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Caspar de Chalons was detained. Empress Celene was saved. And all it took was a few pieces of paperwork and a few skirmishes with the elves conspiring to turn the ball in Halamshiral into more chaos. Evelyn sighed at her last few hours of work, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead as she recapped the past events. Ever since she had become the Inquisitor, they had been working tirelessly to gain allies and defeat adversaries, and attending the ball and engaging in the Game had been harder work than she had expected.
But all in all, most of the important nobles who could help them defeat Corypheus had been saved and reassured that they could rely on the Inquisition for aid and trade. They were almost ready. One more storming of the desert on the edge of Orlais, where the Grey Wardens were last detected, might be the answer they needed.
Evelyn must have spent a long time on the balcony, because her stomach gave a loud, desperate, but short growl. Oh, Maker, I haven’t eaten anything since the ball, she muttered to herself. She turned over her shoulder to take a peek at the food table. Most of it was gone, but she scanned the spread in hopes of finding something decent to fill her growling stomach.
Only one item remained: a giant white cake decorated with elaborate icing and carvings. From the looks of it, no one seemed to have any desire to eat it.
She recalled how she had loved eating as a young girl in the Ostwick Circle—so much that the other mages called her names as she devoured the large portions of food provided. It wasn’t until her teenage years that she developed an unhealthy obsession with not looking vain and full; she had grown so large that the physician had strictly advised her to lose weight. Now she had gone to the other extreme—her skin clung to her bones. She owned only a few clothes that fit her properly anymore; the pile of garments too big for her thin frame grew higher each year.
She didn’t feel like she deserved the cake anyway. Her plan had been to secure both nobles to strengthen the Inquisition’s power. She didn’t feel she had earned a piece of that giant white confection. She was the Herald of Andraste, for Maker’s sake. What if someone saw her eating cake? What if fewer people supported their cause because she was seen slacking off to indulge? No, she should be the example for everyone in all things. She couldn’t have that delicious cake—
“Evelyn? There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you,” a deep but soft voice she adored interrupted her brooding. A large hand touched her shoulder. Evelyn had been looking forward to seeing him, even for a brief chat amid the chaos of conspiracies. Yet the blond, tall man had stayed focused on the mission—he hadn’t even accepted her invitation to dance.
He was her commander when they worked with the Inquisition. But right now, he was her lover.
Cullen Rutherford.
“Oh, I was just… brooding, I guess? The battle and the whole ball took a lot out of me, and I really just wanted to be alone,” she answered, touching his hand on her shoulder.
“O–oh, you wanted to be alone? A–apologies, Inquisitor. I’ll leave you be—” Cullen said with a sad expression, his hand beginning to withdraw.
“No, I don’t mean you. Please stay, Cullen. I’ve missed your company all night,” she pleaded with a cheeky, playful smile—the one she loved to use when she wanted something from him.
Cullen gave her a genuine smile, the scarred side of his mouth lifting higher. “As you wish, Evelyn.” He then perched beside her on the balcony.
They stared at the mountain range for a while, enjoying the soothing wind and the gentle rustle of trees. Evelyn turned her head toward him.
“Long night?” she asked, inching closer to his side.
“Hmm, yes,” Cullen replied, turning his body so Evelyn could rest her head on his shoulder. He pressed a soft kiss on top of her head. “Those nobles kept pursuing me and even touching me, even though I said no—many, many times. Honestly, if it weren’t for the mission, I wouldn’t have stayed for the pleasantries.”
“So you suffered for me?” she sighed, tilting her face up to meet his amber eyes and handsome, tired features.
“Well, I–I had to, Eve. I’ll do everything we planned, but for Maker’s sake, I could do with less pestering from nobles.” He planted a kiss on her cheek, near her lips. Evelyn chuckled softly; she knew her boyfriend wasn’t fond of public displays of affection.
“To be honest, I hate it too. I never have fun whenever I’m in Orlais with my family. They always look down on us because we’re a family of mages,” Evelyn said, recalling the many bitter memories of whispered gossip behind polite smiles.
“Truly?”
“Yes. I didn’t enjoy a minute of it. But Leliana, Josephine, and Vivienne seemed to have fun there. I’m glad you didn’t either.”
“What can I say? I’d do anything you command, Inquisitor.” Cullen kissed her lightly on the lips.
“Hey, you promised to call me by my name when we’re in private!” Evelyn grumbled.
“Apologies, my fair lady Trevelyan. It seems I’ve forgotten my manners.” They giggled together.
They sighed in unison, and then Evelyn noticed his right hand holding a dish with a slice of white cake.
“You like dessert too, Cullen?” she asked.
“Mhmm.” Cullen nodded. “I actually wanted to share this cake with you.”
“Share? Ah, no thanks, Cullen.” Evelyn shook her head and began to pull away from his warm embrace.
“Hm? Why’s that? You’re not a sweet tooth, I take it?” he asked, tilting his head in confusion.
“It’s just… complicated.” She gave him a sad smile. “I don’t really fancy sweets. They’d just… upset my stomach.” Evelyn shifted uncomfortably.
Cullen was silent for a moment, then reached for her hand with his free one. “Could you at least share this with me? It feels rude to eat while a beautiful lady like you goes without a treat.”
Evelyn met his unsure but handsome face, her eyes flicking between the cake and his expression.
She finally yielded. It had been years—maybe she deserved a small treat after saving everyone, right?
“Okay, Cullen. I’ll eat with you. But I don’t have an extra plate or fork.”
Cullen suddenly blushed. “Oh, Maker. I forgot to bring one for you because I thought I could, um… feed you?” he stammered adorably.
She let out a hearty giggle, enjoying his nervousness. “How about we feed each other? Would that be all right?” Evelyn smirked.
“Oh, haha, okay. Let’s sit on that bench and, uh… eat.” Cullen led her to the wooden bench on the balcony.
He stabbed a small piece of cake and hesitantly offered it to her with a trembling hand. Evelyn could see how shy and nervous he was, so she looked him in the eyes as she took the bite. The cake melted softly in her mouth, and she smiled as she chewed.
Cullen waited for her to finish, then offered his fork for her to feed him in return. She mirrored his gesture. As he chewed, his amber gaze met her green one.
“It’s bland,” Cullen finally said. They both giggled and traded jokes about Orlesian customs and how awful the night had been.
Maybe, in time, Evelyn would tell him why she rarely ate with others and why she never developed a taste for desserts. But for now, she simply focused on his laughter and his warm embrace.