[ she could say any number of things to him. i’ve never wanted to hurt anyone less, not now, with him freshly returned to her, a fragility in his evasive gaze. for a moment, she presses her bitten and blunt nails into his skin, too ruined to bleed him even if she wished it. a persistent pressure, nothing more. ]
[ wryly, ] Men have fought and killed for me before. [ a jape, a truth. she thinks she hears them, sometimes, harwin strong and his father clawing at the doors, begging for a quicker death than burning. the queen makes a wish. ] My queensguard trounced an entire tourney with my favour in hand. [ her fingers curl into his palm. she follows him down, brushing a kiss to his temple before laying her head on his shoulder. ] And then named me the Queen of Love and Beauty before mine own husband’s eyes.
[ for the slight of disrespecting her, ser criston smashed a man’s skull (a fact she’ll recall again later, when her newest knight dies the same way; the gods punish her). ]
I prefer this to all of that. [ closeness, over brutish displays. ] I prefer you, Embry.
[ sometimes cruel, oft careless, but not monstrous. simultaneously honest and evasive, wretched and kind. it’s easier to confess with her eyes fixed above them. ]
— I shall try.
[ to seek him out when the impulse to bleed herself strikes. she cannot promise she’ll inflict the pain bubbling inside her on him instead, but she can come to him, if she remembers herself in the stress and chaos. she can allow him to bear witness, when they have seen the other clearly for this long. ]
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[ wryly, ] Men have fought and killed for me before. [ a jape, a truth. she thinks she hears them, sometimes, harwin strong and his father clawing at the doors, begging for a quicker death than burning. the queen makes a wish. ] My queensguard trounced an entire tourney with my favour in hand. [ her fingers curl into his palm. she follows him down, brushing a kiss to his temple before laying her head on his shoulder. ] And then named me the Queen of Love and Beauty before mine own husband’s eyes.
[ for the slight of disrespecting her, ser criston smashed a man’s skull (a fact she’ll recall again later, when her newest knight dies the same way; the gods punish her). ]
I prefer this to all of that. [ closeness, over brutish displays. ] I prefer you, Embry.
[ sometimes cruel, oft careless, but not monstrous. simultaneously honest and evasive, wretched and kind. it’s easier to confess with her eyes fixed above them. ]
— I shall try.
[ to seek him out when the impulse to bleed herself strikes. she cannot promise she’ll inflict the pain bubbling inside her on him instead, but she can come to him, if she remembers herself in the stress and chaos. she can allow him to bear witness, when they have seen the other clearly for this long. ]