She observes him: how he carefully caresses the flower, how the ivory of its petals reflected in his eyes. To think, he was once faraway from her reach, and now: he was close enough to touch. A man who she once observed from afar, standing tall as a soldier&prince, was now a dear friend. (Perhaps even more than that.)
     She is taken off-guard by his words. Cheeks flush at the thought that she is more beauteous than the flower. The beating beneath her chest hastens, hesitant to meet his gaze once more, but she does while in reply to his statement.
     âYou are too kind, my lord.â
     The noblewoman was not often met with such compliments. Unknown to most, self-doubt resided in her fragile heart: one grown from fear that she could not live up to otherâs expectations. In a way, she admired himâ how he never ceased to impress noble and common eyes; yet he didnât seem to worry of what they thought of him. (The way he offered her a dance during the ball made it seem as so.) But: what did he think of her?
     She bats her lashes after hearing his offer. He was a true gentleman, one truly worthy of becoming king. Despite this, she did not wish to burden him further. Even so, the way his eyes twinkledâ did he mean what he said?
     âO-Oh, please do not trouble yourself. You have already honored me with your presence.â A pause, as she takes into consideration his lifestyle as prince. He must be rather busy. A humble tone in her voice, as she begins to inquire about her fear.
     âIf I may ask, are you not at all troubled by visiting me? I fear that I may be delaying you from your duties.â
SOMETHING IN HIS CAGED CHEST bursts as the girl's pallor takes on a cherry hue, steeled features rounded out to something less intimidating and more taciturn than anything. He, colossus / Eligos incarnate, strives to make himself known as both tyrant and caretaker, a fair man with only the interest of his country at his heart, so is it not plausible that in the midst of his battle-earned reputation he returns to remember the simpler things? The things he swears as a knight to protect? Footsteps come to a halt. He turns to Rinea and takes her hands in his.
âA man is not living if all he knows is combat, and in order to lead my people I must first learn what it is I am protecting.â
HE OATHS TO NOT BE SELFISH, not like those hedonistic swines polluting Zofia's blood vessels; nay, he will be as strict as Duma, leading his people through trying times with a stern hand (Â rigidity is all he knew at a young age: to serve as scion to a throne long beyond his temperamental reach ) and serve as savior-martyr-warlord if he must. He will be the stick that waves away lesser beings, the code of chivalry threaded into his spine.
HER MODESTY DOES NOT GO UNNOTICED and if she thinks herself a burden rather than a guiding light, then he will insistâmake her think otherwise.
âI will have the flowers delivered to you by a messenger as early as tomorrow's morn.â
UMBRAL TONES DOTH SHIFT to something kinder, ( sugar in black coffee ) the touch of the girl's slender fingers against his, larger and calloused by war, akin to wielding glassâhe fears that she'll break in his touch. He lets go with electricity still tangible in his palm and warmth blossoms at the base of his chest.
âLet us proceed, shall we?â