Dragon Age: Phoenix Origins

Evelyn,
I got a letter from my mother—yes, an actual letter. And no, I don't expect another one; you know how she is, and her husband wouldn't be thrilled.
She wrote because, apparently, my real father wants to contact me. Somehow, he tracked her down, and she thought I should know. I'm not sure what to do. He's an elf, a heretic, and, honestly, a stranger. I can't imagine what talking to him would be like. And yet, part of me wants to know what kind of person he is, why he's reaching out now, after all these years. Would he even be allowed to write to me in the Circle?
I'm not asking for advice, really. I just needed to say it to someone. Don't tell Henley, okay?
Sorin
***
On that fateful day, Evelyn felt the first sharp pangs ripple through her belly, entirely unprepared despite knowing this day would come eventually. She was highborn, after all, a daughter of noble blood, raised to meet most things with dignity—but nothing could have prepared her for the strange, warm sensation of blood sliding down her thighs. Mortified and all too aware of the small, telltale stain creeping through her trousers, the mage clutched her middle, gritting her teeth as a raw ache flared in her abdomen. She had to make it to the infirmary before anyone noticed.
The hallways of the Circle were both familiar and painfully far as she hurried, a flush of shame creeping up her cheeks. When she finally arrived at the infirmary, she was greeted by the calming presence of Enchanter Wynne, an elder mage known throughout the Circle for her wisdom and wry honesty.
"Ah, Evelyn," Wynne greeted her, setting aside her papers with a raised brow. "What brings you here, child?"
She shifted uncomfortably, feeling her face heat up even more. She had always been taught to keep her composure, to never speak of such things. But living in the Circle, she'd seen the way others spoke with ease about matters that her family would have found scandalous. Still, words failed her now, and all she managed was a stammered, "I... um... I—" before a fresh spasm tightened in her belly, and a faint line of red bled through her trousers, making the situation obvious.
Wynne took in the scene with a deep sigh and a warm, knowing smile. "Ah, of course. I'd forgotten—you're highborn. Well, my dear, there's nothing to be embarrassed about." She set her hand on Evelyn's shoulder. "This is natural. Let's get you sorted."
Evelyn, with a mixture of embarrassment and relief, allowed herself to be led further into the infirmary where the enchanter gave her some privacy to clean herself up and then gave her a fresh set of pants to change into, along with some cotton and wool to prevent further blood stains. When she was ready Wynne guided her gently to one of the low cots nearby. "The pain is normal and will pass after a few days. The important thing to remember is that from now on your body will have changed, as will your opinion of your peers. It can be a particularly dangerous time for young Circle mages."
"I think I understand, Enchanter." Her meaning was not lost on her. Her friends were becoming frenzied over crushes and gossiping about all the forbidden acts of love they had heard of happening. Rhetta was the worst always running about for the latest scandal, but thankfully Miriam added reason to such topics of discussion. Evelyn had not been immune to such stirrings, but having been a late bloomer she was afraid she was going to lose her mind to her hormones, voicing such concern to Wynne.
The aging mage, chuckled, "There is nothing wrong with such feelings, you just need to be cautious in how you act on them. You know Circle Law, but I'd be remiss if I didn't tell you that we know of the secret trysts happening. It is in our nature to love and want love in return, and no matter how much the Chantry tries to control us that will not change. There is only so much the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander can control when they lock so many of us away in close quarters. So long as you are discreet about it, the Templars have no reason to take action, for they too are guilty of the same affront."
Evelyn's eyes widened at the admission that the Circle leadership knew of such things going on and that they themselves had participated in such acts. She supposed that it was rather odd to think that the Senior mages and Templars were chaste after all these years. In passing, she had heard plenty of lewd conversations from mages wondering how they knew and had done such things. It was expected from the Templars, who were allowed out of the confines of the Circle to visit various establishments and some even were able to have families. Evelyn's experience with such yearnings was minimal at best aside from passing daydreams, but she was disciplined and had faith she would not be misled to disaster by desirous urges.
There was one problem... aside from Miriam and Rhetta, all her other friends were boys – Henley and Sorin included. She just got along better with the masculine sex; perhaps it was because she couldn't stand her female relatives and grew up idolizing her brothers.
"I don't mean to frighten you, and I know you to be an intelligent girl," she sighed knowingly, "just practice discretion is all." With a friendly pat and smile, she added, "There are always supplies for your cycle here, from tonics to wool and cotton. And it would be wise to try and keep track of it so you know when to prepare for it."
"Thank you, Enchanter Wynne, truly. And for your warning."
She smiled politely, "See you in class tomorrow. Be sure to practice your healing as much as your fighting, Novice Trevelyan. I know you find Spirit Healing tedious, but it could save your life one day."
The pyromancer finally cracked a smile, "I'll try between physical training. Speaking of, w-what should I say to Knight-Enchanter Croft? I'm late for training because of this and he'll skin my hide."
"Oh, you leave Gavril to me. Collect what you need for the next few days. I'll have a note sent down ahead of you." With that, Wynne left the young 'woman' to raid the feminine supply cabinet.
When Evelyn finally appeared down in the training yard, her friends were relieved to see her, as if worried something had happened. In the past few months, she made it a point to discreetly speak to a number of Templars who seemed approachable. Finding some of them to be more open-minded than others, the ones who didn't snub her were easy to befriend. She had heard there was a new Brother in the Circle's Chantry – Brother Devons – who spoke of tolerance when it came to mages. She wondered if his influence had something to do with the change in some of the younger Templars and recruits.
Cullen had made it a point to admit that some of the things she said that day in the Library rang true to him. Graciously accepting it as an apology, she was happy to see he wasn't a hopeless cause. He even introduced her to his bunkmate, Tristan Reid, who took credit for making the tall blonde see reason after hearing about their debate. Reid reminded her a lot of Henley but with the pale Ferelden complexion. He was painfully chatty, needing to know every detail about everything. Evelyn had a suspicion that he was a dealer of banned contraband within the Circle. He had a shiftiness about him with an eagle eye. He was always standing in the shadows, giving unperceivable nods at people as they passed.
She wondered at first how the two became friends with two contrasting personalities. Despite Reid's 'dealings', he was a devout Andrastian. He and Cullen shared a bench at services, both on their best Chantry boy behavior. He also seemed to have a soft spot for mages. He had a low yet steady voice with very little inflection. With a dry sense of humor and optimistic nature despite his dark countenance, Evelyn found him intriguing.
Making it out of the Tower doors she paused trying to see how much of the morning session she missed. Having already split for their specialized lessons, she began to walk towards the mage's armory when Reid passed her walking in the opposite direction, "Whatever happens... I won't let you live it down." With a wink he continued on, but Evelyn tripped over her feet realizing what he was eluding to.
As she hustled over to her instructor, she observed Brax's tense expression. "Congratulations, Trevelyan!" Croft feigning amusement, crossed the yard to meet her and she wore a sour look on her face, "Enchanter Wynne sent word, maybe now you'll start looking like a real warrior. Better late than never, I suppose." Mortified and hoping none of her peers were putting the pieces together. He stalked over to stand before her, though he spoke as if he were addressing the whole training grounds, "Wynne asked that I go a bit easy on you today, but that will not be happening." Before she could protest that she had nothing to do with the contents of the note, he leveled a knife hand at her. "I don't care whose idea it was that I grant you leniency for something that has been plaguing females since the dawn of time, but like all those before you, you'll survive!"
"Yes, Knight-Enchanter." She felt her blush deepen wondering if her mana too was pumping away in her veins at how hot she was. From her peripherals, she could see the two female Templars-in-training stifling giggles at her.
Marrian Vale and Eda Witfield. They were the only two other females in the batch of recruits that Evelyn trained with. The two were thick as thieves and at times it was hard to figure out what they made of the mage. They didn't speak to her much but watched her closely which was unnerving at times.
There was one thing that Vale and Witfield exuded, and that was arrogance. Having grown up surrounded by nobles all vying for dominance over the others, the airs they gave themselves were nothing she hadn't contended with. Vale had the type of superiority complex of most beautiful girls. Her cold blue cat-like eyes shifted about looking for things for her to scoff at along with her short sidekick. Witfield was petite and a bit round for a Templar. She was stuck to Vale like a fly on druffalo shit, clearly trying to ride her coattails – though for what purpose, Evelyn couldn't guess.
After a long and embarrassing morning of training, she and her student mentor headed into the Tower. As they strode through the Templars heading in the opposite direction towards their barracks, Evelyn felt the icy glare of Vale and Witfield on her.
"Steer clear of them," Brax whispered over to her. "I don't like the way they eye you these days." For whatever reason, the Templar duo suddenly had become intolerant of Evelyn and it had not gone unnoticed.
"I'm not sure why?"
He gave her a bit of a sly look, "You're a threat. People like you, like moths drawn to a flame. Friendly, pretty, and a promising Knight-Enchanter is a dangerous combination for two girls with no potential. Even Arlo likes you better than them."
And it only got worse from there. Soon glares would be the least of her concerns...
Over the next few months, Evelyn was growing into young womanhood at a rapid pace. Her legs constantly ached as if the Maker was elongating her Himself pulling at her with both hands. Each month saw her an inch taller, catching up with Abraxas and the other Templar boys she was training with. She quickly surpassed the handful of female Templars, which again, earned her no clout among them. Yet, she was suddenly more of a physical presence, especially for the instructors who took her more seriously.
Thankfully, she was taking after her father, as her frame had an athletic build rather than that of a supple female suited to pass her days embroidering cushions. Her waist pinched in, her shoulders and hips broadened revealing an appealing and firm hourglass figure. Her breasts didn't see much growth, but she began to build muscle more quickly, especially on her lower half.
She did begin to notice how differently others began to treat her. It made her self-conscious when she caught people blatantly looking at her and then whispering over to their friends. Evelyn was above average in beauty – nothing like her sisters, but she wasn't being groomed to be a wife any longer. Social pressures aside, she tried to remember that when she heard others call her a 'hot head' or 'draconic.' The blemishes that came with such a change did nothing for her confidence, but she took heart in knowing none of her peers seemed to have escaped such markings either. Some of the other mages wore powder and clay to reduce their appearance, but she ultimately refrained having no use for it during Croft's rigorous days of training.
In fact, the one time she had, he humiliated her so cruelly she swore inwardly she'd never touch the stuff again. After that, she became known as a bit of a tomboy, despite coming into her own natural female charms. Used to harsh criticism daily, her carefully crafted stone-cold Knight-Enchanter face, as she referred to it, was being worn more and more. It made some of the mages avert their gaze in passing, whispering that she was becoming more and more of a mindless weapon like Abraxas. When the duo were together – which was often – the air around them seemed heavy.
Abraxas began warming up to her more from their shared circumstances. He took a bit of pity on her having gone through the same thing himself but alone. Their relationship grew in the adversity, and Evelyn knew if things got tough he'd have her back, and she his.
Her fellow Knight-Enchanter-in-training had passed his Harrowing and was now accompanied by a Templar Sentinel. These Knights were assigned to guard a specific mage for various reasons but in Brax's case, it was because he was learning powerful and dangerous spells; the kind that could kill Templars. Ser Orin Dane was selected to watch over the cryomancer, as no volunteer stepped forth. As much as the female Templars sneered at Evelyn, the males did the same to Brax – not all, like his new Sentinel, but most.
Dane was a level-headed sort, seemingly unfazed by most things. Cool under pressure combined with his corn-fed Ferelden form, he matched his charge in height, though surpassed him in bulk. He was kind to Evelyn, though made no real attempt to get to know her despite the time they spent in each other's company. Yet, when not watching his mage, he was often observing her. Having Brax's warning about older Templars ringing in her ears, she decided not knowing him was for the best, just in case his wandering eyes were not entirely academic.
Breaking her from her thoughts, the two mages looked to see Rutherford and Reid conversing with the new Sentinel. "Don't be jealous boys, Trevelyan here will need a Sentinel in a few years."
"Congrats on the new post, Dane," Rutherford offered up, always the polite one. "Sentinel posts are few and far between, you're very fortunate."
"Yeah, until your fingers are frozen off," Reid scoffed with a sly smirk. "You're a Sentinel for a Kinght-Enchanter, not a young mage sneezing snowflakes."
"Let's go, Brax. You too Evie." Sharing a look, the two mages obeyed following their new babysitter as he flexed his new authority. From the way Brax chewed his lip, she knew he was still getting used to his shortened leash. As for her, she went along with the Sentinel's orders, and as long as he was around Templars, Vale and Witfield kept their distance. Even if Dane wasn't her Sentinel, he was held to a higher standard of vigilance over mages. There would be serious consequences if an incident occurred on his watch.
Knowing that one day she'd have the same, Evelyn hoped whoever it was would be the reasonable sort.