"Travel safely, Lady Cousland. Maker speed your travels," the King commanded Elissa somberly. He held her hand to help her step lightly into the sleigh she'd ridden from Highever to Denerim. Another sleigh waited behind hers, massive draft horses with equally massive hooves patiently waiting to pull them back to Highever.
"Thank you again for your generous hospitality, my King," Elissa's cheeks were already rosy from the cold. She slid a fur lined mitten over the hand she'd left bare for the king to give a parting kiss.
"My home is always open to you and yours, my Lady," the King nodded, "I'll send out an amendment to the codes as soon as the roads thaw. My seneschal provided a copy with my seal for your father?"
"He did, my lord," Elissa nodded politely and felt a pang of sadness as the king murmured one final farewell before stepping back away from the sleighs. At a nod the sleigh drivers cracked the reins over the draft horses backs and the small party from Highever slipped from the large auxiliary stable yard outside Denerim's walls. The roads of the city were a slushy mess unfit for sleigh treads, but the wide open white expanse outside the city was still covered in thick packed snow ideal for sleighs. Elissa had been startled when King Maric had sat waiting on his horse to escort her party to the sleighs. Startled and more than a bit delighted. Her fortnight long visit to the capital had been productive in ways far beyond amending the tax codes.
"You intrigue me," Maric said with surprising bluntness, "Barely more than a child and yet you navigate the battlefield of the nobility like a tested veteran. Your intelligence is more than a little frightening."
"I'll take that as a compliment, your Majest," she answered dryly, "Backhanded, but a compliment nonetheless."
"Nothing backhanded about it," Maric shook his head, "You've an eye for detail that most train years go achieve."
"I just pay attention," she shrugged helplessly.
"Do you?" Maric asked as he lifted her hand to kiss her fingers, pinning her in place with a gaze that burned in the blue depths of his eyes.
Elissa shook herself, remembering odd ending to her evening at the King's private table. She'd returned her rooms full of anxious uncertainty and a pounding heart that raced each time she thought back on the feeling of Maric's lips on her fingers.
"Are you cold, my lady?" Ashlyn spoke up, noticing Elissa's shudder, "Shall I get more blankets out?"
"No, thank you," Elissa shook her head. She was grateful for the cold that raced across her flushed skin.
"Don't catch a chill, my lady," her maid admonished, and Elissa smiled. The warm heat that bloomed in her heart every time she thought of the King would prevent that.
"That…doesn't look good," Maric stood next to his oldest friend, Loghain Mac Tire, and started out at the snow screaming past the large windows that lined the great hall of his palace.
"It'll blow over in a few days," Loghain shrugged and started to turn away until he noticed the dark scowl marring the king's face.
"The Highever party left this morning," the King was staring out into the swirling white. It was so thick they could barely make out the grand cathedral of the Chantry in the distance.
"Ah," Loghain resisted the urge to sigh, already knowing where the king's thoughts were, "Shall I dispatch scouts?"
"No," Maric shook his head and crossed one arm across his chest while he pulled idly at his neatly trimmed beard, "No, that won't be necessary."
"As you wish, your Majesty," Loghain was genuinely surprised. As much attention as Maric had paid the girl, the Loghain expected the man to order a full arm's length search of the snow between Denerim and Highever.
"I'll go myself," Maric turned abruptly and brushed past his friend, already calling for his servants and guards to prepare for travel.
"Are you out of your mind?" Loghain hurried to catch up to the king before the man made it out of the great hall, "You can't go out there. Certainly not for some silly girl."
"I'm sorry, I forget…which of us is the king?" Maric raised an eyebrow and shrugged off the hand Loghain had on his arm.
"Do you even think about what this might look like?" Loghain hissed, falling into step beside Maric as they hurried through the halls to Maric's apartment.
"Like the king gallantly saving a noblewoman from a screaming blizzard?" Maric hazarded with a dry glance at his friend before stepping through the hastily opened door of his apartment. Cailan was inside lounging on an overstuffed divan and reading a book. He looked up in surprise when the two men entered.
"Something the matter, Father?" the young man asked, closing his book with a snap so he could stand and sketch a bow.
"I'm stepping out for a bit," Maric said casually, "Keep an eye on things while I'm gone."
"Erm…" Cailain glanced at Loghain, "Stepping out? Didn't a blizzard blow up? The weapon master canceled today's lessons."
"Which is absolutely absurd," Maric pursed his lips and looked at Loghain as well, "The boy needs to know how to fight in any conditions."
"Father! It's awful out there!" Cailan looked appalled at the thought. A servant hurried into the room and dumped an armload of Maric's heaviest winter furs on a table in front of the king. Maric preferred to dress himself as much as possible, and the servant bowed his way out as silently as he'd entered.
"You can't choose the weather in a battle," Loghain shrugged pointed to Maric, "But only an idiot fights with the snow. This idiot."
"You can't possibly be going out there, Father," Cailain shook his head while he watched Maric pull on his heavy furs.
"Sure I can," Maric said conversationally, "It's not the first blizzard I've gone out in. It's not even all that bad."
"Exactly, which is why you should stay right here instead of going out after some skirt who is in all likelihood perfectly fine," Loghain said bluntly and then immediately wished his words back as Maric stilled.
"Wait, what's this about?" Cailan frowned deeply and looked between his father and Loghain.
"Nothing for you to worry about, son," Maric said brightly, dragging his fur mittens on with a savage yank, "I'm just going to forget your uncle said that and we're all going to go about our day."