"I would be very surprised if you had heard of it," he said. It was, in fact, a relief she hadn't. It was touching how she repeated it, determined to not forget the detail of his background that he had shared. "It isn't of much concern; I haven't been there for over twenty years."
He listened solemnly as she answered, with the same attention she had devoted, certain to not forget what she shared. She had been thrust into a foreign world. He did not want to make her feel like some token curiosity, bombarded with questions by an inquisitive onlooker and quickly forgotten. Even if they would only know each other for a few days, he would like to be thought of as a friend known briefly.
Ordhan halted when she did, both puzzled and concerned as her eyes widened. As he turned his head to see what she had seen to earn such a reaction, she burst into laughter. He studied the wall in confusion before seeing the painting: a bowl full of apples, rendered in soft reds and golds.
He grinned at her mirth, even laughing with her. "Those would be paintings worth seeing," he agreed. He looked again at the piece of art. "Maybe they wanted something normal, since their lives are like that. Something to remind them of a normal life, or home, perhaps," he added with a shrug of his shoulders.
The smile on his face then faded as his thoughts returned to her answer. It had been halting, even vulnerable. Even if Ordhan was the sort to expect less than honesty from anyone, every word would be taken as unmarred truth. His brow furrowed. "You were going to be married?" he asked, voice carefully neutral. She sounded relieved; perhaps it had been an arranged marriage. Why would the Grey Wardens steal away a bride, though? As his mind endeavored to fit the more pieces into the puzzle, he realized that he may have pried too closely. No matter what the answer was, it was likely to be a sensitive subject. His gaze skittered away before returning awkwardly to her, apologetic.