-3-

This certainly wasn't the first time it happened. But it was the worst hit in awhile.

Ellana had thought she had been doing better, able to keep herself from getting too blindsided, from being too sluggish. But the Red Templar came at her out of nowhere.

The blow to the shoulder had sent her careening to the ground, vision blackening as her head struck a rock. The rest of the battle had passed in a haze, blurry figures fighting above her, the muffled cries of her companions (particularly that of Blackwall's) rattling around in her head. Once the last of the Red Templars was slain and it was determined they could head out, she had been too dazed to get up and walk on her own, needing to lean on Blackwall until they had made it to the nearest camp.

Now, a few hours later, she was left with dizziness, a ferocious headache, and a pounding shoulder (but miraculously not dislocated) and small gash near her right temple to match.

She slowly turned her head (even that simple motion made the tent walls start to spin a bit) to face Blackwall beside her, who was sitting upright in his shirt (having generously loaned his gambeson as a raised pillow for her shoulder) and trousers and staring at the tied closed tent flaps in deep contemplation. He hadn't said much since they had gotten back to camp, but Ellana could feel the waves of tension radiating off of him.

She reached out her hand, laying it on top of the one pressing into the bedroll. He jumped, as if he had no idea where the contact came from, until he looked down and found the source.

"I thought you'd gone to sleep."

"Sadly still awake." She stroked her thumb over a scar right under one of his knuckles. "You seem distracted. Are you alright?"

She expected him to say "yes," play it off as if he was, or tell her she shouldn't be asking that when she was the one who had been injured, but then he said in such a soft voice that her ears strained to hear, "You scared me, Ana."

"I know." She had not forgotten the thinly veiled fear in his voice when he first knelt down beside her to check if she was alright. She lifted his hand and kissed the top, as he had done so many times with hers. "Ir abelas, vhenan."

"Not your fault." His other hand reached over, a knuckle brushing over the gauze covering the injury on her head. "I should have been there faster."

She squeezed the hand still in hers. "You can't be everywhere."

He didn't say anything to that, instead stroking along her cheek (Ellana figured he wouldn't let go of the blame he put on himself that easily).

"I wish you'd wear some kind of armor, my lady," he finally said. "At the very least, a helmet. It would help soften blows."

"You know it makes me feel hindered. Especially the helmet. And Solas and Sera seemed to do alright without." She let out a frustrated puff of air. "I really thought I was getting better."

"Being caught off guard happens to all of us. And you have gotten better."

"Maybe," she conceded, though she wasn't entirely convinced she had gotten through many of their skirmishes injury-free beyond luck. "But I'm still not as good as them. Or especially you."

"I'm flattered," he said with a slight rise of his mustache in a small smile. "But it still took me years of training and being in many battles."

And unless Corypheus was planning to drag this whole ordeal out, she doubted she'd have the luxury of gaining years of experience. She suspected that no matter how hard she worked at it, this was always going to be a struggle. Learning more effective spells and casting spells was the easy part...casting spells while trying to hit moving persons or creatures and making sure she didn't also get hit, on the other hand...she just didn't have a knack for this.

Not like her sister, Ellana thought with a sudden wave of sadness. Bri would have been so much better suited for this. Ellana remembered the times she had watched Bri train or on a hunt, shooting arrow after arrow so seamlessly, as if the bow was practically a part of her body, able to jump and dart and parry while wielding a dagger (all those years of dancing and climbing trees had served Bri well). With her skill, it was only a matter of time until she became one of the clan's best (and youngest) hunters. She could have easily still been that. She could have easily fought by Ellana's side, not intent on being separated from her older sister for long when Ellana needed help and support.

But instead...Creators, instead...

"Ana? What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

Fenedhis, she had to better control her facial expressions. Ellana wasn't ready, or in the frame of mind, to talk about that with him.

"I'm fine, Blackwall. It's nothing. Just feeling tired," she said, trying to steady her voice so it didn't come out in a wobble. And it wasn't entirely a lie. Injuries aside, it had been a long day. "Think I'm going to try to go to sleep."

Blackwall made to pull away, but her hand grabbed at his forearm, preventing him from doing so. She wordlessly tugged him down to her, wanting to stay close to him. He readily compiled, getting in a quick kiss to her forehead as he settled down beside her, both arms enfolding her in his warm embrace.

But she still found herself unable to fall asleep, still too wired despite her fatigue. She pushed the grim memories of her sister away, instead thinking about what Blackwall had said, replaying the Red Templar's attack over and over in her mind. Eventually reminding herself that whether or not she had a knack for fighting, whether or not it would be a constant struggle, didn't matter. Like it or not, she was the Inquisitor. She was the one with the special glowing mark on her hand. Fighting was part of her life now. There was no avoiding that.

Reaching a decision, she resolved to look into getting armor added and to talk to the mage combat specialists again once they got back to Skyhold.

And before she finally drifted asleep to the sound of Blackwall's deep breathing by her ear, she resolved to try and do better.

She had to do better.