Chapter 14

"Wynne?"

The mage sat on a stump of a tree, cradling a steaming cup of tea in her hands. It was green, probably of Dalish origin. She turned to look at her and offered a smile. "Yes, dear?"

Leliana fidgeted slightly, unsure of exactly how to say what she wanted to say. Some bard I am. She edged closer, awkwardly rubbing her bicep. "May I sit?"

Wynne shifted and made room for her. "Why of course." When she had, the older mage asked, "What's on your mind, Leliana?"

She sighed. Clasped her hands. "Do you feel better? Having made peace with your old student?"

They'd found Aneirin, an elven mage, in the forest. He'd been Wynne's first pupil at the Tower, but their relationship wasn't the best. He'd been brought up in an alienage, and didn't trust humans. Wynne herself had been rather... prickly in her youth, where she should have been patient. So Aneirin had run away from the Tower and Wynne had thought that the Templars had killed him. She had carried that burden all her life.

Until now.

Teacher and student had talked a long time, and buried the hatchet. Aneirin had forgiven Wynne a long time ago, and Wynne was finally able to put her regret to rest.

Leliana tucked a coil of hair behind her ear. In some ways, this was relevant to her situation. She... wanted to know.

Wynne took a long sip from her cup and then placed it down on the grass. She turned to Leliana and said, "I don't know whether I feel better, to be frank with you. Relieved is more close to how I actually feel. Relieved and grateful." A pause. "It was when I was your age that I took in Aneirin as my apprentice, you know?" She smiled wanly and turned away to look at Alistair sparring with Aedan. "In hindsight, perhaps I should have waited a few more years. I was arrogant, my confidence bolstered by my youth."

Leliana knew she looked younger than she actually was, but didn't mention that. It was hard to imagine Wynne ever being arrogant. When she told her so, the older mage laughed and shook her head.

"I've had some two decades or so to grow mellow."

Leliana could not resist. "Like a fine wine, then, losing your raw edges over time."

Wynne snorted. "I suppose there is some truth to that analogy of yours, but dear Maker, I do hate being compared to wine. Or cheese."

With that, she fixed her gaze upon Alistair. "Especially cheese."

Laughing, Leliana followed her gaze.

It was the last day they'd be spending at the Dalish camp before moving on to Redcliffe. Instead of using the day to relax, the boys had taken to training in unarmed pugilism, running a gauntlet. Every three minutes, one of the fighters would be substituted with another, fresh fighter, while the other tried to survive wave after wave of challengers. It was Alistair's turn to run the gauntlet, and so far, he had survived Faren and Oghren. It was him and Aedan now, and the blond seemed to be holding his own so far.

Leliana allowed her gaze to linger on the young man. His stance was solid, and he had good footwork. He seemed to be a well-rounded fighter. She liked how his arm muscles rippled and flexed with every move, how his hair had fallen rather endearingly over his forehead, how the sweat dripped from his chin and eyebrows...

"I'm sorry I couldn't answer your question satisfactorily, child," Wynne said and Leliana snapped her attention back to her. "But I do know that I have you to thank for giving me the opportunity." She grasped Leliana's hand and gave it a small squeeze. "Thank you... for picking up after this old woman."

While it was true that Leliana had found Aneirin, it was quite by chance. She couldn't help herself from poking around the Mad Hermit's lair.

It felt nice, being thanked. She didn't need nor ask for it, but it felt nice nonetheless.

Leliana smiled softly and patted the back of Wynne's hand. It seemed frail, but she knew that the woman was still powerful enough to blast a demon back to the Void. With them, she had always been kind. Alistair was right when he said she was grandmotherly.

"You... remind me of Lady Cecilie," she said quietly.

Wynne rounded upon her, curious. "Who?"

"She was an Orlesian lady. My mother served her until she died and Lady Cecilie let me stay, instead of turning me out on the street." She paused to sigh. "You are like her in some ways. You have the same poise, the same air of nobility."

Wynne breathed a laugh and let go of Leliana's hand. She picked up her cup of tea. "Oh, child, I am hardly noble."

"Nobility isn't just something you are born with. I have met nobles who were petty and mean—complete degenerates," Leliana said earnestly. "Then there are people with a certain dignity and grace. It draws you to them, no matter who you are, or who they are. I think that the lowest peasant can have the most noble spirit and it will always shine through." She stopped and smiled at Wynne. "It is this nobility of spirit that you share with Cecilie."

It was true. Everybody filled a role in their party. Wynne was the grandmother, whom all the children loved. Sten was the stoic uncle who came to dinner sometimes, but always brought presents. Morrigan was the snooty aunt who used her kindness sparingly, but didn't want to admit it. Zevran was the troublesome brother who could talk himself out of trouble most times. Solona was the little sister who was curious and looked at everything with wide eyes. Faren was the introvert, keeping to himself until his presence was required. Aedan was the vigilant older brother, who everyone admired for one thing or another. Oghren was... well, Oghren. And Alistair... what was Alistair to her, exactly?

Wynne's words put an end to her ruminations.

"Why... thank you, Leliana. It is very kind of you to say that."

Leliana simply shook her head. "No thanks required." Then she added: "You'd think they would use a free day to rest and recuperate."

"I would have preferred that, yes, but they're young now. Young blood boils for action." Wynne sipped her tea. "I find they become tolerable after thirty-five."

"Surely it isn't that bad," the bard replied with a soft chuckle. She slapped her thighs and got up. "I'll go beat some sense into them."

"Good luck."

She walked up to where the boys were doing their fighting, cracking her knuckles as she did so. Alistair had just hit Aedan on the chin with a well placed jab when Bodahn cried, "Time! Next."

Evidently, it had been Zevran's turn, but Leliana pushed him away. Alistair blinked at her.

"Uh, what're you doing?"

In response, Leliana put up her guard. She smiled at him. "Making a wager, Alistair. If I beat you, you all will cease this ridiculous sparring and go bathe and eat and rest. We have a long walk to Redcliffe to prepare for and you all smell like sweaty socks." Everyone sniffed their armpits at that. "Come on now, don't hold back or anything."

"Granted we smell... not good, but fight you for it?"He still seemed sceptical. "Really? Is this a joke?"

Leliana's smile hardened. So, I must show him that it is indeed not a joke. Very well, then.

She took a quick step forward with her lead foot, and she threw a left jab. It lacked power, but it was fast, and it got him right on the cheek. Contact made, she slid back to her original position.

"No," she answered, amidst Zevran and Oghren's hooting.

She could see that her having made contact had taken him by surprise. Then slowly, he raised his fists and assumed guard. Now he was serious. Leliana felt very pleased with herself.

He was tired and she could see that. So she circled around him while he stood still, keeping his body faced towards her. She gave him some time to gather his breath. He would need it.

She suddenly darted in, but he checked her advance by throwing a jab of his own, which she avoided by slipping her head to the outside. Instead of pulling his arm back, Alistair surprised her by folding his elbow and rolling his forearm and aiming a backhanded blow aimed at the bridge of her nose. She hadn't expected that, so she lost some time while trying to slip away.

Leliana couldn't completely avoid it; one of Alistair's knuckles grazed her right cheekbone. She frowned. The blow certainly wasn't lacking in power. Had it connected with its intended target, it would've gashed her and caused her eyes to swell shut.

But Maker, was it exciting!

Alistair played it safe, however. He led with a quick jab, then another. He was keeping her away from him. It was a good strategy, but playing defence all the time was, well, boring.

Leliana waited for the next jab. When it came, she ducked and exploded forward. She felt Alistair's fist sail above her head, and she raised her right and threw it straight. Her right arm crossed over Alistair's left, headed right for his jaw.

Perfect counter!

Except it didn't connect. Alistair bent his arm at the elbow and pointed it skywards, pushing Leliana's right out of trajectory.

While she was dumbfounded by how quickly he'd anticipated her counter, Alistair swung his right downwards, towards her head, and she only saved herself by stepping back, thanking her reflexes.

Though it was a close shave and she was forced to create distance between them, Leliana found herself grinning widely. Her competitive spirit had unfurled its wings. There was no going back now.

This! This is what it's all about!

Alistair let her retreat, but didn't let his guard down. Now at a distance, she spent a few moments studying his stance.

It was a good stance, no doubt. Lead leg pointing at her, back leg pointing away, knees slightly bent. His lead arm was extended towards her and his rear arm hovered over his chest. Alistair had proved himself a very capable pugilist. There was no weakness in his guard she could exploit.

She stepped in again, leading with a jab which he batted away. Then another jab, then a straight right to the gut. One-one-two.

Alistair moved his head out of the way, moving to the outside. Taking advantage , Leliana threw a round blow aimed at his face.

He did what she expected: brought his guard up, both hands, to protect his face and absorb the blow. She smirked inwardly.

Leliana altered the course of her punch. Instead of crashing into Alistair's forearms, it sailed past in front of them. Then she rotated her wrist, so that her palm faced outwards, towards Alistair, and while she was pulling her arm back, she hooked her fingers around his right forearm, and pulled it aside, opening his guard and exposing his body.

The weakness lies in your psyche, Alistair.

She then stepped in, and delivered a contracted arm blow to the solar plexus. Vertical fist. A peg to the mark.

You're a gentleman.

He coughed. A punch to the mark had the ability to leave one breathless. An instant match ender. But Alistair didn't fall to his knees. He was bent over, and realising his chin was exposed, guarded his face, crossing his arms. He displayed admirable tenacity, she had to confess.

You fight fairly. With honour.

Alas, even as his face was protected, his sides weren't. Leliana took a step to her left, dipped her shoulder and delivered another round blow, this time to his liver.

But I don't have to.

With a choking noise, Alistair fell to his knees. The bout was over.

Then he fell forward on his face, clutching his side. Leliana immediately knelt beside him and rolled him over. His face was scrunched up in agony, eyes closed tightly.

"Can you breathe?"

He nodded.

"Do you want to barf?"

He shook his head.

Leliana sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. She felt slightly bad for having gone as far as she had. It was her fault. She always got too worked up in a competition. Hopefully, Alistair would learn from this experience and not be too salty.

She sat down and placed his head on her lap. "Breathe slowly," she advised while gesturing to Bodahn to fetch some water. "Do you want water?"

"Blighted Void, yes!"

Before she could provide that, however, Aedan strutted up to them, amusedly stroking his chin where Alistair had previously punched him.

"Is he dead?" he asked Leliana, then looked down at the man himself. "Alistair? Alistair? Are you dead? If you're dead, say something, man. We'll get you Oghren's unmentionables and you can sniff them to revive yourself."

Alistair made a strangled sort of noise. Leliana pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing.

Aedan went on. "Would've been better had you died though. Now you have to live with the fact that you lost to a girl. For shame, Warden Alistair. For shame."

"Ah, humour aimed at... my, ah, misery," the blond man croaked. "Ah... ha ha ha... oh my bloody liver..."

As the men cracked jokes at Alistair's expense, Leliana sat there and was hit with an epiphany.

Everyone had a role in their group. Alistair's was to keep everybody in good spirits. He had that uncanny ability that no matter what situation they were in, no matter how bleak the future seemed, he seemed to exude good cheer. In a snarky manner, but good cheer no less.

Of the two wardens, Aedan was the brain. The leader. Alistair was the heart. The guardian.

As she helped him up to a seated position and made him drink water and listened to him complain about her having cheated, Leliana couldn't keep the smug smile off her face.

She would always be there to pick their guardian up when he needed the support.