The hallway echoed with muted whispering, indistinct sounds wafting far from the ballroom as Siegfried sought to leave it behind. He braced his hands against his back, walking with the speed of purpose, though his frown spoke of more halting contemplation. He almost missed the corridor that led to the palace's private rooms, and knocked against the wall in a sudden turn. The princess's rooms were the furthest back, set separately to ensure privacy and quiet away from any troublesome bustle. He entered without knocking, but he waited by the door when he did not immediately see her there. “Rue?”

The front room was well-lit, with the torches still burning when the hour called for nothing more than candlelight, but he could see darkness under the door to where she slept. He did not want to wake her. His fathomless eyes quested as he paused for a moment before leaving, taking in the surroundings. Her surroundings; as sparse as satin-padded chairs and cushions could be, all in proud purples and golds. He had been there before, of course, but it only occurred to him then that he could not taste anything of Rue's own flavoring in the ceremonial royal colors. He skimmed the lifeless fabric with a finger and sighed. It felt as though he was staring at an impulse to burst into Rue's room and return to her from afar, but before he could act on it or deny it, she came in silently. Her ballgown was still on, playing with the light in its folds as she moved.

“Yes, my Prince?” She approached him thoughtlessly, not seeming to be entirely sure of what she was doing. She never met his eyes, instead keeping her own under a half-lidded veil, and declined to speak further. She did not have anything else to say to him, or rather, she doubted that she could say anything good enough for him. She told herself it was her confusion at the situation, which matched his, that kept her from offering something more, and not fresh fear. A selfish fear, when Duck deserved her concern: that if Princess Tutu was back, Siegfried might recall the perfection of the love that had been destined for him.

His mouth opened without any of the words he might have intended, and his hand curled out, obviously wanting to hold hers. She could tell that he held back out of a desire to avoid intruding against her wishes. It was difficult not to be relieved by the nervousness he had for her sake. She took his hand, and pressed gently.

He glanced down and lingered on their connection, but for some reason, that was harder than trying to look her in the eye. “Well... I thought it would be best to ask for your thoughts on the matter, before I offer anything.”

“To Princess Tutu, you mean? What are you thinking?”

“For the moment, until she has arranged herself properly, it would perhaps be best if she stayed here.”