My Warden (COMPLETED)

Healing

Lana sucked in a steadying breath as she attempted to drop the tiny screw into place, unfortunately that tugged upon the wound on her side. The tweezers slipped from her fingers and clattered to the desk, sending the screw rolling across the polished wood. Pain walloped the left of her body, but the throb was dulled from bone shattering thanks to a bit of time and her own personal poultice recipe. It wasn't as potent as she'd like due to Skyhold's surprising lack of elfroot, but she made due with it and a bit of help from the fade. She lifted up the hem of her nightshirt to inspect the bandage but no blood pooled into it. Without having any proper clothing while on the run from the wardens she wore the borrowed tunic from Cullen. Despite the deep neck, it reached to the tops of her thighs and was softer than the fanciest underthings in Orlais. It also helped how much it yet smelled of him.

After being banished to her not-state room for rest and recuperation, Lana lasted all of an hour in bed alone before she had to get up to do something. Her traitorous thoughts trailed her every move, the memories unwilling to shake free no matter how far she ran from them. The shock of what happened wore to a nub when she limped to the Inquisition camp near Redcliffe. Cullen finally released his hold upon her as the healer patched her up, but she felt his eyes scouring over her from the side. Lana couldn't lift her head to face him, to admit to herself what she'd done. Burrowing under a nest of shock was preferable to the blame threatening to crush her chest. After that it was a long wagon ride up the mountain to Skyhold with more than a few guards being extra watchful. The commander remained behind to take care of things, but she knew his word traveled with her. People were quick to offer help to the stabbed woman and never leave her alone. Leliana greeted her, doing her best to downplay what occurred, but Lana shook off her ignorance. They needed a plan, they needed to find a way to cut back at the monster who did this to the wardens. To her people. She'd stewed about it the entire trip, but Leliana wouldn't have any of it. During all of Lana's attempts at bringing up Corypheus, Leliana shifted to innocuous topics -- or worse -- memories of old times. Memories were what Lana was trying to avoid.

Digging her palms into her forehead, Lana glared at the mechanical device blasted apart across her desk. Golden gears and silver screws rattled across scraps of metal molded into six squares of varying size. It looked as if someone cracked the gilded mechanical box in half and dumped all the innards out. Which was in a round about way what she'd done, but with a bit more precision than applying a hammer. She reached for the cup of tea Leliana refreshed before returning to her spymaster duties. Placing the edge to her lips, Lana tipped ice cold water into her mouth. Shaking her head to clear the bitter, frozen tea, she cupped her hand under the mug and pulled the power of fire through the fade. After a moment the nearly blackened tea boiled. She smiled from the simple spell when a knock broke against her door.

"Enter," Lana called while placing the cup down to cool. Without looking up she said, "But if you've come to play 'the worst ever' again, I should warn you I have in fact seen the Duke of Jader's underthings and I'd prefer to not...not, uh..." Her words drifted away as she stared up at the commander and not Leliana filling the doorway.

He cocked his head to the side, but his face was stern and unbending, as unreadable as a stone. Weary and coated in red dust, he was still without his furred surcoat. Behind him, the last vestiges of the sun crested over Skyhold's garden. "I wanted to see if you were all right," Cullen said knocking into his sword.

Lana dipped her head down and waved him in, "Please, come in. You don't have to stand in the door."

He nodded primly, but she swore she caught a smile as he slipped inside and shut the door behind him. "Do I wish to ask about...?"

"No!" Lana interrupted, knowing what flitted through his mind. She twisted in her chair to face him but didn't rise. Standing was still tricky. "It is a very..."