Lamont sighed when he spotted Princess Kiara slumped on the floor with her head in her hands. Dread slowed down his trot to a slow walk; he didn't know the first thing about handling women.

Politics was one thing. He was born into it and seemed to have a better affinity towards negotiations and discussions than any of his brothers had. This, however, was quite another because women always had a way of making any conversation personal.

He sat on the floor beside her, forearms propped on his knees, and eyed Kiara apprehensively. Should he... rub her back and tell her everything would be okay? Or was a shoulder pat more appropriate? Gods, he didn't want to hug her -- he barely knew her, after all. Should he offer her his handkerchief, or would Kiara be insulted to be handed something he had used in the past? Should he get her some water?

If he thought about this too long, he would get a headache, so instead he sighed and softly exclaimed, "You didn't have to do that." It was certainly not a comforting statement, but it was on his mind. "You're the least likely person to defend me like you did, so it surprises me. Father isn't too pleased with you right now, but he's never pleased with anyone but himself. Mother thinks this is all a game. I've gotten rather used to it, so... you don't need to waste your breath on the likes of me."

Lamont sighed. That was probably the worst reassuring speech he had ever made. Somehow he had made it about him. He scowled to himself. "Well, what I meant to say is, ah... well... don't worry, I suppose..."