Ellen was already half drunk in the tavern with Bethany, Merrill, and Dora when a dwarf with a message appeared beside her table. The woman tugged on her sleeve to grab her attention, and Ellen looked down at her with furrowed brows. "Yes?"
"You and Lady Hawke are required in the Inquisitor's chambers at Her Grace's request," the dwarf murmured so lowly that Ellen had to crane an ear down to catch it at all.
She gave a heavy sigh, and looked at Beth, who was staring at her curiously. She gave a single shouldered shrug and an eye roll, conveying her annoyance with her twin without saying anything. Bethany's confusion cleared and she gave a nod of understanding before standing to leave.
"We're coming," she muttered back to the dwarf, who gave a nod and disappeared as quickly as she came. Looking back at the pair of elves they were leaving at the table, Ellen gave them each a nod. "Duty calls. Good eve, both of you."
Merrill made to stand. "Do you need-?"
Ellen shook her head and made a gesture at the half eaten plate of food in front of her friend. "No, Beth and I can handle it. You should finish your dinner, love."
"Good night, guys," Bethany said with a smile and a wink at Dora, who turned blood red where ink did not cover her skin.
Ellen grabbed the rest of the bottle of wine she'd been drinking, corked it, and tucked it under one arm. She offered Bethany the other, and the two mages left the Herald's Rest together. Ellen waited until they were out of earshot of anyone before she muttered a curse under her breath to Beth. "Maker's balls. If she's gone and made herself bleed by being stupid, I am going to choke her."
Bethany shifted her arm out of Ellen's to replace it by intertwining their fingers as they crossed the upper courtyard to the Great Hall. "Easy, Trevelyan. They've been very good since everything, and I know it's killing them both. If there was stage of that injury that could handle them... doing that... then this is it. I'm not sure we're being summoned for a healing, and if we are, then Maker bless them for waiting for it to be manageable."
"Yes, let's all praise Evelyn Trevelyan for being sensible, since she rarely is." Ellen couldn't keep the bite of sarcasm out of her voice; for while she adored her twin and was grateful to have her back, she was quickly reminded of all the things she'd found grating about her as children, too.
It earned her a light elbow from her intended. "She hasn't let Thedas burn to the ground, yet. She is supporting self-governing among mages. She didn't let the Grey Wardens bring in demonic armies, and she isn't letting Corypheus win."
Ellen deflated, but still couldn't help the barb she tossed on reflex. "Careful, or all of that complimenting is going to have me worried that I have competition."
It was Bethany's turn to roll her eyes. "You're ridiculous. If anything, I'd just take you both and make Sister and Isabela proud." The deadpan deliverance of the joke almost made Ellen believe her. Almost. But the bold line was still enough to make her raise an eyebrow.
"I never took you for having a kink, Bethany Hawke. Do I know you at all?" She gave her intended a gentle nudge in the ribs as Bethany softly snorted.
"If you do, you'd know that I couldn't handle another Trevelyan in my bed, even if I truly wished it so. There wouldn't be room for me with all of that ego." Bethany gave her a smirk that made Ellen laugh.
"Touche. But do me a favor and never tell that particular joke in front of Isabela. I would never hear the end of that."
"I'll save us both the headache, just as long as you behave and don't berate your sister for being flesh and blood with a woman she loves." Bethany's fingers gently squeezed hers before she released her hand to cross through the Great Hall to the Inquisitor's Tower. "Try to imagine if the roles were reversed."
That wasn't too hard. Ellen would also have turned back for Hawke, firstly for Bethany, secondly because Hawke was family to her now, as well. It would be like leaving Evelyn herself, or Maxwell, in the Fade to die. Nigh on a month had passed since the incident, and Ellen could imagine easily how touch starved she would be by this point. Her teeth ground in the back of her mouth at the thought that she was as obstinate as the Inquisitor, though she supposed it was something that pegged them as sisters.
It was quiet when they were coming up the stairs to Evelyn's quarters, void of any cackling Sera may have indulged, or any smart ass remarks from her twin's dry tone. Every visit to the Tower in the past had been filled with both things, so the absence of them made Ellen give uneasy glance at Bethany, who looked concerned, as well.
They found her sister on the sofa by the fire with Sera, the former wrapped in the latter's arms. Blue-green eyes made a quick assessment of Evelyn's body, found a lack of blood, and she slightly relaxed. But the sobriety of the room had her muscles retaining tension, especially when she spied two half empty whiskey bottles on the floor beside the cuddling pair.
"Good eve, El. Beth." Evelyn's voice was quiet, the use of their nicknames telling of the casualness. "There's a letter on my desk. You both should read it, then we'll talk."
She made a gesture with her gloved left hand towards her messy desk in far corner of her quarters, but did not move from her position on the sofa. In fact, she burrowed further into Sera, whose arms flexed as they tightened around her sister. Curiosity colored Ellen's mind as she made her way over to the desk, the candlelight flickering over a disarray. But there was one piece of parchment that was wrinkled, but smoothed out after, that stood out from the rest. That was the one she reached for as she felt Beth appear at her side. She gave Bethany the bottle tucked under her arm to grip the wrinkled paper with both hands, and her eyes fell down to the name at the bottom first.
Bann Rogan Trevelyan.
Something lurched in her lower gut, and suddenly she felt very cold. She read the letter carefully, knowing Bethany was reading as well when she felt a hand come to rest at the small of her back. By the time she was done, her hands were quaking and the cold feeling had seeped into her bones. He was coming. He was coming to Skyhold, where the twins lived. He was coming where Bethany was.
Ellen was quiet for a few moments as she breathed evenly in and out of her nose, then she placed the vellum back where she found it, and turned back to face the room at large. The first thing she did was take a deep breath, then she looked at Beth and gave a weak attempt at a smirk. "Looks like you're going to get an answer to that question you asked yourself a few months ago. It will be entertaining to see what makes him the most irate. Me, with a woman mage." She looked at the pair on the sofa. "My sister and her woman elf." And then she gestured between Evelyn and herself. "I think the two of us side by side may overshadow it all, to be honest."
Evelyn made a noise of disinterest from the sofa. "I care very little what he thinks of my choice in love, and even less what he will judge when finds me a woman grown. I'm not the little girl he used to bully, and neither are you."
Ellen shook her head. "No, I am not."
Evelyn cleared her throat, shifting against an unusually quiet Sera to reach down and grab one of the bottles on the floor. Ellen didn't even think to begrudge her that, not after knowing why the atmosphere in Evelyn's quarters was so heavy. She even held her hand out for the bottle she had passed off to Bethany when she'd crossed the room to read the letter, taking a generous gulp for herself.
"He wrote the Inquisition once, braying for me to be burned at the stake for heresy, and talking Max up as a replacement for me as Herald. As if my blood had fuck all to do with that damned title." Her fingers flexed in her glove as she spoke, and Ellen's eyes fell to the dark brown leather. She knew well that what was hidden beneath it was the true reason Evelyn had been elevated as Herald. The masses genuinely thought her a gift from the Maker because of the mark, definitely not because of her family name.
"But he has always been vain, always proud of our surname, if not proud of who bears it. Surely by now he has realized the stories of the mark are real, and it was not a simple matter to dispose of me to elevate Max. Inquisitor, however? Now, that's a title he could see over his boy's head, gleaming and pristine, the perfect Chantry picture."
Ellen made direct eye contact with Evelyn. "You think he means to assassinate you."
Evelyn cracked a cold smile that did not reach her eyes. "I think he will try. But it will gain him nothing but the kiss of my blade on his throat in his sleep."
"If he doesn't get an arrow there, first." It was the first words Sera had spoken, and they were said softly, and slightly muffled at the end by the elf pressing her face into Evelyn's hair.
Evelyn lightly stroked a hand down Sera's arm in response, and Ellen felt compelled to look away from the intimacy of the gesture. She turned her attention to the bed, taking note of its rumpled state that told her this news had interrupted whatever had been happening. She sighed, then glanced at Bethany.
"Your thoughts, my love?"
"I trust that the Inquisitor-"
"Evelyn, please, Bethany. This is hardly a formal setting, and we're family." Her sister gave a lazy, purely Evelyn smirk to her intended, and the sight of it made Ellen smile to herself. She was happy that Evelyn and Beth got along naturally, the same way she was happy she and Sera had made progress in the same area since they'd saved Evelyn.
Beth dipped her head in acknowledgment. "I trust that Evelyn and yourself will be safe from that monster. Even if your only defense lies in Sera and me."
Sera scoffed. "He would have to face this entire bloody castle if he was that stupid."
Evelyn finally extracted herself out of Sera's hold, sitting up on the sofa to take another drink of the bottle in her hand, then stood and began to pace. She walked the length of the rug in front of the fireplace five times before she spoke again. "I promise the three of you one thing... if any Trevelyans die in Skyhold, it will not be any of the ones standing in this room." She leveled a look at Bethany, and then one on her own lover, where her eyes remained. "And that includes the two of you."
Ellen raised an eyebrow at the suddenly intense look between Evelyn and Sera, and wondered to herself if Evelyn had asked Sera to share her name. She knew that something had changed between them, something that had tempered them both in a favorable way, so maybe a proposal would be it? She could certainly see how it would have occurred. Evelyn had died. Mortality slapped them both in the face with one blow, and the pair had spent the majority of the trip back alone, where anything could have been said.
When it didn't seem they were going to stop staring at each other, Ellen lightly cleared her throat to remind them they had company. "Do you know where the Ambassador is housing the bann?"
"Not in this tower. The two suites below this one are already assigned. The one just below is yours, the one below that is Dorian's. The last will be assigned to Maxwell."
Ellen's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I have a suite? The bunk in the mages' tower was fine, Evelyn."
Evelyn waved her hand, then clasped it with the other behind her back, squaring her shoulders in the way she used to when they were children. When she was going to be rock on any arguments. "You two need your own space. When Josephine, Leliana, Cullen, and I discussed rebuilding the rooms before we left for the Approach, I had you and Dorian in mind."
Ellen gave a nod, but it was Bethany that spoke. "Thank you, Evelyn. We appreciate it."
"Of course." Evelyn gave a deep sigh and released the pose after no more argument was given, looking around her room. "I haven't seem them, but I trust Josephine."
Ellen chewed her lip, and began to pace the rug now, herself. There was one more thing she wanted to know. "How did Max turn out?"
Evelyn gave her a funny look. "You really have to ask that?"
Ellen shrugged, not halting her slow movements across the rug. "I haven't seen him since he was a young man. A lot could have changed."
"It didn't."
Ellen turned her eyes onto Evelyn, narrowing them just so. "How long ago did you leave the estate?"
Evelyn frowned. "Four years ago, almost five." Her own eyes widened when she realized what Ellen was implying. "No, not Max. He's always been a good man."
He had been good when they were children and he was a young man, and Ellen had always carried hope to see him again one day. But she had also hoped it would be on her own terms, rather than a surprise visit where she least expected. She slowed her pace to a stop and took a reflective sip of the bottle in her hand.
"I suppose it will not be long before we shall see."
Denerim
"...But see, there was a great howling sound from deeper within the cave. My friend went in with his sword drawn and we all heard a scuffle. Then, I swear on Andraste's voluminous voluptiousness, the man hurled a werewolf out on his hide to my feet!"
Telys was always at his most colorful when surrounded by a group of beautiful women, it had been so since they were lads. Maxwell hid his grin in his tankard as the whores tittered and squeaked where appropriate in the exaggerated tale. He was choosing to play the role of silent wing man this evening, if only so his blood brother, and best friend, could get his antsy out of his system before they left Denerim the next morning. Maxwell had never had an interest in the women provided by establishments, his tastes being far too opposite in the spectrum of types of women. Taverns and brothels were always more Evelyn and Telys, but he'd begun to accompany his younger brother when the man asked.
This night was no different, save the scene being a place in Denerim called The Pearl, right on the docks. It was as aptly named as he would have expected in a city like Denerim: grimy and damp, with a smell of fish, mold and sailor sweat. Their father's party had bedded in the city inn, and Max and Telys had rooms there, as well. He prayed to the Maker that Telys had intentions on returning there, where the rooms smelled more like fresh baked bread and less like furry cheese.
"On my life! Maxwell, pray tell the ladies that I speak true!" Telys called him into the verbal fray he was sharing with one elven lady naysayer draped across his lap. "Five of them! At least."
Maxwell shook his head and reached for the pitcher on the table. "You're being humble, brother. It was eight, and no less." A collective gasp from all four of them around the brothers made Max swallow back the smile threatening his face as he refilled his tankard a last time.
A dramatic sigh escaped Telys, who threw his head back theatrically. "I was trying to save the ladies their nerve."
"A noble sentiment, old friend. But these ladies have seen their mettle." He raised his tankard as the whores laughed again, two of them now batting their eyelashes at him, as well.
He ignored it. He had other things on his mind. His sister being the first thing. He hadn't heard from her since before the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. He'd heard everything secondhand, except the day that the world shook when the breach was sealed shut. He'd only wished he'd been at the manor in order to see the look on Rogan's face when he realized the one of his spawn he hated most was saving the world.
Their father's anger with Evelyn had always mystified him until he was older and knew love. At that point, he could almost have believed it was Evelyn's complicated birth and their mother's resulting demise that was the root... Until his father finally admitted to him that Telys was his son by the sweet elf that worked in the kitchens; one whom Max himself was tongue-tied around as a boy, due to her beauty and her good nature.
Telys was two summers older than the twins. Telys, who had their eyes, hair, their smile, and their confidence. Telys, who reminded Maxwell so much of Evelyn, if she had been born a man. He wore his hair long, the length of it pulled back and tied up into a long tail that rested on his right shoulder. There was no mistaking his resemblance to the Trevelyans, and a piece of Maxwell had always known. He'd been attached to him since the child was born, curious about a baby at first; then taking to teaching him later on.
If Telys was two summers older, then that meant his father had betrayed his mother and his vows to her under the Maker's eye. And Max found that as reprehensible as the way he treated his sisters... as reprehensible as Max's own secret that he himself had reported Ellen to the Chantry, if only to save her from Rogan.
Thinking about it made him feel sick on many levels. He felt guilty for it, but at this point he was trying to be civil to the man to retain his place as heir. He had plans for the Trevelyan estate once it passed to him in name. He was waiting for the man to die, be it from inactivity while being a rabid glutton, or for shooting his mouth off to the wrong person. It was as if the older his father became, the less he cared for decorum; which was a far cry from the man Maxwell remembered from childhood and early adulthood. Rogan had once been a man that would rather have his daughter murdered than anyone discover magic ran in their blood. A man that would sell off his other daughter to the highest bidder, only to find that daughter gone like a whisp of smoke in the night.
He did not regret the hands he had in his sisters' exits from the bann's home. That brief talk with a Revered Mother... the exchange of gold for the man that hired Evelyn to kill the man she would have killed, anyway. The bastard had it coming for the things he'd said to her. But it was the same gold she had refused to take from him not a week before, freely given... even begged, to take.
Too proud, always too proud. Always proud, and always angry, his baby sister. But she was wonderful, under all of that... under the killer. Something the bann never tried to see, or denied if he did; although Max was certain he didn't know that Evelyn had killed before she left Ostwick, or she would have been hanged with ample cause.
His jaw set in his thoughts, his fingers and teeth tightening simultaneously. He would change so much the moment his father breathed his last. The world was enough of a nightmare without the manor being the same, and it would be a sanctuary that a home should be.
That was his drunken rant to Telys an hour later as the two stumbled through Denerim to the market square. "Naturalize you! First thing! And then Ophelia, Maker bless that poor girl. All of you. Void take the bann, I give no damns about his spirit haunting me from the Fade."
Telys was noticeably less intoxicated, half holding his older brother upright as he squinted under the weight of the larger man, plus the armor he was wearing. "Are we back on this, brother? I've told you that your acknowledgment is more than enough. Your kinship is enough. Maker take his name."
Maxwell shook his head, shifting his hilt on his belt so that he could gesture to the ground below them. "You're my blood. You'll have the name, damn it all."
"Even precious Trevor?" Telys was teasing, but Max sputtered on his reply, anyway. The mention of the boy's name rankled the man, knowing well that it put him in a bind to not do so along with his father's other bastards.
"...even Trevor. He is the last in line, so let him have it when we are all dead and gone." Max grunted, pushing himself off of Telys to attempt walking on his own. "We have to be close. I feel like we have been walking for ages."
"Nay, a long mile, at least. Are you nervous about seeing Evelyn again?"
"Only to her reaction to seeing the bann. It does her no favors to be so antagonistic to him. I wish I understood their relationship, truly." He squinted up at a building on his left. "Is this it? Looks right."
Telys gently took his upper arm and gave an encouraging tug. "Come on, Max. We're still nowhere near it. You're going to burst in on some old lady's bath if I let you carry on."
"He's more pleasant to you than to her, and he won't even document you as his son." Max yapped on as he allowed Telys to lead him once more. "I mean, not that you're not worthy of pleasantness, just stating that-"
"I get it," Telys broke in carefully. "I appreciate the bann's generosity in regards to my education and training, as well. Plus the lack of angry lashes and harsh words."
Max let a breath out of his nose. "Sometimes, I want to beat him to death with my bare hands when I think about the things he's done, Telys. He doesn't deserve to live for some of it, and the Maker confuses me for why he allows it."
Telys gave a shrug. "If the Maker is watching this like a stage play, why not let this family be one of his favorite dramas?"
"Mmm," Max hummed in agreement. "If that's his thing, I wish he'd add in a flower for me. One that is missing a few petals, and what's left of them are sharp edged as a fresh whetted sword."
Telys barked a laugh. "Oddly specific, brother. I take it you've had quite a while alone in your chambers with such thoughts?"
"I just know what I like." Max gave Telys a side eye. "Unlike some people I know."
"I should leave you stumbling into naked old ladies." The threat was empty and said with a laugh. "I just appreciate a variety, thank you very much."
Max grunted. "Call it what you like, but we both know I'm right."
"As always, Max. As long as I can remember." Telys nudged him gently. "But you really are, more often than not. That's why we listened."
Maxwell was quiet for a long moment, thinking over his brother's words. Had they listened? As far as he knew, Evelyn turned out to be... rough around the edges. He had raised her as a fighter, knowing she would likely end up alone by the independent spirit she held, and wanting her to be able to fend for herself. But the anger in her had tainted his training into something beyond his control, something he had hoped the good in her would use against the evils of the world. All he had asked of her was to keep her nose clean and her blades as dry as possible. It had been years since he had seen her in person, and near on a year since any letters.
Ellen, well, that was an old wound that he didn't like to pick. He couldn't call it a scab because the guilt had never let it heal, even that much. She had been a sweet child, quiet and introverted with a love of books. Evelyn had been fiercely protective of her for that reason. She would never be able fend for herself because she was forbidden to go outdoors once she had shown magic, and that had planted a timid seed in her. Nearly a dozen years had passed since he'd seen the last of her, holding in his own tears and anger at himself, only succumbing to his grief once alone in his bath. If only he could have explained to the twins, told them what he had been told.
If they knew he meant to see her dead rather than be publicly embarrassed if she went to the Circle.
But they were children. Little girls that had been subjected to enough real world horror by their father. Maxwell would be damned if he would add to that for either of them. For Ellen, it would have meant a life of wondering if her food was poisoned; for Evelyn, the bann would have been her first victim, even as young as she had been when it all happened. It was only two years later she took her first, after all, and she had been in training for years at that point, so she certainly had the ability.
He often wondered what happened to Ellen after the Circles fell. He had not expected word from her, nor did he seek to send her any. What would have been the point? Evelyn had already run away. The bann was obsessed with finding her to fulfill whatever dowry arrangement he had promised to whatever backwater noble house. Rogan cared little for the Circle's collapse until people started to remember one of his daughters was a mage. Then it was a raging headache for anyone that came into contact with the man, because he wouldn't stop yelling about it.
"Maybe you listened. I think Evelyn was going to be whom she was going to be, no matter what I said."
Telys snickered. "Which is exactly what you taught us. If you were anything like the bann wanted you to be, we wouldn't be having this conversation... brother."
Maxwell mulled that over for a few moments, then nodded to Telys. "That is fair. It is all I can do to remain in the man's good graces, with how I approach life." He sniffed, his mouth setting in a thin line. "I suppose it is enough that I manage the money well."
Telys hummed in agreement. "It does always seem to come down to the gold with him. I'd agree that your financial prowess would be his shining pride in you; it definitely isn't your soft heart. If the man knew you read poetry, he would have been dead of shame years ago."
"Maker forbid his one true born son have any culture." Maxwell heaved a great sigh, shrugging his shoulders. "It is as you said: I am who I am."
He was very nearly sober by the time they actually made it back to the inn, and Max took note that Denerim wasn't a small city by any means, much larger than Ostwick. He had, of course, heard tell of the King there, Alistair Theirin. The man had been with the Hero of Ferelden throughout her time in the Fifth Blight.
Max always felt his hands grow clammy at the thought, the ghost of fear prickling at his nerves. He owed the King and his famous friend for managing to kill the arch demon before the blight spread to the Free Marches. He had grown up with ages-old scars from the Fourth Blight, and the ancient tales that came with them. He did not wish to witness it in person, and the Grey Wardens had stopped it before it had come to pass.
He found his way to his room without running into the bann, saving himself the barrage of questions of his whereabouts until morning. As if he were not a man of thirty-four summers, and still a boy of ten. As if confirming his thoughts, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a mirror as he passed, and he backtracked to peer into his own face for a moment.
His dark hair and beard were in need of a trim, as he preferred a neat look in opposition to Telys and his mane of hair the same dark brown shade as his own. He stroked his beard, turning his face to one side, frowning at the thickness. It had been years since he had been clean shaven, and he had forgotten at this point what he looked like beneath the chinstrap, but he did not want the rest of his face consumed. If he did not see someone about it before leaving Denerim, he would be a sight by the time he reached Skyhold. It was just over a week's ride from the capital of Ferelden, plenty of time for him to look as if he never had known a pair of scissors.
He gave himself a cheeky wink that he would never had dared to do in company of others. Still handsome, but still alone. His own arranged marriage had fallen through when the girl became ill and died. The bann had never found another with a dowry as sizeable, and Max himself had only known real love once; the fact that she was an officer in his honor guard did them no favors. Their affair had simmered into a deep friendship when the bann denied Maxwell's request to wed her; and her affections found themselves in another man with less baggage, one with whom she now shared a name.
The Maker did not see it meant to be so, and so it was not. I won't question him, only follow the guidance. I trust him. I have to, or I would not have a sane bone in my body. Just like Evelyn being the one to come out of the temple alive and with the key to closing the thing in the sky. The Maker moves in ways that do not leave footprints... maybe her life was the path the to make her hard enough to hold this task. To make her strong.
So many thoughts. So many.
Minutes later, once in the dark with most of the candles blown, he folded his hands behind his head, enjoying the stretch across his muscular chest. For everything he had lived through in his life, this Corypheus creature on everyone's lips was the largest. If asked, he wouldn't have volunteered his baby sister for the job, but maybe...
Maybe she really is Andraste's Herald.
Skyhold
Evelyn found herself integrated back into life at the castle easily enough, even after the events at Adamant. She mostly stayed to her quarters in the afternoons and evenings, but her mornings were spent at the war table with her usual group of advisors. There was to be a ball at Empress Celene's Winter Palace in Halamshiral to ease the tensions between three warring factions in Orlais, so Josephine and Leliana were pulling the strings to get an invitation. The Inquisitor's attendance would put her in a prime position to make contact with empress and warn her about the machinations in place against her. Leliana was of a mind the assassination would likely be attempted at the ball itself, and Josephine reluctantly agreed that it was a prime opportunity to make the strike at Celene. The Grand Duke, Gaspard de Chalons; and Briala, a former handmaiden – and rumored former lover– to the empress, were cause for concern. They both had reason to be the one to wield the blade that Corypheus was counting on.
She had yet to be able to pull Leliana aside for any modicum of privacy to give her the message Justinia had sent. She knew the woman was reeling from her wife's return, if that slap in the courtyard indicated anything. Evelyn had maintained a berth to allow that to cool off before she approached her with something just as heavy for the first few days. The words weighed on her mind when she was in the bard's presence, and it made it hard for her to concentrate when discussing Inquisition business in meetings. So, almost a week after their arrival back to Skyhold, Evelyn cleared her throat as their daily meeting ended and the tangle of heads began to disperse.
"Leliana, a moment alone, if you will?"
She remained leaned against the war table with her arms folded over her chest, and Leliana likewise did not follow the rest into the hall, but did not indicate Evelyn to continue until after the door shut behind Cullen. When Leliana turned to face her curiously, Evelyn sighed.
"There is something I need to tell you. I know Cassandra wrote you a briefing on what... whom, rather... we encountered in the Fade. But there was something she didn't hear, before we parted ways from the Divine." She paused for a second, taking care to look her friend in the eyes, knowing how important it was for Leliana to understand it was not a lie. "She asked me to tell you she is sorry she failed you."
"Oh." A small, surprised noise escaped Leliana's throat, and her mouth popped open just slightly. Not even a second later, her expression was schooled once more into it's usual passiveness. She licked her lips, then spoke. "I don't understand. She never failed me."
Evelyn gave a tiny, helpless shrug. "I'm sorry, that's all she said. 'Tell Leliana I am sorry I failed her.'" When Leliana did not reply for a long moment, and the bard's eyes shifted to the stones below their boots, Evelyn uncrossed her arms to reach a tentative hand out and touch her shoulder. "Should I have not...?"
Leliana shook her head. "No, I'm glad you told me. I'm just confused to what she... it... meant. I'm still not sure I really believe it was her."
Evelyn made a thoughtful noise, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "I do. And that last request is what made me believe it. She gave her life to help me, and I believe some part of her helped us escape that hell. That same part of her that loved you, and will always be a part of you, because she made it so. You've both given your lives for mine, in one reality or another, after all."
Those words caused a reaction in the bard that Evelyn didn't expect, but was not unwelcome: Leliana turned and pulled her into an embrace. The assassin allowed her to tuck her face into her shoulder against her leather coat, and held her tighter for it.
"Are you all right, my friend?" she asked Leliana softly. She meant more than just the message from the Divine, and the older woman knew it.
"I will be. I haven't seen her since the night she arrived. I asked her for space, and she has given it to me." The words were breathed into the worn lapel of her coat. "It's all too much and I do not know where to begin to sort." She was quiet for a moment, then she asked her own loaded question in a low whisper. "Did you really die?"
"Yes." No hesitation in her honesty to this one person. She would never lie to the woman that saw her for what she was before she ever even knew it herself. She owed her much more than that, and above all, she trusted her as much as Sera, Dorian, or Cassandra. It was only then that Evelyn realized Leliana had her ear pressed against where her heart beat, and a prickling sensation danced up her spine as the silence after her answer hung between them.
"...what did you see, Evelyn?"
No one had asked her that. Maybe because none of them really wanted to know. Maybe because they knew what her answer would be, because it would shake their faith, deepen their fears of death. This was the only time she would ever consider lying to Leliana, if only to save her that. But no.
"Nothing."
As soon as the word was out of her mouth, a thought entered her mind that she wasn't sure was entirely her own, and she verbalized it almost mechanically as it came. "Because it wasn't my time to see."
...the fuck?
She shook off the slightly startled sensation as Leliana gradually pulled away from the hold they had on each other. The bard cupped her face and gave her a small smile. "Thank you. I appreciate your honesty."
Ignoring the uneasy feeling at the back of her mind, she covered Leliana's hand with her own. "Of course. Now, honestly... what are you going to do about Kallian? I know it is destroying you inside."
Leliana deflated with a sigh, her hand dropping from Evelyn's face as she stepped away to adjust her hood. "I... I will speak with her. I'm still so angry, though not as I was before."
"When you do, don't mention that kiss. She seems the jealous type, and I don't think she would give me time to explain. She's already accused me of bedding you once just because I care."
Leliana gave a low chuckle at that, shaking her head. "Kallian will be Kallian, Evelyn. But I'll not allow her to overreact to a simple comfort, no? Relax."
Evelyn gave a dry chuckle. "I'm not going to fight with the dwarf sized elf that took down an arch demon."
Leliana scoffed lightly, and rolled her eyes. "She's taller than a dwarf."
"In all seriousness... you forget about her height when you're in a conversation with her. She seems much older than she is. Wiser."
Leliana nodded. "Because she is. She very much gets that from her father."
The word made Evelyn flinch with reminder of her own coming, and Leliana didn't miss it. It was her hand on Evelyn's shoulder this time. "That's something else you need not worry yourself over. There are already eyes on the bann. My agents met him the moment their ship anchored itself in Denerim's harbor, and he has no idea."
Evelyn nodded. Of course Leliana already had eyes on him. And she knew they were better spies than any else in Thedas, save maybe the Ben Hassrath. The information actually did help relieve some of the tension in her shoulders. "Then it is I that should be thanking you. I'll leave you to your day, I should see to the mountain of paperwork on my desk. I'm sure Josie would be grateful for it."
Leliana gave a parting nod. "I'll be in touch if anything arises, Evelyn."
Keeping herself distracted in Skyhold wasn't as hard for Kallian as she'd feared. If anything, it was easier than she could have hoped. The training ring was always a hot spot for her in her first week there, watching and participating. Her best spar thus far had been with Isabela, something that did not surprise her in the least. It had been grueling and nasty, and had she been taller she may not have been able to dodge some of the very precise blows the pirate offered. Her height worked to her advantage as they had danced, and although Isabela bested her in the end, Kallian had proved to everyone watching that she was no joke with blades in her hands.
And there had been a lot of eyes watching. Including ones from a bridge that spanned over the market place from one tower to another. Icy blue ones that Kallian knew, even shrouded in the shade of the cowl over Leliana's head. The distraction of her wife watching from afar was what had caused her pause that cost her the spar. But Kal wasn't mad about it; relieved, in fact. It meant she was on Leliana's mind. It meant she was thinking about things.
It meant she was not the only one lying awake at night.
Her evenings were spent with Oghren and Little in the tavern, peppered with appearances from Hawke and Isabela, and the Iron Bull with his Chargers. While Kallian never drank, Oghren definitely did, and he fit right in with the crew at the Herald's Rest, Kal only there by proxy. Proxy, but it didn't feel awkward. They were a laugh, and most of them but Iron Bull and Varric were easy to get gold from once they were proper drunk, playing cards.
But the restlessness after she had retired to the room given to her by Leliana... it made her wish that she could still stomach mead, or ale, or whiskey... anything. She wished that it did not incite a nervous roll in her gut, and cause her heart to beat so fast when the lights went out... and that she didn't dream she was lying on a cold rock miles underground, scared that the taint was going to infect her all over again with no one to save her.
So she went to bed sober. Sober and full of thoughts about what was next in her life, if she managed to fix this with her wife, and if she didn't. There was so much to think about, but she usually settled on what more she could say to explain herself once Leliana came to her... if Leliana came to her.
Ten days at Skyhold had her in the tavern, just like all nine nights before it. She was having chicken and potatoes with a hard roll, drinking a soft wine with the meal. Her table was full, but she was ignoring the occupants by shoveling food down her throat. Hawke and Isabela were murmuring to one another, the lanky Champion using her one eye to look at the pirate. Varric was alternating sipping from his decorative tankard and scribbling on a piece of outstretched vellum. Oghren was telling some grand tale of debauchery to Iron Bull, who was humoring him at best with his goading to continue.
Just like every other night.
Until the Inquisitor walked in and a hush fell over the entire place before a round of cheers erupted at her appearance. Far from her own reaction to praise, Evelyn merely took a bow and waved a hand before making her way over to the barkeep for a bottle. Kallian tracked her movements through the tavern, fully expecting the Inquisitor to take the last empty seat at their table. She was not disappointed when the woman collapsed into the chair a few moments later.
"Maker's fucking balls, my head is done," she complained immediately, tipping back the bottle in her hand.
"Your face tells the story, Sharps," Varric acknowledged with a sympathetic grimace. "I heard that you're expecting some company."
"That is the least of it, honestly. But yes, the bann is on his way here."
Kallian's ears perked up. "What bann?"
"The bann of Ostwick. My father."
Kallian's eyebrows rose. The Inquisitor was a Free Marches noble? That was new to her, but what with the way the woman spoke, it made sense, if not in the way she carried herself. "Not a happy reunion, then?"
The Inquisitor made a gesture with her hand that tilted her palm back and forth. "The bets are still on if he will make it out of Skyhold alive."
The casualness of the statement startled Kal. It was like the woman wasn't speaking of her own father's demise. Guilt niggled at her that she'd neglected writing her own father since she'd emerged from the Deep Roads. He had always been a support system for her, nurturing in ways only he could be. This detachment from the Inquisitor was like ice water, but she carefully reminded herself that she did not know the circumstances. Maybe he deserved this from his daughter in ways Cyrion Tabris would never.
"I have two hundred sovereigns on 'no', so I hope you feel stabby when that festering flesh bubble drags himself through the gates," Isabela grunted from a few seats down, her face set in stone. Kallian took that statement and the pirate's demeanor to mean that she was correct that the bann may deserve it. Isabela was many things, but unnecessarily cruel was not one of them.
Evelyn gave a single nod in her direction, though it was more in acknowledgment than agreement. "I take it Ellen has shared some of our past with you both?"
Hawke nodded. "Yeah. Your father is a right piece of shit."
"Looking forward to meeting this brother of yours, though. If he is as pretty as you are, Hawke and I may finally bag a Trevelyan."
Hawke gave a snort and shook her head as she laughed. "I'm not saying no, but he will have to be pretty... not rugged."
Evelyn gave a shrug. "He is pretty and rugged. Have fun with that, my brother is a Chantry boy."
Isabela and Hawke locked eyes and said one name in unison: "Sebastian." Then they, along with Varric, burst into laughter.
The Inquisitor sighed and shook her head in vague amusement, and Kallian turned back to her dinner, her interest lost now that they were going on about some virgin prince in Starkhaven. She was almost done and already thinking about a twilight walk around the ramparts when the word "Fade" caught her attention. She chewed and swallowed the last of her food, listening to what Evelyn was saying.
"...wasn't about to just leave you in the Fade, for Andraste's sake, Hawke. What happened, happened... and it had reasons. Outcomes. Good ones and bad ones. But I'll never go back, if I can help it."
Hawke made a hum of agreement. "My first time there was... much better. Just my lover stabbing in the back for a desire demon's boat. Typical, every day Isabela, really."
"Oh, sod off. You're bleeding stupid if you think I'd do that now, after all of this shit." Isabela rolled her eyes and reached for a pewter pitcher to pour more ale in her cup. "I was in a bad place back then, and you know it."
Kallian remembered burning. That was oddly the first sensation that accompanied her memories in the Fade, considering how mundane burning was compared to turning into a fucking rat. The absurdity of it made her snort out loud, chuckling to herself.
"Something funny, Tabris?" Isabela asked lowly, likely taking her laughter as a result of her giving in to a demon and trying to murder Hawke.
Kal waved a dismissive hand and then reached back to lock her fingers behind her head. She leaned back and balanced precariously on the back legs of the chair she was in. "You lot going on about the Fade... you all had people with you, some sort of reminder that it was real. It's like a bad dream for me, as no one... save an old friend of mine not around... can remember it, but me." She paused and gave a derisive snort, rolling her eyes. "Spiders and tits, real scary. Try being on fire for half of it, and a fucking rat for the rest, mate."
Oghren gave a deep sigh from her left. "Here we go."
Kallian let her chair hit the floor. "No, not going anywhere. Just statin' facts, old man. Just be glad it all went down before I picked you up in a street brawl." She made a gesture at Hawke and the Inquisitor, both of whom were staring at her with owl-like expressions. "These two get spiders and tits; I get golems, flaming darkspawn, bat-shit Chantry broads- and did I mention I was turned into a rat?"
Varric's mouth opened and closed a couple times, then he shook his head slightly, as if the clear it. "You can't make this shit up," he muttered to himself, but loud enough for the table to hear.
Kallian huffed a breath out through her nose. "No. You can't. But hey- we're all sitting here. Or, you lot are. I'm going to bed." With nary a glance back at the table, Kal made her exit from the tavern with her mabari at her heels. Little was sluggish from her own dinner, and not apt to follow her when Kal went for the stairs outside of the tavern. She instead gave a pointed glance in the direction of their room with a low whine of protest against the walk.
"Not up to a stroll, girl?"
A groan answered her, and the dog sat back on her haunches, mouth open as panted with her tongue out.
"All right. Let's go on, then." She redirected her steps in favor of the Great Hall to cross into the gardens, and Little gave a happy huff and got up to follow. Nearly everyone that gave them a berth as they passed, Orlesians hidden behind their masks, whispering their gossips. She knew they were all alight with her return to the public eye, in the most grand of public places. The knowledge did not soften the way the tips of her ears burned when she caught her name and Leliana's in the same sentence. That first slap had done them no favors about secrecy, and now that it had happened, the rumor mill had begun to turn.
Little's ears perked up once they ascended the stairs to the landing, and she gave an excited hop before practically dancing her way over to the closed door, giving a short, happy bark. Kallian lifted a curious eyebrow at the dog's actions, noting that it likely meant that someone Little knew had dropped by, or... maybe was even inside? And that kind of excitement in her mabari was usually reserved for her, and her alone... except...
Leliana.
A flare of hope surged in her chest with the thought, and she rushed forward to open the door to find out if she could maybe, just maybe, be right. But more than the sight of the figure in the room, it was the delighted giggle she heard when Little shouldered past her to barrel up to Leliana, that told her she was correct. A giggle she had not heard in many, many years, and had not dared to hope in the last ten days to ever hear again.
"Hello to you, too, beautiful," she crooned to the wiggling mabari that was soaking up every rub the bard offered. Kallian couldn't do anything but stand in the doorway and stare. She couldn't believe it was real. The whole scene was so unexpected, yet so fitting.
It was a long moment before her wife uplifted her eyes to Kallian's. The elf was relieved to see none of the ire from before, but her gut still twisted at the uncertainty. Leliana straightened to her full height, clasping her hands behind her back as she regarded Kal in much the same critical way. The next words out of her mouth were said very carefully, and very softly. Kallian did not know if were a threat or a promise.
"I thought... if you're not otherwise detained... we might talk?"
