Welcome! My name is Lyssa and this is a dedicated space for my Sofia the First and Dragon Age crossover fic: Once Upon a Warden, and anything relating to it. You can also check out my blog @teammomjeans for general shenanigans.
Here are some helpful links!
Once Upon a Warden Fic Masterpost
Once Upon a Warden: Ever After Fic Masterpost
So You Want to Read Once Upon a Warden (But Know Nothing About Dragon Age)
Once Upon a Warden Podfic Masterpost
Tales of the Hero of Ferelden Masterpost
Notes: 13+ No warnings apply for this chapter. Find this work on AO3. Tumblr master post here.
Previous Chapter
For one long, disquieting moment, nobody moved.
The absolute stillness that fell over Evaline's bedroom was heavy with many things. Amber stared openly between them with both hands clasped against her mouth as though physically restraining herself from screaming. Sofia looked scarcely better, bright eyes impossibly wide above the edge of Clover’s fur while the rabbit himself blinked with vague confusion at the emotional devastation unfolding around him.
Baileywick stood frozen beneath the weight of Magnus’s enormous floral arrangement, looking very much like a man mentally drafting several formal apology letters at once.
And Cedric…
Well Cedric suddenly looked unsure of what to do with his hands. His hands, his gaze, his very being. The weight of his words, of Evaline's declaration, came crashing down on top of him with the most suffocating weight.
Yet, he was happy to bear it, even if it meant threat of a grisly, public execution. Whether Magnus flew into a rage, or took the news with subtle disappointment, Cedric found he didn't particularly care. Not while Evaline was smiling at him like that.
Baileywick recovered first, if only through years of calamitous royal incidents already navigated. He’d surely survived worse. “Very good then,” he said carefully. “I shall… inform His Majesty.”
“Yes, do that,” Amber said immediately, still sounding strangled as she reined in another squeal.
“Amber,” Sofia hissed beside her, scandalized and delighted all at once.
“What?” Amber whispered fiercely. “This is the most romantic thing that has happened since Mom met Dad.”
Baileywick cleared his throat with the careful gravity of a man attempting to regain control of a carriage already halfway over a cliff. “Well then,” he said, adjusting the enormous arrangement in his arms, “I shall leave these here, then ensure His Majesty receives the message promptly.”
“Yes,” Cedric heard himself say faintly. “Excellent. Promptness is important.”
Amber made another muffled noise into Sofia’s shoulder.
The entire room had become actively uninhabitable. And still Evaline smiled at him. Not politely. Not out of pity or obligation or careful diplomacy. Warmly. Like she truly meant what she had said.
Cedric abruptly became aware that his pulse had migrated somewhere into the general vicinity of his throat.
Before he could embarrass himself further by saying something so incredibly foolish, Evaline rose smoothly from the bed and crossed the room toward him. Cedric straightened instinctively as she approached, only to immediately regret it when she stopped close enough for him to catch the faint scent of lavender lingering against her skin.
Far too close.
Entirely too close.
Her smile softened further as she carefully turned the flowers he had gifted her in her hands. Not Magnus’s roses. His. That realization alone nearly finished him outright.
“Thank you for these,” she murmured. “I’ll have to find a vase to put them in so I can enjoy them a little longer.”
He swallowed hard. Behind them, Amber looked moments away from rocketing off into another plane of existence. Evaline either mercifully ignored this or had simply accepted chaos as inevitable before breakfast.
“Now,” she said lightly while reaching to brush a lock of hair from his forehead, “give me a minute to get dressed and we’ll be off.”
Cedric remained perfectly motionless long after Evaline disappeared into the adjoining dressing room.
Her bedroom, unfortunately, did not disappear with her. Silence lingered for approximately two full seconds.
Then Amber screamed.
It was not a loud scream, precisely. Baileywick likely would have fainted outright had she truly committed to it. Instead, it emerged as a violently restrained sort of shriek muffled immediately into Sofia’s shoulder while the younger princess dissolved into helpless giggling beside her.
Clover kicked once in alarm before deciding none of this involved him personally and settling back down again.
Cedric closed his eyes briefly.
“Yes,” Amber hissed dramatically the moment she regained enough composure to speak. “Yes, finally. Thank the stars.”
“Amber,” Sofia whispered through her laughter.
“No, absolutely not. Do you have any idea how painful this has been to witness?” Amber demanded, turning both hands outward toward Cedric as if presenting evidence before a royal court. “Months. Months of longing stares and dramatic silences and magically charged emotional repression —”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cedric informed her at once.
Unfortunately, his voice cracked halfway through the sentence.
Amber pointed at him triumphantly. “There! That! That exact tone!”
Cedric considered vanishing into another realm entirely.
Baileywick quietly began inching toward the door with Magnus’s arrangement still balanced carefully in his arms.
“A wise decision,” Cedric muttered without opening his eyes.
“I heard that,” Baileywick replied primly.
“I intended for you to.”
Sofia, at least, took mercy on him first.
“I think what Amber means,” she said gently while smoothing Clover’s ears back down, “is that we’re happy for you.”
That somehow didn’t ease the tension in his chest. Cedric opened his eyes again only to find both princesses looking at him with varying degrees of delighted affection. It was deeply unsettling.
“…Right,” he said weakly.
Amber stared at him for one long moment before her expression abruptly softened into something almost suspiciously sincere. “You know she absolutely likes you too, right?”
Cedric forgot how to breathe for roughly the fourth time that morning.
The worst part was that Amber asked it so casually. As though the answer were obvious. As though Cedric had not spent the better part of several months attempting very carefully not to examine the possibility too closely for the sake of his own emotional stability.
Before he could formulate a response that was not complete nonsense, Evaline’s voice drifted lightly from behind inside the dressing room.
“Amber, my dear...” she laughed lightly.
Amber lifted both hands immediately. “I’m just saying.”
Cedric very suddenly became fascinated by a supposed crack in the ceiling molding.
Baileywick finally escaped while the opportunity still existed, offering Cedric one final look that carried the exhausted sympathy of a man witnessing a magical disaster unfold in slow motion.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Before long, Evaline stepped back into the room with her hair loosely pinned away from her face and midnight-colored fabric draped softly beneath her cloak. Simpler than the gowns she wore for court. Easier to move in. Comfortable.
Beautiful.
Entirely beautiful.
Cedric’s brain stalled somewhere between one heartbeat and the next.
Evaline, mercifully unaware of the catastrophic damage she continued inflicting upon his nervous system, reached for his hand, lacing her fingers loosely with his. “Ready?”
No. Absolutely not.
“Yes,” Cedric answered anyway.
Amber made another strangled sound into her hands. Evaline laughed softly beneath her breath before pulling him toward the door. Cedric nearly forgot how to walk in that moment, and still, somehow, he followed her.
The castle corridors felt strangely quieter than usual. Or perhaps Cedric simply struggled to hear much of anything over the sound of his own heartbeat. Evaline’s hand remained loosely intertwined with his as she guided him down the winding hall, entirely unbothered by the occasional servant they passed along the way.
A few offered polite bows. Others smiled with varying degrees of poorly concealed curiosity. One kitchen maid nearly dropped an entire basket of linens.
Cedric considered turning himself into a mouse or something of equal size. He was almost ready to scurry off to the nearest small hole he could find to hide. He wasn’t used to being perceived quite like this. That, and he was terrified of running into King Magnus.
Beside him, Evaline merely squeezed his hand lightly as though none of this were particularly unusual. The worst part was how natural she made it seem. Not performative. Not overly deliberate. Just easy. As though walking hand in hand beside him through the castle halls was something she had always intended to do.
Maybe she had.
Maybe that was something he had taken for granted these last months.
“You truly didn’t have to do that,” Cedric heard himself say quietly after several moments.
Evaline glanced sideways toward him. “Do what?”
“Decline Magnus.”
The words felt absurdly inadequate for what he actually meant.
You didn’t have to choose me. You didn’t have to say it out loud. You didn’t have to make this real.
Morning light spilled gold across the floor between them as they walked, catching softly along the edges of Evaline’s dark hair. He could see the faintest trace of red in her tresses. And for a moment, she simply looked at him with that same steady warmth that had been quietly dismantling his emotional defenses since the moment they met.
Her thumb brushed lightly against his knuckles. “I wanted to,” she said simply.
Cedric nearly walked directly into a decorative suit of armor.
Before disaster could strike, Evaline caught his arm and gently steered him away from catastrophe without so much as breaking stride.
“Careful,” she laughed softly.
“Yes,” Cedric replied faintly, staring at absolutely nothing. “Excellent suggestion.”
The warmth of her laughter lingered beside him for the remainder of the walk. By the time they reached the royal greenhouse, the frantic noise in Cedric’s thoughts had softened into something quieter. Not gone entirely. Likely never gone entirely. But quieter.
Warmth greeted them immediately the moment Cedric pushed open the tall glass door.
The scent hit first.
Fresh soil. Lavender. Rosemary drying in neat bundles from the ceiling beams overhead. Damp earth still carrying traces of morning watering.
Sunlight filtered green-gold through curved glass panels arching high above them, illuminating narrow stone pathways winding between raised garden beds and climbing ivy. Bees drifted lazily among blooming herbs near the far windows while somewhere deeper inside, water dripped steadily into a shallow irrigation basin.
Nothing inside glittered with dramatic magical enchantment.
No carnivorous vines, no glowing blossoms, no ancient mystical artifacts humming ominously beneath the flowerbeds. Just plants. Ordinary things carefully tended and kept alive through patience, routine, and quiet care.
Evaline stepped inside slowly beside him, her gaze wandering across the greenhouse with unmistakable wonder softening her expression.
“Oh,” she murmured.
Cedric glanced toward her automatically. “Oh?”
A small smile touched her mouth. “It’s peaceful.”
Something in Cedric’s chest eased unexpectedly at the sound of it. Yes, that was exactly the word for it. Peaceful.
Not grand. Not impressive. Not particularly royal. Just warm sunlight filtering through the glass, and growing things, and the steady comfort of familiar routines.
He had spent years cultivating the greenhouse into something useful rather than decorative. Half the plants growing here ended up in healing draughts, sleeping tonics, or remedies for various castle ailments. The castle healers frequently borrowed ingredients from him whenever supplies ran low.
There was practicality in it. Purpose. And somehow, impossibly, Evaline looked at it as though it were something miraculous.
“I should warn you,” Cedric said while reaching for two empty gathering baskets hanging beside the worktable, “most of what grows here is entirely ordinary.”
Evaline accepted one of the baskets from him with an amused sort of warmth still lingering in her eyes. “Cedric,” she said gently, “I fought darkspawn for most of my life.”
His mouth betrayed him with the beginning of a smile.
“I’m about due for something entirely ordinary.”
The words settled somewhere deep inside Cedric’s chest with startling gentleness. And for a moment, neither of them moved. Sunlight spilled warmly across the greenhouse floor between them while somewhere overhead, leaves rustled softly against the glass ceiling. The entire world beyond the greenhouse walls suddenly felt very far away.
No kings. No court politics. No expectations. Just the steady scent of herbs and flowers lingering in the warm air between them.
Evaline shifted first, setting her basket against one hip before stepping toward the nearest raised planter bed. Long fingers brushed lightly through a cluster of flowering chamomile while Cedric watched her with helpless fascination.
“You use this in sleeping tonics?” she asked.
Cedric cleared his throat softly, forcing his thoughts back toward something marginally functional. “Among other things,” he said, moving to kneel beside the planter. “It’s useful for calming draughts, headaches, mild fevers—though the petals need to be dried properly first or the bitterness becomes unbearable.”
Evaline crouched beside him without hesitation, her shoulder brushing lightly against his as she examined the tiny white flowers more closely.
The contact was brief, entirely innocent. It still nearly stopped his heart.
“And how do you properly dry chamomile petals?” she asked solemnly.
Cedric glanced sideways toward her only to find unmistakable amusement dancing in her eyes.
Ah… She was doing this on purpose now.
Dangerous woman.
“You hang them upside down in small bundles,” he informed her carefully, attempting to maintain at least the illusion of composure. “Away from direct sunlight.”
Evaline nodded thoughtfully as though this were deeply vital information.
“I see.”
“You already knew that, didn’t you?”
That earned a quiet laugh from her, warm and soft enough that Cedric felt it somewhere behind his ribs. And as the two of them settled there together beneath the golden morning light, surrounded by growing things and ordinary comforts, Cedric found himself thinking that perhaps Amber had been right.
😴 Who falls asleep first & who watches them with heart-eyes?
🚪 Who’s more likely to say “we’re not leaving this room today”?
🧣 Who steals the other’s scarf / gloves “on accident” every winter?
ship headcanon questions (p sure this was meant for my other blog on @onceuponawarden but I couldn't not answer these)
😴 Who falls asleep first & who watches them with heart-eyes?
Evaline is always the last to fall asleep. She has a rough time drifting off, but she absolutely will watch Cedric with big ole heart eyes as he drifts off well before her.
🚪 Who’s more likely to say “we’re not leaving this room today”?
This one is a tough one. Both of them have big responsibilities that they take very seriously. Though I do suspect that if one of them already earned a break, and knew that the other desperately needed one, neither Cedric or Evaline would hesitate to make the other slow down and take a day off.
🧣 Who steals the other’s scarf / gloves “on accident” every winter?
I don't think either of them would do this, except for it truly being an accident. But I do think that Evaline would take extra care bundling Cedric up in winter. She's seen what frostbite can do to a person.
I was asked what Evaline would be up to during Royal Magic after the events of Once Upon a Warden, and immediately knew my answer. She and Cedric would be married and expecting their first child by then, and the vision wouldn’t leave me alone until a drew it. I also had to put them in a blue void because I stink at backgrounds why not?
Once Upon a Warden- Crossover Fic for 'Dragon Age' and 'Sofia the First' Pod Fic Master Post
Completed fic | Word count: 90,745 | 13+
Summary:
Cedric the Sorcerer wanted nothing more than to see what secrets lay beyond an ancient, magical mirror. Rather than finding the key to taking over the kingdom of Enchancia, a battle-worn, world-weary warrior stumbled into his arms instead.Evaline Surana, Hero of Ferelden, vanquisher of the Archdemon, Urthemiel, had faced everything the world of Thedas could throw at her. She had faced betrayal, heartbreak, darkspawn and demons-- but nothing prepared her for her greatest challenge yet: a world of pastel castles, talking animals and a kingdom where most problems are solved through song. As old magics begin to unravel across two worlds, Evaline must reconcile with her past, Cedric must (begrudgingly) rise to the occasion and Princess Sofia might be the only one who truly understands what it means to be a hero.What a tale this will be for the bards.
AO3 Link | Tumblr Master Post Link
Below the cut is the directory for the individual Pod Fic chapters
Notes: 13+ No warnings apply for this chapter. Tumblr master post here.
Previous Ficlet
Summary: Templars bring young Evaline to Kinloch Hold to spend the rest of her days in the safety of The Circle of Magi.
Night inside Kinloch Hold sounded nothing like night in the alienage. There were no distant conversations through thin walls, no barking dogs, and no laughter drifting up from crowded streets. Only echoes.
Wind howled faintly somewhere beyond the high tower windows while footsteps carried endlessly through distant corridors. Doors opened and shut far away with hollow thuds that seemed to linger forever in the stone. Everything about the tower felt too large, too cold, and much too empty.
Evaline sat curled tightly atop the narrow bed she had been assigned in the apprentice dormitory, clutching her blanket and carved halla against her chest while trying very hard not to cry again. Around her, other children settled into beds arranged in long orderly rows across the chamber. Some whispered quietly, while some ignored her entirely.
One little boy several beds away had already fallen asleep sideways across his blankets with his mouth open. A girl near the far wall was crying softly into her pillow. Nobody seemed surprised by it, and that made it all the worse.
Evaline looked down at the unfamiliar nightdress folded around her knees. Circle robes sat neatly at the foot of the bed waiting for morning. Not her clothes. Nothing here was hers.
A lantern glowed dimly near the dormitory door, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Somewhere overhead, thunder rumbled faintly beyond the tower walls. Evaline missed home so badly it physically hurt. She missed the smell of herbs, the creak of floorboards, her father’s terrible medicinal tea… Her mother humming while she braided herbs beside the hearth.
She wanted to go home.
The thought struck so hard her eyes burned immediately.
No. No crying. Not here.
She pulled the blanket tighter around herself instead. A mattress creaked nearby and Evaline looked up sharply. A boy stood beside the neighboring bed watching her uncertainly. Older than her, she guessed. Maybe eight or nine.
His dark hair stuck up unevenly as though he’d cut it himself at some point and regretted the experience immediately afterward. Freckles dusted across his nose. His robes hung slightly crooked… And he looked deeply nervous.
“Hi,” he said quietly.
Evaline stared.
The boy shifted awkwardly. “I’m Jowan.”
“…Hello,” Evaline answered cautiously.
Jowan glanced around the dormitory before lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You’re the new one.”
Evaline frowned slightly. “I know.”
“Oh. Of course.” He looked embarrassed immediately.
Evaline decided after several long seconds that he did not appear dangerous. Mostly because dangerous people probably spoke with more confidence.
Jowan pointed awkwardly toward the empty space beside her bed. “Can I sit?”
She hesitated before nodding once. Jowan sat carefully atop the neighboring mattress, and for a moment, neither child spoke. Then, quietly, Jowan found his voice again.
“Does your stomach hurt too?”
Evaline blinked. “What?”
Jowan shrugged awkwardly. “Mine did the first night.”
The simple honesty startled her enough that she answered before thinking. “…A little.”
“Yeah,” he nodded knowingly. “That happens.”
Evaline looked at him more carefully now. “You’ve been here long?”
“Couple years.”
That sounded impossibly ancient.
Jowan must have seen the horror cross her face because he laughed quietly. “It’s not all terrible.”
Evaline remained unconvinced.
Jowan leaned closer slightly. “The library’s nice.”
She blinked again.
“There’s a huge window on the upper floor where you can see the lake.” His expression brightened faintly. “And one of the senior enchanters sneaks biscuits to apprentices if templars aren’t nearby.”
“…Really?”
“Mmhm.”
Jowan lowered his voice further. “And First Enchanter Irving lets the tower cats into his office even though he pretends he doesn’t.”
“A cat?”
“Three cats.”
That almost sounded impossible enough to be interesting. Almost. The crying girl across the dormitory sniffled harder suddenly, and Evaline looked over instinctively.
Jowan’s expression dimmed slightly. “She came last week,” he whispered quietly. “Everybody cries the first night.”
Evaline immediately looked down at her blanket again, while Jowan pretended not to notice. After a moment, he reached into the pocket of his robe and awkwardly held something out toward her. A small biscuit wrapped carefully in cloth.
Evaline could only stare.
“I saved it from dinner,” he explained quickly. “You looked sad.”
Maker. The lump in her throat hurt suddenly.
“You can have half,” she whispered after a moment.
Jowan grinned immediately. “Deal.”
They broke the biscuit carefully between them beneath the dim lantern light while wind moaned softly beyond the tower windows.
It still hurt. Everything still hurt. But for the very first time since arriving at Kinloch Hold, Evaline no longer felt entirely alone.
Then, after another long silence, Jowan glanced toward the carved halla tucked tightly beneath her arm.
“My mother made it,” Evaline said quietly before he could ask.
Jowan nodded once. “I had a wooden knight once.”
Evaline looked up. “What happened to it?”
“…I forgot what it looked like,” he said after a moment of hesitation.
The words settled heavily between them. Evaline’s grip tightened instinctively around the little halla. As though she might lose that too if she loosened her hold even slightly. Across the dormitory, the lantern flame flickered softly while one by one the younger apprentices drifted toward uneasy sleep beneath the ancient stone walls of the tower.
Eventually Jowan stood reluctantly beside her bed. “You can wake me up if you get scared,” he offered awkwardly.
“I’m not scared,” she insisted with a faint frown.
Thunder cracked loudly overhead, and she jumped violently. Jowan pretended very hard not to notice.
Notes: 13+ No warnings apply for this chapter. Tumblr master post here.
Previous Ficlet
Summary: Templars bring young Evaline to Kinloch Hold to spend the rest of her days in the safety of The Circle of Magi.
The boat ride across Lake Calenhad felt endless.
Evaline sat wedged tightly between her mother's folded blanket, and the side of the small Chantry boat while gray water stretched in every direction around them. Wind tugged constantly at her curls, carrying the sharp scent of lake water and rain. She hated every second of it.
Not because the lake was frightening, but because every time she looked back, the shoreline grew smaller, and the tower ahead loomed larger.
Denerim had disappeared days ago. The templars spoke little during the journey. The younger one occasionally glanced toward her like he wanted to say something comforting, but never quite managed it. The older templar simply remained quiet, hands folded over the pommel of his sword as they neared the base of the tower.
Kinloch Hold was massive, cold, impossible-looking. Evaline stared up at the monolithic tower with widening eyes as the boat drifted toward the docks beneath it. It rose straight from the lake like something out of a story, all dark stone and narrow windows disappearing into the cloudy sky above.
Birds wheeled around the upper spires, while waves crashed softly against the ancient foundations below. It did not look like a place where children lived. It looked like a fortress.
The boat scraped gently against the dock.
One of the templars stepped out first before turning back toward her. "We're here."
Evaline didn't move. The older templar simply waited for her, patiently. Finally, she gathered her blanket tighter around herself and climbed carefully from the boat.
The wind felt colder on the docks. Stronger even, and everything smelled like wet stone.
The templars guided her silently through the enormous wooden doors, and into the tower proper. That's when the world suddenly felt like nothing more than echoes. There were footsteps. Voices. Distant doors opening and shutting somewhere far above. All the noise was swallowed strangely by the tower.
Clutching her little carved halla tighter, Evaline swallowed hard as she walked alongside the templars.
Mages in strange robes passed them occasionally through the halls. Some were old, some young. A few glanced toward her with quiet sympathy. Others barely looked at all.
The templars eventually stopped outside a pair of heavy doors near the lower levels. The younger one knocked twice.
"Enter," came a tired voice from beyond. The voice was older, warm even, but tired nonetheless. As the templars moved to push the doors open, the room beyond surprised her.
It was still enormous, like everything else in the tower, but warmer somehow. Bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, while candles glowed softly atop cluttered desks overflowing with parchment, loose books, strange instruments, and half-finished cups of tea.
Near the tall windows stood an elderly man in robes of rich olive-green. His beard was mostly silver with streaks of snowy-white. His shoulders stooped slightly with age, and his eyes… His eyes were kind.
"Ah," he said softly upon seeing her. "You must be Evaline."
She immediately hid half behind the templar beside her.
The old man smiled gently. "A sensible response," he mused. "The tower can be rather intimidating at first."
The templars exchanged brief glances before the older one spoke.
"First Enchanter Irving—"
Ah, even at seven, Evaline recognized authority when she heard it. The old mage approached slowly, careful not to crowd her.
"Would you like to know a secret?" he asked quietly.
Evaline blinked uncertainly.
Irving leaned slightly closer. "The first day frightened me too."
Her brow furrowed. "But you're old."
The younger templar choked violently on absolutely nothing. A startled laugh burst from Irving immediately, rich and genuine enough that even the older templar's mouth twitched.
Evaline stared suspiciously as though trying to determine whether old age was contagious or not. Something softened in Irving's expression then. Something about the small, elven girl seemed to enchant him.
"You have had a very difficult day," he said gently. "Would you care for some tea?"
Evaline hesitated before nodding once.
"Good," Irving said warmly. "I find most tragedies become at least marginally more tolerable with tea." He moved about the room with the slow familiarity of long habit, preparing a small cup while Evaline remained rooted nervously near the doorway. The templars lingered awkwardly nearby until Irving finally waved a hand toward them.
"You've done enough frightening for one afternoon, gentlemen. Off with you now."
The younger templar looked relieved.
The older one hesitated briefly before inclining his head toward Evaline. "Good luck, little one."
And with that said, they were gone. The heavy door shut behind them with a low, final thud, and Evaline flinched. Irving couldn't help but notice. He set the teacup gently before her atop a low table near the hearth.
Lavender. The scent hit immediately and Evaline's throat tightened. Irving lowered himself into the chair opposite hers with a soft groan of aging knees.
"My apologies," he sighed. "Everything aches after fifty."
Evaline considered him for a long moment, her nose wrinkling in thought. "You're much older than fifty."
"I am devastated by your accuracy," Irving said, his voice dry in spite of the twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
A tiny laugh escaped her before she could stop it. And just for a second, there she was. A child beneath the fear.
Irving smiled softly. "There we are."
Watching him curiously, she finally sank into the cushions of the offered chair. Her eyes never left him, not for the slightest moment. Even as she curled her hands carefully around the warm teacup.
"…Mamae makes tea too."
"I imagine hers is significantly better than mine."
"Probably," she answered, quick and honest. That didn't stop her from taking a ginger sip of the tea, however. The old enchanter chuckled quietly before his expression softened again.
"You miss them already, don't you?"
Her eyes flitted down immediately. The carved halla sat tightly clutched against her blanket, beneath one arm. She couldn't help but frown into her reflection in the teacup.
"Mamae said the stars guide people home," she murmured. The words came very small. Incredibly fragile. Irving was silent for a long moment after that.
When he finally spoke, his voice had gentled considerably. "She sounds like a wise woman, your mother."
"When do I go back?" she asked, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears.
She wasn't the first child to ask the question. She most certainly wasn't going to be the last. Maker only knew…
Folding his hands slowly in his lap, Irving turned his gaze out the window. Outside, Lake Calenhad stretched endlessly beneath the darkening sky.
"This place will become part of your home too, in time," he answered carefully. It was not a lie, but… It wasn't the full truth either. The truth hurt far too much, and too much had already been inflicted upon the little girl already.
Evaline lowered her gaze quickly before tears could spill free. He pretended not to notice. Instead, he reached for the small plate beside the tea tray and nudged it toward her. Strawberry scones, freshly baked that morning. Evaline stared at them uncertainly.
Notes: 13+ No warnings apply for this chapter. Find this work on AO3. Tumblr master post here.
Previous Chapter
Evaline woke slowly to silence.
Not true silence, but castle silence.
There were muted footsteps somewhere beyond the corridor walls. The distant clatter of dishes from kitchens already alive with breakfast preparations. Wind brushing softly against the tall windows overlooking the gardens below.
Familiar sounds now. Comfortable ones. For a few lingering moments, she remained curled beneath the warmth of the blankets, staring sleepily at the pale morning light stretched across the canopy overhead.
Eventually, she pushed herself upright with a quiet sigh, brushing loose curls back from her face as the last remnants of sleep began to fade.
Something felt… off.
It took her another few seconds to realize what it was.
No knock at the door. No dramatically overcomplicated breakfast tray conjured by magic because Cedric had decided the castle kitchens were “distressingly inconsistent” with tea preparation. No note slipped beneath the door in elegant script correcting some entirely imaginary magical misconception from the day before.
Evaline frowned faintly.
Cedric was almost certainly already awake. A soft knock sounded against the door before Evaline could think much further on it.
Three quick taps, then Sofia’s muffled voice drifted through the wood. “Evaline? Are you awake?”
The door creaked open just enough for Sofia to peek through first, Clover tucked comfortably beneath one arm. The young princess brightened at once upon spotting her awake. “Oh good. I didn’t want to come in if you were still sleeping.”
Waving her in, Evaline scooted slightly to the side of the bed to make room for her. Sofia slipped inside with the careful balance of someone trying not to jostle the rabbit in her arms. Clover, meanwhile, looked entirely unconcerned by the matter, already half-dozing against her shoulder.
“Good morning,” Sofia said brightly as she climbed onto the edge of the mattress beside her.
“It’s always a good morning when I get to see your sweet smile.”
That earned a soft giggle.
Evaline reached automatically to scratch Clover between the ears as Sofia settled comfortably beside her. The rabbit leaned into the touch immediately with the dramatic contentment of a creature deeply convinced he deserved constant affection. For a few moments, neither of them said much.
The quiet felt easy.
Morning light spilled warmly across the blankets between them while the castle slowly stirred awake beyond the walls. Somewhere outside, faint birdsong drifted through the open crack of the window.
Sofia tucked one leg beneath herself before glancing up at Evaline curiously. “Did you have fun last night?”
Evaline considered the question honestly.
“I think so,” she admitted after a moment. “Though I’m fairly certain Greylock was trying to cause at least three separate diplomatic incidents.”
Sofia let out a soft, amused sound. “Amber says he’s funny.”
"Perhaps," Evaline said, absently unfurling her braid. "I just wish most of his jokes weren't at poor Cedric's expense."
Evaline glanced toward her curiously while working the end of the braid loose. “No?”
Sofia shook her head. “Greylock only teases people he likes.” A beat passed before she amended, “Well… mostly.”
That earned a quiet laugh from Evaline.
“I think they’ve known each other a very long time,” Sofia continued thoughtfully. “At least, I hope he’s doing it in good fun.”
That, Evaline thought, was true enough. Even beneath all the theatrical needling, there had been familiarity there. Ease. The sort that only came from years of history shared between two people who understood each other perhaps a little too well.
Still…
Her hands slowed slightly in her hair. Cedric had not seemed entirely himself last night. The thought lingered long enough that Sofia noticed the shift in her expression.
“He really was strange though,” the princess said quietly.
Evaline looked back toward her. “Strange how?”
Sofia scrunched her nose as though trying to sort the feeling into words. “Not like he was upset exactly.” She paused. “Just quieter than normal.”
Evaline exhaled softly through her nose. That matched what she had noticed too. Cedric had still smiled when spoken to. Still laughed at the appropriate moments. Still carried conversations with all the polished charm expected of Enchancia’s royal sorcerer.
But beneath it, something had felt tight. Like a spell wound too tightly around itself.
“He left his tower really early too,” Sofia added.
That pulled Evaline’s attention fully back toward her. “You saw him this morning?”
“Mhm.” Sofia nodded. “He looked tired.”
Concern pricked faintly beneath Evaline’s ribs at that. Before she could respond, another knock sounded sharply against the door. Amber’s voice carried through immediately afterward.
“Sofia, you can’t just skip breakfast to steal Evaline all to yourself,” she chided, the faintest trace of amusement brightening her exasperation. The door opened at once, revealing Amber in a swirl of pale dandelion satin. “You have no idea what I just endured downstairs,” she declared while stepping into the room.
Wrapping an arm around Sofia, Evaline pulled her closer and patted a spot on the bed on her opposite side.
"No idea, whatsoever," Evaline agreed. "Tell me, what's the news this fine morning?"
Amber accepted the invitation immediately, gathering her skirts as she climbed onto the mattress with far more elegance than necessary. Even so, the moment she settled beside them, some of her dramatic composure slipped into something more conspiratorial.
“The news,” she declared, “is that King Magnus is exhausting.”
Sofia giggled.
Amber frowned pointedly at her sister. “It’s not funny. He’s absolutely impossible.”
“Dad likes him,” Sofia pointed out helpfully.
“Dad has to like him,” Amber countered at once. “They’re political allies. That’s hardly a glowing recommendation.”
Evaline laughed softly under her breath while reaching for the brush resting atop the bedside table. “What terrible crime has he committed this morning?”
Amber opened her mouth immediately to answer, but yet another knock interrupted her. It wasn’t as hurried as hers had been. It was careful. Measured. The sound stilled the room almost instinctively.
Evaline’s expression softened before the thought had fully formed.
Cedric. It had to be this time.
“Come in,” she called.
The door opened slowly… and there he was.
Cedric stood framed in the morning light spilling through the corridor behind him, already fully dressed despite the early hour. His robes were immaculate as always, though faint shadows lingered beneath his eyes exactly as Sofia had claimed. But that wasn’t what caught Evaline’s attention.
It was the flowers.
A small bouquet rested carefully in his hands, gathered with enough obvious intention that it immediately tightened something warm beneath her ribs. Wildflowers mixed among palace blooms in shades of soft blue, cream, and pale gold. Nothing particularly extravagant, but obviously thoughtful.
Hand-picked, she realized almost instantly.
Cedric looked faintly startled to find all three of them occupying the bed at once. “…Ah,” he said haltingly.
Amber’s eyes widened at once. Sofia looked delighted. Evaline smiled before she could stop herself.
“Good morning,” she greeted softly.
Something in Cedric’s posture eased almost immediately at the sound of her voice.
“Good morning,” he replied, quieter. For one brief moment, the rest of the room seemed to fade at the edges.
Then Amber noticed the bouquet. “Ooooh,” she very nearly sang. “Flowers?”
Cedric immediately looked as though he regretted every decision that had led him here.
“These are for you,” he said quickly, stepping forward before anyone else could speak. “I was informed by entirely unreliable sources that flowers are considered an acceptable morning gesture.”
Evaline’s smile widened helplessly. “I think your sources were correct.”
A faint flush touched the tips of Cedric’s ears as he offered her the bouquet. She accepted them carefully, breathing in the soft floral scent lingering between the petals.
They were beautiful. Not arranged with royal precision or excessive grandeur. Just careful thought and intention. Very Cedric.
“You picked these yourself,” she observed quietly.
Cedric adjusted one cuff with unnecessary precision. “Possibly.”
Amber and Sofia made a tiny strangled noise somewhere beside them.
And then—
Yet another knock sounded at the door. Louder this time. Before anyone could respond, Baileywick swept into the room carrying an absolutely enormous arrangement of roses, lilies, and golden ivy that nearly obscured him entirely.
“A delivery for you, Lady Evaline!” he announced.
Cedric froze.
Evaline blinked.
Baileywick maneuvered the arrangement carefully into the room with the grave focus of a man transporting highly unstable explosives. “With compliments from King Magnus,” he declared proudly.
Very slowly, Evaline looked down at the modest bouquet still resting in her hands. Then at the mountain of flowers currently blocking half her doorway. Then back toward Cedric.
Oh no, was the very distinct thought that echoed in her head.
Amber pressed both lips together so hard they nearly disappeared. Sofia looked openly alarmed now. Cedric, meanwhile, had gone so perfectly still that Evaline suddenly understood exactly what Sofia meant by quieter than normal.
Baileywick either failed to notice the tension entirely or would have chosen death over acknowledging it. “There are also,” he continued, producing a folded card from somewhere within the arrangement, “additional floral deliveries scheduled throughout the day.”
A beat passed.
“…Additional?” Evaline echoed weakly.
Baileywick nodded solemnly. “The king wished to ensure variety. His Majesty specified that each arrangement should convey a distinct sentiment.”
Cedric’s expression became extraordinarily blank. Evaline had seen that look before. Usually moments before something exploded. Sofia, meanwhile, looked as though she was witnessing the social equivalent of an incoming carriage accident and could not look away.
Baileywick finally extended the folded card toward Evaline. “Shall I read it aloud?”
“No,” Cedric said immediately.
Baileywick hesitated only briefly before handing the card directly to her instead, clearly deciding self-preservation was the wiser course of action. Evaline unfolded it carefully while balancing Cedric’s bouquet awkwardly against her lap.
The handwriting was elegant. Bold. Confident.
Of course it was.
Lady Evaline,
I found myself regretting that our conversation yesterday evening was interrupted so often. I hope these brighten your morning until I may enjoy your company again.
Yours,
King Magnus
Evaline stared at the card for one long second. Then another. That same strange hum from the previous evening stirred low beneath Evaline’s ribs again. Not unpleasant exactly. Just… undeniable now.
Across from her, Cedric had gone so still he scarcely looked alive.
Everything clicked into place all at once, and she could feel her heart drop into the pit of her stomach. Magnus’s attention at dinner, the constant questions, Cedric’s strange silence, the tension wound tight beneath every carefully measured smile the night before…
Maker.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze toward Cedric. He refused to meet her eyes with the stubborn determination of a man actively attempting to transcend physical existence. And for one terrible, wonderful moment, affection hit her so hard it nearly hurt, because suddenly she could see it so clearly.
Cedric leaving his tower before sunrise, carefully gathering flowers by hand because he wanted to bring her something thoughtful. Cedric arriving here already uncertain and exhausted. Cedric immediately being confronted by a royal declaration disguised as floral arrangements.
“Oh dear,” Evaline breathed.
Not because Magnus was interested. But because Cedric cared.
The realization settled warm and startling through her chest. Beside her, Amber looked moments away from combusting entirely from secondhand romantic tension. Sofia, at least, looked mostly sympathetic.
Baileywick adjusted the enormous arrangement slightly in his arms. “There is also a luncheon invitation from His Majesty scheduled for midday.”
Cedric inhaled slowly through his nose, eyes shuttering closed. Amber grabbed Sofia’s arm, her other hand pressing to her collar.
Evaline looked at Baileywick carefully. “Scheduled?”
“Yes, Lady Evaline.” Baileywick said matter-of-factly. “The king seemed very confident you would accept.”
That finally did it. Cedric laughed. Just once. A soft, brief noise, entirely devoid of humor. Every head in the room turned toward him immediately, and Cedric seemed to realize he had done it aloud a second too late.
“My apologies,” he said smoothly, though the words sounded dangerously thin around the edges. “Please continue scheduling Lady Evaline’s day on her behalf. Far be it from me to interrupt.”
Baileywick finally faltered, if only slightly. “The king merely wished to extend hospitality—”
“I’m sure he did,” Cedric replied, his tone surprisingly saccharine.
Evaline stared at him for one long heartbeat. Then another. The entire situation was so painfully obvious that she almost wanted to laugh herself.
Not at Cedric.
Never at Cedric.
Just at the absurdity of it all.
Magnus, apparently accustomed to grand gestures and effortless pursuit. Cedric, quietly unraveling because he had never once considered himself the sort of man someone would choose over a king. And she was right there in the middle of it all.
Before anyone else could speak, Evaline carefully set Magnus’s card atop the bedside table.
Still holding Cedric’s bouquet in her lap, she looked back toward Baileywick. “That won’t be necessary.”
Baileywick blinked. “Pardon?”
“The luncheon.” Evaline smiled politely. “Please thank King Magnus for the invitation, but I’ll have to decline.”
Shock swept visibly across Amber’s face and Sofia’s eyes widened. Even Baileywick looked momentarily unprepared for that answer. Cedric, meanwhile, simply stared at her and swallowed hard.
Evaline continued before anyone could interrupt. “I appreciate the flowers,” she said diplomatically. “But I already had plans for today."
Sofia looked delighted, and Amber’s mouth opened slightly.
However, Baileywick recovered first. “May I inform His Majesty what those plans entail?”
Evaline glanced toward Cedric then. She saw the exhaustion lingering beneath his careful composure. The uncertainty hidden behind practiced politeness was painfully apparent.
Looking at the flowers he had gathered himself before sunrise, she felt her heart swell. Because somewhere along the way, without ever truly saying it aloud, loving her had become as natural to him as breathing.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I’ll be spending the day with Cedric.”
Silence fell.
Then Amber made a sound so high-pitched it barely qualified as human. Sofia clapped both hands over her mouth as a similar sound threatened to escape her as well. Baileywick stood perfectly motionless beneath the weight of disastrous social implications.
And Cedric… Cedric looked as though someone had briefly unplugged his soul from his body. A faint flush rose swiftly across his face as he stared at Evaline in open disbelief.
“You… what?” he managed weakly.
Evaline tilted her head innocently. “Unless you’re terribly busy.”
Cedric opened his mouth. Closed it again, then opened it once more.
“I,” he said, with all the composure of a man actively losing a battle against his own heartbeat, “am suddenly available.”
😳What’s the most embarrassing thing they’ve walked in on the other doing?
Oh that's tough. I feel like for Cedric, he was embarrassed that time Evaline visited with Sofia and he had a potion explode all over his workshop. As for Evaline, she doesn't get embarrassed easily, so I don't think this has really happened on her end yet.
💞How do they act when one of them is sick?
Cedric flies into a tizzy any time Evaline gets sick. He's doing everything he can to make sure she's comfortable, overextending himself to find remedies for her ailments, and working around the clock until she's better.
As for when Cedric is sick, Evaline is sort of similar, but she maintains an air of calm. She'll make sure he's tucked into bed, she'll brew all the best remedies, and sometimes she'll sing him songs she's learned over the years as she gently runs her fingers through his hair.
💥What’s the biggest risk one of them took for the other that the partner didn’t find out about until much later?
So Evaline went to face the Horned King by herself. While Cedric knew she was heading off to face something alone, he didn't fully grasp the severity of the situation until later.
Then Cedric went off to bring the Inquisition army to Enchancia to rescue her while she was in the Horned King's grasp.
