Hidden Pride

A familiar scene spreads before me, the secluded alcove in Mythal's palace. Scent of flowers in full bloom tingling my nostrils, blindingly white walls, and Fade magic colouring the air with shade of green. I take a deep breath, feeling the tension leaving me, and strain on my shoulders lessening, before my eyes rest on a giant wolf. He is sprawled on the grass, shielded from the sun by shadows cast by plants; resting, with his eyes closed.

The atmosphere is as tranquil and unhurried as it was back then, and I smile widely, not very surprised that Fen chose this setting, and this form, for our dream. It seems, I am not the only one wishing to use the past to reconnect us with our present selves.

There's a disadvantage to it, however. Have I mentioned that Fade makes me lose my self-restraint? Well, it does. Before I truly realize what I am doing, I am already dropping on the ground, happily curling myself next to the wolf, and cuddling his silky fur.

And then, awareness of reality comes back, and my fingers still, when a sense of dread runs through me. Am I even allowed to do that? We are no longer as close as we used to, and my innocent in the past behaviour, now can have many other connotations.

Oh, who am I trying to delude? Not can, but does. It does have all the connotations, because even though I made a mess of us, we still had all this unresolved tension hanging in the air. And although he had apparently gotten over it, I can't honestly say I did. I'll never be completely indifferent to him, no matter the circumstances.

So I await his move, my nerves singing, breath baited. And the moment passes, and Fen makes no attempt to push me away. Carefully, deliberately, I snuggle closer, trying to gauge his reactions.

There are none, aside from a slight flick of his ear, and finally, I sigh contentedly, relaxing, pressed against him. If he is willing to behave as if there's nothing unusual about me seeking his closeness, then far it be for me to be the one raising the issue. I'll take whatever I can get.

Had he been in his Elvhen form, I wouldn't have dared - but wolf was always the neutral territory, and I have always allowed myself much more leeway with him. Most likely, because I acted this way long before unnecessary feelings came and upset the balance between us. Back then, it didn't mean anything other than me enjoying my presence, and now, I can pretend it's just the same.

I have always been very skillful at lying to myself.

It is hard to judge how much time passes, in the dream-created reality, with him resting, and me basking in his presence. His aura is much less restrained here, more similar to my memories; even though it still has this sickly taste to it - coming from the amulet he wears, I would guess. Why does he wear it?

Finally, his eyes open, and when he looks at me, I ask the very question, which has been bothering me ever since I saw him, for the first time.

'Ah. It must have felt strange for you.'

'That's an understatement.' I murmur, mindlessly playing with the long, black strands of his fur in the meantime. 'Unnatural, more like.'

'Much like yourself, I found my magic to be an inconvenience, at times, during my travels.' Fes says, tilting his head in contemplation.

'I was unable to hide away my magical strength completely, and whenever situation required magical intervention, I tended to use much more power than I should have been capable of.' He admits, with a scrunch of his nose.

It must be a bit grating on him, conceding to inability of any sort. I nod thoughtfully, having inclination where his explanation is leading.

'It drew unwanted attention to me. With Templars on the rise, I created the amulet, restricting my powers to a… mortal level. About… five centuries ago.'

'So it works as a limiter.' I shake my head in amazement. No wonder he felt like mortal to me - he had made sure to appear like that.

'I am, however, also considerably weakened; in comparison with my past strength.' He says a moment later, and I hum my understanding. The manipulations with the very fabric of world must have been very taxing; I've never doubted that. Regardless, it is a relief, that nothing serious had changed, and the sickening feel in his aura is a deliberate manipulation on his part.

We fall silent, again, and I do not realize when I fall asleep, entangled in his soft figure, for a while. Dreaming within a dream, the largest irony of all. But my mind needs to rest as well, and as of recent, it has been a very rare occurrence, for me to feel safe enough to let go.

When I wake, again - or retain my consciousness within our dream, to be accurate - he is the one to speak up first.

'I appreciate your talk with Ellana. She is not a bad person, nor does she lack intelligence. She is just… misguided and naive.'

I stifle a dejected sigh. I really, really do not want to speak of her right now, I do not want her presence invading my time with Fen in our sanctuary.

Unfortunately, the reality is that she plays a major role in Fen's life, right now. Lying to myself about it would be making myself a disservice.

'I have suspected you might have had something to do with her coming to me.' I admit, resigning myself to the unwelcome topic.

He whips his tail in silent agreement, and I shift my weight slightly, adjusting myself better to his figure, and breathing in the smell of wildness from his fur. Dream world adjusting and fitting my memories of him; I can't honestly berate myself for indulging in this weakness. Even by Mythal's side, he was untamed, unrestrained in any way - might be why I have it so comfortable to be around him. I've always adored the wolf.

'Still, I would have expected you to teach her better.' I murmur, sighing contentedly, feeling safe and protected in his aura of strength and reliability.

'She is still young.' replies the wolf blithely, curling his huge body around me. I force my wildly beating heart to slow down, not wanting to blemish our reprieve. We are, again, Wolf and his Pride. No need to complicate things.

Instead, I focus on the matter at hand, and snort, a bit snidely.

'From your perspective, everyone is young.'

I am surprised how laidback Fen is about the issue. After all, it puts her in a very real danger, and my wolf obviously cares for her - shouldn't he care about this, too?

'You weren't particularly fond of bloodshed, yourself, at her age.' He reminds me, and I roll my eyes in exasperation.

'True. But I have never rejected the necessity of violence. I was merely unused to it.' I counter evenly, growing a bit irritated with the topic. Could he stop defending the girl?

Deciding the my ire is becoming too apparent, I change the topic, before he can call me on that.

'There's one more thing I am curious about.' A fucking lie, there are tons of them. But I can leave them for later. 'Considering your stance on the Templars, I am surprised you did not influence the Inquisitor in regards to them.'

'Who says I did not?' Amusement rings in wolf's voice, and I lift my head, casting a searching glance at him in confusion. He made Lavellan… choose to support Templars? Why?

'There were… tensions, growing, regarding my significant sway over the child.' He explains, after a moment. I am a bit disgruntled that he refers to her so, all the while remaining in something akin to relationship with her. Why the pretension, the distance? He needs not protect my feelings, I am already very much resigned to the fact he cares for her. I would be a hypocrite, denying him that... especially considering Valotaar. 'By doing so, and professing my disapproval, I alleviated most of the concerns regarding her… lack of independence.'

'Ingenious.' I whisper involuntarily, and even though his ears flick dismissively, I see a glint of satisfaction in his eyes at my words.

And it really is. Especially since it was not much of a sacrifice, on his part, as from the few other remarks thrown to the wind, I know Fen believes both factions deserve a sorry end - a stance we agree on. The Templars, while included within the ranks of Inquisition, were stripped of their order, and very much humiliated; in fact, Inquisition's support of their cause is questionable.

'But, Fen, you aren't being very subtle about it right now.' I point out, and he laughs it off, the low rumble from the wolf's throat, sending shivers down my spine. Gods, I missed him so much.

'They've already bestowed Ellana with leadership, and they cannot revoke it. The official announcement has been made.'

So like Fen; it's not like she could be more involved in it. Her so-called advisors hid things from her, before, and certainly, they will continue doing so. I can see why he would see it a wasted effort, to continue with the deception. Maybe there was a point where it he was forced to act, revealing the whole scheme, or risk suffering significant loss?

That does seem likely.

Our conversation stunts, afterwards, having circled back to the very topic I wished to abandon. Thrice-be-damned Inquisitor.

Fen is clearly struggling, trying to come up with way to say something - his muscles under my hands feel strained, and I knead them lightly, trying to lessen his unease. It is mindboggling, how much freer I am with him when he is a wolf, than when he is a male, but I do not question my instincts. He is the one to set the pace, and boundaries.

'Pride.'

My hand freezes, and I look into wolf's eyes, and the turmoil in them.

'I was looking for you.'

Not very well, apparently. And what does he mean by that; I remember telling the Disciples where I could be found, in case he woke up.

My face must be expressing my confusion, because he clarifies, a moment later, guessing at my thoughts.

'For Elvhen, uthenera is not a matter of convenience, but necessity. It has become apparent as of recent - the Disciples are not fully tied to this existence. They require rest; they've barely remembered you visiting the Sanctuary.'

I saw that they looked more tired than before, but I hadn't expected it to be this serious. Maybe I should have stuck to writing letters, instead - but then, I wasn't aware of this.

When I think about it, it does seem fairly logical. Centuries upon centuries of existence must be wearing down on mortals; but if so, what of the Evanuris? How do they tie into this puzzle? Fen has been around for thousands of years, far beyond my comprehension.

But he continues the previous thought, so I put off the question for later, focusing on his words.

'I was in Ferelden, first. You've expressed your desire to study the Blight, previously; I thought you might have gone there. And…' Fen pauses, before admitting hesitantly, 'I also had something to examine there, myself.'

He is being purposefully vague, which I dislike, very much. But this isn't the right moment to push for answers, not when we've barely begun speaking with each other. So I bite on my lip, firmly stifling my curiosity.

'Then, when it became apparent you weren't to be found in the Blighted lands, I travelled to the lands of former Dales, thinking that perhaps you might have decided to try helping the remnants of the kingdom.'

In fact, I've done the exact opposite. My fingers curl, tightening the hold on his fur, when I think about my cowardice. I've purposely avoided the lands of Shartan's broken dream during my travels; guilt welling up within me whenever I thought of the costs of it. Maybe it would have been better for the elves to never leave Tevinter, in the first place, considering what's become of them.

'I was near the border to Tevinter, when my search was interrupted. A certain… opportunity presented itself. '

I keep my face impassive, not to show how much his words hurt. Opportunity. After ages, when we are finally awake at the same time, able to meet, he had chosen not to, because an opportunity appeared. What if we had missed each other, again?

I think it almost hurts worse than if he hadn't looked at all. It's a close thing.

But then, we've already established that I was the only one who still valued our past friendship.

It's my pride speaking the words, when I reply, struggling to appear unconcerned,

'It's all right. It's only to be expected that there are things, for both of us, of greater importance than the long-unseen acquaintances.'

He looks at me impassively, while I curse myself for drawing this line. Me and my damned pride. I must have become masochistic, enjoying twisting knife into bleeding wound; my own words hurt me far more than him.

I bless the fact that I feel the tug of power, whisking me away from the dream, immediately afterwards. Things would certainly turn out awkward, with me unable to keep the bitterness at bay. It is unfair of me to blame him for anything, especially halfway through his explanation.

But I do not feel like being particularly fair, confronted on a daily basis with Inquisitor Ellana, and her eyes, shining with affection and adoration for Fen. It's like she is everywhere, dragging him along, trying to get him involved in various tasks and duties; and it is so unlike Fen to be self-sacrificing, I want to scream. Did he change specifically for her sake?

The report I get from Dagna does nothing to soothe my wounds; if anything, it pours salt on them.

From her words, Inquisitor Ellana is a truly gentle, kind soul, universally adored by the members of the Inquisition. Patient, quick to forgive, and slow to anger. Eager to learn, and embracing her duties with her whole soul. Her atypical quirks and benevolence are easily forgiven on the merit of her being the Chosen of Andraste; and whenever she does something questionable, in the eyes of others, it is all attributed to Solas' influence. Her one and only flaw, it seems.

The funny thing is they are often right - mostly because the girl seems incapable of making any significant decision of her own. I saw it with my own eyes.

It makes me think less of myself, when I realize I cannot bring myself to like her. Even though, I can see it, she is trying to look past our differences, and befriend me. My own flaw, jealousy, is rearing its ugly head; and thus far I've been unable to keep it at bay. I attempt civility, but mostly, keep my distance, aware that my patience is very short, when it comes to her.

Whether she is genuine, or she simply wants to lessen the pressure on Fen is irrelevant; the important fact is that she is trying. And, if I am being perfectly honest, I am not.

Dagna's report touches on the inner circle; the most important people in the Inquisition. I skim over the part regarding the leaders - I know far more than she does about Sister Nightingale, Josephine Montilyet, or Cassandra Pentaghast. Cullen Rutherford is the largest unknown among them, Templar records one of the few things Wings have little to do with; but his story has been long reported by my other spies in the Inquisition - former Templar with a troubled past, recruited by the Right Hand to the Divine right after her investigations of the Kirkwall disaster. The fact that he was a Templar is a bit troubling; on the other hand, the man had willingly left the order, seeing its faults. Because of Ryanth, I cannot judge him too harshly; I know there are good people in the order, as well.

Just… misguided.

And yes, I am aware of my own hypocrisy, when I am more forgiving towards Templars for their lack of wisdom, than towards the Inquisitor. It doesn't make me feel any better about myself, but at least, I am aware my outlook on her is somewhat… fine, very much… biased.

I've already met Blackwall, and Dagna doesn't have much to more report on the man. He is very closed-lipped about his past, and there are suspicions regarding his less than stellar conduct before his induction to the Wardens. Not particularly unusual - the organisation was known to recruit among convicts, many times in the past. It is only people with little to lose who sign up for the death sentence of a ritual.

My dwarven spy knows nothing of the Tevinter mage who joined the Inquisition on the eve of the disaster, because the man was already gone, along with the Bull's Chargers, before she had arrived. Considering my own suspicions regarding his identity, I do not mind waiting, before confirming that Dorian Pavus, my little lost lamb, has indeed come to serve the Inquisition's cause. I can easily afford putting off this particular headache, for later.

Dagna has kept away from Varric Tethras, but I already know a lot of him from the year I spent in Kirkwall. It was a surprise to see him here, since I've believed him to be disengaged, and downright deriding, towards organisations like this one.

From last two remaining members of the inner circle, very little is known of the elven female, Sera, aside from her boisterous and audacious, bordering and often crossing into simply rude, behaviour. On the other hand, Madame de Fer is famous, or rather, infamous, among the Wings. The First Enchanter of the Montsimmard circle, although she didn't have the chance to assume the position before the war had started, and the circle split into those who supported the war, and those who did not.

Because I always disengaged myself from Orlais affairs, believing them to be a puffed up buffoons, I knew little to nothing of the happenings within their borders before the war; aside from the major shifts in the dynasty. And the Chantry. Aaand politics in general.

So maybe I knew quite a lot, but not in regards to their mage-related problems. But then, we had this literal flood of refugees, and after Kirkwall, some from Orlesian circles as well. Madame de Fer was often a topic of their conversations, and none too favourably.

I understand their position quite well, and personally, do not feel all that warmly about the woman myself. Maybe once I meet her, I'll change my mind, but I doubt it. Sacrificing one's dignity, and pride, for the sake of climbing the social ladder, is a thing I've always considered distasteful. And the woman dares to claim that hasn't been the case, when clearly, she had used the connections offered to her by sleeping with a much older, well-positioned man, to insert herself into the court intrigues. And rip benefits.

They've all been sent away on numerous errands, during the repairs of the fortress. Wise, if I say so myself. Forcing such a colourful group of individuals to share close quarters would have resulted in… accidents and arguments. They would have been at each other's throats by the end of the week.

Unfortunately, I can see that the time of their return is looming on the horizon, because Skyhold looks very much refurbished, and liveable, again. I sigh heavily, not at all enthusiastic about another bunch of inquisitive people, most of whom will be interested in me - either by the merit of me belonging to the Wings, or by the fact I am acquainted with Fen.

I shudder at the commotion if my true position within the Wings ever comes to light. Creators, preserve me.

After years of leadership, it is not so easy to fall back into a mere scout role, even though I've played it these past years. Still, it was merely pretending, and I was a law unto myself, coming and going as I pleased, officially reporting and working under Valeria, which naturally included me into high leadership, without being too conspicuous. Now, that I'm actually relegated to this role, it is very trying. Since, additionally, I have to keep my magic in check, with all these Templars around, I am beginning to feel very stifled. On Par Vollen, it was easier, with the clear mission and target in front. Here, I have a perspective of years, years, of pretending, ahead of me, and I must say, it's not very motivating.

Not to mention, I know I am used below my abilities. That I could do more, than I am doing; and I am doing a poor job of hiding it.

Scout Harding is aware my dissatisfaction, and responds with irritation. We simply rub each other the wrong way; and I am nearly certain she feels the need to prove herself before her superiors, having someone dubbed as one of Wings' best under her command. And Wings are known for having the cream of the crop, among their elites.

Some, I've even trained personally.

Now, I wouldn't fault her for being a bit competitive with me; I can understand that she feels threatened in her position. Not that I would want it, mind, but she doesn't know that. The problem begins when she lets it affect the way she treats me. With my already short temper, it doesn't help matters at all.

The first to return are Bull's Chargers, accompanied by, paint me not surprised, Dorian Pavus. What blows my fuse, so much that I begin swearing internally, however, is the closeness and familiarity with which the Pavus boy behaves towards the Ben'Hassrath. I would wager my soul, the two are lovers; and there is a fucking thousand of reasons why it shouldn't be happening, I couldn't even begin to list them all.

Fate likes to laugh in my face.

'You are angry, Pride.' Notes the spirit behind me.

I've nearly gotten used to him sneaking up on me, as well as swallowed the bitter pill of the fact that no matter how hard I try, I can't feel him approaching. Cole has been following me around like a puppy, not at all discouraged by our disastrous, first meeting; rising quite a few eyebrows. I know for one Leliana waits impatiently for the opening to question me about him; I am unsure how I'll respond.

I've yet to ask him what he meant by his words 'I know you'; but I made him swear that he will leave my past alone.

So, instead of jumping awkwardly, I turn around calmly, looking at the spirit in boy's body.

'Yes, I am.' I admit. Not that I could deny, with him keenly aware of my emotions.

'Why? Did Dorian make you angry?' And, before allowing me to respond, he adds. 'I like Dorian. He is kind, even though he thinks I should be bound.'

'I do not know Dorian.' I reply with forced neutrality, glancing down, and swallowing another wave of fury, when Iron Bull fondles the young Altus in the middle of damn courtyard. Talk about public relations disaster, if it ever comes out that Tessarian's intended political heir slept around with enemy. I'll have to write Nervlis about preparing some cover story for this; gods, what a mess.

'Then why are you angry at him?' Confusion rings in Cole's voice, and I sigh heavily.

'It's complicated.' And, before he asks me to elaborate, I shift the topic. 'Cole, why do you keep calling me Pride?'

'Because that's who you are.' If possible, he is even more bewildered than before.

Talking with spirits. Exercise in patience, clarity of expression, and insanity.

'I have a name, you know.' I remind him gently. 'Just like you are Compassion, but are named Cole.'

'I am both Cole, and Compassion. But you are more Pride than Fean'Na.' I turn around distressed, checking if there's anyone around us, but fortunately, there's no one who could possibly hear. Note to self - no talks with Cole in open spaces or my nerves won't last for long.

Undeterred, Cole continues on, unaware of the near stroke he had nearly given me.

'Those who know you, also know that.' Meaning Fen, because he is the only one to know this part of my story. 'While you like being Fean'Na, you had discarded that, her, in darkness.'

Mindful of the rare moment of peace we have, I tilt my head, and reply honestly.

'You are wrong, little Compassion. I had also lost my pride, at the time. I was too weak.'

He shakes his head in denial.

'You believed so, but it wasn't true. It was a bad, wrong way to express it, but by choosing to fall, you were also being proud. Pride was more important for you than being, you never gave up on it.'

I look at him, amazed.

That's… a new way to look at this.

It requires further consideration.