There is something behind the throne

Quilyan

greater than the king himself.

He could lose himself in her hazel eyes.

The longer he spent in her presence, the more he felt his worry and confusion fade away.  His history here - whatever history that was - no longer mattered.  It was so easy to forget with her, to fall back into the easy role of prince, to sweep a lovely maiden off her feet with his eloquent manners.  "Of a sort," he admitted in response to her excited query, his chest puffing out slightly with pride.  "I am - or was - a prince.  Being a knight was, in my homeland, something that was required of the heir to the throne."  A glimmer of guilt rose in his chest, for he had never been particularly interested in using his knighthood, much less helping the needy.  It wasn't that he didn't care - he simply thought that any changes he would make would be when he became king.

"In any case, that life is no more.  Besides, being a knight is so much more rewarding when it has led me to you, my dear.  The honor is mine," he teased, turning the attention away from his admission.  He did not want to scare her away, or cause her to act any differently towards him, as happened quite often when the title "prince" was thrown around.  He grinned at her, returning her cheer.  She really was quite lovely, and besides that, she was pleasant to be around.  He had never expected to find love in Th'orqui - he would have chosen a mate based on what would be the best for the kingdom.  They might have hated each other, for all he knew, but they would have put on a happy face for the good of their people.  Here, things were different.  He relished in the newfound freedom, pleased to be free of the judgment that he would have faced had he chosen incorrectly at home.

But the moment passed quickly as he noted a look of horror on her pretty face, tears brimming in her entrancing eyes.  He frowned, concern returning to furrow his brow, dismay evident in his features.  He had not meant to cause her more pain, especially after having tried so hard to bring her happiness.  "M'lady - Myrrine - no, I didn't mean -" he stammered, his ears flicking back and forth uncertainly.  (By the way, who was this Cerin, and should he be concerned? - oh, that's just silly, there wasn't even anything between them yet, was there?)  "Please don't cry," he begged, stepping forward as though to offer his chest again for her to lean on, peering hopefully into her eyes.  "I merely meant - I just wanted you to see -"

But it was hopeless, because he had meant what he'd said, and there was no other way to take it.  He cocked his head to the side, bewildered.  Well, he'd certainly gone and made a mess of things, hadn't he.  Zarina snickered mercilessly in his mind, having disapproved of this interaction from the start.  Sure, Myrrine was a pleasant enough mare, but Quilyan had only just found out that he'd had a mate and a child, and here he was, chasing someone else.  --Idiot,-- she called him smugly.  But she soured quickly as Myrrine pulled herself together, turning to the prince for assistance once more.  Grumbling, Zarina settled in her bonded's mane to go back to sleep.

The stallion was relieved.  At least she was still here, and she had stopped crying.  How, though, was he to teach her how to feel?  That was just something that one... did.  Wasn't it?  Still, he was more than willing to try.  "M'lady, I would be honored to assist you."  He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment, wondering where to begin.  "Surely you know how to feel.  It's simply a matter of letting yourself."  They should start with something easy.  He gestured toward the falling snow outside the rotunda.  "It's snowing.  How does snow make you feel?  Are you happy that it's snowing because you can play in it?  Are you irritated that it's snowing because it makes you cold?  Anything - tell me."

"Talk talk talk."

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