- Messages
- 26
- Character Biography
- Link
Her anger did not frighten him. It unsettled him.
He watched it take shape, watched her spine straighten, watched the tremor leave her hands. The girl who had braced for reprimand was gone. In her place stood something steadier, something sharpened by conviction.
When she moved to pass him, he meant to let her, but instinct made him move. His hand came out before he had fully decided to act, fingers closing around her elbow, not harshly, but firm enough to halt her retreat. The contact startled him as much as it must have startled her.
“Wait. We are not done here." he said, and yet almost immediately he released her, as though aware that holding her any longer would turn the gesture into something else. His hand dropped back to his side, flexing once before going still.
He drew in a slow breath. “You’re right,” he admitted quetly. “I do not know you.”
His gaze searched her face now with less accusation and more consideration.
“But I have lived too long among men who use lineage as license,” he continued. “Men who speak of honour while plotting conquest. I have seen kindness accepted with one hand and repaid with the other wrapped around a blade. So when I look at you, I do not see only you. I see the court behind you. The crown above it. The machinery that turns regardless of whether you wish it to or not.”
He did not step toward her again. If anything, he seemed to anchor himself where he stood, as though careful not to press further into her space.
“You speak of old rules,” he continued. “I do not doubt that you believe in them. I do not doubt that you would honour them.. But belief does not always survive pressure.”
He held her gaze steadily now.
“If your father were to demand answers from you in the name of family… if the King were to question you in the name of duty, or deny your betrothal to our dear Prince… you would not be facing a simple choice between truth and lie. You would be standing against everything that has shaped you. Everything you've been raised for." he said, disdainfully.
His voice lowered, losing its edge. “I should not have brought you here, but I cannot keep you here either."
After a moment, he shifted aside fully, clearing her path. “You may leave if you wish,” he said. “I will not stop you again.”
And though he stood tall as ever, something in his expression had changed, just enough to reveal that this was not suspicion born of cruelty. It was protection born of experience.
He watched it take shape, watched her spine straighten, watched the tremor leave her hands. The girl who had braced for reprimand was gone. In her place stood something steadier, something sharpened by conviction.
When she moved to pass him, he meant to let her, but instinct made him move. His hand came out before he had fully decided to act, fingers closing around her elbow, not harshly, but firm enough to halt her retreat. The contact startled him as much as it must have startled her.
“Wait. We are not done here." he said, and yet almost immediately he released her, as though aware that holding her any longer would turn the gesture into something else. His hand dropped back to his side, flexing once before going still.
He drew in a slow breath. “You’re right,” he admitted quetly. “I do not know you.”
His gaze searched her face now with less accusation and more consideration.
“But I have lived too long among men who use lineage as license,” he continued. “Men who speak of honour while plotting conquest. I have seen kindness accepted with one hand and repaid with the other wrapped around a blade. So when I look at you, I do not see only you. I see the court behind you. The crown above it. The machinery that turns regardless of whether you wish it to or not.”
He did not step toward her again. If anything, he seemed to anchor himself where he stood, as though careful not to press further into her space.
“You speak of old rules,” he continued. “I do not doubt that you believe in them. I do not doubt that you would honour them.. But belief does not always survive pressure.”
He held her gaze steadily now.
“If your father were to demand answers from you in the name of family… if the King were to question you in the name of duty, or deny your betrothal to our dear Prince… you would not be facing a simple choice between truth and lie. You would be standing against everything that has shaped you. Everything you've been raised for." he said, disdainfully.
His voice lowered, losing its edge. “I should not have brought you here, but I cannot keep you here either."
After a moment, he shifted aside fully, clearing her path. “You may leave if you wish,” he said. “I will not stop you again.”
And though he stood tall as ever, something in his expression had changed, just enough to reveal that this was not suspicion born of cruelty. It was protection born of experience.