Heâs been trained to read the room. To read the context clues. To read politics and scheming and planning and people. Heâs a Prince, itâs either that or accidentally drink poison by age 15. And he reads her and âŚ
Sheâs impossibly wealthy. The dress isnât a fabric he can recognize, but itâs beaded with cut diamonds, faintly milky opals that shimmer with a rainbow, little pale aquamarines, and somewhere are little bells gently ringing with each step - heâs a Prince and he canât afford to dress like that. The slippers ring too ⌠there is nothing like that crafted by the hands of humans. Thatâs fairy stuff. She has an in with them that eclipses royal politics. She is powerful in the Old Ways.
All this wraps around the poorest woman heâs ever seen in his entire life, and heâs seen some very, very, poor people in his time.
Poor in money, but poor in âoh you poor thing!â as well. This is someone who has been robbed blind. This is someone who carried themselves waiting for the lash, for a browbeating, for harsh, cruel, abrupt, punishment.
He expects her to be haughty, or hard, or meek or⌠something else⌠but sheâs just nice. Sheâs just ⌠nice.
The rigid posture comes out of his back, his tongue unsticks. Sheâs like sitting by the embers of a low, calm, fire. He feels warmed and rested simply speaking to her. He wonders if itâs magic, and it might be, but if it is it is magic that is her own.
And that terrifies him, because heâs trained to see these things and he knows someone with a cruel hand is waiting to douse her, and snuff her, and beat the last glimmer out of her shining eyes - eyes that put that dress to shame and and and and⌠sheâs gone.
Oh god, sheâs gone. It will be all over her sweet, kind, warm face that she transgressed and ⌠oh god theyâll kill her, whoever they are. This will embarrass them and if thereâs anything he knows, itâs that you donât humiliate someone who has power over you and walk away unscathed.
And all he has is a fairy slipper that will only ever fit her foot (itâs not merely shoe size, itâs a kind of spiritual fit as well), and the vain hope that he can keep such a bright light from burning out. It doesnât even touch his heart that what heâs feeling is a kind of pure philia, not until it enraptures him soul to bones, all at once. Oh god, oh no, oh shit⌠heâs reached well above his station, butâŚhe can try to be good and worthy.
The way he sees it, sometimes even the strongest people can be brought low and need just⌠a little help. She had enough in her to do whatever she had to do to free herself of those evil relations if she had to, but she shouldnât have to. Thereâs no glory in blood. Sometimes itâs okay for the ending to be happily ever after.
blakekathryn
kianamaiart
dailybridgerton
prguitarman
discoholicmusic
romaincrisis
