Wintersend 4

When later that night Evelyn returned to the garden, Cullen was already waiting for her, or better was still waiting for her. Anxiously, not to say fretting was a term springing into mind.

He had refilled the oil lamps and replaced the candles that had burned up. He had thrown new coals in the iron cast pots and Josephine had brought him another bottle of wine he hadn't yet opened. He had tried to create the perfect ambiance for – he sighed. Yes, for what exactly. A romantic rendezvous. That was the word Josephine had used for it and she had let it attend with a little conspiratorially wink. He wished she hadn't done that, both the acts of uttering the remark and giving him that not to misunderstand blink. It made him feel even more insecure than he already did. The problem was he hadn't the faintest idea how such a thing as a romantic rendezvous was supposed to look like or to go. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to perform? And how, by Andraste's ashes, had Evelyn's perfectly innocent and casual sounding remark of seeing him again after her bath had turned into this? He hadn't regarded it as such at first and he blamed the Ambassador and the Spymaster. They had been smirking behind their glasses of wine, dealing him looks his mother would have called "as old as the world". He'd call them impish and meddlesome.

And besides that he had the suspicion Evelyn knew way better than he how to handle this kind of challenge. She might have been raised in a Circle, for one reason or another she seemed to be much more world wise than he was. Perhaps it was her noble upbringing, whatever the case, he couldn't compete with her. Not with her charming attitude, her dazzling laugh, not with the apparently easy way she got on with people. He, in contrast, had buried himself in his duties in an almost hermit kind of way and now he regretted that. He wasn't a stranger to love and relationships but all that had been a long time ago and amorous trysts had no significant part played in it. Thinking of it, it had almost been – business-like. And he had never felt something for any woman what he now felt for Evelyn. He admitted it made his head reel but at this very moment he wanted to keep said head clear. The last thing he needed was making a fool of himself.

'You don't have to be nervous, Cullen,' Josephine had said reassuringly, sensing his tension. She had given him a light encouraging tap on his wrist. 'It doesn't need a genius to see she cares for you. Just be your charming self.'

'My charming self,' he had scoffed, 'then I'll first have to find that part of me.'

'Now now, Cullen, you're selling yourself short,' the Ambassador had gently chided him, 'you don't know half how charming you can be. You just have to follow your heart.'

'That's easy for you to say,' he had muttered reluctantly, 'at least you´ve had an Orlesian education. You know how to handle those things. I´m afraid when I follow my heart I will end up on a never-ending roundabout or get lost in my own tracks, too afraid to say what I really feel.' He had been quite astonished he had so easily confided in her. But then again, she was not only the Ambassador but also a woman who had experience with romance. And she was about the only one who hadn't teased him openly with his feelings for Evelyn. She took him seriously. She had subtly changed something in the arrangement of the candles and the glasses on the tabletop, one way or another made the tableau look more appealing with just a few adjustments. I suppose that's meant with "a woman's touch" Cullen had thought absentmindedly, captivated with her swift experienced movements.

'Your heart, Cullen,' Josephine had continued smoothly, 'is always telling the truth and showing you the right path to follow. There is no roundabout if you go straight.' She had given him a heartening smile. 'And do you really doubt her feelings for you?' While he was still searching for an adequate answer she had laughed her infectious laugh, 'Of course you do because you're a man in love. But you've read her letters. They give witness of a deep affection.' His eyes had flown wide at that point and Josephine's laugh had acquired a mischievous note. 'Did you really believe Leliana hadn't read those as well?'

He had been too befuddled to get really angry. 'And shared the juicy information,' he had managed rather crossly.

'Of course!' Josephine had giggled, 'it was too good not to. Even the Spymaster and the Ambassador need some distraction now and again. And the Inquisitor's words directed to you were like a ray of light in a dark world. It was very – endearing.'

'I'm sure Evelyn will be thrilled to find she's been so accommodating,' Cullen grumbled in his best attempt at being sardonic.

'I live to please,' Josephine said with a little bow and a twinkle in her eye. 'I'll make certain you won't be disturbed.' And with that she had taken her leave. And he had started pacing, anxiously waiting Evelyn's return.

Finally, after what had felt like ages but in fact only had been less than an hour, Evelyn arrived in a cloud of violet-scented perfume; her copper coloured hair was still damp and shone in the dim light like old gold and she radiated that joy of living that had caught his attention the first time he had seen her. And had swept him off his feet the very moment. While he watched her approach with that striking step that almost made her look like she was dancing, his heart swelled with delight. Absently he noticed she carried an oblong parcel with her. He remembered she had said there was something she wanted to give to him but right now he was much more interested in her actual presence than in whatever gift she had in store for him.

'I feel like reborn,' she greeted him cheerfully when she stepped into the gazebo, 'nothing like a hot bath after a long dusty trip to make you feel like an actual human being again.'

'You certainly looked refreshed,' Cullen said rather awkwardly, 'and you smell nice.' It earned him a smile that made his heart skip. He turned to open the bottle of wine but she checked his hand.

'Like I mentioned before I have something for you. And I'd like to give it to you before we start to enjoy a glass of wine.'

Before he could refuse she presented the parcel with a brittle lopsided grin. 'I hope you'll like it.' She was a little nervous and hoped whole-heartedly he would appreciate her gift. He never would believe it, but right now she felt as insecure as he did. She knew with this present she trespassed on the confidential information of his past he had given her but at the same time she so hard wished it to be an encouragement, no, even a declaration of her admiration for him. For her – she didn't dare to think further. She swallowed hard. It resembled the encouragement for what he had forced himself to undergo, she told herself and she knew that was true. For his fast determination to change. To be a better man.

Somewhat bemused he let go of the bottle and accepted the package she had as good as forced into his hands and noticed the moment he touched it, it felt light and flexible and was wrapped in precious silk. He frowned, what present could be hid in silk? It kindled his curiosity. When he unfolded the piece of cloth he revealed a large feather that dimly glowed and pulsated in the mellow light. Soft colours flared in the flickering flames of the candles and lamps, coming to life under the warm reddish glow like precious gems glistening in the heat of a fire. It was a thing of beauty but he had no idea what it was. He looked mystified from the object to her.

'It's a phoenix tail feather,' Evelyn explained, 'I found it, well, retrieved it from the very creature in The Approach.' Her eyes fluttered from the feather to him and back. 'It's meant as a symbol.' His face still resembled a question mark. 'You're familiar with the myth of the phoenix?' she ploughed on, her nervousness increasing.

'I believe I am,' he said, still not grasping where she was aiming at.

'It's said the creature burns up in one bright flame from within its self made shell but rises again from its own ashes.' She worried her lip, ostensibly keeping her attention on the feather and avoiding his face. 'It made me think of you.'

'Of me?' His puzzlement grew.

'Yes, of you.' She kept focusing her eyes on the iridescent feather. 'You've had so much to endure, the horrible events in the Ferelden Circle, the debacle in Kirkwall, all the dilemma's you had to struggle with. And so, forgive me if I understood wrongly, you built a shell around you, as it were, to protect you from your pain and the sour taste of the mistakes you were certain you made. You hid in your self-made fortress. But all the while you sensed you weren't happy with it, with how you filled your life, with the choices you made, the orders you had to follow. So, after ample contemplation, you made the radical decision to cut with your old life.' She flashed him a short look before she fixed her eyes once more on the phoenix tail feather. 'And not only with the life you lived but with your old self, the one you weren't happy with. You made the decision to knock down the walls you had erected around your very essence. It takes a strong mind to do that.' He made a gesture as if to interrupt her but she didn't let him. 'Please hear me out,' she pleaded in a way he had never had heard her talk before and automatically he shut his already opened mouth. She had sounded vulnerable and it not only mesmerised him, it upset him. This wasn't like her.

'You made the drastic choice to resign as a Templar,' she went on, almost whispering, 'you even drove it as far as to stop taking lyrium notwithstanding the problems that brought you, because the stuff would keep you leashed and tied to your Templar life. So, in a way, you burned your history, burned who you were, burned the person you didn't want to be any longer. But from the ashes of the pyre of your history rose a new man, rose the Cullen I came to know. The Cullen I admire.' For a moment she hesitated as if she wanted to say something else but instead she swallowed back the words. It didn't escape him however, no matter how befuddled and blown away he was with what she told him.

After a few seconds she resumed, 'you are the personification of the Phoenix born again.' Although he still didn't react, she persevered heroically, 'So I hope that every time you look at the feather it will remind you of the many difficult but successful steps you have taken in your will to change and of the inner battles you fought and have won. How you put up the courage to burn your old self and allowed you to go and find a new start. No matter how painful that was and still is.' She hung her head and started to fidget with her fingers because he still stayed silent. She started to panic. He is taking it completely wrong. I shouldn't have done this. What was I thinking?! This is far too tender a subject! You stupid idiot!

The reason Cullen had said nothing was because his throat had been screwed shut with all the emotions that rushed to the surface and he was searching frantically for words. Finally he mustered the courage to stretch out his free hand and lift her chin to force her to face him. 'Is this how you see me?'

The moment he saw her expression he realised she misinterpreted his words. Her frantic reaction was even more evidence. 'I'm sorry,' she squeaked, 'it was not my intent to insult you. I wanted to emphasise how much I respect what you have done, how much –

He silenced her by moving his fingers to her mouth. He desperately searched for something to utter his gratitude for what she had given him. Because she had granted him with so much more than just a present. 'Every time I will look at this feather it will remind me of the woman who thought me worthy enough to grace me with such a precious gift,' he said hoarsely, 'the woman who proved herself to be worthy to think about what I told her and not condemn me for what I've done. I don't deserve this praise.'

'Cullen –' she started but he didn't let her.

'You understood me. You listened to my rambling and actually understood me.'

'You weren't rambling, you were pouring out your heart and you deserve all the praise –'

He interrupted her once more. 'You have given me hope. Beside this wonderful present you've given me the even more precious gift of hope.' His fingers now moved to cup her face in a tender hold.

'Hope ..?' she echoed.

He smiled tenderly. 'Yes, hope. You've given me the hope I can indeed be a better person. I fear I'm still not the man you take me for but you're gift and you're words give me the courage to strive for that goal.' His eyes wandered to the beautiful feather of the creature that for some reason or another resembled him. And he could see her train of thinking and felt so grateful for it.

And then, without thinking any further, he bowed and captured her lips in the softest of kisses. And again the surge of electricity turned into a blazing fire. He had never felt more invigorated in his whole life. To hear her telling him how she had taken his sudden blurted confession and turn it into a heroic tale of conquering his weaknesses made him feel like flying up to the skies. He had never felt more lifted and light before in his entire life. He had never before felt such infatuation. He loved her, oh sweet Andraste, he loved her but he wanted to pluck the very words from her lips.

Evelyn gasped. She grasped his arm the moment he retreated. 'Do that again,' she breathed.

He caught her gaze and kept it. 'Only when you tell me what you were wanting to say when you cut yourself short.' Because, of course, even in the midst of his confusion he had caught that cut off sentence. And, yes, he wanted to hear the words out loud. His hope wasn't not just built upon the way she looked upon his history, but also upon his present being, fragile it might be. But, as she had put forward and he had accentuated, there was hope. He suddenly felt much more confident.

She looked him straight in his eyes and whispered, finally finishing the sentence she, as he had appreciated, had had in mind but hadn't dared utter before, 'the Cullen I love.'

Without a warning he attacked her lips again, and, passionately this time, kissed her once more. 'And I love you,' he breathed, just now being able to spill his feelings. She groaned in answer and eagerly opened her mouth for him.

Somewhere in the background of his mind a voice screeched "She is a mage! She's a monster! Beware!' And he stumped down on it. Never again Meredith would poison his mind. Never again he would be led by the fear of the gone wild apostates. Never again would he be attempted to succumb to bigotry; if there was one thing he had learned it was he had lived his life in fear and that fear was based upon his experience on what had happened in Ferelden. An accident. An idiot who never had should been allowed to wreck his mind. An idiot who had been defeated by the Hero. And Meredith had fed that fear. Back then he hadn't learned; it had taken the actions of a remarkable woman to open his eyes To convincingly force him to see him Meredith for the dangerous deranged lunatic she was before she had run down Kirkwall even more than she already had. Hawke.

And now another remarkable woman had come along to rattle his bones. He smiled inwardly. He didn´t doubt for a minute she would have acted like Hawke. No. She would have acted like her self. Her charming self.

He trailed his fingers along her face. 'I never thought to find happiness again, let alone love,' he confessed in a husky tone, 'but if you let me, I will be your phoenix.'

She reciprocated his warm smile. 'I couldn't ask for more.'

He drew her firmly into his arms and kissed her once more. ´You made me find myself; you made me believe in myself. You made me believe in you.'

He led her to one of the chairs and set her down with all the chivalry he could muster. 'Let me pour you a glass of wine, my lady,' he smiled.

She gracefully bowed her head and with hardly suppressed glee she answered, 'I'd love that. And, by the way, are you aware of the lovely accommodation the Inquisition has graced me with? No? Then, perhaps, we could explore that together after this glass.'

And, oh, how she enjoyed his blush.

And while she was tugging him to her "accommodations" he couldn't help thinking the awkward rendezvous had turned out splendidly.

I hope the gift was to your satisfaction.

Next time there will be more about Hawke and Fenris, I promise.

As always, thank you for reading!