Work Text:
Her broken finger throbbed with every stroke. More than once Tanselle had to stop, teeth sunk in her lip, and wait for the pain to ebb. Still she finished it: elm, shooting star, sunset colors laid over battered wood.
She did not know him. Only that this strange boy had stood between her and a prince. Men died for less.
By dawn she would be gone to Dorne. She could not stay. She could not save him.
It was not enough. It was all she had.
So she left him his painted shield. Something bright between him and the world.