Soryn's breath caught, as if when Torrance grabbed him it squeezed the air from his lungs. They didn’t normally touch much, not beyond general grasps or pats, passing touches. A hug was rare. But he returned it, even while he couldn't necessarily get a word out while he tried to inhale again. Then it made him remember. He wouldn't live as short a life as this human, this human's family, would live. While he retained his elven appearance and voice, he also retained their immortality. When he reached a certain age, he would cease to age entirely. He dearly dreaded the day he would see his prince---eventually his king---fall away from the pages of life. Leave him alone. But he hoped it wouldn’t be hard on either of them---he would be there for that day, he could promise that.

Instead, now, he preferred to live in the very moment. He pressed his cheek lightly against Torrance’s hair, breathing in its human scent, the way it prickled a little when he moved. “We won’t think about that time.” He said. “I’m still unsure if my blood will truly allow me to live so long as my kin.” Of course that was a lie. Elven blood was more powerful than human and would override the genetics of whatever humanity did show in Soryn. “Whatever the end, you gave me purpose. Where anywhere else I’d be... a slave-boy, at the whim of whomever decided to use me. At the call of whatever sick fancies the royals would want behind closed doors... And keeping you sane is just one more perk of existing here.”

He smiled, something that faded slowly. Perhaps he could show Torrance an inkling of his wish. A light kiss, placed on the cheek... Nothing more than that... But the thought of being shunned, avoided... it had him shivering.

Torrance had never felt so close to anyone before in his life, and he desperately needed that now that his mortality had been so clearly brought to his eyes. His sister was dead, dear overbearing and stubbornly good Blythe had passed. "Oh Soryn ..." The prince forced his sobs down. It was beginning to hurt his throat, make it raw and sore. Instead he clung to the other youth as if his life depended on the contact they had, on being together. If anyone walked in then ... If it had been any other day they would have been faced with a barrage of questions, but he was certain that today even his strict mother would show leniency. Even she might have sought comfort from her companion's arms, if the now captain of her guard hadn't been essential to keeping her remaining children safe. Those two were like siblings, devoted to each other only as blood relatives usually were.

That was an acceptable result of such companionship. Torrance was sure his feelings for Soryn were anything but the norm. He knew someday he needed to marry a princess for political reasons, and father children by her. The thought was so horrible ... It would mean lying deliberately to everyone, even himself. He lifted his head slightly, catching the remains of his friend's smile. The sight made Torrance's lips quirk up halfheartedly in return. There really was no other way to answer Soryn's expression.

He couldn't take it. A half-fake smile, caught by the one he called his prince someone who would never be able to feel so strongly as Soryn did. If he weren't such a coward... so afraid of rejection or being laughed at, or at least, the very idea of such a thing... He couldn't see Torrance as one that would laugh at him, but to make things stressful or awkward at such a time was just a weight that couldn't be lifted. And his mind was only brought out of its own turmoil when the clock struck nearby, signaling the hour. It was late. Soryn welcomed this slight distraction and brought his head up. "Torrance... It may feel impossible now, but it may be in your best interest to sleep a bit. With everything that's been going on... Recuperation is important. And it might... be easier to think." He added with a bit of hesitation.

Normally he left around this time. But he didn't want to. Maybe he could find a reason to stay, though it'd be impossible for him to actually allow himself to say it. If Torrance requested, though, he could remain and play his music, and feel at least somewhat content that he was spending a little extra time when he otherwise wouldn't be allowed.

He sighed. "Please sing for me, stay with me..." He sounded so lost, his voice breaking suddenly at the thought of spending the night alone. The guard outside was certain to wonder why the whipping boy was staying so long, but once the music started it would be obvious. On such a night being sung to sleep by the heavenly voice of a half-elf was entirely appropriate. Torrance shifted away from the other boy, bending to slip his boots from his feet. After that it was a simple matter of clambering under the coal warmed covers and glancing between Soryn and the tapestry on one of the nearby stone walls to try and distract himself.

Soryn nearly jumped at the words. "Yes, of course!" He bent down, gathering up the lute again and sitting back at the foot of the long bed, where he was out of the way but also easily heard. And here he could watch the young man hopefully drift off to sleep, and be able to follow in some small way. Quietly, at first, he strummed two of the strings, making a deeper melody that slowly lightened. And while he didn't necessarily sing, Soryn hummed, a tune that always confused him as to its origin. He could never recall if it were a song his mother sang before she was taken away or one he had overheard Torrance's nursemaid sing when he was an infant. Whatever the case, it would soothe Torrance, let him go to sleep, and it would let Soryn watch him. Dark hair spread across pale pillow cover, eyes sometimes half-closed, sometimes fully open...

And maybe he could find a reason to fall asleep here, drift off on the intoxication of his own music, something innocent enough. But if it still warranted a punishment Soryn would gladly take it in exchange for just a moment of respite, a moment's rest with Torrance that didn't involve worry or fear or tiptoeing around policies and strict rules...

Despite the roiling feelings romping through his mind, the prince's body would not allow him to remain awake. Soryn's voice and music soothed Torrance. The half-elf's very presence was a comfort, and even as darkness crept into his mind to block out all other thoughts, the prince kept trying to look at the other young man. He didn't think he'd ever be able to thank Soryn for everything...

The soft goose down pillows welcomed the prince's head, as the mattress cradled his body. The hanging curtains, hooked upon the bed, would serve to obscur his form. Though all of these things were riches, he never really thought of his sumptuous surroundings as such. He saw riches in entirely different places. Such thoughts lead to dreams of one rich feeling he didn't think he'd ever be privileged to share. Was dreaming of his half-elven companion in his arms a dream or a nightmare?

Soryn played for an age, through the chiming of the clock twice more, though he only looked toward the head of the bed, where Torrance lay, now asleep. In sleep one found peace, or at least, their body did, and Torrance's features seemed calm. Maybe he wasn't dreaming at all... Soryn liked to imagine that, at least while asleep, Torrance could escape his overbearing life as a prince, while people watched everything until one could shut themselves away and recover. Soryn was happy to see that. Happy to be with him. He would never jeopardize that closeness only he shared with Torrance, no matter the knots that formed in his chest and stomach when he thought anything like it.

The clock tolled again, but Soryn didn't hear that one. His hands had stilled by then, and a fog of sleep began to overtake him too quickly to fight back. He dropped to his side, lying across the foot of the bed with the lute draped over his stomach and a hand half-clutching its neck. He knew where he was in sleep as well as when he was awake, and perhaps his dreams had taken a turn, but somehow he could feel---or imagine---the warmth of a human near him.

He woke before dawn, a habit taken up by necessity, as the clock chimed thrice. Slowly Torrance lifted his head when he felt warmth nestles near his legs. He couldn't hide the smile, the happy sigh, which flowed from him. That dream, waking up like this, it was all so wonderful. It was a moment to be treasured, and so he would, despite the sorrowful times waiting for them all.

Instead of thinking overlong about that, the prince took a moment to shift and reach out. He gave in to his impulse at last, tangling his fingers in the other man's soft hair. It was like silken gold ... Shaking off the strands, he pushed at Soryn's shoulder gently. There was going to be a whole series of political hoops to jump through that day, not to mention the lessons still needing to be taken. Soryn's presence would be needed, as well as his own, for reasons all too painfully obvious.

He didn't remember his dream, but whatever it was, it was full of light, as if he were outside in bright sunlight, and the distinct scent of wildflowers hung heavy in the air. Maybe it was his elf blood that brought forth dreams and thoughts of nature and sunlight, and a hope to share it with someone close. Soryn was brought out of that dream, though, with a slight shake that had him snap open his eyes and sit up so quickly it made him lightheaded. "Hmm? Torrance..." He looked down, running a finger along the lute that had remained beside him all night. "I'm sorry I... I must have fallen asleep here by mistake." Was it really a mistake? Not to him, no. He'd use any excuse he could to be around Torrance, and this was as good as any.

But then the thought of the day's activities wound down to fall on him. It would be hard for Torrance, especially, no doubt about that. All he could do was be there for the prince, be there while the circus spun and danced through fire and tightropes.

The prince shrugged as he stood and walked to the intricately carved wardrobe near his bed. He turned his back to the half elf as he plucked clothing for the day from the piece of art. "Don't worry about it. Besides ... it was a nice surprise waking up to see you still there. " At this time, he was sure saying something like that was fine. No one would begrudge him a friend in a time such as this.

Soon he was walking out of the room, dressed in a sapphire tunic and cream colored leg hugging pants. His deer hide boots slipped across the stone floors without a sound. It was fitting that he walked so silently to mourn his sister in the throne room, where all the greatest events of her life had taken place. People bowed to him, offered their condolences ... They all sounded so fake!

"Prince Torrance, won't you come and stay at my estates?" That was Lady Corvais, a grand old dame who kept pushing her daughters forth as marriage prospects. He just couldn't deal with her... Not now.

He turned to face her, head bowed. "I think it would be best if I stayed with my mother and sister for the moment. I wil remember the offer, though." Torrance turned with a nod, then walked into the throne room. There were others there, but the singing had begun, and the priestesses sermon was spoken then. After that things continued on and on, dragging on forever.

A strange combination of relief and happiness had tingled lightly through Soryn at such an admission. Of course it was tempered by the day's implications, and he bounded off to change his clothes. Normally his were pale in tone, light blue, dusty red, sometimes all white. Today didn't seem to be one of light or happy tones or colors, so to show proper inclination, Soryn draped himself in dark blue and black, clothes that were tight around the waist but otherwise large in arms and legs, low in the neck. It was a stark contrast to his naturally light genetics, but one couldn't change what they were born with.

He left his room, which sat just by Torrance's, and hurried to catch up with the prince. He would walk beside his companion, closest friend, hold him up, as no one else seemed inclined to. No one had the time, the desire, the wish to offer more than hollow words. What were they, really? Feigning kindness in the shadow of the death of a strong and independent woman, someone Soryn had been sure would live for a very, very long time. And all these people were just going through the motions, as they had been instructed to do.

Throughout the singing, sermon, the droning of possibly-prewritten paragraphs and pages and novels, Soryn kept himself as close as possible to Torrance, perhaps pushing it a little. But he left his mouth shut and his head down a little, the longer hair in front covering his eyes from onlookers, should they cast a glance toward him.

He shed not a tear. It was all the easier to keep up his facade for the knowledge that Soryn stood near. When the ceremony ended, a ceremonial flame burning for the princesse's lost life, they departed to eat dinner. This once more was a time filled with political maneuvering. Now that Torrance was in line for the throne's succession, it was all the more bothersome for him. Prince this, prince that .... And there was nothing he could do but try to figure out who could be a potential ally, and who would turn on him when given the chance.

What would be done now? Torrance would be so busy someday sooner than either of them had thought. Soryn didn't know anything about how a kingdom was run, how hard it might be, how many questions could be raised so quickly, so easily, at the drop of a hat. Now what? Soryn followed, though, as the collection began dispersing. Did the sermon really spread throughout the whole morning and afternoon? The evening's light shining through the high arched windows said it had, and suddenly he felt... tired. All his worry and fear and hope and desperation and self-hatred had began compiling with his worry about Torrance. If he'd be okay now. He didn't want to ask here. There were so many people around. So many ears that would hear him, decide that he might not feel the right way for the prince. He had to bite back his questions, save them for the night.

The queen had spoken of sending more troops into battle, including her son. People protested of course, but how was he supposed to learn the true rules of battle unless he took part in them? She relented of course, but the fact remained that with no experience he was worse then useless as a future leader for the country. Courtiers jabbed at his ego all day, comparing him to his dead sister and bemoaning the fate of their country. They never actually came out and told him of course, but they didn't need to.

Torrance grumbled softly to himself, and endured it til the light faded and he could eclipse himself from the political scene. The moment the prince stepped into his room, he pluck a book from his bedside table and began to read the pages and study the maps within. Battles of the past, against the elves, might hold the key to figuring out how to defeat the enemy now.

Why did he have to hear it? Why did he have to hear about the threat of battle, war, harm coming to his loved one? His friend, only friend? Soryn bit it back every moment he could and hid his face from everyone taller, everyone that looked at him while in the presence of the prince. This time he just wanted to be alone, for a little while. He couldn't put it past Torrance to want to be alone so he could refresh his own memory on maps, battles, plans, ideas, any situation. And he didn't need distraction.

Soryn curled onto his bed, bent over his harp. This was made of gold, its heavy frame lending thick tone to the melody the strings made. And maybe it was being alone, maybe it was the music, or a combination of the two that lent ease to the tears that slid down his face. He didn't want to lose Torrance... Didn't want to see harm come to him. That was Soryn's job! Soryn was meant to take the harm meant for Torrance, and if he went into battle with those he shared his genetics with... Soryn's fingers stilled over the harp's strings, and his head dropped. "Ahh, Gods, help me..." His voice was high, and broke. "I have to tell him..."

He wondered how exactly his sister had died. The thought kept coming to mind as he stared at the various ways elves used to kill their opponents. Some of the methods were cruel beyond belief... Then again, that was war. To think that Soryn came from their blood, and he was constantly shunned. Torrance couldn't remember a mention of anyone trying to extend a hand to the elves, to show that they wanted peace. Perhaps he could be the first to do so. He was sure the elves had lost many a loved on in this war, just as the humans had.

It was such a senseless dispute! Raging, he moved to shove a chair roughly against the wall. He never threw valuable things, he'd been broken of that habit long ago, but there were other ways of showing his ire. Pillows flew against the wall over and over again, making a steady thumping sound, as the prince allowed his emotions to show in the privacy of his room. He didn't want to go to war ...

Soryn's head snapped up at a sound. What was it? A dull thud, over and over, drifting well through the walls despite how thick they were. Torrance's room was just across the hall, so close by. He didn't bother wiping the drying streams of tears from his eyes, instead finding more interest in getting across the hall as soon as possible. He ran, soft shoes making no sound on the floor and sliding slightly when he reached the door. He'd never needed to knock before, and this time he was a bit apprehensive. Torrance might not want to talk, even to him, right now. "T-Torrance...?" Soryn pursed his lips. "Are... I mean, are you okay?" It seemed both of them had their own ways to work out their turmoils. Maybe Soryn was just weaker than him.

The prince only stopped his throwing once he heard a hesitant voice, familiar and soothing. "I don't want to go to war, I just want it to stop! This isn't fair to anyone, and it's all done for greed." He obviously wasn't alright, but he was worrying Soryn. Really, it was a horrible tendency... Shaking his head, the young man moved to the bed and patted a spot beside him invitingly. It was good that the blonde boy had come to see him. Torrance would have probably never been able to calm down enough in time to sleep comfortably that night otherwise, now he was sure he would.

Soryn shakily stepped into the room, pushing the door closed and settling onto the spot beside Torrance. He brought up a leg and folded it under him so he could study the prince a little harder. "I... don't like the thought of war. Or fighting. Maybe I'm not like my kind or your kind or any kind, because I hate... violence. Maybe someone has to stand up for what could be right, and talk instead of draw swords. It's a long-shot, I know... Everything is probably too far gone. All anyone knows is strife among races. Fighting for land, water, maybe even air at this point." He shook his head. "I would do anything... just to be able to see things go right for once. So I can say everything I've wanted to say to everyone I've ever wanted to tell..." He only had one thing to say of course, one thing to one person. But had he put it that way it would have put suspicion on him.

He'd seen it from a distance before. The way the elves could hone power over the earth and create horrible results. Vines that choked and trees that stabbed and impaled, grasses that grabbed feet and hands and horse's hooves to halt advancing armies in place to handle the mercy of the elves. "I only have... you." Soryn muttered, barely audible. "And... if something happened to you..." He breathed in deeply, a shuddering sound.

Torrance sighed. "I don't like the thought of war and strife anymore then you do." Something the other boy said made him smile and lift a hand to poke and prod at Soryn. "You're contradicting yourself. Everyone, or just me? Come on now ... What is it you want to say so badly?" It was frustrating how the half-elf always kept dancing around this secret of his, these words he wanted to say but never did. The similarity to his own thoughts was striking, but there was no way that was possible.

Soryn's heart raced again. It was running so fast he couldn't even feel it anymore, but it made his head spin a little. "Um... It's nothing, really. I... Maybe the recent happenings have skewed me a little, I can't keep a..." He shook his head. "... can't keep a thought in my head." Why did he have to say that? Why? Torrance was persistent. He might not leave the issue alone. "I'm too much of a coward anyway, Torrance... I couldn't tell anyone. It's a..." He cleared his throat and decided to be a little truthful: "It's something I think would put far too much stress on everyone involved. And I don't think those involved need any extra stress for a while." Or ever. Maybe he should just go dream of Torrance again, and feel bad about it later.

Soryn was being unusually evasive. "This isn't like you." Torrance couldn't remember a time when the other boy had so vehemently tried to hide something from him. That fact just made the young prince find out what lay beneath that head of honey colored hair all the more. Distractions abounded, simply speaking to his friend. There was always something to talk about, to point out and wonder about. It was no wonder the pair were so close.

Soryn shook his head and grasped the prince's hands. "I don't want anything to change." He said. "At least not between us. And... I just want to keep this to myself because something might change and I don't want that to happen... Maybe... maybe someday in the future it'd be okay to say. Or I'll be brave enough... I'd rather you didn't worry about it... It... probably doesn't even mean anything."

Soryn was a teenager, after all, fifteen years old, like the prince. It had to be some early infatuation with the young man before him, perhaps that friendship he bestowed so willingly, something he'd mistaken, over the years, as more than that. But he'd have to tell Torrance one day. Before he went off to battle and probably never came back. He yawned, despite the fact. Today's sermon and stress had worn him thin.

The prince sighed, lowering his head to peer at his hands clasped by Soryn's. "Very well." He would concede to letting matters stay as they were, for now at least. It would have been a welcome distraction, Torrance was sure. Still, the day had been a long one .... A fact demonstrated all too well by his companion's tired appearance.

"You should go get some rest." Torrance shifted his hands to squeeze his friends warmly with a smile. "I won't ask you to serenade me to sleep again when it seems you need no such encouragement at all." Being lulled into night's sweet embrace by song was indeed a treat, but one the prince would gladly put aside if it meant Soryn's sleep would be a sound one.

As if to reiterate the words, the clock chimed and raised Soryn's head. "I... suppose you're right." He nodded slowly, and glanced toward the young man. "I'd be glad to do it again anytime, though." He stood, and paused. Between the door and the prince, Soryn was in a strange middle ground, and decided to act---he hugged Torrance quickly, taking with him the light scent of the human when he drew back and hurried out of the room, pulling the door closed lightly and nodding to one of the on-duty guards as he passed. At night they were frequent about the sleeping quarters, but never opened doors unless a worrisome disturbance had been detected.

Once in his room again, Soryn sighed and leaned against the door. That was far too close. His loose lips had almost spilled his secret and that would have been disastrous. What would have happened...? Shaking his head hard, Soryn went to change clothes, buttoning up a cotton dressing gown and crawling under the blanket, reaching over to the bedside table to blow out the candle that had been lit. Maybe tomorrow would be a little easier... Soryn would be better rested, at least.