Iron Bull fit the Inner Circle like a custom made glove. He was smart, observant, and didn't take shit from anyone. Seggrit was the first to find that out when he got a tone with the qunari, while Bull was buying a whet stone to sharpen his ax the first day back in Haven. The smart mouthed merchant ended up tossed all the way down the steps to the main gate. The minstrel in Flissa's tavern wrote a song on the spot about the "Man in Horns".
He could fight. Evelyn watched him spar with his Chargers, with Blackwall, and with Cassandra. He bested them all but Cass; her smaller frame made her too quick for him to lock his attacks on her, and she always managed to evade his wide swings by a hair's breadth.
He could drink. Hours saw him in the tavern and out, tankard in hand as he meandered around the village, making connections with the workers and the others in the Inner Circle. He made Leliana laugh like Evelyn had never heard with his bold flirtations to the spymaster, but she gave him no length of hope that she would actually acquiesce to his advances. Evelyn thought it odd that Leliana did not show him her ring that bound her to Tabris, but she didn't question it, either.
He could bet. Cards with him was a challenge that none but Varric and Josephine cared to acknowledge. After having a humiliating walk back to her cabin in her smalls one night–much to Sera's cackling glee–Evelyn did not seek him out for a game. She did receive a small form of retribution in the form of Josephine cleaning out his coin bag the next night, earning herself the title of "Ruffles No Mercy" from a very drunk Varric.
He could tell stories. The man had seemingly seen and done it all. Evelyn and Sera spent two nights in a row with him at his tent in front of a fire with Krem, listening to the two men tell battle tales and swap anecdotes for hours. Apparently in Seheron there were female qunari called tamassrans, that men would go to see when they needed their "cork popped". Evelyn was fascinated that it was not something that was frowned upon, as her excursions to brothels were. But the infrastructure of the Qun itself was too rigid and formal for her personal taste, despite the tamassran thing.
In just two short weeks, Iron Bull had carved himself a place in the heart of the Inquisition, and into Evelyn's small circle of agents that she considered friends. With his help, they'd made short work of the tasks along the Storm Coast and made it back home within the first week; in the second week, he was family.
No word from Alexius had arrived once the party had returned with their disappointing news that they had missed the Wardens on the coast, finding only remnants of somewhat recent campsites and litter left behind. Leliana had been crestfallen ever since, but she hid it so well that only Evelyn and Josephine noticed, the two women sharing a sympathetic glance whenever Leliana excused herself from the council meetings after the initial report.
"She's chasing ghosts, Herald," Josephine had said to Evelyn, as the two exited the room behind Cullen and Cassandra a few days after their arrival back to Haven. "It breaks my heart to see her breaking her own repeatedly."
"Do you think Tabris is gone? Like for good?" Evelyn asked her sadly, feeling a heaviness in her own breast for their friend.
Josephine led Evelyn into her office, quietly closing the door behind her with a deep sigh. "I can't answer that honestly. I met the Warden once, at the same party where I became reacquainted with Leliana. She struck me as a devoted lover: how she danced with Leliana and doted upon her every need that night was utterly charming. One could not foresee her disappearing in the dead of night a mere few weeks later, never to be seen again."
"Leliana believes she had a mission, and left her sleeping rather than jeopardize her feelings," Evelyn murmured, taking a seat in front of the ambassador's wide desk.
Josephine seated herself in her chair, rustling through a stack of papers. "Indeed, it's just as she has told me. But I cannot help but to wonder if a part of her is lying to herself, to save herself from the pain of the truth." The ambassador found the paper she was searching for and slid it across her desk top to Evelyn, tapping it with an elegant finger. "While you're here, you should read this."
Evelyn's brow furrowed as she picked the letter up and gave it a precursory glance, balking when she recognized the handwriting, scowling when she saw the signature.
Lady Ambassador Josephine Montilyet,
I write to you on behalf of the Trevelyan clan in Ostwick. You have in your organization a person that claims the surname of my family. She has declared herself the "Herald of Andraste", and has assumed a role of leadership in your "Inquisition".
I implore you to denounce these claims the girl makes. Her name is Evelyn Trevelyan, yes, but that is as far as any truth that demon speaks. She was born on a cursed night, and has carried with her the very essence of evil henceforth. My own devotion to the Chant of Light and the Maker's hard love stayed my hand in giving the babe away, and obligated me to raise the child. She may be of my loins, but there is nothing of my faith nor family in the woman that she became.
She is a liar, a thief, a murderer, and is unnatural in ways I will not put to paper. Matters being what they are, she is also the twin to an abomination with which the Maker saw fit to punish me for reasons unknown to me to this day. It is important that you make note of the kinship between the two, as it is inevitable that they reunite now that the Circles that kept them apart have fallen. Should the one be with the other, there will be no end to the ruin it would bring upon your reputation. It is truth that these two women killed their own mother upon birth, their combined evil proving too much for my lady wife to bear in her goodness.
In light of losing the one that claims to be the leader of the Inquisition forces, I do have a recommendation for a replacement. My son, Maxwell, is a formidable warrior and a capable leader, learned in things that the pretender in power has no knowledge of which to speak. It would be in everyone's best interests for you to declare that monster a heretic and have her burned for her deplorable lies and disgusting nature, and arrange to meet with my heir at your first opportunity.
If these things do come to pass, I can assure you the financial funding to back any endeavors the organization undertakes. I have faith in the Inquisition to do what is right for Thedas, and in its hand in stopping the madness this world has tumbled through in the past few years. Ostwick would stand proudly as an ally to the victor.
Bann Rogan Trevelyan
Evelyn read and reread the letter several times, her hands shook in barely suppressed anger, her throat tightening with emotion that she had not felt in years. She closed her eyes, swallowing hard to rid the lump in her throat and taking a deep breath through her nose. She opened her eyes and leveled a look at Josephine, who stared back at her, the picture of poise. "When did this arrive?" she asked the ambassador, who gave an inclination of her head.
"This morning, Your Worship."
"And have you replied?"
"I have not. Leliana and I agreed that it would be best to show you the letter and ask for your input, as he is your father."
"He was never my father," Evelyn snapped, making Josephine start in her seat. Evelyn felt guilty immediately, softening her voice when she continued. "I'm sorry, Ambassador. He brings me into a rare state of 'I don't give a fuck'. But I didn't mean to have that tone with you." She paused, looking down at the letter she still held. "He's offering the Inquisition money to have me killed, and my brother to take charge." She scoffed and sarcastically murmured under her breath, "How generous of the bann."
"A request that will go on ignored, even if you bade me to write this man a valid reply. It sickens me to read the things he says of you. You're nothing like what he describes, Herald." There was a soft tenderness to her tone, one that somehow made Evelyn's cheeks burn with a blush, but she disagreed with the ambassador's assessment.
"I fear that I am. But I am not the woman he remembers, that much is true. It's taken nearly twenty-three summers to see the good in myself, but it is there."
"Yes," Josephine agreed quietly, slowly reaching a hand across the desk and taking the letter back from her. "What is not pure in deeds does not define the purity in the heart, my lady."
Evelyn met Josephine's dark grey eyes set in her Antivan features, seeing something in the other woman's gaze that she saw in the way Sera sometimes looked at her after they'd been physically intimate. Something that told her she was worth something, finally worth someone's affection and attention; Josephine was a person that didn't see her as an aberration of humanity, and though it was a comforting thought, it also conjured conflicting feelings. Seeing it in someone's eyes other than her imp's made Evelyn slightly uncomfortable, like she was cheating on the elf.
"You're doing incredible things," the ambassador went on graciously. "Things that the person described here would never do. But the question is… do I respond to this defamation?"
Evelyn swallowed again. "No," she decided, shaking her head. "No, let him stew in his own shit. I don't want him pulling Max into this. My brother is non-negotiable, as is my sister."
"You and your brother are on better terms, I take it?"
Evelyn nodded slowly, thinking on her older brother and his pristine honor and heart. "Maxwell was my father, really," she told Josephine honestly. "He is twelve years my senior, and was an adult before I was an adolescent. He raised me because my father refused to. He loved us, protected us, guided us. And when the templars took Ellen, he became my world."
"I see." Josephine sighed, looking down at the letter in her hands. "Should I write to your brother instead, Your Grace?"
"Evelyn," she grunted back, looking away from Josephine so that she couldn't see the emotion swirling in her eyes. "Please call me Evelyn, especially now."
"Of course, Evelyn." The name rolled off her tongue, and Evelyn shook her head at the warmth in which it was uttered. It was becoming clear that the ambassador held an inclination towards her, but she couldn't let the woman think her receptive to it. She was too late, Sera had all of her.
"And no," Evelyn said in answer to her previous inquiry. "At least, not yet. My father would throw a fit if his letter was ignored, and if my brother received any missive from us instead. When the Breach is closed, I shall write to Max, myself." Provided I'm alive, she added silently.
Evelyn slapped her knees with both hands and rose, schooling her face into its usual neutrality before she left the room. "I think I'm going to go throw some knives." She rubbed her temples then sighed quietly. "Maybe it will help me feel better."
"I am sorry to have caused you distress, but as I said, we felt you should know."
Evelyn gave Josephine a nod. "I am grateful for it, truly. It's just… hard."
Josephine's eyes drifted downward into her lap, her teeth catching her bottom lip. "I cannot imagine. Again, my apologies. If you change your mind and wish me to cut this man down to his true size with kindness, please do not hesitate to find me because I would love nothing more."
"Ruffles No Mercy, right," Evelyn chuckled, giving the noblewoman a bow. "See you later, Ambassador."
"Now, now," Josephine chided with a tiny smile. "It is Josephine, or Josie. Good day, Evelyn."
There were several painted targets down by the frozen lake, set aside from the practice dummies that Cassandra tore to shreds when they were stationary in Haven. Sera had been using them for practice for the past few days, so the middle circles were nearly torn out of the straw from her dead shots. Evelyn didn't care about that; she just wanted to feel the sensation of her blades flying out of her hands, and imagine her father's face in place of the targets.
Evelyn avoided everyone on the walk down from the Chantry building, outright ignoring Varric as he called her name from where he usually hung out in front of the tent he slept in as she breezed past him. She didn't want company. She didn't feel like talking or listening to anyone talk. If she were absolutely honest with herself, she wanted to kill something. She wanted to see blood. The bann pulled her very worst out of herself, and it was something she'd dealt with since childhood.
She remembered how at first she and Ellen had to eat their dinner in the kitchen with the servants when the bann entertained guests. He would sorrowfully inform the guests that his daughters were ill and therefore could not attend the formal settings. It was Maxwell that finally put his foot down about it and demanded his father treat his sisters with a modicum of respect, and it was by sheer luck that the bann regarded his son's opinions as sovereigns flowing out of his mouth. She recalled hearing her father tell Maxwell that he loved him once, and being so consumed by jealousy of the words that she threw her entire wardrobe full of dresses into the fireplace of her room just to get back at him.
All that had done was earn her the whipping of a life time, one that she carried scars from to this day across the backs of her thighs and on her ass.
One he smiled about. He enjoyed it.
Evelyn's fingers tightened around the small knife in her hand as she stared at her target, thinking on these past moments. Surely fantasizing about murdering her own father wasn't something that classified as "pure", but she couldn't help it. She knew she would never actually do it, not without a very good reason, but she couldn't sate the desire to see him in pain by her hand. Maker, how she hated him. And for him to debase her to people that cared about her, to offer them compensation for her demise? She gritted her teeth and the first knife sung as it flew, embedding deep into the straw stack, the hilt barely visible.
"Oi, who pissed you off?" Maker… Just the sound of Sera's voice made Evelyn's shoulders lose some of the tension coiled in her muscles. The second knife followed the first, hitting directly to the left of it.
"Long story," she muttered, pulling the third knife from her belt.
"I have time, not like we have anything to do, for once." The elf moved behind her, watching the assassin throw twice more before giving a low whistle. "You gotta teach me that sometime, Shiny."
Evelyn pulled the final throwing knife from her belt and made a motion for Sera to come to her. She pulled the elf against her front, stealing a small kiss to the nape of her neck. "You favor your left hand, correct?"
"Yeah," Sera answered with a single nod.
Evelyn pressed the knife into the elf's left hand, closing her fingers around the turned Sera's thin wrist to face at a certain angle, allowing her fingers to caress the under side of it before pulling her hand up to the thief's elbow, adjusting it as well. "You'll want to throw from here," Evelyn said quietly in her ear, her chin resting on Sera's shoulder. "Avoid using your shoulder. The shoulder is only good for the force of the throw, not the angle with which it flies. There is a snap of the wrist that gives you the aim, but it should be that last action of your muscles." Evelyn stood back from the imp to give her space to rear her arm back. "Give a throw, and don't forget to snap your wrist last."
Sera's face scrunched with concentration, and Evelyn chuckled to herself, knowing that she wouldn't embed the knife while thinking too hard about what she was doing. She watched the knife leave the elf's hand, seeing it wobble in the air before hitting against the target flatly and falling to the ground.
"Piss," Sera cursed, and Evelyn shook her head.
"No one gets it the first time, imp. Let me get them and we'll continue until you get the hang of it."
"So, I'm not botherin' you, then? Varric said you ignored him when you left the meeting and came this way. Not like you to do that."
"This is a welcome distraction, trust me." Evelyn crossed to the target, pulling her four knives out if it and bending to pick up the one that Sera threw. She came back to where Sera stood, and sighed dejectedly. "My father wrote to Josephine. It… wasn't pleasant." A sore understatement, but the assassin wasn't entirely enthusiastic about sharing the details.
You want her to open up to you. Try opening up to her first. She has a right to know what she could be in for. Evelyn bit her lip at what her brain was telling her, knowing that it was truth. She just wished she had happier tales for the girl that had never known a family, for better or worse. I'll never lie to her to make things pretty. If she wants to know, I should tell her.
"You never talk about him," Sera said as Evelyn reset the elf's arm with another knife in her hand. "So, what did he say? You don't have to tell me, if you don't wanna, though."
"I don't mind. If there's anyone here I would talk to about it, it's you… Here, you're turning your wrist too soon, and it's guiding the blade onto its side. Use your first finger to guide it straight, if you must." She repositioned Sera's wrist again and pulled her index finger flat against the blade. "Throw."
The blade went out, and Evelyn pursed her lips as it once again fell flat. "Still snapping your wrist before you're releasing the tension in your elbow, my imp. You're thinking too hard about what you're doing. Just let your reflexes do the work, don't fight against them."
Sera huffed an impatient breath, and Evelyn smiled at the sound. "All good for you to say. You make it look easy."
"Just as you make taking out demons from a hundred yards look like child's play. You'll get this. Just takes practice. I've been doing it since I was seven."
"Who taught you?"
"My brother, and his tutors. I used to sneak out to the training yard and watch Max spar with his teachers, and beg him to show me things. Since I was too small to actually fight, he taught me this first."
"I was drawin' on walls with sticks and mud when I was that young," Sera grumbled, taking another try. This one actually stuck into the target for a split second before it fell.
"That was very good for your third try," Evelyn said proudly, beaming at the little jump of excitement that the elf gave when the blade hit true. "And as for drawing with sticks and mud, that worked out well for you. I've seen your doodles on your Jenny reports. They're quite good. Especially the tits on that one broad."
Sera cackled evilly. "I dunno if they're that nice in person, but I can't draw ugly tits. It's just wrong."
Evelyn laughed with her, handing her another knife and letting Sera set her own arm as the assassin drifted in her thoughts. Her mind wandered back to the original question, for it had been the one she had honestly been surprised that Sera still wished to hear the unpleasant truth. "You really want to know what my father wrote?"
"Course," her lover replied, licking her lips as she stared at the target. "Pissed you off, need to know if I should find a Jenny in the Marches to piss him off." As Sera aimed, Evelyn quickly rushed the words out, and hadn't been surprised that she still couldn't find herself giving a fuck about it all.
"He offered the Inquisition money and political support in trade for my life. He wants them to burn me."
The knife flew out of Sera's hand and struck the target hard, sticking into it off center to the left, but Sera didn't even notice. She whipped around to look at Evelyn with a mix of surprise and rage.
"He bloody what? Who the frig does he think he is?"
"Bann Rogan Trevelyan, the most influential and devout man in all of the Free Marches… in his head, anyway," Evelyn drawled sarcastically. "It doesn't matter, imp. Josephine is ignoring the entire letter. It just bothers me that he said some of the things he said. Even when I'm away from his sight, he still manages to try and make the ones I'm around see that I'm a monster, too." Evelyn shrugged, looking off the other side of the lake. "I used to agree with him. I used to believe it. But now, after all of this, I'm not so sure he was ever right."
Sera took a step towards her, cocking her head to the side, her brow wrinkled. "You thought you were a monster? How?"
Evelyn gave a mirthless chuckle. "Tell a child something for so long, and they become it. You don't know what I was like before the Inquisition."
Silence, for a moment, before Sera broke it. Her tone didn't give much off, and she shrugged as she spoke with an air of familiarity. "So…You killed people for money."
"Yes." If only that were the long and short of it, my imp. If only you knew that it wasn't always bad guys. If only I didn't carry their last breaths on my soul, the soul that has attached itself to you.
"More to you than that, Shiny. And it didn't happen just 'cause you're a big hat."
Evelyn gave her a wan smile, reaching up to cup the elf's jaw, her thumb brushing against her chin. There was a certain innocence to the thief that she found utterly charming and it made her chest feel tight. "I'm glad you see it that way, Sera. But the ugly part is that I enjoyed killing." A pause, and her voice drops lower as she somewhat reluctantly confesses the whole truth. "…I still enjoy it."
"Then that just makes it mean more when you don't do it," Sera argued without pausing to think about what Evelyn admitted, stepping closer to her. The reaction gave Evelyn a sliver of hope that the elf wouldn't be sickened if she knew everything. "It means that you care more than you think you do. Because if you didn't, there would always be bloody bodies lying around and you'd just live for that. But you don't. You go out of your way to make sure people have food and blankets. You take back rings and give them to sad widows. You take out baddies without a second thought. You save people's lives. You make sure healers are bursting with elfroot to do the same." She took a deep breath and steadied herself, Evelyn could see her shaking.
"Imp…." The endearment was said softly, but Sera gave a vehement shake of her head, glaring at Evelyn.
"No! You don't get to stand here and tell me you're a monster when I know you ain't!"
"I know I'm not. That's what I'm saying. I just… didn't see it until this all came to pass. A monster couldn't care the way I do." Evelyn pulled the girl to her, taking both her hands in her own and gently squeezing, giving her a tender look. "A monster couldn't look at you and feel the things I feel when I'm with you."
Sera's mouth opened as if she were going to say something else, but then she closed it, breathing out slowly through her nose. Then she just leaned her head against Evelyn's chest. "Sappy tit," she whispered, and Evelyn wrapped her arms around the elf, holding her close.
"It's true, though," Evelyn admitted quietly, feeling blood rush to her face as she spoke. "If my father brings out the worst in me, you definitely bring out the best. So thank you."
"Dunno what you're thanking me for…" the archer mumbled, the words muffled by Evelyn's cleavage. "When I'm just being me."
Evelyn grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Exactly why I'm thanking you. Come on, let's get some food and a bottle."
"Now you're makin' sense!" A brighter face popped out of the valley between her breasts, beaming up at her. "I'll race you to Flissa's!"
"Wait a second, did you see that you hit the target and it stayed?"
Sera turned around and gave another victory jump, whooping loudly. "All I had to do was be pissed off!"
Evelyn couldn't help but to laugh.
Later that day, the winds began to howl and snow flurries turned into a solid white wall of the stuff. It was the first true snow storm Haven had seen that winter, and the village had locked itself down, everyone holing up in their respective housing. The community bunk houses were more full than usual, with some of the tent dwellers having to take refuge there from the damaging winds that cut through the thin canvases like serrated blades.
Evelyn and Sera had helped Iron Bull and Blackwall relocate the sensitive items in Leliana's tent, off to her shared room with Josephine and Cassandra inside the Chantry. They also moved dozens of tent dwellers into the old jail cells below the main building, creating small makeshift fire pits in old oil burners for them to keep warm overnight. Varric contributed by being the designated storyteller for the children, whom Josephine had settled into her own office. Vivienne had hid in her carriage at first, until the sheer force of the wind rocked it so hard that the ice mage had to swallow her pride and take a place in the Chantry, as well. That had given Evelyn and Sera something to chuckle about.
Dennet had stabled most of the horses and covered them in blankets, before Evelyn fought her way down to the barn to see if she could assist; she stayed until every horse was secured and the horse master himself had bunked down in a side room of the barn, with a few of his hired hands and a couple of Bull's Chargers, Krem included.
If hadn't been for the glow of the candles lit in Evelyn's own cabin, she would have never been able to find it once she was done helping with the horses. She couldn't recall a time she'd seen so much snow, and certainly not as severe to this degree; snow itself was severe regardless for her, as snow was a scarce thing from where she was up north.
Walking into her cabin–and being overwhelmed with how much warmer it was inside of it than out–she gave a heavy sigh of relief, before she even began shaking the layers of the stuff off of her coat and hair. She was completely drenched, but Sera was already very nearly dry, roaring flames danced in the fireplace and the elf sat incredibly close with hands out to warm. She'd come to the cabin when Evelyn went to check on the barn, so she'd been inside for almost an hour before the assassin could even think about hunkering down for the night.
The first thing Evelyn did was peel herself out of her wet clothes, then dashed over to the bed and snatch the duvet off of it and wrapped it around herself; she joined Sera at the hearth, toes inching as close to the embers in the grate as she dared. Her lover gave her an amused look, Sera's own toes were just as close as they sat before the flames together.
"Horses all good, then?" she asked, and Evelyn nodded quickly, her teeth audibly chattering in her skull.
"F-finally," she stammered; her hands poked out of the cover and rubbed at her frigid ears, in hopes to create some friction and get blood flowing to them again. "I feel like my body is frozen from the inside out."
"Share that blanket, and I'll share some body heat." An easy bargain, and Evelyn automatically held the edge outwards so that Sera could slide inside of it with her. The elf slid between Evelyn's bare thighs and rested her back against the human's chest, pulling the blanket tightly around them both. "Andraste's blooming knickers, you're friggin' cold!"
"Told you so," Evelyn chuckled dryly, nuzzling her icy nose into Sera's very warm neck, making the girl squeak and flinch. "You, however, feel amazingly warm right now. My own little fire."
"Your tits are cuttin' into my back right now," Sera complained, shifting against her. "Your nipples are like friggin' rocks."
Evelyn snorted, rolling her eyes. "That's the first time I've ever heard you complain about my nipples being hard, imp. Are you running a fever?"
"Yeah, well, you feel like Vivi-bitch hit you with one of her ice spells or something. You're makin' me cold all over again when I'm supposed to be warmin' you up."
"Wow," Evelyn said in mock hurt. "I'm under a blanket with you, naked as the day I was born, and all you have to say to me is I'm making you cold? You're definitely coming down with a fever."
That remark earned her a sharp elbow to the ribs. "Shut it, you," Sera chuckled, rubbing her hands up and down Evelyn's forearms that were wrapped around her. "There's no way I'm gettin' naked with you until your body doesn't feel like a Vivi-bitch victim."
"But imp… that's the fastest way to warm me up. Don't you want me to keep my ears, nose, and toes?" She grinned at the scoff Sera gave her, pressing a kiss to the elf's neck.
"Blah blah blah," Sera chanted, making Evelyn giggle.
"I see how it is. When I start losing limbs, I'll blame you."
"Your fingers must've been first, 'cause you're losin' your touch, Shiny," Sera yawned pointedly, making Evelyn raise an eyebrow.
Was that a challenge, my imp?
She slipped her hand down between the thief's legs and cupped her sex through her leggings, applying just the slightest amount of pressure. Sera's hips jerked upwards against her palm, seeking more that Evelyn wasn't willing to give. "Nah, I don't think I am," she whispered smugly; she pressed another kiss to her imp's neck, suckling at the skin just enough to make the girl whimper. She rolled her fingertip across the sweet spot at the top for a few minutes, and Sera melted against her.
"Still think I've lost my touch?" she taunted her, loving the way her imp's breathing patterns changed when she was aroused. It made her become just as hot, to be honest, even as cold as her skin still was.
"You're cheating," Sera gasped, her back arching at a particularly accurate stroke of the same finger.
"Nuh huh," Evelyn disagreed with a shake of her head. "Just proving my point, Little Fire." She slowly slid her hand back up to Sera's abdomen, bringing her shirt tail up with it before the torturous hand sneaks beneath the waistband of her leggings. The archer hissed at the sensation of Evelyn's frozen fingers trailing down through her thatch of hair and continued the same motions they'd made over her tights.
Maker's breath, she's already soaked… "losing my touch", yeah, right, Evelyn thought to herself wryly as she nibbled her way down the elf's right ear. An arm came up and gripped the back of the assassin's bedraggled head, fingers tugged at her wet hair as Sera tilted her head to the side to give Evelyn more room to kiss down the expanse of her neck.
"Fuck…" Evelyn muttered as a shiver ran through her at how scorching Sera's sex was around her fingers when she pushed two of them inside. "You're burning up."
"You're just cold," came the moaned response. "But I like it, feels good."
"Take your pants off," Evelyn suggested, pulling back out to circle the little pebble at the top again. The pants were too tight for her do anything substantial inside of her, and Evelyn wanted substantial. She wanted it really bad. "It'll feel even better."
The fingers in her hair disappeared as Sera used both hands to shimmy out of her leggings and smalls, and divested herself of her smock in the process. She flipped around and straddled Evelyn's lap, cradling her face to kiss her painstakingly slow. It wasn't long before that same hand found its way back to that sweltering place between Sera's thighs and slipped back inside to the knuckles.
Evelyn let the blanket fall from around them, bracing herself on the hand that wasn't occupied to use her hips in the motion they were creating. They moved slowly, not a single care in the world; no interruptions would come tonight, thanks to the howling winds outside the cabin. There was something different in the way they were coupling, like there was a patience to this time that neither woman had shown before. Every time before this one had almost been a contest of which one could make the other come first, and which one could make the other be the loudest. It was very nearly always fast and hard.
But now, foreheads pressed together and green eyes locked on grey eyes, sharing the same breaths of air with their lips barely brushing, beckons a question to be asked…
Is this… making love?
The thought crossed Evelyn's mind, and her chest constricted with an alien emotion she'd felt with Sera before but couldn't identify, even now. Nothing like what was happening had ever occurred in her life, nothing like having this beautiful, fiery being in her lap, rocking her hips almost reverently against her fingers. No one had ever stared directly into her eyes like Sera was doing now, seeing nothing but her, completely in the moment. No one had ever whispered her name quite the way the thief was doing, so low that if Evelyn didn't feel the syllables forming against her lips, she wouldn't know it was being said. There was never any soft lip locks, never any gently massaging hands on her shoulders, it was never this quiet.
All of these observations accumulated into Evelyn's brain, and it sent her heart into a slight frenzy when it all started to add up for her. A catch of breath in Sera's throat pulled her out of her revelry, feeling the walls of the girl's sex begin to shudder around her fingers. The elven rogue buried her face in Evelyn's neck as she began to rise to her peak, but a soft request from the human made her pull back.
"Look at me, my imp?"
Green and grey seas began to crash around Evelyn when their eyes made contact again. The sound of her blood rushing through her ears was louder than the popping and crackling as flames gnawed on logs, or the wails of the wind beating against the panes of glass in the windows. Without even thinking about it, she brought her thumb up to lightly brush the completely engorged nub, one that was no longer hiding in its little sheath of skin in the elf's folds. The hands rubbing her shoulders tightened as Sera's hips jerked unevenly and her sex clamped down hard around Evelyn's fingers, the archer's mouth fell open with shaky breaths and low whimpers as she came. Her pupils were dilated and swimming in emotion, her freckled cheeks tinged in red, and her forehead shimmered with a light sheen of sweat as she trembled against her.
She had never looked so perfect.
And it made Evelyn ache deep in her breastbone with the knowledge of what it all meant.
Jader
Writing letters that requested information in roundabout ways had always been a headache for Hawke. She was well versed in speaking and writing in code, but it never failed to leave her with a slight throb at her temples. Her only saving grace this time was that Isabela had disembarked hours ago to find a watering hole and a whore, leaving Hawke to be able to think in peace without her lover's loud mouth flapping about distractingly.
This wasn't her first letter to Warden Stroud about red lyrium. It wasn't even her second. But each reply the warden had sent to her was a further disappointment that no one in the Order had ever seen or heard of such a thing before the Kirkwall debacle. Stroud, like Varric, knew the schedule of their trade route, and knew which port to send what letters. She knew that they would be docked here for a few weeks for maintenance and to give Hawke herself time to sort out what she wanted to do about the whole Inquisition nonsense; she told Stroud as much in this letter she was finishing up.
She pulled a traveling pack over her shoulder and took a glance around the captain's quarters for anything she or Isabela might have forgotten to pack that morning, but saw nothing of importance. Blowing out the candle she'd written by on the desk, Hawke turned and left the room.
Merrill was waiting for her on the portside, her own bag thrown over her shoulder haphazardly, a beaming grin stretching her vallaslin on her face. "I was thinking maybe I missed you, but then I remembered that Isabela left alone a long time ago, and that Bethany and Ellen had already gone, too. But I didn't want to bother you if you were trying to be alone, so I waited here just in case I didn't miss you, and here you are!"
Hawke couldn't help but to smile back. Maker's balls, she loved this scatterbrained elf. "You didn't miss me. I'd have come sooner if I knew you were waiting. I figured you went off with the kids." She and Isabela always referred to Bethany and Ellen together as "the kids". Beth being Hawke's youngest sibling, and Ellen being quite literally barely past childhood at a mere eighteen summers at the time, made it a viable description. Hawke used to tease Beth mercilessly about robbing the cradle, but her sister shut her up one day by pointing out that it was Ellen that took her virginity, not the other way around. The teasing lost its appeal after that gruesome mental image had flashed in the older Hawke's mind.
"They seemed like they needed some time alone," Merrill said shyly, a blush coming to her cheeks. "Something about rings. Isn't that a shemlen thing? Marriage rings?"
Hawke frowned deeply, not liking the fact that the kids were set on marrying. She couldn't deny that Ellen loved her sister, and would do right by her, but Hawke had a distaste for ceremonial displays of affection in general. But when she thought about having a claim on Isabela that way, something inside of her purred with a contentment that pissed her off and made her want to cry in despair all at once.
"Isn't that just ducky," Hawke muttered darkly, rolling her blue eyes at the thought as they walked down the ramp to the docks.
"It is, isn't it?" Merrill gushed, not catching on to the sarcasm of Hawke's statement. "It's really very sweet. I wish it would happen for me."
Hawke's heart broke a bit at the blood mage's words. As adorable as Merrill could be, she was awkward and nervous, and also prone to random bouts of uncontrolled magic. These things didn't make her very approachable to begin with, and when you threw in Isabela's death glare at anyone who got too close to her Kitten, it was nearly impossible for Merrill to find any sort of romantic kinship.
"It'll happen," Hawke said now, reaching over and throwing an arm around the girl's neck. "You just haven't bumped into him, yet."
"Him?" Merrill asked, surprised. "What makes you think it will be a man?"
Hawke's brow furrowed, not expecting that response at all. "Well… her, too. Why, are you not into men?"
"I don't know," Merrill admitted, blushing again. "I mean, I had my crush on you, and you're not a man. But then there was that nice elven friend of Isabela's from Antiva. He was really charming." Her blush grew deeper. "And he even kissed me."
Hawke pursed her lips at the mention of Zevran. She didn't really care for the guy. Every time she met with the insatiable elf, he was trying to talk Isabela into bed. While that normally wouldn't have bothered her much, and she might have even consented to a threesome, the history between he and her captain was too much for Hawke's jealousy to bear. When she'd walked in and found him half atop Merrill with his tongue down her throat, that had been the final line. Hawke had snatched him off of her and demanded to know what the hell he thought he was doing. When he couldn't give her an answer, she'd tossed him at Isabela and told her to deal with him. They hadn't seen him since.
"Zevran was taking advantage of you. I couldn't let that happen," she said quietly to Merrill now, not meeting her eyes as the two moved through the crowded docks towards the city.
"I wanted it to happen. How is that taking advantage? I wanted to know what it feels like." There was an accusatory undertone to Merrill's words that caught Hawke off guard and made her feel a slight bit guilty.
"The first time should be… I don't know, with someone that isn't him," Hawke said, frustrated. "He's a snake, Merrill."
"I've heard others say the same about you, and I don't think it's true. Even if it wasn't love, it could have been fun. You kept that from me."
"Merrill–"
"I'm going to go back to the ship, I think," Merrill interrupted her, looking back over her shoulder. "I forgot, there's a book I wanted to read." She pulled away from Hawke's arm and turned around without another word, walking back towards the boat's plank.
Hawke watched from below as the mage made her way back onto the ship and disappeared into the door down to the bunks. She felt a sinking feeling in her gut, knowing she'd fucked up. She had a hard time as seeing the elf as a woman, not a child, because of her naivety. When things like this happened it threw her mind off its course and waylaid her reality. Merrill was nearly thirty summers, and had never known another's body against her own. And despite her personal grudges against Zevran, he had been kind to Merrill, and had made her smile in the brief time he was on board the ship with them. Hawke hated to think she may have stolen Merrill's only chance.
She shook her head at herself, and continued to push through the mess of dock workers and sailors, her mind returning to her task of sending off this latest missive to Stroud. She felt like the sooner she got the letter off, the sooner his reply would come. Depending on what the letter read, Hawke would make a decision whether or not to travel to Haven.
Jader
Merrill was furious with Hawke, but didn't want to argue with her. The human was irritatingly steadfast in her opinions, even when she was wrong. The futility of pressing your own points against her was as strong as trying to convince Isabela to go a day without drinking. "Dirthara-ma, Marian Hawke!" she cursed under her breath as she made her way down the steps to her cubby near the captain's quarters. "The nerve of that woman sometimes…."
It wasn't until she entered the tiny berth that she realized the book she'd wanted to read was the one she was about to purchase from the bookseller. She slapped a hand to her forehead, silently cursing at Hawke again for upsetting her and making her forget she hadn't bought it. "Ugh, now I have to go alone. Fenedhis."
Crowds were the scariest thing about being alone. She felt like every eye on the dock was upon her as she walked as fast as she could towards the city's market district, making eye contact with no one. She knew her vallaslin caused her to stand out from the city elves that dwelled here, so there wasn't even any hope in blending in with them. She was lucky that Jader was a regular stop on Isabela's route and that she'd been here numerous times in the past four years. The landmarks she'd noted in her own mind to keep her route fixed and familiar were all still there, and it wasn't long before she found herself in the market.
Big green eyes scanned the many stalls stocked with wares of all sorts, looking for a particular dwarven merchant with a stall laden in books and scrolls. She spotted him on the opposite side of the market, shouting off advertisements to the passing patrons. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, she crossed through the cobbled street.
"Back again, I see!" The merchant grinned jovially at the Dalish elf as she drew near. Merrill knew he was always happy to see her, Bethany, and Ellen because the three of them spent most of their coin with him when they were at port.
"Yes, here I am!" she replied just as happily, eyes only on the stack of tomes by his elbow. "I wondered if you have the latest copy of Hard In Hightown available?"
Hard in Hightown was Varric's hit series. It gave her comfort to read her dear friend's words, if she couldn't speak to him. She missed the dwarf terribly.
"I do! Hot off the press. Master Tethras managed to find time to write, even when he is saving the world, or so the rumors have it!"
"Oh, yes, he's with the Inquisition," Merrill said thoughtlessly, making the dwarf in front of her give her a curious look. Then she remembered she was supposed to pretend she didn't know Varric personally. "I mean, that's what I've heard, as well."
He reached up to the top book on a stack to his right, sliding it off and handing it over to Merrill with a smile. "Anything else you'd like today?"
"Um, no, I think this is it," she replied absently, admiring the cover of this one. Donnic looked especially gallant. Aveline was a lucky woman.
"Three sovereigns and you're good to go, my lady!"
"Oh! Oh, yes, of course. Here…." She fished inside her robe for the inner pocket and fingered out three separate coins, handing them off to a very pleased merchant. "Thank you, so much!"
He gave a bow to her as he dropped the coins into his own purse. "Always a pleasure to serve, my lady. Until next time!"
Merrill turned away and started back for the ship, opening the book in her hands. The cover creaked when she pulled it back, and she smiled softly at the sound. She loved books. She loved the smell of the ink and paper, loved the weight of them in her hands, but mostly loved how lost she became in their stories. Varric was particularly good at making immersive tales, and with the way he'd left the last installment, she was eager to read its resolution.
But Merrill, for all her life, was never the type to be able to walk and do anything else. So when she made the mistake of reading the first paragraph on the opening page, she sealed her fate. She collided with someone, falling back onto her rump with the impact, seeing her book and apples go flying everywhere.
"Oh, Mythal! I'm so sorry!" she apologized on reflex, beginning to hurriedly gather the fallen fruit.
"Mythal, huh?" came an amused voice from above her. "Ir abelas, ris asha."
Merrill felt a jerk in her heart to hear her native language spoken so fluidly. She looked up to see first the vallaslin of Elgar'nan, and second that it was drawn onto a female elf with long dark red hair and a small smile. She couldn't help but to stare for a moment, having gone so long without contact with any other Dalish after being condemned to life among shemlen. But it wasn't only that; the elf was beautiful. She was darker skinned than Merrill, but had the same green eyes as she herself possessed. She was thin, as were all elves, but she had muscle to her that marked her days in the forest. The last thing Merrill noticed was the staff strapped to her back, and she knew right away that she was looking at another Dalish mage.
"Aneth ara," she breathed out to this stranger, unable to tear her eyes away if only long enough to get to her feet and hand her back her apples.
The elf in front of her held a half empty basket out towards her, and Merrill stared at it in confusion until it finally clicked that the apples in her arms belonged inside it. She placed the five or six fruits back inside, and took the book the woman handed her when she bent down to pick it up and dust it off for Merrill. A tanned hand extended out to her, and Merrill took it as well, allowing her to pull her back to her feet. Her sleeve fell back when she reached her hand up to clasp the other elf's, and she saw the woman's eyes fix on the pale silver scars that ran down the inside of her forearm. She snatched her sleeve down quickly when she was on her feet, pretending to straighten her robes, but the stranger didn't mention the marks.
"I'm Dora, of the Lavellan clan," she told Merrill with that same small smile on her face. Merrill wondered if she recognized what the scars were, if she could still smile at her.
"Merrill," she replied in barely more than a whisper, trying hard to figure out why her heart was beating so fast. She was always nervous meeting strangers, but she always had Hawke, Isabela, Bethany, or Ellen there to help keep her calm. If she didn't figure out why this woman made her so jittery, she was going to end up lighting her on fire by accident.
"I don't have a clan." The curious look that crossed Dora's features made her realize how odd that must sound, and she felt like she had to explain. "I did, once. Of course. The Sabrae clan in the Free Marches. But I wasn't born there. I was born in Nevarra, to the Alerion clan. But I am a ma–" She cut herself off, blushing deeply. "I'm rambling, I'm sorry."
To her wonder, the elf laughed, holding her belly. "Spirits, you're adorable. Can't I just put you in my pocket and keep you?"
Merrill studied the woman's robes with a frown. "Do you actually have pockets that deep?"
A look of surprise lit Dora's eyes. "Well, I didn't mean it literally, but now that you mention it, I wish I did." She winked at her, hoisting the basket further up her arm.
That only confused Merrill further, but she didn't press Dora for answers. "I, um, should get back to the ship. It was really nice meeting you."
"Ship? You traded the forest for the sea? Intriguing," Dora said, raising her eyebrows. "How long are you to be here?"
Merrill shrugged because she didn't really know. "I'm a passenger, not a pi–er, sailor. I don't know how long we're anchored."
"I haven't seen any Dalish since I've landed here, and I won't be here much longer. I'm joining the Inquisition, so this is just a stop on my journey." She bit her lip, eyes scanning Merrill like she wanted to say more and wasn't sure she should. "If you're still here this time tomorrow, you should meet me back here," she finally said, her face darkening just a bit. "I would like to talk."
"Talk about what?" Merrill asked suspiciously, glancing around them for anyone waiting to ambush her while she was distracted. Hawke had taught her that.
"Anything," Dora blurted quickly, tucking her wave of dark auburn hair behind her long ear. "It's been… lonely. I left my clan two months ago. I miss it. Seeing you here has been a treat for me. Please meet me tomorrow, Merrill?"
"All right." She couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth right now. Hawke was going to be so angry with her for talking to strangers, much less making plans to meet with one. Unless…. "Could I maybe bring a friend? She's human, though."
Dora's ears drooped a bit, but she nodded her head, regardless. "That's okay. I don't mind humans. My clan is well acquainted with the shemlen in our area."
Merrill gave a faint smile. "I can tell. You've only said a handful of elven since we started talking."
"Is that a bad thing?"
Merrill shook her head quickly. "No, no. I'm a bit of a historian of our people, but I hardly use our language at all because I have no one that speaks it. Today was nice."
White teeth flashed at her. "Most Firsts are historians, myself included."
Merrill's jaw dropped and she looked around again, making sure no one heard. She didn't want to be singled out as an elven apostate, even if the shemlen's precious Circles were no more. Mages were still viewed as nothing more than dangerous criminals to most. "I really should get back to the ship before they notice I'm gone. They'll think I got lost and come looking for me."
Dora gave a nod, a sad look on her face that made Merrill's heart ping. But then her ears perked back up and she gave Merrill a hopeful look. "But tomorrow?"
Merrill gave a single nod. "I'll be here. I promise."
Dora grinned and shot her another wink before she waved and moved off into the crowd. Merrill watched until she couldn't see her any longer. A piece of herself wanted to sprint after her and keep talking, but she knew she was right about them coming back and finding her missing. Isabela would slaughter everyone until she figured out where her Kitten had wandered off to.
"Oh, dear," Merrill sighed to herself as she finally made her way towards the ship. "Whatever is Hawke going to say about this?"
Redcliffe
Nervousness was eating up Sera's gut. She rode in front of her Shiny like always, the woman's hand holding her around her waist. The entire ride to Redcliffe from Haven had been just like this. They didn't really speak, communicating in looks and touches alone. When they camped, there was no teasing and torturing each other. They even kept a watch together without anything more than a cuddle by the fire with a few stories from both of their pasts. There were a few jokes passed between them, but Sera knew that their few days snowed in together alone had shifted something between them.
Not in a bad way, either.
Hearing more about Evelyn's childhood had been the start. It had made Sera angry with a protective vindictiveness when she heard the things her lover told her that day by the lake, and in the stories Evelyn shared with her when they were locked in the cabin during those two days–when they weren't busy doing other things. Sera felt a smile pull at her lips at the thought of "other things". Even that had been different, but she couldn't exactly say how. All she knew was that it had become something more than chasing orgasms for both of them. She also knew that her feelings for the assassin were strong, but the few days before the summons from Alexius arrived had shown her that they were even stronger than she believed. It confused her that she wasn't tucking tail and running the other direction, as she had in the past when things got to be too deep for her.
But even the mere thought of leaving Evelyn at all made her feel sick.
When Leliana had come to the door after the snow had begun to melt away beneath the sun that had decided to shine, neither of the women had begrudged the duty ahead. Once upon a time, both would have grumbled and Evelyn would have only reluctantly complied with the spymaster's wishes to meet in the council chambers. Sera had gone with Evelyn to the meeting, that was also new. She'd always taken the meetings as chances to practice or drink, whatever would keep her occupied until Shiny was free to play again. But this time, something pushed her to follow Evelyn into the Chantry and past the heavy doors at the end of the hall. When the plan was laid out with the help of Dorian and Tyus–the mage that had been following them this whole time–she knew why it had felt so. This was serious. It was dangerous. They wanted her Shiny, and Sera would be damned if she was gonna let that happen.
Content in the knowledge that Leliana's men would be following them and sneaking into the castle through under passages that the spymaster had used with Tabris during the Blight, Sera and Cassandra both refused to be anywhere but by Evelyn's side as she made her way up to the castle now. Alexius had requested that he meet with the Herald alone to negotiate, but no one thought that a good idea. Tyus, Bull and Varric waited in Redcliffe village for signs of trouble, and Dorian paced himself behind the three women, still not ready to reveal himself to his former mentor.
They left their horses in the courtyard and walked up the steps to the doors to the main hall. Two Venatori guards stood sentry on either side, and they crossed their weapons as the three approached, barring entrance.
"The Herald is to go in alone," one of the men said disdainfully, lightly scowling at Cassandra. The other regarded Sera with barely concealed disgust, his eyes trained on her ears.
Sera wanted to reach back into her quiver, grab an arrow, and shove it through his face, but she held her composure. She knew that this was important, and her temper would just have to simmer.
"These are my advisors," Evelyn said brightly, jerking a thumb at each of them. "This big one is mean, I wouldn't piss her off. And the little one is as rabid as a blight-sick wolf. I'd let them come, if I were you."
I'll show you rabid, Shiny. Just wait until this is over.
The guards exchanged a look, then the one that had spoken gave a little shrug. They pulled their weapons back and the silent one opened the doors for them to pass. The castle was dark inside, and cold. They passed several unlit grates on their way towards the throne room, and Sera wondered if perhaps magic worked better without the light of a fire.
Dirty gits, wouldn't put it past them to attack in the dark. That's how evil works, innit?
But the throne room itself was well lit, every brazier and grate alight with bright, dancing flames, the atmosphere almost friendly except the fake smile on the arsehole magister's face as the three entered the room. The kid with the blight sickness that had given them the message in the tavern stood to his father's left, and that old lady elf stood just behind the throne to his right. The hall itself was lined with Venatori guardsmen, standing at attention as the passed.
"My friend!" Alexius greeted Evelyn with a wide, slimy smile. "How wonderful it is to see you again."
"Magister," Evelyn replied easily, even politely. She returned his sickly sweet smile and bowed her head a bit. "I am pleased to see your son is well."
"As well as he can be… for now." He made a motion for the party to come closer, and leaned forward in Arl Teagan's seat. "So, you've come for the mages. I've had a little time to form my stipulations, but I would hear what you have to offer me before I voice them."
"Nothing," Evelyn said, shrugging her shoulders with that same shit eating grin on her face. "I offer you absolutely nothing. I'm going to take them and leave."
You tell 'im, Shiny. Sera couldn't hold back her smirk. She was so proud.
Alexius gave a full throated laugh as if Evelyn had just told the funniest joke he'd ever heard, shaking his head at her. "You have quite the sense of humor, Herald."
"So I've been told," Evelyn agreed, glancing over at Cassandra with a wink. "But I'm sorry to say that I am not joking, this time. Hand over the mages, Alexius. We need not come to blows."
The smile finally faded from the old geezer's face as his already beady eyes narrowed further. "What makes you think I will do as you ask?"
"She knows, Father," Felix spoke up from beside the man, and his sire's head whipped over to look at him in horror. "I told her everything."
"Felix! What have you done?" he gasped, shooting to his feet. "Do you have any idea—?"
"He does," a new voice came from behind the trio at the foot of the dais, and Sera looked over her shoulder to see Dorian striding up to them, eyes on Alexius and a grim look on his ridiculously handsome face. "He's trying to make you remember who you are, before he loses you forever."
"Dorian," Alexius growled, taking his staff in his hand. "I offered you a position in this, and you refused."
"As I would again, a thousand times. So would the man I knew, the man that was my mentor, more a father to me than my own. Why are you doing this, Alexius?" Dorian's voice held a note of betrayal, and Sera scoffed to herself.
Better keep a watch on him, if this gets ugly.
"Stand down, Alexius," Evelyn called up to him, her hands on her hip daggers. Sera took this as a sign and pulled her bow free, even if she did not arm it, and she heard the ring of Cassandra's sword leaving its sheath at the same moment. "You'll not be the victor here today, and I'll not warn you again."
"Thief," he spat, reaching into his robes and pulling out a necklace with a bright red gem gleaming from it. "You are a child playing with things you do not have the capacity to understand. That mark on your hand does not belong to you, and it does not make you a prophet. The Elder One wills this, you fool! It shall be as he deems it so!"
Weapons were drawn all around, but before anyone could make a move to attack the mad magister, the gem on the necklace began to glow with a blinding light just as Dorian and Evelyn both rushed up the stairs of the dais towards Alexius. It swelled until it filled the entire room, making Sera and Cassandra shield their eyes, but then it was gone just as quickly.
But so were Evelyn and Dorian.
Author's Note.
So we meet again. I am sorry it's been a few weeks since my last update, but I had a bout of writer's block through the holidays, and then when I finally overcame it, I lost a dear friend of mine to his battle with cancer. Although I knew he was sick, he'd gone into remission twice before, so I had convinced myself he would do so again. Life had other ideas, unfortunately, and now the world is less one hell of a funny, bright guy. I never met him person, I knew him through Facebook gaming groups, but nevertheless did he impact my life for the past three years.
I dedicate this chapter to Matt, a man so full of life and love and laughter.
Never discount friends, even if they aren't "in real life" ones.
Brighter note! There's another chapter being posted after this one! Double whammy night, let the crowd go wild!
Forewarning… LanceTrance dubbed this next chapter "Angst Ahoy". Be prepared.