Author's Note: I wrote almost 4000 words in one day to complete this one shot instead of writing the next chapter for my Howl's Moving Castle WIP. Woops.
She's nine when she discovers she's a mage. It's a bad day to begin with. Her uncle, Bann Trevelyan, was killed by bandits while returning from Kirkwall the week before. Now her traditional father was the Bann, and he had plans for his only daughter.
The first change, and the beginning of the end of her freedom, is a governess waking her to be properly groomed. She has never had one before, she always used the same tutor who had taught all the boys, and she immediately dislikes her.
When she came to breakfast that morning, hair neatly braided and freshly pressed dress tripping her as she forgets to take mincing steps, the boys had stared at her. And she knew it was over. It was over and she was never again going to be happy.
Her days of tracking mud into the hall after following the boys through the marshland surrounding them, stealing cheese from the larder early in the morning while the cook snores next to the firepit, being allowed to be unkempt and disheveled (Wearing her youngest brother's breeches with her brown hair a tangled mess shoved under a kerchief) when her father summons her are gone.
But now she stands in the shadow of the stables, resentful and hiding from her new governess, and watches the boys strike sparks into tinder.
"Evelyn!"
She flinches and ducks behind the manure pile. Her governess yells her name a few more times before asking the boys where she is. They don't know, of course, since she's been banished from their company and has avoided them all day. They join the governess in her search. She won't let them find her.
Her pony isn't saddled and her rucksack doesn't contain even a full day's supply of food. It doesn't matter because she's ridden bareback before and knows how to find food in the wild. She wears cast-offs she dug from the rag pile. The necklace her uncle gifted her the last time he was in Kirkwall is tucked into a pocket. She doesn't need anything else, she thinks, as she quietly leads the pony around the edges of the courtyard towards the gate. The servants don't mind her, they don't know about her disgrace, and wave cheerfully as she gets outside and mounts her pony.
"Where are the boys, miss Trevelyan?" one of the guards asks, squinting in the abnormally bright sun. The marshes are rarely without some form of cloud cover. She wishes it were another dreary day. It would be harder to track her then. She's hoping her head start will help. But she needs to make it a true head start, with at least a couple hours between her departure and their search. Suspicious guards slow things down a lot.
She shrugs at him and continues forward.
"You should wait for the boys or a guard, miss." He steps out of position and reaches for the reins.
"Hya!" she yells, and the pony gallops away as fast as its little legs can go. So much for her head start.
A few hours later she is hiding in the marsh, splattered with mud and trying to calm her worn out pony. She can hear the hounds baying in the distance and knows that she can't stay hidden for long.
Her pony suddenly whinnies and bolts. She slides off and lands with a splash in the mud.
"Fern!" she hollers, slipping and sliding as she attempts to stand. She gives up for a moment to catch her breath, and only then realizes how eerily quiet it has become. The marsh is never silent without cause.
She holds her breath as something comes her way. It doesn't bother with stealth, and the stomps and squelches of its approach fills her with dread. Her worst fears are realized as a walking corpse comes into view.
In life it might have been a fearsome opponent. In death it is horrifying. To her, hidden in the mud at its feet, it seems ten feet tall and wide as a mountain. It slogs past and she dares hope it has overlooked her. Then it pauses and looks down. That's enough for her.
She crawls frantically into the water, not even attempting to stand, hoping that she can swim away. But as soon as she touches the water she hears splashes and moans from all around her. She had forgotten the dangers of the water and the undead hidden within.
She attempts to return to land only to crash face first into her original foe. She falls into the water and is submerged. Her face breaks the surface for one breath before a foot crushes her into the muck. She can feel the vibrations of the others coming towards them. There is no escape.
She's not sure what happens, even in the future when she learns to control her powers, but suddenly the corpse on top of her is gone and she is up and gasping. The body sinks as she watches. It is covered in burns and one of its arms is missing
She remembers the other undead when one grabs her shoulder and she screams. There's a clang of metal on metal and then she's grabbed around the middle and hauled onto a horse. It whirls around and she's taken away from the fighting.
Much later she is confined to her room. All of her things are gone, the room stripped bare, and she doesn't think she's getting any of it back. Most of it was for boys, she was told as the maids threw it all in bags. It doesn't matter. She had known that if she were caught this would happen.
She hasn't told anyone what happened. She remembers when her cousin Darrin was taken away by the templars. He had screamed while his mother cried. He was only four. Her father forbids them from asking after him, and now that both his parents are dead it seems unlikely she'll ever see him again. Unless she's sent to the Circle.
Her life may be miserable now, but she knows that eventually it could get better. If she were taken to the tower it never would.
She hugs her knees to her chest, holding the necklace from her uncle. Her parents had disapproved of her uncle's soft spot for her, and hadn't been happy when he gave her a gold pendant while he had nothing for the boys. She hides it under the floorboards whenever someone comes.
She prays to the Maker for forgiveness, knowing that if she were a good person she would turn herself in. She prays to Andraste that she can hide her secret, even though she knows she shouldn't. She cries for her uncle, his passing an agony to a young girl with so few people who truly knew her. She wishes that she wasn't selfish enough to be angry at his death for her own sake.
She is fifteen now and has been married for three days. Her husband is a low ranking noble from Antiva with a lot of trade connections. He is dark and handsome. She loves his voice and the freedom he permits her, even if she doesn't love him. He's assured her that it doesn't matter. Nobles don't marry for love, he reminds her, but for connections and upward momentum. Her family is higher ranked than his, but he has more money. It isn't a perfect match, her family believes they should have gotten more for her, but she is good at making herself disagreeable. Her husband was amused by it where the others were dismayed.
He doesn't own an estate, doesn't like being tied down he told her during their courtship, but rents spaces in whatever city he fancies. It appeals to her more than anything else about him.
They are in Kirkwall. She had specifically requested it, remembering how often her uncle had gone there, and so far isn't sure if she likes it or not. It's a stern city. Very anti mage, with templars marching everywhere. It makes her nervous.
It's late at night now, and they are getting ready for bed. She's tired from all the walking they've done today, but has been enjoying herself. She's brushing her long hair out of its braid when she hears a crash. Her husband curses and she hears another male voice yell. In the minute it takes for her to get out of the chair and to the doorway her husband is surrounded. There's blood streaming from the clutched fingers held to his side
This time she knows what she's doing when she casts fire at her enemies. One is immediately engulfed and another screams as he is set alight. The third jumps from the window before she can get him.
She turns to her husband in the aftermath, expecting him to be afraid, to be hateful, but instead he is smiling at her.
"Thank you, my love." he says before the guards come crashing through the door. They more than make up for his calm.
She is led away in chains, her husband protesting her every step, and imprisoned. Her family annuls their marriage and has her transferred to the Ostwick circle.
In Ostwick she learns to play dumb. Her talents lie in the destructive realm, she knows, and she doesn't want the notoriety that comes with that. So she plays dumb and afraid, simpers and cries, and is eventually left to the Tranquil. She makes sure to seem docile and safe. The healers have despaired of teaching her anything useful to a mage, but the Tranquil teach her about herbs and poultices. She is useful, she is occupied, and she isn't a danger to anyone.
In secret, in private, with the hard-earned loyalty of the Tranquil protecting her, she practices her true skills. She burns, she explodes, she twists gravity to her whim, covers herself in rock, in flame, enjoys the moments of wanton destruction and the allure of her power. Nothing could stop her, she thinks as she wipes the soot from her face and hands while a Tranquil sweeps up her mess, if she wanted to be free she could get out and stay out.
She finds herself lulled by the routine of her days. There is no hurry, she thinks, nothing out there that can't wait.
But there is something that can't wait, and duty pulls her from her peace and thrusts her back into the politics she despises.
Maxwell stares at her across the room. His brown hair is shaggier than she's ever seen a Templar have before. His eyes are cold like his armor. She hasn't seen her brother since he left for the Templars. She was six and bitter. She had hidden herself on the ramparts while the rest of the family said their farewells. He didn't even ask about her. But now he's standing in the doorway of the apprentice dormitory.
She lives there still. It's been seven years and she's yet to go through the Harrowing. They whisper about it, she knows, but as long as she remains weak and harmless her family name will protect her.
"Why are you here?" She asks after realizing that her brother has no intention of starting the conversation.
He looks away from her, finally, and closes his eyes to rub his forehead with his fingertips. She waits. He doesn't speak, and now won't look at her. She keeps waiting. Eventually she turns from him and starts braiding her long hair.
She hears when he moves towards her. Men in Templar armor can't move silently. They clatter and creak and the armor sings against her magic. He stands behind her. She isn't at a mirror, so she can't look up at him that way, and she refuses to crane her head back. So she finishes her braid.
He still hasn't spoken. She wonders why he is there. There is no fondness between them. He is her twin, and so everyone thinks they are close. But they never have been. They have never sent any letters to each other, and since she doesn't read the letters her mother sends she doesn't even know if he's been mentioned. It can't be for anything good, she thinks as he clears his throat, because her family never brings good tidings.
"You are being released into my care."
She slowly turns around, eyes wide and mouth gaping a little, to face him. He still isn't looking at her, and as she completes her turn he steps away and puts his back to her.
"Why?"
His shoulders tense and then shrug. "Mother wants you home."
"Why? Why now? I've been here for seven years."
"I don't question."
She scoffs and stands. She is tall for a woman, a head above the other apprentices, but he towers over her. "Mother wouldn't say anything without father's permission. And you wouldn't be here, no matter her wishes, if he didn't send you. What is happening?"
"Get your things. I must speak with the Knight Commander."
She runs to block the door as he moves away from her. Grabbing her arm, he twists it behind her back and leans down to bring them face to face. At her defiant glare he pulls the arm up higher until she hisses in pain. "Do as I say. Pack your things. We are leaving no matter what you want. You can comply and leave with your things on your own horse. Defy me and you will leave tied over the back of my horse with nothing."
He releases her and this time she lets him go. She doesn't stand there long, just a few moments while she rubs her aching shoulder, before she hurriedly packs up her most personal items and heads to the Tranquil quarters.
Few of them are there at this time of day, they have duties to attend to this late in the morning, but she's lucky enough to find the one she needs still there.
"Timor." She greets the man sitting in the kitchen doorway crushing something in a bowl.
He doesn't look up from his bowl. "Miss Evelyn. You should be in class."
"My brother is here to take me away."
He looks up then, frowning. "You can't leave. Mages belong in circles."
"Yes, Timor," she says, crouching down next to him and gently touching his shoulder, "But I don't have a choice in this. I leave with him, or I leave on my own first."
"Miss Evelyn. You can't. Apostates are hunted down. Your brother is a Templar and already here. You will be caught."
She shrugs, knowing that she isn't hiding her fear from him. "I have to try. I can't go with him."
Timor nods, carefully sets his bowl on the ground, and holds up his hand. She stands and pulls him up from the ground. His back pops and he grunts before letting go of her hand and grabbing the cane leaning against the wall.
He is the oldest Tranquil she has ever seen, and has as much authority over the others as the First Enchanter has over the mages. Which isn't much when the Knight Commander decides to take interest, but is still a lot in comparison to the other Tranquil.
He is the one who caught her practicing her magic in secret, and is the reason she has been able to do so since then. He never explained why and she never asked. She knows she's asking a lot of him, and hopes that her faith isn't misplaced.
Leading her through the kitchen out into the garden, he stops next to another Tranquil leaning against the wall. She doesn't know this man. He's short, pale, with dark eyes and blonde hair in straggled bits around his neck. She laughs to herself, wondering the odds of a Templar and a Tranquil both having out of regulation hair. They are normally very disciplined.
"Miss Evelyn?" Timor gestures her forward. Once she stands next to him he continues in a quiet voice, not quite a whisper. "This is Bryce. He is not from here."
She raises an eyebrow and frowns. Tranquil don't leave the tower. Ever. They can't survive on their own.
He frowns back at her and looks to Timor. "I don't like this. I don't want to take her."
"What's this about, Timor?" She asks, suspicions aroused. "Why would he take me anywhere?"
"I'm not going to." Bryce interrupts before the older Tranquil can answer. He starts to walk away but Timor hits his knee with the cane.
"He travels, Miss Evelyn. He knows ways others do not. He can keep you safe."
"Not if I don't want to. I can lead her out and drop her in the marsh. Don't have to do anything for her." Bryce scowls as he rubs his knee.
"I'd be safer on my own. I can protect myself." She says, glaring back at the stranger. "Are you even Tranquil? You don't act like it."
He bares his teeth like an animal and takes a step towards her. Timor's cane smacks him in the chest to hold him in place. "Do not fight. Bryce is my son. He will guide you."
"Your son?" Her skeptical tone earns her an actual snarl from Bryce.
"Not all mages live in cages. Not all Tranquil are tame."
Timor sighs and drops his cane from his son's chest before leaning heavily on it. She shares a disapproving look with Bryce before she relents.
"If you say I will be safe, and you think this is the best course for me, then I will go with him."
Bryce snorts. "I haven't agreed to anything."
She scowls at him before returning to Timor. He shakes his head and touches his son's shoulder. "Please. I don't ask this of you lightly."
Bryce shrugs his hand off and takes the couple steps required to try and loom over her. It doesn't work, since she's taller than he is, and she fights not to laugh. Timor thinks she needs his help, and she trusts the man with her life. So she'll behave as much as she can.
He turns on his heel and stalks away. When he gets to the gate he waves for her to follow and walks through without waiting for her. She gives Timor a last look, making sure to smile in case this is the last time she sees him, before jogging to catch up with her grudging guide.
They travel together for a few months. She doesn't know where they are going, and the only answer she gets from Bryce is "away." Eventually they get into a full on brawl, that she tells herself she lost only because she didn't know how to incapacitate him without resorting to murder, and he leaves her bruised and muddy in the marsh.
She wanders on her own for a while, fighting the undead and the random bandits wading through the dangerous waters. Her practice pays off and she gets through unscathed. Eventually she stumbles, literally, into a group of apostates.
They take her in without hesitation, and it's then she learns about the uprising. Her first thought is for the Tranquil. They don't do well without the structure of the tower, and she doesn't think either side, or any of the non-mages joining the fighting, care if they live or die. Then she realizes that this was why her brother had come for her. She doesn't know if her family wanted to protect her, or if they meant to personally imprison her, but she supposes it's nice that they thought of her at all.
Traveling with them is much nicer than being on her own, but she's careful to slip back into her weak persona. She gathers and prepares herbs and potions. Screams and runs when any enemies are sighed. She sighs and laughs at herself when they tease her about not being able to start a fire.
When the Conclave is called she plans on avoiding it at all costs. She knows her family will be there. Regardless of what accords they come to, her family will find and imprison her.
But she had made the mistake, at her first introduction, of telling them her real name. They want a Trevelyan mage there. They don't listen to her protests, and she can't think of an escape plan that doesn't involve her killing these people that she's come to care about. So she goes.
Her brother finds her first.
Farrah lets her hide behind her. She is the only woman close to her height, but she is also almost as wide as she is tall. Perfect for her to duck behind whenever she sees a Templar. They accept this behavior because she is a known weakling and coward.
The last group troops by, giving them disapproving and baleful stares, and she sighs with relief before turning around. Like all stereotypes, she walks straight into Templar armor.
She shudders at the anti magic running through the metal and attempts to take a step back. Her arms are grabbed and she is lifted off her feet. She kicks wildly and screams while someone, she assumes it is Farrah, grabs the back of her robes and tries to pull her back.
Maxwell grunts when she meets his eyes and then scowls behind her. "Release her. This is family business."
"Get him off of me!" She shrieks, still kicking. She has the feeling if he wasn't wearing armor she'd already be tossed over his shoulder. He gives her a bone jarring shake that causes her to bite her tongue. She lets the blood dribble from her mouth, trying to look as pathetic as possible.
"What is all this?" An unfamiliar voice says to her right. She doesn't look, but keeps her head bowed down and lets blood and tears trickle down her face. By the time Maxwell lets her down, she's got snot going as well. It's in this disgusting, miserable state that she meets Commander Cullen.
She glances at his face quickly, spares a second to mourn the fact that she has to meet such a handsome man when she's such a mess, and then drops to her knees to huddle against her mage companions' knees. She doesn't bother listening to the conversation. She knows she's going to win.
Sure enough her twin is sent away. A hand comes into view and she accepts the help getting up. She blushes and pulls her hand away to wipe her face with the sleeve of her robes before trying to duck behind Farrah again. He catches her shoulder and holds her in place.
"We are meant to keep peace here, serah. My apologies for his behavior."
She glances up at his concerned face. Blonde hair, brown eyes, tan skin. He has frown lines and eyebrow furrows, but his eyes give the impression that he'd prefer to smile given reason.
Nodding, she looks at the ground and allows herself to be led away. She wishes she didn't have to appear to be such a coward. She would have liked to flirt with him, see if he would be as bashful as most Templars are.
Later her oldest brother finds her. Kieran doesn't attack or attempt to intimidate her. He comes without armor, asks the others where she is politely, and when he finds her he plops on the ground next to her.
"Hello, Ellyn."
"Don't call me that," she says, smacking his shoulder with one of the Elfroot plants she is preparing. "You know I hate it."
He laughs and leans against the building she's been hiding behind most of the day. They sit quietly while she breaks the plants down. Roots, stems, and leaves are separated and placed into their own baskets. He waits until she's finished before he speaks again.
"Maxwell wants me to toss you over my shoulder and personally escort you home."
She snorts. "Tell Maxwell to do it himself, if he's not a coward."
"He feels that I am better equipped to do so."
"Oh?" She asks, attempting not to laugh.
"Apparently he is under strict orders to come nowhere near you." He gives her a knowing look, taking in her shaking shoulders and flushed face. "Your acting skills have improved."
She freezes, giving him an uncertain look, before shaking her head and answering his non question. "I don't know what you're talking about. Max literally picked me up and shook me like a dog with a rat."
"You come up with that on your own?"
Scowling, she tries to stand but stops when her brother grabs her hand and gives it a gentle tug. She glares at his hand, refusing to look at him, but also doesn't pull her hand away.
"I'm sorry, Evie-"
"Don't call me that either. I'm a grown woman. Don't use pet names you didn't use when I was a child."
He sighs and releases her hand in order to rub his forehead. She wonders if it was a habit he had picked up from their father. She knows Maxwell does it as well.
They sit in silence, listening to the bustle of people all around them. Eventually he stands up with a grunt and offers her a hand. Once he pulls her up he reaches down to grab a basket. She makes sure to grab the other two and leads him into the building they've been using as a base for potion production.
"Excellent!" Adan yells, pointing them where he wants the baskets to go. "Evelyn! You are one of the best assistants I've had!"
She just smiles and nods, grabbing Kieran's hand and yanking him towards the door. "I'll be back tomorrow, Adan."
He guffaws and slams something onto his work table. A vial falls off and shatters on the floor. His curses follow them out.
"You work for him?"
She shrugs and stops behind another building. From here they can see the Chantry.
"Do you ever go inside?" He asks softly. His arm loops around her neck awkwardly, she's as tall as he is, and he pulls her towards his chest.
"No." She pushes against him to let her head up, but allows him to keep his arm around her shoulders. "They don't welcome mages. They say they do, but they don't."
"I'm sorry."
"Why do you always apologize for things? It's fine. I don't care." She rolls her eyes and steps away from his embrace. "Maxwell is in there anyway. I don't want to be anywhere near him."
"Mother misses you-" he begins before she immediately stomps away. "Evelyn wait!"
"Why?" She asks with an angry toss of her head. "I'm not sticking around to hear about how much of a disappointment I am and how sad I make our parents."
"I'm sor-"
"Don't apologize! Just don't."
They're standing on the outskirts of town now, among the trees and piles of rocks. Her back is to him as she watches the other mages gather around campfires while the Templars slowly pace around them. Circles within circles and no one is happy. She hates it here with a passion. She'd take being alone in the marshes for the rest of her life if she could disappear from this place right now. Her brother sighs behind her and she sighs in return.
"They never loved me, Kieran, even when they didn't know I was a mage. There's nothing in this world, no deed so great, that would ever earn me their love." She faces him and puts a finger to his lips before he can argue. "And that's fine. I don't need their love, their acceptance, their money, anything. I am happy to be myself."
He stays quiet, her finger on his lips, as she continues, "You don't know anything about me. When you left home I was a little girl trying to be a boy. I'm a grown woman now and can make my own decisions. Please respect them."
He nods and she takes her hand away from his face. He grabs it and pulls her into a rough hug, including an emphatic slap to the back that has her gasping for breath when he lets her go.
Smiling, he leaves without saying anything else. She watches him go and shivers from the cold she only now feels.
The next day, stumbling through hallways filled with bodies, she trips over him as he lays in the middle of a particularly gruesome pile. His sword is inches away from his outstretched hand and she vomits when she sees the rest of him slashed to pieces and scattered around her.
She stumbles away and opens the first door she comes to in an attempt to escape the massacre surrounding her.
As soon as she opens the door she wishes she hadn't.
"Keep the sacrifice steady." A deep voice booms further down the dim hallway. She hesitates and slowly starts backing up.
"Someone help me!" The pain and desperation in the woman's voice stops her retreat. She grits her teeth and heads towards the voices.
"What's going on here?" She asks, wincing at how stupid her question is, as the doors she opened slam against the wall.
An older woman in chantry robes hangs suspended by the magic of several mages in the middle of the room. A monstrous creature, perhaps a darkspawn, holds a glowing green orb just short of the woman's chest. Every eye in the room is on her.
"Run while you can! Warn them!" The woman yells, obviously not knowing what was going on in the rest of the complex.
The monster ignores his captive. His voice is even, dispassionate. "We have an intruder. Kill her now."
The woman wrenches an arm free of the magic and bats the orb out of the monster's hand.
It hits the floor before she can catch it. The old woman's desperate act and the monster's reaction shows that this orb is important, vital even. She snatches it off the ground. As soon as she touches it her whole body seizes in agony. She sees nothing but green and black waves. Her arm is splintering around the orb as it travels up her arm. There is nothing but pain as the world explodes around her.
She wakes to darkness and misery. Spider-like creatures stalk her and she runs for her very soul. The woman from before runs with her. There's a gate they are trying to get to, she sees, at the top of a very steep climb. In the end a choice is made, and she falls through the gate alone.