Chapter Four

Cullen was convinced that a certain someone was avoiding him.

It shouldn't matter. It really, really shouldn't matter one bit. There was so much going on, so much more work to do, that the last thing on his mind should be whether or not Evelyn was purposely trying to keep either of them from crossing paths.

He'd gotten used to her routine around Haven. The times she was actually there, at least. She wasn't someone who could stay still for long. If she wasn't talking with Varric, Cassandra, Solas, or any of their newest recruits, she was performing menial tasks for Josephine. When she'd get done with that, she'd take up a broom and sweep the chantry, or help carry crates of supplies to the storage room, or help the healers tend to the sick and wounded. She was never not doing something, and every time he left his post near the training area, he'd catch her in the middle of running some kind of errand.

Lately, however, it was becoming harder and harder to keep track of her, though he knew she hadn't left Haven. She attended their war room meetings, yet she was always the first one out of the door when they were done. She'd still give small smiles and contribute to giving her opinions via Leliana's translation, yet he'd noticed she'd somehow become…reserved in the last week or so.

More reserved, actually. She was friendly and helpful, according to inhabitants of the village, but in the time he'd spent studying her from afar, he'd begun to notice she somehow always managed to keep an air of aloofness around her. Her kind smiles didn't always reach her eyes, and she never stayed around anyone for more than a few minutes. It was like she was intentionally trying to keep everyone at arm's length.

He wondered if it may have had something to do with the meeting with the templars in Val Royeaux, followed swiftly by meeting the mages in Redcliffe, yet he just couldn't shake the feeling that there was far more to it than that.

He thought over their every conversation and wondered if perhaps he'd said something to disgruntle her, though for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what. Perhaps she was angry with him over their last encounter when he'd quite sternly told her she couldn't go onto the lake, but he'd thought she had taken it in good humor. After all, she'd been her usual friendly self after that, even after they'd parted ways shortly after.

Had it been a front? Had she merely smiled in his face and pretended to be okay, yet secretly seethed with anger at his commands? He didn't think so. He had a talent for reading people, always able to take notice of the subtlest of body movements that belied their true feelings, and Evelyn hadn't given away anything to suggest she was upset with him specifically. Was she truly that good at hiding her feelings, or had he just been too distracted by her mere presence to take notice?

With a small grunt, he shook the thoughts from his head. It shouldn't matter. So long as she was taking her duties seriously, who cared if she wanted to keep her distance from him? Any moment could be their last, something he knew better than most. It would be preferable if no attachments were made to anyone, as they were all at war. Camaraderie on the battlefield was acceptable, but by no means did friendships have to develop.

Even as he thought that, he refused to acknowledge the big fat lie he'd just told himself.

Evelyn made him…curious. She was a mystery. For someone bearing so much weight on her shoulders, it was a wonder she didn't just lock herself in her cabin day in and day out. He still didn't know much about her besides the basics, yet he knew she had a playful side. She was also quite cunning, proving to be quick to think on her feet. Her decisions thus far may have been disagreeable to some, but in the end, they'd all worked out better than he could have predicted. She had a good heart, clearly if she was willing to seal the breach for good, even knowing full well the odds of her surviving were slim to none.

The thought brought on a painful feeling in his chest, confirming he wasn't quite as impervious to her as he pretended to be.

"You there!" he barked at a young recruit. "You have a shield in your hand. Block with it. And you—" he pointed at another young man, "why are you just standing around? Distractions will be your downfall. Pick up your…"

Cullen trailed off as he followed the man's gaze across the snowy field to where two distant figures were facing off against each other. As he squinted to see better, it didn't take long to figure out that the strands of dark hair flowing with every fluid step belonged to Evelyn as she fought Solas. Though they were sparring, it looked more like an elegant dance routine. Both were graceful and lithe as they dodged and parried each other's attacks, staff striking staff.

A safe distance away, Cassandra was leaning against a tree, Varric had taken a seat on the ground with a journal in his lap, and a handful of mages who'd joined the Inquisition all stood watch. Against his better judgement—and his own hypocritical words with not being distracted—Cullen strode forward to get a better look.

Their battle didn't involve any magic, despite both of them being mages. Instead, they were practicing for whenever an enemy came into close quarters and magic couldn't be used without risking injury to oneself.

Solas used one end of his staff to jab at Evelyn's side, just barely missing her as she carefully avoided the blow. She grabbed his staff and tugged, making him stumble forward. With her free hand, she swung her staff in an arc, aiming for his head, though he just as easily dodged, leaning out of reach in an impressive display of flexibility.

"Commander," Cassandra greeted when she spotted him approaching.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping me with training?" he asked, though there was no accusation in his tone as he watched Evelyn and Solas' battle.

"Momentarily. I'm used to seeing mages throw magic spells at each other. Rarely do I get the chance to watch them fight each other in this manner. Besides," she returned her attention to the scene before them, "our mage recruits are still rather inexperienced. Most of them spent all their lives in the Circles, having never fought a day in their lives. It's good for them to see this. If a warrior comes too close with a sword in hand, they need to know it's possible to defend themselves with the weapon they have. Retreating to safer ground isn't the only course of action."

He gave an absent nod at her explanation, though he wouldn't be able to quote a word she'd just said. In truth, he was too mesmerized. When Solas reared his elbow back and landed a blow to Evelyn's cheek, he winced and took a step forward, though Cassandra threw her arm out to stop him from intervening. "Leave it, Commander. It's a spar like any other."

"But—"

Evelyn retaliated by landing a well-placed kick to his ribs, making the elf grunt.

"We've all seen her in battle, Curly," Varric said from his spot on the ground. "Glitters can take a punch better than most of your men."

That much was evident, but it didn't stop Cullen from wanting to wring the elf's neck for striking her. Still, he understood Cassandra's hidden meaning. He would never interfere had it been any of his soldiers, so he shouldn't show any prejudice toward Evelyn.

He understood, but that didn't in any way make him less inclined to want to have a few choice words with Solas. None of them were the least bit holy.

Solas swiped his staff at Evelyn's head. She ducked, going low to the ground and rolling out of reach. Then, showing off her stunning agility, she planted her own staff into the snow, using it as a pole vault to launch herself at her opponent. It was clear the elven male wasn't prepared for such a bold move, unable to do anything but allow her to land on him. They both went tumbling to the ground, though moments later, Evelyn had him in a position where they were both on their backs, her long legs wrapped around his neck while she pulled his arm upward, a move that was sure to dislocate the joint had he been a real opponent.

"Fenedhis," he growled, tapping at the snow with his free hand. Evelyn released him and stood. While the mages around them erupted into cheers for her victory, she smiled down at the elf and held out a hand to pull him to his feet.

He rubbed at his sore shoulder, his expression grim. "That move was absolutely barbaric. Well done," he grudgingly commended.

Grinning and looking proud of herself, she made a series of hand movements, making him give a little laugh. "No, I was not expecting it. I am not sure anyone would be."

Cullen felt a slither of envy wriggle through him at how…close…the two of them seemed. He knew it was likely due to Solas' ability to understand her silent language, but it irked his nerves that she appeared so at ease with him when she'd been clearly avoiding Cullen as of late.

Then again, it was plausible Cullen was, yet again, overthinking things, just as he'd done when he'd been so sure Evelyn was just a haughty noble. The developing obsession with her was going to drive him mad if he didn't get it under control soon.

"Can you imagine the reaction of her doing that to someone on the battlefield?" Varric asked no one in particular as he stood and brushed snow from his backside. "I'm certain everyone will just…stop. Makes for an excellent diversion tactic."

As he passed, Cullen could see the gears turning in the dwarf's head, thinking of some way to include that very tactic in one of his novels.

Evelyn fetched her staff and strapped it to her back. Solas did the same before approaching, his eyes fixated on her bruised cheek. "I have a spell that will clear that right up. Otherwise, I'd suggest applying a cloth full of ice to keep the swelling down."

She shook her head, and after a few more signs, he gave a slight bow. "And to you as well." With that, he turned and made to walk back toward the village.

Since the show was over, the mages also began to walk back toward the sparring grounds, talking excitedly amongst themselves. When Evelyn spotted him standing next to Cassandra, her expression didn't change, but her smile became tight. Forced, even. It annoyed him, as it brought back his suspicions that she was upset with him specifically.

"Herald, well fought," he congratulated, watching her to gauge her reaction. She gave a dip of her head in acknowledgement and turned to Cassandra, all but dismissing his presence. She pointed at Cullen, then herself.

While Cullen had no idea in the slightest what that was supposed to mean, Cassandra pushed away from the tree to stand tall. "A decision still hasn't been made regarding the templars or the mages, yet we must decide soon. The breach will not wait on us while we continue bickering."

Evelyn's hands were a mass of lightning-swift movements, the gestures angry as her lips twisted with annoyance. When she was finished, she stormed off.

Cullen frowned after her. "What did she say?"

Cassandra sighed. "I'm not certain, but I have a feeling a few colorful words were involved. She knows what closing the breach will do to her, and she's accepted her fate, yet each day we are prolonging her life and creating unnecessary angst. I cannot even begin to imagine what she must be feeling right now."

Despite another round of painful tightening in his chest over Evelyn's impending sacrifice, he clenched his jaw. "Then let's gather the others and put an end to this cursed breach."

…

…

"So, we are keeping the templars as our allies," Solas commented as he busied his hands with dressing a wound on Evelyn's upper arm. "An…interesting choice."

Evelyn gave a humorless snort, her gaze cast downward. "Foolish and traitorous are words others may use."

"I am not here to judge your decision." He applied a dab of cream to her skin before laying a bandage over it. "I am just curious as to your reasoning. One would think that as a former tenant of the Circle, the choice between siding with the mages or the templars would have gone in the other direction."

She was quiet for a while, so long that he assumed she wouldn't answer him. After all, the battle had been a long one, made even more difficult when they'd faced the envy demon. It had gotten inside her mind, using any measure of dirty tricks to try and get her to crack. In the end, she'd managed to break free of its control, more than a little enraged. After its defeat, he'd been the one to translate her moving speech to the templars. They'd bowed at her feet, pledging themselves to aid her in not only closing the breach, but also assisting whatever the Inquisition needed them for. Of course, some from Haven had voiced their displeasure over their new alliance. He'd seen the moment tension had tightened her shoulders as she tried to conceal her stress.

He was relieved when minutes later, she finally responded. "As much as I wish for mages to live freely, I couldn't let my prejudice and ideals blind me. The templars are what we need to close the breach. If I've made the wrong decision in this matter, I alone will shoulder the blame. Even if it makes me a traitor."

It was borderline impossible to decipher her mood when he couldn't hear the emotion in her voice, yet he knew without a doubt that it pained her to have to be the one to make such a crucial decision. "You did well," he stated, "but that did not answer my question. You could have chosen to disband the templars and make them pledge allegiance to the Inquisition, yet instead you allowed them to join us as a separate entity."

Her shoulders rose and fell on a heavy sigh. "The Circles have failed, but I do not believe they should be abandoned. They should be a safe haven for all mages, as they once were. A place to study, to learn, and to control our powers for everyone's sake—including our own. The templars should be there to protect us, not imprison. If the Order is determined to rebuild on this belief, their true belief, then perhaps one day…"

Her hands went still as she trailed off, though Solas didn't need to prod her further for information. It was a commendable principle, if not idealistic, though she knew that. In truth, Solas didn't truly disapprove of her decision, for she'd clearly taken it into consideration. Tensions had been growing on both sides for years.

As a result, it was only a matter of time before the mages rebelled. They were hurt, they were angry, and above all, they were frightened. Magic shouldn't be feared—it should be embraced, though that was a conversation he would save for another day entirely. As of now, they all needed rest. It would be quite some days before they returned to Haven, and not long afterward, they would see if Evelyn's decision to side with the templars would prove to be successful or not.

And if it was, it would be the last time anyone would see her. The thought of her impending death was a discomforting one. Though he cared very little for the mortals of this world, he dared to say he would miss the small conversations he had with her. He was still getting to know her, but he was beginning to learn that Evelyn's open mind set her apart from nearly all others he'd encountered in recent years.

He shifted on the ground to tend to another wound on her neck. When he applied a disinfectant, she flinched at the resounding sting. "My apologies," he murmured, swiftly leaning close to blow on it to counteract the burn. He realized his mistake when Evelyn drew in a sharp breath, stiffening at what he realized after the fact must have seemed intimate on his part.

Pulling back in surprise, he regarded her with caution. While it wasn't his intention to be so daring in treating her injuries, he tended to find himself drawn to her in a way that was as strange as it was unwelcome. It was unwise, allowing any feeling beyond respect to develop, for so many reasons.

To cover his sudden discomfort, he broke from her gaze and reached for another bandage. She continued to watch him with a calculating stare, trying to measure him just as surely as he often did her. "Tilt your head."

She did as told, allowing him to smooth the cloth over her wound and seal it with a sticky residue. "There is another on your side, correct? I saw one of the demons swipe at you."

A flare of panic reached her eyes. "It's not deep."

His gaze flickered to her side, spotting the blood soaking through her clothing. She shifted in a failed attempt to hide it from him. He knew the cause of her reluctance was because she didn't want to reveal the scars marring her skin. As he'd expected, it was a sensitive issue.

Still, judging from the amount of blood drenching the fabric, he knew it was a grave injury that could lead to infection if left untended. In a gentle tone so no one outside the tent could hear, he said, "Remember, I was the one assigned to overseeing your recovery after your first attempt to seal the breach."

Her eyebrows drew together, understanding causing her emerald gaze to darken. "You saw them?"

He gave a solemn nod. "I did."

On her next words, her hands were shaky. "Why haven't you asked?"

For a moment, he misunderstood, thinking she meant why he hadn't asked for her permission. Then, realization dawned on him. "It is not my place to bring up a…delicate matter. I would never ask you to reveal anything to me you are not willing to share, just as I would expect the same level of privacy on my behalf."

Evelyn continued to watch him for a long time, as though searching for a hint of deceit. She was not a trusting woman, despite her easy smiles and casual way of speaking. She was far wiser than most gave her credit for—including him.

Minutes later, she must have found whatever it was she was looking for as she at last gave a stiff nod. She turned and slowly raised her shirt.

The wound was, in fact, deep, though not so much that it was life-threatening. He made quick work of cleaning the area and applying a thick layer of disinfectant, followed swiftly by a soothing poultice. Evelyn remained silent the entire time.

Well, silent in the sense that she didn't try to carry on the conversation or start a new one. Instead, she kept her head down, her hair shielding her features from him. A pity, yet preferable all the same. He didn't want to see the vulnerable look in her eyes again, not when he couldn't be certain that a long-forgotten part of him didn't want to comfort her.

The bleeding slowed, the herbs he'd applied once again working wonders to speed up the healing process. It was on the tip of his tongue to assure her that the herbs would see to it that a scar was not left behind, but he assumed saying as much would be in poor taste. Instead, he busied himself with pasting a thick bandage over the wound.

His fingers moved on their own accord, lingering against her skin far longer than was necessary. With a silent scolding to himself, he quickly withdrew and packed away his aide kit, though he removed a vial of blue liquid.

Evelyn lowered her shirt, and once she saw the potion he held out to her, she recoiled, much like a child would when they didn't want to take their medicine. "No. Not again."

"You must," he reasoned. "It will take the pain away, as well as replenish the blood you loss."

"I refuse."

"Either you take this willingly, or you leave me no choice but to have the Qunari pry your lips open. And I can assure you it would be unwise to have his fingers anywhere near anyone's mouth."

She shuddered at the mere thought, making him hide his smile of amusement. While he wouldn't take such an extreme measure, his warning served its purpose when she reluctantly took the bottle from his hands. Her fingers grazed his, sending a jolt of heat through him at the mere contact.

Fenedhis, he had gone far too long without physical contact that such a light, unintentional touch was enough to make him long for more. From a human, of all things.

Truly, maddeningly foolish.

He waited until she tossed back the entire bottle in one go before standing to his feet. She twisted her face in disgust and gagged at the vile taste, making him give a small chuckle. "In the future, I will try to make the flavor more acceptable to your liking. Perhaps then I would not have to resort to idle threats to get you to cooperate."

Her lips parted in shock, then warped into a sour frown as she realized he never intended to call on the Iron Bull. She reached around for some object to throw at him, but before he could give her the opportunity, he made a swift exit.