Chapter Text
Miryam cursed. She cursed at Cullen, she cursed at the Maker, she cursed at Andraste, and she cursed at everyone else around her. What she did not curse, however, was the child she presently very much wanted out of her body.
"You're doing fine, falon," Erafen told her. "See? We Dalish know a thing or two about birthing. Let the cool water take the pain."
"H-how can... you birth when your hips are so naaAAAAAH!" Miryam cried out.
"Push, falon! Nevermind my narrow hips!" 'Fen held her friend's hand tightly, breathing along with her, fairly certain Cullen was outside of the birthing tent hyperventilating. "I promise, this will end soon."
Outside of the tent, Cullen paced. He was out of his armor, wearing simple comfortable clothes, but he still paced and reached for the hilt of a sword he wasn't wearing out of habit. "How long does something like this take?"
"It takes as long as it takes, and you won't make it any faster by wearing a trench into the ground," Merrill said, arms folded. "Sylanna and Erafen will be there with her. She doesn't need you making her more nervous."
"I can't believe Erafen convinced Miryam that this Dalish method was better," Cullen muttered.
"It IS better," Merrill insisted. "It's how I'll do it when my turn comes. There were birthing pools much grander than this in Arlathan."
He threw up his hands. "Very well. I... Miry?" He heard a loud cry, and then another younger set of lungs bellowed out her displeasure at being outside of her warm wet little nest.
"Wait! She's not done!" Merrill said, placing a hand on Cullen's arm.
"But the baby is out!" he protested.
"That's not all that needs to come out," Merrill said, trying not to giggle. "You really don't know much about childbirth, do you?"
Cullen forced himself to relax, rubbing the back of his neck. "No, precious little, I'm afraid."
"Ask a mother sometime," the Keeper advised. "She'll give you details." She did giggle at that, and started explaining more of the process to an increasingly stricken Commander.
He stood there, awestruck, considering what the elf told him. "Truly, truly, my wife is a goddess."
——
The happy parents decided on the name Evelyn, nicknaming the little girl “Evie”. She was as normal an infant as could be expected: crying, sleeping, eating, pooping like any baby. As she grew a little older, fine blonde curls appeared on her head, and her eyes stayed the same blue her mother possessed. There was not a single soul at Skyhold that wasn’t instantly enamored of the little girl.
The advantage her growing up at Skyhold gave was that Evie would always have educators from all over Thedas, the protections of its fortifications, and plenty of aunties and uncles to entertain her when she wanted attention. If anything, Cullen and Miryam had to be firm with her so that she wouldn’t grow up spoiled.
Thankfully, as she grew into toddlerhood, Evie remained sweet and likable. She loved playing with Fenrian when Erafen brought her son to visit, and thanks to the elves of Skyhold, she was picking up the Elvhen language along with the common tongue.
——
“Daddy, look! I’m smacking bad guys!” Evie called out in her little five year old voice. “Raise your shields!” she hollered in her best imitation of the Commander. “You don’t wanna get arrowed in the face!”
Cullen laughed, watching his daughter lead her army of toy soliders against a rather ratty plush dragon. She charged, holding her sword like he’d taught her, and smacked the dragon with the flat of her wooden blade.
“Take that, darkspawn!” she cried. She turned around to cheer, but then a large rat crossed her path, being chased by one of the descendents of Erafen’s Bull the Second. It shocked her, and in that instant, her sword caught fire in her hand.
“DADDY!!” Evie screamed, unable to drop the sword, feeling the fire catching on her sleeve. Cullen moved in an instant, forcing himself to be gentle in Silencing his daughter’s magic, hating that he needed to, and patted out the fire with his own cloak.
“Shhh, Evie, it’s ok, it’s just magic. Like Mama’s, right?” Cullen said. When the fire was out, he scooped his daughter up, calling for the healer and heading right for their quarters.
Erafen came as soon as she heard, arriving with Solas and Fenrian in tow. The little boy was off playing with other children while his parents helped attend to Evelyn.
“She was frightened,” Cullen said, still shaken himself. “I’ve never seen a child come into magic before, only came to take them…”
“You did right to Silence her,” Solas said calmly.
“When mine came to me, I was a teenager and immolated my attacker,” Erafen told him. “You prevented it from going out of control.”
“I still used my abilities as a Templar on my daughter,” Cullen muttered.
“And she was fortunate it was you, someone who knows how to be gentle,” Miryam said. “I also was not as fortunate. My entire bedroom had snowdrifts in it and I was close to freezing to death. I was Silenced immediately by a Templar and was taken to the Circle at Ostwick the next day. Cullen, look at me.” She moved in front of her husband, forcing him to make eye contact with her. “You did the right thing. You helped Evelyn.”
“All right,” Cullen said, relenting.
“I would suppose that her magic is so strong at her age due to your Anchor,” Solas told Miryam as soon as Cullen relaxed. “She can learn to control her abilities, but she may need to call on you in the Fade.”
“I can do that,” Miry said with a nod.
“She can learn with the children of Halam’abelas, if you like,” Erafen said. “When she’s a bit older. For now, she’s absolutely safe here, and she doesn’t have to grow up afraid of the Circles or being imprisoned in one.”
Cullen was silent, thoughtful, and he stood to walk around to the other side of the bed, kneeling there to look at his sleeping daughter. Her arm was still pink from where it’d been healed, and he reached out to take her tiny hand. “No Circles, no Templars. No Harrowing, no Abominations. She’ll be free. She's fine.”
——
Miryam thought learning that Evie had magic would encourage the girl to put down the sword, but the the young one was determined that she would have, as she said, a “sword-staff”. They reached a compromise when she was seven: Evie would learn polearms, starting with a wooden staff and moving into glaives and mage staff blades.
“She’s going to need to learn more specialized magic, I think,” Miryam told Cullen. “Vivienne’s offered to tutor her privately in the skills of a Knight-Enchanter when Evie reaches thirteen. She can start preparing for it while she studies in Halam’abelas.”
“Is Vivienne truly who you want educating our child?” Cullen asked. "I don't mean ill will towards the Divine's Left Hand, but Vivienne has some particularly conservative ideas."
“Cassandra will be there,” Miryam said. “And we have an eluvian set up to get us to Val Royeaux quickly. That’s still a while off.”
——
Thirteen years old, and Evelyn Rutherford was lovely and sweet, but that hid a mind full of mischief and a determined spirit. She sat on the balcony edge next to Fenrian, her best friend, looking out over Halam’abelas.
“How long will you be gone?” he asked her.
“Dunno, till I’m an adult, I’d wager,” Evie said, letting out a sigh. “You’re going to be busy soon anyway, with all of your Coming of Age stuff.”
“Yeah,” Fenrian said. “But hey, maybe we can use the eluvian. Keeper Merrill would take me to visit, I’m sure. But I mean, isn’t that Knight-Enchanter stuff the same as our Arcane Warriors?”
“Something like it, but I guess that I’ll find out for sure. I just don’t want to leave Skyhold or my Mama and Daddy,” Evie lamented.
“You’ll be all right. You’ve got the Lion in you, tall and fierce. You can stand against anything, falon,” Fenrian told her.
“And you’ve got the Wolf, yeah?” Evie asked. “Just as fierce and unrelenting." She nodded at him firmly and released a long breath. "We’ll be okay.”
——
“As you have passed your Trials, I now declare you Knight-Enchanter of the Circle of Val Royeaux, pledged in service to Divine Victoria and to the Inquisition,” Madame Vivienne declared, placing the medal on the armored robes Evelyn wore. “You do your parents and the Chantry proud. Stand tall in the Maker’s light.”
Evelyn bowed to her teacher and the Divine, then turned to face the crowd. Two sets of eyes met hers, and she was certain she saw tears in both those of her mother and her father.
——
Three more years passed, and an uprising was squashed, led by a group again bearing the name of the Venatori. Evelyn Rutherford, now Lieutenant in Skyhold’s forces, led her own contingent of mages against the core group, striking a blow against them and ending the last of their numbers.
She stalked away from the battlefield, towards the camp, and one tired figure stood there waiting for her, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Your mother’s still cleaning out the last of the summoned creatures. This fight was over quickly,” Cullen said. "I'd hardly call it a war."
“Sir,” Evelyn nodded, but in the next moment, she ran forward to throw her arms around her father, heedless of the blood both had on their armor. “I saw you take an arrow…”
“And I saw you cut down their leader. I’m so proud, Evie. So proud,” he told her, wrapping his arms around his daughter.
Evie closed her eyes, and she thanked the Maker for being the person she was.