Private Tales A King's Duty

[Lynus Anireth]

King Randall's study was a sanctuary of warmth and tradition, a reflection of centuries of rich, Anirian history. A large, intricately carved mahogany desk dominated the center of the room, its surface cluttered with scrolls, maps, and an ornate inkstand and quill. Behind it, a high-backed leather chair, worn but dignified, served as the throne of this private realm.

The flickering light from a grand fireplace cast dancing shadows across the stone walls, and above the mantle, grand paintings of the king's ancestors loomed, their stern gazes a constant reminder of the weight of lineage and duty. The rest of the walls were adorned with tapestries depicting historical battles and trophies of glorious hunts, and shelves filled with ancient, leather bound tomes and volumes of law and history lined the room.

The king was in the process of pouring hot wax onto a scroll, preparing to seal it with the royal seal, when a firm knock echoed through the room. He pressed the seal into the molten wax, the impression of the Anireth crest taking shape just as the door opened, and his personal guard stepped inside, his armor gleaming in the firelight.

"My King," he announced, his voice firm and respectful, "Your guest has arrived."



The king looked up, his expression unreadable. "Show her in," he commanded with a nod, his voice carrying the authority of one accustomed to being obeyed.

Bexley

 

[Bexley]

Everything about Bexley's appearance that day was done to absolute perfection. She was summoned to the Royal Palace, to meet with the king, and would be attending without her father as he had left Vel Anir on business a week prior. But it mattered not, for Bexley was not a daughter brought up by noble standards. She was a soldier, a Dreadlord, and could represent herself and her House without the need of a male to speak for her.

She smiled before sweeping through the opened doors, dressed as if she had been a woman in high society circles all her life and not to the front lines of many battles. There was no blemish or scar upon her person, but she had plenty of stories to tell about all the fights she had seen.

"Your Majesty." Bexley kept her back straight as she dipped into a curtsy and came back to stand upright, her dress never crinkling.

Looking at her made it hard to see she was a longserving Dreadlord, for her grace and cadence was not something often taught at the Academy, nor the barracks. Beneath it all, she nurtured herself to be manipulative, to be disarming with her ladylike charm. She had no need for all of that as she continued deeper into the study and took some time to marvel at it's interiors.

She would wait for the King to address her, to invite her to sit if that was what he wished.

Her father had told her of the correspondence he had with the King, and that there was potential for their families to make an alliance for the history books.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

King Randall observed Lady Pirian with a keen and practiced eye, his years of leadership and diplomacy sharpening his ability to read people. As she entered the room with a smile, her demeanor calm and self-assured, he noted the precision of her movements and the way she carried herself with an air of natural grace. Everything about her appearance and manner spoke of meticulous preparation and innate confidence. She was power hungry, they all were, and that was precisely what he'd been looking for.

Randall saw a woman who had mastered the art of presentation. She was not just a noblewoman; she was a strategist, a tactician who understood the importance of image and first impressions. Her smile was polite, her gaze steady and unwavering, revealing nothing more than she intended. Beneath her ladylike charm, Randall sensed a calculating mind, one capable of both disarming politeness and ruthless efficiency.

When she finally moved deeper into the study, taking a moment to appreciate its interiors, Randall watched her with renewed interest. Her appreciation seemed genuine, but he knew it also served another purpose: to give her time to assess the environment, to understand the man she was about to converse with on a deeper level.

"Lady Pirian," he greeted her coolly, "A pleasure to see you. Please, take a seat." he said, gesturing toward one of the armchairs opposite him. He reached for the small cup of whisky beside him and took a measured sip, the amber liquid catching the light from the fire. Lacing fingers together, he rested his arms atop the desk, offering Lady Bexley a gentle smile.

"Would you care for some refreshment?" he asked, his tone cordial. "Some tea, perhaps? Wine? My staff is on hand to bring you whatever you desire."

"I am grateful that you chose to accept my invitation, My Lady. I understand your father is otherwise engaged, though we have, of course, discussed your visit. I assume he has informed you of our correspondence?"

 

[Bexley]

"Tea, please." She smiled, taking a seat and looking to the staff kindly.

That same smile lifted hearing of her father, and she found herself nodding lightly, enough to make her hair glisten in the filtering light of the sun pouring through the window. "Yes he has, Your Majesty. He speaks highly of you and wishes he could have been here." Of course, Bexley could only assume as to the conversations between them and her invitation here this day. After all, her father had suggested her uncle, the current Lord of House Pirian, to accompany her here today but Bexley insisted to attend alone. She was not here as a noble daughter, but a Dreadlord. She was Lieutenant and Second Rank, there was no need for her to pretend she had the backing of her kin and station.

And the King of Vel Anir knew this about her, knew that her father did not need to be in attendance.

"I do know that he wishes to make a visit once he returns from Elbion. Perhaps a luncheon or dinner, at the Pirian House in Vel Anir?" Polite conversation,

 

[Lynus Anireth]

The King's lips twisted into a faint smile at her flattery and small talk. "Yes, that would be wonderful, of course," he responded, then settled back into his chair. "Let's get down to it, shall we?" With a dismissive wave of his hand, the staff exited the room, leaving only his guard by the door.

"The guest quarters have been prepared for you. I shall have my son give you a tour shortly," he said, arching a brow. "I must be frank with you, my lady. The Prince is likely to be displeased at my inviting you here. And you are not the first lady to have been presented to my son as a potential suitor. But you are by far the most important." He sighed deeply, the weight of his words evident.

"My son suffered a great loss; his lovely wife, the Princess Selena, and their son both perished on the birthing bed. He did not cope well with the loss, and for over a year he refused to entertain the notion of moving on. Recently, though, he has become quite besotted with the harlot making doe eyes at him. He needs to be reminded that he is the heir to the Anirian throne and that he has a duty to uphold, not just for me and his mother but for our people. The future Queen of Vel Anir cannot have bedded half the country." The king scoffed in disgust, lifting his glass to take another drink.

"Change his mind." the King asked firmly. "He can keep her for all I care, but he needs a suitable queen, and he needs an heir." He frowned, studying her once more as his head tilted. "Are you in agreement, Lady Pirian?"

 

[Bexley]

Bexley never lost her smile as the King spoke. She waited until he was done before speaking her part, but perhaps anticipated the answer he would give her. "I am, my King. Although, I do wonder if you would allow me to use my... talents, to convince him?"

Her pale eyes dropped to her clasped hands on her lap, smiling widely. "I would like to think you are in agreement. My father mentioned my magic in your correspondence, and I would be in agreement that a union between myself and your son, the Crowned Prince, would prove to be something of a legacy to build for the future of Vel Anir." Her gaze lifted, showing that Bexley was not surprised or startled by such an arrangement. She held her head high, wore a confidence to reassure the King that he had chosen the right woman for the task. Even at her deadliest, Bexley still was graceful.

"I can be persuasive, and my magic is only an extension of such a feat. It would be my honour to serve you, Your Majesty, and my family thanks you for thinking of me to be Vel Anir's future Queen."

 

[Lynus Anireth]

King Randall appeared pleased by her response, though her question about using her abilities caused a flicker of concern to cross his face. "I'm well aware of your capabilities, yes," he answered and drew a deep breath, his gaze narrowing thoughtfully as he considered her request with the weight it deserved. The King knew he was crossing a boundary, he knew that he risked losing his eldest son if this went badly, but he'd justify it as duty, and a need to do what was best to keep his family strong, in every way possible.

"Using your talents to convince my son is a delicate matter. It is not simply about bending his will but about guiding him to see the best path, the duty he has to his people and his lineage."

Randall's eyes met hers, and he saw the determination and grace she exuded, even when discussing the more formidable aspects of her abilities. "You have my permission to use your magic, but I urge caution and subtlety. Lynus is proud and strong-willed, and he dislikes such... unnatural abilities. Don't be mistaken, Lady Pirian, I love my son, I care about his well-being, and his future. Please keep those points in mind and handle the situation as delicately as you can. And, what we have discussed must not leave this room; it stays between us—yes?"

"This is your chance to wear an Anirian crown, my lady. Don't waste it."

 

[Bexley]

"Do not fret, Your Majesty. I do not wholly rely on my magic." She understood his wariness, for he was not the first to appear in such a way before her. "Despite my education, I know what must be done to win over people. Building friendships can be a play of politics in some cases, but I do intend on learning much more of the Crowned Prince..." To better win herself his trust and confidence.

"If you would like, my king, we could meet fortnightly to discuss progress. I could even send weekly letters, if that will put your mind at ease."

Bexley wanted that crown. So many other women would kill for such a chance, and Bexley had always held herself with grace and manners even when on active Dreadlord duty. It was in her blood, in her entire being meant for more. The gods had blessed her with beauty and being born of good breeding. There weren't many like her that could get this opportunity.

"If you do not mind me asking, Your Grace, I would like to speak with those that are close to your son... listen to what they say of their Prince so that I may know him better. Friendship is after all is a starting foundation to more."

 

[Lynus Anireth]

King Randall considered her words, his expression softening slightly. "Fortnightly? My dear, I hope you understand that this matter is of utmost urgency. Weekly letters will suffice, but I may call upon you more frequently if needed."

"While your intentions are admirable, My Lady, getting close to those who are close to Lynus may not be the wisest course of action. Captain Cross, in particular, is more like a brother to him. He is loyal and perceptive, and he would likely see through any plan to influence Lynus through indirect means. He will protect Lynus at all costs, and Lynus values his opinion far more than my own."

He leaned forward with a sigh, his gaze steady and intense. "Arryn's loyalty to Lynus is unwavering, and he has been by his side through many trials. It is crucial that we do not arouse suspicion or undermine their bond. Lynus must come to see the value of this alliance on his own terms, without feeling manipulated or coerced. Be genuine in your efforts, and you will have a better chance of earning his trust. Don't be mistaken, Lady Pirian, I value my son's happiness. I wish him to find love in his marriage as much as his mother does, but sometimes, a little guidance is necessary. His future depends on this alliance."

He took another sip of his whisky, setting the glass down with a sense of finality. "Your dedication to this task is commendable. I trust you will handle it with the grace and intelligence that you have shown here today. I have every faith that you will succeed." he lifted his glass in a silent toast before he drank.

With a nod to his guard, he left the room to fetch the Prince. A young handmaiden stepped inside with a curtsy. "My King, My Lady."

"Lucinda, please escort Lady Pirian to the east gardens. My son will arrive shortly to give her a tour of the keep and show her to her chambers."

 

[Bexley]

Bexley leaned back in her chair, hands holding her wine and tapping her finger against the crystal chalice in thought. Hmm... Perhaps this sort of task did not need a plan of attack. No, it was simply up to Bexley to win him over with her charm, without the manipulations of magic and her ability to get what she wants.

And so Bexley gave the King a gracious smile, happy that he also trusted in her to play her part. His faith in her was touching, as a King he could very well take all of this a different way, but this whole alliance had been doctored between the King of Vel Anir and her father. The King would have been told the type of person Bexley was shaped into, but still was capable of a gentle heart.

She rose from her seat, curtsied as the King made his leave, and turned a dazzling smile to the handmaiden. Placing her unfinished glass aside, Bexley, dressed in the white and gold often seen on Pirian military uniforms, rubies and obsidian adorning her jewellery, made her way over to the one called Lucinda.

"Is it true the east gardens are one of the best private gardens in the keep, Lucinda?" She asked. "I always thought the gardens out the front were considered the most grand, but I guess I will have to see it for myself."

 

[Lynus Anireth]

Lucinda smiled softly. "Yes, My Lady. They are most beautiful." the handmaiden assured, and she was not wrong.

Nestled within the fortress-like walls of the keep, the gardens were a secluded haven of natural beauty. A place where the harshness of the world outside seemed to melt away.

They were a breathtaking expanse of greenery and colour. Tall, ancient trees framed the perimeter, their branches arching gracefully overhead to form a natural canopy that dappled the ground with soft, shifting patterns of light and shadow. The air was fragrant with scents of blooming flowers and fresh earth.

A series of meandering paths, crafted from smooth, pale stone, wound their way through carefully arranged beds of vibrant flowers, fish-filled ponds, and softly singing fountains. At the garden's centre stood an ornate pavilion of carved wood, its columns entwined with ivy and climbing, white roses and furnished with soft, cushioned seating arranged beneath its shade.

"I shall wait with you here, My Lady." Lucinda curtsied as she gestured to the pavilion.

~~~​

Lynus lay in the comfort of his chambers, Isla nestled against his chest, her head resting on him as his fingers gently combed through her soft hair. This was his sanctuary, the one place where the weight of his responsibilities could slip away, where the world outside didn't matter. The rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing set him at ease. This was peace.

He closed his eyes, allowing the stillness of the moment to wash over him, but the tranquility was abruptly interrupted by a knock at the door, its sharp sound cutting through the silence like a blade. Lynus' hand paused in Isla's hair, his body tensing slightly. He was about to ignore it, to let the world outside remain at bay a little longer, but the knock came again, more insistent this time.

Reluctantly, he shifted, murmuring an apology to Isla as he rose from the bed. "Stay here," he said softly, brushing a kiss against her forehead.

He crossed the room, pulling on a loose shirt and trousers before opening the door. His father's guard stood there, bowing slightly as Lynus appeared. "Your Highness, the King has requested that you go to the east gardens at once, to greet a guest."

Lynus frowned, the peacefulness he had just felt slipping away like sand through his fingers. "Now?" he asked, irritation clear in his voice. "Can my father not greet his own guests?"

"I'm afraid not, Your Highness," the guard replied, standing firm. "It is a direct order from the King. And.. He has asked that you go alone." he added, his gaze briefly straying into the room behind him.

A muscle feathered in Lynus' jaw, frustration simmering beneath the surface. He wanted to refuse, to stay here with Isla, where things were simple and uncomplicated. But things were tense enough between he and his father. He sighed, nodding as he closed the door and turning back to Isla with a look of regret. "I'm sorry. I'll be as quick as I can be, I promise." he grumbled, and made himself a little more presentable.

As Lynus stepped into the garden, his eyes immediately landed on a woman, and he fought the urge to laugh. Was his father seriously not through with this?

"Your Highness, may I present Lady Bexley Pirian." the guard introduced as they reached her, and with that, he and the handmaiden accompanying the lady both turned and left, leaving Lynus alone with the unfamiliar woman. The Prince's brow furrowed in confusion as he watched them leave, his gaze returning to Bexley. He offered her a short bow, clearing his throat as he struggled to school his expression into something moderately friendly.

"My Lady.." he began with a sigh, uncertainty in his voice. "You must excuse me, I wasn’t expecting guests today. How might I help you?"

 

[Bexley]

Bexley was quick to turn around, her white and gold embroidered skirts fanning around her and then puffing up as she descended into a deep curtsy seeing the Prince.

"Your Highness." Her heart beated hard and fast, and she had to allow herself a keep shuddering breath before rising again and meeting his gaze.

Despite the hand playing the cards dealt her way, it allowed her this chance to finally meet the Prince and heir to Vel Anir.

Gods, were they merciful.

"I am a guest here... on behalf of King Randall..." A small, polite smile found it's way to her painted lips. The warm pink shade only complimented her conplexion. "Truthfully, I thought he would have spoken to you about... my presence here."

Birdsong erupted to her right, and her attention snapped towards it to spy the pretty songbird. The gardens were beautiful, beyond anything Bexley had seen across the territories. "You see, the King and my father have been corresponding for some time... and an alliance has been struck." Turning back to meet his gaze still on her, she found herself smiling sheepishly now. "Marriage... between the both of us."

A deal made not by either of their hands. They simply had been born to others that could make such decisions.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

As the implications of her statement sank in, Lynus felt a storm of emotions churning inside him. He forced himself to remain calm, but it was everything he could do not to lose his temper in front of her. This was not her doing, after all; it was their father's decisions that had brought her here, an alliance forged without his knowledge or consent.

He dropped his gaze to the ground, shaking his head slowly as frustration flickered across his face. The tension in his stance was palpable, muscles tightening as he struggled to maintain his composure. “Forgive me, My Lady,” he said, his tone strained but measured. His gaze rose to meet hers. “But no, I wasn’t aware. And I’m sorry to inform you that your time has been wasted. I am no longer seeking a suitor, a fact that appears to have slipped my father’s aging mind.”

“Of course, I appreciate the honor of your presence,” he continued, forcing the words out with effort. “But I must ask you to convey my personal apologies to your father..” he dipped his chin, and braced himself for her reaction, hoping she would understand that this was not personal.

 

[Bexley]

Bexley's mouth opened to say something, but found herself closing it and dropping her head in thought. Of course, she expected him to react this way given what his father, the king, had informed her. But it was sincerity that made up her entire expression as she took a deep breath and lifted her head high.

She was not a lady. Bexley had not fully accustomed herself to the title she had been born to when she had gone through the Academy and years of serving as a Dreadlord. Her time as an Initiate had pitted her against her peers and play a deadly game of power and survival.

For her, this was no different.

Her father and the king had expected her to play her part, to win the prince over on her own merit. Of course, she would not use magic on him, not when her gaze lifted to catch sight of his handsome face. He had been honest, regretful, but she could see that frustration in his eyes.

"Your Highness, my father is not in the country, you see. I am here as a guest of the King, and if I were to inform anyone of your words... it would be to the King." Bexley chewed on her bottom lip to appear pensive, but in fact she was actively thinking of a way to keep their conversation flowing. They were strangers still, but even with his station as Prince would not sway Bexley to give up so easily.

"How does the King take to being told no?" Her kind smile was now sheepish, and Bexley ran both her hands down her skirts and turned away to pace a small distance. A deep breath, she turned away from the Prince. "Kress, I look foolish right now." She murmured to herself, still turned away from the Prince as a sigh took over her. She was a Dreadlord, powerful in her might that saw her conjure visions, objects, and a fast way to get all her desires with skilled effort. But this? Navigating a marriage match with a Prince that did not want her? It was a different game she had no rules to play, and his honest face was enough to disarm her idea of using her magic to get what she wanted.

She was close, oh so close to becoming a Princess, and then Queen. It would make her small and seemingly weak Great House powerful and protected, strengthening the future claim of Vel Anir if the future King was to sire a magically powerful heir.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

Lynus sighed heavily at her question. "Not well," he replied, his voice tinged with resignation. "Though honestly, you'd think he'd be used to it by now." He dragged a hand down his face, feeling the weight of his father's stubbornness pressing down on him.

As he watched Bexley pace, her demeanor shifting to something more vulnerable, he felt a pang of guilt. She looked sheepish, lost, and despite his own frustrations, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. When she murmured to herself, he saw just how difficult this situation was for her too.

"Please," he said, gesturing to one of the cushioned seats within the pavilion. "Sit. You don't look foolish, not at all." He took a seat himself, trying to offer some semblance of comfort in this awkward moment. "I'm truly sorry, My Lady. This is no fault of yours. I'm sure both of our fathers had good reason to believe we'd be a good match, and I truly mean no offense."

He paused, searching for the right words to explain. "It's just that… I've already met someone. It wasn't something I expected, and it certainly wasn't part of any plan." His voice grew quieter as he spoke, the tension in his chest tightening with each word. "My father refuses to acknowledge my happiness because it isn’t the match he'd have chosen for me. But it is the one I have chosen for myself, and… well, I never intended to court anyone at all until now."

He shook his head with a frustrated huff, feeling the futility of his explanation. "I doubt any of this is helping matters. My father is a very stubborn man, and he had no right to arrange this meeting without consulting me first. I apologise that you've been caught in the middle of this."

Lynus met her gaze, hoping she could see the sincerity in his eyes. "I don’t want to lead you on, My Lady. You deserve more than to be a pawn in our fathers’ schemes. I only wish there were a way to resolve this that didn’t cause either of us harm."

 

[Bexley]

Turning to look over her shoulder, she saw he was inviting her to sit. Slowly, calculating, Bexley began to take a seat and fidgeted with her hands on her lap. She stared down at them, adopting a look that was listening to the Prince speak, but hiding her thoughts from plotting how else to prepare him that she intended to stay.

"No need to aplogise, Your Highness." A weak smile tried to come to life on her pink painted lips. "You begin to learn that operating on the orders of those above you are not for your benefit. I have been a Dreadlord for a decade and have come to learn this." But the smile she gave him was not filled with sweetness of a Lady, nor politeness of being a daughter. It was something that expressed 'Oh, well.'

"In fact... I am to remain here in the Keep for an indefinite time." She had arrived with all the chests and boxes housing all her things, things she had not seen as they were newly made for her to wear or purchased to keep her looking like a Lady of the House Pirian. Her Dreadlord uniform and weapons, however, she had insisted be included in her possessions being brought to her chambers. Even though she was given leave from her duties, there would be a time she may need to don her armour or uniform, to wield her favoured dual sais. "Something about there being plenty of events this season..."

There was a hint of mischief in her pale gaze, "I actually have dancing lessons on my schedule." To start in two days and make up for all those years lost to not taking lessons that most ladies did in their noble upbringing. Hells, Bexley only began using the name Pirian after the revolution.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

The revelation that Bexley was a Dreadlord took him by surprise. His expression remained composed, but he couldn’t fully hide the flicker of discomfort that crossed his face. A Dreadlord in the Keep, and one sent to him as a potential bride—this was far more complicated than he had anticipated. He didn't dare to ask what her abilities were..

As she continued, informing him of her indefinite stay, Lynus fought the urge to drop his head into his hands and curse his father’s name. This was no simple courtship; it was a carefully orchestrated plan, and he could already feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him. Isla would not take this well. The entire situation was a tangled mess of politics and duty, and now it was one he couldn’t easily escape.

"I see…" Lynus finally responded, his frown deepening as he scratched at his jaw. He let out a sigh, trying to gather his thoughts. "Well, I truly hope your stay with us is not in vain. There are many events, that’s true, and perhaps you might find a suitor after all." His tone was polite, but there was an undercurrent of resignation in his voice. "I do have a few cousins; perhaps you might meet with them while you are here."

It was an attempt, however weak, to deflect the situation, to steer her attention elsewhere. But even as he said it, he knew it was a hollow offer. His father’s intentions were clear, and Bexley’s presence in the Keep was not a coincidence. Still, he had to maintain some semblance of decorum, even if he felt trapped by the circumstances.

"Either way, My Lady," he continued, his voice measured, "I apologise for the miscommunication. I assume the guest wing has been prepared for you. I’m sure you’ll find it comfortable, but if there is anything that you need, our staff will accommodate you."

He stood, feeling the need to create some distance, both physically and emotionally. "If there’s nothing else you require at the moment, I’ll leave you to settle in..." Lynus offered a polite bow.

 

[Bexley]

"I do have a few cousins; perhaps you might meet with them while you are here."

Her jaw tightened and set hearing this, and Bexley had to look away from the Prince to hide the slight irritation that flickered in her pale gaze. She plastered a well trained smile on her lips, murmuring a sweet "I am sure I will meet all your relations during my stay."

But he was so eager to be away from her. She could read it in his face, his tone, his movements. He had every right to leave her be, to now relinquish his role as host and be on his way, but Bexley was not done. Desperation was never something she resorted to, not unless the manipulation could be put to work before her magic could ever be a card to play.

"Yes, of course, my prince." Her voice was soft, wobbly almost, and still her face was not looking his way. Bexley tried with all her might to sound sweet and pleasant, but willed tears began to fall down her cheeks. It made her eyes glisten in such a way, they turned a pale green beneath her dark lashes that now clumped together from blinking back her tears. She made no move to wipe them, not wishing to draw attention to them should he catch the movement in his peripherals. "I will just... just sit here for a moment and enjoy..."

She could not finish what she had tried to say before a light sob bubbled past her lips. Her eyes closed shut, dropping the welling tears to join the stream down cheeks reddening.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

Lynus froze the moment he heard her voice quiver, that soft, wobbly tone catching him completely off guard. When he turned back to her, the sight of tears slipping down her cheeks, making her eyes glisten, sent a jolt of panic through him. He cursed silently under his breath. This was the last thing he needed—what he had intended as a polite but firm dismissal had clearly hurt her far more than he had anticipated.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, guilt twisting in his gut. He wasn’t heartless, and seeing her in distress tugged at his sense of decency, despite the complicated situation. Lynus hesitated, unsure of what to do.

“I.. Lady Bexley… please,” he started, his voice softer now, filled with regret. He took a few steps toward her, unsure whether to reach out or give her space. “It wasn’t my intention to upset you.”

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration with himself. The image of Isla flashed in his mind, and he felt a pang of guilt for even being in this situation. But here was Bexley, clearly distressed, and he couldn’t just walk away from her like this.

“Please, don’t cry,” Lynus said gently, as he sat back down beside her, though he felt entirely out of his depth. “This whole situation… it’s just… complicated. I’m sorry if I came off as dismissive. You’re a guest here, and I want you to feel welcome, truly.”

He wanted to reassure her, to somehow fix the mess his father had caused, but he wasn’t sure how. His hands fidgeted at his sides as he struggled to find the right thing to say. “Look, maybe we could start over?” He offered, his tone tentative. “I’d like to at least try to make your stay here more… comfortable. I'm sure I can spare some time to give you a tour of the gardens..”

 

[Bexley]

Bexley wiped at her cheeks as he approached her, and the sniffling gave way as the Prince took to seat himself beside her. His presence was comforting, and beneath the tears and distress, Bexley was happy he softened and stayed.

"You must think of me weak for being like this." She sniffled, sighing as the tears continued down her flushed cheeks. "A Dreadlord crying over failure." Bexley inhaled and loosed that breath, turning her face to look at Lynus with a sad expression.

"No.. no you are right, my prince. I should... I should go see your father and let him know..." Grey eyes lifted to look at the vines and flowers drooping from the top of the posts of the pavilion. "And I should... write to my father."

Bexley shuffled in her seat before standing. Crossing to the other side of the pavilion, she shook her hands at her sides and inhaled deeply. Her exhale came out shaky. "I apologise, Prince Lynus... I, admit that my hopes were up at the idea of this match... the Pirians have always struggled in terms of power, and I had been away from my family for many years to serve Vel Anir... but still, they welcomed be back and I just wanted to make them proud of me... not by being a Dreadlord." The Pirian Lady could not bear to look at the Prince, afraid her honesty would no longer work under his gaze. "Perhaps a non-princely cousin is all I am worth."