[ She takes his hand, and his fingers curl, on instinct, around hers. There's less distance between them now than there had been, the months that have passed solidifying the trust — and tentative sense of affection — that forms the basis of their relationship. He finds himself surprised, sometimes, at the way his thoughts will drift to her, at the way her feelings now factor into the decisions that he makes, however small they may be. That is what marriage should be, he supposes — something treasured, something shared, even if he has yet to be so bold as to try to be more openly affectionate than this. A hand upon hers, a passing touch as they share lessons.
Even now, he remains somewhat cautious, his other hand finding her shoulder, another point of touch meant to steady her. Frankly, the degree to which these matters affect and upset her trouble him more than the accusations themselves, given the truth of how much his people care about such things. ]
I see. They object to the fact that I am half-elven.
[ He doesn't seem particularly angry, though he knows that such relative passivity is just as likely to annoy her as the Greens' tactics themselves. Briefly, he lets go of her arm to draw a chair, offering her a seat rather than leaving her to pace. ]
I suppose to be half anything has somewhat different connotations, here, but it is not a mark of illegitimacy, [ he says, though his tone is somewhat ponderous. It isn't necessarily an easy thing to explain, given how rare the title is, and he expects that Otto and the rest will be as pedantic about it as possible. And as for his lineage, he knows it to be unimpeachable, even if, to put it plainly, the story of a man who'd sailed to confront the gods and eventually been granted passage through the night sky sounds somewhat fantastical. (Had he ever recounted the tale to his wife? Not yet — a failing on his part. Now is certainly the time for it.) ]
Do not let it trouble you, [ he adds, making sure to catch (and hold) her gaze. ] They ask questions for which we have the answers. A handful of arrows fired upon a castle's battlements.
[ It's said slyly — the only kind of insult or ill will he tends to voice, shared just between the two of them. ]
I would be more than willing to speak before the Small Council, if they'll allow it.
[ And even then, his words will likely mean less than some sort of documentation or further support from the High King.
The line of his mouth twists accordingly — after all, an argument designed to be lost will hardly be an easy one. Still, in the next moment, his expression shifts again, this time to one of wry amusement. ]
But I must say, it is quite bold to question the will of the King himself. What did your father make of that?
[ He knows, of course, that Viserys has nothing but love for his daughter despite what disagreements they'd had as she'd grown up, and he'd had more than a little say in the brokering of the match. Of course, the King's will had been questioned before — an inevitability, given his general good nature — but his title is still not an empty one, and to question him is not an action taken without some amount of risk. It is a sign of some desperation, he thinks, that Otto would go so far. ]
no subject
Even now, he remains somewhat cautious, his other hand finding her shoulder, another point of touch meant to steady her. Frankly, the degree to which these matters affect and upset her trouble him more than the accusations themselves, given the truth of how much his people care about such things. ]
I see. They object to the fact that I am half-elven.
[ He doesn't seem particularly angry, though he knows that such relative passivity is just as likely to annoy her as the Greens' tactics themselves. Briefly, he lets go of her arm to draw a chair, offering her a seat rather than leaving her to pace. ]
I suppose to be half anything has somewhat different connotations, here, but it is not a mark of illegitimacy, [ he says, though his tone is somewhat ponderous. It isn't necessarily an easy thing to explain, given how rare the title is, and he expects that Otto and the rest will be as pedantic about it as possible. And as for his lineage, he knows it to be unimpeachable, even if, to put it plainly, the story of a man who'd sailed to confront the gods and eventually been granted passage through the night sky sounds somewhat fantastical. (Had he ever recounted the tale to his wife? Not yet — a failing on his part. Now is certainly the time for it.) ]
Do not let it trouble you, [ he adds, making sure to catch (and hold) her gaze. ] They ask questions for which we have the answers. A handful of arrows fired upon a castle's battlements.
[ It's said slyly — the only kind of insult or ill will he tends to voice, shared just between the two of them. ]
I would be more than willing to speak before the Small Council, if they'll allow it.
[ And even then, his words will likely mean less than some sort of documentation or further support from the High King.
The line of his mouth twists accordingly — after all, an argument designed to be lost will hardly be an easy one. Still, in the next moment, his expression shifts again, this time to one of wry amusement. ]
But I must say, it is quite bold to question the will of the King himself. What did your father make of that?
[ He knows, of course, that Viserys has nothing but love for his daughter despite what disagreements they'd had as she'd grown up, and he'd had more than a little say in the brokering of the match. Of course, the King's will had been questioned before — an inevitability, given his general good nature — but his title is still not an empty one, and to question him is not an action taken without some amount of risk. It is a sign of some desperation, he thinks, that Otto would go so far. ]