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Fighting against the lump in her throat and feeling her eyes grow watery, Evelyn quickly ran past Vivienne and Josephine to reach her quarters in the Halamshiral manor a sympathetic noble was letting the Inquisition use. It was ridiculous that she was so upset by this development. She was a grown woman and the leader of one of Thedas’ largest forces, but she wanted to cry and stomp her feet like a toddler. It isn’t fair! she thought. I just wanted to look pretty one night. And they’re going to make me wear this... Evelyn tossed the formal military attire across her room.
She had been anticipating wearing a beautiful ballgown ... one with a plunging neckline, corseted waist, swishing crinoline skirts, and obscenely intricate brocades. After dragging across Orlais and Fereldan, living in tents, and wearing the same armor for weeks at a time, she had let herself dream of a night where she could be the belle of the ball. She wanted to be pampered, powdered, and polished like a princess. Wanted to wear beautiful jewels and a completely impractical hairdo. Wanted to see Cullen’s face when he saw her dressed as a woman rather than a warrior.
Evelyn had been recalcitrant to accept Vivienne and Dorian’s suggestions about clothing and make up at first, but the idea of a full scale makeover had grown on her. She had been giddy at the first fitting of her ballgown - spinning around to make the skirt flair. And now, some idiot had decided that the Inquisition needed to look united and uniform. She would find out who was responsible and give them a piece of her mind.
She heard a quiet knock at her door. Wiping the angry tears from her eyes, she opened it to see Cullen looking worried. “Josephine asked that I check on you. She thought she might have done something to upset you.”
Evelyn let out an exasperated sigh as Cullen stepped inside the room. “I’m not angry with Josie. I’m furious with the imbecile that decided we all had to look like toy soldiers at the ball.”
Cullen looked decidedly uncomfortable and started rubbing the back of his neck, “Um... well... that imbecile was me.” Evelyn glared at him with such annoyance that he shivered a bit. Did she just cast a frost spell? Clearing his throat, Cullen continued, “You see Dagna developed some fabrics that are as tough as armor. In fact, you’ll find that outfit affords more protection than your typical light armor. It also has enchantments offering elemental resistances.”
Evelyn was not impressed. Her eyes were dangerously narrow. “But it is ugly, and it makes my butt look big.”
Cullen had two sisters and knew he was in dangerous territory. He decided to ignore her butt comment and concentrate on the logic behind his choice. “The gown you had intended to wear, although gorgeous, afforded you no protection. We are going there to prevent an assassination. It is probable that someone will try to attack you. It is my job to keep you safe.”
The look on her face told him the logical argument was failing, so he fell back on flattery. “Besides nothing could look ugly on you. You’re lovely.”
She crossed her arms and let out a harrumph while still giving him the evil eye. Maker, she’s adorable when she’s angry. he thought while a tiny grin settled on his lips.
“What are you smirking about? Do you find this funny?”
Uh oh... wrong move... Cullen tried to recover. “No, it’s not funny. I’m not smirking. I’m... it’s just ... well, you are so cute when you’re mad like this.”
She hissed and picked up the outfit off the floor. “Alright, I see your point about protection. I just was looking forward to being pretty for you...”
His heart jumped a bit at her revelation. So that was what this was about... Pulling her into a tight hug and kissing the top of her head, he whispered, “You don’t need gowns or makeup to get my attention, Evelyn. You take my breath away even when you show up in my office covered in mud and demon gore.”
Evelyn looked up at him and smiled. “Fine. But the next time we go to a formal ball, I want a proper dress. Dagna will just have to figure out a way to make it work.”
“Duly noted.” he said and leaned in for a real kiss.
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The ball itself was nothing like she expected from the books she had read as a little girl. Yes, the palace was breathtaking, the food and drinks were impeccable, and the partygoers were sophisticated, but the children’s stories neglected to describe how heartless, conniving, and capricious courtiers could be. Evelyn was dismayed as she saw people playing with others’ lives. They even deigned to call it “The Grand Game” as if duplicity and ruthlessness were ideals to which one should aspire.
It sickened her to be participating in the charade, to be propping up the corrupt Orleasian government, but she had seen a future where Orlais fell and could not allow that to happen regardless of her own reservations about whether the Empire was truly worth saving. Evelyn resolved to play the game as well as she was able - not for the “important” people at the ball but for the nameless ones outside whose lives would be most affected by continued chaos.
She did remarkably well - gathering secrets on nobles that could curry influence, collecting information and witnesses regarding the plot against Celene, and fighting Venatori cells that were killing servants and readying for an attack against the Empress. She did all of that and won the admiration and approval of the notoriously fickle Orleasian court. In the end, Evelyn was able to reveal the conspiracy led by Grand Duchess Florianne and save Celene’s life and crown. She had even managed to reunite Celene with her elven lover Briala - a move that Evelyn hoped would ensure better treatment of elves within Orleasian alienages.
Cullen’s night had been horrendous. The reports that made it to him of fighting in the servant’s quarters and royal wing left him worried sick. Then there were the Orleasian nobles that pressed around him - flirting and cajoling. They were shameless with their advances. One nobleman (Cullen thought the term applied only loosely.) went so far as to grab his bottom. He had been so out of sorts that when Evelyn asked if he might dance with her that he reflexively turned her down. The disappointed look on her face shattered him, and he quickly apologized explaining that Templars didn’t typically dance.
When the night was drawing to a close, Cullen looked around for Evelyn. Josephine and Leliana were accepting congratulations on the Inquisitor’s behalf and seemed energized by the entire night. Solas was enjoying the food and wine while watching the crowd with amusement. Cullen was surprised at how comfortable the elven mage was at such a formal function. Sera had disappeared somewhere, and Cullen figured it was best that he didn’t know what she was doing. Cassandra had planted herself at the rendezvous point and wanted nothing more than to go home. She might have been the only person who hated the Winter Palace more than him. Finally, he spotted Evelyn on a balcony talking with the apostate Morrigan.
Morrigan finished speaking with the Inquisitor and glided past Cullen. He nodded slightly and wondered if she remembered him from that awful time in Kinloch Hold. She had been part of the party led by the Hero of Fereldan that rescued him and reclaimed the tower. He resolved to thank her nonetheless once he spoke with Evelyn.
Evelyn was leaning on the railing and looked spent. She admitted being exhausted and commented on how the night had been very long. He agreed and confessed that he had been worried for her safety. The crowd inside began clapping as one dance ended, and he saw his opportunity. “I may never have another chance like this, so I must ask - may I have this dance, my lady?”
Evelyn looked surprised as he held out his hand to her and bowed forward. “I thought you didn’t dance.” she replied while eagerly taking his hand.
“For you, I’ll try.” he said savoring the feel of her in his arms.