His glare would have been enough to burn a lesser man in the spot, it seemed though it was not quite enough for his sons. He could not keep them locked away, as it were, nor he had found make Saul restrain them with his presence. Other knights might be swayed, seduced, incompetent. And so the king worried still.
"Uriel..." he said simply, "pretty won't keep you from getting killed, or worse. And pretty won't be on the table if they maim your beautiful face." Harsh words, harsher truths. It brought him no pleasure, none of this did. It all was falling apart under his hands no matter how tightly he clutched. He needed to get his sons away.
The protests, the excuses, it all made his head ache terribly, and he reached for a drink to settle his stomach while Uriel babbled. "I am sure you are."
"I hope you enjoyed, you are not seeing him again." He got out between sips of his drink, "not here. and do not think he will see you without approval, if a prince is courting you he needs to do it right."
It displeased him to even think about. Curse these damned foreigners, cursed be the moment he brought his sons. "Enough!" He shouted at last, clutching the glass on his hand but not hard enough to break it, yet. Enough Sollia had died during his lifetime, he could not, would not allow any more. "This is no laughing matter. Another word and you'll be sent back home at dawn." He would see to it himself.
"You'll behave, prince Uriel, there is no more room to missteps."
