Depressingly Cute.

The young prince walked quietly through the gardens, sweeping the bushes and trees with his gaze and his ears. As he got about halfway into them, his carefully trained hearing picked up the soft sounds of a child's sniffle. He smiled faintly to himself and he altered his route to head towards the sound. The soft doeskin, soleless boots barely disturbed the grass, making little more sound than a hare. He came to a stop beside the same bush he used to hide in when he was younger and wanted to be alone. Slowly, he crouched down beside it, his voice but a whisper. "Child..? Why are you crying?"
The sniffles stopped, and there was only quiet for a long couple of minutes. Finally, a little voice squeeked through the branches and thick leaves. "I'm not crying."
His smile grew ever so slightly as he turned his gaze towards the bush. "Perhaps not. Will you come out, little flower?"
Another long moment of silence, with not even the rustle of a twig giving any sign that there was anyone in the bush at all, nothing but the soft voice that had spoken before. But, his patience paid off, as two charcoal coloured hands peeked out through the branches and parted them. Following them were two long, terribly thin arms, still bandaged from awful cuts and gashes the gryphon he'd saved her from before had given her. As the rest of her emerged, he saw she was wearing no more than the off-white shift she'd been sleeping in for the past couple of weeks since he brought her there. It seemed horribly bright compared to the midnight black skin she sported, and her starkly silver hair only added to the effect. Crimson eyes gazed up at him out of that black face, and his heart all but melted at the sight of the tear-stained cheeks.
He opened his arms for her and she didn't hesitate a moment to shrink into them. "What happened, little flower?"
She whimpered, burying her face in the shoulder of his burgandy jerkin. The white sleeves of his tunic and his own pale hands around her made her look all the darker. No, there would never be any mistaking her for Drow as she was. The poor dear. "I..I heard the servants talking... They..they were outside the room... They said it wasn't fair that they had to look after me.. That no one should have to look after a..a...a demon!" She sobbed into his chest, wrapping those thin arms around him.
He closed his eyes as he held her close. He had to fight off the wave of rage that came over him and wrinkled his brow. Not all were as kind or open-minded as he, he forced himself to remember. It would take a lot longer than a few weeks to loose everyone of their preconceptions about Drow, this one in particular. "Come, now, little flower. You pay no heed to what those crochety old women say. Why don't you come with me? I'll get you something to eat, and something nice to wear, okay? And you can stay in my room now, where they won't have to look after you. Azelle won't call you a demon. She wants to look after you. She won't stop talking about you, you know."
"Sh-she won't?" She sniffled again and looked up at him with bright, innocent eyes that once again clutched at his heart.
He smiled, and gently brushed the tears from her face. "Nope. I can't shut her up about it." He leaned forward to gently kiss her forehead. "Come, then, won't you, little flower?"
She smiled, ever so softly, and nodded. "Yes, Tobias."