Evelyn's physical recovery was quicker than expected with the help of Ilara's magic and poultices, coupled with Evelyn's solemn promise to follow her instructions to the letter. By the third day, she was already out of bed and walking the camp several times a day. She walked with a hitch in her step, for which Henley and Sorin began playfully calling her 'gimpy,' but she needed to get out of bed and clear her mind despite the teasing. She appreciated them trying to help her resume some normalcy to her days, and while she flashed a smile or gave a laugh, it was purely for their benefit. She confided her true innermost feelings to only one person. She was the one person who could see her weak, broken and hurting and that was Ilara.
Evelyn lived in a man's world as a Knight-Enchanter. It was not a world where one could show weakness without being mocked or called a coward. Oddly enough it was also why she liked it for it taught her to be strong and think rationally, rather than emotionally. The fact remained though that she was still a woman with a plethora of complex emotions. Ilara was everything she was not and there were times she wished she could find the harmony of being a strong warrior and a soft emotional female.
Aside from emotional scarring, she also contended with physical the ones. Cullen had kept his word and came to visit her, thankfully looking less guilty by the day. She conjured a pleasant smile and always had a quip about her leg ready, though he was more interested in her withdrawal symptoms which had lasted only a few days. She truly did not blame him, but she began to feel self-conscious about the large gruesome scar she was going to have to live with. Her legs were one part of her body she never felt self-conscious about. They were remarkably Trevelyan being long and toned. She remembered when she and her sisters would attend her Great Aunt Lucille's Summer Ball. The Trevelyan girls were the most sought after dancers in all the Free Marches. Even Evelyn always seemed to have her pick of dance partners as her fame increased through the years. Her brothers always had a job of fending off her sisters' suitors and shooting dangerous glares to those brave enough to comment on their figures. Her older sisters' legs were much softer in their curves, but then again they weren't getting into fights with demons, apostates and rogue Templars as she was. She felt her legs had always been the most sensual part of her. Hidden in armor, tall thigh-high boots, and on occasion, flowing dresses, they had always been the one part of her that pleasantly surprised her bedmates, including Henley, the most. That had now been taken away and with it a part of her confidence.
She didn't mind scars here and there, but this one was ugly - there was no better word to describe it. She spoke to Ilara about her options, even going so far as to bring Master Taigen, an expert alchemist and physician, in to look at it. He was a sweet man, which made his partnership with Apothecary Adan all the more baffling. The two came up with an experimental salve for her to use twice a day that might help reduce the scar's appearance, but it was all theoretical. There was one good thing that came from it, which was that Master Taigen was impressed with Ilara's knowledge and experience so much so, that he got her special permission to enter the village and help him with a project he started when Henley was first brought to Adan after his bout of red lyrium poisoning. They had cumulatively treated a mage and Templar successfully and now had a wealth of new leads into the effects of lyrium on the body. Seeking new understanding through the differences and some theorizing, they hoped to understand the addictive nature of it to help treat Templars. Evelyn couldn't have been prouder of her friend.
Another thing the red lyrium stole from her was her comfort around Templars. It was first tested the night Aeron and his lackeys attacked her and now Sampson threatened to crush all the trust she placed in The Order. It took her a few days to get used to having a Templar in her presence who wasn't trying to kill her. Each one who rotated in to watch her, was asked to remove their helm so she could see they weren't red. Even though she knew deep down they were not the enemy, she walked with her head down around the gates and training grounds where they tended to gather in their armor.
Last night had been the first time she had slept since she'd been found. Ilara had made her a tonic to force her to sleep since Evelyn was not going to on her own for fear of nightmares. Sleeping in her tent once more, she and Ilara had pushed their cots together. Henley volunteered to be the Templar on duty during the nights to watch her since both women were comfortable with him invading their private quarters. Waking up in a sweat several times from nightmares, Ilara would have to recount to her that they had not been violated in the various ways she had seen in her dreams and that Aeron was long dead. She found that her memory of that night was marred with inaccuracies since in the grip of the waking dream caused by the red lyrium. It had stopped singing to her, but she couldn't help the feeling it was waiting to ambush her from the deep recesses of her mind if she let her guard down. It made her anxious and paranoid jumping at everyday sounds, like music in particular, so she tended to walk the more quiet places of camp.
With her now off bed rest, she was summoned to talk with the advisors who wished to follow up with her on a few points. Cassandra came often to check her red lyrium levels with her abilities. Evelyn had not known before Seekers had such an ability, but then again she had no reason to be around Seekers before. The Seeker mentioned she had experience in measuring lyrium levels and things of the like in Templars, so she'd be able to tell when it was out of her system. However, the most concerning thing was that the red lyrium had made her lose control over her abilities for a time. They hoped it was a temporary condition and that through exercises and training, she'd be back to normal. Cassanadra again took a personal interest, as did Varric as they accompanied her to a secluded area with a few other Templars away from camp to train to test her. There was a clear breach in her control when she fired a few spells about. They fizzled and crackled oddly veering off target. She felt like a novice again, but after about two hours she started to regain her precision. When asked by the Seeker how she felt, she described the flow of her mana as a dam that had been broken. The flow of her mana was greater than before and if this was her new 'normal' she may just have to get used to it. She didn't mind her spells now having an even bigger punch to them than before, but it was dangerous until she could manage to control it.
More days passed as they drew closer to the start of the Conclave. Three days to be exact. The day was bright and sunny and everyone was taking advantage of the beautiful weather. Being outdoors always improved her mood as well as exercise. Much to the disappointment of her mother, from an early age she was never content sitting in a salon listening to the drivel that poured from their guests' mouths while practicing her needlepoint. Often times no one paid her much attention as the fifth born, and she could sneak out to play with her brothers. She was working up a sweat at the training grounds when Henley came back from patrol. At seeing him approach in full armor, she gave a huff.
"Maker, you must be sweating."
"It's times like this I wish you or Sorin knew some ice spells." He crossed his arms and watched her practice with her staff blade against one of the practice dummies. With her ribs still a bit sore, she was more testing her range of motion more that striking for force. "Don't you want to ask me how the patrol went?" She eyed him suspiciously.
"Why would I do that? So you can tell me about all the action I'm missing." He hummed a laugh as he tried to hide his mischievous smile. "You're going to tell me anyway, aren't you?"
"Right you are! So there we were fighting off some rogue Templars," she rolled her eyes at his exuberance, "when a fine company of cavalry came thundering down from the hills breaking the enemy line. I've never seen finer horsemen in my life." He cast a sideways glance at her, seeing she was getting ready to bring out her noble haughtiness. He knew she was of the opinion that there were no finer cavalry and horses than those of her father's in all of Thedas. Before she could sass him, he added, "Perhaps, you should come see them?" He didn't have to ask her twice before she was already marching off leaving him to catch up.
In the distance, she could see the large company of cavalry standing in formation inside the gates. Their Silverite armor sparked in the sunlight. It wasn't until they got closer that she could determine the breed of their mounts - Free Marches Rangers. She gave Henley a look of shock as he just nodded to her watching her grin grow until she gave a girlish squeal before running off. There was nothing forced or fake about her smile this time. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt true happiness. Glancing at the crests on their polished shields, her heart all but exploded with untainted joy. She looked about for the commanding officer's horse, finding it without a rider towards the front of the company. From behind the horse, she spotted Cullen talking with a soldier whom she could only assume was its missing rider. His back was to her, but by his stature she could only know it to be her eldest brother, Hector. He was slightly taller than the Commander with a slender frame like their father. Hector was eight years her senior, married with two young strapping Trevelyan boys to solidify the family line. He was the best of their siblings and she loved him dearly, and not because he was in every way like their father.
She approached them slowly, praying to the Maker that this wasn't some cruel image conjured by the red lyrium in one last-ditch effort to break her. The two were too busy talking to notice her until she stood just off to their side. Words were failing her as her heart began to beat every fiber of her back to life. The dark horrors of her recent ordeal began to fade as the bright burning love of seeing her kin blinded her to all else. When she heard him speak, a sob choked out of her causing both men to turn to face her. Hector stared at her a moment taking in the sight of his youngest sister.
"Evie," his smile spread across his face as the gentle breeze licked up his ashen brown and gray-streaked hair. He spread his arms wide and she hobbled as quickly as she could into them. He squeezed her in a gentle embrace, clearly picking up that she had been wounded, cradling her head and shoulders against him. When they parted, he held her out by the shoulders looking her over. "Maker you look awful, what happened to you?" She almost had forgotten having been lost in her happiness. As the darkness crept forth, she willed it back, she would be stronger than it. As the old adage says, love will conquer all.
"You know me, I find trouble wherever I go." He raised an eyebrow at her, lowering his gaze at her. "I'm on the mend and the Commander here has me on orders to remain in camp, so I can't get into any more trouble. I can't tell you how happy I am to see you, Hector!"
"And what about your favorite brother?" Another familiar voice called to her across the field. Upon turning she spotted her male doppelganger. Owayne was two years older but anyone who saw them together assumed they were twins. They had the same brown eyes, shade of brown hair, soft square jaw and same talent for getting into trouble. Whereas trouble found Evelyn, Owayne looked for it. He had connections within the Ostwick underworld and his own crew who he ran jobs with. He didn't do it for coin or valuables, he did it for the thrill. While he was a fearsome rogue, their father had brought them up with a good moral compass, so he was more of a vigilante keeping an eye out for the people of Ostwick from the shadows. He crouched down and began stalking Evelyn, to which both she and Hector started to protest right away knowing what he was about to do.
"No, no Owayne! You can't---!" She was scrambling to get the words out of her mouth quick enough, as was Hector while the poor Commander just looked on curiously. Owayne squatted lower getting ready to tackle her as he moved forward. "Wait, wait look," she grabbed a fistful of her shirt lifting it to reveal her bandaged ribs which stopped him dead. She sighed in relief glad she didn't have to go back to Ilara and get a tongue lashing.
"Evie," he said teasingly, "tell me who the bastard was who did this and I'll gut them like a fish for you." He gently took her face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Sorry, but I beat you to it." She flashed a knowing look to Cullen. His brow knitted a bit knowing what she was making light of.
"That's my sis!" He turned away from her to greet the man she had just shared a moment with. "Lord Owayne Maxwell Trevelyan," he held his hand out to Cullen who grasped it and introduced himself in kind. Hector stepped forward to speak to Cullen about stabling their horses, which there was no stable, so the two discussed their options. Owayne hooked arms with Evelyn and they strode away leaving them to sort it out.
"So, the Commander," he looked at her wiggling his eyebrows.
"Don't start, you just got here! He's my commanding officer and nothing is going on."
"Didn't stop you and Henley." She smacked his shoulder. Being closest in age to each other, compared to their other siblings, the two shared almost everything with each other. There were certain things siblings refrained from talking about with each other, but he had known she was involved with Henley. When she was able to visit home, Henley usually chaperoned her. Her whole family got to know Henley over the years, but only Owayne had noticed there was something more going on between them.
"Henley is seeing Ilara now, so do me a favor and try not to be an arse."
"Well, don't we have a lot to catch up on."
"You don't know the half of it."
***
The Trevelyans had officially overrun the camp. The Trevelyan lords had brought with them half a dozen of their cousins, all Chantry clerics of various ranks, who were attending the Conclave. Cullen jokingly thought to himself if one Trevelyan was trouble, he'd have to have the whole camp on alert for the lot of them. Josephine had been busy all day preparing accommodations for them, which he was certain would never live up to their expectations based on the bits of conversation he caught. Luckily for him, he was better suited to see to the needs of the company of horsemen. The eldest Lord Trevelyan, to his credit, stayed with him to help oversee the set up of temporary pens and stables for the horses. Typically, he disliked having to work with nobles who "commanded" their own troops for the fact that most of the time their appointment was based on blood, rather than their ability to actually lead men in battle. Lord Hector not only had noble blood, but seemed a competent enough commander who had the respect of his men. From Henley's report, it seems like they were fortunate to have had his assistance. Unlike his sister, he did not possess the haughty attitude befitting a noble, but instead kept his voice low, firm and even.
When Lord Hector told him his men were at his disposal, Cullen almost knelt and prayed to the Maker right at his feet. He doubted that the whole company was needed to help escort their cousins, and so he thought maybe the Knight-Enchanter had something to do with it. The rogue Templars may be some of the best melee fighters in all of Thedas, but they were nothing against a fine company of cavalry. Templars were simply not trained to fight them, as the likelihood of a mage taking on Templars on a horse was slim at best.
The hour was late when he finally finished up the last of his neglected paperwork from in his cabin. He had pushed through a bad migraine in order to get it done, feeling guilty that he had spent his day speaking with Lord Trevelyan about his men and their training rather than reading reports. He had been curious, secretly hoping one day to have a company of cavalry of his own to utilize. Having now taken care of his actual work, he sat back in his chair closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. It was quiet, he didn't like quiet. After growing up in a house of rowdy siblings and then to a barracks, he was used to a certain amount of noise, but the only noise he heard was that of his stomach growling. A migraine and growling stomach would make sleeping more impossible than it was already. He thought a brisk walk to the tavern for some food would kill two birds with one stone. He stood up, raising his arms to stretch out his stiff back from sitting hunched over for too long. He retucked his linen shirt into his leather pants and donned his fur mantle before heading out to the tavern.
He resided himself to eating alone, as his usual eating partner was on duty. He and Rylen were now taking turns with their shifts, not wanting to yield any ground to the rebel mages or Templars. With dignitaries arriving daily, keeping the roads safe and tracking enemy movements became a full-time job. The village was quiet, though the camp was bustling outside the walls. With no signs of a large attack on Haven immanent from scouting reports, he was going to try and take a night to himself before the demands of the Conclave required him on duty at all hours of the day.
The tavern was fairly quiet compared to what it had been in the past few weeks. Upon entering his eyes met Lord Hector's, who was seated next to the fireplace and oddly alone. He greeted him and insisted he join him.
"The other two are sorting through the bar looking for a bottle, but they'll join us soon."
"I don't wish to disturb your reunion, surely you'd like to speak privately."
Lord Hector shook his head. "Not at all. We had a long day, I'm sure you could use a drink," Cullen's stomach growled loudly, "and something to eat. We've already placed an order, but we'll get you added to it." Cullen began to protest such generosity, but Lord Hector wouldn't hear of it. Soon enough, the other Trevelyans returned with a bottle and glasses in hand. Upon seeing him, the Knight-Enchanter spun to retrieve another glass for him and Lord Hector called after her to add him to their order.
The first hour passed by quickly as they shared a few drinks and ate. The conversations were kept light talking of their estate in Ostwick, current events and politics with the occasional embarrassing family story thrown in here or there for a good laugh. They kept his mind engaged, plate occupied and cup full at all times. They even insisted he call them by their Maker-given names, even Evelyn. She had argued that since she was permanently off duty, she was officially under the jurisdiction of the Lady Ambassador as a guest of the Divine and he had to do as she said or she'd submit a formal complaint. When he told her that he'd have to cancel all of the upcoming training she was supposed to instruct for the mages, she quickly recanted her allegiance back to him. She still, however, insisted he call her Evelyn or she singe his pants off, which he knew now was no idle threat, and obliged.
Since they had first met, he had noticed that those who knew her had sworn a fierce loyalty to the woman. How she got a whole group of over 50 people to lie for her for a week was quite an accomplishment. Up until this night, he hadn't understood why, but after conversing with the Trevelyans for the last few hours he began to see why. They were genuine and caring, not just for each other, but for those they served with. They never made him feel as if he was an unwelcome presence in their conversation and seemed interested in his honest opinions. It was worrisome to a degree how easily it was to put the Commander aside and let Cullen through for the evening. He even went on in detail about growing up in Honnleth, something he hadn't spoken of in years. For whatever reason, here were three nobles listening to a farm boy talk of his spartan upbringing, and they listened with interest. He and Evelyn had talked before about milling and he found it refreshing not having to feel ashamed as he spoke about it. Often when nobles inquired about his family's trade they'd scoff at him or drop the subject as if it was too beneath them to speak about. They even asked him questions which they were too embarrassed to ask their Miller back in Ostwick about.
It was then that he realized something, a sort of pattern emerging. Evelyn leveraged her position with the Divine to protect her people, even when she could've saved herself. Hector worked alongside him all day to make sure his men and horses were taken care of when he could've left it to his men. All of them were invested in the people who labored to support their horses and estate. It made him think of day she was arrested and they spoke in the cells and how different that woman was from the one now sitting across from him. The ferocity to which she defended her people against him, who was a stranger at the time, and speaking with him now as if they've known each other for years now all made sense. They were extremely loyal to each other and to those who placed their trust in them. Loyalty and trust were scarcely found among the nobility in this age. He had lived through the Fifth Blight in Ferelden and the betrayal of King Cailan by Teryn Loghain. The land had fell to chaos and instead of protecting their people, the nobility scrambled to gain land and power. His family had suffered under their neglect, resulting in the death of his parents, and it had made him bitter toward nobles. However, it would seem there was more to the Trevelyans than meets the eye.
If Evelyn hadn't mentioned that Owayne was a few years older than her, he would've thought them twins. They were identical even in personalities making Cullen feel as if Owayne had been here for weeks along with his sister. Of course, their closeness made him think of his own siblings, which they asked about in length. He and his older sister Mia were similar in mannerisms and personality; He and his younger brother Branson are identical as Evelyn and Owayne are, with the exception of Branson's hair being a few shades darker and his more easygoing attitude; and the youngest, Rosalie, was as far opposite of him as could be. He assumed they were all still living and working the farm and mill in South Reach, but he couldn't be certain. Both Branson and Rosalie were of age to marry and could've left home, leaving Mia and her family the farm. He did receive word he was an uncle while in Kirkwall, but no mention of any weddings. The three must've sensed there was a reason why he had not heard from them in some time.
To be fair, it was mostly his fault. He had suffered torture from demons while stationed at Kinloch Hold and again in Kirkwall which left its scars on him. Not proud of the man he became, he cut himself off from his family thinking he was protecting them. He wasn't so sure now if he was protecting them or himself from facing what was done to him. One day he'd gather the courage to write them, but he just wasn't ready yet.
"Speaking of letters, Evie, mother wanted me to give you this." She did not look pleased at all. As Hector slid the letter over to her on the table, she acted as if it was a large hairy spider crawling her way.
"Pray tell, what did I do this time to disappoint Lady Bann Trevelyan? I was quite literally on the run for the past year, what could I have possibly done?" She looked at Cullen with a huff, adding, "In case you didn't pick up on it earlier, I am the disgrace of the Trevelyan family." Her brothers shook their heads at her dramatic statement. "Well, at least to most."
"Mother wouldn't be so hard on you if you'd indulge her every once in a while." Cullen could see Hector was a practiced mediary between the two.
"Are you forgetting who called the Templars on me? Who, rather than comfort her own flesh and blood, comforted that wicked little…" she pursed her lips tightly to stop herself before tossing the letter in the fireplace. Abruptly, she turned to him once more and told the story of the day she came into her magic. Of the girl who tortured her as a child, the first time her mana glowed from feral rage, her father's intervention with the Templars and her vow to do good. He had heard many similar stories in his time as a Templar, and in his early years, brought new mages to the Circle. Their plight was the same no matter their station, with some parents accepting it and others disowning their children.
He thought back to how incandescently happy she looked once she saw Hector and Owanye. They had accepted her with her magic, and Evelyn fiercely loved them for it. The past few days before their arrival, she seemed dead inside. The woman was a ghost of her former self. Her smile faded quickly, her laugh was only to be polite and even though she listened to the things he'd say or ask, she stared as if he were speaking in a different tongue. If she thought she was putting on a brave face for the shake of her friends, it had not worked. They all saw through it, and they approached Cullen to ask that he pretend along with them. Enchanter Ilara had been the only one she had been confiding in, and decided it was best for Evelyn to keep busy and resume a daily routine. Though she was off duty, he promised the Enchanter he'd approach her about conducting training sessions, but not until Cassandra cleared her.
Cassandra had informed him that it only took two days for the red lyrium to leave her system. Thankfully mages had more of an immunity to lyrium, even the red stuff, than normal people. Her concern was her ability to wield her new power. It seemed it had not only caused traumatic damage, but it mutated her mana as well. Evelyn was already a powerful mage, of that he could feel. Though he was no longer taking lyrium, his Templar senses were still sensitive to the sensation of magic. It was just this very morning that Cassandra had cleared her for light duty, happy in the fact that she was experienced, determined and a mage of good judgment when it came to knowing her mana. With that, he immediately secured her space and times on the training grounds - along with Templars. Between focusing on training and the new distraction of her brothers, he hoped to see some of the old Evelyn, knowing all too well how hard it was to come back from trauma like that and be the same person you once were. If he wasn't so ashamed of his own past, perhaps they could've found empathy and understanding in each other.
"Well, if I'm to be in any condition to train some mages tomorrow I better get to bed." The men consented and with stretches and groans they struck out into the night. Hector and Owayne forged ahead distracted by their own conversation, but Evelyn fell back in step with him. "Can you believe we got through an evening without getting ourselves into trouble?" He couldn't help but give a chuckle.
"A small miracle, I almost find myself disappointed."
"Be careful what you wish for, you still haven't made it to your cabin. A dragon could come swooping down to attack Haven."
"Maker forbid, if that ever happens, I'll buy drinks and personally clean your armor for a week." She narrowed her eyes at him, tapping her lips with a finger considering his wager.
"Hmm, I'll take that bet. I always wanted to fight a dragon." They stopped short of the village gates and watched her brothers disappear. Looking to catch up with them, she walked backwards and called back to him, "Goodnight Cullen, don't find trouble without me!"
***
In stark contrast to the previous day, the sky was gray and the rain fell in steady light sheets. When she arrived at the training grounds, she found she had no one to train. Apparently, the mages thought wars were only fought on nice days. As she went about rounding them up barking at them like the Commander, limping as she went tent to tent. It had occurred to her that these mages really didn't have to contend with the weather messing up their daily routine in the Circle, nor had they experienced the discomfort of wet socks, poor footing or wet hair whipping in their face as you cast. However, coddling them was not going to serve them well in battle. Way behind schedule, she resigned to do what she could fit in, ignoring the constant complaints from her pupils. She decided a little discomfort would do them a world of good, and since they would most likely be fighting Templars without the use of their magic, she thought lessons using their staves in melee combat would be perfect.
"You there, there's a staff in your hand, block with it! If this man was your enemy you'd be dead!"
"I think you've been listening to me for too long, I'm rubbing off on you, Knight-Enchanter," Cullen said trying to hide his amusement from the recruits, but she saw how the scar on his lip twitched if but for a second.
"Copying is the sincerest form of flattery, you know," she said with a sideways glance. "Hopefully you're distracting me from training to tell me you saw a dragon, ser?"
"No, I came to make sure the recruits all showed up. I heard you yelling at them from all the way in my field tent earlier."
"Everyone is here, though it seems a little rain and mud made them think training would be canceled." A nearby recruit who was sparring slipped and fell with a wet plop into the mud. He picked up a mud-covered hand and looked at it disgustingly, then attempted to shake some of it off hitting Evelyn in the face with it. The training field grew quiet as everyone abruptly stopped their sparring. She closed her eyes taking a deep breath. The haze the rain created reflected the glow from her mana which peaked out through her light armor. Wiping the mud knowing she was spreading it further across her cheek, she came up with a wicked idea. Cullen was still beside her, but his scowl was pointed at the recruit who continued to be more concerned with the mud on himself than what he had just done.
"Commander," she began loud enough for all to hear, "if you'd help me with a demonstration." He followed her to the center of the field where everyone could see. "Now then, we are going to move on to fighting from the ground. Naturally, your goal will be to get back on your feet, however, your opponent will not make it easy on you." Evelyn turned to face Cullen, motioning for him to draw his long sword. "So, here you are in the middle of a fight and your opponent manages to get you down on the ground," Cullen raised an eyebrow as if to ask 'are you sure?' She nodded and added, "If you'd do the honors, Commander." The Knight-Enchanter lunged at him purposely missing a strike on him, while he grabbed her staff twisting her with from force down into the mud. The recruits laughed softly until the realization dawned on them that they were all going to be in the mud soon.
"Your opponent isn't going to politely wait for you to get back up, so you'll have to defend while getting your feet into position to stand, or if you're more athletic, you can dodge and roll up to your feet. For now, we'll practice the former." Since she had landed on her hip, her legs were angled out to the right of her. She nodded at Cullen again who began hacking at her from above slowly. "As you move your feet into position, deflect the blows off to alternating sides in an arch. When the timing is right, use the downward momentum and leverage on your staff to pop up." Once she was up, and the demonstration complete, she called for questions and they began one more demonstration faster this time. It went on as it did before, but this time as she went to stand, she swiped her staff low hooking Cullen's foot and pulling it out from under him. He caught himself before face-planting into the mud with his arms. A sharp turn of his head towards her and a glare from his amber eyes, made her spin purposely and order the recruits to pair off and practice what they were shown. The low rumble from their concern about soiling their robes thankfully hid the Commander's anger toward her.
"Trevelyan," he growled drawing out the syllables of her surname. All she could do was smile back stupidly at him, thinking that the finishing move was perhaps poor judgment on her part. His leather gloves and vambraces were caked with mud. Having landed mostly on his right side, the streak of mud covered from his lower back to boot. Sheathing his sword he walked over to her, keeping in mind they were surrounded by recruits. He sighed heavily while wiping his gloves together trying to lose some of the heavy mud looking out at the mages as they begrudgingly fell into the mud. "You know, I have a council meeting to attend in a few minutes."
"I'm sure the mere mention of my name will suffice as an excusable explanation, ser." He grunted knowing this to be true. She was trying so hard not to laugh as she pictured him meeting with the other advisors, and possibly the Divine, looking like a wet mangey lion.
"Carry on, Knight-Enchanter," he glowered at her until he was forced to turn his head to look where he was going. After he was out of sight she couldn't help but bite her lip from smiling. Had he really just left without chewing me out? Maybe he thought he owed her and her brothers for dinner last night? Maybe he didn't want to undermine her authority in front of her subordinates? Or maybe, he saw her as a friend after all. A friend would act as he did. Interesting.
***
Later on, well after she had finished up training and had changed out of her muddy clothes, she passed by the Commander's field tent. The flaps were open and through the night's haze, she saw several officers gathered around his desk, including Hector. As she passed in front, she heard Sampson's name spoken. She froze as a chill crept up her spine. In her mind's eye, his face appeared. Every detail came back in vividly, from his greasy hair to his big red eyes. His face twisted up in that sinister smirk of his. His voice echoed in her head, Well, aren't you something, Evelyn Trevelyan! The smell of fire and blood filled her nostrils, she heard the sounds of dying Templars and then the face of the blond-haired woman appeared mouthing, Shall we see how your stitches are healing? Their laughter at the woman's handiwork made her sick. She clutched her leg and mouth as her knees gave out. Her head spun as she fought the pull of the Void.
Suddenly people were running at her, but they were just a blur against the bright light of the tent. The light reflected off metal surfaces; they were men in armor - Templar armor. Her flight-or-fight instincts tended to favor fight, this time being no exception, and the Phoenix brightened the darkness of the night. As the light chased away the shadows, it illuminated the men in front of her. The first face her eyes rested on was that of Hector, who had not flinched as the others did at seeing the blaze of her wings.
"Evelyn?" His voice was strong and brought her clarity through his use of her full first name, which he only used in formal settings. The present came flooding back to her - Haven, the officers in the Commander's tent and the mention of Sampson.
"It's ok, I'm alright." She let go of her leg, the phantom pain gone, and took his hands to stand. She heard Cullen usher them back inside to give them some privacy. She could see his shadowed figure silhouetted against the light from the tent. "I'm sorry, Commander, I didn't mean to disrupt your meeting. I thought I saw a dragon and got excited I won the bet," she called over to him. He placed his hands on his hips, and though she couldn't see his face, she knew he didn't buy it. Hector followed up, telling him he'd come see him later to get caught up on what he missed after seeing her back to her tent.
"Why do you have to do that?" Her big brother was coming out, the one who would keep she and Owanye in line when they were children around the Trevelyan estate.
"Do what?"
"Lie, joke or however else you ignore your problems?" Hector could be soft and stern at the same time.
"Because… because I don't know what else to do! I feel like I'm losing my mind sometimes, it was only when you and Owanye showed up that I've been able to feel more like myself and less like this shell of a person. I hate it! I'm the Phoenix of Ostwick, not some victim! I heard Sampson's name mentioned at your meeting and his face appeared along with… other things. It was like blacking out, but not. This… weakness is embarrassing." He sighed, worry and love in his eyes as he listened.
"You've been through something terrible. It's not surprising you're having flashbacks. I've seen it in soldiers who have seen death and other horrible things. If you were expecting to recover from this like after a normal day of fighting off rebels, than you were wrong. You need time," he poked her forehead," to sort things out in here. There is no shame in admitting you're not alright. You have people here who love you - me, Owanye, Ilara, Sorin, Henley - let us help you." A solitary tear rolled down her cheek. He reached out with his long thumb and swiped it away.
"I don't want to be broken."
"You're not broken. You're too strong to let this weigh you down for long." His eyes bore into her soul bringing forth her own courage to face her demons. "Now it's late, can I walk you back to your tent?" She nodded and nuzzled herself into his embrace as he led her through the dark. When they reached her tent, Ilara was waiting for her. Her sixth sense must've told her something was wrong and she stood outside with her arms crossed looking like a worried mother. Hector gave her a kiss goodnight and headed back to the meeting. As he walked away, she said a silent prayer to the Maker for blessing her with a brother like him.
***
The night before the Conclave was celebrated by the entirety of the camp with food, drink and music. With the camp full to bursting with dignitaries, clerics, Templars, mages and curious pilgrims, campfires lit the night landscape in a warm glow for as far as you could see. Evelyn slowly warmed up to the sounds of all the music playing, for fear of having another episode. When she made it to their large bonfire, Sorin was quick to get her a drink and sit with her as all their friends from Ostwick danced. She leaned her shoulder on him enjoying his closeness. It had been some time since they saw each other for longer than a few minutes as he was always on duty.
"Snuggling, this is new," he said with a tight-lipped smile. She half expected him to pull away since their relationship had never been the warm-fuzzy type, but his smile hinted to her that this new show of affection was acceptable. "How are you feeling?"
"Ok, so far. I-- think I just want to sit." She didn't have to say more than that for him to understand. Since, speaking with Hector the other night, she began to open up more about how she was feeling with him and Henley in particular. To their credit, they didn't joke about it, didn't think any less of her, they just let her set the pace and took their cues from her. She sipped from her tankard and watched her friends as they danced. Henley and Ilara whirled around, occasionally drawing close for a kiss or embrace. She couldn't help but think what a cute couple they were. Henley was so much larger with his dark hair and tanned skin. Ilara stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips with her twinkling blue eyes and long curly blonde hair. She secretly hoped one day she'd find a man who looked at her as he looked at Ilara, but that dark nagging in her head and loss of confidence banished such hope. Her thoughts began to spiral out of control about all her insecurities: scars, broken, freak, too duty-oriented ---
"Hey, are you listening to me?" She gave herself a good thump on the head. Sorin's dark eyes studied her. "What is going on in that head of yours?" She debated for a moment about lying to him, when her brother's words echoed in her mind.
"Just that my confidence isn't what it was. There's this darkness that creeps in… it comes and goes. It makes me question things I never used to question, and not in the good way." Sorin gave her a thoughtful gaze, smiling ever so slightly.
"Back in the Circle, people always asked me why I followed you around, always living in your shadow. Each time I told them the same thing, because you're a remarkable person. That I was honored that you saw something in me that made you want me by your side." She swallowed hard, having never known this in all the years of their friendship. "I still think that and that won't ever change. I believe in you, and just like always, I'm behind you in this fight too." Without a second thought, she hugged him. She couldn't help but wonder how much longer she would've not known this. She wasn't sure how long they stayed in each other's arms until Owayne stole her away to dance. As he dragged her off, she looked fondly back at Sorin once again regaining his stoic poise.
As the night went on, that bright blinding love of friends and family yet again chased away the shadows of her mind and she began to enjoy herself. Owayne twirled her about for a bit before she was ready to sit again and just enjoy the company of her friends. They talked about the Conclave and what her plan was, which was the same as it had always been. She'd help The Divine mediate and support Circle reforms, though not their dissolution. She would argue the Templar Order needs new leadership and better communication with the mages under their care. The more they talked and she went over her views, the more the passion of her beliefs empowered her. She had been without a purpose beyond their survival for long, it was as if she forgot about her past involvement in Circle politics.
Wanting to be at her best for tomorrow, she bid the group goodnight. Ilara went to join her but, she said she'd be alright on her own. There had been so little time to just sit back and enjoy life in the past year, she didn't want to take this night away from her. As she walked, she noticed a light coming from Cullen's field tent. She wondered how close he was to pulling his hair out over the security of the Conclave. She never asked Hector what was said about Sampson the other night in the meeting, but Hector had told her he was staying to help with the security for the duration of the Conclave which gave her a clue. At the opening to his tent, she could see him seated at his desk pouring over a field map and moving small wooden pieces around. He'd make a note here and there on his parchment then move on to his next report, no doubt keeping careful track of the enemy movements as scouting reports trickled in.
"Commander?" Evelyn popped her head into his field tent when she thought it would be the least disruptive. "Do you have a minute?"
"I do." He finished reading the report he had in his hand before giving her his full attention. "Shouldn't you be celebrating?"
"I was, but I have a job to do tomorrow, so I'm turning in early." He nodded at her good sense. "How did your meeting go the other day, you know, the one you went to looking like a wet Mabari?" He surprised her when he reclined back in his chair with a pleased look on his face, rather than the glare she received from him that day.
"The others advisors were so distracted, and possibly disgusted, by my appearance and smell they turned me out of the meeting saying they'd just send me the meeting notes. Apparently, all that was discussed was the treatment and complaints of our noble guests, so I should thank you for saving me from that tedium." He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin. "I'll have to try that again in the future." Evelyn stood there a bit dumbfounded.
"Well, then I suppose you're welcome. Never mind the guilt I've felt for the past two days." she laughed in spite of herself. Before continuing, she straightened her posture and took on a formal tone. "What I stopped in to say was that it has been an honor serving with you. Whatever happens tomorrow at the Conclave, I'll do my best to help the Divine. I'm not sure what will come after, but you can always count on my help." His expression softened to a point she had never seen it do as all the hard creases smoothed out.
"Thank you, Trevelyan." He looked as if he was going to say more, but the long pause was starting to get a bit too awkward for her. She gave a nod, but just before she turned he added in a raspy but coy voice, "You certainly were a pain in my arse. For some reason, I knew that the moment we met in the woods."
"Well, I did lie to you from the start, brought red lyrium into camp, posed as a healer…," he chucked at the ever-growing list of transgressions.
"You were a terrible healer, we would've figured it out eventually."
"Not if you kept running away like you did." She saw him blush at the memory. His hand went to the back of his neck to rub out some sudden stiffness. Not meaning to embarrass him, she quickly moved on, not wanting to linger satisfied with her goodbye. "Anyway, good luck with everything tomorrow, Commander."
"Good luck to us both."