Pride, Wolf and Rebellion

Mother

"Da'len," came a voice. Her mother's voice. Her mother's hand on her shoulder.

She looked up. A corpse, jawless, toothless. Blood caked to rotting skin, hair tumbling from a bloody braid. Eyes burning green with hate.

"Was your Father not enough, Da'len?" came mother's voice.

She shook her head. A horrible mistake.

"Emma ir abelas. Souver'inan isala hamin. Vhenan him dor'felas. In uthenera na revas..." said mother. She tucked Fen'Asha's hair behind her ear, sitting back. Waiting.

"Mamae," Fen'Asha wept, her hands at her Mother's knees pleading.

And Mamae grabbed Fen'Asha's ear, pulling her toward her gaping mouth. Pulling her toward endlessness.

"It was my mistake, Da'len."

Pulling her toward the dark inside, past rows of broken teeth.

"I should have killed you fresh from the womb."

The tongue was grotesque, waggling without sense.

"Fen'Harel ma halam...Let Mamae make up for past mistakes. Horrible mistakes."

Pulling Fen'Asha inside her mouth, bloody and raw.

Fen'Asha woke, body coated in sweat. Fen'Harel was in her hands still, his golden fur glistening. He was her Deliverer now, wasn't he? He held her, carried her from the bandits. Didn't he? She shook her head, trying to jar the memories into sense. She opened her hand to the Anchor. Another horrible mistake, wasn't it? Some sort of accident she was never meant to bear.

She wanted to run. She wanted to leap from the balcony and return to the wolves, the forest. She knew she could. Who would miss her?

But the Anchor gave her purpose, didn't it? Didn't it mean she had to remain? If she was to serve...

She shook her head again, put Fen'Harel down carelessly. He toppled to the floor as she ran from her quarters. She wasn't sure she ever wanted to return.

The moon hung in the air as she walked into the courtyard, walking down the stone staircase. The tavern sat glowing as it always did, sounds of song leaking into the night air. Small groups of people stood around at the bottom of the stairs. They nodded when she passed. Some greeted her by name, asked how she was, smiled with concerned eyes.

She walked past the tavern, to the cool shadowy corner near the medical supply rooms and the appropriation equipment. These corridors bustled during the day, full of people doing their duties for the Inquisition. Full of people believing in the cause, believing in doing the right thing.

And Cassandra's practice dummies stood in the tall grass under the reaching trees. They stared at her, blank eyes and open mouths. She watched them, white and tough. Stout, fixed in the ground to accomplish their purpose.

Their purpose was to be hit. Again and again. To withstand punishment so that others might improve, so that others might build confidence and resolve to fight another day. They watched her, pale and unfeeling but persistent. They had no hearts to break, no minds to lose, no Anchors...

Yet they still had duty, still had a reason to exist. Still served a purpose.

Fen'Asha found herself in the garden when Leliana approached her. The spymaster was shifting her weight, eyes wide.

"Morrigan," she said. "She went...into..." Leliana pointed to an open door, an open door with a distinctive blue glow.

It was the eluvian.