Evelyne had met royalty, but as fourth in line for a noble house, had not been expected to host or entertain them; that had been the responsibility of her older siblings. They were raised up as diplomats or political agents, rubbing elbows with nobility and royalty. Her older siblings were the ones attending grand, stuffy balls where everyone spoke in double meanings, or having delicate luncheons and judging the way that one consumed finger sandwiches. She always figured that it didn’t matter that much anyway -- she was going to be a templar; who had need for lessons in etiquette or ballroom dancing or political savvy?
Oh, she could curse her younger self. And Josephine. For in an effort to improve the strained relations between the growing Inquisition and the countries around it, she had decided to invite some of their leaders or diplomats to Skyhold. She’d thought it would be a good idea for them to see just how the Inquisition functioned day-to-day, how they helped people, and how they weren’t just a military force throwing their weight around to scare people. And it had seemed like a good idea, at the time. After all, Evelyne wanted to prove that she was not trying to turn the Inquisition into some vengeful army intent on shaping the world in her image. She wanted to bring peace -- and if a little bit of change came with it, then well, so be it.
But then, a note on her desk, and after reading it, Evelyne felt anxious despite herself. It was from Josephine, letting her ‘dear Inquisitor’ know that it would be King Alistair himself who would be joining the Inquisition at Skyhold to learn and observe what their goings-on were. Sure, Evelyne had communicated with him before -- but that was by letter, which was actually written by Josephine, and so Maker knew what she had actually said in those letters.
She wasn’t a political figure or a diplomat! She was the Inquisitor, the...leader of a quasi-military, semi-political, peacekeeping force with a palatial stone fortress as home base, where she spent time brokering deals between the Inquisition and the elves, and mages, and whose direction was looked to by most of Thedas, and...oh, dear. She was in over her head.
Regardless, the day of the King’s arrival had finally...well, arrived, and Evelyne’s diplomatic skills were undoubtedly less polished than ever. She supposed some people saw her as a political figure, which seemed odd, but then again, some people saw her as Andraste’s chosen, and that was even more odd. At least, it was to her.
And so she stood in the middle of the Main Hall, passing time staring at the tapestries hanging from wooden beams while Alistair was being shown around Skyhold by Josephine, presumably learning where his rooms were and how many different kinds of flowers they grew in Skyhold’s gardens. And then she heard Josephine’s voice, chattering on about the Hall and the something-or-other stone that made up Skyhold’s walls...
“Your Majesty,” Evelyne said as Alistair finally came into view. “Evelyne -- Inquisitor Trevelyan. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I, ah. Welcome to Skyhold. To the Inquisition.”
