A/N: Part 1 of 3.
Cullen could remember every blasted event Josephine had insisted on throwing at Skyhold quite clearly. Well, he could remember Evelyn at them.
The first - a sort of exaggerated housewarming - was held as his friendship with the Inquisitor was truly blossoming; when the shock of almost having lost her motivated him more than any fear of rejection. The previous night, when they'd shared a bottle of wine in the Herald's Rest after dinner and before bed (or paperwork, in his case) she'd confessed how worried she was about the whole affair.
"Surely the Trevelyans threw similar events?" He asked curiously "Or attended them?"
They were out of the way up on the second floor, no worries of being overheard as their words were easily drowned out by the festivities below.
"I was a very quiet child - very shy," she admitted and then snorted "Not that I've changed. I begged my mother to let me bring a book, she very sternly said no, and so I spent my time in the corner watching people dance and the other children play."
Cullen chuckled, warmed by the personal turn the conversation had taken, and the opportunity to know more about Evelyn before she became the Inquisitor. He could picture what she'd described quite easily.
"Not your idea of a good time, I take it?"
He found himself often looking forward to their evening chats. They hardly had an opportunity to get to know each other when in the roles of Inquisitor and Commander, after all...And he was beginning to find that the more he knew her, the more he liked her.
"Not at all," she ran a fingertip around the rim of her goblet "Then after the guests left, or on the way home, I'd get a verbal beating from my mother for not saying the right thing to the right person - or saying the wrong thing to the wrong person. It was like…she spent the night watching my every action, keeping a mental catalogue on what to berate me for."
Evelyn laughed softly, but Cullen caught the slight strain as she continued "When my magic showed, her exact words were 'Well that explains it. You always were an unnatural child.'"
Cullen said nothing at first, shock and then a rush of pure, cold anger swept through him at the idea of anybody saying such a thing to the woman in front of him, let alone her own mother - when she was a damned child. Then shame crept in, as he reminded himself that it wasn't much of a stretch from what his own opinion had been not too long ago. Her story saddened him, but it also acted as a piece of the puzzle that explained why she was often so shy and hesitant. Would he be any different if he'd had his every move as a child hounded and criticised? He doubted it.
He only realised he'd been quiet for too long when Evelyn shifted uncomfortably, and quickly rushed to reassure her "You don't need her."
"I know," she said confidently, giving a real smile now "An upside of the Circle was getting away from her. What I do need, however, is a miracle to get through tomorrow night. I'll give Josephine and Vivienne heart attacks."
"You could always bribe Bull to outdo you. I'm sure any blunder you might make would pale in comparison to anything he could dream up."
"Now that is a stroke of strategic genius, Commander," she laughed in delight, lifting her cup to her lips, and he found himself grinning in return.
"It served me surprisingly well at chess," he remarked, smirking when she blushed and said nothing.
He knew she had let him win.
Evelyn was nowhere in sight for all of the next day, ambushed by Vivienne and a horde of attendants, no doubt. The Inquisitor had risen from the dead (or so the story went) and "must look like a fierce warrior goddess" to reflect that - or something equally absurd. He found himself relieved that he had a set formal uniform, and one which allowed him to carry a sword at that. He didn't like the idea of her going in with no weapon, but at least the Inquisitor was no less deadly unarmed; no small amount of eyebrows would be raised if she swept into the hall in a ball gown with her staff strapped to her back. With so many strangers as well as their servants in Skyhold for the night, he was slightly unsettled. Not that he didn't trust Leliana's extensive security.
Josephine had insisted on a quick meeting in the War Room between the Inquisitor and all advisors just prior to the party, to give everybody (which clearly meant himself and Evelyn) last minute reminders on who to talk to, and what information to fish for - if possible - as well as a last minute lecture on etiquette. He was half way through a remark to Leliana as they waited when Evelyn walked - or floated, rather - into the room. It was only when Leliana chuckled that he realised he'd trailed off, and his face burned.
Lady Evelyn Trevelyan was a vision in a sleek, rich green dress, the bodice encrusted with bright white jewels in elaborate designs, whilst the skirt was left plain, floating and swishing around her legs with the slightest movement. Her hair was a mass of loose curls, adding a certain wildness to the look, and with her eyes neatly outlined in kohl, every glance seemed brighter and more intensified. Overall, her silhouette defied everything that was currently in fashion in Orlais - and he got the feeling that was the point. There would be nobody there who looked like her. But could anybody? As she gave him a smile, he resisted the urge to straighten his back or adjust his attire, suddenly wishing he'd taken more care with his hair, or shaved more closely.
She walked to his side - Cullen dumbly noting that she was must be wearing heels, for she was almost eye-level with him now - and stood dutifully as Josephine lectured them like a weary schoolteacher. It wasn't just the Inquisitor's appearance that was different - she appeared to stand more confidently, with her chin up, shoulders back and chest forward (which only made her breasts all the more prominent in the strapless gown, forcing him to carefully train his eyes on her face whenever he looked at her).
"Of course, I have agents stationed throughout Skyhold, disguised as both servants and guests," Leliana assured once Josephine had finished.
"Excellent," Josephine nodded, failing at looking less harried than she clearly felt "Any questions? No? Good. We should stagger our entrances, yes?"
Knowing the question was more rhetorical than anything, they all nodded in agreement.
"Excellent, I'll go first!" She nodded "Inquisitor, we should save your entrance for last."
"Whatever you'd like, Josephine," Evelyn nodded, adjusting her skirts a little uneasily.
Josephine didn't look very reassured by such an unenthusiastic response, but simply nodded before bustling from the room - no doubt she didn't trust the entire evening to not fall apart in her absence. Only when Leliana made her exit, shooting Cullen a knowing look, did he speak directly to Evelyn.
"How are you feeling?" He asked, not knowing why he suddenly felt so much more nervous addressing her "You seem less anxious."
"Do I? Thank the Maker. Dorian suggested I...play the role of somebody who's confident, and that sounded a lot less daunting to me than simply pretending that I am confident," she confided "And I always feel like I'm playing a role as Inquisitor, so it's not very different."
"Shall I bow to you then, Lady Trevelyan?" He teased in an effort to both lighten the mood and make himself less nervous.
"If you wish," she feigned haughtiness surprisingly well, nose up, offering a hand.
He noticed then that her left hand had an elaborate piece of green-stoned jewellery encompassing the back, coming down to attach at the wrist. He wondered if having the mark displayed in such a way bothered her - and it was only then that he realised all of the green was meant to be a reference to the mark. Initially he'd only realised that it matched her eyes, and felt like a lovesick fool after making this new connection. If it did bother her, she didn't show it, and the confidence only made her more beautiful in the moment, feigned or otherwise.
Sweeping into a mocking bow exaggerated enough to befit a knight in one of Varric's blasted novels, boldness overtook him, and he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. It was worth it to see the mask falter as she blushed and smiled, ducking her head.
"Go on, you," she giggled and he straightened, matching her grin goofily "Josephine will be waiting."
It was only when he stood in the main hall watching her entrance that he had a chance to regret that he hadn't told her she looked beautiful.
From then on Cullen spent the majority of the evening at the side-lines, keeping a watchful eye on Evelyn's admirers (for purely professional reasons he assured himself, despite the way his jaw clenched every time he detected a note of sleaziness in an interaction) whilst doing his best to avoid his own newfound fans.
One thing that surprised him was how well the Inquisitor danced. From the way she'd spoken about the occasion, he hadn't expected it from her. He wondered how many lessons she'd been forced to endure at a young age to make it that way for he couldn't imagine she'd gained the skill when in the Circle.
At some point in the night he no longer found himself catching frequent glimpses of her, but it didn't overly concern him. The woman had proven herself more than capable of handling herself on countless occasions, and hardly needed him hovering over her all evening. He ended up listening to an old veteran's war stories from the Blight with some interest, which was when Josephine found him.
"Have you seen the Inquisitor?" She asked quietly, smiling tightly.
"Not recently, no," his brow furrowed "Have you asked Leliana? Or The Iron Bull?"
Between those two, nothing went amiss.
"Leliana suggested I ask you," the frustration showed on the diplomat's face, and Cullen did his best not to dwell on the implications of Leliana's advice.
"Should we be worried?" He asked, carefully schooling his features as he scanned the hall for any kind of threat with renewed vigour.
"What? Oh, no, of course not," Josephine shook her head "Just...If you find her, let me know. Wherever she's gone, I suspect it was quite willingly."
Evelyn sat on one of the benches in the garden, shoes on the ground beside her bare feet, doing her best to simply concentrate on breathing. The bench beneath her was icy cold from the mountain air, chilling her through the flimsy fabric of her dress, but it served to ground her. Anything to focus on other than her own spiralling thoughts would be a godsend, in her eyes.
The day had started off shakily, as she was poked and prodded at by Vivienne's team as the older mage made a series of delightfully cutting backhanded "compliments". She'd managed to brush the comments off well enough at the time, giving herself a mental pep talk, and even feeling quite beautiful once she saw the finished product in the mirror. By the time she had that moment (she was sure it had been a moment...hadn't it?) with Cullen just before the festivities began, she was beginning to hope the night might not be half as bad as she'd initially feared. She'd been wrong.
Evelyn was well aware of her tendency to get overly stressed about anything and everything under the sun, but with the support of her newfound friends many of the duties that came with being Inquisitor had long since stopped bothering her. Helping the people of Thedas was easily the biggest blessing of the job, for if she could make surviving the war just a little easier for somebody and only be rewarded with a tired smile, it was more than worth it to her. She'd grown used to battle and having to rely on her instincts and muscle memory in the thick of it. Now when her heart raced as she faced down an adversary - whether verbally or physically - it was more out of anger and adrenaline than anxiety. However, those weren't people she needed to like her. They could spit insults at her and the Inquisition all they liked, for their opinions didn't matter. This couldn't be further from the case when it came to the people in the hall - and she could hardly rely on bolts of fire in there, either. No matter how much she wished she could. No, here her only weapon was her charm, and that had never been her forte.
It hadn't begun terribly - a few stutters here and there, or a name pronounced incorrectly due to nerves. The problem was, the more it happened, the more nervous she became, and so began the vicious cycle. Of course the company didn't help, either. If she'd made such a mistake around her friends in her inner circle, they'd either not bat an eyelid at it, or turn it into a joke – laughing with her, not at her. In this company, however, she noticed every slight eyebrow raise or snide smirk. Every awkward silence after she made a remark that mustn't have been quite right. Maker, she could practically hear her mother insulting her in the back of her head.
After that it seemed to be one thing after another. She called a Bann's mistress by the wrong name (the name of his wife, no less), she stumbled in her bloody ridiculous shoes in front of a group of beautiful and graceful Orlesian women (the same ones she'd noticed milling around Cullen with charming, brilliant smiles) who could undoubtedly likely master the most complicated dance in the same shoes with as much ease as they would barefoot. The worst moment came after that particular incident. Her heartbeat pounded in her head as she did her best to recover from the embarrassment, wreaking havoc with her ability to hear the story the newest noble she'd been introduced to was telling her. This horrified her when the woman looked at her expectantly for a response and she realised she'd barely caught a word. In an attempt to play it safe, Evelyn simply laughed softly and nodded.
"Why are you laughing?" The woman blinked in confusion "His injuries are severe!"
If the floor opened up and swallowed her whole, Evelyn would have thanked Andraste with her dying breath. That was when she began to spiral. Clutching her glass of wine with both hands purely to disguise their shaking, all she could focus on was the amount of eyes she felt burning into her, and the fact that every bout of laughter in the room felt like it was directed at her.
"I'm sorry, please excuse me," she quickly ducked out of the conversation and made her way towards the door to the garden as swiftly as she could without running.
Josephine had wanted to have the garden open to their guests, but had been overruled. Nobody wanted to risk their newly thriving collection of medicinal herbs being damaged by drunken carelessness, and by keeping their guests limited to the courtyard and main hall, it allowed them to keep a better eye on goings on. Now Evelyn was relieved that she'd fought to keep the garden off-limits. This relief drained from her when she heard the door to the main hall open, and then softly close.
As quietly as she could, she lifted her legs up and slid backwards on the bench. The bushes were positioned in such a way that if she was very quiet, she may go unnoticed and whoever it was might go right past her - or better still, turn around and return to the party. Then her heart sank as it occurred to Evelyn that she was the Inquisitor, and somebody just happening to stumble upon her whilst she was alone and as unarmed as a mage could be wasn't likely to be completely accidental.
Tensing, she began to raise her right hand, hoping she could trust her magic without her staff when she was in such a volatile headspace.
"Inquisitor?" Cullen's voice rang softly through the night air.
Evelyn would rather face down an unknown enemy than have Cullen see her in her current state...But if she didn't respond and he caught sight of her, he'd know she had ignored him. Taking a second to pull herself together, she cleared her throat quietly before calling out.
"I'm here."
It wasn't that she didn't trust Cullen. Out of her three advisors, having him find her like this would likely be the least awkward, and she didn't doubt that he'd understand after what she'd told him the night before. None of that meant that she wanted him to see her like that, however.
Dropping her feet back to the ground, she did her best to straighten her back and school her expression into one of serenity, but even without seeing herself, she knew that it wasn't working. Maker, what sort of ridiculous little girl was she? To be driven into hiding by an event like this, whilst people fought and died all over Thedas in her name? Why had Andraste chosen her? Exhaling shakily, she wrapped her arms around herself as Cullen approached and silently sat beside her.
She felt his eyes on her for a few moments before he spoke "The food in there is terrible."
Her surprise at his words overtook her panic, and a choked laugh escaped her. Unfazed by her reaction, he carried on casually.
"Of course, don't tell Josephine I said that, but you'd think that these world renowned Orlesian artisans would make their food taste decent as well as look nice."
"The ice sculpture is what got me," she leaned back a little as she played along, eyes still on the ground "Somebody carved and carved and carved that thing, only for it to be mopped from our floor at the end of the night."
"Perhaps it's a performance piece," he suggested, tone mocking "A statement on the fleeting nature of life and the passage of time?"
"Or perhaps it's just very pretentious," she murmured and he gave a deep laugh that send warmth spreading through her chest.
"Most likely," he shrugged before turning the topic to speculation over how many birds had to suffer for a certain, very obnoxious, Marquess' hat to be made.
It was only when the weight was gone from her lungs and she visibly relaxed, able to breathe freely again that he spoke seriously, tone lowering and losing all jest.
"Are you alright?"
"I…" she searched for words that wouldn't be too personal "Wasn't lying when I said I wasn't good at these things. Have I given Josephine a fit by ducking out?"
"I'm sure she'll survive," he brushed off her concern "Did something happen?"
If it wouldn't likely make him flee in a flurry of bashfulness, Evelyn would've hugged Cullen for both his compassion and how smoothly he'd handled her panic.
"It just...I'd make one mistake, which would make me nervous, which would make me make more mistakes and it became a bloodbath," she admitted quietly "In the end I panicked and came out here. I couldn't breathe in there. All of those eyes…"
"You worry about their approval when all of them are here to vie for yours," he spoke, surprising her by placing a reassuring hand over her own.
"I can be the Inquisitor on the battlefield, or when I'm helping people," she sighed "But in a room like that, all I ever feel like is six year old Evelyn Trevelyan, too shy to even speak to the other children."
"And could six year old Evelyn Trevelyan have played an integral role in the mage rebellion? Or survived the conclave? Or the avalanche? Could she have led this Inquisition with more bravery and resilience than I've seen in some of my most seasoned soldiers?"
He spoke so fiercely, so surely, that it brought tears to Evelyn's eyes. If it had been anybody else saying this to her, it would only have increased her terror twofold. Another person who viewed her as some kind of goddess. As a sure-fire salvation. But the way Cullen said it…It was with no expectation of her to be perfect. He respected her on a human level, and while she couldn't quite pinpoint the look in his eyes when he looked at her, she did know that it wasn't blind awe.
"I'm glad you're here, Cullen," she murmured.
The smile she received in return only made her statement all the more true.