Chapter 11: Envy and Intrigue
The Elder One is coming. No one will leave Therinfal who is not stained red...
Cullen knew he should be asking if the others were hearing the voice as well. Taunting, somewhere off in the distance, or somewhere above, or maybe somewhere inside his head, he couldn't tell. He should ask them and be reassured it wasn't only him. But he didn't ask. He would add it to the list of profoundly bad decisions that were stacked like stones so high behind him they threatened to topple on his head at any moment. All because he didn't want to know if it was only him who heard.
He kept his head down and his sword up as they purged the Red Templars. Those of his former brethren not turned fell into step behind him without having to utter a single order. When he attacked, they attacked. Where he led, they followed. They were a pack, looking for an alpha. They were an army, looking for a Commander. And, as so many things, only the Maker knew why, it fell to him.
As each man and woman looked expectantly at him in turn for the leadership they so craved and had been denied for so long he could have felt so many things. He could have felt relieved that they were able to save a good number of Templars and protect the Order that he had once held dear. He could have felt betrayed that it had come to this and that they had lost faithful men and women to the whims of chaos and uncertainty. He could have felt powerful that, once again, he was the last sane man standing, if he could even get away with using the word 'sane' in relation to himself at all.
But he felt none of those things. What he felt was envy.
He was sick to death of it all. He didn't want to have to save anyone. He didn't want to suffer any feelings of betrayal. He rejected the power wrought by what was nothing more than a stubborn insistence in his body to continue living when others so readily passed on. He envied their small positions, their empty heads, waiting to be filled with any order that came by. It would just be so much easier. Why was he always the one to stand alone? Why was it him that must always be set apart? Why must he be forced to endure?
He envied the followers. It was so much easier to just follow...
"He's there, look!" Cassandra shouted as she pulled her sword free from one of the red abominations, then pointed it at the figure of Lord Seeker Lucius standing at the top of the highest tower's stairs.
The sight of the man responsible for...this, all of this, pushed Cullen over the edge. He had not been the one to kill Uldred at Kinloch Hold. He had not been the one to kill Meredith or Orsino or even Anders in Kirkwall. He decided...no, his rage decided, the rage of years, carefully controlled and painfully unrequited decided for him that this time he would be the one to kill the evil that once again saw fit to cross his path.
He wasn't thinking. Clearly, he had stopped thinking when he threw down his sword. His mind was empty of all but his hate and his envy when he tossed aside his shield. When he pulled off his gloves so he could feel it, feel the man's neck being crushed inside his hands, reason had certainly deserted him.
He took the steps two at a time and when he reached the top, no words were spoken. He lunged. But when his fingers found their target around the Lord Seeker's throat he knew it all felt wrong. Lucius mirrored his action and Cullen felt a claw like grip cutting off his air. The acrid smell of demon assaulted his nostrils and the sick sensation of the Veil being pulled aside made his chest tighten and his gut clench.
He wouldn't remember later that, in the instant before he was pulled into blackness, he thought of Evelyn.
xxxx
She thought of Cullen. She didn't bother to stop herself any more. Or deny she wanted to. Or concoct reasons in her head to justify doing so. She huddled before the camp fire and thought of him. Because it made her feel better. Because it made her feel safe. And because things were going horribly wrong.
"I don't think your Knight-Captain likes me very much." Dorian said with a confident swagger, strolling up casually behind her. "It's really quite unbelievable. I'm so charming." He sounded genuinely perplexed.
Evelyn looked up from staring at the flames and watched the mage sit down. She had never known a mage like him. To his dubious credit, she had never know anyone quite like him, but that was beside the point. Excluding herself, she had known exactly one mage who hadn't belonged to a Circle and that was Solas. Solas, however, didn't really count in her book. He was different somehow. An apostate, most definitely, but even with that designation setting him apart from society, he seemed to make it a point to distance himself even further. Not so for Dorian.
Dorian should have made her uncomfortable, with his dark magic, bold and eager at his fingertips. He was arrogant, audacious and unrepentant. She should have been wary, given his origin and his situation. Yet, she found herself trusting him.
He was a mage, but also just a person. He wore his magic proudly, like how a king would wear his crown as if it were put there by divine right. He didn't have the look of the hunted or the helpless. He wasn't harried or hiding. His magic wasn't some burdensome shame weighing on his shoulders and he didn't have the chains of Chantry guilt trailing behind him as all mages Evelyn ever knew had. He was simply Dorian, who was simply a mage and Evelyn found that both refreshing and honest.
"He's not 'my' Knight-Captain'." Evelyn replied to his original statement. "I don't think Ser Rylen likes me much either, if it makes you feel better." And he doesn't even know I'm a mage.
Evelyn could tell she was getting on the very disciplined Templar's last nerve. He was clearly a man who expected his orders to be followed and she really had wanted to follow them, but she also had a responsibility to do what she thought best, which was spare as many lives as possible. If Cullen had told him she would do as she was told and make life easy, then she imagined he was now regretting taking charge here in the Commander's absence.
Ser Rylen had attempted to dissuade her from going to investigate Redcliffe by herself until the very last moment before their departure. And then he had her followed anyway. Instead of sneaking about behind their small party, Scout Harding was nice enough to make her presence known along with the small contingent of the Spymaster's people that Rylen sent to keep a 'secret' eye on the Herald.
Cullen must have threatened him with something, because the man wouldn't let up. After she closed the rifts and made it behind Redcliffe's walls to discover the Tevinter presence within, she went back out through the gates to find that Rylen followed her himself anyway, with the Arl and a small group of Templars and Ferelden soldiers. They were camped just off the main highway, not far from the village.
She hated to admit it, but after the very unnerving meeting with that magister and the subsequent intrigue she found herself drawn into by the man's son and subsequently Dorian, she was grateful to have more people around her to discuss the next steps in this new and dangerous game.
At least, she was grateful at first. Now she was just sick of the arguing again.
Dorian shifted his weight and rested back on his hands, managing to look elegant even while sitting on the ground. He seemed to consider her statement and then said, "Actually, it does make me feel better. The fact that the stodgy Templar doesn't like two such attractive people means there's something wrong with him, not us. Aren't you in charge of him, my dear? Why don't you just order him to better appreciate our greatness?"
Evelyn laughed. It came out as an unexpected but pleasant giggle. She'd laughed so little recently, she'd almost forgotten what it felt like. "I'm not in charge of anything, I'm afraid. I'm just their..." She hesitated to say it and prove Solas right. "...weapon." She relented and waved her gloved hand that still faintly glowed beneath the black leather.
"Yes, such a curious thing, that. I've noticed it makes those Templars twitchy. The poor delicious sods can't seem to decide if they should worship at your feet or smite you. Frankly, I'm jealous. My feet could use a bit of worshiping and I'll admit to considering experimentation with the smiting if they took all that armor off first." He raised a delicately groomed eyebrow suggestively.
It wasn't lost on Evelyn that Rylen had no female Templars in his ranks. Dorian's honesty and pride about that as well made her like him even more. She wondered what his very noble family had to say about his preferences in that regard. Dorian seemed like someone she wouldn't mind commiserating with about disapproving noble families. If they lived to do so.
"Is Ser Rylen finished pacing and mumbling disapprovingly at our plan?" She asked. Earlier, the group of them were discussing how to 'meet' with Magister Alexius without succumbing to whatever trap he had in place. They, and by they she meant everyone but Rylen, had agreed that Leliana's people could slip through the secret passages now that Dorian could instruct them in how to get past any safeguards put in place by the mages. Evelyn would only have to stall the magister under the pretense of discussing terms for an alliance until enough of Alexius' men had been eliminated so that Alexius himself could be taken into custody and turned over to Teagan.
Of the mages she had spoken with, and she had spoken with a great many as was her habit to learn as much as she could, she had determined that none of them seemed happy with the arrangement they made with the magister, least of all Grand Enchanter Fiona herself. Why the fools had made it in the first place then, eluded her.
Evelyn was sure that if Alexius' grip on them could be loosened, the mages would be amenable to conscription into the Inquisition. This was the best possible scenario. The mages would be safe and off the streets but, they would still have their freedom from both the Circles and from the chains of Tevinter servitude. The Templars in the Inquisition ranks would be able to manage any potential dangers posed by them if it came to that.
And there would be no fighting. And no demons.
Evelyn shivered at the thought of just how badly things could turn if their plan was unsuccessful. Such close contact with the massive bulk of the rebel mages together with meeting the disconcerting Alexius, who was essentially a maleficar, was making Evelyn so anxious she wanted to close her eyes against all the magic around her and never open them again. The mark burned into her hand pained her constantly now. Varric had stopped complaining about everything, seeing the stress starting to weigh more heavily on her. Even Solas had given her a much needed and rare respite from their nightly training.
Dorian rose and patted her on the shoulder. "Don't worry your pretty little head about the disapproving Templar. It will all be just fine." He walked away to find some sleep before they had to venture forth in the morning. Evelyn might have been soothed by his words if he had even remotely sounded like he believed them himself.
She buried down her fears. Solas would have wanted her to face them. But she didn't want to think about Solas right now. So she said a prayer to bless their path on the morrow. And she thought of Cullen.
A/N: I know. Thinky thinky and not much fighty fighty. I had to poise Cullen for his whole next scene and I had to touch base with Evelyn and poise her for her stuff and then before I knew it I wrote two thousand-ish words and my attention slipped away. But now everyone is set up. Back to Cullen next. Swear. Also, I have to say, the whole Champions of the Just mission made zero sense to me. Maybe it was just me. Maybe I was just hoping to go into Therinfal and find a big ol' Templar orgy going on. Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention to the dialogue or reading enough codex crap, but I totally didn't get the motivations. Which is why I'm tweaking it. At least so it makes sense to me. Hopefully it will make sense to you as well. That's why I needed just a bit more thinky thinky stuff. And I think Evelyn's so effed up in the head she tends to need more time thinking on things than even Cullen. Thanks for reading!
