❝ i... ❞ her arms cross while she rests her hands, turning her back to him as she begins shutting him out; he was supposed to help her rebuild an empire, to establish peace within the convoluted expanse of their compressed cosmos. her expression is cold, distant, with a soft semblance of despair. ❝ you betrayed my trust. i don't know if i will ever be able to forgive you. ❞
they wait in muted anticipation, an anxious spell washed over them both as one awaits the other to speak first. he dares not, knowing his wrongdoings extinguish any hope of redemption he may have had in her grace. she is kind to him still, allowing him within her presence after all she thinks he’s done— every story out of context, but he dares not open his mouth to dissuade her. the prince, even with well - meaning intentions, cannot deny that the means do not satisfy the end result he wished for ( a new altea kept safe from the treachery of those once considered allies ). there is not enough cunning in the world to convince her that those he’d sacrificed were not so in vain, but were instead used for the protection of the remainder of their people. he’d made due with what was known to him, resources destructive and conniving when all he wished for was the safety of their future. it seems a distant dream crumbling and dissipating like dust between his fingers that he should ever have thought he would escape the legacy of his father.
eyes follow her every movement even if he cannot meet hers. he’ll watch as her back turns to him, yet still she speaks as though she’s disarrayed that she could never forgive him. it’s a resolution he’s willing to accept, especially after he never even intended to tell her the truth about the depths of his past. lotor could not blame her if she deemed fit to never speak to or entertain an audience with him ever again ( even if his heart yearns for him to apologize and right the wrongs she hates him for, even if there will never be a way ). a resigned sigh escapes the hollows of his lungs through the mass sitting at the edge of his throat. it is everything he wished he could assure her with— every promise he wished to make to her that everything would work out and that he would be better— but he dares not air them. instead, he will stand silently behind the walls they’ve both built after all the insurrection and mistrust all because he couldn’t speak then.
❝ princess, i am undeserving of your trust. i do not expect to gain your forgiveness, either. ❞ not when he cannot forgive himself.