Siegfried glided into the room, his smile full with rich cheer that was far more beautiful even than the sunlight that glinted on the gold embroidery of his attire. That light was yet young, as was the day, and the young monarch found himself now with time to spare, though there was never any question of how he would spend it. With a last piece of royal business attended to, he sought out Rue again, and found her quickly, still in their rooms. She sat primly on a velvet-upholstered chair as though trying to gather herself, far more regal than any of the carved decorations upon it, but matching them in solemnity. His eyebrows rose despite himself as slight shock struck him; his princess's distant serenity never failed her, but the stiffness of her slender fingers spread over her skirt and the absence of her gaze made that serenity seem strained. So it appeared to him, at least, though to most it might merely have been a cordiality more prim than usual. She did not even notice his entrance, at first, though she caught his presence before he spoke.

“...Good morning, my prince.” A corner of her mouth was all that lifted as he approached, and he treated her to a quizzical glance. Her rare smile was often somewhat readier for him, or at least it had become so of late, and to see it subdued left him quietly saddened, though he could not yet suppose the reason for that.

“Good morning, Rue...” A frown stole over his delicate features, twisting them as his head tipped slightly at a curious angle. “Is there something troubling you?”

“Not at all. I was just getting ready to go out on my own...” She informed him idly, as if to explain her previous distracted state. He couldn't quite fathom what form of preparations that had represented, however, and he felt his frown deepening. It could have been only him, he supposed, worrying overmuch. For the moment, he could at least trust her words. So, he pressed a lighter expression on himself in order to extend his invitation.

“Oh... If it does not disrupt your plans too much, would you like to walk in the gardens with me today?” He suggested, more awkwardly than he would have liked.. He lacked anything more inspired, something he quite regretted. There was certainly more that he could have done, but he was nervous to try; for if it did not please her, it could well make matters worse. Some fresh air might do to help her mood, and perhaps he would ask which flower was most to her liking, and present it to her there, freshly picked.

Yet it was only after a pause and a swiftly-smoothed frown that she nodded. “I would like that very much, my prince.”

She meant what she said regardless her hesitation; he could see that in the way her chin lifted as though defiant of something, and he found himself drifting over possibilities for what she might be defying. What might be concerning her. It was not just him being fretful, or what he truly feared sometimes, reading emotions that were not there. The only certain way to learn would be to ask, and he had opened his mouth to do just that, when she interrupted him by standing. “Yes. I will go with you, my prince.”

He smiled, rather bemused, but nodded and leaned to kiss her forehead in the hopes that such affection might ease her unspoken complaints. And yet, as it happened, the soft color that such a gesture brought to her cheeks even then was not enough to relief his own sudden concern.

The prince removed his lips from Rue's skin with a troubled gasp, tender anxiety blooming in his wide golden eyes.

“I suspected that something was wrong. You have a terrible fever, my princess...”

She blinked sharply, plainly startled by his discovery, or perhaps simply by his concern. Despite her apparent determination to ignore it, she must have known that he would notice, and he would not allow it to merely pass. Still, it did not hinder her recovering her bearing, or at least, restoring it to its previous, doubtlessly weakened, condition. She was doing her best, of course, but that was far from enough to relax him. In fact, it might have done quite the opposite, as he tensed and drew himself straighter to look over her worriedly.

“...It's barely more than a cold,” she insisted, then added pointedly. “I do wish to spend the day with you, my prince.”

“I will not leave your side today. You do not need to worry about that.” He faced her solemnly, shaking his head graciously, though that gesture was directed at himself. How foolish of him not to have seen this, to have instead feared some more complicated trouble, but nonetheless, this was something he could see to at once. “Please, return to bed... You mustn't push yourself.”

“Honestly, my prince,” she sniffed, “There isn't any need to-”

“There is no need for you to be so stubborn, my princess. Whether it is serious or not, you must rest to be well again.” His firm instruction was not what brought her protests to a halt, however. As he spoke, he brushed forward a single step and leaned forward just enough to catch her knees over his arm, quickly bringing another arm to support her as he cradled her against him.

“...M-my prince!” She exclaimed, but despite her entire face darkening to match her eyes, she leaned into his hold. Though she told herself it was merely an irritation, the rhythm throbbed unpleasantly directly against her skull was countered somewhat when she pressed her forehead near his heart; and though she was quite sure that her chill could have been taken care of with nothing more than warmer clothing, he was warmer still. So, though she knew that it would be proper to pull away, that there was surely no reason for him to do  this, she was reluctant to pull away from his safe embrace.

He spoke more gently as he carried her a few short steps into the bedroom,“I will take care of you, so please, do not fret...”

“I... I am not the one who is fretting...” She muttered into his chest, but she did not mind as much as she felt she should have. He did not answer, but for a reproachful frown as he laid her in bed and adjusted the blankets around her. The message was clear enough: if she did not intend to care for herself, she would not have a choice in the matter. His will was not going to falter in this, that much was plain.

Even when she tried to sit up, his hands were immediately on her shoulders, lowering her to the pillow once more. He sighed, seeming almost exasperated, “What is there about resting that you do not understand, I wonder?”

She shut her eyes, squeezing them only just too tightly for the expression to be one of composure. “At least do not let me stop you from enjoying the day, my prince.”

“...And how do you suggest I do that without you...?” He asked sadly, brushing her feverish forehead with an anxious hand. His hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head, and when she reached up, she bowed  his head and allowed her to fix it without complaint. “No. I will remain here, as I have said. Though I will perhaps...”

She peered up at him dryly as he straightened, but now that her blush had faded, she seemed drawn; her porcelain skin looked to have drawn a sickly pallor over itself. He decided then that there would be no “perhaps,” she needed him to do something to ease her condition. His cape fluttered behind him as he spun on his heel, hurrying into the small wash chamber and plucking a basin of water, clean and still cool, from its stand, along with a soft handtowel.

He returned to her silently, aside from the plunk of the basin as he set it on the nightstand, and then the small splashing of the cloth as he soaked and wrung it.

“Now, my princess, I...” He stopped, realizing that her eyes were closed once more. “...I hope you rest well...”

He smiled soothingly down at her, for all that she could not see it, and ran the cloth over her forehead carefully. She was more tired than she had thought herself to be, or perhaps than she had allowed herself to think she was, and this was for the best. For now, he was content in his resolve to watch over her until she was well.