Pride, Wolf and Rebellion

Pride

With the Inquisition gone in the Arbor Wilds, Skyhold was strangely quiet and Fen'Asha found herself free of her normal duties.

Solas was quick to make use of the opportunity. He guided Fen'Asha to the stables, selected a steed for a journey into the Ferelden grasslands. They rode quietly, taking in the scenery and for once, forgetting the Inquisition. The weight of the world was no longer a burden, at least for a time.

Solas rode with pride, tall in the saddle with Fen'Asha clutching his hips. When they stopped, he was attentive and affectionate. They hunted, cooked, warmed each other near fires under watchful moons. They read to each other, talked of the Fade, talked of the Dalish, talked of Fereldan grass, and made love tenderly, leisurely.

Despite this, Fen'Asha sensed nervousness in Solas. She knew the destination, but he was elusive when asked about the intent. She tried not to let the apparent lack of purpose eat at her, along with the needling suspicions of timelessness that had never been negated. But Fen'Asha relented, preferring the dream of a simple life turned to reality.

They arrived in Crestwood, traveled past the village to the meadows. They heard the low howl of a wolf, followed by a responsive chorus. The pack was near.

Fen'Asha tugged on Solas and asked if there was time to look.

He considered looking in the direction of the howls. "I believe I can locate them, Vhenan," he said.

He led the horse up a steep crest, secured it and Fen'Asha hopped down, eager.

She went to the ridge. The meadows lay before them, the Black Fens. She held her prayer stone and smiled, surveyed the view. And then she saw them, not far from the cliff. She waved him over, pointing below.

He crouched beside her, observing.

The wolves were chasing down a ram. It bleated helplessly as the black creatures swarmed, dark shadows on white, but the prey broke away. One wolf pulled ahead of the pack, ran alongside the beast, and summarily crunched down on the ram's neck. They went down in a cloud of dust, but the wolf held strong. Crimson splayed on the white. Crimson splayed on the black. The ram stopped struggling.

The wolf released its hold on the neck and moved aside. Two wolves emerged from the pack, ebony shadows approaching the meat.

Fen'Asha breathed. She watched, green eyes glistening. The female was closer, she was smaller than her mate, her muzzle slender and curved, her coat sleek black. "Oh, she is beautiful," Fen'Asha said.

"She is," Solas said, stroking hair back from her shoulder.

Fen'Asha smirked. "You're not even looking at her."

He cocked his head. "I am."

She turned to him, raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" she asked

He continued to play with her flaxen locks. "It is said, Vhenan, when wolves mate it is for life," he said.

"Solas," she said. "What are you implying?"

He offered her his hand. "Come, my heart. We are almost there."

Solas slowed the horse, alerting her to their destination. He settled at the base of a Fen'Harel statue, it was framed by the lavender glow of the sun. He held her as she dismounted and hitched the steed to the rock.

She contemplated the Dread Wolf. He lay attentive.

"Just a little further," he said taking her hand, pulling her from the Wolf, leading her to the darkness of a cave. The sun set, forsaking them to the obscurity within. He guided her through the black, down a coiling path of rock.