She awakes with a start, immediately reaching for the pool of magic within her, and is relieved to find it intact. After every Silence in Ostwick, she would be struck with fear that she would forever be left defenseless, and each recovery a hope that the Maker had not completely forsaken her.
Relaxing back against the furs, she turns her head and finds Cullen watching from a nearby chair, his armor stacked neatly at his side.
She half expected him to avoid her under the guise of duty to put some distance between them after she told him how important he was to her.
But here he is, dressed as casually as she's ever seen him, hair and tunic slightly mussed from an uncomfortable night sleeping upright in the chair.
"How are you feeling?" he asks, and a muscle clenches in his jaw.
Evelyn takes a moment to roll her shoulders and finds only the soreness expected after a long and strenuous battle. "As well as can be expected, I suppose." Her fingers twist the blanket in her lap while she remembers the changes the last day has wrought... the loss of nearly all the Wardens, Hawke's death, Varric's grief, her realization that she is not Andraste's chosen...
"I did not have a chance to say before, but I'm so sorry, Cullen. Marian was your friend too."
His expression relaxes as he lets out a long, low sigh. "She was, I suppose, though neither of us would have admitted it." He smiled and gave a disbelieving shake of his head. "An open Apostate in Kirkwall of all places... I think half of her success was her sheer temerity and unwavering confidence in who she was. I envied her for that, to know herself so thoroughly and exist exactly as she was. "
With a small laugh, Evelyn agreed. "She spoke of Demons like they were nothing more than errant cats she had to swat away from a fishing line. I'm not certain if half the stories she told me were true."
"Knowing Hawke, exactly half of every story she told you was true."
She laughs for real this time and is pleased to see him still smiling, noting how his eyes crinkle at the edges and deepen the dimple in his left cheek. He leans forward in his chair, his gaze dropping briefly to the ground to rest on the spot where he found her last night, curled up and shaking.
"Are you..." he starts before taking a breath. "Has that happened before? A demon getting that close to possessing you?"
Habit makes her internally bristled, but she doesn't detect any suspicion in his inquiry, only concern.
"No. Never. But Marian.." she swallows and clears her throat against the undulating tide of grief. "Her loss and the strength of the Demon created a unique circumstance."
At that Cullen frowns, his 'Commander' face quickly falling back in place. "How strong?"
"Strongest I've ever felt." By leagues, she adds silently.
"You've encountered him before?"
"Only recently. It started after Dumat and it has visited my dreams a few times since."
His frown deepens, the line between his brows pulling together. "Do you recognize it?" he asks and continues when she shakes her head. "What did it try to tempt you with?"
"Nothing. It told me it would make no offers, it would broker no deals for it could take whatever it wants." Her lip curls as she remembers, her gaze moving to over his left shoulder. "When it finds me, it doesn't even feel like we're in the Fade. It's an Abyss with nothing but an infinite black lake that it shapes like clay into whatever it wishes. And every time it pulls me under."
She looks back at him, surprised to find him practically scowling as he pushes himself up from his seat. "We should speak to Solas about this."
"Hawke said the same."
Cullen looks up from where he is attaching his greaves.
"If she is... was... recommending caution-" his finger slips on the buckle, causing him to curse and surprising Evelyn at how agitated he suddenly seems.
"Hey," she intones softly and reaches out, letting her hand hover a few inches above his elbow. "I'll talk to Solas. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
He sits up at that, releasing the half-closed latch, his shoulders relaxing from where they had rucked up to his ears.
"Evelyn, I'm not angry with you. I do not blame you for what happened last night." He takes her outstretched hand between his own. "This Demon... I fear now that it has set its sights on you, it could seek possession elsewhere in our ranks to achieve its means. It's what Xebenkeck did in Kinoch. "
"I don't think it will." Slowly, she shakes her head. "It wants to try to take me in my dreams. It wants me to know it is never far from my consciousness, waiting to take possession of me, against my will, from the inside where I can not escape... That is why it will not try to bargain, and that is why it will not seek me out through another. It wants to show me its power and feel my despair when it wins. The cruelty, the challenge of it is the point. "
The Commander does not appear relieved at her news.
"So, I am to Smite and Silence you if things go awry? Anything else you'd ask of me? The Rite, perhaps? Or just the sword?" he says instead, each word clipped. He drops her hand.
"I ask you to do what is necessary, Sir," she snaps and folds her arms over her chest. "It need not be you. There are other templars -"
"No!" he nearly shouts, his expression adamant before he drops his face into his hands, and the silence that follows is leaden.
When he lifts his head, the bitterness is gone, and he reaches for her hand again, pausing to give her a chance to pull away if she wishes it. She considers refusing but allows him to lace their fingers together when she can see he has more to say.
"Dagna... says the Lyrium is in my bones. Unless they find a treatment of sorts, I will never be rid of it simply through abstaining. I will always be in some state of withdrawal, though she is hopeful that my body will continue to adapt so that over time, I hardly notice. And though my abilities will wane as I age, they, too, are never likely to completely leave me." His amber eyes rise from where they had been tracing the pattern of the veins on the back of her hand.
"I am comfortable with... I need control. I know that there are men with similar tastes to mine who relish taking it further, in causing pain or humiliation, but I am not one of them. I don't ever want to hurt you. I dont ever want you to do anything with me that you do not like. Now tell me, before the Templars at Ostwick would merit out their cruelties, they would smite, dispel, or silence you, would they not?"
Her fingers involuntarily tighten around his because he is right. They were birds in a cage, their wings clipped over and over again, sometimes just to remind them that they could, that even this gift that was dangerous enough to warrant imprisonment was only theirs at their whim.
He takes the movement as reply enough. "And you know even better than I do, that not all Templars have equal mastery."
Evelyn nods wearily, recalling the mages from her Circle who died from intentionally harsh smites or uncontrolled silences, and Cullen inhales deeply, steeling himself.
"And so, while I will not rejoice in this responsibility, I will trust it to no other."
What would Enchanter Evelyn Trevelyn of Ostwick circle think of this moment, she wonders, that a Templar promising to Silence her if the situation calls for it fills her with relief and gratitude?
"Thank you," she whispers.
Strange times.
Cullen has returned to stare at her hand, his mind no doubt replaying all his worst moments as a Templar and filling him full of self-loathing.
"Do you really have that great of a command over your abilities?" she asks, inflecting the question with as much lighthearted teasing as she can though she is truly curious. If Cullen was half as talented at the mystical side of his skill set as his martial one...
That gets his attention and, seeing the light of challenge in her eye, he asks, surprised, "You want a demonstration? Last night-"
"Was a full Silence, perfectly and appropriately leveled for the scenario," she rushed. "Show me something else then. Impress me. I trust you."
She can see a refusal is nearly on his lips when he reconsiders and lift her hand, then without warning or a word or even a readjustment of his grip, swipes his thumb in an arch once and lets her go.
It is the strangest thing. The small patch of skin he grazed feels detached from her body. It looks as normal as ever and when she pokes at it, she can feel just as well as anywhere else, but if she closed her eyes, it was like the area had been carved painlessly from her, a spot of nothing that had her unconsciously trying to shake the sensation out.
And then it occurs to her.
"You... dispelled...just this sliver of magic from my hand."
The man has the nerve to look chagrined and guilty. "I did."
"Cullen! That's incredible!" she laughs, glancing alternately at her hand and the endearing way he is sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. " I didn't even know that was possible."
And now Enchanter Trevelyn is hearing herself marvel at the mastery of a Templar (former Templar) in his art.
Strange times indeed.
"I could lie to you and say that it gets easier, but it won't. This will stay with you forever."
Evelyn nods and pulls in her legs to wrap her arms around her knees and rest her cheek upon them. She and Solana have found a ledge overlooking a valley of the desert to watch the sunset, a respite before they must move camp in the morning. "Who was it for you?"
"The warden who lands the killing blow on an Archdemon pays the ultimate price," she sighs, "And at the very end, Alistair hobbled me, told me he loved me, and made the sacrifice. "His terrible jokes, thoughtful, silly romantic gestures... I miss him every day. I think it is far worse being the one left behind most of the time."
The Hero is quiet for a long moment, her throat working to push down her pain when she starts to laugh, a soft but genuinely mirthful sound.
"I can still hear the way he would say 'lick a lampost' if it is quiet enough. Don't ask. I hardly remember how it came to be said anymore."
"How did he hobble you?" asks Evelyn with surprise, unable to imagine anyone overpowering the mage.
A rueful smile spread on the Warden's face. "A half-hearted Silence. Just enough to weaken me so he could get to the Archdemon first."
Evelyn's head jerked up. "He was a templar?'
"He had been trained by the Chantry for years but was conscripted by the Wardens just before he took his vows. So he had all their abilities, and despite what Morrigan says, he was talented, intelligent, and complicated. I think joining the Wardens was a relief despite the responsibility and shortened life span. He was never really a Believer and despised the brutality he saw in the Circles. Truly, for as good as he was at killing, he had the most gentle soul."
"Why the Order then?"
"It was forced upon him. Alistair was the bastard half-brother to King Calain. They wished him tucked away, hidden, and controlled." She snorts. "Jokes on them though, he wanted fuck-all to do with the throne. He just wanted a family. Their loss. They didn't deserve to know him."
They fall silent for a bit until Solona speaks up again. "Did Cullen tell you I knew him from my Circle?"
Evelyn stiffens but manages to nod. "He told me of Kinoch and that you saved the Circle. He told me he had fought against you for Annulment."
The other mage's brows lift nearly to her hairline. "He told you?"
Evelyn nods and hurriedly continues, wanting Solona to think well of Cullen. "He is grateful he lost though he still struggles with the things that happened to him there."
She nods slowly in agreement. "I worried about him, after. Before I left the Circle, I would see him regularly. He was so kind, especially to the children. He even broke protocol to wish me luck before my Harrowing. I only found out later that he was the one designated to strike me down if I were to fail. I think he was as relieved as I was when I passed."
It is at that moment Evelyn remembers.
"It would use an adolescent fascination I had with a girl, taking perfectly innocuous memories from my mind and twist the details. At first, it seemed as if these small hopes I kept close were coming true."
"Curly definitely has a type."
Her face must betray something because Solona is frowning. "Everything alright Evelyn?"
She clears her throat and averts her gaze. "Were you and Cullen ever, well..."
The warden's brow lifts in question.
"Together?" Evelyn finally finishes, mortified that she can not help but ask.
Solona blinks twice. "Maker, no. He might have kept it to himself if a child lit an accidental fire or snuck them a sweet or two, but he wasn't a vow breaker. Honestly, you know the man. Could you see him having trysts in empty rooms and darkened hallways?"
She can feel the heat rushing up her neck and face, and she is a fraction of a second too late with her reply.
"No, of course not."
But now Solona is grinning as widely as she's ever seen her.
"You're blushing like mad, Inquisitor. You apparently have had quite a different history with the Commander than I. "
"And now?" Evelyn is horrified to hear herself ask, "Would you?"
The cheeky smile on the woman's face falls, and she turns to face Evelyn more fully. "What is this about?"
Evelyn can hardly explain it to herself, this sudden sickness that has her wondering if Cullen is only with her because of her position of power. What had he said after that first night?
'I acted abominably. It won't happen again.'
And she, the Inquisitor, had told him not to stop. It was practically an order.
Fuck, what if he never wanted... no, he could have stayed away after Dumat. He came to me, but...
"I think he may have been quite fond of you at one time. And now that he doesn't have his vows and you are not under his charge..." she blurts when Solona has been staring at her too long, waiting for an answer.
"Well, I have no interest in romantic entanglements at the moment and I'm certain Cullen sees me as little more than an acquaintance who was witness to the worst day in his life. Besides, why in the Fade would he do such a thing when he has you? He barely looks elsewhere whenever you are in the room."
To this, she doesn't know what to say and her blush begins anew making Solona laugh with delight. "Evelyn? Make me a promise."
"Yes?"
"Never play wicked grace."