Dorian AragonaHis Royal Highness

It had hardly gone unnoticed to that ever-observant man that the woman seemed to relax as he did atop that grass. Dorian so very rarely akin to display this side of himself to any outside Sebastian and yet such things were wholly difficult for the man. He was hardly used to being allowed such freedoms. He had been raised in a place and time when appearance mattered in all things and yet, slowly, he was so coming to understand that the world itself had changed and that it might well be alright to...loosen up, if only a little, the man hardly daring to voice such thoughts to the woman before him. The Monarch assured she was far more casual then one woman should ever be and yet, perhaps, he might be inclined to spend more time with her. She was, beneath her outward hostility, hardly a bad person and truly the man was inclined to offer her more of a chance- even when she so doubted his abilities in this. His own features scowling slightly at her measured judgement. Her words holding a ready doubt. His head shaking softly.

"What I mean by it is that we must start small. If you cannot control mere embers you will never control flames. All things start small. Yes- I can help you."

There was no true harshness to his words, not this time. Dorian so having decided hostility would only receive hostility in turn and for what he so had in mind he required the woman's trust. Such a thing surely hard to earn if she did not believe in his teaching. His queries upon that first use of her power however seemed to bring about some measure of distress. Her features paling entirely and yet, he had readily suspected that whatever emotions were so linked to that fire were hardly pleasant ones. He merely waited, silently, for her to find either that courage or that will to offer him some explanation. The Fae so anticipating that she may simply have explained she was angry or sad or emotional and yet it seemed she was content to afford him knowledge of that whole story. Her eyes looking away from him as if she hardly dared to meet his glance. As if she feared what she might see in them. Ah, such a foolish girl! If only she knew how he might understand....this. At least she held the excuse of being child in possession of a power she could not control that had so brought about the deaths of her parents. What excuse did he hold for that sin he had committed against his own Father? One that man nor God would not forgive him for, of that he was sure. The soft sound of Vhal falling back against the grass turned his thoughts away from his own internal consideration, Dorian content to brush them aside for now. That anticipated look of horror or disgust hardly present upon his features had she cared to look. The Monarch merely watching her with some measure of....understanding. Though of those crimes off his own past he had spoken not a word. Not even to Sebastian. The man leaving her to lay as she saw fit, his words soft as he continued.

"There is no God that would not forgive the accident of a child. Whether you are religious or not the matter stands. It does not make it easier, it does not make it right and you will forever bare that blame. I...know how it feels, in some sense. Yet what happened that night was not within your control. Your parents would not blame you. Either way that should be all the motivation that is needed to assure it does not happen again. We will tame this fire, have no fear."

His own lip quirked upward, affording the girl a rarely seen smile, attempting to stir at least some level on confidence in the woman as he encouraged her to sit up once more and face him again.

"Your power, as I suspected, seems to be tied to emotion. The more reckless the emotion, the more powerful the affinity. Understanding that, I think, is perhaps half of this battle. You are an emotional being to begin with, learning some control of that will not harm you."

It was hardly an insult upon the woman, Dorian simply stating that which was true. It was, perhaps, some small blessing that he had spent a veritable life time learning to be controlled in every sense of the word. Mastering his own emotions was key to his role as King and it had, in turn, so lent itself to that control of his own power. So much so that it had, but once, so been used to bring about genuine harm.

"What I think it is best that you do, to start, is hold your hands before you. Think only of your hands and no other part of your body. Imagine a flame, no larger than that which might dance atop a candle. Envision it within the palm of your hands, imagine its warmth and how it would feel to hold it. A candle flame is not angry or raging like a fire. A candle flame is far more serene and delicate. This may sound foolish to you but humour me in the least. Think then of those emotions that make you feel warm. Not angry, but pleasant, comfortable or satisfied."

He fell silent then, his own gaze watching her now. Affording her that time to focus her emotions as she had, perhaps, unlikely done before.