Pot and Kettle

When the suggestion had been made, upon him taking up the crown, that all items of his family's be moved... Sebastian hadn't guessed they'd simply be shoved away into a wardrobe like this. In a guest room, of all places. It frustrated him as much as the sudden reminder saddened him. He'd not had the best relationship with his family, sure, only having been close to his grandfather if anyone. But there was still a line. He'd have to have words with Bodil at a later time. If there was anyone who could sniff all of this out and have it properly removed, it would be her. Eternally grateful he was that his old nanny was still the wonderful woman he remembered, and had survived the last coup.

While a little surprised to find Aoife had come up behind him, he'd relaxed just a little after his offer. He couldn't blame her for declining to wear a dead woman's dressing gown. Sebastian relaxed just a little more at the touch. I didn't... he sighed and shook his head. I merely wanted to offer something clean and comfortable. The once masking smile fell back into something more easy and comfortable. If not a little teasing at the clean remark. He'd no idea how long she'd been traveling in her current attire, after all.

Sebastian flashed a wider smile at Aoife. The idea of her in a dress was... something else. Leveraging the connection of their hands, Sebastian shifted to pull her a little closer. I'm not certain what to do with the image of you in a dress. The smile flickered into a smirk. What would the people say to see the Champion dressed like a princess?