Dragon Age: Phoenix Origins

Letter left on Evelyn's bunk in her absence:

Dear Evie,

I trust this letter finds you in good health, unburdened by the weight of your training, and sufficiently entertained by the life of your friend who now wields both a sword and an entirely unjustified sense of self-importance. That's right—me.

First, allow me to report that my transformation into a paragon of Knightly excellence is proceeding splendidly, though not without some hiccups. The armor, of course, remains a triumph of craftsmanship and, let's be honest, raw charisma. I practically leave sparkles in my wake, and it's becoming increasingly clear that I'm most likely destined to ascend from the Templar-Recruit to the Knight-Captain before your return.

However. Let us not dwell too long on my successes. You'll be pleased to know that I've been following your advice and taking things slow with my new... responsibilities. And by slow, I mean I've only cried in a corner once after my first experience with lyrium. My stomach protested so violently that I half expected it to march out of me entirely, declaring independence. And the other effects—well, let's just say I'll spare you the more indelicate details. Suffice it to say, my first week of being a Templar featured far too much time considering which parts of me could betray me next.

But fear not! I am persevering. Small sips, deep breaths, and only the occasional reminder to myself that vomiting in a full plate is a logistical nightmare best avoided.

Speaking of things I cannot avoid—Sorin. I demand answers, Trevelyan. Who is this Miriam woman, and why does she have him writing letters? Letters! Plural! I've even caught him smiling, which, as I'm sure you'll agree, is an affront to nature itself. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. He almost looked... pleasant. As if the man who once growled at a puppy (yes, it happened) has suddenly discovered that the world is not all doom and shadows.

So, spill it. Is she charming? Sultry? Did she lose a bet? If you have a hand in this, Evie, I insist that you direct some of your matchmaking talents my way. If Sorin of the Eternal Frown can land a Miriam, surely there's hope for a shining paragon such as myself.

In all seriousness, I am doing well. To my own surprise, the Templar life suits me, stomachaches and all. I won't lie—it's hard, and not just because I'm now expected to keep my boots polished and my morals straight at all times. But I'm finding my footing. Slowly. Thank you for your advice - and for being the kind of friend who can nag me to stay on track and believe in myself. The drawing you sent helped put a face to your words – a very becoming face, with all your hair still intact! That's good; I always liked your long hair.

Write back soon. Because I miss you

Your favorite (now and forever) Templar, 

Ser Henley the Irresistible

***

Evelyn tapped her foot excessively, its echo bouncing off the dingy walls of her cell. Any longer in this cage and she was going to go mad. For seven days she had sat in this hole that smelt like an Archdemon's asshole. Her stomach growled incessantly, having been forced to fast. No doubt she had lost some weight and muscle, so she was going to have to work hard to put it back on. Croft certainly wasn't going to cut her any slack, not after having to subdue her himself. Even so, she'd rather face his wrath a thousand times than sit in the dark of a small, dank cell.

When the door scraped open, she shot up to her feet, "Brother Devons! Please tell me it's time?!"

The twenty-year-old Brother shook his head with pity. "Almost. The Knight-Commander wants us to complete one more session this morning." Her anger rose, lighting up the windowless room. As she went to punch the wall, he held out a hand to stop her. "Rather than get mad, let's get to it quickly. I reckon we can get done in time for the morning training session in the yard." Sitting down eagerly next to him on her cot, she smiled at him so brightly it made him laugh softly.

When they were done, they stood in triumph but unfortunately missed part of the morning training session. Still, she appreciated his attempt to speed it along while fulfilling his duty. "Thank you, Brother Devons. I know I was a bit stubborn in the beginning, but it's a credit to you for having the patience for it." He had helped through all of it: the pain, guilt, rage, and loss of faith over the incident in the many hours she spent imprisoned. Devons told her of the fallout after Witfield's expulsion and how things were tense for a time, but things had gone back to normal.

The Brother chuckled endearingly, "Though we dwelled in the dark, the Maker showed us that His light can still reach us here and illuminate the path ahead. His smile soured. "Now, I'll fetch you a bucket. You smell like the back alley of a tavern on a busy night."

Evelyn scoffed, "And how would you know that, Brother Devons?"

"I wasn't always a Brother," he winked and hurried out knowing how anxious she was to leave.

Once finished, he and a Knight escorted her out. The morning sun on her face ignited her smile, and she found herself spinning in the fresh air. At some point, she collapsed and was simply lying flat on her back in the dirt. She didn't care, though, breathing in deep, savory breaths and drinking in the sunlight. Laying there for some time, shadows began blocking out the golden light.

"Hey…" she held up a hand so she could see who intruded on her frivolity.

"Andraste's tits, Trev, is that you!?"

"Brax!" He held a hand down, helping her up. She hopped to her feet and hugged him.

"Fuck! Why do you smell like the bottom of the latrine?" Her fellow apprentice struggled to get out of her grasp while his Sentinel chuckled at them. "I'm never going to get this smell off me, Trev!"

"What's the matter, pretty boy? You know your enemy's innards won't smell much better? Or cowards who shit themselves."

Evelyn pointed and winked at Dane, "I missed your optimism too, big guy!"

Abraxas lowered his voice, "You know I got that thing tonight. I've yet to know a lady aroused by the smell of… Maker balls, it is really like Lake Calenhad's putrid tide."

"What a bunch of babies," she scoffed. "So, where is everyone? The training yard should be full?"

"Arlo and Croft gave everyone a rest day." She stared at her fellow mage with her jaw slack. "The old bastard assured us it had nothing to do with you getting out, but I'm shocked and appalled to admit that I do believe Croft has a soft spot for you, Trev."

"That's disturbing." Despite her words, part of her couldn't help but be gladdened by it. Gavril was cold as stone, but he cared deeply about his students and wanted them to succeed. His harsh instruction wasn't to heap misery upon them but to prepare them for what was to come. "Well, if that's the case, I have other people to accost!"

Leaving them, there was one person she desperately wanted to see. Waiting for her victim to pass in the quiet hall of the Tower, Evelyn waited in the cover of a small enclave. As soon as his dash of golden hair streaked by, she jumped out and dragged him into the shadows.

"What in the— Evelyn?! You're out! And," Cullen's face scrunched up, "Maker, you stink!"

"That's right, the stench of freedom, and I owe you a hug for everything you did!" She held out her arms, slowly closing the gap between them.

"It's alright, truly, we can skip the hug. I have—"

"Class soon, I know. Now when you're sitting there and catch a whiff of yourself, you'll think of me."

"Don't you dare!" He was partly laughing, holding out his hands to fend her off. "You really are a pain in the arse!"

"I tried to warn you!" Without hesitating, she launched herself into his arms, hugging him, "Thank you, Rutherford, I missed you!" The feel of his body flush against hers was a surprise, realizing they had never come in contact without armor on. An intense heat different from her mana settled low in her belly, feeling the taunt muscles beneath is clothes ripple.

Unable to throw her off, he eventually begrudgingly let it happen, wrapping his arms around her timidly, "I missed you too… up until now, that is." Releasing him with a beaming smile, he tried to act put off, but she could tell he was holding back. "Maker, I smell like I rolled in a Mabari kennel. How long have you been out there nauseating people? Haven't you had time to wash?"

"Pff, and miss a chance like this to thoroughly annoy everyone? I'm off to the Mess Hall to see if I can make everyone lose their appetite."

"And here I thought you were raised to be a lady?"

She chuckled, "I'm only a lady when it suits me, and besides, it'll teach anyone who wants to mess with me that there are repercussions."

"Wait, don't tell me you're going to—"

She exaggerated her nod, "I saw Brax and Dane already. The big guy is going to let me sit with him and the other Templars saying he has to 'watch me'. Vale will be there. Between the latrines she's been cleaning and me, I'm going to see how many times I can make the princess gag."

"Haven't you learned anything from this?!"

"I have," she smiled smugly, her voice lightening sweetly, "you smell like oakmoss." All previous emotion fled his face in favor of quiet surprise. When his cheeks reddened, she added, "It's nice." His amber eyes stared at her, but a small tweak perked up a corner of his mouth. "Well, it was. You best be off or you'll be late for class, Rutherford."

Cullen cleared his throat. "I, um, yes, I should be going."

As he went to leave, she called to his back, "I'm racking up quite the debt to you."

Looking over his shoulder, he replied, "Well, I'll gladly consider it settled if you just go bathe rather than start more trouble."

She groaned, rolling her eyes, "What are you, my Sentinel? You're no fun."

"No, you just know I'm right. As usual," and he walked away.

Nothing seemed usual though, and despite being apart for the last week, something was different between them.

Stubborn – having not listened to Cullen, knowing full well he was annoyingly right—she joined Rhetta and the others in the Mess Hall. Jumping up and making a scene over her return before recoiling at her stench, the elf was excited to fill her in on everything she missed. While the gossip was always juicy, the most exciting news was that Miriam had gotten permission to pursue the path of a Spirit Healer. Forgetting her revenge, Evelyn asked where she was, only to hear the petite Ferelden was spending more time in prayer lately. Feeling the need to congratulate her, she quickly grabbed a bowl of stew, wolfed it down, and ran out of the hall.

The Chapel was serene, its stone walls bathed in soft candlelight that flickered across the faces of Sisters, Mothers, and apprentices gathered in hushed clusters. Evelyn's boots clicked softly against the polished floor as she stepped inside.

She spotted her friend almost immediately. Miriam knelt before the statue of Andraste, her hands clasped tightly before her, the faintest tremor running through her shoulders. Evelyn's face lit up with a smile, but it faltered as she hesitated. She didn't want to disturb her friend's prayer.

So she waited, lingering in the shadows, her eyes fixed on the Ferelden's bowed form. After what felt like an eternity, her friend finally rose, the soft rustle of her robes breaking the silence. She turned, and Evelyn's brow furrowed. Miriam's face was puffy, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

This was not the reunion she had imagined. She had expected to find Miriam jubilant and overjoyed at finally being allowed to pursue her dream of becoming a healer. Yet, the moment Miriam's gaze landed on the pyromancer, her expression changed. A radiant smile broke across her tear-streaked face, and she hurried forward, her steps quick and eager.

"Evelyn!" Her voice was filled with joy as she reached for the Marcher's hands, gripping them tightly. "Oh, thank the Maker, you're free! I've prayed for your imprisonment to pass seamlessly for you, every single day. Oh! What is that—"

Evelyn's heart warmed at the genuine happiness in her friend's voice. "I'm a bit ripe, I know. It's good to see you too, Miri! I can't tell you how much I've missed the sunlight." She squeezed Miriam's hands, her voice light and teasing. "But it seems I'm not the only one with good news. Rhetta told me everything. You're going to be a healer!"

The Ferelden's smile faltered for a brief moment before she forced it back. "Yes," she said softly. "The First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander… they decided to let me study after… well, after the incident at the training grounds."

Evelyn tilted her head, studying her friend closely. "I'm so proud of you, Miri. But…" Her gaze flicked to the faint puffiness around her friend's eyes. "Why were you crying?"

Miriam shook her head quickly, her grip tightening on Evelyn's hands. "It's nothing," she said hurriedly. "I don't want to spoil this moment. You're free. This is your day. I won't drag you down with my troubles."

The Marcher frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Could you do the same if the situation were reversed? Could you see me crying and pretend nothing was wrong?"

The Ferelden's eyes widened. "Andraste's ashes, of course not! I couldn't just ignore…"

She placed a comforting hand on Miriam's shoulder to interrupt her. "Then don't ask me to."

Her friend hesitated, her lips trembling as though she was holding back words. Finally, she nodded. "Can we speak in private?"

"Of course," the pyromancer replied without hesitation. "My room is closer than yours. Let's go."

The walk to her room was short, the corridors mostly quiet and empty at this late hour. Once inside, Evelyn gestured for Miriam to sit on the small cot against the wall. The Ferelden sat down heavily, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Evelyn pulled a chair close, sitting across from her, concern etched on her face. "I'm listening."

Miriam took a deep breath, her gaze fixed on her hands. "I've been attending the healing classes for a few days now," she began, her voice low. "Yesterday, we practiced a spell that channels mana into different parts of the body to detect any anomalies or hidden injuries. As a practice, we were divided into pairs." She paused, her lips tightening. "No one wanted to pair with me."

Evelyn's eyes darkened. "Because of your quirk?"

Miriam nodded. "They're still uneasy around me. So, I was paired with the Senior Enchanter, Wynne. She… she's kind and wise, so I wasn't very upset about this turn of events. And as we practiced, scanning different organs, she suddenly asked me if I had started my cycle yet."

Evelyn's brow arched, but she said nothing.

"I told her no," Miriam continued. "I said I was just a late bloomer, that it would happen eventually. But she gave me this look—like she already knew—and said she was afraid it wasn't the case. After the class, she asked me to stay behind. She scanned my stomach… again and again, like she didn't want to believe what she was seeing." Her voice wavered. "And then she told me… she told me my reproductive organs aren't developed at all. That's why I haven't bled. That's why…" Tears welled in her eyes. "That's why I'm barren."

Evelyn reached out, placing a steadying hand on Miriam's knee. "Oh, Miri…"

The Ferelden's tears spilled freely, her voice fracturing under the weight of her emotions. "I feel so stupid for being upset about this. Everyone is made the way the Maker intended. This is His will for me." She wiped at her face, though the tears kept coming. "And anyway, mages aren't even allowed to have children or… or relationships. I'd never break the rules. Never. But even knowing all that, I can't stop feeling it—this sadness, this sense of loss. It just hurts."

Evelyn moved to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her friend's shoulders. "I don't think it's stupid. You're allowed to feel sad. Even if… even if it's the Maker's will, that doesn't mean you can't hurt…" She trailed off, biting her lip. She had no idea what other words of solace she could offer. "I'm sorry, I don't know what else to say. I wish I did, but I… I just want you to know I'm here, okay? Even if I don't really know what else to do."

Miriam leaned into the pyromancer, wrapping her arms around her tightly. Her cold, calmy hands fisted her shirt uncaring of the smell, and Evelyn allowed her aura to console her. After a while, her sobs quieted into soft sniffles as she clung to her friend. "Evelyn," she murmured, her voice still thick with emotion. "You are a hearth on a cold night. Thank you for sharing your comforting warmth with me." She pulled back slightly, her tearful eyes meeting the Marcher's with a small, trembling smile. "And thank you for being my friend. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Evelyn's cheeks burned a bright red, clearing her throat. "Well, you know me, bright and warm, and… uh… likely to burn your house down if you leave me unattended." She shot Miriam a sheepish grin, hoping the humor was welcomed. Her fierce protective spirit persisted though, "Seriously, though, you're stuck with me now, Miri. No take-backs. Even if I'm more bonfire than hearth." The Ferelden let out a soft, watery laugh at her fumbling attempt at humor, and Evelyn instantly felt more at ease. She smiled, "There we go. Laughter—it's the best medicine. Though if that doesn't work, I'm always happy to set some pants on fire for you. Very therapeutic, I promise."

After a while, when Miriam finally left for her quarters, her steps slow but steadier than before, Evelyn remained seated on the cot. She glanced down at the damp spots on her shirt where her friend's tears had soaked through. Her fingers brushed over them absentmindedly, her brow furrowing.

Grabbing the basin and a rag, she undressed and began to wash herself. Yet the distraction was unable to help feelings from dredging up she had long repressed on the subject. Even if she didn't fully understand it, she too felt a loss at any chance of a normal life. As she got older and news of her siblings getting engaged and married reached her from her father, she tried to ignore the deep-seated envy that wanted to surface. It was just one more choice taken from her.

An odd thought struck her, and she wondered why mages shouldn't marry Templars. Didn't it make sense that together they were safest? Why on Thedas was it backward?

Frustration welled up in her, helping her scrub every speck of dirt off her. Was it that simple? No, of course not, because people feared and hated mages. That was why she was becoming a Knight-Enchanter, to show people that mages were not all monsters. Show them that mages and Templars could magically oppose each other and still be allies. Look at all the friends she had made in this country full of pig-headed people; and what if she were to pair with one, one like…

The first name that came to mind surprised her.

Cullen.

The warm tingling of his touch came back to her, along with the gratefulness of his recent efforts on her behalf. Confronting the stirring in her chest, she allowed herself to see him as more than a friend. It was hard at first, Cullen being his stubborn self, but she was too, perhaps to the benefit of each other. There was no denying the physical attraction that was becoming evident. Tall, strong, and handsome with his blonde hair and chiseled jawline, she had a hard time believing she was the only one to notice him. He was dutiful and helped her keep her fiery nature in check with his level-headedness.

He certainly was in the habit of doing her favors, and now she wondered if he treated everyone like this or if it was just her. Why was being with someone as devoted to The Order as Cullen forbidden?

"Because people fear mages, even the ones sworn to protect us do," she muttered bitterly to herself, trying to push down her self-pity. Evelyn threw her dirty rag into the murky water after finishing and slipped on clean clothes.

Cullen was not a mage; he was normal. Who's to say he wasn't disgusted by her nature too? Magic is dangerous; the familiar mantra was ingrained in everyone, and though true, it was unfair for it to define her. In the past, Henley had never thought it of her, but Cullen had. Yet, she couldn't help the way her heart fluttered for the Ferelden farmboy.

As months passed, such feelings refused to leave her, but at the mention of her Harrowing coming up in the next year, her focus came to rest in preparation for it. The nature of her primal mana would attract a strong demon and needed to be in top form to defeat it. While she was honing her abilities, other mages were pursuing more social endeavors. Rhetta was a constant gossip and creator of it when it came to who was fooling around with who. Evelyn held her breath each time she told them, fearing to hear Cullen's name, but thankfully it remained out of the rumor mill.

At seventeen and never have even kissed a boy, she tried to convince herself it was for the better. She was training to be a Knight-Enchanter and under the strictest of codes. If she got caught, it would be the end of her. Literally.

"Are you still in a foul mood, Trevelyan?" She looked up from stretching in the training yard to see Cullen and Tristian approach with weary looks. The latter, having asked, crossed his arms, put off by it, but the blonde showed more concern.

"Was I?" She was, but she wasn't going to admit it.

The other day, her potion class was out in the garden to pick ingredients, and Cullen happened to be on duty there. Thinking she'd get some time to chat with him, another mage – one Rhetta was always mentioning in her tales—was sniffing around him the whole time. Smiles were exchanged, and she giggled at things he discreetly said making Evelyn positively furious – especially since Cullen wasn't that funny.

Last week, he approached her with barely contained excitement, his brilliant smile threatening to break free. "How many heretics does it take to change a lamp-wick?" he asked, his voice brimming with anticipation.

Trying to humor him, Evelyn suppressed the urge to sigh at yet another one of Cullen's pitiful jokes and instead gave a noncommittal shrug. "No idea."

His grin widened. "None, for they dwell in eternal darkness!" She forced out a chuckle, doing her best to make it sound genuine. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, even if his humor was predictably awful. Truthfully, she had a bit of a crush on him, but between Cullen and Henley, she was beginning to think she might fall for the one who could manage a halfway decent joke.

"Something bothering you?" Cullen asked so innocently, probably unaware he was even flirted with. "I never saw you take out one of the practice dummies like you did yesterday. Redcliffe probably thought we were under attack with all the smoke."

"It looked at me wrong." She sighed heavily, trying to let it go, completely powerless to do anything about who he chooses to like. While she had been made to accept a lot over the years, at times her inability to act plagued her. It wasn't his fault after all, but her hot temper always got the better of her. "I was just having a rough day, I apologize if I took it out on you."

Before more could be said, Arlo called Cullen over briefly to talk. The Knight-Lieutenant had come to trust her more after the incident, and she was allowed to socialize with the other recruits openly. Alone with Tristian, the shifty-eyed Ferelden gave her a pointed look. "I've been meaning to ask… is there something between you and Rutherford? Ever since you blew up the yard, he's been acting strange."

Her lips parted slightly at the revelation, "No, nothing. You know I can't do any of that."

He shrugged, "Brax does, and Dane knows and doesn't say shit."

"Well, I'm not Brax. If he wants to take that risk, he can. Can we drop it?"

"Drop what?" Cullen returned with a questioning look.

Evelyn set to playing with her braid, happy not to continue, but Tristian was unable to stop his big blabbering mouth. "Trevelyan's the Circle's new paragon of virtue, alongside you, that is. Won't be surprised if you take the Vow of Chastity unless you finally grow a pair and fuck that mage you've been dreaming about."

Cullen's face reddened. "Maker's breath, you can't just say things like that in front of her?!" Reid shrugged, smirking, making Evelyn wonder what game he was playing.

Cullen is infatuated with a mage?! Her mana wanted to roar forth thinking of the incident in the garden, yet she pushed it down bitterly.

Deciding to quit the conversation to save them both mortification knowing she was next, the mage flipped her two-toned braid over her shoulder, "And, I'm gonna go—"

"Wait! I have news!" she stopped dead, pivoting back to look at Cullen. They've set a date for my Vigil." Amnesia set in, and both she and Reid forgot all else when they heard his news. "The week after my name day, I start."

Embarrassingly enough, Evelyn clapped her hands giddily, "That's wonderful! You did it, Cullen!" The mage wished she could embrace him, but her new privileges didn't extend that far.

Beaming back at her, he added, "I still have to pass my Vigil, mind you."

"Pff, you will, without a doubt! I'll even let you try out your new abilities on me. The first shot is free, but after that, you'll have to work for it."

Feeling like the third wheel, Tristan quietly slunk off to stand and talk with Abraxas and Dane, though they eyed the two of them slyly as they conversed.

"I fear I won't be in fighting shape for some time afterward until I get used to lyrium," his brow creased with some worry, and she knew he was thinking of the risks involved in taking it.

"As long as it's what you want?" He nodded earnestly, conviction in his amber eyes, "Then I'll think of every excuse I can to check on you, even if I have to get thrown in the cells again, at least it's by your infirmary. I can call to you, sing you a song, whatever you need!"

He chuckled, shuffling shoulder to shoulder with her so the nearest on-duty Knight couldn't see, "Don't do that on my account, but there is one thing… will you keep this safe?" He pulled out a coin from his pocket, placing it in her hand. There was nothing special about it, making her cock an eyebrow up at him in question. "My siblings gave it to me for luck. They'll strip me of everything once I begin and I couldn't bear it if they took it. We aren't supposed to keep such mementos, but I couldn't part with it."

Cullen had told her of his hasty entry into The Order, and they both valued family greatly. For him to trust her with such a prized possession that in all their years of knowing each other, he had quietly guarded until now made her heart soar.

"I understand. I'll keep it safe. I may need some luck anyway if I'm to be without you." His gaze softened, and she realized how sappy she sounded, adding, "You know, because you keep me out of trouble."

Cullen's lips twitched into a half-smile, though his ears reddened slightly. "Well, someone's got to." His tone was light, but his eyes lingered on hers a moment longer than necessary.

She chuckled and curled her fingers around the coin, feeling its warmth from his hand.

"Thank you." He stepped back, his hand brushing hers for the briefest of moments before he squared his shoulders and turned toward the proverbial path ahead. "I'll come back for it. And you."

The words were clear but soft, as though spoken more to himself than to her. Then, with a final glance, he strode away toward the waiting Knights, leaving her with a fluttering heart and the small, unremarkable coin in her grasp—now heavy with meaning.

She stood there a moment longer, watching until he disappeared from view. Only then did she slip the coin into her pocket, patting it as though to reassure herself it was still there. "Good luck, Cullen," she whispered under her breath and turned away.