As soon as gate shut behind the guys, a weight settled on Ana's heart. She stared longingly at the palisade gate as Duncan placed his hand on her shoulder. He tried to think of something to reassure or comfort her but he couldn't think of anything. After everything she had already lost, it was normal for her to be afraid of losing one of her last ties to her old life. Much whined at her feet and he felt the guilt of sending Gilmore out like a piece of cold fat in his stomach. There's nothing you could do . He told himself. It is the custom to send recruits out into the wilds to collect the darkspawn blood for their Joining. Had it not been for Ana's situation, she would be out there with them .
Turning around, Ana sighs. "Excuse me." She mutters,motioning to Much to follow. The hound rises and Duncan watches as they walk away.
Rendon Howe tears a piece of flesh off his fish and puts it in his mouth while a bard plays a calming tune on their lute, off to the side. It had been days since he last heard of Ana's whereabouts. He had hoped that the spoiled brat had finally succumbed to the conditions she had been resigned to in her escape and was lying dead in the mud somewhere.
Castle Cousland was already on its way to being restored as he had furnishings and staff brought in from his home in Amaranthine. Admittedly, it felt strange to sleep in the same bed as his long-time friend and his wife but he had to remind himself that this is how it should have been all along.
Grabbing his goblet, he takes a long drink of the deep burgundy wine. For all their flaws, he had to admit that the Couslands knew how to choose their wine.
As he torn off another piece of fish, the great wooden doors at the end of the hall open and he looks up with a sneer at the servant rushing toward him.
"What is it?" He bellows. "I don't like being interrupted."
The lad's pale face flushes as he tries to catch his breath. "Forgive me, my lord. A message has come for you. I was told its urgent."
Howe raises a brow. "Oh? What is it?"
The lad holds out a folded up parchment with a wax seal. Taking it from him, Howe squints down at the seal in the flickering candlelight before a grin splits across his face. He waves the messenger away and quickly breaks the seal before opening and reading it thrice over, he sets it down as he's hit by a wave of mixed emotions. Apparently, not only was Ana Cousland still alive but she had managed to make it there with the Warden-Commander. Most likely they had already blabbed about what he had done to the King.
He crinkles up the parchment as he ponders this. Perhaps this wasn't a bad thing? Perhaps Duncan was doing his job for him by having her join the Wardens. He had heard rumors about the Wardens and how their joining ritual could be fatal. Perhaps, if he's lucky, she'll perish during her joining or in the battle against the darkspawn? As long as she doesn't return with an army to claim her home, she was nothing more than an annoying gnat. Arising from his seat abruptly, the bard stops singing and Howe waves him away. "Leave me," He says, heading toward the doors at the back of the room. "I have work to do."
The chantry tent was devoid of people as Ana strode silently down the center of the rows of wooden pews flanking the aisle. Incenses were being burned to most likely purge the holy area of the scent that plagued most of the camp. Coming to stand before the giant Andraste statue at the front, Ana kneels before it, her eyes gazing above the lit brazier to the blank eyes carved in the marble. Clasping her hands together, she bows her head and begins to say a prayer.
"You have grieved as I have. You, who made worlds out of nothing. We are alike in sorrow, sculptor and clay, comforting each other in our art." She pauses and inhales a shaky breath before continuing. "Do not grieve for me, Maker of All. Though all others may forget You, Your name is etched into my very step. I will not forsake You, even if I forget myself."
Tears prickle her eyes and she tries to hold them at bay.
"Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What You have created, no one can tear asunder."
Off to the side, the Revered mother watches the young woman knelt before the statue of the Maker's bride, reciting a section of the Chant of Light. Quietly, she takes a seat and listens.
"Forgive those who have fallen and protect those who still follow your light. Protect them from harm, be it from friend or foe. Let the righteous be victorious and spread light to the creatures that dwell in the dark."
Smiling to herself, the revered mother rises from her seat and slowly walks over to the young woman.
"That was very good." She smiles. "You know the chant very well."
Ana's eyes snap open and she quickly jumps up to her feet before dipping into a curtsy.
"Forgive me, Mother." Ana mutters, wiping the tears away from her eyes as her cheeks burn with embarrassment. "I was unaware that anybody was in here."
"No need to apologize, my child." The older woman says. "Who taught you those verses?"
"My Mother." Ana replies, still not risking looking up at the woman. "She taught me when I was very young." Not that I appreciated such things at the time.
The Revered Mother nods as her eyes look the younger woman older. She's dressed like a peasant but….those features, her mannerisms and the way she holds herself don't sounds like a noble woman.
Noting Ana's solemn expression, she frowns. "What grieves you, child? Is it the war?"
Risking a look at the Revered mother, Ana bites her lip as she debates whether or not to unburden herself of everything that weighs her down. "Not entirely. I worry about my betrothed who has gone out into the Korcari Wilds. I've heard terrible things about what lurks in the wilds and I fear the worse."
Taking Ana's hand, the Revered Mother leads her over to a pew and they sit down together. "I can see why you are concerned." She says softly with a nod. "The Wilds are indeed a dangerous place and these are dangerous times, my dear. You did the right thing coming here. If anybody could bring your young man home, it's the Maker and his bride."
Reaching her hand up, she gently traces the eye of the Maker on Ana's bowed forehead and mutters a short prayer before lifting Ana chin so she can look at her.
"Bless you, dear child. If you wish, I will also say a prayer for his safe return."
Relieved tears break free of her waterline and she wipes them away with her sleeve. "Thank you, Revered Mother. That is very kind of you." Grabbing the Mother's hands, she lowers her head to them and kisses them before smiling. Rising from her seat, she calls to Much who was busy sniffing around the little shrine at the corner of the tent. Hearing his mistress call him, he quickly raises his head and bounds after her.