Strings Attached - a There and Back Again side story

Part 6

Six: Leliana

Her assignment as a messenger shouldn't have been a surprise, but as she galloped through the rain between one army encampment and another, she cursed the luck that had made her one of the few fast riders the army had access to. The mages had been training – there were now a handful with the ability to shape-change into a bird – but that didn't negate the need for horseback messengers, especially when it came to communications with the Chantry, who none of the Dalish mages would approach after a first, awkward confrontation that barely avoided bloodshed.

All of that meant that she was cold, wet, and exhausted; she'd been riding from dawn until dusk day after day, with no semi-permanent base – so unlike the rest of her comrades, she was stuck sleeping wherever she was forced to stop, usually in a damp tent and bedroll that smelled like horse. It was, in a word, miserable. She hadn't seen Sierra or Aedan in days, hadn't had any down time or companionship, and she was starting to wonder if she hadn't misread the signs from the Maker after all – perhaps he just meant for her to ride herself to an early death, rather than help save the world?

She'd made it to a camp just as the sun was setting, but before she'd had the chance to set up her soggy tent, she'd been approached by the communications officer, or Commie, as they were known – a glorified bureaucrat, to be sure, but still technically Leliana's superior, so she'd had no choice but to listen. Not that she'd paid overly much attention to most of the details; the long and the short of it was that she was needed for one more run – an urgent message for the king that couldn't wait.

With a long-suffering sigh – and several colourful Orlesian curses – Leliana took the proffered envelope and climbed wearily back into her saddle. It was going to be a bit of a harrowing ride, with darkness already falling and the rain still sheeting down, but the Commie had even tried to suck up to the bard, praising her dedication and ability to ride at night, so it was clearly important.

It took much longer than normal to reach the main encampment, as Leliana had had to pick her way through brush in the dark, and even dismount and lead her horse at one point, but she'd finally arrived, soaked and miserable, only to remember she was on the wrong side – the command tent was on the northwest edge of camp, and she'd come from the southeast. The usual chaos reigned over the camp itself, and especially in her tired state, it had taken longer than necessary to make her way across.

By the time she'd handed off the envelope to someone standing outside Cailan's tent, she was all-but-asleep on her feet, and she didn't even have the stamina to blink when the servant pointed her to a large nearby tent and told her to get some rest. She'd stumbled inside, found a bedroll ready and waiting for her, and had barely managed to peel herself out of her wet cloak and armour before falling asleep face down in only a chemise.

The first thing she noticed when she woke was how warm she was; it had been weeks since she'd felt completely dry, and longer since she'd been warm, and she burrowed gratefully into the blankets, desperate to enjoy it for just a little bit longer before she got up and got her first assignment. Her hips were aching, however, from her long hours in the saddle, and it quickly became apparent that she wasn't going to be able to fall back asleep.

As she laid there, eyes still tightly shut, it occurred to her that she hadn't even climbed into the bedroll when she'd finally collapsed there – how had she come to be covered with warm blankets? Had someone come into the tent and covered her? As soon as the thought occurred, she realised she could hear something much closer than the general hum of activity from outside – breathing. She wasn't alone in the tent.

Her eyes flew open, her heart pounding in her chest. Her logical mind reminded her that in the middle of an army camp, it was unlikely she was about to be attacked, but what felt like a lifetime of playing The Grand Game had taught her that you could never be too careful. She leapt up in the same moment that she opened her eyes, throwing off the blankets and landing in a defensive crouch, looking around wildly.

She was surprised by how bright it was inside the tent; there was daylight streaming in, and it was clear she'd overslept. She was also surprised by the tent itself – in the light of day, she could tell it wasn't just any tent, something she hadn't noticed in her exhaustion the night before. The fabric of the tent was waterproofed better than any she'd seen, the bedroll and blankets thicker than hers; there was a camp stool, a desk, and a washstand nearby, and the floor was covered in actual rugs. Any thoughts about that fled at the next sight that greeted her, however: Nathaniel Howe, wearing only an unlaced tunic and cotton trousers, sitting cross-legged on the opposite side of the tent, his chin on his chest, asleep.

Taking another quick look around and seeing nothing threatening, Leliana settled onto her knees on the bedroll. She was in Nate's tent, that much was obvious; she could see the Amaranthine Bear heraldry on the armour in the corner, as well as embroidered on the blankets, and she wondered if she'd misunderstood the servant who'd directed here the night before. Perhaps she'd been asked to meet with Nate before going off to bed? If she'd been any less tired, she'd probably have noticed something was amiss, but as it was, it was pretty clear she'd come in, stripped down, and gone to sleep in the bedroll of a nobleman.

She was wearing only the chemise she'd collapsed in, and she was briefly grateful that Nathaniel was asleep – only to realise that the person who'd covered her in blankets in the night had more than likely been him, when he'd discovered her in his bed. She blushed when she thought of him seeing her like that, vulnerable and nearly naked, and she crawled carefully over to where she'd dropped her pack, rifling through it until she found some mostly dry clothes to put on. She dressed as quietly as she could manage, fighting her blush the entire time, planning in her head to grab her things and leave the tent before the Arl awoke – and then she could spend the rest of the Blight avoiding him, and they'd never have to discuss her awkward mistake.