Brom obeyed the King, returning to an upright position. As he did, his eyes met with the vibrant blue of Seralle's; the young prince could feel his face growing flushed. She was far more lovely than any of the Northern women he'd seen; unlike women of the Hinterlands, who were strong and handsome with rosy cheeks and wild, dark braids, the Southern princess was slender and fair, with hands that looked as soft and delicate as the silk dress she wore. Instantly, he was infatuated. 

The moment passed, and he realized that Brogan was woefully lost in matters of diplomacy. He could feel the tension in the air like a tangible fog that clung to everyone in the throne room. Perhaps the animosity and mistrust between the North and the South was too much to dispel, but the young prince would try nonetheless. "Thank you for your hospitality," the younger Arten spoke in the stead of his older brother. "We accept and return this new-found friendship with House Loroughe and the Southern territories." He adjusted his furs and cloak, searching briefly.

The prince handed a wrapped item to Brogan, a gift which he was to present to his future bride as a symbol of good will. Brogan Arten carefully unveiled the gift: an arctic blossom--the Hinterblossom--preserved in glass. Brogan stepped forward and unceremoniously thrust the gift toward his future bride with all the grace of a barbarian warrior. Brom tried to smooth things over with his words. "This is a token of good will and romance for the Princess Seralle and her family. It is the Hinterblossom, a wild mountain flower which grows only on the peaks of northern mountains. It is the flower of the North, and a symbol of strength, beauty and eternity. It is our hope that it will bring your engagement to House Arten these qualities."

Brom watched as the first-born of Little Bear stared into eyes of his betrothed, likely gauging her reaction to him. Despite the best wishes he had for Brogan, he could not help but to feel jealousy growing in his chest and burning his ears red.