"Is that her?"
"Can't be!"
"Don't stare at her, her magic is dangerously corruptive!"
"Look at her hair! The vulgarity of the woman!"
"I hope that mark on her hand kills her,"
The soft whispers and the not so soft whispers was what Evelyn heard all night at her homecoming ball. She answered each with a steely glare. Garrett attempted to stay by her side for the entirety of the night, but, being the non-disowned child, was whisked away every other minute by this relative or that relative who looked disdainfully at his sister. In no mood to make friends with the snakes that encompassed the room, the mage stood off by herself making mental notes in her head.
Cullen had been away with some woman from Kirkwall that he knew back when he was templar. 'No time for introductions' she had declared, in shining gold armor that clashed with her vermillion red hair and brash freckles. Evelyn may have been worried if not for the wedding band she wore around her neck on a chain.
As for Leliana and Josephine, the two had been flitting around the room talking to spies in the area as well as diplomats, commenting on their attire and such. And frankly, the mage had no interest in such gossip. So, here she was, a stranger in her former home.
A second cousin passed by, shooting a wrathful look at Evelyn. In response she considered sticking her tongue out but thought it better to simply pretend she did not see.
"The looks the Trevelyans possess," an amused whisper said behind her. The mage turned slowly, unaware if the voice be friend or foe. Dorian stood leaning against the doorway overlooking the entirety of the ball room. "Can kill."
Evelyn smiled wryly at her companion and raised a thin eyebrow. "Now you see where I get it from." She turned back to lean over the bannister, a wine flute in gloved hand. Watching cousins, aunts, great uncles, and allies commerce in dance was painfully dull in her opinion. In the hours that she had been there she had taken to admiring the split end of the soft curls that framed her face. The rest of her hair was piled on top of her head in a bun, sticking there with some sort of gel that Leliana had applied.
Dorian came to stand hubristically beside her. He too had changed from his swanky Mage armor to the regal outfit Josephine had forced him into: a black and gold uniform detailed with a small Inquisition pendant like medal over the left breast. All and any of the Inquisition's members wore some variation of the original design. That was except for the Inquisitor herself.
She wore a slimming black gown as dark as night; it shimmered as she walked, emitting power and electric energy from her curvaceous body. The iridescent cap sleeves added a touch of innocence to the look which turned out well with how look the neckline happened to be. When Josephine had shown Evelyn the design, she had simply nodded and gone back to work. But now she loved how the luscious silk clung to her frame. Rather than the golden necklace that Cullen had given her the night of the ball at the Empress's Winter Palace, Evelyn wore a thick silver chain with a charm of the inquisition on it, hanging just above her cleavage. She had taken a notice that because of the shape of the insignia, it drove the eye of men (and some women for that matter) straight to her breasts. Every time the mage felt the ogling of those around her she had the urge to cuss at everyone and storm out of the ballroom. So far she had retained that desire though.
"It has been a long night, My Friend."
Dorian came to her side and gave her a brief half hug.
"Do you know that the Pavus' and the Trevelyan's are related?" The Tevinter claimed.
"Oh?" Evelyn rose an eyebrow at him once more, raising the pristine glass to her lips and slurping on the watered down wine.
The man fingered his mustache playfully. "Distantly I'm sure, but yes, as far as my records say."
"So are you going to call me a maleficar and spray me with Andraste's holy tears like the rest of my family?" Evelyn teased finishing off the drink at the weighty reality of what she had said.
"Oh, perish the thought," He leaned in close to her ear. "Besides that kind of kinky roleplay is Cullen's job,"
Elsewhere in the ballroom, Cassandra stood watching the festivities mere feet from the dance floor. Under the hazy candlelight, her silver cloak twinkled. So did the longsword she had insisted at keeping at her side. Now that she was there she was very glad that she had insisted on bringing to the grand celebration. This is was not Orlais, the Inquisition was not in the thick of the game, but assassins were sure to lurk somewhere, even in Evelyn's old home.
A disgusted look was stuck on the woman's face; she hated the selfish, greedy nobles, finding herself overwhelmingly pleased that she was never to be classified as one anymore. Thank the Maker that she had joined the Seekers. Can you imagine what she may have turned into?
There was a sudden tap on her shoulder just as the bard and her minstrels started up a new tune. It was Garrett Trevelyan and his hand was held out to her.
"May I have this dance, Seeker," He addressed her not in the way most men would, but in the way that she would prefer to be addressed. Seeker. Not my Lady, nor Lady Pentaghast. This perplexed Cassandra, yet she took his hand.
Still blushing from Dorian's comment, Evelyn swooshed down the grand staircase to the dance floor in search of her brother or, well, anybody to ease her embarrassment. She thought it incredibly ironic that this would be the time during the night to become bashful, but not when people called her a tart or an abomination. An elven servant offered her a flute of honey wine and she took it gratefully, offering a nod of thanks. The elf bowed then flitted away to the next thirsty looking party goer.
"Need some company?" Evelyn turned too fast, sloshing wine onto the freshly polished floor. It was Varric and he seemed to be a mix of amused and distracted.
"I, uh, I'm looking for-" She was cut off by an obnoxious shout.
"Oi, Ev, you're family is full of prats," Somewhere in the room Josephine must have been cringing.
Evelyn whipped her head around, but too late. Sera had already snatched her wine flute out of her hand and slammed it down in one gulp. After Cole had poofed himself into the womens lavatory, Evelyn had stopped worrying herself over these little things that her comrades had been doing all night. The elf had rolled up her sleeves on her formal uniform and had done away with her gloves, shoving them in her back pocket. The laces to her knee high boots were removed and the tongue of the shoes were sagging down to her ankles.
"How are you not tripping on those?" Evelyn motioned to her shoes. Sera shrugged and replied, "How are you breasts not falling out of your dress?"
"Sod off," Evelyn muttered. She picked up the hem of her dress with one hand and grabbed Varric's hand with the other.
"Uh, My Lady Inquisitor, pardon me, but how the shit are you going to dance with a dwarf? I'm half your goddamn height." protested Varric as she pulled him onto the floor making her way past others dancing.
"Just smile and put one hand as high on my body as possible, without touching my ass mind you, and the other on my forearm," whispered Evelyn as they got to the middle. Varric did as he was told, and, seeing that Evelyn gotten up to dance, the minstrels picked an upbeat song to play. Despite the obvious height difference, the mage found that Varric was particularly fancy on his feet.
"Where did you learn how to dance?" Evelyn said right before he twirled her around, the black dress fanning out and swaying around her legs, showing off her silvery high shoes that Leliana had forced her into.
"Hawke had to go a few noble parties back when she killed the Arishok. Made me come with her most of the time." Varric replied distracted. "Andraste's flaming ass!"
"What?!" Evelyn whispered urgently, but calmly looked over each shoulder.
"Is Cassandra, no-" The dwarf turned the two of them in a one-eighty so he could see better without having to strain his neck. That was almost impossible with all of the other dancers. "Why the hell are all you Trevelyan's so tall?"
"We're humans, Varric," Evelyn responded as the song finished. There was an array of applause, mostly for the Inquisitor and her partner. Evelyn smiled pleasantly at the crowd of relatives and allied families. She looked around the dance area, trying to spot Cassandra, but failed before she was ushered into the arms of another man.
"Okay if I cut in, Boss?" The bard sang a slow waltz tune and the Iron Bull pulled her tight to him. He leaned down as low as he could without hitting her with his horn and murmured, "Help me out here, alright?"
Evelyn laughed lightly while they danced slowly. For the most part the Qunari was trying not to step on the hem of her dress, obviously looking down at his feet. The mage looked around once more at the dancers to see the Nevaran but once more was cut short of finding her. The looks on her relatives faces were priceless. First dancing with a dwarf then a Qunari, oh how she loved to see their astonished looks.
The clock tower chimes sounded throughout the palace signally midnight. Dorian stepped in place of Evelyn as she made her way to the side of the dance floor. Her feet ached and the armholes of her dress were starting to rub her underarms raw.
She took her time making her way to the announcer stationed by the main entrance of the ballroom, painful blisters threatening to burst on her feet. A soft word to the man declared her departure of the night. She waited until he yelled out to the crowds and the clapping ended before exiting the hall. In a quick moment after the massive door shut behind her, the dramatic shoes were off and she was walking her way to the guest quarters, wondering mischievously when Cullen would make it back to their room. Dorian had unlocked a desire deep within her that night, and dancing distractions would not satisfy her.
Later
Garrett dropped off Cassandra at the door to her room.
"I thank you for allowing my company, Seeker," the man said in an utmost polite tone, even at the late hour of night he stood tall and proud. The warrior surmised that it was the years of practice beaten into him to act such a way, but the way his eyes smiled suggested much more than pleasantries.
"Please, I believe you can call me Cassandra by now, Lord Trevelyan"
"I expect you to do the same for me than, Seek- ah, My Lady Cassandra," This time it was not a bother to be addressed as such, nor did she mind that when he bid her goodnight that he gently raised her hand to his lips, leaving the faintest feeling of a kiss.