It troubles her, because it troubles him. He is restless, still reeling, and it hasn't been that long. 

She is struggling and trying to hide it. Winter has never suited her, with short days and cold weather and not enough sunlight or air to breathe, and it makes her lose her lustre, like a marigold without iridescence. This winter has been particularly hard. They suffered such a blow and so much loss, only to lose again. 

And Caragon... is too busy to notice her withering like a wallflower. She is lucky to share his bed, most nights, she knows.

So she busies herself and hides as much of it as she can. Even if the nobles won't take her seriously with the Queen's abdication not yet upon them, and even if they're all a little strange and not entirely charmed by her.

It's hard, is all. Winter is long and boring. 

He feels restless. Everything had happened so suddenly - Raina bursting into his life out of nowhere, the Battle of Volturgard, the dukedom, and then he was to be king - and now nothing. Quiet creeping days of councils and plotting. He's no good at it. He gets the horrible feeling that the Queen is planning something with him, but he has no idea what. 

Raina would probably be better at this than he is. So would Father, really, he'd hated courtly politics but he hadn't been actively bad at it. 

He hadn't really realised how important it was to Lord Copper that he and his entourage were staying there. The man is probably expecting some kind of cabinet position out of it. 

He arrives there one night, long after any normal person ought to be in bed. 

He will be king. He can feel it in his bones. But all the dressing that's grown up around it - all the titles and little laws and petty politics - he just wants to clear it all away in a sweep of his arm. 

Soon, he can. 

He creeps quite softly into their room. 

Raina is not any normal person, and never has been, and there's never been any use in her pretending as such. So he can hear soft humming floating through the ajar door of the enjoined bathing room, steam and heat and candlelight chasing it to him.

There's soft scratching of a pen on paper, the the humming resumes, slightly altered. A quiet splash and a muttered curse; a hapless sigh that is so weary that he's sure her day must have been full of small grievances like that one.

Actually, he hasn't been there to hold her when they sleep most nights, so the nightmares have come back. She thought it was probably a better idea to take a bath than sit in the darkness and weep. 

Her magic zings; a harmonic pinging in the Song of Creation in her peripheral hearing, and she knows him, knows who it is. 

Her melody changes to one he's familiar with - he is, after all, the muse for it. The words always seem to escape him but it's about a brash, chivalrous prince with the strength of ten dragons. She makes him sound like legend.

The legends never talk about how tired the prince is. 

He grins. The toil of the day melts away from him and he swaggers into the bathroom. Doesn't bother to knock. 

"Good acoustics in here?"

He enters into a haven Aphrodite might smile upon (seriously). Rose oil and jasmine scent the balmy air, candles ripple off the reflection of the bathing pool, and Raina sits submerged in water, her hair pinned up and away, a few ringlets escaping and curling with the steam.

"Helps me think," she murmurs idly, drumming her fingers on her notebook. She's distracted, worrying her lip, but she reaches a hand out to him without looking; it's a command to join her. 

:)

With pleasure. 

He shrugs off his stupid fashionable cloak (feathers, seriously, why feathers), strips down, and stretches. It's been a long day of mostly sitting still, and it feels like lightning is stored up in his limbs, like his fingers want to shred something and his legs want to run and his arms want to -

Anyway. 

The tension is visible in his muscled frame, his skin oddly pearly in the steam and candlelight. In light like this, or in a mirror, or in summer rain, he can look almost - ethereal. More real than the world he walks through. 

He climbs into the bath behind her, settling down around her. The hot water helps a little, draws some of the tension out of his limbs. He runs his fingers through her hair, savouring the softness. 

His voice is low. 

"What were you thinking about?"

She purrs in pleasure, rolling her head back to rest on his chest, fingers tangling in his hair for a kiss. Once she has it, she sighs. "Nobles. Alliances. A new anthem, perhaps."

She twists slightly, appraising him with those cunning eyes. Then she raises a brow. "You've had a day of meetings, haven't you? No time for escaping to training with the guard?" 

His mouth twists bitterly. "Not for weeks. They're all weaklings anyway. Well. Mostly." Aeolyn nearly cracked a rib, the woman can punch, but he still won. It's kind of depressing. 

"A new anthem?"

She waves a hand expansively, non-committal, shrugs. "To the glory of a new Valynrest, unity in strength, the legend of how it came to be, et cetera et cetera."

She worries the corner of a page with a lot of crossed out lines and musical notation. "It's not getting anywhere," she admits, forlorn.

Seems like nothing is, these days. There feels like... A distance, between them, a chasm that grows wider with each day. She doesn't know how to bridge it. This is probably the first real conversation they've had in weeks. 

And Raina hates it, but in the quiet light so late in the night, with Caragon behind her and still not quite there, Raina can admit it: she's unhappy. 

He sighs. "There's a lot of it going around."

He shrugs a little. 

"I thought it would be simple, you know? Here was my chance, the... well. The kingship. My birthright." 

He sighs again. "It feels like we got... stuck, somehow. Like a wagon in the mud. I don't know what to do."

Is this really it? Will it always feel this way, when there isn't an immediate horrible crisis to deal with? Will they only ever feel alive when they might be dead any moment?

Maybe he should have declared war on Lapidir. 

She has to laugh at that, a little, and it's as wry as it can be without being spiteful. "You thought this would be easy? What were they teaching you in kingship lessons?"

She trails a hand across the surface of the water, her shoulders slumped. "You could let me help, you know." 

He frowns. "Wait - I can do that? I - thought you were too busy. With. You know. Everything." He's honestly still feeling a little awkward about the fight they had over it all, even more so now that the trail has gone completely cold. 

Drawing her knees up, Raina shrugs, resting her cheek on her legs. She looks at him from this delicate little pose, where she looks so small and tired. She hasn't been sleeping either. 

"Well, there's nothing to follow for now, and that was before... Well, before we knew that she was going to name you, with some certainty. It will be any day now. And I don't know how much I could leave this all up to you."

Raina slings him a sad, but charming grin. "Gods know you're shit at it." 

It stings, but he still smiles weakly. "I am. All these years under Her Majesty - her lords all expect me to rule like she did, and for now I have to do what they expect. But she was-" he supposes it's not treason if you're going to be king. "She was a great wizard and a great politician, but she wasn't the real Queen, Raina. She treated everything like... like some weird wizard's trick."

He lays a hand on the small of her back.

He hasn't really talked about this before with her. He's afraid she's going to laugh at him. But- well. Just because you're afraid of something is no reason not to do it. Courage, in the end, is easy. It's simply the decision to do the scary thing anyway and damn how you feel about it. 

"We can make the kingdom be as it used to be. Do what's really right. If you help me."

Her head comes up, she stares at him. Her eyes are unreadable to everyone else, but not him. He's learned to read the minute furrow in her brow, the slowing of her blinks, the curve of her lips that draws her expression of hope. 

He reads her because she opens to him, in a way she never has before. 

She smiles, a little terrified, a little unsure, far too excited and trying to dampen that feeling in case she is wrong (she's rarely wrong).

"Is it already that time?" she teases quietly, not quite daring to hope. 

He just smiles, the relief rising off him like the steam from the bath. "I can't think of a better one."

She uncurls, crosses her legs, giving him her full attention. The tub is full enough that the water covers anything more distracting than her neck, and the moment turns appropriately charged, sweet, hopeful. 

There's hope, in her eyes, shining at him. Pride. She takes his hands, rubbing calloused thumbs over pristine knuckles. 

"Go on then." 

...He didn't actually leave his trousers close enough for him to be able to grab the ring without looking ridiculous- 

- he hasn't thought this through he should probably plan - 

- his mind whirls frantically - 

He catches up her hand in his and draws it to his lips. "Come out with me."

She raises a brow at him, intrigued. If she knows anything about him, she knows he hasn't planned a single part of this. 

And she loves him anyway. She knows she's going to say yes. 

"You don't want to do it while we already have our clothes off?" she jokes, heaving herself out of the water. She's been taking archery lessons with Ophel and Flint and the new muscles gleam in the soft light at her shoulders and back and arms. 

It takes him a moment to respond, distracted as he is. 

"Believe me, I'm tempted. Meet me by the palace steps when you're ready."

All right he has to sprint out of here and start frantically organising he really should have got hold of Talen or something who can he call on now-

She leans up to kiss him, the touch soft and amused, somehow. "I'll say yes anywhere, you know." 

As she gets ready, Raina gives him an extra ten minutes. She knows he needs it. 

She's giddy with excitement as she braids her hair into something intricate and pretty, an updo that forms a crown around her head and gathers the rest of the hair in loose waves down her back. The red has faded to the middle end of her hair, and it has been long enough that the tresses reach just below her shoulder blades now.

She dresses in something simple - powder bluebell robes that make her skin look luminous, simple gold chains at her throat and wrists. They don't need pomp and circumstance.

Her slippers tap gently against the stone steps as she descends them outside the house. The townhouse is so quiet this time of night that it could just be the two of them awake in the whole world. 

Happily, it is not. There are enough in the city at home in the small hours of the night, and more who will get out of bed for enough coin and promised favour of the King. 

Raina is a woman of uncommon, of singular character, a poet and politician and swordswoman and Queen in every respect. She deserves nothing less. 

He summoned the very best modistes and seamstresses, in terms of his own aspect. And then he dismissed them. He is dressed as she met him, sword strapped to his back, dark leather and shining steel and a smile wider than the seas. 

It's intentional, and she has to admire him for it. No one could say he's a great poet, but he has his moments of dashing romance. 

This is one of them. She's so happy her cheeks hurt, and is suddenly overcome with shyness as she crosses the path to meet him. 

Raina thinks back to the first time she saw him, and all that's happened since then. When all she saw was a handsome, arrogant, annoyingly charming man in need of someone to hold him steady.

The boy he's been, and the man he is - the man he can be. 

He's got a lot done in a short space of time. 

The skies are crystal clear, warm and still and so fresh the distant mountaintops look like Raina could reach out and touch them where they sit frosted in the starlight. 

There are flowers strewn along her path. 

He leads her quietly to a secret space - a place on the towered ward wall where nobody comes any longer, a shuttered tower with an open platform beneath the stars. It looks out on the sea.

The floor here is flowers, jasmine and roses and more.

He takes her hand.

"Dance with me," he murmurs as the music starts.