i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
He would have laughed to know her thoughts. Even now, with his ambition splashed across his skin alongside side the gore, he does not feel like the king or god she imagines him. Perhaps it is all mere perception, but in this his truth is vastly different from hers. His truth is that he is nothing more than a mere man. One as prone to the whims and foibles of men as so many others.
But he would be a fool to tell her that.
In the end, they are neither what they were supposed to be. Neither have lived the potential their parents saw in them when they were little more than gangly limbs and bleary eyes. It is the reality of their nature, to be both so much and nothing like what fates had been imagined of them. The only thing left to do is to accept it.
Her presence imparts a softness to him, cushioning the unforgiving lines of his battered body, her shadows cool against bruised skin. She scolds him, and he can only smile. It is difficult for him to be still, but for her, he would try. There is a certain relief in feeling the ragged edges of his torn flesh knit back together beneath her ministrations. Relief and agitation, strange though it may be. Does he truly deserve such kindness from her?
He already knows the answer to that, though he is loath to admit it.
Her questions are a soft accusation, drawing the blue of his eyes to hers. She hadn’t meant it as such, but it is nonetheless. His mobile lips twitch with his amusement as he stares at her. Sweet Elliana, with her wildflower spirit and resistant compassion. How could he possibly explain it to her?
“No,” he replies simply before reaching forward to brush his lips along a stray strand of her forelock. Her skin is soft over the delicate lines of her features, but he doesn’t linger. He feels too much a beast in this moment to sully her quiet, untamed perfection. “It’s the cost of love.” His lips twitch into a genuine grin. “Of family.”
reave
@Elliana