#ro_darin

“Do knock in the future, what if I had been indecent?” She asks, crossing her legs and making sure that the robe slips a bit from her shoulders, that the slit opens to reveal a bare leg up to her knee. Darin looks at her, stops and covers his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I did not think, I just…” he stumbles over his apology and Kallas raises her other brow as well. Her friend’s shoulders are sagged, his usually put together look that made him look regal to strangers’ eyes was wrinkly, and was that a stain on his lapel?

“It’s fine. When did you sleep last? You look exhausted, my dear,” she rises from her plush seat and walks to him, a gentle tug from his elbow and she’s escorting him to her seat. He collapses into it, head in his hands as Kallas goes to her secret stash and pours a strong drink for him. Darin takes it and almost downs the whole drink in one.

“I don’t have time to sleep, to think. And now my mother is hounding me,” he sighs and slumps backwards, face turned to the ceiling, eyes closed. Kallas tops his glass, silently then leans against her dress, taking her cup. Darin looks exhausted, older than he should. They are neither even thirty years old and if she looks closely she can spot a few grey hairs at his temples. So far Darin has managed to avoid physical scars, but the mental ones might hound him far to the future. This all when they are only after one battle that could turn out into years long campaign.

“Why is she doing now? Is this war not enough for her and her honour?” she barely manages to hide her sneer behind the steaming cup. The woman was a menace and good luck for anyone who married into the family.

“I, according to her, should marry to form stronger alliances with the north. Or the south. Or anyone really,” Darin groans and Kallas reaches over to gently pat his shorn hair.

“I did not know that things were that bad. All the reports and people I have spoken to make our chances favourable,” she pauses and tugs his ear gently, “make you favourable to all the others pursuing the crown.” Before she can retreat, he snatches her hand, big warm hand cradling her slender one. His lips are dry, cracked from the sun as he kisses her palm.

“They are not. But according to her, and I hate that she is right, it would look better if I had a wife with a stronger claim to one of the lands. To gain support,” Darin sighs almost letting go of her hand but then looking up at her, eyes widening and smile starting to spread.

“You could marry me.” He breathes out, an almost silent exclamation like he had found salvation. Kallas huffs and tries to pull her hand away.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You will be a king someday. You need someone with more stellar reputation.”

“You are a stellar reputation! You have the connections, the standing and while true your family has no lineage to claim noble origins they were respected and so are you,” Darin stands up, one hand rushing to put his glass away and the other landing heavily on Kallas’ shoulder. She looks up at him, towering over her, and he surely must strike a heroic figure to follow to those who don’t know him like she does. To her, in this moment, he looks like the earnest teenager who had offered to show her around the library when everyone else had turned their noses at her, at her lack of noble family. Part of her wants to agree immediately, give him everything he wants, as he so deserves. They are not teenagers anymore, don’t have the luxury of making mistakes and getting away, laughing about them later.

“You know I can’t,” she turns her head away, can’t look at him anymore. “You will need children someday. That’s not something I can do for you,” she whispers. Silence and the roughened but gentle hand takes hold of her chin, tipping it up, forcing Kallas to look at him.

“I don’t care about that. You are the closest one I have on this plane, I would travel over the seas for you,” Darin’s voice is low, husky from exhaustion from the drink. From the confession. “If I’m forced to marry, to have a wife, I can’t think of no one better. I’d give anything you want to make you happy.” A smile, soft sincere one. “You are my wife in practice already. Looking after my household, my affairs.”

A laugh escapes her, “Financing your war and keeping you clothed and armoured so you can claim what you must is hardly the same as running a household.”

“Then agree. When this is over, when we arrive at Stanswick be the queen for me. For the betterment of everyone. I know I can trust you not to run off with all the coins in the kingdom if given the key,” he looks at her, still smiling. Kallas sighs, takes hold of the hand holding her face.

“No promises,” she winks, and he laughs. It is good to hear, it has been weeks since the last time he laughed from the heart. Then she turns serious again, squeezing his fingers, “I will not share your bed, and even if I did, I can’t give you a child,” she reminds him again. Darin shakes his head and kisses her forehead.

“I don’t care about that. You are my friend, closest one I have ever had. Besides,” his tone lowers dangerously low, “I think it will be best for the world if there are no child to continue this bloodline.”

There’s not much else for her to do but hug him tightly. “You would be a good father, despite…”

“Let’s not talk about that. Not now,” he interrupts her and steps away from the hug. Eyes stern, mouth a tight line he goes down on one knee.

“Kallas, of the Western seas, will you marry me and in be crowned the queen by my side when the time comes?” he asks, and she wants to laugh or cry. Both perhaps? She does neither, and kneels in front of him.

“I will marry you, but remember our past and your promises,” she says holding the same serious tone, watching as he takes her hand, kissing her knuckles. The kiss is barely more than a brush of lips, but it was more of a proposal than she had ever hoped for.

“I’ll inform my mother and others, and I’m sorry but I can’t give you the grand feast that you’d deserve,” he says and Kallas can see her old friend once more, instead of the would-be-king he tries to be. She lets Darin help her up from the floor.

“Under the circumstances that is acceptable. But I the engagement gift better be worth it for me to leave my adventurous days, sailing the seas behind me,” she smiles, and he gifts her with his second laugh of the evening. They toast with their respective glasses and the night turns darker as they sit, drink and talk.