Evelyn Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, slayer of dragons and magisterial darkspawn, stood on her wintry balcony in bare feet. She huffed a breath out into the cold morning and wondered again at her own contrary nature. Josephine would have her head if she fell ill right before the Marquis of Wherever came by for tea and fawning. Leliana, well, she hadn't said anything directly but the look in her eyes accompanying a gift of fluffy socks had certainly been pointed. Evelyn knew she should be afraid of a spymaster so good that even her boss couldn't spot the eyes around her, but in truth it made her feel safe. Mostly safe. She just hoped they had the decency to look away when she was in bed.
She lifted her foot and wiggled her toes deliberately, then gestured to the socks sitting on the balcony railing. She grinned. Let them take that back to their Nightingale. Bare toes on cold stone was the one small rebellion left to her in these days of formality, and she wouldn't let it go easily.
A noise from inside the room made her turn, her hand dropping slightly for a dagger that wasn't there. Cullen leaned against the doorframe, sensibly dressed in furs and thick-soled shoes. Evelyn raised her chin as he studied her. His eyes travelled from her feet to her hand, still hovering over an invisible blade, then slid to the socks perched next to her. He sighed and stepped back into the room, reappearing a minute later with a large chair. Once it was settled back against the wall, he sat down and leaned back, one eyebrow raised.
Evelyn laughed and gave an exaggerated bow. "Very clever of you, Ser. You trap me with my own weakness." She walked over and dropped gracelessly into his lap, lifting her feet up and leaning sideways into his chest. "You've clearly been taking Wicked Grace lessons from Varric."
He reached down to rub her feet, slashing a look at her when he touched them. Her eyes dropped. "It should not be necessary to trap a person into self-preservation, Your Worship. A woman with this much power should conceivably have a little sense."
"Perhaps you shouldn't have voted for me, then. If a leader lacks sense, what does that say for her loyal followers?"
She felt him smile. "That they are love-struck fools, in one case anyway. And I would not change that." He kissed her head. "In truth this is about my own self-preservation as much as it is yours. I can't take another session around the war table with accusing eyes. Josephine keeps slipping invitations to Orlesian balls into my things, and Leliana doesn't have to say a word to a man to make him sweat. As spymaster she oversees my life, and as Divine she oversees my soul. Not pleasant to have all that staring at you."
"Why would they be threatening you? I'm the one they're upset with." She looked up, meeting his eyes again.
"As your lover and military commander, they presume I have some level of influence over your actions," Cullen said, chuckling. "More fools they."
"Yet I sit here, happy with warm feet, without a single shot fired. You undersell your tactical genius, as always." Evelyn drew him into a kiss, running her thumb across his cheek before falling back. "I'll tell them both you've discharged your duty honorably."
He wrapped his arms around her. "And I'll make sure those socks get lost somewhere useful very soon. I understand your need to fight against us, to retain some of Evelyn in the Inquisitor. I'll be her champion whenever I can."
She stayed silent, cursing his intuition. His words were truer than he knew. Since the end of Corypheus, Evelyn seemed to grow fainter every day. She'd always believed legends lost their true selves by the tales of others, long after they'd passed on from the world. Tricks of memory, knowledge of the deeds but not the person, and the need of people for heroes all slowly eroded the life, like water running over a statue until the features were gone. Despite Cassandra's optimism, Evelyn had known her ultimate story would bear little resemblance to the person she was. She was content to be idealized, even deified, in death.
A colder vision curved its shape around her future now. She felt herself changing. Every night stole another piece of who she was and replaced it with hardness, legend. She called it the Inquisitor, and it was changing who she was. This world mattered less, only existing for her manipulation. It was harder to remember the people, the small emotions, the little rebellions and joys. The Inquisitor sought to consume her, fully alive, and she was losing the fight. The small ball of her humanity would continue to shrink until she became all symbol, walking and talking and breathing but no longer living.
Her dreams had shown her that much. An empty shell with her face, a woman of stone speaking to multitudes, a flower sustained in ice.
She'd wondered if this was how it always was, to be a legend alive. She wondered if the elven gods had felt this ebbing of their consciousness until nothing remained. She looked for signs of this inner transformation in Hawke and the Hero of Fereldan, two other women who lived their own myths, but they seemed so real as to be painful. Hawke grabbed the world around her and cajoled it into shape, joking as she twisted. Her positivity was blinding; she was all foreground. And the Hero was dangerous, a woman who was no less warrior for being Queen. The core of her was molten and so very human. Leliana said that she'd been that way even before her still-mysterious trip. Evelyn had felt the anger simmering behind the precise etiquette, like a buried fuse, and knew no one would ever make the mistake of forgetting who she really was underneath the crown. Not twice anyway.
No, they weren't fading as she was. They wore their legends on the outside of themselves. Even if they were acting, they wouldn't have been able to resist acknowledging her as a kindred spirit. So she had no one to ask. No one who wouldn't dismiss her or panic. Cole welcomed the change, felt closer to her the less human she became. Morrigan had taken the wisdom of the Well and hidden herself away and Solas…
She pushed herself up, needing movement. To prove she was a person, capable of love, she walked inside to pace on the rug. Cullen followed and circled around her desk. She saw tension in his face and braced herself. He was putting distance between them, to isolate her for an interrogation. He really is a brilliant tactician.
After a few minutes, he leaned against the desk and spoke. "So, will you tell me about the dreams?"
She stopped pacing and sighed. "You know?"
"You've woken up on edge for weeks, searching for weapons that aren't there, ready to fight or run at every noise." He rubbed a hand across his eyes. "I'm no stranger to nightmares, Evelyn. You don't see me as a threat, but clearly you're expecting something. And just as clearly you don't trust me with it.
"I don't ask you to, if you think it's best. You're the Inquisitor. You've walked places and seen things I will never know, never want to experience. Your connection to the Fade is a mystery to me, and you are the best judge of what I can and can't help with. But I wanted you to know. That I know, I mean. You shouldn't carry it alone."
He stared at her steadily, earnest and so very far away. It would have been so easy to spin a lie across inches, with her hands touching him, reassuring him, changing meanings. A lie would never survive this distance, and he knew it. But he didn't know the Inquisitor inside of her, waiting to break this love. The space between them was too much for that truth. She settled for half of it.
"You're right, I'm having dreams. Not always nightmares, not even always things I remember, but they confuse me, leave me on edge. I'm not always me inside of them. I didn't tell you, not because I don't trust you, but because even you can't protect me from dreams. And while I'm no mage and can't be possessed, I know how you feel about the Fade and what can come out of it."
She didn't add that the Veil seemed thinner, stretchy around her even in waking. It wanted to open and pull her back through. She tried not to think about what might be searching for her, hungry for the scent of the anchor in her hand. Better to cross that bridge when it was on fire around them, probably.
"I think Solas would know what's happening, but Leliana says she's still found no trace of him," she said. Her hands formed fists at her sides, and she made no attempt to hide the anger in her voice. Anger at Solas was safe. It was both human and symbol and could coexist without conflict. He'd left both parts of her alone.
Cullen nodded. "I've received the same reports from my squads across areas where we have a presence. No signs. Either he's a master of illusion, which seems impossible, or he's outside of our influence. Meaning Tevinter. Which seems even more impossible." He paused and traced his fingers over the wood of the desk. "What aren't you telling me about him? At first you were upset, confused, when he left, but now you're so angry. What's changed?"
She laughed, startling herself. "Maker preserve us, there's never been anything romantic, if that's what you mean. I prefer my men a little less cryptic and a lot more blonde," she said. A smile ghosted over his face. More soberly, she crossed her arms and stared at the carpet. "But I'm worried. There are things I haven't told you, or anyone. Cole knew, I think, until Solas made him forget."
He raised an eyebrow. "Made him forget? How does that work?"
"Don't ask me," she said. "I'm not even sure it happened."
His voice carried quietly across the room, through all of that frightening space. "Tell me the things you haven't told anyone. I'm no mage, but I am yours."
She walked to the bed and fell backwards into its softness, staring at the ceiling before closing her eyes. "Thing one, the Fade. When we walked through it, the Nightmare demon told us our fears, taunted us with them. That's known. But with me, when he was close to defeat, he did more. I don't know if he sensed me as the weakest link or as simply the leader, but he made me live the worst fears of everyone close to me. Not just the people fighting beside me, but all of my friends. I experienced them… very intimately."
A long silence stretched between them. "Ah. I see. Including me? I imagine I had quite a few to choose from."
"You especially. It sensed that it hurt me the most." Evelyn breathed slowly. "I never told any of you. It felt like a violation of your most private spaces, and I didn't want to deal with your anger or shame. I was a coward, but if even one of you had left me… well, let's just say that my own fear was quite powerful.
"Solas's fear was confusing but very strong," she said and thought back. Trapped in a room, doors slamming, pounding against them, hearing screams on the other side, then nothing. Forever starlight loneliness. "It was about being alone, having no one. Which is what is happening to him, now that he abandoned us. Thing two is that Cole channeled him, or something like him, in front of me. Cole had been searching for him, trying to help, and Solas's spirit seemed to reach through. He talked about a lonely path he had to walk, and then made Cole forget that he wanted to help him. I've asked Cole about him several times since, and he insists Solas is happy."
"I hesitate to say it, but perhaps he is," Cullen said. "Maybe he's moved beyond us, into what's next for him. He wouldn't be the only one, even if he said a less enthusiastic goodbye than Vivienne or Dorian." He wrinkled his nose. "Especially Dorian."
Evelyn sat up and glared. "No. I know it's not true. Thing three that I never told. After Corypheus died, Solas said something to me, alone, before the others reached us. At the time I thought he was grieving the loss of the orb for the elves, but now I wonder. He said he respected me, no matter what happens. He said it wasn't supposed to be the way it is. He implied that he did something, was part of this. Maybe caused it. And now he hasn't come back, and I need him, and I am furious at him for leaving me to deal with the fallout of something he might have done!"
A knock at the door made them both jump. A messenger barely paused for permission to enter before bowing into the room. "Forgive me, Your Worship," he said, "but Josephine requests your immediate presence in her office. An elf calling himself Abelas asks to see you."