#Evelyn Isla Trevelyan

[ladymdc]

7 8 18 26 (for any of them!)

Thanks for the ask buddy! This was a lovely surprise uwu. My Trevelyan had the most effort put into her. Evelyn was my first real foray into writing & OC building, so I'm going to choose her going into this one!

7. if they had to choose one person most important to them, who would that be?

It would be her twin brother, Ezmond. He's dies in my canon worldstate when the circles fell (he became a templar to stay with his sister & protect her) but he'd still be the most important person to her, even in death.

8. who do they hate the most, and do they have an arch-nemesis?

I don't think she really hates anyone. Dislike abound, sure. But the only thing she'd truly hate beyond reason is the whole "holy symbol"/dehumanizing approach on being the Inquisitor. It would make her feel isolated in a different way than the circles, & Evelyn would hate that she escaped, but not really, if that makes sense.

18. do they have any irrational fears?

Spiders because I like the whole fear demons take on the shape of what you fear in game. But honestly, bugs in general.

26. do they get a happy ending?

I guess this remains to be seen with DA4 LOL. But overall Evelyn does at the end of DAI. My idea of what that looks like has changed some since I wrote my og work for her, but her return in Veilguard be very begrudging no matter what.

A couple of my fav pieces of Evelyn for ✨visual effect✨: one & two

Feel free to send me a DA worldstate ask!

[ladymdc]

This is SO surreal 😭❤️ Thank you so much for the kind words @kauriart; it really does mean the world to me that this fic inspired you in any way, especially considering how much I’ve looked up to your writing since rejoining the fandom (The Journals of CSR = heart eyes for days).

I’ll never be able to say it enough, so — thank you — thank you — THANK YOU! SO much for such a lovely surprise. I’m going to treasure this gorgeous piece of art forever.

Feathers and Fur

For @ladymdc. Her fic Feathers and Fur was the fic that brought me into the Dragon Age fandom. I’d just finished Inquisition, didn’t even have an A03 account yet, or a tumblr, was so goddamn thirsty for Cullen fluff, and boy did she deliver. I tore through that fic. I devoured it. I can’t even tell you guys how deeply satisfying it was to read, how perfectly timed, and how it forever cemented my love of this game. So this is a small thank you for a fic that had a BIG impact on me. <3

[frecklef0x]

Evelyn Isla Trevelyan for @ladymdc

[ladymdc]

For the DA asks how about 9 for all three!

Aaah! I get to think about all of them lol. Thank you ♥️

9. what is their love language? 

Eirlys Amell is my Warden. She's an ice mage & about as warm & fuzzy as a sheet of ice. Her LI was Alistair & her love language is physical touch.

Default Hawke was my favorite tbh. Garret (mage) was my purple Hawke, while Marian (rogue) was my blue, but I feel like I played Marian far more. Anyway! No matter how you split it here, I ended up romancing Fenris the most & both of their love languages are quality time in my mind.

Evelyn Isla Trevelyan is my quizzy. She's a storm mage & a Cullenmancer uwu. Her love language is acts of service.

Feel free to send me a DA worldstate ask!

[ladymdc]

Fic writers asks #4 please? For Feathers & Fur!

4. If you could change anything in F&F, what would it be?

*cringes*

The short answer is everything. I would rewrite it AGAIN from beginning to end.

This is for a few reasons:

1) It was my first attempt at writing a fic.

2) When I was writing it in 2015, I got a comment about halfway through that was something to the effect of “if we wanted to rehash canon scenes, we’d play the game.” I was insecure & it was harshly written so I nuked the fic & changed my username. It had like 15 subscribers, all quiet, I didn’t think anyone would miss it.

3) When I revived the project 2 years later, I was surprised by the comments I received saying they remembered the fic & was glad to see it back. I cautiously snuck into the fandom at the suggestion of a reader. However, in the end this “friend” gaslit me (& a bunch of other writers) & this fic was sort of collateral damage. When I reread parts, I could see her influence all over it.

That I finished the series, is a miracle. I grit my teeth & finished S&G (it’s companion piece) then HEAVILY edited F&F, nearly redoing entire chapters on occasion, before forcing myself to write the final 2 chapters.

But it’s done & everyone has been really supportive/kind about the fic. Also, I nearly had a stroke when @kauriart​ posted this lovely rec/gift. I seriously cried over it because I had so many bad feelings associated with F&F & this was the final push I needed to help me set all of that aside. [So, thank you again Kauri]

[10 questions every fic author secretly wants to be asked || send me an ask]

[ladymdc]

Wandering in the Dark

Well, I finished it.

Pairing: Cullen Rutherford x F!mage Trevelyan (Noir AU/dark future/1930s) Rating: Explicit (for occasional smut, like 3 instances) Word Count: ~75,500 Chapters: 19/19 Summary: In a world on the verge of collapse, C.S. Rutherford did what he could to survive, at least until a routine case led him down a path he never expected to cross, and a dame with dark verdant eyes and a sharp wit strode into his office.

With nothing as it seemed, including her, perhaps it all wasn’t as hopeless as he thought.

Read it from the beginning - here & I have included CH.1 under the cut for funsies. ((For those who have been keeping up with it, I’ve included a direct link to the CH18 & I’m sure you can find the final chapter from there :D))

Special thanks to the following people: @laraslandlockedblues​, @windysuspirations​, @kawakaeguri​, @machatnoir​, @softlyue, @fadetastic​, @laurelsofhighever​, & @mssaboteur​ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ I may not talk to all of them every day or at all anymore, but I wanted to say thanks for supporting/encouraging me in some way at some point in this journey. I sincerely couldn’t have done this without you. 

The Resistance was irretrievably over; everything that could have been done had been done. He had never thought they would succeed, only a fool would believe they could, but he had never thought he would live to see the day the last Theirin was wiped from the face of Thedas.

This wasn’t the first time such rumors circulated, but it would be the last. Front and center on today’s paper was undeniable proof. The Theirin family crest affixed to the lapel of Amladaris’ suit jacket was a subtle but devastating blow to anyone still clinging to hope the Golden Age would someday return.

It had been over a decade since he last saw Alistair, but the loss stung no less for it. Perhaps even more so knowing the last words spoken to the man he once called a Brother were venomous and full of resentment. Now, there would never be an opportunity to correct that wrong, but it wasn’t like he had been going out of his way in an attempt to do so anyway. All that was left was to hope Alistair’s death was quick and painless. Though based on the sinister curl of Amladaris’ lip, it was anything but.

The thought did nothing for the migraine that had been plaguing him all morning. In addition to the throbbing tendrils taking root deep in his skull, there was also a slight halo around objects, a shimmery haze that wasn’t precisely seeing double but close enough to be an annoyance. It was one of those post-lyrium side effects he’d long since come to terms with. Once the coup took place, it was either risk injecting a tainted dose or quit.

It was an easy decision.

Automatically, he popped some aspirin into his mouth, swallowed it dry and reached for a cigarette. He tapped it twice on the desk and tucked it into the corner of his mouth before he brought the cupped lighter up, despising the slight tremor of his hands. He smoked in long, steady pulls. Repeatedly, his gaze dropped to the newspaper before him then at his watch to read the time as if it would somehow make it move faster. Eventually, the pounding in his head subsided only to be replaced by the telltale click-clack of high heels.

His interest was instantly piqued, and it had nothing to do with the shapely silhouette he could discern through the frosted glass. A lot could be determined by someone’s gait. The speed and force of their steps and the sounds it produced could indicate a wide array of emotions. This client didn’t possess the terrible wrath of a woman wronged nor the hesitant curiosity of one who suspects. She appeared to exude an air of calm indifference. A rare thing in a world gripped by fear and ruin.

Then, without one iota of hesitation, the door opened.

The woman was beautiful; her wavy, brunette hair smooth and shining. Her full lips an agreeable shade of ruby red. Her dark verdant eyes boldly held his gaze. Something flashed in their depths, green and bright, but then she blinked, and it was gone. One corner of her mouth lifted lazily.

“Rutherford.”

He could feel a sudden heat on the back of his neck at the way his name rolled off her tongue but was determined to pretend it wasn’t there. Her accent was Marcher, mixed with something else he couldn’t quite place.

She shut the door and took a seat in one of the two intentionally uncomfortable, wooden chairs before him. The woman looked at him expectantly.

Rutherford cleared his throat and mashed his cigarette into Amladaris’ left eye. “It seems I’m at a disadvantage, Miss—“

The marginal quirk of her lip became almost amused. “Trevelyan.”

His gut locked up; bile burned in his throat. Rutherford pressed his finger and thumb into the corners of his eyes. Trying to stamp out the visions swimming through his mind. It had been three years since Lord Protector Sethius Amladaris took control, and not a day went by that he was reminded of his unknowing role in the coup.

Having the propensity to keep his head down and work, he took notice something was off much too late. By the time Hawke stormed into his office to scream scathing accusations of his involvement, the damage had already been done. Lyrium tainted with Red had been injected into a majority of their ranks at evening rations. Red not only warped the mind but after the first hit, there was no turning back for without it there was only death. With only one source for the terrible substance available, turning the Order against country and crown was simple.

Only those with rank were given a choice. General Trevelyan was the first to refuse. Rutherford, the second. The difference, however, was only he lived because by way of answer, Rutherford put a bullet between Major General Stannard’s Red-tainted eyes.

Meeting the late General Trevelyan’s daughter’s inquisitive stare, he scraped his bottom teeth over his top lip where the scar from escaping the ordeal was. There was a brief flash of prickling numbness. He immediately regretted drawing attention to it as her eyes briefly roamed over his mouth. The room suddenly felt far too warm. It would be easier not to make eye contact, but it would be cowardly to look away.

Rutherford yanked on the knot of his tie to loosen it. “Why are you here?” It came out much harsher than he would have liked.

She ignored the outburst. “I have use of someone with your talents.”

“Talents?” He scoffed, fishing out another cigarette. The dregs of his migraine were flaring up with force.

“Yes, talents,” she insisted.

Twice, he tapped the cigarette on the desk. “And what might those be?” As far as he was aware, failure and survival were his only ‘talents.’ He had an odd propensity for both.

“We both know why you keep checking your watch.”

Despite the seriousness of her insinuation, he couldn’t help smiling. “And what makes you think you know anything about me?” He asked before fitting the cigarette in his mouth and lighting it.

“Are you sure you want to play this game?” she asked, plucking off some unnoticeable piece of offense from her charcoal grey skirt before returning her dark green eyes to his amber. “Because I do know everything about you.”

Rutherford leaned back in the chair and crossed ankle over knee. “Please.” He blew his smoke out defiantly. “Do tell.”

She smiled tolerantly though his cigarette smoke. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford, the second eldest child of four. Mia, the eldest, your brother Branson, and Rosalie the youngest. You joined the Royal Order the day you turned eighteen. At twenty, you took your first lyrium dose, and your parents died that same year as the Blight ran rampant through the countryside. Then came Kinloch—”

“Enough,” he gritted out. A breath hissed out of him, and he turned his head to avoid her piercing gaze. It took a while before he noticed the dull ache in his jaw from clenching his teeth as he glared at the newspaper displaying the result of his most devastating failure.

“He’s alive you know,” she said, tipping her chin toward the paper.

“No shit.”

Trevelyan made a sound that could have been a laugh. “Don’t be thick.”

“I’m not. I—“ He sat up a little straighter when Trevelyan suddenly stood but didn’t rise as he should have.

“You are,” she insisted as she braced one arm on the desk and leaned over. Her long, flowing locks fell over her shoulder. The scent of her, sweet and floral with notes of something akin to spring rains, wafted his direction. Briefly, it overpowered the smoke thick in the air around him. Rutherford was momentarily struck a little dumb by it.

The motion of her hair drew his attention away from her face toward… other assets. The neckline of her white blouse cut dangerously low and there was little for him to do but glare at her when she looked up at him from beneath her lashes. He knew what she was doing, and he hated it worked so easily, especially because he jumped a little when the silk of her glove brushed his fingers.

Smirking, Trevelyan placed his cigarette between her lips and tucked something into his hand. The metal was warm, and he errantly wondered how warm she’d feel, but then his thumb reflexively ran along the familiar grooves.

His stomach bottomed out. “This could be any coin,” he snapped, holding the silver and gold coin between finger and thumb for emphasis.

“It could,” she agreed. “But it isn’t. Did you know you’re bleeding?” With the cigarette pointing down and held between thumb and middle finger, she touched the very tip of her nose.

Rutherford scrambled to find a handkerchief, but his shirt was already ruined. While he attempted to clean himself up and staunch the flow, she took one long drag and held the cigarette back out to him. He hesitated to take it, distracted by the bright red imprint of her lips upon it.

After a moment of inaction, she leaned forward and placed it between his slightly parted lips and a quiet thrill ran through him at her forwardness. The faint taste of her only served to agitate him further, and she knew it.

That semi-amused curve to her mouth was back. “I can always find someone else, so come along or don’t, it matters not to me. Either way you have your luck back. Perhaps that’s all that’s been missing all these years.” At that she buttoned a single button on her jacket, further accentuating the curve of her waist and the swell of her breasts, and departed.

The woman never even hinted at what she wanted from him. Like the eye of storm, she was serene and a tad refreshing, but then left chaos and destruction in her wake. His mind was positivity reeling at what she vaguely suggested as he was left with far too many questions and not a single answer.

Rutherford owed Alistair his life. If it weren’t for the Wardens, he would have rotted in Kinloch. At the time, he felt there was nothing to thank them for. The mistakes he made were too grave, the horrors endured too fresh, and his wounds still weeping. Time healed the latter. The former two points, however… Well, they never left, and only more had been added over time. But if there was a way for him to take something he fucked up and make it right, he shouldn’t still be sitting there.

He snuffed the cigarette out on Amladaris’ right eye. There were few things he needed to grab, all within reach. Smokes, lighter, jacket and his emergency bag which contained an assortment of necessities and a good deal of cash should the regime ever care to come after him again. Within moments he was able to rush after her.

“Wait! I—“ he came to a grinding halt at the sight of her leaning against a car expectantly.

“Well, that didn’t take long did it?” Her voice was full of dry amusement.

He scowled. “Shut up.”

“And here I thought you’d be glad to see I waited.” Trevelyan’s pout shifted into something openly appraising as her gaze blatantly raked up his body. “I know I’m glad to see you’re interested.”

He was blushing. Knew he was blushing and the laziest smile he’d ever seen blooming across her lovely face did nothing to alleviate it. Rutherford pinched the bridge of his nose because that… that was dangerous. His entire body had heated through, and it had everything to do with the way she seemed to know how to push all of his buttons.

She laughed then, a high and bright sound that made his hand drop reflexively. Her smile widened a little when their gazes locked once again. His heart was racing, and he was confused as to why.

“Alright grump,” she chirped, opening the passenger door. “Get in. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

Her laughter and choice of address were unexpected, and he felt himself breathing out a small huff of amusement as he stepped off the curb and reached in to toss his bag into the backseat. “What did you just call me?”

“Grump.”

“No. Don’t. I don’t like it,” he said, voice muffled from trying, in vain, to wipe away the stupid grin stretching across his face as he stood straight. The smile felt odd, maybe because it felt real.

“Are you sure? It seems like you do very much.”

What he did like, oddly enough, was how her standing on the curb put her almost face to face with him. “I really don’t.” He shook his head, smile finally fading away. “Preferably Rutherford, or Cullen if you must.”

“Alright, Cullen,” she said very slowly as if savoring the feel of his name in her mouth. She extended out a gloved hand. “Preferably Evelyn, or Trevelyan if you must.”

It took him a moment, almost a moment too long but he accepted. It wasn’t a handshake, it was something else, and it bothered him. He abruptly pulled his hand back and clenched it into a fist at his side to prevent himself from wiping it off on his pants.

Her expression shifted. It was subtle, but Rutherford breathed a little easier at the hardness in her eyes for the last thing he deserved was anyone’s warmth or acceptance no matter how much he may want it deep down.

[ladymdc]

For the writer questions: 4 and 6 for Wandering in the Dark plz?

Thank you for the ask lovely!!! ❤️

4. If you could change anything in WitD, what would it be?

*calmly inhales*

Ok, believe it or not, the ONE thing I would go back and change is the last half of CH17; specifically, the smut.

It was something I had partially written in the early stages, sort of “I knew where the fic was going & how to get there would be the fun part” -- ANYWAY, I was really struggling with WitD at that point. I wanted to finish it SO BAD & I got hung up for like 3 months on how the newly written section clashed with the prewritten smut. I did my best to blend it, but when I look at it, it all still reads slightly OOC to me. Hopefully this is just me, but... there it is. *cries*

6. Which scenes did you cut, and which were added in WitD?

CUT SCENES: I was always planning on covering the final battle & the conversation with Solas. However, when I got there, I felt it took away from the build up & the intent to have an open/ambiguous ending. Plus it brushed a little too close to canon in ways. Amladaris dies, the orb is destroyed, Solas disappears - all of that was easily implied without covering it, so it was axed & the world’s shortest epilogue was written instead.

ADDED SCENES: Believe it or not, in my original outline, Ez had died, so everything surrounding him was an addition. I felt it impacted Evelyn WAYYYY more find her brother tortured & broken after years of uncertainty. Give her that extra boost to be selfish & impulsive toward the end; tip her towards Eirlys Amell in ways. Plus, I needed an extra way to hint that Evelyn lived. I hope that wasn’t TOO subtle, but with Ez’s & Cole’s combined vague insight into the past/future, I wanted to set up that even though her & Cullen disappeared, they went to find Justice, ie Anders.

Plus... these changes set me up for a sequel if DA4 gives me the opportunity.

*phew*

I still have a lot of feelings about this fic & I’m incredibly proud of it. In fact, I thinks it’s the ONLY DA fic that I am proud of... So with that said, here is some shamless self-promotion: You can find this Noir/Dystopian AU - Wandering in the Dark - here, on Ao3.

[10 questions every fic author secretly wants to be asked || send me an ask]

[ladymdc]

Above, the full moons are bright. Below, their reflections shimmer among countless orbs of magelight.

They are caught in between.

((a lovely, soft, beautiful commission from @lonicera-caprifolium of Cullen & Ev))

[ladymdc]

*otp song list*

The super sweet & supportive @thejeeperswife tagged me like forever ago to share the 5 songs of my choice OTP, which will be Cullen Rutherford and Evelyn Isla Trevelyan. (artwork by drawinglinestoconstellations)

Ever since finishing WitD, their muses have been sort of quiet, but I still adore them. I’ll be taking songs from that fic’s playlist because I poured my heart & soul into that fic & I’m proud of it.

[I’ll tag: @shannaraisles, @laraslandlockedblues, @whenmysoulsings, @melaena, @laurelsofhighever, @idrelle-miocovani, @a-shakespearean-in-paris & @agentkatie - as always, feel free to ignore me ♥️)

The Song™: Bees - The Ballroom Thieves

And of all the thousand ways the world could tempt me I never met a better fighter of her fears And I try to breathe the air that she is breathing And they dance a lightless dance upon my floor

I am burning to tell her she’s all I’m needing, But I’m drowned out by all the noise outside the door. Well carried by the current of the morning, miles below the surface of the dawn.

This is not the place I was born in. But that doesn’t mean it’s not the place where I belong.

Song #2: Alright - Tow’rs

I don’t pretend to know the thoughts in your head It’s easy when your eyes are always speaking Why don’t we stay in each other’s arms It’s hard to wield a knife when my hands inside yours

If I’m not alright, will we be alright? I don’t want to be right, I just want you

Final 3 under the cut

Song #3: Little More Time - Ciaran Lavery

I never wanted you more than the time You buttoned high across your throat You held my arm like an anchor Would tie itself onto a boat And whispered in my ear Where shall you take me from here Looking out towards the coasts Clean the table and go Make tracks in the snow

Song #4: If We Were Vampires - Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

If we were vampires and death was a joke We'd go out on the sidewalk and smoke And laugh at all the lovers and their plans I wouldn't feel the need to hold your hand Maybe time running out is a gift I'll work hard 'til the end of my shift And give you every second I can find And hope it isn't me who's left behind

Song #5: Just This - Birdtalker

My body holds your heart, and in yours you hold mine Too many days we've been apart Yeah, I've been gone for too longBaby I've been lost all up in my head Lost in the past and what's next Keeping me from loving how I know best From a place of presents

[ladymdc]

What is something that without fail, always gets Evelyn erm...going?

Thanks for the ask nonny!!! ♥️

Please see the below gif 👀

Ev could be off stress baking & some carefully placed neck kisses would be enough to make her want to erm... have something else frosted.

[ladymdc]

Your Trevelyan is so pretty 💕

Awwwww!!!! Thank you ♥️ I love her...

It was just sort of dumb luck with the character creation sliders (& several kofis to @rhunae​​ got me some fantastic screenies since I am a console gremlin)

Also, some time last year I was watching The Haunting of Hill House & I realized that Kate Siegel made a pretty great face claim.

ANYWAY, Ev was the first OC that I really took the time to develop. It’s thanks to her that I started writing, so she definitely has a special place in my heart even if she isn’t my one any only muse anymore. Still, I have gotten a lot of art of her over the past couple of years because of that. (It’s all here under my #mdcomish tag for anyone who wants to take a looksie)

[ladymdc]

This was The Best(TM) surprise. 😭❤️😭

I have the best fandom besties! 🥔🥖🌿

I commissioned the amazing @kawereen to do a surprise gift for my lovely friends and I am sooooo in love with it! Seeing my Evelyn with @ladymdc’s Inquisitor Evelyn and @windysuspirations’ Eala is just an art dream come true. They’re probably sitting around talking about Cullen - this piece should be called “Cullen’s Wives Have Tea” 😹😹😹

Happy holidays my lovelies! (Fic promotion of their fics in links above! Check them out! Highly rec them both 😍😍😍)

[ladymdc]

*about the muse*

tagged by @laurelsofhighever​, who is so sweet! thank you!! ♥️

I’ll tag @a-shakespearean-in-paris, @dismalzelenka, @princessvicky01, @missragdoll84, @norroendyrd, @numphet, @shannaraisles & @briarfox13 (as always, feel free to ignore me or jump in and blame me)

- your muse’s name: Evelyn Isla Trevelyan

- a favorite picture / face claim of your muse: (screen-archery by the wonderful @rhunae​)

- two headcanons you have for your muse:

Ev stress bakes. I had a lot of fun with it in WitD

She loves being outdoors.

- three things that your muse likes doing in their free time:

reading

crossword puzzles

stress baking xD

- seven people your muse loves / likes:

Ezmond - Her twin/brother; no matter the AU/setting, these two are very close. After losing their parents, that bond grows, of course, and they would do whatever necessary to make sure the other lives, including sacrificing themselves.

Cullen - Everyone has a history and Ev doesn’t let Cullen’s gruffer more serious nature deter her from wanting to make him feel like part of the team. She easily acknowledges that everyone handles their shit differently, and recognizes the good in him he can no longer see. This is highlighted in WitD, and really that fic has become The One True universe for these two in my head. 

Varric - She might not be his BFF, but she respects and confides in him without hesitation.

Cole - He just wants to help, and really, at the end of the day that’s all Ev wants to do too. Plus, he’s such a sweet bean.

Leliana - She’s the sister Ev never had.

Dante - He’s a mabari, and his imprint differs from fic to fic, but not his temperament. He’s an old soul, loyal, and lowkey grouchy. :D

Dorian - Last but not least, Ev’s cousin and best friend.

- a phobia your muse has

Bugs, just like *in general*. It could be a butterfly touching her and she’d squeal and make an ass of herself.

[ladymdc]

Feathers & Fur

I wanted to just ramble into the void for a second because I never thought I’d finish this fic. 

I posted about half of this work back in 2015 under the same title. However, I deleted it because I was insecure & easily discouraged. I'm not sure what spurred me to revive it, but I am glad I did.

Since then, I have met a lot of wonderful people in the fandom and have made some great, real friendships. Without these individuals ((you know who you are)), I wouldn't have finished this. I know it isn't perfect, but I love that I tried, and I love that I finished it.

I tossed the epilogue below the cut for anyone interested in some floof and I also commissioned a lovely piece of art from Kawereen to celebrate this smol victory. You can see it here. 

Pairing: Cullen x Trevelyan (A Soulmates AU) Rating: Explicit Summary: A tear in the soul lets the Fade in.

Not wishing to harm His children, the Maker breathed life into the rend with the promise they could be whole once again, but the Fall from Grace removed that promise. A gift turned curse as the rend was freed from those who created Sin, allowed to also turn their back upon them. To harshen their punishment the broken soul, longing to be whole, continues to feel the call of its missing piece in dreams.

That Cullen was hers, within reach, was the Maker's cruel joke.

Something woke him, what exactly Cullen could not be sure. The dream had been formless, but it left him with a vague sense of dread and restlessness. Thankfully, dawn was not far off. The stars were fading as black turned to grey, and even though she had curled away from him at some point in the night, Evelyn was there.

Sleep was not so difficult for either one of them as it used to be. Cullen remembered a time when they both used to work until they couldn’t anymore. Back then, Evelyn used to fall asleep with her chestnut hair still elaborately braided, wake up, decide it didn’t look too bad and pick right back up where she had left off with Inquisition business. Now it was always loose, falling in soft waves that cascaded down her back.

Normalcy looked good on her.

Quietly, Cullen got out of bed and put on warm clothes. Even though spring had officially arrived, there had been a few light frosts the past week and one brief flurry of snow. He was spending time each day splitting wood by the shed next to the house for good measure. Probably would continue to do so throughout the summer so when winter came, they would have more than enough firewood.

Winters would be hard, but that was nothing new. They had been so at Skyhold too. It would be more than worth the quiet and solitude. Plus, he and Evelyn had each other; they would do what they had always done. Protect one another, keep each other warm, share their strengths.

Survive.

Before heading downstairs, there was a moment where he almost leaned down to place a kiss on her temple. Old habits died hard, especially when they were rooted in fear and uncertainty. The move had been taxing, on them both, but more so on Evelyn. She was still recovering from it, and she needed her rest, so instead of risking waking her, he added two logs to the fire. He would hate for her to get cold in his absence.

In the den, Cullen did the same, and Dante let out an appreciative grunt from his place on the rug. The hound seemed just as pleased with their new home as they were. The Battered Shield had been a home as Skyhold had been. Someplace to store their things and be together while Cullen did what he could to set things right.

After Corypheus had been defeated, his betrayal of Meredith and subsequent public departure from the Order finally became a point of contention. Cullen acknowledged he had taken oaths and that he had broken them, but he would not admit he had done wrong. The continual backlash had been disheartening, but the Inquisition and his family had stood by him, had helped him through the worst of it. And even though he was still ostracized by the Order, he held no regret. Cullen knew he was not the only one; he was merely a figurehead, an easy target for them to make an example of, just like Evelyn had been for the Exalted Council.

She had given the world everything, but it was never enough. They betrayed her in the end, just as Solas had, so when Evelyn disbanded the Inquisition in her bitterness, Cullen had only felt relief. If she had ever needed to put herself first, it was then. Without the Anchor, the incredible mana reserve she had grown accustomed to, Evelyn was left frail and weak.

The clinic had been a simple ‘what if’ Cullen had errantly considered when he learned just how many other Templars had chosen the same path. And when he and Evelyn were left standing there, alone and adrift, on the marble steps to the Winter Palace, he knew what he needed to do for himself as much as for Evelyn.

The Battered Shield had been good for her; allowed her to adjust and put the pieces of herself back together in some capacity. It had taken time, but eventually, she was ready to go home.

The two-story cottage was unpretentious, simple, and most importantly, theirs. They had built it from afar, and only Cullen had seen it before moving in because of Evelyn’s condition. He smiled to himself as he thought back to when she first laid eyes on the homestead, recalling peace and contentment that had filled her. There was still some unpacking to do. Nine or so crates lined the half-wall that separated the large open room that served as a den and dining area from the kitchen. They would get around to it; there was plenty of time.

Cullen washed his hands before making breakfast. They had some aged cheddar and leftover biscuits from the day before, so he decided to fry up some bacon. A little of everything went in Dante’s bowl along with a slice of salted beef, then Cullen made a sandwich for himself and one for his wife. He set hers on the table.

Standing in front of the large window that faced the lake in the kitchen, Cullen ate and watched color bleed back into the world as dawn broke. Light sparkled through the low fog creeping across the black waters. The trees standing sentinel became grey-green; the sky a motley of hues. Part of him wished Ev was awake to greet the day with him, but the other part was more than pleased she was still sleeping. He could get the morning chores taken care of, then spend time with her putting their belongings away.

Outdoors, wind sighed through the tree branches and ruffled his hair as Cullen walked to the stables. It smelled of winter. Perhaps another flurry was on its way. The horses were already awake, but Cullen refilled the water tank and set out the hay before letting them out of their stalls. His lean, umber stallion lipped his palm before making its way outside with the workhorses. A little farther down, Evelyn’s destrier, the large grey creature with eerie red eyes, snorted impatiently.

Once the door opened, its ears turned forward, but it didn’t exit. Cullen stroked the horse’s neck, thinking on how Evelyn never got to see her father before he passed. Josephine had felt personally responsible for it because she had requested the visit be postponed so Evelyn could travel and personally thank the Inquisition’s allies.

Immediately after it happened, the tour was canceled so she could at least go pay her respects at the gravesite in Ostwick. The only silver lining to the situation was her two surviving brothers had insisted upon making amends. They wrote often, and had supplied the workhorses and the wagons for their move; even refused their coin though the charge would not have stunted he and Evelyn financially in any way.

Eventually, Shadow exited his stall and headed down to the water’s edge. A moment later it raised its head and looked back toward the house. The only clouds in the sky rose from the chimney. Like him, the creature seemed to have a sixth sense about Evelyn. Cullen could always tell when she woke. His mind felt sharper; his perceptions more defined then they had ever been on lyrium. He felt awake.

If it were warmer, she would break her fast on the back porch. Let the landscape swallow her up. Breathe in the fresh air mixed in with the scents of earth and grass and flowers and wood like she had the first time he brought her there. Cullen had a sudden urge to go to her, to check on her, but he set it aside. It wouldn’t be much longer until he was finished.

After he was done cleaning out the stalls, Cullen set out the horses’ food and went to chop wood. The builders had left a monstrous pile of neatly stacked logs by the house ready for splitting. There was more than enough space in the shed for storage, so he planned to keep it full at all times in case he got injured or fell ill for any amount of time during the winter. But for now, Cullen decided to split just enough to replenish what they had used since yesterday.

The ax had just come down, splitting the wood with a crack, when he heard a faint crash from inside. His heart picked up speed, and his thoughts raced even as he knew she was fine.

Inside, Cullen set the ax down by the back door and found her standing where he had eaten earlier. Dante was at her side and if a mabari could look concerned, concerned he was indeed.

Evelyn stopped absently scratching Dante’s ear and waved her hand dismissively. “It was just a plate,” she said.

But it was more than that, and they both knew it.  

“How was breakfast?” Cullen asked, washing his hands. He made note of the pitcher of water with some lemon and elfroot submersed in it out on the counter top.

“It was good, thank you.”

He smiled, taking a step back to pluck the hand towel off the countertop behind him and a chunk of plate crunched under his boot.

“I swear it went everywhere when I dropped it. There’s probably pieces upstairs somehow,” Evelyn said with a laugh. It was still a little watery despite her efforts. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t pick it up; I tried.”

“Like you said, it was just a plate, but you shouldn’t be walking around barefoot until it’s cleaned up,” he said, tossing the rag aside so he could cup her cheek and feel the ample swell of her stomach. The life growing inside her shifted and stretched at the contact. There was no stopping the grin that spread across the face nor the joy in his heart.

“It won’t be much longer now,” Evelyn said, finally smiling, bright and honest, as she placed her hand atop his. “Maybe tonight if we’re lucky.”

Cullen ran his fingertips along the thin chain around her neck, following it down to his coin. He held it between finger and thumb, feeling the familiar grooves. Mia and her family were staying out in the original cabin that now served as a small guest house while the rest of their friends and family that insisted on being around to help were staying at The Gallivanting Golem nearby in Honnleath.

“When it’s time, it’s time,” he said, leaning down to brush their mouths together.

What Cullen had went far beyond luck; it was everything he never expected from life or ever dared hope for. It was that something more he longed to be part of and it was perfect.

[ladymdc]

A Patreon reward of Cullen & Ev from my Noir AU thanks to the lovely @yuhimebarbara​. ((Thank you again for such a beautiful piece.))

[ladymdc]

Positvity Post

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