You don’t know how long you’ve been running through the woods, and you can’t remember why you’re running. Are you chasing someone? You thought you might have seen someone flit through the woods, elven ears definite in their outline, and you have a certain desperation in your chest. But you could just as easily be running. There’s a lot to run from. Sometimes it feels like running is what you’ve been doing since the day your mother birthed you.
The woods open up and you see a village in front of you. Thank Mythal! You sneak in the side, then try to look as though you’ve been there for a while, and haven’t been running. No one seems to take much note of you. Wonderful! You can get supplies here, bread for the road, refill your canteen at their well. If you can find this little place on your map, maybe you can figure out where you are. And such a small village, you’re confident you can be in and out without any trouble whatsoever. Finally, something good has happened.
There are Templars in the village square. You freeze when you see them, but they don’t notice you right away. You force yourself not to run or hide, trying instead to frantically grasp your aura and plunge it deep into your core. You can hide in plain sight if you do this right, you’ve fooled Templars in the past, in the Free Marches. You can do this, you can do this, you can—
“Wake up.”
You jolt awake, aura uncomfortably twisted half inside of you and half out, knotted. You’d been trying to hide in your sleep. Maker only knew what that had done to your connection to the Fade.
“Solas is sleeping now.” You blink a few times, clamping your aura down clumsily before you have time to collect your surroundings. Cole. Tent. Yes, sleeping, right. You rub your face and de-tangle and re-hide your aura a bit better than the clumsy mess it had been.
“What time is it?” you ask, groggily.
“Past the midnight hour?” Cole says. “But not much.”
“I’m amazed he was up this late,” you say, running fingers through your bed-messy hair to straighten it.
“I was with him most of the night while you slept, talking.”
You frown. Well, Solas’s tent is right next to yours. Cole would still have noticed if someone came to bother you. Probably would have even noticed their intent to do so, from a distance. You can’t blame him for multitasking.
“Is he alright? Is something upsetting him?”
“You,” Cole replies, and you wait for a further explanation that never comes.
“Me…?” you prompt, but Cole just nods. You sigh. Looks like you’re not getting more out of him. “Urgh…” You rub your face again. You’re beyond groggy, and really want to just roll over and go back to sleep. But a little sleep is better than no sleep, even if it feels worse. “Thanks, Cole. I guess I’ll get back to work for the rest of the night.”
You light your little lyrium orb back up, wondering how long you have until you have to start working by candlelight. Maybe you can see if Dorian can make you a little floating light ball or something. You could do it your damn self if not for the obvious. And Dorian wouldn’t fuss about you working at night the way Solas would. You’ve seen him running late nights in the library enough to know sometimes he can’t sleep, either. You suspect that’s why he drinks, or part of it. When you were younger, a child in Rivain, you used to do the same, praying a few shots of desi daru around bedtime would knock you out.
You get a bit stiff and sore being in the tent and working while laying on your stomach for so long, so you rise as soon as you hear other people up and walking around.
The one you heard, it turns out, was Blackwall, though you see Sera on watch. She glances over at you, but looks away, probably because she needs to be keeping her eye out for any trouble. You two do have a tendency of distracting each other. So instead of pestering her, you follow your nose to Blackwall, who’s sitting at the campfire stirring a large pot.
“Breakfast?” you ask hopefully, sitting on one of the several large rocks they’d pulled over to circle the fire and act as seats.
“Yes, though you’re the first one up,” Blackwall replies, pulling out the wooden spoon to taste. It looks like some kind of porridge, which is about as classic traveling fare as you can get, other than maybe hard tack and dried meat. “And just in time, I think it’s ready.”
Blackwall spoons out a healthy portion into a bowl for you, and you go right to town on it. Porridge is infinitely better while still piping hot, and while it’s not your favorite food under any circumstances, you never turn down a meal if you can help it.
“This is different,” you say, pleasantly surprised by the flavors of the dish. It’s no Rivaini or Antivan dish, but it’s thick and heavy and has a dark sort of flavor you’re not used to.
“It’s a Marcher army recipe,” Blackwall says, somewhat proudly.
“Oh, that explains it. I’ve barely been in the Marches—just passing through really. Not a lot of time to ask any army men to make me breakfast,” you add jokingly.
“How much of the Marches did you see?” Blackwall asks curiously. “There’s a lot there.”
“Barely any. I traveled with some caravaneers from Antiva, down through the Marches to Kirkwall. I don’t think we hit any major cities other than that, honestly.”
“That’s a real shame! Starkhaven is amazing during the fall, everyone should see it at least once—”
Blackwall is happy to tell you more about the Free Marches, and honestly you don’t mind listening. You’re still relieved that Blackwall doesn’t seem as hostile towards you as he was originally. If you’re being perfectly honest, it has more to do with your association of the Grey Wardens with Leah than any actual desire to be liked. Ideally, you would be at least passingly liked by everyone, if you couldn’t be a complete unknown. But his opinion means more to you than, say, Dorian’s, just because he’s a Warden.
By the time everyone else starts wandering up for breakfast, you excuse yourself and go to prep the horses for the morning. It’s a good thing you started early, because despite Belassan going over it for you, you have to resaddle a few of the horses because you got the damn straps wrong. And Stormcloak won’t stop trying to step on your feet, which is equal parts annoying and terrifying.
By the time you finish, camp has been broken and it’s time to leave. Thank the Maker. Single file again today, which means you can probably spend another day in relative, if slightly awkward, silence. Between this and Cole, maybe this trip won’t actually be so—
“I noticed Cole has added a charm to his belt,” Cassandra says, apropos of nothing, but with the tone of someone attempting to casually start a conversation.
“The nug with the hat. Yes, I gave it to him,” you reply, deciding to simply cut to the chase for the sake of this conversation being shorter.
“I had thought you might have. Truthfully, I’m not sure I can imagine anyone else doing it. Varric, perhaps.”
Yeah, it’s almost like you and Varric have that in common, treating him like an actual person instead of a freaky demon waiting to happen. Well, Solas too, but Solas has a more nuanced understanding of Cole’s being that you—and definitely Varric—lack. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.
“The two of you are clearly very close,” Cassandra continues, leadingly, and you realize this conversation somehow hasn’t ended yet. You’re about to point out that you got a gift for her, too, but quickly catch yourself. Varric had taken the blame for that particular gift, which had not gone over as well as you’d assumed it would.
“I consider him a friend,” you say, guarded and stiff but trying not to be overly hostile. For self-preservation reasons, if nothing else.
“That much is clear. How did the two of you meet?”
You consider the question. The way you and Cole met was witnessed by Sera and Varric both. Varric might keep your privacy, particularly from Seeker Pentaghast, but Sera wouldn’t know to. Besides, it wasn’t worth lying about.
“Cole calmed me down from a fit, my Lady. Several times, actually. I have them on occasion, ever since Seheron,” you reply, trying to keep it as short as possible. You don’t really like divulging something personal and embarrassing like that to Seeker Pentaghast, but perhaps she’ll realize the awkward situation she’s putting you in and stop. “I appreciated it and sought him out to thank him. The two of us became friends.”
“When did you become aware he was a demon?” Seeker Pentaghast asks curiously, and you clench your teeth, thankful you’re riding ahead of her and she can’t see your face. Revas shifts underneath you, all pent up energy, probably wanting to bolt or kick. You rub his neck to calm him down, which gives you time to calm yourself down as well.
“I became aware that Cole is a spirit thanks to Solas. I saw the two of them together shortly after I first met Cole, and asked him.”
“You sound like him. Solas, I mean,” she comments, and you stiffen.
“He’s been my primary source of education on spirits,” you lie. “Other than the Chantry’s teachings, obviously.”
“The Chantry warns about demons. Didn’t learning he was a spirit frighten you?”
You shrug uncomfortably. “A little, at first. But Cole had only ever come to me to help. During times where it would have been easy for a demon—or anyone—to take advantage. If anything, all the knowledge did was help me understand him better.”
“Oh?”
“Yes,” you say, voice carefully neutral despite your irritation. “Understanding each other’s natures is key to any relationship. For instance, you know I’m an elf, and the ways it affects how I am treated and therefore view the world. I know you are a Seeker, and therefore it is your nature to interrogate when matters of spirits or magic come up. This prevents me from taking offense where someone who didn’t understand your nature might.”
There’s a long pause, and then Seeker Pentaghast clears her throat. You resist the urge to turn around and see her expression to gauge her mood and how much you’d offended her. But you really hadn’t wanted this to be your entire trip through Orlais. You might have bolted out of sheer nerves.
The rest of the morning is spent in arguably tense, awkward silence. This is extremely preferable to you, so you don’t bother to break it.
You stop around lunch time to switch mounts. You’re starting to get out of the Frostbacks now… thank the Maker. You hate going through those frozen mountains. Still, that means—according to Seeker Pentaghast—that you can expect a faster pace soon. On one hand, you’ll be glad to be moving faster. On the other hand, you’re just barely managing not to be aching after a day and a half of riding at a walking-to-trotting pace through the mountains. You’re pretty sure you’re going to get really sore.
Rather than eating lunch with the others, you take care of the mounts, taking the saddlebags off the spares. You could just move them to the mounts you’d been riding in the morning, but instead you decide to take the time to rub them down as best you can without removing their saddles. This is as much out of a desire to avoid everyone as it is any real concern for the mounts, admittedly, but you’d rather work hard and not have anything bad happen that you can be blamed for.
“Diligent as a shield, meticulous in manner, no time for idle chitchat. Company of the hooves to avoid company of men.”
You barely even glance up from Revas, since Cole’s voice is among the least alarming things in your life right now. “Yes, that’s me,” you say with a sigh. “Are you going to lecture me about it?”
“No. It would be good to make friends, but you sort of are.” You glance up, and he gestures towards the horses. He’s standing a little ways away, actually, but you suppose he just doesn’t want to get in the way.
“I guess,” you say with a laugh as you turn back to finish brushing down Revas. “I’m trying, anyway. It’ll be easier if they don’t all want to step on me or bowl me over.”
“They like how you smell,” Cole suggests.
“That would probably be all the treats I’m hiding on my person right now,” you say with a snort. “Good to know it’s workinggggggaaah!” You flail onto Revas as something butts into you from behind, then wind up clinging to him as he charges a few steps forward, snorting angrily, clearly aiming to headbutt whoever just knocked you onto him. “Oh no you don’t!” you hiss, grabbing one of his horns near the base and twisting his head to the side. He snorts angrily, stamping the ground and tossing his head to try and throw your grip off. You can see, past his horns, Sera’s Zephyr trotting away, the little devil.
“Absolutely not, Revas. You need to behave.” He tosses his head again. “Or next time, I will leave you behind!” His ears flick back, as if he can understand you. “I mean it. I’m already riding Vhas’durgen this afternoon. If you don’t behave, I might come to like him better.” You’re pretty sure that a hart cannot understand Common, let alone this complicated of a concept. But Revas does, at least, stop trying to trample Zephyr. Which is good, because she’s so slight compared to him that he’d probably massacre the poor girl.
By the time you get everyone settled, Cole has vanished off to wherever Cole goes. But you’ve gotten the horses switched over in time, and now it really is time to try riding Vhas’durgen. It’ll be the first time you’ve ridden a hart other than Revas, other than a few times on Ashi’lana with Solas… You hope you don’t fuck it up. You keep Revas close to the back, near you, so that you can keep an eye on him.
Vhas, for his part, is pretty similar in gait to Revas, once he gets going. He’s just a bit slower… longer legs, you think. He can cover more ground with fewer steps. He’s bigger in general; you feel a bit like you’re doing the splits. You’re pretty sure that you’re going to be really feeling it by the time dinner comes around, but hopefully you’ll eventually adjust. His canter is smooth, at least, a bit smoother than Revas’ energetic gait. Please let that be enough to make up for the fact it feels like you’re straddling a building.
Cassandra seems to be content to leave you alone for the time being, so you dig into your bag and pull out some bread to try to wolf down while you’re still traveling single file through the last of the mountains. You’d skipped lunch, and you don’t want anyone scolding you. Or, you suppose, to be weak from not eating, should something happen. Your body really has gotten used to regular meals in the time you’ve been at Skyhold, and you’re putting on muscle because of it. But muscle requires energy to sustain itself, so…
Eventually, the group comes down enough out of the mountains to take up a sharper pace, which is shouted down the line to you and Cassandra. You’re still in a linear formation, but you’re cantering full on now. Your first thought is that at least you won’t have to hold any conversations like this. There’s no way you could, you’re just sort of huffing and wheezing with the effort.
Not Cassandra. She is apparently used to this sort of thing. She calls out instructions to you pretty regularly, mostly to do with keeping the line of mounts in, you know, a line. A few times, one of you has to ride up the side a bit and jostle someone back into line like you’re herding sheep. You are… not great at it, and every time you have to speed Vhas up a bit, you fear he’s going to break into a bound and send you careening off his back and down a cliff or something. All in all, it’s a completely fucking exhausting afternoon.
By the time you stop for the evening, you feel like you’ve been taken, shaken, and repeatedly slammed against the floor. You circle the horses into a clearing that’s been selected for your camping that night. There’s barely any snow on the ground now, so that’s nice for the people setting up camp. It’s less cold, or so they say. You’re actually kind of frozen solid from the ride… You’re not actually confident that you could feel heat OR cold reliably at the moment.
Despite being an exhausted elf-cicle, you start taking care of the horses as soon as you half-slide, half-fall off of Vhas. Just like at lunch, you rub down all the horses that were in use, take off their saddles, check everyone’s hooves for stones… Dodge hooves aimed at your feet and smack a few noses for poking at you were they shouldn’t. It would probably be easier if you tied them all up first, but they seem to appreciate being able to wander a little and mingle amongst themselves after so long on the trail. And you’re here to keep an eye on them anyway, so might as well let them enjoy themselves.
You spend a bit more time with the troublesome horses, particularly the Inquisitor’s mounts. Not because they’re the worst behaved… just because you’re the most worried about them. They’re horses of high standard. They probably have more value than you do, particularly to the Inquisitor. You’re just taking extra care to pull some burrs out of Snowblind’s mane when you hear a voice behind you.
“He’s a burr magnet. We weren’t even in that many trees.”
You damn near jump out of your skin, half-spinning around before you can stop yourself. You hadn’t been expecting the Inquisitor to sneak up on you. The two of you haven’t particularly talked one-on-one since he tried to make sure Solas hadn’t shanghai’d you into being his servant.
“Ah… y-y-yeah…” you mutter, glancing back over at Snowblind. “I-I th-think it’s b-because he kept w-wanting to break away d-during the af-afternoon.” If the Inquisitor has any opinion on your speech impediment, he doesn’t comment on it. You’ve probably stammered around him pretty consistently, actually, since he’s so consistently terrifying.
“Sounds like him. How are you taking to travel so far?”
W… what is he doing…? Is he trying to… check in on you or something? It’s his fault you’re out here, so it’s kind of late for him to be concerned. Maybe he’s trying to scope you out? Maybe he’s suspicious, and that’s why he dragged you out here in the first place. You try not to look visibly cautious, or like you’re sizing him up. Which you are.
“I’m adjusting,” you lie. You feel like your legs and crotch have been repeatedly punched, actually, and you’re stiff in muscles you rarely use. But you’re not going to start complaining to the Inquisitor.
“Good. I know this is hardly ideal working conditions, but I’m sure by the time we reach the Approach, you’ll be used to it.” The irritating thing is that he’s probably not wrong. You’re pretty good at adjusting, and this is hardly your first time on the road. You just sort of nod along while you focus on Snowblind’s mane. “You’ve become quite valuable to the Inquisition since you joined,” he informs you, and you struggle not to stiffen. “But it occurs to me that I don’t really know much about you. Leliana tells me you escaped the chaos in Orlais?”
Oh Maker, are you going to have to get into your personal history with the Inquisitor? Okay, no need to panic. You’ve done this a thousand times before. This is no different.
“Ah, y-yes, y-your holiness. I l-lived in a little v-village… n-not really that f-far from here. Off to the n-northwest. It was sacked by Red Templars. I managed to escape and fled to the Inquisition.” You pause in your work, sighing as you slip more comfortably into your role in the situation at hand. “Feels like ages ago… But I guess it really wasn’t that long.”
“I’ve found that time seems to be taking it’s time lately,” the Inquisitor says dryly. “And yet I still never seem to have enough of it.” You can relate. “You have been very busy since you arrived, that’s probably not helping. Solas, Sera, Iron Bull… the Chargers, several groups of refugees, a creaking wagonload full of books, a random assortment of goats, and a violent assault.”
Your hands tighten a bit spasmodically in Snowblind’s mane, though you cover it by running your hands through as if combing. “And none of those things were even my job,” you add neutrally, smiling a bit. “Particularly not the violent assault.”
“I am sorry about that,” the Inquisitor informs you. “We can’t really comb our men for that sort of tendency ahead of time, though Maker knows we try. Still, it’s unconscionable that you found yourself injured within Skyhold.”
“The man in question was arrested immediately,” you say with a thin smile. “Really, what more can a woman ask for?” You don’t think he picked up on the sarcasm there.
“Yes… although I’m afraid neither of us will get to see justice meted out properly. I’m unsure if you heard, but the man died just before we left Skyhold.”
You pause as your suspicions are confirmed. “Well… I suppose the Maker meted out justice for you, then, your holiness,” you say finally, and catch sight of the Inquisitor grinning. He gives you a pat on the shoulder that makes your tired knees quake.
“That’s an excellent way of looking at it. And hopefully, you’ll have much better luck on this trip than you’ve been having in Skyhold. The best of the Inquisition are here to keep an eye out for you.”
That was hopefully not meant to sound as threatening as it absolutely did.
“Oh, and…” The Inquisitor frowns slightly. “Don’t spend so long with these horses that you forget to eat dinner. It’s important for your health, especially on a journey like this.”
You can’t help it; it catches you so off-guard that you snort. He tilts his head to the side, and you clear your throat.
“Pardon me, your holiness, it’s just that you sounded like Solas just then.”
The Inquisitor grimaces, wrinkling his nose and making a truly disgusted noise, and you try very hard not to laugh again, although you’re sure your lips twitch into a shaky smile.
“The two of you have become… rather close,” he says, and that’s a statement but he seems to want you to respond to it.
“I suppose. We did a lot of good work in Val Royeaux. It was satisfying.”
“He seems very, uh… concerned with your health,” the Inquisitor continues, and you almost can’t believe how bad he is at this. Well you’re sure not helping him. You just nod. “The two of you got… very close, in Val Royeaux?”
He’s about as subtle as Blackwall. Which is remarkable, all things considered.
“It was a lot of work, unexpectedly, but we managed to finish it all between the two of us,” you say with a smile, as if you have no idea what he’s implying. “It was nice to work with someone so competent.”
“So, he’s someone you… just work with…?”
Maker, this is painful. How is he their leader.
“As opposed to?” you say, radiating pure innocence. The way the Inquisitor is refusing to meet your eyes is kind of hilarious, all things considered. He already thinks you’re a whore, so why is he bothering to ask…? He seemed more than willing to assume you were fucking the Iron Bull with only the slightest of suggestions. Then again, everyone fucks the Iron Bull so maybe that’s less of a surprise.
“Inquisitor, could I have your help with something?” comes Cassandra’s voice, and the Inquisitor almost bolts, saying something about “duty calling.”
For your part, you manage to wait until he’s gone before muffling your mirthful laughter against Snowblind’s side. What an idiot…!
You’re still finishing up work with the horses when you hear the first howl. You perk up curiously, trying to pinpoint the direction and distance. Howling wolves isn’t normally a major issue for you, unless they sound particularly close. Of course, you don’t normally have a dozen-odd horses with you, who immediately begin to spook at the sound. The Inquisitor and a few others immediately run over to help you get them all tied to trees so that you at least don’t have to worry about them bolting.
“They won’t come towards us, right?” you ask, frowning. You don’t like the idea of wolves running into tied-up horses.
“If they’re normal wolves? No, probably not,” Dorian replies. “If they’re possessed wolves, like we’ve been seeing thanks to the rifts? Almost definitely.”
“Possessed wolves?” you exclaim before you can stop yourself.
“The rifts are allowing untold numbers of demons into our world. Animals are significantly easier to possess than people, even mages,” Cassandra informs you. “There has been a sharp increase in the reports of possessed animals and animal attacks all over since the Rift formed.”
“Maker…” you mutter. Two days out of Skyhold and already it’s turning to chaos.
“We should double the guard tonight, just in case,” the Inquisitor decides. “Maybe they’re just wolves, but we can’t risk it. Cassandra, help me work up a schedule?”
Cassandra nods, and the two of them wander off. You stay by the horses, trying to comfort them, though all you really get for you trouble is bitten and knocked over a few times. You’re not sure whether to think “poor things” or “little bastards,” honestly. The harts are spooked too, and you have to duck swinging horns pretty regularly while trying to calm them down. It’s amazing you haven’t gotten knocked out by one of them by now.
You’re finally taking a break from the horses when you overhear the guard shifts. Cassandra and Solas have the second watch together… meaning you could, perhaps, get some well-deserved rest. You snag some late dinner and do a bit of work in your tent by the dying light of your lyrium ball while waiting. The howling continues, on and off, but you honestly can’t tell whether or not it’s getting closer. You’re still near the mountains, it’s not like wolves are uncommon here… But you’ve never seen a possessed wolf—let alone a whole pack of them—and you really have no desire to.
You’re relieved when the shift changes and Cole shows up in the tent. How he does it without needing to open the damn flap is beyond you, or maybe you just don’t notice him doing it… You suppose it doesn’t really matter.
“Solas and Cassandra on watch?” you ask hopefully. Cole nods, and you grin. “And no one even suggested I take a shift. I guess there’s some benefit to being dead weight after all.” You hesitate, briefly, as you climb into your sleeping bag. “…This is safe, right?” you ask finally. You don’t like how nervous your voice sounds. Scared. Younger than you normally sound but closer to your actual age, maybe. “You’ll wake me if someone comes even slightly close, right? You won’t leave without waking me up, no matter what?”
Cole nods seriously, and you bite your lip. It still feels dangerous. Maybe the nap you got last night can be enough to last you, and after this trip you can… hole up in a… cave and…
For as long as you’re with the Inquisition, you will never be able to sleep in real safety.
No matter how much you want to, you can’t go without sleep forever.
A calculated risk is better than a disaster later.
“You know that if they find me, I’ll run, and you’ll never see me again…?” you prompt Cole. He nods again, just as seriously. “And you still think it’s important and safe enough?” Another nod. You sigh.
You don’t like it.
But you really like being able to sleep.
So you curl up into your bag and let Cole ferret you away into sleep, the way he does.