Chapter Text
It was August. The most wonderful month of the year, Evelyn thought wistfully. Even this high up in the mountains, they were not spared the heat of summer. She leaned lazily against a training dummy trying not to look too interested in watching the men spar, much the same as every other woman in Skyhold currently.
It had started out innocently enough. The Inquisitor saw the whole thing unfold from the beginning. She had come outside early to sketch. Varric and Josephine, heartless taskmasters that they were, had been hounding her for weeks already to get started on a set of new images for next year's calendar. The sales had yet to taper for the current year's, their audience seeming not so concerned with tracking the days as they were with indulging in fantasy.
She'd heard that the men lucky enough to be featured were keeping track of each time they saw their own image displayed on a lady's wall either long after their month was past or far before it even came. She couldn't deny that she was one of those ladies, proudly displaying the month of August from 1st Wintermarch until this very day, when at least it was accurate.
Ser Rylen was leading the morning exercises. Which meant he was the lead peacock. And subsequently, the first to lose his shirt.
Ser Wintermarch asked Lysette if she would like to spar with him. Lysette, who had been celebrating Wintermarch for the past eight months now, happily accepted, trying to pass off the blush in her cheeks as sun exposure when Rylen very deliberately asked about her rosy color with a naughty glint in his eyes.
Ser Drakonis, otherwise known as Delrin Barris, came by to watch with a critical eye, offering encouragement to Lysette and backhanded comments to Rylen. It was then that Josephine wandered out into the yard, looking as if she had business to attend to. She marched deliberately over to Evelyn but then made some nonsense comments about things that didn't really need to be discussed. So it was clear she had only come out to play voyeur.
She lingered until she caught Barris' eye. She shamelessly gave him a coquettish wave and everything degenerated from there. Ser Barris nearly shoved Rylen aside blustering something about 'Showing him how it's really done' and then he started exchanging practice blows with Lysette who looked disappointed to see her Starkhaven beauty dismissed. Rylen was having none of that, however, and that was when the shirt came off.
Before Evelyn could blink twice, armor hit the ground, underthings were pulled off and Lysette, along with everyone else, was graced with the sight of bare Templar muscle. Evelyn's eyes went wide. Maker! She had featured Rylen half-naked in his picture, but it seemed she had been terribly inaccurate. Beautiful ornate tattoos snaked down around one of his arms, almost covering it. The dark ink travelled in intricate patterns down the rippling muscles of his chest and abdomen and lower and she found she couldn't help herself so she started sketching furiously, not caring that it was obvious what she was doing.
Rylen then stepped back in with Lysette, who was grinning from ear to ear. Barris, not to be outdone in front of Lady Montilyet, started throwing off his armor as well and in no time at all there were two half-naked Templars holding their swords.
Evelyn's pencil snapped in her hand. She tossed it aside and gave up trying to immortalize the moment when she could just enjoy it like everyone else. The two men started arguing. It was nothing meaningful, just ridiculous masculine banter, but it served its purpose. Lysette backed away and sat down at the edge of the sparring ring. She practically started this so it was only fair she got a front row seat. Josephine as well abandoned all attempt at disinterest.
The men swung at each other with big dramatic movements. It was ridiculous. And intoxicating. It was then that Evelyn noticed women, and several men, start wandering closer with curious eyes. Before long, she spied faces peeking out of windows and doorways filled with onlookers.
She was just about to applaud a particularly agile maneuver by Ser Wintermarch, when one of his other admirers snuck up behind her. Dorian and The Iron Bull came to stand next to her and Josephine.
"My dear, how many times have I told you, you must fetch me when the men have their 'clothing optional' sparing sessions!" Dorian admonished her.
She rolled her eyes. "It just started, Dorian, and I assure you, it was quite impromptu."
"Pfth." Bull scoffed loudly, then he made a show of flexing his muscles. "Time to show these boys what a real man is." At which point, he grabbed up a practice weapon and looked as if he planned to engage the first soldier with the misfortune of crossing his path. Fortunately, he was intercepted by Cullen.
Evelyn sighed wistfully. It was fun while it lasted. Cullen, who was wearing his typical serious expression, pulled Bull aside and started talking in a low voice she couldn't hear. They wandered away and Evelyn presumed this would be the end of the morning's entertainment as Cullen was likely going to break up the sparring and order his men back into their clothes. When he and Bull came back around however, Cullen was now holding a practice sword and they squared themselves in the center of another fighting ring.
And then Dorian's dreams came true.
Cullen looked over at Evelyn fixing his gaze on her eyes as he pulled off his cloak slowly, then started removing everything above the waist until he was even less covered than Bull. She imagined she heard the distant thud of at least one female Skyhold resident passing out. Or maybe that was just Dorian.
When Bull and the Commander started fighting, the whole world seemed to grow silent, the only sounds the clash of weapons and their heavy breaths punctuated by deep voiced grunts.
And so it was that the men of Skyhold appeared to embrace their role as sex objects.
"Took him long enough." Varric's voice now appeared next to her as well. She looked down and saw the dwarf observing the strutting disguised as training with his arms folded across his chest. "You know, the picture of Curly praying in the Chantry might be your kink but next year our fans are going to want something a bit more racy, or revealing, or both. So while he's giving you a show, get to work." He gestured at the pencils and parchment still clutched in her sweaty hands. "The Calendar Boys of Thedas are a thing now, Your Inquisitorialness. So let's give our fans what they want."
Evelyn started drawing. She couldn't have agreed more.