A/N: Because I have finished DA:I, there is a decent likelihood that spoilers from the game will slip in here and there without me even noticing. More importantly, several major spoilers will be at least mentioned in passing, though all of the ones that I know of so far are revealed early enough on in the game. Still, I make no promises, so be aware that if you are reading this, you very well might encounter spoilers. Also, be aware that this story is rated M for sexual themes that will present themselves in the coming chapters.

PROLOGUE

Templar.

She'd recognized him for what he was the second her eyes had landed on him, the only recently finished battle all but forgotten. Solas had stood at her side, complementing her on her proficiency when it came to closing the rifts, but she hadn't been paying attention.

Templar.

The way he'd moved as he approached, the way his shield had been angled down, the way his gaze had flickered over both her and Solas, even as he'd spoken to and approached the Seeker... He was a Templar, alright; she could have recognized one anywhere.

She hadn't flinched away as he approached, hadn't stiffened even the tiniest bit, as the elven mage beside her had done. No, for some reason, despite the chaos of everything that was going on around them, Evelyn Trevelyan had relaxed. A Templar - finally, something familiar!

All of Thedas was spinning out of control, and had been for what felt like forever, and while some of the mages seemed to revel in the 'freedom' they had found at the start of the Rebellion, Evelyn was not one of them. Who could prefer endless, senseless fighting to the laughter that was shared by the entire Tower in the dining hall of the Circle? Who could prefer seeing friends dying left and right, when not too long ago those same friends had been gathered in celebration over a successful Harrowing? Who could prefer demons and abominations running amuck, where people once lived happily, safe from such dangers?Who could prefer the chaos of recent times to the order that once existed? Certainly not she.

Cassandra had gestured to her, and Evelyn had been snapped out of her relief, once again painfully aware of the situation at hand. Familiar Templar or no, her nice, ordered life wasn't back. Not yet.

When she'd awaken three days after opening and properly sealing the first rift, that nice, ordered life of hers hadn't been back yet, either, but with the rift closed, things were at least moving in the right direction. The Herald of Andraste - that was a title that would take some getting used to, but it was one she definitely preferred to The Prisoner.

It was on that day that she'd been informed that the Commander was a former Templar - a former Knight-Captain and then acting Knight-Commander of the Templars in Kirkwall. It might have been a surprise, had she felt that it mattered even the slightest bit. She wouldn't have gone so far as to say that 'once a Templar, always a Templar,' was a valid statement, not when so many former Templars had gone rogue and had begun breaking their vows and harming innocents, but Commander Cullen? Oh, separated from the Order or not, he still was what he was.

He'd proven that when, only moments after she'd joked to Cassandra about there being no harm in powering up the mark on her hand that they barely understood, he'd objected to the suggestion of approaching the rebel mages, on the grounds that pouring magic into the mark could very well destroy everything. She'd been unable to resist sending a pointed look in Cassandra's direction at that.

Following the meeting, Evelyn had been sent to the Hinterlands to speak with the Revered Mother, stabilize the region, and search for ways to gain more influence for the Inquisition. They were tasks unlike ones she had been given in the past, but they were tasks nonetheless, and, all things considered, she'd been happy to have been assigned any task at all. Direction, order, a job to do; that was familiar enough.

As chaotic as the world was, she'd figured working with the Inquisition would be as ordered and familiar as was possible.

She hadn't factored in the possibility of that Templar of theirs becoming a little too familiar.