#shielan

Mixed bag:

My Crow and Iesult (And @the-cooler-sidestep’s Shielan) from a dragon age tabletop I wrote into the ground.

Melody but an angry cat-horse.

Thank you for the ask! 🖤 Here is Saeris and his horse, Shielan. I combined this with @samcadoodles's prompt for a place they go to for having some peace in Skyhold:

The morning sun had just begun to emerge over the horizon, its light casting shadows on the walls of Shielan’s tent. She could hear her advisors whispering amongst themselves outside.

"Can she walk?" asked Josephine.

"Yes. Well, not exactly," Cullen replied.  

"We have to get moving. The refugees are growing restless," Leliana said.

"And there is no guarantee that we are safe from Corypheus here," said Josephine.

"I do not think it wise to encourage her overexertion," Cullen argued.

"Commander, many lives were taken from us at Haven. We cannot afford to lose more to starvation and frostbite," the Spymaster replied.

"What would you suggest, that we just leave her here?" he said.

Cassandra stepped between them.

"Lavellan is the only reason any of us are alive to argue about this right now. We will not travel without her," she said definitively.

"Fine," Leliana sighed. "Then I will send scouts ahead of us to search for a safe place to rebuild. I will let you know what we find." She walked back to her own tent to make arrangements. 

Cassandra turned toward Cullen.

"How is she, commander?"  

"Discouraged, but not defeated," he replied. 

The Seeker nodded. "Leliana is right, we cannot stay here for long. I am leaving her in your care. Get her ready to travel as quickly as you can."

“But, Cassandra, I--”

She was already walking away. Cullen sighed and shook his head. 

But I don’t think she likes me very much.

He walked back to Shielan’s tent, lifted its flap and poked in his head to check on her. He stepped lightly so as not to wake her, and sat down next to her bedroll. 

"It seems I've been made responsible for your recovery then," he mumbled to himself.

"Is that so, Commander?" Shielan replied.

"Maker, have mercy!" he said. "I thought you were asleep. It's really no trouble. I mean, I ..."

His cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. She almost chuckled as she rolled over to face him.

"My feelings are not hurt," she said, groaning as she sat up. "I fully expected to die at the hands of that ... thing. I was never supposed to make it. And I definitely wasn't supposed to be the reason that everyone starves to death in the middle of the woods."

"Ah, so you heard all of that,” he said, frowning. “Leliana is only considering the worst case scenario, my lady,” he said.

“You’ve really got to stop with the whole ‘My Lady’ thing.”

“Oh, er, I’m sorry my--” he stopped and cleared his throat. “What would you prefer?”

“My name. It’s Shielan, remember?”

Cullen nodded, a sheepish grin crossing his lips for the briefest of moments before his brow furrowed, and he grew serious again.

“Shielan, these people believe in you. They - we - watched you close the Breach and face down a crazed magister five times your size. Your victory is ours, as is your demise. Not one of us wants to see you fail.” 

The pair shared a few moments of quiet, each lost in their own thoughts, before she replied. 

“I am not used to kindness from people like you.”

Cullen winced at the tail end of her statement.

“Have I offended you, Commander?” she asked.

“No,” he lied.

The tent fell silent again. She thought to apologize, but for what? Her people had suffered through centuries of abuse at the hands of his. Had she not earned her suspicion? 

You’ve been wrong before.

“Perhaps I was -- well, perhaps I am wrong to suspect you. My instincts have misled me in the past,” she said. 

“As have mine,” he replied. “I am not the man I once was.”

“And what of the man you are now, is he better?” 

“I’d like to believe so, yes.”

He met her gaze now. His eyes looked tired, soft around the edges. She didn’t trust humans with much, but this one seemed willing enough to aid in her recovery.

“My ribs are the only thing preventing me from walking. They’ll take weeks to heal on their own and we don’t have that kind of time,” she said. 

“How can I help?” he asked.

“I need a mage, perhaps two.”

“I’m sure Mother Giselle can--”

“Not a Chantry mage.”

“Then, who?”

She took a moment to review her options. The Chantry mages were almost certainly capable of mending broken bones, but she didn’t trust them. There was Minaeve, but she herself had admitted to being a bit clumsy with her spells. Dorian had proven his skill in the field, but she had her doubts about his character. He was a Vint, after all.