— something new begins to take

[ziryla]

— I need my golden crown of sorrow, my bloody sword to swing; I need my empty halls to echo with grand self-mythology —

( a little place for our feral little hearts. )

Comments

[osanwe]

[ It saddens him, a little, to see that surprised look upon her face. In an instant, he understands that no one has really asked that question of her before, that she had not even considered that she might have some say in the matter or the freedom to feel anything other than confidence or responsibility. Such, he thinks, is the difference between the way he has seen prophecy unfold and the way it seems to affect those in her realm — here, it is taken as law, as something inexorable. It feels more malleable, in his own impression of such a thing; a tiding worth heeding, but not the end-all, be-all in the way this seems to be.

She whispers when she next speaks, and his eyes seem briefly to glimmer, a silent acknowledgment of what she has suffered and what now lies before her. He does not flatter himself unduly by thinking that she would never have shared this with anyone else had she married some other lord, nor does he think he is necessarily better equipped to deal with such a thing (even though she might), but he knows, at least, that he would do his utmost for her.

When she takes his hands, he is quick to hold her hands in turn, his fingers wrapping tightly around hers.

(He has never seen her so vulnerable, he thinks, except in flashes. Meeting his gaze when they had been wed; glimpses of it when she had still been a girl; in passing moments between them now as they grow closer. It would be wrong to say that she needs protection, but— it is the matter of loneliness again, he supposes. To live as an island is not an impossibility, but it is a bleak sort of existence, and more can be accomplished through the strength of many, or even just two, than alone.) ]

Not selfish at all, [ he says, his voice certain and clear. ] I would rather you share this with me than bear the weight of it on your own. And even if it should not come to pass in our lifetime, even if it may one day prove to be false, I think what it ultimately demands is perhaps less burdensome.

[ He lets out a huff of laughter, then, aware of how ridiculous what he says next sounds, but hoping that the relative scale of what he means makes some sense. Perhaps it's a little reductive of a prophecy that foretells the end of all things, but he thinks he has the heart of it. ]

It demands you rule fairly. And I believe you more than capable of that, and moreover, you are not alone on this path. [ He squeezes her hands again, holding her gaze. ] All that is mine is yours, whether that be counsel or strength.

[ A little more softly: ] And it is not weakness, to waver. No one is certain in all things, not even I.

[ziryla]

( a tiding worth heading; such concept of malleability has not been an option. it was not presented as such and while there has been a time when she questioned her father's sincerity, it was the weight of the prophecy and the subterfuge behind it (heir to heir and only that) that wrote it in such stone.

he may not wish to flatter himself in such assumptions, but he should; other lords might be more tempted to see it for what it might be — an invitation for harsher control, upon any provocation or threat; a clenched fist upon the land. other lords may not have garnered her respect and her trust as quickly as he has, if at all; other lords are not him, with years and kings and wars all endured enough to still shape him into who he is now (one who sees so much light, and she cannot help but envy it).

she is not vulnerable often. but more so, as of late, with him. she realizes it toes the line of foolish, to some extent. an indulgence or relief both to allow for the tension to ebb from her posture. the habit of holding things close to her chest remains yet but there is a softness to her gaze when his eyes glimmer in the candlelight, rife with some sentiment and belatedly she questions if it is for her.

his hands are warm; shadows shudder further away, and she is aware that she is no longer alone. that there may be hope, if he promises his counsel, his strength, without any air of doubt.

there's a shift of expression, curious in the way her brow quirks, chin tips when he speaks next. ) You make it sound so simple.

( it demands you rule fairly he says, as though her rule was assured. as though it has never been in question and it alludes once again to the differences between; such opinions not often heard and his belief is a sharply treasured thing. a brief smile curls, voice thick with feeling. ) I will do what I can to ensure your faith is not misplaced.