Chapter 19: The Price of Duty

She walked briskly across the lower courtyard, hurrying to find Ilara. The woman was the last person left in Skyhold who could recognize Ryker. Henley and the Ostwick Templars had been sent to the Hasmal Circle, and Sorin was in the Western Approach with Hawke, investigating Venatori activity. She wasn't sure if any of the other mages would remember his face, as he usually wore a helmet while on duty in the Tower, where he had been confined after their altercation a decade ago. There were always enough visiting dignitaries for him to blend into the crowd, and they tended to gather around the Great Hall and the gardens, where food and drink was served throughout the day, rather than where the mages congregated.

On the right side of the portcullis, directly opposite Cullen's office, stood the Infirmary, the designated location for Ilara during this time of day. As she approached, her hand trembled while reaching for the door handle. Casting a swift backward glance, she observed Ryker and her mother ascending the staircase leading to the Great Hall. Even without a clear view of his expression or discernible features, she could sense his gaze fixed upon her. Memories of another lifetime surged within her, invoking a familiar array of emotions: the uneasiness knotting her stomach, the pervasive sense of being under constant scrutiny, and the unsettling nausea churned by the sinister glare of his eyes.

She darted in like lightning, unable to bear another moment of it. She shut the door behind her and stood back against it, putting a hand to her galloping heartbeat. The pace at which it ran caused her to breathe heavily as if she had just sustained an hour of vigorous training out in the yard. Her body trembled from the immense amount of adrenaline that was dumped into her bloodstream for fear that death had come upon her only moments ago. With eyes wide from terror, she suddenly realized she was being watched by healers and patients alike. There were few in Skyhold who didn't recognize her, even if they had never interacted with her. Clenching her jaw, muscles flexing with each shiver, a façade of calm strength fell down upon her face.

The bottom floor of the Infirmary was reserved for patient beds due to the lack of stairs. Every bed was filled with those recovering from injuries sustained in the line of duty. Ilara had somehow turned the decrepit tower into an immaculate healing ward for the Inquisition's wounded. Not a speck of dust could be found and every shelf was stocked with herbs and healing potions. The staff tended tirelessly to injuries of every nature, from minor aches to major wounds. Evelyn occasionally stopped by now and again to check on the wounded and make small talk with them.

"Inquisitor, what can we do for you?" Ilara glided down the stairs with an armful of fresh linens. Although her voice was melodic and soothing, it made her jump, her nerves having been frayed beyond reason.

"I need to speak with you privately, it's urgent." Ilara consented with a worried look and followed her up the tower's stairs to the ramparts. Once there she looked about to make sure no one was close by, knowing just how her friend reacted to startling news. "Ryker Aeron is here in Skyhold." The healer's eyes went wide mirroring the terror in hers.

"No, no, how can that be? Wait, are you having a flashback? Is this trauma related?"

"No!" Evelyn didn't mean to yell, but she was so tense it couldn't be helped, "I'm not having an episode, he is alive and he's here." She tried to regain some composure as a patrol walked past by biting her lip, but a tremor sent her teeth right through it. She did her best to cover her mouth as it filled with a metallic taste. She licked her teeth to clear it, but Ilara quickly waved her hand in front erasing all trace of the cut. When they were alone once more, she grabbed her friend by the shoulders, "My mother brought him here as a suitor under a false identity. He has my phylactery and is threatening to give it to Corypheus if I don't do as he says. His first order was that I make sure no one from Ostwick recognizes him."

Ilara blinked at her trying to process what she was telling her, "So-so what are our options here? Can't we just kill him? Again?"

"Trust me it would be so easy to, but he said he had more than one phylactery of mine. Before I do anything, I need to find out exactly what he's doing here and how he plans to blackmail me. He's coming to my quarters tonight for a private dinner, I'd like you there as a chaperone. If he's masquerading as a suitor, he can't argue when I insist on it. Un-unless you're not comfortable with it?"

Now it was Ilara who grabbed her, "I'm not letting you face that monster alone, especially with Sorin and Byron gone. I will be there, Evie. You can count on it." The two embraced as if it was the last time they'd ever see each other. They shared in the solidarity that they would be in this together regardless of what the night had in store for them, but Andraste be damned if she would ever let that bastard harm a hair on Ilara's head. She took her strength from her friend, that protective spirit that was resolved to guard those she loved at all costs. It was the essence of the flame that burned deep within her, and while it was a strength, it was also her ultimate weakness.

***

The hour of their doom had arrived. Soon Ryker would stride through her door to reveal to them his horrid scheme. In the few hours that passed between their meeting on the ramparts, the two women had tied up some loose ends in their daily work and then retreated to the Inquisitor's quarters. They filled the room with their nervous energy barely speaking a word as they paced and fretted over anything that crossed their path. Evelyn impatiently rushed the staff along needing time to make some preparations of her own. This was an invasion; though the room was nicely decorated for a diplomatic dinner, she strategically placed weapons about the room knowing if she used wards he'd sense them.

As darkness began to fall, a knock on her door signaled the arrival of the enemy. Her palms were sweaty and for once she felt the room was stifling despite the snow accumulating on the balcony. Ilara had been standing staring out the window wringing her hands together so roughly, her skin was turning pink. She jumped at the knock spinning around to look at Evelyn with the eyes of a doe cornered by a wolf. Despite her own escalating fear, she put on her best war face, a signal to Ilara that she was ready to fight and die for her as she had on their final night in the Circle.

The Inquisitor glided to the top of the staircase, her velveteen dress brushing the ground as she moved, "Come."

The door opened with a long slow creek as a figure cloaked in black filled the doorway. Stepping into the light of the moon his jovial face hid the monster that lurked within. Evelyn's body reacted to his presence the way one would to a darkspawn ogre. As he approached slowly, every one of her muscles tensed ready for whatever brutality was coming her way, but instead, he lifted her hand and gave it a gentle kiss. She pulled it back rigidly and he balked at her rejection of his affection.

"Really, is that how we want to start things?" She backed away as he grabbed several times for her waist, "I could have insisted on something more intimate, but--" Ilara cleared her throat drawing attention to herself. "Enchanter Ilara, what an unexpected pleasure!" Letting go of her, he prowled up on the healer as she took a few slow-paced back until she hit the edge of the Inquisitor's desk. She grabbed the edge unsteadily as he crowded her, "I'm actually glad you're here. What I have to say involves you as well. My, you look as lovely as ever." She visibly swallowed unable to hide her fear as well as Evelyn. Seeing her friend in distress she grabbed Ryker by the shoulder and shoved him away. He lost his balance surprised by the rough handling, but regaining his footing he jeered at her. "Ladies, I'm not here to fight with you, I'm simply here to talk."

"Then let's get to it and dispose with the pleasantries. What do you want from me?" She gestured him over to the oval dining table that had been brought up. Her own fear and anger were at equal levels keeping her emotions teetering like a balancing scale.

"Very well, my you had all of this made for me? Did you poison it too?" She rolled her eyes, as he laughed at his own jest. "Cheer up, I plan to tell you everything. Shall we start with how I came to be in your blessed presence, Herald of Andraste?" The three sat down, but no one touch the feast before them. The fire cast a warm glow over the food and people sat around it. It helped to set half of Ryker's face in shadow, representative of his personality. For what he hid in shadow he carefully guarded from all but her.

"Did you know I come from a noble house? No? Well, that's because I don't, but luckily there are Templars out there who are. There are many noble bastards born out of wedlock promised to The Order at birth. I found such a man, one Einar Armand. Sadly, he died when his Circle fell, but a friend of his - the only survivor of the attack - had fled to the Ostwick Chantry where I was recovering from my own wounds that you so kindly bestowed upon me." He picked up and dug the point of his dinner knife into his fingertip, looking up from under his creased brow. The memory flashed in both their minds as they leveled heated glares at each other.

"I had come to know of Einar Armand because I was told by his friend that we shared a likeness. The more we talked from our recovery beds, the more he revealed about that sorry bastard, including that with the recent death of his Lord step-father, the mother had written trying to find her long lost son. As fate would have it, the mother failed to have another child - seems the Lord was impotent. Having made his wife the chief benefactor of his estate and will, she began a frantic search for her son she was forced to relinquish all those years ago. Being a good brother, the Templar was on his way to deliver back the letter and deliver news of her son's death." He punctuated the last word with a stab to the roasted bird in the middle of the table, making them jump. Evelyn instinctively reached for the dagger she had mounted to the underside of the table. He watched her carefully, and not wanting to give away her hidden blade, she used the momentum of the jolt to reach for the wine bottle offering to fill his glass. Once everyone's cup was filled, she reached for her glass and took two large sips. He didn't continue until she had finished, reveling in the way he made her squirm.

"Well, as you can imagine, I couldn't let this opportunity pass me by and that night I hatched a plan. I owe you for the inspiration, for you came to me in my dreams, calling me to you like the siren you are." Evelyn scrunched up her nose, wanting to gag at the imaginings of his mind. "First, I couldn't leave a soul alive who knew Einar was actually dead, so his friend had to die - and so did the Chantry wench who caught me slitting his throat." He leaned toward her slightly with a soft confession, "I did that for us." She could do nothing but balk, rolling her eyes. "So far as anyone there knows, the two met a tragic end together, and I fled that pitiful excuse of a recovery ward in the chaos. With the letter in hand, I made my way to the Armand Estate, where I was welcomed with open arms. The mother doted on her lost son, and when the inheritance was eventually passed to me, Lady Armand joined her husband at the Maker's side," he tilted his head giving a fake frown at the woman's death. Evelyn tapped her foot under the table at the injustice of it all. He destroyed a family and took advantage of a widow without one ounce of remorse.

He downed his wine and signaled with his eyes that he wanted more. An odd giddy grin splayed across his face as he watched her obey the command. Just before he took his next sip, she inquired why the two mages were not partaking in their meal. He stuck a finger in Evelyn's blackberry sauce and stuck it in his mouth with a hum. Noting that it was getting cold, he refused to continue until she took a bite. The pace of her tapping foot rapidly increased, as she tried to dispel some of her anger and annoyance. Seeing she was not going to, he violently stabbed his fork about her bouncing plate until he had a large mouthful of pheasant, blackberry sauce and a smear of mashed potatoes impaled before her. Ilara looked between the two with rising panic as the tension in the room resembled a fraying rope hanging together by a strand.

With a deep breath she slowly reached to take the fork, but he pulled it back. He shook his head with a childish scold and told her to say 'ah.' Her eyes shot to his, firing into him all the repugnance and odium she could. Unfazed, he moved the polished silver closer to her lips. Seeing as he wasn't going to let it go, she reluctantly opened her mouth, half expecting him to stab her with it. Instead, he was slow and methodical as he stuffed her mouth with the forkful of food. The amount was too much and she struggled to chew and swallow it. Laughing under his breath as he watched her choke it down, he reclined back in his seat picking up where he left off.

"It took me many months to get the estate running back efficiently, and in that time, I had many callers. I had suddenly become one of the Free Marches' most eligible bachelors! Women were banging down my door, and although I was propositioned by a number of temptresses, I only thought of you." She fought the urge to purge herself of the food he forced down her throat to make a point. "I may have sampled a few of the maids, for which I'm sure you can forgive me for, as I forgive your transgressions with Henley." The man was insane, he truly believed they were meant to be together or were already bound in some form to each other. "When an invitation arrived from the recently famous House Trevelyan, I sent an eager reply and the very next day I took tea with your mother and sister, Ariella." Evelyn sat back in disbelief, her mother willingly opened the door to this madness. 

"To my surprise, your mother was pushing your desperate middle sister at me." He laughed with an air unbefitting a monster, "It was so disappointing realizing Ariella didn't share a resemblance with you, she tried so hard to win my affection. I was tempted to let her show me how much she wanted it, but it would be awkward seeing her at family dinners and such in the future with you by my side. I wouldn't want sisters fighting over me." Her rage was on a slow simmer. Insulting her was one thing, but slighting her family was something else entirely.

"You lie. Ariella is engaged, if not married already to some Nevarran."

He shook his head menacingly, "The engagement was broken off after the Ostwick Circle rebelled and you were named the rebel leader." She hadn't thought how her association with the rebellion would have affected her sister's marriage plans. Guilt coursed through her knowing that Ariella was actually in love with the man. Regardless of the turmoil between her and the female members of her family, they were still kin and would never purposely sabotage such delicate negotiations. "When I declined the offer of your sister, your mother looked quite put out until I told her it was you who had captured my attention. It's known far and wide that the youngest Trevelyan is unmarried, unattached and of good breeding, take away her fancy titles and what is she? An abomination. A filthy whore in need of redemption. And your mother, so eager to climb the social hierarchy in the Free Marches began to sell you off to me as one would a broodmare," her veins glowed at the slight, her nails digging into the arms of her chair wishing it was his throat she clawed. She was going to get whiplash from the way he alternated insulting her and then spoke as if they were fated lovers.

"Don't get mad at me, Trevelyan," she hated that he called her that. Cullen called her that out of affection during flirtatious banter and Ryker was spoiling it, tainting it. "It was your mother who described you as 'a strong-willed woman of supple curves well suited for bearing the many children to continue my legacy.' I merely had to wave my fortune in front of her with the promise that our houses would be joined as allies in every venture, and she practically got down on her knees for me. I suppose the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. You see, House Armand has dozens of sprawling fertile fields that sit by the Minanter River, whose crop is heavily exported and relied upon across all of Thedas. The operation is massive, and the family's connections are vast. How does it feel that your mother cares nothing for you? That to her you are just another one of your Rangers to be sold."

Her mother had always had one goal for her daughters, to marry most advantageously for the good of the family. Her father was a businessman, one who enjoyed his trade even if it was not as glamorous as being a spice merchant or a maker of fine wines. Hector, Owayne and even she had taken to the family business, but her mother had drilled into her sisters that they needed to do better than she had. It was one of the many fights her mother liked to rehash with Evelyn, for she didn't see marriage as a business arrangement, especially after living in the Circle where such things were a fantasy. She watched as her father toiled away for the cold shrew in which he was bound by honor, trying and failing to provide her with everything she wanted. Lord Trevelyan had provided their children with a privileged upbringing, yet no matter what he did, it never seemed enough for the woman. Tender moments between the two were not rare occurrences, as everyone needs the comfort of another, but neither were they often enough to call it true love.

"But I digress, now that I had the blessing of the mother - your father wanted nothing to do with it, knowing his daughter would never accept it - I needed a way to woo the cursed daughter. So, how do you make a mage submit to your every whim? Why, take their phylactery, of course!" He took out two baubles from his jacket.

"Are both mine?"

He laughed as if she was a child, "For all the tales of your wit and heroism, you really aren't that bright, are you? Do you really believe that I would bring them all here?"

Ilara shot up from her seat nearly knocking it over. Evelyn watched as the color drained from her face, "T-That's my phylactery! I can sense it."

"At least one of you harlots has brains. I stole them right out of the White Spire. When the Chantry wants every mage dead because they no longer have the Templars to protect them, desperation takes over. All I had to say was that I was hunting mages and they welcomed me without question, can you imagine?"

She bared and gritted her teeth at the threat to her friend. That he would drag her, innocent of their feud, into it was unacceptable, "You fucking--" She was cut off by a backhand to the face.

"Talk to me like that again, you Trevelyan bitch, and I'll not hesitate to silence you until you're rendered stupefied!" His voice thundered, his anger spilling over until he practically spat with rage. She begrudgingly admitted the fear he stirred within her, reducing her to a small and frightened figure. Her hand instinctively flew to her stinging cheek as she recoiled, cowering away from him. He huffed, his demeanor shifting once again. "Why do you continue to provoke me? I don't desire to inflict harm upon you, I love you," he muttered, as if trying to reconcile his conflicting emotions. All she could muster was a wild glare, unable to fathom the extent of his sickness. This was the longest they had ever conversed, and it dawned on her that she had never truly comprehended the depths of his depravity. Their encounters within the Circle had always revealed one side or the other, but never both together in such chilling harmony. 

"You don't love me, and I certainly will never love you!"

"Now, you may just change your mind once you hear what I plan to do with your precious phylacteries." His expression turned to a creepy form of smugness as the women listened intently now, "I have in my possession three copies of both your phylacteries; The ones which I have with me here and the others are located in secure locations somewhere in Thedas. Through my vast contacts, I found a maleficar who was able to duplicate your blood, for I knew if I came here with just the one for each of you, you'd just kill me. My terms are thus, you, Evelyn Trevelyan will marry me or I send them to Corypheus. I wonder what his legions of blood mages could creatively come up with to kill the great Inquisitor and her little sidekick if they got their hands on these."

"Maker, Evie he's going to…"

"I heard him Lar." Both women had gone white as a sheet, terror plainly evident.

"I'm not sure why you're so upset. Is marrying me really the worst thing you would do to keep your phylactery out of the hands of your enemy?"

"What is your connection to Corypheus?"

He sat back tenting his fingers, with a quiet chuckle, "Sampson. A name that I'm sure you're familiar with. I haven't heard of a Templar out there today who hasn't heard his name, in fact. General of Corypheus, some are even hailing him as the 'Liberator' of The Order. Naturally, hearing of my triumphant return, rather the new Lord Armand - ex-Templar owning a vast empire of farms - he reached out with an offer." Clenching her fists, she braced herself to hear what the two had planned for her demise. Seeing her physical reaction, he scoffed, "Oh stop, the deal had nothing to do with you. He wanted supplies to feed that massive army of his, but I said no. A creature such as Corypheus does not pay for goods, they take them. Sampson believed I would be an easy mark, tempting me with the promise of a new stronger form of lyrium, which I'm sure once I took it, I'd be under his control."

"Red lyrium."

He nodded gravely, "I have no desire to get involved with them. Having bigger fish to fry to Orlais, apparently, he's left me alone since. Though I won't be surprised if I hear from him again soon. And by that time, if I don't have your cooperation, I'll hand these over to him."

"I don't understand, you won't help Corypheus, but you'll give him our phylacteries if I don't marry you?"

He sighed raking his hands from his unruly waves of hair, "Trevelyan, it's a simple thing really. I don't care about Corypheus, the Inquisition or the Mage Rebellion, I only care about you and having you as my wife." She swallowed hard. He was on no one's side but his own with his own agenda. "The Maker has given me the means of which to obtain the one thing I've wanted since you began this chase for your heart all those years ago." He scooted to the edge of his seat and fingered a lock of her two-toned hair, "We are so close to the end, the thought makes me…," his voice grew in intensity then dropped off as he stole a glance to Ilara. "Well, I won't say in front of your friend what it does to me, those words I reserve only for you."

The door of her chambers abruptly opened after a short knock, causing all three of them to awkwardly pretend as if they were enjoying a pleasant meal. The familiar clank of the Commander's armor echoed off the stone. A warm swell rose up in her chest fighting off the cold fear that had taken root there for the past few hours. She embraced the feeling, not knowing how much longer she'd be able to feel it for after what was said.

"Evelyn, I hope you--," he blanched at seeing she was in the midst of entertaining guests. "My apologies for interrupting, Inquisitor. I had no idea you had company."

"It's quite alright, Commander. I--"

"Ah, this must be Knight-Commander Rutherford!" He stood and walked over to shake his hand. Evelyn shot up, her face intensely watching for any movement that remotely looked harmful to Cullen. Behind her back, sparks of fire danced from finger to finger as her magic would smite Ryker in an instant if he even looked at him wrong. Seeing her profound reaction, the Commander narrowed his gaze on the man before him as he spoke again, "Your efforts on behalf of The Order in Kirkwall were admirable. It's an honor to shake your hand." His words were honeyed but she sensed the false laden sincerity of them.

"That is no longer my title, having left The Order over a year ago. You're a Templar, I take it?" Evelyn knew he didn't need to be taking lyrium to sense the aura in which the substance emitted from Ryker. Seems his new fortune was also supplying him with ample lyrium.

"I was, though like you I left The Order to follow a different calling - one of duty to my family. I'm hoping the Inquisitor is inclined to answer such a calling as well." He gave Cullen an innocent smile as he watched every emotion fight to play out his face trying to catch the meaning behind his words. Though the Commander's face remained stoic, his eyes betrayed him as they flicked over to Evelyn straining slightly in question.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Where are my manners? Lord Einar Armand, formerly Ser Armand of the Circle of Hercinia."

"I had heard the Circle there experienced some of the worst fighting."

"Only myself and one other brother made it out alive." Ryker could have had a career in Orlais as a stage actor had he not joined The Order. His voice softened and his head drooped in reverence of his fallen comrades. It was infuriating to watch him con Cullen, watching him believe this farce. 

"You have my sympathies. So many on both sides have lost their lives in the senseless violence. But I've interrupted your dinner." He was trying to be as courteous as possible as he backed out of the room, but Evelyn could see the way he was examining the scene for clues as to why they were dining in her room of all places. "Inquisitor, the matter can wait until tomorrow. Good evening," he said with a curt bow.

The Commander gave one last glance to her to make sure all was well. The warmth she felt as his amber eyes wished to know if she was indeed safe made her insides flutter. For a moment the world around her was veiled and all she saw was him. If he knew that the Ser Aeron of her nightmares had stood in front of him, talked with him, shook his hand, she feared the wrath that would awaken within him. He would plague himself with blame and regret for not acting here and now in this room. The guilt of being the true cause of his future pain from lying to him was a cold stab in the ribs; colder even than sitting waiting to die on the side of the mountain after the attack on Haven. She shook herself from such thoughts before they began to play out on her face, and gave Cullen a reassuring nod and smile. Satisfied, he continued down the stairs and she stared longingly after him, wishing with all her heart she could go with him and out of her current hell.

When the door shut definitively, Ryker's sharp grin sent a cold chill slithering down her body, "Oh, this is rich," he feigned his amusement by covering his mouth with his hand, "You and Knight-Commander Rutherford?" Shaking her head adamantly in an attempt to convince him otherwise only brought on more questioning. "You always did have a weak spot for Chantry boys. And what of Henley? I'm surprised you parted with him for that Ferelden dog, at least he was a true Marcher. Is Ser Henley still with us?" A shared look between the women answered that for him, "Still keeping him around then for a good fuck, I remember the stories he used to tell about you in the barracks every time you returned from assignment. Mmm, helped to satisfy me many a night." She looked away from him in disgust but avoided Ilara's gaze as well. It didn't matter that Ilara knew, it was the way in which he crudely described it that shamed her.

"Rutherford has quite the reputation for his harsh treatment of mages in Kirkwall, perhaps his mind has become too addled from the excessive amount of lyrium Knight-Commander Meredith sanctioned for her Knights that he doesn't even comprehend that you're a filthy mage? Maybe he's so far gone he can't discern you from a Mabari bitch." He carefully gauged her reaction to each insult slung at Cullen, wanting to know how deep her emotions went for the man. In her mind, she fought against the instinct to defend his honor. Ryker had no idea who he was slandering. Don't Evelyn, don't let him get to you. He wants you to react, don't… "From the way people talked about it, they say your man was a very devoted soldier to his former Knight-Commander, satisfying her every whim, if you catch my meaning. Seems he has a penchant for his women superiors. Must be how a backwater simpleton like himself came to be in such positions of power. Does he even know which way to hold a sword?"

Before she had time to think, she heard her voice thundering through the room, "You know nothing of him! Even if the Maker bid Andraste to come down here to redeem you herself, you'd never come close to measuring up to that man!" Seething rage spewed forth as she was unable to hold it back any longer. From within the fireplace, the flames shot high up the stone catching the mantle and a number of books and trinkets from her travels on fire. Though she waved her hand to quell it, the damage had been done, charring some of the items around their edges. He stared at her in quiet contemplation, watching her muscles tense and flex while her veins pulsated with the glow of her mana. All she had to do was let go of her restraint on her magic and he'd be ash before they could bat an eye. Yet, despite all her power she couldn't use it, which brought him immense pleasure.

"I see I've touched a weak point," a wolfish grin spread across his face, it was just what he was after. "Whatever is between you and Rutherford ends now. If I so much as see you smile in his direction, your phylacteries will be sent to Corypheus." Her stomach felt as if it had been stabbed and dropped off the side of a mountain. She had never felt so physically sick in her life. A hot pressure in her ears was forcing consciousness from her. She swallowed back the acidic bile that had reached the back of her tongue. So profound was the first crack of her heartbreaking that Ryker probably had never seen the like of it before. "Andraste's tits, you're in love with him!" He huffed and his countenance turned so dark the look could not be replicated even in her worst nightmares. He leaned close as he grabbed the neckline of her dress. Ilara whimpered and pleaded with him to let her go but it went unheard as he viciously whispered, "I'm going to take great pleasure watching you both fall to pieces when you tell him you're marrying me." Tears sprung forth but she refused to let them fall, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. "You are not his, you are mine, and I'll make sure he knows it!"

Releasing her she jerked back, "Leave him out of it! I will do whatever you want, just… let me take care of it." Maker knows what Ryker would do or say to place a wedge between them. At least if she was in control of it, she could lessen the blow.

"Then do it tomorrow." The command was stern and bitter. "We'll talk with your mother tomorrow as well and set announcement dates." Her body went numb, and she felt as if she'd melt into a puddle of despair on the ground.

"As long as it is understood that the Inquisition comes first--"

"Don't give me that horseshit about duty coming first! I told you I don't care about it or that you're Andraste's Herald, please. You're a fraud, just someone else's political agenda."

"I took an oath, as you did once. The Inquisitor cannot simply abandon the mission, not when I'm the only person in all of Thedas who can close rifts. Do you think Corypheus will just let me retire to your estate without a reckoning? So long as you are with me, you'd do well to be a true believer in the Inquisition and in me."

Contorting his face with disgust he stood and headed for the stairs, "I think I've had enough of this tonight."

"But we still need to discuss--"

"In the morning, Trevelyan, with your mother. We want to do it properly remember?"

She began to follow him out when he turned suddenly grabbing her by the throat and thrusting her up against the wall, "And no tricks, I could easily condemn you publicly for Knight-Commander Tobias' murder. It would certainly be an unfortunate setback to have your invitation to the peace talks revoked, especially when we leave for the Winter Palace in a few days."

"We? And how did you--" She choked out as her feet dangled, toes reaching for solid ground.

"Armand knows a man on the Council of Heralds, and I got myself an invitation, knowing you'd come up with some clever excuse to leave me behind. And if you dare believe that from this moment forward, you won't be under constant scrutiny, with eyes monitoring your every move, then think again. Skyhold is not as secure as you think." Her blood ran cold, she had been betrayed by some of her own people. He dropped her, leaving for good as she gasped for air from the ground. Ilara helped her up after she assured her she was fine.

For a long time, they sat back down at the table studying their full plates of food. Ilara's voice squeaked out after a time, "What are we going to do?" Tears fell softly down her alabaster cheeks, and as she looked deep into her friend's eyes she saw a pain that should've never touched her; The pain of being helpless and at the mercy of a monster. Evelyn had seen the look in her own eyes years ago, but experience had hardened her. She could bear the weight of this, until she could figure out a way to kill that beast she would take it all.

"For now, I do as he says," her face was stone, "I'll do what has to be done, but don't for one moment think I've lost the fight or fire within to beat him. Look at me," she shifted in her seat to face her squarely, "no matter who questions you, you know nothing of this. You blame it all on me, no matter what happens. You tell them I'm distant, changed, I don't care, but you don't tell anyone here what's going on. Understand?" She nodded her head frantically, before leaping into her arms sobbing. Evelyn closed her eyes burning into her memory Ilara's cries, for she may need them later to bolster her own nerves. There was one last thing she needed her to promise, "And please, watch out for Cullen. Promise me you'll check on him because he'll be in a bad way and…" Her voice was lost in the paralyzing grief that seized her.

A soft and hardly audible 'I will' was promised into her shoulder. She knew Ilara would keep that promise and it would give her some comfort to know that someone would look out for Cullen in her absence. The two knelt on the floor holding tight to each other from within a storm of emotions. It would be just as difficult for Ilara as it would for her, for she'd have to watch as her sister mage destroys herself and her life to protect them from a fate worse than death. She was a healer, a fixer, but the wounds Ryker would inflict would be beyond her skill to heal.

Not wanting to part from her, Ilara slept in her bed though sleep would elude the Inquisitor tonight. She quickly polished off all of the wine in an attempt to dull the ache in her chest. She paced the room lost so deeply in the recesses of her mind trying to find clarity that she would occasionally knock into furniture. If there was an easy way out of this predicament, it did not reveal itself to her. Every emotion took turns vying for her attention; Fear wanted her to root out his spies and do as he said; Rage wanted to kill him, no, torture then kill him; And despair wanted her to curl up in a ball just thinking about how she was going to tell Cullen they were through. Maker, what would this do to him? She cared nothing of her own suffering, she would somehow endure it but him… it was a thought that stopped her heart and punched the air from her lungs. She wanted to run to him and hold him until the sun rose and forced them apart, but it would only make things harder.

To do this, she needed to put her real self aside; tuck her away into a box. The Inquisitor's mask would never drop and she would be as unfeeling as stone. It would be as if they made her Tranquil, only ever focused on the job, on the next mission. But enough of her would remain to think and fight Ryker. She'd need all the cold calculating logic she could muster, but would it be enough? Maker, she hoped it would be for Evelyn Trevelyan was dead and only the stalwart Inquisitor remained.