sweetbitterbitten:
it is a test. or something meant to trigger. as if the truth of their iron grip ought to spur her to a higher obedience. she will wed their young one, their errant prince purely to save her people, to place to bed the assumption of eventual uprising. but this was not enough for politicians claiming to be kings. no, they must show her what is to be avoided. what might regrettably await her…should she turn, ungrateful garden worm to a serpent and sink foul, unfettered tooth to the artery of infallible power. they must shine a light on the beetle beneath crumpled stone. it is a tired warning. but she is practiced at playing a previously agreed part. “fresh meat. new blood.” she is neither quiet, nor over-spoken. only unspeakably frank. “i’m meant to look and shiver in trepidation.” not even the tendrils of onyx hair framing sharp cheeks make movement at this admission. “though i fear i disappoint.”
he is but a trophy. an omen. a mirror. and the devil. so it is a curious thing that he has been given access to a young, corruptible woman. though if she cannot handle a toothless, caged lion, what hope, or rather, use is she to the royal family? “ah, in that we are the same,” he replies with a knowing smile. it is no doubt much to their dismay that he does not shrink and simper in the presence of his would-be executioners. but the last thing he has is his pride and oh, that would be pried from his cold, dead hands. what else does he have to do but in delight in the frustration of those who thought he would kneel before them? though it is for that exact reason that the patriarch comes to him. vesper maintains himself a king. an equal. “you will have to catch me on who you are, dear. as you can imagine, i don’t exactly get the daily newspaper here in my humble abode.”
