 It worked. Tristan blinked his surprise as her expression altered, softening from anger into something more vulnerable and he had no idea why. He knew what he had said, but he had no idea which part of it had changed things. He had just resigned himself to more shouting. Perhaps it had just been enough that he had stopped being cross with her. Was that all it took? The prince was still trying to work it out when she threw herself into his open arms. As her grip tightened around him he pulled her closer. Tristan felt the shift in her ribcage against his chest as she suppressed her tears. He really didn’t like seeing her upset; if anyone else had made her cry he would have found them and paid them back. It was worse when it was somehow because of him, especially when he had never meant to upset her.
“It’s all right,” he told her gently, giving her an affectionate squeeze, “shall we stop before it turns into an outright brawl, because I think that would be a close contest.” Tristan smiled over her shoulder, before realising that she had no way to see it, and trusting instead that his voice had portrayed the good-humour. He couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the little mental image of her running at him wielding a sword in one hand and holding her dress up and away from her feet with the other. The relief was making him feel rather silly, and he really did love it when he succeeded in making her laugh. “What did I say last time you were upset?” he asked in response to her second apology (he really wished she’d stop saying that) “we’re friend, and that means we look after each other. I meant it Thea, I really did. If you need me, just come and find me, promise?”
Alethea was still pretty, even when she cried. When she pulled away from him and their eyes met again it suddenly struck him. He had never really thought about crying people looking beautiful before but she did; her light hair and striking eyes reminding him from the women found on some of the castle murals and tapestries. He wished he had something he could offer her to dry her eyes on. “I don’t think you’re strange,” Tristan swore to her, keeping hold of the top of her arms so she didn’t step too far away. Compelled by some unknown urge, the prince pulled her into another embrace, shorter than the first but no less meant.
Letting her go for the second time, Tristan released his hold on her completely before offering her his hand. “Come on,” he grinned, tipping his head in the direction of the mews, “we’ll take a bird out each, just you and me. I’ve missed you.”
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