We've done this dance time and time again, to fulfill the fated weave.
A proposal prompted by your father.
To help you become more…balanced as a ruler, I think.
"I will not have my daughter become one of those pompous braggarts, taken every which way by today's lace only to become an accessory to tomorrow's prince. Your mind will know battle and your hands and feet, callouses!"
Thankful still this day my visor shielded my visage. Whilst I was able to keep the guffaw at bay, the curl of my lips was inescapable.
So we proceed as we have been, every crescent of the moon's turn.
Blades, greaves, maces. Hands even, depending on the eve. But nevertheless, we bear them.
Equipped. Banter exchanged. Intent laid bare.
...And your eventual surrender.
"Ha…I'm not opposed to my father's wishes. I delight in them, even. I just hope he wasn't expecting me to topple you anytime soon. You're built like a fortress…"
I help you up. A huff of a laugh tapered, granted as you reanimate our session, your hands and vocals no short of boisterous in their retelling.
Softened gazes. Grazing turned to lingering touch.
Palpitations beneath my mail at the most simplest of utterances.
Eventually, this wall of mine will fall and I will find myself in the most…uncomfortable predicament of my life. At least, that's how it feels at present.
Clear and vivid as your favoured chalice, with the lucidity of the commands you utter in my direction.
Though it flashes before me even now, the catalyst which mechanizes the inevitable eludes me.
I can see it. I have seen it.
The utter disarray of a thousand bluebloods and a calculated, labyrinthine legacy amounting to nought.
...And I…on my knees before you.
But I must come to terms with myself first. To do this would require an exchange I'm not yet ready for.
Submitting to a vulnerability akin to that of my prior incarceration.
But I am yet a coward in matters of the heart.
Tranquil at the prospect of war, fretful from the slightest touch of your hand.
Again and again. Confrontation after confrontation.
Because I cannot fathom exactly how I became sworn to you.
I know I will not be victor of this war.
...And day by day, I become more open to the idea…
