#crowngranted

[cursegranted-blog]

their silence is never anything less than companionable, these days.  it’s nice, ella thinks, to be granted these moments of peace with one another.  the rest of their lives are hardly peaceful ; too many duties to attend, too many matters to address, too many people to speak with.  a kingdom can hardly run itself, and as king, char bears more of that than ella can imagine.  should they not, then, revel in these little moments of peace?

and yet there’s a tense air to the room, just around the edges.  as much as ella wishes she could pretend otherwise, she knows it is because of her.  it seems only fair to address it, and she makes sure to keep her tone fair and even before she does.  ❛ you owe him nothing. ❜ were she a more cowardly person she would avert her gaze ; she is not.  she is his wife, and his queen.  ella will look at her husband when she speaks.  ❛ you don’t owe him your kindness, nor your care.  not after what he’s done.  not after all this time. ❜ // @crowngranted

[cursegranted-blog]

“It is my intention, if I may be so bold, to remain close to you throughout the evening.”

she hardly sees him, though she dreams of it as intimately as if he were by her side all along.  she had thought of him, at first, as her own private friend.  as a person who she may be so lucky as to speak with, tucked away from the rest of the world.  but he is a prince, and she is the daughter of a lady, and these things suggest that there is no privacy in whatever friendship they may share.  it is why, now, she turns from him, face set as though to reject his words, to turn him away entirely.  

she does not.

❛ i might permit you to stay by my side, if you can promise to make me laugh at least once. ❜ perhaps it’s she who’s bold now, to make requests of a prince.  but he isn’t, around her, is he? how can he be - he’s just char.  beautiful, glowing, handsome char, who’s white suit is striking against his skin, who’s hair seems to be dusted with gold, who’s eyes shine so brightly she feels burnt if she looks too long.  and who is she, but clumsy little ella, who can make him laugh? ❛ otherwise i fear the company is wasted.  both mine and yours. ❜ // @crowngranted

[cursegranted-blog]

though the carriage is far more luxurious than any ella had ever used before marrying char, it is still sees it as the least enjoyable way to travel.  there is no access to the cool air, no sense of how long they have been in motion.  perhaps the nicest part of it is that she can see char wholly, whether she chooses to sit opposite to him or next to him.  she can drink in his features as much as she pleases, and no one may ever order her to stop.  

still, she grows bored, the tip of her thumb tracing the callouses of her hand that she knows will never fade ; they are not the callouses of a cook’s helper, nor of a princess.  they are a reminder of the work her hands did at the order of dame olga - of hattie and olive.  some days she is glad for them, for the memories they hold to remind her of a life she no longer has to live anymore.  other days she despises them, wishes for the smooth, soft hands that would be soothing to run across char’s face, through his curls.  there is nothing to be done to change them.  she rubs the callouses and studies char.

❛ shall we work at improving your gnomic? ❜ she speaks unprompted, to capture his attention from the book he is studying.  if it is important he’ll tell her so, but their journey is long and it seems unlikely that she is to be denied attention.  ❛ not that it seems to help, but it is fun to watch you try. ❜ she smiles mischievously, tilted forwards ever so slightly, her mother’s necklace swinging in the space between them.  ❛ you know how it makes me laugh. ❜ // @crowngranted

[worldtopcompanylist]