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The Last Dance	By : kireinakittie Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 7585 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age II or Dragon Age: Inquisition, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter 7 - The Weight of Command
Evelyn sat before the fire in her chambers, sprawled in a carved wooden chair, one pale splayed on her flat stomach and the other idly cradling a crystal goblet of sweet red wine. The witch had recommended they wait until all of the poison was gone from her system before they began messing around with it, and Evelyn had been inclined to agree. It was for her own sake, for the child was all but indestructible to hear Morrigan tell it. Hence the wine, though the sweet liquor could not still her tumultuous thoughts.
She had asked repeatedly why Cullen had not come to see her, and had received evasive and vague answers. As soon as she had been allowed out of bed she had been determined to find out why. Precious Templar, it turned out that -he- felt betrayed by the turn of events. Never mind that she had been practically raped by a magic ritual and was now carrying a demon child in her womb. Outwardly she remained still and calm, inwardly she seethed.
How dare he?!
Her calm shattered and she hurled the glass of wine into the fire, hissing in frustration. She had to get out of her quarters or she was going to go mad.
Hurried footsteps sounded on the stone stairs and Evelyn cursed under her breath. A guard had been assigned to ‘keep an eye’ on her, in case anything went wrong.
“I’m fine” Evelyn stated as he reached the landing ‘An accident.”
“Ah… Should I…?”
“No, it’s fine, go back to your post.”
“Yes ma’am!”
The Inquisitor sighed heavily and shrugged into her long white dragon scale coat, over black leather breeches, fur lined knee high boots and a soft black long sleeved shirt. Her skin was porcelain pale, with faint shadows under her stormy blue eyes, and her glossy black hair hung down her back in loose waves. She tread silently on the stair as she slid her daggers in their sheaths and slipped past the guard. She smiled wryly at the thought of having to sneak around her own fortress, but it was better than being escorted everywhere.
-
The main hall was crowded with servants, soldiers and courtiers. Braziers filled the air with light and smoke, creating a warm haze and the illusion of privacy. Toward the main entrance Evelyn found Bull and The Chargers sitting around drinking.
“Inquisitor!” Evelyn winced at the volume of The Iron Bull’s greeting. So much for stealth.
“Bull” She inclined her head “Krem, Chargers. What are you doing in here?”
“The Chief was worried about you-“
“Shut it, Krem!”
Evelyn raised one thin eyebrow in question.
“Big mouth Vints… Anyway, just came to see how you’re doin’ boss.”
“I’m ok” She said, forcing a smile, though if it looked half as fake as it felt then she knew she was in trouble. She could tell The Iron Bull could see right through it, but the pity in his gaze just made her angry. “I’m fine” She said sternly.
“I know you are” Bull pushed away from the table and got to his feet “Let’s have a talk, boss.”
“Err, ok… Is everything alright?” She followed him back down the hall.
“Never better” He flashed her a smile “Lead the way.” He motioned her forward.
“Where?”
“Upstairs.”
Her quarters, he meant. Her shoulders slumped.
“Ok…” She said “But… I kind of… Snuck out…” She ducked her head, feeling sheepish, and his masculine laughter brought a light flush to her cheeks.
“Snuck out?” He chuckled.
“Cassandra and the others decided that I should have a guard to, you know, keep an eye on me. Make sure I’m safe. After everything that happened…”
“Say no more” He laughed “Naughty Inquisitor!”
She swatted his arm, but couldn’t help smiling in return. The whole thing was ridiculous.
“I’ll distract the guard, you get back upstairs. I’ll join you in a bit.”
Evelyn nodded and retreated to the shadows along the wall. When the moment presented itself she slunk back up the stairwell and into her room. She discarded her weapons and her coat, then was sitting down on the side of the bed to unlace her black boots when the Qunari sauntered up the stairs, true to his word.
“Have you got something to drink?” He asked, wandering over to the small chamber that housed ladder access to the rafters, as well as a sizeable collection of alcohol bottles.
“Please, help yourself.” Evelyn muttered sarcastically as he returned with a bottle of West Hill Brandy. She lifted an eyebrow “Isn’t that a bit soft, for you?”
“It’s not for me.” He replied, and handed her a glass.
She sat, holding the glass of brandy, and watched him put the bottle down, then kick off his boots and recline on the other side of her bed.
“Talk to me.” He said.
“Err… About what?”
“You are the leader of the Inquisition, you represent the fight against Corypheus, and you decide the fate of nations. You have been targeted by who knows what and knocked up by a Grey Warden in a dark magic ritual. All that must weigh pretty heavily on those tiny shoulders of yours.”
Evelyn took a sip of the brandy. It did seem pretty overwhelming when he laid it all out like that. She looked at him when he placed a surprisingly gentle hand on her arm.
“I have big shoulders” He said “Let me take some of that weight, just for a little while.”
His kindness brought tears to her eyes.
“Oh, Bull…”
“Come here, boss” He said softly, liberating the brandy and pulling her petite form into the curve of his arm “Talk to me.”
Evelyn lay in silence for a moment, just feeling his strong arm around her, and the steady beat of his heart in his firm chest. Maker, he was so big! She felt like a tiny doll. But she felt safe. She began to talk.
-
Evelyn told him everything. She told him about her hot and cold courtship with Cullen, and how much she really cared for the commander, despite their seeming inability to get it together. She found herself talking about the night of the grand ball and how his voice and his touch had set her soul on fire. And how much it hurt her heart now to be without him.
She confessed her guilty tryst with Cole, and how she felt she had betrayed whatever was going on with Cullen, but also felt that she’d taken advantage of the innocent spirit.
She told him how much she liked and respected Hawke, and she knew that the poisoning was an accident. But the sparring had still been a lot of fun.
She talked, seemingly randomly, about Alistair, about his good looks, and the wood chopping incident, his devotion to the Hero of Fereldan. She didn’t know the intimate details of how exactly he was the father of this child she carried, but she confessed that she had thought about it.
She talked some more, relaying things that Morrigan had told her in regard to the ritual and the pregnancy. Then eventually she ran out of words, and the pair lay there in silence.
“Wow…” Bull finally said.
“Yeah…”
“You and Cole?!”
“Yeah…”
“Any good?”
Evelyn covered her face with her hands, laughing and groaning at the same time.
“Yes.”
His deep laugh rumbled in his chest as he hugged her against him.
They became serious again.
“You’ve been through a lot. Let me take your mind off things.” He placed one firm hand flat on her stomach, and his intent was clear. Evelyn felt her heart begin to race and she stiffened in his arms. She desperately wanted what he offered, but sex had already complicated things beyond belief.
“I don’t think…”
“Don’t think” He slid his callused hand down to rub her sex through the black leather pants she wore.
“Bull…” She gasped, his touch awakening her nerves, despite her misgivings.
“Your pleasure hurts no-one, Evelyn, just let go.”
“More sex won’t make things better.”
“Not sex, release. Comfort. Let me give it to you.”
“Now you sound like Cole…”
With the heel of his hand he rubbed hard against the bundle of nerves at the juncture of her thighs.
“Maybe, but unlike Cole, I know what I’m doing.”
She resisted for a single moment longer, and then gratefully gave in to his confident hands.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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The Last Dance