Pride, Wolf and Rebellion

Satinalia

"Oh, I am loving this," Sera giggled, sitting on the corner of the table, kicking her feet. "All these nobles waiting on my beck and call, serving me drinks and those little wieners."

"I simply do not know how you talked us into this, my dear," sighed Vivienne as she picked up a platter of cheese and meats from the kitchen counter.

"Because you look good in that outfit, Viv," said Sera, raising her wine glass.

"I look good in anything, darling," said Vivienne with a flourish as she backed through the kitchen door and toward the sounds of boisterous laughter and the smells of liquor wafting in from around Skyhold.

"And you," said Sera, turning to Fen'Asha. "No wonder they call you Inquisitits."

"You're the reason they call me that..." The Inquisitor sighed, retying the stays of her corset yet again. The knot seemed sturdy enough, yet somehow she found it repeatedly undone.

"Just leave it open," said Sera, draining her wine glass.

"Oh sure," said Fen'Asha with a shrug. "Like they need more incentive to squeeze my bottom."

Sera held up her goblet and grinned. "Refill, servant," she said with a chuckle.

"Of course, my lady," said Fen'Asha with a bow. She topped off the elf's glass with wine from the enormous fancy pitcher.

"Thank you, thank you," said Sera smiling wide. She pulled her ornate mask down over her face and laughed noisily, making her way back to the festivities.

Fen'Asha sighed and pulled at the tight corset. It seemed rather useless. Her cleavage was ample but if the knot stayed she could avoid exposure. If the knot stayed... She shook her head and balanced the large pitcher as she backed out of the kitchen.

She was glad to see so many people enjoying themselves, even if it meant giving them a full view of her assets. The mostly inebriated guests danced and drank in the main hall, with detonations of laughter and the clanging of glasses filling the air. Fen'Asha moved through the jumble of tables, filling up goblet this way and that. The pitcher became more manageable and she was more than grateful for the relief.

But the damn knot came loose and she nearly lost her limited composure when her bosom once again made a remarkable showing while she topped up a glass. She held her spare hand to her breasts, trying to tuck and cover where possible. The table of young men chortled and roared boisterously, toasting each other in honour of the sight.

Fen'Asha saw Cullen across the hall. He was clad as a serving boy and was clearing an enormous pile of plates from one of the tables. Their eyes met and she nodded with a grin. They were beloved friends, reckless once but no longer. She had thought of him as available, as near, as an option. And she had been foolish for it. She had been unfair.

But she couldn't give him what he deserved. Ever. Her heart was in too many other places. It walked too many other lands and he was only...safe.

"We require more drink," roared a voice nearby and a hand slapped Fen'Asha on the rear. There was jubilant laughter.

She turned to face her frisky accoster and laughed when she saw him.

It was Blackwall. The beard unmistakable under his ridiculous mask. "I am...sorry, Inquisitor," he said immediately. "I did not know..."

"I am not the Inquisitor," said Fen'Asha with a grin. "I shall prepare your drinks immediately, sir." She delivered a curtsy.

Blackwall's eyes darted to her chest, which had once again been mostly loosed from their restraints. "I..." he sputtered. "I believe I shall go sit down."