The evening sun peeked out from over the battlements, casting purple-tinged rays of orange on the shields and livery of the guards there, making them seem somehow mythical. They were anything but, Lance knew.

He was feeling much more relaxed now, having left Ser Gilmore somewhere in the dark depths of Castle Highever, still stumbling around trying to find his charge. It would be quite embarrassing for him later, trying to explain how it was he lost the young noble in the winding passages.

Lance smirked to himself.

It wasn't that he disliked Ser Gilmore, per se, but he didn't appreciate the knight breathing down his neck every second of the day and trying to play it off as though he weren't ordered to.

Now, Lance was not a troublemaker – not by any stretch of the imagination. He was pretty sure. But there were times when he got bored, and boredom creates mischief. And the sort of mischief he got into was often the sort that didn't reflect well on his parents.

No, the Teyrn and Teyrna of Highever didn't want their son scandalized before he'd even sat on the throne.

Lance got bored often. He'd gotten bored at one of his mother's salons, and perhaps drank too much wine. There was a bit of awkwardness with Delilah Howe and now she didn't care for him. He'd gotten bored in Denerim and there been some confusion with the guards there.

He'd gotten bored with himself, and that had led directly to where he was now, sneaking into the castle larder.

"Hello?" he whispered, spying his ladylove sitting nervously on a table. She smiled at him, a quick, wavering thing.

Marna stood up, pushing back a lock of red hair behind her pointy Elf ears. It was taboo for them to be together. Plenty of people – plenty of noblemen – still thought Elves were beneath humans and so didn't deserve the dirt that stained their clothes.

The Couslands disagreed. The Elves had fought alongside Maric in his rebel army, and had been instrumental in the defeat of the Orlesians, or at least that was how his father told it. Lance hadn't been raised to have the same distaste of Elves his peers did.

Quite the contrary, he loved this particular Elf.

He grinned big, strode over to where she stood and lifted her up, arms tight around her waist.

"I was starting to miss you," said Lance, setting her down on the table and gently nudging her knees apart.

He began to kiss her, and she reluctantly returned it, gently urging him away so that she could speak.

"I have something to tell you," she said. He didn't reply, instead he moved on to her shoulder and neck, reaching up to tug her blouse open. She let him, hoping he would be more inclined to listen.

"This is something you might want to sit down for," she said.

"Nope," he replied, having trouble with the first button on her blouse. She put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him away to give herself room to speak.

"Lance, I'm serious," she said. And he suddenly felt very uneasy.

"What? Are you okay?"

"No," she said. And then suddenly, "Yes. I'm fine. But I'm not. I mean, this is good. But it's bad. But it's fantastic."

Lance stared, a bit slack-jawed. "What?"

She took a breath, hesitant. He reached out for her, held her, pulled her close. She found comfort in that, reassurance. She knew him well. He would not hurt her.

"I am with child," she said simply, her cheeks flushing. Lance didn't say anything at first, creating a rush of fear. Would he push her away? Would he insist that the child was not his? Would he even kill her to protect himself, his family?

And then he grinned, laughed. He scooped her up, spun her around.

"I'm going to be a father!" he declared, and lifted her up. She was laughing now, so glad, so relieved. He pulled her against him, kissed her.

"I'm so relieved," she said. "I'm so happy."

"Wow," he said, putting her down. "This is incredible."

"What will we do?" she asked. "How will we tell your parents?"

"Do we have to tell them?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, brow furrowing. "I think it will come up."

He made a slight groan, and then smiled big at her. And then he dropped to one knee.

"I don't even have a ring," he whispered. Marna felt her heart flutter, felt a rush of nervous excitement.

"Marna," he said. "Will you marry me?"