Reaching Roderick's tent located in a slightly secluded area near the main camp, Ana instructs Much to stand guard outside and receives a whine in response. As Rodrick slips inside his tent to move things around, Ana kneels before her mabari with a smile. "Don't worry, boy." She giggles. She reaches up to scratch him behind his ears. "I'll be nearby. I'll come right back out after and we'll head back to Duncan's tent together. I promise." She plants a kiss on his forehead and gets a lick in return.

Hearing her name from the tent behind her, she turns to see the dim light of a lantern through the stained canvas and ducks through the opening.

Stripped of his plate armor, Roderick smiles as he approaches her. "Let me look at you, My Love." He says quietly as his hand comes up to cup her jaw. Relief floods through Ana as she leans into her lover's touch, closing her eyes. When she opens them once more, she sees him smiling at her. "What is it?"

"You cut your hair." He comments with a chuckle. "It's different."

Grimacing, she reaches up to finger her sheared locks. "It was to blend in…" She mutters with a grimace. Her eyes meet his with an insecure frown. "Do you like it?"

His eyes flick over it as his fingers brush over the frayed edges. "It's definitely different." Seeing her expectant expression, he smiles. "It'll take some getting used to. but it becomes you." Tilting her head slightly, he presses light kisses along her jawline. Inhaling her familiar scent, his kisses move up toward her ear and trailed down her neck. Ana's eyes flutter closed as she tilts her head to allow for better access. She sucks in a breath as his other hand moves over her corset and gives her breast a gentle squeeze. Their heated gaze meets once more as a need burns deep within. Lips crashing together, Ana's fingers awkwardly fumble with the strings of his trousers. Breaking the kiss, Roderick quickly removes his dirty tunic and undershirt and tosses them aside before eyeing his lover with lustful intensity. "Turn around." He says, his voice thick with desire. She does as she's told, biting her lips as she feels her lover loosening her corset as he sucks and kisses her neck. He peels her corset off and tosses it aside. His hands slip under the fabric of her tunic and rove over the taut plane of her stomach before splitting up as he pulls her close. His right hand comes up to cup her breast while the other dips below the waistband of her trousers, his fingers slipping over her slick opening. He smirks against her neck as a slight gasp escapes his lover as his fingers gently pull her folds apart before dipping a fingertip inside. "Wet for me already, I see." He growls, nipping at her sensitive flesh.

Feeling his growing arousal pushing against her rear, she leans back. "I want you, Rory." She pants. "Please…"

Removing his hands, she spins in his arms to face him before peeling off her own tunic and undershirt before tossing it aside.

His eyes move down and zero in on her bare chest as his hand once more cups her high breast. "You're so beautiful." He breathes as his thumb slides along the side before his hands slip down to her waist. Glancing up at her, he kneels before her before leaning in to trail languid kisses starting above her navel and moving down toward the waistline of her trousers. Hooking his fingers over the fabric, he smirks up at her which she returns with a wanton smile as her fingers runs through his short crimson hair. He continues his kisses as he gently works her trousers off her hips before letting them fall to her feet.

A soft moan escapes her as he kisses her downy mound, reaching behind to grab her thigh and put it on his shoulder for better access. "Rory…" She moans as he pulls her folds apart and dips the tip of his tongue inside once then twice as her grip tightens on his shoulder. Encouraged by the soft moans and whimpers, his tongue probes her slit and laps up her arousal, filling the tent with wet noises that leave little to the imagination. As she gets sent over the edge, her head leans back as a moan tears from her throat before she brings up her hand to muffle it as Roderick stops to shush her with a chuckle.

As she rides along her first climax, he glances up and beams as he watches her face while rubbing her clit with his thumb. As she starts to come down, she shoots him a dreamy eyed grin.

Without a word uttered between them, Rodrick lowers her leg from his shoulder and quickly dispatches of his own trousers and braies. Holding her gaze, he grins as he lies back on his bedroll with his erection proudly displayed. Walking over to him, she straddles his thighs as she takes him in her hand, grinning as he rises on his elbows as she gently strokes him. With a growled warning, she rises slightly and guides his cock into her and slowly lowers, savoring the feeling as he stretches her with each delicious inch that sinks deep within her. As he is sheathed to the root inside her, she waits as she feels his length pulsing inside her before slowly beginning to roll her hips, earning groans from her partner as his hands caress her thighs.

"Let me show you how much I missed you." She breathes, picking up speed.

On the other side of the camp, Duncan paces in his tent after finding Ana nowhere in sight. He pauses at the sound of his Junior Warden's voice as Alistair speaks to the guards outside his tent. "Come in, Alistair." His voice booms. The talking ceases and he hears the flap opening before Alistair appears moments later. He bows his head as he salutes his commander. "You wished to speak with me, Duncan?" He asks. "I was just heading back to the dormitory tent when somebody told me you were looking for me."

"I did." He nods, motioning for him to come closer as he rounds the table between them. Leaning back against the table, his dark eyes watch the lad for a moment before he speaks. "You did well in training today." He comments, crossing his arms over his chest. "Your reaction time with a shield is a bit slow but otherwise, well done."

Alistair's face lowers slightly. "I know… I'll work on that."

Duncan nods as a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. He's so much like Maric. "Perhaps if Ana passes her Joining, you can train with her." He says thoughtfully, watching his young recruit's reaction. He wasn't sure if it was the shame of being chided by his old commander but he watches the lad avert his eyes for a second as a slight blush creeps over his cheeks as he shrugs.

"Perhaps." Alistair's lips curl up in an amused grin. "Given how much she despises me, blocking her strikes will make for great practice."

Duncan snorts at this. "I'm sure with time you will find a way to get along." He suddenly frowns. "She's going through a lot right now. I'm sure that with time, she'll be more…amiable."

"I doubt that." Alistair mutters which Duncan ignores.

"Speaking of your potential sister-warden, have you seen Ana today?"

The lad thinks for a moment before he nods. "Yeah. I saw her praying earlier in front of the Andraste statue."

Duncan raises a brow. "And?"

The lad shrugs. "I did as you suggested and offered her to join me at the mess hall but she declined. I haven't seen her since." Seeing his mentor frown, Alistair shifts from one leg to the other anxiously.

With a sigh Duncan turns away from the lad and drums his fingers on the table. Where could she be? He thinks to himself as he frowns. She wouldn't be foolish enough to leave camp in search of her lover and brother…would she? He straightens and walks toward her cot in the far corner and sees her pack still stashed away beneath the frame. Pushing it with the tip of his boot, he catches a small glimpse of the Cousland insignia and feels a wave of relief wash over him. Turning on his heel, he strides back to Alistair who watches him curiously.

"She's probably out praying or attending one of the chantry's late-night sermons." He says finally. "Go look for her and bring her here. I need to speak with her."

Alistair grimaces and opens his mouth to make an excuse to avoid the ear full he would no doubt get when he found her, but snaps it shut as he sees Duncan's challenging gaze. Resisting the urge to groan, he nods. "Right away." He mutters.

Leaving his Warden-Commander's tent, Alistair feels the tug of exhaustion at the corners of his mind as he makes for the Andraste statue he found Ana at earlier. A small group of people are gathered around the small platform where a chantry mother, dressed in her usual chantry robes, speaks softly as those flocked around her nod in agreement to her words. Pushing past his unpleasant memories of his own nine years spent in the chantry, he grimaces and tries to focus on the faces lit by the two flickering torches on either side of the platform. At least half of the peoples' eyes were closed as they listened while a few others glanced warily at him before he bashfully nods and walks away.

Climbing the nearby crumbling stone stairs, he passes through the infirmary area and tries to block out the wounded soldiers being tended to on their cots. One groans as he passes and mutters a plead to be killed which makes him walk a bit faster. He passes the conjoined mess tents, glancing inside in case she decided to hide out in the dark. Pushing onward, his eyes scan the ocean of tents filling the tree lined vista of the royal army camp. With most of the fortress fast asleep to prepare for the next day's duties, he sees a few lit up and hears soft murmurs from somewhere nearby. "Ana." He hisses, glancing around him as though he could summon her out of sheer will. Part of him half expected somebody to peek their head out and yell at him for disturbing them.

He walked around for quite a while, growing more tired with each row. Heading outwards, the tents became fewer and fewer. Feeling ready to give up and head back toward the mess tents to check near the mages, he hears something coming from somewhere behind the ash warriors' encampment. He pushes forward, taking care to avoid the guy ropes as he follows the sound. Tucked away near the back, he saw the dimly lit tent that was separated from the others where the sounds seemed to be coming from. While he was mostly safe in camp, his hand stayed poised on the pommel of his sword just in case. He slowly advances until he gets close enough to make out the feminine tone and halts mid-stride. Before him, the dim lighting from inside silhouettes a woman. Soft moans emit from the tent and Alistair's cheeks burn but his feet refuse to move.

He bites his lip as he clamps his eyes shut. Leave, Alistair. He chides himself. She's obviously not here. Turn back. When he opens his eyes again, he finds himself standing before the flaps, curiosity burning through him. He hears a man's guttural groan and he reaches out toward the flap, his fingers barely grazing the canvas as his conscience once more makes an attempt to bring him back to his senses. Don't. They need their privacy!He starts to retract his hand when he hears the woman mutter her lover's name with a breathy sigh.

"Rory…."

Maybe just a quick peek. He tells himself as he reaches out. His breath becomes ragged as he pulls the canvas back slightly. Moans emit from inside and his eyes travel down the smooth breadth of the woman's bare back and down to where her hips rocked as she straddled the man's lap. The man mutters a lewd comment to his lover but Alistair barely hears him as his heart pounds loudly in his ears and he shifts as his trousers get uncomfortably tight. Finally, throwing her head back, a loud moan tears from her throat as her body goes rigid. He watches as the man's hands reach up to grab her hips and he bounces her on his cock a few more times which sends him over the edge. Alistair sees a glimpse of crimson hair as the man sits up and he quickly drops the canvas and steps back, almost tripping over the large mabari lying lazily nearby. His eyes widen as the hound raises its head from its paws and cocks its head to the side before giving a small huff and, deciding that he's not a threat, lowers its head onto its paws once more.

Relief floods through him as he turns around and starts walking, painfully aware of his erection in his trousers. Halting a few feet away from one of the torches lighting the path through camp, he glances back in the direction of the tent. Biting his lip, his mind replays what he saw in the tent before he grits his teeth at the memory of the Reverend Mother's words about lust and impure thoughts. Shifting uncomfortably, he glances around before quickly rushing off to deal with it.