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Why does Skyhold have so many stairs? Evelyn wondered as she dragged herself up the flights leading from Dennet’s stables to the battlements. Haven was a dump, but at least it was relatively level. It had been an exhausting ride back from the Exalted Plains. The temperature and elevation changes had made her horse skittish, so Evelyn had spent the majority of the day trying not to be unseated. As a very inexperienced and fearful rider, she had not been successful and was thrown twice. Evelyn had gotten a barrier up in time for the first fall, but the second happened so fast that she had hit the frozen ground hard. Each step she took just reinforced the need for her to become a better horseman. I’ll just pencil in equitation lessons between fighting darkspawn magisters and hordes of demons. What’s one more thing? she thought ruefully.
Glancing down at herself, Evelyn pondered whether it was the best idea to visit Cullen immediately after her return. She was covered in sweat, mud, and demon ichor. Checking her hair, Evelyn felt that her braids had become loose. She knew the cold, dry air would mean that the loose strands would be a frizzy mess. So I look and smell like an electrocuted pig... attractive. But vanity wouldn’t stop her, Evelyn needed to see him. Her worries about his addiction and insecurities about their relationship had become nearly unbearable during the weeklong trip back to Skyhold. When she was fighting in the Dales, she had been too busy or sapped to think about more than survival and her team. On the ride back, however, she had plenty of time to work herself into a frenzied knot of concern and doubt.
When she reached his office, Evelyn found Cullen surrounded by his senior officers listening to their reports. He didn’t notice her immediately, but one of his men did, shooting to attention and saluting her with a brisk, “Inquisitor!” Cullen turned toward her eagerly. His well-rested face held a mixture of relief and warmth that immediately silenced the cacophony of anxiety and self-doubt that had been assaulting Evelyn. Nodding to acknowledge her soldiers, Evelyn broke into a wide smile and asked, “Commander, a moment, please?”
If anyone questioned why Varric called the Inquisitor “Bright Eyes,” they would have known in that moment the nickname’s origin Cullen thought. Evelyn smiled often and easily - not the forced social smile people gave to be polite, but a genuine one that animated her entire face. Evelyn’s smile extended well past her mouth -her already high cheekbones would lift upward making fine wrinkles around her eyes while her nose crinkled slightly. And her eyes ... her eyes just twinkled and sparked with joy. The effect was disarming and infectious. Even dour people like Adan and Threnn would begin to grin when Evelyn smiled. The effect on Cullen was marked as he returned her warmth with a lop-sided smirk and reddened cheeks. He felt lighter, whole when she smiled at him.
Stepping away from the soldiers, Evelyn tilted her head flirtatiously and enticed Cullen to lean in closer to hear her whispered words. “Commander, I expect a full debriefing from you in an hour. I am going to my quarters to clean up. You can meet me there for supper. No excuses or delays. I’ll make it an order if I must.” And then she smiled again - mischievously, and Cullen found it took a ridiculous amount of self-control not to grab and kiss her in front of everyone. Instead, he nodded his agreement, and she breezed out of his office toward the main keep.
Cullen encouraged his officers to finish their reports succinctly and dismissed them. He went up to his room and changed into the jacket Josephine had made for him as a nameday gift. At the time, he thought it was a silly gesture. What did a military commander need with a dinner jacket? But now he was glad to have it as heavy armor made holding Evelyn awkward at best. He winced recalling the time one of their more passionate kisses ended with her yelping from the skin on her back getting pinched between his bracer and gauntlet.
Walking into her room, Cullen was surrounded by Evelyn’s scent - a mixture of Andraste’s grace, gardenias, and anise. He figured a soap or perfume accounted for the floral aromas, but he knew the anise smell came from her love of black licorice. How Evelyn ate the stuff was beyond his understanding, but Leliana made sure the Inquisitor always had a steady supply from the best confectioners in Val Royeaux. Evelyn would often bring the candy into war council meetings, wrapping strands of it around her fingers while concentrating on battle plans and munching on it during policy debates. During one of their chess matches, she had admitted that she kept her mouth full with the candy so she wouldn’t say something untoward without hearing her advisors’ out. Cullen laughed to himself that he could judge how much the Herald disagreed with a proposal based on how many licorice sticks she downed while it was being discussed. More than 4 licorice sticks, and you were guaranteed that she wouldn’t follow your suggestion.
Evelyn had changed into a scarlet Circle robe. The red silk was embroidered with intricate floral patterns in gold and silver threads. Fur trim accented her wrists and the hem of the gown. Evelyn’s still damp hair was pulled into a long pony tail that swished like a pendulum with her every move. She looked beautiful he thought, but then he noted how the robe hung loosely from her body. She had become far too thin.
Concerned, he wrapped his arms around her and gave a quick kiss to her forehead. He could feel her ribs when he hugged her, and her face was gaunt. “Evelyn, was there no food in the Dales? You’re practically a skeleton.”
She sighed. “You sound like Cassandra. I tried to eat, but the place was filled with undead. I can handle demons, red templars, but undead ...” she shivered a bit before continuing, “They walk so awkwardly and parts of their bodies just fall off when you’re fighting. And the smell... it is putrid and sweet at the same time. I just didn’t have any appetite when we would return to camp after battling them. I promise I’ll let cook fatten me up while I’m here.”
“How long do you plan on staying?” he asked hoping that it would be longer than her typical 2 week layovers.
“Maker willing, I don’t plan on leaving Skyhold until we go to Halamshiral. I’m worn out.”
“Yes, I had wanted to discuss with you what ‘Be careful.' means. From reading the reports from the plains, I don’t think you grasp its meaning.” Cullen stated with a raised eyebrow and a voice tinged with concern.
“It was much worse than I anticipated. I thought it would be a relatively easy excursion to help Solas’ friend.” Mentioning Solas made Evelyn wonder, “Has Solas returned to Skyhold? He left our group after his friend died.”
“He made it back nearly three weeks ago and was surprised that you had yet to return.” Cullen replied with a slightly accusatory tone.
Evelyn was about to reply when the servants came in with trays of food and wine. “Food!” she said a little too enthusiastically and wriggled out of Cullen’s arms to make her way to the desk where the servants were laying out the meal. If Cullen was worried that she had intentionally lost weight in the past weeks, her abandon at dinner pushed that thought aside. She cleared her heaping plate quickly and then started stealing food off his. “This is the best roasted lamb. Mmmm.... are you going to eat that potato?” she asked with cheeks full of food like a chipmunk.
“Take whatever you’d like.” Cullen replied while her eyes lit up at the thought of more food. He noticed that she winced as she reached for his plate. “Are you injured?” he questioned.
Evelyn’s mouth was too full to respond immediately, so she held up a hand and chewed for a bit longer. After taking a drink of wine to help her swallow, she answered, “A little - but not from combat - Dorian and Bull did a good job of keeping me patched up. I fell off the blasted horse again... two times today.” She crammed more food in her mouth but continued speaking, “Got a barrier up once. Didn’t the second time. I’m thinking I should ask Dennet for a pony. Then I wouldn’t have as far to fall.”
“Ponies are often more ornery than horses. I don’t think that will fix your problem.”
“Then maybe I could take over driving the supply wagon.” Evelyn replied.
“Driving horses is no easier than riding them. If you want, I could give you some pointers on riding and talk to Dennet about finding a better match for you. If you aren’t planning to jump fences or ride in combat, then it should be fairly simple to stay in the saddle if you have the right mount. How much experience do you have with horses?”
Evelyn gulped down part of a roll before answering, “I’d never been on a horse until I joined the mage rebellion. It isn’t as if riding lessons are part of Circle training. Something about mages on horseback being harder for templars to catch I’m sure.” She winked at him to let him know that the jest wasn’t meant as an insult to the time he spent as a templar. “Even then, I didn’t ride alone. I was always behind another mage. He was much more familiar with horses. The first time I rode one by myself was at Dennet’s farm. I didn’t want to admit that I’d never really ridden when I was asking for his entire stable.”
“Who was this other mage?” Cullen asked trying desperately to sound nonplussed.
Evelyn saw right through him and grinned, “Jealous? You needn’t be. The mage was a tranquil. No, the person you could be concerned about rode on his own horse.”
“What was that mage’s name?” Cullen asked not even trying to hide his rancor.
“Oh, Kevin wasn’t a mage.” She smiled sweetly before adding, “He was a templar. I seem to have a type.”
Thinking back to the Fereldan tower and Solona Amell, Cullen thought So do I.
He couldn’t resist asking, “So what happened to Ser Kevin?”
Her face fell when she answered, “There were five of us that made it out of the circle together. He helped us get away from Ostwick, taught us some basic survival skills, and used the last of his money to outfit us. But then he left. He needed lyrium more than he wanted me.” Looking back at Cullen, she gave a shy smile and said, “It hurt me then, but now I’m glad that I am free to be with you.”
“Only five mages survived Ostwick?” He was shocked. Even when Kirkwall was annulled with a bloody battle, more mages had been spared or escaped.
Evelyn shrugged. “I don’t know if others made it out. Our group had five people- Kevin the templar, Jonas the tranquil, and three mages including myself. I’d really rather talk about something else. Do you have any good gossip?”
The Commander would have preferred to learn more about Ostwick’s fall, but he understood her desire to not relive bad memories. “I can’t say that spend much time listening to rumors. Let me think... Oh ! Did you know that Scout Harding sings better than Maryden? She’s posted flyers around Skyhold for an ensemble of sorts. I thought about joining until I saw she planned on calling it the Pinkquisition.”
“You have a beautiful voice. You should do it. “ Evelyn encouraged.
“I just can’t get past that name.” he admitted.
The remainder of the evening was spent curled together on the couch in Evelyn’s room sharing stories and kisses. As the hour drew late, Evelyn crawled into his lap and nestled her head against his neck. Her breathing grew slower and steady, and he realized that she had drifted off to sleep while he was talking about his new recruits. He carried her over to her bed and carefully laid her down, so she wouldn’t awaken. After ruling out crawling in beside her. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Think about the rumors that would start. He kissed her forehead and whispered, “Sweet dreams, my love.”