he did not dare look at his wife lest he spread his anger where none needed be spread. "rejoice wife, you and i and the steward shall leave in a few hours time before the sun is too high"

The intention of mass was lost on him. His attention remained on the man beside him, even if his gaze did not. However, by the time the hallelujahs ended and the final prayer was shared through the congregation his concern had transformed into a fluttering feeling of excitement. He made sure to offer his husband a smile when he went to exit the chapel

his wife's worry soon became joy and when the final words were uttered it had become a blossom of happiness that took the edge of unhappiness from his own black mood though as soon as the other was away the lightening left too and he sullenly went to prepare himself for his task

He had the pleasure of meeting the steward at the carriage while stage coach was being prepared for the trip. He seemed kind, and respectful, and upon further conversation he discovered his reason for coming along, which in turn clued him in to his husband's sour attitude. He was curious about how smoothly the ride would be

he did not like the idea of having to share his carriage with his wife and the steward. it was absolutely shameful to share with a woman and a commoner though to his credit the steward was smart enough to offer to sit in the carriage with the luggage. moodily he sat across from his wife with a petulant slouch

The Prince reminded him of a child by the way he sulked, and even though it did not bother him at first it grew weary as they rode away from the castle. Subconsciously, the boy straightened in his seat and brought his hands to rest in his lap as he looked to the other. "Would it be ill of me to ask why you are in such a sour mood? After all, you are making your wife very happy by allowing this trip."

slouching lower he found he could touch the bench of his wife's seat. shifting so that he was across from the lad he stuck either foot to the side of the other's legs trapping them where they lay. "if you must know, i am expected to take stock of the inventory of your family's grain and livestock and gold. i am to be a glorified tax collector, to think me, the prince, doing a peasant's job," he scoffed and slid his ankles together until the touched the lad's, "it is an insult to my station"

Sights dropped to watch the legs push closer to his ankles, locking them together at the base of his seat. Trailing back along the black panted legs he leveled his gaze with the Prince. "It is atrocious that you are required to do such work. Still, if your father father bestowed the task upon you then you are required to do so, no matter how degrading it may seem."

he said nothing to that for there was nothing to say but he did not leave off of his entertainment. eventually he kicked off his shoes and played with the excess fabric from the lads dress in his stocking'd feet

His attention fell to the exposed side of the carriage, watching as both gravel and dust was kicked as they traveled along, before his attention was captured by the soft tickling of his dress brushing against his leg. Sending a glancing eye down, he watched as the smoothly covered foot twisted and toyed with his dress

his attention was only diverted when after manipulating a narrow foot from it's shoe the foot hooked lightly around his own. jerking away he looked up, he could feel heat spreading across his face

He only jerked back out of reflex for the other, but he still felt equally embarrassed for his easy scare. Lifting a gentle hand to brush through the rough curls of his hair, he worked his shoe back into its slipper all while keeping his eyes averted from the other body

"....lord ainsly.." he blushed harder and could not continue. quickly he found his own shoes and shifted back into a proper position with his back straight and his legs to himself

The only positive aspect he could think to ponder was the newly found posture and change in demeanor by his lord, but tension still remained heavy in the shared air of the cabin. "...Prince Ambrose..." Tucking his legs close beneath his bench, the boy folded his hands into his lap before looking across to the reddened face

his wife's tone and face gave away nothing at all and meeting the lad's eyes once more he frowned. "your bewitchments grow wearisome wife"

He mirrored the frown, only he was sure his did not appear so cross. A curt shrug was offer in exchange for the words, and drawing up the excess of his skirt he made to move from his side. "Your petulant attitude grows wearisome, husband."