p r i n c e l y --;

  The Prince exits the foyer, descends the staircase, and decides to   make it easier for everyone by going around the floor of dancers,   their dresses and uniforms rather dashing and distracting as he   does. Sebastian stops at the far corner, turns to watch for a moment.

          He, himself, is dressed in the finest Starkhaven attire           crafted, mended especially for him to attend this event,           but still, he is no match, though close, for these Orlesian           nobles.

  There's a smile on his lips, hands clasped gently behind his back,   and as the Prince turns to exit and avert his gaze, his eyes fall   right onto--

                            Who is..... this.....?

     ”why not princey?  princey would suit       you well, i imagine.” acting upon his own accord, he continues on without care for sebastian’s feelings, an impish grin spread across flesh of ivory dotted with flecks of brown.

  " Or, Champion, you could call me      Sebastian. I'm not one for names,      given the ones I've been given in      the past. "

vaelly liked your post for a starter 

     ”exiled prince… what a flashy title.       i myself, have always been partial to       ’bastard brother’- carvers favorite,      & ‘damn mage’.  though i suppose      theres a certain ring to your own.”

  Brows furrow, a frown directed   at words. Sebastian clears his   throat to try and fend off some   of the sudden awkwardness.

Mihtriel’s voice spikes. 

"Because YOU LOST TWO FUCKING HORSES.” 

  He nearly almost completely folds back into himself.   A small peep of a noise, brows furrowed and a look   of terror gracing tan skin. His face is red from the   embarrassment, and the Prince clears his throat   before continuing.

        " Yes.... m'lady. I'll-- "         Sebastian chokes down         a protest, shakes his head.

"No." Mihtriel tries her best to loom over him. The height just isn’t there - but at least she’s still intimidating. 

"You’ll ride with Bull, and then Varric on my approval."

Mihtriel still lays into him.  "Oh, like you fixed losing the first fucking horse?" 

"That’s it — that’s it. I can’t believe I have to treat a grown fucking man like a child.” The dalish grumbles. “From now on, you’re riding with Bull. No exceptions. At least he knows how to keep a creator-damned horse.”

  He scoffs, opens his mouth to protest.   Oh, dear mercy. Why the Qunari out   of all of them?

Mihtriel doesn’t end it there.

"You mean to tell me YOU’VE LOST A HORSE BEFORE? AN ENTIRE, CREATORS-BE-DAMNED HORSE?” Mihtriel wants to reach out and strangle him — but for the sake of his damn bloodline she holds back. 

  " Yes, but-- I can get another horse!      I have many horses trained for war      and I can have one brought here      by tomorrow! "

  On the bright side.

Mihtriel - despite her size - releases a deep roar of a response in time with his reply.

"You don’t JUST LOSE AN ENTIRE HORSE, SEBASTIAN.” The Dalish snaps.

  Hands fly up immediately and   he steps-- no, stumbles, back   away from her a foot or two.

She turns — the words taking a moment to register before her voice cracks down like thunder.

"You   did                   WHAT.”