There is something behind the throne

Quilyan

greater than the king himself.

He heard her coming before he saw her, but only just; he was so wrapped up in his inspection of the rotunda that he would have been hard-put to notice anything outside it. When the mare barreled through the doorway, sending the hanging drapes flaring toward him, his head snapped toward her and he snorted with surprise. He leaped to the side, luckily lunging to the opposite side from her and avoiding what would have been a dangerous and painful collision. She, on the other hoof, was not so lucky - she slid to the ground, slipping haphazardly toward one of the stone walls. "Watch out -" he warned sharply, but the mare had slowed to a heaving halt before she hit the pillar. He sighed with relief, trotting to quickly close the distance between them.

He expected her to rise, and when she did not, he frowned with concern. Was she injured? "Er... m'lady, are you injured?" he asked, but his question was lost amid her earth-shattering tears. She wailed, kicking and screaming in either rage or pain (to be honest, he couldn't really tell the difference), and he retreated to watch warily. She didn't look injured on the outside - in any case, there were no broken bones that he could see, no blood spattering the floor of the rotunda. He waited, perplexed, wanting very badly to leave her in peace to vent her frustrations (or whatever this was), but unable to bring himself to depart until he had made sure that she was alright.

When she finally quieted, the prince and his companion shared a silent sigh of relief. The marmoset had climbed to perch once more atop the prince's head, a living crown that watched with as much confusion as her bonded. When the mare twisted to look at him, a weak smile on her face, he responded in kind (though his violet eyes bespoke his bewilderment and, perhaps, a hint of fear). "I... uh..." he stuttered, lost amid the sudden shift of her mood. Still, he wracked his brains, looking for an honest answer to her question. "Not happy, perhaps. But I have had to be..." Princely? Kingly? What had he had to be, exactly? "I know what it's like to wear a mask that others expect to see." There. That was honest.

Her eyes were so sad - it captivated him, drove him to stay rather than to politely excuse himself. But that wasn't the only thing about her - she was lightly colored, with darker dots spread across her body. Her wings were noteworthy for how unique they were - it was quite rare for him to encounter a Pegasus without feathered wings. They were beautiful. He didn't have long to look her over, though, for then she was approaching him, encroaching on his politely maintained space. He leaned back slightly, more to look at her than to get away from her, confusion evident on his features. This became even more pronounced as she pressed closer to him. Uh, what do I do? he asked Zarina silently. The marmoset shrugged mentally, for once rendered speechless.

The mare was warm. He was much hyperaware of her presence, of every place where her flesh met his. He lowered his head slowly, spreading his wings, engulfing her within his feathered appendages, offering her a safe haven from the cold outside. Was it the right thing to do? Perhaps, perhaps not - but he was far too aware of the effect that her damsel-in-distress act was having on his masculinity, and he was, unfortunately, powerless to resist. "Do you... want to talk about it?" he asked tentatively, his voice muffled against her mane. What an odd encounter, he found himself thinking distantly, nervous about the things that she was making him feel.

Talk talk talk.

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