#ofaeducan

ofaeducan 

          In a world without gold and the Chant, Evelyn might have lived a normal life.           Whether or not it was fate or chance, duty was thrust upon her at every           cornerstone of her life. Her duty as a mage; to be protected, to serve the           Chantry, to stay away from life outside of the spiracle they'd placed her in.           Her duty at the Conclave; support the Trevelyan name, advocate against           every right she'd been lusting after since she was forced into the circle,           try to win back the love that her brothers and sisters got unconditionally.           Now, her duty to the Inquisition dogged her, with its many-faced demands.           Thankfully, she served as a figurehead, a stance of power that mages never           had the luxury of attaining in the past, but even so, it was all the more trying.           The heretic mage of the Trevelyan line was known all throughout Thedas. 

          But what of those before her? The Aeducan that was cast from her nobility,           whose status as heir was usurped from her. Exiled, caseless, essentially           cut down to the prestige of a mage. Who could blame Evelyn for looking           up to her? She took the dregs of her power and used it to smite the blight           to save Fereldan, a place that would treat her with disrespect simply for           existing (she drew so many parallels between her and the hero, perhaps           too many). Scrawled on pages and pages of her journal, Evelyn had revered           her in silence. What better person was there to look up to? She set a           precedent unlike any other, one not spurred from recklessness like the           Champion, but a stellar, unrivaled one. 

          When word broke out that Sereda Aeducan was venturing to Skyhold           to aid the Inquisition, Evelyn could have cried. Key word there was           could have. She kept her wits about her, kept her demeanor nothing short           of daunting. If the leader was seen weeping over the chance to see her           idol, it would be most likely a blow to morale. The Inquisitor was the one           who was the idol, the Herald of Andraste bowed to no one, yadda yadda,           she'd be sure to hear a strongly-worded talk from one of the Advisors if           she were to let any of that damned facade collapse. 

         When she saw the Hero of Ferelden, though, she couldn't help but make          eyes at her. And the smile she softly used fills the silence like a speech.