He was troubled โ deeply. Heโd been turning it over in his mind again and again. Guilt, and confusion. It all welled inside him, along side that unmistakable feeling that was like finding the correct key for a lock. Guinevere had that power โ to unlock him, and break him open. Perhaps that was what was happening now, in the hours that came after. The key had fit into place at last, and he was open, and exposed, and pouring out.
โI โ I never asked them. Before,โ he said, his eyes still glazed. Casimirโs riverish gaze lifted to meet Celiaโs as she took the glass from him, and his fingers remained there a moment โ not fully releasing the glass, hesitation โ but did a moment later. His eyes flickered away again, to the fire that crackled on the wall. โDidnโt ask her. Not soon enough.โ
He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his hands rubbing over his face. โTwice. Twice, Celia.โ Seven Hells. Seven Hells, how was he going to live up to it? To her? โWhat if I am just like him? Puppet on stringsโฆโ Lysโ plaything. His words changed to a grumble, and then a deep sigh. โThree times. Not a single one my idea.โ He paused again. โFour. Canโt make my own choices. Just like him.โ
What if heโd asked her sooner? When worry didnโt crease her face, and laughter creased more of his? Why had she had to ask him? โAnd he was a coward.โ Casimir was, too. โCan I have my glass back, iasc beag?โ
the way he speaks, it makes her think that he has had far more to drink than she had previously thought. though he doesn't really slur his words, what he says doesn't seem to entirely make sense-- at least not to her. it's as if he's spitting out his thoughts in a rushed, jumbled manner. it's all just spilling out of him, and not at all in any kind of order.
"what? what are you talking about, casimir?" celia is trying to follow him, but she's still a bit lost. there's this haunted look in his eyes that frightens her, makes her worry for him and his wellbeing. she's trying to follow, but she can't quite do that given that he hasn't given her much context to his words.
the princess leans forward when he does, frowning at just how troubled he really is. "puppet? you're not a puppet, cas," she tries to reassure him but honestly, she can't be sure if he's really hearing her at this point. the king seems all too wrapped up in his own thoughts.
"you are nothing like him, cas. please, listen to me," she tries to tell him, desperation in her tone. "just... just drink some more water, will you? i will give it back after you've had some more water."


















