Chapter Text
The banquet was a dull affair. Another in a long line of tedious duties Evelyn Trevelyan had to perform as the Inquisitor. All those parties were slowly blending into one. It didn't matter where they took place or who was in attendance - it was all the same. She wasn't sure if she hated playing hostess or being the guest of honor more. Each came with its own set of annoying responsibilities. At least when she was the one visiting, she didn't have to approve the guest list and fret over the amount of wine, which was something of a blessing she supposed.
A servant in the Inquisition's livery passed her by, and Evelyn grabbed a glass from his tray. There should be enough to drink for everyone, but if there wasn't, she intended to drink before the barrels ran dry. She deserved a drink. The preparations for this event were long, and Evelyn wanted to congratulate herself on a job well done. Skyhold looked remarkable - every corner so clean it almost sparkled, beautiful flowers adorning long tables laden with food, innumerable candles illuminating the main hall. Everything had to be perfect. It was not every day that a king came calling. Alistair Theirin of Ferelden had arrived weeks before, with little to no warning, making everyone scramble to accommodate him, which meant that a proper party had to be pushed back, and not hosted immediately upon his arrival.
Traditional Ferelden music was being played by a small orchestra situated on Vivienne's balcony, overlooking the hall. Evelyn quite enjoyed the tunes, much more than the overly complicated Orlesian pieces. The lively sounds mixed with the hushed conversations of the guests and the rustling of voluminous skirts brushing against the stone floor. Unlike Evelyn, the people gathered were enjoying themselves, if their practiced smiles were anything to go by.
Evelyn sighed when she saw another Orlesian noble making his way towards her. If one more person complimented the lace on her dress she was going to scream. It was all the same - the same stilted conversations, insincere laughs and oh-so-subtle demands for her aid. At times she was making bets in her head as to which person would want what from her, and she was winning more and more of them.
The corset of her billowing dress was digging into her ribs, and the much praised lace at her collar, which as Leliana informed her was the latest thing in fashion, was making the back of her neck itchy. It was not a good combination, making the Inquisitor's mood even more bleak.
She was hoping to spend some time with king Alistair, but he was nowhere to be found as of yet. When she first heard about the monarch visiting she wasn't very excited. The almost nonexistent notice was rather rude, and the ensuing preparations were putting a strain on her. After that Trevelyan was expecting him to be pompous, boring, and demanding. Despite her heritage, she had no patience for nobles, and monarchs in particular. It was quite the pleasant shock when she actually got to talk to him and found out that he was none of those things. Looking back, she should’ve known that he would be different. After all, before becoming king he was a Grey Warden, and fought alongside the Hero of Ferelden to end the Fifth Blight. He was not a pampered little princeling born into privilege.
He was also devastatingly handsome - that was the first thing that struck her about him. When she first saw him in Redcliff, all those long months back, she couldn't appreciate that. Back then she had to make momentous decisions on the spot, and was rather shaken from her experience with the alternate future. Now, in the comfort of Skyhold, she could truly see the king. He was still a true warrior, his tall frame packed with muscles, his hands calloused from holding a sword. His face was also a sight to behold - he looked elegant, but not in the soft Orlessian fashion. His features were sharp, what Varric would probably describe as rugged. What Evelyn liked most about him were his eyes - kind, expressive and full of humor. He appeared strong, but there was still gentleness in him, in the way he smiled, and in the way he kissed her hand in greeting.
When she was showing him around Skyhold their conversation flowed naturally and freely. In Redcliff they didn't get the chance to talk of ordinary things, only exchanging the most vital information. Now they were making up for that, getting to know each other on a personal level. There were no awkward pauses, no polite comments about the weather. They just connected, and it was as if they've been friends for years. Trevelyan never expected a king to be so lighthearted and funny. He constantly made her laugh, and she was pleased to know that he was also amused by her jokes. Alistair was nothing like any other dignitary she's dealt with before. Just being around him was making her feel lighter, happier. He made her forget her duties, instead of reminding her of them.
One sleepless night she found herself in the kitchens, searching for a midnight snack, but instead found the king gorging himself on her favorite cheese. In that moment, wearing just light breeches and a shirt opened at the throat, showing tantalizing glimpses of his chest, his mouth stuffed, he didn't look like a monarch. He was just a very attractive man who shared her taste in fermented dairy. She couldn't help laughing when he tried to apologize with his mouth full. They've spent most of that night seated on the cold floor, the cheese and a bottle of wine between them, talking about the most inane things and giggling like children who were getting away with doing something their parents would disapprove of. It was one of the best nights Evelyn could remember. There they were - king of Ferelden and the Inquisitor, their titles and responsibilities stripped away for a time, leaving just two people who enjoyed each other's company immensely.
The king left the ending of his visit open, and as far as Trevelyan was concerned, he could stay forever. It probably wasn't wise. She hardly needed to develop feelings for another unattainable man, but there she was, feeling that strange, sweetly painful pull towards the king. Nothing would come of it, but still she relished the time she could spend with Alistair. They confided in each other, both comprehending the struggles the other was going through, the challenges they faced. No one before understood Evelyn like Alistair did. He didn't put up a front, didn't play The Game. He was open and honest with her, listened and consoled, and if that wasn't possible - made jokes. Gaining his friendship and support was something Evelyn was always going to be grateful for.
The Orlesian noble was babbling incessantly about something Trevelyan couldn't care less about. To occupy her time she surveyed the hall, her eyes sliding over colorful dresses and bejeweled throats. Finally she noticed Alistair, standing at the edge of the crowd, looking powerful and elegant in his full regalia. He seemed to be staring at something very intensely, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Evelyn felt her stomach tighten in jealousy. She had to know which noble beauty was captivating him so. Following his line of sight to the object of his attention almost made her gasp. King Alistair was staring at Cullen. There was no mistaking it. She wanted to laugh and cry - she wasn't sure in which order.
"Do excuse me, my lord, the king has arrived and I must attend to him," she told the Orlesian dismissively.
Not waiting for a response, she strode off, leaving her empty glass behind, moving stealthily through the crowd, ending up at the king's back.
"He's quite something, isn't he?" she murmured in Alistair's ear. It was reckless to call him out on it, but Evelyn was in no mood for games. Maybe Alistair would appreciate that.
"What? What are you... I have no idea who you could be talking about. None whatsoever," he protested, stumbling over his words, only confirming what she already knew.
"Let's not pretend. You've been staring at my Commander," Evelyn told him sternly, moving to stand next to him.
It suddenly all made sense to her now. When he wasn't with her, the king was always with Cullen. In the beginning she thought that they bonded over the fact that they were both Fereldans, ex-templars and leaders of armies, but now she could see a different motive behind their interactions.
"Your Commander?"
Trevelyan sighed.
"No, not mine in the sense you're implying," she said, disappointment dripping from every word. How she wished Cullen could be called hers in that sense. She's wanted that for so long that the sharp disappointment she originally felt at his lack of response has turned into a familiar dull ache.
"But you do... like him? Like him, like him," the king pressed on, adding special inflection to his words.
"Don't change the subject. We were talking about you finding him irresistible," Evelyn countered, trying to sound cool and detached, to make this whole thing a light joke, and failing rather miserably.
Alistair shifted awkwardly.
"I would never... I don't stare. I don't even look. At people. It was just his breastplate... So shiny and..."
"Fine, I do like him, so I know how transfixing staring at him is. You won't fool me," she cut off his rambling. Cullen always drew her attention, but that night he did look especially fetching, almost regal in his ceremonial outfit, standing tall and strong, dwarfing the nobles around him with his size.
"So if I were to admit to ogling your..."
"For the last time, he's not mine. I would want him to be, but he's not." Trevelyan was disappointed at how bitter she sounded. At the same time it was oddly freeing to honestly tell someone how she felt, to share the burden. She shouldn't do that, knew better, and yet with Alistair things just slipped out of her mouth.
"That's stupid. He must be stupid," Alistair said.
"Did you just call the Commander of my armies stupid?" Evelyn was a bit indignant, but mostly amused.
"I... uh... did. Sorry. It's just so... weird. If he knows you're interested in him, then he's an idiot if he doesn't jump at the chance to be with you. You're witty and strong and enchanting and dead gorgeous, and I probably shouldn't have said all of that."
Seeing a king blush was quite something, Evelyn decided, smiling at Alistair's pink cheeks.
"Why shouldn't you have said that?" Trevelyan questioned, flattered and pleased by his word.
"You're interested in him, and you caught me staring at him. Now I'm complimenting you, and you'll start avoiding me because you'll be wondering if I stare at you in the same creepy way I do at him, and it'll be a mess."
Evelyn's heart fluttered in her chest a little at his words.
"Do you stare at me that way?" she asked, afraid to hope.
"Maker's breath, I've said it, haven’t I? I'll understand it if you'll want to run away now. Or if you'll chase me away," he told her, wringing his hands awkwardly.
"So you don't prefer the company of men?" she asked gently, trying to disentangle the whole situation.
"I like men. I like women. I'm not sure I can say I prefer one over the other," he confessed in a quiet tone. "I don't say that often. I don't think I've ever said that. I babble about many things, but this... This has not been a thing I've shared like that with someone. Maybe you're some kind of a witch, because you just dragged this whole thing out of me." He laughed nervously. "But now you know and..."
"And it's fine." Trevelyan smiled at him reassuringly. It appeared that it was as easy for him to confide in her, as it was for her to trust him. "I thought that maybe you just like men, since you're still unmarried after all those years, and now I find you staring at Cullen."
"No, not only men. You’re very much not a man, and I’m interested in you. Maker, is it hot in here or are those just my cheeks burning?" Alistair tugged at the collar of his jacket. "I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable. It's a talent of mine."
"You're not making me uncomfortable. Why would you say that?" Trevelyan asked in confusion. She was surprised by all that she was learning, but definitely not displeased or uncomfortable.
"So you don't find my interest in you... unpleasant?" His voice was tentative and unsure, and she found it adorable.
"Not in the least. I also find myself… interested in you," she told him timidly.
"You do?" Alistair sounded so excited in that moment that Evelyn couldn't help grinning up at him.
"I do. Which is very confusing, since I’ve had feelings for Cullen for so long. But he avoids me and doesn't respond when I try to flirt with him, and then he turns around and acts so sweet and charming, and I don't know where I stand with him. And now here you are, handsome and funny, and you don't avoid me, and you profess to be interested in me. And I reciprocate that feeling. And maybe that means something, and we could..."
She wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. It all came out in a torrent of words she was afraid to say to anyone before, but now was freely sharing with Alistair. She wasn't sure what was happening to her. What was she doing? What did she want? To jump into bed with a king? To have a short affair while still hoping Cullen would change his mind? To embark on a relationship, and leave Cullen behind? It all sounded wrong. It would not be fair to her, or to Alistair, and perhaps even to Cullen.
"Could we?" Alistair’s quiet words were full of anticipation.
Things were much simpler when she thought both men she cared for were unreceptive to her charms. This situation was a mess.
"I don't know," she told him honestly. "On one hand I would like that, very much, but on the other I feel like I couldn’t fully give my affections to anyone.” She bit at her lip nervously as a thought occurred to her. “Maybe you should go after Cullen?" she suggested.
Now that she thought about it, Cullen did seem overly solicitous towards the king. He would stand very close to him, and laugh at his jokes more than she ever heard him do before. Cullen even offered to entertain the king, which he's never done with any other noble. At first Evelyn thought that it was just because Cullen was Fereldan and Alistair was his king, but now she saw those things in a different light. It was possible that Cullen enjoyed the company of men, and if he did, then Alistair was sure to capture his attention.
In that case Alistair would probably be successful, and the two of them could have something. Cullen deserved to be happy, even if only for a while, and if she couldn't be the one to give him that happiness, then someone else should. Even if the thought left her with bitter jealousy, she was ready to put her feelings aside, and encourage Alistair to pursue Cullen.
"No. I wouldn't do that to you," Alistair told her firmly.
Trevelyan couldn't help smiling.
"Thank you for saying that, but if you have a chance, and I don't, then there's no point in debating it. You should try." She felt very noble and magnanimous at that moment, yet it didn't stop her from being unhappy at the prospect in an entirely selfish manner.
"When I was asking if he was yours, I had my suspicions. I thought there might be something between the two of you. The way he looks at you, like you hung the moon - you definitely should not give up on him," Alistair told her.
Evelyn's heart started beating faster. Should she still hold out hope, still try despite numerous defeats? Sometimes she thought Cullen wanted to flirt back, to reach out and touch her, breach that distance that always divided them, but then he never did, and she was left confused. Why would he restrain himself if he wanted her and saw her returning that feeling?
"We don't even know if he likes men," Alistair continued.
That was a good point. Evelyn didn't know anything about Cullen's preferences. He never talked about his love life with her, or anyone else she knew of.
Trevelyan searched the hall for Cullen, and finally saw him... staring at Alistair. When he noticed her eyes on him, the Commander quickly turned his head away, as if guilty.
"Did you just see that?" Evelyn asked the king.
"See what?"
"Cullen was definitely staring at you."
"No he wasn't. He was probably staring at you," Alistair protested.
"Maker, we sound like adolescents." Trevelyan sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation. It really reminded her of her years back in Ostwick, debating with her friends whether a handsome boy was looking at her or at them, and who should talk to him.
Alistair was suspiciously silent. Evelyn looked up at him and saw a slow grin spread over his face.
"I might have an idea," he told her.
"Out with it then!" she prodded, her interest piqued.
"There's a simple solution to all of that. We're both interested in each other, and in Cullen, and he might return that interest. If we act separately, someone will end up disappointed, but if we team up..."
Now Trevelyan was grinning as well. What he was suggesting was mad. Positively mad. Mad and scandalous. She should be appalled, she should be disabusing him of the notion that such a thing could ever happen. But she wasn't, because those words filled her with excitement. Never in her life had she thought of doing something like that, but once he mentioned it, she couldn't deny the appeal of the images her mind conjured up. Those two men in her bed, touching her, kissing her, taking her together... She wanted it, could hardly breath as arousal swept through her.
"Do you really think we could do that?" she asked in an awed whisper, hardly believing that she was actually contemplating going forward with such insanity.
"Who could resist the two of us?" Alistair asked.
"Maker, I want to kiss you, you brilliant man," Evelyn told him, giddy. The whole idea was mad, but then again what in her life was sane? If it succeeded she could have all she wanted - no suffering, no compromises, just joy.
"I've never been accused of being brilliant. But then again I never offered to seduce a man with another person." The king chuckled.
"And the part about the kiss? You won't address that?" Trevelyan asked nervously. She truly meant it - he was never more appealing to her than in that moment when he was offering to embark on this mad journey with her.
"Wasn't that obvious? Maybe I should use my words." He laughed. "If not for all those people here I would be kissing you right now."
A heavy weight seemed to have lifted from her shoulders, and Evelyn grinned. She couldn't get rid of the people, but she could get them a bit of privacy.
"Go through that door, down the corridor, and there will be a small room on the left," Trevelyan told him, indicating the correct path. "I'll join you in five minutes."
Anticipation was building in her stomach as with one nod Alistair strode off, dogging nobles right and left, making for the door. Waiting out the appropriate amount of time, and avoiding being dragged into a conversation herself, was pure torture. Finally she wove her way through the crowd and found herself in the empty corridor, after taking a different set of doors than the one she showed to Alistair. Each of her steps was quicker than the one before. When she opened the correct door, a pair of strong hands wrapped around her waist. In a flash, she was pressed against the doors and the king of Ferelden was kissing her.
It has been far too long since she's been kissed, she decided, opening her mouth to Alistair. The sound he made as his tongue pushed into her mouth made her toes curl. She grabbed at him desperately, at his muscular arms and soft hair, moaning as he kissed down her neck.
"Don't leave a mark," she pleaded.
Alistair obediently moved lower, kissing the skin exposed by the deep v of her dress, licking at the slope of her breasts.
A noise startled both of them, and they stilled.
"Lady Montyliet will be very cross with me if I don't find the Inquisitor," someone said.
"I was tasked with finding the king, and he's also nowhere to be found. We're both in trouble," another person responded.
"Let's split up. You go to the battlements and I'll check the garden," the first voice suggested.
There was the sound of doors opening and feet shuffling. Alistair moved away, no longer touching Evelyn, and she missed his warmth already.
"Thank the Maker they didn't check this room." He breathed out a sigh of relief.
"Who could've imagined that two of the most powerful people in the castle would be hiding together in this cramped place?" Evelyn laughed. "This is rather exciting, but I don't want people to start talking. Especially before we can do anything about Cullen."
It would not serve them to be scrutinized by everyone in Skyhold, watched and judged, of that Trevelyan was sure.
"You're right. We should get back to the party. You go on first. I... uh... might need a moment," Alistair informed her, looking at his shoes.
Trevelyan grinned, her hand boldly running down his chest to the erection tenting his breeches, and giving it a firm stroke, pleased with his reaction to her.
"Evil woman," Alistair groaned.
"Now we socialize, but tomorrow we strategize," Evelyn told him, removing her hand. "Breakfast on my terrace."
They'd need a plan. It would not be as easy as her overly optimistic imagination was telling her at that moment. It would take work. They couldn't walk into the whole thing blindly, unprepared, hoping for the best.
"That's the kind of strategizing I like most." Alistair smirked and swooped down for another long kiss.
"One more moment and we'll be past the point of no return," Trevelyan warned, pulling away, feeling the unmistakable tug of desire, which would soon be all but impossible to deny.
"Go then, if you must," the king agreed, letting go of her.
"Are we mad?" she asked, halfway out the door, the strangeness of the situation hitting her anew. In one evening she’s changed all her notions of what she wanted in her future, deciding to embark on some kind of affair with two men. It was the most insane thing she's ever done, and with her track record that was saying something.
"Definitely. In the best way possible. Now go." Alistair swatted her lightly on the arse, making her giggle and sending her on her way.
Mad, crazy, insane, depraved - they were all of those things, but somehow since they were doing it together, she felt fine. Actually, she couldn't remember the last time she was this excited and hopeful. Without risk there was no reward, and for such a sweet reward the risk had to be great.
The next morning, everything seemed normal for the first few moments after Evelyn woke up, but at the back of her mind there was a niggling feeling that something had changed.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, shooting up into an upright position, as memories from the previous night returned. Could it all really be true? Her and Alistair and their mad plan? And would he still want to go through with it? She knew that in the harsh light of the day she started to have some doubts.
For now she couldn't think about it too much or she was going to panic. She had to see Alistair and talk about the whole thing.
Her mind made up, Evelyn called for her servants, who started setting up the breakfast table on the balcony, and helped her dress. Feeling bold, she picked a light blue dress with a plunging neckline and an appropriate corset underneath, one which for a change wasn't trying to stab her in the ribs. She would be the first to admit that corsets were minor torture devices, but still she enjoyed the way they accentuated her figure, pushing up her full breast, and tightening her already pronounced waist, making her round hips and generous behind that much more noticeable.
Once she was done with her wardrobe, Evelyn settled behind the table, and began nervously rearranging the plates and decorations, her hands restless. Waiting was always the worst. She touched her hair quickly, making sure that the pins were holding her updo securely. Evelyn kept her honey blond hair long, and making the thick strands submit to her will was always a challenge.
"Sorry to be late," Alistair called to her from the stairs, and she already felt better at hearing his cheerful voice. "You look lovely, as always," he complimented her easily when he reached the table. With a theatrical flourish, he bent down to kiss her hand, his lips soft on her knuckles. "Oooh! Cheeses! So many cheeses!" he enthused, sweeping his eyes over the table. "You know that the way to a man's heart is through cheeses."
"You're so easy." Trevelyan laughed, her nerves all but forgotten.
"You wound me terribly," he mock-complained, sitting on the opposite side of the table, and starting to pile slices on his plate. "Maker, I'm sorry - I should've allowed you to go first. All those years of etiquette training, and just the sight of this feast makes me forget all my manners."
"I'm sure you'll find a way to make it up to me." Evelyn winked at him.
"Whatever my lady desires." He grinned at her.
It was so easy, so incredibly easy with him. Why couldn't Cullen be that easy, that open? But then he wouldn't be himself, and for better or worse, she liked him. She liked all of him.
"So you haven't changed your mind?" Trevelyan questioned, picking out some fruit to go with the cheeses. She was reasonably certain of his answer, but still she had to make sure.
"O crs nht," the king mumbled through full mouth. "Have you?" he questioned after swallowing, a slight crease forming between his brows.
"No. I just... I want to do it, but I'm worried. Yesterday we were excited and it seemed such an obvious thing, but now I can see all the dangers and pitfalls more clearly," she explained.
"That's why we strategize - to avoid any problems. Ideas?"
She should argue the point further, explain just how bad things could get, how awkward, how downright ruinous, but for some reason she wanted to finally be reckless, to take what she wanted and damn the consequences. She saved the world from Corypheus - didn't that give her the right to try and pursue some happiness, however strange and unconventional it might be?
"Not really. I just know that we have to be subtle, work slowly, ease him into it," she said.
Their eyes met and they both busted out laughing.
"That's the ultimate goal, isn't it? Easing him in?" Alistair waggled his eyebrows suggestively, making Evelyn's eyes water as she laughed harder.
"We have to be serious," she finally said, wiping her yes. "This thing that we're planning is rather unorthodox, and Cullen's not very... adventurous. We have to have a good strategy."
"All right then." Alistair appeared to have also sobered up. "We can't rush it, but we do have to work quickly. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to stay."
His words made the Inquisitor frown, already thinking about their separation.
"Hey there, no need for that." He grabbed her hand and squeezed her fingers reassuringly. "I'll stall as much as I can, and return as soon as possible. And of course you'll be able to visit as well. You'll get sick of me."
"Never," she told him fiercely, squeezing his hand back. There was no use dwelling on unpleasant thoughts of the distant future. They had to put their heads together and come up with a plan for the next few days.
"We'll see about that." Alistair smiled at her. "Now think. How to go about it? You know Cullen much better than I do. It's actually funny - I've almost met him twice, but it took a Tevinter magister darkspawn trying to destroy the world for the third time to do the trick."
"Almost met him?" Evelyn asked, for a moment forgetting about making plans, and more interested in satisfying her curiosity.
"Yes. One day we got talking about Templar training, and it turned out that he arrived at the refuge just a few months after I left for Grey Warden training. Also, as you probably know, he was there when the abominations attacked, and the Hero of Ferelden saved him. I was traveling with the Hero, but he decided not to take me with him into the tower. He claimed that I wouldn't be objective, seeing as I had a past with people there. I guess he was right, but at the same time now, knowing Cullen, I can't help regretting the fact that I couldn't have been there. Maybe it would've helped, maybe I would've said something, done something that would’ve eased his pain. It... it's stupid." His voice shook a bit. "I probably would've made it all worse. I'm not good with words. Still, he suffered so much, and knowing that I was close by... Do I make any sense at all? It's nonsense, isn't it?" He laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound.
Evelyn felt her heart clench in her chest. Alistair cared for Cullen, honestly and deeply. It was not just physical attraction. There was a bond between them. It was touching, hearing him speak that way. His sentiments echoed what Trevelyan herself thought often.
"It's not nonsense," she assured him. "I care for him, and when he told me about his past all I wanted to do was soothe his pain, or better yet, go back in time and be there for him when it happened or even prevent it from happening. That's clearly impossible, so I did all I could for him, however little that was. I still feel sadness for the lonely, hurt boy I never knew and couldn't help. As for you, knowing that you actually could've been there, it has to be much worse."
"Thank you."
They looked at each other for a moment, and it struck Trevelyan just how connected they were, how similar. Over that rather short time Alistair managed to develop feelings for Cullen that could match hers. They couldn't change the past, but together they could make Cullen's future a bit better.
If only she could think of a way to begin. What would make Cullen happy? What did he enjoy doing?
"I might have an idea," she said suddenly, a plan forming in her mind.