Chapter Text
The training yard was nearly empty. Ashra had begged Cullen to take the troops somewhere, anywhere, to clear them out for a few hours. He had looked as if he were going to question her, but thought twice about it when he saw the pleading look in her eyes. Ashra was not one to ask for favors lightly. Cullen then promised to make an excuse to have the troops cleared out of the training yard that afternoon. Something about climbing snowy mountain paths in full armor to build endurance. She didn’t envy the soldiers, but she also wasn’t much looking forward to the task she had given herself either. Everyone was making sacrifices for the Inquisition, but Ashra was taking the rare opportunity to sacrifice something for herself.
With no one around (except Cole, who was unnervingly always around, if unseen) Ashra wouldn’t have an audience for her poor attempts to teach herself how to fight with a sword. If she was to face down Lord Adorno Ciel Otranto in a duel to keep Josephine in her life, well… drastic steps would have to be taken. She had been the one the propose the duel after all, hadn’t she?
The training dummy looked innocent enough. It was just a faceless torso of burlap stuffed with straw and sawdust or padding of some sort. Something in it had to be made of stronger stuff though, didn’t it? For it to hold up to repeated pummelings from actual warriors? Ashra chastised herself for knowing so little about the warriors’ matters in Skyhold and swore she would spend more time learning what it was Cullen and Cassandra were doing to aid the Inquisition. It was bad enough Josephine was signing Asha’s name to every treaty, every proclamation as if the Inquisitor had any idea what she was doing. She had to do something herself besides be in the wrong place at the right time.
But that would be later. Right now she had to learn to hold a sword. How hard could it be? The end is sharp. All I have to do is shove it into another person before he can shove his into me. Lie after lie she told herself, in an attempt to convince herself that a mage challenging a trained swordfighter to a duel over her love was the smart thing to do.
She had overlooked the fact that she had never lifted a sword in her life before that day with the intent to use it for its intended purpose.
If I go down, I go down fighting, she thought, struggling with the heavy sword she’d borrowed from Cassandra’s armory for the occasion. I have to at least try. It was awkward in Ashra’s large hands. She was reminded of the moment she was given the sword of the Inquisition. It was gilded and carved with dragons on the handle and completely foreign in her grip. All eyes had been on her as she stood above the crowd on the steps leading up to Skyhold’s great hall and she had prayed she wouldn’t drop the clunky thing in front of everyone. She was a mage, what was she supposed to do with a weapon like that, even if it was just for ceremony? She had no use for swords, not even the blades some mages crafted at the end of their staffs in case their mana was drained and they needed to fight in a pinch. She was more likely to stab herself in the foot by mistake if she were to turn her own staff into a melee weapon. Ashra was not a scrapper. She was more than happy to stand behind her barrier attacking from afar and keeping her companions safe. A sword was the last thing she wanted, yet she was called once again to wield one.
Dawdling would not help matters or change the facts. If she was to fight for her love, she would have to start somewhere. With all the strength she could muster, Ashra pictured the face of the man she had challenged and lunged at the target in front of her. The heft of the sword caught her off guard, and as soon as the blade made contact with the target, it was wrenched from her hand as it clanged against something hard inside. She dropped it, startled. Her hands tingled from the impact. The training dummy could not move, yet it had still managed to disarm her.
Though she had gone to great efforts to make sure she was alone, Ashra heard a laugh coming from behind her. It was not a cruel laugh - there was no mocking in it - but the sound of it shamed her nonetheless. Her grey cheeks darkened to a slight purple with heat. “Varric, where did you come from?”
“Kirkwall originally. But just now from the kitchens.” The dwarf stepped out from behind the tree he had been standing near and tossed an apple in the air and caught it on its way back down. He took a bite, chewed and swallowed before saying, “You’re going to hurt someone with that thing if you’re not careful, if you haven’t already done so for yourself.”
“Why did it have to be a swordfight?” Ashra asked, mostly to herself since Varric had no idea what she was talking about. “Why couldn’t it be a staring contest? I’m good at those, and not many people can stare down a qunari for too long without flinching, even one as meek as me.”
Varric laughed. “So that’s how Bull lost the eye, huh? One of those infamous qunari starting contests. Deadly I hear.” When Ashra didn’t laugh, Varric stopped grinning. “I’m sorry, Mouse. You know I don’t mean to laugh. Not at you anyway. But you’ll have to fill me in here. Why are you out here with a sword looking like someone stole your last piece of good cheese? Why the sword? You know you have a perfectly serviceable staff, right?”
Ashra sighed. “I’ve challenged Lord Adorno Ciel Otranto of Antiva to a duel.” She sheepishly rubbed at her head where horns met scalp.
Varric nearly choked on his apple. When he was done coughing, all he could manage to say was, “Why would you go and do something as nug-humping stupid as that?”
Ashra shrugged. At least that part was easy. “For Josephine. So she won’t have to marry him.”
He smiled sadly. “Ah. So the rumors are true then? Ruffles is engaged?”
“People already know?” Ashra asked.
“This is Skyhold, Inquisitor. You can’t so much as fu-” Varric stopped himself. “Fuss about your dinner getting cold without someone starting a rumor about it. Especially when it comes to the inner circle. I’m surprised word about your upcoming duel hasn’t been found out yet if you’re already at the point of training for it.”
“I just sent him my challenge to face me in Orlais,” she said with her face in her hands. “He won’t have even received it yet. I just figured, well, I’ll need all the time I can get to prepare. I’m not exactly the Maker’s gift to sword fighting.” She gave a pointed look to the sword that had fallen at her feet and kicked some dirt over it out of spite.
Varric took a moment to think this over. He walked over to a gelding that was hitched to a post nearby and handed it his half eaten apple. “Well then,” he said. “We should get you all the help you need. I’ll go get the Seeker. She have tips to fix your… lack of skill.”
Ashra jumped after Varric. “No! You can’t! I’d die if anyone knew what I was doing.”
“You’ll die if you don’t get help, Mouse.”
"Cassandra won’t want to help, anyway. I’m sure she’s too busy with her own work.”
“Are you kidding? A duel for a lover’s hand? A commoner battling for the heart of a noble? Foreign lands and dashing heroes?” He laughed. “This sounds like something the Seeker would kill to be part of!” He grabbed Ashra’s hand and pulled her along. Ashra gave in and left herself be led to Cassandra. The duel would be fought one on one, but until then, she had friends who would stand by her side. She could use all the help she could get.