sense when that creature and its many forms would not harm him.  That was why he was alive.

That violin could be just his brain officially snapping, his heart completely hopeless that this void would ever end, or his body accepting death and reaching out to the Maker’s side or…

“Cullen?!”

The violin vanished.

Cullen’s dull amber eyes shut open.  His body flipped itself until he was leaning so deep into the corner nothing reaching through the cage could grab him.  But that was the problem.  His personal monster could reach him, slip right through the purple cage, and play all it wanted.  Instinctively, Cullen reached deep within for the violin to tell him it was safe and that he did not hear that meek voice that once was like its own music when reading old Fereldan folktales.

But there was no violin.

“Maya!”  A older woman’s voice called through the gory chamber.  “The cage is electrified!  Stop!”

Boots thundered towards Cullen’s prison.  His wide frightened eyes saw a blonde demon swing behind a form approaching.  A staff gnarled and twisted like his soul swayed on its back as the desire demon raced forward.  The being wore Grey Warden mage robes now, no longer Circle robes, with breeches and a long mage coat under a single piece breast cuirass.

“Cullen!”  That twisted evil voice screamed before thumping its gauntlets against the purple cage.  “Cullen-“  A single shock arched off the metal and flung the monster backwards.  A red-headed archer desire demon caught the other before it tumbled to the floor.

“Mimi, please!”  The Orlesian desire demon called, holding Cullen’s personal demon close as tears streamed down its black eyes and lilac skin.  The Orlesian turned to another demon, this one with white hair.  She resembled…no, Wynne would have died after exposing Uldred to the Mage Council.  Just another facade.  “Check her!  I sense she was shocked through her whole body.  Please!”

“Go away!”  Cullen screamed at the gathering demons, including a strawberry blond warrior that reminded him of that nitwit from the academy…Illian?  Allen?  Stair?  “Leave me demons!  I will never bend.  I will never reach for my sword  o-o-o-o-r accept your possessions!”  Cullen stumbled to his knees, his thigh muscles so torn and infected from the conditions he nearly fell over.  No, he will not fall while these demons watched his suffering with glee.  No blood mage will cackle over his form while stirring their wicked brews. 

“Blessed are they who stand before,

The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.

Blessed are the peacekeepers,

The champions of the just…”[1]  Cullen rocked and continued his singing, willing this suffering away through verse.  He knew that desire demon would get frustrated in time as its games in his heart and head would not break him.  All he had to do was chant and it will have its fill.  Then the violin will tell him its fine and he can rest before the next onslaught.

“I knew a Cullen once…”  The strawberry blond demon remarked, getting closer to the purple cage and not at all deterred by the chanting.  “At the academy…teacher’s pet.  All he did was study.”

“How long has he been up here…?”  The Orlesian questioned as the demon Wynne checked the lilac desire demon for wounds.

“Likely since the beginning…he is the first of anyone we have found not possessed or corrupted…”  The demon Wynne sighed, watching the swaying knight and his barely clothed body.  “While likely not under blood magic control, it has taken a toll on his mind, body, heart, and soul.”

“If we hadn’t gone to Redcliffe first…and Maherial pressuring us to visit the Dalish.  Weeks on the road since Ostagar…”  That mage demon form flashed out of the Orlesian’s arms, causing the rogue demon to try to pull the desire demon from the cage.  “Cullen…?  Please, can you hear me?  It’s me.  Maya.  Maya Amell…?”

Cullen growled at the desire demon, lunging into the cage.  “Silence…I’ll not listen to anything you say.  Begone demon!  You have worn her skin enough!  She’s dead!  All of you are dead!  Skins just for that demon to wear to coax me into thinking I will be free!  That you have food and clean water!  OR LYRIUM!  To reach for my weapon despite the shocks so you all can play with the dying little mouse before you bring me to Uldred and rip my heart out and bleed me dry with your ugly powers!  Begone and leave me!  I will never bend!  The violin will not let me bend!”  Cullen thumped his chest.  “It’s here!  It tells me when I am safe, and it does not play now!  Fuck off and do your nasty deeds on my psyche!  Use my body as you have so many days, weeks, months, years for I don’t know time anymore.  I haven’t seen the sun in eternity.  Know, you fucking demon blood mage, you will never break me with the ghost of the dead.  Wynne died with the Council.  Allen-“

“-Alistair.”  The warrior pointed to himself.

“Whatever, demon!”  The imprisoned templar hollered at the demon warrior.  “Dead with all the other Grey Wardens.  The fucker left the Order to join the wardens and just died!”  Cullen referred the Orlesian with an arm flick, his weak biceps and starved chest barely able to do the gesture.  “Whoever the fuck you think you’re playing, demon, I would never be interested in an Orlesian whore!  I’m a fucking Fereldan and would never fall to that disguise!”

Lastly, his wild hands referred the sobbing mage warden the desire demon played every time it tortured him.  “You have used her face enough!  Every thought or feelings towards that wicked blood mage has been tainted and tarnished by your actions!  I am beyond caring what you think.  Every dream with you fucking me in her form before doing all those horrible things ruined me!  You happy, desire demon!?  You pleased you have turned this once innocent man into a delusional cretin!?  That infatuation was the foolishness of a naïve boy.  I know better now!  The Maker knows my sin, and I pray that he will forgive me!”

Cullen leaned forward enough to point at the desire demon.  He held his abdomen burning with infections.  “You, Uldred, and all your playmates illustrated that this is why my Order imprisons mages.  Any mage that still lives should be branded and killed as a mercy to them and the world.  Only mages have that much power at their fingertips.  Only mages are so susceptible to the infernal whispering of the demons.  They’re all maleficarum with demons waiting deep inside to wear their skins and inflict pain, anguish, and suffering to all not fade-touched!  NOW FUCKING BEGONE!”  With his last hollering, Cullen returned to his prayers, calling out to be told it was safe again.

The Orlesian pulled the demon wearing that mage’s skin away from the purple cage, while the demon in question sobbed and crouched into her claws.  The Orlesian turn the desire demon around and held her in an embrace.  “Don’t listen to him, Mimi…Whoever you think he once was…he is no longer.  That man is dead, only this husk of a body remains.”

“I…I…”  the desire demon whimpered between sobs.  “He… he was who I told you about.”

The demon wearing Wynne’s form pulled the group of demons away from the cage and towards the Harrowing Chamber.  “He has been broken, Maya.  I remember him too.  He was a nice boy.  For all the weeks he must have been here alone…half-starved and denied lyrium…”  The demon sighed.  “What we can do is save the others and destroy Uldred.  Maybe that will drop his cage.  Maybe then he will know he is saved.”

Cullen did not know why he gave the group of demons one last look, but he did.  His bouncing whiskey eyes caught that the desire demon wore that white and green brand he remembered from that mage’s Harrowing, not the one it implanted in his mind that mimicked his, thus denoting she was his bond.  Even more curious was that the Orlesian demon had a matching on the opposite side behind the ear and against the neck.  Why did the demons go through so much effort after weeks of torture to make him think they were bonds to only show that that mage was actually bonded to this Orlesian rogue who actually turned back to him one last time and sang a few soft lines of the Chant. 

That rogue’s icy blue eyes glimmered at him before finally saying, “May you find peace someday, Mousier…”

Cullen cautiously opened his amber eyes.  He expected to see the hanging inners of his once friends and blood dripping down the stone walls, but instead the plastered walls were light blue with a high white ceiling.  The carpet supporting his head while he laid on his back was puffy and comfortable, nothing like the hard feces-covered flagstones of Kinloch Hold.

The templar’s mind swam as he tried to determine if this was yet another façade the desire demon designed to make him feel safe before beginning its tricks.  Cullen’s eyes glanced around the expansive and wealthy room with a four posted bed, writing desk, open balcony doors, and multiple dressers.  Cullen remembered he was no longer in Kinloch and away from the torture by about two years.  He was on Epona Isle-

-and had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

“Fuck…”  He wisped, sitting up and resting his forehead on his arms while they laid on his knees. 

There were no other time he would ever imagine himself saying he wished he woke up still in that purple cage than now.  That idiotic mistake definitely made him wish it was just a mental image than the horrible reality he created.  Cullen ran his fingers through his hair, wincing as his fingertips grazed the back.  He glanced at his hand and saw bits of dry blood.   He did not hurt himself, had he?

No, not himself.

Evie, on the other hand….

“Oh Maker’s arse, I am a bloody monster…”  Cullen admitted flipping back and lying back down on the carpet. 

After a few minutes of chastising and mentally hating himself, Cullen searched for the reason why he fell asleep on the carpet just within his suite’s doors.  What likely happened is that he fled the grove following shield bashing the innocent mage away, giving her a horrible head injury, and raced back.  Now that he began Level Six connections, her injuries were now becoming his, especially when he personally inflicts them.  She must have been concussed and thus fell unconscious after he ran away like the idiotic craven he really was.

And he screamed those horrible things at her…

Evie was not a demon.  She would never bewitch him or make him believe in some illusion.  The more Cullen thought about it, the more he realized how much Evie wore herself on her sleeve so no one would question her intentions.  She was right for so long.  She never intentionally lied to him, even using her connection to him to demonstrate she meant everything she said, did, and so on.

That also meant all the echoes of mourning and inner pain rolling through him was also reflections that his stupid kiss had on such a fair maiden.

Cullen pinched his nose, mumbling about himself, “I’m an arsehole.  Idiot.  Creep.  Stupid.  Cretin.”

There was no denying that was Evie’s first kiss ever, let alone with her bond.  In all his discussions with her, Cullen admitted he felt terrible he was taught to not consider the mage at all and essentially push himself on his bond to form the connections and levels.  He told her he would never do such a thing to her.  Evie actually teared up and felt relieved he vowed to never abuse her and their bond that way. 

Yet, look what he does as soon as he lets any ounce of control slip through his fingers.

On top of ruining one of the most important moments of her life, Cullen shield bashed her into a tree trunk, called her sorts of horrific things that he knew only broke her even more, and ran away.  This was not the only time Cullen Stanton Rutherford ran from a pretty girl and her plump lips.  However, that first time the milkmaid kissed him when he was leaving for the academy and chased him down for another kiss to demonstrate she liked him.  Cullen ran into the hayloft that time and stayed there until the escorting templars called they would leave without him if he did not man up.

In that particular situation, Cullen came out in seconds, but his whiskey orbs searched for the young teen who assisted his mother on the farm in fear she will kiss him again.  Thankfully, the pushy girl had been sent home, while his siblings laughed and pointed at his blushing embarrassment written across his face. 

Then there was that instance Cullen received his first secret admire note following a public sparring event at the academy.  The young man had a gaggle of young women from all social classes and races gawking at him like they would personal wipe him clean with their drooling tongues.  After he returned to the barracks, there was a handwritten note on his bed from one of his admirers describing ways she wished to “please” him.  The first sentences alone made the young recruit race to the privy and hide there for bells.  Somehow, in the next few days, one recruit got ahold of the note and read it in the mess hall…

Maker, Cullen was hopeless idiot who fear women’s affection like the blight.  Furthermore, those events occurred before Kinloch.  The templar, now twenty-one and a young adult, had done the same thing, but he was the abusive milkmaid taking a person’s first kiss and then harming the very woman who he stole it from.  He was that vulgar secret admirer desiring that fair maiden without even consider respecting her.

Ruined.  Broken.  He spread his infection onto Evie now as he continuously feared the last few weeks.

Cullen wanted to kiss her.  He hungered for her lips to meet his more nights lying in bed than he cared to admit.  Even before learning she was his bond, he wanted to care for her.  The knight found himself yearning for her touch and those big chocolate eyes to lock with his in darkening desire.  Alas, his past discolored him, broke him to the point he will just harm her again and again.

But Maker above, Cullen never imagined those soft plump pink lips would taste so sweet and feel so right against his scarred chapped lips.  Her curvy body melted into him as he pulled her close and flesh against his chiseled frame.  His thumb running along her jaw and chin as she welcomed him and his tongue to tangle with hers.  Shivers ran up and down his spine, while his hells seemed like just an old bad childhood dream and quickly washed away with her orange and clove scent.

Then he heard that wicked cackling deep inside his mind, soul, and heart.  Those cackles reminded him of what those damn blood mages sounded like beginning their massacre.  His amber eyes flashed opened and gazed down at Evie.  Instead of seeing that enchanting woman who healed him more in the last few weeks than any templar sanctuary, there were two black marble eyes staring up at him with lilac skin, gold chains and piercings, and long twisting horns.  He suddenly felt every scar, claw, and dripping blood covering his trembling body.  He smelled decaying flesh, feces, urine, and blood.  His hunger for lyrium, fresh water, and sustaining food gnarled his gut.  His ears just repeated every last scream he heard as another brother- or sister-in-arms was sacrificed in the Harrowing Chamber.  Cullen thought that moment with Evie was all a twisted hell, just another horrific teasing act by that same desire demon who wore Maya Amell’s skin every night in his night terrors.

However, just like that was really Maya Amell returning to the Circle with Warden Alistair Theirin, a quite alive Wynne, and the Orlesian archer Leliana, Evie was real and he harmed her like he nearly killed those apprentices and wished branding and death on each and every mage that walked Thedas.  Unlike Maya, who sobbed and mourned for a boy that no longer existed, Evie was left alone without anyone to aid her after such a terrible collision.

Maker!  Is she dead!?

Cullen jolted up and jumped to his bare feet.  Maker knows when he took off his boots and socks.  Or his leather jacket.  His longsword sat beside him on the bear fur rug.

Focus, you moron!  Evie!

Cullen smacked himself, reaching out through the bond for that violin-

-Wait, there was a violin in his dream.  That was not a dream, but the actual memory.  Why did he not remember…

The templar cried out and fell to his knees searching in his memory what he just realized.  Every scar that littered his body from those long weeks burned.  The cackling resumed in his head in melody with the screams.  He never had so much problems with the past torture while awake as he had now.  Not once, but twice in a second day...?!

Now, what was he trying to remember?

Evie’s violin mutely called back at him inside his heart and soul.  Just like when he was falling asleep, the sound felt so far away, but Cullen knew after the last weeks, she was actually nearby.  Now that Level Six had been initiated, every so often, the sound of water, the smell of soaps, and painted walls filtered through his senses, then would be blurred away. 

The knight sat down on the bed once the scars simmered to an ache and his brand attempted to strengthen and discover Evie’s condition.  The two different pains were at odds, battling like his mind with his heart and his body with his soul.  Never did Cullen understand more why the spirits wanted to be rejoined than now feeling torn in two within himself.

Think, Rutherford!

Cullen gulped and concluded Evie was okay and back at the mansion.  That was a start.  What condition she was in was a different matter, but from the muted aches fighting with his own scars from Kinloch illustrated she had been hurt by him and the collision, but was mending safely in the estate.  The fact that he was not dead likely said the bann and Knotts were either waiting for nightfall to kill him in his sleep or did not know about the incident—yet.  From the muted emotions flowing from Evie, she did not want anyone knowing about this humiliating encounter.

Humiliating.  Regretful.  Unwanted.

That was what Evie thought and felt, her emotions not so guarded now that so many sensory levels have been reached.  Any feeling either person did not want known by the other was more likely transmitted than not.  Cullen felt on the fringes hints of more, but he could not pinpoint through the greatest feelings floating from Evie now:  He hates me and will always hate me.

Cullen winced and smacked him forehead.  Of course she would feel that way.  After all those things he shouted like never trusting her and calling her a demon, anyone would assume he hated them.  But it was not just that.  She felt his fear and hatred, not knowing he thought it was that blasted desire demon kissing him and not the amazing Evie who sassed him at every turn and enjoyed making him laugh even if it was a light chuckle.  Cullen through his fear told her everything he wished to say to that demon and she concluded it was her he felt that towards.

“Fucking dumb jackarse!”  The templar hollered, throwing him off the bed and pacing around his room.

Somewhere, Mia’s scolding voice echoed in his head:  fix this, little brother!  It was always Mia who found him and made him fix his mistakes with others as much as he wanted to high tail and run or just mumble ‘sorry’ and think it done with.  However, now his sister needed her set of apologies from Cullen and an explanation for his idiocy such as why he left home with no news.  All three of his siblings would be ashamed of his actions that day.  Their parents taught them all never to harm anyone who did not threaten you, and even then, find a peaceful resolution before throwing punches.  He could see Branson, Mia, and Rosalie glaring at him from across the room to the point he was sheepishly rubbing his neck and fluffing his unruly curls in shame.

The only problem now was that his siblings were not there to talk his apology through.  His parents dead protecting his siblings.  There was no one who he could ask how to unfuck up this mess.  Lady Gwen was out of the question.  Even in this situation, she would say he needed to think it through alone and never harm her daughter again.

Words never came easily to Cullen.  He was a man of action.  Alas, that wrong action placed him in this mess.  If anything, he should first seek her out to make sure she was okay.  While the thumping in his skull was gone, the blood in his hair worried him.  He smited and silenced her so her already low mana was even worse off now.

“Just find her, find out if she well, dodge the fireballs she will likely throw at your head and your groin, and apologizes when she is done screaming.”  Cullen concluded as he stomped towards the bedroom door. 

Right as he turned the doorknob, Cullen glanced back at his longsword lying on the floor.  Should he take it with him?  Maybe put back on his leather jacket?  Wear his boots?

No, Evie needed to see how troubled he was by his actions.  By not being armed, she will see he means her no harm.  He was breaking his own chant established in Kinloch Hold, but it would not be the first time he had.

For once, Cullen Rutherford walked into danger unprepared, and he believed it was all right.

Chapter Text

Evie floated along with the strong pumped undercurrent, her nude body wading across the warm water like a piece of driftwood.  The slight waves created by her heartbeats and stabilizing feet and hands movements rippled against her muscular body and shapely figure.  Her sun-kissed olive skin contracted and complimented against the purple-hued cobalt blue tiles lining the pool’s bottom.  Like islands in an expansive sea, her bare breasts rose and sunk with each long relaxing breath.  Her nipples mimicked volcanic peaks, the areolas a little darker like they had been touched by the fire mage’s smoldering smoke and lava rumbling below the fleshly volcanic surface. 

Every so often with a hand wave, her auburn hair glanced her pierced ears, its red undertones brightening the majority brunette strains each time she passed a brass floor-length candelabra.  The wet wavy hairs acted like tentacles beneath the water, washed clean of any tree grim, blood, and sweat from her morning activities.  With each foot kick, her head floated towards the arched windows carved and cut out of the cliffs.  Indoor swimmers could gaze outside at the rolling sea safely but never fear if a passing ship or person might see if they swam naked just as Evie did now.

Of course when the Promiser fleet arrives in about a week, massive metal and stone shutters will be slipped over the windows.  The precautions were part of the space’s original design as a way to close possible loopholes adversaries could use to enter the manor or destroy the estate’s stone and metal fountains.  Each generation of Trevelyans improved the isle’s fortifications while investing money in its creature comforts.

That was why the Tevinter baths were a place of fun, peace, and functionality to avoid underground flooding and destabilization.  Evidently, when the inferno mage’s ancestors travelled south again and began amassing their wealth, they kept many designs and comforts they experienced in Post-Blight Imperium.  Since Trevelyans worked closely with dwarves, they understood underground construction and fountains, merging dwarven piping and construction techniques with Tevinter practices that utilized massive amount of magic and unfortunately slaves.  To make the same baths Evie enjoyed at the moment, Evie’s family commissioned dwarves to create enchantments and runes to heat the water, pump without the use of direct magic and slavery, and metal piping.  Tevinter knowledge of such spaces and their circulation, public heath, drainage and water purification allowed the manor above to avoid major flooding and salinization from the surrounding seas. 

The project took three generations to complete, but the bathing pool was an iconic space of luxury and relaxation for anyone who knows of its existence.  Orlesians, Antivans, and Nevarrans who visited any Trevelyan estate experienced these types of pools and clamored for the designs to replicate them in their own homes.  Fereldans utilized their geography and own cultural practices to revise the pools into natural hot springs, particularly useful in the chilly winters.  The bathing pools became a part of Thedosian nobility’s knowledge about House Trevelyan just as much as their lyrium shipping, horse breeding, and mining enterprises.

There were actual washrooms in their suites for bathing individually if propriety was an issue.  However, the expansive pool became a public gathering where women would bath and gossip together.  Evie learned to swim in this very bathing pool before becoming accustomed to sea swimming.  As children, Esme and she wore specifically-made undergarments in the pool to play games.  Adults used the pools in the evenings and privately.  As a child, Evie shuddered and scrunched her nose when some servants suggested her baby brother was conceived in the bathing pools…Ugh.  No person should know that about their parents!

Alas, the point of this specific pool the last few years swayed away from a public bathing space and swimming retreat to a place of purification, one Evie seemed to need every other day now to sooth her weakening body and soul after so many violent nights.  If someone looked closely at her sun-kissed skin, they would see the deep undertone of white gashes and textured areas from layers of wounds both physically and spiritually inflicted to her maiden body.  They would be constantly visible if the family did not have this pool.  Furthermore, the maiden’s more private regions suffered more noticeable scars and wounds that nothing could reverse.  Thank the Maker they were usually covered when she wore clothes.

Every morning, the estate’s Chantry mothers blessed the waters and constantly lit special herbal incenses nearly choking the valeted ceiling now caked with smoke and ash.  The ceiling fresco of the Thedas’ night sky needed scrubbed and re-varnished every year to avoid damaging the ancient detailed painting containing all the constellations and Thedas’ twin moons during Satinalia.  With the blue tiled floors and ceiling, the space was dark, but the gold leaf accents pressed into the arches’ edges and painted to represent the stars and sky reflected the flickering candle light, brightening darker corners and marble wall columns.

The bathing pool room sat several subfloors below the house and had become Evie’s sanctuary, a place to heal after her demon battle.  Now, it was as much her cage as her personal Abyss.  Her blood tainted these blessed waters many times over the years.  The water filters removed the damaged flesh floating on the surface when cycling and draining through copper and terracotta pipes.  No longer did the young maiden and her brother play and the adults lounged in the comfortable steamy waves.  Until Evie’s personal war ended, it will be a place of healing demon wounds.  Before the space transformed into a cleansing pool, hundreds of gallons of water had to be pumped out to start fresh.  No clothing could be worn in possible because possible fiber contaminants that Andrastian chanting or dwarven runes could not cleanse. 

Now, all people who dunked their heads here must bare their bodies just like their souls.  The stone door leading into the spaced locked in such a way that very few people could enter the space until told the combination, so Evie never had to worry someone who should not see the virgin like Acteon saw Artemis in ancient Tevinter mythology.  Maker, that would just make things even worse after that morning’s foolish romancing mistakes…

The fire mage did not know why she allowed her mind to recreate the combination in openly in her mind.  She just let her mind and heart wandered much like she always wished to do in the Fade.  There was a time she never feared her thoughts might contact a boy on the other side of the world or attract demons and spirits alike desiring to possess her.  The door locks flashed and danced behind her closed eye lids and her heart flew free.  Rejection’s sting pranced so easily in her open mind and heart now.  However, it could not be tempered and wished away completely, but padded as her soul and mind accepted nothing could be done-

-“Eve…?”

Evie yipped like Cullen’s new mabari pup, flopping her legs down into the water and submerging herself under the steaming waters until just the tip of her nose bounced against the waves.  She instantly casted a barrier around herself, its icy blue hue just showing over her soggy hair and frantic eyes.  To protect her modesty every more, she slapped her arms over her B-sized breasts.

Those fade-touched chocolate brown orbs flashed towards the inner wall by the stone door and bathing steps and seats to see Cullen frozen mid-step.  Even from the short distance, Evie saw his amber eyes widen and nearly pop out of his skull.  His once pale and sickly face turned crimson in seconds as his mind caught up with his senses of what he actually walked into.  The knight visible trembled before pivoted on his bare feet…?  He flashed away and covered his eyes with both callused hands.  “Maker’s breath!  I-I didn’t see a-anything!”

“How in the bloody void did you get in here?!”  Evie hollered, her own face flushing and heated.  For a quick moment, she took felt like she needed to turn away to protect her nudity, but held off.  If she did that, the echo will distort and muddle her words.  Still, her knees rolled her into a tight ball until her whole body bobbed like a fisherman’s wooden lure.

Since not turning away, Evie stared at the templar’s back.  Her lips pursed and anger flared.  The mage’s mind and heart screamed Haven’t I been embarrassed enough today, Maker?!  Yet, the scene of this turned-away knight presented was opposite than what his words hissed just bells before.  Cullen’s longsword, his most prized possession, was missing on his hip.  His leather jerkin discarded somewhere showing off his thin white tunic untied and hanging loosely from his neck and buff arms.  If the candles danced in a specific way, Evie viewed his stiffened muscles flexing as he trembled and moved with each nervous neck rub.  His tunic tails were half pulled out of his waist band and trousers, while his bare feet and toes scrunched against the slick tiled floors.

He looks so unkempt like he dressed in a hurry.  Where is his sword?!  He never is without his protection.  And his boots?  That means his boot knife is missing too.  Precaution and protection as his personal tenants!  What in the Maker’s fuck is going on?!

Cullen winced and slouched his shoulders, his right hand continuously rubbing and massaging his neck right below his ruffled hair.  From how fast and trembling his hand did the action, he resembled a mage who was about to cast a disappearing spell to escape the embarrassing circumstance.

“I-I-I-  Maker’s breath…”  The Fereldan gulped, his baritone boyish croaks echoing off the fine walls.  “I wished to seek you out….s-s-s-see if you were okay after...”  He winced and swallowed again.  “…this morning.  I-I-I- had no idea the manor reached so far down into the cliffs.  I just stupidly listened into your violin until I got here.”

“But how did you get in here?!”  Evie bit through her teeth while biting her lip.  Her Free Marcher lilt bit more than she intended, her blushing and own nervousness rolling off her in spades.  There was no denying Cullen could feel how this was making her feel.

His voice toned down as he slightly glanced over his shoulder.  “You showed me…?”  His phrased demonstrated both confusion and statement.

Evie audibly groaned and smacked her forehead, her other arm still concealing her breasts.  That’s right.  Her mind wandered on how the lock turned and moved, unprompted.  She likely sensed his questioning when he reached the main door and she responded with either recognizing each other’s intention.  This was what Evie always feared about Level Six Bonding.  Unless consciously thinking about it, her thoughts, emotions, and some senses flowed through their bond unhindered.  While Evie knew one last failsafe still held Cullen out from her hidden soul, all others melted away over the last week.  There was little to keep this man out of her whole being.

However, the connection meant she could essential jump into his body a little and see through those beautiful amber orbs, hear the world around Cullen, and smell aromas.  Like a switch, those sensories flowed over Evie, her soul still with her body, but extended to another person like their body was her own skin.  It felt intrusive but Cullen was not forcing her out.

It felt straight feeling and experiencing the world like Cullen.  The young knight kept squeezing his eyes shut, but slowly opened them every time his mind wandered on what Evie might be doing behind him.  His attuned ears heard each bob and splash as she padded and kicked to keep herself afloat.  His textured hand kept its rubbing action.  The templar flexed not to massage the muscles but to avoid an ever-growing urge to feel something else, but Evie did not know what.  His thoughts fixated on the flowing clove and orange scent wafting up his nostrils, settling and exciting his soul in a deep burning fire and calming his racing mind telling him to flee.  He kept repeating he fled already and could never do so again, whatever that meant.  Lastly, his scarred lips kept pursing and tongue licking each to moisten the healing tissue.  His other hand rubbed his chin where his afternoon stubble made it feel like coarse sand.  His licking and pursing tongue just kept reminding Evie of how Cullen tasted like a fine Fereldan mead, one she yearned to taste again and again.

No, you can’t think of him that way!

In disgust, Evie pulled herself from his world and back into her own being, her skin goosebumping once realizing how closely bonded the two people actually were.  Could he jump into her the same way, glance down, and see her nude form?  Did she want him to see?

Don’t.  Think.  Like.  That!

“H-h-h-ere…”

Evie yanked out of her thoughts as she saw strange movement from the Fereldan man.  He stayed with his back turned, but grabbed his tunic seams.  He pulled the garment upward, his hand trembling.  Instantly, Evie knew she flushed purple, her mouth gapping open like a fish.  Was he going to join her or something?!

It was not the act of Cullen taking off his shirt, but what laid underneath.  Each small movement flexed a new muscle Evie was unaware humans even had.  Even on Qunari, the muscle or tendon looked different.  On Cullen, it incited a response Evie never experienced before.  The ripple down her spine, the tingling between her legs, the urges to trace each chiseled valley with her fingertips…her tongue?

Suddenly, the bathing pool was too warm and hypersensitive to her entire body.

Then, the lust retreated.  Her desire shifted to mourning and regret for scattered across that statuesque back were dozens of white and pink scars still healing after so long.  Some were single cuts from daggers and swords.  Other wounds were textured from electrical burns.  However the most noticeable were the dots about inch in diameter across his exposed shoulder blades, mid-back, and shoulders.  Evie covered her mouth, the silent tears pouring before she could stop them.  The remorse and guilt overflowed her entire being.  She lowered herself below the surface, hiding the grief of her follies so exposed and present on the man she loved.  She just wanted t release the air in her lungs and drown.  She deserved to die.

All my fault…

“Eve…?”

Evie heard her special name through the water, breaking the surface again and wiping her face clean of any guilty tears.  It took a moment for the water to drain from her salty eyes until she saw how close Cullen had back-stepped to the bathing pools’ edge, his tunic fully removed and pinched behind his thumb and index finger and arm stretched back over the water.

He’s offering you his shirt to cover yourself…

Evie bit her lip.  No clothing was supposed to be in the pools.  The grim will break the water’s blessing.  “Maybe it is better you leave…”  Her voice cracked, her heart not wanting him to go but to if she needed the pools to heal again…

If he saw her hidden scars…?

Cullen winced forward, but still kept his arm out.  “I-I- know I should…but my conscious will not let me rest until I make amends and explain my actions.”

Evie froze, her hands falling from her submerged breasts.  He wanted to apologize to her?!  Why?  He made it clear his feelings were towards her and her existence.  He felt those raw emotions flow from him in the grove.  Cullen was not a liar.  There was no point of him apologizing if he did not mean it.

“I know this is not the best…situation to do so…”  Cullen mumbled, rubbing his neck with his free hand.  “But please, Eve…I’ve have done you so wrong.  It is only right to apologize and explain.”

Evie realized she was panting hearing his words.  She could not stare at his back or scared skin, already so pale from his Fereldan heritage, but even more so by the numerous scars.  Evie swallowed, swimming forward enough until her feet reached the shallow part of the pools.  Then she walked through the water, her wariness drifting off her in waves with her magic.  She needed to demonstrate to Cullen she was no harm and where she was in the open room.  The mage also needed him to be aware that she was not angry about him disturbing her bath, but hide the guilt and shame seeing her actions so clearly against his majestic body.

Within a few feet of the pool edge, Evie rose enough to grasp the shirt, barely tugging as Cullen let go.  As soon as the garment left his fingers, Cullen returned his arm to his side and covered his eyes.  As soon as the linen fibers touched the water, Evie felt a shift, the enchantment breaking from the foreign non-living source.  Maybe one shirt will not make much difference and Mother Moira can bless the waters tonight while Evie can work the filter pumps a little harder before she leaves.

The maiden made as much splashing as possible while putting on the oversized shirt.  The more it touched the water, the more it absorbed the blessed water, making it difficult to pull over her nude body.  The stretched fiber stuck to her body like animal glue until she tugged it down over her groin.  For how wide the neck was, it nearly slip off her shoulders and arms and downward like she zipped through a tube.  Evie kept having to pull the sleeves and embroidered color up and over her shoulders and breasts just to stay covered.

Then that haunting scent enveloped the fire mage.  Evie’s chocolate eyes rolled back into her head as that sage, lavender, oakmoss, and elderflower aromas encircled her.  The bit of sea salt muddled the scent’s edges from his time outside, but the different components of his hair tonic, teas, and balms enraptured her.  Then, that dark firewood musk tone Evie attempted to replicate after their first closeness in the tavern soothed her subconscious—that musk that was completely Cullen.

I’m falling harder for him more and more each moment.  I cannot stop it.  I deserve this pain and torture for everything he has been through…

“You…descent?”  Cullen questioned, briefly glancing over his shoulder.

“As best as possible at the moment.”  Evie mumbled, hoping to cover up the conflicting emotions rolling through her.  Part of her wanted to invite him into the pool while the other was so thankful for sending that missive to her first mate before bathing.  “You are…a little broader than me.  A-and the water superglues the fabric to me.”

“I-I-I-I- stay this direction then.”  Cullen gulped while combing his fingers through his curly hair.  “Look I…I’m shameful for my actions in the grove-“

Evie winced and lowered in the water.  He regrets kissing me.  Of course he does…

“I promised you that I would never push you into any bonding levels like all templars are ordered in the academy.”  The knight continued with his confession.  “The first I do afterwards is kiss you without permission or your approval.”

“The bonds make us do somethings things beyond our control.”  Evie whispered, her eyes staring into the water.  The bond and spirits drove him to do it.  He likely had little control.  She barely held her control even now.

“If you said that a week ago, I would have blamed my actions on the bond spirits.”  Cullen confessed, his waist turning just enough to see a little bit more of the room and Evie could hear the conviction in his baritone voice.  “No, today were the actions of a tainted man who has yearned for a pure noble lady longer than he is willing to admit to himself.  What I did—kissing you—had nothing to do with the bond and were of my own twisted desires.”

Oh.  Evie’s eyes notice his peeking right amber gem over his shoulder so tentative and waiting for her refusal.  He wanted to kiss me…?  Evie thought deep inside herself as buried as possible so Cullen could not hear.  He heard his piano tapping nervously with the confession, his heart hammering in his chest.  Their brands laid dormant on each other, giving them the space to navigate this revelation on their own.

“I’m…”  Evie squeezed her eyes closed.  “I’m not a pure lady…just as you are not a twisted, tainted man.”  She slowly opened her gaze again, her eyes tracing the scars littering his back.  “You share more now about yourself now just as you found me so bare and exposed.  If it brings you any comfort, Good Lion, I too wished for your lips many times…”  Years actually…

Cullen’s ears shifted to blushing pink as he turned his face towards her in the pool.  Hope and guilt whitened allover his stubbled features.  “Why me…?  You are someone who can yearn for anyone better easily…”

Her knight thought him so beneath her.   If he only knew…  “Why not you?  Why me?”  Evie quipped back with a raised brow.  “You don’t trust me, but still yearn for my company.”

“And that is something I am working through.”  The templar admitted finally turning around, feeling through their bond he could without seeing too much.  Still, Evie kept herself submerged enough so that the slicking tunic did not reveal too much of her shape.  “Those shouts…those fears I screamed at you in the grove and through the bond were not meant for you.  My…past tarnishes anything I see wonderful in this world, Eve.  Every second I am in your company, I worry how much more my disease will rub off on you and blemish everything I fine fantastic and freeing about you.”

Maker, he does to know.  I am a monster.  My Lion, I am so sorry!

Evie blamed the dripping water throguh her hair for the tears trickling from her brown eyes.  “Who says I am not doing the same to you, Cullen?  Why do you believe me so white and yourself so tainted black?”  Evie’s Free Marcher lilt kept cracking, her sorrow so deep that dark abyss threatened to pour out and blight everything.  “Why not share our colors…make a grey with the good and the bad.  Isn’t that what bonds are supposed to do?  Share the burdens so that it is balanced…equal?”

It has never been equal.  For all you did, Evie, he still experienced it all.  He suffered because of me.

“I cannot ask you to carry my hells, Eve.”  Cullen exhaled, flicking a curl out of his face.  “No person should know what I experienced, especially you.”

You could tell him you know personally.  You felt every moment and did everything you could from so far away.  Evie squeezed her eyes shut and held back a sob.  No, he will kill me before he is safely away.  If he wishes to kiss me it is because of looks, but not what is deep in this disgusting soul.  He can never know.  It is my burden.

Yet you want him to open up to you and tell you himself.  The halved Spirit of Purpose spoke, twisting her shoulder brand to hear its words.

Because I should not have to shoulder it alone.

Just as you shoulder your own experience from those weeks by yourself.  The spirit quipped.

Evie shook her head and coughed.  She mustered a fake smile.  He needed to know she did not hate him, but she will never tell him she loves him.  “Thank you for the explanation.  I do not blame you for anything.  It is you who has been caged on this isle, Cullen.  I should be apologizing to you.”

“I blame your father more.”  The templar sighed, dropping his hand from his neck.  “I said my peace.  I better let you finish…”  He waved at the pool.  “…bathing I assume?”

Evie giggled.  “Of a sort.  Thank you for your shirt.  I’ll return it later.  Good luck returning to your room…”  She referenced his bare chest.  “…like that.”

Cullen chuckled, deep rumbles that ignited her soul.  “I can handle the embarrassment and strange looks, especially after harming you.”  His brow perked and smacked his forehead.  Both people winced at the slap’s pain.  “I am a fool.  Are you okay?  I had blood in my hair and passed out when I got to my quarters.”

The fire mage panicked.  Of course Level Six induced paired injuries.  In her harmed state, Cullen suffered too.  “I’m better now.  I hope the pain subsided for you.  The village healer patched me up, while my returning mana allowed me to handle the deeper bruises.  That’s actually why I am in the baths now.  The constant heat from the piping and the blessed waters are good for the body and soul.  I wished we could have brought you here to bath when you first arrived, but the distance to get here would have done more harm than good.”

Cullen’s whiskey gaze studied the expansive bathing room.  “It’s…something out of a palace.  I’ve need seen anything like this ever.”

“Tevinter inspired, Trevelyan tweaked.”  Evie winked.  “Thank you though, Cullen.”

“Of course, Milady.”  Cullen smirked before stepping towards the stone door.

He called me Milady…like I am his-

Evie watched as Cullen’s foot slipped on a water puddle, flipping backwards and right into the bathing pool bare feet over head and arms flying.  Nothing Evie could do could stop the fall as be plunged into the depths.  She dove under the waves to stop his head from cracking against the tile.  On splashing on the water, Cullen cried out in surprise and fear, his higher pitched shrieked, echoing off the marble arched walls and ceiling.

“Lady Evie!?”

Evie froze.  Oh fuck.  Fesill?!

Chapter Text

One minute, Cullen was finally get to make his grand escape.  He officially made it through his apology after catching Evie in the bath and bare.  His whole attention was on the stone door that led him out of that bathing room and into some much needed cold fresh air.  The next, his whole body was submerged underwater with his bare feet flipped up in the air, the left slightly wet from slipping in the puddle.  Sudden fears from the shipwreck rolled through him, waiting for the clear waters to turn black and bloody like that night over a month before.  His back smacked the water surface and successfully kicked the air out of his lungs.  Air bubbles jumped out of his nose and mouth as he sunk.

Then two gentle hands caught his head before it clunked against the cobalt blue, white, and yellow tiles establishing the bathing pool mosaic floor.  Instantly, Cullen’s amber eyes opened and looked through his dancing blond curls to see a majestic siren swimming behind him, brunette waves dancing with red seaweed hair.  His tunic danced around her body below the surface, widening and closing around her body.  Her olive skin looked more muted and pale in the water, while her dark chocolate eyes glimmered black like marbles at him. 

Cullen was able to catch his fear before repeating his earlier mistake a second time.  If Cullen’s sight was better under the water, he would have seen those shapely bodily curves he fantasized like a lurch every night while drifting to sleep.  He successfully spent their whole talk keeping such images from his brain, but now his restraint was non-existence swimming in the pool with her. 

See that the knight’s head and body were safe from injury, Cullen expected Evie to assist pulling him up back to the surface for air, but she actually shoved him down and back behind her towards deeper waters.  Twinges of magic danced above the water surface before being plunged down into the water and around him.  Cullen’s claustrophobia and magical fears rippled through him, but felt not malicious intent from his bond.  If anything, she feared she could not protect him from something she realized outside the pool.

Cullen soon realized what spell Evie just casted.  It was a force spell with a barrier exterior, trapping air inside a large bubble around his head.  This was the first time Evie every directly casted on him, understanding and respecting his fear of magic.  For her to do so now meant she had no other choice.  Tentatively, Cullen took a breath in the waterless bubble and received calming fresh air.  He kept the breaths shallow just in case just a few exhales and inhales sucked up all the fresh air she provided. 

In her hurrying to move them to the deeper depths, the maiden expanded the bubble her fingers dancing above the surface and the other hand on the barrier.  Evie swam in front of his gaze and held her finger to her lips like to stay quiet.  She kicked upward, stilling hold his hand until she broke the surface.  Cullen quickly remembered to not look upward knowing he would have a tantalizing glimpse that he had no right to gaze upon or think about.

Then, things shifted in Cullen’s psyche.  An invitation through the bond?  Cullen jumped into the strange feelings, suddenly pulled upward.  A head out of water and panting.  Eyes forward and staring at the opening stone door where Cullen was walking towards before his fall.  A red-headed elf raced in with a female guard, her brown eyes big as saucers.  Orange and clove scent wisped from auburn wet waves hanging over the sight.

Cullen felt this sensation before.  It occurred right after he shield bashed Evie into the tree and later searched for her in the house.  He knew he though he felt water and the afternoon sun streaming through a window.  Instinctively, via himself, he looked back at the far wall where large arched windows overlooked the sea from the cliffs.  That was the sunlight he saw before.

The knight’s focus flashed back to the invitation connection.  His actual amber eyes looked through the bubble at the floating Evie above.  Was he sensing through Evie?  She let him into her world?  Why?!

“Lady Evie!”  The red-haired elf called, while the female Trevelyan guard searched the bathing room.  “Are you well?”

“Fine, Fesill!”  That was Evie’s voice clear as day in his head, in her head?!  “Just caught my foot on a sharp bit of tile in the shallow end.

“I sensed magic, Lady Evelyn.”  The female guard called, blades drawn.  “Why did you need to cast?!  This is a safe space for you!”

Cullen felt Evie searching a lie for her cast.  It was like he was thinking, seeing, hearing, and speaking as her even though he was deeply hidden in the pool behind her.  Her hands pressed him down and away from her, but still out of sight of the other people in the room.  “I healed myself.  It was deep gash that I didn’t want my blood tainting the water anymore.”

“Do you need me to send for Prunella or get any bandages?”  Fesill quizzed, pointing behind her.  “I know you are quite still drained from whatever happened this morning.”

Cullen winced inside the bubble, but could not cover his shameful face without disturbing the barrier bubble.  He happened to her.  Maker’s breath…how could she have forgiven him so easily!?

“No need.”  Evie’s Free Marcher lilt was rushed and nervously happy.  “Seriously, you two.  Nothing’s wrong.”

“We would not be good with our jobs if we did not race in here, my lady.”  The guard remarked, her blue eyes studying Evie like she could tell Evie was lying.

“And I would like some peace while trying to heal and recuperate.”  Evie growled, glaring at both women regarding their pushiness.  “I appreciate your alarm, but I am not having the greatest day, my brain hurts from my fall, and I just want to be alone.”

“Of course, Lady Evelyn…”  The female guard bowed and slowly turned back towards the door.  “I will continue my rounds on this floor then while you bathe just in case.”

“Are you sure you do not need me to call for the healer, Evie?”  Fesill hung around, her small pale hands clasping out in front of her.

Cullen could feel Evie’s pain for lying to her friend.  However, she kept chanting inside herself that it was for both Cullen and her own good.  If anyone found them together in such capacity—even her lady in waiting she trusted deeply—it would be like a giant bear kicking a hornet’s net in the middle a Satinalia ball filled with silly Orlesians having a massive orgy.

Really, Eve?  Cullen thought, processing that mental image.

You weren’t supposed to hear that!  The maiden hissed through their bond.

“No, I just got to let this concussion wane and enjoy the quiet.”  Evie sighed, moving Cullen at little behind her to let him rise to the surface when the coast was clear.

“Okay…”  Fesill pattered back towards the door.  “Don’t be too long or you’ll prune worse than a baby’s bottom.”

“I don’t plan on it.”  She grumbled watching as the women slip down the hall and close the stone door behind her.

Cullen felt himself kicked from Evie’s head, his body force-pushed back to the surface, and the barrier bubble burst as his head safely surfaced.  Instantly, Cullen coughed and wiped his face, searching around the room like he did not know they were alone again.  His widened amber eyes flashed to Evie.  She held both hands over her mouth.

“I am so sorry I had to cast on you without permission!  Please forgive me.  I know how you feel about magic.”  Evie quickly mumbled through her fingers, shaking her head.  “I had to think fast.  My father would have kill us both if he found out about anything that happened today.”

“Like a hornet’s net during a-“

“Shut up!”  Evie huffed, her arms crossed over her chest.  The actually pushed his soaked tunic down and exposed the deep swell of her upper breast.

Cullen actually chuckled, making sure he was a few swimming kicks away from the barely clothed maiden.  However, it was a chore to keep his eyes on her face and not how his oversized tunic hung off one wet shoulder and stuck to her so tightly its see-through sheen barely left anything to the imagination.  Just seeing how her breasts somewhat bobbed on the surface when she relaxed her arms almost made him having a nose bleed.  His heart felt like it would pump right out his chest seeing her so bare and natural before him.  “While startling, I was more floored I heard and experienced all of that through your eyes!”

“Welcome to Level Six…”  Evie nonchalantly introduced with a shoulder shrug.  “I was kind of pulled into your head while you were turned away before.  That gave me the idea to keep you calm while I essentially drowned you to hide your presence.”

“It happened almost instantly in the grove following the kiss, then when I wondered if you were okay.  Which, I’m so sorry again.”  Cullen repeated, hanging his head so his wet curls covered his whiskey eyes.  He felt like he will never feel like they were even for what violence he did on her person.  “Maker, I had no idea the connection would be so fluid.”

“You and me both.”  Evie rolled her eyes and blew out her cheeks.  Still, her attention was on the stone door every few glances in fear someone else might enter.  “I think we’ll be okay for a little while.  The guard Eleanor’s senses are heighten, so if we try to escape now, she will surely catch us.”

“Do you…”  He gulped.  “…have clothing here or did you just…”  Cullen felt his face flush at the thought as he waved to her practically nude body with a hand flick.  Just recognizing she was bare besides his wet quite-see-through tunic nearly gave him a coronary.

Evie pointed towards the far wall.  “Yes, there are laundry and dressing areas through hidden doors for men and women on opposite walls.  My belongings are back there, but I know for a fact there is nothing for men in the men’s room.  I’ve been the only one allowed to use this space for the past few years.”

“Why’s that?”  Cullen quizzed with a perked brow.  The space did not seem it was meant for one person to enjoy.

Evie bit her lip, her eyes dancing over the water surface trying to think of the proper words.  “This is a purification pool now.”  She turned purple as waves of embarrassment rolled through their bond.  “Blessed by Chantry mothers every morning.  It’s useful after fighting injuries like today and after…specific times of a female lunar cycle.”

Oh.

“Saynomore.”  Cullen blurred the words together.  They tumbled out faster than his tongue could move.  It reminded Cullen of how he discovered about women’s monthly bleeds, angering his older sister Mia one too many times during such cycles and getting her fist in his mouth.  His tooth was still chipped from her homemade copper ring…

Evie burst out laughing, shaking her head.  Cullen joined her, their unique voices echoing off the marble walls, arched ceilings, and massive pool.  For the precarious situation they found themselves in throughout the day, all they could do was laugh it off.  A person could only be so embarrassed repeatedly before everyone involved fell into laughter just to break the tension.

“I’m surprised I am not a crispy templar just for running in here, let alone this entire debauchery.”  The knight admitted after a few moments.  The bonds swam towards the shallower part of the pool to avoid kicking one another.  It seemed Evie’s idea of waiting this out dealt with staying in the water and enjoying the warmth.  Cullen definitely did not mind, feeling the heat loosen his tense muscles from their days of intense training.  Even his older wounds from Kinloch Hold and the shipwreck waned being in the blessed waters.  Did these sacred water work on demonic wounds too?

That might explain why Evie never had physical evidence from her night battles…?

“I do not hold what happened in the grove as your fault, Cullen.”  Evie sighed, hanging her head.  She swiped her damp hair from her face and behind a bruised ear.  Cullen instantly chastised himself for the inflicted injuries.  Evie’s cautious dark eyes met his, likely hearing his self-loathing through their connection.  Maker, he will have to be double careful of what he feels and thinks now.  “And you should forgive yourself for the injuries.  It isn’t the worst I’ve received.”

The fact she said that with such confidence but deep sorrowful pain just made the guilt rise higher.  “It is more that I am the one who inflicted them and left you in such a state:  alone and unconscious.  The guilt just confirms when that connections happens in the Circle, all the odds are stacked against the mage bond.”

Evie reached out, her arm barely reaching his chin.  Her palm laid upwards, while her fingers invited him closer if he wished.  Cullen bobbed closer, unable to deny how much he wished to be touched by this woman again.  Her longer fingernails scrapped against his stubble before her fingers cupped his chin and moved farther inward up his jaw.  “But, unlike those Circle mages, I do not fear what you may do to me again.  Once is a mistake acted out of fear of the unknown and scars…”  Her other hand referenced his textured bare chest.  For the moment Cullen took off his shirt and offered it to cover herself, he never thought about the layers upon layers of scar tissue maiming his skin.  No other soul knew about them. 

Yet, the Fereldan felt more in his own skin in Evie’s presence.  Her searching chocolate eyes skimmed over the demons’ tortures with an empathetic expression.  Cullen took one more step against the water and tile floor towards her.  Evie’s eyes ballooned as he allowed her other hand to touch his pectoral muscles where a greater terror had clawed downward towards his abdomen.  “No matter the trauma, it does not excuse my behavior.”

Evie panted against the rippling water, her hand on his jaw falling away and flowed with his neck.  It kept drifting below the pool waters until it touched the outer bands of his lyrium brand.  “That alone tells me it will never happen again.  You are a man of honor, Cullen.  You don’t make the same mistake twice.”

“I don’t know about that.”  Cullen watched as her fingers traced the lyrium red and yellow brand.  It felt like the heavens compare with the times he used to do it.  He could not contain the happy groan rolling from his lungs and out his mouth at the silky touch on the sensitive skin.  Her other hand nudged him closer into her space.  It was difficult not to feel the shifting warmth in the foot of water separating them or how his tunic accented and opened in such a way that he could see her perked nipples and shallow breaths with each rippling water wave.  He wished to watch the swell of her breasts as he reached out to touch her arm, but directed his darkening lusting eyes to her tentative face.  “I have been disarmed twice in a little over a year.  I swore after the first time I would never be left unprepared and unarmed again.”

Evie scrunched her brow, her eyes flashing through the water to his beltless soaked trousers.  Maker, hopefully their close proximity and the water disguised how his breeches tented the longer he personally witnessed her alluring hour-glass body up close.  “You’re not carrying your longsword now…?”

“That’s because I am willingly been unarmed and disarmed by you.  I want to show you I am at your mercy and wrath.  I beseech your forgiveness and understanding.”

The fire mages slid her hand over his left pectoral muscle until her full palm laid over the red and golden runes and arcane circles binding the two young adults.  She lifted his floating arm with her free hand, laying it over her exposed shoulder until his fingers glanced her blue and yellow shoulder brand, warm and alight against his fingertips.  “Well then, I accept your apology.”  Her eyes broke from his intense stare to his puckered lips.  Her black pupils grew as her breath patted against his blushing cheeks.  “They only way I know for you to believe me is to steal a kiss from you…but I can’t.”  Her chocolate orbs returned to his molten gaze.  Cullen went to correct her, beg her to kiss him, but she smirked.  Of course she was sassing him.  “I learned from this whole thing too.  So, I ask you:  may I kiss you, dear Fereldan Lion?  Kiss for a kiss?”

“Maker, please…”  Cullen pulled her close, his arm snaking down her shoulder.  Her forearm followed her smooth satin back to her trembling spine.  The action pulled the tunic off the other shoulder, only staying on her body by her breast and elbows.  His hand staying on the pulsing brand aligning with his like an arrow pierced through her back and struck his fast beating heart.

Cullen’s other hand flowed up her bare bicep and held Evie’s neck and jaw as she rushed forward and claimed his lips for herself.  Unlike their first kiss, this one flowed with equal desperate desire.  Their spines electrified and their stomachs flipped at the skin contact that they both thought would never happen again.

For the first few moments, only their lips moved together, their mouths not open to taste one another again.  Their hands stayed frozen against one another, afraid to move and break apart far too soon.  Fear and hesitancy rolled through each person, not sure if the other wished for more.  Then Evie took the risk, her lips opening just a bit and her tongue gliding over Cullen’s bottom lip.  Possibly overeager, Cullen pulled her tongue into his mouth and suckled a few times, rewarding the man with the most ravenous mewl from the maiden in his arms.  Her chest gutted forward with a hip roll.  Cullen could not take it anymore and invited Evie in, tasting that mind-blowing sweetness and tart he never imagined would be on his lips and tongue again, let alone in the same day. 

This beautiful woman’s lips reminded the Fereldan of an elderberry pie his mother always baked in the late summer.  His mother sweetened the typical earthly deep toned berries with locust honey and enhanced with expensive lemon juice from Antivan, one of the few luxuries that reached southern Ferelden.  His mother remarked that elderberry flowers and elderberries had many healing properties great for a growing boy wishing to be a knight someday.

Maker, Evie healed him with just a kiss.  The maiden made Cullen want to be a better, growing man and knight.  Yes, she was his sweet, tart center.

In those moments, it was not just Evie’s thoughts or Cullen’s emotions, but one and the same.  They were experiencing what the other felt and sensed, no internal blocks or indecision barring the other from wondering if they asked too much opening their mouth’s for the others tongues.  They were one and the same person.  Utter relief, peace, and unity not one person thought possible flowed through their kisses growing more and more intense each moment married to one another.

As quickening as their feverish kissing launched, the hands slid from their bonding marks and over each other’s bodies.  Evie’s nails raked through Cullen’s curls, soliciting a deep growl from the man, only prompting her to do it more.  The wet curls twisted around her gentle fingers as Cullen felt through the bond her utter delight she could finally do so after so long.  The desire to comb those waves haunted her thoughts each time she saw him comb them with his own hands.  Cullen responded by unconsciously telling her she may do so when she wished and he will gladly welcome her touches.  No words spoken in the mind or by mouth, only through the spirits that connected them, slowly sewing back together after a lifetime apart.

The Fereldan’s callused hands did not stay in place either.  Much like Evie, he too wished to run his fingers through her wet locks.  The auburn waves stuck to his fingers from the water and bound his hand to her neck, massaging the tight muscles at the nape.  Again, a moan rolled through the young woman pulling herself deeper into his arms until she needed to break their kiss for air.  His massages just made her gasp and lean her head backwards.  The gasp perked her barely covered breasts against Cullen’s chin.  Somehow, a small bit of restraint kept him from let go of her bare bicep and neck and not grasp the soft silky flesh goosebumping against his chiseled jaw and stubble. 

Cullen braced his Lady’s neck with his hand, his lips leaving hers as she took needed breaths between their marrying.  Yet neither bit of Cullen was idle, his stubble marking her skin, raw and red with each kiss downward.  His hand continued massaging her neck.  He only stopped his kissing southward at the croak, taking a deep inhale and raking his callaused palms over her barely clothed body. 

Through the bond, Evie stated to explore and kiss for she was at his mercy.  Cullen replied not now, but to only be in her presence, smell her iconic aroma, and touch that perfect olive skin touched by the sun.  This moment fulfilled his desires for the day so he could carry them into his dreams and safeguard him from the terrors that may laid in the Fade. 

The more the man felt of this majestic woman physically, the more he will know when he was fooled.  Her violin must have called to him in his dreams and awoke him from the nightmares.  He could not remember a single moment, but he knew it true.  Its ever-weaving melody with his inner piano sang to him like a siren and reminded him she was his base and foundation.  Evie always reaffirmed that his past will not claim his fearful soul anymore.  When asked through their unique connection, Evie did not respond, only grasping his jaw and kissing him to the point of drown and suffocation, likely banishing all the horrors still remaining in his psyche.

That was how they spent their time waiting for milling people to forget their existence.  Kisses, wandering hands no lower than their hips, and a fluid of senses and feelings passed in that bathing hall that afternoon.  The morning now was long forgotten, and the future’s horrors pushed away.  The present only mattered between Evie and Cullen. 

Each person gave all they could willingly do without crossing a line.  The journey was over yet.  Too many barriers and secrets still kept from being truly united and whole.  Still, only Eve and Cullen existed in those kisses.  They were one and same being.

Balanced.  Healing.  Home.

Chapter Text

Evie heard her giggling echoes bouncing off the high walls in the open gallery.  A sly glance over her shoulder notified her how close her hunter stocked his prey.  There was an intensity in his amber stare that sent shivers up and down her spine like a lightning strike thundered through the manor that used her as a tall metal rod.  Still, Evie kept up the chase, aware of how her flowing dress with its deep open V-back flagged the hunter of her whereabouts.  Each time he would reach the hallway, she turned the next corner, the fluttering skirts teasing him that she was too quick and he must outsmart her to catch his prize.

Gliding around the next corner, Evie realized the prowling lion was not where she predicted him to be.  She stopped by a tall marble statue of the fifth Bann of House Trevelyan, peeking around either side for the golden curled animal that desired to capture her.  Her ears perked and magical aura reached out, waiting for the echoing of piano playing in harmony with her internal violin.

Nothing.

Damn it he was suppressing his song to sneak about.  Evie rolled her eyes, reaching out with her magic for another pitch the hunter housed, one she despised horrifically.  The lyrium addicted hum washed over her, making her instantly dizzy.  Its mineral abilities powered Evie briefly before she suppressed her threatening mana from spilling over the rim.  He was coming up behind her.

The fire mage pivoted on her nug slippers right as the hunting lion lunged out with outstretched hands.  Evie slipped away, dancing around the statues, her ringing glee filling the gallery halls with mirth and fun.  Oh it had been so long since Evie felt so alive.

“Getting tired yet, Mister Lion?”  Evie sassed with a perked brow as she slipped away from his grab once again.  “I can keep this up all day.”  She never used fade-step, just her natural deterxity honed from years of sparring and rogue training.

The most clitoris-inducing growl rumbled from this Fereldan lion as he combed his fingers through those fluffed curls Evie enjoyed grasping.  Just the day before when she caught him in the secret library reading by candlelight, the urge to touch and twist his curly hair around her fingers overwhelmed her.  She had approached his seat and leaned against the chair arm, her fingers lighting caressing the waves held together by a new batch of hair tonic she made personally for him.  Cullen moaned and leaned into her touch.  His head slumped and rested against her abdomen like he was listening to her heart beat and the continuous violin playing strumming just for him.  After a few minutes, he lunged out of his chair, pushed her against a shadowy corner and pressed his jolting hips against her body.  Their kisses were tame, but still an urgency to induce new sounds from one another just kept them both in these teasing hunting games.

It first began in the maze the morning after their first shared kisses in the Tevinter bathing pools.  Evie knew the hedge maze by heart, scrunching a finger at Cullen through an open window.  In a flash, the Fereldan knight was outside, but she already retreated into the maze.  Around and around they went much as they did in the gallery now.  Until Evie purposefully trapped herself in one of the dead ends.  They both know she was riled up, bits of ash and sparks floating around her.  Cullen was not much better, his jaw tight and set from the physical tension that first chase created.  Both reached out first to sense if they were indeed alone.  Once the answer was yes, Cullen scooped her up and kissed her breathless.  However, unlike in the secret library the day before, they quickly had to separate because the gardener—who had not forgiven the bonds for ruining the backyard—passed by with his wagon.  By the time the older man reached their position, they had separated, leaning on the tall bushes acting like they were talking while their hands flexed and attempted to hide their lustful panting.

The hunter-prey game spun Cullen and Evie into a tizzy these last few days.  It would begin randomly:  An intense glance across the table during a meal.  Hearing the other’s instrument from a nearby room.  An off comment during an innocent conversation in the Withdrawing Room.  No one else knew what those features meant, or at least did not acknowledged clues they picked up about the bond’s intentions. 

Cullen and Evie enjoyed their executive world their rare connection provided.  No one else hinted they were aware Level Six had been reached, but certainly the bann had to suspect something.  The two people instead allowed this little secret to grow and manifest into whatever they fantasied about.  For Evie, the chase, the cuddling, and his hands roaming over her clothed body, the secret kisses, and the deep moans rattling through the man she loved…she never wanted to wake from this unrealized dream.

…Even when the maiden knew this was only a deep physical attraction from Cullen.  He desired her body and time, the intensity of his kisses and hushed words into her ear that induced encouragements from the spirits wishing to be reunited than his own volition.  Evie knew it from the start in the bathing pools.  The strength of his action felt different—hollow even—through their bond.  There was not the same richness Evie bubbled and attempted to control deep inside herself.  Each time that lust rattled Cullen, it flowed through the bond holding nothing back about his intentions.  Evie’s way of handling this sorrowful realization was to just build a little more of the new barrier between them, while enjoying the remaining time the two people had together.  It was better to live in the fantasy than wake and recognize reality.

That was why this particular chase pushed the limits.  Evie scooted away from Cullen’s callused hands, teasing him with her fiery chocolate eyes and sassy smile.  The blond templar groaned and lunged around as they spun around and around the statues.  That tantalizing scarred lip jumped each miss, his annoyance rising to desperation.  His brow puckered and eyes alight as the frustration became too unbearable.

Watch how much you tempt the lion, her mind—or possibly the Spirit of Purpose—warned.  He has been a gentlemen thus far reading your signs through the bond up until now.  You might not want to push him over the edge.

Evie licked her plump lips, hungry for his to suckle them with affections.  No, she wanted to see Cullen lose control at least once.  He was a templar, constantly gauging and analyzing the world around him.  He kept his emotions close and thoughts proper, but Evie could see in the golden flicks in his raging eyes the tension inside stretched tight and nearly shattering.  Oh to be on the receiving end when that string successfully finally snapped.

  Purposely slowing, those sword-rough hands caught around the woman’s waist pulling her flush to that harden cut body.  A brief ooff puffed from her lips as his flexed chest knock the air from Evie’s lungs.  Instantly, her half exposed lyrium brand touched his, sticking to his slightly sweaty tunic.  The shock through their bodies rippled like rough seas against an eroding beach. 

Evie’s head rolled back and laid on his shoulder, panting as her desires and mental barriers keeping him separated from her deep inner troubles.  Cullen’s lips and stubble chin rubbed against her neck’s exposed satin skin.  His hot panting breath tickled her earlobe and dangling earrings.  For a brief moment, his teeth nipped her skin, igniting a great need through Evie.  Her mind blinked for a moment before it questioned, how does he know what to do to make her liquefy in his arms and give into his physical desires?  Based on what she felt and saw in his dreams, Evie knew he was not familiar with the company of any gender.  He never personally experienced such actions yet in his life, but he fueled the burning flames inside her suggested otherwise.  Was Evie unaware of an event before the torture that he found pleasure with someone else?  With Maya Amell?

No…

Evie quickly buried the hurt and heartbreak mixing deep in her stomach.

Another block to her new internal safeguards.

Don’t break your fantasy now, Evie, the mage reassured herself.  Live in the moment.  Enjoy this attention even if it just physical, natural reactions to the spirits desiring to be whole.  Do not let reality ruin what little time you have left.

“Eve…”  Cullen whispered into her right ear as his nose rolled around the outer shell.  Evie slumped in his arms, aching for more.  His buff arms encircled her small waist as he backed out of sight and towards a less traveled part of the gallery.  So flushed against her Lion, Evie felt his arousal each hip movement.  “…do you feel what you do to me?”

Evie sighed, Yes…!  She echoed through her mind.  She knew he heard her as this piano sang happily to the declaration.  He responded with small nips and kisses up her neck.  Against her rump, she felt a stiffening long presence grow and pulse, one she thought about late at night when she avoided sleep and Cullen’s calling music to find him in his dreams.  The idea of kneeling and exploring the unknown part of men beat like her groin nerves.  Her tongue moistened her lips and suppressed the wanton need building inside her.

The fire mage slightly wiggled her behind against the possible member, rewarding her with a loud groan.  His right hand nudged her chin towards his mouth, sucking on her pink slick lips with vigor unmatched by his attentions, his physical attraction for her thundering and deafening. 

The templar’s other hand untangled from hers at the waist and snaked up her body, first barely tickling the sheer fabric and exposed skin of her v-neck dress, one of his favorites he remarked in her mind just that morning.  She had asked him while gazing into the mirror to see through her eyes and give his fashion option on what to wear.  Cullen sheepishly agreed and she felt his disappointment of not being allowed to see her in just her corset, garter, and small clothes, just two dresses laying on her king-size bed.

Evie was not exactly ticklish, but the teasing touching up her sternum and wandering to her left breast left goosebumps until his wandering hand grazed right under her left breast.  In their intense kissing, she mewled, thrusting herself down until his hand grasped her mid-sized breast completely.  She called through their bond, giving permission.  Cullen’s hand held the flesh, twisting her barely covered nipple and enjoying the sounds rolling out of Evie’s mouth and swallowed by his dancing tongue and hungry lips.

Then the maiden felt it through their bond.  A brisk wave of anxiety and disgust.  Evie knew it was not exactly towards her, but about Cullen himself.  His hand fell away from her chest as he scolded himself for his actions.  The emotions of disgust and ruin reinforced his once struggling control.  Flashes of old nightmares with black eyes and blond hair reminded the man of his past transgressions, ones he accidently projected on Evie.  Even when he recognize he was doing so and pulled back from the mage, his fear and wariness towards apostates and magic still lingered.  His fear governed his lust and possible genuine feelings for Evie.

That was how Evie knew this was all physical based, not a deeper meaning.

All my fault, Evie thought silently, a major blocker in against the connection to avoid her bond knowing her regrets.  She knew he shunned himself from feeling anything, too afraid of giving himself over to anyone person lest the demons haunting him will use the thoughts and twisting them into a new hell.  Oh how Evie wanted to assure him that disgusting creature will never use her image to torture him.  The creature actually did everything possible to keep them apart at night.  It reinforced and utilized his once love and now fear of Maya Amell.  The monster constantly erased her violin and face from his memory while Cullen slept.  It disliked the idea of the bonds linking more, thus meaning it will not succeeding to achieve its ultimate goals.  That was why he retreated back from his physical attention, why he will not allow further feelings develop between them. 

That damn fucking lilac arsehat…

Live in this fantasy, Evie.  Enjoy these rare moments.  Do not let these moments slip away.

Evie twirled around, grasping his retreating wrist.  Evie had played coy all this time.  She had been taught the nobility’s idea of courting which stated the woman should not be direct and forceful.  Young maidens should be coy and bashful, meek and mannered in this modest dance between a proper man and woman.

Thank the Maker Evie was not a typical noble.

Evie clutched Cullen’s tunic and pulled him flushed to her body, placing his hand back on her eager breast.  Her other hand snaked around his neck as her tongue was nearly swallowed down his throat.  That apprehension and disgust the man felt vanished and turned towards relief that he did not cross an undisclosed line.  Evie knew she must be careful how far she pressed these loving affections, knowing too much will induce nightmarish memories that will send him into a panic attack.

All her fault.  Fucking purple bitch…

Cullen picked the woman up by the thighs and encouraged Evie to wrap her flexible legs to encircle his waist.  Evie did not exactly do that thankful this specific dress’ slits was higher than others, but hooked her knees around his longsword and belt.  A terrifying thought passed over her mind, screaming to cover herself.  It was not modesty as his hands snaked up her covered thighs and stockings.  No, he could feel her scarred regrets around her hip, upper back thighs, and behind.  She clenched his hand moved it to the side where the texture smoothed over the last few years.  If he felt those marks, he will surely question, then Evie would have to lie.  She hated lying and withholding information the man she loved.  Thankful, Cullen just assumed it was a line she did not want to cross yet.  Thank the Maker for small miracles.

Without even looking, the knight found a hidden corner beside a large lying down bronze statue of an Avvar folk hero holding a lustful captive that finally gave into his advances, a poetic image comparable with Evie’s back smacked against the wall.

The inferno mage’s nails racked up over Cullen’s jaw and into his fluffed hair.  Her lips never gave up.  Every so often, when Cullen needed a refreshing breath, she nibbled his scarred lip inducing new cunt-tightening moans.  Evie withered in his pawing large hands and flexing arms.  This new and invigorating sexuality she never explored before rolled to new heights.  Her hips thrusted into harden mass concealed in his thick trousers.  The frictions was not enough. 

As a noble lady, she should not have these urges.  Yet, she loved him.  Everything about this man clawing at her breasts, his roaming hands passing her shapely hips, and raking over her tightening thighs towards her behind…the inferno mage could not deny him.  He was smart, courageous, thoughtful, and unique.  He made mistakes throughout his stay but not without cause and reasons.  She knew why, but waited for the possibility he will tell her without being prompted.  She could not tell him she was the cause of his hells, keeping yet another secret from the love of her life.  How would react to the news…?  Horribly and likely strike her down in a flash!

Evie was evil incarnate.  She took from this man every moment.  Her selfish desires and need for him ruined and broke him more and more, reinforcing her actions just a few days ago was right.  Still, she kept it up, pushing Cullen’s limits, allowing his lust to use her like a common whore because that is what she wanted and was; atonement possibly?  Her nervousness of Level Seven just a few weeks before in her father’s office no longer existed.  The possibility of giving herself to his glorious Fereldan god overrode all the noble etiquette engrained in her psyche.  Once again her father was right:  Evie wished for such love and devotion. 

However, the maiden’s mind and heart all but stopped to give herself over completely.  Evie wished to have that connection be for love, not lust.  She loved Cullen with all heart and soul.  She had for so long despite only recently recognizing it.  She refused to acknowledge the fact for years, especially in the last month.  His forceful kiss in the grove broke her denials.  Those three life-changing words danced behind her lips eyes every time they separated for breaths before diving again with reaching tongues and twisting lips.  Maker, Evie wanted to break all her barriers and tell him.

Cullen did not love her.  All of his lustful attention was from the bond and physical attraction.  The facts kept being reinforced with his mental thoughts and hips thrusts against her shuddering body.  He will never love Evie.  He knew she was hiding more secrets.  He still did not trust her.  He respected her enough to not just plunge himself into her dripping cunt.  His parents taught him to be a gentlemen and the Order demonstrated restraint.  However, Cullen kept a division, his suspicious and inquisitive mind constantly searching a way to reopen the closing channel Evie sewed shut each passing minute.  The more reality sent in, the more the separation kept building, a purposeful act on the mage’s account.  He knew she was shutting him out, breaking through with each deep dive down her throat and wandering hand under her dress.

Yet, Evie’s building defenses grew, reminding herself that this was lust, not love.  Still Cullen pushed.  The maiden pulled away.  The fantasy crumbling the longer they made out in the corner.

“…Lady Evie…?”

Evie and Cullen torn apart.  The restrained lion took three swift step backwards away from Evie, his amber eyes nearly black and his face purple as he pulled himself away.  His templar and Fereldan honor slowly formed back, while his hands flexed and fisted.  His whiskey gaze told Evie everything:  he wanted her body, begging her to let him in.  His heighten emotions kept knocking her back against the wall searching for her through the Fade.  He wished to hear her thoughts and feel if she wished the same.  Evie’s obsidian black blocks hastily built a new barricade.  Her hands frantically shifted her dress and finger-combed her loosely braided hair disheveled from their urges.  Tears threatened to slip from her fully blown-wide pupils, while reality torn down her fantasies of what could have been and will never be.

“Lady Evie…?”  Fesill called again throughout the gallery.  By her echoes, she just turned down the hallway where Evie and Cullen hid. 

Evie twirled away from the man, facing the statues that had concealed them the last ten minutes.  Her shaking hand waved to the two chiseled beings lying in the woods.  “And you must know the old story of Tristen and Iseult.  It’s a common Fereldan folk legend.  Even a harden templar like yourself cannot escape a few romantic tales.”  Evie sang, her voice cracking as her lips quivered.

Cullen’s whiskey hunger watched her lips, his restraint slightly breaking.  His mind quickly cut through his lust.  He registered this was a cover to conceal their activities.  “Yes…Eerrr—a sad tale.”  He stumbled.  His pale face colored purple from both his embarrassment and rolling desires not easily turned off.  His right hand shifted his stiff member tenting his trouser.  Evie allowed just a moment to estimate his length.  He tucked it under his belt, very long and thick based on his struggles.

Then he said something that nearly broke Evie’s heart.  “If Tristen and Iseult were just honest with one another…”  Cullen’s baritone rasped with a pointed stare at his bond.  Evie received the message loud and clear.  He knew she was blocking him out.  He likely had a clue of her lies by omissions and secrets.  Her night activities still reached him somehow.

I can’t…  Evie whimpered in her mind, not sure by his stolid expression if her Lion heard the two words.

“Oh!  There you are!”  Fesill smiled as she turned the last corner and statues.  The glee quickly shifted to confusion and wondering.  She had always been sensitive to tension and strangeness.  By being the daughter of ex-slave, the young elf learned to read body language to avoid abuse and unwarranted punishment even if House Trevelyan would never do so.  “Everything well, Lady and Ser?”

Evie gulped and flashed the red-headed elf a quick smile.  “Yes!  Of course, Fesill.”  She tilted her head to the side so her bangs could hide her still blooming.  “Ser Cullen just asked for a personal tour of the gallery.”  Her chocolate eyes flickered to Cullen.  “Apparently, templars are art lovers…”

Cullen rolled those blown-wide whiskey orbs.  “Hardly, but any Fereldan appreciates a homeland folk tale.  Now, those ugly Orlesian paintings…”  He thumbed behind him, referencing the walled-in gallery next door to their position.  “…just garbage not worth so many sovereigns.  Maker knows why people prize such vulgar and graphic depictions.”  He cleared his throat while holding a fist to his smirking lips.

Maker, the maiden just wanted to kiss him again and again.

Break from the fantasy.  Live in reality, Evelyn!

“I’m apologize, but I just wanted to let you know, Lady Evie, your bath you ordered is ready.  Ser Cullen, Bann Treveyan wishes to know you would enjoy a quick game of chess before dinner.  Apparently, he needs a moment away from his letters.”  Fesill informed the bonds.

“It seems Father is still blistering about the Tethras brothers again.”  Evie mumbled and shook her head.  She took a step away from Cullen for the main hall. 

A waft of his oakmoss, lavender, and elderflower flowed around her, wetting her loins more.  Maybe she should have ordered a cold bath to avoid exciting her genitals more.  She might have to attempt to massage herself again.  Maybe she will be successful bringing herself to climax instead of wishing Cullen to doing those unladylike things to her nether regions.  She must remember to place muffle arcane circles throughout the sound-amplifying bathroom.  Maker, that was embarrassing the last time.

“I wish you luck, Ser Knight.”  Evie genuinely smiled at her bond.  “He will be more brutal.”

Cullen’s face shifted from suspicion to softness.  His heart piano sang a happy tune to her as he watched her face closely.  Something about her expression set his whole being of fire, a new yearning beyond lust flowed between them.  Appreciation?  Admiration possibly?

No, do not think he could care for you, your dirty mage…

Oh that dreadful lilac whore monster…

“Thank for the warning…and the personal tour, Milady…” Cullen nodded to her, slipping his still flexing hands into his pockets.  His one hand twitched to move his still stiff penis tucked away from others more.  He will likely stay there for a few minutes alone to remove the noticeable erection.  Bann Ian will see it immediately and likely have Knotts cut it off tonight.

Evie cannot let that happen.  She wants to ride that long penis.

Instantly, the fire mage mentally smacked herself, pacing away with her lady in waiting.  The fantasy was broken.  She will not give herself to him unless he loved her too, and they both knew that will never happen.  Her lies and secrets will keep him away.

As Fesill and Evie began climbing the east wing stairs towards her personal quarters, the elf pulled a pair of envelopes from her apron.  Her dark hazel eyes and pursed lips knew what they meant, but Fesill kept those thoughts to herself.  “These arrived for you just a few moments ago, Evie…”

Just the script and seal told her everything.  Evie stopped on the fifth floor landing, breaking the wax seal with quivering hands.  Evie took deep panting breaths, her face pale as reality set around her aching heart.  The time had come.

“Fesill,”  Evie exhaled with threatening tears in her sunken eyes.  “Have Jim prepare his clothing and make the appropriate arrangements.  I will tell Ser Rutherford after dinner.  Have Jim tell him to meet me in the library.”

The short young elf whimpered, her gentle hands resting on Evie’s shaking hands.  “I wish you could be happy, my lady.  You deserve it…”

The fire mage took another calming breath, the steel and obsidian walls around her soul and heart firmly in place.  She felt Cullen’s assault on her defenses.  He searched for her in the manor.  She flowed back the lie she was about to bathe and it was improper for a gentlemen to see her so bare.

It wouldn’t be the first time, the Fereldan lion growled back through the connection.

Evie nearly fell over, feeling the urges from him to be in her company.  Her chocolate brown eyes wore her new resolve to resist and hold firm.  She responded to Fesill’s comment, “No, I do not.”

Cullen sat, his mind distracted.  Bann Ian noticed immediately how the usually attentive knight waned during their pre-dinner chess game.  In past games, Cullen would not give up his pieces so easily.  His mind was not on the task, but the rolling questions and emotions deep inside him.  They threatened to make him act in a way he did not want to pursue.  The ugliness and twisted actions as the result of the sexual abuse and torture he experienced at the Circle made him lust for the maiden somewhere in this house naked and yearning for him as he did for her.

In the gallery, the Lion of Ferelden felt those deep desires, the encouragement for more.  Yet, she withdrew from him, put up those barriers, and blocked his access to her.  The lies and secrets swirled in his confused and mistrustful mind.  How can he think of her if she kept him so far away?  What did she hide?  What did she do at night?  What were the demons doing?  What blocked her enchanting violin in the Fade each night?

Most of all, the knight wondered what caused this maiden to withdraw so quickly from his yearning hands.  Like a finger snap, her reaching heart shut him out.  Their connection much like before their kiss or their openness in the grove.

Never trust a mage.  They are weapons.  They will break you, use your fears against you.  She was no different.

That deep seeded fears and hate burned his fantasy that Evie to be different from all those before his arrival on the isle.  Instead, she just reinforced those negative thoughts.  He did not want to, but Evie left him no choice.

Fight the fear.  Search and unravel the mystery.  Do not let the fear and hate twist you more than you already are, the spirit halves called from his soul and heart.

Once again Cullen felt torn in four different directions.  He just wanted to be whole again.  So many conflicting memories and emotions rolled through his broken being.  This battle inside himself seemed never ending.

The templar stiffened himself, his amber eyes returning to the chess board.  He will lost this game.  Both the bann and he knew it.  However, it does not mean Cullen will lose the war.  Just a little more hope.  Find out what is happening.  Isn’t that why he stayed his blade in the library a couple of weeks ago?  Be the man your parents instill in you.  Use your tactical mind and rationality to uncover this building mystery!

Cullen gritted his teeth, taking the bann’s queen.  He smugly smirked at his opponent, who briefly glared his direction.  Bann Ian swiftly moved his knight to take his king.  Checkmate.  The nobleman blinked before remarking, “Keeping fighting the good fight, Ser Cullen, no matter the odds.”

The Fereldan knight nodded back, his heart heavy but determined to understand this woman that captured his attention and never wandered far from his thoughts.  For all her faults, he will fight his prejudices beyond her masks.

Cullen looked forward to the end result.

Chapter Text

I am doing the right thing.

Evie stared out of the large overarching windows across the west wall of the two-story library.  She clasped her hands in front of her, letting them naturally fall to her hips as she waited patiently.  Her neatly woven auburn hair laid against her bare back and shoulders with only her bangs moving every slightly as leaned her head towards the stairwell and main manor double doors.

This is the only way.

Every so often, she picked at the embroidery across her sleeveless flowing dress.  The sheer shawl kept slipping from her shoulders to her elbows, but Evie did not care.  So what the whole house saw her blue and gold lyrium brand, advertising to anyone who did not know her secrets.  It took all she had consumed lyrium and was bonded with another individual in the house.

He deserves freedom.  I am giving him back his freedom.

Her chin graced her amber foci pendant now attached to a tight silverite chain against her neck and clavicles.  Every so often, it pulsed with magic before nullifying the air around her.  Evie knew her anxious emotions disturbed her magic.  She leaked the excess out to have it cleansed away by the pendant.  She claimed constantly she was in control of her powers, but the events of the last few days strained that control beyond her capabilities.

His life lays beyond this isle and will not end here.

Evie’s chocolate brown eyes sunk to the bundled mabari now about five weeks old sound asleep in the wool blanket.  It was too early to officially separate the pup from her mother.  However, the animal already spent so much time away from the litter that Cullen and she took over the training and nurturing roles.  The mabari bitch knew just glancing at Evie when she retrieved the pup that her time with her child had ended.  She barked sorrowfully at the maiden before giving her pup one last lick and nuzzle.  The doggie goodbye nearly broke out the sobs boiling inside Evie’s soul.

He needs to get as far away from here as possible.

At first glance, everyone might assume Cullen and Evie actually became close friends and accepted each other as mage and templar bonds.  Since that afternoon in the Tevinter bathing pool, they conversed constantly, laughing and holding hands everywhere they went.  Their sparring improved, giving each other pointers and tricks to use against opponents.  When they knew they were alone and no one would interrupt, a few kisses were shared, but not as fiery as in the pool nearly naked and pressed together.

However, Evie created a wedge slowly throughout each interaction.  Each sentence spoken added an obsidian block to her heart and soul to support the last remaining gate she had to keep Cullen from seeing what she truly was.  He mentioned having some difficulty sensing her every so often, but Evie chalked it up to bonds did need time to themselves and some privacy, which Cullen agreed.  Still, he know their connection was slowly closing like an imaginary suture stitched the black tapestry sealing the two people behind a barrier of thick cloth.  The spirit halves protested, but like Evie, their strengths waned.  The years of struggle and fighting finally wore both them and Evie to the quick.  The end was nigh.

The creaking hinges of the first floor double doors alerted Evie her query finally arrived.  She felt his amber gaze shift around the library, searching for her.  Briefly she reached into him, seeing how his brow scrunched to comprehend why Jim delivered the message to meet Evie in the library after dinner.  She retreated back to herself, pursing her pink lips still feeling his warmth envelope her after their cat-and-mouse game in the gallery.  His amber eyes glowed in that tight corner.  That scarred smirk told Evie how much he enjoyed her company.

It is only a physical attraction.  Once he is away, he will never think of you again.

Heavy boot steps wandered towards the spiraling staircase.  The templar’s piano echoed against her aura like sonar to locate the maiden waiting for him.  Evie’s dull brown eyes glanced to her right, her hand adjusting the vellum and wrapped gift waiting for its important duty.  There was no turning back now.

Everything ends here.

“Eve…?”

Evie stilled herself, her resolve wavering just hearing that baritone voice that call her that unique nickname.  He was almost at the top of the stairs.  She slowly closed her eyes, taking a few breaths.  The light pink eye rouge and lipstick reflected the setting sun with its added sparkling components.  She debated wearing any makeup as Cullen told her he preferred her with none just yesterday, whispering the compliment in her ear before kissing her cheek.  Still, the sleeveless corseted dress, long outward skirts, and its intricate patterns like a carpet or hanging tapestry were meant to catching his whiskey orbs instead to avoid her emotions spilling out too soon.  Lit by the setting sun, Evie wanted this to be the last visual for him.  She wanted Cullen to remember his bond in a beautiful dress, her heart so bare and fragile with soft makeup and a gentle smile.

Right as the knight crested and physically saw Evie, the mage glanced to the far end of the second floor, her eyes gauging the distance between her chosen spot and her ultimate exit.  In a few wide steps, she would be gone and free of the room once her task was complete.  She knew Cullen would stay here and not follow her, his anger and betrayal keeping him rooted in place.  She was so confident in his reaction she even wore high strapped heels that even made Evie’s typically strong stance wobble.

“There you are…”  Cullen wisped, a smile growing on those scarred lip still plump from their last shared kiss.  His tone was soft almost like if he rose the pitch, it would shatter glass…shatter her.  They were in a library.  That made more sense.  He would not speak to her so soft and gentle.  That was why Evie chosen this room in the manor.  Cullen will be less likely to yell in such a silent room.  “Jim said you wished to speak.  You know you could have just called out through our bond.”  He scrunched his brow.  “That would have avoided me dealing with that nitwit.”

Evie slightly exhaled and shook her head.  She could not confess she did so because it would mean she would have to open up their connection more than she desired.  It had been difficult the last few days to keep her inner turmoil her own and not alert him of her impending plans.  Her resolve laid so thin that if she had just spoken to him in his mind, she would abandon what was only right and fair to Cullen.

“I do respect your space and still wish to interact beyond this connection.”  Evie replied with a false smile.  Tears already threatened to break through her hard exterior.  Just seeing the reds, purples, and pinks reflecting off that golden halo of Fereldan curls only increased Evie’s desire and love for this man, but also to do right by him.

Cullen smirked, stepping closer.  He reached out to her, his desire to touch her bare shoulders and back leaking through their bond.  It only confirmed that Cullen only physically cared about her.  Even if he assured her that his feelings were not bond related, all his unconscious reactions demonstrated the truth.  Evie should have told him to stop multiple times, but unlike him, she loved him and yearned for his company each breath.  Even if he was using her for physical company, she would take it.  She will take whatever this man offered.  Alas, he will never feel love for her.

That was why Cullen needed to leave.  Evie stepped towards the edge and her last barriers to keep the darkness inward had nearly won the fight.  A single voice from the spirit halves told her to tell him the truth, but the mage will never.  She would rather he hate her for the next actions and never speak to her again than admit her crimes.  Her resolve stretched to spider silk, so thin and ready to break that she must jump to the chase and finish her task before she lost all control.

“I think the last few days have demonstrated I don’t mind you and the connection.”  Cullen remarked, then squinted.  “Eve, I am having a hard time sensing you…what’s wrong?”

There it is.  Her opening…

With one last steeling breath, Evie just came out of with it.  “You are leaving the isle.”

Cullen’s amber orb widened before his brow wrinkled.  “What?”

Evie turned to the end table beside her and picked up the envelope.  “Three days ago, I sent a missive to my first mate on the The Rising Phoenix via the fastest raven we have.  I ordered him to disembark immediately to reach the isle as soon as possible.  Right before my bath and dinner, I received a reply.  The frigate will be here to pick you up and take you wherever you wish tomorrow morning with the tide.  It cannot delay a moment because there is a massive hurricane about to hit the isle within the next few days.  Furthermore, I act without my father’s consent and know he will do everything possible to keep you here.”

The templar took a step back.  Pain and confusion mixed on those defined facial features, flickering between one and the other trying to figure out what was happen.  “Why, Eve?  Why now?”

Evie pursed her lips.  “We took away your freedom and choices, Cullen.”  She took another deep breath, willing herself to continue and finish her purpose.  “My father and I trapped you here against your will and into an arrangement that you never asked nor could completely swear fealty to.  The guilt of everything broke me the day you kissed me.  I cannot and will not with good conscience continue this charade knowing you have no rights and wishes for any of it.”

“Yet, I am involved now.”  He growled, combing his fingers through his waves.  “I know the truth about everything.  There is no going back now.”

“Yes, there is.”  Evie stepped forward, gripping the envelope like a vice.  “Yes, you’re my bond, but I know as much as you never wanted this connection.  Whatever has developed between us has never been by your choice but forced upon you like so much before.  I refuse to continue to use you as a means to save myself.  It is the right thing to do, the fair move so that you can finally have semblance of control again over your own destiny!”

“I have control-“

“-How can you say that?!”  Evie cut him off, her voice going harsh with unshed tears.  “I’ve seen your body!  That is evidence of a man who has had choices removed over and over again.  I knew the moment this little plan to bond and stop the Formless One was devised you would never completely take part.  I feel the resentment of being held prisoner here with no way to escape or act of your own free will.” 

Evie watched Cullen pace, clawing his chest through his thin tunic where the demon repeatedly clawed him.  “I feel every boiling emotion emanating from you.  Yes, you are come to accept our world the last few weeks, but it was all built on lies and deceit.  No matter your words or actions, I know deep down you fear and hate everything you’ve seen.  Your past still controls your actions, even subconsciously.  You can lie all you want to yourself and me, but we both know you can never let go.  You have told me so many times there is no way you can even trust me.  You might have stated it was for other reasons, but deep down I feel that it is the real truth.  It’s a barrier that will always been there.  I cannot bear boxing you into a corner any longer.  I cannot live with myself knowing that no matter what I do, that barrier will always stay up.”

Cullen stopped and glared at her.  “A barrier, you say?”  He grunted, taking a step forward.  His entire presence frightened Evie to the core.  “I think the only one who has been creating a barrier between us is you, Eve.  I thought the last few days has demonstrated I am as much a willing participant as I can be.  Yes, you and your family took away my escape, and I am actually thankful I never raced away now.  I know things now.   For the first time since childhood, I feel fully informed about the world.  Have you thought about what you have shown me here before devising this smuggling?  I am a liability!  Do you think the Promisers will leave me be within knowing what I do now?!”

Evie glanced away, her fingers playing with vellum’s corners.  “After the next days, it won’t matter.  The Promiser will not want you anymore.  They will not pursue you or your family if you get far away from here!  From me!”

“I know you don’t plan on allowing the ritual to occur.”  Cullen spat before shaking his head.  “I know about your plan to remove the threat.”

Evie eyed him.  “Speak plainly-“

“You’re going to kill yourself, Eve!”  The templar barked, pointing at her then himself.  “And that’s going to kill me!  Or have you forgotten how deep our connection is now!  Any injury to you will be inflicted on me.”

Evie knew it very well.  “Not if you are far enough away.”  Cullen reared his head back.  “It wasn’t just about my mage status or the House’s secrets that kept you caged here, Cullen.  Distance weakens even a Level Six bond.  That is why most mages cannot join their templars when their ‘retirement’ or that suspected bonds are kept apart until their brands are established.  If the mage fails their harrowing, it means distance protects the templar’s psyche.  Like I said, you were purposely imprisoned here because if you left and I stayed, our bond would be pulled thin.  My father plans to keep you here until a full complete bond is established, meaning not even distance can break it.”

“You can’t guarantee distance will dampen the blow.  It’s death, Eve!”  Cullen’s baritone voice went hoarse as tears welled up in those beautiful amber gems.  “You know as well as I we are deeper than any typical bond.  Our spirits have been pulling us together since infancy.  You can’t possibly believe distance now will prevent my fall with you.”

“Not if the spirits are destroy first.”  Evie’s iconic lilt was gone.  Her conviction across her freckled cheekbones told her intent.

That reared Cullen back further.  “You wouldn’t!”

He doesn’t know the full story.  He can never know.

“Like I said, our bond used to have many more spirits connecting us.”  Her voice was even, dull, and precise.  Every word uttered told him she could not be convinced otherwise.  “Valor sacrificed itself to support the arcane warrior to protect his home in the Dales when all he wanted to do was die and join his beloved burned templar.  All the spirits have been sacrificed or twisted throughout the lifetime until now only two remain.  The Promisers want to use me and utilize you to twist me into that fiery abomination.  I must take away their power by eliminating the very beings that fuel us and make us unique.  To think that there will never be another pair like us again breaks my heart, but I will not be the cause of your suffering any more than the world has done.”

Evie pointed to his chest where his lyrium brand laid.  “You are Affliction, constantly used and abused by this world.  When I destroy my spirit halves, you will likely be in great agony, but you will finally be free, Cullen!  I want to give you the one thing you have desired so deeply since your hardships arose.  Since you realized your beloved Maya Amell was never your bond!  I feel that deep longing so deeply buried behind a closed barred door inside you.  I hear you call yourself disgusting, ruined, and tainted every moment awake and asleep.  You have spoken you never want to pass that onto me, but these are the truths I know.  They tarnished me before you even arrived her.  We are burnt and haggard, my Lion.  We are burnt twin flames forever consumed by afflictions!  The affliction has not just been yours, but ours.  I will be setting you free…”

Cullen gritted his teeth, his jaw locked in place as he glanced out the window and the setting sun.  “And what then?  The Promisers arrive and see you gone.  Do you think they will be happy that their prize killed herself and her buried powers?  Think about the people here, Eve.  Everything will burn-“

Then the templar froze.  Evie felt all the pieces of her plan snapping into place as his eyes widened.  “-That’s why you showed me all the evidence…”  He whispered, stumbling backwards and into the side railing.  “That’s why you never hid the truth.  The Sanctuary, the library, and told me about the Reformists throughout Thedas…This is the end.”

Evie hung her head, the first tears following.  “Not exactly the original intent, but is the truth now.  We are the last major fortress remaining after millennia of fighting.  I overheard my father this strike will wipe us from the records.  The library…there is nowhere safe to move the books.  The Sanctuary patients are trapped there.  There are safe houses on the isle, but no other base will risk taking in the pairs, thus why we have always rebuilt and began anew after every fire.  The villagers will be evacuated by our merchant fleet the day after you leave and be set up in Highever until the attack is over…if there is anything left.”

“So, you’re giving up.”  Cullen shook his head, rubbed his neck.  Both hands then rested on his hips, his longsword by his left hand.  “You are letting it all burn.”

“House Trevelyan will do everything to take any and all those bastards down, but the Reformists are nearing the end.  We’re dying, but we can decide how.  Many don’t get that choice.”  Evie held her head high, her pride and honor for everything she has done in the last nigh twenty years wrapped up in one last sacrifice.  She did not want to die, but she will not be responsible for thousands of deaths either.

“Yet, you’re taking away my choice to fight too!”  Cullen hollered in her face.  “You’re shoving me on a ship and casting me out and far away, ripping me away from the one thing I finally feel like I can fight to protect and honor!”  He pointed at the sleeping mabari in the chair by them.  “You want me to take her with me too?  You are doing the very thing as ripping that sleeping puppy from her mother?!  Why?  Why now!?”

“Because I am in love with you, you daft man!”  Evie screamed at the Fereldan lion.

There it was.  Evie’s last resolve broken under the weight of everything.  The last gate protecting her heart and soul crumbled admitting the words.  She had no intentions of telling Cullen, but his stubbornness and irrational mind was not listening to her.  All the reasons to why she was setting him free were just subterfuge.  The real true reason was that she loved him with her heart, body, mind, and soul and could not bear what may happen to him in the massacre to come.  Killing the spirits have an entire other purpose, but also to break and protect Cullen before her fall from the cliffs.

Cullen looked away, took several deep breaths before those piercing whiskey eyes bore into her.  “I do not feel the same.”

And there was what she already knew.  Evie’s face did not emulate her sorrow.  Instead the tears dried from her eyes.  It was one thing to know, but another to hear those words in that husky Fereldan accent.

“I know that.”  Evie admitted calmly.  She stepped towards the table again, and picked up the gift she had made.  Using the blankets like a hammock, she gathered the mabari pup up in her other hand.  She placed the vellum, gift, and puppy together and held them to her chest.  “I never expected you to love me.  However, I will do everything possible to protect you, Cullen.  I failed to do so before, but I can now.  I will now.”

Evie reached for Cullen’s trembling hands and placed the gift, puppy, and vellum in them, curling his callused fingers around each.  “Give the vellum to my first mate.  It is clear instruction to take you wherever you wish.  Kirkwall…Starkhaven…South Reach.  There is enough coin to do whatever you wish.”  She placed one hand on his stubble cheek and kissed the other cheek gently.  “Be free, Cullen Stanton Rutherford.  Be the knight I’ve known you are since your birth.  Serve the Order or whatever you wish.  Just knowing you are alive and well will bright and warm my soul in the Void.  I know the Maker and Andraste will not accept a suicide person into the heavens.  Forgive me for all of my sins against you.  Hate me if you must, but stay alive and be free…for us both.”

With that, Evie paced away and made her exit, the tears pouring like rivers down her cheeks and all over her special dress.  She has completed her plans to set wrongs right.  In the morning, Cullen will be gone.  By the time the Promiser fleet arrives with Patricia, Cullen will too far away and will not be used and abused further.  She will have saved him from his spirits and demons, and the Promisers will have lost their conflagration.

Yes, Evelyn Tesni Trevelyan will have suffered a fate worse than death to destroy the spirits, but she will fall onto the low tide wreckage and coral reefs right afterwards.  She will not be tranquil for long, just enough to rip apart her Purpose and Hope halves…

…and then she will be absolved of how she was the very only person who trapped Cullen in Kinloch Hold for weeks and suffered that demonic torture so alone…

Please, forgive me…

Chapter Text

No one on the ground floor heard Cullen thundering down the hall through the gallery holding his mabari puppy so closed to his chest to avoid her barking and giving away his position.  It was like the young pup knew if she ‘spoke’ things would end horribly for her imprint.  Somehow he snuck passed the grand foyer. 

That was when he heard the yelling.  The knight expected it to be at him and for Evie for devising her own demise.  Instead, it only made a horrible situation far worse.  Cullen’s ears focused on the echoes ringing from the expansive open space around the next corner.

“My Bann!  The merchant fleet!  They’re all gone!”  Cullen did not recognized the voice.  From his hiding space around the corner, he noticed it was a Trevelyan scout panting and shaking.  Bits of bird drops covered his shoulder and boots, likely someone who worked in the messenger coop.

Bann Ian thundered into the foyer.  “What is the meaning of this?!  What do you mean the fleet’s gone?!”

The scout held out a slip of paper no wider than a raven leg usually used to send messages.  “The merchant fleet…they’re all destroyed in Ostwick port by fire ships!  All the ships burned and sank into the bay.  There is nothing left!  The crews…only some sailors and officers survived!  Many were slaughtered in their bunks at port or died trying to fight the fires and the droves of masked assassins destroying anything Trevelyan.  The only ship without any representation or signs of destruction was The Rising Phoenix!”

Bann Ian read the slip, his teeth clenching as his head of guard and a naval woman traded looks.  “The fleet was to disembark tonight to come and evacuate the village…”  The female naval officer wisped, her blue eyes wide as the implications of what happened rang through everyone’s mind.

The bann handled the slip to the Dalish woman who had threatened Cullen in the tavern over a month ago.  From her gear, she was one of the House’s head rogues, likely a spymaster.  “The fleet was supposed to have guards and mainland House military securing it…Alas, it seems our enemy took to the seas and instead sabotaged us with fire.  Poetic…”  The bann’s bass voice rumbled throughout the foyer like a bear.  His swirling eyes flashed to his head guard.  “Begin the preparations for Plan B.  Make sure all the villagers can be safely moved to the smuggling caves safely and orderly.  Find out what happened to The Rising Phoenix.  I have a guess, but there are other issues to handle first.  Alas, the ship might be our only hope to evacuate the women and children before the Promiser fleet arrives.  Dismissed.”

All the people present saluted and quoted, “Modest in temper, Bold in deed!”

It was then when glowing elven eyes caught the templar’s sight down the hall.  Cullen locked eyes with Knotts who just watched the knight in shadow and out of all sights including his bann’s stomping away from the grand foyer.  There was something in that stare that made Cullen shudder in his boots.  He highly doubted Evie told her bodyguard friends her plans.  It would be foolish to assume the city elf did not know, which meant he watched Cullen to see what his choice will be.

Well, that made two of them.

Cullen did not stop moving until he was back in this quarters and the doors locked.  He set down his mabari pup, allowing the little girl run about his quarters.  She immediately raced to the bear skin carpet, gnarling at the seam like she was attacking the animal.  There was a reason why the puppies were not allowed into the house except for feedings, especially how over protective the mother was of her growing family.  Yet, in the last few days, the bitch hound resigned that she had lost her runt to the Fereldan, giving Cullen a look of ‘Take care of her, Imprint.’

It seem like everyone this isle wanted him gone.

“Ugh…”  Cullen groaned rubbing his face.  He took a few stepped towards his drawer with a large mirror he used to shave and managed his hair every morning.  He flopped the wrapped gift and the ship missive on top of some other parchment.  His mind immediately pushed it all aside.

The knight leaned against the dresser, his behind on the carved wooden edging.  One hand pinched his nose, willing away the migraine forming from the fight and his need of his evening lyrium.  The other grasped the varnished wood, his nails breaking through the lacquer.

When Cullen walked into that library, he never expected such a ‘discussion’.  The man thought maybe Evie found another place to steal a kiss or wanted to show him something in the secret library.  None of him was prepared to watch the woman he grown the care about over the last month essentially give the pass to leave this place and following his free will.  She wanted to break their unique bond she promoted over the last month just to save him from her family’s downfall.

Evie loved him.

Cullen grunted, rubbing his amber eyes blood-slot from containing the tears he desperate wanted to shed.  Half of the salt would be for joy to leave this isle prison.  The other mourned what will be burned and destroyed by the very institutions he swore to follow and protect.  Once again, his whole being felt split in two over everything.

He never expected to hear that beautiful words expressing Evie’s care and warm for this battered and abused knight.  As soon as the fire mage confessed her feelings, Cullen felt their connection blown wide.  He knew in that discussion he was purposefully kept him out the last few days as she established her plans to save him.  By saying those words, all her narrowing intentions slipped away and bared Evie’s entire soul to Cullen.

Maker, the amount of guilt, regret, rage, and grief that hit him like a tidal wave.  There was no time through the painful fight to process what he felt from her.  Now, alone debating his final choice, Cullen revisited those pouring emotions.  They were dark and old, a hole in that woman’s soul he could never imagine existed.  There was nothing to explain why she felt such emotions, only her need to protect and save Cullen from death.

The knight struggled with it all.  Could he really turn away from everything he grew to care about the last month and let it be annihilated just for trying to correct course and bring some good back into the world?  The craven in him hollered happily at the prospect of his wishes the last two years could be finally a reality.  He would be free of this isle and the claustrophobia being trapped here with no way to warn the world of this noble family ages-old deed.  He would no longer have to worry about another being hearing his thoughts or seeing through his senses.  He would be his own person.  No mage could influence him ever again!

Then that lonesome voice of a man that died in Kinloch Hold whispered in his heart and soul.  He recovered more here in this short time than he ever did at Greenfell.  Lady Gwen adopted Cullen as her own son, giving him a safe space to share his fears, cry when the pain hurt too much, and shared her insight on twisted prospective he thought everyone believed about him. 

While the bann was a cold and calculating individual who held the keys to escape the isle, the nobleman demonstrated a wisdom and understanding of the world Cullen never encountered.  The templar felt his mind expand during each chess game and think more efficiently than even the academy could accomplish.  They spoke for bells about history, religion, and society that made Cullen felt more educated than any book.  It was a joy to find someone to think tactically and acted with rationality. 

Through Bann Ian and Lady Gwen, Cullen remembered what his biological parents instilled in him about being just a decent human being.  The parts of Cullen that had been weeded out and punished severely by the Order and the Chant finally clicked back into place.  The man could look back at his childhood and not block out that naïve boy, but deeply appreciate the sacrifices his family suffered by allowing their eldest son to leave so young and follow his dreams. 

Cullen wished for just have one moment with his mother and father again to beg for forgiveness for failing to protect his siblings when they needed him the most.  That is what Esme taught Cullen in his time here.  While the young boy was a blooming adventurer naïve about the world, he reminded Cullen of sibling love.  There was a time how Evie and Esme act was Cullen and his siblings.  The young man who had no chance of beating Cullen in a fight still stuck up and protected his sister fiercely.  His determination and threat in the morning room reminded Cullen of his own failing to protect his siblings since the Blight.  Where Esme stood up and showed his teeth to initiate a fight he will surely lose, Cullen ran out of his home kingdom to avoid his responsibility to his Circle and family.  He never wrote Mia to tell her he survived the Circle.  His family likely thought him dead.

Cullen was a craven, cretin, and sham.  He wanted to serve and protect, instead he ran from the rising issues and allowed his demons to rule his mind, body, heart, and soul.  By debating here on what to do, he was letting everything he cherished and swore to protect suffer and die.  He was not a holy knight-lieutenant of the Templar Order.  He was a scared and dishonorable drug addict.

That fact truly hit home inside Cullen as to think of his time with Evie.  The woman loved his disgusting being.  Why?  There was nothing good, honest, and innocent about him, but from the emotions leaking from her confines in the library washed Cullen of how much she deeply cared about him.  He felt the moment she found him drowning in the sea, the fear she was too late and screaming out through their bond to hang on and fight to live again.  Her feelings expressed her deep need for her knight to like her as she was, showing him all the good she has tried to accomplish outside the Circles.  She made him dance and share in her loves of music and dance, to show new ways to display one’s self to the world.  Her soul and heart crushed when he spat he will never trust an apostate and likely blood mage.  Instead of turning the despair and rage, she pushed harder for Cullen to see the truth of the world.  After a time, their friendship slowly rebuilt and their sparring gave Evie hope that just maybe this templar so beaten and abused might actually just at least find her indifferent.

Evie knew Cullen would never love her.  When Cullen told her he did not share those same feelings, he felt the punch in her gut, but her face still was stolid and calm.  The tears fell, but she did not allow him to see how much she was crushed.  Everything in the bond told Cullen she truly believed him still attached to Maya after all this time.

That beautiful enchantress allowed him to touch and kiss her because she desired anything from this man she loved so deeply.  Their kissing and shared moments since the bathing pool was greatly imbalanced.  Cullen had become addicted to her scent, skin, and lips like the bond enforced her physical attributes over who she was.  Meanwhile, she felt it all so deeply that the physical interactions were a bonus to the deep interconnections they built as individuals.  She cherished their friendship.  She cared about Cullen the man, not the templar bonded half.

“…I feel that deep longing so deeply buried behind a closed barred door inside you.  I hear you call yourself disgusting, ruined, and tainted every moment awake and asleep.  You have spoken you never want to pass that onto me, but these are the truths I know.  They tarnished me before you even arrived.  We are burnt and haggard, my Lion.  We are burnt twin flames forever consumed by afflictions!   The afflictions has not just been yours, but ours…”

Cullen panted into his hands, the dressing somehow keeping him standing.  He tainted her and not even registered it was happening.  This beautiful and majestic woman knew how he felt about himself and still did so much to care for him.  He used her just as that desire demon used his innocent inner thoughts to torture and taunt him.  He used Evie’s body thinking that was affection when it was just physical, a built-in attraction by the spirits to draw their halves together as one.  He thought he was caring for the woman.  What was worse was that Evie did not care she was being used.  Cullen felt her need for someone to care about her for once.  She hoped it would be even though she knew deep down he was emotionally and psychologically unavailable.  Instead of protecting her innocence, she open herself and bared all she was to him to hopefully help him from his hells.

How did Cullen feel about Evie?

Trust was the biggest issue.  Prior to that last barrier inside her falling, Cullen wondered why she kept herself closed off.  He knew there were more secrets being held.  Why did no one speak about Evie’s demons?  Why was she so battered and tortured so many mornings by those demons?  Why did she not share with him that she too suffered like him?

The templar inside Cullen screamed the answer.  Any mage can be tempted by demons.  She is likely very weak and can be easily possessed.  She will become an abomination even beyond what the Promisers plan to do with her.  Even with such a deep bond between them, it was not protecting her from being a danger.  It was better she die before she could hurt anyone!

Cullen growled and pushed those fearful thoughts away.  His mabari stopped her horsing around and growled back, showing her little teeth.  The small display forced back that learned behaviors back to think beyond what was instilled in his psyche.  Evie’s supposed sacrifice was likely to deal with such threats at the same time.  It was strange their bond as still not strong enough to will away the demons.  Even Level Six bonds were more secure than most because of their deep connections.  Something about Evie and Cullen’s bond was just not enough to protect either person.

“I am going on tangents…”  Cullen sighed, rolling his hip until he was facing the mirror again.  “None of this determined anything.  She is hiding secrets and blames herself for everything.  Why not come clean…?”  He hung his head, his hands planted on the dresser corners as he shrugged his shoulders.  The knight squeezed his dull amber eyes before slowly opening them.

Those whiskey orbs focused on the gift sitting on two sets of envelopes on the surface.  Shifting his weight onto his one hand, Cullen picked up the gift and slowly undid the ribbon tying it all together.  He laid out the item until he could visualize it completely.

Cullen audibly gasped, his mouth open like a fish.  The red fabric was the same as he had seen in Evie’s hands throughout his time on the isle.  However, she always worked on it off to the side and away from his gaze.  It was an elaborate handkerchief much like the embroidered one Lady Gwen made and handed Cullen during their conservatory conversations.  The fabric was velveteen, but shorter fibers and more durable.  The seam had intricate Fereldan knotting designs like those found in noble houses throughout his home.  He recognized different plants, animals, and ancient words spoken by the old clans.  In the middle of the diamond turned square was a rearing lion on its hind legs with two small mabaris flanking each side.  In the majestic lion’s mouth was the sword of mercy with flames pouring out like dragon breath.  Behind the animals was his lyrium brand perfectly replicated in blue and gold like his beloved Order and his bond’s mark.  Below the arcane circle read in fancy Common letters, The Lion of Ferelden.

Cullen could think a few times Evie called Cullen ‘my Lion’.  When he heard her playing in his dream, she pushed him saying the moniker.  The time in the baths gazing into each other’s eyes.  Their kissing and chase in the gallery.  In the library after wishing him freedom and happiness…

Evie saw him as a lion, strong, courage, protecting, and proud.  The man felt like none of those things.  He felt like a failure and fraud instead of everything this symbol chanted.  She gave him this crafted piece of love to not only remember her and their bond but to remember how she saw in him no matter his self-loathing.

The templar gazed into the mirror, the early moon from the balcony doors shined into his eyes, highlighting bits of golf and brown.  “It is called amber, fossilized tree sap from ages ago that hardened into stone…The gemstone reminds me of your eyes.”  Evie always saw that amber orange color floating around Cullen in the Fade when she heard his siblings, friends, and him play the lion game.  She chose that as her focus stone instead of rare stone because it reminded him of his eyes.  She wore the gemstone all the time not just to balance her magic, but to always have him near.

Evie has loved him even before Cullen arrived on this isle.

“Why do you still hide your secrets, Eve, even now when you know I cannot trust you?”  Cullen spoke into the mirror like his reflection will give him an answer.  He gripped the handkerchief and hung his head again.  “How I am to let you in to maybe let me give as much as you share…?”

With a fist, Cullen punched the dresser top, hearing the hardwood crack under the force.  His fingers ached, but did not feel broken or cracked.  He wanted to care about her, but it felt like he was underwater and drowning.  Something was keeping him in his hells and not willing for him to begin anew.  Moving his fingers a little, a vellum enveloped slipped.  Its magical seal shined up at Cullen, pulsing with light.

The templar took a step back, his eyes darting around for his longsword.  The room filled with magic.  His mind raced to what the vellum came from.  It was now the ship missive, so where…

Cullen froze.  The Rivaini seer.  Hemmingway’s mother.

The templar gritted his teeth.  He thought he had gotten rid of it, too worried about what such a witch would say.  The vellum never emitted magic or light before.  It only did that when he punched the words and died to know to Evie’s secrets.  Why now…?

“You never need to read it now or ever.  I am just following her request.  She gave me advice…and only wanted you to have the same.”

What advice did the seer tell Evie?  Was it connected to their secrets she refused to share?  What did his envelope say?

The templar inside him told him to purge the magic and then burn the vellum.  No knight should entertain the words of a witch, even one with the best intentions.  It could be bound by blood magic and to manipulate him into doing her bidding.

Yet, Evie trusted her words and advice.  The fire mage was every wary of a powerful seer, but confided in her just as she trusted Hemmingway.  Her family seek such mages’ council to better understand their daughter’s unique magic and connection.  House Trevelyan might bend Chantry rules, but they were faith Andrastians.  They trusted this woman and her knowledge.

Was Cullen actually considering reading that witch’s letter?

Actually…yes. 

The Fereldan’s heart, soul, gut, and instincts all wanted to know what she said.  He was at a crossroads.  His life forked two different directions.  One pointed him away from his isle and to set out to build a life for himself and free will.  He wished to serve the Templar Order, possibly at another Circle because even he believed Kirkwall was corrupt and twisted.  Meredith will likely kill him to even knowing about the reformists.  Even with his bond dead on this isle, the knight-commander will not have a mage sympathize in her ranks.

The other direction was dark and more difficult to discern.  Death awaited at the end likely at the hands of the Promisers and other cultists.  Both Evie’s fate would not be so definitive.  Even together, they might have a chance to beat back and destroy the Formless One.  He could serve with his bond in the Reformists.  He could still be a templar and serve the Order, but with a clear conscious and working to right wrongs.  Or he could be dead by the end of the week while the world burned as his bond became an abomination and controlled by cultists.

Cullen had no one he could speak to.  He was out of time.  With the dawn, he will need to make a decision.  The moons were rising.  The man was running out of time.

Any advice was better than none.

Cullen slowly step forward and grasped the glowing envelope.  He felt the wax seal, noting it was an arcane circle glyph keeping it shut and magically sealed.  Cullen sent a small purge through it.  The seal broke on its own and the flaps of vellum lifted.  Any templar could have broken it, but the arcane seal on it denoted it could only be Cullen.  Strange.  Slowly unfolding the letter, curvy, beautiful handwriting called out to Cullen.  His amber eyes obeyed and began reading:

Salutations , Knight-Lieutenant Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath, Ferelden.

Cullen scowled.  Evie saw this woman when she was eight!  How did she know his name!  Why didn’t this seer just tell House Trevelyan who was Evie’s bond?!

Do wipe that scowl from your brow.  You will wrinkle that chiseled face she adores so much. 

Cullen’s wrinkled face relaxed, glancing around as if the seer could see him through the letter.

My name is Naishe, Seer of Afsaana and leader of the special hedge witch council with the region.  I suppose you already know if you are reading this letter.  Almost all of us believed you would not read these words, your Lady included.  Alas, she followed my request.  You seek council and advisement during a time you feel you are at lost.  Alas, the future is bleak no matter which way you look.  You yearn for freedom from your demons, but you cannot live with the guilt of allowing hundreds to die to cultists. 

You feel a craven and failure, but it won’t matter which way you turn.  You will be one no matter what you decide.  The power of one’s own hatred of self never goes away, I’m afraid.  Just look at your bond.  She has hated herself since birth first for nearly killing her mother when it was actual family assassins who did not want a commoner in their house.  Or how your bond felt horrible to live beyond the Circles for so long while so many mages and templars suffer inside.  No matter how much she does, that guilt will keep building in that noble inferno mage.

Take for example now.  You feel her regret, shame, and guilt inside but she vowed to never show or explain its origins.  You cannot trust her without knowing, but you yourself hide so many secrets.  I laugh at you two because your secrets are one and the same.  She just believes she is the cause.  You were the only survivor, your innocent self dead in Kinloch Hold.  You emerged as this fearful, hating mage killer who believes all mages are blood mages and will become possessed.

Yet, you read an apostate seer’s advisement letter.  Ironic, don’t you think?

Both of your self-loathing can come to one reason and blame.  She knows because I told her all those years ago. I told her of Valor’s death with the majestic arcane warrior and the burned templar.  I told her of Purpose and Hope that still cling to you two in halves, fighting your denials of how you feel about her. 

Your attraction is not your bond, you daft man, but your own denial.  Give it up. You cannot fool me.  The longer you ignore the obvious, the more you will regret wasting all this time…

Cullen rolled his eyes and grumbled at the seer’s teasing.  There was nothing else.  He could not feel anything for anyone anymore, most of all Evie.

But there is a third spirit muddling the waters between you two, one that be twisted after every tragic end.  After so many losses, it finally turned away from its purpose and became demonic.  It will refuse to give up its quest.  It will do everything to keep you two apart.  That underwater muteness you hear as you fall asleep?  Its doing.

Your bond will not tell you of its existence.  She believes stopping it is her mission alone and why she feels she has wrong you so many times even before you met.  To tell you of its existence invites its wrath on you both.  If only your bond knows of its existence, it will only harm her instead of punishing you as it did in Kinloch Hold.  Your bond believes only by destroying herself and the spirit halves she can annihilate the twisted spirit keeping you from your destinies. 

You know that girl plans to make herself tranquil before falling from the cliffs, right?

Cullen almost dropped the letter.  Maker’s breath…to break it…of course tranquility would be the only way!

Her plan does has merit, but it will not stop the Formless One.  The cults will just find another set of bonds to possess and burn the world.  It solves nothing, but gives you want you always wanted.  Alas, like I said, you will feel a failure and a crowd.  Will you ever really be free by going that path?

So what can I say to change your mind, hm?  Not much actually.  That is your own decision.  I will give you some information kept from you for your own ‘good’ so to speak.  What I can say is this:

Always be prepared for anything.  Always be armed.  When the opportunity arises, take the moment.  Even when the darkness swallows you like the deep sinking sea, reach out, keep kicking, paddling, and reaching out.  Follow the green orbs home.

Now, the Great Lion of Ferelden, Eve Trevelyan’s soulmate and love of her life…

…Sleep.  Your eyes grow heavy.  This night will be long, but soon all those lingering questions will be answered.

Cullen felt his eyes slowly close.  Lethargy consumed his whole body.  He glanced at his bed to see his mabari trying to hop up and snuggle to sleep.  Cullen took a few steps and picked up the animal.

“I need to give you a name.”  He mentioned, setting his puppy on the soft mattress.  “I’ll with think of something in the morning.  Right now, all I want to do is sleep…”

Cullen quickly took off his outer clothing and dressed in linen trousers and a loose shirt.  He pulled back the covers and sunk down.  His head laid on the pillow, but his soul already reached out for the violin playing deep under the water.

Within seconds of laying his head down, he and puppy were fast asleep.

Chapter Text

Knight-Captain Hadley and Knight-Corporal Wilkson assisted moving Cullen out of the main part of the Circle and into the vestibule where the surviving templars had made a temporary camp.  Both men minded where they placed their gloved hands to avoid touching a seeping wound or broken bone.  Neither spoke as their slowly descended the tower and finally brought their only surviving brother-in-arms out of his weeks long hellscape.

Cullen learned from passing templars he had been imprisoned a little over three and a half weeks.  It explained why he was so thin. Through his bones, he felt where the knights carried him.  His lips were so parched they were cracked thrice over seeping bits of blood every time the knight attempted to speak.  When a scouting knight brought him a water skin, the beaten and tortured man realized what the blood mages had been giving their prisoners was likely tainted water with either urine, blood, salt, or some poison.  The prisoners knew they were being poisoned somehow, but after living with no other water source, a person will drink anything half descent.

Clinched between Cullen’s hands was his sword and shield.  As soon as the purple cage barrier fell, the knight crawled to his gear and cried giant tears of relief.  He was armed again.  He was protected.  He did not give into the maleficars’ games and survived.  He will never be unprepared again.  He will always be armed.  No one can disarm him again.  The man will rather die.

“Avoid giving him any food until he has a full magical evaluation.”  Hadley remarked when setting Cullen down on a cot by a templar.

Cullen freaked, trying to worm himself away from his fellow knights.  He panicked as his heart jumped into his throat and he attempted to push people away.  Alas, all his built muscle mass was gone and his body barely could keep itself upright.  “No magic!  No mages!  They’re corrupt!  Evil!  No mage will touch me!”

“Calm, Brother.”  The sitting knight recruit beside him hushed, reviewing the flustered templar.  “We understand.”  He traded a look with Hadley.  The knight-captain turned away and approached Knight-Commander Greagoir watching from afar.

Slowly, the knight recruit beside him ran a damp cloth over his face.  Cullen winced at each motion, his dull eyes squeezed tight and reinforcing the external touching as not from a demon, but a fellow knight who was alive and well.  He survived, but he will never be the same.  There was nothing left of the young naïve man he was before the massacre.  His body wasted away and burned as infectious pus oozed from each wound.  With all the elfroot potions and tonics dabbed into his wounds, he will be forever taste the ivy plant burning his chapped lips.

“Here, Brother…”  A knight-lieutenant handed Cullen a blue liquid.  “Lyrium.  You must be suffering horrible withdrawal.  This will reinvigorate you…push the memories away.”

As quick as lightning, Cullen poured the lyrium draught down his throat, the hum calling from the Void.  Yes, his addiction was strong.  He will never be without a draught again.  Yes, the humming song burned deep inside.  The horrors slowly became contained in a barred and chain door his psyche formed when this slaughter began.  Yes, lyrium!  How he missed his powers…his blue.

With the lyrium flowing through his veins, Cullen felt his muscles and wounds slowly rebuild.  His stomach settled so he reached for some more water.  He desired another lyrium draught.  However, from the look of the wandering templars, they too were on rations while the Circle crumbled.  No wonder they did not assault and cut down every demon and mage they saw.  Still, the elfroot potions and lyrium quickened his immune system.  The fever subsided, may it have been caused by the withdrawal or the infections, he was not sure.

It took a few bells, but finally Cullen was clean of grime and feces.  He changed into a clean tunic and pants.  A new available pair of small clothes, socks, and boots were provided likely another knight’s belongings.  With so much destroyed during the siege, they had to make do with what they had.

The blood mages had taken shears to all the mages and templars’ hair at the beginning, a way to humiliate their captives.  They did not care if they nicked their skulls.  Each snip were uneven and gross, just making the prisoner that much more broken.  Cullen barely touched his head, his once twisting curls gone.  The knight recruit cleaned up the hasty haircut so everything was even.  All he felt was short stubble no more than a quarter inch long.  His curls…he inherited them from his mother.  His fingers grazed the nicks, wincing at the open sores.  Some hair attempted to grow through the scabs just making the wounds just that much more painful.

Humiliated.  Ruined.  Disgusting.

No more innocence.

This was all mages fault.

Cullen broiled to himself as he just sat on the cot.  He could not lay down without crying out in pain from all the salves and bandages wrapped around his body.  His arms and legs just hung off his body, too atrophied to grip and move without assistance.  Moat of all, that blasted lyrium mark burned like a red hot poker.

Bloody mage.  Bound to a maleficar.  Kill them all.  It is the only way to protect innocence.

Broken.  Useless.  Forever tainted by blood magic.

“Irving?  Maker’s breath, I did not expect to see you!”

Cullen slowly lifted his head, his dull amber eyes glancing to his knight-commander.  Greagoir stepped towards the Circle entrance, his arms out and face utterly surprised.  The tortured knight followed his officer’s approach to see that mage desire demon assisting First-Enchanter Irving out of the Circle.  Behind them were about a dozen mages all blooded and maimed from their experiences.

Cullen’s eyes widen.  The demon allowed those maleficars to leave the Harrowing Chamber.  Maker’s breath, everyone will die now!

“It is over, Greagoir.”  Irving mumbled, inching closer to the knight-commander.  “Uldred…is dead.  It took us longer to descend the stairs.  Maker curse the man who made Circle towers with hundreds of stairs.”

“It took a while to get him here.”  The blonde desire demon explained.  “I had to stop and heal him throughout our descent.  He would not stop to allow your knights to assist.  He knew you would not stop with the Circle annulment until you spoke with the first enchanter.”

“That is true, Grey Warden.”  Greagoir watched the wheezing old mage before him with a brief moments of concern across his wrinkled face.  “However, as I promised, the annulment will not occur.”

Cullen jumped to his feet, nearly falling over.  “No!  Uldred tortured these mages, hoping to break their wills.  Break all of us imprisoned!  We don’t know how many of them have turned!  They might be all agents for Uldred!”

The desire demon, Greagoir, and Irving all turned to the hissing knight with shocked expression.  Irving glared at the templar.  “What?  Don’t be ridiculous!”

Cullen stumbled forward more, leaning onto a pillar.  “Of course he’ll say that!  He might be a blood mage!  Don’t you know what they did?  You haven’t been up there.  You haven’t been under their influence!  They were in the Harrowing Chamber.  The sounds—the screams—coming from in there!  They’ve been surrounded by blood mages whose wicked fingers snake into your mind and corrupt your thoughts.  You have to end it, now, before it’s too late!”

Greagoir barked at his knight.  “I am the knight-commander, not you.  Stand down, Rutherford.  You are about to pitch over.  You are in no position to speak let alone decide what do with the Circle.  Return to your cot and allowed your commanding officer to do his duty.”

Yet, Cullen ignored the order.  He reached forward for the next place to lean.  He will kick and crawl if he needs to.  He cannot allow the blood mages to get any more victims.  “Have you seen Uldred’s body?!  He might be still be alive in there, waiting until his agents can smuggle him out.  Then the whole world will feel what I experienced.  Knight-Commander, you must kill the all for what they’ve done.  They caged us like animals…looked for ways to break us.  I’m the only one left…They turned some of us knights into…monsters.  And…there was nothing I could do…”

The desire demon silted her eyes, those sky blues that will now haunt Cullen’s dreams until he dies.  “You should be thankful you are alive, Cullen.  Please, let someone take care of you.  It is important we discuss what happen without interruptions.  There is a Blight right outside our door.  As a Grey Warden, I came here to seek help based on ancient treaties.  My order has been destroyed by treachery at Ostagar.  Now, there is no one to assist to stop the Blight.  I came here for assistance.  Instead, I find my once home dripping in blood and crawling with demons-“

“-Says the demon itself!”  Cullen pointed at the blonde desire demon.  “You who wear her face!  You, a desire demon, who ripped into my skull and played with my thoughts like a child’s toy.  Leave me!  Leave them!  I will not allow you to manipulate and harm any more innocence!”

“Stand down, Knight!”  Greagoir growled.  The desire demon pursed her lips and looked away.  Knight-Captain Hadley and a few other officers approached Cullen.

“I am not a desire demon!”  The desire demon shouted.  “I am Maya Amell, Grey Warden, a once mage of Kinloch Hold.  You must remember when Warden-Commander Duncan came and recruited me to the order.  You watched me leave!”

“Maya Amell died at Ostagar!  Hadley killed her to avoid another blood mage’s escape.  She allowed Jowan to run away without any way to track him!  Demon, you cannot fool me!”

The demon’s blue eyes widened and mouth gapped.  Her gaze flicked to the knight-captain and knight-commander, both coughing and avoiding the conversation.  “Is this true?  You believed me a blood mage!?”

“Warden, we-“

“Jowan is in Redcliffe right now locked up in their prisons for poisoning the arl!”  The warden demon hollered, her fist gripping her robed armor.  “He was an agent of Loghain’s, just as Uldred was promised by that madman general to allow mages to live free!  My fellow warden, Astrid Cousland, is there now helping rebuild the castle and town, while waiting for the time Jowan is dealt with.”  She stepped forward, her face puckered.  Cullen reached for his sword, but Hadley stopped him.  The Orlesian red-haired demon approached the warden demon and motioned to her knight belt.  “I had no idea Jowan was a blood mage or Uldred was his teacher!”  She pulled up her sleeves and showed her flawless porcelain skin.  “No scars or wounds!  I would never turn to blood magic!  I am a healer, taught by your own bond, Wynne, to do good in this world instead of imprisonment and abuse!”

Knight-Commander Greagoir met the warden’s critical glare.  “My apologies, Warden Amell.  Until now, we had little evidence of what was occurring in the tower.  It is poetic that someone connected to the blood mages be the one to stop them and the annulment.”

Maya frowned still, her hand reaching out behind her for the Orlesian demon.  “Apology accepted.  Alas, the Maker works through His children.  If none of this had never happened, I would have never found my soulmate bond in Lay Sister Leliana.”

Several sets out eyes widened at the announcement.  Templars and mages alike whispered to one another.  Bonds were never supposed to be beyond templars and mages.  How did this mage bond with a Chantry sister?!  Greagoir bit his lips, his ear turned to his bond Wynne.  They looked like they were communicating silently through their connection.  Wynne comforted the knight-commander.

Finally, Greagoir spoke.  “Then the Maker works in mysterious ways.”  His raspy voice denoted he knew more about the situation, but said nothing.  “Now that we have won back the tower and accepted Irving’s assurance there are no more blood mages, we templars must begin rebuilding.  Our attention is here, but the mages are free to assist you wardens against the Blight.  What happened here is nothing compared with what is happening outside our doors.”

“But they may have demons within them, lying in wait for the perfect opportunity!  You cannot let a single one leave here alive!”  Cullen hollered again.

“Enough!  I have already made my decision, Templar!”  The knight-commander barked again, thrusting his hand at Cullen.  “You will stand down or being punished for disobeying an order.”

“How much more can I be punished for all I endured!?  Death is a blessing now than to know a single maleficar may leave this Circle!  You allowed so many to leave already!  Anders!  Jowan, and-“  Cullen pointed at the warden.  Yes, she might not be the desire demon now, but it does not change what she truly is:  a weapon to be used and then confined in a Circle.  It was a templar’s duty to watch and hunt such evil creatures who threatened all.  “-and her!  Kill them, please Knight-Commander-“

Slap!

Cullen felt to the floor in a heap.  His face burned from that mage touching his cheek and slapping him so hard that he saw stars.  A few people shifted to intervene, but Cullen heard Hadley’s armor move as he held up his hand.  The knight laid there with his other check pressed into the flagstones.

“How dare you!  How dare you repeatedly ask for my friends—my family—to be murdered and butchered more than has already happened.  You lost friends here, but I lost my home and many people I grew up with.  Innocent lives on all sides fell in this tower and all you call for is more death!  You call yourself a knight of the Templar Order, but all I see is a man so broken that any remaining decency has been lost.  You survived.  Be thankful for the Maker’s gift to continue breathing when so many perished.  It might be a guilty feeling, but it is a gift!  You live to tell the tale.  I watched thousands died at Ostagar.  My fellow new wardens barely survived the onslaught!  I volunteered to bring Alistair and Leliana here because they understood this world built by the Chantry.  Instead, you just show all the ugliness!  You were not the only victim, Cullen Rutherford!  Children as young as five watched the blood fly!  How will this change them, while a grown man wallows in his grief!?  You must think beyond your hells and move forward!  Fear and hate will just lead to more Uldreds.  You will accomplish nothing on the road you walk right now!”

Cullen’s consciousness slowly dimmed as his dull amber eyes glanced one last time at the beautiful mage, Maya Amell, who once blessed his life and now tarnished everything he ever thought pure.  Tears streamed down her fair cheeks as she whispered one last curse.  “You were never the man I loved.  You are a liar and a coward.  I will never forgive you for all you have done and said, Ser Cullen Rutherford…”

It felt strange.  Cullen watched as the memory faded away leaving him in darkness.  He knew he was still dreaming, asleep so deeply that even if he tried to wake he could not.  All he heard was the piano playing a deep sorrowful tune.

Looking back on that time, the knight knew he had been so wrong.  The pain of what happened in that tower for weeks had been so fresh.  He had no time to step back and realize he had been saved and survived the ordeal.  There was nothing the officers or the wardens could have done to make him see reason.  Instead, he ranted and raved like a madman.  Cullen never left the tower.  All his dreaming memories the last few weeks demonstrated that his mind, body, heart, and soul still sat imprisoned in Kinloch Hold.  He built that now bashed open door in his psyche to shove all his experiences to avoid addressing it.  He accepted the fear and hate instead of looking back rationally.

It was ironic really, realizing all this.  The templar cursed Evie for hiding away and keeping secrets while he did the same to her and himself.  He never told her about Kinloch, assuming her father and she just knew everything from their investigations.  There was a massive difference between reading someone’s life and that person explaining it.  The emotions expressed with each frown and tear.  Lady Gwen understood this fact. 

Yet, from Evie’s sympathetic eyes and understanding his need to be free and govern his own life, she registered more than what a dossier could establish.  How?  Why?

Cullen closed his eyes, listening to this spirit’s piano echoing his growing hurt and realization of all he had been doing the last two years was existing.  He allowed the pain, fear, and hatred rule him to forget who he really was.  Now, connecting the dots and watching the events unfold again, he can finally start processing what happened to him.  All those questions he had about the Chantry, his commanding officers, and mages finally filled in the holes where fear had lingered. 

Furthermore, he knew who his true bond was now.  His feelings for Maya were just an infatuation and hopeful yearning of a young naive boy.  She admitted to loving him, but found true love with Leliana.  Finally, the gaping hole where his broken heart and twisted soul laid finally began closing.  He finally felt like he could let her go.  It will take a long time to disconnect that Maya the person did not play with his mind and abused him every way possible.  She lived through her own trials and pushed through.  That meek young mage was not the one who struck him in the vestibule, but a woman who fought to survive through several life-threatening situations.  He admired her courage to persevere.  Her ranting and curses were warranted and demonstrated how much she was a bigger person than him.  Her venting screamed that Cullen needed to think beyond himself like a true knight and consider all others who experienced trauma, Maya included. 

It took two years and his hidden stubborn bond, but Cullen finally got the message.

“Maybe one day I will get to thank her…apologize.”  Cullen wondered, his words echoed throughout the Fade.  The darkness around him felt cold, but he allowed it to sink in and accept the hard lessons.

Then his right ear perked.  A violin?  Evie?

All of Cullen’s senses burned.

The lyrium brand pulled him a direction.

Just taking a single step and Cullen found himself back into Kinloch Hold.  There were no people present nor furniture to demonstrate anyone existed at the Circle.  Still, blood pooled and dripped from the ceiling.  Piles of organs, skin, and other inners clustered together in those masses Cullen remembered so clearly seeing being carried down the tower.  However, there was more guts than what the Sloth demon created.  The artificial smell was unbearable.

And the gut-wrenching screaming…

The templar approached the spiral stairs, his hand reaching for his longsword and shield.  He wore his templar armor, but not what he had in Kinloch, but the gear specially made by Bann Trevelyan’s blacksmiths.  Yet, the enchantments did not glow nor did he feel the buffs.  Strange.

Another blood curdling scream rang down the stairwell, one that made Cullen flinch and cover his ears.  His mind brought him back to the screeches he heard from the Harrowing Chamber.  This was a woman’s cry of agony, but none of the hollering he heard in the past matched the intensity of what rang down the stairwell.  Cullen believed he heard every possibly sound of anguish and sorrow in his life, but each time the yelling echoed his whole body tensed, his heart clenched in sympathy, and his soul yearned to save the person.

Like an automaton, the knight stepped forward and began climbing the stairwell.  He knew he was panting, but he did not need actually Fade air during the climb.  He knew there were hundreds of stairs in the Circle, but in just a few steps he neared the top of the tower and reached the templar quarters level.  It felt like teleportation, but it could not be.  Could it?

Another blood curdling sob.

The blood dripped like waterfalls down the flagstone steps as he emerged from the stairwell.  His amber widened at the destruction and gore surrounding him.  He thought he saw the Void in Kinloch Hold.  However, in this night terror, he realized it could always get worse.  The blood looked fresh flowing from the source of the agony.  All the while, the violin crescendo until it was nearly deafening in Cullen’s whole being.  The water muteness the knight heard throughout the last week was completely gone.  There was nothing blocking the music and waves of emotions batting Cullen like a spiked club.  Evie was here…?  How…?

Cullen got yanked forward again.  The environment shifted again.  Panic welled inside him as Cullen found himself once again in the purple cage.  He reached for his sword and shield.  Thank the Maker he was still armed.

“Really, girl…You just need to stop resisting…”

Cullen’s blood ran cold.  He knew that slutty voice like his own.  Just hearing its tone made him roll into a fetal position.  His amber eyes widened and searched outside the cage for the demon.

“Ne…ver…”

Nearly snapping his neck, Cullen’s whiskey orbs found Evie nearly naked and bleeding from multiple wounds throughout her body.  Her once beautiful face looked like she had been kicked, cut, and punched hundreds of times.  One eye looked almost completely swollen shut.  She held her chest, covering her bare breasts.  Her Fade robes torn from her body from multiple stab and slash wounds.  Layers upon layers of whipping lashes and blood seeped from pus-filled wounds.

Maker’s breath…Eve!

“I know you plans, mage…”  The desire demon sassed, cutting right under Evie’s left breast.  The slash wound seeped blood down her torso.  It almost looked like the demon near cut the breast from Evie’s body.  “You think making yourself tranquil will kill me?  I’ve been a part of this bond for ages.  I am so interlinked with you and him even more than your spirit halves.  I am the one who created your bond.  Don’t you felt it inside you?  This love that I brought you.”

Evie shuddered, her body seizing under the pain.  Still defiant, her swollen eyes scowled at the creature.  “You did nothing for us.  You allowed yourself to be twisted, yearn for a man you can never have.  You denied your role and became a monster!”

The desire demon slapped her again.  Cullen nearly lunged to take the hit instead, but somehow he knew it would fall through him.  Was he actually present in the nightmare?  Or is this what Evie mention by seeing his dreams but could not be a part?

“Tsk tsk.  You and all those before you have cursed me, but still you all die with such deep sorrow.”  The demon lilted happily.  “Come now.  All you have to do is accept me.  Your sister cannot possess a mage who is already houses a demon.  He will finally love you, and I will finally have my love after so many lifetimes.  Everyone wins.  There is no reason to become tranquil and die if you can have all you ever wanted by just letting me in…”

Evie spat at the demon, a tooth flying out with the blood.  “Go fuck yourself, you lilac bitch!”  That rewarded her an electrified gold chain lashing.  “I will never accept a demon.  I will persist.  I will protect Cullen from you and all your cronies until he is so far away that nothing you do to be will impact him again!”

The demon just chuckled.  “Oh, how silly of you.  Protect him?  It was you how caused him to suffer so in Kinloch Hold.  You resisted me at your harrowing as I felt your massive power from the overdose lyrium and poison pull me back to your bond after your halves distanced me the last two reincarnations.  Oh the feeling of being with him again!  You are absolutely right.  He is my Adonis!  Everything I ever wanted and wished to fuck!”

Evie attempted to thrust a fireball through the cage, but instead the blast flew her back against the stone wall.  A bloody cry echoed throughout the tower.  Still her bent legs kept her decent and covered.  Her violin played such a sorrowful tune demonstrating how much she was losing this battle.

“The fact you loved him even then and did not know his face just made me stronger.”  The desire demon continued with her monologue.  “Then the Void gave me such a gift.  Your lyrium brands connected, you watched him so helplessly in love with another mage…Such a sweet and innocent porcelain face…nothing like you, you ugly tramp.”

“Piss…off…Better than your flabby boobs and unrealistic body.”

The desire demon ignored the slant.  Instead, she entered the purple cage much as she did in Cullen’s horrors.  “Then those blood mages.  A gift from the Void…Suddenly, I had the greatest opportunity.  Instead of persuading your stubborn ass to let me in, I could got him directly.  It was so easy to jump through one of the blood mage’s summonings.  I kept my connection with the Fade through you and had such a glorious time with Cullen.  You know what we all did together of course.  I made you see and feel it right with him.  I had to demonstrate to you that you left me no choice.”

The demon lunged and impaled Evie with its claws.  Evie screamed bloody murder, her sobs echoing through the Circle halls in a way Cullen thought impossible.  “What I did to him was because you resisted.  Everything he has ever felt was your fault!  He hates mages—especially you—because you did not save him.  You played your music and pep talked to him to keep going without his precious lyrium, food, and water.  He lived those long weeks because you refused to let him die with dignity.  You kept him alive so I could continue playing.  Thank you for that, but would he thank you?  Would he be grateful for surviving those hells caused by your own choices?  All the thanks you got was a few kisses, physical lust and temptation, and being tossed aside for being the wicked horrid thing you are!  He will never love you!  How can he love the very monster who allowed him to be tortured sexually, psychological, physically, and emotionally?!  How can he care for a mage who could have ended his suffering if you had just LET ME IN!”

Everything.

Kinloch Hold was because of…Evie…? 

No, not really. 

She did that…?

No, the demon wanted her to accept it to become possessed and an abomination.  The demon has wanted Cullen all this time and knew by possessing Evie it could have him in the physical world.  To this very moment, Evie resisted.  She repelled even when Cullen could see her strength waning.  Her violin music slowly softened as she kept pushing the monster away.

This creature was a part of their bond…?  How?  Why?

The templar in Cullen wanted to become solid in the nightmare to strike down both the mage and demon for such weaknesses.  However, Cullen knew she had been resisting for years alone.  If the demon reattached itself to their bond during her harrowing, that meant his bond—Eve—fought it for five years alone.  It committed all these atrocities on her person each night and still she persevered.

Then Kinloch Hold.

It thought it could get Cullen without using Evie.  Evie assisted him stopping the torture through their connection, while experiencing exactly what Cullen lived through on her own person.  No wonder her sympathy.  She blamed herself for his hells because the demon did it to punish her for not allowing possession.

It could have never happened though if she had…

No, Evie did the right thing and resisted.  She is doing the impossible by living five years without assistance.  She did what so many mages could never accomplish!

But why did the demon want Cullen?  Why go through such lengths to be with him?  Why would he accept the demon anyway?

Most of all, how did the demon survive the Circle when the wardens came and destroyed the demons and blood mages?! 

Evie’s sobbing grew as her hands attempted to pull the demon’s claws out of her shoulders.  Blood gushed from her wounds, but still she pushed against the creature.  “I will only rest when I know you are nothing but dust and a forgotten shadow in the Fade.  I might be why Cullen hates all mages because I did not give into you, but you and I both know I value myself first and foremost.  Cullen values me as me!  That’s what I tried to show him all these weeks together!  He would have never stopped his execution in the library if you even wormed into my body.  He stopped because of who I am.  Yes, I caused all his fear and hate, but with a damn good reason!  I will never bow down and allow possession!  Not from you or the Formless One!”

Fire raged around Evie as she forced the demon back through the purple cage with her remaining magic.  The creature screamed in pain from the flames.  It slapped Evie one last time as it slinked back into the shadows.  “Pigheaded girl!  You are nothing without me!  You will fall.  I feel your magic growing weak.  Soon, your music will not reach him.  I muted it over the years to keep him focused on me!  If you won’t bend, I might as well go and play with him now…”

Evie lifted her bleeding head, horror in her sunken chocolate brown eyes.  “No!  Do what you want with me, but leave him be!  I beg you!”

The desire demon laughed, slowly disappearing.  “Oh, you stupid girl.  I will always get what I want.  You should have accepted me.  Now, feel the hells I will inflict on him again and again.  Just remember:  you are why he suffers…”  A finger snap echoed before the monster completely disappeared.

Dozens of rage, despair, and other demons swarmed the room, approaching Evie.  The mage screamed in agony, but not at what was about to happen to her.  Instead her brown eyes flickered to Cullen.  She saw him!  She knew he was watching the whole time!  Cullen attempted to jolt forward to help her, but her willpower kept him back.  With a limp hand, she reached out to him.  Tears poured down her high cheekbones.

“You were to never know…I tried to protect you…Everything…everything you felt is my fault, but I could not give in.  I’m so sorry, my Lion…Cullen, please forgive me…”

Right then the demons attacked like a ravenous pack of wolves.  Cullen jumped forward, tears streaming down his eyes.  “EVE!  NO!”

Chapter Text

Cullen bolted forward in bed, complete terror and panic overcoming his entire world.  He dashed out of bed, ignoring how the mabari pup barked and growled for being disturbed from a deep sleep.  Cullen searched for his boots, not remembering when he took them off or even when he went to bed.  All this mind registered right then was the crumpled vellum grasped in his left hand and absolute need to find Evie.

The man ignored the letter, tossing it on the dresser as he scrambled for his longsword.  The need for a weapon was not to harm the maiden, but to be prepared to fight dozens of demons like he saw in the dream.  He was armed and ready for the pending night terror, but still he could not physically do anything to help his soulmate bond.  The crowds of different demons rushing towards Evie replayed behind his glassy eyes repeatedly.  She could be dead already!  His fingers could not tie his scabbard belt fast enough.  The trembling kept twisting his digits over each other.  He did not care for himself, just for that poor woman.

She caused his hell in Kinloch Hold Circle.

Cullen smacked his face hard once and finished buckling his belt right above his hips.  Cannot think like that right now.  Thank the Maker he created a lyrium draught earlier in the evening.  Cullen grabbed and drank it quickly.  It was not for himself, but for Evie.  She stated when he drank his philters, it boasted her abilities.  Maybe this jolt will keep her going until he could arrive.  Glancing over himself, Cullen really did not care he was still in his thin linen pants and untied tunic.  He rushed to the door, not even looking back at his mabari wishing to follow him.

Evie did not cause that Void.  She experienced it all with him.  All those weeks.  It was not just him being tortured.  She kept him going when he wanted to just die.  She saw and felt everything that desire demon twisted in his mind and soul.  She was a victim just like him.

If she had given in, Cullen would have been saved both from the demon and from the bond.  He could have cut her down afterwards and that would have been the end.  Nothing happening now would be an issue if that apostate gave in!

Cullen smacked the doors closed and raced to the stairwell heading up.  The family quarters were on the fifth floor.  He had never seen them, but heard enough from attendants about those exclusive rooms. 

No, Evie did the right thing.  She resisted the demons for longer than even Cullen.  Cullen only experienced those visions for a few weeks and now just as night terrors when he did not take a lyrium draught or the desire demon wished him to relive those memories.  Instead, Evie resisted that monster for years since her Harrowing. 

Cullen figured for how far in their bonded would she not be protected from possession by now?  Most mage-templar bonds just required touch to be safe from possession.  Evidently, that was not true.  Instead, that desire demon just caused more anguish.  It drained Evie of mana every night while she kept trying to protect Cullen from further agony.

It was all her fault.

No, they were both victims.

The desire demon wants him because of the lyrium Evie drank and calling the demon to their bond.

No, the bond and the demon were interlinked somehow.  Why, he did not know, but Cullen and Evie were in this together.  If they did not stop it, the creature will continue to destroy their connection and future reincarnations of their pairing just as it had done in the past.

She should have told him of this Void.

No, he would have struck her down instantly, his prejudices still so strong even after weeks of trying to recover and be a better man and templar.

Evie was too powerful to let live.  The amount of mana and magic pouring from her to keeping stopping the demon’s assaults…Mages were weapons, their powers flowing from their fingertips…no person should have those abilities.  Any creature as such should be locked away and watched constantly.  For everyone’s sake, that apostate should be branded so she could never use her abilities again.  Hang that tranquility could be cured.  Keep the cure away from that creature.

No, Evie was in control of her abilities and always has been.  If she was not so powerful, she would have succumb years ago.  She fought this battle alone for what felt like ages, while Cullen cut her off all this time because he thought he was alone and no one understood.

Cullen stopped on the fourth floor landing right before the final floor upward.  His heart ached as his mind debated on what to do with his bond.  He knew his fears were governing those threats.  He recognized it now.  He had to fight the urge to harm Evie.  He never wished to maim that beautiful lady, His Lady.  That fire mage was his friend and confidante, someone who knew and understood him the best. 

The one thing clear in all of this:  Cullen was never alone in his grief, pain, and anger in Kinloch Hold Circle.  For the first time in his entire life, the idea of bonds filled Cullen with a sense of peace and overwhelming relief.  He has never been alone, abandoned, and left to struggle by himself since birth.  Evie had always been there through thick and thin, a light in his darkness.

That realization washed away all the struggle and arguing in the Fereldan lion’s mind.  For once, his mind, heart, body, and soul all worked in tandem up the stairs to go and save Evie from herself.  Cullen felt like a single person again, not torn in four different directions.  Now, he was pieced back together and needed to save Evie before her whole being was destroyed by the very creatures that brutally annihilated him for the last two years.

Once reaching the fifth floor, Cullen spun in a circle.  Several doors lined the hallway, but they were all the same.  There was not definition of which one was Evie’s. The knight reached out with his senses, the lyrium brand burning with the refreshed lyrium in his blood.  Nothing.  Cullen nearly crumbled at the lacking violin in his soul.  Never in his time at Morcant Estate did Evie’s violin not reach his heart.  Even when it was so muted, he still had a direction to sense.

But there was nothing.

“Eve…!”  Cullen yelled down the long hall.

The knight stopped the anguish threatening to overcome his whole mind and body.  All he wanted to do was fall to his knees and sob at the loss he cared about so deeply now.  Panic and sorrow will not save Evie now. 

Cullen reeled it all in instead, his tactical mind kicking into high gear.  Bann Ian’s subtle mental strategy kept his mind focused on the task.  Cullen began to investigate and analyze the quarters.  If you were a family who wished to keep your mage daughter a secret, especially at night, what would you do?  Ward her rooms and place nullification everywhere to disguise her mana signature.  How would they have done that?

The templar’s mind remembered the different runes he saw in the Harrowing Chamber during Maya Amell’s exam.  To most people, the estate looked normal everyday walls and floors.  To a templar with the lyrium humming in his system, he would sense the wards as it took lyrium and dwarves to successfully carve them.  House Trevelyan had the dwarves, resources, and lyrium to complete the nullification spells.  Knowing them, they also knew how to disguise it from templars too.  Luckily, from his conversations with Bann Trevelyan regarding Morcant Estate, Cullen had learned many tricks and began figuring out the tactics himself during his stay.  Thank the Maker Bann Ian loosened his tongue during chess games…

….or did the bann do it just for Cullen and this purpose…?  Knowing that sly man, yes, absolutely.  He did everything to protect his daughter.

Now, it was time for Cullen to demonstrate he could protect Evie himself, be worthy of her affections.

Cullen reached out with his templar abilities focusing specifically on those little tricks he figured out over his stay.  Only a specialized templar who knew all of House Trevelyan’s tricks and being Evie’s bond could solve these riddles.  Thank the Maker Cullen was not some ordinary knight or his bond would be dead before he figured out which bloody door was hers!

If she was not dead already…or possessed.

“No!”  Cullen growled like a rabid mabari, pushing back the worst possible scenario out of his mind and soul.

The knight’s amber eyes searched the walls throughout the fifth floor.  A tinge of blue swirled around Cullen he never noticed before.  He knew he summoned several buffs around himself to react with the tricks, but the aura felt strange and made the lyrium in his blood sing louder than normal.  Still, he felt in full control.  He felt the spirit halves assist him searching.  Finally, the spirits and he were aligned in duty and purpose.  His whole being felt at peace.

Then a specific double door smacked back at Cullen’s templar sense, fighting the lyrium and draining the abilities away.  His whiskey eyes followed the door frame.  Thousands of runes, enchantments, and arcane echoed back at him like only his amber eyes could read them properly.  Most were carved and filled with precious metals and focus stone dust to enhance their purpose.  The amount of sovereigns carved in the ironbark and other magical woods numbered in the hundreds of thousand.  Bann Ian spent a pretty copper on these protections.

Anything to protect Evie.

Cullen absolutely agreed now.

Maker, why did he lie to her in the library!?

The knight froze in his search and blinked.  No, Cullen never lied to her.  He did not feel that way about her…did he?

Focus, Rutherford!

The Fereldan lion pushed that thought process back deep in his heart.  The tactical man concluded this must be his main query now, not trying to untangle this new strange emotion swirling in his gut.  He tried the door.  Locked.  Based on the arcane circles and runes in the door knob, there was no way he could enter without getting himself killed.  These protections were meant to stop assassins from harming the precious mage.  The only way could get in was is if Evie let him in.

Cullen had no choice then.

“Eve!  Evelyn!  It’s me, Cullen!  Open up!”  The blonde man banged against the door with a heavy fist.  “I’m here!  Let me help you!  Please!  I don’t blame you for anything that happened!  Please, Evelyn!  Let me in!  Don’t do this alone!  Maker, please!” 

Tears tugged at Cullen’s amber eyes as both fists hammered against the door.  The enchantments drained the knight of his lyrium.  He felt bruises forming on the outside of his hands.  So, Cullen shifted to his shoulder, ramming the double doors at their weakest points.  He did not care if he woke up the whole house.  He needed to save Evie!

“Maker, please Eve!  I’m here now!  I won’t push you away anymore.  You saved me!  So many times!  I never knew!  Let me save you now!  You don’t have to fight alone anymore!  I won’t abandon you now!”  Cullen’s shoulders protested the ramming.  The knight debated using his long sword, but he did not want to harm Evie if she did open the door.  Instead, he grabbed an ornate chair nearby.  Furniture flew repeatedly against the magical doors which barely showing any signs of damage.  The chair broke apart.  Cullen batted the locks and hinges, the panic overwhelming him.  “EVE!”

“Cullen.”

Panting and shaking, Cullen stilled.  He stopped his assault, his mind reminded of how Redcliffe Castle never fell during a siege.  Those double doors were no different.  Instead, chair leg still in hand, the knight slowly turned his head to the raspy voice that stated his name.

A single candle shined in the hallway darkness.  Cullen utilized the two moon’s shine from a nearby floor-length window to see.  His eyes adjusted from the night to the soft yellow glow haloing a shorter man about ten paces away.  In most cases, the sight would have startled Cullen for the young man’s eyes were shadowed like a despair demon and his white night shirt flickered like a rage demon.  The man consciously told himself to relax and lower his batting chair leg.

“Esme…”  Cullen croaked between pants and shaking.  “I have to save Evie.  S-She’s alone.  So many demons…I got to…”

The younger Trevelyan pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes shut.  “She isn’t in there then.”

Cullen’s whiskey gaze flashed back to the enchanted doors, then returned to the young adolescent who caught him doing so much destruction.  He knew Esme did not like him very much.  However, that solemn stare shadowed by the candle told Cullen the brother worried for his sister.

“Where…”  Cullen swallowed, trying to still his quivering baritone voice.  “Where is she?”

Esme gritted his teeth and looked away.  Cullen could see he was contemplating over what to do.  “She told me…told all of us to never tell you….but, she can’t keep up the fight much longer.  By the time Patricia gets here, she won’t be able to even lift a finger let alone stop the blood ritual.”

Esme took a step forward, tears starting to fall from his big brown eyes.  He finally broke under all the knowledge people did not think he knew.  Cullen realized in this moment all those safe guards Bann Ian placed so his family did not know all his dirty deeds were just lies.  Esme knew likely everything happening on the estate.  He kept them all and told those who needed to know to stop further pains.

Now was a such time.

“If I tell you, you cannot harm her.  You cannot kill her, Cullen.”  Esme begged as the candle light flickered and smoked with each breath.  It reminded Cullen of Evie’s dwindling fire and light in the dream demonstrated her weakening abilities.  The young man never called him by name before.  His changing voice croaked with his pleas.  “It is not her fault.  Lyrium!  The lyrium at her Harrowing was poisoned and so potent, it exploded her mana pool!  If she is ever given lyrium or get it from your overdose, her magic goes out of control.  That’s why the Promisers want her.  All they have to do is give her lyrium and she is a magic gaatlok!”

Cullen’s eyes widened, the pieces from his experiences on the isle coming together.  Evie never uses lyrium.  The smell alone makes her sick…but it is not sickness, but a magical explosion?!  When he drinks so much lyrium, it powers her…but also makes her lose control.

Maker, did his extra draught actually weaken her more?!

A mage like that should die!

“No!”  Cullen grabbed his head and pulled on his blonde curls.  He pushed away the fear and hatred.  He shook away the urges to be that twisted man.  Instead, he called upon the spirits to unite him again. 

Once the threatening thoughts subsided, he opened his amber eyes, determination written across his chiseled features.  “I…I promise, Esme.”  Esme’s eyes analyzed the knight.  Of course he would be suspicious, especially after such an outburst.  Cullen placed a bruised palm on the young man’s shoulder.  “I promise with everything I am.  I...I…”  Cullen allowed the words to fall from his lips.  “I care for Eve…I just want to save her…I can never hurt her again.  I have already done that so many times, but I promise.  No more.”

That settled Esme.  The adolescent nodded and smiled.  “Thank you…”  He motioned with his candle stick to follow. 

Cullen hesitated until he watched the youngest Trevelyan start down the stair well.  “Where we are going…?”

Esme stopped, frozen like a statue.  The candlelight placed most of his face in shadow.  Only his lips were lit.  “To the Pit, or as Evie calls it…Her Abyss.”

Cullen discovered searching for Evie after their first kiss that Morcant Estate continued deep into the isle and cliffs.  He thought that particular sub-floor housing the Tevinter pools was deep.  However, Cullen had miscalculated how far down the estate fortress went into the bedrock.  Esme guided Cullen from one staircase series to another, quickly confusing Cullen which direction they travelled.  With each new set of stairs, their construction material changed.  In the manor, the stairs were rich hardwoods and marble.  In the first sub-floors where Evie had been swimming, the access steps were regular varnished wood and stone slabs.  Now, as the two young men stepped deeper into the isle’s under belly, the bedrock had been chiseled away for each stair.  The measurements were not the same so in some places it was a small step and others so far down Cullen thought him might roll down the tight corridors.

Starting each new staircase, the ceiling closed in and the halls narrowed.  During the first batch, Cullen was able to contain his claustrophobia.  Now on the third set, the templar struggled.  His breathing quickened as ducked and weaved around bedrock.  His fears started to win against his determination and actions.  He called upon the spirit halves again to just keep him focus and keep that twisted man who emerged out from the Circle out of his mind and soul.  Thankful, they took to the task with vigor, Hope especially.  Since acknowledging and relying on the halves, Cullen could tell when the piano intensified as the spirits worked to achieve his inner goals.  In all honesty, the sensation and action of relying on spirits was weird and went against everything the academy engrained into him.  Yet, it felt right and fair!

“How far beneath the surface are we?”  Cullen questioned, his baritone voice echoing off the cold grey walls.

“We are only a few dozen feet above sea level.”  Esme replied, his attention on the stairs ahead of him.  “There are several expansive caves carved by the sea that the family’s ancestors used in their smuggling practices.  They are not used as often now since this area gets flooded during storms.  The smuggling entrances can still be accessed by row boats.  Sometimes, my father stores perishable foods and resources down here when the waters recede.  The rock keeps a constant temperature.”

“Is Evie safe in such a floodable space, especially with that massive hurricane coming?”  Cullen worried, biting the inside of his cheek.  Maker, she could drown down here alone.

“No.”  Esme retorted with a brief smirk.  Then his brown eyes dulled again and focused onward.  “Where she is kept is completely sealed away from the sea.  The Pit was carved out of the bedrock and completely water tight.  The Trevelyans would not have built their crypt where water could disturb the ash urns and caskets.”

Right then, the stair case opened to a large expansive cave-like room.  Cullen could not see the size, but Esme’s single candle did not touch a wall.  Instead, hundreds of runes sparkled and glowed from the ceiling to floor.  The knight’s amber eyes searched for the reason sensing nothing that could enact the nullifications.  Esme waved Cullen towards him until both men reached a pair of marble statues holding funeral urns.  Cullen bit his lip, finally registering Esme’s earlier words.  Of course the space was expansive.  They were inside House Trevelyan’s burial crypt.  A part of Cullen thanked the Maker for not seeing the number of past relatives and their remains in the darkness.  The idea alone induced nightmares and cold chills.

Esme pointed between the statues at a glowing blue pipe with numbers.  “That’s a lyrium detection scale.”  The Fereldan’s eyes recognized the construction and that the levels were over one-hundred percent.  Next the young boy pointed to the glowing ceiling.  “You see the nullification runes too?  This was where Evie first learned her magic.  Father thought it fitting with our history that the family mage train among the ancestors who fought to keep Andraste’s vision of the world civil and pure.  When the scale reaches one-hundred percent, a failsafe enacts and ignites the nullification runes so no one can detect the presence of magic out of control.”

“It’s over one-hundred now…”  Cullen wisped, then searched behind him.  “But Evie is nowhere to be found.”

“But her mana and magic is spilling into the space even if she is several meters below surrounded by bedrock and more nullification runes.”

The templar tensed.  “The amount of magic required…”

Esme nodded.  “I am showing you this to demonstrate my sister is in control, but this is what her tainted lyrium caused.  She took her Harrowing here.  The nullification runes are the same in a Harrowing Chamber.  Everything was done under the watch of several dozen templars, mages, and leaders of the Reformists.”  The boy exhaled and squeezed his eyes shut.  “I still remember that night.  The whole estate shook after she plunged her head into the lyrium.  I did knew what was happening, but couldn’t say a word.  I discovered from my little tricks and inventions.  I laid awake all night as the manor trembled…then the shouting started.  Evie emerged out of the Fade fine until she began foaming at the mouth.  The spirit halves kept the poison from killing her knowing she would be struck down…mistaken she was an abomination.  But, after she awoke, all hell broke loose.  Something wasn’t right.  She kept puking and begging for assistance.  None of the templars allowed anyone near, believing she was a possible abomination anyway.  It was Knotts who finally got through.  He recognized she had been poisoned by both lyrium and nightshade.  The runes were keeping her mana in check.  It was…”  Esme shuddered.  “Evie had too much power.  The templars attempted to silence her, while others wanted it to occur.  The loyalists to House Trevelyan realized there were betrayers there from different cultist groups.  Templar against templar, mage against Chantry officials…it was a blood bath…Poetic with where it all happened.  All the while, my sister suffered and nearly died.  The other thing that stopped it…what I felt as heat from my room so many floor above us…Evie finally…letting go of the massive power the lyrium potency caused.  Floors above us caught fire it was that cosmic.”

The younger Trevelyan sighed and stumbled a little, the candle flickering with his movements.  “Evie refuses to take lyrium now.  Not even when she has no mana left.  Never.  She can barely control the reaction when she smells it.  Anyone who visits Orzammar or transports the drug must wash and change clothing before even approaching the house.”

“I am aware of her aversion, but only tonight understood it brought a demon to our bond.”  Cullen explained, watching the lyrium in the scale nearly bust out of the glass vial.

Esme swallowed and met Cullen’s critical stare.  “We never knew that.  We knew something was wrong, but she refused to tell us.  Three weeks, four days, seventeen bells, thirty-two minutes, and nineteen seconds…  That’s when the real void began.  The slaughter from her Harrowing had been a distant memory.  She ‘puffed’ a few times a year before that hell began, but she notified my father that you had been branded.  The theory proposed was that your lyrium draughts impacted her somehow even if no one knew who or where you were.”

The youngest Trevelyan moved the candle away from the lyrium scale and towards another wall across the crypt.  His raspy voice continued.  “We were at dinner at our Ostwick City townhouse.  Evie was telling us about something she overheard at the docks when she skipped a salon tea party.  I had been staring at the clock, excited to return to my magnetic device I was building…Evie was in the middle of a sentence and just…”  Tear welled up in the boy’s eyes as he took small steps.  “That’s why her ship is called The Rising Phoenix.  We thought her dead that first night.  Father smuggled her on board with the morning fog.  She almost burned down the mast.  The first week she was kept here, nothing contained the flames.  She never ate or slept.  When there wasn’t an inferno, she sang thC chant.  Not for herself, but like in tandem with someone.”

Cullen knew what they young man meant.  She sang with Cullen during the torture.

“She only requested water and her violin.”  Esme stopped by a marble casket along the far wall.  “She never questioned when they put the mana-draining chains and neck brace on her.  They didn’t work either.  Father commissioned the best smiths devise new ones that could actually contain the inferno.”  His dull eyes glanced at Cullen.  “I snuck down here when I heard the violin playing.  It was strained like she didn’t have the strength to strum her bow.  Her fingers bled from playing for days at a time, but she refused to stop…not until her hells began again.  She was placed in the Pit the next week.  It didn’t have the runes like now, but people were getting too curious.  By the third week…tranquility and then immediate death was discussed.”  His hand grasped an unlit wall torch stand by the wall.  “That’s why I knew the exact time.  I was with Mother, comforting her when she knew her firth born would meet the Maker.  Father was coming down here to do it himself when it all just…ended.”

Tears spilled from Cullen’s amber eyes.  Evie was just moments from destruction and death when Uldred was killed and the torture ended.  Maya Amell and the other wardens did not just save his life that day, but Evie’s.

“No one trusted her for a long time.”  Esme let his hand just hang on the torch mount.  “The episodes never fully stopped…she is down here usually once every other week…now it is nightly.  Father was only able to calm the other Reformists when he discovered your identity…and what happened to you.  It explained everything.”

“Do you know, Esme?” Cullen questioned with a deep guttural tone.

“It does not take a scholar to know you’re fucked up…”  Esme smirked briefly.  “But, whatever happened exactly never stopped for Evie.”  With a hand pull down, gears wound on tracks.  The stone wall in front of them suddenly slid back and away.

The wave of heat, light, and magic flashing out from behind it nearly pitched Cullen off his feet.  Everything in his templar self told him to run and report this monster.  However, everything else inside him rejoiced hearing, feeling, and experiencing Evie once again.

“Eve…”  The knight sighed as tears fell from his eyes.  He grasped the door as his body caught up with all the pain and agony reflecting off of her.  The wounds he saw in the nightmare were thrice over and reflected on his own body, but still her magic raged from beyond the sliding door.

Cullen reformed the templar buffs around him and entered, sensing she was not on the same level as him.  Esme picked up a strange shield by the hidden door and followed.  The heat was biting, but barely harmed Cullen.  The light burned his eyes, so pure white that he thought he was looking directly into the sun.  There was no flames per say, but it was difficult to see anything beyond a step in front of his face.  Lastly, the screaming echoing around him made hearing anything else impossible

“Where is she?!”  Cullen hollered behind him while trying to shield his eyes from the light.  Esme somehow heard Cullen and pointed down.  The Fereldan’s eyes caught the edge of a metal ladder hanging off the side of a brighter part of whatever he was in.  He through Esme a look.  “Down more?  How far?”

“Like I said, several dozen meters!”  Esme called back from behind his shield.  “She is likely chained and gagged down there too.”

“Who would have done that!?”

“She did.”  The young Trevelyan struggled in the fiery magic.  He kept coughing.  “She comes down here when it becomes too much, chains herself, and activates the wards.”

“How does she get free?!”

“My father!”  Esme screamed, pointing back towards the hidden door.  “The door trips something in his quarters.  Only he can unlock her, a way to determine if she is still herself or if the demons finally won.  It was the only way the Reformists would allow this to continue without you here to monitor via the bond.”

Cullen took a few steps towards the ladder.  Anticipating the metal will be hot, Cullen, stepped back towards the hidden door, the light giving him enough sight to see into the crypt’s darkness.  He ripped down some old tattered banners around an ancestor’s urn and wrapped his hands and fingers loosely.  He stomped towards the ladder, taking a few deep breaths.

Was he about to do what he was going to do?!

“Esme, go get your father!  Get him down here immediately to release her.”

“Are you nuts!?”  Esme shouted back nearly losing his shield.  “Nothing can be done until the morning.  She has to bleed all the energy out before anyone can even get down the Pit.”

“She doesn’t have until morning!”  Cullen hollered and growled.  “I saw the demons and what the desire demon was doing.  They plan to break her now!  She doesn’t have much longer!  Do it!  I will bring her back!”

“You lost your marbles!  You’re going get her and yourself killed!”

Well, the boy wasn’t wrong…

“Do it, Esme!  You asked me to save her from herself.  I plan to do it!  I already abandoned her to this fate too many times.  She saved me in the Circle.  It is time for me to return it back tenfold!”  Cullen hollered, grabbing Esme by the night shirt and tossing him towards the hidden door.  “Go get Ian!”  Esme dropped the shield and took off running into the darkness.  How the young man could see and navigate the winding staircase, only the Maker knew.

Cullen did some stupid things in his life.  Some actions in the last few years took the cake.  However, nothing seem truer than when he grasped the metal ladder and began his descent.  The metal burned through the worn cloth, while his buffs and nullification abilities only kept he protected half the time.  He felt the raging heat and flames from below a little more with each step downward.  He kept his attention on focusing his abilities, relying on his studies, the Chant, tactical mind, and rationality to keep himself protected from his bond.  Every so often, the spirit halves assisted when the burning pain would strike him without warning.  They sometimes told him to stay when a massive amount of magic burst upward.  He understood then what the books meant on predicting the other bond’s actions.  Even if Evie was doing this without her knowledge, the spirit halves felt the emotions rippling through the Fade.

Then his left foot felt bedrock again.  Cullen removed one of his hand wraps, feeling the first and second degree burns on his fingers.  He blindfolded himself, the pure white light down in this expansive pit too much for his eyelids.  Maker, the sunburn he must have after all this.  To see instead, he relied on the violent violin playing around him and the pull to touch Evie again and possibly kiss her when this was all over.  His fear did not lay in her magic or possible possession, but how her body was crumbling under the anguish within her night terror.  The demons inflicted countless mental, physical, and emotional gashes and stabs so when the desire demon return maybe then the mage will finally and accept possession.

“Eve!”  Cullen cried, fighting the heavy winds whipping off the magic, her mana so overpowering that a smite only allowed him a step or two before it all returned.  He feared silencing the area because it might leave her even more exposed to the demons.  Instead, Cullen called upon the lyrium within him to keep his buffs, smite the air enough for him to move forward, and search out the woman in need of assistance.

Then the pull overpowered him.  He took a step right and collapsed to his knees.

Leave here!  She is mine and then you shall be too!

Cullen yelled in agony as a ripping pain rolled through him.  It was not Evie’s voice in his head, but the desire demon’s lusty calls.  It knew he was there.  It knew he was aware of its activities.

“Never!”  Cullen grunted against the flames.  “You might have kept us apart, but I will not kneel to you.  It is high time I stand by Eve.  You will not possess her, and I will never bend to you!”  Evie let out a blood curdling scream as the fire intensified more.  Cullen attempted to rush forward, but was knocked back several feet.

You cannot take me on, Templar.  I have been with you both for ages.  I am a part of your bond.  To kill me will destroy you both.

“Eve has been fighting you for five years ago.  I heard you in the nightmare.  I heard your fear of her taking away the bond.  You used her to abuse me.”  Cullen hollered at nothing, but he knew the demon heard.  It was inside him somehow maiming the spirit halves assisting him and Evie.

And this mage you so hate is why you suffered so!  Kill her, I dare you, Templar!  She has lied to you all this time.  She is on the brink of being possessed by so many demons.  Strike her down!

“Never…”  Cullen grunted crawling on the bedrock towards the screams.  He heard her chains bolted to the rock walls as wave upon wave of pain flowed through Evie.  “If something you are demanding then I know never to do it.”

Even if it kills you?!

Evie shouted, her arms outstretched in front of her.  The chains around her wrists and neck buckled under the strain to keep her contain.  The sweat, blood, and bruising covering her face and body broke Cullen.  Still, he crawled forward.

“I will welcome death happily to save her…”  Cullen wisped under the heat and pressure.  With one outstretched hand, he reached with all his strength towards her left hand.  He missed several times, until he felt what her next movement would be.  He predicted right and felt their fingertips finally meet briefly.

“…Cul…len…?!”  Evie screamed, reaching out again for his fingers.  Cullen pulled himself far enough forward until he could interlace his fingers with hers.  “Cullen…”  The maiden cried as another wave of Fade attacks inflicted her crumbling body.  “Run…Leave me….”

“I’m done running, Eve!”  Cullen called as he inched his body closer until he was right by her.  His other hand touched her glowing brand on her shoulder, blood tinging his fingers on contact.  “Let me protect you!”

Evie sobbed, her magic slowly weakening.  The more he touched her, the less the magic flared.  After a few moments, Cullen felt confident enough to remove the cloth shielding his eyes.  The heat inside the pit slowly receded away, allowing fresh sea air from the open hidden door to seep in.  With hesitate head movements, Cullen glanced in front of him to see a barely clothed Evie with her hands around his waist and her head in his lap.  Her own legs were tucked up against her bare chest in a fetal position in a modest way.  Burns, blood, claw marks, and other wounds covered her head to toe.

“…Cul…len…”

The Fereldan gulped, his throat dry from the hot air.  “Shh…I got you now…”

“…forgive….me…”

Cullen leaned down over his bond, kissing her tattered, bloody hair so crispy from the flames.  He held his lips against her temple and crown of her head.  “It is I who should be asking for your forgiveness, Milady…I left you alone in this war for too long.  Never again.”

“….my….fault…”

“No, you did the right thing.  You saved us both.”  Cullen whispered into her hair.  “It is my turn to protect us now.”  His amber gaze glanced upward as new shouting echoes rang throughout the darkness.  A rich bass voice made demands as several pairs of footsteps thundered towards the hidden pit.  “Rest…we have the rest of our life-long days to speak and share ourselves.”

Chapter Text

The brightening rays of sun peak through the tall expansive Orlesian windows on either side of Evie’s bed.  The window’s curtains fluttered in the breeze, whipping fresh morning air into the large inner bedroom.  The gentle wind brushed against Evie’s redden cheeks and tickled her long lashes.  It slowly roused her from a deep sleep devoid of desire demons and torture.  The Fade delivered her to a place of peace and rest, one she had not enjoyed for many years and for such long stretches of times.  As the sunrays continued to peak over the trees, the light reflected off the flooring and into her eyes.  Someone must have forgotten to pull the fine muslin curtains around her four-posted bed closed after depositing her in bed and tending to her wounds from another night in the Abyss.

By the amount of light peeking through her eyelids, Evie estimated it was a few bells after dawn.  Typically, she would still be too exhausted after her night of fighting possession to be roused so early.  Evidently, her father removed her from chains earlier than usual.  That was not a good sign.  That mean her lyrium-charged mana petered out sooner than usual.  The end of this bond-demon world would be within a few days.

Then reality hit Evie like a ton of boulders crushing her soul.

Cullen left the isle with the tide.  He was gone, finally free of this geographical prison.  That was likely why her father plucked her from the pit so soon.  He was probably informed her ship came to dock and sailed away in the night with the templar bond.

I just have to last another two days.   Give him enough time to reach a proper distance…

Even with her chocolate eyes closed, tears dripped down her cheeks as she laid on her back.  She knew a part of her would die with his disappearance, but that was why she did it all.  She loved him more and more each day.  He did not deserve to be put through such hells anymore, ones caused by her from her Harrowing and simply wishing to remain herself and not possessed.  She sent him away out of love, respect, and deep engrained regret for her choices.

Slowly, the fire mage’s eyelid lifted and gazed at her muslin canopy that filtered light shining from the reflective varnished hardwood floor.  The high painted Thedosian night sky ceiling did not give her the same comfort as it once did when she awoke from another hellish night.  She remembered as a child memorizing the constellations so she could always navigate herself home at sea and on land. 

Instead, the starry mural just reminded her of the Tevinter pools, Cullen’s lip move over hers absorbing her moans and sighs as his callused fingers grazed over his tunic sticking to her nude form.  The heat flowing off him in waves as the bobbed in the water as his arms encircled her and pulled her flesh to his bare chest.  How his blond curls twisted around her digits each time she combed through them in the pool and later in their random shadowed corners when they passed one another in the hallway.

Evie will never hear that deep rumbling chuckle that vibrated his whole body when he actually enjoyed himself and genuinely smile.  No longer would the mage watch his excitement to go and get his mabari pup from the stables after training and trying to teach the month-old animal how to dodge a ball like it was Evie’s fireballs.  That smug smirk he enjoyed to taunt her with when he knew he outwitted her in their snide sassy comments and hunter-prey games.  His scrunched brow focusing on an old text in low light because he could not stop studying in the library just a moment to light another candle.

Evie bit her lips and silently cried, refusing to move.  She did not know the extent of her injuries yet and did not know if she required another dunk in the purification pool to stop more demonic taint.  Instead, she just let the tears flow down her temples and around her ears.  She never let herself both enjoy or mourn Cullen even alone because the guilt was too much to bear.  She can only do right by him by breaking the bond with tranquility and then dying.  She owed him so much, but nothing can undo the crimes she committed for the sake of self-preservation.  It was truly poetic she die in the same ways she feared as if she went to the Circle.  If she could change it all just to save him…to be sent to the Circle and made tranquil just so that torture never occurs in his lifetime…

…or even just allowed the possession before his Vigil.

If the maiden went those specific routes, Evie would not know how her Lion rubbed his neck when he did something silly or embarrassing.  Or how he growled when Esme called him Sullen.  Or how he could be so calm and relaxed speaking to Lady Gwen over tea and sugar cookies, slowly healing and finding peace with past events.  Or that annoyed glare when he lost a game of chess to Bann Ian and searched the board for twenty minutes on where he went wrong and how to improve for their next rematch.  Cullen would have never came to Morcant Estate and met her and House Trevelyan.  If she had become an abomination, it did not mean he would have survived Kinloch Hold.  He would have likely died along with his fellow templars.  Although, Evie believed he could do anything alone and that she was just a weight tied to his ankles dragging him down into the dark ocean depths.

Evie’s thoughts went around and around with where she could have done something differently to avoid the same ending for the man she loved.  She did this so many times throughout the last two years and still nothing could have happened any differently.  It is as it is and cannot happen any other way.  Evie made her bed and laid in it alone now…

Tentatively lifting her right hand to wipe away some tears before Fesill caught her awake, Evie registered a weigh over the appendage more than just bandages and salves.  It was warm and rough against her hands much like…

 Just barely lifting her head from her feather and cotton pillow, the mage glanced down to where someone positioned her hands over her abdomen in a gentle caring way and noticed a third hand resting on top of her folded arms.  The hand was wrapped in some bandages around the palms, but nothing too serious.  The semi-coarse flecks of blond back-handed hair danced with the sea breeze.  The pale skin contrasted sufficiently with her sun-kissed olive tones.

Evie’s chocolate eyes widened, slowly following the hand to a forearm, the rough elbow with a tunic sleeve pushed up, and finally a muscle bicep that Evie grasped more times than was appropriate.  Her head finally turned to the right and gazed upon the very face that she mourned for just moments ago.  In her huge king-size bed, several pillows separated them from one another, thus why she did not feel his body heat so close.  He laid on top of the goose-down quilt and linen sheets in clean cotton trousers and untied tucked in tunic.  His hair looked like it was not properly managed after a bath, the curls tight like Rivaini noodles against his forehead, ears, and temples.  His other arm laid under his pillow as added cushion in the night.  One foot connected to the bent knee closest to her was missing a sock, while the other foot hung off the side of the bed.  The bent knee provided his mabari pup the perfect place to sit her head and curl into a small grey ball.

Cullen Stanton Rutherford was in her bed.

Cullen Stanton Rutherford was in her bed!?

A brief moment of panic welled up in Evie before she gulped it down.  He was supposed to be on a frigate sailing into the sunset very far away from her.  He was to be free and happy knowing he was no longer a prisoner and about to forget all about his nasty bond and how she ruined his life!

Oh my Maker, her father was going to kill them both!  As soon as Bann Ian hears that a templar slept beside her, he will employ Hemmingway and Knotts to have fun using Cullen for target practice before disemboweling him for fish chum!  Then, her father will turn to her and will rant and rave about allowing a man in her bed and giving the templar a ‘get off the island’ free pass with no care for the Reformists or the ultimate mission!  Evie will be lucky if he does not make her tranquil for such stunts!

Yet, utter relief and joy flowed through the maiden.  Evie desired to touch his face and kiss his temple, a way of thanking Cullen for not leaving and abandoning her.  She kept a deep hopeful thought that he might reject her offer, choose himself to remain and support her and theif cause.  The fire mage never suggested it as a possibility to herself even once just because she was sure, like everyone else had done, he would leave her and just keep taking from her.  However, that thought went against everything she knew about her Lion.  Cullen was loyal and honorable.  He loved his Order and swore to protect people.

Alas, Evie was everything he was supposed to fight against.  Even with Dorian’s assurances, she could not stop feeling she was unworthy of love and care.  Depression and anxiety burned deep inside her, while a hard mistrusting exterior protected her from anyone seeing the weaknesses and using it against her.

If Cullen stayed, what does that mean now?  What will she do to stop the desire demon that once was a bonding spirit of love?  How will she stop the Promisers?

Most of all, why was he in her bed!?

Confusion ruled Evie’s observant mind.  The idea that he stayed for her just did not compute.  She had always been alone.  She did not deserve this wonderful charming man.  If he believes himself unworthy, she was a pile of shit floating in a city-filled cesspool.

Lazily, the inferno mage blinked watching the handsome man sleeping beside her, allowing her mind to wander onto what happened the night before, but not exactly paying attention to each fleeting thought.  Instead, her glistening chocolate eyes memorized more of her love’s amazing face, the same one she had just feared she would never see again.  His lips were slightly open as he breathed through his mouth.  Every so often, they closed and a small little snore echoed in the space.  Evie giggled to herself.  He would be so horrified if he knew he snored.  Still, the sound reminded her of his chuckles, deep and husky.

Cullen’s face flushed a little while sleeping, either because of the rising humidity from outside or his dream’s contents.  His eyelashes fluttered while his facial nerves jumped a few times, responding to the Fade’s projections.  The templar’s brow scrunched with the dreams.  His forehead wrinkled to random scowls like when he played chess.  A brief fear he was having another nightmare sang through Evie.  However, a brief listening to his piano—which never occurred while sleeping before—told her he was enjoying the images presented.  Maker, this man deserved a pleasant dream for once.  Hopefully, no one will storm in and wake him.

It took all of Evie’s willpower not to slide her hand out from his grasp and comb his tight tossed curls and touch his stubble cheek.  She wished to heal his slightly bruised eyes and injured hands.  She did not know when that happened, but it must have been after the library.  Instead, she just watched him sleep, finding some peace inside her dark soul the first time in years.

Evie knew time progressed around them.  The reflected sun rays slowly shifted from the windows and across her ceiling.  She just watched her Lion, her violin harmonizing with his inner piano much like she did during the Kinloch Hold torture.  She felt like a creep just studying him, but when will this happen again?  When will she just get to lay beside him and watch him sleep peacefully?  It still felt so wrong, but he was here beside her again.  Evie could not let the moment pass her by.

Then the maiden felt a shift in Cullen’s music.  The piano softened a little as his eyelids fluttered a little more.  His mouth closed and his arm pillow shifted enough for it to appear from its hiding spot.  Then, those bright molten amber eyes opened and blinked lazily at her.  Evie witnessed the brief moment of panic and confusion while he tried to figure out where he was at.  It passed quickly as his lips shifted from a frown to a big smile.  His eyes softened and studied her with such an admiring expression.  What did her Lion see about her now?  What changed his perceptions so quickly?

Evie swallowed some saliva as her cheekbones blushed and burned.  He caught her watching him like a creep.  She searched for her voice and somewhat croaked, “Good morning…”

Cullen’s huge smile somehow grew wider.  “Good morning…”  The admiration grew with relief over his face.  “You’re awake and healthy…Thank the Maker…”

Evie searched her mind.  Should she still keep up the omission of her demonic terrors?  “W-why wouldn’t I be?”  She whimpered, shrinking her head into the blankets a little.

Cullen frowned and eyed her critically.  “The desire demon had you at your wits in, Eve.  I feared I would reach you too late.”

Evie paled and eyes bugged out of head.  Oh my Maker.  How did he know about that blasted lilac tart?!  Her mind searched for an answer.  What happened last night?!

“Desire demon…?”  Evie had no Wicked Grace face.  She failed at playing dumb.

Cullen read through the lie immediately.  “You promised me you’d never lied to me, Eve.    He pursed his lips and stared into her eyes.  “I know.”

The amount of panic overwhelmed her entire being.  “Know what…?”

Cullen moved closer to her, his brow still wrinkled in disappointment and betrayal, which only heighted Evie’s panic and made her feel like garbage.  He face shifted to nothing, so stolid while his music hid his emotions.  He moved some pillows so he could be right beside her.  He even rested his head on her pillow, their noses almost touching one another.  Still, his hand rested over Evie’s across her abdomen.

Maker, he was so close.  His unique musk flowed over her.

Then the knight said something that floored Evie.  “You don’t remember…do you?”  There was a deep worry and sadness in that baritone voice.  “You don’t remember last night…?”

Evie did not trust her voice.  She just shook her head no.  She wanted to run, his scrutiny too much to bear.

Cullen sighed and slid his head downward.  “I know about the Pit.  I know about the demons trying to break and possess you.  I know about the desire demon that haunts both you and me.  I also know how close you are to losing that war.  Most of all, I know roughly why that demon haunts us and how it came into our bond.”

Evie’s worst nightmare has happen.  He listed all her crimes and wrongdoing like a bailiff during a murder trial.  There was no emotion in that husky voice.  When will his judgment come?  When will he shift from judge to executor, killing a dangerous mage who will likely fall to possession in the next days…?

Cullen let her stew in her anxiety and fears for what felt like an eternity.  Just get it over with.  Finish the job you stopped in the library weeks before.  End my pitiful existence…Stop the evil vulnerable mage.  Evie did not care if he heard her thoughts.

Then those amber eyes relaxed, that respecting expression gracing Cullen’s features.  The smile returned.  His hand shifted from the pillow and stroked her cheek, wiping away the tears she did not know she was shedding again.  “But I also know you have been fighting those demons, especially Desire, since your Harrowing alone.  I know you are strong and resilient against all those attacks.  You pushed when I felt your whole being wanting to give up.”  Evie opened her mouth to say something to stop him, correct him for all her wrongs.  He haltered any sound, a single finger pressed against her lips.  “You kept me alive in Kinloch Hold, felt everything, and experienced it all as punishment because you would not give it.  I thought I was alone, but you never left me.”

Evie sobbed and buried her face in her pillow.  “It’s all my fault, Cullen!”  She screamed into the cotton and feathers.  “You suffered because of me!  All I could do was support you, but I have regretted it for so long.  I kept it buried inside me and told no one.  I’ve wronged you!  I’m selfish.  I didn’t want to be an abomination.  I didn’t want to find and harm you as a twisted monster!  Yet, I still did nothing.  I am a monster because I did nothing to stop your pain and broken mind.  The more the demon pushed me, the more you suffered.  Every night you suffer is because I resist that creature at the same time.  I deserve to die!”

Cullen grasped Evie’s head and forced the bawling maiden to look at her bond.  “No. You. Don’t.  It is all that desire demon’s fault!  Believe me, my mind keeps going around and around on it all, trying to understand.  However, I will not cut you down, Eve.  No other mage could go through what you have for years and come out so beautiful and sane.  You are the exception of everything I thought I knew about mages, apostates, and a living being’s resistance.  I arrived on this isle believing a single moment of weakness called demons, but here you all!  You imprison yourself, bled off the lyrium I consume, and fought!  You know the worst of what the Fade has to offer and you still use every ounce of your magic to kill every last one of those fuckers.  You explode with magic to heights not imaginable until you stretch yourself so thin, but you’re always in control.  You never resorted to blood magic or demon dealing.  You did it all yourself!”

The knight kissed her forehead as she choked and sobbed.  Cullen pulled her close.  Evie instantly buried her head into his inviting chest.  Her big tears soaked his shirt, while snot flowed out of her nose.  It was not a pretty meek cry Maya Amell might do, but ugly and nasty like a pig wallowing in muck.  Her face turned purple, while her whole body trembled and jolted with each new wave of guilt and pressure. 

Evie let everything go.  Years of secrets and burdens.  She told no one, especially not her father.  It was their hells, ones she felt so guilty for creating. 

He knew.  Cullen did not damn her, but actually believed her strong and powerful.  He knew about her deep mana and wild magic, but believed her not dangerous and in constant control.  He finally believed she would never turn to blood magic.  Every inflection in his baritone pitch demonstrated he respected and praised her.  Never in her life did Evie believe in such a moment.  She would swear on the Chant and the Divine he would have killed her, disowned her as his bond, and made her tranquil to free himself.  How can he forgive her for all these transgressions?  Evie was unworthy!

His eyes glassed and squinted.  “I am as much to blame for everything.  If I had not shut you out after Maya’s Harrowing…or after the rebellion…If I could feel you more after my Vigil than being blocked, maybe I could have helped you too.  I forced you away, could not even fathom someone else could be my soulmate.  I essentially left you to suffer so long alone.  You never asked or pressed me to help you.  You did not even ask because you feared the man I become these last two years.”  He leaned towards her again, his nose nudging her snotty nasal tip.  “I feel your regret and shame, but please feel mine too.  You yourself are not the only one to blame.  I might not understand what is going on, but I’ve done nothing to save you.  I swore to protect the weak, but I fail each moment I don’t shield you, the one person my duty and honors swears to first and foremost.  If I cannot protect my soulmate bond, what hope to do I have to save others?”

Evie lifted her head again, rubbed his nose and wiped away the slowing tears.  “No…you’re wrong.  You did the right thing.  I can never make up what happened to you.  Your disgust of everything I am is right and completely understandable.  You did the very thing you could do.  You protected the right people.  I’m the one who risks the innocent.  That’s why I’ll do everything possible for others.  I wake every morning, learn about the world, put myself in danger, and try to save all at just the possible hope the Maker might see I am trying to redeem myself for just wanting to stay human…”

Cullen kissed her forehead, kissed her cheek, and pulled her back into his chest.  She felt a few tears in her hair.  Every time this man cried, a bit more of Evie died.  He was a harden disciplined knight, yet she brought him to tears almost every day.  Yes, those tears showed his softer side and demonstrated how broken he truly was, but it meant she made him relive those hells and feel the anguish.  Just another fact she should be thrown into the ocean for.

   “There is nothing to redeem.”  Cullen whispered into her ear after moving some auburn waves from her face.  He kept his right palm closed around some object in his grasp while stroking her tear-stained cheeks.  “There is nothing for us to feel terrible about…It wasn’t our fault.  I know that now.”

Evie squeezed her eyes shut and nodded.  “It was Uldred…but also that damn demon.  It’s killed our past bonds so many times.”

Cullen rubbed the back of her neck, inducing moans from Evie.  He knew that both relaxed and excited her.  The tears dried faster as he touched and hugged her.  Never before did she recover from such emotional moments as now.  “What is it exactly…?  How did it survive Kinloch and the wardens?  What did it mean it’s connected to our bond?” 

Evie pursed her lips.  She trembled in his arms.  He kissed her cheek and cooed in her ear to relax her again.  “Please, don’t hide anything from me anymore.  We are in this together…I’m not leaving you again.  I knew last night seeing you in that pit I was an absolute arse to even consider leaving this island.  I am not a prisoner here anymore.  I choose to stay.  I am here by my own volition.  I went to that pit to save you.  That power balance you feared before no longer exists.  I am here and will continue to be here beside you for you and me.  I don’t want to be anywhere else.  There is nowhere else I would rather be than hugging you, comforting you, and supporting you, Eve.”

The fiery maiden in her Lion’s arms felt like she was choking.  She could not take a breath.  Her lungs refused to work.  The absolute shock of Cullen’s declaration made her mind not compute.  Her heart swelled at the implications of what he said.  Her soul rejoiced he chose to be with her than fleeing.  Her body melted into his as new tears joy and relief blinked and trickled from her eyes.  Evie never imagined such a moment.  His words did not say he forgave her, but in a way, he had to want to support her in this fight.

No more secrets.  No more hiding.  No more separation.

Evie slid her head up from his wet loosen tunic so she could gaze into those sparkling whiskey eyes.  “I…”  She choked on her words, her lungs still not working right.  “…it’s difficult to speak about…because I’ve have kept it to myself since Naishe told me.  No one could know.”

Cullen frowned.  “Hemmingway’s mother?  The seer?”  Evie nodded.  He kissed her forehead again.  “If it makes you feel any better, I read her letter last night.  It cleared up a few things while confusing me more on other matters.”

“That…that makes this a little easier then.”  Evie exhaled and stilled herself.  “You know how I said there were once more spirits connected to our bond, but only Purpose and Hope remained.”  Cullen nodded.   “That’s still true, but leaves out an important factor.  What I meant by it is that Purpose and Hope are the only ones not twisted in our bond.  There is a third entity still attached to us…”

“Desire…”  Cullen guessed correctly.

Evie licked her lips.  Maker, she needed some water.  Her mouth was dry from all her sobbing.  Maker, what her breath must smell like!  The horror of Cullen smelling her morning breath!  “It once was a Spirit of Love, a deep and understand love spirit and the original connector of our bond.  The other spirits joined like bees to honey.  It occurred thousands of years ago when just elves roamed the world and there was no Veil.  Love cared about its bonded pair, enjoying the happiness flowing from them thus giving more power back to them.  The other connected spirits benefitted too as their own purposes grew with their companionship.”

“What changed?”

The maiden sighed and kissed Cullen’s stubbly chin.  “I told you our previous bonds did not have great experiences?  Many loves ended in tragedy.  It started after the fall of the elves, growing more and more heartbreaking as the ages past.  The spirits connecting us started to sacrifice themselves in hopes to change the repeating outcomes, but it rarely worked.  In all of our lifetimes, neither bond have been married…or had children.  They never lived long lives together.”

Evie felt the pain at such prospects.  She knew family was important to Cullen and her.  Even as a knight, the chance of marriage let alone a family was not a viable option as the Order controls their knights through stupid restrictive rules, just another way of control their religious army.  Furthermore, mages could not marry and keep their children.  It seemed that was Cullen’s and Evie’s fates too.

Evie always wanted to be a mother.  She desired to be one someday and marry the love of her life.  Oh how the Maker turned on them both.  A simple wish constantly denied…

“That constant denial…the heartache and pain…” Evie rested her head on his chest, listening to his brand hum in her ear and his fast scared heartbeat.  “Love was strong, but it kept being denied its purpose.  The reason why Valor sacrificed itself in the arcane warrior and Exalted March templar life was to hopefully stop Love final transition into Desire…”

“It didn’t work.”  Cullen confirmed bluntly.

“Yes, Desire turned away from its duty and haunted the bondship for several lifetimes.  It believed if it convinced the man in the bond to love it, it will regain its purpose and duty.  It desired to be physical, so the mage suffered under its pushing.”

“What better way to be physical than to possess a mage and live as an abomination.”  Cullen concluded seeing the pieces fall into place.

“When the man was the mage, the fight got worse.  Desire tried to kill the templar woman or tortured her to convince the mage man to give in.  The mage would end up killing himself and his love to stop the madness.”  Evie wisped, hating reliving all these hells.  The mage was just eight when she learned these truth, but did not understand the implications until after her Harrowing.  She remembered the seer telling her throughout that long night staring out over the sea and later finding the literature to support the tale.  “It was such a pair that found a somewhat solution.”

“What did they do?”  Cullen questioned, his voice hesitated but attentive to her story.

“The mage man asked the two strongest spirits in the bond beside Desire for assistance.  Hope and Purpose reached out to the other spirits and proposed splitting themselves between the bonded people.  That would split their abilities and block out the demon.  Desire would be sent to the far reaches of the Fade, but could never been completely disattached from the bond.  Only the bonds could kill it, and at that time, the mage and templar were barely hanging on in their own war-torn lives let alone against the demon.  There was no way they could destroy the creature.  However, it was all at a great cost.  The two lesser spirits still remaining with the bond must give up their existence to power the split and banish Desire.”  Evie stared into Cullen’s eyes.  “It also meant that mage and templar would die in the transfer.  They did it without a second thought.  They were at their wits’ end.”

“Desire was gone…why now?  Why is it haunting us now?”

Evie whimpered.  “My Harrowing…the lyrium poison and potency.  As soon as I plunged my head into the pool vessel, I knew something was wrong.  Desire was pulled back to us from its Fade prison, fueled by the high doses of lyrium that changed my magic, while my weakened state from the poisoning prevented my spirit halves to keep it away.  It’s my fault its back, Cullen…I’m why you suffer.”

No!”  Cullen snapped, rolling on top of her and on his hands and knees.  Evie’s eyes widened at his hard grasp on her shoulders and imposing presence above her.  “No!  You did not poison your lyrium.  Those bastards did this!  They could have killed you!  Their actions called back that demon!  Never blame yourself ever again!”

Evie shuddered at the order, feeling Cullen’s will flow through their bond and washing away her grief and regret.  Finally, the maiden started to believe she was a victim.  His conviction broke through the self-loathing.  For a brief moment, relief and forgiveness of herself calmed her aching and bruised soul.

Cullen kissed her forehead again before rolling her on her side gently so he could hold her again.  Evie whimpered losing his powering force over her.  “You’re still hurt, Eve…”  Cullen whispered, feeling that lust and intimacy rising inside her.  She did not block it.  She will never block him out again.  Her Lion will know every single thing that passes over her from this point forward.  No more omissions.  “The healers worked on you for bells after I had Esme get your father and release you from the Abyss.  No one believed I actually stopped the attacks and your raging magic.”

Evie lifted his wrapped hands.  “Is that why…?”

Cullen smiled.  “Yes, and it was worth it.  When I saw your night terror…the desire demon brutalizing you and the swarms of demons overpowering your heart and soul, there was no way I was going to let you fight alone.  I heard what it screamed at you.  It made you have those thoughts and to never regard yourself as a victim too.”  He exhaled and squeezed those amber orbs shut.  “I know what it is like to resist the lies…and slowly start believing them to stop the pain.”

“Its lies are how it kept us apart.  It knew if the halves are united again in full bondship, it could never influence us.”

“So that’s why everyone thinks we can resist the Formless One.  But you said you never told anyone any of this.”

Evie nodded.  “I never did, but that did not mean some forbidden text detailed it…one of our past bonds recorded the account as a way to prevent bond possessions.  Yes, being bonded together prevents possession, but in many cases it does not fully stop it for the two people.  However, in our case, we are immune if fully connected.”  The fire mage gritted her teeth.  “Except that also demonstrated a major weakness about our bond.  Desire was still connected and just needed the right amount of strength to be pull back.  So the Promisers gave it the necessary push.”

“Thus your tainted Harrowing lyrium.”  Cullen grunted.  “Bloody bastards…but why risk another demon possessing you and thus us if they wanted you for the Formless One?”

“I think they saw the gamble as worth it.  The desire demon would weaken us enough, specifically me, that when they arrive they can just pour lyrium down my throat and do whatever they want.”

The knight visibly shook.  “No need for drastic measures if the target is at their wits’ end.  Add in the threat and possibly of blood magic and you are broken.”

“Exactly.”

Cullen held her flush to his body.  “I won’t let them.  I won’t let the Promisers or that blasted demon have you—us—ever.  I swear it.”

“You can’t promise that, Cullen.”  Evie meekly remarked.  “You asked how Desire survived Kinloch Hold?  Yes, it did jump through a blood magic summoning, but it was still tied to the Fade via me.  That’s one reason why it kept me connected to your torture.  It was with you physically and me magically.  It lived the best of both worlds those weeks.  When it saw its time was up and wasn’t successful breaking you, it just pulled on me one last time and hopped right back into the Fade before it could be harmed.”  Evie buried her face into Cullen’s neck.  “Thank the Maker you did not see that moment.  I was seconds away from tranquility.  My magic was beyond my control, burned me on my bottom and behind my thighs.  It’s disgusting.  Your scars are beautiful, demonstrate you survived…  Mine show my failures to protect you and what I allowed to happen.”

Cullen glance downward at the covered body hiding under the blankets.  The Fereldan smirked in that way that made Evie sigh and be at his mercy.  “I doubt that.  A mentor once told us recruits that scars are part of our lives.  We learn from those moments of pain and that we survived the wounds.  Those burns and demon slashes show we both survived…”  He frowned.  “What happened to your magic though?  I’ve never encountered anything like it, even in the academy books.”

Evie tried to hide under the blankets, Cullen kept her chin lifted up at him.  Instead, she looked away elsewhere than those intoxicating orbs.  Once again he kneeled over her shaking body.  No more secrets.  This next fact might change his entire perspective.  “An Antivan pyromancer who trained me stated inferno mages with deep mana pools can possibly do something called backdraft.  Think of a house fire:  people enter thinking it is burned itself out, but there is a completely sealed room still intact and not burning.  They open the door...air rushes in… and explosion.  For me, ‘the air’ is lyrium.  When it happens, it’s even too hot for me.  That’s how I was burned when the demon returned back to the Fade and my natural resistance did not protect me.  It used the remaining lyrium in your body and fueled me like a slingshot to send it back home.”

“That’s why you’re so weak and wary in the Sanctuary…and another reason why you spoke about my addiction.”  Cullen connected the events together.  “Maker…”

“I told you I am dangerous.”  Evie stated confidently.  He had to know she could burn down the world.  She could not be allowed to let live, especially if the Promisers do arrive and capture her.

Cullen growled and leaned over her.  His face hovered just an inch over hers.  His pale Fereldan skin was bright purple, his frustration of the situation and her comments finally breaking the restraint his templar training provided.  “No!  Not if I can help it.  This all might be true, but that does not make me weak!”

Evie gasped.  What?!  How did he think that from her admission?  “No, I didn’t mean-“

“You forget we are a balance!”  Cullen tucked his arm behind her lower back and lifted her clean off the bed.  Only relying on one arm, his knees, and legs to keep kneeling over her body, Cullen pulled her flush to his kneeling body.  Instantly, Evie’s hands rested behind her, another support for them both even if she knew Cullen could handle the position for a long time.  The man did one-armed push up one-hundred times every morning.  “We couldn’t be branded as Balance if I did not have way to keep your magic in check.  Yes, you were poisoned, but it must have changed me too!  I can do things not seen by other templars.  Someone once commented I could be like a seeker, potentially alighting men’s lyrium in their blood.  I wonder if they did not train me more because they feared what I could possibly do.  Don’t just assume you are dangerous without considering that applies to me too.  There is more to why they must fear us together, Eve.  Have you considered that?  Have you thought that the demon has put us through so much that if we do reach such bonding levels, it will finally lose its connection?” 

Evie felt Cullen deep panting against her cheeks.  Bits of spit flew around them but Evie just listened and absorbed his tense message.  His will was so strong she could not turn away.  Their bond actually took some of her self-control, and she did not care!  “When you doubt yourself, you doubt me too!  Yes, I loathe my own existence, but you always remark I am good, worthy man.  I now am believing your words.  Why can you not trust mine?!  We let that creature whisper in our ears for so long alone we forget we are connected and experienced the same thing.  You never left me alone, and I will never do that for you this point onwards.  That’s why I am still here on this isle.  That’s why I lay beside you and slept to keep your demons away.  So, believe me, please, Eve!  Believe me!  I care deeply about you!  Not your body or what the spirits tell us!  I care about you, Eve!”

Again, the maiden’s lungs would not work.  A few tears fell from her eyes.  He cared about her.  He was there with her not for physical attraction or what bonds do, but he cared about her.  It was not love, but it was more than she thought possible.  She awoke so broken that morning, but now felt so empowered by his words and support, she cannot stay away.  Evie allowed those hopes and wishes she dismissed for years to finally rise to the surface.

“…and I love you…”  Evie smiled, kissing his forehead.  “Your care and dedication are more than I deserve, but I accept.  I believe you.”

“Maker, please let me kiss you.”  Cullen begged in heated breaths.

Evie dove right in and moaned yes into his mouth.  Both people collapsed back onto the bed, bouncing against the stuffing.  Cullen laid on top of Evie, his once supporting arm now pulled out from under her and roaming over her side.  Evie pushed away the quilt and blankets separating them.  She ignored her stiff muscles and sore bones and focused on the chiseled mass of man kissing her and dying for access to her whole being.

One leg emerged from the blankets bare of any clothing.  That mean her long chemise night shirt was all that covered her.  Evie nudged herself down under Cullen and ground her pelvis against his stiffening length.  That was when she realized it.  She wore not small clothes.  The healers did that when anything tight against her body could cause skin sores and other problems.  She likely had a wound on the inside of her thigh or around her hip that made the clothing impossible to wear.

All the while, the fresh breeze against her excited bundle of nerves alerted the fire mage she did not care!

Their hands roamed over each other’s bodies in gentle caresses, not because they were embarrassed or hesitate, but in fear of injuries.  Both people felt their restraints waning by the minute.  Each kiss and combing fingers pulled on their control a bit more, relief and understanding from one another demonstrating their true emotions towards one another.  Evie felt through the bond this was not like the other moments between Cullen and her.  His words and actions melted into one, truly genuine and from the heart.  It might not be love, but Cullen respected and cared for her deeply.

Evie pulled her other leg from the sheets and over Cullen’s hip.  Cullen responded to the movement by grasping the bare thigh.  His callused fingers flowed up to her knee then back down like he was memorizing the feel of her skin and her shape.  His fingers continued downwards towards her behind.  The mage froze and stopped their kissing.

The knight instantly felt the worry and concern from his bond and leaned back.  “Eve…?”

“You...you hand might touch…”  Evie meekly whimpered, her blushing strong and traveling down her neck.

Cullen pulled back and lifted his hands.  “I’ll stop.  Just tell me.”

Evie swallowed and smiled gentled at the man whose restraint hung by a thread.  “No, please don’t…It’s just….it’s disgusting and textured.  I’ve used a special salve on the scars for years…but the demon keep bringing them back.  I’m hideous, Cullen.  I’m not sweet and beautiful as other women you know.”

The templar eyed her, knowing she meant Maya Amell.  He leaned down over her and spoke in such a way that Evie’s whole body ignited.  “Whose bed did I sleep in last night?  Which woman do I desire to kiss and hold close?  Who do I care for more than I thought possible in my entire existence?”  He cupped her cheek and kissed her once against her plump pink lips.  “No little Warden Amell will ever shine and light me aflame as you have, Evelyn Tesni Trevelyan.  I am yours, and you are mine.  Never forget that.”

Evie bit her lower lip, then rushed forward to capture his scarred lip between her teeth.  She felt his conviction through the bond.  Amell was now an afterthought to him.  She no longer was a threat to Evie as her irrational mind and the desire demon whispered through her depression.

However-

Evie broke the deep sighing kiss.  “-How do you know my little name?!”

Cullen leaned back a little and gave that smug smirk.  “Your brother.  I asked him last night while they were treated you.”

“That weasel!  I’m kicking his ass!”  Evie swore before giggling.

“I think it’s a beautiful name.”  Her Lion commented with a knowing smile.  “I believe you are ‘the warmth of the sun.’”

Evie covered her face to avoid more blushing.  “Stop it…I’m nothing like that.”

“Then let me see you, Eve.”

Evie lowered her forearms from her face, mouth gapping at his tone and seriousness.  Her confused brown eyes met those molten amber suns watching her very move.  His gaze burned deep into her while his words rang inside her soul.  “How…?”

Cullen exhaled and hung his head.  “I told you I saw the demon when I first kissed you.  Desire likely was trying to tear us apart back then now that I understand what it has been doing.  It…”  He panted.  “I don’t know if you saw what it did to my…private thoughts.  How it twisted things I know nothing about personally.”

The sexual abuse.

“I saw, Cullen…”  Evie whispered meeting him forehead to forehead.  “It wanted me to be so jealous of Amell and your feelings towards her.  I know you loved her then, while I was sure you could never even kiss me as you do now.”

The templar trembled above her.  “I don’t know what is real or twisted now.  To know what I’ve done to you for simple attraction and physical connection cannot continue.  I fight that ugliness ever moment with you.  You are a maiden—pure and untouched—as I am!  But, all my perception of what…”  He trembled as she touched his shoulder and drew his head to her breasts.

Evie kissed his curls and combed the hairs as he struggled.  “Thus why you need to know.  It was best those images were never of me.  We would never be in this moment.”  Her heart pounded in her chest at what she about to say.  She knew why he asked her despite all modesty.  If they wish to move past these hells, he needed to start recovering from all the abuse. 

“You asked to see me…”  Cullen lifted his head, eyes wide and watching her.  “See me, Cullen…”  Evie lifted her chemise, her fingers shaking at the action.  He could run away at what he saw, but he needed to know real Evie and not what that demon might do.

Legs crossed over her groin, Evie revealed her marked body.  On the surface, there were no blemishes, but any trained eye saw the white blotching just under her once flawless olive sun-kissed sun.  Her revealed tights were covered in burns that valleyed and peaked.  She kept pulling upward until she reveal her moderately-sized breasts.  The claw mark under her breast from the desire demon the night before still remained, likely needing another purification before it too because just a color blemish.  Her darker nipples immediately puckered feeling the fresh breeze from the nearby window.  Her skin goosebumped from chill, embarrassment, and excitement. 

Evie slowed her breath and open her mind, body, soul, and heart to the man afraid to touch her.  Cullen remained kneeling above her, his whiskey orbs searching and studying the nude body below him.  One hand rubbed the back of his neck, while the other flexed beside Evie’s shoulder and struggled on what to do.

“You may touch me, Cullen…”  Evie whispered, her lilt barely there but enough to break Cullen from his trance.  His glowing eyes glanced at her face before releasing his neck.

“So beautiful….”  The Fereldan mumbled as his hand touched her stomach and flowed to her thighs.  “Nothing Desire showed me compares…”  Tears tickled his eyelashes as Evie watched him process and commit her body to memory.  His other hand followed up her sternum to the scar.  “I saw Desire do this to you last night…” 

He leaned in.  Excitement and uncertainty trembled inside Evie.  His lips grazed the skin on her side, while his lips gently soothed and touched the sealed wound.  Each kiss and the pain subsided, his templar abilities somehow nullifying the effects.  But Evie’s mind was not wondering on that, but how she loved the feel of his lips on her breasts.  He continued until the mark stopped between her breasts.  He glanced up at her nudging her chemise to her armpits and shoulders.

May I?  He requested into her mind.

The tone and seduction of that baritone inside her flowed with her violin.  I am yours, my Lion.  Please…Have what you want…

I only want you, Milady.  Cullen retorted before kissing up her breast and closing his lips over her perked nipple.

Evie moaned at the action, her hips jerking into his.  Her skin felt like it was on fire.  She knew bits of ash and sparks began flowing around her as Cullen suckled the nipple deep into his mouth, while his hand massaged the other breast.  Her mind blanked and her body melted into him as his kisses continued from her breast downward.  Her body responded to each touch and potential action, not caring about propriety or her maiden status.  She loved him and will only love him.  She will never care for another like Cullen Stanton Rutherford.  He was her soulmate across space and time.  Everything she was now and always his!

And what he lingered towards sounded absolutely fantastic.  His lips were to her hip and his wandering hands slowly edge her legs apart to bear her burn scars and the finely haired region that protected her nether region.  His thumb followed her peaking abs, along her leg joints to her hips, and inward.  Just a bit more and-

“Ser Cullen…?”

Both Cullen and Evie stared at each other, wide eye.  Cullen flung himself onto the other side of the king-size bed disturbing the sleeping mabari puppy, which barked and whimpered at her imprint.  Meanwhile, Evie recovered herself and pulled the blankets back over her body.

What should I do?!

Evie rolled her eyes.  That’s Fesill!  Who all knows you slept here?!

Cullen gulped, his amber eyes searching the room.  I demanded to stay with you last night after you were brought here.  Your father nearly had a kitten, but Fesill stated she would stay in your dressing room and quote ‘keep an eye on everything.’  Bann Ian was not happy, but allowed it.  Hemmingway and Knotts thought it all hilarious!

It is better than them cutting you to pieces for threatening my modesty and reputation.  Evie quipped back with a smirk.

It rewarded her with Cullen’s sly gaze.  If given a little more time and they would have had a reason.

Evie blushed purple, smacking Cullen’s bicep.  Anyway, you can tell her we are awake.  Fesill isn’t dumb, but knows when things need to simmer down.

Cullen grimaced.  Unfortunately…  Then his courage disappeared and showed his embarrassment.  Thank you though…I know more than I could have ever thought possible.  You’re perfect, Eve.  Never forget that.

“Ser Rutherford?  Lady Evie?”

Evie gulped and pointed to the door.  T-thank you…  Evie sighed and covered her face.  Now respond, damn it.

Cullen poked her side before pushing himself off the bed.  Commanding me, are you?  Something to look forward to possibly?  He threw a charged look back at her before reaching the double doors to her quarter’s antechamber.

Evie’s clitoris both ached and yearned to continue that thought.  You have no idea.

Chapter Text

Bann Ian watched from his turned fireside wingback chair as his daughter and the Fereldan knight entered his secured office.  In both people’s hands were books and scrolls, some Bann Ian had not seen in over two years.  Both people smiled and spoke in hush tones.  Every so often, one would chuckle before recollecting themselves.  Once through the office doors, both composed themselves, their eyes gazing over each person present inside the room and waiting to discover what this meeting was about.  The bann knew why, but the bonds requested the isle guard captain, the spymaster, Hemmingway, and Knotts present as well.

As much as their professionalism switched like a lit candle entering the room, Bann Ian recognized what changed and how in the last twelve bells.  Compared with dinner the night before, both his daughter and her knight shifted from hesitation to a deep understanding and protection for each other.  Ian’s family signet right hummed and vibrated as its enchantments echoed Evie’s heightened magic and Cullen’s templar abilities.  In the weeks before, each person were cautious of the other, but now, they guarded one another.

Finally.

The pair might have thought their ‘secret’ activities were they own, but Ian could see the signs each person presented at meals or how they acted.  The bruised lips, redden skin, and slightly disheveled hair demonstrated Level Six had commenced within the last three days.  The display of affections made the nobleman’s stomach turn.  It went against everything nobility proposed as proper conduct.  Most of all, he felt that heightened concern and jealousy that some other man slowly grew in his daughter’s heart and could potential wound her forever.  It just did not sit well.  It should not for a father will always shield his child.

The moment Bann Ian held his daughter after her premature birth, that need to protect and love overwhelmed his entire senses.  The impulse never occurred with Patricia, making the man question sometimes if she as even his child or if he was so wicked then he no longer had a heart.  All doubt disappeared cradling newborn Evie moments after the isle’s mages saved her and Gwen from certain death.  Ian thought he would lose the love of his life and his child in one fell swoop.  The twentieth anniversary and birth was just three days away.

But he did not.

Yet, now Bann Ian felt he lost his daughter forever to another man, a man that the nobleman questioned constantly.  Rutherford harmed Evie, used her for his own gains, and disrespected her at every turn.  Even from what Ian discovered last night, Evie gave him an out of their entire deal, the man nearly took it and ran away like the monster Ian concluded he was.

Then to see him down in that pit, holding his bleeding barely clothed daughter with such care and sympathetic tears.  That knight’s baritone screaming for Bann Ian to free his bond will forever echo in the bann’s heart.  Never in Ian’s entire battle with whatever plagued his daughter had anyone contained that wild magic.  The weeks where the father had to imprison his daughter and bleed her mana dry were the longest in his life.  He was steps away from placing the brand on her forehead, pressured by the Reformists and House sympathizers to do something about the ‘wild creature.’

And Cullen stopped it with some words and a hand touch.

That single act alone rewarded the templar the upmost respect and gratitude Ian could give anyone.  All of his transgressions to this moment no longer mattered.  A solution showed itself from the very source that the nobleman prayed would do something.  All other proposals failed and those remaining meant he would lose what made Evie his daughter, his pride and joy.

So, that blistering jealousy of the very man he once hated now shifted to resignation and acceptance.  Bann Ian might have not handed over his daughter quite yet, but he knew in the future he would.  Yes, the gentlemen frowned on the knight’s demand to stay with the unconscious Evie last night.  Such displays just did not happen.  Everyone would question Evie’s purity now.  Yet, Ian and Cullen both recognized that Evie was of age and skill to determine those actions herself.  Yes, she was young, but not naïve.  To restrain her would go against everything Ian believed about his daughter and self-governing life.  So, the nobleman approved of the arrangement…and held his breath of what might come soon.

Level Seven Connection now was a solid piece on the chess board, a queen in a sea of pawns and asingle weak king—the last Reformist stronghold.  A way to stop the Promisers was no longer an impossible plan but an actual strategy and winning maneuver across the board.  It now laid as a way to stop this madness without the bann’s whole world bleeding and being set alight.  It finally gave him hope.

Well, except for this old new problem that initiated this gathering.

Evie reached a side table and set down her scrolls and books, while nudging with her chin where Cullen should place his goods.  There was a hopeful aura around the maiden, one Ian had not felt in years.  Her confidence returned, while her healing body responded better than usual to her treatments.  Her chocolate eyes followed her bond, thankfulness and belief behind them the nobleman thought he would never see again.  Maybe through this meeting, he will know what took that once beautiful candlelight and left smoke inside her crushed heart.

The majestic mage dressed in practical clothing of tight leather pants, a fitting tunic and a corset, while avoiding her flowy dresses.  She did not wear any noticeable weapons on her hip like her templar bond, but Evie was never truly unarmed, especially when wearing her amber teardrop foci and the hidden dirk blade that made her left leg slow a touch more than her right.

The woman’s eyes studied each person present, nodding.  “Good, everyone is present.”  Her Free Marcher lilt approved before sitting down in a provided chair across from her father.  Cullen took the leather chair that typically sat against the wall beside her.  “Let’s get started.”

“Not to sound like I do not listen, Lady Evelyn, but what is this about?”  Spaymaster None Ralaferin hissed through her teeth.  Her mistrusting Dalish eyes glared at Cullen from her shadowy position by the door.  The elf rogue never sat or relaxed.  Only Knotts rivaled the woman’s inability to not feel secure in her own employer’s household.

“A problem you are have been aware of, but has not been solved.”  Evie stated with an air of authority and warning.  “A problem that must be resolved before the Promisers arrive or we all fall.”

That got Commander Marisol Seymour and Guard Captain Ceolmund Meurig’s attention.  The army captain and naval officer each traded looks and demonstrated their confusion.  Both people were tacticians and prided themselves in covering every base in battle.  All three people seem thrown there was another issue to contend with that they were not aware was a problem until now.  Only Evie’s bodyguards and Bann Ian understood the spoken words.

“It isn’t an issue any military expertise and espionage could have noticed.”  Evie assured the military personnel present.  “Instead, it deals with our bondship and why all our sparring and bonding methods have been thwarted.  Cullen and I spoke all morning and researched in the library about the problem and a way to solve it.”

The blond knight beside Evie shifted in his seat, his stare stolid and determined, while the brief twitch of his now healed hands demonstrated his weariness of what was about to come.  “For years, you all have wondered about Eve’s nightly…’attacks’ and why nothing has contained them effectively.  She hid those secrets to protect me, a way to not break my confidence in her by carrying moments in both of our lives that both wished occurred and will avoid like the plague.”

“Kinloch.”  The bann stated with a bass tone.

Again, Cullen shifted in his seat.  Evie reached out and touched his trembling hand lying on the arm chair.  She gave him a soft smile, one Bann Ian never saw on her face, one specifically for this man.  The templar nodded and relaxed, their facial expression demonstrating they spoke reassurances through their unique bond.

“It is more than the blood magic rebellion.”  Evie’s voice turned stern and eyes fired at her father, warning him to not throw around such a time so easily.  Bann Ian did not show it of course, but he actual felt threatened for a few seconds until her burning gaze shifted to the other attendees.  Her hand rested on a tattered book on her lap, one the nobleman used to see quite often back when Evie started studying magic.  How long had it been since he saw it in her company?  “But something I was notified about as a child.”

“Ma’s advice, eh?”  Hemmingway huffed from behind Bann Ian.  He leaned against the fireplace mantle with his arms over his chest.

“Yes…”  Evie confirmed with a smirk.  “Based on the insight she gave me in person and what she wrote Cullen in a special letter, there is a confounding factor blocking our abilities and solidifying our possibilities.”

“A desire demon that original created our bond during the time of the elves.”  Cullen interjected, his baritone pitch raspy and burden-filled.  “Lifetime occurrences throughout the ages changed the Spirit of Love into a demon that strives to possess the mage in the bond to get the man for itself.”

None shifted a little, her hand flicking to her belt for a knife.  Knotts responded with his own reach, daring the other elf to harm his charge.  Bann Ian flicked a single finger calming both rogues.  “I suspected a demon played a role, but not the original creator.”  Bann Ian hissed with his swirling glare on his spymaster.  The Dalish assassin got the message and retreated back into the door’s shadow.  “Why now?”

“A solution had been found for a few lifetimes which is why our Spirits of Hope and Purpose were halved and the only connectors remaining.”  Evie swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut.  Cullen grasped her hand once comforting him to kiss her knuckles and assure her.  Knotts grunted from his spot somewhere in the room, while Hemmingway chuckled.  “My Harrowing called it back.  The Promisers must have discovered what banished it and wished to weaken the bond, me specifically.  So, when they finally put their plan in motion I would be out of steam.”

“It was the driving force to my…experience in the Circle.”  Cullen coughed, then pointed to Evie.  Those stern whiskey orbs bore into the bann.  “…and why you all had to imprison and almost make her tranquil.”

For a man threatening just weeks ago to report Evie to the Order, Cullen had no right to stare down Bann Ian for almost disconnecting his daughter from the Fade.  The nobleman’s lip twitched while blinking slowly.  Bloody Fereldan commoner…

“It’s still attacking then.”   Hemmingway surmised.  “It knows its opportunity is almost up and interfering in the bonding practice.”

“Exactly.”  Evie confirmed, opening her book.  “Before my Harrowing, I could not shake Naishe’s information from my mind.  I searched our collections and requested books from throughout Thedas to find a permanent solution.”  She took a deep breath and shook away a moment of insecurity.  “After the lyrium poisoning and Kinloch, I abandoned the research.  The demon effectively made me believe that happened to Cullen and I was my fault.  It knew I was close to a way of stopping it and officially disconnecting it from us both.  It used my guilt and regrets for things beyond my control to stop my inquisitive mind and gave it years to break both Cullen and me.”

“And it almost worked.”  Cullen chimed in.  “How it changed my mindset and kept Evie isolated it nearly won the war last night and in the coming days.  Why I was insistent on saving her demonstrated how close Evie’s willpower almost led to her death.”  His face softened as he nodded to the bann.  “If it was not for your insistence for me to remain here, this meeting would have never occurred.  Evie would have made herself tranquil in the next two days and killed herself, while I would walk this world committing crimes against other mages and the innocent believing it was justified in within my Order’s rights.”  He smirked.  “It’s ironic by imprisoning me here you set us both free.”

The meaning was not lost on Bann Ian.  Cullen was both addressing his disgusting containment on the isle and thanking the nobleman for the shift kick in the behind.  Instead of responding, Ian just blinked slowly, not sorry for his tactics.

“Speaking of escape plans,” Commander Seymour, House Trevelyan’s naval leader called from her silent seat in a corner.  “The Rise Phoenix is still at port by the village.  Lady Evelyn, your ship is one of the swiftest in our remaining fleet.  The merchant fleet meant to transport the townspeople from the isle before the attack perished at Ostwick Port yesterday.  We had no idea of the Phoenix’s whereabouts until the fog cleared this morning.  It is all that is left of House Trevelyan’s Free Marcher fleet.”

Evie’s chocolate eyes widened then traded looks with Cullen.  A mental conversation passed between the bonds that caused Evie to glare at the templar.  After a few ash flakes, fire sparks, and Cullen wincing at curses, the maiden spoke.  “I had no idea.”  Her chocolate gaze flicked to her father.  “My father has not been very forthcoming with information lately.”

It was Bann Ian’s turn to wiggle in his wingback chair.  “Securing the isle is my officers and I’s responsibility.  Cullen and you have had your own issues to navigate.”

Evie rolled her eyes, noticing her father’s deflection of her ire observation.  Instead of calling him out, her attention returned to the admiral.  “How can the Phoenix be of assistance?”

“It isn’t large enough to transport everyone, but may you have the crew transport the elderly, the non-fighting women, and children off the isle.”  Commander Seymour requested with her hands behind her back.  “If they flee with the evening tide, they can at least race away before the hurricane’s first bands reach the region.”

“Make it so.  Tell First-Lieutenant Matthias exactly what is required.  Anything to save innocent lives.”  Evie commanded, her brow scrunched and willpower strong enough to alight the Trevelyan’s ring again.  Commander Seymour stomped out of the room, her hollering echoing down the manor’s halls once finding runners and her officers.  Evacuation will begin immediately and finished in just two bells.  No questions asked.  Evie’s concern returned meeting her father’s swirling approving eyes.  “Mother and Esme should join them.”

Bann Ian shook his head no.  “It might not seem so, but they are safer here.  Promiser assassins are biting at the bit at the chance to take out our own family.  We will rise from the flames or fall together.”

Evie pursed her lips and exhaled.  “You might reconsider that after what my plan is.  I know I am doubting the solution.”

“Never doubt yourself, Evelyn.”  Bann Ian smiled at his daughter.  “Your mind finds the best solutions with the least harmed to others.”

The fiery maiden’s grasp on her bond’s hand tightened.  Her eyes studied Cullen as she gulped.  “It will take the most from us.  Preparations have already began.”

“Is that why you suggested I not take a lyrium philter this morning…?”  Cullen quipped with a perked brow.

Evie nodded.  “There are many reasons why the previous bonds could not defeat the demon themselves and had to resort to the spirits splitting themselves.  Most instances were that they could not trap the demon in a single person’s dream that contained both the man and woman present.  The presence of both solidified in one’s dream tipped it off, and it avoided interaction.”

“So you think you have a way of baiting it, Girl?”  Hemmingway assumed with a concern expression.

“Yes, one that mimics when it felt strongest and had the most control over our bond.”  Evie admitted with her head hanging.

Cullen tensed, his whiskey eyes huge.  “You don’t mean to…?”

Hemmingway whistled, while Knotts shifted unease from his spot.

“Please explain for us non-bonded people…”  Captain Meurig, the Trevelyan army leader huffed, lost in this entire conversation.

“She wishes to recreate the circumstances of her Harrowing by drinking potent lyrium, while Cullen refusing draughts like when he was imprisoned in the Circle.”  Bann Ian bluntly remarked, his bass tone demonstrating how much he hated the idea.

Evie gritted her teeth, while standing and pressing herself to a panting Cullen.  “But unlike those instances, we can control the dose, environment, and how I enter the dream.  From my old research, rarer bonds can effectively transfer stamina and mana via lyrium between one another even in a dream.  As long as they are in the same dream and touching in the physical world, the ability should occur.  Desire will see I am overfueled by the lyrium and Cullen is weakened by not having lyrium for a few days.  It cannot pass up the opportunity.  It knows how close it is to breaking us up.  Even if it sees us in the same dream, we are giving it dessert on a platter.”

“And likely going to get yourselves killed.”  None huffed, tossing her hand at the pair.  “You don’t know how dangerous you actually are Evie.  You wish to give such a little girl more fuel and essentially burn everything down!”

“Now, wait just a damn minute!”  A baritone growl hollered before Bann Ian could shout at his spymaster.  Cullen jumped from his seat and grasp his hilt.  His whole stance demonstrated he did not care if None was an ally.  Threatening and belittling Evie in his presence broke him to do whatever possible to defend her.  “You have no idea what we are capable of separately and you haven’t seen us work together.  I thought like you and still do to a degree, but never about Eve now!  We suffered more than thought possible for years.  You are lucky not have been a mage because you will never know what demons are fully capable of.  Eve has and continues to endure such terrors for five years alone.  She kept me alive during some of whose torture while fighting that demon herself.  You might doubt me, but never underestimate her!”

None huffed and rolled her eyes, looking for her employer to step in.  Instead, Bann Ian pointed at Cullen.  “He is right.  Never doubt them.  Ever.”  Everyone in the room stilled as Bann Ian stood from his seat and shifted his cane in such a way that None shifted and shuddered.  She hung her head and muttered an apology to the templar.  Cullen barely moved from a defensive-offense position.  Bann Ian smirked and waved to Cullen.  “Do not count yourself short, Ser Cullen.  Anyone and everyone…”  His swirling eyes glanced back to his spymaster.  “…who witnessed what you did last night knows for all of Evie’s powers, yours are one and the same.  Balance identifies and explains you both clearly.”

Evie stood from her seat and placed one hand on his shoulder.  Instantly, Cullen relaxed and took a step back.  In her other hand laid on her old research.  “I know you are concerned being weak like that again, Cullen, but remember your words to me this morning.”  The Fereldan placed his hand on hers on his shoulder and nodded.  “Furthermore, we will not being supporting each other through the Fade like before.  We will be in the same room, touching somehow so both a physical and lyrium connection is established.”

“Where you think will be best?”  Captain Meurig asked, his mind already thinking of preventative measures.  “The Pit?”

“Absolutely not.”  Evie snapped.  “It cannot be in any place where neither Cullen nor I have had negative emotions connected.  The demon can use those negative events against us.”

“The grove, Eve?”  Cullen suggested with a hopeful face.  Evie shook her head no and pointed to her head.  Cullen winced.   Knotts coughed once, his eyes glowing.  “Oh…”  He hung his head.

“How about the tavern?”  Hemmingway shrugged and thumbed behind him.  “You both enjoyed yourselves there that night dancing and drinking.”

“Yes, because placing a firestorm and a lyrium-addicted templar in the middle of a town is a great idea…” None muttered to herself.  A knife sang threw the air and embedded into the wall right by None’s left ear.  Everyone looked at Knotts first who had never moved.  Bann Ian coughed and patted his jerkin twice.  None saluted and bowed, her ear starting to bleed.  That was her final warning…ever.

Evie pursed her lips before glancing at Cullen.  “You almost had a panic attack there…”

Cullen smirked and leaned into Evie’s shoulder.  “Over something the demon did…”  His mind caught up with him.  “You did know it was about Kinloch, didn’t you…?”  Evie just shrugged and smiled back.  “The tavern would be best then.”  The templar remarked feeling better at the prospect.

“What is our time table?”  Captain Meurig quizzed, his mind wondering how long he had to prepare and set up defenses for the worst.

Both Cullen and Evie glanced to the bann.  Evie spoke for the both.  “How far away…?”

Ian knew what she meant and exhaled.  “Three days…give or take.”

“So essentially my birthday…”  Evie surmised and groaned.

Cullen threw her a look.  “Your birthday is in a few days?  You mentioned it before, but never specified.”

“Because I figured the Promisers wanted to make their assault then.  It will be exactly five years since they started their plan.”  Evie sighed and thumped her forehead on his shoulder.

“I’m here, Eve.”  The knight reminded her.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

Evie smiled briefly before her reaffirmed her confidence.  “We will do it tomorrow night.  That will give everyone enough time to prepare, enough time to move people from the area, and…”  She patted Cullen’s shoulder.  “…start the withdrawals.  If there was another way…”

The knight shuddered at the prospect.  “If it means the lyrium won’t harm you or feed that monster, it will be worth it.”

Evie nodded to her bond before looking her father straight in the eye.  “His withdrawal will not be as bad if he stay with me constantly for the next twenty-four bells.  Cullen sleeping by me while I recovered helped nullify whatever demonic presence wished to threaten me and aided my wounds.”  Her eyes lit up.  “He will stay with me again.  Close proximity will protect him from the demon trying to attack or disrupt the plan, while avoiding me healing him indirectly.”

Bann Ian read between the lines.  There will be no discussion to the contrary.  It happened this way or they will defy the lord of the House.  As much as the nobleman did not agree with the night activities, Evie and Cullen were this desire demon experts.  All of this was out of the father’s control.

“As you say.”  The bann agreed with a single head nod.  He looked at the others present in the room.  “You know what must be done.  You have twenty-four hours to act.  We will commence after dusk tomorrow.”  Instantly, everyone present hop to their required task, speaking quickly outside the office door with the subordinates.  Cullen and Evie gathered the research again and slowly walked back out of the room arm in arm. 

None stepped behind them, her ear still bleeding.  Bann Ian summoned, “Ralaferin, a moment?”  Both individuals knew the implications of using her old clan name.  The sins of her brother hung from her shoulders now, her mission to clean up his mess.

The spymaster stilled and stopped her exit.

Never has this woman insulted her bann as she did that day.  Bann Ian knew she was loyal, but apparently her Dalish past with uncontrolled magic still governed her.  Any magic reminded her of her former keeper brother, the man who shared Dalish secrets with shems.  It was these secrets that None abandoned her first name and worked to destroy the shem documents so the secrets were lost to non-elven word.  It was about high time the bann reminded her why she was his spymaster and what she avoided from her own clan.

A single missive to Keeper Elindra and her young First Neria would be all it took to scare this woman straight again.[1]

Chapter Text

Cullen stood outside the village tavern, wishing he was anywhere but about to enter the Fade.  His arms and shoulders felt heavy in his plate pauldrons and gauntlets.  His legs trembled like he ran across the continent up a mountain through several feet of snow.  The enchanted gambeson under his cuirass was already soaked through with sweat and bits of spit from vomiting into the bay.  Most of all, the templar’s skull felt like someone clubbed him with a stick a million times trying to break out from the inside.

Death any possible way sounded like the heaven compared with lyrium withdrawal.

The surge of magic beside him made him jump back a few steps until Cullen recognized it was Evie and her violin, whose instrument was nearly drowned out by the deep hungering need for that lyrium hum.  The mage, decked out in her full silverite chain mail and plate armor, hid the bit of sting from his wince before Cullen leaned towards her.  In the late dusk light, she too was sweating.  Throughout the day she kept draining her mana pool so when she took the potent draught she will not instantly cause a backdraft.  The templar felt the coolness sparkling from her fingertips.  The knight offered his tacky neck for the spell, instantly moaning a thanks at the healing and cooling sensations repelling through this entire struggling body.

“If there was another way…”  Evie sighed as she continued relieving his symptoms.  “I would do it in a heartbeat.  I’m setting us up for bait, but None might be right I might get us killed instead.”

“No…”  Cullen’s voice quaked before willing away the tremors that began at noon.  “Don’t doubt your assessments.  Based on what we’re read about this monster and what we know personally, it will only take the risk if we are both perceived weak.”

“What if you can’t draw out the lyrium?  What if I am serving you up on a platter after stopping lyrium?  What if you can’t drain me and I set the village on fire?  What if-“

“Stop, Eve.”  The knight drew his bond’ face to his and kissed her forehead.  His chapped lips tasted the salty sweat rolling down from her hair.  He glanced down into those glassy chocolate eyes struggling to keep from crying.  “You can do this.  We can do this.”

“You don’t see yourself, my Lion…”  The fire mage whimpered, leaning against his stubble chin.  “You have been suffering since last night.”

“And you’ve been draining yourself healing and aiding me.”  Cullen reminded the woman in his armed arms.  “You did not sleep because you kept the fever away and making sure I was comfortable.  You set so many barriers over me that nothing from the Fade could even attempt to impact me.  You haven’t let go of my hand once to risk the lost connection.”

“All I hear is your hunger…”  Evie mumbled through her teeth.

“And you’re about to take a draught that will refresh me.”

“Or get us killed…”  Evie challenged, her faith in herself and the plan waning each second.

The templar glanced around, waiting for Captain Meurig to give the signal for them to enter the tavern.  Knotts will be arriving soon with the thrice potent Harrowing lyrium minus the nightshade.  Cullen convinced Evie not to risk her physical health by replicating all the factors from her Harrowing, just enough that the demon will be excited at the growing power.  After draining and taxing herself keeping Cullen standing through the cold-turkey quitting lyrium for days, she finally agreed.  Bann Ian and the bodyguards all sighed in relief not wanting to contend with both a magical overload while trying to stop poisoning at the same time.

“Hey, we still have a few moments.”  Cullen convinced his bond away from the others.  He fought the muscle fatigue to walk away out of sight of so many guards, templars, and bonded mages.  They were all aiding and supporting the exterior while Evie and Cullen wandered the Fade and killed the desire demon.  The knight attempted to pull off his gauntlet but his fingers were not working right.  “Take off my left glove for me.”

Evie pursed her lips, unbuckled the gauntlet, and slipped off the armed glove.  Instantly, her body quickly reacted to catch something from inside.  Cullen’s single prized possession landed in her palm.  “Cullen?”

“This is my luck coin.  My brother Branson had it in his pocket the day I was to leave for the academy.  He told me it was a lucky silver he found outside the Chantry the day before.  It was all I took with me, all that is left of my childhood home.  For years, the Chantry ingrained in my mind our faith should be our only saving grace.  Still, I kept it with me.  I sewed it into my gloves, thus why I have such a strange calluses on this palm.  It was concealed under my first lyrium draught during my Vigil that burned your brand on my skin.  It was the only thing that wasn’t taken from me while in imprisoned in Desire’s prison during the Circle rebellion when you kept me going with your music, magic, and presence throughout the torture.  Most of all, it was in my pocket and not with my other belongings that night when you saved me from the briny deep.” 

Cullen wrapped Evie’s slender fingers around the silver coin carved with Andraste’s face.  “Keep it.  This will be in my hand holding yours throughout this whole excursion.  This is all I have of my former life, nothing in comparison with what you have at your disposal.  Now I know you have been with me since the very beginning, it is safe to say my luck did not just come from this coin, but from you, Eve.” 

A single tear rolled down from her left eye.  “I-I can’t take this.  This is all you have of your family!  F-from Honnleath!”

Cullen used his ungloved hand to wipe away the tear.  “I give it to you to demonstrate as long as you are at my side, I am the luckiest man alive.  It has been with me through every life-threatening moment.  Now that you are here with me, I have no need for it.  Of anything you take from this coin, just remember holding it that I trust you with my life.”

Evie stopped breathing, several more tears falling from her eyes.  “You….you said you would never trust me.”

“And now I do trust you.  Mind, body, soul, and heart.”  Cullen leaned over her and kissed her lips.  “I believe in you.  Trust you.  Have faith in you.  We will fight this monster and survive.  Nothing will stop us as long as we are together.  I swear it on this coin and everything I am.”

Evie lunged forward and kissed him with her armed body hanging off his shoulders.  Her gloved fingers dug into his twisting curls, while she poured healing magic through the kiss.  Her tongue danced into his mouth and made Cullen forget his own name.

“Lady?  Ser?”

Cullen released his arm from her chainmail waist, while Evie let go and let her boots smack the cobble stones.  She hastenly wiped away her tears before pivoting to meet Captain Meurig’s knowing smirk.  “Y-yes…?”  She cleared her throat.  Both men present chuckled under their breaths.  Evie tore off her glove that will hold Cullen’s during the fight and moved the coin to her palm.

“Knotts is here with the draught.”  The guard captain thumbed behind him.  “He is waiting in the tavern for you two to arrive.  From the debriefing, you will pass out like in your Harrowing quickly.”

Evie took a deep inhale and nodded.  “Cullen will catch me and set me on the floor.  My sleep spell will have a minute delay before it sends him into the Fade.”

“We will act on your mark.”  The captain nodded.  “No one will be allowed near or inside until Ser Rutherford exits.”

“Are the healers and Chantry sisters on standby?”  Cullen questioned, his amber eyes noticing the response team that will transport them back to the estate by the cart loaded with healing potions and other needed items.

“Both at the cart and to receive you both at the manor for immediate care.” Meurig assured with a nod.  “As a precaution, ice mages and their bonds are on the surrounding streets to act as necessary.”

Both Evie and Cullen knew what he meant.  If the demon succeeded or Evie’s magic overpowered Cullen...  Both bonds nodded and started towards the tavern.

As Muerig stated, Knotts stood by a barrel table in the middle of the deserted pub.  In his hands, Cullen heard the strong song of lyrium, but pitched differently than the philter he typically prepared for himself.  He knew if he consumed it, it would be damning for him as it was set for mages specific, but it did not stop Cullen’s whole body from stumbling forward at a hopefully drop of humming relief.

Evie held his cuirass.  “Let me take it from him and stand at position before you join me.  That way you are away from it as long as possible.  Lock the door and activate the nullification rune on the door before you come to me.  That will give me enough time to set the spell on you, drink, and be caught, okay?”

Cullen squeezed his whiskey eyes shut and nodded.  He leaned against the door frame, while Evie walked into the building.  Doing his best to ignore the humming driving him insane, the templar analyzed the changed space. 

The templar had not been to the tavern since the jig dance and it felt strange so bare of people.  The knowing smells of smoke, stale beer, and nuts hung in the air.  Evie explained it was done on purpose to strength the senses so when she established the dream it would be more solid and convincing to Cullen and the demon.  The tables were pushed against the walls and the chairs stacked in corners.  All the table lanterns were lit with magelight, another purposeful act by Evie to reaffirm her magic in the space and surround Cullen in her violin music so when he was called to her dream, he could form himself completely than just being corporeal.  It also reaffirmed the difference between the demon’s tricks and Evie’s real magic.  Lastly, chalked onto the floor was several arcane circles and nullification runs just like in a harrowing chamber.  They were meant to keep her magic contained and focus the excess mana into the Fade to tempt the demon to them.  One smaller circle sat in the middle, one that brought a smirk to Cullen’s paling face.  It was their lyrium brand mark where their hands will be held through the whole sleep.  By placing it on the brand’s circle, any movement by their physical bodies will not separate them, while Desire will not force their physical form apart to deny Cullen access to Evie’s lyrium in her body.

Even after reading Evie’s old research before her Harrowing, Cullen still stood amazed how much she planned, considered, and executed to keep them both safe and have a winning chance.  His Lady remarked during their restless last night that if she knew she needed such safeguards for her Harrowing, she would have done so just to keep the demon away.  Alas, no one loyal to the family and truly with the Reformists imagined such treachery at her harrowing.  Bann Ian did not say it in so many words before they left, but those responsible for this whole mess suffered fates that he replaced a thousand fold.

Nudge.

Cullen woke from his thoughts to see Knotts waiting to pass.  His amber gazed flashed to where Evie held the lyrium vial and stood in the circle.  Sliding off the door frame, the knight patted Knotts’ leather shoulder with his bare hand and smiled.  The city elf nodded and exited, his eyes glowing as soon as the night’s darkness flowed over him.  As instructed, the Fereldan closed and locked the door.  With the last remaining lyrium still at his disposal, he activated the rune.

Flash.

Cullen shook his head and stumbled a few times.   Pivoting around, he felt Evie’s magic surround him.  He recognized the feeling as to when he read the seer’s letter.  Hemmingway’s mother likely sent him via the letter’s contents into the Fade much like Evie’s spell will do in a few moments.  His ears perked hearing the lyrium hum call to him as Evie opened the large draught and lock eyes with him.  Then in a flash, she poured the contents down her throat and threw the empty glass bottle against the wall so the song was only on her.

A heat wave instantly flowed over Cullen as he rushed to the harrowing circle.  Sparks and ash fluttered around Evie as her knees gave out beneath her.  Cullen caught her and watched as her chocolate brown eyes rolled into her skull and her body become scolding hot.  Her armor started to be too much to hold, so Cullen acted quickly to set her down with her head facing east.  Her hand holding his lucky coin rested on the chalked lyrium brand waiting for Cullen’s.  Feeling her sleeping spell taking him fast, he finished adjusting the mage on her back before directing his head to the west.  The opposite directions were to signify the rising and setting of the sun.  Just as during a Harrowing, Evie and Cullen only had until morning before they were out of time.  If neither rose with the dawn, they would be stuck in the Fade forever.

As the knight’s last conscious breath wheezed through his nose, he laid down and grasped Evie’s lifeless hand.  He felt the lucky coin against his callused palm as his fingers caressed and held Evie’s wrist and thumb.  “Maker, watch over us and bless this excursion.  Andraste, deliver us safely back to the physical world.  Spirt halves, protect and guide me to her.”  Hope and Purpose echoed deep inside Cullen, aiding the templar now counting luck and spirits his allies and friends against the very creature that created this twin flame soulmate bond.

Cullen’s amber eyes slowly opened to find himself in darkness.  He recognized the space as when his memory faded and before hearing Evie’s violin in the Fade just two nights before.  His mind ached, attempting to remember why he was there.  He glanced down at himself and saw he only wore a tunic and thin trousers like he was just asleep.  That was not right.  Shouldn’t he be in his armor-

The templar’s whole dream self withered in pain as he held his temples.  Whispers echoed around him as he struggled to remember why he was in the Fade.  When did he fall asleep?  He felt weak, too little lyrium readily available to smite the demons hissing in his brain.

Demon.  Something about a demon.  He was there to…His brain only ached more.

Every so often, the darkness flickered like a candle flame struggling in the wind.  Stone, bloody walls flashed around him, but could not remain.  Cullen squeezed his eyes shut, praying under his breath.  No, he knew he could not think of the Circle or anything related to that time.  He did not know why, but must focus on something else.  The more knight resisted the stone walls, the more his brain hissed like poison was poured into his ear.  Resist.

When the beings in the darkness registered Cullen was not giving into the nightmare, whispers filled the blackness.  The murmurs sounded like the person was speaking into his ear form behind him.  He would pivot to only find more blackness, his panic weakening his resolve.  The stone walls began forming and solidifying with each flicker.  Resist.

Then the knight perked and fought through the pain to listen to a calming melody tugging Cullen somewhere.  The knight searched the darkness, the demon whispers distracting him to understand why he was hearing a violin.  It was so familiar, extremely important to him.  He knew sanctuary and relief laid in the music.  He just could not remember why?!

This way, My Avatar…

Cullen turned around and stumbled backwards.  Before him was a glowing dark orange figure hovering above the darkness ground.  The templar inside the man prepared himself, his jaw clenching.  “Stay away from me, Demon!”

The feature seem to frown and tilt its head.  Its body was a bluish hue and similar to a woman wearing a Fereldan noble gown.  It wore a veil and a pointed tiara across its forehead.  “Calm, My Avatar.  You called for my assistance falling asleep, and I could not turn away from your will.”

“Why would I call to you!?”  Cullen hollered at the being.  “You are just going to tempt me, use me, and try to possess me to enter the physical world.”

The being sighed and shook its head.  “Its influence on you blocks why you sleep and your purpose.  It separates you for my and Purpose’s words.  Only the music we create to unite you with Your Soul bleeds through the chaos.”

Again, a violin melody echoed around Cullen, slowing his breathing.  The music feels so far away, panicking for a response.  If Cullen could just call to it too…

The figure glances a direction.  “You do hear Purpose…It is trying to calm Your Soul because you have not arrived.”  Its eyes flicked back to Cullen.  “You must move quickly.  You hear the music.  Ignore the whispers for Desire does not want you to go.  Do not let the lyrium cravings drown out the violin.  She has plentiful power for you both.  Your Soul needs you to bleed her mana or you will both die.  All of us will die.”

Cullen could not believe he was actually going to really speak to a demon, but everything inside him told him his perception of everything was terribly wrong.  Only the demon echoes reconfirmed to not listen to this creature’s lies.  However, if the being was correct and it was actually demons distracting him, Cullen must persevere.

“My Soul…?”

The figure giggled and shook its head.  It pointed into the darkness.  Nearly beyond Cullen’s sight was a green hue, the only tone different from the blackness that felt like it would consume him whole.  “The other half of you…You still deny it, but you cannot ignore that you have given half of yourself to her.  I hoped for this moment for every one of my precious avatars.  I joined Purpose and Love at the beginning because I believe in all happiness and joy.  I knew your trials throughout the ages will be difficult, but I must hope from the Fade good will come to the mortal world.  It is such a dismal place for you both.  You both will bring hope to your world and fulfill my purpose.  Hope is a like a ripple across water:  once the ripple begins, it expands and grows to all.”

            Cullen slowly accepted its words.  This being did not seem dangerous.  His mistrust still flared, but he finally dropped his defense. 

The figure felt the knight’s guards dropped and approached the dreamer.  “I ask you, Avatar, what do you hope for?”

Cullen’s shoulders slumped and hung his head.  When was the last time he actually wished and hoped for anything in this world?  There was something in his heart that he craved like water in a desert, but it seemed so far away.  “To not be plagued by my past.  To sleep and dream of happy moments than relive my torture every time I close my eyes.  To not feel so alone and guilty for surviving Kinloch Hold.  To have someone understand what happened to me without pressuring me for those vile events.  To recover and learn how to love without my thoughts always seeing what Desire twisted.”  Cullen started panting, his eyes watching as the green light seem to grow and reach out to him.  “To serve and protect what I care about without running away and hiding under a rock.  To protect my family and ask for their forgiveness for wronging them.  To not be afraid anymore.” 

A bright green tint overpowered the blackness as a bright green light blinked from his right.  The violin music pushed back the demon whispers.  His mind Cullen began to feel calm and remember where he laid his head, a tavern somewhere.  He was holding a hand, a soft and strong hand grasping his lucky coin Branson gave him.  Yes, he believed in the person to protect him from his hells.

Cullen’s whiskey eyes flashed back to the spirit.  Yes, this was a benevolent spirit, one who was attached to him, a supporter and guide through life’s trials.  This was Hope, a concept he thought never existed.

Hope smiled at the revitalized man.  It looked like it could read his thoughts, its chin nodding for him to continue.  Cullen nodded back and continued his wish list.  “To care for…?”  He closed his eyes.  Auburn waves, hidden freckles, and soft silky skin danced in his mind eye.  A sassy Free Marcher lilt and citrus and clove scent played across his senses.  “To love…?”  Cullen could not connect the senses to the person.  The demons were now shouting in his mind and heart.  He fought back and smited the dream world around him to break the malevolent holding onto him, but the lack of lyrium in his corporeal body barely touched the monsters. 

Despite all the pain and hardship, the young man held onto the senses, searching for this person’s name somewhere deep inside him where not even the darkness could interfere.  Fiery words.  Long legs leaping and dancing feet.  Warm comforting hands on his elbow.  Plump pink lips moving on his scarred lips, moaning her enjoyment and feeling for Cullen.  A determined, inquisitive mind always questioning him, strengthening his resolve.  A beautiful nude body that not even Desire could mimic.  Resistance that Cullen believed no mage could have.  A giving heart open to everyone.  A scared woman who reached out to him to fill her lonesomeness and share their burdens together.

Then it popped into his head.  A majestic maiden reached out to him bathed in bright green light dressed in a flowing dress.  A single teardrop amber amulet nestled between two modestly perked breasts flashed in his mind’s eye.  A single finger bent continuously to Cullen to join her.  A bright green spirit hovered right above her shoulders as violin blared in Cullen’s ears.  “Eve…”

The demons’ whispers disappeared and everything of why Cullen slept came back to him.  His tunic and trousers transformed into his specialized templar armor.  His sword and longsword materialized in his hands.  The bright green light consumed the remaining darkness, nearly blinding Cullen.  He reached out to Hope, calling the spirit bonding him to his beautiful Lady to join in their crusade.  Hope smiled and floated over, its hand touching his pauldron and allowing the light transport them through the Fade.

Chapter Text

Seeing Cullen materialize beside her with Hope’s angelic amber orange glow floored Evie.  She took a deep inhale and tackled him.  Her arms encircled his plate-protected neck.  The tears flowed instantly, relief their purpose and expression.  She felt her Lion stiffen under the armed woman’s weight, likely wondering who or what suddenly touched him.  However, Evie did not care.

It could have been a million lifetimes between Evie appearing in the Fade and waiting for Cullen to form in her dream.  The mage expected a few moments delay before he appeared.  He was a templar and never experienced the Fade like this.  He had ignored and pushed away any sensing stating he could join Evie’s dreams for decades.  The experience must be so confusing for a non-mage.

Then the seconds…minutes ticked by.  Evie weaved her music through the Fade, reaching out to hear that majestic piano.  The mage pleaded to Hope’s other half attached to her soul to seek out its other half.  She whispered the Chant so that Andraste and the Maker may reach him from the Black City somewhere in the eerie green landscape right outside her dream.  All the while, the inferno mage’s skin boiled and smoked the longer she contained her overpowered magic.  Demons beyond her protective dream barriers felt her growing power, their whispers turning into shout every minute Cullen delayed.

No piano.  No echoing music.  No orange light.

It felt like the end of the world.

But now Cullen was there, slowly encircling her in his armed arms and gauntlets.  He buried his head into her neck, taking a deep breath of her.  “Maker…Eve, you’re shaking…”

“I…I-I feared the worst.”  She mumbled into his neck barely exposed under his gorget and gambeson. 

“My apologies, Milady.”  Cullen wisped into her ear.  “I’m here now.”

Evie nodded against his jaw before letting go.  Her resolved re-solidified that they could do this.  Still, the lyrium in her blood kept weighing her down.  She panted a little, her mind focusing on keeping her in this safe space.  She envisioned the door and awning to the tavern, shifting her dream to reflect the safe space.

Cullen glanced around him, his mouth gapping.  His amber eyes sparkled in the dream’s moonlight.  The stars added to the calm night sky as a soft summer breeze cooled their tacky skin trapped in the dream armor.  Wood creaks and fluttering sails from the ported merchant ships nearby echoed against the pub’s exterior walls.

“Maker, this is…”   The knight spun around, looking at the details Evie presented in her dream.  “…can all mages do this with anything?”

Evie giggled watching Cullen move around the dream, never too far from her side.  He took a deep breath of dream air, wincing at the rotting fish smell so well-known at the docks.  The knight’s fingers skimmed the tavern walls, rubbing the dried dirt and ash between his thumb and index finger.  He kicked a random rock on the flagstone road leading to the market square.  “It is a skill a mage must learn to survive beyond childhood.  While non-mages can alter their own dreams with practice and extreme focus, we mage can do so more fluidly.  However, the more we shift our dreams, and thus the Fade, around us, the more it attracts all sorts of Fade inhabitants.”

Cullen’s back braced as his amber gaze analyzed the environment.  “You mean demons.”

“And spirits…”  Evie pointed up at the stars.  One ball of light actually floated from the blackness towards them.  “A wisp…forming spirits of previously destroyed benevolent fellows.”

The knight took a few steps back from the ball of light that danced around him happily.  “Ahh…get away…It’s like a mosquito!”  Evie smirked as he stumbled around and the wisp bounced and hummed at Cullen like it was a game.  Seeing that Cullen’s anxiety rising, she banished the wisp from the dream, apologizing to the innocent entity under her breath. 

Seeing he was no longer haunted, Cullen sighed and resumed looking at the environment.  “Is this what a Harrowing is like?”

Evie shook her head, shuddering at the five year old memory.  “No.  A mage is in the raw Fade then and tossed into a strong demon’s realm.  As a mage, I can travel to the raw Fade if fed enough lyrium, but it is difficult and sometimes too dangerous.  Dream mages can do it with a catalyst and mold it however like they want just like walking in a garden.  Their abilities and magic react the easiest in the Fade, but also attracts even more beings inhabiting the dream world.  I can only control my own environment and invite you into my dream since you’re my bond.”

“A-are we in Desire’s realm now?”  Cullen questioned, grasping his longsword.

“We are its realm, Cullen.”  Evie waved around her.  “Our dreams are its fete.  It has more control of your dreams because you do not how to control them and not as connected to the Fade.  In mine, it knows I can change things…”  Evie started panting, grabbing her biceps.  The lyrium was smothering from the inside.  “…thus why it has to wear me down first to shift it to its fantasies.”

Cullen noticed Evie’s struggles.  “The trap has started with your consumption, correct?”

“Not yet.  I have a protective barrier around us to not send my present too much into the Fade.  I can’t hold it much longer though.  It knows we are asleep, poking at my protections to enter and muck around.”  She pointed to the tavern door.  “When we enter, we are bait, fish out of water.  Our presence will be like a bonfire through the Fade.”

The knight nodded.  “Let’s see if I can draw from you first before we enter.”  He took a step forward.

“No!”  Evie took several steps back, her chainmail rattling.  “A little longer.  It won’t come to ‘play’ if it seems us strengthening each other.”

“How do I draw from you?”

The mage had been questioning that for a few days now.  One of her concerns about this fight was that no texts really illustrated how lyrium mana to stamina and stamina to mana transferred occurred.  Command?  Spell?  Touch?  Kiss?  Thought?  Even the forbidden library did not have much information on the topic, likely destroyed by the Chantry before those books could be smuggled away and protected by the Reformists.  The institution likely did not want its knight to know they can get their abilities without consuming that horrific drug.  So much control over templar and mages…

“We’ll figure it out.”  Evie fake smiled, trying to hide the tremor in her voice.  Cullen could see right through it but did not push.  “We can do it, Cullen.”  The mage lifted her hand with the coin.  The first thing Evie did arriving in her dream was project the coin in her hand, their hands.  “Luck is on our side.”

The templar took a few relieving breaths.  His lucky coin was extremely special for him.  When Cullen gave it to her, she felt his care for the object and what it represented.  When he told her he trusted her with his life and with his only true possession, his resolution flowed over her demonstrating it was not just words, but his determination and faith in them.

“If we want to trick it here, should our clothing be different?”  The knight questioned, referencing their armor contracting to the calm environment.

“How many night terrors have you had wearing your templar plate armor and weapons?”  Evie countered with an eyebrow perked.

“I wish more, honestly.”

The fire mage nodded.  “My dreams always start with me in armor.  The sight won’t faze the demon now.  It will see it more to strip us and take why we feel as protection and comfort.”

Cullen’s scarred lips formed an ‘O’ understanding the reason.  He took a deep inhale, steeling himself for confront the cause of all his anguish over the last two years.  His sword grip tightened, the leather wrap squeaking under the pressure.

“Ready?”  Evie stepped towards the dream tavern door.  Her hand grasp her physical arming sword.  Her knight-enchant hilt hung right beside it.  The dirk without reach of her left hand on her hip.

Cullen nodded and fell into step beside her, his left hand grasping his trusty templar shield and his right rubbing his longsword’s pommel now.  “Ready.”

“Desire…come out to play-eeeee-y!”  Evie sang, pushing the tavern door open.  Her mind focused on the dream to create a believable trap inside based on happy memories…

The tavern was loud and full of people from all walks of life.  Cullen expected the same dull and empty space as where Evie and he slept at the moment.  Alas, Evie’s ability to mold her own dream so efficiently and effectively left him wondering if he could possibly do the same under her guidance.

The smell of stale beer, nuts, and sweat almost knocked over the man.  Every lantern light shined brightly.  Each light source had a violin undertone, reminding Cullen of all the triggers Evie set in the real work to establish this world.  Unlike the physical world, the tables and chairs were in their proper place with people occupying each.  The inhabitants laughed, cussed, and talked like it was a usual evening after a long day of working at the docks or on their ships.  Bartenders and wenches served drinks and food to the occupants.

For a few moments, Cullen was not sure if he was really awake or sleeping.  He kept glancing at Evie to his left by the door and his armor just to reconfirm he was asleep.  It felt so real.

Then Cullen remembered how realistic Kinloch Hold felt too-

-the tavern flicked to stone walls for a second.

Evie grasped his gauntlet, her chocolate brown eyes wide.  “Focus on here.  Don’t let your mind drag you to any place with negative emotions.  Remember the fun you had here.  If you think of…there…You can make me think of it too and then we’re fucked.”

Cullen gulped and nodded one.  The caution and fear in her voice told the Fereldan that anything he did will impact Evie’s weakening control on the environment.  Maker, he never wanted to be trapped there in their current states.  Just witnessing Evie’s hells a few nights ago scarred him for the rest of his life.

Then Hemmingway’s raspy voice echoed throughout the tavern.  He popped into the dream like a flame flicker.  He sat on a barrel by several musicians with variety of different instruments.  A huge tankard was in the Rivaini’s left hand, while a sultry wench leaned against him with his right grabbing her behind.   

“ There once was a farmer from old Flotsam town,
Who was tired of sowing his seeds on the ground.
He went for a wander and walked till the dawn,
Till a wanton old she troll he stumbled upon.”

Cullen just blinked and froze.  His ear sfocused on the lyrics.  To his left, Evie hummed along, her head bobbing to the beat.  The whole tavern began singing the chorus for the sea shanty:

“And a hey-ho he's ploughing a troll!
The gods only know how the key fits the hole.
Around in the stinking great den they did roll,
And a hey-ho he's ploughing a troll!”[1]

The knight pinched his brow, trying to contain his chuckles.  After a few moments trying to comprehend what he was listening to, Cullen glanced at his bond, who was hollering with the raunchy lyrics.  Her face was bright red from laughter, while her smile stretched to her ears.

“Really…?”  Cullen quipped with a perked brow.

Evie blushed purple.  “It’s one of my favorite shanties.  The first time I heard it was during the night of my stealth final test.  I was dressed in disguise:  dreadlocks, heavy makeup, and ragged sailor clothes.  My mission was to gather gossip and steal Hemmingway’s favorite whittling knife from his inner breeches’ pocket.  He did not know my test was that night.  Knotts was around to monitor me.  Typically, Hemmingway could pick me out of a group with just a glance.  However, this blonde Antivan assassin showed up on the isle that night on his way back to Antiva.  Hemmingway’s attention focused on this elf, doing everything he could to impress him, and bring him back to his bed.  Unfortunately, I got him horrible drunk to steal the knife, a tequila drinking contest to be exact.  I started betting he couldn’t get laid in such a state.  Well, he quickly learned the Antivan like things dirty and…”  She waved to the singing Rivaini drunk trying his best to not stumble into a nearby table.  The wench soon left his side when she realized Hemmingway’s attention was focused on the back of the pub.  His shanty about a farmer and a she-troll’s sexy lives continued onward.

“Come on.  Let’s dance.”  Evie smirked, grabbing Cullen’s bare hand with her coin hand and pulled him deeper into the pub. 

Cullen confusedly stepped to a beginning dance position in the tavern’s semi-open spot, his brow scrunched.  Evie nudged him with a determined scowl to lead her around the dream tavern.  “Eve, shouldn’t we be searching…?”

Evie stepped forward, pressing her armored body to his cuirass.  Her Fade breath brushed his ear as she whispered, “We are, jackass.  We can move around like we are just dreaming normally.  The more casual we are, the more likely the demon to fall into our trap.  Just like a hunter finding a struggling fennec in a trap, we have to pretend we are just sleeping, weakened, and available to torture.”

Cullen just pressed his cheek to her ear, trying to move around to the strange shanty sang by a very drunk brute.  “You know I can’t dance, Eve…I probably look like an idiot even if this is your dream…”  His bare hand tingled holding Evie’s gloved hand.  Heat pulsed through the armor.  Every so often she trembled and swallowed hard.  Her inner music and magic raged and rolled inside her.  She would release some mana every so often like a beacon through the dreamworld.

“Who cares, Cullen.”  Evie bit, her lilt demonstrating she was struggling with her mana.  “If you need something to focus on, search the tavern for demons.”

“For Desire?”

“No, her minions.  Buddies?  Associates?”  Evie rolled her glowing chocolate eyes.  They started to shift to orange like fire sparks.  “She is old and thus has influence over lesser demons.  Even Pride demons.  You’ll feel them better right now.  This is my dream, but my attention is focused on…”  He winced again as her magic flared again.

“Gotcha.”  Cullen pulled his Lady closer despite the heat flowing off her dream body.  “I’m here.  As soon as it shows up, I’ll draw from you.  You’ll be okay.”

Evie pursed her lips and leaned her temple against his jaw.  “Maker, I hope it gets here soon then…”

Cullen led Evie around the table in a slow jig as Hemmingway stopped singing about farmers getting laid then murdered by bridge trolls.  The musicians shifted to the guitar duet like the night the bonds danced together so long again.  His amber eyes studied the environment with a keen eye, his templar senses reaching out.  Without lyrium, Cullen had to rely on his stamina already hampered from fever, vomiting, and trimmers. 

It did not help the knight had to press over Evie’s overpowering aura oozing with magic from the lyrium.  His eyes haloed every few moments with light from the pulsing, the heat oppressing and domineering.  The temperature kept rising in Cullen’s plate armor.  Evie must have done something to protect him from her wild magic.  Or it could have been Cullen’s bond abilities nullifying the magic.  Or the spirits shielded him like the night in the pit.  No matter what, Cullen could feel Evie’s containment waning each moment nothing relieved the stress.  She could not even use her magic herself to bleed it out.  She needed the strength for the tough battle to come.

So, the Fereldan templar focused on his special task.  Each pivot in the middle of the tavern allowed Cullen to analyze the environment.  His personal knowledge and experience dealing with demons sat front in center in his mind.  He compared the search to templar sense registering a potential blood mage, something Cullen perfected while trapped-

-The knight caught himself to not think about there.  Instead, he envisioned his favorite lake, replacing…there…with that peaceful sanctuary.  He pushed away its outcome after the Blight, the negativity biting and gnawing in his mind and soul to grow.

Cullen tightened and grasped Evie’s hip tightly.  Longing and nostalgia flowed over the knight passing a tavern patron alone in a corner.  His mind switch to happier moments at this favorite lake, like reading or paying chess alone on the dock.  The patron shifted with an eye blink.  A short cold emotion flowed over him before the patron reformed in the dream.

“Despair in the northwest corner.”  Cullen mumbled into Evie’s ear.  “Not a strong one.  As soon as I thought of a positive moment after a negative one, it flickered.”

Cullen felt Evie grit her teeth well resting her temple on his jaw.  “Careful…they have the upper hand here.  This is their world.”

The knight knew he was tempting fate, but if the demons could not pass up just a single moment of negativity before an oppressing positive, Cullen had to take a chance to see how many demons lingered around them.  His next emotion he summoned was his fear of mages right after…that moment.  The dancing couple did one pass before he thought of his admiration of mages and their abilities, especially Evie’s before that experience.

“Maker…”  Cullen’s whiskey orbs flew open to see at least a dozen fearling demons.  His eyes flicked upward to see the multi-armed and robed Fear Horror demon hovering on the second floor summoning more of its minors.  Beside it was a hunched Terror demon, his eerie bright green portal just waiting for the moment to disappear and attack the bonds.  “Horror and Terror with minions on east second floor.”

“Fuck…”  Evie hissed through her teeth.  She stepped on his boot while they continued their slow jig.  “Greater Terror…?”

“No.”

“Small miracles then…”  Evie sighed and began looking around too.  “Anymore biggies?”

It only took a few passes to notice the rage demons and their lava bodies behind the bar, their horrid faces focused on Evie than Cullen.  A few shades hovered around the musicians ready to pounce and throw their vile poison.  Thankfully, he did not see any other desire demons, but that made sense in a way.  Desire was very possessive over the bond and likely refused any sisters from getting involved. 

As before, he reported his observations to Evie in hushed words.  He could tell Evie struggled to form strategies to fight these other demons, just as Cullen felt so out of his element in this dreamscape.  He did not push tactics quite yet, deciding one last time to analyze the demon patrons.

Then his eyes focused on Hemmingway sitting in the southwest corner.  He still held his tankard, but he was stiff and breathed heavily.  He looked as though he grew in size every jig pass.  His drunk movements were gone.  This was not a Fade projection anymore, but likely a demon.  Which though?  It would not flicker or respond like the other to his templar sense.

“Cullen, it’s here.”  Evie stopped her dancing, her chocolate eyes focused on the tavern door.  She shuddered against him, her magic leaking out with each haggard gasp.  Cullen went to turn to face the creature, but Evie stopped his body.  “No.  Steel yourself.  Focus on me.  Try to draw from me.”

Why did Evie not want him to confront the creature?  Isn’t that why they were doing this?  How was he supposed to draw lyrium from her?  Will alone?  Touch?  A phrase?

Cullen focused his abilities on the bond connection, but his mind struggled to hear Evie even if he visually and physically touched her in this place.  There was no music around her.  He listened to himself.  Nothing either.

The demon cut off their bond connection.

How was he supposed to reach and reconnect with Evie in the Fade when it has been severed by this creature?!

“Cullen…?”

The knight choked on the rolling dream vomit rolling up his soul and heart.  He squeezed his eye shut.  Instantly, his mind thought of Kinloch Hold and that sweet voice he once though angelic.

“…Cullen, focus…”

Cullen felt a presence holding his gauntlet, but the memory of Evie, her presence, and the tavern wavered.  His mind screamed to release this person and run.  Still, he kept his grasp on her hip and hand.

“Cullen, who is this woman…?”

Peeking over Cullen’s shoulder just barely rewarded him with a perfect replica of Maya Amell, her face shocked and confused staring at the couple dancing.  Her blonde hair was down, touching her hips every time she swayed on her feet.  She wore a full mage robe from the Circle and no staff.  Those sky blue eyes watered as her fingers fidgeted over one another.

Cullen froze, his mind blanked out the entire environment around him.  Everything started to shift, feel tight, and cold against his skin.  He felt himself divide into so many pieces much like after Kinloch Hold.

The walls flickered to stone and wood with a spiraling staircase to the upper levels.  However, Cullen found himself at Maya’s bedroom door, the mage private dormitory.  He still gazed at Maya with wide terrified eyes over his right shoulder.  His hands hung in the air like he had been dancing.  Bits of heat pulsed under his gauntlet and bare hand.  Where did his other glove go…?

“Cullen…I…I thought you loved me.”  Maya whimpered, her porcelain fingers rose to cover her mouth.  “I thought you were my bond, so faithful and dutiful.  But, I saw you with another?  How could you betray me?!”

No words came from Cullen’s lips.  He could not pivot or move, anchored in this strange position in the middle of the hallway feeling like he had been practicing dance?  The knight never dances.  He was terrible at it.

Maya took a cautious step closer.  “Are you unwell?  Is that why…?  Oh, my love…When have you had your last dose of lyrium.”

Cullen’s whole body heard the song as Maya stepped to the side and revealed the large vile of freshly made blue lyrium, pulsing on the mage’s nightstand.  The templar trembled, but never moved.  The hum ignited ravenous yearnings inside the templar.  He needed a taste!

“So cruel…to deny you what you need to be the best templar in the world.”  Maya hummed, inching closer.  Her mage robes puffed some smoke as she inched closer.  “I would have never done to you.”

Lying bitch!

The knight stumbled, his grasp on the air tightening.  The voice came from inside his head, heart, soul, and body.  He felt a pull to center again, a brief moment of a violin searching the air for its accompany.

Maya pursed her lips.  “Don’t you want us…want me?”  The blonde mage touched her breasts, large and soft.  No…too big.

A flash of a sun-kissed curving nude body below him with bright green eyes staring up at him.  His lips gave glancing kisses across a gooseflesh body scarred and pure beneath him.  Maya’s breasts were too large and made all the knights watch as she stepped down the stairs.  No, the breasts his whole being remembered were smaller, just large enough to fill his hand with a little excess peeking through his fingers.  Maya’s hips were large for birthing.  The ones his fingers touched and felt roll against his stiff member were thinner, somewhat bony, but with hard muscles.  Thighs shapely and toned from years of training…burn scars that made her feel insecure.  The Maya before him showed complete confidence and untouched skin in her attempted seduction.

Cullen wanted nothing from this present body.  No, he did not want the lyrium.  He hated his addiction.  She wanted him in tight quarters.  The arms and hip under his touch desired him freedom and gave him choices.

A tavern began reforming around him.  His Lady was there, not in Kinloch.  Cullen thought of the smells of stale beer and all the sailor cussing.  Throwing knives tossed perfectly across the air.  A deep husky laughter of a Rivaini ex-Pirate catching cheaters and liars playing cards.  Fresh and tasty Fereldan beer that was a few coins more because of the Blight.  Patrons who swore fealty to…

“Eve…!”

Cullen leaned instantly forward, his hand moving upward and around an exposed angled jaw he knew by heart.  The whole environmental transformed and filled with people cheering while the couple danced.  His head leaned over the beautiful maiden materializing, burning for him as he smothered for her.  His scarred lips crashed into her pink plump lips as the whole tavern cheered at the public romantic display.  Singing violins boomed in his ears and his piano crescendo to harmonize.  Evie tensed under his intimate gesture.  His tongue lunged into her mouth, craving that sweet elderberry tartness.

His Lady mewled in his mouth, relief flowing through their bond after his few moments of relapse.  Her big and giving heart pounded through her armor.  Her sun-kissed skin was tacky from containing her magic for so long.  Cullen knew the moment was now to fight and spring their trap.  He called to the spirit halves to help him pull power from the explosive women between his hands.  A brief moment of amber and blue glowed from his palms…

…nothing.

“Shit…”  Cullen hissed against Evie’s lips lifting his head just enough above his Lady.

“Draw…?”  Evie exhaled, her eyes glowing fiery the longer she contained the magic.

“It won’t-“

“IF YOU WON’T TAKE ME, NO ONE LEAVES HERE ALIVE!”

“Watch out!”  Evie screamed, throwing up a fiery barrier with four thick sides behind Cullen’s back.  The desire demon still in Maya’s form dove for Cullen.  Her barrier just made the creature angry.  It scratched and clawed at the magic, but her lilac skin burned with each swipe.

The knight unsheathed his sword and shield from his back right as Hemmingway roared and grew eight feet tall.  “Pride Demon!”  Reaching for what stamina and lyrium remained in his body, Cullen threw down a Wrath of Heavens to purify Evie and he’s position.  The ability barely broke Evie’s abilities, his conscience aware of his bond’s weaknesses.

“We’ll take out the minions, then focus on her!”  Evie hollered holding both hands out to hold Desire beyond her bright flaming barrier.  “That way we can focus on her together.”

“I’ll take the horror fear demons, the fearlings, and rage demons.”  Cullen decided quickly, summoning the templar abilities over himself, while strengthening Evie’s control over her magic.  “You have strengths against despair, shades, and the terrors.”

“We’ll take on Pride and the bitch afterwards then!”  Evie concluded, throwing a fireball at Desire to push the monster several feet from their position.  The creature’s dense fiery prison thickened and intensified only making the demon rage and claw through the licking flames.

“And the drawing…?!”

Evie’s glowing eyes flashed to him like she was begging.  “Keep trying!”

Cullen only nodded, slapping his helm over his head.

“On my mark!”  Evie withdrew her knight-enchanter hilt and summoned the sun-burning flame.  “Now!”

The pair broke and dove for their targets.  Evie sent several fireballs at the shades emerging from the musicians, while decided the rage demons needed to go first to avoid massive fire in the tavern.  They can regain themselves feeding off Evie’s magic.  Cullen could barely get close to the demons, their boiling bodies burning his leather belts and overheating his armor.  He quickly retreated for a moment.  Watching Evie, one shade disappeared when too many fireballs hit it.  She dodged the poison they threw and buried her flaming sword into another’s head.

Right then Despair came flying in for the templar.  Cullen thought quickly, running parallel with the rage demons with Despair blasting its blizzard right behind him.  He felt his armor freeze and twist from first the intense heat and then being flash frozen, but he got into front of the demon.  He angled his running in such a way that the frost flowed over the rage demons, freezing them solid.

Then several fireballs few in the air.  Despair cried at the heat.  Evie jumped up on the bar and fade-stepped through the demon leaving a streak of fire behind her.  Cullen took the moment to chop through the frozen rage demons, watching as they turned to ash each time his longsword slashed through the bodies.  The swipes shattered the monsters like broken shards of glass.  Meanwhile, Evie dove off the bar and plunged her knight-enchanter sword into Despair’s ragged body.  Instantly, the animal disappeared, still shrieking.

The knight barely had a moment breath before Hemmingway the Pride Demon thundered forward and attempted to fist-punch Cullen into the dream floorboards.  Cullen dodged and slid on his shield around a corner and behind cover.  The demon summoned its lightning whip, laughing.  It smacked the barrier holding Desire at bay, trying to knock the restraint away.

“Oh Maker, I think noy!”  Cullen hollered, lunging with his shield and shield bashing the demon in its chest.  It stumbled and crashed backwards into a few tables in the corner.  Reaching for more stamina, the knight smited the monster making the whip disappeared for a few seconds.

“Fuck!”

The templar pivoted to watch Evie get tossed backwards against a second floor pillar by the reappearing terror demon.  The fearlings crawled towards her to tear her apart.  Instantly, Cullen took off running, but not to his bond but the Horror controlling the fearlings.  Cullen purged it summoning for more creatures, nearly knocking the air out of his lungs.  He was drained, his body protesting for fighting so much with no replenished lyrium.

Horror’s boom called forth its minions on Cullen.  The weird creatures shifted from spiders—likely Evie’s fear—to blood mages, cutting their arms and spraying their blood around for spells.  Instead of fear, Cullen gripped his anger.  Of course it would use Kinloch against him.  He was fighting now to free himself from that place.  Instead of seeing the maleficar, he envisioned snobby Orlesians trying to invade his homeland again.

Like an Avvar roar, the Fereldan templar thundered forward, cutting off masked heads in long swaps.  Each minion dove into their master’s way to block the raging knight, but they stood no chance against Cullen.  He mowed them down until he was one-on-one with the Horror, covering and dancing around the robed creature trying to strike with spells that could not get past Cullen’s shield.

Finally free of the fearlings, Evie stumbled forward, the heat and fire overcoming her natural defenses.  Terror hollered in front of her, swiping with its long claws.  Its poison blood threaten to eat through her silverite armor.  Out of the corner of her eye she watched Pride slowly regain its footing and Desire electrifying the barrier to break free.  Half of Evie’s focus laid on keeping the desire demon contained, while the other half was to avoid exploding all over the Fade and into the real world.

Cullen, you need to draw!  Evie called through the bond as she slid between terror’s legs to avoid another strike.  She knew Desire heard this conversation in the minds, but if they eliminated a few more demons, it would be all that was left.

I know! Cullen responded, his own dance with the horror.

Let’s draw these things together.  I need to blast.  You can then draw!

Cullen pushed the Horror closer as Evie took off running towards that fight.  Terror saw the growing distance, sinking into the floor to ambush her again.  She already had a feel broken bits of chainmail from its initial tackle.  She could not foul this up.

Evie joined Cullen’s fight, mindful of Desire chipping through their burning barrier cage and Pride shaking its head.  It would be seconds before both beasts were free.  As the terror’s sickly green light highlighted below Cullen and Evie, Horror began summoning new fearlings.

Finally, Evie could release some of this pressure.  Maker she prayed it would not bleed into the real world.  Get behind something!  Something in Cullen’s eyes knew what spell she was dancing around her.  She drove her knight-enchanter sword into the wood, arcing her chaotic magic around her.  Cullen took off running, slid across a barrel table and flipped the whole thing over.  As a precaution, Evie sent a barrier over her bond knowing Desire’s barrier would snap with the new spell.  She worked quickly and threw down the fire wall around Horror and Terror.

“Fuck off!”  Evie screamed, releasing her fiery magic over the two demons right a terror materialized between her legs.  Horror flew apart in ash and sparks, but Terror fought through the flame and contacted her plate mail breastplate.  Its poison claws burned through the metal.  Evie could not concentrate on the demon, quickly tugging off the armor before the poison reached her body.  Chainmail, breast plate, and gambeson went flying leaving her in a plain sweaty tunic.  The creature approached to finish its assault.  Its nasty claws reached out-

A longsword appeared through its head, pulled out, then through its skinny body.  The creature instantly into ash.  On the other side was Cullen, his whiskey eyes focused and glowing.  The mage reached forward for her bond, ripping off her other gauntlet and touched his face.  “Draw!”

Evie could feel his will pulling her.  His finger glowed amber and blue again, while the fire in her broke her last controls.  She screamed, feeling new burns wherever her metal armor still attached to her body.  Cullen kept calling for power, but nothing was streaming over.  It was not working.  What were they supposed to do!?

This time, Evie kissed her knight, thinking it was kissing that was needed.  Something had to happen.

Cullen’s eyes remained open when Evie kissed him, not because he did not feel the intimacy, but his vision caught Pride striking Desire’s cage and shattering it to pieces.  Instantly, the lilac creature flung forward and swiped Evie’s back, blood flying with the claws.  The monster yelled, “I will have him!”

The knight felt the horrific pain through the bond.  Evie broke from the kiss to scream so twisted it popped Cullen’s ear drums.  Calling for his strength, Cullen pushed back the desire demon before its next claw met his Lady’s back.  The amber around him roared like a lion in the dreamscape.

Then the most painful electrocutions rocked across Cullen’s armored body like a lightning rod on top of a tower.  Thankful, Cullen had let go of his bond before the strike.  He found himself flying through the air, dropping his sword, but keeping his shield in his grasp.

Evie tumbled to the floor, her right hand grasping for her tattered back.  Through the pain, she only heard a crash.  Her welling eyes glanced at the origin and saw Cullen’s body hanging nearly lifeless on top of a broken table and chairs.  Pride stomped forward, dragging a long piece of pillar, laughing manically.

The mage called her magic to protect her Lion, but she felt the lost control.  The fire raged inside her.  Desire felt it too.  It used the magical chaos to heal itself behind Evie.  Only its nasty song alerted Evie it was right behind her, reaching for its prize.  Evie rolled away, withdrawing her dirk and gallowglass sword.  She prayed through the bond and the Maker to protect Cullen.  She was alone and exposed to this monster that desired the love of her life.

They danced around the trashed tavern dodging, weaving, and escaping the claw strikes.  Desire was not a fighter, but manipulative.  Like in Kinloch, it toyed with Evie, knowing it had all the stamina it could ever want as Evie slowly cooked inside herself.  The demon knew it would have to just wait until the backdraft happened.  Evie would be exposed.  All it would have to do was jump into her body…

Cullen slid off his helm, eye blurring after landing on something hard.  His hip and shoulder ached like something pierced his armor.  He tried to move off whatever it him, but his diaphragm would not let him get a full breath.  His heart beat erratically in his chest.  A long static strip burned and stained his cuirass.

The knight only remembered the Pride demon right as the large being swung a pillar like a bat and it hit him across the room again.  Cullen anticipated the fall, controlling how he land.  It did not make it any softer, but he could control his breathing.  He searched for his sword and shield.  He knew he lost the blade in his flying, but the shield still laid where he was batted into the corner and wall.  Cullen reached into his boot.  His boot knife was small and would barely break the Pride demon’s spiky skin.  He was a dead man if he just relied on the dagger.

Maybe Evie could…

His whiskey eyes watched his flaming bond get beaten and battered by Desire on the opposite of the tavern.  Evie attempted to block its long claws, but without her armor, her skin was torn to bits with each contact strike.

Cullen was on his own. 

Andraste be with me.

The knight lunged and began his assault on the purple demon.  He reached his shield first, while parrying the lightning whip.  The monster just laughed and enjoyed itself in the process.  It knew where the sword was, but enjoyed knocking it from Cullen’s reach every time.  Somehow, heavy plated Cullen moved quickly around the big beast, reminded of an old folktale of a puny kid beating a massive man with just a sling shot.

If Cullen could throw the dagger just right…

The Fereldan formed a plan.  With one last glance at his beaten and battered bond, Cullen worked his way closer to the electrified troll toying with him.  He needed to get to Evie with his sword and shield.  They must strike Desire down together.  He must draw from her before the final blow or he won’t have the strength to complete the action.

Pride began getting frustrated with the knight bobbing and smiting his whip.  Cullen waited until it became distraught.  It will not be mindful of its defense if it was upset.  He begged his heart and body to keep going; breathe through the pain from the shocks when they connected.  Keep moving and the monster will break it unnatural hard exterior.  Rip off the armor until-

“Now!”  Cullen jumped onto a table and lobbed his dagger through the air.  He called to Knotts and his perfect aim to lead the dagger to the three eyes on Pride’s head.  He sang Hemmingway’s she-troll song in his heart to take down the mammoth before it could kill the son of a farmer.  And-

-The massive demon screamed feeling its eyes blinded by the dagger.   Cullen took off running for his longsword.  He sidestepped around its flailing arms, hopped on its shoulder while reaching for his blade, and drove it down its massive sharp-tooth mouth and swipe its head off.

Cullen panted and kneeled, fighting his quaking heart as the troll sized demon dissipated into the Fade.  The knight reached for his dagger left behind by the creature.  His shield was beyond use.  Now to finish-

AHHHHHHHH!!!!

The Fereldan’s heart tore in two hearing the most blood curding scream echo through his whole being in the dream.  The tavern flickered as Cullen’s eyes searched for his bond.  She was at the edge of control.  She needed him now.

Cullen’s amber eyes poured with tears finding Evie impaled with both sets of Desire’s claws through her shoulder blades.  Her whole body arched as the demon began summoning her mana through it to use.  Blood pooled around his Lady as she could barely move.  Its claws dung through her body and kept her in place by attaching to the wood.

“EVE!”

Evie felt the power leaving her body, lyrium power for Cullen not for this creature penning her to the floor.  She felt her life slowly bleed from her fade body.  She knew if she perished in the Fade, she will die in the real world.  But Desire did not want her to die.  She wanted her weak and willing for possession.

“Nev…”  Evie coughed up blood.  “…er.”

Desire pulled out its claws.  Evie took the opportunity to slowly crawl away, but just feel more claws driving into her shoulders to stay.  “Give in, Mage!  I created you both.  It is my energy that connects you.  You are my children.  Give in so we can all be together again…”

“You will…” More blood poured her mouth.  “Never touch…”  The fire was too much, now burning across her abdomen.  “…Cullen.”

“Oh, I will.”  Desire purred into Evie’s bleeding ear.  “Burn, my twin flame…Burn…”

Evie knew she only had a second before the next claw will skewer her in the spine.  She reached out, hearing Cullen’s piano somewhere behind her.  She reached through their bond, invited him inside her to feel everything.  She desired his touch on her skin, even through her gushing blood.  He will be free.  She will die freeing him this way.

Maker, Andraste,…  Evie began, slowly rolling on her side.  Hope, Purpose…  She felt the fire shifting to a backdraft as she reached out with her left hand.  She barely saw as the demon reared back to dive its claws into her again.  …LOVE!  The demon froze, its black eyes surprised its bonded mage called to it.  Its eyes blew wide at the recognition.  “GIVE MY ENERGY TO YOUR TEMPLAR!”

The monster screamed as the backdraft flowed through Desire, the original bond connection, what was their initial connection, and the link or break between flow of energy between Cullen and Evie.  Mana and lyrium stamina poured from Evie through Desire, the beast convulsing over the flaming amount of energy course through it.  Flames burst from Evie’s outstretched hand-

-and Cullen grabbed it.  Skin-to-skin just like in the real world.  Her Lion held both his dagger and sword in the other hand.  He dropped the dagger into their grasped hands while the sword dove into Desire’s heart.  The monster screamed, arching its back.  “I TAKE FROM YOUR MAGE, LOVE!”

All the energy coursing through Desire roared through Cullen’s longsword and into him as lyrium, rejuvenated his whole being.  Color and strength returned throughout his whole being.  His wounds and spasming chest relaxed and healed with the transfer.  Once all the fire extinguished with his nullification abilities, Cullen let go of Evie.  He stood strong and proud with the hollering Desire between him and his Lady.

“You made us…and denied your purpose.”  His husky baritone boomed in the dream.  “We sentence you to death.  You will be no more, demon!  You will not hurt and scar us any longer.”  Evie thrusted the dagger backward to strike, her last acts before the blood drained from her body.  Cullen removed the sword from its heart and aimed his longsword for its neck. 

Together, the bond called further their spirit halves to stay together.  “BEGONE DESIRE!  YOU WILL NEVER BE AGAIN, DEAD FROM ALL MEMORY FOR YOUR DENIAL!  WE WILL BE FREE!”

Evie plunged the dagger into its abdomen.

Cullen cut of its head.

Desire exploded in flame and energy, forever released from the twin flames and the Fade.

Freedom.

Actual Freedom…!

Chapter Text

Cullen’s whiskey eyes popped open and stared at a burn-scarred ceiling.  He flung forward, coughing and wheezing as his smothering cuirass and spasming lungs restricted his breathing.  Without thought, Cullen reached into his boot, pulled out his dagger, and cut the leather buckle straps.  With the sizzling cuirass off his body and laying nearby on the wooden floor, Cullen controlled his breathing.

His other hand never let go of Evie.

“Eve!”  The knight hollered as his watering eyes from smoke and ash slowly cleared.  His bond laid unmoving on the floor.  Bit of blood drippled from her blue lips and red nose.

Cullen quickly ripped his gambeson from his body.  His dagger worked quickly to remove the damaged silverite breast piece over Evie’s chest.  Once down to his tunic, He used the patted gambeson to place pressure on the forward wounds peeking through the broken chainmail.  Blood pooled and ran from her back lying on the tavern floor.

Everything told him to cradle his Lady and wish her wounds away, but he knew prayer alone could save his bond.  Reluctantly, he let go of her ghostly white hand cradling the lucky silver coin in her palm.  He stumbled and raced for the tavern door.  His willpower alone broke the nullification seal slightly dark and burned from whatever magic bled into the real world.

The knight kicked the door open.  The tavern door barely hung off its hingles as Cullen screamed into the muted darkness air.  Bits of pink, purple, and red glowed on the horizon over the bay.  Dawn had come.  “MEDIC!  KNOTTS!  MEURIG!  HURRY!”

Cullen did not wait for the rescuers.  His whole being pulled him back to his bond.  Her bright red blood blotched through his gambeson now.  He grabbed her bare hand, fighting the tears wishing to slip from his amber eyes.  He restrained himself from grabbing her and holding her close.  Instead, he took off her greaves, other gauntlet, and gorget.

Hammering boots echoed behind Cullen from outside.  A donkey kicked as a cart wheeled to the entrance.  The templar pushed away all sound as mage and non-mage healers assessed his Lady’s wounds.  They might have asked what had happened, but Cullen did not hear.  His whole attention was on the slowing heartbeat he felt through her thin wrist.  He listened attentively the violin weakening inside him.  There was no murky water sound block it now.  It was crystal clear like he produced it instead of this woman fighting to live and be with him.  He knew exactly Evie’s mana levels, shallow and weak.

“Draw from me, Eve…”  His prayed with a whisper.  He felt his lyrium abilities coursing through his whole system.  He felt better than even before his Vigil.  Any withdrawal left his body in the dream transfer.  He had plenty to fuel her again after her dream conflagration.  Just barely, his Lady’s naked hand gripped his callused hand.  Green and yellow light flickered from his hand to hers only to peter out with just a taste of lyrium power.  “You have to heal yourself-“

“No!”  A mage healer by the name of Prunella scolded.  “She is riddle with demonic taint.  She needs to be purified and cleansed before closing the wounds.”

“Mother Moira informed me this morning the Tevinter pools are tainted….Cloth must have touched its waters.  Lady Evelyn knows not to bath with clothing, so I don’t know why….”

Cullen stopped listening to the healers searching for answers to save Evie from her wounds.  His mind wandered back to their time in the bathing pools together.  Evie hesitated taking his tunic at first.  She explained the expansive bath’s purpose.  When he fell in, it must have ruined the blessings.

“I can nullify her.”  The templar snapped, breaking all conversation around him and Evie.  “I am her bond.  I’ve have sensed demonic touch leave her skin…”  Prunella’s suspicious eye on how Cullen knew this struck him like that Pride demon’s whip.  How was he supposed to say he kissed her healing scar under her breast the night after the Pit.  “I-I…can do it!  I promise you.  I can smite and silence her, but I must keep physical connection or we will be ripped from one another in all realms.”

“Silencing her will make her weaker!”  Another non-mage healer called with a furious brow.  He looked like he could rip Cullen’s head off.  “Such actions almost killed her during her Harrowing.”

“I am her bond!”  Cullen shoved down his tunic’s neck strings to show his brand.  “We drew energy from one another fighting and effectively killing Desire, our original bonding spirit.  Our twin flames spirits keep us connected.  If you give me lyrium and stamina potions, I can transfer it to Evie even in this state.  Please!”  His glistening eyes flashed back to the blood soaked woman unconscious before him.  “Her violin is disappearing.  I barely feel her!  You must believe I will never bring her harm.  I would rather die than live without her!”

Something about his words softened Prunella’s harden expression.  She briefly smiled.  “Can you advert your eyes while we removed her remaining armor and clothing?  I will tell you when to cleanse and we will take those moments to clean the wounds.”  She glanced over her shoulder at a templar, likely her bond.  “Bring us all the lyrium potions, both templar and mage!  Let’s get her ready for transport!”

The world moved around Cullen, but he only moved when Evie did.  He only saw her.  She was his lifeline.  She was his life.  She must live.

Evie felt each rock under the cart wheels rolling up the road to the estate.  They had laid her on her stomach on several layers of blankets.  On one side, the move tore her skin so raw from her contained magic it will make the burn scar much uglier.  On the other, she knew they had little choice.  They needed access to her back so shredded from the demon’s claws it must look like someone whipped her a thousand times.

The woman laid there in perceived unconscious to everyone including Cullen, who whispered and prayed in her ear.  He never let go of her hand.  He warned her when he would need to cleanse or that he had energy for her to take.  He could not hear her mental calls to sooth his piano hammering inside her soul.   The knight searched and reached for her through the Fade when she was not silenced and through physical touch.

Evie wanted to holler that she heard them all especially her Lion beside her, but nothing worked.  Her whole being and her dominant spirit Purpose laid weak from the battle.  Desire was gone and the spirit halves searched the Fade to strengthen the gap left by their once comrade.  The slow closure from that gapping space rolled through Evie as the mage, the one so sensitive to its effects.

All the maiden wanted to call and cheer was The lilac bitch is dead!  Cullen, we’re free!

She would just have to wait, allowing unconsciousness take her again.

Movement pulled Evie awake again.  The blankets cushioning her before disappeared.  Through a silted eye was varnished mahogany wood with expensive silk tablecloth.  Her memory told her where she laid now.  They placed her on the formal dining table to tend to her now oozing wounds.

Cullen must have sensed her violin because his hand still holding her left shifted.  His face popped into frame, desperation written across his pale feature.  “Eve!  Eve, can you hear me…?!”

Words did not form on her iron-tainted tongue.  Only a croak.  The lung movement must have pulled something because she whined and whimpered.  Tears streamed down her ashen face.

“Don’t make her speak!  The blasted demon missed her lungs, but does not mean blood cannot seep in.  Talk to her, but keep her focused and silent!”  Prunella’s voice.  Her older hands worked the remaining fabric from her bloody body, while another surgeon must be wiping away blood and dirt from the wounds.

“Eve, just focus on me.”  Cullen cooed.  He kneeled before her still half dressed in his armor.  A strange purple burn peeked from under his tunic.  He looked bloodied she panicked thinking of a time he was severely harmed during the battle.  Slowly she relaxed agin thinking it rationally through the stinging pain from the alcohol dapped into the wounds.  It might be her blood.  Even if it hurt like a bitch, she preferred it this way.  Her Lion has suffered enough to last lifetimes.  “Just relax.  I am not going anywhere.”

The mage attempted to send a triage spell through their grasp, but hollered as her mana struggled to hold onto the Fade.  “No spells, child!”  Prunella scowled behind her.  “Your knight keeps smiting and purging you to clear out the damn demon’s nastiness.”  Her voice shifted like she was staring at Cullen.  “She’s conscious.  Try your drawing now.”

Cullen waved someone out of sight for a lyrium.  He grabbed the open bottle and poured the contents down his throat.  He grimaced at the taste before his attention returned to his bond.  “Draw, Eve.  It’s easier now.  Barely a thought.  Desire’s gone and no longer blocks our connection.  Go on.”

Evie focused on his warm hands against her frigid fingers.  She felt the silver coin still in their palms.  Instantly, her hands glowed green and red.  Energy like lyrium pulsed through to her and into her weaken body.  The Fade connection strengthened.  She relaxed, thankful for some magic back inside herself.  She must have purged her entire pool into Desire to transfer to Cullen.

“We need a purge, Handsome!”  Prunella called.

Cullen gritted his teeth.  “Just focus on me, okay?  I am nullifying the poisons left from the wounds.  Just focus on me.  I won’t hurt you, Milady.  I am not letting go of your hand.”

The purge rolled through Evie, sending her screaming through the pain.  She felt ever bit of demonic taint left from Desire.  It was in her blood vessels and the bladed strikes along her back.  Salt burned her raw skin across her cheeks.  Rivers of tears poured from her swollen eyes.

No other agony in her life compared.

It continued for bells.

Evie saw the sunrise behind Cullen and sunset fall as needles, magic, and bandages tended to her battered body.  Hushed words exchanged healers that the burns and back wounds might not disappear like the others.  People will see them and risk her magical secret.  Her father nearby discussed with his spymaster countermeasures to avoid premature exposure.  They already devised a back story to explain the harsh wounds to be spread through high society so no one would ever consider they were demon related. 

For Evie personally, she ignored the implications she will be hideous.  No backless dresses or form fitting wears.  People will whisper about this for years…decades.  Her brown eyes glanced at Cullen, mentally apologizing she will not be beautiful enough on his arm.  Maya Amell was perfect, while Evie will be ragged and diseased.  However from the gimmer in Cullen’s eyes, he did not care.  He whispered again and again he was so thankful they were alive, she lived and breathed.

“I’m never letting go, Eve.  Never.”  Cullen reconfirmed after each cleansing.

Finally, as darkness fell on the room, Evie heard the confirmation that she could be moved to her bedroom.  The wounds were clean and sealed.  Now Evie just needed rest and comfort.

Cullen had denied treatment throughout the surgery for his own wounds, pushing anyone who might break their hands holding the coin.   Even with that announcement, Cullen remained still covered in ash and smoke from her pulsing backdraft.  No one questioned when it was he personally who lifted her bandaged body wear a clean tunic—likely his from the woodsy sage smell—from the table.  No one stopped him from laying her down on her clean bed.

Cullen only let go of her hand when she slowly drifted off to sleep, exhaustion overtaking her mind, body, soul, and heart.  His husky baritone hum in her ear called, “I will find you in our dreams, Milady, in just a few.  Rest and sleep.”  His warmth left her hand, but curled her fingers around the silver coin.

Listen for me.  Call me to your dreams…and I will meet you.  The maiden projected unsure if her bond heard.  Our dreams are free and ours again…Only we will linger there, my loving Cullen.

The sounds of birds and rolling leaves startled him a first.  Kinloch Hold sat in the middle a lake hundreds of leagues away just on the horizons.  Birds avoided the mage tower.  Hesitant, Cullen opened his eyes and studied his environment.  He found himself right outside a wooded area.  Against his fingers brushed tall wheat and barley ready for harvest.  He tentatively looked behind him, slightly smirking at what the Fade projected around him.  There on a hill was his family’s farmhouse in Honnleath, simple and small for such a large family, but still so welcoming against the Fereldan autumn multiple colors.

When was the last time he dreamed of home…?

…No, this was not home, just pleasant memories.

No, Cullen’s true home was Eve.

His Lady’s mental words before she allowed sleep take her echoed in his dream memory.  She wished him to call her to his dreams much like he accidently did when he was a child.  Cullen closed his eyes and reached out across the Fade, instantly hearing the violin calling back so clearly and loud inside himself he thought it might bust his ear drum.  Nothing filtered the sound.  His piano and her violin sang across the breath of this dreamscape no longer surprised by the demon.

They were free!

Like a bubble pop, Evie formed beside him, her figure shining with bright green light before her image completely appeared.  Evie took a deep sigh before opening her eyes.  Her brow scrunched and glanced around.

“I know this place…”  That beautiful Free Marcher lilt sang spinning around and studying the environment.

“It is my memory of my childhood home.”  Cullen explained, watching his bond touch the barley stocks while enjoying the wind on his face.  “My first instinct seeing it was waiting for Desire to shift it or use my memories here to taunt me.”  He beamed so relaxed and happy at the truth.  “Now that it’s destroyed, I might actually have pleasant happy dreams.  I don’t remember the last time I haven’t had a night terror…or even thought of this place.”

“Did you dream about Honnleath a great deal prior to your Vigil?”  Evie asked with a tilted head.  Her hair was half braided up in a crown with a harvest crown of vines, leaves, and wheat bundles as a wreath.  The rest of her brunette auburn waves cascaded around her shoulders and bare back.

Cullen thought for a moment.  “Yes, actually…For a long time, I was homesick at the academy.  Every time I received a letter from my parents or siblings, that night I would dream of Honnleath throughout the seasons.  Autumn was always my favorite.  I suffered from allergies during the spring.  Summer was too bloody hot for a Fereldan like me even located so close to the Frostbacks.  Winter is my second favorite, but it could be brutal at times.”

“With nothing influencing your dreams externally, you’ll probably have more dreams that you can sway and choose.”  Evie advised, before pouting.  “However, Kinloch Hold and all your other fears will still remain.  Our demonic protections and bonding shielding are stronger now, but our minds and hearts still have us process our troubles while we dream.  Luckily, over time, those haunts will die down and be forgotten.  No other demon can so easily make the nightmares so vivid.  Despair or another desire demon will attempt to, but I think you know enough about fighting demons now to protect yourself.” 

The gentlest soothing smile graced Evie’s pink lips.  Cullen realized after the first couple beams over the last week demonstrated that she never expressed herself like that to anyone else.  It was a soft smile just for him.  The idea that only he could incite such an exquisite facial expression from her swelled his heart ten sizes.

The knight waved to the mage, while stepping towards a worn down path into the woods.  “Here, follow me.  I want to show you something.”  He outstretched his hand.

Evie took it freely, feeling her smoothed calluses against his rough skin.  Her bangs fluttered in the breeze as she glanced down.  She stopped walking and studied herself.  A small smile danced across her plump lips.  “Did you dress me like this?”

Cullen’s amber eyes flickered to the sheer lace dress barely covering her curvy body.  Lace and soft embroidery of autumn leaves, flowers, and harvest accented her chest area, while her back and stomach simply had sheer fabric over them.  A long flowing skirt began at her small waist and expanded out in long sheets.  More autumn embroidery accented the seams.  Nothing cover Evie’s now scarred back.

From Evie’s fidgeting and diverted eyes, she wished to hide her disfigurements.  Cullen thought back to the last things he prayed before falling asleep:  how his Lady slept so soundly beside him, beautiful and alive even wrapped like a mummy from all her wounds.  No matter the scars, she survived.  He survived.  He wished to kiss away each pain and mark and demonstrate to this woman how much he cared, how much he liked about all of her.

It all must have transferred into the dream.  His projections to assure her dressed Evie in a way that exposed her new scars.  However, they were not hideous or unattractive, but physical demonstration of her resistance.  Evie kept her promises and paid with her body, heart, mind, and soul in the process.  Desire left its mark on them.  For Cullen, it was deep seeded fears he will fight for the rest of his life.  For Evie, the physical implications will be broadcasted to the world and potentially risk her mage secrets.

Still holding her hand, Cullen stepped closer, pulling on the silverite chain around her neck and hidden in the breast curves.  The first item that revealed itself was her pulsing amber stone.  However, it was not alone as Cullen concentrated on what it was.  A gasp echoed through the wheat field as Evie saw the lucky silver coin appear linked to the chain.  Her glassy eyes flashed to Cullen as her hands cupped her precious treasures.

“Cullen…”

“You are not your wounds, Eve…”  Cullen cupped her cheek with his free hand.  “I projected this garment on you to highlight your strengths that you still so harshly.  We will always be scarred by that monster’s actions.  However, I celebrate and worship each mark on your body.  Like I said, scars and marks are signs that we learned from the event and survived.  They make us wiser and more aware for the next battles.  I don’t know what those battle will be, but you are better prepared for them than you were the day before.” 

Cullen touched her textured stomach lumpy and gnarled from her contained magic.  However, his thoughts were beyond the exterior, but envisioning her round and heavily with child, his child.  He could not tell her that, but the image nearly formed in the dreamscape.

“You are a goddess who rules my dreams now, Eve…”  The templar kissed her sweaty forehead.  “Never hide yourself away.  I worship all of you as you are.  So majestic, unique, and wholesome.  Thank the Maker you live and breathe.  Thank Andraste for the opportunity to be in your presence and have your love.”

Evie cupped his stubble cheek, letting go the pendants around her neck.  She nudged his jaw and chin to her and briefly kissed his lips.  A single tear trickled down her cheek.  “Thank you…”

Cullen could not stop grinning watching Evie gasp and scan these special place.  Her bare feet spun around and around, fluffing that amazing dress as she took in the autumn trees, and water reflections.  The knight focused very hard, searching deep into his soul for all the small memories he had of this special place.  As soon as he learned he can summon Evie to his dreams and could with practice shifting them to his liking, the knight knew he wanted to bring her here.

“It’s…it’s your lake.  Your sanctuary!”  Evie giggled, prancing onto the small dock still old and creaking like Cullen remembered.  “I’ve only seen hints through your eyes as a child.  Cullen, it’s better than I could have imagined.”

“I always wanted to bring you here.”  Cullen smirked with his hands in pockets.  He allowed the woman to jump and race around the area, smelling the fall flowers and touching the pond’s rippling waters.  “I want to bring you here in the physical world, but…”  His happiness shaded as he thought of the implications.  “…it might not exist anymore.”

Evie stopped, her attention and heart reaching out to him hearing his soft scared baritone admitting the truth.  She bit her lip in that way that made Cullen’s heart jump in his chest.  All his restraint kept him rooted.  He wanted to kiss her, feel her loving nips and plump lips on his adam’s apple and around his jaw.  Not yet.  Maybe not ever.

She took long strides towards him until a foot away.  Her hand pressed against his chest right over his heart and lyrium brand.  Her fiery eyes bore into his whiskey orbs as she spoke confidently and with convictions.  “When we go to see your family—if you wish of course—we can investigate Honnleath.  Not everything is ruined by the Blight.  You must have faith that even in worst circumstances…”  She waved to the beauty around them.  “…life finds a way and survives.”

“Planning the future already, Milady?”  Cullen smirked teasingly.

Evie rolled those big chocolate eyes.  “How can I not…”  her gentle smile simmered as she broke eye contact.  “…unless you…”

No, Cullen cannot let her think that way.  He scooped her up and kissed her with conviction and promise.  He was rewarded with mewls and sighs that he greedily swallowed.  It made sense Evie feared he may leave or never dream of a future with him.  She told him she was in love with him, and he pushed her feelings aside like a fiend.  While his heart has not decided his feelings about this woman who combed his ruffled straw-colored hair with her fingers, Cullen knows at least he does not want to spend a moment without her company.  Each breath and heartbeat allowed him to spend another second with this enchanting maiden.  He wanted to claim her as his own and never allow another person to take her affections.

Desire’s demons hold on the templar lingered, blocking him from really understanding his growing attachment and care towards Evie.  The trauma laid deep in his soul’s dark and twisted recesses.  The demon toyed with everything he thought pure for so long Cullen wondered if he can ever wipe away the taint.  He will shine the gems he wished to hold and give to Evie inside him.  Now that it was gone, maybe with time the plague will wash away.  Alas, Cullen knew he will need to do much of it himself like a diamond against a sandstone sharpening wheel.  If no water or oil slicks the surface, the grinding will be painful and raw.

Pulling Evie’s legs around his waist and carrying the light woman towards the dock. The templar decided now was the time to start the cleaning and polishing.  He wished to rewrite and shave off the blackness with Evie as the grindstone.  Maya Amell was a fading ghost lingering in the shadows somewhere, her likeness part the demonic taint.  Evie was his polishing cloth, his healing and soothing sanctuary.  Here among the quiet and peace he cherished as a child she can help him as he can show her somehow his emotions.  He might not know the full extent of his care for her yet, but he wanted to explore it now.  He needed to define it and demonstrate to his beautiful inferno mage so she can feel confident that there will be a future between them.

The knight’s mind conjured a soft fluffy blanket over the dock boards to lay his Lady down.  Alas, her back impacted and she whimpered, her face red from agony.  Cullen instantly pulled her into his lap, his legs underneath his behind.  “Eve…?!”

Taking long deep calming breath, Evie sniveled with the straightest face, “Since my wounds occurred in the Fade, they still ache here.  One thing about wounds caused by such strong demons they can transcend the Veil, echoing and reinforcing.  I am on my stomach asleep right?  I don’t rightly remember.  Just the exhaustion.”

Cullen nodded once.  “The burns are not the most serious wounds.  One reason I wished you here is that I know my kisses along your breast last time soothed and nullified the demon’s touch.  I want to kiss away your anguish again.  You saved me…us, Eve.”

 The auburn maiden cupped his cheeks and kiss him once.  “We saved each other…don’t discount yourself.”  She poked his nose.  “Sorry I cannot lay down…”  She glanced around.  “Yes, I want to come here for real.”  Her gaze turned back to him, her pupils dilating and voice wisping with emotion.  “I want to be with you like this there.”  Her fingers followed the lines of his pectoral muscles while her pelvis ground into his stiffening member.

Brief flickers of the demon doing something similar in that mage’s quarters threatened to spill into his dream, but he refused it with his will.  His attention focused on the soft lines around Evie’s eyes not hidden by her strong cat eyeliner.  His trembling hands grasped the edges of the dress just barely hanging on her shoulders and pulled them down her biceps.  Inch by teasing inch the reveal more that sun-kissed olive skin his lips craved every moment.

Right before those two full breast peeked from under the sheer fabric, Evie reached forward and tugged his tunic from his waist.  Her eyes alight and requested permission.  Cullen finished the task for her, flinging the clothing blocking from her touches.  The electrical strike scar was now purple and bruised across his chest.  It stung for a moment, but Evie leaned forward and kissed the wound with her soft lips.  Her breasts spilled from her dress. 

However, with the straps around her elbows, the maiden could not use her hands well.  Frustrated by the lack of movement, Evie stood up and pushed the whole garment off her arms, hips, and down her legs.  Cullen’s mouth gapped watching this beautiful woman kick the imagined dress aside and stood proudly in her nearly nude form so freely.  Only a stringy undergarment covered her groin and her pendant necklace danced between her shapely and lively breasts.

It took a moment for Evie to realize why her Lion sat there slack-jawed.  Once glancing down at herself, her whole body flushed.  The embarrassment shifted to giggling, shaking her head.  The harvest wreath fell from the braid crown around her head when the half crown braid naturally unfolded at Cullen’s will.  “It isn’t the first time you have seen me particularly naked.”  She sassed kneeling again, but just on the blanket.  A single finger closed Cullen’s open drooling mouth.  His teeth clicked together.  His eyes bugged out of their sockets.  “I can’t stop bearing myself to you it seems.”

“Lucky me…?”  Cullen croaked like his voice had started changing before face-palming and rubbing his neck.  “Maker, I am an inexperienced dweeb.”

Evie just grinned and kissed his nose.  “I find it adorable and reassuring.  I don’t know where my boldness comes from, but I feel I can do anything when I am with you.”

“I wish I…”  The knight gulped, the twisted images threatening to peek through again.

Evie’s soft fingers circled his jaw, petting his stubble and growing goatee.  “No rush.  Even if you never…”

“That’s the thing, Eve.”  Cullen drew her back into his lap.  Her skin felt like a warm satin blanket against his battered chest.  The dream’s autumn chill barely affected him with his inferno mage in his bare arms.  “I want to…I need to unravel these things.”

“Don’t push yourself…”  Evie cautioned, racking her fingers through his curls.  “You just broke free.  It does not need to happen until you are ready…”

“Help me still.  Now.”  Cullen begged, kissing her with intent and direction.  He poured his desires through their bond so strong in the dreamscape.  Purpose and Hope maximized the twin flames’ connections here so he can act instead of words.  He could not figure out these foreign names for emotions he cannot identify.

Taking one of Evie’s gentle hands, Cullen directed her fingers down around his sculpted muscles along his stomach hair to his linen trouser belt.  Her pelvis thrusted once, judging his member through the clothing.  Through the bond he asked for her healing, that touch that could wipe away the demon’s hells.  Only if she wanted-

Evie quickly pulled on the trouser string keeping the garment around Cullen’s hips.  Her other hand assisted; her confidence and curiosity pouring through their bond on what pressed at the seams.  Oh Cullen loved her confidence and will.  She slowed the closer she reached her prize aware just a movement might throw Cullen into a panic attack.  He controlled the dream.  A harsh memory can change the entire landscape and risk both people.

Cool air glanced Cullen’s tip once the last bit of cloth pulled away.  Yet, Evie’s chocolate eyes focused on his face, searching and analyzing any hurt or wariness.  Cullen’s head rolled over his shoulders as he moaned at the sensation.  It was nothing like what the demon proposed.  One glance with a finger pad, and his hips jumped.  He leaned back almost all the way down on the fluffy blanket on the dock.  The movement exposed more harden mass from the trousers.  A little bit more finger pressure around the soft top cone.  All Cullen could do was moan and fist the blanket in joyous arousal.

Gaining enough of himself, Cullen glanced back the woman sitting on his thighs and fingers gauging and studying his long erection.  It was curious to see Evie biting his lip, eyes flickering to his face and back at the member, and pulling more garments away.  His balls slipped out that got a peculiar awkward expression across those defined facial features.  She perked an eyebrow and bluntly stated, “Are they supposed to be so hairy and wrinkled?”

The Fereldan templar burst out laughing, leaning up and hugging his Lady.  “Yes, or at least the templar healers never said any issues.”

Evie’s flustering radiated heat off her entire body.  She hid her face in his shoulder, but her left hand could not stop feeling and shaping his erection.  Curiosity and extremely embarrassment flooded their connection.  “I…I don’t know much about…these things…Books…well, they give a different mental image.”

Cullen continued to chuckle in her ear.  It rewarded him a slight slap on the arm.  “We learn together.  We are both inexperienced, but I’m excited about the journey.  Minratous was not built in a day.  Practice and learning about each other another and ourselves are key.”

“What…”  She gulped, peeking a bashful eye out of the croak of his neck.  She bit her lower lip again.  “What if I do not…”

Cullen rolled his whiskey gems and gave her that look.  “I can easily say the same thing.  One advantage we have over others is we can feel one another so clearly, even in a dream.  Imagine this in real life.”

She hummed, smiling that unique gentle beaming that was only for Cullen.  “True…”  Her eyes hooded as she kissed his neck.  “You won’t hold back those feelings?…Even those you don’t understand?”

“I cannot hide anything from you, Eve.  I don’t want to ever again.”

Again that purr, those pink plump lips kissing and nibbling his skin.  Her available hand pushed him back down on the blanket.  Her little path of affections followed down to his nipple.  Her tongue swirled the darker skin just as her fingertip did on his erection.  Cullen flopped back as he just allowed his gorgeous nearly-nude fire goddess explore his body.  Gone were those traumatic thoughts as his eyes rolled around in his head.  The demon had nothing on Eve Trevelyan.

Evie’s line of kisses continued downward, her covered groin rubbing and humping his tight as she stretched like a cat down his leg.  That was right.  Evie is a rogue and dancer who bent like a thin wire any which direction.  Maker, the fantasies popping up in Cullen right now.  He let them fly, keeping his promise to not block this woman out of his being.  The images rewarded him a hum and mewl as her lips reached his hip.  Hopefully they did not change the dream around them.

“Just tell me if-“

“-Don’t you dare stop!”  Cullen groaned feeling her soft cheek against his above-average penis.  Maker, he struggled with control.  This was a dream, but Maker, let him hold out.  He did not want to be one of those pre-pubescent guys at the academy who could barely last a few seconds…

Both index fingers flowed up his hard and girthy shaft, cupping the head.  Cullen felt her breath on the tip, likely so purple and covered in precum.  He could not watch because all will focused on not bursting.

Oh my Maker the sensation and absolute heaven of those big plump pink lips kissing the tip of his penis.  His eyes rolled in the back of his head as he howled through the lake sanctuary.  Her lips hovered just on the edge.  Her tongue lightly stroked the precum, allowing his Lady to taste the salty mixture.  Her lips returned with a little suckle, one hand wrapped around the thick erection, while the other danced around his sacks.

Then all her affections evaporated.  Cullen bolted upward to see Evie had disappeared.  Cullen began panicking, searching for her violin.

Cullen, wake up!

Amber eyes snapped open.

A bit of tang salt lingered on Evie’s lips as she attempted to turn her head and neck towards her bedroom doors.  The sky outside her window shifted from blue to sickly green and grey.  The curtains danced in the strengthening gusts.

The hurricane was almost there.

Evie nudged the sleeping Cullen beside her, while her hearing tuned to the frantic steps and calls coming from outside in the gardens and within the manor.  “Cullen, wake up!”  She spoke and called through their bond.

Instantly, her Lion’s amber gaze popped open and he bolted up in bed.  He instantly reached for her, protective and possessive all at once.  Grogginess wiped from his features as he too hear the panic ringing throughout the house.  “What’s going on?”

“Hurricane protections?”  Evie guessed.  She could not tell the time of day.  The sun hid behind dark menacing clouds.

“Don’t move.”  Cullen ordered as he raced off the bed and for the antechamber.  He through open the entrance door and searched the halls.

Evie closed her eyes and request to follow him in his search for answer.  Cullen did not hesitate, carrying her psyche in his head and senses as he analyzing the halls for sounds and actions.  Unfortunately for the Fereldan, the first person he found was Jim Seamen.  The knight groaned in his head and heart with the Amaranthine native saw his patron.

“Ser!”

Maker, give me strength…

Oh, calm down.  He wants to be just like you!

That’s mildly disconcerting…

“Ser, a ship has signal to port.  His lordship requests first watch to assemble while the hurricane preparations are completed within the hour.”  Jim explained, his panic stare watching everyone streaming by.

“And our enemy?”

“Close.  Bann Trevelyan and his naval commander are meeting the signaling ship in the harbor.”

Evie pulled herself out of bed, hiding her movements from Cullen.  She stumbled to her dressing room.  If it who she thinks, things are about to go from bad to worse.

Her body protested her dressing and stretching.  She kept the bandages on just for padding, but she knew all the healing was as complete as possible.  No spells will speed up the process.  She needed to get down to the harbor immediately.

Eve…?

We got to get down there, Cullen!

Evie shivered feeling her bond’s will trying to stop her.  No!  You are in no condition to do-

I won’t sit by on my laurels, Knight-Lieutenant Cullen Stanton Rutherford.  You might tie me to this bed—which sounds quite sexy if in any other situation—but I will defend these people and our bond from anyone who threatens to break us apart.  You can fight me, but you will lose!  If you even say one more word, I will throw fireballs up your rectum!  You hear me!

Cullen stood silent for a few moment, rubbing his neck and searching for words in his mind.  Finally, he exhaled.  You will be the death of me.

When we are a hundred years old maybe, but not today, my Love!

Chapter Text

The sky shifted to a dark menacing grey blocking the afternoon sun from shining through the swirling clouds.  Cullen’s whiskey gaze barely left the horizon.  The curve of the world looked like it was being swallowed by a dark void.  Gushing winds pushed and pulled the horses beneath the riders every so often as the group slowly descended from Morcant Estate to the isle village. 

Cullen’s horse—which he really needed to name—thrashed his long head about and randomly kicked his hind legs.  The booms of distant thunder agitated the stallion.  The stallion’s instincts told him to run and find cover.  Mother Nature came, furious about the acts committed on the seas.  She crawled across the ocean towards land to punish those who wronged her.  From the gushes and the humid soaking Cullen’s skin, her wrath this particular storm will be unlike anything he ever witnessed in his twenty-one years.  Even a brutal Fereldan winter storm blowing off the Frostback Mountains will not compare with the cyclone inching closer to the island.

He might have lived through one hurricane almost two months before, but this one will truly show him the difference between life and death.

Bann Ian Trevelyan, Cullen, Evie, Hemmingway, and Knotts left their horses at the road beside the docks.  Evie barely stopped Griffon before dismounting, her mouth gapping and eyes wide.  She ignored Cullen calling for her to slow down.  She was not minding her still-fresh wounds as his Lady’s attention stayed on the single large ship in Epona Isle Bay.

“Why is The Rising Phoenix here!?”  The Free Marcher shouted, that adorable lilt Cullen usually enjoyed.  Now, it cracked under the rising tension and confusion warring inside her soul.

Cullen jogged forward as Evie stomped down the main dock, her hands grasping her dirk handle sheathed across her back hip and her gallowglass pommel.  The templar kept diverting his eyes from his bond’s shapely behind in her naval uniform.  It made sense she wore her naval uniform over her battered armor.  This allowed time for the blacksmiths to repair after Desire’s brutality.  Furthermore, if they might go to sea, wearing a whole bunch of metal and sinking into the sea sounded like the worst way to die.  Her officer uniform looked like a second skin with its tight dragonskin breeches, tailored hunter green coat, and ruffled undershirt.  Her knee high leather boots clicked against the wood planks, pacing faster the closer she observed what was happening.

The knight rounded the corner, cursing his templar plate mail for his slower pace.  Having nothing else to wear for battle no matter if by sea or land, Cullen thought about falling overboard and having all this metal drag him downward like an anchor.  No life-saving from Evie could free him from all this silverite weight. 

Cullen’s amber eyes widened.  Over a hundred elderly, women, and children disembarked the frigate, shaking and huddled close as Trevelyan troops escorted them away from the rough seas and to safety.  His brow scrunched as his memory flashed to just a few days ago where the naval commandore requested Evie’s frigate to transport the vulnerable populations off the island to Ferelden’s Highever.

Evidently, they never made it.

“First Lieutenant Mathias, Report!”

A main in a slightly dressed down version of Evie’s uniform saluted from his placement on the frigate’s desk.  He quickly summoned another officer to continue his practices before disembarking himself.  He reached their position, freezing upon seeing Bann Ian in full naval form as well and a templar eying him suspiciously.  He glanced around for a moment, his blue eyes searching for someone on the crowded windy dock.   “My Bann, Lady Captain, we had no choice but to return to the isle.”

“What exactly happened, Orrin?”  Bann Ian questioned, his bass voice calm and unnerving compared with his daughter’s threatening panic.

Who is this, Eve? Cullen asked partly to distract Evie and help her calm down.

Orrin Mathias, a third cousin and my first mate.  His bond replied barely looking over her shoulder at the Fereldan.  He used to hate me, but after me dominating my naval training, he and I grew to respect and trust one another.  Now, he is one of the few people I can depend on within my family.

Does he know of your status?

Evie bit her lip before continuing.  Very few on board my ship know, but I suspect they know I am not an ordinary person.

That is a great understatement.  Cullen smirked at his bond.  Evie slightly blushed before pulling her bangs out of her face.

“We were about a day away from Highever when the winds shifted.  We found ourselves being pulled east.  Even with the incoming hurricane, we could have not lost so much ground.”  He swallowed and met Evie’s gaze.  “Then we saw three Man O’Wars on the horizon.”

“Patricia.”  Evie whispered, barely containing her magic.  Cullen sent a brief smite over her before ash formed.  She stuttered a moment, but no one else noticed.

“Yes, Lady Captain.”  Mathias nodded, his face paling the longer he spoke.  “We shifted course and been chased ever since.  We figured they were trying to chase us into the storm, but they slowed their pursuit several bells ago.  That’s how we could dock without cannon fire blasting us.”

“Any cannon fire or assault?”  Evie quizzed, her grip on her gallowglass hilt intensifying.

“No.”  Mathias response, taking a deep breath.  “We officers thought it strange.”

“They wanted everyone board alive…”  Bann Ian growled, throwing Evie and Cullen looks.  The bonds knew what he meant.  The Promisers wanted as many sacrifices as possible for the ritual.  Firing and potential downing the frigate with so many innocent people on board would ‘waste’ the amount of blood magic they could generate once on the island.

Before another person spoke, a high brass bell about a league away from their position rang frantically.  Evie grabbed Cullen’s gauntlet, her magic heat pulsing through his gloves.  Bann Ian began hollering at anyone on deck to hurry to safety.  He pointed at Jim to run and see what the alarm was exactly for.

From Evie and Cullen tense glaze at one another, they did not need to hear the news.

The Promiser Fleet was within scope sight of the isle.

“The Rising Phoenix can slow them down.”  Evie suggested, rewarding her with several surprise expressions from everyone present.  “Give everyone enough time to evacuate and secure the townspeople before they are in our manor’s cannon range.”

“That’s suicide, Evelyn.”  Mathias mumbled, searching for her father.  “Yes, we survived the last hurricane, but this is one the largest I’ve ever seen in my naval career.  Even if we avoid the initial bands, there is no way a frigate can go against three Man O’Wars.  If they get even close, we’ll be outgunned.”

Bits of flames and sparks flickered from her hands.  “Yes, but they don’t have me…”

“…and me.”  Cullen added, receiving a gasp from Evie.

“Cullen, you can’t come!”

“I told you where you go, I go.  I am never letting you go ever!”

Evie glared at her bond, but Cullen could see the fear in her glassy chocolate eyes.  “Cullen, you have never spent time on a ship!  You are wearing essentially a metal anchor around you.  One swallow and you’ll sink quicker than I can save you.  It’s too dangerous.”

Cullen studied the dock’s bustle.  Pressing two fingers to his lips, he whistled towards the road.  Instantly, his black stallion neighed and raced down the docks, nearly knocking sailors off.  Luckily, surrounding barrels and nets caught them before the massive horse harmed them.  Cullen immediately started undressing from his armor.  Mathias’ eye blew wide, while Evie tried to hide her flushing cheeks.

“Face it, Eve.”  The templar gritted through his teeth, tying his cuirass to the saddle.  “You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life.  We still compete on who is more stubborn, but right now, you are not winning this fight.  Instead of bickering, maybe tell your men…”  He did not need to say more.  “They’ll know by the end of this battle anyway.”

Evie cussed a few times under her breath before whistling and calling her crew to her.  She hurried up the gangplank.  Hemmingway laughed and patted Cullen’s shoulder, no saying a word.  Knotts nudged a young man to direct Cullen’s stallion and the other horses back to the estate.  The city elf also walked up the ramp to join the others.

“Keep her safe, Cullen…”

The knight turned his head to see Bann Ian pursing his lips.  His beard was longer than Cullen had ever seen, likely from all the time he waited for news about Evie and him the last few days.  His swirling eyes knew there was no way to change his daughter’s mind.  If anything, it was like the bann had a similar idea and respected his daughter for not thinking twice on the matter.

Now in just a tunic, trousers and his armored boots, Cullen slapped his palm on his shoulder.  “I will, my lord.”

“Ian.”

Cullen nearly choked at the idea of calling this man by his first name and no title.  Quickly re-tying his longsword, shield, and boot knife back on his person, the blond Fereldan nodded and quickly jogged up and boarded the ship.  His stomach turned landing on deck, his legs already unsteady on such a strange surface.  Maker, he understood why Evie always called him a land lover.

In the middle of a large huddle of men and some women stood Evie, waving her bond to her side.  Mathias stood on her other side, obviously nervous about what was about to happen.  Fear peaked through Cullen and Evie’s bond as she began to speak.  She held her secret from her own men partly to protect herself, but also to protect them from her Reformist activities.

An amplification spell fell over the deck, but it seem Cullen was the only one who truly felt it.  “Crew, I first want to say this is not mandatory.  If any of you wish to disembark, you will not be punished.  This distraction is against a brutal force who does not care who you are or who you serve.  They are here for me.  They wish to use me for their evil deeds, one I have been fighting against since I was a child.”

A fireball rolled and danced in Evie’s right hand.  “I am an inferno mage, trained by dozens of mages, templars, and other people loyal to better rights for all people of Thedas, including elves and dwarves.  I am not a threat.”  She pointed to Cullen.  “Ser Cullen Rutherford is my soulmate bond, my twin flame.  He and I are unique in the mage-templar world.  If I had been sent to the Circle, I would have been made tranquil before our bond allows us to do things others can’t, and that scares specific people in power.  He and I are balanced so my magic doesn’t rage or I could turn into an abomination.  Cullen protects me, and I protect him.”

Evie exhaled and steadied herself.  “I know this is a shock of many of you, but understand I have never liked lying to you, my dear family.  The people who threaten our lives have always wanted me for their heinous plans, so I have had to keep myself hidden.  The time has come to end this.  I will say this again:  if you do not wish to fight in this battle you never chose or wish to not serve on a ship led by a mage, there will be no penalty.  You may leave now.  I will not force you to hold my secrets-“

“-Cap.”  An older man at the back of the group cut in.  He was tall with a scruffy grey beard.  “Save your breath.  I think I can speak for everyone here that a) we have always known you were unique…maybe not all these details, but we kept your skills secret anyway, and b) we’re not going anywhere.”

“You served us, our families, and everyone high and low on this isle and within House Trevelyan.”  A muscular woman added, smirking at her crew members.  “We did not sign up with you because you’re nobility or even a mage.  We chose to serve on this ship because of who you are.”

“No one needs to know you can burn me bums!”  Another voice hollered with laughter.

Cullen chuckled with the crew as tears tickled down Evie’s chocolate eyes.  The mage nodded.  “Alright…Thank you…all of you.”

“Modest in Temper…”  Mathias called over the whole ship.

The crew cheered and shouted.  “Bold in DEED!”

“Crew, ready to disembark!”  Evie ordered with a hand flick.  Flames licked her fingers.  Everyone rushed to their positions.  Before Cullen could intercept his bond, Evie stopped a sailor with worried eyes.  “Rue, you have a new wife and babe at home…Get out of here.”

“And have my lass kick me arse for not doing my duty.”  Rue the Sailor retorted, nudging his captain’s arm before racing off to man his station.  “You might light me up, but she’ll cut off me dong!”

Evie giggled and shook her head.  Her braided bun bounced on her neck.  She quickly stopped another sailor, “Joe-“

“-Save it, my lady.”  The old man held up his hand.  “I was born on the sea, and I will fucking die on it.  Stand with your man here, and let’s kick some ass!”

Evie’s chocolate eyes shined at Cullen, who nodded and smirked back.  No words needed to pass over them.  Instead, the pair made their way to the upper deck where Hemmingway maned the steering wheel.

That began the longest night of Cullen’s entire existence.

It felt all new for Evie, standing on her upper deck between Hemmingway, who manned the wheel, Mathias, and Cullen.  Three months ago she sailed from Starkhaven back to Ostwick, troubled from her many night terrors, but free in some way.  She still had to hide her magic from most crew members.  However, being on the Waking Sea with the sea spray on her skin, she thought herself free from the world’s rules and her deep seeded depression.

Now, Evie knew true freedom.  She no longer hid herself because her crew might freak and turn her in or her bond might learn her identity and report her to the nearest Circle.  No, she loved Cullen, a freedom itself from years of doubt in what Desire drilled in their minds and hearts.  He choose to be with her here and now despite the odds.  He cared about her.  They successfully killed the original connection that twisted and spoiled lifetimes of denials.  Last night with Cullen in their dreams showed what their bond was supposed to be like after all.  No filter or meddling power involved.

Well, beside Patricia and her brutes.

Evie also learned acceptance went beyond just doing good things for others.  Her crew swore to keep her secrets, already knowing there was something unique about the maiden.  Evie did tasks for the townspeople because felt she needed to earn her freedom through good deeds.  She was not sent to the Circle, roaming Thedas with little consequences.  She became the poster-child of what a mage could be in the real world.  Still, the guilt of wandering the seas and land without much restraints left her soul hollow.  She witnessed what other mages and their bonds experienced.  She felt like she needed to earn her freedom.  Do everything for everyone else seemed the best option.

Now, the fire mage knew what she needed to do for freedom.  Cullen taught her throughout their whirlwind relationship.  She should not feel guilty to walk free.  Freedom should be for all mages just like those who that attempted to use her name and self for their own gains.  Evie just needed to be herself and not be torn in all directions.  People accepted her as she was because of her personality and heart.  She cried when her crew told her to relax because she always waited for people to run and hide hearing she was a destruction mage unrestrained behind stone high walls.  Her crew’s reaction should be the same for all mages and templars, not that filth the Chantry and those rotting in the religious institution.

Now, Cullen and she will fight and win against their great threat…and begin freedom for all just like them afterward.  Freedom from lyrium.  Liberty from hateful discourse and prejudice.  Autonomy to marry the adults they love and keep their children.  No more divided families either from sending their mage children to Circles or their kids to templar academies. 

Emancipation to choose!

Evie woke from her inner revelations when the first rain drops trickled on her head.  She did not need to look up.  The crew already lit the lamps around the ship as the afternoon nearly turned night in seconds.  The hurricane’s first bands entered their sailing space.  Even as they sailed east to meet the Promiser fleet, it was too slow to beat the storm turning the sky dark grey and the rumbling thunder and lightning soon to befall on them.

The maiden turned to her right to see Cullen squeezing the hand rail and his eyes shut.  One hand would touch his stomach ever so often when a rough wave battered the ship.  “The storm remind you…?”

“No…”  The knight groaned, burping into his fist.

 Ah.  Evie smirked, thankful she had not lost her sea legs yet.  She touched his arm, causing him to open his eyes and stare down at her wearily.  He coughed again into his fist.  “I have a soothing spell that will simmer the…rolling…”

“Maker, please…”  Her bond begged, hanging his head.  “I truly don’t want to be sick in front of everyone…”

“It’s a rite of passage, Boy.”  Hemmingway chuckled from the ship wheel.  Evie allowed him to navigate since the ex-pirate had more experience during major storms.  It did not hurt that Knotts was in the Crow’s Nest and could telepathically direct him towards the fleet.  Morcant Isle was still in view to their northwest.  The lighthouse guards saw the fleet from shore as they disembarked.  It would only a matter of time before they saw them too.  “We’ll get you sea steady soon.”

“Just not during a hurricane…”  Evie added with a smirk.  She touched Cullen’s cold neck and pulsed magic through his head and stomach.  She even did a triage to see where else might be ailing him.

“No, Eve…”  The knight whispered, feeling the spell shift.  “Save your mana…If anything, heal yourself more…”

Evie could not help it.  With her iconic sassy tone, she quipped, “You did plenty for that last night…”

Mathias’ mouth fell open while Hemmingway roared with laughter.  Above them, Knotts peeked over the railing side with a perked brow.  Cullen rubbed his face, widened and terrified that Knotts was going to dome him with a throwing knight.  Evie just kissed Cullen’s cheek and patted his shoulder.  Knotts smirked and returned to his keen watch.

Hemmingway’s hilarity stopped suddenly, glancing up at the Crow’s Nest, then his charge.  “Knott sees the fleet coming in fast from the southeast, but there is something else.”

Evie froze.  “What, Hemmy?”  She knew he had jumped into Knott’s mind by his long stare. 

He squinted and opened his mouth.  Then snapped his lips shut.  “Bugger me…”

“Hemmingway…what is it?  More ships?”  Cullen questioned, searching the dark horizon for any clues.  Evie knew he was a land fighter.  This open area with little way to fight must be frustrating his tactical mind.  Maybe when this was over, Bann Ian could teach Cullen that navy chess game to help strengthen his need to be tactical in all environments.

“A Felicismia Armada ship…being chased by…a Qunari dreadnought…?”  Hemmingway finally revealed.  He smacked his lips like saying those words left a sour taste in his mouth.

“The Qunari?!  This far south?!”  Mathias blew out his cheeks.  “Maker bless us all.”

“An invasion?”  Cullen suggested with a tense brow.

Evie ignored both men.  Instead, her dark eyes focused on her childhood bodyguard.  “Lekan, you were part of that Armada for a time.  You recognize it?”

“Aye, I do…”  Hemmingway rubbed his face, wiping away the rain dripping from his dreadlocks.  “Captained by a sexy back-stabbing Rivaini named Isabela.  Her ex-hubby was assassinated by my fancied Antivan Crow.  Rumor says she put out the hit after the Antivan merchant husband treated her like crap.  After he was wacked, she got his ship.  The ship is off our starboard bow called The Siren’s Call.  A fast fucking ship, that one.”

“Apparently not fast enough if the Qunari have kept up with her.”  Evie mentioned, trying to understand how a Rivaini pirate and a Qunari sea tank made it so deep into the Waking Sea without news.

“It seems the pirate got herself over her head with the oxman.”  Matthais muttered.  “We have our own problems.”

“ ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ “  Cullen recited, throwing Evie a knowing look.  “Which direction are those two ships coming?”

Hemmingway squinted, trying to understand the templar.  “Knowing any pirate this time of season, likely fleeing Orlais with spoils.  They would rather face a hurricane than keep docked for long after fleecing the empire bare.”

“That would mean the Qunari was in the region too…why?”  Cullen asked.  His baritone over the brutal rain showers echoed around the upper deck.

“What are you playing, Boy?”  Hemmingway huffed, not liking anything Cullen was directing.

“At the moment, we might last a little awhile against one of those Man O’Wars.  All those ships are coming towards us.  In this storm, they won’t know what they are hitting when shit flies.”

Evie’s eyes ballooned realizing his suggestion.  “You want to get the fleet entangled with the Qunari.”

“Oh, nonononono….”  Hemmingway waved before grasping the wheel.  “From what I saw that dreadnought is filled with Antaam, the Arishok’s military.  I don’t know my Qunari well, but you don’t fuck with a dreadnought.  One gaatlok in our side, and we’re fucked!”

“That’s also true for a Man O’War.”   Cullen snapped, pointing towards the fleet off their port bow.  “One shot from the dreadnought will do the same to it too.”

“And get us in the meantime.  That’s a pirate ship, you arse.  They’ll take the moment seeing us—a fucking Trevelyan vessel—and see payday on ransom for the Girl.  Fuck all of us.”

Evie smirked.  “Not if I signal them first.  A parlay.  ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend!’  That pirate ship can’t keep up at its pace with that dreadnought let alone the hurricane.  It is a brigandine if it once was a merchant ship, right?  This hurricane will shred it!  We signal it, vow ‘we won’t harm you if you don’t hit us’.  We lore the fleet to us, and move right as we tease the dreadnought.  The Promisers and the Qunari fight and boom!”

“The dreadnought can move quicker than any of these ships in this weather.”  Mathias warned, terror in his eyes that anyone was taking this seriously.

 “SHOTS!”

“COVER!”  Evie’s Free March shout rang throughout the deck.  Several splashes from their port bow rippled against the hold.  Her fiery eyes flashed to her first mate and bodyguard.  “The fleet’s here.  We do this, or we’re dead!”

“How close are we to the isle?”  Cullen hollered over another set of cannon splashes.

“A few nautical miles.”  Mathias answered, now pointing and directing deck members on what to do.

“And to the old reef, where all those ships ran aground?”

Evie knew what he was proposing.  “You want to make sure they don’t have a place to go…trick them if they don’t take the bait.  That might get the Qun stuck on the isle, Cullen.”

“Not if they really want that pirate ship.”  Cullen encouraged his bond to agree with the plan.  “I am definitely not a navy man, but it gives us a shot.  If this just takes down one Man O’War, that is less than we have to worry about invading the isle.  It gives the townspeople enough time to be hid away.”

A few more splashes.

“They’re out of range!”  A crew member called from the lower deck.

“No, they know this is my ship, and I’m on board…”  Evie surmised glancing at the three men.  “They don’t want me dead.  They’ll injury us, but not sink.  That gives both us and the Siren’s Call a chance, Hemmy.”

“You’re both psychopaths!”  Hemmingway hollered before flipping his hand at the bow.  “Get go and signal, Girl!  Hope your spells can keep from the other fleet from seeing your parlay!”

Evie raced forward to the other side of the ship.  Two massive magelights burned in her hand to begin the message.  All she could do was pray this worked.  It took a minute or so for her to signal the whole idea.  The mage prayed the Siren’s Call would not spite them and see they were both fighting for freedom at the moment.  Once her message was done, Knotts appeared behind her with a spyglass.  She waited for their response.

More cannon splashes.  Closer than before.

“Come on….”  Evie whimpered, stomping her foot.

Her mind wandered to all the people on the isle helpless and afraid for a war they never knew they were sucked into.  Her crew stayed with her, but this was not what they agreed to when they signed up for her frigate.  Pirates might be all man for themselves, but everyone still cares for those under their command somehow.

A blinking light in the darkness.

Evie pursed her lips, memorizing the flickers for each word.  “They agree!  Battle stations!  Time to play bait!”  With one last light shined back at the pirate ship to begin the assault.  The Siren’s Call turned towards them, leading the dreadnought back towards the isle.

Right as another lob of fleet fire hit the bow.  Evie threw up barriers around herself, Knotts, and any crew members nearby.  It did not stop the ringing of cries as wood splitters flew and pierced skin and clothing.

“Eve!”

Evie’s attention flashed to Cullen, running down the upper deck towards them.  “Stay back!”  She looked to the people around her.  “Man your stations!  It’s time to greet my sister home!”  She fade-step across the deck and reappeared beside her bond.  She threw a barrier around him, while he covered her with his shield.  “Port cannon’s load!”

“Captain, we are out of range!”  Rue called from across the ship.

“I know.  I’m teasing them.  Keep covered after loading.  I’ll fire the cannons.”

Rue nodded.  “You heard her!  Move your butts, your sea urchins!”

“Stay beside me or return with Hemmingway.”  Evie warned Cullen.  Her bond just placed his hand on her shoulder knowing she will need her hands in a few moments.

“Cannons’ loaded!”

“Swinging around!”  Hemmingway called from the upper deck.  Cullen hung onto Evie’s statuesque position as the ship shifted with the waves.  Port cannons pointed right at the fleet just out of range.

“COVER!”  Two massive fireballs grew in her hands.  “FIRING!”  With hand swipes through the air she ignited the fuses.  Several pairs of cannons along two decks blasted their charges and flung their cannon balls over the raging sea…and just short of the fleet.

“No cannon contact…!”

“No need…”  Evie giggled.  “Patricia can’t handle her little sister fighting her…demon or not…Her pride is her weakness.  Fen’Harel herself.  She will rush them in to pains of death for my attempted offense.”

“Is she that insecure?”  Cullen asked, watching as the Promiser fleet thundered towards them using the hurricane gusts to their advantage.

Evie cackled.  “Absolutely!  If one person does not bow in her presence, all must die and suffer in her wrath.”  Her fiery eyes smiled up at Cullen.  “I will never bow.”

“Thank the Maker.”  Cullen smirked before leaning over and kissing her passionately.  Evie was not expecting that displayed affection.  Several crew members whistled, while other called ‘Get a room!’

“Girl, reef!”

Evie and Cullen broke form their kiss and looked to the bow.  In the distance was Epona Isle again.  They were on course with the old reef where many fellow ships sank.  Both people raced to the upper deck.  Evie watched as the Siren’s Call baited the Qunari closer.  After some turning, both allied ships were facing the same way, while their pursuers followed closely.  However, neither fired in range of the other.

“LOAD BOW CHAINSHOT!”  Evie called behind her.  Her men moved quickly to fulfill the order.

Mathias look like he was going to have a massive shit right there.  “Evie, if you fire that now, we will have to turn towards the reef to escape their response.  We’re nimble, but we can’t curve that quickly in these rains.”

“I believe in this vessel.”  Evie reaffirmed.  “This ship can do it.  I can force-push the mast to capture the gusts in time.”

“Don’t push yourself, Eve.”  Cullen warned behind her.

“Just have a lyrium ready then…?”  The mage suggested with a knowing smile.

“Maker’s breath, woman.”

“Chain shot ready!”

“On my mark…”  Evie declared, holding her hand up.  Her fingers glowed with flame.  “FIRE!”  Four sets of aft chain shots flew back and hit the bow of one of the Man O’ Wars.  One shot wrapped around the enemy’s mast and broke a sail arm.  “TURN PORT!”  Evie threw several waves of force magic at her own sail arms to catch the wind.  Each spell pulled from the recovering Evie to the point she kneeled at the force pumping through the ship to turn quickly enough.

The song of lyrium echoed behind her as Cullen drank a draught.  He held her close as the ship leaned into a huge wave.  “Draw, Eve!”  The mage did as she was told, feeling her mana pool rejuvenated from using so many spells so quickly.  The fleet sent their own shots towards them.  Cullen protected them both from shards with his templar shield.  Dinking metal sounds echoed as the remaining cannon shots flew overhead.  They dodged enough to only catch one of two cannon shots.  The others-

“DIRECT HIT ON DREADNOUGHT!”

Cheers rang out over the whole crew.

Then the whole sea rumbled.

“GAATLOKS!”

“COVER!”

Evie hugged Cullen, throwing a barrier over them both as flying burning barrels through the air.  Massive explosions from their port echoed.  Light and fire roared as a few gaatlok jars found a target.

“MAN O’ WAR DOWN!”

“CAPTAIN!  REEF!”

Evie pushed Cullen’s shield out of the way, she realized the hurricane winds changed direction, caught the moved sails and dragged them towards the old reef.  There was no time to dodge or force-push out of the way. 

“BRACE FOR IMPACT!”

Darkness.

Chapter Text

Evie’s chocolate brown eyes flashed open, instantly coughing when she realized she had landed on a broken beam with her head in a puddle of seawater.  She glanced around hastily.  Why was she below deck?!

“Eve?!  Evie!”

A few more coughs and turning her whole body, the mage glanced up and saw Cullen peeking through a massive hole in the main deck down at her.  He grabbed the side and knelt, searching for her through the pouring rain and dreary darkness.  The impact snuffed out all the lanterns.

Lighting a few magelights and sending them all directions, Cullen’s scared search did not stop until he saw his Lady’s face below deck.   Evie shifted a little until she was sitting on her knees.  “I’m down here!”

“Your head.”  He pointed to his own scalp where a few drops of blood dripped down his temple.  Evie touched hers and hissed at the stinging.

“I must have smacked something on the way down.”  Evie surmised, glancing around the lower decks.  Several crew members were trying to free others from the wreckage.  Hemmingway frantically tossed wood planks all over the place.  The broken center mast now piercing through the whole ship.  Knotts?  “Matthias?”

“Aye, Captain!”  Her first mate and cousin appeared beside Cullen above.  “We’re run aground!  Keel snapped in two.  We’re sitting ducks.  Luckily, we’re close enough to shore.  Just got to get up the lower cliffs to reach the main isle.”

“Evacuate the ship immediately.  It will only be a few moments before the Promiser fleet is on us.  They’ll want payback for sinking that Man O’ War.”  Evie ordered, pointing to her men to help others.

The whole ship pulled one direction, shifting half of the broken frigate.  More water poured into the exposed starboard holes exposed from cannon fire and running aground.  Hemmingway stumbled forward as a gash of sea water pushed him from his target towards the bow of the ship.

“We’re getting pulled!”  Matthias pointed up to the remaining center mast still stick up through the ship.  Evie could see part of the sails flapping through the hole, yawing the ship in the hurricane gusts.  By being stationary and the sails free to capture wind, they yanked and torn apart the ship.  “We got to get the sails cut or we’ll never make it to shore.”

“I’ll do it!”  Cullen pulled out his boot dagger and took off running for the built-in claw steps on the mast.  “Focus on evacuating”.  He pointed to a few men still on deck.  “You, you get the back sails.  I will take this side.  You, take the other!”  Cullen’s tactical mind shined in those moments, while Evie summoned her magic.

Force magic was the fire mage’s secondary school, taking a bit more mana to summon and pull the wood away from trapped crew members.  Whatever pieces she snagged, the maiden threw over holes gashing with water and blocked the winds hollowing outside.  The hurricane sang around them almost ready to eliminate them if they did not reach secure cover soon.

One by one, trapped and injured crew members broke free of wreckage and took off for the stairs leading to the top deck.  Evie slowly crawled towards Hemmingway’s position, who still tossed and hollered for someone beyond his grasp.  There had been no sign of Knotts.  He would have been on the bow after the pirate signaling and the crash.

Ignoring her dwindling mana pool, Evie tossed and threw debris until she finally reached Hemmingway.  Through the broken barrels, crossbeams, and gunpowder, Knotts sat, barely able to make a sound because of his scarred larynx.  His eyes glowed, angry and frightened he cannot move.

“Girl, please!  You gotta get him out!”  Hemmingway panicked, rain mixing with his threatening tears across his dark Rivaini skin.  Evie never saw her brute friend scared.  She knew Hemmingway and Knotts had a relationship of platonic understanding and comradery.  In that moment, Evie saw a deep friendship and brotherhood both were too afraid to lose.

“Stay back!”  Evie pulled again at her magic, craving for something to refill her lowering mana.  “When I lift, you lean and push the beams away-“ 

Another harsh wave hit the two rescuers over into a sack of wood and furniture.  The ship groaned and yawed again in the hurricane-force winds.  That meant Cullen had not cut the sails yet.  Through the debris behind Knotts, jagged rocks and reef threatened to toss and impale the city elf if he fell through the whole.

“On the count of three…”  Evie ordered, pulling at her magic.  “One, Two…Three!”  The mage pulled the beam up until was far enough from Knotts for Hemmingway to push it to the side.  “Again!” 

They repeated the process several more times.  They were just one more beam away from their friend when the yawing tugged again.  Knotts slipped through the opening.  Evie pulled the last beam towards her, hollering with her magic skill.  Hemmingway jumped over the beam and caught his falling friend’s hand, stopping the skinny elf right before his head would hit an arrow-pointed rock.  Both men froze how close they were to Knotts’ skull being smashed like a melon on the rough seas.

That was when Hemmingway hollered.  “He can’t feel his legs!”  The Rivaini sounded like a mourning father at the loss of his young son.  He tugged his leap friend towards him and hurled the elf over his shoulders.  “Get out of here, Girl!  Check on your bae!”

Evie wanted to make sure her friends would make it to shore, but as she felt the ship yaw and creek again around her, she knew Cullen needed her desperately.

“Cannon fire!”

Three massive blast rocked the entire ship around the three fleeing people below deck.  Evie jumped and weaved around the wreckage, placing barriers around her friends and herself.  All the while her mind screamed to get Cullen to safety.  All she could think about was that Promiser fleet was here.  Patricia was here.

Cullen did not know what he was doing.  When he did not see Evie beside him after impacting the old reef, his mind blanked and immediately searched the bond for his other half.  Feeling her life force and her violin set his heart alight like if he heard nothing he would life was not worth living.  He never felt like that ever…and did not want to feel that helpless and lonesome again.

The knight just wanted her to return to his arms, but he knew she could do great actions below freeing the trapped sailors.  So, he volunteered to cut the sails.  He randomly pointed to a few scattered crew members trying to escape the ship.  He ordered them like he knew what he was doing to work the other loose sails.  After all this was over, he will spend a long time reading nautical and naval books, especially on strategy because he felt like a fish out of water—no pun intended.  Fereldans were land people, not a swashbuckler like a Free Marcher, Antivan, or Rivaini.  He guessed now being so close to Evie, he needed to expand his horizons.  Maker, the puns…

Ugh, Cullen hated seasickness.  Evie’s spell wore off after her reserves petered out.  He took one last moment to puke over the side of the snapped ship before climbing the mainmast.

Maker, he also was not a fan of heights…

Still, the templar climbed up the mainmast that snapped at the base and impaled the ship.  It leaned to the side still holding it crossbar in place allowing the sails to flutter in the forceful storm winds.  The steps up were just short wooden pegs used to hold joints together in Fereldan houses.  His armored boots slipped a few times with each step.  Other times, there just no peg, broken either in the storm or just never replaced in their travels.  From what he saw before, the crew used the netted stabilizing ropes tied to the side of the deck to reach the top sails and Crow’s Nest usually.  However, those were missing, ripped from their interwoven bindings when the ship struck the rocks.

Maker, even with half the mast through the frigate, this was high.

“Rosie would have a field day up here…”  Cullen muttered with disgust, finally reaching the cross bars.  His sister loved heights, enjoying the views they provided.  She nearly fell off cliffs and trees throughout their childhood home.  From Mia’s letter while at the academy, Rosalie continued such activities and expanded to more dangerous feats.  Her yearning for adventure spurred her to be more reckless.  “She can bloody have it!”  Cullen huffed, his amber eyes seeing a crew member taking the starboard side sail ties.  That meant Cullen would be port.

The rain felt like needles prickling his skin constantly as the wind howled around him.  He pulled himself along the crossbeam like an inchworm.  He would reach a set of ties, reaching for the dagger in his mouth safely as possible to avoid cutting his lips then sawed through the ties.  Some were several wrappings thick, but with each tie, the ship yawing subsided a little.

Then Cullen heard the blood-curdling cry.  His head whipped around to see the other sailor aiding him on the starboard side slip from the crossbeam, grab the sail, and held on as he plunged downward.  The sail weakened by cannon shot and the wreck ripped, flinging the man like a slingshot out over the rocks and…

The knight looked away, panting and blocking the sight from his mind.  Thank the Maker his shield on his back block most of the grizzly sight.  Kinloch and the first time on a sinking ship threatened to send him into a panic attack.  No, he will not succumb to that.  Evie and these people needed them.  Cullen swallowed the tremors and continued his worming down the crossbeam.

“CANNON FIRE!”

Cullen grasped the crossbeam with his arms and legs, knowing if one cannon ball came near his position, he will die instantly or end up like that other sailor.  Thank the Maker for small miracles.  It just shot through the hold.  Cullen searched again for his bond.  Evie was relatively unharmed.  She was close to the deck stairs.  She was nearly out of the wreckage.  Her mana was so low…

One more tie.

Again Cullen inched forward.  The tie was within reach.  He did not want to get so close to the crossbeam edge so he sawed the ropes with outstretched arms.  It meant he had to rely on his legs and body to keep grip.  His dagger dulled on each rope, so tightly woven like a being’s skin and leather.  The hemp would not give way easily.  One rope cut.  There were three ties on this one since it was the end connection.  No wonder the other sailor took so long to cut.  Cullen just coached himself through the wind and stinging rain through his task.  Second rope cut.  The sails flapped and twisted in the rain and winds.  It made cutting the last rope difficult.  It bounced around to the point Cullen had to expect where he sawed.  What he would give for a serrated blade right now.  His body shook and strained to keep tight against the wood beam.  Just a little more…

“Got it!”

“INCOMING!”

Cullen snapped his head forward seeing about a dozen cannon balls flying right towards him and the ship.  One of the Man O’Wars fired half of its starboard guns right at them.  Startled by the first impact on the crow’s nest, Cullen dropped his dagger watching as it fluttered with the freed sail into the sea.  The next chain shot broke the mast right below the crossbeam, snapping the whole support.  Cullen felt the shift.  With his weight, the whole beam felt like a loosed arrow flying in the sea.

Everything was free falling.  Cullen’s mind could barely comprehend what was happening.  Instinctively, he let go of the beam, his arms and legs above him.  He turned with his back away from the rough seas.  He did not know which way he will die.  The gore from the other sailor flashed before his stinging whiskey eyes.  His whole life played like a picture flip book.

This is how I die-

Cullen stopped at mid-fall like he landed on a fluffy mattress.  When he turned his head, he was still four feet from deck and nothing laid in his way to explain the sensation.  Violin melody sang around him as a soothing magic held him like a newborn.

Slowly drifting downward like a fluttering feather, Cullen glanced towards the music’s origin to see his Lady shimmering a light bright green like in the Fade.  Her face was purple and arms shuddered to control the descent and spell.  Her braided bun hair was now messy, whipping around her beautiful face.

Cullen felt the deck through his right foot, turning himself.  His other foot landed on a solid surface.   He stood like he normally would, safe and unharmed.  He whipped around to see Evie stumbled and kneeled on deck.  Her quivering hands caught her as she puked all stomach acid around her.

The knight could feel her mana so low her Fade connection wavered to stay stable.  Instantly, Cullen reached for a lyrium bottle on his belt.  Only one left, he thought as he poured the contents down his throat.  Even though he never used an ounce himself since the battle began, Evie drained his reserves as she pumped more spells to save others.

Cullen raced to her side and grabbed her shaking hands.  “Eve, pull!”

The mage instantly drew.  Being so close to her, he can see how pale and tired she became from her time assisting below deck.  She kept pulling, even tugging at Cullen’s stamina a little.  She panted once enough return to help her rebound.  Evie jumped into his lap and hugged him tightly.

“The instinct…I did not even see you fall.  I stood turned away…”  Evie huffed and inhaled in his ear as Cullen held her close.  The raging storm and quaking ship around them disappeared for a few moments.  “I just did…I only heard your realization afterwards when I caught you.”

This was what all the teachings stated could happen between bonds.  Not a cause-and-effect response, but a fluid instinct of what each other will do and how to work within themselves.  All their sparring failed because they could not reach one another.  It seemed they finally figured out—bonded—enough to finally work as one.

Another step towards full connection.

“Thank the Maker you’re okay, Eve…”  Cullen whispered in her ear and kissing her neck.  “When you weren’t in my arms after the impact…”

…Cullen could not finish the sentence.  If she died, life was not worth living.  This was not just caring and protection.  Did he actually lo-

“CANNON FIRE!”

Evie flipped a barrier around them both.  Cullen heard the wood and metal pelt around them as Evie and his back shield protected the pair.  Through the tight hug, Evie drew more lyrium from him, warming up as her magic flared.

“We need more time!”

“That Man O’War is ripping us apart!”

“Men are still trying to get to shore!”

“The next strike we’ll be all dead.”

Cullen felt the instincts flowing from Evie.  Her mind flashed ideas and solutions.  Hesitancy kept a solution from surfacing.  She never tried it before.

You can do it, Eve.  I am with you.

His bond leaned back and held his cheeks.  Her brown eyes sparked as she powered herself for the next set of spells.  They’ll all see how dangerous I am…

You are not dangerous.  You are saving lives.  You risk yourself to allow those you love to live another day.  I believe in you.  I trust you.  I will never let go.  I have one more lyrium left.  Do what you must.  Draw from me.  I will smite and purge anything beyond your control.

The spell-

Cullen kissed her hard, pulling her flesh to his soaked body.  Evie hesitated before squeezing him.  The kiss was brief but passionate, a promise of union and support.  His Lady leaned back and threw off her captain’s jacket for movement.

“Don’t let go of my shoulder!  I can’t barrier you from it all!”  Evie warned, pulling her ruffle shirt from her neck.  She withdrew her knight-enchanter hilt and lit it aflame.

“Don’t worry about me!”  Cullen called, racing after her towards the bow and deck edge.

“Get the men off the ship!  Don’t worry about us!  Just stay away!  Get them on land, Matthias!”  Evie ordered her first mate.

“Maker be with you, Captain!”  Matthias saluted as he assisted another injured sailor off deck and towards the nearby beach.

With one last look at her bond, Evie nodded.  Cullen kissed her one last time, then nodded himself.  He did not know what to expect, but he trusted Evie.  He might still have a great fear of mages and their powers, but Evie was his bond, friend, and so much more.  Nothing this apostate could do will change that.  She was powerful, graceful, and always in control.

With that said, nothing prepared the twenty-one-year-old what he was about to witness…

Evie never attempted this spell in her whole life.

The pyromancer who explained her a backdraft explained this explosive spell, but warned to never attempt it unless there was no other choice.  Evie had the mana pool to summon it, but it could easily raze a city block.  It was unpredictable just like most fire spells.  Control over every falling fireball was not guaranteed.

Yet standing on the deck edge broken seeing that Man O’War barreling down on her crew, her love, and herself…she would call the moment a no way out, a last ditch effort.  Could she summon such a spell and control it initially?  Will it even harm that massive ship with loaded guns pointed at everything she loved?  Will it just make the Promisers that much more urgent to capture her knowing she could do to if successfully possessed?

So many questions…so many unknowns.

I am with you.  Cullen reassured her through their bond.

Yes, yes, Evie could do this.  She could do anything as long as Cullen stood beside her.  They already destroyed a heinous creature that plagued their previous pairings for ages.  Cullen and she were unique and nearly fully bonded.  All the facts pointed that this was possible.

First protection…just in case.

Creation magic was not Evie’s strong suit.  It took decades for her to properly heal without turning a person’s insides outward.  Because of Desire’s nightly torture sessions, she improved with practice.  Was she like Prunella or a spirit healer, hell no!   Evie could get you to a healer in the meantime.

Barrier fell under Creation magic.  For a front line mage like herself, barriers were essential.  Again, with practice, she improved.  However, the barrier she wished to summon now…?

I believe in you.

That husky baritone rolled through Evie, constantly reminding she was not alone in this anymore.  No more fighting and depending on herself.  Cullen will never leave.  He might not love her, but Maker, she will do anything for him.

Including these two spells.

Light pumped out of Evie.  Her barrier shifted from the typical blue to green, its make more alighted with ice magic than others.  Evie forced the expanding spell twisting between her fingers to be her own.  Her mind and heart shifted the runes and words pouring from her whispering lips into calming sunshine, so distinctive from the grey and black skies lightning and thundering around her.

Then the mage’s hands flew outward, the barrier expanding beyond Cullen and her, shielding almost the entire ship beneath their field.  Cannon boomed in the distance, the Man O’War immediately testing the barrier.  Evie hollered and added a reinforcement before taking a breath.  Cannon balls and chain shot bounced off the shimmering gold barrier like pebbles on a window.  Nothing came through.  The metal ammunition just thumped into the ocean and coral reef.

It won’t last long, Evie confessed, feeling how drained and dizzy from expelling so much mana at once.  She heard the lyrium bottle cork pop behind her.  The blue song called to them both.  She hated Cullen had to drink for her, but it was safer this way.  His addiction grew, driving him that much closer to insanity.  They will have to talk about that after this madness ends.  Maybe after getting to safety she can take a moment and naturally recover.

Pull.  Cullen ordered, his will strong and comforting her whole being.  The spirits responded and transferred the new energy from the man, through his hand touching her bare shoulder behind her, and into the struggling mage.

Forgive me.  Evie whimpered as she envisioned her grimoire where the old powerful spell.  She viewed the runes and arcane circles, her fingers dancing in the air as her body responded to her violin.  She snatched her knight-enchanter hilt beside her in her swaying and dance.  The amber focus stone between her breasts awoke, responding to the burning fire around her.  Smoke, ash, and sparks swirled around her. 

Cullen still did not move.  His callused hand remained on her shoulder and she pumped for mana from his lyrium blood.  Her love trusted her.  She can do this.

More cannon blasts echoed across this ocean in front of them.  Evie ignored them as the spell twirled around her in her prancing and movement.  It was like Cullen and she were dancing soul to soul as she lifted her knight-enchanter flaming sword upward and-

She drove it through the ship to the anchor right below them.  It will anchor her and the spell.  She moved and weaved her arms a little more.  She pointed up at the sky.  Her glowing red eyes targeted the Man O’War coming closer. Its cannons blasted against her cracking barrier.  With the target where she wanted, she parted the skies.  Evie let loose the spell upward, calling forth the heavens to bend to her will.  Her body flashed light and attached to the anchor as she flung her arms downward.  The wrath of the Maker and his Birde fry these sinners!

The hurricane parted.

Hundreds of massive fireballs flew from the open skies like thousands of fire barrels filled with molten rock.

The first struck the enemy ship’s center mast.  The thundering explosion that flowed through the sea.  First, the sea water pulled to the assaulted Man O’War getting repeatedly hit.  Each fireball exploded on impact, igniting the whole deck with fire and brimstone.  The fireball burned through the deck and into the hold beyond her sight.  The sounds of hundreds screaming in agony echoed through the hurricane winds and rains.

The carnage Evie created…she was a monster!

The mage’s mana withered.  Evie stumbled backwards, caught by her lover.  It disgusted her what she could create  as sleep threatened to purge her into the Fade.

“EVE!  Stay with me!”

The seas swelled to their height around the crumbling fire ship.  One fire ball must have struck their powder supply.  The whole ship evaporated on detonation.  Wood, metal, and bits of templars flashed outward.  The swelling water flew outward.

“TIDAL WAVE!”

Evie held onto her Lion, protected and secure in his large muscular arms.  He picked her and began running.  She felt her barrier spell break under the flames and pushing water about to overwhelm.  Cullen’s armor boots hammered against her crumbling ship.

He leaped, holding her close to his branded chest.

Then salt water from behind.  A massive force pushing towards death.  In front of her muddled with seaweed and sand.

Evie could not hold conscious another moment.  If she drowned, Cullen will revive her.  As long as her Lion held her and stood beside her no matter the ugliness her magic demonstrated, Evie will strive to come back from the dead and be with him.  She will do anything for him.

But now…only the sea will determine if they live or die.

Chapter Text

Bann Ian Trevelyan watched the surrounding chaos.  Perched on the highest battlement tower of his great manor, the Trevelyan leader studied what will become a very defining night.  He ordered his guards and multiple networks to secure the manor.  Meanwhile, he personally hid away his son and wife in the panic room where the Promisers will not find them…hopefully. 

However, the bann himself did not move to safety.  Raised to be the House’s bard before his elder brother’s death, Bann Ian still was skilled in combat and prowess.  His soul craved war time to time, especially after so long being a dull bann.  He enjoyed every once in a while taking down a few cultists himself. 

Bann Ian sent his footman to retrieve his armor, a set that has served him constantly like a trusty sidekick.  He dressed in the stormy weather, his swirling eyes watching his daughter’s ship sail towards the horizon where blackness and lightning waited to swallow her whole.  He kitted himself in all his knives and other weapons, creations time tested by Philliam Trevelyan, his uncle.  Yet, his hand never left the top of his ironwood cane, just twisting the pommel just so to hear the clicking to notify the bann that he was ready for his long night.

Bann Ian Trevelyan did not fear death.

…he will die protecting his family, an honor worth for any man who loves his kin.

The bann’s council of guards and spies attempted convincing him to move inside as the winds picked up and the swirling grey sky snuffed out the afternoon sun.  He refused.  Lightning cracked and thunder boomed around him.  Any sensible man would know standing in metal attracted lightning, especially on top of the highest tower on the isle. 

Still, Bann Ian wished to observe his child take her place with her bond as the heir of House Trevelyan’s great crusade against tyranny.  She will soil her sword tonight and take many lives.  The world will discover her deep guarded secrets, her mage blood coursing and casting to protect her home.  That gave the older man pause, but it quickly disappeared.  All of it was necessary.  It was time the world could see what a true mage could be, what a true and beautiful twin flame working together and loving each other could accomplish.

The head of House Trevelyan waved off his naval commander when she suggested he not witness the possible sinking of his daughter’s ship on their daring distraction suicide mission.  His swirling eyes analyzed and dissected the naval battle through the spyglass.  Someone on board thought it smart to ally with a pirate ship and used the Qunari dreadnought to slaughter the Promisers’ fleet.  In his prime, Bann Ian might have had the balls to try such a tactic.  Luckily for those on board, Evie’s ship successfully pulled off the stunt-

-and the hurricane crashed them against the dangerous reefs, ones where Bann Ian witnessed hundreds of lives lost throughout his harsh life.

There was nothing the nobleman could do.  He watched the winds battered the sails and clash massive waves against the hold, tearing the aground frigate to pieces.  All the while, one Man O’War continued its assault, battering the dying ship until they will give up his daughter. 

Someone nearby suggested sending out a party to help rescue their countrymen, but the bann waved off the suggestion.  They did not see the acts of heroism through the spyglass.  Signals from the lighthouse stated they too saw men reaching the shores by the cliffs.  Someone was cutting the bindings on the main mass to slow the wind’s assault.

Then the man fell.

Magic brightened the wreck.

While others around the nobleman conversed about the secret now a light show in the hurricane, Bann Ian smirked, knowing now everyone will see Evie’s potential.  They will see the might Ser Cullen Rutherford housed inside his soul.  The man earned the bann’s respect each moment working as one with his fiery daughter.  Finally, there is hope that tonight might actually end in success and living.

Gasp filled the twisting air around the people gathered around the bann on the tower.  A massive barrier blanketed the entire crumbling ship.  Bann Ian himself held his breath, feeling his daughter’s magic from so far away.  The barrier glowed like a beacon of hope, a dying light in a swallowing black void.

The clouds parted.

The flaming apocalypse fell from the sky through the hurricane and onto an attacking Man O’ War.

The ship exploded within moments of the first fireballs ignited the whole hold.

“Maker…”  Bann Ian whispered to himself, thankful for his beard to cover up his lips from the others hearing.  He never imagined such destructive magic.  For a brief moment, he wondered if he did the right thing back then.  If his daughter could…

His glassy eyes glanced at his family ring.  It glowed and pulsed, sensing magic around him.  It was warm and controlled.  The doubt disappeared.  Since Evie’s magic manifested, he always had a beacon to know where she was and her status.  Artisans recrafted his family ring as a connection to his daughter’s fade connection.  He could feel her around him as her magic grew.  There was nothing different about it, just that calming warmth that pushed away the hurricane’s coarse winds.

Evelyn Tesni Trevelyan did not need a demon or any kind to burn down the world.  All she needs is Cullen at her side.  She was the fire that burned great Andraste, the Bride’s light against all who go against her true teaching.

“Make them fear you both…”  The bann chuckled with a wicked smile.  “Dawn will come…”

“My Lord!”

Bann Ian’s face shifted from his wicked smile to muteness.  One of his scouts faced the northern side of the tower, pointing at the beaches.  The nobleman waltzed over and looked through his spyglass.  The last Man O’ War…

…and his once eldest daughter waiting for the rowboats being lowered.

“Why isn’t the cannons firing?!”  Captain Meurig hissed.

“They are out of range!  The anchored right on the edge of our range.  If we fire, we will hit the Sanctuary!”  Another scout explained from his position.

“We evacuated the Sanctuary.”  Bann Ian snapped.  “They are in the safehouses below ground.  We will rebuild as we always have.  Fire on their rowboats!  None can reach shore.”

“Look!”  The naval commander called while gazing through her spyglass.

“Maker…” Meurig mumbled from his position beside the bann.  “How is the sea calming and rain stopping around the ship!?”

“Patricia.”  Bann Ian remarked with a deep bass voice.  All his people turned to their leader with large eyes.  “The storm will not stop her.  It will slow her men, but not that abomination.”

Bann Ian waved to all his people towards the stairwell.  “Prepare for a ground assault, men and women!  Fire the cannons and fight until your last breath!  For tonight, we will dine with the Maker and kiss the hands of our Beloved Andraste!  Modest in Temper…!”

“Bold in Deed!”

Cullen got Evie rolled on her side as he patted her back.  She was still alive, but not taking a new breath of air now out of the sea and on the small beach riddled with large boulders near the reef.  Around them stood several other sailors from the vessel assessing their injuries, while others slowly climbed up the muddy and sandy embankment up to the main part if the isle.  The rising Walking Sea continued to climb the small beach as the storm surge battered the small rest with massive waves and floating debris from the lost ships.

The knight continued his patting, silently coaxing his bond to release the water in her lungs and revive herself.  He did not know what to do as he listened to her violin soften the longer nothing happened.  Cullen frantically watched other sailors saving their kinsmen from the surf, some putting their fingers down their throats.  Most crew member would vomit and gasp for air afterwards.

Cullen did not like the idea, but he was out of time.  He did not have force magic like the lifeless woman beneath him.  Evie explained over their last few days lying in bed how she saved him from the seas.  She thought him dead for how long it took for him to even take a breath.  She hypothesized one of his broken ribs could have been caused by her force spells trying to work his diaphragm again.

Definitely when this was all over, Cullen will study all form of naval activities just to prepared for the next time.  He learned after these months on the isle there will always be a next time.  No matter the precautions, there will always be another ship shattered by hurricanes and demons that searched for his Lady to possess while killing him.

Maker, the idea that another Kinloch Hold might occur made him want to vomit!

On the Chantry and Templar Order’s current track…it will.

Fingers deep down Evie’s throat, the templar paddled harder against her mid-back, praying under his breath for any feeling that water will touch his fingertips.  He knew she was very weak after two of the most massive spells he has ever witness.  Creation magic was not her strong school of magic, so it made sense the mage laid drained with that ship-wide barrier.  The firestorm spell that pommeled and exploded the Man O’War though…

No, Cullen felt Evie in control the entire time.  He heard her worries that she would not perform it right.  It was a spell meant when there was no other choice.  She never attempted it and hated herself right afterwards for the destruction her magic reaped on all those people on board.  Yes, her fade connection was so thin afterwards, thus why she could barely hold herself up, but it was her conscience and disgust with herself that knocked her unconscious.

“You are not a monster.  You are my soulmate bond.  If you are a monster—a troll—then I am that man in your silly shanty tale that fell for you.”  Cullen whispered, not even realizing what he said.  The words just fell from his lips, his panic and prayers continuing.  His heart bled the statement, but his head never connected the realization.

All that mattered at that moment was Eve.  Cullen’s universe encircled this beautiful woman who laid so still and silent as a minute passed by.  If she died just as she had saved him in the beginning, nothing could stop the carnage he will inflict upon Patricia and her revolting allies.  The cults will fear him by the end of the night when he slit their throats and sends one survivor to warn those still beyond the isle he was coming for them and serve justice.

The templar’s mind went to a very dark place, one that he lingered before arriving on this island, but instead of blaming mages for his pain, it will be the ‘good’ people of the Chantry.  He will-

Evie jolted and spat sea water all over Cullen’s hand as she rolled onto her stomach.  She sat up on her hands and knees and purged all over the beach.  More water and stomach acid mixed with the rising seas rolling up the beach towards their small sanctuary.

“Get moving, Boy!”  Hemmingway called from the cliffs above.  “The surge is coming in fast!”

Cullen shook all his evil plans away while soul-uplifting relief to seeing a lethargic Evie stumbled on her hands and knees.  The knight did not think twice, throwing one arm over his neck and lifted the woman enough she could step with help up the high incline in front of them.  Her head flopped around as unconsciousness threatened to take her back into the Fade.

“You got to stay with me, Eve…”  Cullen grunted as they reached the cliff rock and started their climb up.  “I can’t climb these and carry you at the same time.”

“….You…”  His Lady puked again up the incline before trying to pull herself along with Cullen.  “…did you put your fingers down…my throat…?”  She leaned on him again as she reached for her neck.

“I saw the other sailors and…”

Even soaked to the bone and half-conscious, that mischievous inferno mage smirked and winked at her Lion.  “I don’t have a gag reflex…that doesn’t work on me.”  She sassed before coughing again.

Cullen threw her a look after reaching mid-way up the embankment.  “Wha…?!”

Evie patted his shoulder before barely crawling up on her own.  “Something for you to look forward to if you’re ever interested…”

Cullen just stood on a boulder, mouth gapping as his bond climbed up a little more before Hemmingway shimmed down to assist her the rest of the way.  She wobbled on her feet, relying on the Rivaini man to walk her to safe ground.  Meanwhile, Cullen just let his mind flow back to the dream interrupted by the Rising Phoenix’s arrival and how Evie’s lips looked around…

In a nasty whirling hurricane with cultists trying to kill them all with blood magic, Cullen could not help but feel himself stiffen and envision what those lips could do with a little problem on him…

Snap out of it, Rutherford!

Cullen shook his head and quickly climbed up the remaining cliffs.  Once at the top he stumbled, then flung himself on the soaked grass, panting both at the climb and what his mind conjured like a wicked fiend.  Nearby, he could hear Evie’s sassy giggles as she laid on the grass too.  She took deep breaths now, but her body trembled from being so cold and exhausted.

BOOM!

Cullen rolled in such a way to use his body and templar shield to protect Evie, while reaching for his longsword.  The mage grasped his offered arm, feeling her attempts to pull from his depleted lyrium reserves.  The sailors, Hemmingway, and the wounded Knotts all looked up the isle to see explosions from the manor fortress at tall sails along the north isle.

“Manor cannons…”  Cullen called to Hemminway, who was protecting his own false bond lying in the grass.

“They’re out of range…”  The Rivaini brute commented as crewmen rushed towards the tree line for anything they use for the wounded and get everyone to a safe house.  “They must be aimed at something closer or acting as a distraction.”

“Those sails…”  Cullen pointed over the tree line.  “The last Man O’War!”

“Patricia’s…ship…”  Evie whimpered as her shaking intensified.  “I feel her ripple through the Fade…blackness…”

“But she isn’t a mage.  How…?”  Cullen questioned with a scrunched brow.

“She was trained as a templar before she got demonified.”  Hemmingway explained with a grunt.  “Her mother’s family and that damn Lucille thought it best that Evie have a counter-measure even if she already had a soulmate bond.  One reason Patricia fell for the demonic possession was that she was so drugged up on lyrium she did not understand what was happening to her when made tranquil.  They poured lyrium down her throat when the demon broke the tranquility.”

 “So you feel both the demon and her lyrium-crazed mind…”  Cullen assumed, holding Evie closed to his warm body.  His bond felt like ice against his skin.  She needed to rest and sleep.  However, if Patricia was about to make landfall, there was no time.  “You feel the lyrium through the Fade along with the Formless One.”

“She keeps drinking…because the demon is using magic to…”  Evie could not finish the sentence.  Instead, she pointed to the calm clouds above the ship offshore and the peaceful weather.

“We got to get you back to the manor…”  Cullen concluded, not liking what he was learning.  A templar that could cast demonic magic…Maker.

“Get going!  Matthias and I will get the crew to a safe place before the full storm hits!”  Hemmingway retorted, pointing to the forest that separated Cullen from the manor over a league away.  “I wish you could come with us too, but the Girl is like a signal light to those moth idiot templars.  They’ll be seeking her like morons.  The only place safe for her now is the manor.”

“How long before the storm reaches the isle?”

“Not long enough!”  Hemmingway groaned, panting Cullen on the shoulder.  “So get going!”

Cullen went to lift Evie so she could save her energy.  Before the templar picked up the maiden’s legs, a skinny pale hand grabbed his wrists.  The templar glanced down to see Knotts’ glowing eyes.  He dragged himself to their position with just his arms.  His legs just looked like weights on his hips.

“Cul…len…”  The city elf croaked with his damaged larynx.  Cullen froze, knowing any words this man spoke could create twisted bonds.

“It’s Cole.”  Hemmingway whispered with huge eyes.  “Not Knotts.”

The city elf reached up with his other hand, placing one of his throwing knives in Cullen’s palm.  With all remaining energy left in the wounded and possessed man, Cullen heard something that made his blood run cold.  “Remember her words… Always be prepared for anything.  Always be armed.  When the…”  The city elf then lost consciousness, too drained from trying to speak and nearly dying in the wreck.

The reminder rolled through Cullen as he slipped the throwing knife into the hidden boot scabbard.  He lost his dagger when the sail broke free from the mast.  That throwing knife, the same that Cullen feared being thrown into his back more times than he would like to admit, was a replacement.  How did Knotts—this Cole—know about his personal motto?! How-

Evie stirred in Cullen’s other arm.  No, he could not think of all that right now.  What mattered now was getting Evie to safety to rest.  They needed their armor and other weapons in the manor.  That was his mission, his vow.

Evie awoke at random intervals, her eyes immediately drenched in cold hurricane rain dripping through the forest canopy.  She would attempt to stiffen her back to move on her own, but the mage was completely drained.  Her mana pool was critical.  If she was wearing her armor, its enchantments would support her thin Fade connection.  In her thin ruffled tunic, sailing pants, boots, and undergarments, nothing on her person could assist properly and safely.  The amber foci stone around her neck sitting beside Cullen’s lucky coin even felt out of energy.  It barely muddle her Fade connection.  Any templar within a hundred yards could sense her low magic.

When consciousness allowed her to realize she was being carried, Evie lifted her dull brown eyes to Cullen, panting heavily through the isle’s forest.  She could feel he too exhausted, the trials of the last few days—Maker, months—wore on his body just as her disgusting spells inflamed that massive ship.  Her mind barely comprehended that he might find her revolting for what she conducted with her magic. 

Instead, the maiden’s entire world relished the feeling of his warm body even if he too soaked to the bone.  If she was freezing water, he was a roaring forge, pumping with heat and keeping her from turning into an ice block.  It felt weird feeling so cold while being an inferno mage.  If circumstances were different, all she would need to do would send a warming spell through herself and she would be toasty warm.  Alas, one spell might do everlasting damage so critically low on mana.  The spirits struggled to hold her connection like two children griping a tattered rope.  When she fell unconscious again, the spirits could not stand by her.  They could not protect her weak form in the Fade.

Maker, what she created over that Man O’ War will definitely bring hundreds of demons from across the Fade.  She must stay awake.  Evie was too much of a tasty meal for the Fade creatures crawling towards her.  Che could hear the whispers to cut open her wrists and call them forth.  However, the more she kept from properly resting, the more the twine unwound on that tattered rope between Cullen, the spirit halves, and her.

Evie jolted, her droopy eyes glancing up at Cullen’s panicked face as he searched the woods.  He never looked so thrown and frightened in real life.  During the desire demon fight, yes, he displayed fear when it attempted to change the dreamscape to Kinloch Hold, but he resisted. 

This was different.

“What is that…dread!?”  Cullen panted, pulling Evie close to his body.

Evie pulled on her weak fade connection.  Instantly, darkness warped the dream world like spilled ink pot.  Her head rolled to Cullen’s left.  She made a squeak, but it was too late-

A massive force flung Cullen, causing the templar to lose grip on his bond.  He rolled away, grasping his longsword.  Evie hit the ground hard, the air knocked out of her lungs.  She gasped, begging her battered lungs to work again.  “…ru…nn…!”

Again, the force rippled through the woods, bending the trees like its own hurricane.  Many trunks uprooted and nearly blocked Cullen and Evie from one another.  Cullen jumped over one, grabbed Evie’s flailing hand, and took off running.  Evie stumbled to her boots, her diaphragm struggling to take a breath.  Adrenaline pumped through her terrorized body.  Her heart thumped in her throat as the blackness around her Fade connection reached and failed to capture her.  Any tiredness slipped away as her flight-or-fight reaction controlled her fragile body.

“Go!  Go!  Go!”  Cullen hollered as they thundered through the forest undergrowth.  Evie took a moment to glance over her shoulder.  The trees looked like they were being sucked into a black hole, leaning towards the blackness they had just escaped.  Evie could not see her, but her possessed sister was close behind.

“She feels me…”  Evie huffed and panted in the sprinting.  They reached an open meadow, one she recognized near the Sanctuary.  “I can’t muddle my signature-“

Silence!

Evie flopped forward as a two enemy templars shield bashed Cullen over Evie’s fallen body and into the clearing.  Both bonds tumbled down a slight hill.  Soaking flooded soil muddy the pair rolled by until Cullen slid on his boots in a sinking crater area.  The pouring rain saturated the ground .  The hurricane was near.  They were the middle of a clearing where they could be easily hit with lightning!

Luckily, Mother Nature likely will turn to the fully steel armed templars thundering towards them. 

Evie attempted to reach for her Fade connection.  She instantly screamed.  The stripped rope broke.  She could not hear her violin or Cullen’s piano.  That was right, she was silenced.  However, unlike Cullen’s silence last month, the pain was not as severe.  Still, he screamed pain of the halves searched for each other frantically.  However, Cullen’s grip on her arm kept their physical connection, so he held the worst at bay.

Cullen pulled up his pant leg, exposing his wet skin.  “Evie, grab onto me!”  The mage felt his arm leave her.  She shuffled in the mud for the reconnection.

In half a beat, Cullen grabbed his templar shield from his back and blocked a halberd aimed for his head.  He stabbed through the templar heavy warrior in the neck, while bashing his shield into a rogue aiming for Evie.  The man began and ended each battle in a second, a true example of how all sword fighting actually was, not like sparring and drawn out.  Blood from their enemies flew and soaked the ground.  The rainwater slowly turned red.  Evie could only watch as a fighting templar took swipes at him and just nicked his arms and shoulders.  One rogue cut his thigh open, but the Fereldan bond just hollered like a barbarian and sliced off the rogue’s head.

Still, the constant battle just called more templars to their exposed position.  Evie searched for her fade connection, feeling the air ionizing around them.  The hurricane threatened the location.  The winds battered the bending and root-exposed trees around them.  Leaves whipped around and smacked their battered and sunken faces.  Cullen moved and weaved around his bond, who gripping his exposed leg to keep their physical connection.

Evie struggled with her remaining strength to even attempt retrieving her gallowglass sword on her hip.  Her dirk swiped the air at imposing templars.  She kicked and hollered in the mud; the adrenaline keeping her conscious when her whole body just wanted to roll over and sleep.  She summoned one pommel barrier when a few arrows cut through the sheets of rain and nearly hit Cullen’s exposed back.

Maker, please!  Help!

A violin.

Evie screamed, pulling on the ionizing air.  She did not summon a spell, but it was enough.  “Cullen!”

Cullen felt her instincts right then.  He finished his thrust into a shadow rogue templar, hollered like an Avaar and summoned a Wrath of Heaven.  All the templars flew backwards like small rocks, showing Cullen was not like the templars attacking them.  He was stronger, more powerful, and furious!

A massive lightning strike hit the high tree on the clearing edge, encouraged my Evie’s collected ionized air.  Electricity rolled through the ground, air, and water.  The soaked ground with massive puddles arced the lightning, frying the fully armored enemy knights.  Cullen made sure no metal touched the ground as the Wrath of Heavens blocked any magical and electrical connection.

However, a new threat occurred.  The struck tree broke in the middle.  Its impact on the ground shifted the soggy ground.  It crushed several templars on impact, but Evie felt the ground crumble beneath her.  Her geology studies rolled through her weak mind.

Sinkhole!

Cullen felt the instinct, grasping the falling tree’s branches close to his position.  The ground under Evie fell away, opening to blackness.  She heard the sea battering the bedrock below.  She gripped Cullen’s legs, never breaking her physical contact with her bond even if the silence was wearing off.

Promisers templars rolled and fell down the sinkhole as others not impacted by the lightning raced to safety.  Cullen grip on the branches struggled under the weight of two people.  Before he could attempt to bring Evie beside him, the branch snapped in two, the combined weight too much for the smoking branches.  Evie felt the fear and panic roll through her bond as they began free falling.

All Evie could do was let gravity take hold.  She heard the enemy templars’ screams hitting boulders and ledges in the sinkhole.  She allowed her faith and love flow, prepared for the end.  Maybe the Maker will forgive her and allow her into the heavens with Cullen.

Alas, her heart gasped as the bond instinct rippled a message.  Her whole being stared at the man falling above her.  She knew she would die, but that fear overwrote what she kept hearing from Cullen.  Her heart both doubted and soared knowing this emotion pulsing from her Lion, even if death was inevitable.

Chapter Text

How were they alive?

How did they survive yet another event that would likely kill any other…again?

Evie coughed and struggled to grasp the bedrock edge as the cave’s lake lapped and rolled like the sea’s surges outside.  She tugged on the silverite chain stuck under her soaked tunic.  At its end was his lucky coin and her focus stone so bled dry from overuse it looked black.  “Well, we are blessed by your lucky coin.”

Cullen did not even register in his slow climbing onto the rocky cave shelf he actually spoke those questions aloud…or possibly in his brain to his bond.  He was just so exhausted and cold to even realize his modes of communications now.  Instead, he rolled onto his behind and assisted Evie out of the rolling surf in the cave.  Once his Lady sat down beside him, they both just panted and leaned against one another.

“…after all of this, we are taking a very long vacation…”  Evie swore to her bond, her breath now cold against his shoulder.  Her auburn waves stuck to his skin, stringy and knotted from the multiple times in the sea and running.

Cullen’s amber eyes adjusted to the cave’s darkness, barely noticing where the pouring rain fell through the sinkhole high above.  Even falling into water, the impact should have at least broken a few bones.  Alas, Cullen only felt the few gashes from templar blades against his back, thigh, and arms.  Meanwhile, Evie was just bruised and worn out, not impact by any transferred wounds through their unique bond.

How…?

The knight’s whiskey gaze caught flickering metal on another ledge across from the seated pair and higher up the opened chasm.  Cullen winced, seeing the spattered remains of several enemy templars who did not fall into the water.  Their armor molded to their gory bodies.  The knights that reached the rolling surf slowly sank into the black underwater cave, their heavy armor reflecting the little light given off by florescent sea creatures in the cave’s reef.  Their faces deformed in fright, likely dying of broken bones and drowning like a wrought iron anchor.

How did Evie and Cullen live?!

Hope’s distance pull on his being responded to the question.  The spirit half worked in tandem with Purpose.  Both did not feel as strong as before like they too expelled so much in the multiple battles.  Did they have something to do with shielding them?  Did they act as they did when Cullen descended the Abyss to save Evie?  How did that make him feel?

Muffled calls from high above and out of sight demonstrated that other adversaries searched the murky water for signs of their queries.  Some hollering echoed the need to find shelter as the hurricane fully descended on the isle above.  Here, so deep underground, only the wind’s howling and soft thumping of fast rainfall rumbled off the bedrock.

“We need to get moving…”  Cullen groaned with a whisper.  He slowly lifted himself off the ledge.  By now, the cave’s pool rose over the rock edge and started soaking their rumps while sitting there.  “They might not see us, but they know we still live somehow.”  He glanced around in the darkness, uneasy by the lack of options provided at the moment.  Thank the Maker Cullen still had his shield and sword after the fall.  The straps kept the armaments on his person even if they weighed him down.  “I hope there is a way out.”

Evie climbed to her feet and backed away from the sinkhole.  “We better stay underground for a while.  The hurricane is here, and those winds can rip us apart.”  Once enough away, she summoned a magelight, nearly collapsing again using her magic after being so drained and silenced.  She used the light ball to study the rising water cave.  “I recognize this place.  If the surge was gone, we would be on a high ledge above where my smuggling ancestors rowed supplies in from hidden ships back in the day.”  She moved the magelight to the left.  Along the wall, stairs and a tight path carved out of the coral bedrock.  “This leads to an old supply cache high enough that flooding will be minimal.  We can wait there and rest until the hurricane simmers down.”

“Is there a connection to the manor?”  Cullen asked, hopefully there was an underground route to avoid more enemies.

“Unfortunately, no.”  Evie replied, entering the tight path first.  “After the Trevelyans became nobles, we did not want a way into the manor that our adversaries could use.  There is an escape route out, but none going in.  To get to the estate, we will have to go above ground.  There used to be an above-ground exit, but I would advise not to use it in this weather right now.  We’re down here for a few bells.”  Her brown eyes glanced upward like in prayer.   “Maker, I hope Hemmingway got the crew and knots to a safe house in time.”  She began the slow descent up the rock staircase.

“The man’s determined.”  Cullen assured her with a smile when she turned back to him.  “We led the templars away from them.  If that safe house was close, they are okay, Eve.”  The mage smiled at him in that way that made Cullen melt into a puddle.  Her body trembled from the cold and fatigue, but still she shared that beautiful sight so freely to him.

Maker, Cullen loved her.

The templar froze, his hand gripping the tight walls as he stumbled up the slick steps in shock.  Evie eyed him for a second, confusion written across those heightened facial features.  Cullen waved her off, trying to keep his internal panic close to him and out of their bond.  The panic was not at the realization, but more that how freeing admitting it to himself.  It felt like it had been burning there, ignored and pushed aside for lifetimes.  He knew it was not the spirits’ influence or bonded attraction, but something specific to him.  The newfound emotion felt like solidifying super glue on fragmented bits finally securing his heart, body, mind, and soul into one man for the very first time.

To avoid the mage’s quizzical expressions further, Cullen started climbing again.  When Evie stated that Cullen loved Maya, he scoffed at the idea.  Yes, he was infatuated with the Circle mage.  Even on reflection, a part of him jumped for joy for her admission that at one time she felt the same for him. 

Alas, both people did not know what they had was not love until actually falling for Leliana and Evie respectfully.  Cullen wondered if that was why Maya was so broken when she discovered him.  Did she realize that her emotions for Cullen were nothing compared with what she achieved with Leliana in those events between leaving him in his purple cage and smacking him out of idiocy in the vestibule?

Now, finally admitting to himself that he loved Evie, Cullen knew he scuffed because deep down he recognized true love and devotion just being in Evie’s company within a few moments of meeting.  Maker, this feeling deep inside him went beyond that meeting.  It reminded him of times his childhood self laid smiling and enjoying the sun on his fair face beside his lake feeling as a majestic melody rolled through him.  He remembered humming and adding lyrics to the tune no one ever heard.  During such times, there was this feeling of deepest peace and love he wanted to bathe and live with for all his life.  He thought at the time it was the Maker smiling at him for his choices to become a templar like a sign he was doing the Bride’s bidding. 

Now, wiser to the world and his relationship with the woman struggling in front of him, Cullen knew she too shared in that bliss and relished in its implications.  Evie admitted to Cullen she loved him even before meeting in person because she knew him through each other and their dreams.  Meeting and being in each other’s company just heighten that eternal peace and love to bridge the Fade, their hearts, and physical world in one place.

Maker, he was such a fool!

Cullen mentally slapped his forehead.  He told his soulmate—his Lady who balanced him so perfectly—that he did not feel the same way in the library when she confessed her love so passionately.  He knew a part of him deep inside his being hollered and screamed he was lying.  The seer called him out on his deception to himself and her in that strange letter knowing over a decade before he would act so silly.  He kept denying this cherished and desired realization and only caused the woman he loved so much heartache and torture. 

Evie allowed him to touch her body and share in her loves even knowing Cullen did not share in her feelings.  Even now, Cullen could feel Evie’s sorrow through their bond, but she was content in what Cullen had admitted since her confession.  She truly believed Cullen will never love her.  This angelic maiden believed her body so disgusting, her sins fighting Desire too scarring, and that if she did not exist in his life, he would never be cold and running for his life while her sister wished to harm them both.

Maker, Evie, you are so wrong!  Even if it was the end of the world, then I would want to spend it with you!

Cullen already spent too much time in denial.  No more can he lie to himself and the woman who saved and loved him.  He will not spend another moment in such ways.

“Ah, here is the cache room.”  Evie explained as her magelight grew and illuminated the larger space.  Another carved hallway continued beyond the shelved room, but will probably lead out and into the hurricane.  “We can stay here for a while.”

The room containe with rotten old goods, armor, and other once treasures.  Some extra worn armor littered the shelves.  They could use it before they leave this secret sanctuary, barriers against the Promisers searching for them.  Evie’s past relatives had left many items laid on shelves covered in cobwebs and dust.  Some chests off the waterlogged floor looked newer and more promising to contain needed supplies and gear. 

Jutting out from the wall was a massive desk that resembled a small square dining table made of a huge tree trunk.  They probably had used it for filing, large meetings, and other gatherings back in the day.  It was the only furniture not molded in the inch-tall water.  Very little debris covered the surface.  However, a thick layer of dust disguised the pitted old surface.

“Help me search for some wood and tinder.  We can make a fire so we can dry a little and stay warm.”  Evie requested, already grabbing some old torches and ripping cloth from a decayed and moth-holed sheet lying over a few dilapidated chests.  Searching the shelves, she located some whale blubber and tallow to dip the strips to keep them burning for longer.

Cullen just grunted, collecting and breaking broken chairs and drawers for their fire.  He grabbed non-flammable objects like a metal tall cylinder and large rocks to act as a fire pit.  He lifted the whole assembly out of the water before constructing a fireplace on top and along the sides.  Cullen used the room’s bedrock wall as a back support, knowing the rock will heat quickly and bounce warmth towards them if they sat on the large table’s one side.  Alas, that would mean their backs were to the stairs and path, a security risk.  However, from the howling echoing from high above, no one would be alive in the hurricane’s massive winds to even find their little sanctuary and potentially assassinate the pair for a while.

After a few moments and Cullen chuckling at Evie’s cursing about spiders and cobwebs, the pair hopped up onto the desk in front of the sparked fire.  The torches hung off rusty sconces along the wall, bathing both individuals in a warm orange and yellow light.  For the first time since that early afternoon that felt like an eternity ago, Cullen started feeling Evie and he were warm and safe.

So while did he felt so antsy and restless?!

“Take off your tunic.”

The knight threw his bond, a shocked expression of both aroused and bashful at the same time.  Then his surprise shifted to disappointment.  In Evie’s hands was a medical kit that look fresher than other items in the room.  She just blinked at him, pulling out a needle and thread.

“You will warm up more if you take off your tunic at least and let it hang up somewhere near a torch or fire pit.”  The mage explained in that ‘don’t fight me on this’ lilt.  “I also know you have several cuts.  Based on the condition of this kit, I think I can sew you up and wrap the wounds.  The sea water must be a burning like a bitch right now.”

Cullen chuckled, grasping the tunic’s seams to pull it over his head.  With her remark, each blade slash hissed from all the sand and salt water agitating the wounds.  He had been oblivious to the pain.  His entire world kept revisiting his stupidity about lying to Evie and denying his true emotions.   “I could say the same to you.  You would do well hanging some of your clothing up too.”

Evie blushed in the firelight, hanging her head.  She only hummed once as she ringed her hair out and attempted to comb the strains of debris and knots.  Her brown eyes glanced at Cullen every so often as he strung a short rope near the fire and hung up his tunic.  He sat down on the desk corner and took off his boots and socks.  The knight’s feet were so waterlogged his skin nearly fell off his foot removing his wool socks.  He placed his socks on the laundry line and his boots openings directed towards the fire.

With a hand wave, Cullen waited for Evie to do the same.  She was slow and shy with her movements.  She handed him her naval boots and knee-high socks for the laundry line.  She lost her naval coat when she prepared her firestorm, so only her torn open ruffle tunic and breast bodice remained.  Cullen could see she struggled with her fatigue to pull the soaked garment over her head, deciding it was safe to help her.  Still, her shyness rippled through their bond about Cullen seeing her body, especially after Desire’s demonic attacks. 

“I need to remove bandages…they are doing more harm than good.”  Evie lamented to the wraps still shielding her demonic wounds.  Before Cullen could protest, she continued.  “There is sand and junk down in them.  The wounds are completely sealed, but the silt is rubbing the sensitive new and thin skin.

The templar nodded, withdrawing Knott’s throwing knife from his boot.  He cut the upper bandage ties so they could be unwrapped and removed.  With her tunic, Evie rubbed away the debris that redden her skin.  Still, her upper bodice covered her chest.  Thankfully, her wounds were closed and just pink.  A part of Cullen wished there was enough gauze in that medical kit to re-wrap her just so she could be warmer and better protected from possible infection.  Somehow, Cullen contained the nagging whine to undo the bodice undergarment and admire her perfectly sized breasts.  No, he had no right.

The mage’s de-robing did not stop though.  Her tight pants stuck to her skin and inhibited how much warmth rejuvenated her.  Her hesitancy increased as she undid her gallowglass belt and empty knight-enchanter scabbard.  Gooseflesh puckered her bare skin like Cullen’s dilated pupils caressed her chilled skin without touching her.  She apparently forgot she showed him her body just days ago.  Cullen attributed it to circumstances and her disgust for herself.

“I wish I could just send a heating spell through us…”  The maiden admitted, while Cullen hung her pants on the clothing line.  Evie pulled her legs to her chest, shivering in a tight ball from both being wet and so openly exposed.  Her side-tie smalls barely covered her behind and groin from his wandering whiskey orbs.  His thoughts lingered to that area a little too long.  He scolded himself and sat back down.  “If I hadn’t…massacred that ship…”

Ah, that was what really bothering her.

“You saved us, Eve.”  Cullen highlighted, hopping back up on the desk. 

The templar still wore his pants just to disguise his hardening erection, seeing the woman he loved so bare and beautiful beside him.  He leaned towards her, minding the blood oozing from his blade wounds.  He did not want to hold her in fear he might be overstepping a boundary, but hoped with their combined body heat she will warm faster.  The lack of lyrium remaining in his blood induced the beginning fevers of withdrawal.  It was not as bad as usual since his soul kept kicking him in the balls for being such an oblivious love-sick fool for so long. 

“You even told yourself there was no other choice.  Yes, you showed the Promisers your greatest abilities, but you saved everyone on this isle from potentially double the number of enemies invading.  Just think, that number could have found the villagers or your crew in the safe houses.  Instead, they are only the third of the size of what they sent out.”

“It might not enough…we don’t know what is going on…where Patricia is.”  Evie doubted exhaling deeply.  She squeezed her dull deep chocolate brown eyes shut.  Her slender body fell against Cullen as tears threatened to break through her waning resolve.  “I’m so tired…”  She was not meaning her physical exhaustion.  This all has been non-stop for months…years.

Cullen risked putting his arm around this majestic beauty, kissing the top of her head.  His nose breathed the last vestiges of clove and oranges from her soap.  Now, sea salt stripped the shine from the auburn strains.  “We all are.  It’s true we don’t know what is going on, but think about your family wondering about our location in this hurricane.  If I was your father and our daughter was stuck out in this massive storm, I would be beside myself.”

Evie’s chocolate brown eyes flashed up at his haloed face, shocked and confused.  “Our daughter…?”

Cullen thought back what he said.  Oops.  He didn’t even register it.  Great, juvenile vomit mouth was back in full force.  The knight hoped his stuttering fool days ended the few days after meeting Evie.  He rubbed his tense neck in that embarrassing way.  “J-just t-t-trying to g-g-g-give you an alternative p-prospective.”  Nope, welcome back at the worst possible moment, lil laughing-stock Rutherford.

His Lady watched him for a few moments.  The templar felt her poking at the block he placed around his most recent realization before giving up and exhaling.  “I suppose…”  Evie leaned away from Cullen’s shoulder, her warmth leaving his chilled skin instantly.  He yearned for her silky skin against his fingertips and body. 

His enchanting bond touched her temple.  A bit of blood from an arm wound trickled down her face.  Her fingertips dabbed the blood and analyzed it, then his arm.  “I wish I had enough magic to heal you…I better clean those and bandage them at least.”

“You don’t need to…”  Cullen soothed her, but the maiden already turned to her first aid kit for the needed supplies.  “One good thing about that silence is these did not transfer to you during the Fade disconnection.”

“Please…You protected me from the templars…You let me hang off you after that silence.”  Her brown eyes locked on him with soften spheres.  He could see unshed tears right behind their begging.  “I need to know that at least you are okay.”

Cullen could not argue with that, offering his chest, arms, and back to her care.  “Of course, Milady.”  Evie blushed from the enduring man before setting to work.

“I am no lady.  You know that.”  Evie hummed, threading a needle before burning the tip in the fire.  “That’s my mother.”

Cullen corrected her.  “You are my Lady, more than a noble title, but a very noble person.”

Again, those sparkling chocolate orbs flashed to his pale face.  She said nothing, just watched his face.  She thought of something, but before Cullen could listen through their bond, Evie shook it away and continued her triage.

An uneasy silence hung in the air as Evie tended to each wound and Cullen stayed as still as possible.  The hurricane above and its tree-bending winds howled through the earth, giving the only constant tones.  Every so often, the fire crackled and snapped, especially when Evie added another butchered chair leg or driftwood piece to keep it going. 

The storeroom filled with heat and slowly dried their damp hair and hanging clothes.  Cullen’s hair twisted into its tight curls.  Evie’s frizzy waves looked wind swept like she had been lounging on a beach all day.  His attention focused on the brown and rusty red hair strains to not an involuntary move and touch her while she tended to each cut.  The urge to hold her and kiss her woes away left him panting every so often.

In her search for other necessary supplies, Evie discovered some dried meat labeled from last year, an age bottle of Nevarran rotgut vodka, a rare Storm Age Grey Warden wine, and a semi-clean feather down blanket.  The blanket laid over the desk to soften the bite from the wood digging into their behinds the longer they sat there.  Cullen chewed through the jerky and sipped the warden wine as Evie continued her work.  Once the mage finished with a gash, Cullen shared his cup with her just to force her to sit and relax her freezing fingers before beginning again.  Even so often, she dabbed the slashes with the vodka to clean the wounds of salt and grime.  She hissed through their bond involuntarily her worry of infection or not tying the sutures right.  The mage was mindful of her actions, asking with a grunt or through their bond if she was hurting him.  No, nothing this maiden could do compared with the idiocy of her Lion’s own failings.

The knight’s mind just wondered around and around, afraid to speak because his skittish blurting was so strong that he might revert to his adolescent self hiding from women in the academy privy.  Instead, Cullen stewed and dissected how to right the wrongs he had done.  Even as Evie directed Cullen to remove at least one pant leg to study and tend to his thigh wound, he kept willing away the hardening erection seeing Evie’s flexing muscles and her breasts bounced in her strapped bodice.  He focused instead on the alcohol burning the salt and infection in his wounds and her freezing fingers grazing his flushed skin as she wrapped each stab and sutured ailment.

How can Cullen tell her he never wanted to part from her ever again?  How can he admit when he stated ‘their daughter’ earlier he actually meant he wanted to have children with her?  He prayed for a daughter first with Evie’s brown hair and red highlights that illuminated with each fire spark.  He begged the Maker that child will inherit her fainted freckles across those same noses and cheekbones. 

Could the templar admit his erection would not go away because his new-realized love burnt so deep and raw he had little to no restraint?  The templar wanted all of her, but would wait millennia for Evie.  How about how Cullen wanted to kneel on his hands and knees and beg for her forgiveness for lying to her so many times?  He could vow that every sentence that leaves his lips will be ‘I love you’ or ‘I am in love with you.’  They were easy to state right then.  To not correct her resigned content with absolute joy now was a crime against the Maker, Andraste, and everything that Cullen lived and breathed!

So, say it, Rutherford!

Cullen’s scarred lips opened, his amber eyes glassing while watching Evie bite the thread and completed wrapping the last bandage around his thigh.  His heart thumped like an earthquake against his ribcage.  No other experience in his twentyone years was this terrifying and exciting.

“Marry me.”

Evie’s chocolate brown eyes flashed up at him, her lips gapping like a fish.  “What…?!”

Cullen’s brain caught up with his spoken words.  Internally, he fell over and cursed the heavens.  His damn vomit mouth!

“I mean I love you, Eve.”  Cullen continued in a rush and stumbling over his words.  He only received even wider eyes. 

The barely clothed woman stood up from her kneeling position from operating on his leg.  Her back was to the fire, haloing her curvy frame in flames and orange light like a phoenix rising from the world’s ashes.  Still even in shadow, Evie’s saucer-wide irises twinkled and swirled at the declaration. 

Cullen clarified again.  “I’m in love with you.”

A few seconds passed in complete sentence sans the howling winds from a world not in that small room.  Evie stayed standing in front of him in her smalls and bodice, her mouth open and her eyes huge as the words replayed in her mind.  Cullen released his former masked feelings through the bond.  Evie did not poke to see if he really meant the words, but the knight felt it right to be open completely with her as she been with him so many times.  He could actually see the bond’s feelings reaching her as her face quaked a moment before muting in shock again.

Then disappointment rolled back to him.  Evie covered herself with her trembling hands and mumbled.  “Cullen, you don’t have to…pretend to…like me.  I understand and accept whatever you may give.  I don’t want you to think you have to act just because of this whole mess or to support me.  Really.  I would rather you be honest with yourself than…”  She allowed her words to fade away.

Maker, she thought I was still jesting her, Cullen thought, tears threatening to spill from both bonds’ shocked spheres.  He created that mindset; Evie’s self-loathing and fear of rejection so strong to not accept the potential happiness.  He searched his emotions to make sure his bond connection had presented the truth and not confirmed her worst attitudes. 

No, that peace and love Cullen felt solidifying him was the same.  He attempted to strengthen it to show her she had it all wrong, but her face just remained guilty and ashamed that she believed she pushed him to act his way through everything with Desire and Patricia.  Maker, it all mounted:  the rising level of guilt rolling through her, all these negative thoughts about her scarred body, her causing all his pain, and creating this forced relationship.

Then it hit Cullen.

Cullen grasped one of her frigid hands hanging lifelessly to her side, while the other attempted to shield the demonic scar peeking from under her bodice.  He lifted her hand to his chest, resting it on the red and gold lyrium brand warm and calm right over his heart.  “I know you think it is an act, but feel my declaration through my heart.  I know you feel through my bond it is just what has always been there, thus it must be a lie.  However, that is the point.  I have always loved you…just did not allow myself to until now.  This constant feeling you have grown use to from me has been me and my love since I was a little boy.”

A single tear rolled down Evie’s cheek as she refused to blink.

Cullen continued.  He must correct these wrongs for her to feel what Evie means to him.  “A prime example is that night after you nearly drowned in the bay, and I had my fit when I was eleven.  Like I said, my parents refused to let me out of bed.  That night, I was restless and could not comprehend why all of that happened.  So, I did the only thing I knew:  I prayed.  I prayed for answers and to help bring back the peace that rolled through me every moment sitting by my lake.  I request the Maker to shine down on me with his sunny rays that warmed my soul.  I chanted to Andraste to play her melodies so I may sing along as I did with my heart and soul during such moments.  I wept because those qualities, what I cherished more than life itself, seem so far away and ailing.  I never wanted to be parted from that love, peace, and happiness.  It felt like the longest night of my life.”

A second tear trickled down the other eye and followed her jaw.

“Eve, it has been the longest death since losing that recollection of peace and love and rediscovering it just moments ago.  I’ve loved you since I first recognized your color in my dreams even when I did not understand what it was or why.  I’ve loved you since hearing the song strumming in my soul.”

Cullen adjusted himself on the table, his other hand rest on her shoulder.  It took all of his will not to pull her flush to his body, his soul.  “I’ve loved you even when you thought I loved Maya Amell.  I denied your assessment to just infatuation because she or no one else ever made me feel this wonderful.  I’ve love you every second stuck in that purple cage and lived as the lone survivor.  This love has shifted and changed based on events, but this rediscovered happiness is like an old fantastic friend and I being reunited after so long apart.  Even if we were not bonded or soulmates, I would fall in love you the moment seeing your portrait, watching your prancing across the music room and the tavern, discovering you were a mage, being constant sassed and stubbornly snapped at for being a fool and ignorant, and relearning to love you again.”

Cullen’s other hand moved from her shoulder and cupped his Lady’s cheek as more tears poured down her watering brown eyes.  “I know it feels like nothing has changed inside me, but that is the point.  This has been buried this under layers of manure, piss, and disgust caused by matters beyond your control.  It is only now I reemerged from the darkness and stupidly recognize what I allowed to happen or committed myself to your fragile self.  Believe me, my Love my Lady, when I say I love you past, present, and future.”

The knight hung his head, but his amber gaze remained locked on her scarlet weeping face.  “I ask for your forgiveness for lying in the library and using you as an attraction has cultivated these deep beliefs.  I love you.  You’re beautiful, smart, witty, and more than I ever deserved.  If you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I will give you every ounce of who I am to love you unconditionally.  I ask you if you might take this common farm boy who has transformed into a disgraced, broken templar as your husband.  You would make me the luckiest, happiest, unworthy, and most blessed man in all Thedas.  Eve, will you marry me?”

By now, Evie sobbed fat tears like rivers that flowed down her face and against his hand.  She leaned into his callused hand, biting her lower lip. She attempted to contain her weeping whines, but they leaked through her pursed pink lips.  Her chocolate eyes squeezed shut as she took a few deep breaths.  She hung her head a few times before open her eyes again.  “Yes….Yes, I believe you.  Yes, I feel your love for me…This isn’t an act?”  She phrased it like a question to herself as if she was dreaming. 

Then Evie spoke the happiest words Cullen ever received.  “Maker, yes…yes yes YES!  I will marry you!”

Chapter Text

Cullen’s hand fell and wrapped around her hip as Evie stepped forward and Captured his lips.  Her arms snaked around his neck while her barely clothed breasts nudged his stubble goatee.  He opened his legs to allow her closer, her thighs leaning into the desk as Cullen’s hand followed up her spine and massaged the back of her neck.  Every time their kissing broke, Evie’s voice meekly whispered ‘yes’, while Cullen chanted ‘I love you’ like two mantras that were one and the same.  The more Cullen massaged her neck with his rough palm, the more Evie’s barely clothed body pushed against his like she was not close enough.

With his arm around her hips, Cullen lifted her, luring a squeal from the bending woman.  In the process, the templar tilted her over his lap and onto the down blanket until her legs laid on his thighs and her back arced off the blanket.  Remembering the dream, Cullen freaked, “You back wounds?”

Evie pushed herself up and whisked his fears away.  “No pain, my Lion.  Promise.”

Cullen smirked against her lips, looming and laying over her until she pressed against the blanket.  Their kissing feverishly got more intense.  “Good.”

She giggled against his lips, happiness blooming like an opening rose inside her and through their bond.  Those titters quickly turned to moans as his upper half laid over her and his massaging hand shifted to her covered breast.  The bodice’s soft fabric slipped down with each teasing thumb movement until her left nipple peeked out.  The shifts undid the small corset ties in the front.  Evie moved in such a way that her bodice strap rolled down her arm and the boning cupping the mammary slipped away with quick control breath until her breast hung out.

Cullen caught what their action did.  He leaned back on his elbows, studying Evie’s blushing face for any discomfort or unwanted attention.  Instead, her glassy eyes, dried of tears, and her swallow lips formed the most beatific genuine smile he ever saw.  It was more expressive version of her smiles she typically gave at him.  This one matched the blooming shining happiness inside her heart and soul.

“Maker, I am the luckiest man alive…”  Cullen admitted, swiping auburn bangs from her face so nothing blocked his view.  “I thought nothing like this was possible.”

“Me either…”  Evie confessed, leaning forward and touching her forehead to his.  “I love you.  You know that right?”

“I think that’s my line…”  Cullen smirked and kissed her lips quickly.  She whined at the short action, her chin nudging for more.  Cullen’s restraint was thinning by the moment.  Her lying like this under him just made his erection ache to the point of ejaculation.  Yes, he proposed to her, but he could never-

“Cullen, I don’t know how this will end.”  Her twinkling brown eyes watched his face closely.  Did she hear his desires?  Her fingertips glanced his jaw and chin, sending shivers down his neck and spine.  His half-undone pants tented more.  “We might be successful against Patricia and will see the dawn….or might both die in flames and damnation.  I cannot live with myself if something happens to you.  Wherever you go, I go.  In all logical sense, you are already my husband, my soulmate.  I refuse to live with regrets or what ifs any more than this world has already made me feel…”

Evie reached for the loose ties in the bodice front, slowly untying each with trembling hands.  Cullen watched the twine exposed the swell of her breasts and her nipples until full free for his desiring gaze.  The bodice fell from her chest and arms until she was almost completely bare under him.  Only her side-tied smalls covered her maidenhood in the firelight.  “Soulmate, if you wish, please make love with me…I know you intimately in so many ways, but I want to share all of myself with you.”

Cullen’s mouth hung open in shock at the prospect.  “I did not tell I love you o-o-o-or propose to bed you, so you don’t-“

“This is my choice.”  Evie’s convictions rippled through their unique bond.  “Hang manners and etiquette.  Our lives have never been normal or basic.  I know what is expected of me and my social station, but it wounded my heart when you called yourself just a broken commoner thinking you are beneath me.”  Evie cupped his cheek.  “If being literal, you are currently above me because positions.”  That got both people laughing, their nerves slightly calmed.  “If the Circle rebellion turned you from anything like this, I understand.  I saw what Desire forced on you.  I just want you to know, I wish to be complete with you.  I would wait an eternity for it, but I do not want the world’s expectations about virginity to keep us apart.  We haven’t listened to their bullshit anyway.  If we have, we would have never met and fell in love, healed ourselves.  I want us to marry and have that daughter you spoke about.  I will fight tooth and nail for it.”

Cullen swiped some auburn waves behind her ear.  “I wish we could do this all the right way.  In another life, we could never fear being taken from one another.”  He kissed her forehead.  “I love you…I do not want to wait that eternity.  I belong to you.”  Cullen kissed her softly on the lips, only pressing more when Evie’s lips reaction.  “Maker, I want you, Eve.”

Every movement slowed between the pair.  Their kisses turned into barely pressing their soft bruised lips together, no facial muscle moves, tongue, or puckering.  Their fingers stilled with Cullen’s resting hand behind Evie’s ear and hers cupping his neck and shoulder.  Their blown-wide eyes searched one another both physically and mentally for any hesitancy or peer pressure.  The more they nudged and analyzed each other’s psyche, the more their thoughts and hearts acted one and the same.

Cullen was first to add a little more pressure to his kiss and kept against to her lips longer.  His right hand shifted from the blanket to her shoulder, down her arm and chest, and towards her hip.  His fingertips just grazed the scarred demon scar beneath her left breast enticing a deep low moan from his soulmate.  His fingers followed her stomach planes to the tie by her hipbone.  His mind reminded him of what those shapely hips looked like each time she walked away. 

The blond Fereldan lifted himself from those plump lips, his nearly black eyes watching the maiden’s face for any offensive signs, while his bond connection felt for discomfort.  The trust and desire rolling through Evie only spurred him onward as the smalls’ double tied string loosened and separated.  His index finger and thumb let go of the string, his hand dying to touch the silkiest skin hidden underneath.

Evie’s chest hitched, feeling his callused fingers graze the uncovered bare skin slightly pressed against the blanket.  Cullen’s hand shifted away, but Evie caught it, her head rising up off the blanket.  “Careful…it’s…”  She swallowed hard.  Closing her chocolate brown eyes, she directed his lover’s hand back to where he shied away.  Her other hand slid down his arm to his other hand bracing beside her head.  Her fingers encircled his wrists, nudging him to lean back.  She directed the hand down her body much like his first hand had travelled to the other tie holding her smalls in place.  She kissed his scarred lip once.  “Pull…”

Heartbeats in his throat, Cullen pulled the other string, while his other hand just hooved just above the exposed skin peeking from under the loose smalls.  With tie undone, he kept pulling the string garment away from his bond’s body and out from beneath her.  He slightly tremored, excitement, curiosity, and fear all warring inside his soul.

“Maker’s breath…”  Cullen’s baritone turned guttural, his whiskey eyes flicking between Evie’s blushing face and the peeks of small brown coarse hair barely hiding her groinal lips.  She slid her legs together, the need to cover herself and recreate friction rippling through their unique bond.  The action allowed Cullen to see more skin lying against the blanket.  His fingers let go of the forgotten garment, his amber eyes reaching out with sympathy and love.  His hands moved back to her hips, almost petting the textured burns maiming his Lady’s bottom.  Her burns along her stomach looked small and nonconsequential compared with Desire’s destruction over her rear and back thighs over the years.

Evie went to speak, but Cullen shushed her with a searing kiss, his lips and tongue already craving to sooth and purify the toughened skin.  Evie sighed, her head falling back while she sat up on her elbows.  His stubble cheek ignited the textured areas where the nerves over-sensitized contrast to numb sections.  His kiss crawled slowly up and around her thighs, while his hands directed her quivering knees downward.  He shifted her right leg around his body, opening that heaven he wished he plunged into again and again.  Cullen only kept control over himself by spider threads.  His affections reached inches right below her bellybutton, his nasal breath tickling the sparse hairs.  Evie’s back kept arching upwards as her panting intensified.  Every so often, she rubbed his behind against the blanket, the need for friction become too much for her pure body.

Cullen did not trust his voice.  Everything wavered on a quill point inside him.  May I touch-

Maker, yes!  Her Free Marcher lilt sounded like a growling wolf in his brain; her frustrations overriding her nervousness.

The templar smirked, kissing the softest skin just an inch above the hairs.  Boldness peeked through him.  “You smell heavenly…”  His scarred lip jumped and smugly smirked up at her.  Even if he felt extremely anxious about these unknown acts, something about him spurred to be wild, primal.

Evie glanced down at her lover, rolling those big chocolate spheres.  That amazing smile still graced her rosy bruised lips.  “If you knew what I knew, you wouldn’t say that.”

“Eve, I know everything you feel and think now.”

Evie paused, then quickly buried her face into the blanket.  Embarrassment flooded their connection.  “Maker…”  She whined, muffled by her hands.

Cullen chuckled, his rough fingers following up the inside of her leg to where it attached to her hip.  Evie moaned and glanced back at Cullen through her index and middle fingers.   Their eyes met, speaking unconsciously.  His index finger crawled to the moisture his nose sensed between those heavenly legs.  The blushing intensified across Evie’s high cheekbones peeking out from under her hands. 

Evie’s mouth opened as that finger slid between the silted groin.  Her hands fell away from her face as the embarrassment shifted to utter delight.  Asking through their bond where Evie described until his finger felt extra slick.  Neither knew other’s bodies, but thanked the heavens for their connection.  All of it was based on feelings as Cullen encircled the slicked pearl buried between southern lips, only moving away as Evie’s imagined that slick digit inside her.

Evie’s left knee rubbed against Cullen’s groin, distracting him from his patient pursuit.  He stilled his hand, receiving a dark glare from the woman he loved.  He surprised her instead, sliding that index finger inside her tight virgin canal.  Both people moaned and sighed at the sensation.  Cullen felt the happy pain inside him from his finger stretching the softest, most moist place on Evie’s body.   He minded how fast and hard he pushed, waiting for his lady’s slight pain to subside and turn the rising passion. 

Thank the Maker for their bond or this would have been a fumbling mess.  Even the spirit halves between them responded to the feelings, the last connections to reunite beginning.  They danced excitedly from the Fade. 

Cullen tentatively twisted and turned his digit deep inside her, curling his finger when he felt a strange mound deep in her canal.  Evie lifted off the desk, her breasts bouncing at the new sensation, pouring mirth and desire through both people.  Her one hand clawed at his shoulder, while the other hung onto the back of the desk like a vice.

Another…  The maiden begged in their minds.  She imagined Cullen slipping a second digit deep within her, stretching her inner muscles so when he fully married with her body, her maiden canal will be ready and willing.

Cullen complied, slipping his index finger out and replacing it with his middle and ring fingers.  His mind already thought of a wedding ring on the fourth digit slowly burying itself deep into her cunt.  As predicted, her maiden molded and accommodated him, hugging the fingers in gooey heaven.  His thumb reached the first slick point Evie directed him mentally before.  He massaged the slightly harden nib in the flesh while scrunching his fingers deep inside her.  Evie jumped her whole pelvis off the desk.

“That’s what it’s supposed to feel like…?!”  Evie whispered, her eyes squeezing shut as her feet and knee rubbed his erection frantically.  “No wonder I failed to achieve this alone…”  A heavenly sigh escaped her lips.  “I need you, Cullen.  Please.  I cannot…I need you.  I want you.”

Hearing such an independent, sassy woman pleading for him inside her did something to Cullen inside, that primal need overriding his civilized brain.  Though sounding like one begging and dripping with that special nectar, Evie was not some random whore that the templar recruits fucked either.  She was his bond, his soulmate, his best friend, and future wife—No, Evie was already his wife in his heart.  It is tonight in the cache room the Maker will hear his promises and devotion to this Lady who saved him from himself and the cursed world.  To marry in front of a Chantry cleric, family, and friends was a formality.  No, being so bare, raw, and trusting with Evie while the world rebelled above was the true commitment of bonding Cullen could promise to Evie and the Maker.  To share their bodies together as one, may it be for this only one time or hundreds beyond tonight, Cullen will commit his existence—mind, body, soul, and hear—to this woman, his Lady.

Cullen removed his slick fingers from Evie and reached for the tie barely keeping his pants on his body.  One leg still laid out from when Evie wrapped it, while the other covered his genitals’ proud display of desire from a woman who before tonight thought he hated her.  He shed the clothing quickly, flinging the leather pants onto the laundry line.  Cullen did not care where his smalls landed.

Evie watched in fascination, her face beaming happily and slightly giggling at Cullen’s enthusiasm.  He rolled in such a way to lay over her with his legs between hers.  Her eyes widened and looked slightly intimidated by the springing erection finally unmasked.  She yipped a little, her brown eyes flicking to his questioning face and the long girthy length between his legs.

“Not even the Fade’s projection…”  Evie hid her scarlet face again.  “It’s so…Will it even..?  Sorry…”  Again, her hands flew to her face to mask her innocence.

Cullen chuckled, pulling his future wife into his arms, pressing and rubbing their naked forms against one another.  Cullen nudged her hands away from her purple face.  “This is new for both of us…”  He kissed her forehead.  Evie’s legs naturally encircled Cullen’s knees and shins, while her slickness moistened his erection rubbing together with each half hip roll.

“It looks weird.”  Evie whined with a bashful grin.

“You are too.”  Cullen chuckled, their nervousness and confusion mirroring.  “But Maker, I am the luckiest man alive.  You choose me?”

Evie palmed his cheek, kissing his lips once with barely a touch.  “Is it so hard to imagine?”

“No…I guess not.”  Cullen whispered, pulling Evie closer to his chest.  Her breasts felt heavenly and exquisite like he died and met the Maker.  “Just flabbergasted…and scared.”

“We just listen to one another…”  The woman cooed, combing the tight blonde curls away from his forehead.  “Listen to our hearts…”

Cullen leaned over Evie, kissing her tentatively first then with more passion.  The fires deep inside them roared back to life.  Their bodies knew what to do, while their minds just listened to their hearts and souls.  Their tongues waltzed inside their mouths, pushing and pull for control.  Cullen’s still slick fingers combed away her sweaty bangs from her neck and chin. 

Evie’s ankles lock behind Cullen and pulled her completely flesh to her naked body.  His erection shifted from just against her clitoris to beneath them.  Cullen felt Evie’s anxiety about how she will accept all of him deep inside, but he comforted her that she will stretch and he will feel if something was too much.

“You sure?”  He questioned again, confirming this is what she wanted.

“Maker, yes…”  Evie pledged, her fingernails clawing up and down his back.  Impatience and need poured into their bond.

The maiden laid herself completely open and willingly for her bond as Cullen shifted his knees so he was kneeling over Evie on the desk.  Her fingers shifted over his shoulder and followed his chiseled chest.  Around his mid-abdomen, her finger just barely grazed the swollen erection.  Cullen hissed at the temperature difference and absolutely fantastic softness, but quickly quilled the panic as Evie slid his shaft’s head over her slick groin, transferring her natural lubrication over his mushroom head.

Nothing could have prepared Cullen for the sensation.  His hips jerked, dying to fill this virgin with himself, but he stilled and tempered the primordial need, knowing everything was as equals.  His body overruled any last fears brought on by the past terrors.  He felt like he will die without being inside Evie like she provided fresh air while drowning. 

The spirits clamored to complete the ritual, but it will not be that way for the bonds.  This had nothing to do with bonding practices, but them as lover and people.  The spirits are second to this.  Their lovemaking was sharing their minds, bodies, hearts, and souls.  It will only ever be them.

Will he be good enough?

Will he freak?

Will Evie feel satisfaction?

Evie stopped rubbing his girth against her slick lips, moving to a dip following the pelvic curls of her body, her entrance.  Her hand fell away, winding each slick digit with his curly hair and tense neck.  Slowly, Cullen pushed, his senses reaching out through the bond to judge Evie’s condition.  The mage gasped, her brown eyes lock on Cullen’s amber glow.  Her mouth open and separated, breathing his exhales as he slowly slid into her.  He waited between each push for her stretches despite Cullen’s whole being wishing to be deep and hard inside her.  He felt her molding around him and slipping to conform and accommodate his size and girth.  No pain echoed through their bond as Evie nudged her hips to cue Cullen to continue onward. 

Inch by tantalizing inch, more of Cullen’s long length buried deep inside Evie.  He expected to feel blood or a tear like maidens were supposed to be, but nothing about Evie’s interior or the blanket clued him.  It did not frighten him or question of her virginity.  He felt through the bond he was her only and last love.  She always wanted it to be him.  Only one person— him?!—will experience this with her. 

Cullen could weep at the feeling of Evie’s pulsing walls around him finally buried inside her vagina.  Nothing the desire demon or his imagination could replicate the feel of warm, love, and home he experienced deep within her.  His inky black orbs ringed with glowing amber met hers while staring up at him.  Those orbs glowed as her magic swirled around them in a comfortable warmth.  He pulled out just a bit, the urges his body wished overpowering his desire to sit and lay in her majesty.  Evie groaned, but quickly gasped into Cullen’s mouth when he slid back in.  Their hips met sending loving tremoring through both of them.  The templar did it again, but pulled a bit more outward this time.  His hips slap in on her, causing Evie to cry out.  Through their bond, Cullen felt the ecstasy each his pump created deep inside her.

The rutting knight kissed her a third time as his hips sped up his thrusts.  The two connecting points in slickness and the greatest heaven pushed him, his sacks wrinkling to prepare their load.  It was happening too fast and too much.  Evie met him on his fourth thrust, their cried and mewls of mirth echoing off the cache’s stone walls.  More and more, their bodies met and revealed their inner lust and love their passion created. 

Cullen found himself being carried away.  He chased the feelings, not realizing how quickly his hips met Evie’s or how quickly his ejaculation came about.  He let go of that deep connection instead of listening to-

The knight did not know he poured himself into his Lady until it was happening.  The roar was deafening to both occupants and the room.  He felt his spurts fall from his erection, but the blood refused to recede from his member, so engorged and dying for more of that moist world.

Then Cullen realized his mistake.  He lost himself in the feelings, while Evie only began that new journey.  His soul reached out to his bond, feeling how her body accepted his seed, but did not feel the same enjoyment.  The spirit halves yelled he was too early and no in tune with the mage beneath him.  You bloody pubescent idiot, Rutherford.  He was fourteen again and only touching himself once a blue moon.  Embarrassment and guilt flared in his soul.

Thank the Maker Cullen was still hard and ready for more.  He can fix this, damn it.  He must feel her euphoria.  He slowed his hip’s thrusting pace again, his heart aligned with Evie’s again.  He allowed his embarrassment to flow through them both, while his ‘I love you’ poured from his lips and into her mouth.  He must feel this release with his Lady.  He must bring her to completion.

Sweat rolled down the fit templar’s temple.  Every muscle already ached from overuse from that long night.  Yet he kept going, feeling a second release claiming again with his Lady’s urges.  Cullen’s consciously watched as Evie panted and her olive skin gleamed in the firelight.  Her magic sparked around them, twirling and brightening as her body accepted the pounding assault he gave in and out, over and over again. 

Sensing an even better angle, Evie’s hips halted up in the air as her legs spread almost into a split as he buried himself further into her heat.  Cullen felt with each buried connection that inner nib that synced with her outer pearl.  Remember her reaction, he made sure each thrust excited each nerve cluster. 

Those pillowy breasts bounced with each collusion of groins and hearts.  All the while, her brown-black eyes watched his face.  Her enchanting voice hummed, moaned, and sighed with the pleasure he provided happily and on demand.  Her fingers clawed and scratched his taut skin while her toes scrunched and skimmed over his hips and legs.

Then Cullen saw white.  Evie hollered, but with no pitch.  Only after a second a cry rolled from her throats as her orgasm rippled through them both.  Cullen could not contain himself.  Even after orgasming once already, he followed her over the edge.  Her canal gripped his penis, milking his seed deeper into her awaiting womb in hopes to meet her egg.  Cullen roared like a lion, gripping her hips so that more of him will reach its hopeful prize.

Magic and his nullification abilities mixed and became one in the air.  The fire keeping them warm flashed and scored the bedrock back from Evie’s wild magic expressing this new joyous emotion.  Evie and he’s orgasms rocked beyond themselves.  Her violin was not just from her anymore.  Both instruments echoed inside him as his piano played in sync within her.  Hope and Purpose lunged from the Fade into each bond, twisting and melting into one.  Their beings stretched between their bonded pair.  Rejoicing called from the Fade as an amber color pulse from Cullen and wrapped his love in his color.  Through his squeezing eyes, bright green encompassed his colored as he felt alive for the first time.  He was reborned, a newborn child. 

Cullen held Evie against his body, his arms never letting go as his orgasm slowly dissipated.  Tears streamed down his face from the great euphoria.  He felt everything passing over Evie.  He did not need to question in his mind or wait for her barriers to fall.  They felt it all.

They were one.

“Cullen…I love you…”  Cullen shivered, feeling his Lady’s words deep inside his being and in the room physically.

Cullen leaned back and opened his amber eyes to see Evie panting with closed eyes, her soul trying to fall from its orgasmic state.  Fat happy tears streamed down her cheeks.  “Evelyn….Eve, I love you…My wife…My life.”  Cullen panted as his heart slowed again. 

Slowly, those majestic orbs opened to brighten that beautiful face again.  Alas, chocolate brown did not appear, but bright green glowing sphere like her sweaty form releasing her magic from their coupling.  Cullen’s hand cupped her cheek, knowing she was still herself and not possessed or something else.  She was supposed to be like this just as his amber eyes glowed from his own orgasm.

“Cullen?”  Evie gasped, feeling his worry.  It was all instinct.  It was not just Cullen anymore, but them.

“Your eyes…they’re….green.”

Evie touched her temple, then moved her fingers to Cullen’s forehead.  “Yours are brighter too.  Like honey…”  She smiled as Hope and Purpose explained to their bond what happened.  “They are one again…we are…one.”

Cullen shifted himself, but felt his softening member slide from her body.  Both adults groaned at the lost, dying to feel their physical connection and soon.  “I feel…all of you without even trying…”

Evie teared up again, her thighs shifting as she felt a tackiness leave her body.  “I love you…”  She pressed her forehead to his.  “Whatever happens, they cannot tear us apart.  You are my husband, my Lion.  I won’t let them take you away, damn it.”

Cullen hugged his bond tightly.  Sweat, orgasm and all mixed with their slick trembling bodies.  “Never…”  His eyes widened.  He leaned back on his elbows.  “But what if…”  He had not been thinking.  His hand laid on her stomach.  The image of her round with his child popped to mind.  Those glowing whiskey eyes met the dyed bright green.

“Then I will be the happiest woman alive…”  Evie admitted, leaning forward and kissing him hungrily.  “As long as you are by my side…”

“I’m never leaving you…”  Cullen kissed passionately, his tongue dipping down her throat as his mind begged his body to be ready again to claim this beautiful woman.  “Our daughter, if it happens…”

Evie giggled, a yawn stopping their kissing.  “If the Maker wills it…”

Cullen also yawned, slipping down beside her on the desktop.  His heart wished to be with his lover again, but the last several hours finally caught up with them.  “I have never felt like this before…”

“Me neither…”  Evie kissed him again.  “Although…”

“Hmm?”

Evie blushed a little.  “Books never stated how…messy lovemaking was.”

Both adults glanced between Evie’s legs, laughing under their breaths.  Cullen rubbed his neck bashfully.  “No, I guess not.”  He kissed her salty forehead, her sweat quickly drying.  “Let me find something to clean you up.”

Evie giggled, reluctant to have her templar leave her side.  “Later…I don’t want you to stop holding me.”

“As my Lady wishes…”

Chapter Text

Evie felt splashing against her right cheek, wincing as the cool water ran down her face and exposed neck.  The mage’s newly dyed eye fluttered open, but quickly closed as a new drop fell from the bedrock ceiling.  She shifted enough beside a sleeping Cullen to avoid the water.  The last drop ran down her lips.  As she licked her tongue, she noticed it lacked any sea salt.  It was likely run off rainwater that found a rock fissure.

Shifting enough to roll on her bare back, Evie rubbed her face and shoulder.  Her breath caught in her throat.  Her fingers brushed over her shoulder, grazing toughened skin that did not feel right.  Instead of attempting to look over her shoulder, the woman glanced at her bond lover’s bare chest as it slowly rose and fell in blissful and restful sleep.  Her bright green eyes blinked away any remaining sleep to observe the broad sexy manly chest.  He held her flesh to his body over the last few hours in protective arms.  Her right hand naturally fell from her shoulder to skim over the chiseled planes and muscular groves lightly dusted with blond coarse hair.

Evie closed her eyes for a moment, instantly seeing into Cullen’s dream.  Their abilities transversed all realms without a thought.  They were one person in two bodies.  Her Lion dreamed of her warmth and smile in their private tree grove.  Cullen held her in his lap while watching his mabari bounce and fetch a thrown branch.  He watched his little pup closely, testing names for his new companion.  He hesitantly called her Surana after the elven male mage’s surname that failed his harrowing the same night Maya Amell survived hers.  Evie smiled at the name, hearing his baritone rasp calling.  It fit the growing war hound.

By then, her warm magic fingers grazed Cullen’s left pectoral muscle.  The mage opened her eyes and traced the same texture that she felt on her shoulder.  The red and gold pigment that dyed his skin for two years was not present.  Feeling her own shoulder again, she surmised her own brand was missing.  Now, only a white scar remained of their marks that connected them visibly.

The skin will heal.  Their purposes no longer require their presence, Purpose hummed inside Evie’s heart.  Only the skin discoloration will remain, but that too will disappear.  It is too dangerous to have such marks on you both.  Your purposes will drag you deeper into the darkness.  Anonymity will serve you specifically, my Avatar.

Our lives will continue past this night?  Evie questioned the spirits so strong and solid across the Veil.

We do not know.  That depends on what will happen in the next hours.   Hope sang with her majestic piano.  We are one again as you are.  Don’t you feel it, my Avatar?

Evie listened deep inside her.  Her mana filled to the brim like she slept for weeks and drank a dozen lyrium potions safely.  She felt Cullen’s soul.  His body operated as if he too drank many lyrium potions, but yet its harsh hum was surprisingly absent.

Is he free of-

No, my Avatar.  Purpose replied, feeling Evie’s disappointment.  That happens when you fuel him.  Your coupling transfers the lyrium from the Fade to him.  His stamina and abilities are also rejuvenated.  Alas, he still depends on the dwarven mineral.

Do not fret.  Hope called inside the worried woman.  When the dust settles, maybe you can begin a new quest.  Freedom takes many forms.

Evie pursed her lips, her mind still feeling guilty for how much lyrium Cullen had to drink to sustain her over their multiple battles the last few hours.  Ignoring the lingering guilt, her ears attuned to the outside world beyond their warm love nest.  The hurricane’s winds settled more than she expected.  By her guess, they had arrived, recuperated, and fell asleep for four hours.   That meant the eye of the storm was close.  Their opportunity to leave the storeroom and race back to the manor was almost here.

“We better prepare to leave soon then.”

Evie gasped, her bright green eyes flashing to the smirking Fereldan slowly opening his amber gaze.  His piercing stare focused on her nude form sitting up beside him.  Her auburn tossed waves fell from her shoulder exposing her hanging breasts and perked nipples.  Those whiskey orbs followed the hair downward and admired the fire goddess brightened by the simmering fire.  Involuntarily, his rough fingers followed up her side, around her breast, and twisted the long auburn waves around his fingers.

“Did I wake you?”  Evie whispered, her hand still tracing the once branded part of his chest.

“I heard your conversation with the spirits.”  His eyes glanced down at his chest.  “So, they’re gone.  I’m glad.”  Evie scrunched her brow, somewhat hurt that he wished them away.  Of course, Cullen felt the shift instantly.  “So it doesn’t give you away.  You stated your family even placed spells over the brand to keep it hidden and drained.  You mentioned before you had be careful for years from accidently exposing yourself.”

“Desire’s scars still do that.”  Evie sighed, releasing the hurt and admiring his care to keep her safe.

“Not based on the rumors your father and spymaster devised.”  Cullen countered, bring her hand to his lips.  He kissed her knuckles.  “After tonight and whatever happens, I think it will be very easy for people to swallow whatever is told to explain everything.”

Evie leaned back down on him, her breasts smashed against his abdomen.  She felt his stiffening member against her ribs.  She grinned at both the thoughts and that instant arousal.  “It also will support the theory that your bond ‘died’ before you met.  Yes, the Promisers know about me, but the public doesn’t.  You said that often before.  If a rare bond, it would make sense another wasn’t selected for you.”

Cullen pulled her up, her nipples rubbing up his body.  Evie had to shift her leg over his right one to support herself.  Her knee stopped at his groin.  Cullen kissed her hard, both hands holding her jaw and cheeks.  The mage moaned into her lover lips as she opened her mouth for his tongue.  Her non-supporting hand dug into his hair and tossed the curls as their waltzing lips intensified.

“I wished I never thought such things.”  Cullen mumbled before engorging himself again on her red lips.  “I feel like I wished harm on you.  Never.”

Evie’s hips naturally grounded against his hardening erection, her clitoris tingling as she glanced her up and down the length at the perfect angle.  She broke from their kissing, her eyes rolling back into her head as Cullen’s affections continued down her throat.  His hands followed her sides and palmed her breasts like lion paws massaging the flesh tightly.

“Happy Name Day, by the way.”

Evie barely comprehended his well wishes, her body responding to his menstruations.  “Hm?”  As long as he was worshipping her body, she did not care what he said.

“I’m guessing it’s past midnight.”  Cullen muttered, kissing up and down her neck and jaw.  “That means you’re twenty years old.”

The mage giggled and quickly kissed her bond.  “I was legal before, even if there were such laws in Ostwick.”

Cullen laughed, following her neck down her chest to her right breast.  He licked against her nipple and blew cold air on it afterwards.  She trembled over him.  Her clitoris whined for any attention.  She quickly became addicted to his love.  “You sassy woman.”

“Would you want me any other way?”  Evie teased with a wink.

“Never…”  Cullen’s baritone voice softened as he watched her like she was Andraste.  His whiskey eyes analyzed every fleshy part of her body, and how she bent and moved over him.  “Never change, Eve.  I love you however you may be, but you are perfect.”

The templar’s attentions intensified, his hands moving all over Evie’s naked form.  Each calluses lightly scratched her olive tone skin, rising goosebumps in areas Evie thought impossible.  His fingers enticed some tickling, but she just enjoyed the feel of skin-to-skin contact, both via Cullen’s hands and his body beneath her.

Evie rolled and bend her body, her hips thrusting against his harden shaft.  Cullen moaned and whimpered at the frustrating movements as his whiskey eyes watched her form graze his chest and kissed his jaw.  Just touching lit them both alight.  It was never enough.  Now, they would only feel full pleasure connected as one body, mind, heart, and body.

“I want you again…”  Evie sighed, her hair curtaining around their faces.  All thought and proper duties slipped from her mind.  Hang their safety.  Hang the war and storm outside this room.  She needed him!  “I must have you.”

Cullen kissed back up her neck.  She dove for his scarred lip, pulling the swollen tissue between her teeth.  Cullen growled and racked his hands up her burn abdomen and fisted her breasts.  Evie gripped his hair as she passionately kissed him, her tongue deep into his mouth.

Cullen groaned at the action, his hips hitching against her.  “Maker, yes…”

Evie went to slide off his body, but those strong paws kept her on top.  She watched her bond, her bright green eyes wide at what he was suggesting.  “Cullen, this reminds you of...”  She stopped herself, sending through them her knowledge about the demonic nightmares.

Cullen directed her newly dyed eyes to his.  Absolute trust and love shimmered up at her.  “That’s why I’m not afraid.  It’s you, Eve, in my soul.  Asleep or awake, I only see you now.  Will that always be true, I don’t know?  However, I want to rewrite every memory.  Every thought will only be of you and not those hells.”  He blushed and rubbed his neck awkwardly.  “Uh…No pressure, but…”

Evie kissed him hard, their teeth clicking.  She slid her legs out from between them until she straddled his lower abdomen.  She felt his desire and love through their connection.  He enjoyed seeing her sitting on him so bare and confident.  He studied this new view, sending through the body how the dying fire haloed her like her swirling magic.  Her breasts casted majestic shadows.  Her nipples hardened in the cool air.  Her curvy shape flexed instantly when each drop of water fell from above and over her indented form.  Her slim muscles hitched and tightened in this position.  Cullen loved it all.  He wanted her to be in control now.

Evie’s groin instantly slickened at his praises.  Cullen felt the arousal shift, holding her behind with both massaging palms.  Those hands directed her to sit up on her knees a little.  She expected him to adjust himself between her legs like she showed him before.  Evie craved him plunging into her again.  Instead, Cullen used the blanket to slide down the desk.  His arms flipped inside her bent knees.  She settled into a kneeling position; her legs nudged open by his broad shoulders.

The templar gave Evie no time to prepare as a long lick slid in between her southern lips, up over her entrance, and finally her clitoris.  Evie hollered at the wet fantastic sensation rolling through her.  She panted and clutched at the feeing.  The pleasure was unlike anything she experienced in her life.  She wanted more!

Evie’s bright green eyes flashed to her lover, who just barely gazed up at her through her trimmed pubic hair and split legs.  He waited for her to decide, his heart pleading to allow her to feel what he felt once.  Cullen needed to even out the orgasms as he had already felt two to her one.

Perfect balance.

Evie panted, her body remembering its disappointment to his first explosion inside her when she was so far behind.  It seemed Cullen did not want that mistake occurring again.  He must have thought of ways as they fell asleep, the fiend.  Or he loved knowing he brought so much euphoria to her during her first explosion.

Through their bond, Evie allowed him to continue, anxiety and excitement about something that nearly occurred in her room days ago when she showed him her almost nude form.  His tongue glanced her again, while his stubble cheek rubbed her inner thigh.  The two different textures sent another shriek through the fire mage.  Her mana puffed from her, but Cullen did not run away.  Her magic was not his to control and wield.  He let it fly, the expression of pleasure Cullen provided her groin. 

Cullen’s tongue lingered by her lower lips, pressing against the bundle of nerves lightly encircling it in a teasing and building manner.  Evie felt his constant focus on her emotions to sense harm or if a specific movement encouraged a new sound from her.  One of his hands followed her textured behind, burned from years of demonic attacks.  His fingers followed the curves to open her lips and entrance.  She shivered as the digit slicked with her arousal and his saliva to prepare her slightly sore entrance for him again.

Evie could do little but avoid suffocating her bond beneath her.  Her hands fell above his head, while she angled her hips low for his attention.  She kneeled on all fours over him, clawing at the desk edge as he lapped up her nectar.  One finger slid easily inside her.  Her breath hitched as the full sensation.  Oh Maker how she loved him penetrating her.  Please more.

The once maiden had expected pain and blood when he first pushed into her before, but only a fullness and tugging only occurred.  She feared her virgin status had been a lie, but her mind reminded her that her whole life was spent fighting and on horseback.  She wounded herself in the groin several times.  Cullen never questioned because that tightness around his fingers and later his penis was more than enough to confirm her pure status.  Her Lion chased her concerns away, admiring how she dripped for him and accepted his full length just from stretching and enwrapping him.

No, love making—their bond—should never create pain and blood.  The spirits told her so in those passionate moments.  As Cullen kissed and suckled her lips into his mouth, all soreness dissipated with his loving affections.  A second finger slid into her.  Everything was a little easier than before, her muscles and membranes already loose from their previous activities.  Still, she knew when he entered her again, he will always be snug in her canal.  She loved that feeling that only Cullen will know.  He fit perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle only built with their two pieces in mind.

“Cullen…”  Evie whined, then cried.   Her head threw back as her orgasm rushed over any thoughts or feelings.  She stretched her body like a cat through the experience.  Cullen continued his licking, his tongue moving from her clitoris to her entrance, while his slick fingers massaged the pearl.  She howled like the hurricane above through the quivering feeling.

Still experiencing the euphoria, Evie edged Cullen away from her groin and up the desk.  Before he settled, Evie grabbed his long thick member and sat down around it.  Both bonds called out at the quaking connection as she slid down him.  He felt even fuller inside her as her first orgasm relaxed.  His shaft continued deeper inside her until his head barely grazed her cervix, but perfectly aligned with her inner sensitive nerves that she could never reach alone.

Ash and sparks danced around her, Evie’s magic connected with the lyrium inside her lover.  She rolled her hips.  Both lovers hollered at the amazing sensation.  Evie started slow, remember the fantastic feel of Cullen when he did so before.  She thirsted to learn all the sounds he can make buried deep inside her and all the ways the sounds can fall from his lips.  She lifted herself up a little and smacked back down, knocking the arm from both their lungs, but the feeling of their swift connection called to them both.

Evie continued the movements, her abdominal muscles tightening and heating from constant repetitive use.  Her hands shifted from his chest, down his thighs, and finally to his knees.  The movement allowed her to lounge back, her full body on display.  Cullen saw the presentation, his hands reached for her bouncing breasts.  The other hand was still slick from his attention before.  It began encircle her clitoris, driving her towards another orgasm like a rocket.

“Again, Eve…I have to hear you cry out again.”  Her lover begged as he moaned and groaned at each of her hops and hip grinds.  His begging did something to her.  Evie grabbed a shoulder and pulled him flesh against her so he was sitting with her his lap.  Cullen adjusted them both so his legs hung off the desk and her legs could wrap around him while bounced on his lap.  Her red plump lips danced over his, tasting her salty-sweet nectar still staining that delicious scar.

“Only with you, Cullen…Only when you fill my womb with your seed.”  Evie exclaimed, her walls pulsing faster.  Cullen fling back down, his thumb moving faster over her pearl.  His hips joined her frantic kicks and rolling hips.  Thank the Maker they both exercise or this activity would make them sleep another several hours.  Instead, they both met one another one-to-one.  Smiles graced their lips with each mewl and claw over one another’s skin.

Like before, Evie’s orgasm surprised her.  Cullen dove deep in her, grazing her inner spot right with a thumb turn over her clitoris and pushed into her deeply.  Her body completely trembled and her mana pulsed out of her.  The fire blazed from her magic explosion.  She yelled like a banshee and milked his member for every drip he offered. 

Cullen followed her over, unable to contain his release any longer.  Hearing and feeling her orgasm shattered his thin control.  He leaned forward again, his cries swallowed by her firm breasts.  He suckled and pawed the mammaries, spurting his seed deeper inside her than before.  Perspiration from Evie’s brow dripped down onto his soaked curls.  His sweaty palms scratched down her back to her bottom.

The entire world was white for what felt like an eternity.

Cullen pulled Evie down with him as the release slowly settled.  His back smacked the desk, while Evie bit into his shoulder.  She suckled the salty skin, her mouth needing something to lick for the last moment of her orgasm.  All her muscles burned from their fast and hard activities.  Her groin slowly let go of his penis, slipping from inside her.  With it, their passions.  Both bonds groaned at the loss.

 “Happy Name Day, my Lady…” 

Evie kissed up his neck, along his jaw, and finally his lips slowly.  “…I’m…”  Her body shook as her nerves floundered following that explosion.  “…You’re spoiling me…I expect that every night for the rest of our lives…”

Cullen laughed, kissing her gently again.  Their tongue danced out of their mouths and around one another.  “With pleasure, my Lady.”

Chapter Text

Cullen kicked down the old wooden door, sending planks flying all directions.  It took both adults to push aside the door remnants and years of ivy and fallen branches to finally emerge from the old smuggler’s den.  Finally, they saw the world they blocked out for a few bells of rest and happiness.

The knight gasped once, his amber eyes adjusting to the humid night.  He expected the Maker’s wrath, but there was an eerie silence in the sweaty and thick air.  The wind was relativity calm for being inside a massive hurricane.  The rain sprinkled and there were still menacing clouds overhead, but nothing compared with when they flee for their lives bells ago. 

However, the Maker had ravaged and raged against the isle.  Debris littered the ground beyond the planks and rotten wood Cullen flung everywhere.  Tree branches, broken tree stumps, small rocks, clay tiling, and other manmade items not tied down laid everywhere.  Evie expected a wooded forest exiting the smuggler’s cave.  Instead, the hurricane carved a path through the forest with its tornados and lighting strikes until smoldering snapped trees blocked their path to safety.

“Maker’s breath…”  Cullen whispered, longsword drawn and ready for anyone who might pop out of the darkness.

“We have little time.”  Evie advised, her bright green eyes studying the skies.  “The eye of the storm will only be above us for at most a bell.  Then, it will be another few terrifying bells of heavy storm and destruction like before.  Maker will, the storm will move over us quickly for the second half.  With so many fallen trees, mudslides are imminent.”

“How far away are we from the manor?”

“On foot, about twenty minutes if the path isn’t blocked by templars and debris.”

“Then let’s get moving.”

Unlike their initial rush from the shipwreck, the pair moved quickly and silently through the forest.   The cache’s savaged armor rattled a little against their dry forms, but it was better than being completely exposed.  Evie’s half rotten leather armor was twice her size, while the rusty cuirass Cullen found was missing half of its buckles.  Both bonds now rested and rejuvenated despite their physical activities in the cave.  Both adults still lacked lyrium and health potions since the tonics in the cave decayed long before they arrived.  Cullen avoid having Evie heal him to conserve her rebuilt mana pool. 

The bonded pair moved and covered one another without prompting, like fluid dancers across a ballroom of darkness and dread.  No words passed between the bonds, their minds one and the same so a single passing thought or feeling answered whatever questions.  If they wanted to see behind them, they hopped into one another’s being without invitation.  They respected one another, but they both knew they needed to be a team to survive the rest of the night.

Farther the pair raced through the forest by the cliffs, the more Evie heard the hum of lyrium and magic.  She alerted her bond of potential mages, likely unwilling participants in the assault, merely seen as expendable tools forever bonded to ruthless templars that care little that they were a living, breathing person. 

Then a twig snapped to Evie’s right.  Both people heard it at the same time.  Their human eyes searched the darkness for the cause.

A branch whipped from Cullen’s right, opposite.  Evie felt the song of lyrium, passing the sense to their bond.  The count rose as the enemy maneuvered in the night and haunted woods.

Surrounded.

However, unlike at the sinkhole, neither person feared the ambush.  Instead, they stood back to back to one another, their senses counting how many people journeyed towards them.  Some were just regular humans, not connected to the Fade, likely mercenaries hired by the Promisers.  More meat shields those in power cared if they lived and died.  Payment likely will occur after success, but that meant those poor greedy souls have to survive the night.

Evie closed her eyes, her being centered for the fight ahead.  She knew they will silence her, but the spirits calmed her that the effects will not be the result she feared so many times before.  Only Cullen’s silences will debilitated her greatly now.  Just imagining that potential, Cullen rose his templar shield and longsword, his dedication to protect his love all that mattered.

“Give it up, Curse!  You’re outnumbered and surrounded!”

Evie kept her dyed eyes closed.  She knew that scratchy, irritating groan well.  “Logan…still butt hurt about me burning your balls?”  The Free Marcher sassed sensing which templar was her distant cousin.  The prat at least approached her from the front, meaning behind Cullen.  He wanted a rematch with all the odds in his favor.  Evie knew he did not see the aces up both pair’s sleeves.  Cullen read the memory of Evie besting her cousin a year ago, burning his crotch with two fireballs and sending him flying against a tree.  He cursed her name for months to anyone who heard, but never muttered she was a mage.  He valued his life too much to rat her out.  “I heard you can’t get a stiffy without screaming bloody murder.”

“Fucking bitch!”  Logan barked, his great sword already out and ready to chop off their heads.  “I’m going to love seeing you beg, whore!”

Evie slowly opened her glowing bright green eyes, her magic swirling around her with green flaming orbs flashing in each hand.  “No, I believe it will be you begging…”

One of the other templars in front of Cullen shrieked.  Something about Cullen’s eyes clued the other knights these were not just regular bonded people.  They must have not read the dossier or Patricia kept them in the dark.  “T-they’re fully bonded!  You said there was no way that could-“

Evie lifted her hand, casting a firewall between the first encircling men from the second regiment in the trees.  Both groups jumped away from the flames as Evie thrusted forward, engaging their first enemies.  Cullen shield bashed the frightened templar into the flames while Evie strengthened that part of the wall.  His burning shrills echoed throughout the forest.

Evie felt a little  snip at her Fade connection, barely reacting as she shook her head.  Her cousin Logan engaged with her gallowglass and dirk wide eyed.  He had attempted to silence her.  “Fucking-“

“…bonded.”  She hummed, mind-basting him away before his greatsword could touch her slightly armored body.  Logan flew head over feet, his armor clamoring against a boulder on impact. 

Evie fade-stepped through a mercenary and stabbed him through the heart with her dirk, while her sword cut his throat open.  Blood showered the group in all directs.  The knights and soldiers beyond the firewall kept smiting the spell to engage, but the bonds fed off one another to keep it strong and holding.

Glancing into her bond, Cullen already worked through his third adversary.  His longsword dripped with blood, his movements confident and precise.  One rogue knight tried to flank him, both daggers read to bury themselves into his neck, but Cullen felt Evie warnings, whipping his sword around his head, blocking the blow.  Holding the rogue still, he pivoted and struck him in the chest, breaking ribs with his shield.  Once the rogue fell, Cullen kicked him hard in the solar plexus, killing him with a suffocating move.

Right then an ice spike flew Cullen direction.  Both bonds saw Evie’s firewall petered out as a battle ice mage danced with his staff.  Both adults concluded it was a bonded mage forced into the chaos by their templar bond.

Make it quick.  Evie called through their connection.  Cullen nodded and dove for the mage.  Meanwhile, Evie searched for which arsehole knight controlled the mage. 

Cullen cut through the mercenaries, his mind barely lingering on the cut-off appendages and the cries his foes hollered before their quick deaths.  His glowing amber eyes focused on the frightened mage quickly snapping a barrier over his form and wide eyed.  He searched the darkness for her bond.  They were not well-connected.  The templar’s overpowering nature made the mage submissive and more deadweight than a battle advantage. 

Already, Cullen planned and executed his battle plan.  He hated how well the Chantry programmed him to strike down a mage like a wild animal.  He wanted to slaughter all those innocent people in Kinloch Hold.  He hungered to commit so much in the Chantry’s name because he believed it all true.

He will not be a fool any longer.

The Fereldan knight smited the barrier and silenced the mage in one take.  The natural flow of power given to him from the Fade quickly left his body.  He had no more lyrium.  He needed to pace.  A knight about twenty feet away hollered, his eyes focusing on Cullen.  Evie saw the response, shifting her attacks and kills towards that specific female knight.

Cullen kicked the staff from the mage’s flailing hands, sending it flying into the night.  Like he was taught at the academy and his bluff blocking the mage’s magical attempts, his long sword swung back and pierced into the man’s heart, instantly draining her life and sending her to the Maker.  

A stand-in Valen Surana laid dead before him.  Cullen’s mind replaced this unknown screaming face with the broody apprentice who never awoke from his Harrowing nearly two years ago.  An elf used like a slave.  The Templar Order worked like Tevinter magisters now.  Elves had no rights, chained to poverty or their templar bond for whatever the Chantry needed.  Meat for slaughter and power. 

“Forgive me…”  Cullen whispered into the elf’s ear, his mind regretting of all the words and harm he hollered at abused mages after Kinloch Hold’s fall.

Cullen!

Cullen saw Evie’s worry, his shield hollering over his back to block the halberd thundering for his back.  The mage’s bond screamed behind him, their connection severed.  The female templar went wild from the lost.  Supposed grief and fury burned from her eyes much like Cullen would do if anyone who laid a finger on Evie.  Still, Cullen could see that they forced this bond, the common practice in Circles.  This templar screamed more from feeling Cullen’s blade piercing her own heart through the connection and not the life sent too early for her decisions.

Fire sparked and engulfed the Fereldan templar’s sword not from Evie, but channeling her spells through him.  Cullen hollered and pushed the knight off him.  He ducked and rolled away from the madwoman’s flaying weapons.  Cullen did not buy it, using his flaming sword to ignite the woods around the pair.

“Bonds are equal pairs…”  The blond Fereldan hissed through his gritting teeth.  “You forced him into caring about this hopeless mission.  Die a thousand deaths!”  Cullen drove his sword up and under the knight cuirass during the next halberd dodge.  Cullen buried the blade deeper, cutting her lower spinal cord and intestines.  He withdrew it roughly and watched as the half-paralyzed templar screamed in agony on the ground.  Cullen left the rogue templar that way, knowing she will die in about twenty minutes from blood loss or after all those intestinal toxins ate her from the inside.

Then Cullen felt it.  Evie being silenced again.  Evie fought off three templars and a mercenary alone at the ambush point.  She had plenty of magic, but she was physically overwhelmed to actually cast a spell.  The knights kept smiting and purging her spells before they left her fingers or dirk focus stone.

The Fereldan raced to his Lady’s side, cutting down enemies along the way like butter.  He dodged, sliced, and stabbed foes until his sword drove itself into the mercenary’s kidney, falling to a heap at their feet.  He shielded his bond from a strike, their communication already prepared for the next action.

Evie threw a barrier over them both, her hand reaching for his.  She cast a few fireballs into the air to rain down on their foes.  Touching hand-to-hand, Cullen pulled from her Fade-connection for new lyrium-type power.  He stopped halfway, knowing Evie will need such abilities to withstand the assault.

Rejuvenated, Cullen jumped through the barrier and shield bashed the templar into another.  Another mage appeared behind the knights, her eyes wide as Cullen silenced and cut off her head in one swipe.  Evie kicked off a hollering knight’s helmet, likely the helpless mage’s bond.  Cullen held him still, already know Evie’s next dancing move.  With her knee and leg wrapped around his neck, she snapped all the vertebrae and severed the brainstem.  Too quick in Cullen’s opinion.  All the while, Cullen drove his long sword into fallen knight from his shield bash.  His blade tore through his neck as he ripped it free. 

Both bonds stood covered in their foe’s blood like magical beasts born from the hurricane.

“Kill that bitch and her fucking dog!”  Logan hollered from beside a tree, his lip bleeding from one of Evie’s pommel punches.

I’ll take him.  Clear out the others.  Cullen growled, thundering forward.  The flame returned to his sword, igniting the ground between Evie and her last foes.  He blocked Logan’s greatsword with his blade, pivoting to toss the weight away.  His arm with his shield smacked the man in the side.

Cullen felt the silence ripple through him, the first time it impacted him in his life.  The flame around his sword fell away, while Evie hollered and grabbed her heart.  Logan grinned like a demon while drinking his last lyrium.  He casted that on Cullen!  So, silencing on Cullen will impact Evie through the bond.  Now, it was not just physical ailments impacting each other.  All magical or nullification applied.  The Fereldan knight hollered like a lion, punching the man in the face four times and kneed him in the groin to push this scumbag cousin away.  Now, Cullen had to be extra careful while with other templars.

Evie swayed, her gallowglass sword and dirk blocking and pivoting away from the last knight and female mercenary attacking her.  She called for the spirits to power her, but she was using too much mana at the same time.  She felt some power from Cullen keeping her moving and connected as the knights concentrated their silences both bonded pairs. 

Using the sapphire barrier stone on her dirk, Evie pushed both adversaries away.  However, the hired thug cut her hand not covered by a bracer, causing her to lose her smaller weapon.  The deep wound flashed to Cullen, so he too bled.  The barrier held for a moment long, blocking a rogue arrow from yet another enemy emerging out of the forest.

Cullen worked quickly around Evie’s cousin, his mind focused on both the battle and his bond struggling behind him.  His hand bled from her cut, making the grip on his shield difficult.  He rolled from one of Logan’s swings, seeing his ultimate moment.  He grabbed the man’s arm, dropping his shield in the process.  With a pull and twist, he felt the bones break and his arm get pulled out of its socket.  However, before Cullen could finish him, the knight dropped his weapon and sliced Cullen with a hidden blade.  Cullen blocked the second blow meant for his face. 

Both templars fell to the forest floor, rolling and directing the hidden blade towards one another.  They were equally matched in strength and will.  The bastard cousin nicked Cullen’s nose tip and his eyebrow, but he refocused his handle on the blade.  With leverage, Cullen turned the struggle’s tide and swiped Logan’s palm, making him lose the blade in the night.

That was when Cullen heard it.  His glowing amber eyes focused on Logan cut, broken arm.  He could see the blue mineral crystal dripping from his rogue knight’s blood from the multiple draughts he drank. 

Is this blood magic…?!

No, my Avatar…  Hope whispered into his heart.  You can utilize this source.  Seekers are not the only ones who envision the dwarven mineral. You can use it.

Cullen grasped the bleeding hand with his own cut hand, their blood mixing in the tight grip.  Much like when he pulls or gives energy to Evie, Cullen focused on the hum in this man’s blood.  He pulled it through his vessels towards him.  Logan screamed bloody murder, watching as the blue lyrium separated from the red liquid and danced into Cullen’s body.  His pale skin brightened from bells of not having a draught.

Cullen glowed amber as he grabbed Logan’s throat.  The remaining lyrium stuck to the templar’s bone became red hot in the Fereldan’s gaze.  Cullen focused on it like Evie’s flames dancing around him.

“Burn…”  Cullen ordered, watching the man combust from the inside.  Logan exploded and fell backward, his face mortified in horror and reckoning during the last moments of life.

Another blade hit Cullen, his attention instantly flying back to his bond, struggling still against rogues and archers now flanking the blood battlefield.  Cullen picked up his shield and raced to Evie side.  He threw down a Wrath of Heavens on them both before striking across mercenary’s back.  His bleeding hand reached out to Evie, who drew his rebuilt power into herself. 

With the rejuvenated mana pool, Evie ignited the world around them in flames and force pushing throwing all hidden adversaries away and into the forest.  Several archers hidden in the trees cried for mercy as the flames engulfed them.  Evie rose the fire upward before exploding it out like a flaming mind blast.  A thundering boom mixed with the screams of their dying enemies.

As the conflagration simmered down around them, Evie grabbed Cullen’s bleeding hand.  Her healing magic pumped through them both, while his lyrium hyped body replenished her mana pool.  Within a few minutes, both people were right as rain.

“What are we…?”  Cullen questioned, his panting finally slowing.  The battle’s adrenaline slowly bled out of him.  He kept looking at his now healed hand and the burning mass of bone and guts that used to be her cousin.  He was he?!  A seeker now?!  Or something far worse?

“People who just want to live past tonight, my Lion.”  Evie replied, her head rest on his shoulder as she took relieving pants.  She wiped some blonde from her bangs and forehead.

Cullen found himself again, determination and purpose his anchors.  Anything for Evie.  “Then we better keep moving.  That isn’t the last of them.”

Evie nodded, sheathing her sword and picking up her dirk.  Cullen strapped his shield to his back and cleaned his blade on the burnt grass beneath their feet.  Once back to rights, the bonded pair jogged out of the burning forest and carnage.  The hurricane neared again.  They were running out of time.

Chapter Text

Thom Reiner thought this would be an easy job.  When a House Callier member approached him about a side opportunity worth his weight in gold, Thom salivated at the chance.  His Grand Tourney winnings quickly dwindled between his gambling and boozing.  He barely thought about the generous man who assisted him winning the games, only that Thom was a desired asset for anyone’s army.

Alas, when the money ran dry, the shield warrior lived in Orlais and started working as a mercenary.  He caught the eye of Orlesian chevaliers after enlisting and began training with them.  He rose to lieutenant in the imperial army within a few years.  However, the pay was low and barely sustained the activities Thom enjoyed after winning the Grand Tourney.  If he wanted to rise higher in rank, he needed finances to win over the masked chevaliers.  They still denied him his own regiment because of lack of standing. Winning the tourney only impressed Orlesians so far.

So when House Callier offered Thom both money and a military sponsorship by the major noble house, he never thought twice.  They offered exactly wanted Thom carved.  Wild desires danced behind his eyes at the prospect of his own regiment and a captain rank.  His former lifestyle now seemed like his future.

Now, lying in wait along a cliff face on some Free Marcher island, the hired mercenary warrior began doubting if this was a great idea.  He never liked his current squad leader, some pompous minor noble knight named Burton.  He was barely out of templar training, but he was put in charge of the infiltration unit.  He knew things about this hostage family that either came from excellent spying or personal experience.  How he grumbled and hissed about the rogue mage they were to capture that sounded too much like revenge.  That meant the man was not thinking clearly, only focused on capturing and subdue their target than proper strategy.

Thom shook his head.  He needed to focus on the prize.  Yes, he never had been on a mage capture run in his life, but it could not be too difficult.  The mage held some stranded noble family hostage, planning to use the family as a blood sacrifice to call forth a rare demon.  There were children inside.  Thom could not allow children to die such a horrific death.

However, Thom began doubting what he was told.  When he watched from the Man O’War that rogue mage sink an entire Man O- War with a spell, he felt confident he was doing the right thing.  Glory and patronage will come with his other prizes for putting down such a dangerous being.  Yet, when Thom listened to his fellows in the rowboats, the manor in which housed the captured family shot cannon balls at them and shuttered every entrance.  There was an entire legion of family soldiers beating back the first wave of allied knights.

“Have you never seen what blood magic can do?”  Burton hissed with a snarl when Thom questioned why these people were fighting against them rather than being relived rescue had arrived.  “It can make you do things against your will.  That flaming slut is controlling them.  They fight under her command.  The one templar at her side is the worst infected.  He was susceptible to it already after surviving the blood mage rebellion in Ferelden.  Kill him on site.  You’ll be doing him a favor.”

Still, Thom could not shake the feeling something was not right.  As the squad waited during the hurricane’s calm for their inside person to let them in, he could not help but feel there was something his employers was not telling him.  The leader of a group, Duchess Patricia rarely showed herself to the crew during their voyage.  Every so often, a mercenary would come up missing after visiting her. 

The few times Thom saw and met the woman, a deep dread welled up inside him.  She just felt off.  Her eyes look dead to the world, while her tone sounded flat and droned.  Still, she was beautiful and a skill templar.  She drank the most lyrium on board that allowed her to do things with the weather thought impossible.  If someone asked Thom who was the mage in the group, he would have said Duchess Patricia based on her strange abilities.

Thom shuttered, thinking how easy the duchess made crossing the breath between the anchored Man O’ War and the isle shore.  He should be dead from the hurricane, let alone the cannon balls.  Still, he sat against the cliff well, healthy, and ready. 

Just think about the rewards, and do your purpose, Thom.

A metal door slowly slid open, well hidden in the cliff face.  If searching for the exit, Thom would have never found it or suspected one existed.  A bearded man stepped out wearing the House’s colors.  Was this their inside man?

“Meurig…”  Burton sang with a huge grin.  “Here I thought you never got that wonderful note.”

Thom studied the man’s gear.  He was high ranking guard, while his face glared at their templar leader.  A guard captain?

“Where is the proof?”  The guard captain growled through his beard.  Burton pulled out a note with a hair ribbon stained with blood.  Meurig read it, his blue eyes widening.   “This tells me nothing!”

“Your sister and her family are safe, Meurig.”  Burton retorted with a smirk.  “I saw them myself before left.  Your sister is very pretty.”

“If you harmed a single hair on their heads-“

“They’re fine.”  Burton spat, rolling his eyes.  “They will remain fine until Patricia sends the notice to release them by morning.  If no notice, they’ll be sold to the slavers.  Do as we wish, and all will be well.”

Thom stilled, hiding his bare face in the cliff’s shadow.  Blackmailing the captain guard for entry.  Selling a family to slavers to get their way.  For a group of templars stating they are doing Andraste’s will, this did not sound like holy warriors.

“You all are sonofabitches…”  Meurig grunted, standing to the side and allowing the squad to enter the secret passage.

“And you should have told your ‘perfect’ lord about your elven half-sister instead of ignoring she existed for twenty years.”  Burton sassed with a condensing tone.  “For a man who turned his back on his family, you care too much about a bunch of knifes ears.  Your network of money exchanges led us back to them.  I’m surprised Uncle does not know.”

Did Thom hear that right?  Uncle?

“He knows they existed, but because I never knew exactly where my parents died, I thought them all safe.”  The guard captain grunted at the laughing templar.

“That’s your stupidity.  You brought this on yourself aligning with them.”  Burton smacked the guard’s arm.  “If you play nice, we’ll even introduce you all after all this over.  Of course, I can’t wait to see Uncle’s face knowing you betrayed him after thirty years of clean service.”

“Fuck you, Burton.”

The squad snuck through the manor’s bedrock tunnels.  No one spoke.  Their voices could easily give away their position.  No guards crossed their path, the guard captain’s betrayal keeping his men clear of the infiltrators.  It all seem too easy.  If everyone on the fleet arrived on the island, this would be a cakewalk.

However, Thom knew there was a reason House Callier brought over three hundred men to the isle.  Was this mage that dangerous?  Yes, it blew up a ship, but surely it was almost died pulling off that spell.  Something was not adding up.

According to the plan, once the infiltrators possessed the first floor, they were to open the main gates and door for Duchess Patricia and her larger army acting a distraction at the moment.  They timed everything with the hurricane.  Once the eye passed over the manor, they either had to hunker down again or rush their enemy for capture.  If they failed claiming the manor, the whole mission was a wash.

Finally, the squad reached the first floor after climbing several sub levels.  The manor looked empty, but Thom knew they sealed the whole place like a fortress.  Every so often, cannon fire rumbled the shielded glass from the wall defenses.

Burton pointed to the two sets of men and women, mainly mercenaries.  They were to spit up, cover the exits, and search for the hostage family.  Thom stayed with Burton a few knights, sneaking around the finery towards what looked like the dining room.

“Evelyn!”  A bass voice rumbled through the halls.  A young woman soaked and beaten raced forward and hugged a bearded man.  The man cried into what must have been his daughter’s shoulder.  “I knew you lived, but how I worried.”

A blond man in rusty armor stood by a side entrance to the room.  He too looked beaten and bruised.  Both individual were caked in dried blood.  Maker’s balls…

The armored bearded man leaned back, nodded to the blond, then studied his daughter tearing up on his arms.  “Evelyn, your eyes-“  He touched her temple before sending a scolding wild glare at the blond man.  The rusty armored knight took a step back, holding up his hands like the glare alone could kill him.

“It’s okay, Father…”  The daughter calmed her father.  “It was all consensual.”

“Maker’s name…”  The beard man growled.  Then he froze, his ears attuned towards the squad’s direction.  The daughter and other man also stilled, their glowing eyes scanning the manor’s darkness.  “Meurig!  Where are you!?”

Burton nudged the unwilling guard captain.  The man stayed in position, his anger at the whole situation flaring.  He shook his head, daring the young knight to protest.

Thom’s eye caught an elf race into the dining room.  “No one has seen him for thirty minutes.  I just checked the security.  The southeast passage has not been checked in an hour.”

The daughter’s bright green eyes flashed to her father.  “We entered the entrance from the forest where Adams stood guard per the plan.”

The bearded man gritted his teeth.  “Check on-“

A muffled scream echoed down the hall.  The invading soldiers carried a dark brown woman in leather pants and padded armor down the hall.  Burton raced forward, his sword out and threatening the startled dining room group.

“Stand down, Uncle!”  Burton barked as Thom and the others supported him.  He pointed to the captured woman.  “Or she dies!”  Lay down your arms!”

The bearded man looked like he could crush the boy with his bare hands.  The daughter summoned barriers over her father, the captured woman, and the blond knight.  Fire swirled around her.  So, she is the dangerous mage who killed hundreds tonight?

“Burton…”  The bearded man hissed through his teeth.  He stood with his cane still in hand as he dropped his blades from his belt.  “You imbecile.  You know what she is and still support her?”

“She is the future!”  Burton hollered at his relative.  He pointed at the wary mage across the room.  “That is the disgust brought on this family.  That disgusting Fereldan dog and she will fuel the end of the world!  That filthy blood will do some good in this world.  You and your hopeful changes!  Dorothea is a lunatic to think that your fight is the Maker’s will!  No, glory waits for us all once it all burns.  Hand over that bitch and your precious little wife doesn’t die!”

This was not what Thom signed up for!

The different groups waited for each other to move.  Breaths hung in lungs, waiting for one another to make the first moves.  Glowing eyes and twirling hands pointed to the interlopers, while Burton stepped closer with his longsword towards the struggling woman in a templar’s grasp.

“AHHHHH!”

Thom barely pivoted and dodged the halberd flying at his face from the side hall.  A young man barely an adolescent started beating and stabbing knights.  Chaos rang through the air as a long rapier appeared out of the lord’s cane and stabbed the closest knight.  His other hand scooped up his dropped blades.  Fireballs flew in the air at Burton, blasting the idiot templar away from the struggling woman.  The blond knight shield bashed a mercenary assassin trying to flank.

Thom just blocked and moved, his body responding to the ferocity this young brown-haired man committed to protect his family.  His intense brown eyes denoted he was not a captured controlled child, but a son protecting his loved ones.  Everything Thom thought about this mission suddenly flipped on its head when the halberd dented Thom’s cuirass and flung him on the floor.

A rapier dashed over him as the lord rushed his nephew in hopes to save his wife.  Meurig changed sides again, but too late.  The bearded man buried his rapier tip into his neck, hollering, “I had it all under control, Meurig!  You will never doubt me again!”

The mage and templar worked towards her brother, slashing and igniting knights and soldiers like they were ballroom dancing.  Thom jumped off the floor to avoid a fire rune summoned underneath him.  The explosion sent furniture and debris flying.  Thom could not stop himself as he flew into the air.  His sword pointed outward right towards-

The blade found flesh.  Thom flipped up in his helm to see who he pierced.  The struggling captured wife held the blade in her gut, her kind brown eyes meeting his.  “I forgive you…”  She whispered, her blooded hand cupping his bare cheek.

“MOTHER!”  The mage screamed, her mana pushing everyone over. 

“LADY GWEN!”  The blond knight hollered, his shield and sword striking towards Thom with revenge in his pulsing amber eyes.

Thom threw out his blade from the lady’s gut, his hands working to pull gauze and a healing potion to save her.  He poured the liquid down her throat, while pressing on the wound to slow the bleeding.  Glancing over his shoulder, the blond knight’s held his longsword over his head to strike Thom precisely for his offense.

The darkness and a massive explosion popped open the front double door right by Thom.  The Fereldan knight went flying and hit a side wall.  He crumbled to the floor.  The mage began panicked, barriers flipping over her family as a dark entity entered the residence.

Thom watched as the army of templars raced indoors and began fighting the family.  A hammer knocked the young man with the halberd down a flight of stairs unconscious.  The mage fought back the onslaught.  Her father kept stabbing the crazed knights, reaching for his duel blades.  He cut down several soldiers before the darkness squeezed his throat and tossed him through the dining room table.

Seeing her partner struggling on the floor, the mage collected her mana.  The movements reminded Thom of what he witnessed on board the Man O’ War.  She will rain fire on everyone, even her own family.  Her fear and resistance shined through her burning green eyes as Patricia entered the front door with glowing red eyes.

“You will not take me!”  The mage screamed, thrusting her hands into the air.  Then she froze.  All her magic was bled dry.  Patricia tilted her head as ionized ooze fell through the air.  Thom had heard of a silence, but never one that he—a non-mage—could feel.  It was powerful, beyond any crushing hell he felt in his life.

The blond man lunged off the floor, screaming as the mage felt to her knees and cried in agony.  He raced towards her, his hand outreaching like he was drowning.  She lunged for him, but ship knights descended on both people.  The pair reached out for each other.  They pushed, kicked, and crawled with all their remaining might as their wails echoed through the silenced house.  Duchess Patricia watched the struggle curiously, like their pain and desperation made her smile with glee.  Each time their fingers touched, knights kicked or swashed their hands.  Thom heard bones break every time.

“Eve….EVE!”  The man hollered right before a knight bashed his bleeding temple with the pommel of their greatsword.

“CULLEN!”  Evie screamed, doing everything possible to reach his side.  A templar covered her face with a cloth.  Within a few seconds she passed out, drugged.

Still, one man surged forward. Meurig went to slice Patrica while holding his oozing neck wound, but the blonde noble….freak caught him midair.  “You served your purpose.”  Her voice was dead.  With her long fingernails, she drove her right hand into his chest and ripped out his heart.  She dropped the man on the floor, his still beating heart pulsing in her razor-like hand.

“Carry them to the garden.  Complete the sweep for their other allies.  Kill all that resist.  Bring the townspeople from their safehouses.  Murder the broken bonds and set their Sanctuary aflame.”

“We can’t access the library!”

Patricia knocked over the announcer before stomping her heel through his eye.  “Destroy it all any means necessary.  The Reformists die tonight.”

Thom watched as the dark entity walked away, dropping the beating heart by him and the slowly dying lady of this innocent house.  He pushed the knights away, lifting the woman he stabbed.  She leaned against his neck, still whispering forgiveness and prayers for Thom’s soul.

What has he done?

Chapter Text

A burlap bag flipped off Cullen’s head as he slowly regained consciousness.  His head felt like a carriage driven by twelve horses stomped all over him.  As his eyes slowly adjust to the circle of torchlight, he searched for Evie through their bond.  He had to rely on his swimming sight instead to find his Lady.  Their connection still laid severed from that strange diseased silence so strong almost all the mages on the isle must have felt it. 

“Get off me, you hags!”

A small man—Esme—kicked and screamed in his ropes as one templar worked to tie up his ankles.  The teen gave them a chance in the manor, startling the ambushers, but now he paid the price for his dare.  Burton, blooded and smothering from Evie’s spells, stomped up to the lad and punched him so hard a tooth flew out of his mouth.

“Enough.”

Absolutely dread and anxiety flowed through Cullen.  That blonde demonic robed woman walked out from behind him.  Behind her, Patricia’s rogue templars dragged the unconscious Evie.  They ripped off her leather armor until her tattered tunic and pants only remained.  Cullen struggled forward, but they bound his hand behind him at the hip.  They stole his weapons so he could do nothing by watch and kneel in the grass.

They sat a second body down by where they dragged Bann Ian.  A warrior carried Lady Gwen—the same man who stabbed her.  He pressed a cloth to her gut, keeping vigil over his now patient.  None of the templar gave him any mind.  Cullen could not sense in lyrium on him.  Likely a mercenary that the Promisers used to throw bodies at the isle’s defenses.

Cullen’s worried amber orbs flicked back to Evie as a templar put a jar under her nose.  They did not restrain her with ropes, but kept her arms out from her body in a kneeling position.  Within seconds of sniffing the jar, his Lady awoke, her bright green eyes searching the crowd until landing on Cullen.  He could tell by her eyes she stretched herself to reach his connection across the Fade, but the silence still lingered.

“Dear sister…”  That monotone-twisted, high-pitch voice hissed as Patricia waltzed up the mage.  “Why fight?  We are on the same team.”

“Bullshit, you demonic slut!”  Evie hissed at the robed woman.  She closed her eyes, refusing to look at her former half-sister.

“Oh, you are so wrong.  You have shown me time and time again that this is your purpose.  I can see what you will do to this world, bringing a new glory to all of Thedas.”  Patricia petted Evie’s bruised cheek like she was a kitten.  Cullen nearly barfed that this foul beast touched his Lady, his wife!

Patricia grasped Evie’s jaw, forcing the mage to turn towards her.  “Open your eyes.”

“Never.  I will never do your will!”

A knight holding Cullen kicked him in the stomach, which caused Evie to spit blood.  Their connection flowed back.  Patricia must control it with silences.

“Open, or he loses a kidney.”  Patricia threatened with a tiled head.

“Don’t give in, Eve!”  Cullen grunted as the action kicked him to the ground.  “We can’t be manipulated!”

Evie spat up more blood from the physical wound transfer.  Her bright green eyes flashed open and glare furiously up at her sister.  Patricia stopped, her fingers digging into her chin, drawing blood.  Cullen felt the claws through the transfer.  Patricia began panting, her head whipping between Cullen and Evie.

“NO!”  Patricia struck Evie hard across the face, sending her flying backwards.  The templars containing her pulled her into a kneeling position again.  Blood flowed from her torn forehead.  Patricia rings must have cut her.  The slap sent Cullen falling to the side on the ground.  He started spitting up in the grass.

Patricia pointed to Burton.  “You told me she will be pure!  You promised there was no way for them to bond!”  Burton actually looked taken aback, his grey eyes flashing between the bonds.  “But she…and he-“  He grunted as Patricia’s long nails spiked his eyes into his skull.  She held the twitching bastard there for a few moments, before allowing to fall off her grasp.

As they pulled him back up, Cullen knew the possessed woman was losing control, the demon inside struggling against its human form at the news.  Her strange magic puffed and swirled around her.  Patricia kept gripping and tearing at her face.  She left long lines of blood from her sharp nails and her evil deeds throughout the night.  She was the classic example of a possessed individual, one that needed destroyed before the demon broke free and murdered all around her.  He would know.  He saw it enough at Kinloch Hold. 

“You and your associates underestimated us, Demon.”  Cullen growled at his adversary.  “We fought our own bonded demon.  Now, we can overcome everything!”

Patricia just stared at Cullen.  “This changes nothing but shows how much of a whore she really is.  Did you enjoy yourself, Templar?  Fucking her like that demon fucked you.”  She waltzed over to Evie, hanging from the templars’ grasps.  “Well, enjoy what I have planned.  She might not accept me, but does not mean there isn’t another mage like her that will.  We have a list of such potential useful tools.  This one-“  Patricia slapped Evie again.  “-just fulfilled this body’s vendetta, the same that called me into this plane of existence.”

The demonic body turned towards him with a wicked smile.  “You think you are strong willed?  All you have invited tonight is watch as all of us enjoy what you tainted.  You’ll watch and feel.”  Cullen’s amber eyes widened, matching Evie’s shocked expression.  He felt his bond’s fear at the implications.  Patricia flipped her hand to Evie’s family.  “You’ll watch them feel what you denied again and again.  Draw and quarter?  Hung and disemboweled? Passed around like the common whore like that stabbed woman really is.”  She pointed at the bleeding Lady Gwen.  “I will save you, Knight, for last because you think you can overcome me.”  The demon spurted.  “All the while, she will know resistance is futile.”

Patricia waved to an associate who handed her two potions, one green and other blue.  Cullen’s eyes widened, knowing the second was lyrium.  The song called to his deprived body.  “Open her mouth.”  Evie struggled against the rogue knights wrenching her jaw open.  The green potion poured down her mouth.  Evie’s tongue pushed the liquid with her tongue out, but still much fell down her throat.  Patricia backed away.  “I’ll tell you what I fed her since you will feel it too.”  Cullen suddenly felt like he was in both Evie’s and his own body.  All his senses swirled around him.  He could barely differentiate between his world and hers.   “It’s a hyperawareness potion used on terrible mages punished for their misdeeds before tranquility.  It has a side effect.  Full bonds feel the effects too.  What you think keeps you safe also is a weakness.  So, when my knights have their fun with her cunt, you can feel it too.  Just like your demon enjoyed for so long in Kinhold.”

“Cullen…”  Evie whimpered, hearing her voice both in his mind and physically.

“Now, the lyrium…”   Patricia sang, wrenching her mouth open again.  She poured the contents down her throat more easily now as Evie fought against the transitions between both bodies.  “I need you to kill everyone on the island, little sister, before we have fun.  No one can know about tonight.  Now that you are useless to me, I will make you murder hundreds of innocent lives.  I doubted if I would have used them for the blood ritual by you spoiled all that.  They will see you for the disgusting monster you lied and hid for all your life.  You believed you were doing a service to the isle, but mages all deserve the void Circles give them.  Contain the beasts and weapons like one would do in an armory.  Now, burn them down.”

The lyrium poured down Evie’s throat, immediately igniting her ultra-sensitivity to the mineral.  Cullen reached out through their bond to possibly bleed her dry.  However, by not touching her, there was little he could do.  The spirits supporting them hollered in agony to keep their connection despite the Forbidden One’s silence disease.  To strengthen the demon’s abilities, Patricia drank another lyrium draught herself.  The power surging through her was too much for anything.

Hope was lost.

Purpose unachievable.

There was nothing he could do by feel and watch!

Cullen felt like that night drowning in the ocean.  The surface was so close.  His mind wanted to give up and admit defeat.  His body, heart, and soul refused, kicking towards the surface.  There was so much darkness around him.  Evie could not save him now as she did two months ago.  His worst nightmare will end with his death.  He will watch his Lady die a thousand deaths. 

He will not allow it.

But what can he do!?

Evie’s bright green eyes reached out to him as the immoral knights descended on her.

Those bright green orbs Cullen loved and cherished…

Always be prepared for anything.  Always be armed.  When the opportunity arises, take the moment.  Even when the darkness swallows you like the deep sinking sea, reach out, keep kicking, paddling, and reaching out.  Follow the green orbs home.

Seer Naishe’s words echoed in Cullen’s mind.  Cole’s reminder flickered as Cullen shifted his right boot towards his hand.  He felt the throwing knife Knotts gave him pressing on his sock.  He was prepared.  He was armed, his tenets not failing him now.  Cullen finally learned from his previous failings.  He stared at his Lady frightened about what will be inflicted on her person so drugged and helpless.

Reach out to her!

Keep kicking, paddling, and reach out!

His hyperaware senses noticed both the massive amount of lyrium in Patricia and another set of glowing eyes on the garden edge by the hedge maze.  Two glints from arrowhead flickered before dying behind the bush.  Cullen searched around for other allies.  Bann Ian sat with a bag over his head.  He stayed silence, but he too might be drugged.  Lady Gwen was being held by her attempted murderer, but that man looked as shocked and appalled by Patricia’s admission.  Maybe he will switch sides?  Esme still laid unconscious from Burton’s punch.

If that glint is who Cullen thinks it is…

“What will you do now, Patricia?  You don’t seem like anyone who just watches.”  Cullen taunted the abomination.  He needed her close.  His fingers inched back to his right boot.  Slowly so the rogue templars did not sense his actions.  They never took his throwing blade.  They underestimated his will to live.

“I enjoy watching, Templar.”  The demon hissed, turning away from Evie.  The knights just laughed at her, kissing her cheek and rubbed her chest through her tunic, but no real offenses yet.  Cullen will murder them all.  “What are you offering?”

“I might feel all of this, but I know from Eve that feeling is not enough to break a person.  For whatever you do to her, I will keep her strong.  She will contain that lyrium.  You won’t get your excuses for killing innocent lives.”

Patricia inched closer.  Cullen used the unsheathed throwing knife to cut through his restrains.  His capturers concentrated too much on the teasing happening to his Love.  “Perhaps.  You saying I have to break you too?  To feel her hells will not be enough?”

“It will just make me rage against you more.”  He growled bitterly, his mind wishing to tear apart this creature.

The glowing eyes on the tree line told Cullen his only equipped ally was ready.  She must have seen his plan.  The ropes were half cut.

Patricia withdrew a dagger from her robes.  “What if I make you bleed, Templar.  She’ll bleed, but she’ll do anything for your disgusting ass.  Not a slice that will kill you, of course.  I want you two to suffer.  I will have to find another strong pair for my ritual.  The skies will rain with fire.”

“Is that your true goal, demon?”  Cullen kept still, his right knee nearly ready to bounce up.  He kept the cut ropes in his hands to disguise he was actually free.  “To see our world become like the Void?  I thought you hated that place?”

“As long as my purpose is fulfilled, I will reign.  I will break what the Dread Wolf prevented with his Veil.  I will have my revenge on him.  What better way to kill and destroy him than while he sleeps…Sleeping until he finds his bond for all eternity.”

Cullen did not know what to think of this information.  In all honesty, he did not fucking care.  Patricia was close enough, her dagger pointed to his ribcage by his heart.  His next action will kill him, but anything to save Evie.

“The only being who will have his revenge tonight is me!”  Cullen jumped forward, grabbed Patricia and drove the throwing knife into Patricia’s neck into the major artery.  Two arrows impaled into her back as Cullen felt his ribs cut deep by her blade.  With her lyrium-fueled body, Cullen pulled forth his bond abilities, igniting and pulling the lyrium from her body.  The abomination screamed, feeling its power being drained.  With all the lyrium collected from Patricia, Cullen purged and smited the demon.  “TO THE VOID DEMON!”  Patricia erupted into fire from both Evie and Cullen as every bit of her body and the demon possessing her vaporized.  It was like the transfer through Desire, but this one was more powerful, complete and never-ending.

Evie felt the lyrium pull and then the purge inflicted over her demonic sister.  Chaos ensued.   Arrows sang through the air.  Screaming and horror rumbled around her as arms let go of her body.  The warrior cradling her mother rested the lady before joining the fight. 

Still, Evie felt loss as she felt her own chest.  In Cullen, she felt the blade strike his heart, but yet she was fine?  No blood, but it poured from his body.  He cut off the mortal wound physically and bond-like so she could live?! 

Don’t leave me! 

The shocked lady might have heard Hemmingway’s hollering with his war hammer and his fellow sailors attacking, but in her mind all she saw was Patricia’s body vaporize from Cullen’s grasp.  She watched as he gripped the dagger buried into his chest.  He slid it out, its edge rubbing against his ribs.  She felt the wound and scarring left behind as blood poured from the wound.  Her templar allowed the demon’s offensive item drop from his hands.  His beautiful heart slowly failed him, that majestic piano disappearing from Evie’s soul. 

Evie reached forward, feeling the lifeforce leaving her bond.  Her magic was beyond her control in the chaos.  The lyrium and feeling her love’s dying broke something inside Evie.  Her fire burst forth, protecting those she loved and annihilating all adversaries.  She raced forward.  The templars once holding her in place became nothing but ash.  She felt the burns she created on her body, but all that mattered was reaching Cullen.

The mage caught his dying body, her magic swirling like an inferno around them both.   Her voice screamed, but she heard nothing.  Her ears only attuned to the missing music she embraced since birth.  Her crazy magic poured into him, holding onto the piano softening in her heart.  She could not lose him.  Every spell she knew pulsed through her hands and into his being.  Something must stop Cullen leaving her behind.

I can’t lose you!  I love you!  Don’t leave me!

Cullen reached up and touched her swollen cheek.  His lips moved, but no sound called to her.  Evie heard the sound just as the piano died inside her.

I love you…

A catalytic shock wave of light burst off of Epona Isle.  Ostwick residents felt then saw the flash of light.  Then a shock wave rippled throughout the city, busting windows and loosen doors damaged by the raging storm battering the shore.  No one knew what caused the explosion at House Trevelyan’s estate.  Instead, they only experienced the crippling loss rippling across the Fade and physical world.

Chapter Text

Summersday, 1st of Bloomingtide 9:33 Dragon

The spring’s chirping birds roused Evie for her deep dreams.  Her bright green eyes slowly opened, staring at the open balcony door that allowed the early spring morning to refresh the bedroom’s stale air.  She thanked her servants again for moving the bed so she could see out into the blooming garden and wake to such a beautiful sight.

The woman slowly pulled herself up out of bed, her body still fragile even after months of healing and salves.  She did a great deal of traveling throughout the last month, visiting people she had not seen since childhood and meeting new friends who she feels she has known her whole life.  They never commented on her burned skin or the scars on her back.  Everyone knows the rumors that befallen Epona Isle all those months ago.

The sheer chemise covering her scarred body barely moved as she quietly pulled her legs from under the blankets and out of bed.  Her night shawl embroidered with a rising phoenix laid on the end stand beside her.  She pulled it over her shoulders to keep out the little nip still hanging in the morning air.  Each movement was calculated so not to disturb the mabari laying at her feet on her own special patted rug.  Surana barely grunted as Evie’s bare feet touched the floor.  Now thrice the size, the war hound could easily tackle the mage if caught unaware.

The balcony called to the inferno mage that early morning.  The familiar sun’s soft rays reminded her of waking many months ago, thinking she was alone and abandoned.  She truly thought back then no one would want to stay beside her.  A small smile came to her lips, while twisting the amber teardrop pendant hanging between her barely clothed breasts.  The rays reflected off a newer piece of jewelry on her ring finger.  It was exquisite; each aspect minted with her in mind.

Evie wondered sometimes she was still in the Fade, her life essence clinging to keep him on Thedas and not past the Veil.  All her burns never transmitted through the connection as she heard no more reassuring sound echoing from the Fade.  She claimed death too, not wanting to live in a world without him.  Was this all heaven?  Her imagination?  Did she sleep a thousand years refusing to accept reality?

Maker, let this day be real.

“It is, my Lady.”

Warm callused hands encircled her waist.  A hard muscular body held her against the greatest warmth that no finery shawl could provide.  Stubble tickled her soft cheek and neck.  The solid mass behind her leaned down and kissed her bare shoulder.  His scarred lip tickled the flesh and sent tingles down her spine.  Warrior fingers entwined with hers.  He enveloped her with such deep love and disbelief.  All the while, that grand piano play with her magical violin deep in her being like a musical duet too divine to exist physically.  The spirits twirled and praised that such a wonderful day arrived.

“I still dream you died…”  Evie whimpered to the man who held her closely, safely, and peacefully.  “All I hear are my screams and wishing for death to join you…”  She can barely contain the tears pressing against her lashes.

Her Lion knight kissed her temple.  “You brought me back from the brink.  You healed me, body and soul, Eve.  I’m still here.  I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll never forget that feeling, Cullen.”  Evie admitted, accepting his affections against her temple and combing fingers through her sleep-tossed auburn waves.  “I never want to feel that loss again.”

“Neither do I.”  Cullen nudged her chin up and back towards him.  His scarred lip kissed her gently.  “We’re alive.  We’re whole.  After today, no one can tear us apart.”  He tilted his head, thinking.  “Well, on paper it will be official, but we both know we are one for months now.  I think that specifically is why I am still standing.”

Evie turned around, her hand instantly finding where the dagger struck Cullen’s heart.  “I hate this scar…but it tells me we survived.  You survived.”

“This won’t stop bothering you.”  Cullen concluded, kissing her scarred forehead.  He held her flesh with his bare chest just to feel more of her skin-to-skin.  She felt his natural heat through her shift, but still she trembled.  Her nightmare will not leave her.  She feared she will wake up again and discover he was dead.

“No…”  Evie confessed, leaning against her love more until he had to step back to stabilize them both.

“Well, just like my own nightmares, what happened against Patricia will fade away with time.”

“You seem so sure.”  Evie admired his confidence, her fears still wavering in her soul.  “Meredith now hunts us.  We stopped the Forbidden One, but there are so many others tearing this world apart.’

Cullen kissed the top of her head.  “You heard Dorothea last night.  The Reformists are not more.  We’re the Inquisition now.  We will fight the darkness to serve the light.  Into darkness, unafraid…together.”

Evie looked up at her Lion, cupping his face.  “Are you comfortable about this?  Being a ‘bond hunter’ here in the Free Marches?”

“To ensure escaped bonds live better than in Kirkwall.  Absolutely.”  Cullen kissed her forehead again, then her temple.  “You heard Rylen a few days ago.  After the Starkhaven fires, they sent all those bonds to Meredith.  If it wasn’t for this Hawke woman, they would have died or their bonds destroyed.  We’ll work together:  you working from the shadows and I as an official ‘bond hunter’.  I’m a knight-captain now.  Meredith has to listen to me because I speak for the Order’s interest with strong supporters behind us.  For the bonds I cannot get transferred, you’ll get them to safety.”

“Meredith still knows who we really are.  Yes, I can walk out into the world, and no one knows I am a mage, but she knows.  You must work with her.  She could kill…”  The tears slipped beyond her control as she massaged the scar tissue between his ribs.  She felt his fast heartbeat under her fingertips.

Nudging her chin up, Cullen kissed Evie passionately, all thoughts disappearing.  She felt his love, care, and promises through their bond.  Evie moaned into his mouth, her body craving him like air.  “That is all for tomorrow, Eve…”  He whispered against her rosy lips.  “Today is about us…”  He wiped away the fallen tears from her cheeks and jaw before kissing her again.  Her fingers encircled his neck.  Never close enough to Cullen.

Now the crying shifted to happiness.  Evie beamed, rubbing her nose against his.  “It’s happening.  It’s finally happening.  Lifetimes, and it’s happening!”

“I think the only person more excited about this is Mia.”  Cullen chuckled, hugging his lady love.

“And Jimmy.”  Evie sassed with a smirk.  Cullen rolled his big amber eyes.  Evie chuckled.  “Oh, come on, he wants to be you.”

“Maker’s breath…”

Evie traced his stubble jaw with her finger.  “Is this truly what you want, Cullen?”

The new knight-captain kissed her quickly.  He lifted her left hand and kissed the ring on her finger.  “More than anything.  No pressure, no entrapment, or duty.  I am in love with you, Evelyn Tesni Trevelyan…”

Evie’s bright green glowed.  “Not for much long.”  Her Free Marcher lilt sang cheerfully.

“I saw you writing your new surname a few days ago in the study.”  He smirked and winked.

The mage blushed.  “What?  I want it to look nice signing the registry.”

“Ssssuuurrreee…”  Cullen mocked, receiving an arm slap from his love.  He just chuckled and kissed her.  “Is this what you want?”

“More than anything.”  Evie nodded quickly, her face hurting so much from smiling.  “My dreams are coming true…”  She leaned forward and kissed her Fereldan knight.  Her hips rolled against him, enticing a moan from his raspy baritone throat.  Their lips danced over each other, becoming more intense than before. 

Slowly, the pair stepped backwards towards the bed.  Surana barely stood and move before her companions nearly stepped on her puffy rug.  Their roaming hands shifted their loose clothing to feel the flesh beneath.  Their kissing intensified with nips and licks.  Evie mewled as Cullen’s lips left hers to worship her bare neck.  His rough hand slid one chemise strap down her shoulder so her breast nearly popped out.  “It’s been too long.  The time in the cave feels like a lifetime ago.”

Cullen’s tongue danced into her mouth.  Her body arched as her knee slid up his body.  “You’re the one who agreed with your father to keep celibate until married.”

“He was going to murder you after I saved your life.”  She reminded her love.  “We had little choice.”  Cullen lifted her up and slowly carried her to the bed.  Evie clawed at his broad shoulders while she felt him stiffen between her legs.  “Besides, I thought I was already with child.  I was late, and I assumed they would rush things.”

Her knight stopped his kisses, laying her down like she was the most fragile person who existed.  “You might not have been with child, but I plan to change that starting tonight.”  Cullen’s baritone was guttural and feral.  Evie knew he would definitely do everything possible to keep that promise.  He uncovered her breast and suckled her nipple hard while massaging the other.

“You better…”  Evie gasped as her hand searched for his sleep pant’s draw strings.  “You promised me pleasure every day for the rest of our lives.”

“I have time to make up for.”  Cullen gulped, feeling Evie’s hand find its prize in his pants.  “Maker’s breath, woman.  We’re almost at the finish line.”

“I’m impatient.”  Evie whined, while rolling her hips against his hard body.  “A few more bells is too long…”

“Fuck it.”  Cullen called, pulling her shift up.  “This for them.”  He kissed down her burnt stomach towards her barely covered prize.  “Maker, Eve, you smell heavenly.”

“Too much talking.  More pleasing, please.”  The mage demanded, throwing off her shawl and reaching to pull off her chemise.

“Agreed.”  Cullen kissed, untying her smalls.  His tongue reached out to graze the first of her slickness-

“Lady Evie?”  Both bonds stopped, their uniquely dyed eyes glancing at the double doors.  “If he is in there, you must hurry!  Mistress Mia is searching for her brother!”

Cullen flopped to the side of the bed as Evie groaned to herself.  She rubbed her legs together.  “I love your sister, but she has horrible timing.”

“Don’t I know it…”  Cullen grunted, rubbing his face.  His hand stopped tying his sleep pants.  “Maybe could still…?”

“Lady Evie!  Please!  Altus Pavus is demanding to come through the antechambers doors!”

“I’m killing Dorian.”  Evie deadpanned, her glare nearly sending a fireball at the double doors.

“He likely knows I’m here anyway.  Between Rian threatening to disembowel me and Rylen dropping hints every five minutes, I’m surprised everyone does not know about the secret passage.  Although, Cassandra will never admit it, she thinks this is all romantic.”  Cullen mumbled, shifting up.  He searched the floor for his discarded shirt he usually slept in.  It was the same Evie used while healing after the Desire Demon. 

“Hemmingway and Knott’s doing.”  Evie sighed, slowly covering herself up again.  “We made that promise to Father, but it said nothing about sleeping in the same bed and other activities.”  Her clitoris tingled at the lost prospect Cullen licking her to completion again.  She will just have to wait a few more bells.

Evie pulled out the throwing knife Cullen always left under the pillow.  Her knight took it and slid it into the leg strap, always there for emergencies.  After Patricia, he was never without a weapon day or night.

Well, not while they make love.  Evie put her foot down on that one.  Cullen reluctantly agreed.

She will just fry whoever disturbs their coupling from this evening onward.

Evie slowly slid off the king-size bed as Cullen made his way to the hidden door in the dressing room.  “Even a few more bells feels like a lifetime.  The trip you took with Father to the mines nearly killed me.”

Cullen pivoted and hugged her.  “I cannot wait to see you personally.  I know it’s been hard to keep your dress from your mind’s eye.”

Evie tapped his nose as he pulled on the secret door.  “No sneak peaks.  I felt you nudging during my dress fitting.”

Cullen pouted with a big, flat lower lip.  Evie rolled her eyes before sucking it between his lips.  He pinned her against the wardrobe, lifting her chemise.  His fingers just grazed her smalls to-

“Lady Evie!”

Cullen growled so loudly his chest visibly shook.  Evie kissed his nose and shrugged.  Losing his patient, the templar tore himself away from his Lady.  “Surana!”

Suddenly, the massive pup raced into the dressing room and into the secret passage to Cullen’s room.  “I’ll be waiting at the end of the docks—err, aisle.”  Cullen promise, swiping some auburn bang’s from Evie’s vision.

Evie kissed him one last time.  “The next time I do that, I’ll be your wife.”

Cullen smiled and cupped her cheek.  “You already are.”

Evie watched him disappear into the dark corridor.  She sent a magelight orb with him to navigate the tight hall.  Once he was far in the depths of the secret route, she close the hidden door.  After today, there was no need for secrecy, at least about their relationship.  While yes, her mage status and their bonding was still a secret, this one will allow the pair to save more lives while acting in all societies.

Evie touched her flat stomach.  She wanted to fill her womb with his child.  IT was all she ever wanted now.  What will happen if she is pregnant and everyone discovers her magical status?  What will they do to Cullen?!

Evie shook the fears away.  He was right.  Those worries were for another day.

She approached her suite door and open it for Dorian, Fessil, Siana, Cassandra, Queen Astrid of Ferelden, and her mother Gwen.  Everyone complained about her dallying except Lady Gwen, who smile knowingly at her daughter.  To see her mother healthy and breathing kept Evie going most days.  Her magic healed her mother from the mortal toxins following being stabbed by Thom Rainer, now a House and Inquisition ally.  It made all of Evie’s concerns and pains worth it.

Now, with her room filled with loved ones, she was ready to celebrate this grand day…

Evie was marrying the love of her life.

Evie will be Cullen Stanton Rutherford’s wife.

Lady Evelyn Tesni Rutherford…still a noble thanks to King Alistair knighting Cullen last night while playing chess in the Drawing Room.

Cullen loved her and wished for a family together.

They will achieve what their previous bonds never reached.

Evie and Cullen will have a wedding day, finally husband and wife.

Chapter Text

"Burnt Twin Flames" has a new supplemental piece!  If you enjoyed this story and the universe, I just posted a new supplement short story on AO3 called "Worthy".  It takes place between Chapter 47 and Chapter 48, and details the recovery time after Patricia's demise. 

Summary:

Cullen and Evie will announce their engagement during a Satinalia ball.  Past horrors slowly fade from recent memory, while new foes linger on the horizon.  There are several loose ends that leave the twin flame bonds unsteady.  Cullen’s sacrifice during the last great battle makes Evie never want to leave his side. 
 
However, Bann Trevelyan requests Cullen and the nobleman take a short four-day trip to a Free-Marches Templar Order mine.  Cullen must face his own unfinished proprieties, especially regarding Evie’s father.  The two men are at a standstill.  For this Satinalia exchange to occur, Cullen must face mounting concerns and doubts about himself.
 
Is Cullen worthy of Evie’s love?  Can he support his bond when she will lose so much by becoming his bride?  Does Bann Ian support their future union?  Or is Cullen too broken to achieve a happy ending after so much chaos?

Go and check it out!  I hope you all enjoy!