Having left him only two days after returning to Skyhold from Halamshiral, Ryker stewed after emerging from the Herald's Rest. Sitting on a bench against the building in a fog of drink, he watched as some of the Inquisition's mages train in the yard as he had done back in Ostwick. It reminded him of the fateful day he first encountered the lovely Evelyn Trevelyan, forever changing his life. He hadn't been drunk then, as he was now, which allowed him to burn into memory every sinful detail of the beautiful abomination that would forever haunt him.
He remembered thinking how he could've missed such a creature roaming the halls of the tower, never having seen her before. Up until then, he had eyes for only the pure - Templar women - having never tasted the forbidden fruits of his charges. They were ugly, tainted by their magic and he believed to touch one would condemn him to the Void for eternity. As he watched this mage move and dance with fire before him something in his world shifted.
It may have been the look and tone of respect she gave to her Templar comrades or the way she responded quickly to their every instruction, but there he stood completely enraptured by a mage. She was physically resplendent, yet danger lurked beneath her bewitching façade. She was sin incarnate, a desire demon in human form luring him like a siren to his doom. When her session in the training yard was over, he took a chance as she was leaving and complimented her performance, to which her light brown eyes tried to meet his through the shadow of his helmet. Time slowed and his heart beat faster than it ever had before basking in her attention. She simply nodded and smiled gratefully before passing through the door back to the tower.
From that day on, he found out everything he could about her; her name, her background, what she was training to be, who her friends were, what she liked, her schedule, where her quarters were located - everything. He had friends in the Circle of Ostwick, many of whom owed him favors. He had done their dirty work, keeping watch for officers when needed, providing an alibi and he even held some whore mage down for a friend once as he fucked her. It was a lesson he quickly learned would benefit him and once he finally found something worth cashing in those accrued favors for, nothing would stop him from making her his.
Eventually, he found out everything possible about her, even going so far as standing watch outside her room. All the while, she had no idea who it was complimenting her, watching her. He had such plans for her and when he finally was able to get on a mission outside of the Circle with her, he knew this was his chance to finally confront her about his feelings. However, when he finally did one night after a successful mission, she rejected him with such insolence his rage took hold of him. After everything he had sacrificed for her, she dared to spurn him. His eagerness cost him dearly, as did underestimating the bitch who ruled his heart. He hated her for it. The tenderness which he once held for her turned into a need to help her repent for her wickedness.
Yet, here he sat in a fortress in which she owned, surrounded by people who served her. The nerve of this mage to believe she had any authority over the Maker's true and pure children. It was up to him to teach the abomination her place, to make her do penance for her sins so she could walk in His light. Whatever these members of the Inquisition had told her lied, she was no prophet of Andraste, holding her up as a puppet for their political gains, and even worse she had fallen for one. Clearly, Knight-Commander Rutherford saw what he saw and was using her for his own gains, why else would anyone want her? To be subject to her depravity, when he was the only one who truly loved her.
Evelyn's arrogance towards him had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he would have his revenge. Even before he came to Skyhold he had known she would push him to punish her, so he came prepared. Watching the mages train, one caught his eye. She was young, reminding him of the eighteen-year-old Trevelyan of his past - respectful, eager, wanting. Having no helmet and looking the fine lord that he was, he made eyes at her, and the slut she was enjoyed it. She was shy at first but grew bold with every tilt of his head, and smile, even as he grabbed himself while she watched biting her plump lower lip. It was too easy, and she would be perfect in helping him exact revenge on his beloved fiancée upon her return. Ice never did mix with fire.
***
The three weeks spent in the Western Approach flew by as she and her team worked to cross the items off of Ser Hawthorne's long list. It had been a much-needed break from the drama awaiting her at Skyhold, no doubt ready to suck her in like the Void. The deep resonance of the horn alerted everyone to her triumphant return and she and her team were greeted fervently by her people. Stepping off of Nelson and handing his reigns to a groom, she stretched and acknowledged her soldiers with a wave and smile. Somehow Evelyn had managed to bring half the desert back in her boots and armor. The metal was warped from being sandblasted and the shine had been sanded off the leather. Master Harriet had been in the courtyard to watch as she plunked her helmet off on the ground. She shrugged, and he trudged off towards the Underforge nodding, knowing it wouldn't be long until she'd be waltzing through his door to test his skill with a forge once again.
"I'm parched. Three weeks without a drop of alcohol has taken its toll. Care to join me, little sis?"
"Gladly."
"No greeting for your poor worried mother?" The two Trevelyans turned with pained looks as their mother held her arms out in a pitiful display of motherly affection. She hugged them both simultaneously as they craned their necks down awkwardly for her. Pushing them back to arm's length, Lady Bann Trevelyan had already come up with an agenda for her children, "Evelyn dear, you must go see Lord Armand immediately. The poor man has been neglected for long enough." She lowered her voice, nudging her coyly, "I don't care what you do, just give him some attention. He's been making eyes at the help."
She rolled her eyes, "I won't be doing anything with him, mother. You do realize that I could die at any time, right? From the mark, Venatori, Corypheus… maybe even Cassandra after making her suffer three weeks with Owayne." Pulling off her helm, the dusty Seeker rolled her eyes with a grunt, but as she passed, she and Owayne shared an odd stare. The youngest Trevelyan eyed her brother with suspicion, grumbling over to him, "Or maybe not?"
Having ignored most of what Evelyn said, as usual, her mother continued, "Must you talk like that? Look at what this appointment is doing to you! Your skin is tan and scarred, it used to be so even and youthful. I'm sure even your father would be aggrieved to see you like this, and your sisters would hardly recognize you!"
"You do know I'm almost thirty? I'm no child."
"Trust me, it shows." Evelyn retracted back insulted. "Now, in an effort to help, Lord Armand and I took a trip into the boutiques of Val Royeaux and he bought you several beautiful and expensive dresses, but now I fear you will look like a barbarian in them in your state!"
Seeing a glowing pulsing rising out of the collar of her armor, Owayne quickly hooked his sister's arm and led her away, "A pleasure seeing you as always, mother! She'll be more grateful for such gifts after a drink!"
Their mother made a disgusted huff, "So much like your father. Don't be long! The dinner bell will be sounding soon and I expect to see you in a dress!"
Away from everyone as she, Owayne, Bull, and Cassandra ascended the stairs to the Upper Courtyard towards the Herald's Rest, she mumbled to him, "I'm gonna fucking walk off the ramparts, you watch."
"Nah, you just need a drink. A little whiskey and you'll put on that dress and suck it up for one evening. How bad could it be?"
"Pff, how bad could it be? It's our mother and Lord Armand we're talking about."
"You barely say a word about the man the whole trip, yet when you do, you speak as if he's an old acquaintance. Is there something you're not telling me?"
"N-no, I only meant men like Armand are predictable." The small party found their usual reserved table in the back and drinks were immediately brought to them. As she gulped it down, she was curious as to why Cassandra had joined them, since she never had before. Typically, she went off to her quarters skipping the drinks, as Hawke and Stroud had done this time seemingly. Placing her cup down with a frown, she stared at the raven-haired warrior who seemed to know what was on her mind, "It's nice to have you with us this time, is there a particular reason?"
Unnerved slightly, the Seeker tried to regain her usual stoic demeanor, "I-- no, I simply wanted a drink. Is that such an odd thing?"
Evelyn hummed, tilting her head back and forth, "I suppose not. What do you think, Bull?"
Bull's smirk and eye lowered as if waiting to be asked, "I think--"
"Why is everyone being so critical of a woman just wanting a drink, for fuck's sake. Just leave her be Bull, or I'll tell my sister what you did with that cask of Chasind wine that apparently went missing."
The Qunari's eye flitted between the two Trevelyans, "I think I'll stay out of this one, boss." The Inquisitor pinched the bridge of her nose grumbling, "Did you pick that tick up from all the time you've spent with Cullen?"
"No!" She said more defensively than she wished. Cassandra hid a small smile behind her next sip, as Owayne now looked back and forth between them. It had been a long three weeks and she had forgotten about her sibling's perception as he scrutinized and asked about everything, claiming he was just trying to be a good big brother. The clang of the dinner bell sounded through the keep, saving her from a potentially awkward conversation. Especially when Owayne had insisted since the day he arrived in Haven that something was brewing between her and the Commander. Though the chime saved her for the moment, she banged her head down on the table with a drawn-out groan having been condemned to another form of torture. Shamelessly, she grabbed the nearly empty bottle off the table and carried it back to her quarters, uncaring of the looks she received from Skyhold's bystanders.
Placing the empty bottle down on a table in her quarters, she began discarding her beaten armor when she was startled by dark showy silhouettes standing in the corner of her room. There were five black dresses placed on dress forms. Black. She would've said the color choice was appropriate for her to be buried in as both her mother and Ryker were pushing her to an early grave, but they were completely inappropriate for a corpse, or anyone living for that matter. If the neckline didn't plunge to the waist or show the entirety of her chest, the back was completely missing down to her arse. Gapping at them, trying to pick one to wear was worse than getting tail-swatted by that High Dragon. She wondered what would happen if she torched all of them, but while it was a satisfying fantasy, she knew for the sake of Ilara one would have to be worn. Calling in her ladies, they quickly readied her as the second dinner bell rang. She would be late, but she was the Inquisitor; in Skyhold, time waited on her.
"Lady Inquisitor, would you like powder for…" she pointed to the ghastly scar on her left shoulder and then to the bruise from the dragon. It was a deep blotchy purple and brown that divided the pale expanse of her mid-back.
"No, thank you," the elven woman looked dubiously up at her. "I'm not ashamed of it, but I thank you for your concern." They shared a smile and the ladies filed out leaving her alone before the tall looking glass. From the front, it was a modest dress that hung slightly off the shoulders, but turning revealed the entirety of her back. The dress was hanging on to her by its tight long velvety sleeves as it had no straps or fabric whatsoever in the back. It was fitted to expose the length down to her dimples, draping on the curve of her bottom. In an attempt to cover anything she could, she had them only put half of her hair up, hoping its length would cover a portion of her back. She could also stand and sit with her back away from everyone so no one could see the sheer volume of skin she was boasting.
Making her way down the staircase to the door, she paused before facing whomever it was joining them at the table. While dinner in Skyhold had always been dressier than other meals, she never appeared in anything more than her green velveteen dress. Now, it seems that was about to change. At least Josephine would enjoy Skyhold dinners becoming a formal affair.
With her stomach protesting against the delay, having been on a horse most of the day, she smoothed down her dress and reminded herself to go straight to her seat. The latch to the door was obnoxiously loud, alerting everyone to her arrival. Seated at their usual long table - the first on the right out of her door - were most of her companions, advisors, her two family members, and the esteemed Lord Armand.
Rising from their seats, taking their cue from Lady Bann Trevelyan and Lord Armand, she quickly walked to her seat, "For Andraste's sake, sit down, all of you!" She motioned with her hands annoyed that they all went along with the two Marchers.
"Looking good, sis," Owayne smiled stupidly at her. Cassandra, surprisingly seated next to him, smacked him, though it wasn't as discreet as she probably hoped for.
"Shut it, Owayne," she grumbled trying to get comfortable in her chair, attempting to evade eye contact with everyone - especially one man in particular, seated as far away from her as possible. As a cold mountain draft crept up her back, it chilled her to the bone, having gotten used to the arid climate to the west. Cupping her hands, a small flame appeared that she stoked and snaked about her hands and fingers in an attempt to warm them.
"Evelyn dear, no magic at the table." A deadpan stare at her mother, followed by a sudden clap of her hands, snuffing the flames made the aging matron jump. "Really, Evelyn! It's a wonder how these people put up with you!"
"The same can be said of you," she mumbled under her breath, hiding her mouth with her wine glass. Unfortunately, the two people she couldn't stand the most sat to either side of her, she being at the head of the table. Next to her mother was the Ambassador and Leliana, and next to Ryker was her brother. At the far end of the table were Cassandra, Varric, Ilara, Leliana, Dorian, and Cullen. At this rate, she would rather sit at the other end of the table and allow Cullen to just spitefully stare at her all night, though he seemed content with ignoring her existence at present. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying the show or awkwardly sipping their wine.
"Lord Armand was telling us of his trip to the Val Royeaux boutiques, we are looking forward to seeing what he bought you," Josephine and Leliana nodded along with polite smiles. Ryker gave her a pointed look no one could see, reminding her of her obligation to pretend she was enjoying their engagement.
"It was very kind of him to think of me, though I fear there will be little occasion for me to wear such fine pieces here at home."
"Nonsense," he chimed in, "dinner is enough of a reason. Do you not think the other nobles may like a more formal atmosphere? The Lady Ambassador is working so hard to create a culture here in the mountains, perhaps seeing you in more attire fitting your station would help her cause?" Josie beamed politely, ever the gracious host and naïve to his true purpose.
She bit the inside of her lip trying not to snarl, "How insightful, I will bear it in mind, my lord."
"We never did get a proper look at your dress, Inquisitor. Would you do us the honors?" Halfway through a large sip of wine, she parted with the glass to give him a dead stare. There were a few agreements from the others, but it was the far end of the table to which her gaze flickered to briefly. Cullen was distracted by something in the opposite direction, but Ilara was giving her a sour face indicating the current mood down there.
"Dinner is about to be served, surely--" Ryker eyes intensified, as he white-knuckled a knife, "very well." She stood, the whole time listening to her mother hound her about her posture. She smoothed down her dress again, flipping all of her hair back over her shoulders and turning slightly from side to side before going to sit again.
"Do a full turn for us, dear," she may not be able to exhibit her annoyance at Ryker, but she could at her mother, huffing with growl.
Begrudgingly, she turned showcasing the expanse of her back. Though she was far from it, she felt naked as she felt phantom eyes roam about her form. As her long hair did its job of hiding her injuries, Lady Trevelyan stood brushing it off to the side. Her latest scar was still a shade of dark pink over top of the original tear. There were a few wincing sounds made at her grotesque bruise, which felt tight and sore as she focused on it. Her face flushed and realizing they had enough time to gawk, she flopped back down in her seat. To her dismay, her distressed eyes met with those of the Commander who quickly turned away. The first course arrived and was placed in front of everyone simultaneously, however, the brief reprieve did not stop her mother from continuing her complaining.
Lady Trevelyan huffed, "I told those servants specifically to use the power and clay I bought you. I will be having a talk with those disobedient wretches come morning!"
"No," her voice was a low growl. "I was the one who refused it. The typical response from a worried mother, as you said earlier, would be 'are you alright, dear?'" Her raptor glare burned deep into her, "My scars and bruises I bear proudly in the service of the people of Thedas. Just because you take issue with it, mother, doesn't mean others do." In an attempt to smooth Ryker's hackles, she asked his opinion on it.
"As ugly as those particular injuries are, I find no issue with them, Lady Inquisitor." Of course, he wouldn't, though he'd rather them be from his hands.
"Would you like me to…" Ilara's voice was hardly audible from the other end of the table, but Evelyn shook her head with a heartfelt smile.
"Hawke was able to mend the ribs after it happened. For as often as you're injured, you'd think you'd know some healing magic," Owayne shook his head while she shrugged over at him.
"Yes, it's a good thing he was there, with the updates your mother and I received on your condition, one would think you'd rather die than marry me." Lady Trevelyan laughed obnoxiously along with Lord Armand, though his was a laugh with an edge to it. An uneasy silence settled over the table as if everyone, was too afraid to talk, including Varric who was jotting down something on a piece of parchment, giving her a wink once he finished. She wondered if it was a new bet or if he was planning to write a comedy based on her family.
After some silence as the first course was cleared, and the second placed, conversation began up again. "Commander," at hearing her mother say his title, Evelyn immediately perked up, looking at him with dread.
"Yes, ma'am." He continued eating eyeing both the Trevelyan women.
"My eldest son, Lord Hector just raved about your talents. So, why is it my daughter comes back more beaten and battered than the last? Is it not your job to see to her protection?" Owayne immediately reacted with a huff and roll of his eyes. Cullen froze for a second, putting down his fork and wiping his mouth with his linen to answer, but the Inquisitor was on her like lightning.
She held a hand out to Cullen, stopping him from troubling himself any further, "Andraste preserve me, mother! It's not the Commander's fault! Do you think he ordered me to attack the High Dragon? No! In fact, most of the time he's telling me not to do something so reckless and I simply don't listen!" Beside herself at her mother's brazen attack, she sat back slumping in her seat shaking her head.
As Lord Armand went to speak, he kicked her shin hard in warning and jealousy, "I not sure why you're so upset with your mother, my lady, she simply is concerned for your safety," his false concern may have fooled the others, but she knew what game he was playing. He'd play the middle and pit her mother against Cullen. "Surely, something more could be done?"
"Nothing will be done, because there is nothing that isn't being done already to ensure my safety."
"If I may address Lady Trevelyan's concerns, Inquisitor," came a commanding voice from the opposite end of the table. "Ma'am, I assure you everything within conventional means to protect your daughter is being done. But we do not face a conventional enemy. Our enemy has the ability to tear open the veil, destroying all life as we know it. I could lead all the armies of Thedas against Corypheus and I would never defeat him without the Inquisitor. Her training and experience as a Knight-Enchanter have served her well, and while I do counsel caution when action is expected, she is more than capable of felling her enemies. I have and will endeavor to provide her with whatever support she needs, as I'm sure everyone at this table will as well." There were nods of agreement all around.
"She has my eyes," Leliana added.
"And my voice." Josephine smiled at her. Suddenly, she felt unworthy of her friends as guilt welled up in her.
She squeaked out a thank you to them, as it had definitively ended her mother's questioning, finally allowing them all to resume eating. While pouring gravy into the center of her plate, her mind drifted to her time in South Reach and she absently locked eyes with the Commander. He stopped chewing, eyeing what she was doing, but she was too far away in her memories to notice. "Evelyn!" The shrill of her mother's voice could call her back from the most remote places of the Fade, "You've all but drowned the poor bird!" She glanced over to Armand, "She'd done this since she was little. The girl has a talent for making the most seasoned cook cry." Her gaze flicked up again to Cullen, who had lost himself in the same memory it seemed. Coming to, he almost smiled at her, but another hard kick to her shin from her right made her break away from him regrettably. If this was how every night was to carry on, she wanted no part of it.
Unfortunately, the following four nights had gone similar to the first, in which everyone, not just herself, became weary of. For the sake of her friends, she tried to be as patient as possible, especially with her mother, but she could only endure it for so long. Varric and the others began taking bets on how long she'd last, and while it was laughable for them, for Evelyn it was mentally straining and exhausting.
Soon, her friends began sitting somewhere else and the nobility moved into their places. Even her brother had abandoned her to suffer their endless prattling. Her mother finally broke her down and she allowed the servants to hide her offending scars and paint her face, though she only allowed concealing powder for her scars, lip stain, and charcoal for her eyes. She supposed the cosmetics did wonders for however dead she felt inside, those who now surrounded her seemed to think otherwise.