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The Anchor had given her some control over the Veil when she’d had it. She was able to seal the rifts in the great barrier between the spirit world and the waking world. She could even tear rifts open. The mark forced her into the role of ‘hero’, even as it slowly killed her. It had also affected her dreams. It hadn’t made her a dreamer, she couldn’t see lost memories or travel into another’s dream but Evelyn had been able to exert some control over her dreams with the anchor. When she dreamt with the mark she had realized when she had been dreaming even though she wasn’t a mage.

There were drawbacks as well. The Anchor shone like a beacon in the Fade, drawing the attention of spirits and demons alike. Thankfully, Evelyn had been so exhausted those first few weeks that she hadn’t even dreamed. She’d fought enough demons while she was awake, she hadn’t been interested in fighting them as she slept. Eventually, she did begin to dream and with everything that had happened to her, along with the mark on her hand that seemed to act like a lighthouse to demons in the storm of the Fade, Evelyn was swiftly bombarded by nightmares. Luckily, her resident Fade expert was a dreamer and had been able to teach her a few tricks. 

Those fond memories of shared dreams were tainted with pain and sorrow four years later. 

Sleeping in her childhood home a year after the Inquisition disbanded Evelyn knew she was dreaming. The loss of the mark meant she didn’t have control over the Veil or her dreams but she could recognize her dreams more often than not. She stood somewhere in the Hinterlands; most likely the Witchwood given how thick the trees were. It didn’t seem to be a memory, there was no blood or corpses of rebel mages littering the ground.

Evelyn gazed up at the trees, watching the sunbeams reach through the leaves to hit the forest floor. When she was aware of her dreams, her arm would always disappear. It always hurt more to think she’d miraculously been healed only to wake up and remember everything that had happened. She’d been left-handed as well, to make matters worse. Her year had been filled with relearning to do almost everything, including write.

She stood in the forests, clad in one of her oldest armor sets from her adventuring days. It had been white, made of nug leather. Nugs were among the few animals found in abundance around Haven so that was the leather used for her armor. The familiar daggers strapped to her back brought her a sense of comfort. The sound of the birds flitting between the branches breathed a feeling of peace into her. She took in the scent of the leaves and felt a gentle breeze caress a few loose strands of her golden hair that had escaped from her braided bun. For a short while, she wouldn’t have to anxiously wait for letters from Divine Leliana about the spies within Solas’s forces, her slowly improving penmanship, or trying to play mediator between her many squabbling siblings. 

“Lethallan.”

That voice made Evelyn’s heart ache and the word choice made it feel like a knife had pierced it. It destroyed her semblance of serenity as she stood in the forest but it wasn’t the first time she had heard it in her dreams, especially since Solas had left. She turned and saw him slowly walking towards her, dressed as he used to during their journeys together complete with the wolf pelt strapped over his chest. Were she not aware of where she was, Evelyn could’ve believed she was simply on another mission with him and he’d come to share some piece of lost history with her. 

However, she was very aware of where she was. Evelyn’s years of noble training kept her face steady, combined with the fact that she’d seen such an image several times in her dreams before. His face haunted her dreams more often than not. In the beginning, it had been agony, now, no tears soaked her pillow as she woke. She wasn’t shaken awake by servants as often because she’d been crying out in her sleep. Evelyn had years of battling demons outside the Fade and in it. Whatever fear she’d had of them before the Inquisition had been slashed away by her hand.

“Tormenting me with his face has long since stopped being effective.” She said, narrowing her green eyes at the image before her. “And if you’re some friendly spirit trying to help me, it’s not working. Please, leave me in peace.” She gave the being in front of her a firm mental shove, just enough for it to know she did have some knowledge of how to defend herself and that she wasn’t going to simply roll over. Ironically, the one who taught her such tricks was the man whose face this being wore.

“You still retain some control over your dreams.” The creature bearing her former friend’s face studied her briefly. It tilted its head as he used to whenever he was curious about something. “Impressive but I am not a spirit or demon, lethallan.” 

“That’s what they all say,” Evelyn said, rolling her eyes. “If you insist on pestering me, at least take off the costume. I don’t have any interest in entertaining this charade.” 

“Evelyn.” It reached out and grasped her wrist firmly, she felt the callouses on his hand from all his staff work. In an instant, they stood outside his cabin in Heaven. Her boots crunched the snow beneath her and little white flakes landed in her hair though she felt no cold. The dream sharpened and she could see the lines in the wood grain of the cabin walls. She could hear other voices as the people of heaven went about their business. A quick glance, and she saw the image of Dorian standing where he always used to.

“I’m here.” Solas’s voice broke her out of her stupor. Her breath left her in a shaky exhale and she quickly tore herself from his touch, her guard up. Even though she hid it well she was sure he could sense her fear. The last time they met he’d taken her arm and told her he was going to tear down the Veil (after they’d spent a year putting the damn thing back together), he took her arm (after being responsible for her condition in the first place) and said he was going to release the Elven gods and essentially destroy the world. 

But what hurt the most was the realization that nothing she did mattered, she didn’t matter. Fighting beside him, exploring ruins, fireside talks, and saving the world didn't mean anything to him. During the Inquisition, it had felt like he'd been the only one to see her, to see that she wasn't chosen by any God, that she wasn't special. It turned out she was half right; he knew she was not divinely chosen, but he didn’t truly see her. He saw a shadow, less than a person. He may have said that he didn’t see her that way anymore but Solas said a lot of things, many of which ended up being lies. 

So why was he visiting someone who wasn’t even real to him?

“What are you doing here?” She asked, tense as she looked at Solas with suspicion. “Shouldn’t you be speaking to your agents, or preparing to pull down the veil?” She wasn’t going to waste time with pointless pleasantries, especially given how he left things. Was this some bizarre goodbye to try and ease his conscience as he destroyed the world? Evelyn chose to ignore the brief wince she saw pass over the elf’s face.

“There’s been a change in plans,” Solas said, retracting his outstretched hand and placing them both behind his back, a familiar stance. “I’ve thought about our last encounter, what you said to me.”

Evelyn raised a brow at Solas. She’d said a lot of things to him. Most of it had been questions and some barely thought through alternatives. There had been tears on her end as well, at first from the physical pain of the anchor and then from the emotional pain of everything else. Her heavily lined eyes had made her tears black and impossible to hide that day. When she confronted the council she actually hadn’t worn her typical eye makeup. It made hiding her distress at everything much easier without it.

“I will be conducting further research into slowly weakening the Veil, at least within the borders of New Elvhenan. I would see the people restored, though I will not burn down the rest of the world to do it.” Solas said.

Evelyn’s knees felt weak. “A-Are you serious?” She asked, her voice sounding fragile even to her own ears.

Solas’s lips twitched ever so slightly. “I believe you said ‘The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.’ I created the Veil and unintentionally sundered the elves. Then I gave my orb to Corypheus so I could sunder the Veil and ended up helping to empower another mad would-be god. I believe it would be wise to not try a third time.” 

It felt like the weight of the world was being lifted off her shoulders. So much stress and dread that had loomed over her for a year was suddenly gone. She gave a shaky laugh, it sounded almost hysterical. “Would you look at that? You can teach an old wolf new tricks.” She said. When Solas didn’t respond she felt a sense of unease. “There’s more to this visit, isn’t there?”

“Yes.” The minute shift of his weight was the only sign he gave that showed his anxiety. “You have no doubt heard of what else I’ve done since the Council?”

Evelyn nodded. “You’ve been leading the elves in a war against Orlais, reclaiming the Dales. My most recent reports said you’ve finally chased the last of the lions across the borders. You haven’t made any further incursions into Orlesian lands but I’ve still heard talk of an Exalted March.” Leliana had been doing all she could to placate her compatriots but their voices were getting harder and harder to quiet, according to her letters at least.

“I’ve heard rumors of that as well. I do believe I have a solution.” His gaze flinched away for half a second before returning to her green eyes. “I’d like to propose an alliance by marriage between us in order to cement peace between New Elvhenan and Orlais, as well as any of the other human nations who may fear us.”

All at once Evelyn felt like time had stopped. Solas could probably sense how she was feeling better than she could because she was feeling too much all at once; anger, panic, and fear but mostly confusion. She had so many questions and she needed a moment to settle on the first one she wanted to ask. 

“Why me?” Evelyn held her hand up to stop Solas when he opened his mouth. “I’m not the Inquisitor anymore. I’m not the hero I used to be. I’m the youngest of ele-...” she took a breath. “Nine siblings. We aren’t even the ruling family in Ostwick. There are much better options, even if you’re dead set on marrying a human.” Solas had never given the impression that he was interested in human women. Looking back on it she could understand his reasoning even if it did hurt, but she knew you didn’t need love or even attraction to make a marriage work. 

“Evelyn,” Solas reached out to her, possibly in an attempt to comfort her but she took a step back and wrapped her arm around her waist. Even if he wasn’t going to destroy the world he’d still hurt her more than anyone else ever had. She didn’t want his pity or false placations. She tried to ignore how her name sounded coming from him, he’d so rarely used it. It was probably in an attempt to keep distance between them and make her seem like less of a person. 

Solas grimaced but lowered his hand and put it behind his back again. “Your actions are still felt across Thedas and your name still carries weight. Having the Herald of Andraste by my side would be a great asset in promoting peace. I know you sympathize with the plight of my people and I also know you don’t want more bloodshed even if you may not be on the front lines.”

She’d hated the ‘Herald of Andraste’ monicker. Not only was she not a believer but she’d had Chantry stories pounded into her head since she was a child. She knew Andraste’s fate and it was not one she was inclined to share. It also made her seem like some kind of divine presence and that was far too much pressure for her to handle on top of everything else happening. Going from the youngest daughter of a lesser noble to the only suspect in an attack that killed the Divine to being praised like some holy, otherworldly being had been a lot to handle in the span, of what felt like at the time, one day. She’d only finally had a breakdown in the privacy of her cabin a few days later once she felt like everything had slowed down long enough for her to breathe. 

‘Inquisitor’ was a more comforting title, though only slightly. At least it had been through her actions and not because so many people were desperate for a sign that their faith was true. It had also been a lot of pressure. At the same time, she’d always felt like the leader in all but name she’d never actively chased the role. She felt like she was on par with Josephine, Leliana, Cullen, and Cassandra; like they were a small council of leaders, not that she was above even them. 

Now the title that she no longer had and one that she’d always spurned were what was needed to again restore peace. It was a good thing Solas had such command over the Fade, Evelyn had a feeling her emotions would’ve attracted scores of demons by now.

“Evelyn,” Solas’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “If you do not want this I can find another.”

Squeezing her arm Evelyn shook her head. “Don’t worry about that.” She said, forcing herself to retreat into her training and lessons. She was a noblewoman of House Trevelyan, she knew what this was. Unlike the Inquisition, she’d been trained for something like this her entire life. While she never imagined anything like this she just needed to focus on what she knew. This was a political marriage. She knew how to handle these offers. While she appreciated him coming to her first, tradition would also give her room to breathe and think, something she desperately needed. 

“I will only consider if you ask my father.” She said, her voice sounding stronger and yet emptier than when they first began this insane conversation. The image of the perfect noblewoman had helped her a lot throughout the Inquisition and it was a mask that brought her comfort now. “Things have changed a lot since the days of Arlathan. Besides,” a small smile worthy of the court graced her face. “Should we go through with this my family will become yours. My parents, siblings, cousins, and all my nieces and nephews will become yours. I will of course adhere to Elven culture and traditions to the best of my abilities should we marry but paying respects to your future in-laws would go a long way.”

Evelyn was trained for this. She just kept repeating that phrase to herself. Her hours of studying and lectures from both her parents and tutors had prepared her for something like this. She’d said as much to Solas once, at the Winter Palace. She idly wondered if Halamshiral had been torn down or perhaps been allowed to remain as a symbol of the victory of the elves over the Orlesian Empire. 

She couldn’t quite read the look that passed over Solas’s face, disapproval or bafflement? Perhaps both. He’d most likely have to get used to it. If he were instead intending to marry a shadow maybe it’d be simpler but he was marrying a person with a culture, family, and story different from that of his own people, be it ancient elves or modern. 

“Very well, I will speak with Bann Trevelyan,” Solas said, seeming to realize that she would not marry him without her father’s approval.  

“Might I recommend sending a raven instead of appearing in his dreams?” Evelyn asked. Though the phrase would have been said playfully years ago, she had an expressionless mask on her face as she tried to hold it all together. “It would leave a better first impression.” 

A few years ago Solas would’ve chuckled at her words. Now he simply bowed his head. “I’ll take your advice.”

“We can work out the details of all of this should my father grant his approval.” Though it would no doubt be an interesting discussion Evelyn had no plan on being in the same room for that talk, let alone taking part in it. A part of her felt it was pathetic, that she was choosing to act like a child and hide behind her father when she’d once led armies but that was the crux of it all; she didn’t do any of that anymore. After so many years of being unable to hide, she felt she’d earned her chance to retreat, even if it was only temporary. “Now, would you be so kind as to wake me up? I have some letters to send myself and other matters to attend to in light of this.”

‘Please.’ She thought to herself. ‘I don’t know how long I can hold it together and I refuse to cry in front of you again. Let me keep whatever shreds of dignity I have around you.’ He’d already seen her at her lowest, she didn’t relish the idea of him seeing her even weaker, especially after what he’d asked of her. 

“Of course,” Solas said. “I will see you again soon.” His eyes flashed a bright blue. “Wake up.”

Evelyn opened her eyes and saw the canopy of her bed in her home at Ostwick. The gentlest rays of dawn were peeking in through heavy curtains. Her hair was twisted into the simple bun she wore to sleep and her makeup had been removed. She felt the familiar silk of her nightdress, trying in vain to calm down as her breathing increased. The familiar way in which he’d sent her from the Fade evoked memories that caused her heart to ache again. Closing her eyes against the tears she rolled over and screamed into her pillow. 

Chapter Text

Many of the elves that came to New Elvhenan, particularly the modern elves, believed that Solas was all-knowing due to his immortality. He was thousands of years old, he must’ve seen it all and done it all, right? Solas’s time with the Inquisition had proved that he hadn’t experienced everything yet. Though life would be boring if that were the case, he couldn’t help but feel that it would’ve been nice to have experience with marriage as he listened to the other governing bodies of the new elven lands argue. 

Well, it was more like listening to his Spy Master shout about how they didn’t need a Shem to come and fix all their problems. Not all of the High Council had stayed to listen, many had simply accepted the plan (even though Solas had no answer yet) and had left the council chambers. His Ambassador, General, and Head of Finances had stayed behind to argue at a more tolerable volume. Well, his General seemed content to simply sit and observe, ever the Sentinel of Mythal.

Solas and four other elves sat at a long oak table with himself at the head, clad in fine-quality, dark green robes. Large windows opposite Solas allowed him to see out onto Revas’an, the new elven capital. The weight of leadership lay heavily on him. There were reports containing information about minor skirmishes near the borders, as well as numerous elven refugees arriving every day. Since the fighting had slowed more and more were arriving because it was safer to travel. The papers had since been reorganized once they were no longer the focus.

“We have been fighting for our independence from humans for centuries and now we finally have it! We don’t need to marry them for peace and we especially don’t need to give a human one of the highest positions of power here.” Eola sneered, her expression making the scar over her mouth much more prominent. The Spy Master was a former Dalish first who’d had her Valleslin removed the moment she came to Fen’harel and learned the true history of the practice. Her hatred of humans had made it easier to sway her to his cause despite her initial wariness of the Dread Wolf. With the war coming to an end, Solas could foresee her attitude as not being helpful for the future. 

“You’re acting like working alongside humans is beneath us.” Camille rolled her dark eyes. The Ambassador shuffled the papers before her. She was a city elf from Orlais who had used her knowledge of all she’d observed during her time as a servant to serve their cause. Though she wore traditional elven clothes, small hints of her days in Orlais remained, such as the lacey hand fan she carried everywhere. “Peace and allyship may open up more trade for us. I’m sure Leanos will agree,” She gestured towards the Head of Finances sitting beside her, “that wars are expensive and, I’d personally rather see our coffers go towards caring for our people in the form of schools and other comforts.” 

“Oh yes, let’s ask him.” Eola’s braid whipped around as she shook her head like she could barely comprehend the idea. “Well, Leanos? You’ve seen more cruelty from the shemlen than anyone in this room, what do you think about the idea of us bringing a human here and having the servants once more serve a human master?” 

Leanos ran a hand through his slicked-back, greying hair. The frown lines around his face were prominent and his action caused the dark sleeves of his robe to fall, revealing a large scar around his wrist in the shape of a chain. He may have risen to head of the household when he had been a slave, but he still suffered much in the beginning as many others did. Solas had offered to heal the scars but Leanos refused, saying he wanted to keep them to remind himself of how far he’d come. It was a thinking that Solas understood intimately. He rubbed at the scar on his forehead.

“Indeed I have seen humans commit horrors against elves that you could not even fathom. I once saw my master sacrifice a six-year-old girl for a blood magic ritual in an attempt to gain more power.” He was silent for a moment, letting everyone else sit with that image. “Humans are greedy, selfish people who do nothing so good as spread their ways outward and suffocate everything beneath. However, I believe the Herald of Andraste wouldn’t be like my former master.”

“That you would even imply that she would be is a grave insult, Eola,” Solas said, speaking up for the first time since the whole argument began. “Did you forget the stories of how she fought Corypheus and slew countless Venatori? She fought hard against the empire that has enslaved our people and even if I weren’t reaching out to her for this I would appreciate it if you did not discredit her in such a fashion.” Solas’s voice was as steely as his gaze. 

He was only allowing the argument to continue because he wanted to hear both sides, but he wouldn’t hear such unwarranted slander against Evelyn without speaking up. She had once said she’d protect him from Templars in the early days at Haven. He’d truly be a sorry excuse of a friend if he didn’t defend her in his council chambers if he could even be called her friend anymore.

Solas continued in a firm voice. “The former Inquisitor always extended a hand to the people on our journeys if her efforts in defeating Corypheus aren’t enough to sway you. I am sure you can find many here who have received kindness directly from her; Loranil comes to mind for instance.” The former Inquisition agent served as a palace guard after fighting in the war against Orlais. Years had passed since they first met, but the young man spoke highly of the youngest Trevelyan daughter even after all that had happened.

Eola wasn’t discouraged by Solas’s tone or Leanos’s lack of support. “Fighting alongside a few elves because a madman wants to destroy the world is a lot different than marrying one of us and coming into our home. How tolerant would she be, bearing the scorn of all the other shemlen leaders for daring to side with us, let alone marry you?” Her face and voice were stern but slightly less bitter than before. “How loyal do you think she’ll be if all her people turn on her for binding herself to the Dread Wolf?”

“All the more reason to make her feel welcome,” Camille said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I’m sure you know the history of the Dales. The Dales fell because we had an isolationist attitude. New Elvhenan can learn from past mistakes. We need allies if we are to survive. A marriage to the Herald of Andraste would not only provide a springboard for possible trade in the Free Marches but it may also soothe the Chantry.”

Eola opened her mouth but Camille cut her off. “I am tired, Eola.” Camille took a breath. “I’m tired of having to arrange funerals for our soldiers and having to find more funds to expand our already large orphanages to take care of the children left behind because of the fighting.”

“Whatever reservations I have about humans I trust that the Herald of Andraste is the best choice for a political match.” Leanos folded his hands into his lap. “I’ll say nothing else on the subject, we’ve been arguing in circles about this for days now.”

“I agree,” Solas said, standing from his seat. “In any event, this debate is entirely academic until I speak with Bann Trevelyan on the matter. I understand your concerns, Eola, but I will continue to try and arrange a marriage between myself and the former Inquisitor.”

Eola rolled her eyes. “The shem will destroy us eventually, just as they did in the past.”

“Eola.” Abelas’s voice silenced any further argument between the advisors. He’d been silent the entire time, once the subject of the possible marriage was brought up again. “I recommend erasing that would from your vocabulary. If everything goes according to plan, Lady Trevelyan would become one of us and it would not paint us in a favorable light if we were accused of mistreating her.”

The young elven mage scoffed before stalking out of the council chambers. Leanos stood and bowed, quiet but respectful. Camille had the most papers to collect and though she looked exhausted she still bid Solas a pleasant goodbye before exiting the room, leaving Solas and Abelas alone. 

“I always find the irony to be morbidly amusing,” Abelas said, rising from his seat.

“The irony of what?” Solas asked as he opened the doors to the council chambers with the other elf following him. 

“The irony of a quickling calling another quickling a ‘shem’.” The sentinel’s expression was solemn. Mythal’s vallaslin stood out against his face. “She should be aware of the true translation. We are in the process of teaching these... ‘modern elves’ the original dialect.” The divide between the Ancient Elves and their modern counterparts was still deep, so much so that it was like the divide between city and Dalish elves.

Solas sighed. So much of the language of his people had been lost and twisted into something that sometimes barely resembled the original tongue. Not just the language either but the culture, ceremonies, and holidays had been so misremembered he hardly recognized some of them. It was painful and frustrating but progress was being made. 

“I worry about what will be left of her should her hatred one day have nothing to cling to.” The old wolf walked with Abelas towards his own office so he could write that letter to Evelyn’s father. “In any event, I believe Eola gave you her reports?” Solas opened the doors to his office with a wave of his hand. 

The room was filled with shelves that were positively overflowing with books. The legs of his desk had vines carved in, slowly creeping up towards the table. There were a few other tables scattered around, each with various artifacts and scattered notes. He also had maps with possible locations of other temples that may also have slumbering elves like the ones who had been at Mythal’s Temple. Finding more ancient elves was another one of his many projects but the war had taken up most of his attention. Once the peace treaty was signed and he was married he’d hopefully be able to dedicate more time to that quest.

“The notes on your prospective wife’s family?” Abelas pulled out a small stack of papers and passed them to Solas. The Dread Wolf sat in his chair and began reading it over even as Abelas rattled off the highlights. 

“Bann Benjamin Trevelyan has been married to his wife Lady Cordelia Trevelyan for almost fifty years. They have eleven children, nine of which still live. Two of their children are mages and an additional five were given to the Chantry as either members of the clergy or templars. For whatever reason Bann Trevelyan refused to give up his youngest daughter to the Chantry. Given what happened to his children I would say it was the right thing to do.”

Solas knew of Evelyn’s two deceased siblings. Alice was a Revered Mother at Ostwick who perished at the Conclave. Her brother Maxwell, who had only been two years older than her, was a member of the Templar Order who stayed with the order. He had been at the meeting of the clerics in Val Royeux. He had snuck back to speak with his sister. 

The image of a young man with the same blonde hair as Evelyn but with bright blue eyes that shone with the depth of his relief that his little sister was ok, was an image that stuck with Solas. After a swift embrace, Maxwell had confessed that something was wrong with the Lord Seeker and that he knew something strange was happening. He had immediately volunteered himself to serve as a spy from within the Templars. The young man had only been able to send a few reports of vague strange happenings. He had pushed Evelyn to seek out the mages as he had been worried about the fate of his twin sister Harlow, a mage who hadn’t been seen or sent word to anyone in their family. She was the whole reason he had become a templar. He had hoped that they would be together in The Circle. It had been the last letter he sent.

The discovery that Harlow had been made Tranquil was painful to watch. What was more, the discovery at the Battle of Haven was that Maxwell had been turned into a Red Templar. Solas could still hear Evelyn begging for her brother to snap out of it, to stop even as she drove her daggers into his neck. She’d nearly crumbled after killing her brother but Cassandra had managed to get her to stay in the moment and continue. Cassandra had done a similar thing when Evelyn found Harlow.

Looking back on it, Solas was unsure if she ever had time to grieve for them, or Alice, during the Inquisition. He was so lost in thought he barely registered Abelas speaking about her nieces and nephews. After that, he moved on to the family’s current state of affairs. 

“The acclaim of having the Herald of Andraste as a member of their family has increased House Trevelyan’s wealth and influence dramatically. Before they held some fishing vessels and oyster farms for pearls, they now have the largest amount of whaling ships in the Free Marches as well as various plots of land for agricultural business. Such an increase in business allowed Bann Trevelyan to expand his manor. When the circles fell his eldest mage child and two of his Templar children returned home. From what I understand he recalled all his children after the explosion at the Conclave, even those who do not serve the Chantry. They and all his grandchildren remain in the manor to this day.”

“Apparently he’s also been quite vocal about his disdain for the Chantry after all the suffering it has caused his family.” Solas mused, looking over the papers. Perhaps he could use that to help persuade the Free Marcher. “What of Lady Cordelia?” 

“The Herald’s mother has been seen in public less and less. Our sources claim that the events of the Conclave, the Inquisition, and the fact that you are not a mere story seem to have reportedly shaken her faith. She seems to swing between moments of intense religious faith and despondency over all the questions recent events raise.” Abelas glanced out the window, taking in the sight of the setting sun. “It would seem that the Bann has completely seized power in his family due to his wife’s... emotional decline.” 

‘Evelyn must be aware of this as well, ’ Solas thought. ‘She said I only needed her father’s permission. In fact, she hardly ever spoke of her mother during the Inquisition.’ He highly doubted Evelyn’s religious mother would approve of her daughter being courted by an elven mage, let alone the Dread Wolf but based on reports, Solas doubted she’d have much of a say in the matter. 

Truthfully Solas didn’t like the idea of Evelyn needing anyone’s blessing to marry. He could feel the remnants of a hot-blooded rebel snapping that she should be the only one to decide if and who she should marry. It felt like he was bartering for her and after fighting two wars based on the belief that people shouldn’t be traded like cattle, such a tradition left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Though his distaste for human traditions was the least of his worries.

As an immortal, marriage to a human would not affect him for long. In the grand scheme of things it would be but a small blip in his existence. But it would be for the rest of Evelyn’s life. She would spend the rest of her days married to the man who had betrayed and hurt her so deeply. Solas had no intention of mistreating her but he had no delusions that she would be truly happy. How could she be, being married to him after everything he’d done to her? She deserved to spend the rest of her life in peace, marrying if and when she chose and being with someone she trusted and loved.

Solas knew that would never be him. Even knowing that she deserved all the happiness in the world he was still going to take what seemed to be her last chance at happiness. He needed this war to end and he needed to prevent more bloodshed. He fought with the Evanuris for almost a century, then he fought with the Inquisition against Corypheus, after that he fought the Qunari at Halamshiral and he was finally wrapping up his fight with Orlais. He was a tired, old wolf, sick of fighting and he was ready for peace. 

He silently vowed that Evelyn’s time in New Elvhenan would be one of safety and comfort. She’d never need to fight again unless she wished it. After everything she had gone through she deserved a quiet life. Besides, perhaps she’d find love in New Elvhenan with someone else. She had always said she was too busy with the Inquisition to worry about romantic entanglements. If she married him, she’d have all the time she’d need to find someone to hold her heart. He would not demand that kind of loyalty from her. He’d give her every freedom he could while she was with him. 

Those thoughts did little to lessen his guilt for what he had done and would end up doing to her but they were enough to make him pick up his pen and begin writing to Bann Trevelyan, asking for his youngest daughter’s hand in marriage. The raven was sent before the sun disappeared from the sky.

Chapter Text

As the Inquisitor, Evelyn had been a force of nature on the battlefield. She’d flitted from one opponent to the next, a dagger in each hand as she sliced through specific muscles and tendons to disarm her opponents, making them fodder for Bull’s battleaxe. Her passion for poisonous plants meant she lovingly crafted each vial of toxin she brought into battle as either a coating for her blade or a smoke bomb to choke out Venatori and Red Templars. However, that was a tactic she used sparingly as both she and her allies also needed to breathe. Luckily she also crafted antidotes for her recipes and never brought poison into battle that was untested or without a cure. 

She remembered throwing one of her twin daggers, not a throwing knife, into the eye of the High Dragon they’d discovered in Crestwood. It had been like something from a story, landing a finishing blow like that. She hadn’t looked that heroic as she recalled. Though her hair remained in its tight braided bun, the electric attacks used by the dragon had made her head resemble that of a dandelion, especially when compared to Vivienne, Iron Bull, and Solas. 

Ironically, being in the heat of battle had been one of the less stressful things for her during the Inquisition. She’d been raised to one day be married and manage a household so she’d known how to manage servants, balance a budget, assign tasks, plan parties, and many other skills but the pressure of running an organization trying to prevent the end of the world while almost everyone seemed to believe she was some holy prophet of the original holy prophet. Fighting was simpler. Kill them before they kill you and her time with the Inquisition made her one of the best fighters. Now?

“DAMN IT!” Evelyn shook her hand, glaring furiously at the rapier on the ground of the Trevelyan gardens. Living in the city meant that space was expensive. Though Bann Trevelyan had spent some of the increased family fortunes on buying a neighboring house and remodeling it to join the main house, it wasn’t a fortress. It had no specified training yard. Instead, targets and an area for sparring had been made when the walls between the two back gardens were knocked down.

The training area in the garden was on the recently purchased side of the property. The older side was noticeably more lived in and even had a small greenhouse where Evelyn had grown her poisonous plants since she was a child. Of course, she could only grow a select few until she’d gotten older and proven herself responsible enough to handle such dangerous plants, but it had been her favorite place to be when she wanted to be alone.

Evelyn stood in a pair of her old boots, trousers, and a simple white shirt that had been modified to fit her amputated limb. Her sister was a few inches taller than her, noticeably more muscular, and wore her reddish brown hair in a high ponytail. Evelyn’s handmaid stood off to the side, watching her lady with sympathetic eyes. 

Nirasha was the first person Evelyn had seen after her first attempt to close the breach. The former Inquisitor could recall with perfect clarity, the young elven woman dropping the box she’d been carrying and immediately falling to her knees, begging for forgiveness. It had taken her a long time, especially because she was so often out in the field, but, Evelyn was eventually able to break through Nirasha’s timidity and have an actual conversation with her. 

Nirasha ended up serving the former Inquisitor indefinitely, of her own accord. Evelyn had offered the serving girl several opportunities for different positions and even asked her if she would’ve preferred to go to New Elvhenan. 

“I’m free to make my own decisions, my lady. I decide to stay with you.” Was all she had to say for Evelyn to drop the subject. After the events of Halamshiral and the dissolution of the Inquisition, it was nice to have someone physically stay at her side. While there were letters and the sending crystal she used to speak with Dorian, it just wasn’t the same. 

“You’ve been lasting longer,” Rosalie said, sheathing her rapier. 

“Thirty seconds isn’t anything to celebrate,” Evelyn growled. She went to look at both her hands and snarled again when she realized she’d unconsciously moved a hand that wasn’t there anymore. “A year ago I could slice a man to ribbons in less than ten seconds. Now I can barely move through my forms, let alone last in a half-hearted spar with you.” Evelyn resisted the urge to childishly kick the offending blade away from her.

“You lost an arm, no one expects you to bounce back so soon.” Rosalie sighed at her youngest sister. As a former Templar, she was one of the few people in the Trevelyan household with martial arts skills that had been tested in a real battle. Their father was far too busy and the only other Templar in their immediate family, Henry, was still suffering from Lyrium withdrawals. Rosalie had an easier time getting clean, though she was not without struggles. She was the one to recommend Evelyn studying the rapier. It was a finesse weapon that required one to be light on their feet. It had seemed like a good fit for a one-armed rogue. Rosalie herself specialized in the standard sword and shield but she knew enough to get her sister started before they needed to call on an actual tutor. 

But Evelyn was unimpressed with her progress. 

“It’s been a year!” She snapped, glaring into her sister’s soft blue eyes. “I went from suspect of the Divine’s murder to defeating Corypheus in that time!” 

“You’ve only been practicing with this kind of weapon for a few months.” Rosalie’s expression of serenity never changed, even when Evelyn raised her voice. “You also lost your dominant hand. You’ve had to relearn how to do a lot of things.”

“And give up on doing even more.” Evelyn huffed, closing her eyes to fight back frustrated tears. She couldn’t wield twin daggers, she couldn’t pick locks, she couldn’t do her hair by herself, she couldn’t draw a bow, she couldn’t even cut her damn food. She remembered how viciously embarrassed she’d been when she was forced to ask Nirasha for help like a child. From slaying would-be gods to being unable to enjoy a piece of chicken without assistance. All of her meals came pre-cut now. Being unable to even use a steak knife effectively had been a massive blow to her ego as a rogue

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” The former Templar gave her a comforting touch but Evelyn shoved Rosalie’s hand off her shoulder. 

“Don’t patronize-” Evelyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath through clenched teeth. “I’m sorry. I know you’re only trying to help. I’m just frustrated, to know what I could do only to now...”

“I under... I can see why you feel that way.” Rosalie said. 

“I’d like to practice my knife throwing for a while. Could you please train with Nirasha?” Evelyn asked. One of the ways Evelyn had managed to bond with Nirasha was by teaching the younger woman daggers in the earliest days of Haven. She didn’t want her handmaid to feel unsafe in her place of work. After four years of practice, Nirasha was quite good with a pair of blades though she had yet to set foot on a real battlefield. Evelyn hoped she’d never have to. 

“Of course.” Rosalie nodded and gestured for the elven woman to take Evelyn’s place. The youngest Trevelyan daughter would occasionally observe the sparring to offer her tips and critiques but watching someone do what she loved when she could not was too much for her at the moment.

Evelyn grabbed a set of throwing knives before going over to the targets. She placed the wrapped set between her left arm and side for easier access. She didn’t want to ask a servant to grab a table for her to lay them out on. Ever since she lost her left arm Evelyn had been struggling to find some sense of independence or even accomplishment. She had been left-handed so she had to relearn how to do everything ; writing, dressing, bathing and so many other seemingly simple tasks. Any moment of independence she could have she clutched greedily to her chest.

Even if she’d never be able to fight the same way again, Evelyn refused to stop practicing with her daggers and throwing knives. She had to go through her dagger forms slowly and carefully so she could train herself to not try and move her left arm but the familiarity brought her a sense of comfort, even if the slow pace and frequent mistakes frustrated her to no end.

As Evelyn began methodically flicking her knives at the target she allowed her mind to wander. It had been a few days since Solas had visited her and gave his... ‘proposal.’ Knowing how long ravens took to relay messages, especially with the former Inquisition members scattered throughout Thedas, she had instead chosen to call Dorian on the crystal. If nothing came of the idea she didn’t want her former friends and allies panicking and making rash decisions due to a lack of instantaneous messaging. 

Evelyn dropped all the realizations onto Dorian the way Solas had done to her the day after he’d visited her.

(flashback)

“Solas visited me in the Fade yesterday.”

“What?”

“He said he’s not going to tear down the Veil.”

“What!?”

“He asked me to marry him to cement peace between New Elvhenan and Orlais.”

“WHAT!?”

There had been a lot of screaming in Tevene after that. Evelyn was glad that her door was closed. She sat on her bed, crystal in hand as she listened to her faraway friend rant on her behalf. The necromancer had seemed to latch onto Solas’s proposal, unable to move on from that.

“Hasn’t that man done enough to you? It’s his fault you got the mark in the first place, his fault that Corypheus had the orb, his fault that your sister and all those other people died at the Conclave, he abandoned you TWICE AND HE CHOPPED OFF YOUR FUCKING ARM!” Dorian screamed. She was grateful that the crystal didn’t show an image of the caller. She didn’t want her friend to see her tears.

“I know what he’s done.” She said, her voice perfectly neutral. “Still, I just want all the fighting to stop. This is the best option for peace.”

“It doesn’t always have to be you.” Dorian snapped. “You’ve already given more than enough for this world. You deserve a real marriage, love, a fucking fairytale ending. No one deserves that more than you.”

“I’ve always known I most likely wouldn’t get that kind of marriage,” Evelyn said.

He scoffed. “Please, you wouldn’t be the first noblewoman to refuse an arranged marriage. I did. We could start a club and-”

“I respect and wholly support your decision to refuse an arranged marriage,” Evelyn said in a firm voice, cutting off Dorian’s ramble. “Please respect my decision to acquiesce to one whenever the  time comes.” Her and Solas’s possible engagement was only an idea at this point.

Dorian sighed. “What did you say to him?”

“I panicked,” Evelyn said bluntly. “It was a lot to digest out of nowhere. I told him I would only consider if he had my father’s blessing.”

“Ha!” Evelyn could picture Dorian’s grin. “There’s an image, the fearsome Dread Wolf speaking to a lowly human to ask for his daughter’s hand.” There was a pause. “I didn’t think he even liked humans in that way.”

“He doesn’t,” Evelyn said, setting down the crystal to wipe her tears away. “This doesn’t have anything to do with his opinion of me. It’s all about preventing another Exalted March. Regardless of how you feel about Solas do you think him leading the elves to form a land of their own is a bad thing?”

“No.” Dorian groaned, as though admitting Solas had done something decent was physically painful. “But I think everything he’s done to you is horrid and in some ways, this may be one of the worst.” 

Evelyn couldn’t help but sniffle at the mage’s concern for her. Most of his anger was born out of affection for her and not just his dislike for Solas, which was again, born out of what he had done to his friend. Even though she was still feeling incredibly overwhelmed after last night, it did help her feel a little better.

“Oh, sweet thing,” Dorian’s coo made Evelyn choke back a sob. “Is your father aware of everything Solas has done?” 

Evelyn shook her head before remembering that Dorian couldn’t see her. “No... and I won’t tell him.”

“So he is completely unaware that he could end up marrying his youngest daughter to the man indirectly responsible for the death of one of his other daughters? Do you enjoy causing yourself emotional torment?” Dorian snapped. 

“Dorian, stop!” Evelyn finally sobbed. “I already feel like a bad person! I know better than anyone what he’s done to me! I-” She cut herself off and just focused on her breathing. She couldn’t fall apart now. She had to keep it together. It was a mantra she’d been repeating since she woke up in that cell beneath the Haven chantry. 

She had too many feelings about Solas. He’d been her best friend. Or at least she’d thought of him as her best friend. She’d tried to support him and be good to him. She always went to him for questions and stories. She enjoyed hearing about his dreams of different cultures and times from all over Thedas. She’d found his dry sense of humor amusing and most importantly he’d been the only one who didn’t think she was in any way blessed by any god. That had been the most comforting thing in her entire time as Inquisitor. 

She began to associate him with safety because of that. She went to him for comfort for her other fears as well. She’d practically clung to him when they were in the Deep Roads and she had even shyly asked him to give her a good dream after the events of Chateau d’Onterre. When she feared she was going to make a poor decision and everyone would hate her she went to him. He calmed her down when she felt overwhelmed by everything. 

Now she felt all of those feelings and more, more than she’d ever felt and some part of her still instinctively yearned to seek him out so he could calm her worries with a few wise words in his soothing voice. Which of course were feelings that were at war with her anger and fear of him. Ironic, how she once went to the man for help when she was drowning inside her head. Now she felt like she was at the bottom of the ocean because of him. 

“I’m sorry. It was unworthy of me to say that.” He said, taking a shaky breath of his own. “So you told Solas to ask your father?”

“I told him to send a message. It’ll take a few days to send one from New Elvhenan to the Free Marches.” Evelyn laid down on her bed, curling up around the crystal. It was the middle of the afternoon and she already felt tired. 

“Which I am assuming means that you haven’t told any of the others?” Dorian asked softly. 

“I don’t want them to panic while waiting for messages with updates. Especially if this is as far as it goes.” Evelyn said, bringing the crystal closer to her.

“I just felt that you’d... have some idea of how I feel with all of this. I can’t tell my siblings about this or my parents, but you traveled with him too. He... was your friend too...”

“I know...” Dorian said, his voice sounding tight. “That’s what makes all of this so much worse.” That sat in silence for a few moments. “Do you want to talk about him?”

“I’ve already cried too much over this call,” Evelyn said, not wanting to weep into a stone. “Besides... it may end up not going through.”

“Are you hoping it will or that it won’t?”

She was silent for a long time, trying to get her scrambled thoughts in order. “I... I don’t know.” 

“Keep me updated? Also, do send your letters should your father decide to be willing to meet with Solas about this... proposal.” She heard a familiar tone of humor return to his voice. “While I do enjoy having the title of your closest friend now that Solas lost the position, it would be quite cruel of you to have everyone else find out about this from wedding invitations.”

Evelyn winced at the comment about Solas but tried to smile even though Dorian couldn’t see it. “Of course. I’ll talk to you soon. Goodbye, Dorian.”

(end of flashback)

The former Inquisitor looked over the target as she approached; six throwing knives clustered into the center. The sight would’ve brought a proud smile to her face, once. Now she simply pulled the blades from the straw and put them back in the cloth wrapping. The blonde woman decided she’d call it a day. She’d barely broken a sweat during her spar with Rosalie and she only threw the set once and yet she didn’t feel up to continuing her training. 

“Nirasha, continue your training,” Evelyn called out, causing the other two women to pause in their sparring. “I’ve decided to call it a day.”

“Would you like me to draw a bath for you?” Nirasha asked, moving to sheath her daggers. 

“No, thank you. I can ask someone else.” Evelyn said, giving the elven woman a barely there, but still soft, smile. “Keep training. You’re doing very well.” 

Nirasha’s bright smile was a slight balm on her scarred heart. The sweet girl was a dear friend to her. Though they weren’t friends in the sense that they’d been to war together like the others of the Inner Circle had been, they still had a strong friendship. 

House Trevelyan was busier than it had ever been when Evelyn was a child. As her siblings were sent off (or in the case of her mage siblings Nathaniel and Harlow they were taken) to the Chantry, it felt like the house had gotten quieter and quieter. Now with the Bann’s nine children back under one roof along with three spouses and eight grandchildren, the halls were never empty. The household staff had also increased as well. Many of them were human but a few elves had either stuck around or had been hired on. When the elven servants of Thedas began leaving en masse, it left many businesses and households scrambling for workers. As a result, the elves who remained behind were able to ask for more pay and benefits and the nobles and business owners had no choice but to give in. 

Evelyn had asked one of the elven servants who worked as a cook in the kitchens why he didn’t leave for New Elvhenan. He’d worked for her family since she was a teenager. 

“If I went there I’d most likely end up doing exactly what I do now. It doesn’t matter to me what shape my employer’s ears are. I have a warm bed and I’m paid to do what I love. Besides,” he had given Evelyn a small smirk. “It would be such a hassle to move across the continent.”

The blonde woman was startled out of her thoughts when she heard her mother shouting angrily at her father. That wasn’t anything new, they’d never loved each other and their marriage had only soured in recent years. However, hearing her father say “Lord Fen’harel” made her pause and quietly creep towards her father’s study. She was still silent when she wanted to be, a technique perfected by sneaking around as a curious child and sneaking out as a rebellious teenager. 

The lack of servants or siblings in the area made Evelyn believe that her father may have requested for everyone to leave him and his wife in peace for their discussion.

“I don’t care what he calls himself!” Lady Cordelia snapped. “It’s an insult for him to even ask to marry a noblewoman! Let alone the Herald of Andraste!”

Evelyn didn’t know if her mother truly believed she was blessed by Andraste. She was a fervent believer and yet she was also her mother. Evelyn doubted she’d believe it if it had been her daughter. She hoped her mother didn’t believe it. It was bad enough that other people thought she was touched by fate when she had always said she wasn’t even before she had been proven right. 

“It would be foolish to deny him the chance to make his case,” Benjamin said, his deep voice cool and even. A sharp contrast to his wife’s enraged shrieking. “He may not be recognized as a lord but thousands of elves follow him and he’s conquered vast amounts of land from one of the largest countries in Thedas in a single year. His accomplishments are impressive enough to earn him a meeting.” 

“Mages are not allowed to marry! No chantry would sanctify the marriage!” Evelyn heard her mother slam a hand against her father’s desk. 

“You forget our daughter personally knows the Divine. She helped place her on the Sunburst throne.” Evelyn tried hard to not preen at the pride in her father’s voice. She’d chosen Leliana because she agreed with her ideas for Chantry reform, not to have the Nightingale in debt to her. Still, it seemed the little girl who wanted her father’s approval was still in there. “Should I grant him my daughter’s hand I’m sure the Divine herself will officiate the marriage.”

“Such a union is an affront to the Chantry!” Evelyn rolled her eyes, not at all surprised by her mother’s words. “You act as though you’ve already decided to wed our daughter to that... heathen upstart.”

“I have not, but I am willing to consider it.”

“Am I to have no say in the fate of any of our children?” Cordelia growled.

“You did have a say!” Evelyn flinched at her father’s yell. He hardly ever raised his voice in anger. He always said it showed weakness and that you felt you were losing the argument. It was why Evelyn herself always tried to maintain a calm volume when debating. 

“I allowed you to send five of our children to the Chantry. I’d even considered keeping Nathaniel and Harlow with us despite their magic but you convinced me otherwise. You said no apostate could teach them what they needed to know to be safe. You said allowing our children into the Chantry would grant us leverage in the Chantry and what happened?”

Benjamin Trevelyan didn’t give his wife a chance to respond.

“Maxwell is dead, transformed into a monster. Harlow was made Tranquil even after she passed her Harrowing. Nathaniel hasn’t said anything but I’m sure he suffered under the Templars. Rosalie and Henry were Lyrium addicts and Henry still suffers adverse effects from years of Lyrium use. Alice died at the Conclave. Out of the seven children I let you persuade me to give up to the Chantry, only one came out unscathed.” Benjamin’s voice was like ice, sending a shiver down Evelyn’s spine. 

She felt her heart clench and tears sting in her eyes. She remembered Rosalie and Henry coming home after their father had sent messages for all his children to return home. She remembered how badly Rosalie would shake during her withdrawals and Henry still had screaming nightmares along with bouts of paranoia. 

The mere thought of Harlow made Evelyn’s legs feel like they were going to give out. She and Maxwell had been only two years older than her. They’d been the siblings closest to her. Evelyn wept bitterly when they left but any time she saw her sister with that brand on her forehead made Evelyn want to scream. Her sweet, gentle sister had been made Tranquil by a Templar who didn’t want to deal with her refusals anymore even after she passed her Harrowing. It was the twins' faces Evelyn saw, one corrupted with red Lyrium and the other with a Chantry brand, whenever she felt herself faltering while fighting red templars.

“Your decisions caused severe damage to half of our family,” Benjamin said strongly. “So no, you will not have a say over what happens to them.”

There was a moment of powerful silence. “Do you say this only because of your hatred for the Chantry?” 

“You act as though it is undeserved,” Benjamin growled. 

“Not everyone in this family has abandoned the Maker.” Cordelia snapped back. “Sophia has said time and again that she’d liked to return to her duties as a Chantry Cleric.”

“I refuse to give those people another chance to destroy one of my children.” The Bann said firmly. “Once Evelyn is married, I’ll work on finding Sophia a suitable husband. If she’s so devoted to the Maker she can pray at home.”

“YOU-”

“Not another word!” Evelyn stepped away from the door. She could tell her mother would come storming out in a moment. “I have a letter to draft to Lord Fen’harel. We need to decide on a suitable time to discuss the possibility of this union.”

Evelyn had already turned a corner by the time she heard the study doors slam open. She wasn’t sure how Solas planned on going about gaining her father’s approval, but the fact that the Chantry didn’t approve of him may very well end up being a point in his favor. In any event, Evelyn had numerous letters of her own to write. Her father had agreed to meet with Solas. She figured her friends deserved a heads up about that.

Chapter Text

As far as Solas was concerned Evelyn had far too many relatives. The youngest of eleven children, she still had eight living siblings. Three of those had already produced multiple children of their own. When one took into account her extended family with all her cousins and in-laws the family tree became a massive thing with branches spread all over the Free Marches and dipping into a few other countries in Thedas. 

When Solas received the letter from Evelyn's father a week prior, agreeing to meet to discuss a marriage between him and Evelyn, Solas studied her immediate family. Best to have some knowledge of who he may end up speaking with. Any studying of her extended family and in-laws would be put off until Evelyn agreed to marry him. 

‘If she agrees to marry me they will be my in-laws.’ Solas thought to himself as he walked through the Crossroads. 

There was an Eluvian that had been repaired that would lead him to some ruins outside of Ostwick. Ordinarily one would need a horse or Hart to reach the double walled city in a timely fashion but the elf planned on using the familiar form of the wolf to get there himself. Apparently, Bann Trevelyan would send someone to wait for him at the city gates and escort him back to the Trevelyan estate. Walking the Crossroads gave Solas time to think about what he was doing. 

It was slightly... unnerving, for lack of a better word, when Solas gave the far-reaching effects of this possible marriage more than ten seconds of thought. 

Even after Evelyn died, Solas would forever be tied to the Trevelyan family. It would be a useful tie to have but it would be an intimate one that Solas would've never imagined for himself. There would be young humans in the Trevelyan family who would have to address him as Uncle if things played out.

Solas would also outlive his wife. Unlike the elves, humans had never been immortal. Evelyn's mortality was something he had discussed with Abelas extensively. While the former sentinel seemed to respect Evelyn from their brief interactions at the Temple of Mythal as well as her other accomplishments he also made sure to mention possible concerns. There were two that kept echoing in Solas's mind.

“Elvhen marriage customs include a ritual between the couple that binds their magic together. The former Inquisitor is not a mage. Assuming it even works on a human, would it not be like binding yourself to a corpse?” 

Solas’s excuse had been that the anchor had bound itself to Evelyn even though she had no magical abilities. While that magic had been slowly killing her it had simply been too much for a mortal to handle in the long term. The binding ritual done thousands of years ago would not be so overwhelming.  At least, that was the theory. Solas was also back at full power. While the Veil prevented him from the full extent of his abilities he was still the strongest mage alive. If any negative effects did happen due to the ritual, he could negate them; that was also just another theory.

He couldn’t deny that Abelas likening her to a corpse set his teeth on edge, not least of all because once he thought no better of her, and the reminder of that fact stung. He remembered that day when he met Evelyn for the last time before the Eluvian when he had described the reality in which he had awoken.

It was like walking through a world of Tranquil.

Those were the words he’d said to a woman who’d lost her closest sister to the circles, the sister who ended up being made Tranquil even though she’d done nothing to deserve it. He’d seen the devastation in Evelyn’s bright, green eyes when he’d said that. Her eyeliner had already streaked her face with tears of physical agony due to the anchor. Solas hadn’t missed a fresh, black tear sliding down her cheek even if her expression had remained strong. Even after he told her that she’d proven him wrong he still remembered the heartbreak in her gaze. She’d always kept him in her confidence, especially when the feeling of her titles swallowing who she was felt greatest, and he’d said he hadn’t thought of her as a person. A cruel enough thing to say to anyone but to a woman who so often feared being swallowed up by her own reputation? Solas knew intimately how that felt, both from his own experiences and what she confided in him. 

He did hold some fears about how the ritual would go, if it would work at all and how Evelyn would react to it but the thing that had bothered him the most was Abelas describing Evelyn as a corpse. She wasn’t. She was a person. It shamed him, how long it took to realize that and it raised further feelings of self-hatred at both what he had originally been planning and what he was going to do.

“At best the Inquisitor may have another sixty to seventy years of life. She will wither and die eventually, and because of that she is not an eternal shield against the human nations. When she passes, will they expect you to remarry?”

A question that filled Solas with even more foreboding. He knew Evelyn at the very least. At times it felt as though that was more to his benefit than hers. He’d gotten the chance to know her over the course of the Inquisition. He had seen many traits in her that were to be admired, traits he’d hoped to see in the People after his first rebellion; curiosity, open-mindedness, and kindness. He remembered her running all over the Hinterlands to help anyone who asked, from starving refugees to a panicked elven man with a sick wife. They’d been friends once, he’d been close to her. 

Which, at this point, only meant he had ample time to betray her, lie to her, and hurt her in so many ways. He didn’t like the idea of marrying someone he’d never met, but given his history, it may be to his hypothetical alternative wife’s benefit. He wouldn’t have had the chance to hurt her. Abelas’s question about having to marry again filled Solas’s mind with dread. The idea that Evelyn could end up being known as the first wife of the Dread Wolf, the first link in a chain of...

No. The possibility of that was too far off to consider. One of the things these mortals had shown was how much something could change in such a short time. Evelyn went from the most wanted criminal in Thedas to its savior in a single year, the same amount of time it took Solas to reconquer the Dales. Perhaps Evelyn had rubbed off on him more than he’d originally thought. Maybe he wouldn’t need to remarry once Evelyn passed. Either way, it was insulting to her, to be already making plans to marry another woman before he’d even married the former Inquisitor. 

When Solas stepped out of the Eluvian, into the Elven ruins near Ostwick, he did so with white-furred paws. The Eluvian itself was deep within the shadows, making it all the easier for it to remain hidden. The ruins were more of a cave at this point, crawling with large spiders that immediately fled at his presence. Even if he was in the form of a simple wolf and not the massive, six-eyed beast of the Dread Wolf, the eight-legged creatures still knew not to trifle with him. The old wolf heaved a sigh before he began walking.

Ostwick was positioned right at the mouth of the Waking Sea. Its famous double walls of white stone wrapped around the city like armor. They'd been built after the Qunari had landed by the city to launch their attacks on Kirkwall and Starkheaven in the Storm Age. While not as large or prominent as those two cities, it had grown in recent years. As the birthplace of the Herald of Andraste, it had become a much more well-known city. Some of the faithful even made it a pilgrimage. 

Solas could already imagine Evelyn’s cringe at pilgrims journeying from far and wide to see her home city, let alone her actual home. No doubt she’d have desired some peace, returning to her family’s manor. Having been worshiped as a holy icon himself, Solas knew that she was most likely denied that. 

He approached the Trevelyan manor house, having been escorted by two of Bann Trevelyan’s children.  He’d shifted back to his elven form. He wore a hooded traveling cloak to further conceal his identity from everyone else. Beneath he wore fine, dark robes stylized to elven ideals. He had no desire to attract attention from anyone else in the city, especially possible enemy spies or spiteful humans but when asking a man for his daughter’s hand in marriage, one had to dress decently. The cloudy grey sky created a joyless atmosphere that seemed the reflect Solas’s mood.

The old wolf wasn’t entirely sure what to make of his two escorts. Cedric Trevelyan was the heir to the household. His dark brown hair was liberally streaked with grey and he wore a finely made suit with the Trevelyan stallion embroidered on the front. He shared Evelyn’s eyes and he had fine wrinkles in the corners. Rosalie Trevelyan was noticeably younger than her brother, by at least ten years if Solas had to guess. She wore armor with a sword at her side and a shield strapped to her back. Her dark, reddish brown hair, which she wore in a high ponytail, at first made her appear unrelated to the man but Solas had seen those blue eyes on other siblings of the Trevelyan family. Looking closely he could also see that she shared the same cheekbones as Evelyn. 

What confused Solas the most was the complete lack of an interrogation when he had first approached them at the gates of Ostwick. Once he’d confirmed his identity Cedric simply gave the expected introductions and began to lead Solas into the upper city. The older brother did most of the talking, even addressing him as ‘Lord Fen’Harel.’ Neither sneered at him for his well-known actions or that he, an elven mage, was daring to ask for their sister’s hand in marriage. Rosalie at least seemed slightly wary of him, as she continued to sneak glances. Her brother on the other hand never spared him a look. He knew the woman was a former Templar so her suspiciousness made sense but Cedric, who should theoretically be the second most powerful person in the family, wasn’t trying to assert any authority over Solas or even do anything.

The idea that Cedric didn’t want to start anything in public or fully believed Solas would fail in his endeavor to gain Evelyn’s hand went through the elf’s mind but based on reports of their father, Solas had another theory: Bann Trevelyan had such firm control over the affairs of his family that Rosalie and especially Cedric, simply followed his orders. If their father told them to escort a living elven legend to their home so he could petition for their little sister’s hand, then they would do it. Of course, there could have been arguments about it but based on what he’d seen, Solas doubted that Cedric said anything about the offer beyond asking his father when Solas would arrive.

The Trevelyan Manor was under construction. Solas could see massive expansions in progress. He figured it was due to Bann Trevelyan having all of his family living there and with nine living children along with multiple grandchildren there was a lot of space necessary. The manor itself appeared to be two stories of light grey stone with a reddish brown roof and the entire property was contained within an iron fence. The bars of the fence gave the feeling of prison bars. Solas idly wondered if anyone in the family got that feeling. Perhaps Evelyn did? 

‘She will likely think she is trading one prison for another if she accepts my offer.’ Solas thought.

Stepping inside the manor Solas looked around. All the wood was dark, from the flooring to the furniture. The grey stone of the walls also made the house feel cold. There was a staircase against the left wall that led up to the second floor. Glancing at the upper walkway Solas saw a flash of golden hair disappear around a corner. He hadn’t been able to see the figure much before they walked off but he had been able to tell that it was an adult woman with her hair up. Was it Evelyn? It was a possibility but he also knew of at least one living sibling who had the same blonde hair as Evelyn. Many noblewomen also wore their hair up as well. It could just as likely have been one of her sisters, or perhaps an older niece. 

Solas waved away a human servant who offered to take his traveling cloak. The servant’s eyes widened when Solas lowered his hood, revealing who he was. Once his identity was revealed, the servant quickly bowed to him and the Trevelyan children before scampering away. Was it a fear of Solas himself or a fear of the Bann? His spies never reported the Bann striking any of the servants but Solas knew one didn’t need to physically harm a person for them to be afraid of you.

“Rosalie,” Cedric’s voice snapped Solas out of his observations. “I’ll escort Lord Fen’Harel to our father’s study.” 

A pair of blue eyes narrowed at Cedric. His sister clearly didn’t appreciate the abrupt dismissal but a glance at Solas seemed to prevent her from snapping at her brother. She bowed at the waist towards the elven lord. 

“Good day, my Lord.” She said, before turning on her heel and marching off, deeper into the manor. Once she left Solas realized he and Cedric were alone. Nine children, spouses, and grandchildren required several servants; maids, cooks, tutors, and others as well, and yet the house was eerily quiet. He heard no movement or conversations from either the family or servants. Rosalie being sent away implied she wouldn’t be present for Solas’s meeting with the Bann. Given his reputation, he assumed the Bann wouldn’t allow anyone else into the study while he and Solas talked. There was no need for anyone else if the Bann had the first and only say in the matter. 

Solas intended for Evelyn to have a say, regardless but she’d already said she wouldn’t entertain the idea of marrying him without her father’s approval. 

“I’ll escort you to my father, now. If you’d please follow me.” Cedric said.

Bann Trevelyan was an old lord. The man was in his mid-sixties though he did appear to take very good care of himself. His hairline had receded and the white hair that remained was carefully maintained. His bright green eyes were calculating as Solas stepped into his office. His back was straight and not hunched over as he’d seen before in other mortals as they aged. 

The office itself had numerous bookshelves filled with ledgers, no doubt containing the financial status of Bann Trevelyan’s many economic ventures. The desk that the Bann sat behind was in front of a fireplace. There was a smaller chair across from the desk. One could imagine any one of the Bann’s many children sinking into the chair before their cold father. On the mantel was a sword contained in a glass case, including a plaque reading ‘9:13 Grand Tourney, Benjamin Trevelyan.’ Solas took note that there were also no servants in the room, nor any other members of the household. It would seem he would be negotiating with only Evelyn’s father.

“Good afternoon, Lord Fen’Harel,” Benjamin stood and reached out a hand to Solas, his face a stony mask. 

“Good afternoon, Bann Trevelyan,” Solas gave his hand a firm shake. 

“I hope the journey here was pleasant and that my children conducted themselves well.” The Bann sat down and gestured for Solas to take the seat across the desk from him. 

“They were perfectly adequate guides. You must be proud of them.” Solas took a seat, behaving every bit the noble he truly was. 

“Yes, many of my children have and continue to serve our family’s interest.” Benjamin folded his hands and rested them on his dark wood desk. “Now I may be old, but I still have my wits about me. I know you’re only looking for a human bride to try and prevent more bloodshed and persuade the other human nations that you aren’t here to wipe us all out or topple kingdoms.”

‘He is not one to waste time.’ Solas thought. After so long of dealing with Orlesians he could admit it was a welcome change of pace.

Benjamin continued. “I’ve had this discussion a dozen times with a dozen different men and those are merely the ones who’ve made it this far. I must say, however, I don’t understand why you would select my daughter out of all the other women in Thedas.”

“She is the Herald of Andraste,” Solas could picture Evelyn’s scowl at that title but as she was no longer the Inquisitor, that name held the most weight. “Her name is well known across all of Thedas and her actions are still felt to this day. My marriage to her would stay the blades of the Chantry and avoid an Exalted March. She is a hero to many people, across all divides, be they racial or territorial.”

“She was a hero,” Benjamin said firmly.

A small frown graced Solas’s face. “Excuse me?”

“When people think of the Herald of Andraste they expect this gleaming warrior, a champion who slays dragons as the sun rises behind her. Evelyn once killed dragons, fought would-be gods, and even directed the fate of nations.” The old human lord scoffed and rubbed his fingers together as if fiddling with something that wasn’t there. 

“Then they meet her and they see her as she is now; a crippled daughter of a small house who still has difficulty writing certain letters. She needs her food cut for her because she cannot do it one-handed. Even dancing with her makes the nobleman uncomfortable because she places the remains of her arm upon theirs. She has no hope of inheriting anything from me with so many older siblings ahead of her. She spends more time in her greenhouse, pruning poisonous plants than with people. We are also unsure if she is still capable of bearing children, a concern for many who have inquired about marrying her. The anchor was an unknown form of magic that took her arm. We have no way of knowing if it took anything else from her. With matters such as these, the only way to truly know is to try and many do not like the uncertainty of that when it comes to a wife.”

Solas’s jaw clenched both in anger at Evelyn being disparaged in such a way and also because he knew what it felt like to be in her position. He knew it intimately well. He wondered who said all these things about her. Soft aristocrats, who couldn’t handle a woman who’s actions shaped the world? Perhaps her own father had said such things, he didn’t seem particularly warm. 

Perhaps Evelyn had even said such things about herself? He wondered who she would have confided those feelings in. Perhaps a servant overheard her and reported back to her father. He couldn’t imagine her speaking such vulnerabilities to Bann Trevelyan. By all accounts, he was a cold, stern man who kept his family on a tight leash, especially after the Mage-Templar war and the explosion of the Conclave.

“Children are not my concern. Immortals do not place such importance on continuing our lineage. I have no need for any heirs.” Best to start working through her father’s ‘concerns’ one at a time.

“You may not need one but a child could help reinforce your marriage. Show everyone that you would truly accept her as your wife.” Benjamin paused. “Unless you take issue with the idea of a human child?”

“No, though that is irrelevant. I am not like the elves of today. Hypothetically, any children Evelyn and I could have would be elven. They may have slight human characteristics but that would be all.” Now he spoke of Evelyn as though she were a dog he wished to breed. He felt disgusting and in need of a bath. “Would that be an issue?”

“No.” Benjamin’s swift and firm answer surprised Solas. Though he’d never heard of the Bann mistreating his servants, elven or otherwise, it was a surprising stance for an older human nobleman to take. 

“Our children would also likely be mages, are you also accepting of that?” He raised a brow at the balding human. 

“I am.” Benjamin’s answer held a similar tone to the first.

“I must confess I am surprised,” Solas said, folding his arms. “Most humans wouldn’t even entertain the idea of letting their child marry an elf or a mage and yet I am both as well as a rebellion leader against one of the most powerful human nations and the Chantry. Most would be insulted by my offer.”

“My daughter woke up in a Chantry dungeon, accused of murdering thousands, including the former Divine. She had a magic of unknown origins fixed to her hand, causing her immense pain and yet she fought through waves of demons in an effort to close the Breach even with the threat of execution hanging over her.” A tiny smirk appeared on Benjamin’s face. “The next day they were calling her the Herald of Andraste. They put her at the forefront of a heretical movement that within a year, went from being scoffed at to being what nobles fought to support. It has come to my attention that anytime my daughter goes against society, she emerges at the top.”

Benjamin leaned forward. “She may be able to do it again, but she will likely have to once again wade through the muck to gain the respect of others. As I said, she isn’t a hero anymore. Many may paint her as a villain once again. You plan to marry her for her story, but will you be able to accept the woman she is today, so many years after her victory over Corypheus?”

It would seem the lord was aware that Solas had left after the final battle. Solas was well known at present but in comparison to his other companions, from renowned authors to the Right Hand of the Divine, he had faded into the background. Evelyn must have shared some things with her father. Regardless, Solas had no intention of backing down. 

“It has been some years since Evelyn and I have worked together but I am plenty aware of where the legend of her ends. With your permission,” Solas hated saying that, Evelyn’s permission was the only one that mattered, “I will marry Evelyn in the traditions of her people and mine. I will take her back to Revas’an and give her a life of comfort and peace. I will ensure she is safe from all threats and given the respect she deserves.” 

There were a few moments of heavy silence. The old human leaned back and looked Solas up and down. “Every other time I’ve had this discussion Evelyn’s would-be suitor has turned tail and run when faced with the reality of what my daughter truly is.”

“I would wager I am not quite like the others.” Solas deadpanned, causing Benjamin to chuckle. The elf tilted his head. “Tell me, do you have anything positive to say about Evelyn?”

The look in Benjamin’s eye was unreadable. Not quite approval but not malice either. “She is beautiful, despite her scars. She is intelligent and well-versed in politics. She is a wonderful dancer though I’d recommend you keep a firm hand on her back while doing so to compensate for her missing limb. She is well-read and an expert in poisons, a skill I imagine you can find use of. Though losing her arm has stolen many skills from her she still knows how to connect with people.”

The old wolf was well aware of that, he’d seen it countless times during their journeys together. A few moments of silence passed, the two men staring each other down, locked in a battle of wills. The Bann may be a calculating old lord but Solas was an immortal elf once worshiped as a god. He quite literally had naps last longer than Benjamin Trevelyan had been alive. 

“Ensure that her food is cut into bite-sized portions before it is served. Evelyn despises having to ask for assistance in that matter, more than any other way. She also has a personal servant, an elven woman named Nirasha. I highly doubt she will tolerate being separated from her.” Benjamin said, glancing out a nearby window. 

Solas remembered Nirasha. She had served Evelyn since the beginning of the Inquisition. The elven woman did not serve Solas and it was seeing Evelyn interact with the girl, especially in the beginning when the servant had been so skittish, that made him begin to think that perhaps the Anchor could have ended up with someone worse than a human noble. 

“So does this mean you accept my offer?” Solas asked. 

“Yes, you may marry my daughter, Evelyn,” Benjamin said, sounding somewhat pleased. He had also used Evelyn’s reputation to further his own ends. Perhaps he thought he could continue to do so when she became the first human noblewoman in history to marry an elven noble. 

“I thank you for your generosity, Bann Trevelyan,” Solas said, feeling very much like he was purchasing Evelyn and hating every second of it. “If you do not mind I would like to speak with Evelyn about this.” He needed to speak to her about all of this. There were several questions the Bann didn’t ask and while it was nice to not have a fight, it also made Solas worry about the lack of concern for Evelyn herself in this prospective marriage.

“Of course.” Benjamin stood up and Solas followed suit. “I will guide you to a sitting room and then locate Evelyn myself before bringing her to you.”

It was no doubt a ploy to have a moment alone with his daughter to speak with her. Solas only wondered if it was to assure Evelyn she had the final say, or to pressure her into saying ‘yes.’

Chapter Text

The personal greenhouse of the youngest Trevelyan daughter was a small thing. It had originally been a simple wooden structure, only five feet long, yet even after being expanded upon it still wasn’t large enough to house all the plants Evelyn would have liked but it had the plants necessary for her most commonly used toxin as well as a tobacco plant that Evelyn regularly harvested to make her father’s pipe tobacco. The planters only stretched along one side of the structure, the other side had a workstation for the refinement of poisons. The greenhouse had been outfitted with a water pump, which made watering the plants a much easier process.

 Plants were easier than people in Evelyn’s opinion. While she enjoyed listening to people's stories and being a part of a group, the part of her that was still a lonely child always looked to plants for comfort. The siblings closest to her age were leaving for the Chantry or Chantry-related groups and her eldest siblings were too old to play with a small child. Evelyn had felt a bit disconnected from her siblings and still did if she were to be honest. She’d gone through and done so much after being away for a few years. She had also been the only one of the younger children kept from Chantry service, something she was thankful for but also something that further separated her from the other Trevelyan children. Slowly preparing tobacco leaves, Evelyn thought about her eldest siblings if only to distract herself from the fact that Solas was speaking to her father for his blessing to marry her. 

Cedric was the eldest and as heir, lessons and meetings with their father took up the majority of his time. By the time Evelyn was born, he already had an arranged marriage drafted and agreed upon. Not only that but he behaved like their father's puppet even at present. Evelyn sometimes wondered if perhaps her eldest brother had been more rebellious in his youth or if he'd always been content to be a mouthpiece for their father. She just worried about how Cedric would handle everything once their father finally passed and he was then forced to make all the decisions.

Nathaniel had been in the circle for years once Evelyn came into the picture. The Circle of Ostwick, while sedate, still took her brother before she ever had the chance to properly meet him. Their father had made arrangements, allowing him to visit home occasionally. Even so, they were practically strangers, awkward and unsure of how to act around each other. Now he resided permanently at home, unsure of what to do with himself. Their father had never officially removed him from the line of succession and while Cedric was the eldest and also had three sons, it was still something many took notice of.

Not to mention Lysander-

A knock on the greenhouse door snapped Evelyn out of her musings. She turned and saw Nirasha poke her head in. The young elven woman fidgeted with her hands, hesitating before she stepped inside. 

“My lady, your father is here to escort you to Lord Fen’Harel.” She said, walking up to Evelyn. Bann Trevelyan stepped into view, opened the door wider, and watched as Nirasha gently took the leaves from his daughter. Evelyn stared at her father, eyes wide even as Nirasha guided her to the water pump and washed her hand for her. 

“He’s willing to go through with this, even after you told him why he shouldn’t?” She asked, nodding to Nirasha as she dried her hand. She knew her father wouldn’t bother escorting her to Solas if he’d changed his mind.

“I told him everything you said. He claims to have no need for heirs, though that may change with time. The opinions of the masses can affect anyone.” The Bann turned his gaze to Nirasha. “Leave us, if you would. I need to have a private discussion with my daughter.” 

The brunette woman looked at Evelyn, concern shining through her gray eyes. Evelyn gave her a small, reassuring smile. Nirasha straightened and then bowed to both Trevelyans before making herself scarce. Once the servant left Benjamin closed the door to the greenhouse to prevent anyone from listening in. 

“What do you make of him?” Evelyn finally asked. 

“He is ambitious. Determined as well and his accomplishments are nothing to scoff at.” Benjamin looked into his daughter’s eyes, the same as his own. “He is using you for your fame but that is to be expected of anyone who vies for your hand as you are well aware. He did not seem to enjoy that he had to ask my permission to marry you.” 

“Solas cares deeply for freedom,” Evelyn said. “He probably thinks this tradition is similar to him purchasing me like a dog.” ‘Or a slave.’ she thought.

Benjamin raised a brow. “‘Solas?’ You still call him that?” He studied his daughter. “We may have been across the sea from the Inquisition but rumors still reached us. By all accounts, Lord Fen’Harel was the one you traveled with the most and you were seen in his company more than with anyone else. Tell me, was he your lover during the fight against Corypheus?” 

Evelyn’s face remained impassive even as her heart seized. “No, I took no lovers during my time as Inquisitor. From the day I went to the Conclave, there has been no one.”

“He was your closest confidant during those days, or so the stories go. Is this true?” Being stared down by her father may have once made her look away, but Evelyn had stared down actual dragons and worse since she was a flighty teenager. Her gaze did not waver even as the line of questioning tugged at her emotions.

“He was. Then he disappeared without a word after the final battle.” There was more, so much more, but she wouldn’t tell her father that. Certain secrets needed to be maintained, even from family, in order to prevent bloodshed and her own collapse into tears.

“He left you.” Evelyn hated how her father phrased that. It sounded as though Solas had run off with a lover. “You wouldn’t need to fear him doing so again if that is why you hesitate. Your marriage will be as heavily scrutinized as any royal’s. Lord Fen’Harel can’t afford public outcry. If nothing else, that should prevent him from mistreating you.” 

She didn’t fear that Solas would be abusive. No matter how much she doubted him, and she doubted him a lot, she knew he wouldn’t strike her with an open hand. Whatever else she could become if she did decide to marry him, she wouldn’t be a battered wife kept in some dark tower in a faraway land. Evelyn wondered if her father had a similar conversation with her only married sister, Penelope when she was wed. Did he offer words of comfort to her older sister before she walked down the aisle? Considering how her sister seemed to have figuratively removed her husband’s spine, she doubted it was needed.

“You do not fear his cruelty?” Her father’s voice snapped Evelyn out of her thoughts. She shook her head before remembering that he always wanted verbal answers. 

“He will not hit me, nor will he have others do so for him.” She said, confident in that at least.

“Yet you seem hesitant.” He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. “Is the lack of romantic feelings holding you back?”

“I’ve always known I would not marry someone I loved,” Evelyn said, wanting to prevent a lecture. Her parents never loved each other, nor did love grow during their marriage. Yet they had numerous children and their house prospered. Love was unnecessary in a marriage.

“You don’t seem to have any hope that you could grow to love each other.” 

“I know he will never love me,” Evelyn said, voice firm. He’d once said he had no attraction towards humans, his constant lies and betrayals only proved that he would never see Evelyn in a romantic light. She couldn’t afford to believe otherwise. “This marriage is purely political. You and mother trained me for this. I grew up knowing that such a marriage would be mine eventually.” She sighed. “I confess, I never thought my husband would be Solas but I do see certain benefits for the family.”

The benefits for the family; the only reason why her father would consider any marriage. Besides access to unique goods and trade from New Elvhenan, her marriage to Solas would make history. The talk it would generate was something her father would use to his advantage. Evelyn knew she had a habit of pulling off the impossible, her father seemed to believe she’d do the same and make her marriage to Solas profitable for House Trevelyan.

“So?” Her father raised a gray brow. 

Evelyn dipped her head slightly in deference to him. “I will marry whoever you choose, just as I’ve always said.”

“So you approve of Lord Fen’Harel as a match?” Benjamin asked, voice firm.

Evelyn knew what he was asking. Did she want to marry Solas?

Suddenly all she could think of were her friend’s letters when she told them about Solas asking her father for her hand. Cassandra had crossed out so many lines, her lack of talent with words preventing her from articulating her rage at Solas for even suggesting such a thing after everything he had done. Unlike the Seeker, Sera had been able to craft words, many of them misspelled, and some of them she had probably made up. None of them were flattering. Bull had threatened to turn him into a scrambled egg. Josephine, Vivienne, Varric, and Leliana had at least managed to keep from pouring nothing but rage onto paper and instead defer to Evelyn’s judgment. Even so, all she could think of was what her friends would think. It was like she was back in the early days of the Inquisition. 

‘Doing this will save lives but they will all hate me. They’ll never look at me the same. They’ll think I’m crazy or stupid. Probably both.’ The same thoughts she’d had after she became Inquisitor began to circle in her head once again. Every time she sat in judgment, it felt like her stomach had been tied into knots. The Grey Warden debacle made her think her heart would have pounded out of her chest. 

“Evelyn.” Her father’s sharp tone brought Evelyn back to the present. She hadn’t noticed her breathing had gotten shallow. She reflected on her father’s question as she tried to steady herself. She never intended to choose her own husband. It had never seemed like a possibility and in some ways, it took the pressure off her especially after she became Inquisitor. Her life had been filled with rules and regulations and while she had chafed at many of them, who she’d end up marrying had never been one of them. Noblewomen running off in search of love had never been something she related to. As a teenager, she had occasionally fantasized about it, but never seriously. Duty had been hammered into her too hard even then. Suddenly having the ability to decide her fate seemed too much. 

Deciding whether or not to marry Solas, either possibly allowing an Exalted March or choosing to marry a man who’d done so much wrong to the world and her, felt overwhelming. When she looked at her father again, she noticed his brow relax and his green eyes softened. Perhaps he saw her inner turmoil. She could only hope she still looked like a grown woman, not a little girl. 

She just couldn’t voice a decision out loud. Why she could easily gamble with the fate of nations when it came to assassination or war but she couldn’t declare her preference for a marriage was unknown to her. 

“Evelyn.” He said again. “You have always done me proud. I have no doubt you will continue to do so when you marry the man I choose for you.” 

Evelyn waited with bated breath.

“You will set an example for your older siblings. Marriage need not be a death sentence. You will marry Lord Fen’Harel and once again put the Trevelyan name down in history.” 

With his declaration, the former Inquisitor relaxed. Her shoulders dropped and a tense breath left her with a sigh of relief. There was still so much anxiety in her, but marrying Solas on order from her father felt like she had an excuse. Like she couldn’t be blamed for anything. She was simply being a good daughter and behaving as befitted her station. 

As for why she couldn’t make the decision herself? Well, she supposed she had the rest of her life to think about that.

The Bann cleared his throat and adjusted one of his sleeves. “Come, we’ve wasted too much time talking and it wouldn’t do to keep your intended waiting any longer by allowing you to change. This will have to do.” Benjamin offered his daughter his arm, even as his expression twitched in irritation. It was not the best outfit to present Evelyn in, dirty pants and a brown shirt with various plant stains on the sleeves. It was an old one from before her injury, the left sleeve had been tied in a knot to keep from flopping around and getting in the dirt.

Evelyn chuckled quietly as her father escorted her out of the greenhouse. She made sure to lock it behind her so that no curious nieces or nephews snuck in and accidentally poisoned themselves or someone else. “Solas went with me all over Orlais and Fereldan. He was also the most skilled healer we had. He has seen me in far worse conditions.”

Her father didn’t comment on that. “I trust you will ask the necessary questions about your future role as his wife. I only tried to dissuade him from you, as you asked.”

She smiled softly at her father as they walked the halls. However cold and stern Bann Trevelyan was, the fact that he would purposely try and sabotage a prosperous marriage offer simply because his daughter asked him to, proved that he cared in Evelyn’s eyes. He wasn’t made of stone, nor was he unfeeling. The Bann cared for his children. 

When they finally reached the sitting room door Benjamin removed his arm from her hand. “Speak with your fiance, Evelyn. I trust that my presence is not needed.” 

Evelyn chose to believe it was his faith in her that made him comfortable leaving them alone, not that she somehow needed his absence for emotional comfort.

When she opened the door Solas stood, ready and waiting for her. His elven robes were another new look for him. She’d only ever seen him in simple sweaters or armor during the Inquisition. It was also unlike the armor he had worn that day he took her hand.

‘Now he has claimed the other one.’ She thought to herself, a small private joke that would no doubt be repeated by her friends. The wolf pelt over his shoulder was the only thing that felt familiar. That and the foot wraps but those hardly counted. Closing the door behind her she approached him with a smooth stride that had been instilled in her since she was a girl. 

“You gained my father’s blessing.” She said, carefully laying her hand flat against her leg to keep from fidgeting. “I knew you could if you decided to go forward with this. He sees this as a great opportunity to further the family reputation.” 

“A mentality one would expect when dealing with nobility,” Solas said, watching her. She supposed he was simply surprised that a human nobleman wouldn’t outright reject him because of his ears or magic. Many no doubt would have, but her father was nothing if not opportunistic. If he only looked at non-mage humans then there was a lot he could miss to further himself and the family.

There was a pause in their conversation that Evelyn chose to break so she could ask some important questions, questions that her father would have asked if not for her request. “What is expected of me, as your wife? I was raised for this but I wouldn’t want to assume anything.” 

Solas’s response was automatic, though he seemed to be pondering something over in his head even as he spoke. “Our marriage would mostly be symbolic. You would attend events and ceremonies with me to show our cooperation. They need only see us. My hope is that this will help foster peaceful relations with the other lands.”

Evelyn frowned slightly in confusion. “Is there nothing else expected of me? I don’t know how different it was in Arlathan but if I were to marry anyone else I’d at least be overseeing servants, upkeep of the estate, and arranging many of the events you’re talking about us attending.” She didn’t think she’d have an equal share in Solas’s power so she didn’t bother bringing up helping him with paperwork or overseeing laws but this was unexpected.

“You do not need to concern yourself with that. I already have capable people fulfilling those tasks.” Solas said, waving a hand as though sweeping her concerns away. “You would have a comfortable life in Revas’an. You would not need to worry about anything.”

So she would have no tasks to fill her days. While she wasn’t marrying him for her own gain she doubted she would have much say in anything. One would assume that as his wife that would mean she’d at least have Solas’s ear to whisper in and sway any situation in her favor. But Solas was much too wise for such ploys, especially from a wife he no doubt would never truly care for, as much as that thought still stung.

“My father said you also do not expect me to provide heirs?” She asked. Heirs were one of the biggest reasons for marriage. A continued legacy. Logically she knew that Solas was immortal but it was a task Evelyn had always expected. Children were something that she would provide for any prospective husband regardless of who he was. At least that was what she’d always grown up believing. She’d never been particularly excited about the concept of being a mother, simply accepting it as an inevitability, but to not even have a child to take up her time?

Solas shook his head. “No, I will not demand children from you.” 

Evelyn frowned. “You’re not demanding anything. I’m offering it freely.” This felt like a cultural barrier that she just wasn’t seeing clearly. Countless couples across Thedas proved one didn’t need to be in love to have children. Her parents were a prime example of this. It was a fate she had grown up expecting and accepting. She didn’t see the issue. “It would be the same even if I were to marry someone else.” 

“That is not my point.” The furrow in Solas’s brow made the scar on his forehead even more pronounced. There was a brief pause as he gathered his words. “I would not have us lay together for the sake of duty.”

If not for duty, the only other reason was for love and Evelyn held no delusions about Solas caring for her in any capacity even remotely close to love. She supposed it was simply a result of him being immortal; he had no need for children. However, that could also simply be his excuse. Perhaps his disinterest in humans was so great he couldn’t bring himself to have sex with one even for political reasons. 

‘Or maybe it’s just me in particular that he’s uninterested in.’ Evelyn thought before squashing the idea. She did not need self-pity. 

“I certainly won’t force myself on you.” She said, voice slightly frosty. She had more dignity than to fling herself at an uninterested man, even if he was to be her husband. “Even so, it would be best if we still shared a bed, even if only for sleep. It would help promote the image of our union.”

“You would be comfortable with that arrangement?” His head tilted ever so slightly, like a curious pup. It was a familiar action, one that she’d adored once and it made her tone soften just a little. 

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t. Besides, we ended up sharing a tent more often than not on our adventures, especially when Bull and Dorian were in the group.” Evelyn remembered many nights out on the road, whispering about the day’s events as well as theorizing what each new discovery meant. They also gossiped about their companions like a couple of old dowagers with nothing better to do than speculate about other people’s love lives. “I can’t tell you what to do, I’m only making a suggestion.”

“It is a wise one,” Solas said. It was amazing that neither of them had looked away from each other. Perhaps it was a shared experience at court that kept them from fidgeting. Maybe they were both too proud to back down. “I will make arrangements. I also understand that you have a servant who will likely join you if we marry.” 

He kept saying ‘if’ as though the decision had not already been made. While the details still needed to be worked out, the fact that they were getting married was clear as far as Evelyn was concerned. 

“If she agrees to come with me then yes, Nirasha will also go to Revas’an. Will this be an issue?” Evelyn dearly hoped that Nirasha would agree to go with her. She’d want at least one trusted companion in her new home. Evelyn found it hard to trust others, especially after Solas but Nirasha had stayed by her side since Haven. She’d seen Evelyn at her weakest and most dependent, especially in the early days after losing her arm. The vulnerability needed to allow someone to help her bathe, dress, bring her food, and brush her hair was something Evelyn doubted she could do with any servant besides Nirasha. “If she agrees, Nirasha is one thing I will not yield.”

Solas inclined his head to her. “You need not worry. Nirasha would be welcome in Revas’an. I remember you caring for her during the Inquisition. I would not deny you your friend.”

Was it kindness or was he simply placating her? 

“Thank you,” she said, regardless. 

Before she could say anything else, Evelyn heard the sitting room door swing open and close. She spun around and saw her youngest niece, pressed against the door and looking at her and Solas with wide eyes. She had clearly been unaware that the room she’d ducked into was occupied. 

The nine-year-old girl had inherited black hair from her father, making her stand out amongst the Trevelyans, though technically she was a Steelworth. Her mother, Evelyn’s sister Penelope, married into a higher-ranking family of Ostwick, Steelworth. Her green eyes proved her relation to the Trevelyan family, however. She wore one of her simpler dresses and her hair was slightly messy. Evelyn suspected that her youngest niece had been running around the manor, as she often did. 

“Cynthia!” Evelyn scolded. “You know better than to burst in without permission.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Evie.” The small girl said, round eyes wide. “I... was just playing hide and seek with Ethan and Richard and I needed to find a good spot.”

Cynthia’s older brothers were fourteen and twelve years old. Evelyn doubted they would willingly play with their sister much at their age, especially such a ‘childish’ game. They were getting to be that age where it wasn’t fun anymore to run around the manor and play tag in the garden. At any other time, Evelyn would take Cynthia aside to figure out what was going on but she already had too much to deal with. That was when her ever-curious niece took notice of Solas.

“Oh! Was he the one speaking with Grandfather?” She asked, green eyes locked onto the stranger in the Trevelyan manor. “You were asking for Aunt Evelyn’s hand? Lord Fen’Harel?” 

The charming bluntness of children was occasionally amusing, but Evelyn didn’t find it so at that moment. She started massaging the bridge of her nose, trying to fight the impending headache and take a moment to gather her thoughts. 

Solas gave Cynthia a slightly indulgent smile, the same one he gave anyone when they came to him with honest questions. It was a face Evelyn had seen quite a lot in the days at Skyhold. In Haven, he had been a bit more restrained. It was the early days of everything. Evelyn had been quite restrained herself for obvious reasons. 

“I am, and who might you be?” He asked, watching the small girl.

Evelyn raised a brow at her niece, a slight reprimand for the small etiquette blunder. If it had been any other former companion of hers she would have simply laughed and smiled along. But this was Solas, a former closest confidante who abandoned her and then revealed his colossal betrayal before taking her arm. He was also to be her husband. 

She was going through a lot.

“My name is Cynthia Steelworth.” The little girl said, giving a slightly stiff curtsey. She was in the early days of her etiquette lessons. 

Solas inclined his head in a polite nod. “A pleasure, Miss Steelworth.” He had a small smirk on his face and Cynthia positively beamed up at him in return. 

“Are you going to be my new Uncle?” She asked, grinning.

Solas blanched. “Umm...”

Evelyn had never heard Solas say ‘Um.’ He could parry words with the sharpest minds in Thedas and stare down some of the most horrific monsters in existence, but a nine-year-old girl managed to steal any wit from him. Evelyn didn’t laugh. A few years ago she would have at the sight of Solas so stupefied in the face of a small, curious child. She did smile, though. A small, amused quirk of her lips at the color that started to appear in Solas’s cheeks. 

Before she could take pity on Solas and rescue him from the terror that was her youngest niece, there was a knock on the door of the sitting room. 

“Who is it?” Evelyn asked, silently hoping that Cynthia was just the beginning of her entire family barging in on her discussion with Solas. 

“It is Harlow.” A soft, monotone voice came that pierced Evelyn’s heart. “I was looking for Cynthia. She seems to have gotten away from me.”

Evelyn saw Cynthia bow her head in shame from the corner of her eye. “Come in, Harlow. She’s in here.” 

The door opened and Evelyn’s eyes immediately landed on the cruel brand that marred her sister’s face. Harlow was a thin woman, never overindulging in food, as was expected of a Tranquil. Her hair was a slightly paler shade of blonde than Evelyn’s own, cut at about chin length. Her once gentle blue eyes held nothing within. Tears stung at Evelyn’s own eyes every time she saw her sister Harlow. She and Maxwell had been her closest playmates when they were young until the Circle took Harlow as a mage and Maxwell went to them to become a Templar to stay with his twin.

Now the shell of a woman was all that was left of both Maxwell and Harlow. Evelyn had more than once imagined simply trying to scrub off the brand as if that would bring her sister back. It was a permanent mark of cruelty, a reminder of everything her family had lost to the Chantry. 

“Cynthia, you know better than to sneak away,” Evelyn said, keeping her eyes locked on her sister even as she gently scolded her niece. 

“Can’t I stay with you, Aunt Evie? I’ll be quiet while you and Lord Fen’Harel talk.” Evelyn looked at Cynthia. She saw how the young girl glanced at her other aunt’s blank face and brand before flinching away.

Evelyn took a shaky breath as she felt her chest tighten. Harlow had been the gentlest out of all the Trevelyan family. She once cried over a mouse that one of the kitchen cats had killed. Evelyn remembered how Harlow had marveled at the sight of their first nephew, Benjamin II when he was born. Harlow always wanted to hold little Ben and help take care of him. If ever there was a woman destined to be a caretaker and mother, it would have been Harlow. In a perfect world, she would’ve been the favorite aunt, not Evelyn. Evelyn herself would’ve gladly traded the title if it meant getting her sister back.

That was impossible, however. Instead of a sweet smile tossed the mage woman’s way, Cynthia only looked at her with fear and discomfort. The woman who could’ve been a beloved aunt now only caused unending sorrow in her siblings and uneasiness in the next generation. 

“I have to speak with Lord Fen’Harel alone, Cynthia. I’ll sit with you in the library after dinner tonight, I promise. For now, please go with Harlow.” Evelyn’s voice was firm, but the breath she took shook once more. She didn’t want to be emotional in front of Cynthia, especially not Solas, but she couldn’t stop her sorrow from showing.

Perhaps that was why Cynthia bowed her head and silently walked over to Harlow. The older woman simply opened the door for them both before leaving Evelyn and Solas behind without a word. Evelyn placed her hand over her eyes and took one last deep breath, trying to reign in her despair and rebuild her walls. She had to get through this discussion. She could weep for her sister later.

When she turned to face Solas, her mask of propriety was back. She was in control again, at least for a little while. 

“I apologize for the interruption, where were we?” She wished she could cross her arms to try and soothe herself but she only had the one and she couldn't quietly fidget with anything to get rid of her tense energy without it being obvious since she was standing across from Solas.

“We left off on the agreement that Nirasha would be welcome in Revas’an should she decide to join us,” Solas said.

“Yes, thank you.” Evelyn nodded. “Would my family be allowed to visit?” 

“I would appreciate prior notification but I would not keep you from your family.” There was a pause. “As a matter of fact, I had planned to give you an Eluvian for ease of travel between here and Ostwick should we go forward.”

Evelyn frowned. “You keep saying ‘if we get married.’ I wouldn’t expect you to even suggest our engagement if you weren’t completely committed to this.” 

“I am committed but I have not received a definitive answer from you.” Solas was mirroring her frown. 

“I said I would marry you if you got my father’s blessing and you have.” Evelyn’s hand rose to sit on her hip and the remains of her arm rose as if to do the same with her missing hand. Her irritation kept her from noticing her mistake. 

“No, you said you would consider if I received his permission.” He said.

Well, at least they were already arguing like they’d been married for years. Perhaps it would make the rest of her life easier. 

“In my defense, you dropped a lot of information on me out of nowhere, especially after having not spoken to me for a year,” Evelyn said, glancing away.

Solas sighed. “You are correct and I apologize for the suddenness of it all.” She could feel his eyes on her and she wondered what he was looking for. “May I ask what your answer is?”

“You have my father’s blessing, so I will marry you,” Evelyn said, turning back to him.

“Are you sure about this, Evelyn?” He asked, taking a small step forward.

“I have been raised for this my whole life. I’ll admit, I never thought I’d marry one of the Evanuris, but I’ve been trained for a marriage like this. I know what I’m doing.” How could she feel so confident about agreeing to marry him and yet be so anxious when she thought about married life with Solas? 

“This will be for the rest of your life.” He said, which only reminded Evelyn that Solas could sleep through their entire marriage if he wanted to.

“Yes, that’s how marriage works!” Evelyn couldn’t help but snap back sarcastically. She then narrowed her eyes, anger rising. “Wait, are you trying to persuade me to back out of this so you don’t feel guilty about this engagement not going through because you don’t want this?”

“No!” He said, raising his hands as though to lower her rising temper, which only made it rise higher. 

“I’ve already agreed to marry you! What else do you want me to say!?” She snapped.

Solas opened his mouth before he closed it. Evidently, he’d been about to speak before thinking it through. Evelyn almost wished he’d had, it would’ve probably been more honest than anything else he’d ever said. 

“I apologize, this is unfamiliar territory for me.” He said, rubbing his temple. “I do not know what the future holds, I only strive to make this situation as easy as possible for you.” 

Evelyn sighed and took a moment to cool down. “It’s alright. We’re both stressed because of this, and everything else going on.” She looked him over. He had dark circles under his eyes, a surprise given how much he adored the Fade. For an immortal being who never aged, she could see his many years weighing him down. “When should I expect that Eluvian to arrive?”

Solas straightened, ready to return to their discussion. “Within a week. There is already one not far from Ostwick but having one in your home would ease travel for you and your family.” 

“Thank you.” She said, when neither of them spoke again she huffed in amusement. “So, we’re getting married.” 

He chuckled. “Indeed we are.”

“We’ll have to set up dates for each of the ceremonies,” Evelyn said. “We’ll also need to make an official announcement. I know we need to get married as quickly as possible but setting up one wedding, let alone two, takes time. There’s also the guest list for both, you need to officially end the war with Orlais and I need to tell everyone else-”

“We will work everything out,” Solas said, using the same voice he would always use while she was Inquisitor, getting lost in everything she had yet to accomplish. “For now, I need to return to Revas’an and send some letters of my own. I will come to you again in a few days.”

“In the Fade or are you looking to have dinner with your future in-laws?” Evelyn asked, smirking a little. 

“The Fade is more... time efficient.” He said. Evelyn chuckled. While she knew Solas enjoyed the Fade she also knew he would not enjoy being sat at a table with her immediate family and a few other spouses. A lone elf among twenty-two humans. 

‘The Trevelyan dining hall feels more like a tavern these days.’ She thought. To be honest, Evelyn would also rather avoid such a dinner. Any minor amusement at Solas’s discomfort would quickly be overshadowed by her own. 

“Then I suppose I’ll see you in a few days. I’ll walk you to the door.” 

Thankfully no other relatives appeared as Evelyn escorted Solas off Trevelyan property. While there were still many questions, concerns and so many things left unspoken, at the very least they had ended things on a positive note. Evelyn wished she could believe that there were many more to come. 

Have a quick picture of Evelyn so you can see what she looks like!

Evelyn Trevelyan Screenshot

Chapter Text

The elves would once again rule the land originally promised to the elves by Maferath. Solas and his people would encroach no further into Orlesian lands without provocation. They would instead turn their attention inwards and begin building up their cities further, rebuilding the Eluvian networks and reclaiming lost elven heritage. Prisoners taken from both sides would be exchanged at an agreed-upon time and all parties would lay down their arms to end the war.

That was the gist of the terms Solas had sent to Gaspard and Celene. Evelyn had forced them and Briala into a public truce during the days of the Inquisition. The continued infighting between the three of them had made it easier for Solas to get the jump on them at the beginning of the war. Their resources had been divided trying to fight one another in the shadows and their mutual distrust allowed the elves a swift and decisive victory.

Thinking about how Orlesian politics had changed made Solas remember the ball at the Winter Palace. That had been quite the night, watching all the double dealings and backstabbing. Combine that with a champagne glass that was so eagerly refilled and he had quite the entertaining evening. It had made him nostalgic even. Perhaps that and the buzz were what had led to him dreaming with Evelyn that night. She’d been worn out by the end, agonizing over her choices, and had even been vulnerable about her own personal worries, things outside the Inquisition, and the fight against Corypheus.

After being lifted up as the Herald of Andraste and later Inquisitor, Evelyn had found it difficult to admit her struggles. Solas had seen it in her dreams during the Inquisition and at various points in the field or back at Skyhold. Those instances had been when she was starting to crack under the pressure of leadership; a panic attack right after being made Inquisitor, the occasional rant about being perceived as a holy figure (something Solas knew intimately well), and in one instance her raving about how it seemed like every decision was on her from who ruled Orlais and who became next Divine to what curtains should be placed in Skyhold.
All of these instances were moments that only Solas had seen. Since the beginning, Evelyn would go to him with questions, healing, and discussion. She’d been quite open about her reasoning as well; he knew more about spirits and the Fade than anyone else, he knew more about the mark and,

“You don’t believe in me.” She said, sitting up on the stone half-wall in Heaven by his cabin with a small smile. “You don’t worship me or see me as a holy icon. You just see me as the person who was unlucky enough to end up with this.” She held up her glowing hand. “That means a lot to me, Solas.”

At the time he’d felt a sense of panic, a desire to push her away. During Haven, he had still been reeling at the fact that Corypheus had not died in the explosion, that his plans had once again failed. While having the Herald of Andraste place such value in him would’ve been both useful and kept him safe, he was not in a position to allow attachments to form, especially with the shadows.

How ironic that in the end, she had become more real to him than any of them, a human with no magic, and his betrayal in the end showed her how much he had valued their friendship. It was truly only after he had destroyed it did he realize what it truly meant to him.

There were a lot of friendships that he hadn’t realized meant a lot to him until after he had already burned those bridges. Varric, Cassandra, and others. Each friendship was as unique as the individuals and in the end, he destroyed them.

When the news of his and Evelyn’s engagement was released to Thedas Solas had received numerous letters. The ones from his various former companions largely contained vitriol and rage, not that he could truly blame them. Varric though, had some interesting thoughts.

Chuckles,

To start, you’re an idiot.

I’m sure everyone else has ripped you a new one so I’m not gonna repeat what they’ve no doubt already said about what you did to the world and to Viper. You already know what you did but here’s the thing, you remind me of a friend I lost. He had a connection with spirits (well, A spirit), had extraordinary abilities and he also wanted to fight for freedom.

You read the Tale of the Champion. You know who I’m talking about and how he ended up.

Anders thought he didn’t have any other options and in the end, he blew up the Kirkwall Chantry and set everything off. You two are really similar, Chuckles. Shit, you gave Corypheus the thing that blew up the Temple and started everything with the Inquisition.

The difference between you and Anders though, is you got a second chance and you’re taking the peaceful option.

Viper told us about your original plans with the Veil but you’ve obviously scrapped them and honestly?

I’m proud of you, Solas.

When she first came back, Viper swore that she’d save you, change your mind and I was ready to support her with everything. I failed one friend who took a similar path and I didn’t want to fail another.

Seems you didn’t need me for that.

But, I’m still gonna be here. Whatever else happens, no matter what anyone else thinks, just know that I’m in your corner. Yours and Viper’s. It’s gonna be a rough road for the both of you I won’t lie. The world is still crazy and you two will have a lot of shit to wade through, not even counting how you two are going to make a relationship, no matter how political, work. But you’re a smart guy, Chuckles. I’m sure you can figure it out.

And if you need advice, I am known to write a romance or two.

Remember, ladies love flowers.

See ya at the wedding,

Varric Tethras

Solas still had his doubts, in all honesty. While the letter was appreciated (more than he was willing to admit) words written on paper were quite different than an actual discussion with Varric. A letter can be calmly thought out and worked on for days if need be. A face-to-face conversation would also allow one to see small facial movements and tone of voice, to clue into the other person’s true feelings.

The Dread Wolf sighed as he sat in the in-ground tub in his chambers. There was a bench beneath the water so he could sit or swim as he saw fit. There was no door between the bathing chambers and his actual room, just a large archway. The walls were a lighter cream color, disappointingly blank but Solas hadn’t found the time to paint yet. A few moments later Solas got out and dried himself with a spell with barely a thought.

His bedroom had a similar wall color. The wood floors were a warm oak and the frame of his bed was styled into twining branches. Across from the bed were several large bookcases and a settee. To the left of the bed was a large window with a circular table and a pair of chairs, where Solas would occasionally take his meals.

‘I suppose I will have someone sitting across from me, if she can stand to.’ Solas thought to himself as he changed into his sleeping clothes. The sweater was similar to the one he wore during the days of the Inquisition, if only of a higher quality. A flick of his wrist extinguished the veilfire. ‘I will have to get candles as well, Evelyn is not a mage.’ Once Solas was settled into bed he slipped into the Fade with ease and immediately set out to find Evelyn.

The former Inquisitor was easy to find. Not only were his powers restored to what they were prior to his long slumber, but he had a great deal of experience finding Evelyn in the Fade. He found her sat in a small library, possibly the one within the Trevelyan Manor as he did not recognize it. The sky outside was dark and rain fell gently against the window. She sat in a large chair with a small table to the right of her, a fireplace crackling before her as she read a book with her feet pulled up onto the seat. The firelight gave her golden hair a slightly orange tint, something he as an artist took note of whenever he saw her speaking to Varric in Skyhold or when they were camping in the field. She wore the white leathers she had worn around Skyhold, bringing a sense of Nostalgia to Solas.

That was when he noticed she was missing her left arm, even while dreaming. She must’ve been aware it was the Fade, then. It had been a bit of a surprise, the first time he saw her in the Fade after his reveal. She had been cognizant of her dreams. While she may not be able to explore she was at least aware of her surroundings and had some tools to protect herself even after he took the anchor.

“Solas, is that you?” Evelyn’s Free Marcher accent pulled Solas from his observations.

“Yes, I am here, Evelyn.” He created a copy of her chair so he could be on the other side of the small table. Evelyn hummed as he took his seat.

“You’ve addressed me by name more in the last few weeks than in all the time I’ve known you.” She said, closing her book and setting it on the table. “It was to distance yourself, wasn’t it? That was why you never called me by name?”

“Yes.” He said, feeling the sting of the words despite her gentle tone. Out of all their companions, he had grown closest to Evelyn. She went to him with questions and requests for stories or even just a quiet place to read. She risked her life to try and save Wisdom and her curiosity led them to discover many marvels. She collected everything, shards, mosaic tiles, schematics, and even bottles. No matter what the others said any time she saw an Occularum or Astrarium she would scurrier over any barrier like a squirrel and immediately start puzzling it out. It had been an endearing characteristic. Sometimes he missed those days more than he was willing to admit.

“I remember there being a time when I would’ve given anything for anyone to call me by my name,” Evelyn said, watching the fire crackle. “To think, all I had to do was agree to marry you to finally get that wish.”

Solas opened his mouth to try and reassure her but she continued on.

“How are the people in the Dales, Solas?” She turned to look at him. “I don’t know what exactly being your wife will entail or how much you’ll allow-”

He held up a hand to stop her. He despised how unsure she was and he knew that he had no one to blame but himself. He also didn’t like that she was still completely submitting to his whims. He was grateful that she was willing to make such a sacrifice to help him and the People but she was behaving more like a servant than he’d ever seen her. Even when she was anxious or unsure, she still trudged on. Solas felt very out of his depth.

“It will be your home as well, you are more than welcome to ask about it.” He paused. “I am sure you remember how much I enjoyed your questions.” That got a tiny twitch at Evelyn’s lips. It immediately vanished behind her mask or propriety but Solas still saw it. Perhaps there was hope, that she did not despise him after all.

“I have sent a letter to Orlais to begin the peace talks and end this war. Though we have suffered losses we are decidedly the victors in this conflict. News of our impending marriage has caused many of the more devout in the Orlesian military to call out to their leaders to lay down their arms. They do not wish to fight the Herald of Andraste.” There were even a few deserters who’d reportedly surrendered immediately once they heard what had happened.

“They can call me whatever they want if it means more lives saved and a quicker end to the war.” She hesitated for a moment. “What about the civilians in the Dales? Small villages and poor farmers?”

Solas knew what she was worried about, that he’d ordered the slaughter of anyone who lacked pointed ears. “While casualties are unavoidable I did not allow for senseless bloodshed and raiding. Many of those who worked the fields declared that they cared not who has sovereignty over the land, simply that the fighting stopped. Many have declared that they’ll be sending their harvests to Revas’an and other settlements throughout New Elvhenan.” His statement brought a small smile to Evelyn’s face, one that remained. He noticed some of the tension leave her shoulders as well. “Have you received any backlash due to your agreement to my proposal?” Solas asked.

She chuckled humorlessly. “A few of our old friends have questioned my sanity, mostly Sera. Though it all seems to be from a place of concern for me marrying the Dread Wolf.” The firelight danced in Evelyn’s green eyes. “Being called a ‘bitch’ has certainly taken on a new meaning.”

Solas frowned. “Which of them would call you that?”

“None, that would be my brother, Henry.” Evelyn crossed her legs. “Not everyone in my family approves of our marriage or is even willing to accept it. Mother and Henry are vocal about their disapproval, Lysander dislikes the idea as well but he’d never speak out against Father's decision. Rosalie, Nathaniel, and Sophia all seem to have reservations, but I think they are just worried about me. Our marriage will be the first of its kind. As for Penelope and Cedric? Penelope doesn’t seem to have an opinion on the matter and Cedric just does whatever father says.”

“I am sorry that our decision is causing strife within your family,” Solas said, lamenting that he was once again causing chaos in her life.

“It was inevitable. I don’t regret anything.” She said, looking back at the fire. “I will see this through to the end, the only person who can call all this off is you.” She said resolutely.

“You have that same power, Evelyn. You are free to change your mind.” Solas said, not wanting her to feel trapped.

“But I won’t.” Evelyn turned back to look at him. “I’m committed to this. Whatever flaws I may have as a wife, my father hammered in one lesson to his children above all others; marital fidelity. We take marriage seriously.” She sighed. “Enough about that, we should discuss both the ceremonies and what we have planned.”

Solas flexed his hand. He wanted to discuss what their marriage itself would entail, at least that he didn’t expect Evelyn to remain closed off to other avenues of happiness but he didn’t think she would be receptive to it at the moment. “When the Eluvian arrives I will more easily be able to send books to you, both on the Elvhen language and our wedding traditions.”

“What will the ceremony entail?” Evelyn asked, turning her body to face him. Solas felt a small smile begin to creep up his face. She had always been curious, especially about other cultures and specifically Elvhen culture.

“We have a Temple in Revas’an. After the reveal of our true history and what the Evanuris were, many who didn’t turn to Andrastianism have taken up practices similar to the Avvar, praying to spirits to bless them in their endeavors. The Temple has an open courtyard. Abelas will lead the ceremony, we will say our vows and our hands will be fastened with traditional Elvhen ribbons. After that, there is a ritual to bind the couple together. It is an old but forgotten tradition from the days of Arlathan.”

Evelyn frowned, a particular furrow in her brow when she was curious. “Would it even work on a mortal without magic?”

“I have done research and consulted with spirits,” Solas said. “While I believe the ritual may not grant us the full scope of abilities typically granted, you were able to hold and control some of my magic with the Anchor.” He hummed, thinking about their past adventures. “You also have a history of doing the impossible.”
She looked away but even so, he could see color rising in her cheeks. Even though it was the Fade and the fireplace wouldn’t be hot enough, he told himself it was simply the flames affecting her.

“What abilities would be granted by the ritual?” She asked. “I know you said we likely wouldn’t get them all, but...”

He chuckled. Despite the unusual circumstances, their discussion reminded him of the days before; when she’d ask him about anything and everything. Raised a sheltered noblewoman there was much about the world, magic, and the Fade that she had been unaware of. She had apparently grown up going on hunting trips with her father and older brothers so she had known how to camp, hunt, dress a kill, and cook it at least. It made being in the field a much smoother transition for all involved.

Some of her questions had pragmatic origins, like her curiosity about spirits and the Fade but she’d continued to ask beyond the basic understanding that most others in her position would’ve been satisfied with. Even when she couldn’t fully understand his stance on a particular subject she’d been respectful about it. In particular, when he mentioned a world without the Veil or his belief that Spirits were people, she had acknowledged her own lack of perspective.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much experience with beings from the Fade not wanting to claw my face off, especially in recent days.” She had said with a chuckle in the snows of Haven. “If you say spirits are people and your friends, who am I to call you a liar? But I think I’ll hold off on my opinion until I meet some friendlier residents from the Fade so I can get some experience with them that doesn’t have to end with me sticking a dagger in them.”

It had been a surprise, to meet someone so honest about their lack of knowledge but it was certainly preferable to someone boasting expertise in something they knew nothing about. It was probably one of the first moments when he began to admire her as a person. It was the beginning of his downfall.

“A bonded pair would be able to sense the proximity of their partner. In familiar places, they would even be able to discern their exact location. They would be able to sense their bonded’s emotions; if they were upset or joyous. Another gift was that they could sense if their partner was in danger or being threatened. Finally, with time and practice, they could communicate telepathically. The closest could speak even when miles apart.”

The way Evelyn’s eyes practically shone was so similar to their talks during the Inquisition, Solas could almost imagine that they were as they had been before; close friends and trusted colleagues. “What about privacy?” She asked. “I understand it’s not preferable to hide things from your partner but I would at least feel... self-conscious if my emotions were on display at all times to anyone.”

“From the bonded pairs I spoke to in Arlathan, as the bond settled it would be easier to close oneself off if they so desired. Every bond was unique, but I understand your caution.” Solas said. “How are the wedding preparations going for the Andrastian ceremony?”

Evelyn sighed. “It has only been a few days but we have a room in the manor that looks like a blizzard has gone through it will all the white fabrics. All the lace is starting to blend together and my father has brought a barrel, like a barrel for ale-” She held out her arm to try and articulate her point by wrapping around an imaginary barrel. “Full of Trevelyan pearls both for beading on the dress and whatever jewelry is designed as well. It’s also a wedding gift to me, whatever isn’t used can be used at a later date. There is going to be more fabric and shoes arriving in the coming weeks as well.”

He chuckled. “You will have to be fitted for a dress for the Elvhen ceremony as well. Perhaps you can bring some samples for the seamstress to look at.”

She looked at him with wide eyes. “I’ll be fitted in Revas’an?” She asked, a smile starting to spread across her face.

“Yes, we can set up a time once the Eluvian has arrived.” Solas raised a brow. “You seem particularly excited.

“I did so much travel and exploring during the Inquisition that now I can’t sit still.” She gestured with the remains of her left arm. “I can’t do much adventuring like this but I am missing seeing new sights.”

Solas frowned, he’d taken much more than her arm when he removed the Anchor. Now he was being confronted with the consequences of it. “I will look into getting you a prosthetic. If not for the Veil I would have been able to simply coax a new arm to grow. But safely taking down the Veil will take decades, possibly even centuries. I am sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Evelyn said. “No matter how frustrated and pissed off I get, I’d rather you have taken both arms than to have you go through with the original plan.” She did not allow him to linger on that statement. “Leliana has asked to officiate our Andrastian ceremony. She has also suggested holding it in the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeuax. It would make a statement, both for our union and the end of your war with Orlais.”

Solas folded his hands together. “We will have to work together to ensure security. There is an Eluvian hidden in the Grand Cathedral. I have not reactivated it with so much else happening but it could be kept as a failsafe in case something were to happen.”

“If Leliana is unaware of that Eluvian she is not going to be happy.” Evelyn chuckled. “Back to me being fitted in Revas’an, I doubt my father would like me to go alone. Would it be alright if I brought a sibling or two? I’ll choose them, they’ll know how to behave.”

“I would not keep you from your loved ones.” He said. They continued to speak until it was dawn in the waking world, discussing invitees, traditions, and everything else that came with planning a wedding. For a time, it was like nothing had happened between them and they were simply discussing their next quest at Skyhold.

Chapter Text

The dining hall in the Trevelyan Manor more accurately resembled a tavern, a classy, upscale tavern with a long, singular table but it was crowded and filled with food; eggs, bacon, sausages, oatmeal, and fruit. The back wall behind the head of the table held a large banner with the Trevelyan stallion and their words ‘Modest in Temper, Bold in Deed.’  The Trevelyan children who had already had their own families were seated farther from the Bann so as to speak to their own kids and spouses. Ever since Benjamin Trevelyan accepted Solas’s offer for Evelyn’s hand, she had been sat at his left side. While she understood why (they spoke often of her engagement) she did not appreciate sitting across from her mother. 

Lady Cordelia Trevelyan was sixty-eight years old, her once golden locks that Evelyn had inherited turned gray decades ago and were pinned back into a severe updo. Ten pregnancies had left their mark on the family matriarch, the most obvious being that she had never lost the pregnancy weight. However, as their last child, Evelyn supposed she’d never seen how her mother was earlier in life. The lady of the house easily fell ill, she had breathing problems, migraines, dizziness, and she was easily chilled. She was never seen without an outer layer on, even inside. 

For all that Evelyn disagreed with her mother, the fact that she carried eleven babies to term and successfully delivered, one labor being the twins, was something she deeply respected. They argued about the Chantry, her plants, her knives, her lockpicking, and her choice in literature but Evelyn knew her mother had to be very strong to do what she did and live. Her mother’s ailments also served as a cautionary tale to her as well, she had no interest in having that many children. 

‘Though if Solas has his way I will have none at all.’ Evelyn thought, taking a bite of the bacon that had been pre-cut for her (Nirasha had prepared her plate in the kitchen). She didn’t feel one way or the other about children or motherhood in general. As a member of the nobility, it was simply what she had grown up expecting; that she would have a child, possibly two, regardless of her feelings about her husband. She knew she would never marry for love even as a child, but if she was so lucky to end up falling in love with her husband, she had considered the idea of having more than ‘an heir and a spare.’ 

But, she was marrying Solas, someone she knew who would never love her, and for all the rumors and teasing from her friends, they had never been more than friends. She could admit that there had been a slight... infatuation on her part, at least, for the persona he’d had during the Inquisition. Yet, she knew their lifestyles were incompatible, and Solas said that he had no interest in humans after Bull asked him for his opinion on one of the serving girls at the Singing Maiden back in Haven. Not only had Evelyn been resolute in agreeing to whatever marriage her father brought before her, but she certainly wasn’t going to risk everything for a man who would certainly turn her down. The power imbalance also made her uncomfortable; The Inquisitor and an elven apostate, she would've felt like she'd been pressuring him had she pursued anything. How ironic that even though she never acted on her childish crush, he left her anyway, twice.

She held similar opinions now, in light of their arranged marriage. She had no plans to make it difficult for Solas out of spite; their marriage was far too important for the political stability of Thedas. Even so, she wasn’t going to beg for his affection or fling herself at him for a child. If he wouldn’t lay with her even for the sake of duty then that was the end of it as far as she was concerned. He didn’t want her in that way, so she wouldn’t bother asking. She needed to preserve whatever dignity she had left.

“Are you traveling to Revas’an today to be fitted for your dress for the elven ceremony?” Bann Trevelyan asked, looking at his youngest daughter.

All chatter immediately ceased. Her engagement had been the most exciting thing to happen in the family and the news had been shared two months ago. A quick glance around the room revealed her mother’s pinched expression and Henry’s frown. Her other siblings and in-laws either looked at her with curiosity or slight concern. Her three nieces displayed varying degrees of excitement, with Cynthia practically vibrating in her chair. The two elder girls were at an age where marriage was all about romance and poetry. Cynthia was just excited about anything to do with Solas. 

Evelyn gently set her fork down and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Yes, I am.” She rested her hand in her lap. “I’ll be leaving via the Eluvian and I will have an escort to guide me through the Crossroads.”

The Eluvian had been delivered just as Solas had promised. It sat in Evelyn’s room and was somehow keyed to her. She wasn’t sure how it worked when she had no magic to activate it, but with so much else happening she hadn’t thought to ask Solas about it. She’d simply focused on the Elvhen language books that had been left in the Crossroads for her by the Eluvian, which she deeply enjoyed but she really needed to have a fluent speaker check her pronunciation. It only made sense that time and distance between clans could make the Elvhen language differ between places. She wanted to make sure she was pronouncing it the original way. 

“Have you decided who will be joining you?” Her father asked. 

Evelyn nodded. “I’ll be taking Nathaniel, Rosalie, and Nirasha.” 

Surprised, Nathaniel looked up from his oatmeal but gave Evelyn a small smile, his green eyes nervous but pleased. His limp, pin-straight, shoulder-length brown hair was streaked with gray. Years later, he still wore robes from the Circle Tower. Perhaps it was to cling to some sense of familiarity, as he had been taken to the circle at eight years old. At forty-five he no doubt had no idea what to do with his life. 

Rosalie sat next to Evelyn, carefully watching their sister Harlow as she ate to ensure that she got enough food. Evelyn could proudly say that Rosalie was everything a Templar was supposed to be. She had protected mages to the best of her ability and, from her stories, took special care to look after the children. She had even personally sewn a stuffed animal for every child that came to the circle she was stationed at. 

Outside of the twins Maxwell and Harlow, Rosalie had been Evelyn’s favorite sibling and she had wailed when Rosalie told the youngest Trevelyan that she was going to become a Templar. Rosalie had comforted an eleven-year-old Evelyn, and even allowed the little girl to sleep with her the last few nights at home. 

“So many little kids will be scared, being away from their families for the first time.” Rosalie had told her. “They will all need a big sister to look out for them.”

‘But what about a big sister to look after me?’ Evelyn thought at the time. The last Trevelyan sibling to stay with the family, Penelope, had been fifteen when Evelyn was born. Each subsequent child went to the Chantry or the Templars, with Harlow and Nathaniel of course being sent to the Circle. By the time Evelyn was old enough to truly begin playing and wanting to spend time with her siblings, the elders were already in the depths of securing marriages and beginning their own families. Evelyn was five when her first nephew was born. The siblings closer to her age? It felt like they were abandoning her, all of her playmates going to the Chantry or Chantry-controlled organizations. 

Her elder siblings had been too busy being parents or securing spouses to be older siblings to her. They were moving out of the manor at that point. Before Evelyn knew it, she had nieces and nephews looking at her like an elder sibling before she became old enough to truly be an aunt. Evelyn had felt like a little sister with no older siblings, she still felt that way sometimes; that her siblings had abandoned her. 

Abandonment

That was what had been on her gravestone in the Fade. She’d grown up with that feeling. She thought she had moved past it, but Solas went and reminded her twice that she was not reason enough to stay. 

“Why are we allowing this knife-ear to order us about?” Evelyn narrowed her eyes at her brother Henry, who sat next to their mother.

The youngest living Trevelyan son had lost a decent amount of muscle mass since being cut off from Lyrium and being deemed by their father “unfit to practice with a blade until he regains control of himself” which certainly didn’t help his temper. His blonde hair was kept short, his green eyes were constantly darting around and he had a few scars on the right side of his jaw. Evelyn had no idea what they were from; he only received them after he joined the Templars. Perhaps he gained them heroically, like many of the scars Evelyn had, but she was more willing to bet that he got in a bar fight or a disagreement with another Templar. She’d rather not think they were from a mage.

“He isn’t ordering me,” Evelyn said. “Solas and I negotiated everything. It’s important that both cultures are represented and satisfied. This is just basic respect.”

“‘Basic respect’ would’ve been not daring to make an offer, to begin with,” Henry said, raising a shaky glass of water to his lips, which made her smirk viciously.

“Are you not enjoying your breakfast, Henry? You’ve barely touched your food.” Evelyn cooed. Her hackles were raised and her smile more a bearing of teeth than a gesture of affection. “You look like you’re craving something.” A low blow perhaps, especially given Evelyn’s support through Cullen’s journey of recovery but what kind of woman would she be if she didn't defend her fiancé? 

Henry slammed his glass on the table. “Shut your mouth, Evelyn!” He snarled.

“Lower your voice, Henry.” Their father said in a cool tone. 

Henry threw his arms up in the air, unknowingly knocking their mother’s hand away from where she’d tried to touch his shoulder to try and soothe his ire. For all her disapproval of Evelyn and Solas’s union, she never did it around the rest of the family, only to their father and Evelyn herself. She hated a scene more than Evelyn’s impending nuptials.

“Oh sure, scold me but not her,” Henry said, pointing at his youngest sister. “Perfect Evelyn, even when she breaks the rules she gets rewarded. She can never do anything wrong.”

“Oh, bite me.” Evelyn rolled her eyes. It was an old argument, that she received preferential treatment because she was the youngest.

“I’ll save that for your knife-ear,” Henry growled. “Given his title, that’s probably how he likes it.”

“Do not be crude, Henry,” Cordelia said, her frown lines deepening with her glare as Evelyn flushed angrily. Cordelia’s blue eyes then landed on Evelyn. “Stop playing with your knife, Evelyn.”

The former Inquisitor hadn’t even realized she was twirling Rosalie’s butter knife, mulling over the idea of throwing it at their brother. Evelyn returned it to her sister with a whispered apology. The red-haired woman simply gave her little sister a gentle smile.

“My decision on the matter is final,” Benjamin said, his voice chilling the room. “No matter how many tantrums you or anyone else throws, Evelyn will marry Lord Fen’Harel and continue to do the family proud in New Elvhenan.”

Henry clenched his fists so tightly that Evelyn could see his knuckles were white. “And of course when Evelyn is the one who gets married she is permitted to leave this house!” He yelled. “Evelyn gets to run free like she always has while our paranoid father keeps the rest of us like prisoners!”

The silence in the dining hall after Henry’s echoing shout was deafening. Everyone watched Henry, whose face had gone from flushed with anger to pale as though he were staring death itself in the face. Cordelia watched her son with a cold expression. From the corner of her eye, Evelyn could see Nirasha, who’d been standing behind her the whole time, covering her mouth in shock. Many of the younger nieces and nephews looked scared, Cynthia had curled up into a ball in her chair, her hands over her ears. Evelyn glanced at her father, whose expression looked like it had been carved into stone.

“The Lyrium withdrawal has made him hysterical. See Henry to his chambers.” Bann Trevelyan said in a flat tone.

Cordelia and Rosalie immediately stood and went to Henry's sides. 

“I'm not hysterical,” Henry growled to his mother as she placed a comforting hand on his face. 

“Come along, I will get you your tea,” Cordelia said as Rosalie took his arm and began leading him away.

“Evelyn.” The youngest daughter turned to face her father. “Perhaps some Oleander would soothe his nerves.”

Henry turned back to his father. Rosalie's iron grip on his arm was the only reason he didn't advance on him. Cordelia opened her mouth to speak, but Henry's yell overpowered her. “I'm not HYSTERICAL!” 

The Bann simply stared at his son calmly and disapprovingly before his wife and daughter led him out of the dining hall. Once the doors closed, he returned his focus to Evelyn as though he’d simply denied a tantruming toddler a sweet instead of sending his adult son to his room.

“Perhaps you could bring some pearls for the seamstress to sample, from your wedding gift. I’ll confess, I am not entirely familiar with Elven traditions, let alone ancient traditions, but it would be a polite gesture.” The Bann then returned to his food. 

“Of course.”

“Aunt Evelyn?” Cynthia spoke up, a shaky smile on her face. Henry’s outburst had her rattled. “Can I come with you?”

Evelyn shook her head, an apologetic smile on her face. “I’m sorry Cynthia, not on this trip.” She didn’t know Penelope’s stance on any of her children going to New Elvhenan but even if she was ok with it, Evelyn didn’t want to bring any other guests with her.

Cynthia pouted. “But I wanna see Uncle Solas!” She whined. 

Evelyn’s smile tightened at the edges. The idea of Solas interacting with her family still made a knot of anxiety form in her stomach. Not only that but comments such as those made her think more in depth about her upcoming marriage, besides just doing her duty. 

Planning a wedding and attending one was stressful. Not only was she getting two dresses done but there was the guest list, memorizing vows in two languages, dealing with caterers, seating and so many other little details. It made Evelyn want to pull her hair out but Cynthia’s referring to Solas as her uncle made her think about what would happen after they were married; sleeping in the same bed, taking meals together, simply passing him in the halls, and all the other little domestic moments. 

Attending events on his arm or making public appearances would be easy. That was an act that she had perfected years ago and she could always tell herself it was just like their Inquisition days. However, once she got out of the ‘mission’ mindset, she’d be left with what they were in reality, something that was both unknown and terrifying. She would do her duty, marry Solas, and stay faithfully by his side no matter what, but she would also always wonder what her husband truly thought of her. He’d lied about so much, were his kind words merely a mask of politeness when in reality he despised her presence? Was he annoyed and frustrated, tying himself to a magicless Shem who couldn’t even defend herself half as well as she used to after the loss of her arm?

While Cynthia would bounce around and ask a dozen questions to her future Uncle, Evelyn would be standing by his side, forever worried about his opinion of her. From the Inquisitor, slayer of dragons, Venatori, and would-be gods, to another nobleman’s wife trying to make it through the days. Evelyn felt confident that she’d be able to maintain her position, their marriage was necessary for the stability of Thedas, but her position in Solas’s heart, if she even had one, was up in the air and she was far too scared to ask him about it.

“You will have other chances to see him, Cynthia,” Evelyn said. “But this isn’t a social call. Maybe I’ll see if I can bring you something back from Revas’an, hm?”

Though Cynthia still pouted, she at least nodded her head and went back to her breakfast. With that, Evelyn was able to focus on her breakfast and begin the mental checklist of everything she needed to bring for the dress fitting.

Evelyn wasn’t sure who she’d expected to escort her group through the Crossroads, but it hadn't been Abelas. Evelyn hadn’t seen the sentinel since the Temple of Mythal. He looked exactly the same which in some ways was to be expected given his immortality. Evelyn was only surprised that he still kept his Vallaslin. While Solas had said Mythal was the best of them, Evelyn had doubts. She had met (Mythal? Flemeth? Flemythal?) and didn’t trust her nor did her actions with Morrigan and Kieran leave a good impression. Besides, being the best out of a group of slaving, immortal, tyrant god-kings wasn’t exactly a high bar. She would’ve assumed that all the elves who had been slaves in ancient times would have preferred to remove their vallaslin, but it wasn't any of her business. 

In any event, she supposed it only made sense that Abelsas would be with Solas. 

‘Your people yet linger.’

‘Elvhen such as you?’

‘Yes, such as I.’

Solas had probably hoped that no one was paying attention at that moment but Evelyn had heard what went unspoken. Solas was an immortal elf. It had been surprising, yet not at the same time. All that knowledge had to come from somewhere but since she wasn’t a mage or an elf she hadn’t questioned whenever Solas said ‘I learned it in the Fade.’ After everything Evelyn had learned about Corypheus, the other things at the Temple of Mythal, the Jaws of Hakkon, and the Titan in the Deep Roads, finding out that Solas was an immortal elf hadn’t really shaken her and explained a lot. However, Evelyn got caught up in planning, the reveal of Flemeth and Mythal, and then the final battle after which Solas disappeared without even saying goodbye. The Inquisitor had honestly forgotten to ask Solas about his supposed status as an ancient elf. 

Evelyn nodded her head in greeting to the former sentinel. “Hello, Abelas. Thank you for helping me and my group through the Crossroads.” She gestured back towards them.

“These are two of my older siblings, Rosalie and Nathaniel.” Rosalie was clad in armored leather and had a sword at her hip. She had wanted to go in full armor with her shield but Evelyn had managed to talk her down. Nathaniel wore a set of copper-colored robes with a staff fastened to his back. With a single hand, he levitated a chest that contained some of Evelyn's dresses, on request from the designer for her Elvhen wedding dress. She apparently wanted to study human fashion to see how it differed from Elvhen dress. 

Evelyn then gestured to the woman in the Trevelyan Manor that knew her best. “Nirasha, my handmaiden. She's served me well for many years.” Evelyn said, giving the woman a reassuring smile. Nirasha smiled timidly at the intimidating elf before averting her eyes. She wore a simple suit and footwraps. She was holding a smaller chest which contained a collection of Trevelyan pearls for the seamstress to look at in case she wanted to incorporate them into any of her designs. 

Abelas bowed his head. “I will guide you and yours through, safely to Revas’an. Lord Fen’Harel will be returning from the peace talks in Orlais and will most likely wish to speak with you before you depart.”

Evelyn could only nod and follow Abelas as he led them through the Crossroads. The entire journey was silent. Evelyn was probably the only one skilled in small talk but she was lost in her thoughts. Though she’d remained in her family home she was still well connected with all the spies Leliana had across Thedas. She’d already heard Solas’s demands and personally, she thought them all to be quite reasonable. So long as Orlais left the elves in peace he would push the borders no further, all prisoners of war would be traded back to their respective homelands and they would stop the fighting. 

She knew that not everything would be smooth sailing once the war was over, in fact, it would be a very difficult path towards some manner of stability. She wanted to help. Being the Inquisitor had allowed her so many amazing opportunities for exploration, meeting new people, and being able to help others. As she was no longer the Inquisitor (especially since Solas had changed his mind and there was much less of a need to hunt him down) she wasn’t sure how to help those affected by the war. She was going to marry Solas and then what? Based on what he said, simply wait around until she needed to make public appearances with him. She had so much more to offer than that, but she was unsure how to go about doing it. It was those thoughts that filled her mind and kept her distracted through the journey until they exited the Eluvian and were officially in Revas’an. 

“Welcome to Fen’amelan,” Abelas said.

From Evelyn’s studies, she knew that meant something along the lines of ‘Wolf protector/guardian’. It was as good a name as any for the ruling place of the ‘Lord of the Dales’ as some had taken to calling Solas. The architecture was in a similar style to both the Temple of Mythal and the Elvhen ruins in the mountains that had once belonged to Solas; with its light gray stone, high arches, and a plethora of natural light. The others were agape at everything and while Evelyn was also stunned at what had been built in such a short time, at least she managed to keep her jaw from hanging. 

“Father would scruff you both if he saw you slack-jawed like this,” Evelyn said with a tiny smirk. She heard all three jaws click shut even though she was only speaking to her siblings. She then returned her attention to Abelas. “I’m impressed with how much has been built in such a short time. I would assume some magic is at play?”

“Yes, magic allowed us to swiftly lay the foundations and raise the walls of the keep so that labor would be easier,” Abelas said, leading the group past servants and guards. It was slightly entertaining to see her group stare at the passersby, and the elves of New Elvhenan to stare at them as well. Evelyn was the only one who grew up into adulthood with noble training.

Finally, they arrived at a door to what Evelyn assumed to be the seamstress’s workspace. Before Abelas could raise his hand to knock the door burst open, almost smacking him in the face. His centuries of sentinel training allowed him to dodge just in time. On the other side of the door stood a tall elvhen woman with white hair. Her stature made it clear she was one of the sentinels but her face was clear of Vallaslin and her blue eyes were lively in a way that made Evelyn wonder if she and Abelas were truly of the same people. She wore, what Evelyn assumed to be, a traditional Elvhen purple dress that effortlessly draped over her willowy figure, sleeveless and with a high neck.

“Is this her?” She glanced at Abelas, smiling so wide Evelyn feared her face would split in two. 

“Yes, this is our Lord’s future wife, Evelyn Trevelyan.” Abelas sighed. He turned to Evelyn. “Lady Trevelyan, this is-”

“I am Haleira. I’ve been looking forward to this!” Evelyn barely managed to choke back a shocked laugh when Haleira made a shooing motion at Abelas. “Do not worry, Abelas. I’ve got this handled. You can return to your duties.”

That was how three noble humans and a mortal elf ended up, wide-eyed, in a room filled with rolls of colorful fabric as an immortal elf darted about. Evelyn stood in the center while her companions sat in some chairs by the wall. Rosalie and Nirasha seemed openly curious though Nathaniel seemed absolutely lost. Evelyn suspected he wouldn’t say much for this appointment. She noticed a changing screen positioned off to the side which she would no doubt make use of. Before she knew it she was standing barefoot in only her undershirt and trousers as Haleira took her measurements. Evelyn had sent her measurements ahead of time but it would seem Haleira wanted to measure her for herself.

 “Humans have such generous curves. I have never created anything for a person shaped the way you are and I am thrilled for the chance, Lady Trevelyan. With your figure, bright eyes, and golden hair, one could mistake you for a spirit of desire.” Haleira said, shifting the measuring tape from the thinnest part of her waist to the widest part of her hips.

Evelyn blinked, eyes wide and feeling very off balance. “This... is not how I thought this would go.”

Haleira wrote down her measurements. “What were you expecting?”

“To be picked apart and judged as a Shemlen,” Evelyn said, not adding that she expected it doubly so if her seamstress had turned out to be an ancient elf. 

“I am sure you will be, but not by me,” Haleira said. “Ever since I’ve seen the other races I’ve been wanting the chance to design for them. They are all shaped so differently and after centuries of working with Elvhen I admit I am excited for something new.” 

“I am sure you’ll have many opportunities to design even more dresses for our sister,” Rosalie said from her seat, smiling awkwardly. 

Everything was new for everyone and the only one who seemed joyful enough for a wedding dress fitting was Haleira. Evelyn had a feeling she’d spend many more days in Haleira’s room for all manner of outfits, from formal events to more casual days. 

“I did have a standard dress made for you just to see how our typical style fits you,” Haleira said, grabbing a white dress off of a rack. Nirasha immediately got up from her seat and approached Evelyn as the former Inquisitor took the garment with a nod. 

“Thank you, we’ll just be a moment,” Evelyn said, going behind the screen with Nirasha. 

As the young elven girl helped her Evelyn silently had her doubts about how the dress would look on her. The curves that Haleira praised, especially her bust, would not make such loose fabric look that flattering. Especially in the front, where the fabric would fall over the largest part of her chest and then fall in a straight line down, making her look much wider than she actually was. Looking at the white fabric Evelyn idly wondered if white was a bridal color in Elvhen culture as well or if this was simply a random fabric choice. 

Once Evelyn was in the dress she glanced down and pursed her lips together. As expected, she now had the curves of a box. She stepped out from behind the screen and Nirasha quickly retook her seat. 

“The fabric is comfortable and I appreciate how light it is but I’m afraid such shapeless fabric doesn’t do me any favors,” Evelyn said, putting her hand on her hip and unknowingly bringing some of her curves back. 

“Yes, we can’t see those wonderful curves,” Haleria said, tapping her mouth. “I suppose it is to be expected, different body types and all. Hold a moment.” She walked over to a chest and rummaged around before pulling out a long, thick green ribbon. “Perhaps I could create something similar to a belt, or I’ve heard of something humans have called... ‘corsets’?”

“Yes, we brought some and a few dresses with them built in, like you asked,” Evelyn said, watching Haleira tie the ribbon at the thinnest part of her waist. The Elvhen woman stepped back to observe her work. 

“Much better. Belts, bands, and sashes around the waist aren’t uncommon I simply wished to see you in a basic Elvhen design to get an idea for future alterations.” Haleira then flicked her wrist and something familiar flew into her hands. “I assume you’ve heard of our foot wraps?” 

“Yes, I’ve seen them many times,” Evelyn said, watching as a nearby stool was also summoned by magic to where she was standing. “Solas always wore them and so does Nirasha.”

“Yes, well, time for you to try some,” Haleira said, kneeling. 

Evelyn sat on the stool and lifted the dress to her knees. She watched Haleira wrap the brown colored cloth around her foot. She was surprisingly quick for doing it on someone other than herself. Once the first was done and she began on the second, Evelyn curiously flexed her wrapped foot, rolled the ankle, and curled her toes. 

“I don’t think I could survive wearing these outside but they do seem very comfortable.” She said. Different, but comfortable. 

“Perhaps you could make footwraps a part of your daily routine,” Haleira said, finishing the other and then rising to her feet with Evelyn.

“Mother would love that,” Rosalie said, rolling her eyes and making her siblings chuckle. 

“I don’t think I could do this with only one hand,” Evelyn said, taking a few steps around the room. Anytime she wore footwraps she’d have to thoroughly wash her feet before getting into bed. Even just walking around the Keep she was sure she wouldn’t want to get into fresh sheets with the day’s dirt still on her soles. 

“Perhaps Lord Fen’Harel could assist you?” Hariel asked.

Evelyn felt her cheeks heat at the image of Solas kneeling before her as she sat at the edge of their bed, early in the morning. The idea of his hands gently taking her foot and wrapping the fabric, fingers softly brushing her legs.

“Would you like to see the dresses we brought?” Rosalie asked, distracting Evelyn and Haleira. “We also brought some pearls from house Trevelyan, in case you wanted to use them.”

There was a knock on the door and a servant poked his head in. “Lord Fen’Harel has returned from the peace talks and is requesting Lady Trevelyan’s presence.” 

Chapter Text

Solas stood in his study, looking out the large windows onto the streets of Revas’an. Once Evelyn and her entourage left, he would make an official proclamation for the war's end. He had met with Gaspard, Celene, and Briala in Halamshiral for the peace discussion. The trio had no choice but to agree. Before the war had started they’d exhausted themselves fighting each other for control over Orlais, giving Solas and his soldiers a welcome advantage. Their divided forces and lack of trust in each other all but guaranteed his swift victory. 

His impending marriage to Evelyn was also brought up during the discussions. Even the more militaristic Gaspard, the most vocal in his hatred of elves, offered him begrudging congratulations for such a clever political move despite his apparent distaste for the Game. He looked like he’d swallowed a lemon when he said it (as much as Solas could see from behind the mask) but it had been said regardless. Once their agreements were reached Solas hadn’t been able to resist saying “I look forward to seeing you all at my wedding” before walking out. 

The first wedding would be in Val Royeaux; it would’ve been rude not to invite the leaders of Orlais, after all.

Thinking of the Andrastian ceremony made Solas look down at the ring in his hand. The jeweler finished it a few days ago to Solas’s specifications. It was a gold band with stylized leaves curling around a sapphire, and a few smaller sapphires studded on it as well. In Arlathan engagement jewelry was the practice and while rings were common they were not all that was used. The kind of engagement gift one presented to their partner was a status symbol in those times. High-ranking nobles would give their intended massive, elaborate necklaces. The Evanuris had a piece that only they used. He remembered Mythal wearing Elgar’nan’s piece before everything went wrong. 

While a ring worked for both their cultures, in a world where Arlathan never fell, where Solas succeeded as he had hoped, in a world where Evelyn married him for love and not for peace, he would’ve given her something different. The circumstances were what they were, however, and theirs was not a match made of mutual affection. At best it would be mutual tolerance to keep the political stability in Thedas more or less intact. After everything he’d done, he wasn’t so arrogant to think that she’d grow to hold any tender feelings for him. 

At this point, his one promise to himself was that he’d keep her safe. During their journeys across Thedas, from the undead-infested Exalted Plains and Deep Roads to the frigid Emprise du Lion and Frostback Basin, he fought beside her and kept her safe. His barriers were the swiftest and he was the one to oversee her healing from the very beginning. He did not have any belief that he could truly make her happy in their marriage, but he knew at the very least he could keep her safe. He had to.

The knock on the door reminded him of his other plans.

“Lady Evelyn Trevelyan, my lord.” A servant said, causing Solas to slip the ring into his pocket.

When Evelyn stepped in he was immediately sent back to that dream after Halamshiral. He found her in the Fade, just as he had done the first time they’d dreamt together. The events of the Winter Palace had worn Evelyn down. Despite being raised for politics and courtly intrigues, she had been exhausted and worried about forcing an alliance between Briala, “a warmongering idiot of a Chevalier,” and “an alienage burning ornament.” It was not that she regretted her choice, just that she knew there would be consequences for it.

The champagne from earlier had lessened his inhibitions, prompting him to offer to show Evelyn something in the Fade, another party. By the time he’d slipped into dreams, Evelyn was already present and he hadn’t had a chance to second-guess his offer. Though the effects of alcohol couldn’t follow him into the Fade, the Fade itself significantly lowered any hesitance on his part. 

He took her to one of the events hosted by Mythal, one he had attended during a time before everything had gone wrong. They’d been up on a balcony, looking down on the dancers. Evelyn had immediately been taken in by watching everyone, asking several questions about any cultural significance of clothing choice, the reason for the event, and which spirits were hovering about the partygoers. He’d changed his attire with a smirk, a dark suit with white sleeves, a golden high collar, and a wolf pelt over his shoulder. He had been standing behind her and about to say something when she surprised him yet again.

He could feel a slight disturbance in the dream—a weak, slow but gradual change. He watched the mark sputter faintly on her hand, and her attire changed. It was a simple white dress, sleeveless and with a high neck attached to a golden collar-like necklace that was common among elven fashion. The mark seemed to allow her some form of control over the Fade, at least in regards to herself.

The back had been bare and he saw the scar from the lightning whip that had almost killed her when they went to try and save Wisdom; a long, white scar with creeping fingers of lightning coming off the base. A human woman, not even a mage, from a life of privileged nobility, had nearly died trying to rescue a spirit that had become a demon, simply because he’d asked. Evelyn’s excited cheer at her ability to alter her clothing in the Fade had drawn him from his melancholy. He ended up dancing with her the entire night. Her smiles and laughter had been genuine, at a point she was completely leaning against him because she’d been laughing too hard.

“You make me feel like Evelyn instead of the Herald, Solas. That means more to me than you can know.” She had said, wrapping her arms around his neck in an embrace as they stood in the center of the dance floor, ancient elvhen nobles dancing around them. But he did know- he knew exactly how that felt because she did the very same for him. He returned her embrace that night, almost crushing her to his chest, his heart fit to burst with empathy. 

Seeing in his study in Revas’an within his keep, looking so strikingly similar to how she did in that dream at Halamshiral made him ache for better days; when they could speak as friends, when she’d felt comfortable enough to confide in him, when he could show her the wonders of the Fade and she’d trust him to guide her anywhere. 

“You wanted to see me?” Evelyn asked, closing the door behind her. As she approached, he noticed she was wearing the traditional footwraps of his people. He remembered one of the first things she’d said to him on their first journey into the Hinterlands was whether he would be ok without shoes. Worries about him stepping on something, hurting himself, or even frostbite back at Haven. Compassion from the very beginning, it was honestly pathetic how swiftly she earned his a...admiration. 

“Yes, thank you for leaving your appointment to see me.” He said, his gaze lingering briefly at the belt on her waist before looking her in the eye. 

“How could I say no?” Before he could reassure her that she could always refuse him anything at any time she continued. “How did the peace talks go?”

“Successfully,” Solas said, a small smile on his face. “Orlais will no longer press against our borders, the Dales belong to the elves once more. The last of the Orlesian army should vacate our lands within a few days. Prisoners on both sides will be freed and returned to their home countries by the end of the week. The war is over.”

The smile that lit up Evelyn’s face was brighter than the sun shining through the windows. For a moment she looked like her old self, overjoyed at the news of his people having a land of their own and that the conflict was over. In that moment she was not hiding behind a mask of propriety, she was genuinely happy for him. She took a step forward and raised her hand, looking like she was about to leap into his arms in an embrace for a moment, so great was her excitement, but she seemed to remember herself and stopped, clenching a fist to try and release her excess energy. He tried not to feel too disappointed that he didn’t get the opportunity to have her affections again. 

In quiet moments during the Inquisition, it wasn’t uncommon for her to embrace him, to ground herself, or offer him comfort for the passing of Wisdom. After so long without a friendly touch, or any touch, her hugs had been overwhelming and desperately needed. Were he a weaker man and the situation at the time not so dire, he would’ve followed her around like a lost pup for any scrap of physical contact she’d been willing to give.

“That’s amazing, Solas!” She said, grinning. How he wanted her smile to remain and revel in his victory both over Orlais and that she felt such joy for him. “That is a load off of my mind, I’ll admit.” She said, rubbing her forehead. 

“Yes, there is much work to be done still, but it will be a relief to no longer have to continue fighting.” He took a breath to focus himself. “I did not call you away to simply share news of the end of hostilities. I...I have something for you.” 

It pained him to see her mask return, but he knew what needed to be done. Her joy for the victory of the Elvhen people did not erase the pain he’d caused her; his bringing the focus back to other matters reminded her of that. 

“I am aware that the order of events isn’t proper but I still thought you should have this.” He reached into his pocket and held out the ring, gently resting in his hand. 

“I...” Her eyes widened, looking down at what would be a symbol of their commitment until the actual exchange of rings at their wedding. “It’s beautiful.” She looked back up at him. “Why sapphires?”

“Blue is your favorite color.” He said simply. 

That statement clearly surprised her more than the ring itself. “How did you know? I don’t think I ever mentioned that.”

“You did not, but you did tint every piece of armor you wore once we had access to such services. You were always excited whenever you found silk brocade.” He remembered her cheer when she found a chest full of it in the Exalted Plains. 

“Always so observant,” she muttered. She reached out and gently traced the band with her finger. A small flush of color spread across her cheeks. “I can’t put rings on by myself, could you..?”

Solas felt a flush of his own. Of course, she couldn’t put on a ring with only one hand, you foolish old wolf. “Of course, my apologies.” 

He gently took her hand, feeling the callouses from her blade training. Though he had no intention for her to ever be required to fight (she deserved peace after everything he’d done), perhaps he could offer her a tutor or sparring partner, to keep her skills sharp until he was able to get a prosthetic made for her. He then took the ring and slid it onto her finger in a gesture that felt far too intimate even though they would soon be married. They were both silent, simply staring at the ring and feeling the weight of what it represented, the swiftly approaching wedding. 

“I feel bad, I haven’t gotten you an engagement gift.” She said, slowly removing her hand from his. 

“That is not necessary, you are doing more than enough by agreeing to this,” Solas said. “You owe me nothing.” How true that statement was. If anything it was he who owed her a great deal. “Though I do feel I should mention that I’ve placed a ward on the ring. It will keep demons from entering your dreams.” He did not need to stalk her every moment in the Fade to know she had nightmares. After everything she had been through it only made sense that her sleep would not always be so restful. 

“Thank you,” She said, rubbing at the golden band with her thumb. “One more thing, just because I don’t know if we’ll have another moment before the wedding.” She kept fiddling with the ring; perhaps a new outlet for her anxiety? “Dancing with one arm has been... different. Could we have one dance, for practice? I’d rather make mistakes now than in front of the most important people in Thedas.” 

In an instant, Solas remembered Bann Trevelyan’s words, about how other nobles were uncomfortable dancing with her. He wondered how long it had been since she’d danced with anyone who was perhaps not a family member. He recalled dancing with her in the Fade and how he’d been able to make her smile. That had been their first and last dance during the Inquisition. Likely the first and last time he’d be able to make her truly smile while doing so. 

“Of course.” With that, he offered her his hand. 

Once she placed her hand in his and he felt her place the remains of her arm against his bicep he already knew what the issue was with her missing arm. She would not be able to support herself. Her only point of contact was their joined hands. She’d have to rely on her dance partner even more than one typically did. He placed his hand firmly on Evelyn’s back, spreading his fingers more so that he’d be able to support her when needed. She was warm under his touch. He felt her tap a few beats on his hand before he effortlessly pulled her into a waltz.

For the first few steps, she appeared taller before she went back to dancing on the flats of her feet, clearly used to dancing in heels. She maintained eye contact as he twirled her around the room but he could see in her clouded gaze that she was only half present, lost somewhere in her thoughts. Perhaps more worries about the upcoming ceremonies; he did not envy her trying to figure out how to seat her entire extended family for the Chantry wedding. Even months after he first approached her about marrying him he still had to study her family tree to try and keep all her cousins straight. She could also have been imagining she was anywhere else, escaping into daydreams so as to not exist in the present. 

“We will try a dip now, are you ready?” He asked, slowing down just a bit so he could give her a chance to prepare. Evelyn tugged him back to his previous speed. 

“Let’s do this.” She said, not even hesitating. 

Without another word, Solas spun her out so that they were only connected by their joined hands. He then pulled her back in and dipped her, holding her steady with a strong arm. She’d bent backward without hesitation, face perfectly relaxed. Did she still trust him with her physical safety after all these years? He spent a year with her all over Orlais and Fereldan, his barriers the swiftest and sturdiest on the battlefield. She’d once told him that the only reason he wasn’t in her traveling party every single time was because she felt he deserved rest for everything he did for her. She trusted him with her life, troubles, fears, and everything else. 

Though it shamed him all that he’d done to betray her, it was a relief that she at least trusted him enough not to drop her on her head. He smoothly guided her back into an upright position, a small smile on her face. At first, he simply thought she was satisfied with their performance, but her question took him by surprise as they continued to dance in his study.

“Do you remember all of those notable weapons we found; Hakkon’s Mercy, Silkdart, the Chromatic Greatsword, and all the others?” She asked, twirling under his arm. 

“Of course, you always grew quite excited when you found something unique, even if we already had equipment that far exceeded whatever you found.” He said, remembering how she always sent whatever it was back to Skyhold for storage. She never gave any of them to the Chantry, the University of Orlais, or any museums. 

“They have a habit of doing everything but preserving the integrity of whatever culture it comes from,” she said at the time and that was the first moment he thought she was amazing. 

“Well when the Inquisition dissolved and I returned home I took all of those weapons, armor, and jewelry with me. They’ve been sitting in trunks in the cellar, gathering dust. I intend to bring them with me when I move to Revas’an.” He dipped her again and once again she went down smoothly, without hesitation.

Her easy acceptance of living with him was truly something, though that could simply be a facade. Like him, she was a gifted actor, tailoring her attitude and even her personality to whatever was needed. He remembered her curling up on the couch in the rotunda, whispering quietly to him how much all the pretending weighed on her. Evelyn had loved being able to explore, learn, help others, all the great adventures but her titles, especially “The Herald” were drowning her. Even so, after those first few insistences from their companions that she was in fact the Herald, she stopped arguing it, but Solas knew that it had bothered her greatly. Even once they had definitive proof that she was not the Herald, it didn’t stop the others. He was the only one she showed her weakness to during those days, the stress and horror of being seen as a holy figure. She sobbed in his arms when Varric told her he believed she was chosen. He knew intimately well how she felt, truly there was no one better suited to comfort her during those days. It no doubt made his betrayal sting even more harshly. 

“Well, besides Orlesian shields and Dwarven blades, we did find a lot of Elven artifacts or even non-elven items still important to elven history; the Axe of Green Edges, The Sulevin Blade, The Bane of Red Crossing and so many others.” Evelyn paused. “I think that will be my wedding gift to you. Everything I’ve kept with any significance to the elves, it’s yours now. Probably would’ve ended up sending them to Revas’an even if we weren’t getting married. Maker knows you’d do better by an artifact belonging to any culture than the Chantry or Orlais would. No offense to Leliana but who knows what her inevitable successor will be like? She could role back on all of Leliana’s reforms.”

Solas was speechless for a moment. It was moments like these that made him wonder how Evelyn was real. Not because she was mortal or a human but because of the depth of her kindness. She wasn’t incapable of cruelty, however; what she did to Erimond during the Inquisition could be seen as cruel and was seen that way by a few. Solas had been a little worried himself at the time, fearing the power was beginning to corrupt her. Yet she did not allow whatever bloodthirst she possessed to overflow into anything else. She remained kind, compassionate, and merciful. She had simply shown that even her mercy had its limits. 

When Mistress Poulin was brought for judgment in Skyhold for selling the quarry in Emprise du Lion to the Red Templars and continuing to take their money even after she learned they were using her people to grow Red Lyrium, Evelyn chose to have her work to rebuild Sahrnia instead of execution. Considering what the leader of the town had done, Solas certainly wouldn’t have disapproved of her death, but he was still pleasantly surprised by the Inquisitor choosing mercy after what she had done to Erimond. The fact that Evelyn was capable of great violence and cruelty but almost always chose diplomacy and compassion made her kindness all the more staggering. One cannot be considered peaceful unless they are capable of great violence, otherwise, they were simply harmless. Truly, Evelyn Trevelyan was and still is, a remarkable woman.

“Ma serannas, Evelyn,” Solas said, unable to find any other words. To think, countless years ago he was known for his silver tongue and Evelyn managed to rob him of his ability to speak in any of the languages he knew. 

A knock on the door made them both stop in their tracks. Evelyn’s hand slipped from his grasp and she stepped out of his arms. She looked at him, waiting to see what he’d do. Solas cleared the throat and allowed whomever on the other side of the door into his study. An older human male stepped in, clearly one of Evelyn’s brothers. Based on the staff strapped to his back it had to be Nathaniel, the last mage in the family after Harlow was made Tranquil. 

“Haleira is wondering if you can come back, Evelyn. She’s been sketching non-stop.” Nathaniel said, shuffling awkwardly from one foot to the other. 

“Of course,” Evelyn said, brushing a few hairs that had escaped her bun out of her face. “If there’s nothing else?”

Solas bowed his head to her. “No, thank you for your time... and everything else you are doing.”

Nathaniel rubbed the back of his neck. “I... actually had a few questions, Lord Fen’Harel. I haven’t had a chance to discuss magic since leaving the circle and...”

“I am always willing to share knowledge,” Solas said, and that statement was true in more ways than one. 

Evelyn raised a brow, looking between the two of them before sighing. “Alright, I wanted to speak to Haleira about a gift for Cynthia anyways. Don’t spend too much time here though. We were asked to return home in time for dinner.” She said before walking out the door and closing it behind her. 

Solas turned his focus to the former Circle mage. “What would you like to discuss?"

“Evelyn, actually, and your marriage to her,” Nathaniel said, straightening his spine. 

Well, alright then.

Chapter Text

Evelyn hated the Chantry. It took her siblings away from her, disparaged her then begged for her aid every other instance, preached love yet offered almost none, and only truly aided a fraction of Thedas’s people. Especially in Orlais, where everything was covered in gold, yet the Alienage, while now filled with all the poor instead of just elves who had mostly left to join Solas, still had scorch marks from when Celene purged it years ago. They could remove all the gilding and gold lion statues and use the money to actually take care of the people. If the divide between the wealthy and the downtrodden were not so wide, by all means, toss up a golden statue of Andraste every once in a while, but that was not the case. The Orlesian Chantry represented nothing but pain, corruption, and rot to Evelyn. 

But the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux was gorgeous. It had high ceilings and archways, gleaming white stone, and colorful stained glass that created rainbows when the sun shone through it. Despite the imagery of Andraste and the Maker setting her teeth on edge after everything that happened with the Inquisition, it was all quite beautiful. It was a pity such a toxic belief system tainted it. Truthfully, if Evelyn could have a wedding without bringing Andrastianism into it, that would be her ideal ceremony. 

As it was, the finishing touches were being placed on her dress as she stood in one of the many rooms of the Grand Cathedral.  Her sisters and Nirasha were all with her. Cassandra, Josephine, and even Vivienne had offered to help (despite their constant disagreements) as well but she declined. All Evelyn could imagine was pitying looks or judgment from them. Her sisters and Nirasha offered none. The Trevelyan women, all dressed in suitable finery, knew that Evelyn was simply marrying the man her father selected, as she had always said she would.  Evelyn told Nirasha several times she was simply doing her duty and there was no reason for her to be sorry or scared for Evelyn. Sophia had apparently wanted to wear her Chantry robes but their father forbade it. Evelyn couldn’t say she wasn’t relieved at her father’s decision.

The day before she had been scrubbed, waxed, plucked, and polished to within an inch of her life. The canvas had to be clean and perfect for the best art after all. Evelyn’s wedding dress for the Andrastain ceremony was pure white as expected. The months leading up to the wedding allowed for custom lace to be created and sewn for her dress and veil. The sleeves were long and the neck was high, all very modest. A silk glove was worn on the remains of her severed arm under the dress, to keep the lace from irritating the sensitive skin there. A pearl choker with a large center sapphire adorned her neck, along with dangling pearl and sapphire earrings to match her engagement ring. It had been a nice, almost normal moment when her sisters swarmed her once Rosalie declared Evelyn got her ring from her husband upon their return from the fitting. Even Penelope, who didn’t get excited about much, grinned at said Evelyn’s future husband had good taste. 

Then Evelyn brought the room down by asking for Harlow’s opinion. She did that a lot throughout the designing and fitting process for her Andrastian dress. She had a rather embarrassing breakdown in front of the tailor as she yelled at Harlow, tears streaming down her cheeks, wanting to know what her sister thought about her dress. Wanting to see even a small glimpse of her closest sibling who played dress up with her in their mother’s dresses. 

“We can scrap the whole dress and start over if you want,” Evelyn said, gripping Harlow’s arms as they stood in one of the rooms of the Trevelyan manor that had been turned into a design studio for her wedding dress. “We can dye it bright purple if that will make you happy! I don’t care what it looks like! What do YOU want to see me in!?” Evelyn screamed. Yet despite the anguish on her face, Harlow’s was infuriatingly, heartbreakingly blank. 

“I have no wants anymore, but you are gripping me uncomfortably tight,” Harlow spoke in monotone.

Even as the veil was adjusted and a pearl and sapphire hairpiece was fastened into her elaborately braided bun by Nirasha, Evelyn simply couldn’t help herself.

“What do you think, Harls?” Evelyn asked, turning to her sister, who was dressed more beautifully than any Tranquil had probably ever been. “Do you think I look pretty?” 

“‘Pretty’ is subjective and based on opinions,” Harlow said emotionlessly. “Of which I have none. You look like you have finished your preparations and are ready for the ceremony.”

It was stupid to ask, but perhaps Evelyn had hoped that maybe, against the facts of Tranquility, a small piece of her most beloved sister could shine through for her wedding. Evelyn took in a shaky breath, then another. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t steady herself. 

“Evelyn,” Penelope’s voice pulled her out of her despair. Her oldest sister’s finely wrinkled face came into view as she set her hands on her shoulders. “If you cry you’ll ruin your makeup and undo all of my hard work, isn’t that why you got into a screaming match with Mother about wearing a veil over your face?”

Evelyn chuckled wetly and started fanning her face to fight back her emotions along with her tears. “I didn’t want to spend hours in a makeup chair just to cover everything up.” 

Rosalie walked over to stand next to their older sister and smiled at Evelyn. “Even if you’re across the continent, we’ll always be here for you, Evelyn.”

A beautiful sentiment, but a lie. Penelope was married off when Evelyn was a toddler and every other sibling after her either went to the Chantry or the Templars by their own choice, even if their mother pushed for it. None of her siblings had ever stayed. Even Maxwell, Harlow’s twin who had been just as close to Evelyn as his mage sister, chose to become a Templar after Harlow was taken to the Circle. Harlow, the one sibling who would have stayed with her, was stolen by the Chantry because of her magic and then because of its inability to make sure the Templars actually upheld their vows, was made Tranquil by a sick excuse of a Templar to keep as a pet despite passing her Harrowing with flying colors.

Everyone left or didn’t know her at all even if they stayed. 

All except one man.

There was a firm knock on the door before Benjamin Trevelyan entered the room. “You should all find your seats. The ceremony will begin shortly.” His face was impassive, even as he saw his youngest daughter in her full wedding attire for the first time. The other women left the room swiftly. He focused on Evelyn, “Are you ready?” and as Evelyn looked up at her father she realized exactly why she had needed him to tell her to marry Solas. 

Her father was not a warm man. He wasn’t one to twirl his young children in the air or play tea party with his youngest daughter. He had been an especially busy man, trying to rebuild the Trevelyan family after his own father nearly destroyed it, never mind supporting half a dozen other children as they grew. In many ways, he was strict and unyielding, yet in others, he allowed so much freedom. 

Evelyn’s fascination with poisonous plants, scolded by her mother and mocked by other noble children, was nurtured by her father when he bought her books and eventually had a small greenhouse built. When he saw her throwing knives at a wall in the stables he hired a tutor. Books about other cultures that her mother wanted gone her father simply locked away, and smirked when he realized Evelyn taught herself lockpicking to get to them. He taught her how to hunt, to ride, and did not completely discourage her city wandering when she became a teenager. Only when she returned to the manor one night, crying with blood on her clothes after escaping an attacker, did he keep her strictly within the manor for months. He did however personally see to it that the man was hunted down by the city guard and caught. He pulled strings within the noble circles to have that man sentenced to death. He allowed Evelyn to leave the manor to witness his hanging, to see that he could never hurt her again. Her father stunned the crowd by marching up to the gallows, shoving the executioner aside and pulling the lever himself, ensuring that the wretched man could never harm any of his children ever again. 

Her father was a man who never smiled, did not play silly games with his children, or was one to coo over them if they woke up from a nightmare but he protected Evelyn. He taught her, raised her, and didn’t allow her mother to send her to the Chantry to become a sister after Evelyn had screamed and cried that she would never go to the Chantry. Her father may not have been extremely present in her life, but he did not force her to change, nor did he send her away. He stayed and allowed her to stay, the only person to ever do so. 

For a man who loved politics and whose desperate dream was to restore the Trevelyans to what they once were, what better show of thanks was there than marrying whomever he asked her to, especially after he risked sabotaging a marriage to one of the most powerful men in Thedas simply because she asked him?

“He is the man you selected for me to marry. I’ll marry him for that reason alone.” Evelyn said, smiling up at her father as she took his arm. His expression didn’t change, nor did he say anything. He simply led her out of the room and towards the main hall where the Divine herself would marry her to a man considered a god in elven legend.

It was a long walk down the aisle, not simply because of wedding nerves but because it was such a large room. The Chantry choir sang beautifully as flower petals rained down from the high ceiling. Her extended family, distant cousins, and spouses were all in attendance. All the members of the inner circle were present, save Cole who had returned to the Fade. The rulers of Orlais and several nobles from Val Royeaux were in attendance, along with representatives from every country in Thedas and many elves from New Elvhenan. She gave all of them a passing glance, simply noting their presence. She didn’t want to focus on their judgment, pity, or disgust. She was doing this for peace in Thedas and her father. She had a duty to focus on the matter at hand and so she wore the smile she often wore for the Inquisition to keep the masses and even most of the inner circle in the dark about how she was feeling.

Solas was at the end of the aisle, watching her as he stood beside Leliana. He was dressed in a fine white suit with gold detailing. It was the first time she’d ever seen him dressed in human finery. The red monstrosity the entire inner circle had been forced into for Celene’s ball didn’t count, it made everyone look ridiculous. Solas looked quite handsome in his new human suit and he wasn’t wearing that ugly ‘thimble helmet’. He had explained his slight at the Ball and though Evelyn approved of his little rebellion, she remained firm in her stance that it had looked like a thimble.

Once her father walked her to the end and handed her off to Solas he took his seat in the front row beside her mother. Evelyn didn’t have to look to know that her father was tightly gripping her mother’s hand. Though Lady Trevelyan hated a scene she most definitely hated her daughter marrying a knife-eared mage/elven god a great deal as well. Henry, the most vocal about his disapproval to anyone who would listen, had been sat between Rosalie and Nathaniel to keep him quiet. Other nobles had studied Bann Trevelyan’s face, wanting to see if he was enraged to hand off his daughter to an elf but he gave them nothing. 

Evelyn’s hand was taken in Solas’s as Leliana recited the words for a proper Andrastian ceremony. She looked up at him with the same serene smile she once gave everyone who visited her in Skyhold. His face was blank as he recited his vows to love her, never stray, and several other things he probably wouldn’t adhere to. While she didn’t imagine Solas to be especially promiscuous, she had no illusions that he would love her. As much as the idea of him taking a lover stung, perhaps a conversation was warranted about him at least being discrete and keeping them out of their bed as a courtesy to her if nothing else.

As Evelyn recited her vows she knew what was coming next; exchanging rings and then he would kiss her. She had wanted to kiss Solas a couple of times during the Inquisition. The first was perhaps during that horrible future at Redcliffe, when he, Bull, and Leliana sacrificed themselves for her and Dorian. The next was during their first dream together, then that dream at Halamshiral. Sprinkled in between were the countless times she collapsed into his arms, sobbing in stress and frustration about being seen as the second coming of Andraste, a woman betrayed and burned at the stake. Not exactly a symbol that inspires hope when the symbol is you, is it? Not to mention every night spent in the Deep Roads, curled up in his arms and terrified after what Leliana had shared about Broodmothers. 

Wow, she’d actually wanted to kiss Solas quite a few times, hadn’t she? 

Leliana held out the golden wedding bands for them. Solas slid her’s onto her finger first, right up against her engagement ring. Evelyn then did the same and slid the band onto Solas’s finger. Just like that, he was her husband. Solas, her once closest friend, protector, and advisor, the Dread Wolf straight out of elven legend, was her husband. Instead of tearing down the Veil and destroying the world, he was instead raising the elves up and giving them a home. Taken out of context, it could be seen as the best possible ending. 

But Evelyn wasn’t happy, at least not as happy as she should be. She’d changed Solas’s mind and the elves were finally getting justice, the Chantry was slowly turning into something semi-decent and she herself would be going to a place far from its reach. She always knew she’d never love the man her father chose for her to marry. It was naive to think so. Yet, a selfish wish of her own, one that would benefit no one but herself, was that perhaps she could fall in love with her husband after the fact. She had confessed that to Solas that night in Halamshiral before he took her dancing in the Fade. It was embarrassing to think of now, sharing that with a man who would never love her. 

The same man who betrayed her, who made her feel safe, who lied to her, who she’d thought about when she let herself imagine the impossible, gently grasped her chin and kissed her in front of hundreds of witnesses to seal their union. It was a chaste, gentle kiss. He didn’t push for anything more. Evelyn placed a hand on his arm as she kissed him back and fully committed herself to her new marriage, as her father raised her to do. An applause roared and the Chantry choirs began again.

There was a massive outdoor area right by the water in the Grand Cathedral. The mid-spring air was cool and crisp and the flowers were all in spectacular bloom. Evelyn and Solas walked hand in hand to the dance floor. Ordinarily one would receive their guests and wedding gifts at the reception before doing that but seeing as there were likely to be over a hundred guests to speak to, it was decided that the couple would enjoy the festivities a bit first before they accepted their gifts.

Just as he had done every time they danced, Solas effortlessly pulled her into a smooth waltz once the band started up. As he twirled her around Evelyn allowed herself to listen in on the crowd, curious as to what the people were saying. A few commented on how theirs was probably the most historic wedding of the age, how there would be a verse about it added to the Chant alongside Andraste and Shartan (the idea of being in the Chant made her skin crawl), and several disparaging comments about a human and an ‘upstart elf’ marrying. One comment in particular about “The Dread Wolf finally getting his prize bitch” was at least a little creative. She saw Solas’s eyes briefly flash with magic. Of course, with his ears he no doubt heard even more than her. 

“Ignore them,” Evelyn said. “We only need to suffer their presence until the reception is over. Then we retire for the evening and go back to Revas’an for the Elvhen ceremony in the morning.”

“You are right, of course.” Solas sighed as he spun her under his arm. 

“Remember that phrase well and we might just survive this marriage,” Evelyn said with a small smirk. Solas chuckled. 

“I’ve been told the same from other married men,” Solas said. 

Evelyn let out a breath. “We’re married.” She said, letting Solas dip her. “Did you ever see that one coming?”

Solas sighed. “I never foresaw anything like you,” Solas said. 

Evelyn didn’t reply, she was too distracted by seeing her father out of the corner of her eye, standing beside Cassandra and Leliana. Despite her boiling hatred of the Chantry and revulsion towards her former title as Herald of Andraste, she did not hate either of the women. It had taken a while for her to warm up to Cassandra, with her faith in the Chantry and refusal to believe that Evelyn wasn’t chosen, but they’d had their moments. Leliana was also quite capable and especially once Evelyn helped soothe her ragged edges, her ideas for reform made her the only one she would ever consider helping to sit on the Sunburst Throne. If Leliana hadn’t been an option she would’ve simply let the clerics squabble indefinitely until they got their act together. 

Before she could try listening in on their conversation Dorian appeared, tapping Solas’s shoulder. 

“Mind if I steal a dance with the bride?” He asked, looking every bit the swaggering peacock she knew and loved. 

Solas bowed his head and passed Evelyn off to the Tevinter. By then a few other couples had joined the dance floor. Before Solas could leave the dancing himself, her sister Rosalie walked over and asked to dance with her new brother-in-law. Despite being clearly not used to the new title, Solas pulled her former Templar sister to an open spot on the dance floor. 

Evelyn turned her attention back to Dorian who was looking at her with concern in his eyes. “Are you alright, darling? It’s not too late,” it was “I can fling some magic as a distraction and-”

“Dorian.” Evelyn said firmly, using her ‘Inquisitor voice.’ “I am married to Solas. I agreed to this months ago. I am not changing my mind. I am not sneaking off and I won’t make this more difficult for him out of spite. For the sake of Thedas, this wedding needs to go off flawlessly.” Evelyn sighed, “Please, I know you wanted me to have a fairytale ending but I never intended to marry for love. I always only wanted to marry the man my father put before me, and he chose Solas. Please, don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be.” 

Dorian’s gaze softened. For all his righteous anger on her behalf, it seemed he couldn’t deny her request. 

“How could I say no to you on your wedding day, dearest?” He asked. Evelyn smiled and then focused on listening to her father’s discussion with the former Left and Right hands of Divine Justinia. 

“Do you disapprove of your daughter’s decision to support my ascension, Bann Trevelyan?” Leliana asked, causing Evelyn to tense. 

“On the contrary, I greatly approve of her choice to put you on the Sunburst Throne, Divine Victoria,” Benjamin said, face stoney. “I see you as the perfect candidate for an ideal future for the Chantry. Perhaps your reforms will change the Chantry into something that practices the morals it preaches. An organization that doesn't steal our children, lock them in cages, deprive them of a real-life, abuse them, turn them into slaves-”

“The Chantry does not condone slavery, nor do we practice it,” Cassandra said firmly, glaring at Evelyn’s father, who in turn looked at the Seeker as though she were a naive child. 

“Harlow! Come here!” The Bann called, which made Evelyn’s heart pound. He then turned to her oldest brother a few feet away. “Cedric, go dance with your sister. I would like to speak with Lord Pavus for a moment.”

Evelyn barely paid attention as her oldest brother cut in and Dorian made his way over to her father, Tranquil sister, Cassandra, and Leliana. 

“You wanted to see me?” Dorian asked. 

“Yes, you are from Tevinter, I’m sure you know what to look for in a slave,” Benjamin said. 

Dorian hid his discomfort well but Evelyn knew him well enough to be sure that he was not thrilled to be a part of the conversation. “You could say that.”

Benjamin Trevelyan grasped Harlow’s chin and had her look at the group. “Just look at my daughter. She has no wants of her own, will follow any order given to her, and cannot even conceptualize freedom or any other emotion. In the Circle, Tranquil do labor to produce goods for the Circle to sell without receiving any pay which is the definition of slavery. They cannot leave, never fight back, talk back, and work with a focus unseen in any other person.” He then turned his focus to Dorian. “In a slave market, how would such a person fair?”

Dorian was quiet for a moment. Evelyn could feel her eyes grow moist because of what happened to her sister. Her beautiful sister was reduced to a living doll. Finally Dorian spoke. 

“Some of the crueler masters like it when their slaves beg for mercy and scream, but for those who appreciate silence and blind obedience?” He was quiet, and his face looked pained. “She’s perfect.”

The Bann chuckled ruefully. “Would you look at that? A verdict straight from a man whose country is famous for its tradition of slavery has just said that the average Tranquil is the perfect slave. Remarkable isn’t it?” He turned back to the Chantry women. “That Tevinter is famous for slavery, but the Southern Chantry has perfected it to such a degree that no one even recognizes it as slavery.” 

As much as Evelyn liked Cassandra and Leliana, she completely agreed with her father. Besides, he had said nothing factually incorrect. Tranquil were slaves by definition. Simply not calling them slaves did not change what they were. Evelyn was only sorry that she hadn’t made the connection to slavery until her father just said it. Based on Cassandra’s look of horror and the pale color Leliana had taken on, they hadn’t either.

“Now, as I was saying.” Her father spoke coldly. “You may turn the Chantry into a force that doesn’t steal, imprison, beat, and enslave our children or turn the others into rabid, Lyrium-addicted war dogs that are little better than blood mages- they are ,” Benjamin said, holding up a hand to stop Cassandra from interrupting again. “My daughter happened to share with me the discovery of what Lyrium is: Titan’s Blood. The act of using the blood of another creature to perform abilities no ordinary person could do is, by definition, blood magic. Ironic, combining that with phylactries, blood to track mages across vast distances, that the Chantry hunts down and kills anyone who practices blood magic despite being the most organized practitioners of blood magic themselves.”

Cullen, who happened to be standing nearby, suddenly looked sick and worse than the height of his withdrawal. Considering what he had gone through, what little Evelyn knew of, such a statement had to sting even though he’d been clean for years. 

“You might be able to turn the Chantry into a semi-decent force for good, Divine Victoria. It would be wonderful if you could. Or, perhaps your much-needed reforms will cause such backlash from the rot infesting the Chantry that the weight of its sins and corruption will cause it to collapse in on itself, rendering it nothing more than a dark chapter in our history books. Considering the Chantry nearly destroyed half my children, I’m sure you can understand that either outcome would please me greatly and cause me to sleep quite peacefully at night.” The only break in the Bann’s stern demeanor was the tiniest, smug smirk of a man who’d one an argument. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I would be remiss to not dance with my daughter at her own wedding.” He said, leaving the conversation and arriving to cut in and dance with his youngest daughter who felt terrible for her old comrades,

And a vindictive sense of righteous smugness that mimicked her father’s. During the Inquisition, the Herald title was too important to cast aside and she couldn’t afford to lose any support. Her father hadn’t said anything she hadn’t thought during the Inquisition. The best part of her father’s speech was there was nothing anyone could do. He had not said anything wrong and being the father of the Herald of Andraste earned him some protection, especially from the Chantry, who needed all the good image they could get.

Chapter Text

One of the many markers of wisdom was knowing when to pick your battles; when to attack, diverge, or even retreat. Solas’s ability to discern which fights to take on and which ones to avoid had served him greatly in the courts of Elvhenan and the wars against the Evanuris. The old wolf was making such a decision at his Andrastian wedding, a little before he joined Evelyn at the feast table and began receiving engagement gifts with her. 

Correcting Evelyn’s eighty-six-year-old great uncle, Lord Albert Hamilton, who seemed to be half deaf, with false teeth, a cane, spectacles that magnified his eyes to almost twice their size and was possibly senile about the pronunciation of his name? It was simply not worth it. Besides, he’d attempted to do so half a dozen times in five minutes. Odds were he’d only ever speak to the man at some other family gathering (and wasn’t that just a pleasant thought, a holiday dinner with one’s in-laws?) once a year at most. Also, as morbid as it was, who was to say Lord Albert would even live much longer?

“You seem like a good man, Shoelace,” Lord Albert said, speaking rather loudly, perhaps to compensate for his lack of hearing. Or maybe he was trying to make everyone else deaf. He, Solas, and Varric stood at the dance floor's edge, passing the last few minutes before the feast began. A combination of finger foods from Orlais and the Free Marches was wandering around before the feast.

“Thank you,” Solas said in a deadpan tone of voice.

“And it has been nice to speak to you as well Lord Ferret,” Albert said, smiling at Varric. Given that Varric was the Viscount of Kirkwall, one of the most important cities in the Free Marches, Solas could only assume one of two things; Lord Albert was actually senile and didn’t know Varric’s name, or was simply playing a joke. The fact that his inability to pronounce anyone’s name correctly was evenly distributed to everyone else also made it easier for Solas to just let it go.

“You’re quite the character yourself,” Varric shouted so the old human could hear him. He then turned to Solas. “Is he doing this on purpose, or is he just old?” he asked quietly as Lord Albert grabbed a gougères from a passing servant.

“I assume it is because of his age,” Solas whispered back. Just then, Dorian sprinted over, looking both relieved and flustered. 

“Happy to get away from that discussion with the ladies of the Chantry and Bann Trevelyan, Sparkler?” Varric chuckled. 

“As much as the man is right, I don’t believe such a conversation is best suited for a wedding,” Dorian said, straightening his elaborate Tevinter robes. 

“A conversation about religion and politics?” Varric asked, raising a brow. 

“Point taken, that’s all anyone talks about at family gatherings,” Dorian replied.

“And who might you be, young man?” Albert asked, looking at Dorian while holding the pastry he hadn’t eaten. 

“Yeah, Sparkler. Introduce yourself to Viper’s Great Uncle,” Varric said, smirking. 

“Ah, apologies.” Dorian gave a flourishing bow. “Lord Dorian Pavus of the Magisterium of Tevinter.”

Albert frowned, looking at Dorian. He was quiet for several moments, and Solas wondered if perhaps the elderly human disliked Dorian’s Tevinter heritage. “Durian Perv-ass,” Varric snorted into his hand, and Solas pressed his lips together to fight a smirk at Dorian’s bewildered expression. “Odd names up there in Tevinter.” Albert then focused on Solas, ignoring Dorian’s sputtering. “You should cherish the time you have with Evelyn, Shoelace. It’s never as much as you think it will be. Just this year, I lost my dear wife, Lucille.” 

“Quit telling everyone I’m dead!” Came an enraged yell. The Trevelyan siblings were scattered all over the large terrace. Everyone within Solas’s line of sight heaved a sizable collective sigh; it was almost in sync. 

“Sometimes I can still hear her voice,” Albert said, shaking his head.  

“Very funny.” An older woman who could only be Lucille growled, shuffling her way over. Her eyes landed on the pastry in Albert’s hand, and her green eyes widened. “You know you can’t eat those!”

“It’s a wedding, Lucille. Let me enjoy it.” Albert grumbled, raising the cheese-filled confection to his mouth only for his wife to snatch it. 

“These are dangerous to your health.” She said, shaking the gougères.

“Please, I’m eighty-six. Bathtubs are dangerous.” Albert rolled his eyes. Solas was starting to wonder if Lord Albert’s mind was slipping or if he was simply hard of hearing. Albert didn’t appear to be completely separated from reality. Then he saw Evelyn approaching with Cassandra, which immediately diverted his attention. 

The only dresses Solas had ever seen Evelyn wear were simple Elvhen dresses, once in the Fade and the other when he gave her a ring. He had never seen her in a human dress or adorned as lavishly as she was. Of course, it was expected; she was the bride, but it was still an image he had never come close to seeing. The dress was extremely modest, even by human standards, covering her completely. She had removed her veil at some point, her waist squeezed by a corset, and he could see a slight flush on her cheeks from all her dancing. 

“Solas, the feast is about to begin. We should take our seats.” Evelyn said before turning to her Great Uncle and smiling. “Uncle Albert, this is Seeker Cassandra. She’ll help you to your seat.” 

The elderly human walked towards the Seeker without question and touched her arm. “Are you one of my Evelyn’s friends too, Lady Casserole?” Cassandra merely sighed and began leading the old lord away. His wife, Lady Lucille, began to yell after him.

“Remember Albert, no alcohol, no cheese, no grapefruit-”

Albert removed his false teeth, held them out behind him without looking back, and made them clack together like they were talking back at his wife. Evelyn wasn’t phased by anything; she took Solas’s arm and tugged him to the main table amongst Varric and Dorian’s laughter at Lord Albert’s behavior.

The procession of wedding gifts was never-ending. Jewels, gold, and silver were the favored gifts, especially from Empress Celene. Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons gifted a dozen Orlesian Coursers, each splendidly outfitted for riding. Though the Grand Duke was famous for his hatred of elves, he couldn’t resist trying to outdo his cousin, even if it meant giving so many prized horses to the leader of the elves. Even so, many of Evelyn’s personal mounts from the Inquisition would eventually make their way to Revas’an—another gift from his new wife. 

While the Elvhen ceremony would take place tomorrow, Solas still found it odd to think of Evelyn as his wife. The idea made him feel confused, terrified, and regretful. It was bizarre to imagine bonding himself to anyone, let alone a human woman with no magic. Evelyn calmly sat beside him on his right, her father next to her, and Abelas on Solas’s left. The long table was in front of the seaside view of the Grand Cathedral’s terrace, allowing Solas to listen to the waves crashing against the rocks below.

Evelyn received each gift with a graceful smile and pleasant courtesies. Anything presented by former Inquisition members (Josephine had several yards of numerous, exquisite fabric, Vivienne had some tomes on magic along with more jewels, and Leliana had an absurd amount of shoes for Evelyn) was met with a slightly warmer smile. However, even so, Solas could still see her mask firmly in place. She hid her thoughts well, and even with the binding ritual for the Elvhen ceremony, he doubted they would achieve the ability to sense one another’s emotions. Perhaps that was for the best, given everything that occurred between them. 

As another string of nobles began giving their gifts, Solas looked for two former Mythal sentinels who came with him to Val Royeaux. He spotted Haleira rather quickly. She’d discovered Evelyn’s youngest niece (his... Cynthia was also his youngest niece) and immediately became smitten with the young girl. Evelyn had requested a hair ribbon from Haleira as a gift for the nine-year-old, and Cynthia had decided to wear it to his wedding. From what he could see, the small girl had dragged Haleira to her table with her parents and siblings and was gleefully getting her hair braided in an elvhen style. Her father appeared to be a nervous man, watching the two like a hawk. Her older brothers were bickering as young adolescents did, and her mother, Penelope, simply observed them calmly from the corner of her eye as she sipped her wine. 

Solas then spotted the other Sentinel that could cause issues, though, unlike Haleira, not because of over-excitement at all the new things to be seen. Sahren was one of the most vicious soldiers working for Solas. He was one of the tallest of the Ancient Elves, even taller than Solas, with black hair worn in a similar style to Abelas, grey eyes the color of steel, and a face recently devoid of Vallaslin. He earned quite a reputation during the war with Orlais and a gruesome, if unassuming, moniker from the Orlesian army, “Soleillé” or “Sunburst.” 

It was a title he’d earned due to his favored way of killing, especially Chevaliers. Sahren would knock them on their backs, cripple them with Crushing Prison and then smash their heads with his war hammer. The resulting spray of blood mimicked a sunburst, mocking the symbol of the Andrastian faith. While Solas didn’t necessarily approve, it was a swift death and certainly no crueler than the Chevallier tradition of murdering elves. 

Solas simply had to keep an eye on Sahren as he was known for his disdain for mortals, even amongst the elves. Sahren hadn’t erased Shemlen from his vocabulary, even taking some vindictive joy in calling the proud Dalish ‘Shemlen’ to their faces. Though he seemed to be all bark and no bite for those not on the wrong side of the war, it would still behoove Solas to watch him, especially with Evelyn relocating to Revas’an and the end of the war. He didn’t expect Sahren to be violent but anticipated friction.

When Solas refocused on the never-ending line of well-wishers, he saw Dorian approach while levitating a startlingly familiar tea set. 

“As one of your oldest friends who knows you both the best, I felt it only right I give a more personalized gift,” Dorian said with a flourish, levitating the tray slowly over to the grand table so it sat between Solas and Evelyn. The set was emerald green with silver trimmings; wolves were prominently featured all over the set, from the pot to the spoons. Gently touching it with a wisp of his magic, Solas felt the signature energy of its creator, June. To have something that belonged to him, especially one tied to such a satisfactory memory and in nearly flawless condition, was... indescribable. 

Dorian continued, seeming to ignore Solas’s stunned face and Evelyn’s expression of both amusement and slight chastisement for trying to antagonize her new husband. “Knowing how you feel about tea, I felt it was only right that I purchase this tea set from the days of Arlathan at an auction in Tevinter and give it back to you, Solas.”

Solas looked at Dorian, brows raised. “How did you know this was mine?”

Dorian’s eyes widened, and his overdramatic act ceased. “Wait, this is actually yours?” 

Suddenly, there was a great deal of interest from the other guests; Solas even saw a few stand from their seats to try to get a look at his old tea set. Evelyn herself looked very surprised and was studying the tea set with renewed interest. “Yes, this was crafted for me by June after I outplayed him.” A much better way of saying, ‘June lost a bet and was so petty the item he crafted for me as penance was a tea set.’

Dorian blinked before resuming his flamboyant pose. “Well, then you’re welcome for returning your property.” With a flick of his wrist, Dorian summoned a glass of wine from one of the passing servants and lifted it to Solas and Evelyn. “A toast then. to the newlyweds.” Several other guests lifted their glasses. “One who gave me the strength to be myself,” the Tevinter Magister nodded to Evelyn before looking at Solas. There were so many emotions in his eyes: anger, spitefulness, indignation, and beneath it all, something Solas didn’t expect and something Dorian would surely deny: something like fondness. “And another who helped open my eyes to the wider world, inspiring me to free all my slaves and follow in his footsteps to do the same for all slaves in Tevinter eventually.” 

The room erupted in applause both for Dorian’s toast and his decree to work towards ending slavery. Solas then remembered something he had said to Dorian: ‘If you wish to make amends for past transgressions, free the slaves of all races who live in Tevinter today.’ Dorian gave Solas a smug smirk, seeming to remember the same conversation. 

“I’m working on it, you apostate hobo.” He said. He then narrowed his eyes. “But you’re still on my shit list.”

“Damn it!” Evelyn’s muffled curse drew Solas’s gaze, and he saw her frowning at her hand. “I can’t clap with only one hand.”

By the time Solas was ready to retire from the events of his wedding. He had been able to distract himself for most of the wedding, speaking with his people, the visiting lords invited to witness quite possibly the most historic union of the Age, and numerous dances with his new sisters- and wasn’t that a thought? When he proposed the union to Evelyn, he only gave her family a passing thought. Then he had to receive her father’s blessing, which still left a sour taste in his mouth, feeling like he had gone to her father to bargain for her more than anything else, but what was done was done. 

There were also her siblings and what were now his nieces and nephews. Little Cynthia had only been in his presence for a minute, but in that time, she had asked several uncomfortable questions, most revolving around the idea of new cousins for her. She never stopped long enough for him to answer, and inquiries about him and Evelyn poured from her mouth. Thankfully, Haleira found her again and quickly drew the little girl’s attention. The former sentinel was utterly enamored with the ‘small human.’ As the Ancient Elves were originally spirits who took a physical form and were immortal, physical reproduction through children was not only technically unnecessary to sustain the population but also incredibly rare. Haleira had been mesmerized by the elves journeying to New Elvhenan, and Cynthia was the first human child she had ever met. Thankfully, Cynthia appeared to have a short attention span and was quickly swept up in the absolute whirlwind Haleira was. 

Cynthia’s questions about children lingered even as Solas headed towards the suite he and Evelyn had been given in the Grand Cathedral for the night. He had never considered the idea of children, not in any serious capacity. Most Elvhen didn’t, as children were not as necessary to them as they were to mortals. He did not want to have a child simply to ‘validate’ his marriage with Evelyn to the people of Thedas, as if validation was needed. 

Besides, he would not lay with Evelyn. She did not want him. How could she? After everything he had done, his lies, betrayal, and foolish, destructive decisions, he had now taken her chance to marry someone she truly cared for. He did not think it unreasonable not to want to lay with a woman who despised him, who, with every touch, would surely wish she were somewhere- anywhere else.

Still, there were bigger things on his mind, for tomorrow, he would tie her to him with spirit magic for the Elvhen wedding, perverting one of the most important ceremonies of his culture by binding a woman to him who likely held little to no affection for him. Since the Ancient Elves had no need to reproduce to keep up the population or to carry on titles, they had never married for politics. They had only ever married for love, and when one lived forever, to bind oneself to another was an ultimate declaration of commitment and devotion. It also made the sundering of that bond all the more poignant, like with Elgar’nan and Mythal. Even though Solas had despised Elgar’nan and had not understood what Mythal had ever seen in him, even he had been stunned when she destroyed Elgar’nan’s engagement gift, ornaments of indescribable beauty that she had one for thousands of years. The ritual to sunder a bond was also agonizing, which only showed how poisonous their love had turned. 

Solas had changed his original plans, sparing the larger world because he couldn’t bring himself to make the same mistake again. His intellect was one of his most prized traits, and trying to alter the Veil a third time, after the disasters of its creation and attempted destruction with Corypheus, was not the mark of intelligence. Now, instead of dooming the world, he was dooming one of the people who changed his entire outlook on life, spending the rest of her days tied to the man responsible for most of the suffering in her life.

Evelyn had retired from the event about fifteen minutes before he had. Her handmaiden Nirasha had followed at her heels. Some Orlesian noble he had been speaking to had noticed and made a crass comment about her preparing for their wedding night. Solas had barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and worse. Evelyn likely didn’t want to be vulnerable in his presence. She had been so numerous times, and look at what he had done to her. 

When he entered the suite, he saw Evelyn sitting at the vanity, wiping her eyes with a rag to remove her makeup. The room was filled with burning candles and Andrastian imagery, which she no doubt hated. The carpet was bright red, and the large bed was covered in scarlet pillows and a golden sunburst on the crimson comforter. There was a view of the harbor in Val Royeaux, and Solas could see all the lights in the city from those continuing the festivities elsewhere. 

Evelyn wore a dark blue silk pajama set with long pants and a loose button-down, long-sleeved shirt. Her hair was styled in a simpler bun than the one she usually wore. It was odd, but he had never seen her with her hair down. Solas didn’t think nobles from Ostwick had any strict rules about how women wore their hair. Then again, he had decades to determine if it was a cultural or personal choice. She looked up at his reflection in the mirror. 

“Everything alright, Solas?” She asked, which made him realize he had been staring at her from the doorway like an idiot. 

“Yes, I am fine.” He said, closing the door behind him. 

Evelyn pointed around the room. “The changing screen is over there, and the bathroom is through that door.” She scrubbed at her face more vigorously, smudges of her eyeliner clinging stubbornly to her skin. “Do you have a preference for which side of the bed?”

He was stunned by how casually she was acting before he remembered her noble upbringing. She had likely been prepared for this her entire life. Besides, would she truly let her anxieties show around him after how he betrayed her? Doubtful.

“No,” Solas said, stepping behind the changing screen to change into his sleep clothes. 

“Solas?” She asked, hesitation creeping into her voice. Solas looked at her silhouette. 

“Yes?” She was quiet momentarily, and he saw her fiddle with the rag. “Can I practice my vows with you? I just want to make sure I have the pronunciation right.” 

Solas took a breath to steel himself. When he told her to begin, and he heard her speak the language of his people, he felt as though a fist had squeezed around his heart. Because the elves had come from all over Thedas to join him, he had heard Elvhen spoken with a dozen different accents clinging to it. He had never heard the Ostwick accent embrace the language of his people, and to listen to her voice caress his ears was both wonderful and terrible as Evelyn made promises he knew to be false: that she gave herself freely, without pressure, that she trusted him to guard her heart, that she loved him.

In his weakest moments, he had imagined her voicing similar sentiments. He had developed a fondness for Evelyn throughout the Inquisition. It had taken root quicker than he’d like to admit and grew far beyond his control. She always came to him with questions, not all academic; sometimes, she merely inquired about his preferences. Evelyn had once entered the Rotunda with a bowl of fruit along with her request for stories, and then the next time she did so, the selection had been refined to those he had picked over, along with an absurd amount of strawberries. The little red fruits made several appearances in his imagination, but never in his most selfish fantasies had he imagined her saying Elvhen wedding vows.

It was an agonizing, beautiful thing. 

Once she was done, Solas took a moment to compose himself, trying not to get lost in a world where the circumstances were different. “Your pronunciation is wonderful. You’ve learned well,” he said, stepping out from the changing screen. She had clearly paid attention whenever he spoke Elvhen on their journeys.  Evelyn was tugging the bed's blankets back and tossing all the unnecessary decorative pillows into a corner. 

“Thank you. I was worried about that. Haleira helped me a little during my fittings, but I appreciate you indulging me.” She said. Evelyn turned to look at all the candles in the room and sighed in annoyance. Solas held up a hand. 

“I will take care of them,” He said. 

She hesitated for a moment before climbing into the bed. Once she was settling, Solas joined her and, with a thought, extinguished all the candles. His superior night vision allowed him to see her startle ever so slightly before she laid back amongst the pillows. Even though they had shared a tent numerous times and spent a few nights pressed together for warmth or comfort, there was something much more intimate about sharing an actual bed, even if it was big enough for four people.

“Good night, Solas,” Evelyn said, turning away from him. 

He wanted to reach out to her. Laying beside her again, for the first time in years, made him want to pull her into his arms. Before the Inquisition, he had gone thousands of years without touch, even longer without a friendly touch. Sure, Bull would occasionally clap his shoulder after a fight, or Dorian would playfully nudge him as they bantered. Still, Evelyn was the first person in millennia to embrace him once he returned to Skyhold after losing Wisdom. Solas had almost collapsed weeping into her arms in Skyhold’s courtyard. Solas had lost one of his oldest friends to the world he had unwittingly created and then to be embraced by another who wanted to help and heal him. He had buried his face in Evelyn’s neck and took a few shaky breaths, but he didn’t break down. She had given him his space after that, seemingly not wanting to pressure him. Once he didn’t reject her company, things returned to how they were. 

Only they hadn’t been the same. Evelyn Trevelyan, a human noblewoman, not even a mage, had almost died trying to save his friend. He remembered healing her back, bleeding and blistering from a lightning whip, and she had spent the entire time insisting she was fine and to help Wisdom, but the moment he saw his friend in its corrupted form, he knew it was truly beyond saving. Still, Evelyn had helped return his friend to its original form even after spending many months killing demons. She had always approached him with kindness and an open mind. 

He had cared about her before. She had become a friend, but seeing her nearly die trying to save Wisdom made her mind shatteringly real. She was real, which made them all real. That first embrace seemed to unlock the floodgates for casual acts of physical affection; a playful nudge before asking if he thought she could make a jump to reach a shard, a hand on his shoulder as she leaned over him to see what he was studying and so many hugs when she was excited or cracking under the pressure of being seen as a leader and the second coming of the people’s messiah. 

She had been so open with him emotionally and willing to gift him with her touch. Now, she offered neither, and it was all his fault. 

“Goodnight, Evelyn.” He said, rubbing his wedding band before slipping into the Fade

Chapter Text

Evelyn woke the following day to Nirasha gently shaking her shoulder. She resisted the urge to burrow into the soft mattress and warm blankets. The sun shone through the window, and the stained glass at the top created a kaleidoscope effect on the ground. She could hear servants and Chantry mothers going about their mornings just outside the door. 

"My Lady, I've brought your breakfast. I'll prepare the bath while you eat so we can be ready to go to Revas'an by lunch." Nirasha said, which made Evelyn fully snap awake. 

She sat up and turned, only to see Solas's side of the bed made and no evidence of his presence. Reaching under the covers, she felt his spot barely held any remaining warmth.

"Lord Fen'Harel said he wanted to give you privacy and that he had to speak with his people," Nirasha said, reaching for the covers before flinching back and looking at Evelyn anxiously. 

Evelyn immediately realized why Nirasha was hesitating and threw the blankets off herself, revealing her fully clothed form. "Nothing happened, Nirasha. Solas didn't hurt me; he didn't touch me the whole night," she said, reaching up and tugging her hair tie from her bun as she got out of bed and went to the table with her breakfast. 

Evelyn's hair fell in long golden waves that reached her lower back. She never wore her hair down around others except for a select few. Nirasha, after Evelyn lost her arm, was forced to be one of them. She couldn't put her hair up in her preferred braided bun with only one hand. As a result, Evelyn had to let the young elven woman brush and do her hair, something Evelyn despised. She remembered the first month of having Nirasha brush and style her hair, how her heart pounded, how short her breath grew, and how her fingers dug into the chair so hard her knuckles turned white. No matter how much she told herself that Nirasha wouldn't hurt her, her body had been tense like the snake Varric named her, a viper ready to strike. 

After a year of having her hair brushed and styled by Nirasha every day and night, Evelyn was no longer subconsciously preparing for an attack. She began digging into her breakfast while she heard Nirasha prepare her bath. Evelyn barely tasted her food, stabbing her eggs with a fork. She finally spoke, looking down at her rings and watching the sapphire sparkle in the sunlight. 

"Thank you, Nirasha," Evelyn said, looking at her handmaiden. 

The young elf looked over as she turned off the faucet in the tub. Plumbing was common in cities like Val Royeaux and Ostwick but not so in the country. Those days in Haven had given Evelyn a whole new appreciation for the comforts of city living. 

"What for?" Nirasha asked, uncorking a bottle and splashing some fragrant oil into the tub.

"Staying with me," Evelyn said, smiling. "You've been with me since Haven, stayed throughout the Inquisition, and even went back to Ostwick with me after I lost my arm. You clothed me, bathed me, and even wrote letters for me when my writing was still intelligible. Now I'm getting married, and you're still coming with me." Evelyn laughed. "You don't call me 'your Worship' or 'Inquisitor.' You didn't give up on me during those first few months, even when I was so frustrated with everything." She looked at Nirasha with sorrowful eyes. "Nirasha, I am so sorry I ever yelled at you during those days. You didn't deserve that."

The first couple of months without her dominant hand had been horrible. Relearning how to write was one of the most demeaning things to her, along with actually needing help getting dressed, bathing, and so many other self-care tasks. Evelyn had snapped at Nirasha a few times even though she was only trying to help. The poor girl hadn't deserved that. She stayed anyway.

Nirasha stepped over to Evelyn and took her hand. "There's nothing to forgive, my lady. You did so much for Thedas and for me and suffered so much in doing so. You never gave up on us; I felt you deserved the same courtesy. I serve you because I want to serve you. When the elves started leaving for New Elvhenan, many didn't understand my choice to stay, even after all you'd done for everyone. 'Why keep serving a human master?'" Nirasha rolled her eyes. "Me choosing to be a servant doesn't make me compliant or less than them. I suppose I got lucky and learned what it meant to serve with pride. I found a purpose in helping you, Lady Trevelyan. You helped me and became my friend, so I will stay with you for as long as you will allow."

Evelyn squeezed Nirasha's hand as tears gathered in her eyes. "Thank you for staying with me, helping me, and being my friend." 

Nirasha smiled in return and went back to finishing the bath's preparations. As Evelyn cleared the last of her food, she couldn't help but comment, "A friend could call me Evelyn."

"You are correct, my lady. I could." Though she was facing away, Evelyn could hear the smirk in her voice. "Come now, before the bath gets cold."

Evelyn was once again scrubbed to within an inch of her life. The water was still pleasantly warm and smelled like amber and bergamot. Nirasha had clearly used Evelyn's favorite oils. Evelyn's hair was thoroughly washed and brushed for a long while. Her golden locks were then twisted into a simple bun for the journey to Revas'an. 

"Is everything packed for the journey? Are we still on time?" Evelyn asked once she was fully dressed.

"Yes, as I understand it, Lord Fen'harel's people are guiding groups through the crossroads even now. However, I am also to inform you that your mother, Henry, and Sophia will be returning to Ostwick instead of observing the Elvhen ceremony." 

"Unsurprising," Evelyn said. She was rather glad that her mother and brother would be skipping out on such a sensitive ceremony. Sophia deciding to leave as well was a bit surprising; though she was a Chantry Mother, Evelyn didn't think it would've stopped Sophia from observing an Elvhen wedding ceremony. She was also stunned that Sophia wouldn't say anything, not even say goodbye. Evelyn sighed and pushed any feelings of hurt down. "Ready to go?"

"Of course, my lady."

Evelyn's Elvhen wedding attire was even more elaborate than her Andrastian wedding dress. Haleira had said that Elvhen wedding outfits were always elaborate, which was true across cultures, but even so, Evelyn's dress felt like it was in a league of its own. Even if it wasn't what it once was, a dress from a culture that once had 'spires of crystal' must look like something one could only conceive of in dreams, especially if the bride were marrying one of the Evanuris. Haleira certainly delivered, and no matter what anyone said, Evelyn did not twirl in it when it was finished. 

It was composed almost entirely of pleated cream and orange silk, making her look like an embodiment of the sun. In fact, her dress glowed, not metaphorically, but literally. She could feel a slight warmth from the rune that had been traced on her back. Evelyn had practically gotten lost in all the silk the first time she tried it on. It was sleeveless, and streaks of blue came in towards the end of the skirt. She wore a cape made of the same material that flowed gracefully behind her. The dress and cape sparkled in the light. Her high elvhen collar was gold, studded with sapphires, and stretched out to cover her shoulders. There was a slit between her breasts, showing off her figure along with the tightly cinched waist with the help of a belt that matched her collar. Haleira had enjoyed modifying the base of her elaborate Elvhen gown to show off her human form. Shimmering gold footwraps encased her feet.

The former Inquisitor's eyes were lined as they always were, and golden glittery eyeshadow covered her lids along with tiny blue stones underlining the wings of her eyeliner. Her lips were painted a nude color, perhaps the most understated thing about her whole appearance. Evelyn's hair was braided and then wrapped in a bun, with Prophet's Laurel, pink roses, and white craspedia flowers woven in. She wore sapphire chandelier earrings that matched her ring. Typically, elvhen nobles had multiple piercings in their ears as a status symbol, but Haleira hadn't suggested piercing her ears. Evelyn wouldn't have minded, though her mother may have had a stroke if she one day came home with three new piercings in each ear. Perhaps another day. 

Solas stood beside her outside the doors that led to the temple courtyard. Elvhen couples walked down the aisle together, making the first journey as a bonded pair as a united front. The walls of the temple were covered in mosaics depicting various spirits. Evelyn hadn't seen many spirits in their 'normal' nondemonic forms. It felt a little educational, almost like she was in a museum as well as a temple. 

She glanced at Solas, the man who was her husband and was about to become her husband again- double husband? Husband 2 ? Regardless, Solas was also dressed impeccably for the event. He was dressed in black and a dark blue elvhen suit with shimmering silver detailing. The elvhen collar was silver and studded with citrine, and the underside of his black cape revealed a bright blue and purple, starry night sky. The stars twinkled, and Evelyn could've sworn they moved. Solas had billowing sleeves that cinched tight at the wrist thanks to silver and citrine wrist guards. He had a white wolf fur pelt strapped across his shoulder, and silver footwraps had a line of citrines going up the front.

The man was impossibly handsome. His eyes were lined silver and dusted with dark blue eyeshadow. His ears each had multiple dangling, spiked earrings linked with tiny chains that matched the rest of his body's jewels. The top of each spike, where the earring entered his ear, had another orange gem. He held a wolf skull with a black wolf pelt fastened to the back of it. 

Evelyn could see the balancing imagery between them—two halves of a whole, night and day. Her sapphires tied her to the night, just as Solas's citrines tied him to the day. Although she didn't think day and night were giant symbols of Elvhen weddings, Haleira had shown her sketches of other Elvhen wedding gowns she had seen. Wedding attire was simply supposed to be elaborate and grand; there wasn't really a limiting tradition like the Andrastian wedding gown must be white. 

There was a statement in every thread of both of their clothes for the ceremony that would truly bind Fen'Harel and the Herald of Andraste; the magic effects in their clothes were a statement of open support of magic, the number of gems displayed wealth and power, and Evelyn's wearing Prophet's Laurel and Elvhen footwraps showed that the Herald of Andraste was embracing Elvhen tradition even more so than simply marrying the Dread Wolf. More thought had been put into their outfits that Evelyn had put into her Andrastian dress. She'd honestly nodded along for most of the design process. At the risk of sounding spoiled because the dress was so much more elaborate, she liked her Elvhen dress more, even if she did feel a little unsure about wearing clothing from a culture still subjugated in many parts of the world, even though she was marrying Solas. 

"Are you ready?" Evelyn asked, finally finding the courage to speak.

"I am." He said, looking down at the wolf skull and gently tracing it with his thumb. He looked at Evelyn. "Are you sure about this?"

Instead of getting angry or frustrated, Evelyn just sighed. "Solas, I was born for this. Securing a political marriage, no matter how unorthodox, is the the reason why I was born. By the time my parents had Penelope, the future of House Trevelyan was reasonably secure. The rest of us were spread our Father's influence. I'm doing just that by marrying you, the first human woman to marry an Elvhen noble. I was raised for this, and I never once rejected my duty to marry well and marry for politics." She frowned at Solas, concerned. "Are you sure about this? You seem worried about something. What aren't you telling me?"

Solas sighed. "I..." he grimaced. 

Despite her worry, Evelyn didn't want to give him a chance to hide. "I ask nothing of you in this marriage, Solas. Only that you speak to me honestly and truthfully, always. Can you promise me only that?"

His eyes were always sad, even more so in that moment. The piece of Evelyn that still saw him as her rock, protector, safe space, healer, advisor, and best friend wanted to embrace him just as she did after his return to Skyhold following the death of Wisdom. He'd always provided her with sound advice and the knowledge needed to calm her fears. When knowledge wasn't enough, he had lent an ear to her frustrations, the first to do so, before she trusted Dorian, Cole, and sometimes Bull enough with her anger. Even with other support systems, she always went to him first, especially when she was breaking down. During the Inquisition, she wanted to offer the same to him whenever he needed it, like with Wisdom. At the moment, she couldn't help but want to do so again, despite everything he had done.

"I will," Solas said, and Evelyn couldn't decide if she believed him or not with all that had happened. "I will ask the same of you as well. I-I never expected to marry, ever. Political marriages did not exist in Arlathan. When one is immortal, reproduction is not necessary, and there are other ways to form alliances. The binding ceremony we are about to do was only done by couples who truly wished to be devoted to each other. This... is not what it was intended to be."

Evelyn felt her heart clench, and she blinked rapidly to fight back tears. The true purpose of the ritual was a beautiful sentiment, especially for immortal beings. That Solas would desire to... pervert it, for lack of a better word. She gently gripped Solas's forearm. "Then why are we doing the binding if it's so against tradition for us not to be in love? I know I don't know everything the elves knew before your work in this age, but as far as I'm aware, even the Dalish didn't know about this binding ritual. Knowledge like that would've gotten out eventually, and humans would've hunted down 'demon-possessed' elves much more aggressively. Why not just have the Andrastian ceremony, perhaps a simpler Elvhen one, and let everyone else live in blissful ignorance?"

"To show those of my time that I am taking this alliance seriously and the lengths I will go to to ensure its stability," Solas said, placing his hand over hers. "You are not a bargaining chip or trophy of war. You will be my wife, and I will ensure that all those from my time will treat you as such. Some still have problems viewing the beings of this world as people, as I did. By doing this, I will make sure you are not treated as a shadow or prize but treated with the respect owed to you as my wife. If we find other pockets of immortals in the future, they will be able to sense our bond, which should keep them from casting you aside upon first meeting. This will pacify my people just as the Andrastian ceremony was to pacify yours."

Even though she was, technically, a bargaining chip, Solas was willing to twist the culture he adored, which had been perverted enough already by the hands of time, to make sure she was recognized as his wife in truth. It was an incredible gesture, and Evelyn wished it could erase everything and make them true friends again, but it couldn't. Too much had happened, so much left unsaid. Perhaps Solas didn't despise her, maybe he actually cared about her in some capacity, but Evelyn's trust was too broken, and she was too scared to ask. She wanted to trust him, but her brain kept telling her how stupid such an idea was. So much was happening so quickly; was now the time to have that conversation? She'd end up crying without a doubt and ruin all of Haleira's hard work on her makeup. 

"You want to find more elves like the sentinels?" Evelyn asked with a watery smile, gripping Solas's arm tighter. "I hope you'll take me with you. I've missed adventuring, not the end-of-the-world threats looming over our heads, but the discovery and excitement were a lot of fun."

Solas chuckled softly. "How could I deny a request from my wife?" he asked, putting the wolf skull and pelt on his head. 

Once upon a time, such talk would've made her cheeks flush. Now, her heart merely skipped a beat when he called her that. "Thank you for doing this," Evelyn said softly. "Now, let's get married again." 

"Just a moment," Solas said before gliding a glowing hand over her hair. When Evelyn raised a brow, Solas gave a tiny smile. "You hate roses."

Evelyn shook her head. "They're not bad, they're just-"

"Overdone," Solas said in sync with her. "I did not banish them; simply turned them blue so you'd tolerate them more."

Evelyn couldn't fight the smile even as she internally scolded herself. Why couldn't he make it easier to be wary of him? He just had to go and do something like that. She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and walked with him once the doors opened. 

The columns in the courtyard were wrapped in colorful flowers, and Evelyn saw several wisps floating about, curious as to what was happening. She saw her family members watching respectfully, and her nieces looked very excited, getting to view her in her dress. Haleira was sitting by Cynthia again, undoing a braid before beginning a new hairstyle. Evelyn noticed her old companions watching as well. Vivienne, Josephine, Dorian, Leliana (out of her chantry garb), and Varric were all watching with polite masks. Bull and Blackwall showed slight disapproval on their faces, whereas Cassandra and Sera wore theirs plainly. Cassandra was one of Solas's most vocal naysayers after everything was revealed, and her romantic heart meant she wanted Evelyn to marry for love. It was a kind sentiment, but one Evelyn never intended to go through with. Sera's expression needed no explanation, though Evelyn was surprised Sera had even shown up for the Elvhen ceremony, given the archer's issues with 'elfyness.' 

Abelas stood before them once they reached the end of the aisle. He wore his sentinel armor, and Evelyn was beginning to wonder if he owned any other clothes, seeing as she had never seen him wear anything else. Evelyn and Solas stood facing each other, her hand clasped in both of his. Abelas began the ceremony, Elvhen flowing smoothly off of his tongue. When Solas spoke his Elvhen vows, Evelyn couldn't help but reflect on the other times he spoke Elvhen, which was always on their journeys. She missed those days, living in the moment, not thinking too hard on Corypheus, simply adventuring with trusted companions. 

When it was her turn, Evelyn spoke a little slower to properly enunciate the foreign words and ensure her pronunciation was correct. Her heart pounded, anxiety creeping up her chest, worried about making a mistake. It was only when Solas squeezed her hand that she realized how tightly she'd been gripping his. She took a breath, relaxed her fingers, and finished the last few sentences without a single mistake. 

Abelas spoke again, raising his glowing hands. A distortion in the sky appeared, almost reminding her of a closed rift, except there was no green crack, just a wavy quality to the air that made it look like she was gazing at it underwater. Then, a tiny pinprick of green before a soft pink glow slipped through. It was composed of squiggly 'lines' that resembled wings and a tail. It had three little 'eyes' on top of its head. It flowed gracefully like a kite, looking around before lowering itself to examine Solas and Evelyn's clasped hands. This was the spirit that would help bind them together.

"Hurting, guilt, anger, sad but wanting to help and heal. Memories, good and bad, comfort, and pain." The familiar voice pierced Evelyn's heart, and she let out a shaky gasp. The spirit looked up at both of them. "I missed you both."

"Cole?" Evelyn whispered.

Chapter Text

Solas knew that a spirit of love would not come through to help form the spiritual bond between him and Evelyn as one did for all other unions in the past. But, even so, he had not expected Cole to arrive. The Spirit of Compassion had returned to the Fade after the Exalted Council, according to the few spies he’d managed to keep within the remains of the Inquisition after it had disbanded. He had not known what would come forward to lend its power for their union, but for it to be Cole... 

Taking in Cole’s spirit manifestation was wonderful. He had not seen the spirit’s true form, merely the image of the young man he portrayed. He recalled Evelyn’s immediate affection for the spirit upon meeting him at Skyhold. Endlessly curious about him and his abilities, Solas often saw her walking with Cole around Skyhold, speaking with him in a gentle tone and patiently answering any questions he had. Given her experience with small children, he wondered if she had ever seen the Spirit as a sixth nephew. 

He still had trouble conceiving of this new reality. Solas had five nephews now and three nieces. True, they would not be staying the night and would leave with their parents once the reception was over, but... would he have to do holiday shopping? Marrying Evelyn came with quite a few details he had not considered. There was nothing to make him regret his decision; it simply changed his life. There was a lot he had not thought of before he asked for her hand.

“You both want to help; you always do, just like I do,” Cole floated lower, examining their clasped hands more closely. 

“Sweet boy...” Evelyn whispered a familiar term of endearment for the spirit. Though spirits were genderless, strictly speaking, even Solas had fallen into the habit of referring to Cole as male even after he became more of a spirit. 

“It will be hard, so many secrets still kept, words left unspoken, but you will be alright.” Cole began to coil himself around their hands. There was no sensation of physical touch from the pink spirit. Cole was not in a physical form, but there was a feeling of warmth and comfort. “You are together again.” 

Once their former companion was completely wrapped around their hands, Abelas placed his own around theirs. He spoke in a low, monotone voice of their union, how they would now be tied together in a way that would never change no matter the distance between them. They would always be bound to one another. Though Evelyn’s culture was filled with marriages such as theirs, Solas’s culture had no such examples, and centuries of freedom fighting left a bitter taste in his mouth due to what he was doing to Evelyn. He would forever be grateful to her, but he was not ignorant of the sacrifice she was making, again, because of him. 

Cole emitted a blinding white light. Closing his eyes against the onslaught, Solas immediately felt a change within himself. It was not the immediate rushing of emotions that Elvhen couples of the past had described, nor could he sense a great burning energy that a bondmate was compared to. Many pairs could sense each other’s magic, but as Evelyn was not a mage, it was unsurprising that he did not feel any such energy from her.

But he did feel something. He felt a presence, a small but noticeable one. He sensed no anger, joy, or sadness from it, no feeling whatsoever, but it was there. He was no longer alone. Evelyn was there, a quiet, unassuming sensation within, but she was there, and Solas knew that no matter the distance, she always would be. He would never be alone again.

The bonding ceremony was a success!

He heard Evelyn’s labored breathing and saw that she had gone slightly pale. She was gripping his hand and shaking in a barely noticeable way. This was surely a new and unfamiliar experience for her, a woman who wasn’t a mage and with a severely limited amount of experience with magic.

He was still so astounded by the fact that the ritual successfully bound two truly different beings that he barely registered sealing their marriage with another brief, soft kiss. They both had to turn their heads slightly so that the wolf skull wouldn’t knock into Evelyn’s forehead, but they did it seamlessly enough. There was a polite round of applause, and Cole slipped out from their hands to glide around the event. 

Solas and Evelyn split up to speak with the various people attending their wedding, which is how he found himself dancing with his eldest niece. Valerie Trevelyan was the eldest daughter of Bann Trevelyan’s third son, Lysander. She had inherited her Fereldan mother’s brown hair and the trademark green eyes of the Trevelyan family. The girl was perfectly polite and played the part of a respectable young lady just starting to fully enter noble society. Solas couldn’t help but wonder who out of his new in-laws were being respectful because they truly accepted him and who were simply following the Trevelyan patriarch’s lead.

When the waltz ended and they stepped off the dance floor, Valerie dipped into a flawless curtsey. “Thank you for the dance, Uncle Solas. It was lovely to meet you.” 

Valerie walked over to her parents and Solas could see in her straight spine and slightly quick steps that she was chasing their approval. Based on her mother’s smile but her father’s distracted gaze towards Bann Trevelyan, it would appear to be a generational trend, chasing someone’s approval. Reports from his agent, who was to always remain within the Trevelyan household, revealed that the second son, Nathaniel, had never been removed from the line of succession despite being a mage. It was incredibly rare, especially considering the Bann’s numerous children. Of course, in light of no other offspring, some families do not go through the added paperwork of officially disowning a mage child, at least not until another child is born. Then the mage would be properly removed from all inheritance and often officially disowned.

Benjamin Trevelyan did not do that, which was a slightly sore point for Lysander, it would seem, who was constantly yearning to be given more responsibility. He likely hoped his father would make him heir instead of his older brother Cedric, but unfortunately, the eldest son already had three sons of his own, two of whom had grown to manhood already. Lysander was chasing the impossible, and it would seem his daughter had learned from him as well. 

While enjoying some frilly cake (instead of a traditional wedding cake, he had chosen frilly cakes to make it easier for Evelyn to eat with her missing arm), he overheard several remarks about his new marriage, both towards him and Evelyn.

“The Old Stallion of Ostwick has finally married off his youngest mare.”

“The Dread Wolf has finally found his she wolf.”

“It’s like Andraste and Shartan all over again.”

Solas even overheard his wife speaking to her Great Aunt Lucille. Both were enjoying a tiny cake near a table so Evelyn could eat.

“He is intelligent, handsome, accomplished, and fought by my side. What more could I ask for?” She said, smiling at the elderly woman. Her tone was just like any other she used when at formal events.

“Well, if he is so fantastic then why haven’t I met him? What, do you think I will say something old?” Lucille narrowed her eyes. 

“No, I think you would be fine.”

“‘Would you like some frilly cake, magic elf man?’ What do you think I’m going to say?” Lucille asked, putting a hand on her hip while several nearby elves either smothered their laughter or watched in abject confusion. 

“I am not keeping my husband from you because you are old,” Evelyn said slowly while Solas fought to keep a straight face.

“I am a person, not out of season fashion,” Lucille said, taking a bite of her cake.

“We’ve just been busy and we’re on the other side of the continent from you. I promise, we’ll come see you and Great Uncle Albert.” Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “You’re going to act correctly though, right?”

“Of course, I just want to meet the man who’s married my grandniece,” Lucille’s eyes lit up. “We can have turkey! Wait, that’s not insulting, is it?”

Evelyn chuckled. “You can give turkey to elves, it’s weird that you think you can’t.”

“I don’t know. Your generation can be easy to offend sometimes.” Lucille said, waving her hand.

“Right, we can’t handle anything,” Evelyn said in a deadpan tone of voice.

Before Solas could get swept up in the fact that he was quite literally the first generation, he heard a familiar voice right next to him. 

“Mister Solas? I uh... I mean, Lord Fen’Harel?” Solas turned and saw a familiar red-headed dwarf. 

“‘Solas’ is fine, Dagna.” He said, giving the familiar face a gentle smile. He had enjoyed his conversations with the arcanist at Skyhold when he was not out in the field or consumed with his own research. She was a unique person, one he could admit he had missed when he left, despite their infrequent talks. 

“Ok, great!” She grinned up at him. “I don’t really know what your country’s stance is on immigration, especially for someone not married to an elf, but I was really hoping I could move here.”

Solas looked at her wide-eyed. That was unexpected and not at all what he’d thought he’d have to discuss at his wedding. “May I ask why?”

Dagna’s smile widened. “This is obviously the hub of ancient magic. Especially now that the war is over, a lot of mages are gonna want to come here. It’s the only place in southern Thedas that openly practices magic freely, even after the Divine’s reforms. I would need at least a month to tie up loose ends where I am now, but I’d love to continue my research here. I’d basically do what I did at Skyhold, just here, if you let me.” 

Solas hummed. “I would welcome your knowledge and enthusiasm, Dagna. I trust you would obey our laws during your stay?” He was sure that she would, he simply had to ask.

Dagna nodded. “Of course. I don’t suppose you have a book or... at least a pamphlet for newcomers?” She asked sheepishly.

“I will have something sent to you and we can work something out, I am sure. You are welcome in New Elvhenan.” Solas said, and just then he realized he would likely have several people eventually coming to Revas’an for freedom, not just elves. 

“Heart hammering, blood rushing from her face. She doesn’t want to do that, it won’t happen but anything could happen.” Cole’s familiar voice appeared over Solas’s right shoulder, startling Dagna. 

“Who would you like to help, Cole?” Solas asked, setting his cake down. 

“Not me, you. You always helped her.” Cole’s three eyestalks turned towards the dance floor. “The Bann is worried for his daughter. His family was nearly destroyed, and he reminds her of it. She doesn’t want to have to do what he suggests.”

Solas then saw Evelyn dancing with her father. Their steps were smooth and poised, but Solas could see the tension in their shoulders and the color fading from her face. Her father was speaking rapidly and quietly, so much so that Solas couldn’t hear what was being spoken over the countless other voices and the music being played. 

“Excuse me,” Solas said to Dagna and Cole before effortlessly making his way to the dance floor. Evelyn saw him approach and gave him the same smile she gave everyone else. Solas nodded to his new father-in-law and held out his hand. “May I steal a dance with my wife?”

The Bann nodded and passed Evelyn’s hand into the elven lord’s. “Remember what I taught you.” He said to Evelyn before making his way to one of the food tables. 

Solas pulled Evelyn into a dance that she followed reflexively. “Are you alright?” He asked. He hadn’t been able to sense her feelings through the bond. Perhaps he never would or perhaps he would only be able to sense extreme emotions. 

“I’m fine.” She said, though she squeezed his hand tightly. “He was simply imparting a last bit of fatherly wisdom before we go our separate ways.”

Solas didn’t pry, but he’d be sure to keep an eye on them both.

When it was time for the foreign guests to go, Solas and Evelyn were saying their goodbyes and thanking everyone for being at their wedding. Solas received several subtle threats from his former companions in the Inquisition, though Evelyn met each one with a smile and a soft glare. Dagna’s goodbye lasted a bit longer as she was already asking questions and spouting off theories that she’d love to explore once she was able to move to Revas’an. Evelyn seemed delighted at the prospect of a former Inquisition member joining them soon. Eventually the dwarven woman rejoined Sera, who was eager to leave as soon as possible. 

The old Bann shook his hand and even Lord Albert seemed to be aware enough to say “happy days to you, Shoelace,” before he resumed bickering with his wife about how a few bites of braised duck was not going to kill him.

Cynthia was not so eager to leave. She hugged Evelyn and then wrapped her arms around Solas’s waist. He immediately tensed up, unsure of how to react. He finally gave her shoulder a gentle pat. He had very little experience with small children, let alone one who called him Uncle. 

“I am sure we will see each other again,” he said as Cynthia pulled away with shining eyes. 

“But I want to see more of Revas’an...” she pouted.

“I’m sure we can schedule a visit. Besides, I’ll be home for Wintersend.” Evelyn said, smiling.

“Uncle Solas, will you come too?” Cynthia asked, looking up at him. 

Solas was about to say Wintersend was for family before realizing he was family. Marrying Evelyn made him part of a very large family. “I will mark my calendar,” Solas said, making the little girl cheer and hug him again before she was finally pulled back to her parents. 

When all the foreign guests were gone, it was time to leave the temple and walk the streets of Revas’an back to Fen’amelan Keep. Evelyn stood beside him by the temple doors, attempting to check her hair in one of the reflective mosaics. Finally, Haleira walked up and helped her, fixing small bits of hair that had come out of place from all the dancing.

“How do I look, do I look alright?” Evelyn asked.

All at once Solas felt like a fool. Two weddings and he had yet to compliment his new wife. He had not been rude, of course, but was he truly so consumed with his own thoughts that he couldn’t give his wife a compliment on their wedding day?

“You look beautiful.” He said, looking at the way the blue roses stood out amongst golden tresses and matched the sapphires scattered over her body, how the dress made her look like the embodiment of the sun, but unlike Elgar’nan, who only blinded and burned, Evelyn brought warmth and a guiding light for all.  ‘You are beautiful.’ He thought to himself.

Once they were ready, two priests opened the doors of the Temple. The crowd was massive and numerous guards were standing against the tide to prevent swarming. Solas held out his arm in front of him, and Evelyn placed her hand on his wrist, as in the Ancient Elvhen practice. Numerous sentinels marched out in two lines, one on either side of them. Once they had walked down the grey stone steps of the temple enough so that they could provide enough space ahead, Solas and Evelyn began their descent. 

The crowd roared and cheered, throwing flower petals as the couple was escorted through the people. Evelyn gave them a warm smile, and Solas saw the remains of her left arm twitch every now and then. It was like she wanted to wave to them but then remembered that she couldn’t. Once Dagna moved to Revas’an, he would work with her to make a suitable replacement for Evelyn. 

As they drew closer to the Keep, a small elven boy, no older than seven, stuck his small hand out towards Evelyn from between the adult spectators’ legs. In his hand was a small, white periwinkle flower. Smiling, Evelyn removed her hand from Solas’s wrist and gently took the flower from the small boy. 

“Ma serannas,” Evelyn said, tucking it behind her ear. The little boy grinned excitedly, showing he was missing a front bottom tooth, and he ran back into the crowd screaming to his mother that he had given a flower to the new lady. She then placed her hand back on Solas’s wrist and they continued forward. 

Evelyn may not technically be one of the People, but Solas could see she cared for them, as she cared for many others. The smile she gave the boy was not the performative one she’d been giving for the last few days. It was a genuine thing that made her green eyes light up. Solas only hoped that many more would follow. He did not have to be the cause, he simply hoped she could find some happiness and fulfillment in New Elvhenan. 

When they reached the top of the steps, Solas lowered his arm and turned towards the people with Evelyn. She was his wife now, the Lady of Revas’an and the woman who would spend the rest of her life by his side despite everything he had done. She had sacrificed so much and continued to do so. He would see to it that she would no longer have to do so. She deserved to rest.

He felt her fingers brush his and he turned to her, concerned. Evelyn was still smiling, facing the crowd as a crisp early spring breeze caressed her face.

“Come on, they’ll love it.” She whispered to him. 

Realizing what she wanted, Solas hesitated for only a moment before interlocking their fingers together and raising their joined hands into the sky. The crowd erupted and Solas saw a few flares of magic being sent up into the sky in celebration. Still, he was wary for the days to come. Once the festivities were over and they were to begin the rest of their lives, how would everything play out now that they had no active war to fight? It was easy to celebrate the nobles when they were actively being heroes and paraded about in lavish finery for the history books. But what about after the classic ‘the end’ of a fairytale? Then what?

Chapter Text

By the time the speeches were over and they were finally within the large gates of the main entrance to the keep, the sun was close to setting. The sky was streaked with pink and orange, and Evelyn could still hear the people continuing to celebrate outside. She removed her hand from Solas’s and breathed, trying to gather herself after the celebration and revelry from outside. She gazed at the high walls and arches that made up Elvhen architecture. She could see the resemblance to Solas’s old fortress in the mountains that she had seen over a year ago during the Exalted Council. 

Nirasha approached, having left the reception earlier to direct the maids in unpacking Evelyn’s belongings so that everything would be ready by the time she reached the keep. “My lady, everything has been put away. If you’d like, I can arrange for a small dinner for you in your room.”

Evelyn was proud of Nirasha at that moment. From the first moment she'd met her, the elven woman had been timid and shy, easily cowed and quick to flee. While she was by no means boisterous, Nirasha had developed a sense of confidence strong enough for her to go into a new estate full of other servants she'd never met and take charge for the woman she served. Nirasha may not have been charging into a dragon's den, but it still took no small amount of bravery for the small elf to do that.

After nodding to Nirasha, Evelyn turned to Solas, who was speaking to Abelas and a few other elves that she assumed were members of his council. 

“Will you be joining me for dinner?” She asked. It was not a demand or an expectation that he would eat with her; she simply wanted to know if Solas would join her. She could see the surprised look in his eyes through the holes of his wolf skull mask before his face slipped back into an expression of neutrality. 

“I have a few matters I must attend to, but yes. I will join you.” 

Evelyn nodded her head. “I’m going to change. I will see you soon, Solas," She said before following Nirasha to her new chambers. A few guards followed her. As they walked, she idly wondered if she’d get her own specified guard as opposed to simply being followed by any one of the Keep’s Knights. Many royals had their own personal guard, and though it may not technically be her title, marrying Solas had effectively made Evelyn a queen. 

Her new title also meant she’d likely spend a great deal of time with Haleira so she could be outfitted with numerous Elvhen style dresses. Though the designer already had her measurements, designing a wedding dress was a lot different from designing any other dress, and considering Evelyn was the new Lady of the Keep in a country that was not her’s by birth, she’d need a new wardrobe. Evelyn was also built differently from an elf, so more fittings to make sure everything looked right would be necessary. 

She would also need to study New Elvhenan. While she’d seen plenty of the geography firsthand during the Inquisition, she hadn’t spent any time studying the settlements throughout the area, save Sahrnia, as that had been the only one relevant. While she had, of course, gone to Halamshiral, she had not taken the time to study the area’s economy or other subjects. Solas had chased the lions across the Waking Sea and the Lake of Celestine, giving him a sizable amount of land and connection to the water for ease of trade. She suspected once more Eluvians were fixed and working, then that would be the primary source of travel and trade, but until then, having access to the water was invaluable. 

Once they were inside her and Solas’s chambers, the guards left Evelyn and Nirasha alone. The new Lady of New Elvhenan looked around the room, taking in the numerous bookshelves and the view outside the large windows. There was a small table next to them, where she could already envision Solas and her sharing meals. Public appearances were expected, and she could already envision spending time with Solas both in and out of her new home. It was what would happen in private that she found herself wondering about. The refusal to consummate the marriage still stung. She did not expect their marriage to be like her parents', two people who were friendly at best or at each other's throats at worst, but continuing to have children long past what was expected. 

She had expected, at the very least, no matter who her husband was, to spend their nights together until a child was born. Evelyn had always anticipated motherhood, and since she became an aunt at only five years old, she had plenty of experience with children, changing, rocking, feeding, and teaching them. How many times had frightened nieces and nephews climbed into her bed after a nightmare or during a thunderstorm? She couldn’t say the prospect of motherhood was something that excited or terrified her; it was simply an expected inevitability. Some days, she looked forward to it —the thought of small hands clinging to her own and singing lullabies to a child she had helped create. Other days, she dreaded the possibility of failing, of messing up, of not being enough for her possible child. 

But Solas said they would not have children. He had said that he would not lie with her solely for the sake of duty, clearly hinting at a preference for romantic feelings before bedding her, and while she understood that she couldn’t help but feel personally slighted and hurt. If her parents, who practically hated each other at this point, could have eleven children, and Solas refused to bed her even once? Was she truly so unappealing to him? 

Looking into the mirror as she sat at the vanity, she would never call herself the beautiful woman in Thedas, but she was beautiful. She had long, thick, golden hair, and her bright green, almond-shaped eyes set under thick, dark blonde eyebrows and long lashes were always said to be one of her most striking features. Despite the loss of her arm and a decrease in muscle because of that, she still had a stunning hourglass figure that even Haleira, an elf from the times of Arlathan, had praised. 

Beyond that was intelligent, capable, and clever, but apparently, Solas couldn’t stomach the idea of bedding her.

As Nirasha took her hair down from the complicated updo, Evelyn did her best to put such thoughts out of her mind. She watched as her handmaiden took a cloth and gently wet it in a nearby basin of water before handing it to her. Evelyn took it with a quiet thank you. Nirasha understood Evelyn’s desire for any independence she could get after her injury, and sometimes even simply removing her makeup by herself was enough to make her feel good.

The lack of her signature eyeliner made Evelyn feel a bit more vulnerable, but she wasn’t about to sleep with it on for the rest of her life. Though she had done so plenty of times when on the road, and because she had often shared a tent with Solas, it meant that he had been treated to the sight of her with smudged eye makeup all over her face several times. The first time it had happened, he had made a dry remark about a raccoon stumbling into their tent, which had made her laugh when she realized what had happened. 

She noticed that the elven woman was placing the blue roses she pulled from her hair on the vanity next to a few of her perfume bottles.Evelyn couldn’t help but gently stroke the petals of one. It was truly a beautiful flower. The fact that Solas not only remembered her dislike of roses but also remembered her favorite color and changed the roses in her hair on his own accord. Why did he have to be so sweet after hurting her so badly? She could never trust any small gesture from him now. Sure, she trusted him enough not to be intentionally cruel to her; he never enjoyed things like that, but there was apparently very little she knew about him.

“I’d like to change into my sleeping clothes. There’s no point in wearing a whole new outfit just for dinner," Evelyn said while Nirasha brushed out her hair and twisted it up into a simple bun.

“Of course, my lady,” Nirasha said. Evelyn watched her approach a door in one of the corners, likely a walk-in closet. That would surely take some getting used to, seeing her clothes hung alongside Solas’s own. Though she couldn’t see it from where she sat, there was something so domestic about the image in her mind that made Evelyn’s chest feel tight.

Once she was in a simple nightgown, Nirasha curtsied. Evelyn rolled her eyes at the formality, and the younger woman’s lips twitched up slightly at the look on her lady’s face. “I will head down to the kitchens and enquire about dinner for you and Lord Fen’Harel," Nirasha said, holding the folded wedding dress in her arms, which was to be taken to storage somewhere.

“Thank you, Nirasha," Evelyn paused. “I am unsure if Solas has any other plans but the leftovers from the wedding? See to it that they are given to the staff to enjoy, or perhaps the people outside. No need for the food to go to waste." The food from the wedding would spoil by the time she and Solas were due to have dinner, but she saw no reason to throw it all out.

“I’ll see to it, Lady Trevelyan.” Nirasha bowed her head before leaving Evelyn alone in her new chambers. 

Evelyn took the time to explore a little, peeking into the closet to see all her dresses organized as well as her jewelry box sitting on a shelf alongside a few veils and hairnets she owned. On the shelves beneath that were her shoes, organized by style. Venturing back to the vanity, she opened up a drawer and found her makeup and various brushes. It was odd, seeing all of her belongings in a room that was so clearly Solas’s, with all the books on magic. She was surprised by the blank walls, but perhaps he had yet to decide on what he would want to see every night? Maybe he had some other place for his paintings. 

One of the bedside tables had a small pile of paper and a fountain pen beside it, and while Evelyn was curious, she wasn’t about to snoop through her husband’s belongings. It would not be a good impression, and it was extremely rude. However, it did tell her which side of the bed Solas favored. Combing over the texts he had, Evelyn found a few books on Elvhen culture and history. Most of his texts were on advanced magic, and though Evelyn had studied some and learned a lot in her travels, she knew she’d need at least five other books to reference in order to get through one of these master level novels on the intricacies of magic. 

She took three and placed them in a neat stack on the unused nightstand, claiming it and that side of the bed as her own. She was then swept up in the image of her and Solas sitting in bed, each reading a book by candlelight after some long day of meetings with foreign officials, his own advisors, and answering letters from across Thedas. In many ways, the ruling and public appearances didn’t make her nearly as nervous as the thought of all the quiet moments. The first week would likely be filled with meetings and studying, but each night for the next sixty years? Would it just be filled with tense silence? Evelyn did not regret her decision for peace and stability in Thedas, but now she was looking at all the possible small moments for the rest of her life and was filled with a quiet dread.

Sitting on the bed, Evelyn then reflected on what her father had said to her during their dance at the Elvhen wedding.

“Father, he has already said he has no need for heirs and that he will not bed me. You cannot expect me to beg for his attention.”

“Of course not, you are above that,” he had said. “However, his refusal to bed you does not mean he will refuse everyone else.”

Evelyn remembered how her jaw ached when her father brought up that possibility. “I am well aware that he may stray. He is not the first lord to seek comfort from other women,n and he certainly wouldn’t be the last if he decides to do so.” She took a breath. “I wouldn’t be able to stop him if that was his decision. He is well aware of how it will look if he strays from his wife, The Herald of Andraste.” 

“Yes, just as you are well aware of the trouble that can be caused by such indiscretions,” Benjamin said firmly.

Though Evelyn knew the story, that did not stop her father from continuing. 

“My Father had four sons, all of us more than capable of furthering the Trevelyan influence and yet his stupidity and lust led him to siring twice as many bastards on whores and serving girls. My half-siblings conspired to steal our land, wealth, and titles. In the end, I alone, at fourteen, lived and was left to clean up our devastated finances and house. Your grandfather’s folly sullied his reputation, but it was the fruit of those mistakes that nearly led to our destruction.” He gripped her hand tightly. “Do not allow history to repeat itself.”

“I cannot chain him to my bed.” Evelyn hissed. 

“No, but you can purge any unwanted consequences of wandering eyes," Benjamin said. 

Evelyn took a breath. “Missing servants will be noticed quickly, even in a keep as large as Fen’Amelan," Evelyn said, knowing that in this situation, focusing on empathy and compassion would not sway her father. 

“None of them need to disappear,” Benjamin said, twirling his daughter. “Any unfortunate consequences of an affair with your husband must. You are well-versed in poisons, Evelyn, and considering your tutorship under the Crows, this would be child’s play to you.”

Her thoughts from then, before Solas cut in, came back in full force. Was that how she was to spend her days? Analyzing and picking apart every interaction Solas had with a female servant and then checking them for symptoms? Poisoning their tea so that any threat is ripped out, root and stem? How long before she grew truly paranoid, if she went down that path? She did not think Solas was one to be so careless, but anything could happen. A figure out of Chantry legend ripped a hole in the sky thanks in part to an ancient Elvhen god. It was unlikely but entirely possible.

The door opening made Evelyn jump. She looked up and saw Solas stepping in, the wolf skull mask and pelt draped over his arm. He was still dressed in his wedding outfit, which still made him annoyingly handsome. Honestly, he may claim not to be a god, but he certainly could pass as one. 

“Apologies, I should have knocked before entering," Solas said, closing the door behind him.

“No, it’s alright," Evelyn said, looking away. “They are your chambers; you can come and go as you please.”

There was a pause before she heard Solas pass the bed and head towards the closet. “I believe our dinner should arrive within twenty minutes.”

“Wonderful,” Evelyn said, looking down and studying the rings on her hand. “Do we have any plans for tomorrow?”

“I have several meetings to attend to go over contacts established during both of our weddings, as well as going over the logistics involved with whatever humans have decided to remain within the borders of New Elvhenan.” 

“How will you handle people of other races coming to live here?” Evelyn asked, not looking in the direction of the closet as her husband changed, even if she likely couldn’t see anything. “The Chantry not only disparages elves but also dwarves, qunari, and mages of all races. Now that the war is over, the downtrodden will flock here even with the Chantry reforms. They’ll see you as an eternal bulwark against the Chantry should one of Leliana’s successors choose to bring back old practices.”

Deep down, she also felt that way about Solas. The Chantry nearly destroyed her family, and she was also tormented by it over the course of the Inquisition. However, New Elvhenan was outside of Chantry control, and Solas was more than capable of keeping them out on the off chance they turned aggressive. The Chantry was the monster in her nightmares, and even prior to the Inquisition, as the most privileged class in Thedas, she was scared of what the sunburst meant to her. Then, with the breach and the mark, the Chantry nearly consumed her. She wasn’t strong enough to fight her way out then, and with the loss of her arm and the mark, she certainly wasn’t now, but Solas was strong enough to keep them away from her. 

“Those seeking asylum in New Elvhenan are welcome so long as they adhere to our laws. I can deal with any discontent from the other nations should that become a problem.” 

Solas’s voice grew closer and Evelyn turned to see him stepping out of the closet in a sleeveless green shirt and leggings, lighting candles around the room with a thought. The wolf jaw necklace hung from his neck as always, and the look was so similar to what he wore when they were in their tent in the field, she felt her heart clench. When he looked at her, she worried he could sense her feelings through the bond and took a moment to collect herself. 

When the bond was first established, it was disorienting. The mark had been far more powerful, but the bond felt so much more personal, entwined with her very soul. Hours later, she barely noticed it. It was simply the constant feeling of a faint presence. Solas had said that he did not believe they would have the full scope of abilities that were available to a bonded couple of two elves, but she still did not want to take the chance of exposing her emotions to him like that, so she took a breath to calm down. 

“I don’t think they’ll be bothered at first, but I suspect the free mages will come flocking to New Elvhenan, and eventually the lack of enchantments and healers will be noticed," Evelyn said, getting up. “Shall we sit before our dinner arrives?” She asked, gesturing to the small table by the window.

Solas nodded, and a moment later, the chairs moved back to make room for them. Evelyn quietly thanked him for the gesture and took her seat across from him before continuing her previous thought.

“Perhaps that could be a financial project? Offering magical services to places with few mages, so long as ours accept of course," Evelyn said, glancing out the window to take in the view. The sun had gone down, and late twilight painted the sky a dark purple with barely a hint of pink on the horizon. Lanterns were lit on the streets, and she could still see people celebrating the wedding between the Dread Wolf and Herald of Andraste.

“It is something to be taken into consideration as a possibility for the future," Solas said.

Evelyn turned to face him again. “Do you have books written about New Elvhenan? Not just about its founding, but laws, agriculture, economy, and the like?” 

“Not quite. I have official documentation about those subjects," Solas said, tilting his head curiously.

“I would like to see them so I can better assist you," Evelyn said. “If I understand the country better, I will be able to make larger contributions.”

“You have already contributed more than enough by marrying me, Evelyn," Solas said. “You need not trouble yourself more. You deserve to rest after all you’ve done for Thedas.”

“It’s no trouble, Solas, I want to help.” Evelyn crossed her legs. “I take my duties seriously. I was raised for this with lessons in politics, etiquette, finances, and more, all before I even arrived in Haven. I learned even more over the course of our journeys together.” She looked him in the eyes, voice strong. “I want something meaningful to fill my days, Solas. I only have so much time in this world, and I’d like to spend it helping you and doing my duty.” ‘What little you allow.’ Evelyn added to herself. 

The knock on the door and announcement of dinner distracted them both. Once they were permitted, Nirasha and a young elven man entered, each carrying a tray. Nirasha glanced at Solas nervously, and the boy did the same to Evelyn. She idly wondered how the other servants would react to her, afraid of her status or angry at her presence as a human. Was there any other option?

Dinner was chicken, grilled vegetables, and a warm slice of bread. Evelyn was pleased to see that her food had been cut prior to being brought to her. She felt embarrassed watching Nirasha cut her food even when they were alone together. To have that happen around others would have been mortifying.

“I apologize for the delay,” Nirasha said, stepping back with folded hands. “There was a... disagreement in the kitchens.” 

“About what?” Solas asked, startling Nirasha slightly. 

Once upon a time, the young elven woman would’ve jumped like a startled cat, but now she barely flinched. The brunette elf glanced at Evelyn, who nodded her head in reassurance. 

“The cook felt it was unnecessary to cut Lady Trevelyan’s food before serving it. ‘The Lady is not a child.’” Nirasha said. Evelyn glanced away, feeling her cheeks heat in shame despite knowing it was not her fault. 

“I explained that was not the issue, and eventually I asked one of the nearby guards to bind the cook’s hand behind his back. I then told him to try cutting a bite for himself.” Nirasha’s cheeks were flushed, but there was a smug, if tiny, smile on her face. “He didn’t raise a fuss about cutting the Lady’s food after that.”

Evelyn smiled, fighting down the sense of embarrassment from earlier. “Barely a day and already causing trouble with the other servants?” She asked. 

“Of course not, my Lady," Nirasha said, glancing away with a smile still stuck to her face. 

“I appreciate your efforts in serving your mistress, Nirasha," Solas said, smiling at the young elf. 

“Th-Thank you, my lord," Nirasha said, bowing her head.

As Evelyn ate, she noticed Solas set his fork down, took his knife, and attempted to cut into his chicken with one hand. She took a sip of wine to hide her smile when he frowned at his lack of success and then picked up his fork again. Why did he have to do things like that? Change the color of roses and try to experience the things she went through? Why couldn’t he be cruel? It would make distrusting him so much easier. 

“I will see to it that you are provided with the necessary study materials," Solas said, wiping his face with a napkin. “If you’d like, I’ll also discuss matters of state with you, and once you are more familiar with how the country operates, I will invite you to meetings with my advisors.”

“Thank you, Solas," Evelyn said, finishing off her wine. 

Once the dishes were cleared and they were alone, they quietly retired to bed. No more words were spoken, and they barely glanced at each other. Solas snuffed out the candles with a thought, and once again they lay in the dark, side by side. So close and yet so distant. One of the most significant unions in history was complete, now decades spread out before them, filled with unknowns. Truly, what was supposed to happen after the grand finale?

Here, a quick link to a map someone drew of New Elvhenan for me! Thanks bestie! Map of New Elvhenan