No response or confirmation was given that Elyse received Theowyn's cryptic signal to come and see him that night, but within the wall behind the Prince's closet comes a muffled cry of startlement. Not enough to carry far, but perhaps audible to those within Theowyn's room, or if anyone was in Elyse's, those within her own bedchambers.

The Prince had pulled one of the large chairs from the fireplace and to the place by his closet. And odd place for it, but there he waited, not able to sleep. If she could see his strained eyes, it would tell all the story. At the outcry, he sets into motion, having already left the door open for her he crouches with. "Elyse...?" he calls out with concern, though it but a whisper.

In the dim secret corridor, her bright night-shift and robe can be detected. She is seated, though, by the shape of her form, facing the exit into Theowyn's chambers and gripping the walls of the narrow passage way. It would appear she slipped, and by the scurrying near her feet, the rat within the corridor likely the reason. She draws her feet closer to her, having felt it with her slipped toes and attempting to move back from it in a sort of seated crawl, "Theowyn?" she whispers in a plaintive tone.

"It is I, love," Theowyn confirms, his hand moving about her shoulders. The voice is strangely different, though with nothing specific to it as of yet. With a reserved embrace, he leads her out from the passageway and through the closet. Once out, he turns her a little toward him, and places a kiss upon the cheek. "Are you hurt?" That concern shows in his voice, but so does something else.

Elyse smiles reassuringly, delivering a similar affectionate but chaste kiss on Theowyn's cheek, "Oh yes, quite . . . thank you." She wrinkles her nose, "I had not realized vermin would have just as much access to that passageway as I." At least she has a good humour over it, as her nose unwrinkles. Her hands move to cling to the Prince, "I received your flowers, my Heart. I've missed you."

Theowyn wears a shirt this time, which is better, but hardly any clothing and still their proximity is all too intimate between the clothing which they sleep ing. The Prince releases a content sigh as she clings to him. One hand comes to the back of her head, and lightly guides her cheek to his chest. "My love..." he sighs, warming up to her affections, even though doubt of everything carries in his mind.

Elyse blinks a few times, an instictive expression of uncertainty, resting her head against Theowyn's chest, and holding herself close to him. She senses his unease, and asks softly, "What is it, Darling?" Her tone showing genuine concern and she clutches the Prince.

Theowyn is not certain he if can tell her, it a matter that will look poorly on his mother. The hesitation shows in his motion, and he holds her within the embrace, needing her near him, yet uncertain what to say. Theowyn takes a deep breath, his hands skimming across Elyse's cheek before lifting her lips to him. With one arm holding her around the waist, he challenges the curve of her back as he leans her away from him while holding her waist pressed tightly into him. The kiss comes, a fury of passion, a near despirate need for the affections she can give him, and uncertainty...

Her breath catches as is held as Theowyn dips her in such a passionate kiss. And she returns it, but perhaps less agressively, desperately than he. Elyse grips Theowyn's frame tightly, should he let go and she not be hoding on, she'll do nothing but fall--but there is more to that grip, a need that brooks the physical plane and extends to the emotional, and spiritual. Worry causes her to break away from the kiss, gasping for breath, her bosom heaves against Theowyn's chest, "Theowyn?" she whispers, "Darling?" caressing his cheek and throat, or wherever her lips shouldland.

Theowyn's lips to sweep away from the kiss, the needing passions still well burning inside him. As he lifts her, he contently sets her lips to kiss him where she wishes. One hand wantingly rubs through her hair, the other has her tightly pressed against him. "My love..." the tone is near sad, uncertainly ringing through. He can't bring himself to begin, though it is obvious he has a need to say something. With slight motions, he leads them toward the bed, but now so they may sit comfortably.

Easily escorted to Theowyn

Easily escorted to Theowyn's bed, Elyse settles down on the edge of it, continuing to cling to the man she loves gently. Her vacant stare falls to someplace other than him, as she settles her head back against his chest, unless he moves it. If his shirt is somewhat open, she'd offer additional comfort by trying to slip her slender hand within, to rest against the bare skin of his chest. "If I can help, Dearheart, please . . . I will do anything within my power to see to your happiness."

Theowyn's would insure every chance to insure they are a little more improper, and that includes having his shirt open enough for his chest to be felt. He sighs quietly, guiding her further within the bed. "I will tell you," he answers quietly, still not sure how. Theowyn begins to guide her further within the bed, basically taking a hold of her and brushing her more toward the center and beneath the covers that were open. He then lays on his back, urging her unto him. Theowyn's gaze is flat, and looks up. He's still uncertain.

Elyse curls her lithe form against the Prince's, laying easily under the covers and within his grasp. She resumes resting her head and hand where they were, her thick braid of golden hair falling across her shoulder and a little bit onto the Prince's chest. Her uncorsetted bosom brushes shamelessly against Theowyn as she waits and listens, not wanting to rush what is obviously a difficult matter for him to discuss. To further attempt comfort, she lightly rubs his chest where her hand falls within his shirt.

"Lord Durnik will likely leave in the next few days with a few guards," Theowyn informs quietly, though that not the matter of his descussion, and unknown to him Durnik will or has changed his mind about that. That strong arm holds Elyse about the waist and well pressed against him. The true matter of difficulty is not easily said. "Do you know Captain Kellian?" he asks, and doesn't even wait for an answer. "A half brother of mine, Princess..." Anguish builds. Theowyn barely remembers his father, and yet his mother would do this...

A single nod indicates silent acknowledgement of the statement made about Durnik, but her light rubbing of his chest stops as he reveals the latter. She takes a full moment to absorb the meaning of this, before she offers Theowyn a small squeeze, tightening her body against him and then laxing again, "This," she begins hesitantly, "I suspect, is recent news to you, my Love?" her voice not above a whisper.

"Of a few days ago," Theowyn agrees quietly. Now that it is out, he turns strangely colder, but the hand still holds her near him. "Capt-- My brother told me when I began questioning him on another matter. He is my flesh and blood, I can see it in his eyes," Theowyn explains, each word coming quieter then the one before. "She betrayed my father..."

Biting her lower lip, Elyse listens silently to each comment as Theowyn slowly explains. What do you say to news as this? She curls closer yet, if she can, moving her head to deliver a small caress on what she hopes is his cheek, or somewhere in the vicinity. Then asks softly, "Does your sister know, Darling?" trying to get him away from dwelling on the more unpleasant part of the matter.

"Kellian seemed to think so..." Theowyn's voice trails again. He doesn't know what to do, what to think about this matter. The Prince does know he's in trouble with the ideas roaming through his head. "I do not know. What am I to think?" he asks her quietly, and then answers it partly himself. "Kellian might be the next Captain-General, I thought that even before he proclaimed himself my brother. But what am I to think?"

Elyse hugs tightly again, "What do you feel?" she asks, answering the question with a question, her hand resuming its stroking lightly across the Prince's chest.

"I barely remember my father," Theowyn explains quietly. "To think my mother dishonored him like that. I always thought they loved eachother. He was her Captain-General when they began their relationship. I suppose I really had no proof of their love."

Elyse nods, with a hint of a frown, though she lowers her face after deliving the caress, so its uncertain if the Prince might catch it. Resting her head again on Theowyn's chest, Elyse sighs softly, "Perhaps you should discuss your feelings with the Queen, my Heart," not suggesting that she doesn't want to hear his problems, the opposite is the truth, verily, "Perhaps you and she can come to some sort of understanding with your mother's infidelity . . . " she pauses, thinking, then offers with another squeeze, "You have every right to be upset, my Love, I only fear that this will distract you from your duties to your kingdom. It is in the past--the important decision now lay before you and your Queen as to your relations to your half-brother, and the beginnings of a very necessary healing for all involved." She offers another chaste kiss, "Don't let the sun go down on your resentment. Forgive her . . . " she suggests gently, " . . . and live the life I'm sure she would want for you, your kinsmen, and your countrymen." Another pause, "I love you, Theowyn."

Theowyn's touches on him do nearly go missed, his features hardened. Even his muscles are stiff, his cheek, his lips. His voice. Theowyn is far from his usual self, though there is a terrible need to have Elyse pressed against him. She can hear the nods of his head, as he listens. "One always thinks their parents had a real love. I could not do that to you while truly in love," he answers in a response, the voice scattered in tone as much of his thoughts are. "Aislynn, yes." He sighs. Now the touch of his hand can be felt on her own cheeks, as he lifts her unseeing gaze to him. She does not have the benefit of seeing those disturbed eyes.

Elyse blinks once, as Theowyn brings her blank stare to fall unseeingly upon him. Her lips slightly pulled to a small, sad frown, and she leans forward, whispering as she seeks a kiss on his lips, "I promise you that you will have my heart, and none other shall keep it, so long as you do not give it'another, my Darling."

"I know, my love," Theowyn does believe the words, but there could always be that doubt on his mind. The First Prince settles his eyes closed, the arm about your waist slowly leading you to be more ontop of him, all the while he pulls your lips closer toward his. The kiss is light, but heated, that despirate need to feel her near ever present.

Elyse is pulled more on top of him, and even slides a bit on her own iniative to be quite more on top of the Prince. She returns the kiss affectionately, but withdraws, or tries to, murmuring, "You doubt me . . . this has made you doubt our love . . . our future." It's a statement not a question. And she doesn't seem angry so much as dissappointed, and sad.

"I thought love was perfect," Theowyn tells Elyse quietly, holding her despirately unto him, as though if he were to loosen just a touch she'd disappear. "It is like jumping into something, and knowing what it will be now, but not knowing what the relationship will be in ten years... I suppose its like life. But, I could not live with the thought of you," the prince stops dead in his tracks right there. "You will not be doubted because of what someone else did." He speaks of his mother, though the words are firm, and meant.

Moving the thick braid back over her shoulder and away from potentially getting in Theowyn's face, Elyse still holds herself up, her lips away from his. Her features seem uncertain, injury and relief warring in her expression, "Good," she finally speaks, still in the whisper, not wanting to be overheard by the guards outside his door, "Because I would not want to be forced into asking Sohai champion my honour against my husband," she grins at the thought, softening noticeably, "My Champion should be a position reserved *for* my husband."

"Then that is how it shall be. I am your Champion, my beautiful Princess." Theowyn's warm hand continues its sweet caresses, his brilliant blue eyes taking her in with that sense of reserveness he usually has around her. "Assuming I do not rob your innocense before the wedding night, otherwise I may have to contend with Sohai and hope I can win without hurting him." The jestful smile shows on his voice.

Elyse grins, sighing happily, "A trained Warder against my top military officer in accompaniment--that is a conflict I hope never occurs, for I suspect Sohai would like sustain several injuries before giving up, if he did." She lowers her head closer, resting it against your chest, "Nay, my Love, we shall await the wedding night," blushing deeply, "I hope after such a long wait that I do not disappoint you."

"We will, for certain?" Theown asks, voice showing he was hopeful at least in the other direction. "If we are to have an Andoran wedding, we should do things the Andoran way. Although that means a lengthy engagement, it also suggests the robbing of innocense can happen as early as a month before." The suggestion is teasing.

Surprise registers in her voice, "Truly? Oh, Light, how am I ever to learn all of Andor's customs? There seems to be so many . . . and so . . . different from what I have learned growing up." She sighs disparingly, her lithe form relaxing on top of the Prince's. She blinks a moment, "Has my father returned word to you of approval?"

"Not yet, Princess," Theowyn admits quietly, uncertain of that still. "Now that Lord Renford has taken control of Murandy, I can only hope he responds before word reaches Kandor. Otherwise, I do not know..."

Her head nods while still resting against the Prince's chest, "What does this mean, exactly, with Lord Renford taking Murandy?" not wanting to admit her lack of understanding. For the most prt in the Borderlands, they war with the Blight, not with other nations--though the recent troubles with Arafel have proving that adage no longer relevant.

"Lord Renford seeks Andor, I am certain of it," Theowyn admits, his words a bare whisper. The hand moves to Elyse's hip nad begins to slowly stroke at the curve of her body, finding a strange comfort in that. "He already attacked House Hune nearly two years ago, or at least there's evidence of that. War may be coming next."

Elyse nods again, sighing sadly, "I won't lose you," she says, more an effort to reassure herself, than to reassure you. Her hands clutch at you tightly, her lips slipping past the opening of your shirt to delver a sweet caress against your skin there.

Theowyn's hand follows further across her cheek until he slowly starts stroking through her hair, the sweet kisses on his chest causing the muscles to tighten and then loosen. "We will not be apart, and if war is called, then I will take to the battle fields and insure you may live here safely." There is honor in his words, he would dye to insure Elyse lives.

In expelling a sigh from those pouty lips, Elyse also offers a near whimper, or could be considered a very soft moan, "I know," she says sadly, "Though the last eleven years have been quiet, I yet remember a time when the Blight was not, and Honorable men, like you, my Heart, performed their duty to protect their wives and children." She delivers another soft caress to your chest, "But it does not make our separation less pleasant to endure, should it come. Will you be able to write? To Ali, perhaps?"

"I will be able to write at times. War is best avoided." The latter comes very quickly, the careful sigh showing as he watches your caresses of him. He still plays with the silks at her hip, at times reaching more directly toward her buttocks, though that might be more a playful nature as he tries to make light of a matter that is impossible to do so. "Murandy could not defeat us with their troops alone," he reveals the obvious, the Queen's Guard outnumbering the other nation.

Elyse seems to relax visibly, and nods, "Let us thank the Light for that," she says softly, "Is there anything I can do, my Love? I feel such a burden to you and your sister in such a time of complication, and yet unable to help." She tilts her face up towards yours, "I want to help," she says in an emphatic whisper.

"Insure your father accepts me as his son-in-law," Theowyn suggests with another teasing smile that is shared on his voice. Those eyes move downward, however, as he takes a deep sigh. "But for now, I must insist you return to your chambers. Otherwise..." he shrugs, reaching forward to take a kiss. "These are beautifully dangerous games we play, my love, but I appreaciate being here with you like this. Even if our stolen moments are brief."

Elyse smiles, taking the offered kiss and returning it deeply, her practiced tongue taking the initiative to part her own lips, seeking his, then reluctantly parting from his lips, lifting herself up on her arms over the Prince a moment, her braid falling past her shoulder and dangling a bit, "Very well, my Love. Will we meet again in the morrow?"

Theowyn releases a pleased moan as Elyse initiates the deeper kiss between them. He manages a faint smile, already regretting such a choice, though next time he will not be as quick. Shifting a little, he helps Elyse from the bed they briefly shared with a barely innocent embrace. With that, he leads her toward the passage and into bed.

Elyse has left.