Orian was home alone. After a lot of pleading, she had convinced her family to go to the party at The Tavern without her. She knew she should go with her head held high, and ignore Daemonar in the most obvious ways possible, but she didn't want to face him tonight. The last time they had talked, well, it wasn't as much talking as screaming at each other; she had left and shouted she never wanted to see him again. Which wasn't true. She already missed spending time with Daemonar. It was the first time since they were in diapers that they had really been apart. Even when they were apprenticing in different courts they had been in written or psychic communication all the time.

She missed her friend. Tersa said not to worry, that SaDiablo men yelled, sulked, and then came around, so just give Daemonar time. But she still missed him.

There was a knock on the door, making Orian jump. She wasn't expecting anyone, and her family's friends were all at the party. Darkguide was visiting her parents to let them know that she would be going to Rolla with Orian. She took a breath. Well, if she wasn't willing to answer a door when it was probably just a messenger from Lorivar, then she wasn't ready to be a Queen.

Orian opened the door and gasped. It was cold and snowing outside and Daemonar was standing at her front door with no shirt or shoes, and only a cloak over his pants. His hair was wet from melting snow, and he was shivering. An hour ago, Orian would have sworn that if Daemonar had shown up at her door she would have slammed the door in his face. Now she found herself demanding that he enter immediately and hauled him in front of the fire. Orian grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders, concerned about how hard he was shivering and the paleness of his skin.

Daemonar wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, finally feeling the cold that he had ignored while he had been flying. He had been pushing himself hard enough to ignore the weather, but the minute he walked into the warm living room, he had realized how cold it had actually been outside.

Orian was standing in front of him, chewing nervously on her lower lip. He hated that he was the cause of her distress. He wanted to beg forgiveness, beg her to stay. There was so much to say, but all he could do was blurt out, "Why are you leaving?"

Orian took a breath, gathering her courage. She didn't want to fight anymore, and suddenly thought of the one answer that he couldn't argue with. "Tersa wove a web of vision," she said softly, "and Rolla will either have a Queen that will enforce Protocol, or the seeds of corruption will spread."

Daemonar stood there speechless, feeling like a complete and total ass. He wanted to demand why she hadn't told him that earlier, but he remembered referring to her as a brainless twit who couldn't tell her ass from a hole in the ground rather than asking if she had consulted with a certain Black Widow when making her decision. He thought about what Kirian had said about being able to really make a difference. Orian didn't talk much about it, but he knew that she was uncomfortable with the Eyrien aristos that looked down on her because of her mixed bloodlines. Ruling them would have been a constant struggle that she hadn't been looking forward to.

"They need you," Daemonar said softly. "They need a long-lived polished Queen that's strong enough to enforce Protocol."

"Going to Rolla has nothing to do with you," Orian said. She had told him that before, but this time she said it in a normal tone rather than screaming it while adding "you self-centered bastard".

Daemonar took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he finally said. "I didn't…I'm sorry."

It wasn't in Orian's nature to hold a grudge. Daemonar's new attitude towards her was confusing, but he was a Warlord Prince, and she had been well trained on how to accept and deal with their possessive tendencies. It was hard enough to get one to apologize for being snarly. Now was the time to show that the anger was resolved.

She took a step forward and gave him a hug, arms around his waist. His arms slowly wrapped around her shoulders. It wasn't unusual for them to hug like that, but as her head rested just below her shoulder she realized that although it wasn't the first time they had been this close, the situation was different. The warm fire flickered, making her feel relaxed and comfortable. Daemonar's skin was soft and warm under her cheek. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his arms around her and scent of his skin.

Daemonar's arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. She didn't try to resist, the feeling of his hand stroking her wing making her sigh. Orian opened her eyes wondering what Daemonar's skin would feel like under her fingers. Would he mind? Of course not, that was a stupid question, she told herself. He was enjoying touching her, wasn't he? She hesitantly moved her hand bringing it from around his waist and moving it up over bare stomach and chest.

For the first time in her life hot desire pooled in her middle with the feel of solid muscle covered by silken skin under her fingers. She couldn't help but running her fingers over his shoulder and up his neck. Orian looked up, wanting to touch his face. Her breath caught in her throat and the hot pool of desire seemed to blaze at the look on his face. His breathing was a little ragged and eyes were lightly glazed. If he'd been angry, she would have worried, but this was desire, not the cold rage.

Their eyes met, and she knew that he wanted to kiss her. Was yearning to kiss her, but was fighting the desire to lean over. She wondered why he was holding back. Was he uncertain? Thinking that she would reject him, or become angry? Then the words of Protocol whispered in her brain. A Queen always initiates the first kiss so that her consort will know that his attentions are wanted and welcome. He wasn't unsure. He was being respectful.

Orian rose up slightly on her toes and pressed her lips against his.

Daemonar had been hoping for a civil conversation when he came to see Orian. Kissing her had been completely out of probability. But he sure as Hell wasn't going to give up the moment now that she had opened the door. His arms tightened around her pulling her closer to him. Her whole body seemed to soften and he felt her mouth open a bit. Daemonar had kissed other girls before, but none of them had ever made him feel like this before.

Desire blazed in him as their kiss deepened. Oh, he'd always cared about Orian, loved her since forever, but this was the first time that he wanted, really wanted a woman before. As his tongue touched hers, playing, stroking, his hands started to wander. She didn't protest at all, but made some kind of pleasured noise and ran her hands down his back, letting her leg twine around his. Mother Night, he thought incoherently, full of the taste of her mouth, the smell of her skin, the feel of her body. One hand came around front, cupping her breast and eliciting a real moan of pleasure.

The sound drove him, making him want to press further, wanting to vanish her blouse, touch and taste her everywhere. Daemonar's body ached with desire, and he wanted to say screw it to tradition and just slide to the floor with her right that second. But then a deep, strong voice spoke up in the far back of his mind, the tone of that voice disallowing any argument or resistance.

Orian couldn't help the snarl that escaped her when Daemonar pulled back, breathing hard, but not letting her go. She liked the way his body felt against hers, the heat of his mouth on her and the way his touch made her feel tingly all over. She wondered for a moment if she had done something wrong, but the light glaze in his eyes said that he had been enjoying their moment as much as she had been.

"We need to slow down," he said softly. He felt silly since he'd been the one to push their relationship and now said they needed to slow down. "I mean…I don't want you to…"

She touched his cheek. "I'm not afraid."

If anyone else in the world had given Daemonar the warnings in the past, he would have said screw it and dropped them to the floor right there.

"You have no idea how much I want to throw Protocol and propriety out the window and make love to you right now," he whispered, "but I'd have to answer to the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih for that."

Orian couldn't deny the surge of heat that ran through her when Daemonar started talking, or how quickly that heat died when he mentioned the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih. Daemonar referred to his father as the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih as if they were two separate people, and in a way, they were. There were the little things that Daemonar had done that his father had punished him over, but if he had to stand in front of the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih for judgment, then the punishment would fit the crime and Daemonar would have to pay every bit of the price. As much as Orian wanted this moment, she wasn't going to make Daemonar pay a price for her desires.

Orian took a step back, breaking the intimacy of their contact. "Want to go fly?"

"To the party?"

Orian considered it for a second and then shook her head. She didn't want to be around a lot of people right now. "No, just some cold air to help cool off."

Daemonar grinned and called in a shirt. He yanked it over his head. He'd done enough half-dressed flying for one night. They went to the door and he picked Orian's cloak off its peg, taking a second to put a dry spell on the outside and a warming spell on the inside before putting it around her shoulders. He did the same to his cloak, throwing a warming spell around his feet since he didn't have a spare set of boots vanished. They left the eyrie, and holding hands, launched into the sky.

Orian realized a big difference between Daemonar and Lorivar at that moment. Lorivar knew Protocol and acted by it. But for Daemonar, Protocol was an innate part of his character. It had to be since he'd been taught its code since he'd gotten out of diapers. Lorivar had kissed her first. A barely there kiss, on the limits of acceptable, but not something that someone who lived Protocol would have done. The warming spell on her cloak had been an almost unconscious gesture on his part. It didn't have anything to do with Jewel strength; he'd done the same for Tersa before, but was something proper that a Warlord Prince should do. Lorivar hadn't done it for her when they'd gone walking in the Hall's courtyard.

The differences weren't huge, and not something that should swing the balance in a Queen's decision, not when there were other factors to consider, but for a District like Rolla, a District where Protocol was going to come to mean everything…well, maybe things should be taken into consideration.

But then Daemonar caught her other hand, and they went in a big spiral swinging around each other. She started laughing and the thoughts of Rolla and the future got swept away into the crisp cold air.