It was hard to believe that it had already been a few months since Howe's betrayal and at least a couple weeks since the attack from the wardens. While she hadn't seen neither hide nor hair of her assailants since that night, she made sure to keep Much with her at all times, stay within the radius of guards and made sure to turn in early each night. Since nobody had divulged any new information, Duncan had suggested that she remain in near the infirmary tent which was heavily guarded with mages working to heal those wounded in the Wilds and their templar guards. Not that she minded given that she spent most of her time in the chantry, praying and finding comfort in the presence of the large Andraste statue.
She knelt before the statue, her hands clasped and her head bent forward as she whispered prayers under her breath. Mid-prayer, she sighs as Much whines from the corner. She shoots him an agitated glance. "What?"
He whines again, resting his head on his paws. Ana rolls her eyes. "You want to go for a walk, don't you?" She asks which is instantly met with another whine. She sighs once more, gathering the skirt of her crimson and orange novice robes as she rose.
In the days following the attack, Wynne suggested that she dress as a prospective lay sister of the chantry. While both Duncan and the Revered Mother were skeptical, it came as a pleasant surprise when the robes seemed to blend her into the background.
After putting on the robes, Ana had cautiously walked alongside Much or beside Alistair as they made their way toward the mess tent. Unlike the previous times they've made the walk, most barely looked up as they passed.
Ana brushed down the front of her robes before motioning for her hound to follow. Moving quickly past the servants and soldiers moving along to do their duties for the day, she had managed to slip away to a nearby clearing which still held remnants of what could have been a field before the blight had claimed it. Days ago, while out on her daily walk to get some much needed air from the stuffy chantry tent, she had seen Alistair swinging at one of the training dummies that had been erected shortly after the Wardens' arrival.
She strides up to it, examining its appearance. Parts of its stuffing was beginning to leak from the occasional slice in the burlap-covered body. Even the wooden sticks that protruded from the stand showed signs of abuse with the notches that covered the "arms" and "neck". Much circles it, sniffing curiously before giving it a decisive sniff.
Ana fingers the hilt of the thin yet sharpened sword that Hawke had made for her to defend herself. Now, staring down the practice dummy ahead of her, Ana's eyes narrowed. Flashes of faces - Howe, Daniel, and Roy - each one mocking and smug- flipped through her mind making her blood boil. Gripping the hilt tightly, she looks around for witnesses before unsheathing it.
The way the sun caught the metal was near blinding as she pathetically swings her sword, grimacing as she hears the loud metallic clang that sounds as she makes contact with the stake serving as the dummy's neck. Overcome with embarrassment from her child-like display, she swings again and again, each time the blade bouncing off with a mocking clang. Sticky with sweat from her exertions, she wipes the sweat that accumulated from her brow and glares at the training dummy, the emotionless burlap target on its face mocking her.
Grunting, she swings blindly at the dummy again and again to no avail.
Unbeknownst to her, the sound of her frustrated groans were overheard by Alistair who was walking nearby along the ruins. Thanks to Duncan's recent order for him to keep an eye on Ana, the senior wardens had taken to teasing the lad about his newest infatuation with his newest sister-warden. After managing to slip away, he had hoped to take out his frustrations from the constant teasing and had found it already in use.
Curious to see her skill in action before the upcoming battle, he had perched himself in the shade and watched as Much quickly ran over to join him. As amusing as her attempts to try, and fail, to harm the dummy was, he felt the worry beginning to seep into the back of his mind. Thinking back to what Duncan had said about the Couslands, he recalled that her mother was a famous war maiden. Surely she would have taught her daughter to fight? After all, being a noblewoman in one the most powerful families in Ferelden, she was always going to be in danger in one way or another. Obviously, when the group of wardens attacked her, she was unarmed and caught unawares. Yet, had she had her weapon and was able to face her enemy, would she have fought them off?
At one point, her blade bounces off the dummy and she almost trips on her own feet, making a laugh escape from Alistair. Immediately after it escaped, he purses his lips. Remembering the chilling laugh of the last man who snuck up on her, Ana immediately jumps, her sword falling out of her hand as she looks for the source. She shades her eyes and looks over before heat rises to her cheeks.
"Are you laughing at me?" She snaps.
Rising from his perch on the sidelines, he strides toward her with a smug grin. "Actually, I was laughing at the dummy. Seems to be having an off day."
Her eyes narrow. "Don't you have a chamber pot to go empty or something?"
He raises a brow. "I'm not a servant."
"No?" She asks, her voice laced with disdain as she eyes his rumpled and stained tunic. "Then what? Care for the mabaris?" She wrinkles her nose. "You certainly smell like you do."
"Actually, the joke's on you. I was raised by dogs. A whole pack of giant, slobbering ones from the Anderfels." He says, baring his teeth with a playful growl. "Better watch out if you have a leftover bone from supper tonight. I might steal it to gnaw on and bury later." His grin is met with a steely glare as her electric blue eyes narrow at him. "Are you quite finished? I'm a bit busy."
"Yeah, I can see that." He retorts, motioning to the virtually unharmed dummy. "Tobias really looks banged up."
"Tobias?" She sneers. "You named it?"
Striding over to the dummy, Alistair wraps an arm around it and shoots her a grin. "Of course. We practice together a lot." He turns and pats Tobias' chest padding. "Isn't that right, Toby?"
"You're pathetic." She scoffs, sheathing her sword. "I'm sure you two will make a lovely couple."
Alistair's smile falls as she rolls her eyes and turns to leave. "Ana, wait."
"That's Lady Ana to you." She sighs, glancing over her shoulder.
"Fine. Lady Ana, wait."
She raises an impatient brow. "What? Spit it out."
He looks down at his feet and pushes some grey-ish dirt with his boot as he hears her let out an annoyed sigh. His hazel eyes meet her pointed blue gaze as she crossed her arms over her chest and taps her foot. "You seem like you could use some help with sword fighting. I'm pretty skilled myself and could teach you a few things...if you'd like."
He stands there awkwardly as her eyes narrow and she bites her lower lip in thought. Finally, after a couple of awkwardly silent moments, she groans. "Fine."
Alistair eagerly runs over to his previous spot to retrieve his sword belt he casually sat beside him as Ana draws her sword. Tossing his scabbard to the side, he holds his sword off to the side. Ana notes how easily he handles it, as though it's part of his arm, and tries to imitate.
He offers her a smile. "First, I want to block my strikes. Can you do that?"
He notes her hesitation before she gives a brisk nod. "Of course I can." She mutters.
Alistair moves into a forward stance. "Ready?" He asks.
She nods and he swings his sword at her and she flinches away from it, putting her sword a few mere inches from her face for protection. Stopping his blade before it makes contact, he frowns and lowers his sword. "You're supposed to block."
"I am." She huffs, lowering her weapon with a scowl. "Maybe if you would have actually made contact with it…"
"If I had done that, you would no longer have a nose." He shoots back. "You were holding your sword too close to your face."
Her shoulders slump forward as her gaze bores through him. "Then what did you want me to do?"
"Hold your sword up to prepare for my strike."
She does as she's told but holds her sword out further away from her making a laugh escape from her companion. "What now?" She whines, lowering her sword once more. "Stop laughing at me!"
Bowing his head, he tries to compose himself before looking up at her accusatory glance. "You're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed."
"No, you shouldn't have." Ana fumes. "You'd best learn not to mock your betters."
"If I had a sovereign…" He mutters with an exasperated sigh. "You don't have to hold your sword out as far as you had it. Watch me."
He turns slightly to get into a fighting stance and holds his hand at chest height and tilts his sword to the side. "See how far it is?" He asks, turning to show her. "About this distance is fine."
She mimics his actions and he nods. "Perfect." He smiles. "Try doing that a couple times to get use to the feel. After a while, it should be second nature."
As she repeats her stance over and over again, Alistair watches her as her face as her brows draw together and she presses her lips into a line as she concentrates. In his mind, he tried to envision what her mother must have looked like. He'd heard stories of her beauty and her skill on the battlefield many times from Teagan but had never seen an actual portrait of her. Perhaps her daughter is a spitting image of her when she was in her prime? He tilts his head in thought. "Your mother was a war maiden, wasn't she?"
Pausing for a moment, her gaze shifts. "Yes. Why?"
He shrugs. "I'm surprised she didn't teach you how to properly hold a sword. You are a Cousland after all."
Lowering her weapon, she glares at him. "Not that it's any concern of yours but my mother did have a tutor teach me how to use a sword." She turns away from him and raises her blade once more so Alistair could just barely make out what she mutters. "I just never paid much attention since I figured I never needed to know it."
He gapes at her. "Seriously? You're from one of the most powerful families in Ferelden and you didn't think you would need to know how to fight?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "What else did they teach you?"
Swiveling her lofty gaze, she sighs. "I was taught what all noble women are taught. Languages, history, how to run a household, literature…." She begins to list as Alistair scoffs. She throws her sword down onto the dusty earth and turns to face him, her hands balled at her sides and fury in her electric blue eyes. "What about you, huh? Have you ever read a book? Can you even read, stable boy?"
His brows draw together and she smirks, knowing she hit a nerve.
"That's right. I know about your lowborn status, Alistair. You might wear the armor of the renown Grey Wardens and fight like a great warrior on the battlefield, but in the end, you'll always be a dim-witted stable boy who needs to learn his place in the world."
Their gazes match one another for a moment before Alistair's expression softens. Stooping to grab her sword, he rises and holds it out to her. "Your sword, Lady Ana." He says, flatly.
Her brows draw together. "That's it? No witty remark?"
He shrugs. "I offered to help you learn how to properly wield a sword and I stand by that, no matter how you feel about me."
She hesitantly takes her sword, eyeing him with level suspicion as he motions with his chin. "Get ready."
Shifting into the stance he showed her only moments ago, she raises her sword. Without confirmation, he swings at her and she just barely manages to block it. He recoils.
"Well done." He nods. "Again."
He strikes at her again and this time she blocks it better than before. They strike and block for a few more times and Alistair offers her a half-smile. "Well done. You catch on quick."
"I know." She boasts, raising her chin. "I've always been a fast learner."
Alistair rolls his eyes. "All right… you saw how I was striking, correct?" She nods. "Good. This time, you strike at me and I'll block. Ready?"
With a deep breath, she nods and strikes a clumsy blow that almost clips his ear. "How was that?" She asks.
He shakes his head. "Your stance is all wrong." Sheathing his sword, he walks so he's standing behind her. "Here." He begins, putting his arms around her to adjust her before she flinches away from him.
"Don't touch me." She hisses, her heart pointing in her chest. "Just show me and I'll mimic you, as before."
"Sorry." He mutters, wincing before he moves beside her, drawing his sword and demonstrating the stance. He looks over at her as she mimics it perfectly and nods. "Good. Now, when you go to strike, step forward." He shows her as he demonstrates on Tobias before turning to her. He motions to Toby. "Try it on him."
Rolling her eyes, she does as she's told and strikes Toby on his neck. She turns eagerly to Alistair before quickly composing herself. Seeing her so excited about getting it, he smiles. Perhaps there's a decent human being in there somewhere?
After letting her take a few more practice swings at Toby, Alistair has her turn to him to try it on an actual person. "Alright," He begins, getting into a fighting stance. "Let's put them both together. If I start to strike, block. Once I step back again, strike. Understand?"
Her face set with determination, she nods. Together they go back and forth, striking and blocking. "You're doing great!" He grins. As he's about to swing at her, a clash comes from nearby in the direction of the camp and Ana jumps, her head snapping in the direction of the sound. Just as she lowers her sword, the tip of Alistair's blade grazes her cheek, leaving a shallow gash along the hollow of her cheek. Immediately, Alistair sheathes his blade, both their eyes wide in shock.
"Maker's breath…" Alistair mutters, stepping forward. "Ana, I'm so sorry…"
Reaching up her to touch her cheek, she pulls it away to see the streaks of red blood smeared across her fingertips. Instantly, she throws her sword onto the ground and shoves Alistair back so he falls against Toby. "You did that on purpose!" She fumes. "You stupid inbred! I'm going to report this to Duncan! Just you wait!" Pressing a hand to her cheek, a wide-eyed Alistair watches her as she stomps back to the camp with Much at her heels. His eyes fall on the sword, lying on the ground in the tainted dirt. "So much for trying to be a good brother-warden and being a helping hand." He mutters, straightening. Picking up Ana's discarded sword, he cleans it off with on his sleeve and heads back to camp to face the music.