Early in her time at Skyhold Evelyn had found a secret passage from her chambers to the upper corridors of the keep. On her way out of her room she had grabbed an old thick book and a cloak to hide her face just in case anyone was out and about at this hour. She wasn't in the mood for "Inquisitor, can you help me with-" or "Inquisitor what are you doing-" or "Inquisitor may I assist you-". Surely everyone had gone to bed, but there were still watch guards on patrol on the lookout for Corypheus or any attackers for that matter. Tonight she wanted to be just Evelyn Trevelyan, the disowned princess. Not that pretty of a title compared to the Inquisitor, but take what you can get.
The normally heavy book felt light in her hands, for the months of constant battles had built up muscle she didn't know existed in her. Pages were falling out of the book, the image on the cover stained and long since faded. That didn't matter to her though. She had had this book for as long as she could remember. It was the Chant of Light. She took a great solace in reading the stories of Andraste and the Maker; it took her away from the turmoil that took control on her daily life. Brought her back to a better time when things were alright. And, frankly, Andraste was enduring a greater plight than she, although Evelyn supposed Corypheus could rival that.
Her bare feet, still slippery from the bath, slapped against the stone pathway of the corridor. The door in sight, Evelyn had a moment of calming excitement like she had been waiting for something for an entire year. The door swung open with only a faint push. It revealed numerous lit candles all casting a glow on the statue of the most holy Andraste. Since the fort had been abandoned for some unknown reason not everything was in shape. The statue was covered in untamed vines, candle holders knocked over, and a thin layer of dust covered everything but the altar, having been recently used by other worshipers. Book held against her chest, the mage rushed to the altar eagerly taking a seat before the stone woman. A soothing presence washed over her like a second bathing; under the presence of Andraste granted her that the embarrassment and humility be replaced with a confidence. Albeit that Andraste was in statuette form here. Evelyn leafed through the book slowly before stopping at her favorite passage about halfway through.
"Here we go," She smiled brightly. She started to read: There was no word for Heaven or for earth, for sea or sky. All that existed was silence. Then the Voice of the Maker rang out…
The words ebbed and flowed through her mind and soul filling her with confidence. This was the best verse in her mind. Her mother used to read this to her when she still lived at home. At night before she went to sleep, Evelyn would say, "Mama, Mama! Read the one!" Her mother knew of which she spoke because it was the only one she had paid attention to, but she would entertain her child, her only and most precious child. As a young girl, Evelyn didn't think she really understood the meaning of the passage. But here, sitting below the Bride of the Maker, she understood it in her own way.
Guards saluted the Commander as he passed by them even though he was in off duty clothes. He shook his head after he walked by them. he was sure that he told them there was no need for such formalities when they weren't working, technically. The Keep, at least he thought, would be vacant at this late hour. After the fiasco that had happened with the Inquisitor he needed to ask for forgiveness. To her and the Maker. What he saw of her it lead to wicked things. He pushed open the wooden door to the keep's entrance, and surprised, twice in one night, at what he saw.
The door opened silently, but then shut with a thud. Evelyn's head snapped up at the sudden entrance of a dark figure inside the Keep, hidden in the shadows. She closed the chant in a hurry, a few pages fluttering out. "Oh my,"
Dropping to her knees to pick up the pages, the figure scurried forward to assist the woman. She looked up, but now she hit heads with the person trying to help her. The Inquisitor fell back on her butt, hand flying up to her forehead. A dull pain pounded against her temple. She repeated, "Oh my,"
"Inquisitor! I-I-" The Commander's voice, so suave on a regular basis, faltered.
Anger, mortification, and a strange different feeling that Evelyn had never felt before exploded out of her, all of her pain from her head receding to the back of her mind. "You!"
Cullen retracted back from her, expecting a hit from the fierce woman, but before she could he yelled, "I am sorry!"
"What?" The words 'I' and 'am' and 'sorry' were not ones she was on the receiving end of, rather the other way around. Her silver tongue always led her down the path of trouble. Thankfully less trouble now that she was finally the one in charge.
"I'm sorry. I was only in your room because there was an explosion, and we weren't sure if you were all right. We as in Josephine, Leliana, and myself. We had ran into the stairwell and there was smoke and they wanted me to go check on you. Well they hadn't specifically said 'Cullen go see if she's alright'. I think they were just afraid to see you. I didn't mean to walk in on you-you," All the words rushed out of his mouth like he couldn't get them out fast enough. Cullen picked up the withering book and handed it to the Inquisitor. She practically ripped it out of his hands.
"Let's not speak of it, if you would please."
"Of course, Inquisitor. I just wanted to apologi-"
"Do not speak of it," Evelyn ordered. Can't she just have an hour, one damn hour, to be herself not the Inquisitor. She closed her eyes forcefully, wishing to escape this nightmare. Under her breath she muttered, "Why must everyone insist on being so formal? Can't someone just call me by my first name and have a regular pleasant conversation for once?"
Cullen's hand reached for her hand that had steadied herself on the floor from her fall. "Evelyn,"
Her eyes opened to look into his. No words could describe the spark that emerged between the two. Their breathing was in rhythm with each other. Cullen noted how large her chest was and remembered the look of it bare. This time he didn't feel ashamed to think of her in that way. The man's off duty clothes showed off how chiseled his jaw and neck were, different from his usual armor that covered the area pompously in his pauldrons.
"I came here to read," Evelyn said softly, holding up the old book.
"And I to pray,"
The Inquisitor stood and whipped her hands on her dress, then resumed her place sitting under the statute. "We best get to it then."
A wry smile took a spot on the man's face. "As you say,"
The night went on and the two tried to ignore each other. Actually, Cullen looked over at the mage every few minutes while she tried to ignore his ever present gawks. Evelyn read the tale that she knew by heart. She softly muttered the words subconsciously as her eyes went over them on the yellowed page, the script reuniting with her mind as if it were an old friend. The sound of her voice had caused the Commander's ear to perk up.
"Immutable, as the substance of earth, with souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear," Evelyn bit the bottom of her full lip, amazed at the poeticness of the verse. "Endless possibilities."
"Then the Maker said: to you, my second born so, I grant this gift: in your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame all consuming, and never satisfied." A deep voice said these words. Evelyn looked out of the corner of her eye at him before turning her head all the way to stare at him. She studied him curiously as he recited the words with a smooth flow. "From the fade I crafted you, and to the fade you shall return each night in dreams that you may always remember me."
"And the Maker sealed the gates of the Golden City," Evelyn said, closing the chant.
"And there he dwelled, waiting to see the wonders his children would create." As he finished the last line he stood from his kneeling position. He took three long strides slowly to the Inquisitor, and sat down next to her on the altar's steps. That wry little smiled that had been on his lips before was now wider in a sort of grin. "Threnodies 5:1"
The mage gulped and nodded in confirmation.
One single lock of hair had fallen in front of her strange emerald eyes and the Commander tucked the stray piece behind her ear. She gulped once again, eyes locked on his lips. "I-I think it's time for me to go to bed,"
Before he could say anything in return, she sprung up under the altar and sprinted like a deer out of the room and out into the corridor, door slamming behind her. Book clutched to her chest as before, she scampered down the hallways, bare feet padding her footfalls. While she ran she couldn't help but think about what it would be like: his lips pressing to hers. Would he be gentle like he portrayed in person? Or was there a different, wild side to the Commander? A tortured Templar perhaps? He seemed to be the perfect epitome of what a kisser should be. Just the thought of him touching her like that, intimately but not sexually, was enough to make her panties slick with her juices. She knew it was going to be a long and restless night, for the Commander would be the only thing on her mind.
