A Balcony at the Tower of the Sun

[The Smith]

"I do not have any trouble sleeping." Horas replied, "As you well know. We have veered away from the purpose of you original point. Do you still intend to lecture on the principles of applied recreation?"

[Tristy]

"Only if you intend to consider my advice; that being said, I am not overly optimistic." she shrugged.

[The Smith]

"You already admit defeat? Surely you can give up that quickly?" Horas replied, "Has the task grown bigger? Or do you care less about the rewards? I am not a man many women could tolerate for long." He snorted, "Even if she was my half-sister."

[Tristy]

"The fact that I am willing to forfeit a losing battle is surely evidence of the halves of our ancestries that are different from eachother," she sighed, "I will be around for the rest of your life reminding you to relax, unless, of course you find me so great a threat that you have me killed, so it isn't a war I must win tonight."

[The Smith]

Horas thought a moment and added, "I will not kill you. Even if you try and take my seat." He stared out into the darkness and deep into his past, "I had no family, and I think perhaps that has damned me. I will not murder my own sister... or whatever you are." He blushed slightly.

[Tristy]

Ephira chuckled lightly, "Come now, all of this sentimentality will leave me guilty when I slay you for your crown," she protested.

[The Smith]

"I will not kill you." Horas added a mocking tone in his voice, "But I will have you locked in regal chambers, with no one allowed to visit but me. You will live in a bored elegance, desperately awaiting my visits to end the eternal monotony." He chuckled and glanced at her with a smile crooking his lips.

[Tristy]

"I cannot imagine a visit from you being any less monotonous than solitude," she challenged mischievously.

[The Smith]

Horas looked at her, "You did not always think that." He tilted his head, "Or did you, and all the laughs and screams were just show to impress the strange new Prince of Dorne you had just met."

[Tristy]

"Before you seemed exotic, and had the allure of novelty and power. Now you are my brother, you are painfully familiar to me, you are betrothed, and all that remains is the power. Well, perhaps that would be enough if I had not been raised in a palace myself." she smiled.

[The Smith]

Horas shook his head, "That is well. Very well." He snorted again, "Betrothed is not an accurate description of my state, but any word closer to the truth would be extremely cruel to my blushing bride to be."

[Tristy]

"Last time I checked, 'betrothed' was the word that described a verbal contract between two parties that details a marital union between a man and a woman, each from one of the two aforementioned parties--that description is somehow inaccurate?"

[The Smith]

"It is a broad stroke of truth, but when you examine the picture closely you find that the details do not all flow in the same direction." Horas replied, "I am intended to marry a royal child whom I do not care for, and whom I most likely never will care for. I will not desire my wife for years, but I dare not risk her parent's anger by exploring other options. No matter how far the King's eyes roves." He glanced up at her, "I hear it roved on to your form. How did you ever escape his blunt advances?"

[Tristy]

"I told him I have no interest in married King's as I recall--he seemed generally reasonable...he even offered to marry me to one of his sons--though they're quite young, and I think I might be able to do better." she smiled.

[The Smith]

"Get that in writing because if I know our Rodrick he will imply that to arrange such a fate for his son, he must simply sample the wares. And in the end he will carve another notch on his bed stand and you will move on to another." Horas paused and looked at her, "Who could possible be better? Do you have your eye on the future Sea Lord?"