[WARNING: Assault and mild implications of rape]
***
Stepping through the brush to join Cullen, Cassandra, Rylen and Dorian, her face was one of serene calm despite the dramatic outburst. It was a chapter of her life to put behind her for good - no more Chantry, Circle or Templars. "I'm ready," she stood directly in front of the man whom she would soon call husband waiting for the humiliation to begin.
He massaged the back of his neck sheepishly, "Typically, the bride doesn't make it this easy, even if she surrendered," even though it was their closest friends around them, he still kept his voice low.
She sighed heavily matching his volume, "Well, I'm rather sore from all this fighting and the last time I threw a punch at you things got a bit out of hand, so no, I won't be fighting you anymore today. Let's just get this over with." She held her arms out waiting, and he swiftly bent and threw her over his shoulder. The mage grunted as his thick arm held her firm against him, swaying along as he chose a brisk pace for their journey back.
An hour into their journey home, she observed the three trailing them exchanging suspicious looks, "Is this amusing or did you make a wager on the outcome and win?"
"Both," Rylen chuckled, making her lean an elbow on the Thane's back and collapsing her head in her palm somberly.
"I for one am happy to not only have you back among us, but as the future Lady of the Hold," Cassandra's words were jovial, yet her usual monotone did not reflect it. It seemed more of a reprimand to the others snickering away. "We need you now more than ever since Thane Axlan has just started a war."
"Aye, openly attacking us like that can only mean it's finally here." The Master of the Hunt ruffled his dark brown hair in thought, "I'll put our scouts on alert."
"And I'll begin to conduct regular patrols around the Hold," the Lead Warrior added.
"Will this affect our meetings with the other Thanes?" War or not, she still had the prophecy to contend with. With the matter of her marriage settled, regardless of not being happy about the outcome, she felt she had more clarity about her other problems. It was as if she was lost in the fog of confusion being pulled in too many directions at once. The path forward was now revealed allowing her mind to concentrate on her mission.
"It will not make things easy," Cullen grumbled. "Let's hope for now his focus remains on us and not the other holds."
"Could you not create an alliance with the others against him? Surely, your combined strength would deter violence?" It seemed a simple solution, at least to her.
"War is part of our way of life. Hakkon would release his wrath upon us if we attempted such a thing."
"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Cullen huffed at her opinion and jostled her purposely making her elbow slip. When she regained her grip on him, she jabbed the elbow harder into his back, resuming her previous pose.
"Lady preserve me, Trevelyan, what is that smell, is that… is it your feet?"
"My boots are old, dirty and wet, what do you expect? I'm sorry I'm not a prim and proper flower to adorn your side. Better get used to it," she huffed from her perch upon his shoulder. "You're no breath of fresh air yourself. I smell," she craned her head over towards the back of his head, "man sweat, burnt leather and maybe a hint of wet dog."
"If you recall, we were just in battle."
"Exactly, I don't know why you're complaining, I'm not."
"Your feet are in my face."
"Well, you insisted upon carrying me like this. I'm afraid taking my boots off would only make things worse."
He made a disgusted sound, "When we get home, you're burning those boots. They are not coming into my house."
She rolled her eyes, though he couldn't see it, "Isn't it our house now?"
"Not until were wed. Until then, you abide by my word."
"Fine, well regardless, they are Antivian leather, I hope you plan on replacing them! They are very expensive."
"Our leather will do just fine, possibly stink less when exposed to your sweaty feet."
Rylen, Cassandra and Dorian all chuckled as they prattled on and on. "As I said before, you two certainly have the bickering down of an old wedded couple," Dorian elicited unamused stares from the pair.
As the walls of Redhold began to rise in the distance, Cullen stopped squeezing her thigh, "It's seen as favorable if the stolen bride puts up a fight while being carried in."
With a sigh, she propped herself up on her elbows, "Don't worry, I'll make it look good. You just may not like it." He turned his head sharply over to her, and though she could only see part of his face it was a look of deep concern, making her smirk mischievously. "What's the matter, Rutherford? Lost your nerve?"
"No, I just don't want my pants burnt off in front of the clan."
She gave a deep chuckle, as he resumed his path forward, "Despite the allure of embarrassing you so, I feel that may reflect badly on me. I'll keep my magic to myself." His words from the previous night echoed in her head, My wife needs to be strong and respectable. You do not possess a single desirable trait to make an ideal Lady of the Hold, all you have to recommend you is the prophecy. Never in her life had Evelyn ever been 'bad' at anything. Whatever challenge came her way, her unyielding will to overcome and master it had always won out. For instance, she was not skilled in the art of healing, yet, in her classes in the Circle, she had completed the course with good marks. She still wasn't the best healer and chose to leave that art to others more adept in the field, but she could do it. This was no different.
"I'd appreciate it. If it's of any consequence, you gave me a nasty burn on my side. Dorian said it'll scar."
"Did I?" Her voice and head both perked up, "I suppose it does." A firm smack on the rear had her squirming around to curse at him when she saw the entire Hold at the gates before them. The performance had begun, even if it wasn't entirely fake.
Passing through the gates she struggled moderately, but as soon as they were in the thick of the crowd, she bent her leg so her stinky boot was pressed to his face. Now he squirmed, and as he did, she rolled off of him. Even though her body felt as if she had been trampled by one of her father's Rangers, she hit the ground running. Her attempt caused the spectators to go wild, especially when she mowed over the three trailing just behind the Thane. The four tussled about in a pile of limbs, Cassandra grumbling, Rylen laughing and Dorian cursing - especially as a fifth body was added. Naturally, Cullen's long powerful strides had him tackling her almost instantly. Keeping her limbs controlled, he crawled up her onto the ground holding her legs. Bringing the two of them up on their knees while restraining her arms, she cast a weakened mind blast back at him knocking him flat on his back a few paces away.
The crowd was blocking the gates, so she ran further into the Hold, not wanting to go back out in the woods anyway. When she was clear of most of the onlookers, she encircled herself in a wall of fire, catching her breath. When he caught up to her, he slowed to a stop outside of her barrier. Crossing her arms and jutting a hip out, she looked at him in direct challenge, inviting him to try and cross the tall flames. With a hidden gesture behind her back, she snapped a barrier around him. From before, Evelyn knew he would recognize the feel of the protective shield without giving away the trick to the spectators - except for maybe the mages.
Having caught on, he boldly stepped through the wall of fire while she tried on her best shocked impression. Grappling with her once more, the flames ceased and he carried her to his longhouse without further delay. Kicking open the doors, he tossed her in and turned back to the crowd making a point to slam the doors behind them.
At last in the quiet of her new home, she fell back on the ground where he had thrown her with a deep breath. She could still hear the roar of the clan outside in congratulations, but it went wholly ignored in favor of the crackle of the fire. No matter where she was, fire always felt like home for her. Her muscles felt heavy from being beaten around, and she arched her back up squeezing her eyes shut at the pain.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"You didn't, no." She slowly sat up looking around at her new home for the foreseeable future. Losing herself in thought, her eyes roamed over every space and object trying to become familiar with it. The more she studied his home, the more she realized everything had a purpose, nothing was placed or hung with sentimentality. Before she could ponder the fact too deeply, the burning question came to mind, "So, what exactly do they think we're doing in here?" When he looked back at her with a sheepish look and cleared his throat, that was sufficient enough.
"It's probably best if we rest in my bedroom for the time being, n-not doing anything, j-just resting."
His squirming was slightly endearing, "Fine, I could use a nap anyway." With a stiff groan, she stood making her way into the bedroom with him.
Inside everything was neatly arranged for a single man's room. It almost reminded her of the drilled organization that soldiers have. Again, the room was very spartan making her think it was purposely so. Having Rosalie in residence she would've thought there would be some homey touches, but clearly the Thane had no patience for it.
As she sat beside the fire, an odd line of thought came to the forefront of her mind. Soon her belongings, though few, would be in here. There would be a second armor stand with her set beside his. Her staff and spirit blade would join his arsenal on the weapons rack. The table with the water would display her toiletries and hair brush. Despite signs of it being her home would it feel like such, or would she just feel like a trespasser?
"You can rest on the bed, I'll take the floor."
She reached out to her longtime companion with a finger, letting the flames wrap around her hands to stave off the chill. "I think I'd like to get some of this blood off of me first." She could still taste the iron on her lips of the first wolf she gutted with her own split lip. He hummed in agreement, forgetting himself that he was also stained by the violence that eventually won him the day.
Using the same basin of water that she had just been musing on, she warmed it with a touch - to which he commented would be a handy skill to have around the house now - they dipped rags in washing all the skin that the armor failed to cover. When the water had been thoroughly dirtied and their outerwear was discarded to be cleaned later, they settled down for a rest. She insisted on laying on the floor, not comfortable with the idea of being in his bed yet.
As strange as it was, there was a finality about it. One day she would be sleeping there, but today was not it. She yawned, remembering she had woken up at dawn after a long night of festivities of various kinds. A nap suddenly became a much-needed luxury while time allowed. Her keen hearing was still picking up the murmurs of the crowd outside, who no doubt believed the two were amid hearty lovemaking, not lazily lounging about. Closing her eyes and succumbing to the weight of her eyelids, she slipped into the Fade with ease, happy to put her problems to rest for a few hours.
***
A jolt startled her from her slumber. The jerk of her upper body being seized was disorienting as her groggy vision tried to focus on the room. The atmosphere was suffocating as stone walls with but one narrow slit of a window letting in pale moonlight surrounded her. Swaying about not of her own volition, her hands reached out to steady herself, finding stability on the cold metal armor of the person in front of her. Their arms entangled together, but the relief was replaced by nauseating fear when a set of dead eyes met hers.
A scream came up in her throat, but it was silenced by a punch that was just hard enough to quell the sound but not choke her. The man was efficient, and he knew what he was doing after several times now. The first had been risky, having been so desperate to have her, he had not thought about how she'd fight back as scrawny as she was. The second assault was just that, too rough, too violent to properly sate him using her limp form. Each of the following times, he improved to the point where there was cold calculation in each adapted move.
"Good evening, my pet. Let's not have any yelling, tonight is a special night. I wanted to congratulate you on becoming a Knight-Enchanter." Through the haze of her mind, she could've sworn she had been one already. He held her firm against the worn stone of the wall, but she was able to turn her head to view herself in the looking glass of her dressing table. She was skinnier than usual, seemingly lacking much of her muscle which was evident as she struggled unsuccessfully against the Templar. Her signature scars on her lower left cheek and nose were gone, making her skin appear youthful and inexperienced.
He chastised her, "When I'm speaking to you, Evelyn, you are to look at me. Do I need to get the belt?"
"N-no, no..."
"No, what?" He growled in her face.
"No, Ser Aeron," her voice shook but not from the blow.
He backed away, but only by a few inches, "Never forget what you are and who you serve. You may think this new rank of yours will free you from me, but it won't. Remember that you'll always come back here to this tower, to me. Who knows, perhaps all that traveling will cause you to miss me, the whore that you are." She closed her eyes feeling her nightgown slipping up past her hips. "Look at me!" Her eyes snapped open and his chapped lips met hers painfully. A slimy tongue threatened to gag her, feeling as if she had eaten a slug. Ryker pulled away abruptly holding her by the hair, "Not even death can keep me from you."
She looked down seeing the killing blow he was dealt, but she couldn't remember who did it. As the blood ebbed from him, it coated her as well, soaking into her skin like a sponge. He used the bunched fabric of her nightgown to staunch it, but it was futile.
"Now look what you've done," he backhanded her, then smashed her head against the wall. The familiar sound of her silk nightclothes being torn echoed through the room. His blunt nails bit into her arms as he ripped it off her. The mage cried and screamed, hoping someone would hear her, but no one ever did. "He can't save you." She knew he meant someone specific, but who? Who killed him? She tried to concentrate and ignore what he was doing to her. Faint images flashed through her mind, like hazy memories, and seeing this, he grabbed the back of her neck throwing her down on the ground and she landed in a puddle of his blood. It was familiar. A dark wintry forest blinked about before embedding them in its memory.
"Don't you dare fight me!" Aeron roared at her, pulling a dagger. Around them she heard a conversation and a woman calling out for help, the first name began with an 'R' but she could make out the rest it was so weak. The next name she heard, was a women's, 'Cassandra.' The voice she now recognized as her own, hearing it with more clarity that time. Shadows surrounded them, reenacting the memory they were listening to. Aeron's face was red, contorted in rage, and headed for her with the knife in hand.
As the shadow of herself joined with her when she too fell, they called out together in unison, "CULLEN!" A large shadow with golden glowing eyes appeared heralding in a blinding light. The figure banished the hostile shadows before them one by one. Before its aura could overtake them, Aeron grabbed her throat trying to stop her cries of help. Her throat closed and she gasped for breath feeling the life slowly leaving her. She felt her arms slip away from struggling against him looking up into the fading void. When the light finally reached her, she felt it engulf her with a rush of warmth.
Each blink Evelyn took gradually brought the waking world into focus as the light dissipated, though the golden eyes were blazing brilliantly before her. Her eyes which had rolled back into her skull fought to right themselves. As the fog receded, she found Cullen holding her with a hand on her face and the other wrapped around her. His mouth was moving to the rhythm of the word 'breathe,' even if she couldn't hear it. When her heart slowed, she pushed away from him needing air and space, trying to compose herself.
"Hakkon's breath, Trevelyan! You weren't breathing!"
"I gathered that," she replied breathlessly. The two sat back against the bed staring off. "Thank you. I'm glad I did it with you here and not Rosalie. No need to have her fretting after both of us."
"Is it because of today? Seeing him?" There was no need to utter his name. Even though she had obliterated him off the face of Thedas, part of him still lived in her head. Evelyn simply nodded. Having told him of her past trauma, it was clear he had put the pieces together of what her night terror was about. Minutes passed as they both sat there lost in the darkness that resided in their minds. Thinking about the trauma inflicted upon them, though not as the victims, but as the survivors. To be a survivor, something needs to be sacrificed, and for Evelyn, it was her virginity; her innocence; her choice. She had no idea though what Cullen had been through, but she wasn't about to ask, not now.
She ran a hand through her hair, "What a pair you and I make. Do the gods like playing jokes? Putting the two of us together is certainly that."
He chuckled, "I hope so, otherwise that'd mean this is serious."
"We certainly can't have that," she smiled mischievously at him, "you don't seem the Prince Charming-type."
"The who?"
"In the Lowlands, Prince Charming, from stories, always sweeps the fair maiden off her feet, falling madly in love with each other," she sweetened her voice and dramatically batted her eyes at him, then rolled them returning to her usual tone. "You've certainly swept me off my feet, but I think I hit the ground a bit too hard each time to think you were trying to make me fall for you."
"I did warn you."
"You did," they laughed quietly together, trying to distract themselves from the darkness within. "I never said I didn't deserve it."
He stood and stretched his lower back. It was odd seeing him in a shirt and pants with bare feet. He almost seemed human to her and not the dreaded Thane of Redhold, the same man who gutted several men a mere hour or so ago. Even more so when his untamed hair fought back against his tight control of it. She supposed she'd be seeing a lot of it soon, though his looks weren't entirely an unwelcome sight. "Are you hungry? It must be near supper time by now."
She followed his lead, indeed feeling a rumble in her gut, but before they could go through the door, she had one question to ask, "Cullen, this whole marriage thing, it's not keeping you from someone you truly care for is it?" Though there had been no proof up until now, if Rosalie could keep hers secret, what was to say he couldn't either?
His eyes drew down sadly, "No, she died years ago."
"I'm sorry. Some of the others had told me you were married before. I didn't mean to pry."
"You were bound to find out soon anyway, but I don't wish to speak of it. It's…"
She shook her head sympathetically, "No, it's alright. I didn't mean for you to right now. Come on, let's get that food, I'm starving."
For the remainder of the evening, they sat around nursing their wounds and sating their appetites talking of the battle. Bran, Ros and Rylen had joined them for supper once they believed their traditional lovemaking was completed, no one seemly made uncomfortable by it either. Bran had fetched all the belongings Evelyn had piled outside her hut before she torched it, which now sat in a heap to the side in the main room to be sorted. Rylen recounted the story of Evelyn stalking his good friend in the tree line, with periodic interruptions from the couple arguing as to who would've won if Axlan hadn't attacked.
It was agreed that a rematch was needed, despite the day's outcome, more for bragging rights if anything. Evelyn couldn't help but be somewhat relieved that she was staying regardless of the terms. Leaving Redhold was a huge risk, one she knew deep in her heart she wasn't prepared for. She was safe with a roof over her head and food warming her belly - and with him. She had friends, one who cared enough to drag her out even for her birthday weeks ago. Dhara was insistent upon learning pyromancy from her, and Ros had hugged her too many times to count this evening happy to be gaining another sister.
She and Cullen were not ideal, that they could agree on. In some ways they were too much alike; stubborn, independent, protective, duty-driven and competitive to no end. Both had left their youth scared, yet carried on, waking up with each new day and putting one foot in front of the other. In a way, this was a new start with a new path laid before her. Here, she wasn't defined as being a filthy mage, but the Phoenix and soon-to-be Lady of the Hold. Both titles held power and with that power, freedom and responsibility. The Thane had said he had no faith in her to uphold the position, but she would try. Besides, their arrangement would be temporary. Perhaps the sooner she fulfilled the prophecy the sooner they could part ways preferably amiably.
One thing was certain, she was to become an Avvar and an Avvar she would stay.