When Elia smiled, Prosperyn breathed a sigh of relief--he wasn't entirely sure what he was relieved about, but it was good to know that she could feel something besides the pain she was clearly in. Prosperyn walked over to sit down beside Elia. Hesitantly, he took Elia's hand. "Does it hurt to touch?" he asked softly.
"I'm afraid it's Derran that needs to forgive me for breaking into your chambers when his back was turned," Prosperyn said with a hint of a boyish grin and a sideways glance towards the guard. "We're all upset, Elia, and we are right to be so. I may have been buried in the White Tower as you say, but Dornish blood flows like fire. I can't say I'm not ready to run out in search of revenge for your wounds."
Prosperyn looked down and away from Elia. "Polonius told it true," he said, "and so our wolf king's grip throne has grown stronger."