"Who I'm? Just a paper tiger. A pampered noble rebel. An accidental 'Chosen One'"
Red hair, water-green eyes, pale skin, deep scar on his face – once he tried to escape. "It was long ago – you think, this was heroic? Haha, I rather don't speak about it."
Sarcastic. Angry. Distrustful. Despite this, mostly friendly. At least tries to be. Has a weird, dark-morbid humour.
Talents and Skills
Magic and some alchemy. Able to fight with blades, and have martial skills. He knows the blood magic, but not really uses it. He learned to cover his real power.
Willard Trevelyan born in 9:09 Dragon, in Ostwick as the mighty Trevelyan family's first child, the heir.
He was 11 when his magic manifested. His father ashamed him – but he didn't leave him peace – paid well to the Circle for guarding him. He disowned his family. Never saw them since the Templars locked him to the Circle, and lost everything he had before. While he had some friends in the Circle, most of his fellows tried to avoid him. Once he used his name for achieving something: he wanted to go in the conclave – he thought, he has a chance to find (or at least to hear something from) his old friend (or more) whom they sent to the White Spire long time ago, and wanted to vote to the independence.
Ah, Dorian! I'm not surprised. I suppose, you're curious about my 'love' story? But you'll be disappointed – my story isn’t that nice. Bring me another beer, and I will tell you. Where should I start...
"I was completely infatuated with one of the Templars in our tower… It was so shy, I didn’t say a word", I said to Josephine. When I started to tell, I knew, it was a mistake. So: I lied.
Yes, initially, there was no more than just a shy, innocent daydream. The only place, where I could escape was my mind. For long minutes, sometimes for hours, I stood in the window of my cell and waited he appears, and when it happened, I just watched him and imagined, he will look up to me and on the courtyard, he will smile at me. Of course, at the courtyard I embarrassingly tried to avoid his gaze, giving no chance to my dreams. I was only 16, he was 18 and new here. He was beautiful with his blond hair and warm brown eyes, and he looked popular among his fellows, I was sure he has a someone in his life. A girl, perhaps. No. I did not do anything to find out. I didn't want to kill my dreams.
Haha! No. I hadn't any illusion about the Templars, including him. He was not the worst of his kind, but still a Templar. I hated them with passion. This hatred was greater than my attraction, and this prevented me to commit some stupidity. That blonde knight was my dream. The reality was the Templar. Not better than the others.
I was a "troublemaker" according to them. I just wanted a little fucking respect. Justice. We're people, not dangerous monsters! We're not cursed!
I was eleven when I burned our curtains in the hall. We had guests... can you imagine that scandal? Mother and these notabilities screamed, my asshole little brother laughed as an idiot, and father yelled. I will never forget! I just stood, and laughed awkwardly – I was not able to stop it. My father grabbed me hard, then suddenly pushed me off... I saw the disgust in his eyes. I was not able to stop the laugh, while I wanted to cry. Then the Templars arrived...
I was just a kid, but somehow I knew: I don't have family anymore.
I was frightened but defied. They will never see my fear! I will never give up! I hated that place from the first moment. They told me: I'll get used to it over time. But I did not want to get used to it! Never! I lost everything. My family, my heirloom, but I want to keep myself! Only the defiance remained to me. But I knew, this defiance is the pledge of my survival. I strengthened that from day to day. It was hard – sometimes the acceptance, the obedience was so big temptation – my demon. To become a well-loved „good boy”, would be so easy and comfortable. But coward. And I don't want to be a coward – someone who gives up just because of it's easier!
I was punished often, but I always avoided the hardest punishments. Was I fortunate? No. It was about my "family". My father disowned me, but he paid them to keep me safe... or rather don't let me escape, I suppose, lest he does not have to face me again – to face his shame again.
So: I hated the Templars, and I had my reasons. I didn't want to love him, and I can't say, I loved him. I loved a dream – about my good man, who secretly wants to help me to escape from this damned place.
Nobody knew about my little, ridiculous secret... Later I found my joy with other apprentices, it was better that way.
Two years later one night I lay on my bed when the door opened, true, never was locked, we didn't have a key, you know, it would be too dangerous... so – he was in the door, alone. I thought I dream, but it was so real.
"Is my time coming?" My stomach clenched, my heart was pounding out of my chest, but I tried to show deadly calm. "Why you're alone", suddenly came to my mind, "not you always come for us in pairs? You're brave, you know!" I tried to be jaunty – to show self-confidence.
"Your tongue is as sharp as I've heard", he locked the door, "but I didn't come for you... or... I came for you, but..."
"What do you want, spit it out already, or leave me alone!" I was ready to kill him.
"You doesn't make things easier for me, you know..."
"It was never my goal." I was confused. I was sure, I still dream, but I didn't know, this is my best naughty dream... or the start of my worst nightmare...
"Haha... I... don't get me wrong... I just... heard... I just saw you look at me... sometimes. I... noticed you..."
I stood up and went to him slowly closer and closer... and tried to be threatening. "What do you wants from me?", I whispered. I kissed him hard. "That is why you came?" I looked straight into his eyes.
More than once I dreamed about it, still, I didn't believe that it happened. And I didn't know, when will I woke up. And how. He kissed me back.
Of course, they found out soon. They locked me up in solitary confinement, for two weeks. By the time I was released, he was no longer there. Never saw him again. Was it a love? I don't think so. It was just a dream. Never happened.
So, this is my "love" story.
Other affairs? Many. But... I had a lover, in the Circle. Those deep green eyes! He was Dalish – but didn't remember his life with his clan. The Templars attacked them and arrested him. This was the last memory of his clan – he didn't know, what was their fate. What happened between us? He was a friend? Or more? I will never know it. They sent him to the White Spire, at least I heard that – I don't have more information about him. I wanted to find him – but then this chaos came.
And how happened, that the Circle send to the Conclave such a troublemaker like me? Now, first time in the Circle, I offered my help. I saw the opportunity – and they also saw the opportunity in me. My family name helped again.
Seems like a hypocrite, isn't? A pampered noble "rebel", who never was in real danger, and never really risked anything...Who I'm? Just a paper tiger. An accidental "Chosen One".
"He intends to be a god. To rule over us all. Corypheus must be stopped"
Still in progress
Still in progress
Varric – Friendly.
Cassandra – After a very bad start, Willard strengthened her faith, and encouraged her to rebuild the Sekers, with the criterion: she will work on the reversion of the Tranquility as the priority. This is the sin of the Seekers. They must fix it – no matter the cost. He not really trust they'll do it – but gave a chance them. And he wants freedom for mages, but know well the danger. The Seekers don't use lyrium, and have some useful abilities, so: based on their abilities in cooperation with the mages, they capable of effective action against the rogue mages. To a new start this seems good it just needs to be implemented. Cassandra seems naive, not malicious.
Solas – Friendly. Willard enjoys every moment he spends with Solas. His theories and studies really interesting.
Cole – Friendly.
"Very interesting. Seems he wants to be more human – but he's a spirit. I don't know. But I love him."
Dorian – Friendly.
Blackwall – Friendly.
Sera – Friendly. Despite Willard is a noble (or because of it...), he loves her goals and her temper – but sometimes thinks, she's really annoying. Anyway. Funny. Mostly... and friendly – despite, they don't agree in many things.
The Iron Bull – Friendly. Willard didn't want to accept the Qunari ally – so at first, he refused to meet with them, but later he decided, worth it to investigate. But when the Venatori attacked the dreadnoughts, it was not a question to him: he didn't sacrifice Bulls Chargers, and –surprisingly(?)– Bull was grateful. And Tal-Vashoth, what was much more comforting than an ally with the Qun...
Vivienne – Loyalist or at least sympathize with the Loyalists. Orlesian politician. Willard doesn't trust her. Why he recruited her? To keep an eye on her. Willard refused to help her in some suspicious task. He accepted to gather the lost Circle's books – these shouldn't be lost in the chaos. The Inquisition and/or the College of Enchanters can use them – and he also loves to learn. But these aren't for Vivienne's planned new Circles. (To reanimate the dead Circles? What a terrible idea! A dead should remain dead!)
Josephine – Friendly.
Leliana – Friendly. Willard supports her radical reforms. The Chantry needs a Divine like her. Leliana doesn't want direct support, but Willard promised, he will help her.
Cullen – Controversial. Willard has a crush on him – or a hopeless love? He hopes not. This is ridiculous – can't happen again! And this man was the right hand of the Kirkwall's Circle! Hawke told, what happened in Kirkwall. "Meredith's methods were harsh, but kept people safe" – Willard can't forget this sentence. Cullen left the Order – but still believes it? Impossible! That corrupt Order should be destroyed, like the Circles, it proved already, and Cullen should understand the reason! But still, Willard decided, he will help him to get over his lyrium addiction, and to help the others, to get over it. That's terrible! (Another reason to eliminate the Order...)
Georg Hawke – Respect.
"Please, when you meet again with Anders, give him my best wishes. Whatever happened, you're a lucky man, just as he is with you, believe me. And thank you. You was able to regain your nobility and legacy as a mage, but to leave everything you had – for the freedom, for our freedom. I don't know, I would be able to do, I just hope."
Hagen Brandt, Templar in the Ostwick Circle, later in Montsimmard Circle, Willard's affair – deceased.
9.42 Dragon – Emprise du Lion, Suledin Keep
They almost captured the fort when he saw the Templar. He'd lie on the ground, it seemed to have great pain.
"The demon ... is gone...?" He asked and looked at Willard.
"Too much red. All through him. He's dying." Cole said.
"Why was the demon here, working with the Red Templars?" – Willard asked. He had to find out what was going on here.
"A Garden needs a gardener. Nurturing, gentle hands, directing the change. Not too fast. Not too slow. Just right. Has to be right" – answered the Templar.
Incoherent words. The red lyrium and pain seem to take away his mind. Willard took out a vial from his pouch. Elfroot potion. He read in Samson's letter, it can help. Maybe he can say something, or if it can't, still can reduce the pain. Perhaps he hated the Templars, but this one was no more, just a suffering man.
And his voice. It was strange, distant, yet… familiar.
Ha… Hagen? No, it can't be! He crouched at the man, and carefully removed the helmet.
Memories rushed into his mind. He was 16, stood in the window of his cell and waited he appears, and when it happened, he just watched him and imagined, he will look up to him and on the courtyard, he will smile at him. He was beautiful with his blond hair and warm brown eyes.
And now, as he kept his head in his hand and looked at him, he was still so beautiful as he remembered. Tortured, but beautiful. He gently raised his head and gave him the potion.
The Templar looked at him. The spark of recognition lit up in his eyes.
"No... you ... you're not real. Your eyes ... live... not dead like... You're a demon ... or...?"
"I'm..., I’m Willard..., 'Princeling', remember?"
"No… don't torture me… he… he's a Tranquil, I know ... they said. I… lov---".
"Dark cell, just sitting and waiting. Voices. His name. Tranquility. Over! It's all over! My fault. All are my fault!"
"What do you say about, Cole? What happened?" Willard looked at the Spirit.
"They lied. He blamed himself. He wanted to die. He wants to die".
Willard took his dagger. "I loved you too…" lied…(?) and freed him from the pain.
Dorian looked at him. "You knew him. Who---"
"No… just a dream. An old dream… a ghost from the past..." Willard stepped to the stone railing, looked down, then turned to the others. "The fort is ours."
Still in progress.
Willard believes in the Maker, Andraste, and thinks, the Chantry failed them and failed every one. Willard thinks the Chantry uses Andraste's and the Maker's name to lock them up innocently. Misuses Andraste's words to justify that. "Magic exists to serve man, never to rule over him." Yes. But how it can serve locked? Also, took away his heritage (he was the firstborn – and mage). There the time to give it back! While he disowned his family at that moment when he saw their reaction to his magic... Anyway, if the Chantry can use Andraste's name, why he wouldn't? This is ironic... and he loves the jokes... the Maker moves in a mysterious way.
A Friend and More (WIP)
Willard Trevelyan's sliders