more often than not, the prince finds himself drawn into similar circumstances like this one — summoned by the lady stella with some peculiar request and the full expectation that sanbreque's dutiful prince shall see it through to completion. in childhood, her whims had been much easier ... pertaining to the castle, or the gardens. now, however, her stella's requests threaten to send him across half of valisthea itself. and never once, does refusal truly reach his lips. perhaps, because a certain thrill is found within the challenge, or because there is something precious in the sight of stella smiling. ❝ ah, my apologises. in pursuit of an exceedingly rare paint, then. ❞ he indulges in her correction, lowering his head in exaggerated concession, but with the faintest scrunch of his nose.
and when that radiant smile blooms across stella's face, bright as bahamut's own holy light, dion feels something in his chest ease. she latches onto his arm, propriety utterly abandoned ... and dion makes no effort to pull away. instead, he allows himself to be lightly tugged along, with a quiet scoff. ❝ have you ever attempted denying yourself something, stella? i fear it may as well be impossible. at some point, surrender simply becomes the wiser course. ❞ and there, a rare smile takes upon the dominant's face with a softness few are ever privileged enough to witness.
stella possess an uncanny talent for easing the burdens from his shoulders, even if only for fleeting moments between duty and war. ❝ besides, i cannot in good conscience, ignore word of my people suffering beneath some marauding beast. ❞ his tone carries with it his princely resolve. ❝ i shall make swift work of the creature and return before long. you will not notice my absence. ❞ though lately, his absences have grown to be longer and more frequent, as war stretches endlessly across the realm ... while the emperor's gaze remains fixed upon conquest. but dion, hailed as their champion, cannot bear to turn away from those who place their faith in him.
even if, part of this motivation, now lies in retrieving some impossibly rare pigment for stella's next masterpiece. the thought alone, coaxes yet another smile. ❝ tell me then, what manner of color is worth sending me out for? ❞ dion's eyes narrow slightly toward her once more, curiously fond. ❝ and where, precisely, did you hear rumors of such a thing? ❞ there has always been something unusual about stella — untouched by the hollow pretences that's so common among the ladies of court.
maybe, that is why dion has come to treasure her company as dearly as he does ... as the sibling he's never truly had. or rather, the sibling he might've chosen and preferred. ❝ unless, of course, you conjured this beast yourself solely to send me chasing after it, hm? ❞ the jest comes easily enough, as dion reaches out with point finger and presses it against the tip of her nose. ❝ i should think that well within your capabilities, my dear stella. ❞
