The next day the whole team met in the War Room to discuss their time in the Western Approach and their newest adversary, Lord Livius Erimond. Dorian in particular was outraged that it was one of his fellow countrymen orchestrating the corruption of the Grey Warden mages. At the ritual site, Erimond had been binding the Wardens to summoned demons. Once bound, they were subject to his control. With an army of demons being created to crush southern Thedas, a large-scale confrontation loomed in the near future. Orlais was still too weak after the civil war, still trying to recall its armies from the Exalted Plains to be of any help. All hope rested on the Inquisition to stop this growing army of demons from heralding in the dark future Evelyn had seen at Redcliffe.
"Are our mages in danger of such corruption?" The Commander asked the question but didn't look up from moving troops about the map.
"No, Erimond had them cast a spell. It was only afterward that he used his magic to bind them. He was however able to control my mark as Corypheus had. Who knows how many more know how to do it."
"Control how?" Leliana crossed her arms.
"At Haven, Corypheus had tried to remove the anchor and the magic he used was incredibly painful. Erimond certainly isn't as strong as his master, but he was still able to make my hand feel heavy. So heavy, that I couldn't lift it. I went straight on the ground, but that was the worst of it."
"How did your mark react to it?" Cullen stood tall, placing his hands on the pommel of his sword.
"It sparked but he couldn't control it, nor could the Elder One for that matter."
The next month would be spent readying the men, finding siege equipment, and gathering allies together for the assault on Adamant Fortress. It would be the first large-scale battle for the Inquisition and its Commander, but Evelyn had every faith in him to be victorious. She would endeavor not to become a personal distraction for him. And having time to think while away from the toxic atmosphere clouding every corner of Skyhold, she had a plan to rid herself of one of her own distractions.
Following the meeting, she lingered behind to speak to Josephine, "May I have a word, Ambassador?" With a wave of her wrist, she guided her over to her desk. "I wish to give my mother some incentive to leave Skyhold, but I'll need your assistance."
"Yes, I have noticed the strain she has put you under of late."
"She is an unnecessary distraction, especially now with the upcoming battle. I can't have her disrupting the running of Skyhold. This is a fortress, not a castle." If she could rid Ryker of his biggest supporter, perhaps it would make him nervous, reckless even. "I remembered my mother telling me that my sister Ariella's marriage to Lord Phineas Trumbull of Tantervale was called off due to my supposed involvement in the rebellion in Ostwick. While the arrangement was one of business, the two fell madly in love. If we could reconcile with him, it could be enough to reunite them. Then my mother would have a reason to leave for home to prepare for her marriage and leave me alone."
"I will write to Lord Trumbull with all haste. I had heard through gossip that he was entertaining other proposals, but if they were in love, as you say, an explanation and perhaps blessings on their union from the Herald of Andraste herself would be enough for him to pursue their former arrangement. I hear he is a very pious man."
"Excellent," for once Evelyn smiled genuinely at having some hope that soon she'd be rid of the meddlesome woman, though to be fair she had no idea of Ryker's scheme. She simply wanted her children to live comfortably while strengthening the family, even if she drove certain members of that family insane. "Thank you, Josie. I appreciate you taking care of this, though it's a Trevelyan problem."
She sighed with a polite smile, "Evelyn, if I may, I'm worried for you. Since your mother and Lord Armand have joined us, matters seem to weigh more heavily on you. If I can make the burden lighter I will, both as your Ambassador and friend."
A shallow pool of tears formed in her eyes, causing her to clear her throat, "I, um, thank you. I have work to do." Quick as she could, the Inquisitor left before too many more questions were asked. She knew that wouldn't be the first or last time someone would ask after her, and she chastised herself for not being stronger, succumbing to tears. She'd need to be more careful in the future, especially if Ryker's spies were watching. Suddenly, the problem of her mother seemed minor compared to the supposed network he had within her own people. Stopping short before the door to her quarters in the Great Hall, she nimbly turned on her heel and headed for the shrine of Andraste to pray - a lot.
***
After the fifth night of watching her degrade herself for the sake of family duty, Cullen stopped eating in the hall. In fact, he began to skip dinner altogether. His stomach churned constantly as if he were crossing the Waking Sea again. Memories of that time were enough to disturb his mind, but between not sleeping and his nausea the hauntings of his past bled into the present. It was easier to hide the hallucinations in this office, but with the majority of his time spent outside of Skyhold on the new training grounds they cleared in a nearby forest, it was more difficult.
A hot rush of nausea would make his ears burn, followed by the distant sounds of whichever memory his mind chose to take him to. All he could do was brace himself until it passed, trying to focus on one thing in his present reality to anchor him. Most of the time, it was soldiers, another time it was the coin in his pocket, but on one rare occasion, it had been the Inquisitor. Her back was to him, but it was her hair that drew him in. Though she was at home, she had braided it for battle, having most likely come from the training herself to observe his progress. His vision narrowed and blurred, but the blond and chestnut of her hair shining in the sun shone brightly.
Through the explosion of the Chantry to his right, the bodies flying before his eyes, the mages and Templars killing each other before him, he still fixated on her hair swaying slightly as she shifted her weight. Evelyn was engulfed in the morass yet she stood watching something calmly, ignoring all else. What is she watching, try and remember? What were you doing before this? His mind was blank, but he fought to stay in control. He took the vision apart one sense at a time, inhaling deeply the strong scent of pine. There were no pines in the middle of the city. The hand on his blade's pommel squeezed tighter trying not to instinctively react as the ghosts charged right through him with weapons drawn. When the Inquisitor turned walking back toward him, she was nearly run through by Meredith Stannard, who had just charged into the fray. The Knight-Commander stopped to recite a speech he tried to forget as she declared the mages hostile, ordering him to kill them on sight. Pointing seamlessly to where Evelyn had stopped, crossing her arms in defiance of the command, her mark flared and she raised it to flex her fingers, taunting the Templar with the otherworldly magic. As the reenactment continued, he was slowly coming to, remembering that the women existed in two different narratives - his past and present.
Blinking, the landscape of the mountains returned in time to address the Inquisitor, "Commander, I have something that may make your day a bit brighter." She held up a letter with a broken Trevelyan seal, "My father is sending his company of cavalry down to assist us. He's confident in your ability to properly utilize this asset after Hector gave such a glowing account of your ability." He didn't say a word, swallowing a few times to wet his dry throat before clearing it. The woman was perceptive, her eagle eyes catching every one of his movements, every one of his efforts to shake the visions. When she took a step closer, studying him brazenly, he straightened. Having not said anything, she deflated, simply nodding her head and passing him the letter before walking on.
"Inquisitor, Commander, a moment," Cassandra jogged her way over to them, "Some of our mages have requested the services of a Mortalitasi for training. They've been asking for some time, and are becoming agitated over the issue not being addressed."
Evelyn stared blankly at them, "And you take issue with this?"
With Meredith's claws deep in the back of his thoughts, it was easy for him to formulate a reply, "Yes, necromancy is one step below blood magic. They would be practicing on the dead! Are we to start collecting the bodies of our fallen soldiers for them to use as cadavers?"
"What if we sent them to Nevarr to learn, where the school is accepted? Not only would they be assisting real Mortalitasi, but they would learn the culture behind it. Gain a healthy respect for it."
"These are southern mages we speak of, mages who have been sheltered, given an ounce of freedom to which they have taken full advantage. Isn't it bad enough we have several mages, yourself and Solas included, studying rift magic here in Skyhold? A force we barely understand, that we have left our Templars to figure out on their own at risk of their own lives. Must we now desecrate our dead for a school that has been forbidden in the Circles?"
Cassandra nodded her head, "I agree with the Commander. My uncle is a Mortalitasi, there is nothing to be gained by our mages learning it. The magic they practice is for rituals, not battle."
"Dorian uses it in battle. You've had no issue with him wielding it."
"He is from Tevinter where the attitude towards magic is more liberal."
"Our mages are like horses that have lived in a pen all their lives. Open the gate to freedom and they run in every direction without thinking." Old wounds were surfacing the more his past was dredged up. He was losing himself in the shifting timelines unsure of what was true.
"You're comparing us to animals?" Evelyn's whole countenance began to morph into something completely hostile. Her lip began to curl up into a snarl and her nose crinkled at the brow as she faced him looking as if she'd hit him.
He scoffed, meeting her stance, "No, I'm simply saying that there is no good reason to sanction this. The safety concerns associated with it alone should be enough to deny this request. Not to mention the issues our Templars would have with it. They and the mages have only just begun to trust each other, this would complicate matters right before a major offensive."
"Right, because we "animals" lack the intelligence and decency to know right from wrong. We don't deserve your full trust having never been given the opportunity as has been recently granted to us by circumstance to explore knowledge in a safe environment."
Cassandra jumped to his defense, "The Commander was not insinuating we cannot trust our mages, simply that without the proper screening as to who wishes to learn necromancy, we can't be sure of their true intentions behind such a request."
The Inquisitor rubbed her fingers in thought across her chin and mouth, "And what would you say if I said I wished to learn necromancy?" The Seeker went to respond, but Evelyn held a finger up, "I'm asking the Commander."
His eyes narrowed at seeing the corner she was backing him into, "I did not mean for you to take this personally."
"No, you didn't, but neither am I an exception to such opinions just because I'm the Inquisitor. I'm still a mage and one who will be thrown back into a Circle when this is through. To be a caged creature on display with my marked hand, provided it doesn't kill me first." Both he and Cassandra frowned, unused to her hearing her speak about the mark, at least aloud. Aware of the effect her comment had, she tried to dispel the effect of her words with a wave of her hand, "I am well aware of the flaws people see in mages and of the fear which the Chantry has used to control public opinion against magic. I thought the Inquisition was to be better, do better than the Chantry?"
"The safety of our people and security of our base is my chief responsibility. It is my professional opinion that this request be denied on the grounds that it jeopardizes it due to lack of experience in the Templars we have to relegate it and the personnel issues it would cause. The majority of our soldiers are from Ferelden - and if we're making it personal, you can count me in that group as well - who will take offense to the dead being used in such a way. This could lead to conflict between them and the mages, all on account of you wanting to placate a small minority. It is unacceptable!"
He was right of course, she knew it and he knew she agreed. So why was she arguing with him? Now was not the time for a cultural revolution, not when their survival was still at stake. Back in full command of his mind, he stared at her intensely watching her resolve waver. She was fighting some internal battle of her own, one of their talks and their bond typically helped sort through, but alone, things were muddled. Evelyn was fighting everything and everyone lately, herself included.
She smoothed her hackles back down with a mental sake, wiping a hand down her tired face, "You're right, my apologies. The request is denied." Her voice lost all its bravado, "If you'd excuse me, I'm expected back." The two lingered watching her walk away, but a sharp stab of pain in his temple broke their silence.
"Are you alright?"
He sighed, feeling the pounding of a headache threatening to take him from his duties, "It's a headache, nothing more."
"Cullen, do not lie to me. I'm not the Inquisitor, there's no need to pretend if something is seriously wrong."
He rolled his eyes scowling at her, "Fine, yes, I have not been well. It's been worse since-- Dorian has been monitoring it, but I fear he's only treating the symptoms to make it manageable."
"Come, I think Rylen has the training under control. If we will be forced to confront the Wardens at Adamant, we'll need you at your best." The two began the short trek back across the bridge to the fortress and up to his office. "I know things have not been easy for you regarding the situation between the Inquisitor and Lord Armand." He groaned at her chosen topic, "You both have not been the same since."
He wiped a hand down his face, the pain clouding his better judgment, "I knew something like this would happen and still I--" He stopped up on the ramparts next to his office door looking out towards the training he abandoned.
"Her heart is clearly not in it--"
"That's not the problem," he growled having not meant to, rubbing his temples, "I trusted her, I let her in, let her see every dark corner of my mind and for what? The more light she brought to the dark, the easier the walls came down until... Then to be tossed aside in the name of family obligation."
Having found him downtrodden after the events in Kirkwall, Cassandra knew a bit more than others as to the darkness he spoke of. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Talk to Owayne," he craned his neck over squinting against the pain, "he is convinced Evelyn is caught up in something. Perhaps the two of you, knowing her best, can figure it out. She has become distant to even me of late, I'm worried for her."
"Maker's breath, I'm not about to come between her and Lord Armand. She made her decision very clear."
"That's your choice, but if you truly care for her, maybe make sure all is what it seems. In the meantime, I will try to keep her focused on the mission." Leaving him to consider her words, he closed his eyes trying to ignore the throbbing as it progressively worsened. Despite trying to lie to himself, he still cared for Evelyn as much as he ever did. It slumbered within him like embrium in the winter before the thaw of spring. Buried beneath layers of stubbornness, scars, and old habits hiding the seed from everyone including himself, but the light from her flame was too strong at times. It burned through his defenses touching the seed rooted within his chest. Having been planted there long before even he had become aware, for the roots ran deep. The night after the destruction of Haven when he had carried her up the mountain half-dead, he knew he was in trouble; that the Phoenix had gotten her talons in him.
Part of him wanted to mourn the loss, but the stronger rational part pointed him to his duty. It reminded him of who he was and his responsibilities. She was not the only person in Thedas who mattered; he had family, friends, and subordinates who counted on him to see them through the coming fight. How many of them had families praying for their safe return? He held their lives in his hands with the power to decide their fate, albeit indirectly. The trust and repour he created with his troops was vital for their success. Regardless of the reason he had their trust, be it his experience or his former rank within the Order, he could not fall to pieces over a broken heart - a condition that did not physically affect him. Whatever his inner struggle he needed to forget it and soldier on. If his men could do it, he could do it, and he needed to do it better - the best even.
He wouldn't talk to Owayne, as Cassandra suggested, he hadn't a reason to without admitting to him more than he'd like about the nature of his relationship with his sister. If the need arose he would, but not now when she was clearing just suffering as he was. If he could endure it, so could she.