Chapter 2. Lost in the Castle

Michael studied his opponent with intense concentration. Ser Gaven was a huge strong man, at least three inches taller than the Prince. Right now the knight seemed to almost cringe under the his gaze however. No one liked sparring with the Prince, when he was in a bad mood

Michael stepped in towards Ser Gaven with his shield in front of him and the heavy practice sword held ready. The knight involuntarily backed away, but not fast enough. Michael extended his sword arm forward in a swift arc that sent his blade crashing into the knight's thigh, before he could deflect it with his shield.

Michael didn't even wait for his opponent to acknowledge the blow before he reversed the swing and brought another blow down on his head. Reeling from the blows Ser Gaven wasn't ready when Michael threw his entire body behind a shield bash that felled his opponent for good.

Michael panted, blood pumping, before he finally forced himself to relax. Maker help me, but I needed that, Michael thought ruefully. He took a deep breath and then extended an armored hand to help the dazed knight up again.

"Good work, Ser Gaven. Let's call it a day shall we." Michael said with feigned ease, trying to cover his embarrassment. He had been way too tough on the knight. He had just been so angry. Ser Gaven rose shakily and mumbled a reply before letting himself be led away by a squire.

Stripping his armor, Michael relived the earlier events of the day. He and Anora had slowly developed certain rules for how to cooperate. Anora had insisted that they should do their utmost to refrain from involving themselves in unnecessary debates publicly, and Michael certainly agreed with her. If there was any complicated issue they needed to address, then they tried to discuss it privately first.

The big problem was that Anora would grow impatient sometimes. Once she thought she knew what was to be done, it would take all his persuasion to make her even sit down and listen to his arguments. It wasn't that they really disagreed fundamentally, rather he had sometimes a different perspective on what was needed.

Yesterday Bann Oline had approached him about a dispute she had with her neighbor, Bann Yoran. It was the usual mess, claims and counter claims from the civil war years. He sympathized with Bann Oline, who had been a staunch ally of the Grey Wardens during the civil war, but there was really no way he could promise her what she wanted. Still, he was sure that if he could see to it that they offered some small compensation to ease the pain, then Bann Oline wouldn't take it too hard.

He had made it clear to the Queen that he wanted to discuss their strategy in dealing with Bann Oline before she pronounced her sentence in court, but she had avoided him all morning before court. On top of that Anora had phrased her ruling in a manner that seemed almost intended to insult Bann Oline on purpose. Michael had forced himself to sit silently and endure the furious Bann's accusing glares.

It was so unnecessary, when a few simple words could have kept Bann Oline content. Part of him wondered if the incident had anything to do with the fact that Oline was a quite striking woman in her early thirties. He told himself that he was imagining things, but there were times when it seemed that Anora was unusually harsh in dealing with his suggestions, whenever a pretty woman was involved.

He cursed silently to himself. He had long admitted to himself that his feelings for Anora where far more than just those for a political ally in an arranged marriage. He felt sure that she had come to care for him too, in her own way, but why the Maker did the woman have to make it so difficult to like her at times.

He had been very angry with Anora and said some unusually harsh words to her after court. He sighed and wondered if he shouldn't go to see Anora and try to patch things up with her. He still resisted that feeling though. He was always the one who took the initiative to mend any rift between them. Somehow he ended up apologizing to her, even if he felt it was mostly her fault. He didn't want to start that again. For once she could seek him out.

He handed his massive suit of black volcanic metal to his two squires who reverently waited to take care of it, and headed away towards his private study. He had a stack of officer recommendations to look at. He had intended to save it until tomorrow, but now he decided to use them as an excuse to stay up late and avoid Anora.

Michael briskly walked the steps up to his private study. It was a relatively small chamber next to the library, with a single window overlooking the city. Captain Kylon had tried to make him move to another more spacious room closer to the royal quarters, but he had refused. He liked the big library and he enjoyed the view of Denerim. He told himself that he needed to see and hear the city to remember it was real people out there, not just figures in columns.

By the time he had reached his study, Michael had again began considering to go and talk to Anora. Still, it never hurt to get some work done. He frowned as he entered the room. It was dark inside, but the window was slightly ajar. One of the servants must have forgotten to close the window after cleaning the room. He lit a candle and looked carefully. Something felt wrong and made the hairs at the back of his head stand out. Suddenly he saw a shadow move in a corner.

"Who's there!" he said sharply as his hand sought the long dagger he usually wore at his side.

"Why it's just little old me," a familiar voice said as a smiling figure emerged from the darkness.

"Leliana! but how... why...?" he burst out, taken completely by surprise. "Maker's breath, what are you doing here?"

"Are you so important that I need a reason to visit my dear friend now?" Leliana answered, "or should I have announced myself and requested an audience first, your highness?"

"No, of course not, or… well Captain Kylon will have a fit if he discovers you managed to sneak in like this," Michael replied.

"You really need to speak to Kylon, those guards you employ are far too lax. It's almost criminal," Leliana said with eyes glittering mischievously.

"I really don't know what brings you here like this Leliana, but it's wonderful to see you again."

Leliana smiled at him. She had been waiting for this moment and now when she finally met him, her heart beat a little faster. It had been a long time since she had seen him last, and part of her had feared that being Prince would have estranged him to her. Now she saw that, despite his new status, he really had not changed at all.

Leliana cocked her head and watched him critically. She longed to bring him to Val Royaux and go shopping for some really nice looking clothes to him. The things they dressed a Prince of Fereldan in here was far to simple and austere to do him justice, she thought. She had to admit that the plain dark green tunic he wore suited him, but then again almost anything looked good on him, she sighed.

"Are you growing a beard or have you just forgotten to shave?" Leliana asked him frowning.

"A little of both I guess," Michale replied ruefully.

"Well a nice trimmed beard can look manly, but promise you won't ever let is grow long. Those long bushy beards Fereldan men wear is just so… eww. " Leliana grimaced.

"Ah, but it's good to see you too," she said and smiled again.

"I really want to talk to you and hear what you've been up to since last we met Leliana, but this is so unexpected. It's already late and I think I should get some work done here, before dark. Can I see you tomorrow maybe?"

"Duty calls I hear, but don't worry Michael. I'll be here tomorrow too. Where do you want to meet?"

"I don't want half the court and a patrol of guards hanging over my shoulder. Can you slip in here, around the same time tomorrow?"

"Of course, until tomorrow then, my Prince." She stepped up to him and gently brushed his cheek with her lips. Then she opened the window and was gone.