The sun's gentle rays peeked through the gaps in Evelyn's humble home, caressing her face as she stirred from her slumber. With a soft yawn, she found herself nestled in a cozy pile of furs on the wooden floor, which served as her makeshift bed. As she blinked away the last traces of sleep, an unexpected jolt of uncertainty coursed through her.
For as long as she could remember, her life had been governed by a comforting routine. Mornings were always predictable, each day following a familiar pattern that provided a sense of stability. However, this morning was different. Without a plan, a purpose, or even a clear direction, Evelyn faced the challenge of embracing the unknown. Her mind grappled with the unsettling notion that she had no idea what the day held for her. The absence of certainty seemed like an insurmountable void, threatening to overwhelm her.
In moments like these, she had always relied on her title, her role in the community, to guide her through the day. Yet now, she found herself stripped of any such identifiers. There was no official position, no prescribed duties. She was merely Evelyn, and that left her feeling adrift in the vast ocean of possibilities.
As she sat there, the weight of loneliness seemed to bear down upon her. She had no family to turn to, no close confidants to seek counsel from. The lack of familiar faces and comforting relationships magnified the feeling of being lost. Recognizing the danger of succumbing to despair, Evelyn took a deep breath and steadied herself. "One thing at a time," she whispered, trying to anchor herself in the present moment. She supposed getting dressed was first, followed by a walk down to the stream to wash up and bring back water for the day. Then she could find something to eat and… then what? Train? Stroll the village? Work on the hut? Fulfill the prophecy before the midday meal? She groaned inwardly at the thought.
Where would she even start? She knew very little about the situation aside from the major highlights of the past year: failing crops, little game and no births. Her knowledge of nature was limited to herbs and the uses of alchemical ingredients. She was no farmer or hunter. And fertility issues among their women? She wasn't a healer either! This had to be some joke the Maker playing on her.
A headache began to throb in her head and it made her remember Ilara's offer to meet with the healers. Perhaps she'd try getting to know their mages - her own kind - first before trying to fit in with the rest of the Avvar. The fair-haired woman did mention that there was another Lowlander among the mages that she should meet. Sensing that was the best course of action, she readied herself, choosing to wear one of the clean dresses Dhara had given her since her other clothes were nowhere near as warm. She strapped her staff on her back and concealed her spirit blade hilt within her long dress on her right leg.
Although she saved the village from burning, her attempt to escape had earned her the wrath of much of the clan for insulting them and their hospitality. Her reception as she walked through the bustling village was met by anything from awe to looks of disgust. She wondered at how many followed the Thane's lead watching and taking their cues from him regarding her. Hopefully, she'd be able to avoid him today after successfully doing so for the week since the impromptu meeting with the spirits.
There was nothing special about the mages' hut aside from the building radiating with magical energies. Reaching for the door, it suddenly opened, "Phoenix! We we've been expecting ye, come in!" Ilara politely took her hand and guided her in. The building was larger than she expected with a number of small recovery rooms. A wall was dedicated to dried and preserved herbs and alchemical ingredients. The alchemy equipment was surprisingly updated with the latest flasks, tools and burners. An impressive stock of potions sat in an opened cupboard as her interruption had stopped whoever had been taking its inventory. Lastly, there was a small bookshelf fit to bursting with well-worn tomes, though nowhere near enough for proper research or reading on alchemy or magic. "I assume ye come with questions, go on, don't hold back!"
"How many mages live in the Hold?"
"Only a few with two of the older children showing signs, but they have yet to come into it. You've actually met all but one, and he came to us already trained as you have. Unlike in the north, we don't breed mages as quickly as they seem to do." She gave her a questioning look to continue, "Our gifts come from the gods and are guided by the Hold Spirits. They keep the number of mages manageable." She was a bit skeptical that it was due to their gods, but she was trying to remain open-minded.
"How do you protect yourselves from magic if you have no Templars?"
"The Hold Spirits are our protection. When we are learning to control our abilities, they assist us through possession, guiding and teaching us. Almost all mages are taught the healing arts, there are very few who take the path of violence, such as yerself. That kind of primal magic is considered dangerous."
This was a shocking revelation. Never in her studies had the like even been entertained. Possession by spirits or demons was considered to be the worst thing to befall a mage. "What of demons? Is this possession dangerous?"
"No, the Hold Spirits protect all of our clan from harmful spirits and demons. You are protected as well so long as you're within the walls. Out in the wilds, it becomes harder for them to exert themselves since their power comes from the heart of the Hold; the ethereal fire of the Augur's Hut." She sat in quiet awe trying to merge her Circle knowledge with this new information. Ilara must've seen a great deal of effort being put into her train of thought and gave her a moment as she took to stocking the cabinet again.
"Now I have even more questions," she said shaking her head utterly speechless.
The healer gave a laugh, "All in due time, Evelyn."
"Evelyn is it? Here I thought we'd all just refer to her as that pesky squawking bird that doesn't know when to die." She raised her eyebrows looking at the man who stepped through from one of the other rooms. He had been with the Thane the night of her attempted escape, eyeing her suspiciously. She remembered thinking that he looked out of place and now she knew why…
"You must be--"
"Dorian of House Pavus, formerly of Minrathos," he had dramatic flair to his speech which matched his neatly groomed dark hair and mustache.
"Tevinter? Rather far from home, aren't we?"
"I could say the same of you Marcher." She blinked a few times at him, "Oh, don't give me that look, the backwater accent is a dead giveaway." She chortled at the remark.
"It seems that an Avvar god has brought me here, so how is it that you have come to be in this place?"
"Oh, you know, family drama. As heir, I didn't live up to expectations and then ran as far away as possible to the ass end of Thedas." Ilara gave him a pointed look, and he smiled with an air of arrogance back at her, "The south is so charming and rustic, I adore it to little pieces."
"Not to mention you're surrounded by large meaty warriors that few dare to cross. What more could a mage on the run want?"
His steely eyes brightened with mischief, "You catch on quick. I knew there was something clever about you when I first saw you antagonizing our poor Thane."
"He started it."
"I'll reserve judgment for now. As stubborn as he can be, Cullen is a dear friend." His tone softened and the sarcasm which seemed to be ever present faded for a moment. It seemed the Thane had even won the respect of someone as cynical as Dorian, yet he gave her nothing but trouble.
"I must be doing something wrong then, I'm pretty sure he hates me."
"Maybe, my dear, you should stop fighting him about matters you don't fully understand for starters." He quirked an eyebrow at her, "He is Thane and did not just inherit it like us nobility. Speaking of which, I have an ancestor who was a Trevelyan. We're practically family."
She wasn't sure how to react, "That's… great." It sounded more like a question. "Dorian, if I may ask, how did you come to find your place among the Avvar?"
"Simple, be like them," she quirked an eyebrow up hoping to get more than that from him, "You want to be an Avvar, act like an Avvar. They are actually a very accepting people, so long as you assimilate to a degree they will view it as respectful to their ways. And don't offend their gods, they hate that."
"It's truly as simple as that?" She was having a hard time believing that if she picked up some of their mannerisms and customs they'd stop seeing her as a Lowlander.
"Naturally, everyone like to be flattered, and what's more flattering than that? You want to win over the people? Hearts and minds, you know all that dribble but don't know where to start, do what I did," he paused clearly for effect, "drink."
"Drink?"
"Go to the Mead Hall and drink for a full evening. As people get well into their cups they'll find their balls and approach you. And that's when you hit them with…" he scrutinized her, "well, you hit them with whatever you southern mages do. And maybe some charm if you have it." She looked at him skeptically, but realized she really had nothing better to do with her time, so what was the harm?
***
Taking Dorian's advice, she spent the evening at the Mead Hall. It felt odd just going to drink alone but the Tevinter mage's cockiness convinced her that he probably knew what he was talking about. The mood of the hall was as lively as ever as she made her way through the crowd to the bar. Looks of curiosity followed her along with whispers. Before approaching the bar, she stopped at the fire pit to warm herself. It had been a cold and brisk walk from her home, which was nearly on the opposite side of the Hold. Even if the dress she wore was warm, it was no match for the chill of the evening air, having no other cloak or mantle of her own.
Resuming her walk to the bar, she navigated through a dense sea of Avvar, who with their heavy furs, felt more like pawing her way through a bear's den. Standing at the counter she watched and listened to the interactions between the natives hoping to learn something. As she observed them, she couldn't help it when her mind drifted to her profound loneliness watching them happily greet each other with embraces and hardy pats on the shoulder. Stirring her from her thoughts, the bartender informed her that her drinks were on the house so long as she put things right before the spring when their bees came out of hibernation. Looking at him with surprise, all she could do was promise she was working on it. Good, another reason to drink.
Taking her tankard and moving to an inconspicuous corner of the hall, she sat waiting to see if anyone would be brave enough to approach her. Almost immediately, the woman whom she had found to be striking from the last time she was there, brazenly approached her.
"Phoenix, may I join you?" Her voice was forcefully sweet, causing Evelyn to absently gesture for her to sit. Her large pale green eyes studied her curiously as she settled onto the bench. "May I say, you are quite the beauty, you must've had all the men wrapped around your finger from your village. Which was…?"
"Oh, um, Ostwick. It's in the Free Marches across the Waking Sea." Her expressive eyes tried to hide the fact that she had no idea what she was talking about. "It's north of here."
"Ah, well regardless you're a Lowander. It doesn't matter where from out of the Basin you come from, you're all Lowlanders to us." She wasn't sure how to respond despite her honeyed voice. Was it an insult or was she just stating fact? By the expression on her face, she was led to believe it leaned toward the former. Evelyn took a slow sip keeping her eyes trained on the woman.
"And what exactly do your people think of Lowlanders?" There was an underlying tension to her words, as she was not about to be bullied by this woman.
"Nothing good usually. That you're weak, petty and without honor." They looked at each other hard for a few moments before the woman broke out into an airy laugh. "I however do not think such things," she held out her hand, "my name is Aysel, it is good to meet you Phoenix." Still weary of her intentions, Evelyn hesitantly exchanged names reaching for her hand and gripping it firmly. "Strong you are, that's good, it'll help you survive here."
Eyeing the woman suspiciously she couldn't help but ask, "And how is it you survive here?" Though her face conveyed nothing but curiosity, her tone was cautious.
Aysel balked slightly, taken back by the question, "Why by my womanly wits. I think even a Lowlander such as yourself could agree all men are fools in need of guidance from a woman. You see," she leaned across the table, "I have the right men wrapped around my finger. I want for nothing. Even the Thane pays me attention."
She couldn't help but laugh, "Then you have nothing to fear from me, I need no man. I rely on my own strength to see me through any obstacle."
The pale-eyed beauty sat back considering her words, "You say that, yet you command the attention of the menfolk. I've heard of the games Lowlanders like to play, so I wonder if you speak the truth or if there's a game afoot." Her eyes narrowed on The Phoenix who still sat there seemingly unaffected by the passive-aggressive manner of the Avvar woman. "You should know that you're not the only one who can command their attention."
"If you're such an expert then why am I such a threat to you?" Evelyn was no stranger to confrontation. Between trouble with a certain Templar and disgruntled members of the populace who feared mages, she often had to defend herself. As she grew older and more accustomed to adversity, it bothered her less and less, though that wasn't necessarily a good thing. Since the woman had decided to assume she was after the men of the clan with zero decorum, Evelyn wasn't to take kindly to her bullying regardless of the fact that for once it was due to her being a foreigner and not a mage.
She scoffed, "Winter has only just begun. We will see if you have what it takes. Best watch your back Lowlander." Leaving ominously, she merely bowed her head in farewell before disappearing into the crowd.
With the evening already off to a rocky start, she began drinking in earnest. She had faced demons in the fade, dangerous apostates and an abusive Templar, she wasn't about to be frightened by a woman claiming to be the belle of the village. The grip on her cup tightened the more she stewed over the interaction, she was not going to let these people get the better of her, not when they were the ones needing her.
"Well, well, what brings you here tonight, lass?" The thick accent of Rylen halted her dark train of thought. Looking up, she found he was not alone, having the illustrious Thane by his side looking quite put off by having to be in her presence. After a heavy sigh at his friend engaging her in conversation, she noticed him looking about. Spotting her every-present guard, he nodded to him and seemed more at ease that she had not ditched him. In fact, she was becoming so accustomed to having someone follow her, she hardly noticed anymore. It also helped that they never questioned where she was going or what she was doing, they just kept a watchful eye trained on her.
"Well, at the suggestion of your Tevinter mage, I'm sitting here alone to look approachable, so your people can get to know me." They looked at her as if she was mad. She bit the inside of her lip suddenly self-conscious, "It sounds more pathetic than it is, I assure you."
He turned to Rylen giving his arm a friendly nudge, "See she wants to be left alone."
"Well, actually that's the opposite of what I want, though if you left me alone I wouldn't mind it one bit!" He scowled grumbling about her being insufferable as he went to leave, but Rylen caught his arm. The Master of the Hunt may not be quite as big as the Thane, but he was close. He had a prominent nose and dark brown hair. Paired with his steely eyes, she surmised that he must look ferocious when angered. Of her encounters with him, however, he always seemed to be in a cheery mood compared to his friend.
Rylen gave both of them a look before yanking Cullen down to sit. "I have some questions if ye don't mind me askin'?" She raised her eyebrows and sat back taking a long sip bracing herself. "So, what did a mage such as yerself do where yer from?"
She was surprised at his reasonable question, "I'm a-- well, I was a Knight-Enchanter. It's like a battle mage. There aren't many because the Chantry wouldn't want mages who know how to fight rising up in rebellion. Each Circle boasts a handful of Knight-Enchanters to aid the Templars in hunting escaped mages or apostates. In times of great turmoil, we are sent into battle."
"And what was it that what ye were doin' in the Basin?"
"Myself and the Templars I was with were protecting a group of scholars who wanted to study the plants of the Frostback Basin." She paused, her brows drawing down into a dark look, "That was before they were needlessly slaughtered."
"I told you," Cullen matched her expression, "that was Thane Axlan alone. We had no intention of starting a fight, Templars or no."
His expression lightened to sincerity for once as he finished his statement. She searched the faces of both men and allowed herself to give them the benefit of the doubt, not wanting to anger any more Avvar tonight. "Believe it or not, I do believe you. Despite everything, many of your people have been kind to me, especially Rosalie." She flicked her gaze over to the Thane knowing he was bound to react to her name. He blinked slowly and the muscles of his face relaxed at the thought of his sister. "Maker, even the barkeep said all my drinks were on the house!"
Looking over the men's shoulders she spied Aysel attempting to watch her discreetly. She was chatting with some mixed company all the while straining an eye over to observe her. As the evening went on, she found herself in an engaging conversation with the two men all the while Aysel mingled and watched. They asked her a series of questions aimed at her role as Knight-Enchanter and life in the Circle. All the while she stayed clear of speaking of Templars and her sorted past with one in particular.
After a few more tankards of mead, she finally had to ask, "So, what the deal with Aysel?" Rylen seemed taken off guard glancing over to the Thane who choked on his drink. "Oh that's rich, don't tell me you two," pointing back and forth between them sloppily as the drink was taking its toll on her, "are the men she claims to possess?" Though she was amused, the others looked as if it was a touchy subject.
"She was Branson's former wife." Cullen didn't look up from his tankard, making his answer echo within it.
Having lost her filter, she didn't feel at all shy asking about what happened. "And? Oh, come on, tell me! You've been asking me personal questions all night."
Cullen looked away mumbling something that sounded like a prayer for strength to his gods while Rylen sighed, "While she was married to Bran, she was trying to seduce Cullen." Both men looked at her sheepishly, as she blurted out a laugh.
"Sorry, sorry," she couldn't help it, "I just can't imagine anyone wanting to seduce you!"
Cullen's face turned to a scowl, "That's not the point. It was wrong of her to do so while still bound to him. Makes me wonder if that was her plan all along."
Rylen sipped and hummed in agreement, "Aye, they lived under your roof, what better way to get to you."
"Well, if the daggers she's staring over at me with is any indication that she still has her sights set on you, I would say she hasn't given up yet." The man in question straightened and for a moment she was afraid he was going to turn around, though thankfully he didn't. "Us Lowlanders don't take kindly to that kind of backstabbing either if it's of any comfort. Before you two joined me, she tried to intimidate me saying she had the men here under her thumb. That I needed to watch my back as if I was a threat to her."
"Did she now?" That dark look was back, and even Rylen's brow had dropped.
Evelyn waved a hand trying to ease the tension, "Please, it'll take more than her to fluster me. I've been dealing with her type all my life, it's nothing new. I'm of Marcher nobility, where I'm from this kind of thing is a daily occurrence."
"Even so, I don't like my people being set against each other. It's bad enough Wolf-Fang Hold is threatening war, I don't need her dividing the people against you. Not when the Spirits have made it very clear that our survival depends on you." For a moment his words had a sobering effect as she thought back to that night. She sat back and looked around her at his people. After living among them now for several weeks she knew their life was a hard one having to work and scrape for everything they had. They as a people relied on each other and even though conflict was inevitable in human society, he didn't need her purposely orchestrating it.
Then it hit her, she leaned forward on the table smiling up playfully at a very confused Thane. She feigned a warm familiarity which was easy as held back a laugh watching his eyes try not to settle on her until he couldn't take it any longer, "What in Korth's name are you doing woman?"
"I'm helping you, that's what I'm doing." He looked at her as if she was mad. Without changing her expression, she decided some explaining was in order, "You want her to stop causing discord among your people, then let me draw all her attention to me. I assure you, I'm well equipped to handle anything she tries to throw at me."
"That still doesn't solve the problem."
"No, not until I fulfill this prophecy it won't. Think about it," Having drawn enough of Aysel's attention to now see that she was moving closer to them, she took on her usual countenance. "She'll probably spread some nasty rumors about me and whatnot, but as soon as I perform my first miracle - somehow - her words will be discredited. She'll be fighting an uphill battle without realizing it. It's rather simple isn't it?" The two exchanged glances while mulling over her words.
The Thane let out a big sigh, "I don't want any part in it, just leave me out of it."
"That's the beauty of it, you don't have to do a thing. Let all the insecurities of her mind do the work."
Rylen gave her a smug look, "The wench does deserve it Cullen. Maybe it'll get her to leave you alone. There's already talk of her becoming the next Lady of the Hold."
"That's absurd, I'd never--," he cut himself off when his gaze fell on the Phoenix clearly not wanting to discuss himself.
"Can I ask you something, Rutherford?"
"Excuse me?"
She looked befuddled for a second, "Your surname is Rutherford, is it not?"
"It is, but that's not how you should be addressing me."
She rolled her eyes smiling, "Nah, I'm gonna call you Rutherford."
"I think you've had enough to drink," he grabbed for her cup, but somehow, she was quicker.
"Uh, uh," wagging a finger at him coyly, "this is on the house, pay for your own drink Rutherford."
"Stop calling me that!" Rylen chugged the rest of his tankard watching his friend quietly laughing. "You're--"
"Insufferable, yupp I heard you before when you said it," she paused as a mischievous smile broke out on her face, "Rutherford!" He growled and reached for her cup again, but she held her hand out fending him off until she downed the rest of it laughing the whole time. For as large and intimidating as he was physically, he was flustered rather easily. Finishing her drink, she flipped the cup over to him as she stood rounding the table to stand between them resting an arm on each of their shoulders, "Rylen, have a wonderful rest of your night," they shared a knowing smile before she turned to the Thane, "you too, Rutherford." Before he could argue she quick-stepped it towards the exit, listening to Rylen bellow at his friend's expanse.
To her surprise, however, the Thane wasn't done with her shenanigans, and a firm hand gripped her upper arm as they walked out of the hall. "Where's your mantle or cloak?"
Not happy at being jostled around by him after stepping out into the night, she tried to pull herself free, "Let go, and I don't have one. I wasn't allowed to go back to my camp and gather my things remember? This," yanking her arm away with force before smoothing out the dress she wore, "is the warmest thing I have. And before you ask, no, my magic does not keep me from freezing."
He grumbled, "Then take mine. You can give it back to me once you get one of your own." She stopped resisting, letting him pull it around her. The rush of heat having come right off his body, fought off the chill of the night making her realize how cold it actually had become. The heavy material smelled as if recently washed with notes of oakmoss and elderflower. She bundled it up around her before thanking him shyly. Why was being nice to him so hard? The two stood there just looking at each other awkwardly for a moment, "What, all out of wit and humor now?"
"Ah ha, see I knew you'd like being called Rutherford!" He rolled her eyes at her teasing before heading back inside muttering in Avvish. She remained outside for a moment hugging his mantle to her watching him disappear through the open doors of the hall. The silhouette of Aysel suddenly appeared blocking her view of him. The woman's hair flicked back and forth and when Evelyn realized what she was looking at, she adverted her gaze pretending not to notice her. She turned and began slowly walking away giving the mantle a shake for good measure, knowing now exactly what had caught Aysel's attention. That wasn't planned but that's certainly one way to ruin her night, she laughed to herself.
As she stumbled her way back through the dark, she began to think she was taking Aysel's threat too seriously. Maybe it was the mead that had made her act rashly, but then she remembered the looks of the men when she had told them what she said. Not to mention the fact that the woman had no qualms about infidelity right under her husband's nose, and with his brother no less. Her gut was screaming at her that she was up to no good, though the seriousness of it remained unknown. She knew from her time in the Circle how one maleificar could turn the minds of good mages. She didn't blame Cullen for being weary about dividing his people's opinion, but when it came to her it was already polarized so there was no harm in it. If she could figure out this prophecy then she could give the people something to unite behind and they'd ignore Aysel and her slander. Of course, making an enemy wasn't a smart thing to do in her position, but at least that enemy was no longer the Thane. She hoped.
***
The following morning, Rosalie stopped by entirely too early to fit her for a mid-length fur cloak. It took her about an hour to make having to only sew the fur and wool together with a large needle then made slits in the wool for her arms. Evelyn watched her work as they chatted, endeavoring to commit to memory, despite a hangover, how she did it in case she ever had the need to make her own. Though simply made, it would be warm and provide her the ability to still move about with ease.
"Thank you, Rosalie, this was unexpected, but I'm grateful for it." She rubbed some of the lingering sleep from her eyes.
"We watch out for our own. And I know better than most you haven't exactly felt welcome. I hope if you feel troubled that you can talk to me without my brother having to know." A small twitch at the corner of her lip made her look uncharacteristically mischievous, "I certainly keep a few secrets from him. Harmless ones." Evelyn raised an eyebrow at her and the two shared a knowing smile. Having two older brothers herself she knew the kinds of secrets she meant.
Another knock at her door distracted her before she could become haunted by memories of her family. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see the Thane himself standing there. He balked at her confused state and looked around her at his sister.
"Sorry, forgot to mention he'd be by." She shook out the cloak inspecting it closely for missed stitches. "Try this on, let's see if it fits." Unlike her brother's appearance in the early hour, Evelyn was not surprised that it fit perfectly. Rosalie was certainly a skilled seamstress, and she assumed it was she who made the smart clothing the Rutherfords boasted. The petite blond looked over her work with satisfaction as they stepped out into the cold to test it against the bitter wind.
"This is much better than that worn wool wrap, how can I ever thank you?"
Smiling cheerfully with a shrug of her shoulders she replied, "I'm sure I'll think of something." They looked at her suspiciously as she all but skipped away back towards the village, leaving her alone with the Thane.
"Should I be worried?"
"No, she's harmless." A faint glimmer of his fondness for her made the corners of his eyes crinkle. "I see Ros was able to rouse you." He had a slightly smug smirk on his face as the realization dawned on her groggy mind.
"Ah, so you were the one who sent her over so bloody early. Don't be so pleased with yourself, I'm not as hungover as you might think," she lied and he just grunted in response. She looked at the frame he carried under his arms, "What's that you have? A new cage for me?"
"You insult me. If I was making a cage for a firebird, it would not be made of wood." It was her turn to huff. "No, this is your new bed."
"You came up here yourself to deliver it to me? I feel like there are more important things for a Thane to be doing."
He shrugged, "Taking care of my people comes first, and you, whether you like it or not, are my responsibility."
"But I'm not really one of them, right?" Looking him over skeptically she stepped aside and gestured him in out of the cold.
The rough door to her hut shut hard behind them as the harsh winter wind pushed them inside. With a wave of her hand, she stoked the fire coaxing its warmth out into the room. He watched her cautiously unused to having a mage with her abilities in his Hold. Walking up to the fire to warm her hands, a thin wisp of flame licked out caressing her hands, warming her to the bone. The Thane watched enraptured and she held a hand out to him, gesturing for his hands. Hesitantly he put them out in front of him and watched the flame circle his hands. She gauged his reaction to it carefully in case he wasn't comfortable with it, but a small lift of his eyebrows told her otherwise. After another moment she whisked the flame away and drew down the fire as they began to thaw.
"You know, if it weren't for Kitsa I'd be long gone by now."
He scoffed, "You wouldn't have made it through the pass out of the Basin without supplies or the proper clothing at this time of year. I would have found you whining and begging for me to bring you back to the Hold."
"That's how you see it then? Me acting like a child and running away? Have you not for one moment stopped to wonder what this has been like for me?" Reaching into the hearth, she took a piece of leather from the roughly hewn mantle. With the assistance of the leather, she grabbed the small crane arm that held the pot of warm broth above the fire. Fetching two mugs, she poured them both a cup. He joined her over by the fire, taking a mug and looking down at her over his ridged cheekbones. The heat and smell of the broth brought them both to a level of comfort of speaking plainly. She held the mug up to her lips, inhaling the steamy savory scent. He sipped it with satisfactory slurps while leaning one hand on the mantle.
"I get that your interests lie with the Hold, I do. But I've been held here against my will due to this prophecy while my life fell to pieces without an ounce of sympathy, specifically from you. I'll never see my family or friends again. My whole life before coming here is gone. I'm still grieving." He listened quietly to her, slowly bringing himself to face her. "I'm angry, confused, lonely, frustrated, scared and feel my life has no purpose." Her eyes began to tear up, but the dam held for now. "I am-- was a Knight-Enchanter, as you know. Now I'm nothing. Am I to accept that this is what the Maker had in store for me? To become Avvar and forsake my old life without a fight? It must seem a simple decision for you, but you don't know me or what my life has been like. It would've been a mercy if I made it to the pass only to die." His eyes snapped to her with what was anger at first, as if how dare she choose death over becoming an Avvar, but softened perhaps in understanding.
"I - I hadn't made myself consider the sacrifices you have been forced to make. It's not our way, to question such things. Life is ever-changing as the seasons or the phases of the moon, we adapt to whatever change brings or we perish."
"But it's not my way. You've been conditioned for this life, it's your culture, but it's not mine. I'm not saying one way of life is better than the other, but you cannot expect me after living one way for 29 years to just assimilate into yours without resistance. All I wanted from the beginning was some kind of compromise or something, but you refused to even consider it."
He took a long deep breath mulling over her words, "You're right. I'm sorry. And I know now it's too late to make amends." He hung his head, and she felt a relief wash over her that he could in fact be reasonable.
"I'm not trying to fight you on everything, despite how it may seem, it's the frustration of having no control over my life. I suppose as the one in charge I've been taking it out on you."
"I suppose I do deserve some of it," he leaned over to her and she flicked her eyes over to him in agreeance. "From this moment forward, I will do better to help you adjust and understand our culture. This I swear to you." He put a hand to his heart and the glimmer in his golden eyes seemed genuine. She wanted to believe it and hoped in the days to come he would prove that to her.
"You'll have the truth from me as well, which you may end up regretting," both gave a small laugh, "But I promise to try to be worthy of the title Phoenix. I should really get started on this whole prophecy thing shouldn't I?"
"I personally wouldn't mind if you did, it'd make my job a lot easier." He gave that small private smile again, and she couldn't help but mimic it.
"Yeah, I bet. If you were in my place, where would you start?"
"Hmm, I suppose I would look outside the Hold for signs from the gods."
She raised her eyebrows, "Does that mean I have your permission to go out and look for these signs?"
He scoffed smugly, "Only if that's what you're truly going to do. And not alone. What about your Maker?"
"Why don't we see whose god answers first?"
For a moment the humor was gone and he shook his head gravely, "You're Maker doesn't live here, not in the Basin." She stared at him for a minute as she was struck with odd feelings. The first was the fear and sorrow at being abandoned in a strange land by her god. The next was a firey defiance unwilling to believe it to be true and lastly, curiosity. Ever since talking with the Hold Spirits and mages, her traditional views of magic and religion had been put into question. Who would answer her prayers for guidance? Seeing the thoughtful glimmer in her eyes, Cullen's expression softened, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to sound so barbaric."
"No, it's alright." She continued to look at him thoughtfully as she placed a hand over her heart, "To be honest, my faith has been shaken of late because of everything that's happened." A heaviness settled on her features at hearing the confession aloud. Before the sir of awkwardness could spoil their conversation, she endeavored to end it, "Thank you for the bed, Rutherford." Though she invoked remembrance of the night before, her words were nowhere near as jovial. "Oh, and for the mantle." She strode to the other side of the room and tossed the borrowed garment over to him.
He huffed, "You're not going to let that go, are you?" She tilted her head back at him solemnly shaking it, a small ghost of a smile pulling at her mouth. He sighed and walked out into the cold shaking his head.
Evelyn watched the fire. Despite feeling hopelessly abandoned by the Maker, she felt less burdened by the gravity of her situation than she had in weeks. With her and the Thane's relationship on the mend, her mood was lighter. She hated having to constantly avoid him, having done the same with Ser Aeron in the Circle. It was the kind of stress that wore on a person, always having the itch that someone was watching you. If one good thing came out of all this, it was that Ser Aeron was likely rotting in the Void for eternity thanks to the Avvar.
***
At the Thane's suggestion, she accompanied Dhara and a handful of warriors out into the Basin to gather what they could from the barren land. The snow was thick and deep, and if it was not for the warm full-line boots she pulled from the mysterious chest, her feet would have been frozen. While the air was cold, the wind grew still and the clouds readied themselves to snow yet again. The men and women in their party had red cheeks and noses, but not one seemed the slightest bit uncomfortable as they hunted for winter's bounty.
As they walked, Evelyn kept a keen eye about for signs from the Avvar gods but didn't see anything that stood out as peculiar. During one quick stop, she even prayed silently to the Maker, but as Cullen said, it seemed He and his bride were absent from this uncivilized corner of Thedas. Great, no gods. Looks like I'm on my--
A large black raven suddenly swooped down nearly missing her head. Stepping back to dodge it, she relayed her apologies to the hunter whose foot she stepped on as Dhara eyed her cautiously before following the bird.
She stopped before descending down the thick tree root in her pursuit, "I would've thought birds would take more of a likin' to you Phoenix, seein' that yer kin. Shall we see where it's leading us?" She gestured for her to go first, and while still skeptical that their gods had anything to do with it, slipped down further into the forest.
The raven led them to an area that was clearly a perfect breeding ground for fungi under a thick canopy of trees. As they collected various mushrooms and other plants, the plucky mage pointed out a number of species of fauna Evelyn had never seen before that had survived the frost down in the swamp. The two conversed back and forth filling their sacks when she came across a flower nested behind some nettle. Reaching into the mire, she pulled the odd blossom out for inspection. Having not seen another bloom of any kind the whole day, not to mention it being winter, she stupidly ignored the potential for danger.
"What's this one?" Her tone was steeped in suspicion, regarding the flower as if it were a hostile creature.
In a panicked response, Dhara's eyes widened, and she attempted to warn Evelyn, "Wait, no!"
However, it was too late. With an almost malevolent grace, the flower released a cloud of thick, yellow pollen that exploded into Evelyn's face. Caught by surprise, she could do nothing but inhale the noxious powder as it invaded her every orifice. Her hand swatted at the air in a futile attempt to fend off the onslaught, while her eyes squeezed shut and her lungs involuntarily coughed in response to the strange substance.
Remarkably, the pollen didn't burn her lungs, but its effects were immediate. A wave of wooziness washed over her, similar to the disorientation of being belligerently drunk. Struggling to keep her senses, Evelyn blinked several times through her suddenly blurry vision. She found herself on her hands and knees, supported only by the soft forest floor, while Dhara's voice sounded distant and frantic. Despite the mage's efforts to comfort Evelyn, her words were lost in the haze that enveloped her mind. As her consciousness wavered, everything faded into blackness.