Trevelyan Estate, 9:37 Dragon
The bride looked absolutely stunning in her gown, all golden curls and pearly white lace, her smile radiant as she linked arms with her new husband. The gardens had been decorated with colorful ribbons and bouquets of flowers for the event, the great glass doors of the ballroom flung open to let in the fresh spring air. Servants made their way through the mingling crowd of nobles, carrying trays of wine and hors d'oeuvres as the violinists coaxed sweet music from their instruments.
It seemed as though every noble from across the Free Marches and beyond were in attendance, all fine gowns and plumed headdresses, Orlesian silk adorning slender shoulders and exotic wine in golden goblets.
Evelyn felt out of place, although her sisters had dressed her up to look the part. Juliet had spent a solid three hours doing her makeup, made difficult by her incredibly swollen belly, full with child. Penelope had curled her hair into ringlets, letting them cascade over her bare shoulders. Her breasts were pushed up in a tight bodice, flowing skirts that were so unlike her regular Circle robes that she felt as though she stood out like a sore thumb. Her sisters insisted that the royal blue dress brought out the storminess of her eyes. She still hadn't decided if that was a compliment or an insult.
Although it was probably imagined, Evelyn couldn't help but think that a ring had been placed around her as she stood near the fountain in the center of the gardens, second glass of Antivan gold in her hand. No one dares step inside the ring, she thought to herself, sipping the sweet liquid as her eyes swept across the crowd.
Not half an hour earlier, her cousin Raelynn had said her vows to Philip Darrow, a member of a small - albeit incredibly rich - Kirkwall household. A beautiful ceremony, including Chantry songs and blessings from the Maker, ordained by the Grand Cleric of Ostwick herself.
The perfect wedding.
Evelyn tried her best to ignore the bitter glances from her mother. She knew the unsaid words.
This could have been you.
If Evelyn hadn't been infected with the terrible curse a couple of years prior, she would have been the one standing at that altar, making those same vows to the handsome Philip. But, once she was sent away to the Ostwick circle, the shame of the Trevelyan family, her betrothed had been passed over to the daughter of Bann Trevelyan's sister.
Marriage alliances were what was important here, clearly.
But that didn't stop Philip from sending Evelyn love letters and poems while she was locked away in the Circle, and it definitely didn't stop him from stealing away into her private quarters the night before, to finally claim the woman that would have been his if only she had never been cursed with magic.
They had lain in her great four-poster bed after, and a part of her had hoped that maybe they could slip away, escape this entire charade and be together. On the run for their lives, like lovers in the stories. The sheets beneath them were still moist, their bodies hot and slick from making love. The night chill blew through the open doors of her balcony, and she had looked up at the man she had been promised to since they were but children.
He had often claimed through letters that he truly loved her, not her cousin. That it was a duty that would ultimately keep them apart, not love. And while he was deep inside her, claiming her maidenhood, at last, he had whispered sweet, sweet words of devotion and eternal love.
But looking up at him now, that glimmer of love was extinguished from his eyes. He had slowly sat up, found his trousers, and left.
"My love - " she had said. Pathetically, she now thought.
"Do not tell anyone about tonight," he said, not even looking at her.
She had practically scrambled from the bed, still naked, and found herself clutching to his shirt as he pulled it about his broad shoulders.
"It won't happen again," he said simply, pushing her away from him.
As he made his vows to her cousin, the words bit into her chest like knives. He glanced her way only once, a faint smile on his lips when their eyes met, but the smile did not reach his eyes.
It dawned on her that she had merely become another notch on his bedpost. A curiosity he wanted to be sated with the could-have-been. The last hurrah, before he settled down with his forever bride.
Her heart ached, but she kept her composure. She was a noble first, a mage second, she reminded herself. Although that didn't stop the surge of electricity she felt surging through her arms and to her hands. She clenched her fingers around the magic, keeping it contained.
Now that the formalities were over, she planned on enjoying the precious pocket of freedom she had from the Circle - thanks to her father's generous donations to the Chantry.
She plucked another glass of wine off the tray of a passing serving girl. Getting drunk was a fabulous idea right now.
The great ballroom of the Trevelyan estate had always been breathtaking, and the faint familiarity Evelyn had with it did nothing to hide her awe of the beautiful ivory banisters leading up to galleries surrounded the dancefloor, the deep blue draperies in stark contrast to the cream wallpaper.
Being a Circle mage, she often forgot that she was also from a rich family.
She danced with her father for a couple of songs, and then with her uncle Tobias after that. When the men disappeared to smoke a cigar with the other gentlemen, she sat with her great-aunt Lucille, who was always happy to discuss politics and courtly gossip.
Her mother avoided her, as always.
"She just doesn't know what to say to you," Penelope reassured her when she finally caught up with her.
"I'm still her daughter," Evelyn said sadly.
Juliet had retired to her chambers early, the pregnancy making her tire quicker than usual. Penelope dragged Evelyn around the reception, keen to show off her younger sister, as though everyone forgot that Penelope was not actually the youngest. But Evelyn grew irate with Penelope, who would point out the ice sculpture of a swan or a chocolate fountain, exclaiming that she needed that at her own wedding that would take place later in the summer.
"You need to be able to come to my wedding too," she said matter-of-factly to her younger sister. "You came to Juliet's. You need to tell your head mage thingy it's only fair."
"I'll try my best," said Evelyn with a roll of her eyes. Despite her father's donations, times were getting tougher in the Circles. It wasn't a matter of letting her go to her sister's wedding, and more of a people's safety when it came to letting a mage attend family occasions.
As much as she wanted to see her sister on her big day, it still made a painful lump in her throat. Weddings and babies were not a part of her future as a mage, and she hated the constant reminder now that the Trevelyan children were all growing up. Being surrounded by her nieces and nephews made her feel like she was left out, as though a barrier had been put up between her family and herself and she could only enjoy it if she pressed her face against the glass and peered inside. Her two elder brothers, Keith and Isaac, were already well on their way to double-digit anniversaries with their wives, their children already walking and talking.
More milestones that will never be enjoyed firsthand for Evelyn.
She grasped at another glass of wine, nearly knocking an entire tray from the hands of the servant.
"Maybe you should slow down on the wine," said Penelope, although a playful smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.
"Maybe you should try to catch up," answered Evelyn, her eyes shining.
As irritating as her sisters could be, Evelyn enjoyed the precious pockets of time she got to spend with them. While she stayed at the Trevelyan estate, she could imagine at least for a while that she was a regular woman, enjoying the privileges of a noble lady of her age.
She went for a leisurely ride with her sister Penelope and their cousins the day after the wedding - a Trevelyan tradition. The men went hunting with the dogs whilst the women went horseback riding - except for Juliet, who was too pregnant. Setting out midmorning, the women were still bleary-eyed from the night's festivities but still full of joy over the new marriage.
Evelyn tried to absorb as much of the outdoors as possible, the wind whipping her hair about her face, the cool morning air like a tender kiss upon her cheeks. The smells of the flowers and trees as they bloomed in the midst of spring sunshine filled the air. Glimpsing deer and squirrels and various birds going about their daily business, the standards of the world not a concern of theirs. She tried to name as many of the flowers as possible - bluebells and daffodils, crystal grace and embrium, the colors more vibrant than the pictures she saw in books at the Circle. The grey mare beneath her trotted merrily along the trail, and she patted her shoulders. It felt good to ride again.
As the party headed back up the road towards the estate, Evelyn listened as Raelynn whispered with her sisters about consummating her marriage. The ladies giggled, feeling so outrageous. Raelynn met Evelyn's eyes, a small smile on her lips. Evelyn wondered if she knew what had happened the night before her wedding day.
After changing out of her riding leathers and washing up, Evelyn was summoned by Juliet for a lunch out in the gardens. "Just us girls," said Juliet, her hands absentmindedly rubbing over her big belly as Evelyn and Penelope slid into their seats.
"I can't wait until you can come for rides with us again, Jules," said Penelope, as a serving girl poured her tea into a tiny saucer. "No one rides horses quite like us Trevelyan's. Raelynn, Antoinette, and Mary are too slow."
Penelope wore a cream jacket over a light blue dress, her hair adorned with flowers as though she wasn't just enjoying lunch with her sisters. Juliet had a great bonnet on her golden head, hiding much of her features in shadow. She claimed that the sun was bad for the baby, and no one cared enough to argue.
Evelyn felt plain compared to her sisters, wearing a simpler dress in comparison that was still fancier than any of the robes she wore at the Circle. How she wished she could dress up as much as they did, looking like a queen as they feasted on sandwiches, cupcakes, and rose hip tea. How her life would be so different, if only she hadn't been touched by magic.
"Get this child out of me and I will ride with you every day, Penny," said Juliet, fanning at herself as the sun reached its apex in the sky.
"Are you nervous?" said Evelyn, pouring three big scoops of sugar into her cup. She liked her tea very sweet.
"Very," said Juliet, a look of concern on her face. "However, Father says I have the best midwives in all the Free Marches. And I've been praying every day."
"I can't wait to get pregnant," said Penelope wistfully.
"Yes, you can," replied Juliet. "Your feet swell up and your back hurts and you're tired all the time and it's too hot. And if you're not careful you will get pregnant before the wedding." She added with a sly grin.
Penelope giggled wickedly, her eyes flashing. "I wanted to try him out first before we are wed."
"How scandalous," said Evelyn, rolling her eyes as the sisters laughed.
"What about you, Evie?" said Penelope. "Ever get to have a bit of fun in the Circle?"
Evelyn gulped, wondering if she should tell her sisters the truth. It was no secret in the Circle that mages sometimes fornicated, and Evelyn had sometimes fooled around with a couple of the men when she found the chance - she had quickly learned that there were other ways to give and receive pleasure without having sex. But she had been holding out, saving herself for Philip. She cringed inwardly at the stupidity of it, at the old-fashioned notion she had held onto that remaining a virgin meant that Philip would want her.
She felt like a stupid, naïve child.
"Sometimes," she said, trying to look mischievous as opposed to guilty. "In the darkest corners - oh Maker, please don't tell mother - "
The girls giggled together, as they had for many years before now. Evelyn wistfully remembered her childhood, growing up in these very gardens, learning to read and write and paint and sing and dance and ride -
Before she started having the nightmares, and her mother had taken her to the Chantry, and it was discovered she had been born a mage.
How her mother had cried and prayed. Her father had tried his best to make sense of it. But there was no sense to make. Even the most pious of families could still become cursed, it seemed.
Evelyn had left her home at twelve to live in the Circle, staying in contact through letters to her sisters - and Philip, of course.
Her mother hadn't really spoken to her properly since the life-changing diagnosis, and it left Evelyn feeling very alone in a confusing world. She prayed to Andraste nightly for deliverance, in vain. She hated her magical abilities, at first. She stopped attending the Chantry, she felt the deep rift that spread between herself and the future her family had wanted for her.
She knew that her mother was mostly worried about what others would think. Having to pass off a respectable marriage arrangement to someone else, being asked questions about her wayward child who now practiced witchcraft.
But, as though in spite of her mother, Evelyn embraced her magic. Her family never showed much interest in it, she quickly found out, but in the Circle she had found a place she felt somewhat at home - practicing under Senior Enchanter Lydia, learning to wield her powers and study the different schools of magic with a newfound interest.
And although she turned away from the Chantry, she never stopped believing in Andraste or the Maker - there had to be some reason she had been granted magic, surely?
By the time Penelope's wedding came around, the Ostwick Circle had been put on lockdown. Although the templars were reluctant to tell the mages exactly what had happened lest they give their own charges ideas, it didn't stop the stories from seeping through the walls.
A mage had allegedly gone insane and blown up the Chantry in Kirkwall, as an act of resilience to templar mistreatment. The Grand Cleric of Kirkwall was amongst the hundreds of casualties in the initial blast, as well as many innocents afterward. If the stories were to be believed, the knight-commander had called for a rite of annulment, and many innocent mages were killed in the streets, as well as countless bystanders.
The thought sickened Evelyn. As if there wasn't enough alienation between mages and templars, now the guards eyed each and every one of them with suspicion, as though at any moment one of them would blow the Circle to smithereens.
The surviving mages of Kirkwall had rebelled, and the Circle in the Gallows had crumbled. The news was that now riots were happening in Circles across the south.
The few freedoms Evelyn enjoyed in the Ostwick's Circle were slowly revoked. She was practically escorted with the other mages like cattle to meal times, research hours, and duties, and then back to their chambers.
One evening, three weeks after the fall of Kirkwall, she sat with Senior Enchanter Lydia, her mentor and the closest thing to a mother she had ever known since her unofficial disowning. The older mage, her blond hair slowly graying at the temples, looked dejected as she gazed into the fireplace inside her office. Evelyn, having been her student in the years leading up to her Harrowing, had made an excuse to come and talk to her in private.
Although the templars were reluctant at first, Evelyn had assured them that she just wanted some motherly advice, and they could sit in the room and listen if they so pleased. They sat guard just outside the chamber doors, their visors down and hands clasped on hilts.
The women shared a pot of lavender tea and sat in comfortable silence by the fire for a few minutes as Evelyn pondered what she wanted to ask.
"Do you think the Circle is a good thing?" she ventured.
Lydia pursed her lips, and at first, it seemed as though she was ignoring the question. Then she spoke.
"If there was no Circle, what would have become of you?"
Evelyn was initially taken aback, and she frowned. "I - I've never thought about it before - "
"You come from a long line of non-mages. Would you have learned to control your magic by your own wits alone? Did your Chantry offer you literature on magic that said anything other than 'magic is never to rule over man'?"
Evelyn cocked her head to the side, thinking. "My parents may have tried to pray my magic away," she said, the corner of her lip curling into a grin. "Force me to suppress it, pretend I never had it."
"That wouldn't be healthy at all, would it, my girl?' said Lydia, taking a tentative sip of her tea and licking her lips.
"Suppressing magic is dangerous, too," continued Evelyn. "I read somewhere - "
"Read where?" Cut in Lydia. "A book from the Chantry? Or perhaps your family's own personal library?"
Lydia suppressed a chuckle. "No. I read it in the Circle library." She sighed, leaning back in her seat. "I see your point, I really do. The Circle is all about education and protection. It's for us as much as for them."
Lydia nodded slowly, and Evelyn saw the sadness in her eyes. They were standing on the precipice of change, that was certain. Lydia had seen much in her life, but Evelyn was sure that nothing as chaotic as this.
"Rebelling only gets us so far," Lydia continued, cupping her mug of tea tightly as though it would fly away. "The rebel mages have the attention of all of Thedas now. By continuing to riot, they do nothing but prove those who are afraid of magic right - that they need to be controlled and suppressed. Things need to change, that much is true. But now is not the time to rebel. Now is the time for thinking, and discussing, and compromising. It is in the days to come that someone will need to start making sense of this chaos."