Her hands are soft, he thinks – so very much unlike his own, now calloused and scarred from years spent sequestered away in his workshop, and then from the better portion of his war against the Empire and Kefka.
He has always been fickle and adventurous since the days of his youth; a man who cannot simply be CONTAINED to one place for too long… And yet, he must now remain trapped here forevermore, bound to this castle by his duty – and a promise he made so many years ago
He doesn’t belong here. Not truly – but he wants to, so badly. He wants to do his part and make her happy. He wants to be the King that everyone expects him to be, but…
He never talked about the time he spent with his companions, hadn’t wanted to upset her with the horrors of war, nor the suffering he’d faced in his attempts to stop it. She’d been too young, and he’d not wanted to recount every terrible thing he’d seen and done in the name of freedom, talking instead of the beauty he found on his trails… What little of it still remained.
He hates himself for how he feels, now – so very guilty for longing to return to those days, for while he had faced hardship unlike no other, he had found true FREEDOM. He had new friends who would support him. He had his brother, whom he’d thought lost forever, and he was in love. Through other people’s suffering, he had found an escape.
But none of those things were ever meant to last. He’d been selfish to hope that it would.
She must see it in the way he stares off distantly, as he had just done before her entry. The way he anxiously wrings his hands before he faces the larger crowds. How he loses his patience just a tad more quickly with those around him.
Her King is coping a little less well than anyone had hoped.
“Ah– I have been so terrible to you, haven’t I?”
He moves, then, to press his lips against her fingers. Guilt weighs heavily upon him and his shoulders visibly sag as he thinks of his own failures to adjust back to this life. They were meant to be happy, but it seemed as though they were anything but – and he has made it worse, blissfully ignoring his commitments in favor of hiding himself away to be left with his thoughts.
Priscilla is the only one who has remained consistently loyal and true to him, long before his friends came into the picture, and yet he continually pushes her aside… Why? How is it that she puts up with such a cruel, neglectful man?
Edgar shifts, then, gently pressing his forehead to hers. It’s about damn time that he stopped dealing with this alone, like the stubborn idiot that he is, and actually talked to someone.
Even Kings need someone to lean on, after all – and he chose her to take that role, so why isn’t he acting like it?
“I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind, and perhaps too much time
on my hands to think it over. Will you aid this foolish man once more,
and help him come to terms with his thoughts?”
Though she answered his initial question as such they both knew the truth of the matter. Even as a child she had suspected that she was not for him. Her dream was to remain a dream, regardless of how close she came. It was impossible not to work it out even without gossip nipping at her heels. She loved him and she doted on him and paid attention to a fault. Many a time Matron had scolded her for being such a foolish girl. Love was nonetheless blind to sensibilities. She adored him, yearned to understand him, and in doing so slowly destroyed her own fantasy.
But still wished it was possible.
With his forehead pressed to hers like this the young duchess thought herself somehow connected to his suffering. It was so rare for Edgar to render himself vulnerable like this. She nodded her head without removing herself from his proximity. A wordless assurance that she would gladly support him.
He deserved better though --- that was a thought that often went through her mind late at night. Whenever she gazed upon her naked finger and turned her mind towards Setzer’s promise her whole body ached. Would he keep his word, appear some day and wrest her from a situation she lacked the strength to confront? And would she ever be able to forget her impossible love when Edgar meant everything to her? Would she ever see him again and would he marry someone else without her hindrance of a presence? There were endless possibilities and all of them haunted her mind in their own ways.
Should she have told him about what the gambler had sworn? Edgar had inquired only once, when she was younger, and she’d lied to protect the men from each other. Lately she had thought of breaking it to him a hundred times over in a hundred different ways. She was seventeen now after all; any day, any time, that familiar scarred face could reveal itself. A promise would certainly be fulfilled if she raised no voice to stop it.
“ Oh, Edgar...” a tender sigh, a near inaudible whisper, “If I vanished one day, would it make your burden any lighter? “
She hadn’t meant to speak those words aloud. They slipped by her scarcely moving lips while she gazed upon his face. Her fingers, still timid ‘pon his cheek, slowly slid towards his jaw until only the soft tips of them remained connected. They fell away one at a time to curl towards her clammy palm. It was impossible to express how much this precipice frightened her. If he bid her abandon her adulation she didn’t know what she would do with herself.
“Please don’t think me unhappy for saying such a thing. I know I cannot possibly be the only cause for your sorrow. All I have ever wanted is to be by your side... and I love you so much, perhaps selfishly. I would do anything for your sake. If you would only tell me--”
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