Dorian AragonaHis Royal Highness

She was a difficult girl. Dorian quite assured she reminded him exactly of that girl in the book Sebastian had made him read. The woman they called the 'shrew' for all her unwomanly ways and sharp tongue and yet he made no mention of it. Manners, if anything, perhaps defined the Monarch above all. Such a trait only exceed by his own unflinching ability to simply remain calm in almost any situation. Dorian was, quite simply, the personification of serenity in most situations. The man rarely given to become excitable or irritable or easily flustered. Dorian perhaps a walking antidote for all the venom of Vhalla and yet he hardly judge dthe woman for it. At least not much. That sort of defensiveness did not come about through a good or easy life. Whatever had happened to the woman in her past had resulted in a being determined to protect herself. To strike before others struck her in turn and by that notion Dorian held some understanding even if he chose not to offer such information. After all- he was an intensely private being himself. Much of his history remained his own, the man hardly caring to share those tales of the man he had once been or those things he had done that shamed him even now. Things he was assured few would ever have believed him capable off. After all, there were few whom knew him for anything other than the gentle creature he was and had been for several centuries and yet such assurance of character had not come without its own struggles. Vhalla was simply yet to achieve that sense of self- that decision about whom she would and would not be and yet once more of these observations Dorian offered little. It was not his way in most instances. Some things, after all, need be discovered by the individual themselves.

Her tale of just how her fire had come about was not entirely unexpected, at least, he had anticipated some level of emotion and anger or sorrow that had summoned it into existence to begin with. Her fire, Dorian suspected, was not the aggressive, angry entity she believed it to be. Her fire was not a weapon- it was a shield. It was defensive. It showed itself when she felt threatened enough to seek protection, when she sought to defend herself from a being or situation that made her feel disarmed. She merely needed to understand it before she could ever hope to master it and yet too- the Fae King was wholly aware that she might yet, at any moment, unleash it once more. Dorian determined to keep at least some distance between them to prevent his own incineration. Her declaration that his idea would not work was met with that good nature chuckle once more. She was a tiresome girl and yet, in her own fashion, he found her almost endearing. Full of that metaphorical hot air- but endearing all the same.

"It will not work if you do not want it to. You lack confidence."

His words were simple, matter-of-fact, affording little room for argument. The man inclined to merely tell her these truths whether she cared to know them or not. Much of her aggression, he was sure, came from a lack of confidence all around though he suspected few had ever dared to call her upon it. She was surely confident in some things and yet it was that sense of insecurity he so spoke of now. The girl sighing dramatically before resigning herself to try all the same, closing her eyes and doing as he asked. She was silent for several moments before her features frowned, Dorian's own silver gaze lingering upon her now, watching her with a ready curiosity before she declared this was hard. How unfortunate that she had do few pleasant memories to call upon!

"Keep trying."

He uttered simply, his own fingers moving to pluck at the grass beneath him in idle fascination. His own affinity stirred in those moments without any true thought on his part, each blade of grass he plucked growing back almost instantly, several small daises blooming at his finger-tips as life itself seemed to dance about him. He continues to glance upward all the same, aware of the struggle she surely experienced in attempting to flex a muscle so unused, that sudden heat radiating from her before she declared she could not do it- collapsing into a heap in dramatic style- the grass beneath her smouldering though she hardly seemed to realise that steam was rising from her. One eye merely arched upward, Dorian waiting for several moments to assure himself she was not about to combust, his fingers moving methodically over those little flowers he had created and yet there was method to his apparent madness in this- the Fae acting for all the world as if he was hardly concerned with the world at all. His fingers had folded those flowers into a delicate little daisy chain and yet his actions were purposeful- removing any pressure from the woman by offering his presence alone and no words or expressions or actions beyond this. Dorian removing any judgement from the moment of what she did or did not achieve today. Aiming to keep her calm before he glanced upward at last. One hand reached forward to take her own, delicately slipping that daisy chain bracelet over her wrist, before holding it up for her to examine from her recumbent position.

"Ah, but you are doing it, darling. Look."

It took barely a moment for those flowers to respond to the heat from her body as he lent away, the green and white plants shrivelling, several small leaves catching alight upon their tips from mere contact with her overly hot frame. Smoke beginning to rise from it now as it begun to slowly fall from her wrist. Dorian assured that this small moment was perhaps the most control she had ever exercised over her affinity. It was a small step and yet- heat need come before fire. Dorian speaking softly once more, watching the woman still lest her affinity somehow flare.

"I suspect you are...wary of your affinity. You fear what it can do and it makes you hesitant. That same hesitance is what is preventing you from controlling it. It is like a muscle you are not used to using. It is resistant to you. There is nothing that is easy about this but you have, in ten minutes with me, summoned heat enough to create flames and rather a bit of smoke without killing anyone. You are capable of this. You just need to practice and to understand that your power need not come from anger."

He smiled softly once more, allowing the woman to consider what he had said. She was, he suspected, the type of person to brush off such ideas initially and perhaps consider them late at night when she was in bed alone and yet he hardly cared when she thought of them- only that she did.

"Lay back down if you'd like, or sit as you are, whatever you choose- but close your eyes once more. This time merely envision that warmth and heat and draw it back inside you. There. You're not smouldering any more. If ever your fire gets out of control you must pull it back within you. You can stop it- I have every faith in you. Well done!"

His own hands lifted once more to clap softly- as if Vhalla required applause for this small task. That warm simper still upon his lips as he lent back to balance on his elbows within the grass, his own form laconic and easy now in one of those truly rare moments in which he was simply....well, less then royal.

"Shall we try again? Or do you require a break? Perhaps we might go for a walk if you'd like? Else we shall practice further now."