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Taking over for his mother was going to kill him. That was the only conclusion Rhys could come to on his position as the representative for the Aequitarians, and it had been only a handful of days since the conclave had initially met—not that it felt that way. In truth, the minutia of daily meetings and planning councils was starting to make his waking hours blur into one long, out-of-focus existence. Rhys sat through gatherings of the fraternities until such small hours of the morning, and awoke so early for more still, that his time in Andoral’s Reach was beginning to feel like an eternity. And seeing Adrian every day didn’t begin to help his mood.
While she tended to keep to her fraternity, really only speaking to other Libertarians unless necessary, it made the moments they did interact that much more awkward and terse. If she made a proposal, and another councilmen asked him for his thoughts, Rhys would struggle to answer; trapped in a spiral subsisting on guilt and regret as he sputtered out a sub-par answer and made a fool of himself. Other times he would just sit in silence, transfixed by unbidden thoughts of that night in his chambers, when he had rejected her advances. These thoughts all convalesced into a storm of unpleasantness that only truly subsided when he was around Evangeline. Her presence had been something wonderfully stabilizing within all of the madness of the conclave, and Rhys wished he knew how to thank her.
He did fear that this aura of kindness could be some lingering effect of the spirit that had saved her life, but it was better not to think too long on it, or his thoughts of Evangeline would turn sour with images of Wynne in her place.
It was an unpleasant picture, to say the least.
Now, though, Rhys would face one thousand untoward visages of his mother if he had simply been allowed to sleep for a few hours more. With a meeting between himself and the Grand Enchanter so close to bear, it was of the utmost importance that he stay sharp. If he were to nod off while she spoke, even for a moment, he would be so thoroughly shamed that he might simply wander off into the marshes to become a hermit. It would surely be a more fulfilling life than the one of ridicule he would face if he stayed after such an embarrassment.
Rhys shook himself of both his fatigue and his thoughts. He would need to be as focused as possible if he wanted to be seen as anything other than a buffoon by Fiona, if she did not already see him as such.
And so he sat, waiting on the frigid bench set just down the hall from the Grand Enchanter’s borrowed chambers, until a newly-arrived mage from the Lake Calenhad Circle came to fetch him.
The mage was surprisingly young for her robes, and it was entirely possible that she had only just faced her Harrowing before being sent with the delegation from Ferelden. More and more of the outlying circles were sending their second waves of mages, all with the knowledge that the Seekers could attack at any moment and keep those they sent from ever returning. Rhys hoped the conflict would not come to such blows, but he knew just as well as anyone what the Seekers were capable of.
As they moved down the brightly lit passage, leaving pillars that had crumbled to the point of ruin and sculptures that could have only been beautiful in the distant past behind them, Rhys couldn’t help but let a wave of unrest wash over him. He gripped the handle of his staff tight in one hand and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his other. There were so many different ways in which he could make a fool of himself here.
The young mage stopped abruptly, leaving Rhys to flounder momentarily as he tried his best not to run into her, lest he fall and bring her with him. She bowed her head slightly as she stepped to the side of the narrow hall, averting her gaze from him in an attempt at courtesy. Rhys gave a stilted nod back, and raised his hand to knock on the thick wooden door that stood in front of him. Apparently, though, there was no need. The door swung open on what seemed to be its own accord, revealing the Grand Enchanter at her desk. She was poring over what looked to be one of the tomes from Pharamond’s notes—a hand to her furrowed brow—and looked up only momentarily to wave him in.
Rhys squinted as the door closed behind him, eyes adjusting quickly to the candlelit murk of the small room.
“If you will excuse me, Grand Enchanter, might I ask why you’ve called me here?” He shifted his balance from foot to foot in an unfortunate display of nerves.
If she noticed, she did not say; simply gesturing to one of the chairs positioned in front of the desk and motioning for him to sit. Rhys complied, laying his staff across his lap so as to stay as compacted as possible.
“Do you truly have no idea why I wanted to see you?” Fiona asked, placing a marker in the journal so that she could look up at him.
“Well, if the book you’re reading is anything to go off of, I believe I can make an educated guess,” Rhys answered. A nervous smile quirked the corners of his mouth upward.
The imperious elf held his gaze for a moment; brows furrowing even further, as if to show her displeasure in the wrinkles of her forehead.
“You are not incorrect in your assumption, Enchanter. Ser Evangeline should be joining us shortly, and you’ll both be informed on your mission together.”
“Our mission?” Rhys inquired.
His question was ignored by the Grand Enchanter, however, in favour of returning to the volume on her desk.
Another trek into the wilderness, perhaps? He would surely get more sleep if the only thing keeping him awake was the light of day. And with the nights growing longer as they did in this time of year, his bounty of rest would be even more plentiful. The only thing that bothered him about the idea was the temperature, and even that could be circumvented by a well-made igloo. Who better to brave the elements than one who can command them?
Rhys chuckled quietly. It seemed as though he would have to escape into the marshes after all.
Evangeline came marching through the door not long after, her armour still polished to a silver-y sheen that gleamed in the dim light of the study and her hair pulled up into a tight bun that sat at the nape of her neck. She regarded him briefly before moving to stand as he had not moments ago.
“Ser Evangeline,” the Enchanter intoned, returning her marker to the book, and shutting the door with a wave of her hand. “So kind of you to join us.”
“My apologies, your ….” She faded off, not quite sure how to address the Grand Enchanter without the formality of the circle.
“If you would truly like to gripe about with titles, Grand Enchanter does the job well enough.” The Enchanter motioned for Evangeline to sit, closing the door as she had when Rhys first entered.
“I see. Thank you, Grand Enchanter,” she said, bowing her head as a show of respect to the other woman.
Fiona simply nodded in return, leaning back in her chair so that she could look at the two of them and tapping the cover of Pharamond’s journal.
“At Adamant fortress, would you say Pharamond seemed the type to take notes of his findings?”
There was a moment of silence before either of them spoke, not sure if her question was a rhetorical one. When they both came to the realization that she was indeed asking, and not leading into something else, they shared a look, and Rhys came out of it as the speaker.
“It looked as though he took notes of almost everything he did up in that tower. The man must have had years’ worth of writing, going back to when the Chantry first commissioned the research.”
Fiona grinned at this, touching the book that sat before her once more. She addressed them with a determined look.
“The both of you will be returning to Adamant, to learn what you can of Pharamond’s ritual before the Seekers burn the place to the ground. Can you be trusted with this mission?”
“Grand Enchanter, if I might?” Evangeline, who had been quietly biding her time, now looked unsettled by the arrangements being made.
“Of course. Speak your mind,” Fiona said, turning in her chair to get better look at the other woman.
“Are we sure it is wise to venture out into the wilds at such a time as this? Any more than a party of two would make us an easy target for patrols, but we make even easier targets for bandits as a pair.”
“That, Ser Evangeline, is why you will be circumventing the Imperial Highway altogether,” Fiona began, eyes going wide as Rhys chimed in.
“The marsh! It makes perfect sense, Evangeline. No one goes anywhere near the Nalashin Marshes in winter, and as long as we keep a bountiful supply of lyrium, neither of us will have any fear of perishing.” Rhys’s enthusiasm dimmed as the man realized he had disrupted the Grand Enchanter’s speech.
“Worry not. What you say is correct, and as I did mention before, I am not bound to my title the way that some others are. If we are truly separate from the Chantry, then my position as Grand Enchanter means nothing at all!” She chuckled at her own words, and at the reaction that they received from Rhys, allowing herself a moment of mortality for their benefit.
“When shall we be setting out?” Evangeline asked. She had become so utterly confused at the mages behaviour, and wished it to be over quickly.
Fiona coughed to clear her throat before speaking.
“As soon as possible, if it shall not be too much trouble?”
.o.0.o.
And so the pair left Andoral’s Keep, bringing only what had been deemed necessary by the Grand Enchanter. Even less after Rhys had gone through the packs and tossed out all of the things he thought would over-burden their mounts in the snow. This included their tinderbox, as he claimed he could ‘summon a flame quicker than any measly flint’ and had proceeded to demonstrate by snapping his fingers together in such a manner that the sparks caught in his beard. It had been an impressive display of sorcery, if Evangeline had ever seen one. He also claimed he could manipulate the ice into a suitable dwelling, so they left their tent as well.
He had also chucked out one of the bed rolls, as though a few furs would really slow them significantly. She was in no position to complain, regardless. What little time she had spent with Rhys had been burned up focusing on war preparations, and could have certainly not been spent dancing around each other like two newly introduced noble’s children, even if she’d wanted to try and suss out just what sort of relationship the two of them had been fostering.
Such trivialities mattered not, in the bigger picture. Evangeline would need to place such distracting thoughts in the back of her mind if she was to stay focused on their assignment.
Speaking of such distractions, she thought, tightening her grip on the reins as her dapple-coated mare decided that exact moment was the opportune time to attempt a rebellion of its own. The horse chewed at its bit and stomped in displeasure as Evangeline attempted to lead it through a shallow creek. Rhys seemed to be having the same issues with his own mare, trying and failing to spur it into action with a kick to the flank.
The earth had been solid enough that the horses were at no risk of laming, but any trouble attempting to cross water could lead to one of the mares being left to die. It would be a terrible thing to lose a perfectly healthy horse, but they would have no choice, especially if they kept behaving so uncooperatively.
Just then, the man stopped and turned his horse around. Evangeline simply watched as he led the mount to water once more, holding his hand out in front of him on this pass. It was only then that she began to feel the power he was summoning, and she watched in awe as a bridge of ice formed over the narrow river. It wasn’t a particularly beautiful bridge, but it would serve its purpose, and that was all either of them truly cared about. Her mare plodded on after Rhys’s, content to feel something solid beneath its hooves. Evangeline couldn’t help but feel that same sense of happiness, if simply because they were moving once more, and not sitting idly as some host if evil descended upon them.
As the two of them rode on from the stream, Evangeline thanked the Maker that Rhys had been fortuitous enough to pack some salves. She had indeed been dubious of them at first, unsure if they would function in a scenario not involving combat, but the wonders the balms had been doing to keep her face and hands unscathed was more than enough to prove their worth in her eyes. Usually at this point in a trek on horseback her eyes would begin to water profusely, and her hands would have become immobile as they clenched the reins. But now, with the aid of this simple magic, she could see clearly, and her gauntleted hands had their full range of mobility.
She glanced over at the mage in question, and the silence between them began to feel deafening.
“So,” she called, trotting up to his side to address him. Evangeline was unsure of what to speak about now that she had struck up a conversation.
“So,” Rhys replied in turn. He was smiling, and he obviously found her loss for words humorous. This had her thinking.
“Has it ruined me for you, then?” she jibed, smirking as the man’s sudden sputtering nearly unseated him.
“Ruined you?” he wheezed. “Whatever do you mean?”
“What with the bit of your mother’s soul holding mine together. Does it bother you?”
He blanched at that, keeping a white-knuckled grip on the reins as he swayed with the movement of his horse.
“Uhm,” he began, clearing his throat, “if you’re asking whether or not you are still pretty after that whole stabbing incident, this is a strange way to go about it.”
“I have asked no such thing!” exclaimed Evangeline, feigning shock at the accusation and chuckling as she watched Rhys’s cheeks begin to colour.
He coughed again and clung to the horn of the saddle as though his life depended on its stabilizing weight.
“I would rather it if you didn’t make light of my foolishness in this regard, Evangeline. It is one thing to spurn a man for his attractions, and it is another entirely to ridicule him for them. Even if no one else is around to see you do it.” This shocked the woman into pulling up short. Her mare ground to a halt as she parsed Rhys’s words and immediately regretted her own.
“You thought I was making fun of you? How long have you assumed I did not return your favour?” He had stopped his horse as well, turning to look at her with a confused stare.
“My apologies, what?” Rhys looked almost angry at the woman for her words. “Are you trying to tell me that you find me attractive?”
Evangeline was the one who went wide-eyed at that. She could feel the blush coming up her neck, and she knew that her complexion would hide nothing from him.
“It’s entirely possible that I might,” she murmured, spurring on her mare to avoid his gaze.
Rhys had yet to kick on his own mount, so he was left to gawp for a few seconds before catching up with her, eyes ablaze with a cocktail of fury and passion.
“But you’re … no longer a Templar,” he said, coming to some unspoken conclusion that Evangeline caught onto quickly.
“And you are no longer one of my charges,” Evangeline replied. A smile had started to pull at the corners of her mouth, and she could see that the same sort of odd happiness was spreading to Rhys.
“So we would have no moral qualms with entering into a relationship, then?” Rhys asked, suddenly play-acting at formality in a way that made Evangeline chuckle.
“No, I don’t think we would.”
They shared in a grin that spoke volumes of what couldn’t be verbalized.
.o.0.o.
The pair came upon the fortress after but a few nights of comfortable travel. With Rhys’s subtractions from the load their horses had to bear, there was less weight for them to move against, and so they inevitably made much better time than they had on the highway. The two of them had only truly struggled after a particularly unkind deer had trampled its way through their camp one morning. This trip had not been nearly as taxing as the first.
And Adamant was just as they had left it, an imperious spire perched on the lip of the Abyssal Rift. Though, it felt as if something was off about the place. As Evangeline scanned the cold dunes, she thought back to the state the place had been left in the first time they had arrived and attempted to juxtapose the two images in her mind.
The bodies were missing. The corpses that had lain in the sand just weeks ago had disappeared entirely.
“The wind must have buried them,” Rhys suggested, staring down at the ground around them with a grimace.
“Not much we can do for them, in that case.” Evangeline sighed as she followed the man’s gaze. Such a tragic loss of life could be given some modicum of worth if they found the notes outlining Pharamond’s ritual. Even then, the thought of having to traverse over what had become a mass grave to get them made her cringe.
Rhys moved forward first, his face a stony mask of disgust as he kicked his horse over the dune and through the massive doors of the entrance way, still piled with sand so high the doors might never be able to close. Evangeline followed close behind, and dismounted with ease as her mare came to a rolling stop. She found that Rhys had already left his horse, probably still sore about how the last time he had dismounted in front of her, he had fallen face-first into the frozen ground of the marsh.
The horses were content to stay in the building as they ascended the stairs. Feeding from grain bags and free of riders as they were, it was obvious why they were content to stay put. Evangeline hoped that they could be out of this place by nightfall, or the horses would be much less pleased by the actions of their riders.
Evangeline’s thoughts turned to Rhys as they reached the laboratory once more. For the final time, she hoped. She elected to stand guard as a precaution against the darkspawn, though they didn’t seem to be active in the light of day, so she had a bit of time to herself. From what she could hear of Rhys’s frantic rummaging, she would be alone with her thoughts for at least a good few minutes.
“Evangeline!” Rhys called. “You’re going to want to see this!”
Or not. She sighed as she turned and entered the room, greeted by Rhys’s widest, brightest grin.
“What have you found?” she asked. Stepping closer to examine the roll of vellum he had clasped in one hand, she quirked a brow in confusion. It looked like a bunch of nonsense scribbling to her.
“The ritual, outlined in full detail. The Chantry must have wanted him to keep as clear a record as he could, in the event that the project bore fruit. And what fruit it has given us!”
“Would you like to explain any further?” Evangeline was growing weary of the man’s lack of clarity.
"Wynne was all Pharamond needed. The benevolent spirit that he knew resided within her was what he truly wanted, not the demon, as he claimed. And that means that you are what I need to heal the other Tranquil mages!”
“Me? What in all of Thedas could I do? I am no mage.” Evangeline brushed the notion off with a wave of her hand.
“Yes, but together, we could be able to ….” The man seemed at a loss for words, simply letting his sentence die in his mouth.
“Hm,” she murmured, turning on him with a devilish smile, “it’s a bit early for a proposal, don’t you think?”
Rhys laughed at that, eyes lighting up as he took her by the waist and pulled her in for a kiss.