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Evelyn repositioned the straw training dummy, raised her sword, and swung. She’d already completed her studies for today, first thing in the morning. It had too been early, too dark to train outside. Now it was the right time for training. Then it would be straight to the war room. Requests for assistance, paperwork to complete, planning for the ball. In that order. Then, when the light was right, she’d dismiss her advisors and retreat either to the quiet sanctity of the mountainside, or return to the training yard to provide assistance for someone else’s training exercises. She was leaning towards the latter, today. She had been choosing the latter for a while, now.
Adamant had shaken her, as it had shaken everyone. The loss of the Champion of Kirkwall had been hard to bear, nigh on impossible. Varric was spending more and more time in his office, writing, and less time in the Herald’s Rest playing cards with the others. Lady Faellathi Tabris, Seer of the Inquisition and Evelyn’s Right Hand, had been pulled out of the Fade by the Iron Bull kicking and screaming for Hawke in a rare display of defiance. She’d been even more prone to losing herself in thought for weeks after, though in recent days she’d come back to herself. Presumably, she was taking a leaf out of Evelyn’s own book. When in chaos, choose order. Consistency. Study, train, work, walk. Repeat.
At first, Evelyn couldn’t fathom why Leliana had recruited Lady Tabris for the Inquisition in the first place. She was certainly a capable mage in the field, an elementalist through and through. But as an advisor? She rarely disagreed with Evelyn’s proposals, and she only ever offered advice if Evelyn or one of the others asked for her opinion directly. When she did voice her thoughts, it was clear that she worried about everything, from every angle. Not a bad thing, necessarily, to be so conscientious, but surely so much anxiety over every decision couldn’t be healthy. Evelyn had come to realise that Lady Tabris was consistent in her own way, however. She had her own routines. Reading her books. Accepting requests for Seeing. Attending the war councils. Watching Evelyn from the battlement stairs. Watching Evelyn from the upper floor of the Herald’s Rest. Watching Evelyn while dangling from the branches of a tree, like an easily spooked squirrel.
Evelyn spun her sword in a full arc to attack, catching a glimpse of those anxious elven eyes. Green, like hers, but dark, like a shadowy forest. Always watching. Perched, as usual, on the edge of the stone staircase’s landing, just above the training yard. Funny little thing.
Fae was patiently waiting for her moment to strike. Damn it, Leliana. It was Leliana who’d recruited her to the Inquisition, positioned her as the Holy Seer, made her the Herald’s Right Hand. She wasn’t even a real Seer. But there was no other known word for her abilities, and Leliana had wanted a spy she could trust, one that was good at wrapping people around her little finger. Befriend the Herald. Be her confidant. If she’s a monster, find out what she’s planning. If she’s not a monster, keep the overwhelming pressure of having unprecedented power from crushing her. Leliana heavily overestimated Fae’s charisma. Those friends in high places had always been circumstantial. It wasn’t like she’d deliberately cultivated powerful allies. Neria was her cousin, Isabela was the one who could charm anyone, and Hawke…Hawke had been kind, when Isabela left, like he’d been kind to everyone. Circumstantial. But, she’d told Leliana she’d help, and help she would. It was just difficult to help Evelyn.
They made an odd duo just by looks alone, apart from both being mages. Evelyn was a tall, bronzed, strong human. Intimidating. A warrior and a mage both, a force to be reckoned with. A knight-enchanter in shining armour. Fae’s ability to intimidate extended to whether she was holding her staff at the time or not. A short, maybe a little sickly-looking elf with unruly hair didn’t exactly scream “Fear me.” At first, she had thought, or maybe just hoped, that they were at least similar in temperament. Neither of them liked to be the centre of attention, that much was clear. But Evelyn was so hard to read. At least Fae had the decency to have very loud eyes, as Varric described them. A holdover from the time when talking felt dangerous that had since become habit. She didn’t always need to talk to express how she felt. Evelyn definitely needed to, and still she was unreadable because her voice never changed. Flat and direct, always. Blunt to the point of making Fae wonder. At first, she’d worried that Evelyn was in fact a very angry person trying to keep a lid on it, like Anders, until she inevitably burst and then it would be Fae’s job to handle it and she was terrible at confrontation like that.
The Inquisitor was at least constant in everything she did, and that eventually had allowed Fae to disregard that theory, but Evelyn was being far too consistent, nowadays. Training too much, resting too little. It wouldn’t make her any stronger to burn herself out. As Evelyn’s Right Hand, Fae had to be the one to intervene. It had just taken some time to figure out how she could. Evelyn tolerated her, but she didn’t like her. At least, she thought she didn’t like her. Evelyn was all strength and certainty, with wisdom that came from proper training, a proper education. Fae could read a room, but she doubted Evelyn had the patience for watching her Right Hand second-guess everything. Evelyn never doubted herself, she never needed to.
It didn’t help that on the rare occasion Evelyn did smile, Fae would all but stop breathing. Because it would catch her off-guard, because she didn’t expect it. Not because it made her actually look at Evelyn’s face properly. Those bright green eyes, like raw energy from the Fade, which were easy enough to avoid making direct contact with most of the time, when Fae’s own eyeline was somewhere around Evelyn’s forearms. And those could be distracting too. So, it was much easier to observe Evelyn from a distance. Make sure no one interrupted her training schedule. It had become clear very early on that Evelyn’s routines were important to her, and Fae could safeguard that, at least. Play the overprotective second.
In the beginning, Fae had tried to follow Evelyn’s movements, trying to fathom how she could utilise so much warrior prowess while weaving magic into the environment around the field. At first, she supposed it couldn’t be so different from learning to properly wield a staff, and that came with plenty of its own bruises, but the more she watched Evelyn, the more entranced she was by the sheer grace of the movements. And, to be honest, how terrifying she would be as an opponent. Magic and sword-fighting together. Not unlike the templars. Provoking Evelyn’s ire of her wouldn’t just put her heart at risk, but the rest of her too. Needs must, however. She still had a job to do.
She made her way down to the training yard. It was always conspicuously empty until Evelyn departed from her early morning sessions.
“Inquisitor?”
Evelyn continued hacking away at the straw dummy. Elegantly, but nonetheless.
Fae almost felt sorry for it. “Inquisitor? …Inquisitor? Evelyn!”
Evelyn stopped and turned to look at her, face as impassive as an Orlesian mask.
“That might be enough training for today, yeah?”
The Inquisitor looked back at the dummy.
“…I think he’s already dead.”
Evelyn watched the dummy list slightly to the left. Already dead. Funny.
Fae died a bit inside. Her attempt at a light-hearted joke hadn’t landed, judging by Evelyn’s total lack of a reaction.
Evelyn nodded. “You’re right, Lady Tabris. To the war room, then.” She turned to march on towards the keep, but then Fae was standing right in front of her, blocking her way.
“Actually, no. There’s no meeting today.”
“What do you mean? We meet in the war room every day.”
Okay, Fae wasn’t stupid, she didn’t have to say it like that. “I know, I meant that we’ve already—me and the other advisors, that is, we’ve already addressed everything that was on the agenda for today. There’s nothing urgent, and we’ve delegated everything that needed delegating.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I thought you might like to do something else, instead. Go for a walk, maybe? We could get some fresh mountain air. More of it, anyway. You like taking that back path from your quarters, don’t you?”
“I do, but why would I go now?”
Maker, Andraste and Creators help her. “You’re burning out, Inquisitor,” Fae sighed. “You’re pushing too hard, you need a break. More of a break than you’ve been giving yourself.”
“I’m doing what I need to do.”
Fae detected a hint of stubbornness in Evelyn’s words, if not her tone. Fine. Two could play at that game. She crossed her arms. “Yeah, well, so am I. It’s my job to help you.”
“You are of great help to me already.” Evelyn glanced towards the top of the stairs a short distance away. “I need never worry that any injuries I sustain in practise might go undetected.”
Fae followed her gaze to the ledge. Oh. She hadn’t even realised Evelyn had ever noticed her there. She felt her cheeks heat up, followed by her ears. Damn it. Was the Inquisitor displeased? She glanced back at Evelyn.
The Inquisitor was smiling at her. Not subtly, not vaguely. A sharp, toothy smile, eyes locked on her own with a mischievous spark Fae had never seen before. Was Evelyn…making fun of her? Then the smile vanished, as fast as it had appeared, replaced by the same steady calm as before.
Evelyn watched Fae’s eyes widen as she realised the Inquisitor could make jokes too, then her cheeks grow pink, ducking her head away to hide them. The tips of her now-flushed ears were still visible through the waves of dark brown hair, though. Cute.
The elf crossed her arms and stood her ground, still not giving up without a fight. “In that case, I want to go for a walk to clear my head, Inquisitor. I haven’t taken that path before, and it’d be easier with someone who knows it. You’re the only one who knows it.”
The cheeky squirrel.
Fae pressed the advantage. She gazed up at Evelyn, eyes sad and pleading. “Will you please come with me?”
Evelyn took a deep breath. “…Very well, Lady Tabris.” A walk did sound nice, in this light. The sun was still rising, mottling the colours in the sky with the scarred green light of the Breach. And, Lady Tabris looked like she might cry if Evelyn denied her.
The elf beamed sweetly for all of about a second before she dropped the expression, matching Evelyn’s with its sudden neutrality. Except it wasn’t neutrality, exactly. She just looked exhausted. “Great, thank you.”
Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat. She was aware that she herself was not a particularly expressive person under most circumstances, but it hadn’t yet occurred to her that Lady Tabris was also not one to smile often. It was surprisingly disarming.
So, she led the way to her quarters. There was a small lift situated next to one of the balconies that was probably once supposed to lead down to a lower level in the mountainside, but it was defunct, and the ground started high up enough now that Evelyn didn’t see much point in repairing it. She just used it as a step to jump down from. Good practise. She realised after hopping down this time that maybe that wasn’t the case for Fae. Her Right Hand had made it to the edge of the lift’s ceiling and sat down ready to jump, but hesitated at the distance between herself and the ground.
Evelyn simply plucked her off the lift, set her carefully on her feet, and kept walking. “You don’t say very much in the war room,” she observed.
“I don’t need to,” Fae jogged to catch up with her. “I usually agree with your proposals.”
“You agree with me when I’m sitting in judgement, too.”
“Like I said, you make the right calls.”
“Do you really agree, or are you just trying to please me?”
“Both,” Fae replied frankly, already a bit miffed at the implication. “If I disagreed, I’d be a shitty advisor not to advise you otherwise, and of course I’m trying to please you. Everyone is trying to please you, you’re the Herald of Andraste.”
“But you know I’m not the Herald of Andraste.”
Fae didn’t answer.
Evelyn glanced to her side.
The Seer was practically stomping through the snow, brow furrowed.
“You worry too much about whether everyone is pleased with you. It’s sweet. Especially how much you care about whether I’m pleased with you.”
“Sweet?”
“Yes.”
She huffed. “I’m not—it’s just survival, not weakness.”
“I didn’t say it was weakness.”
“You think I worry too much?” She kicked a loose stone out of the way and grimaced. “It’s a lot easier to survive if there’s other people who want you to survive, too, you know?”
They’d reached the long stretch of the path that was Evelyn’s favourite. It was bordered with old tree roots, the stone blanketed by whitemoss as well as snow. Tiny purple flowers sprang out from between the cracks in the rockface. “I apologise, Lady Tabris. I did not mean to upset you.” She said it gently, sincerely.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you either, but don’t—please just call me Fae, don’t make me sound like a noble, like that,” Fae insisted wearily. Then her eyes grew worried again. “Wait, I mean no offense. The Trevelyans being nobility, and all. It’s just not what I am.”
“None taken. It’s not what I am, either, really. We’re both mages. We’ve all survived by whatever means necessary.”
“Is that why you trained with templars? To fight with a sword as well as magic? Were you trying to beat them at their own game?”
“I was a latecomer to the Circle, and my Harrowing was set for me quite early. Seventeen,” Evelyn clarified, holding a stray root out of the way for Fae to climb past. “But I wasn’t exactly proficient in my magical abilities. So, my mentor had me cultivate them alongside my weapons training, to make the most of both.”
“I would never have thought you struggled with magic. Madame Vivienne says your Harrowing was the smoothest seen in a century. And you were so young, too.”
“The Harrowing is a test of willpower, not just magical ability. I understood the test, and understanding it was half the battle.”
Fae didn’t say anything. Her eyes had grown distant, her expression drawn. Scared, again, like she’d been in the physical Fade when the Nightmare had taunted her with her own unseen memories.
“Also, my mentor was very strict,” Evelyn added quickly, her smile going unnoticed. “Every time she beat me in combat, she would only say up. Again. Up. Again. I was like a jack-in-the-box.”
“What’s a jack-in-the-box?”
“Ah. It’s a kind of child’s toy.”
Evelyn mentally chided herself. Sister Nightingale had mentioned that Fae had been taken to the Circle very young, as most were, but hadn’t been there long, spending most of her life on the move. The Circle had never been particularly indulgent when it came to things like children’s toys. Neither were alienages, Evelyn imagined. “Your Harrowing was premature too, was it not?”
“Mhm. I was ten.”
Ten…Ten?! Evelyn stopped in her tracks and turned towards Fae, who startled, looking like she wanted the snow to swallow her up.
“I know, it sounds mad,” the elf croaked out with an awkward laugh. “I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. A spirit found me before the demon did, I think she felt sorry for me. She protected me while I faced the demon.”
Evelyn’s words took a moment to catch up with her mind, now whirring. “But even if you had known what to do, how did…? A Harrowing takes a toll on the body as well as the mind.”
“It does, that’s why no one expected me to wake up. Then I did, only a few hours after they’d tossed me in. Ta-da,” she sang weakly, waving her hands and waggling her fingers like a court jester.
That was an unfairly endearing gesture, but still… “How could it have been allowed? Why was it allowed?”
“Oh, it wasn’t. It became part of the justification for Uldred’s Rebellion and everything. But I don’t know why. I have a couple of theories, but the knight-commander who ordered it died in the Conclave, so…” Fae shrugged, watching her own boots march through slush. “Don’t know.”
Her poor squirrel. Evelyn had the sudden urge to snatch her up and protect her from anything and everything that might threaten her life ever again. As it was, there simply wasn’t enough room. They’d reached the narrow, trickier part of the walk. Simple enough, when walking alone, and worth it for the view from the wider clearing at the dead end up ahead, but not as roomy for two.
“The path grows narrower from here. Stay behind me,” Evelyn ordered softly. “Hold onto the end of my jerkin if you need to.” She felt a light tug on the hem, and her lips ticked upwards again. “Good girl.”
They trudged along in silence for a while, listening to the winds whistling, faint birdsong echoing.
Evelyn stopped. They’d reached the end of the path, a stony outcropping over a misty abyss covering the valley below. A dull thud pinged off her back followed by a yelp and a weight that immediately pushed away from her.
“Ow…!” Fae was rubbing her forehead where it had collided with Evelyn’s breastplate.
“Fae! Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she mumbled. “I just didn’t expect you to stop so quickly.”
“My apologies, we’ve reached the end of the path. Here, let me look at it.”
“It’s fine, I can heal it myself—hey!” Fae protested as Evelyn’s hand gently but firmly took hold of her jaw, angling her face upward to inspect the dark spot blooming across her forehead.
“How hard did you hit it? Do you feel well?”
“Not that hard, you heard it too! It just hurts, that’s all.”
Evelyn let go. “My poor little squirrel.”
“Squirrel?!”
For a moment Evelyn reconsidered whether all those blushes were all simply a result of intense shyness rather than…but then Fae laughed.
“Maker’s breath,” the elf turned away, pale blue energy already swirling about her palm as she pressed it to her forehead. “Squirrel, that’s a new one. How’d you come up with that?”
Evelyn was already unbuckling her breastplate. It wouldn’t do for it to cause any more injuries; that defeated the purpose of it. “You climbed a tree in the Fereldan hinterlands.”
“A demon threw me into a tree in the hinterlands,” Fae corrected her. “I was trying not to fall out. I can’t climb trees for shit, I grew up in cities. You did catch me, though, thanks for that.”
“You’re very welcome. Ah, this is it.” Evelyn gestured ahead. The wide clearing at the end of the path revealed a breathtaking view. They were just above the cloud cover; a sea of swirling mist illuminated by sunlight, mixing with the Fade energy from the Breach like an aurora. The tops of trees in the valley between this mountain and the neighbouring one were faintly visible below, birds in flight occasionally dipping in and out of the clouds. “Beautiful.” Two arms clamped around her middle as Fae suddenly clung to her side.
After a moment of stunned shock Evelyn smiled, draping her own arms around the Seer’s shoulders. She would’ve been content to stay like that for a while, if she hadn’t noticed that the arms around her were trembling slightly. “Are you alright? Are you cold?”
“It’s a beautiful view. It’s also a very long way to fall…”
“I won’t let you fall. Here, let’s just…” Evelyn took one step back away from the ledge at a time, Fae following her lead, until they were safely close to the mountainside. “Is that better?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Fae still didn’t let go.
So Evelyn didn’t either.
“…I thought you didn’t like me,” Fae admitted quietly.
“On the contrary, I like you very much. Dare I ask if the feeling is mutual?”
“It is. I just thought you were kind of annoyed by me, because I’ve been watching you all the time and everything…” Fae began to extricate herself from Evelyn’s arms, as if she was convincing herself of the words even as she spoke them.
Evelyn promptly intervened, kneeling down a little to wrap one arm behind Fae’s legs and the other behind her back, hoisting her up so that they were both at each other’s eye-level. “I like that you look at me. In fact, I wouldn’t mind if you looked at me more often. And in return, I could look at you, too.”
Fae beamed, ducked her face away for a moment, and then leaned forward to drop a quick kiss on Evelyn’s cheek.
Evelyn shook her head, canines gleaming through her own unchaste grin. The hand supporting Fae’s back slipped away to guide her chin towards Evelyn’s lips for a proper kiss. “Silly squirrel. Come here.”