🌹 : Where should she begin? A kingdom would be nice, but surely something expected. A theater would also be wonderful, as she’d gone too long without performing! How else would she receive the praise that she deserved? Then, a sea of roses! Enough she could drown her own home with, till they poured into the surrounding area marking a rather beautiful display.
Alas, such luxuries were not available to. Not as exaggerated, as the emperor of roses would like. Yet she finds herself at peace with the modest surroundings and celebration decorations other had chosen for. Her attempts surely marking inadequacies, but effort as well. Such tasks are difficult for the king after all, and to expect them from while still preferred were a bit much. With time she’d grown understanding.
..Even, fine with. So long the jewel that was her king remained.. other details were merely details. Luxuries for those who had access to them, while she contents herself with this. An applause would surely follow once other finishes, cut only as the emperor pulls the king in with undeniable intent. Her heel, weakened, and the emperor with the position of power over. Back of other was to be bent, as Nero gazes over lovingly. Dry as mouth was, she would take lead from here on a prove her ability. There was a line she had rehearsed after all, and it’s time had finally came.
“When is it, that I shall enjoy my gift then?”
SINCE WHEN DID SHE BECOME SO BRAVE? Bloom so brilliantly without consideration for those left behind to hang on her bristly thorns? The Alter’s eyes fail to meet hers; a sign that she has lost the contest of gazes. She can but swelter beneath the glow of her lover. “Hmph. This is the cost of inadequacy, is it?” Failing to deliver the grandeur befitting of an Emperor’s tastes means that she must create it herself.
Mistake it not, however. Arturia hasn’t the faintest thought to contest wishes. “You idiot... there is yet another gift you have not received. You will have what you want, just -- just...” Wait. Damn it all. The path to this decision was supposed to be paved more smoothly, with their positions ideally reversed. How could this have happened?
Because it’s Nero, a voice scolds. Always the unpredictable and dramatic one. It is maddening that she did not account for this possibility. Fumbling around with her gloved fingers, she reaches into the pocket of her retired costume and extracts a prim box coated with gold. Within is a locket matching its protective case, sculpted with the hand of an artisan to reflect aureate roses blooming across its glean.
Inside the locket itself, if she were to open the clasp, is it an infinitesimally small music box fixed to play the melody of a lyre. Nero likes it, doesn’t she? She, herself, is far too inept to attempt such a thing, so she may have hired someone to fix a tune worthy for her ears. ...There is also a ring ( a promise ring, mind you ) hidden beneath the locket’s bedding, but she’s lost the nerve to say anything about it. Nero will see it herself when she chooses to. This is all really just too much.
How did she afford it? With everything she had. A series of quiet, profane words stumble past her lips, but somewhere in the middle of them, there’s a discreet ‘you should know I love you’. She won’t say it again. Or anything else, for that matter. All of her gifts have been bestowed. All that’s left is for Nero to claim them.
