| |
Neutral
|
Rian had offered Tate a stiff nod as she excused herself for a drink, reluctant to admit he was averse to her drinking, if only due to the implications of the last very memorable time she had. For a moment, Rian had found himself watching her, specifically with her family. In a way he hadn’t anticipated, Rian found himself mourning his own. Some manifestation of trepidation prevented him from directly mingling with her family as well, as if it could have been something he could break without trying. Tate being arranged to wed him had garnered the worst kind of attention already, and Rian was not sure he could ever survive knowing her family's affiliation to royalty could bring harm to them. Royalty is a curse, and he did not wish to pollute her entire family tree with it.
Lena, as she had come to frequently remind Spencer was her name, was a very forward girl. Maybe it was mildly more amusing to Spencer because he already had a few drinks, or maybe it was because Lena was a perfect distraction to things he would rather not think about, but regardless she was interesting company. She was pretty, he would give Lena that - but in more ways than one, she was also a reminder of Tate. Speaking of the devil, the impending Queen had elicited Spencer to consciously look between Lena and the room as if Tate wasn’t there at all. While there was a tension in his demeanor, he had initially promised himself he would bite his tongue. This is a wedding, after all, and he didn’t want to cause a scene of any kind.
“How could I not enjoy the company of someone who is so transparent about enjoying mine?” Spencer had commented with a thin smile in response to Tate’s eyeroll, albeit with a seething undertone before turning his attention back toward Lena. At least Tate’s cousin seems decisive in what she wants, and maybe what frustrated him the most about Tate right now was that he didn’t know anything about how she felt, not really. It was enough to make him reconsider every small moment they had. Made him regret them. And maybe those growing regrets would be able to harden himself enough to hate Tate, if only to spare himself from whatever had been abandoned before she married Rian.
Rian strayed from political conversations when they arose, finding himself only desiring casual or small talk. It was nice to have a conversation that held no meaning. Refreshing even. With Tate’s presence at his side again, he smiled down at her and lifted his arm to better entangle with hers. “Well, it’s not everyone else’s happiness I’m concerned about today,” he replied, before his smile thinned into a neutral line at the presence of one of the men of the council. Expressing no outward reluctance at allowing Tate to join the man for a dance, internally, Rian was surprised to find himself upset. He was concerned for her safety, he had convinced himself. But he could have sworn he felt something both familiar and foreign after letting her go.
Lena was not as great a dancer as she was pretty, which Spencer had found himself learning the hard way. It had actually been some time since he’d danced with anyone, let alone someone not of nobility and not with any ballroom dancing experience. His feet hurt. And yet, he remained close enough to guide her steps with a hand at the small of her back and another at her waist. Perhaps it might have looked a little intimate, and yet it was solely because Spencer had to concentrate on dancing for the both of them. “I’m almost sorry to pass you to another,” Spencer said with faux remorse, “I’ve never danced with someone as graceful as you,” he added with a smile, because he was more than thrilled to salvage whatever feeling was left in his feet by trading partners.
As those dancing collided in well-timed choreography and traded partners through a small series of turns and elaborate spins, Spencer was disturbed to be looking down at Tate. Every instinct told him to walk away without a word. That was actually the only thing he wanted to do. But that would make a scene that would only put Tate in an uncomfortable position. Reluctantly and with cold mechanics, Spencer placed one hand on her waist and the other on her upper arm. Conveniently his gaze found itself looking over her through the stiff dance, refusing to acknowledge her as anything more than a temporary dancing partner. But at least Tate wasn’t stepping on his feet. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Tate could feel her body getting tired from being so tense, especially as the council member, Quinton she had learned his name- tightened his hold on her even as others were changing partners; he did not seem to happy to let her go. Quinton however was blissfully unaware of the emotional wreckage that was Tate's heart; not that he would care if he did. His grimy hands seemed to dip lower before his body was forced away from hers and she was met with the only man who made her want to ruin her duties. Holding back her initial response to his hands on her; and the way he pointedly ignored her Tate sighed. "I am sorry." She whispered before she was thrown into a spin before coming back to met his body. But still her words had to be careful especially with many listening ears and gazes upon the prince and future queen. Everyone was looking for a slip up, even Lena as she removed herself from an older gentleman's grip- and then storming off into the crowd likely to be going met her family again. Tate turned her attention back to Spencer, her heart betraying her at the flutter it seemed to awaken when meeting his gaze. She didn't hold it for long, for the sake of doing something brash and harmful to not only herself but her family. Rian. "Seems your intent on ignoring me. So tell me what is it that you would have me do? Because it will ruin your familys name, mine- if I so much as think of the one thing I want but can't have." She whispered- waiting for a response that she hoped would not bring her to her knees. For once Tate had wanted to choose something for herself, but held back her own happiness to please everyone else. And she would gladly do so again if it meant that no one got hurt. Even now guilt washed over her soul; staining it with the thoughts that were forbidden; words that should not and could not be spoken. Tate was a mess of gorgeous chaos and anyone who looked deep enough could see that it was both a blessing and curse to feel so deeply. But Tate had always been a dreamer, grasping onto the threads of her dreams as if she could hold onto them; make them come alive. The music had become a second sound only hearing the breaths coming from Spencer; and her own a ragged mess as they danced around the floor; and eventually like all things good- the dance ended. She pulled away first, not wanting to feel the sting of pain she knew would follow when she had to walk away; when both of them did for the sake of the Kingdom. If not for their broken hearts. She missed his warmth the second she stepped away from him, her throat burning with unshed tears. "Thank you. For everything." She added softly before rushing into the crowd; disappearing only to reappear at Rian's side. And yet Tate still could not think of anything more wrong than wearing the white gown and pretending to be someone she wasn't. As all royal weddings do, this one seemed to last forever; the celebration of Rian and Tate something that provided a distraction. A brief moment of fun before the real work began. Because soon they would have a Queen regardless if they wanted one or not. Though it was only Tate they did not want; not a Queen. Having spent the rest of her night away from the dance floor and instead next to Rian Tate was slowly growing more..bitter. One emotion she should not feel on her wedding day. Tate looked up at Rian as soon as they were alone again; someone always flocking towards them for something for the Court or themselves. "Am I to return to my old rooms? Or yours tonight?" She asked, flushing at the thought of sharing a bed with Rian; husband or not the thought had her wanting to turn tail and run. The prospect that one day she would not have a choice unless she wanted to get overthrown; having a useless Queen would not work for these people. An heir would eventually have to come into play; and Tate was beyond not ready for children. Much less sharing a living quarter with a man she was only beginning to understand. While she knew Rian would never force anything upon her; there were some things even he could not control. Like the councils wants and desires when it came to their own marriage. And now here Tate stood wishing that the earth would open up and shallow her whole. Maybe then someone worthy could then rule beside Rian; someone worthy could feel what they felt towards Spencer. Tate herself did not deserve these men; they were much too good for the darkness in her heart. Because Tate should not wish that it was Spencer as her Husband; nor should she wish to just disappear in a world where only happiness mattered. Tate was beautifully out of place, and sometimes she wished that for once she could fit in because the one place that felt like home stood across the ballroom. Unreachable. What a curse to be understanding but never understood. Tate only hoped that her last breath would be one of relief and not tainted with the possibilities that were endless in her mind. But she would rather think rationally than overthink herself into a catastrophe. But what she feared most was her heart because although her mind could bring shame to natural disaster mother nature could offer, her heart can make it look as if everything is okay..and perhaps that it what made her dangerous. Because there might come a day where her heart could not contain it anymore and all the resent she held back would wash this whole Kingdom away. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
There was no real consolation Tate’s apology held in any capacity for Spencer. He spun her away from him, wishing she’d do them both a favor and let go, but that bitter desire was not provided as she returned to closer proximity to him. For the better half of a few moments, he allowed his silence to speak for him. It was a strange parallel to have the person he had given expressions of genuine feelings for in his grasp, and yet only invoke a torture he did not wish to endure. There wasn’t even any point in daring to consider what a perfect world would be like because he knew such a thing was an impossible feat to ever achieve. For so long he had been content with living off of an inferno of spite and hate-fueled ambitions, for so long he told himself that was the only form of content worth having. And then there came Tate, and he hated her for what she had made him feel.
Betraying his goal of pretending he was dancing with a ghost, regrettably, he met Tate’s gaze. It was miserable to see himself reflected in her green eyes when he hadn’t minded seeing himself held in her eyes a short time ago. The disruptions of blue in the otherwise perfect green pools looking up at him were so misleading - they held a softness that would compel anyone to believe it was fine enough to slip into. The story her eyes didn’t tell though was how capable they were of drowning someone in agony. As Tate spoke, Spencer gave a subtle shake of her head. She didn’t get it. She was talking to him as if there was a slim possibility of taking a path that would be comfortable for both of them. Couldn’t she see that anything remotely possible died when that ring slid onto her finger?
“Do you actually expect me to give you an answer to an impossible question?” Spencer asked in return, careful to maintain his gaze with hers until he couldn’t stomach it anymore. “You made a choice to do right by your family, I can respect that much. But I do pity your choice, because who you chose will always choose the duty to a land, a throne, a crown, over you if it comes down to it.” Allowing a sharp exhale to pass through his nostrils, the blond prince looked back down to Tate. The implication he had left was that his allegiance was to no one other than the people he chose to accept and invest his loyalty in, but it wasn’t something worth pleading to Tate. As they parted from each other, Spencer gave her the decency to meet her eyes, though he wasn’t sure it was exactly a kindness to either of them. She thanked him, and he let her go. If everyone was making vows today, Spencer’s was to leave the capitol as soon as he logistically could for his own sake.
The night drew on, but Rian was amazed by the resolve of his patience. Usually it would have begun to thin hours ago, but it felt plentiful. It wasn’t above him that Tate seemed a little dejected, though he attributed it to this being such a monumental staple to the change to come. While the face she wore was convincing enough to anyone who came to congratulate and idly chatter with the newly weds, Rian had wished that he could have provided enough quiet solace to encourage a genuine smile by holding her hand, though it was an effort that seemed to have fallen short.
In their next moment alone, Tate had brought up a question to Rian that he had been purposefully putting off for some time. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what is expected in a traditional sense,” he replied in a quiet tone, his attention solely on Tate as he mulled over the idea in his head. “It’s not entirely as unheard of as others would suggest for royalty to retain their own separate sleeping quarters though. At worst, you stay in my chambers and I’ll let you have the bed to yourself for your own peace of mind. The choice is yours, but eventually, we’ll have to share a night or two in the same space regardless to avoid rousing any suspicion of instability in our union.” Rian didn’t want to fan the flames of gossip among staff if they were to sleep separately consistently, but he also wouldn’t back Tate into a position where she had to sleep in the same bed as him. He wasn’t exactly looking for anything more from Tate, and this was a change for him too - at least in terms of adapting to having Tate consistently within closer proximity. At the very least, his chambers were accommodating when it came to furniture, so no one was pressured to feel obligated to be closer than mutually desired.
“I’m trying not to be so technical about approaching us from here forward, and while I know we both have a lot to carry, I still want to cater to your needs and wants as much as I can. Even if it's hard to tell, even if I’m difficult to read sometimes, I just want you to know I’m trying. I consistently have a thousand things on my mind to consider, but I hope you know you’re one of them.” Rian said, brushing his thumb over the top of her hand to try to further emphasize the genuine care in his sentiment. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Tate ignored the sting of pain; ignored the feeling of losing something that could have been great if only she had let it; but her feeling hadn't mattered when her father signed away her life to another's. Jealous of the freedom everyone else got to have and yet she and Rian didn't get a choice? Deep in her heart she knew Rian, no matter how good to her, also didn't want this either. It was a change for them both, one they would either embrace or burn. Tate wished for that feeling of being home; and yet she was homesick for arms that never really held her. She didn't belong anywhere, and she never really belonged to anyone when others did maybe that was the worst of it. To know she could be loved and love back but held back instead by vows both to herself and her father. And now Rian. Because the past could not be changed, forgotten or edited; it could only be accepted. Looking up to meet Rian's stare and answer, Tate held her breath only to be..disappointed in the outcome. Not even Rian could protect her from the counsel, No one could. A bitter voice inside her head told her otherwise; but she never had listened very well. What is stronger than the human heart which shatters over and over again? "Oh." She replied both stunned into silence and trying to piece together ways that would make this arrangement easier. And Rian of course always being Rian; he offered her an alternative. A few nights with him to keep the members of the castle from gossip. Even Rian seemed to be worried about what this might bring. "I'm sorry. I wish you could have chosen who you wanted." She whispered, the words carrying something deeper; something forbidden. In all her time here Rian had never spoke about having loved someone before her making her wonder if he ever did care for someone other than what was expected of him. Had he ever broken a rule? Made an exception to the pressures of the counsel? It was more questions Tate had zero answer to, or matter of fact having the desire to know that answer. It would change nothing. Whatever Tate wished for it would never be achievable not if she lived the life of a dutiful wife. Doing and saying whatever Rian wanted or the Counsel. Her voice was no longer her's, but the whole Kingdoms. Tate had never understood the line between sacrifice or self-slaughter; either way Tate was now trapped. "I guess I will move my things tomorrow, before the counsel decides even one night apart from my husband means we are having issues." She hummed quietly, if only to offer him a solution. The counsel would always run to him for leadership and would not care about sullying Tate's name if it meant getting her off the throne. Which meant now more than ever she would have to watch her back. As the nights activities slowed down Tate was finally grateful to have a moments of peace; if only for a second. She hadn't seen Spencer since the dance they shared, Rian a constant reminder that nothing mattered as long as she stood next to him. A queen in no rights but marriage. A fraud. Stifling the third yawn in a span of minutes, Tate finally looked up to Rian "Seems I am worn out for the night." She spoke softly, quietly. It was a night and day difference to the conversation she was raging on the inside. Both tired from today and her life in general. No waiting for anyone else to strike up a forced conversation to them Tate made her way to the doors; regardless of Rian following or not; she needed rest. ' Perhaps for eternity.' Tate thought bitterly, the resentment a snake coiled around her heart constricting when she strayed from thoughts of the Kingdom to the dark haired Prince that never seemed to escape her. Why could she not force Spencer out of her heart? Why did she care so much about hurting him when Rian stood beside her ready to be everything she needed. But that nagging feeling of being second to a Kingdom didn't sit right. She knew that from the very beginning and yet Tate had forced herself to see the good so that the bad could be outshined. She hadn't wanted to think of Rian that way; especially when he had done nothing but be himself. She could not fault him for that, not when he was born and made into the King and person he was today long before she came along. And yet here Tate was trying to force herself into where she didn't belong. One by one Tate had drowned all the good things she had been and turned into something she was afraid of. A shell. No one could know the battles she fought because no matter how dark, she kept her smile and shined her light for anyone who needed it- even though she knew she was the one who needed it most. By the time she reached her rooms she was mentally and physically exhausted, her mind finally quiet after being so loud all day. She stopped at her door, leaning against the wood frame as she waited for the silence to be broken. Perhaps Rian was in his own head as much as she. What a shame that the girl and boy they once were; who believed in fairytales and magic had to be struck by reality with demons in their minds and the fear of never being loved. What Tate had always wanted was for someone to be afraid of losing her, she had just wanted someone to fight. And all along perhaps it was her who needed to fight. Straightening from the door, Tate found Rian's gaze once more before pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek and slipping inside the comfort of her rooms. And life went on, maybe not the same as before, but life went on. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Rian had expected a negative response from Tate judging from her simple reply, the lingering silence, and the downcast expression she had seemed to wear. If he could backtrack and tell her that there were other ways to appeal to everyone, he would have. He had already spent longer than today considering alternatives, but even only he could produce so many. This was the harsh reality Rian had tried to shield Tate from since the beginning, and even this was only a sample of what was to be endured. It was the most miserable thing to allegedly be the highest authority in the kingdom, and yet be so helpless to ensuring the happiness of the people in arms reach.
The apology and comment that Tate had whispered to him held a depth of despair Rian did not understand. And that only led him to questions he had never considered asking Tate before. Was it possible Tate had fancied another before being brought to the castle? To him? Even if she had nothing concrete or exclusive, Rian contemplated the possibility of whether Tate might have yearned for someone who had no chain to a title like his. She could have been happy with a nobody, he thought, and he felt grossly imperceptive for never considering that angle prior to this moment. Before he could gently probe, the silence he had left after her apology was filled with Tate’s next string of words.
“I think that’s a wise decision,” Rian had murmured, speaking to what felt more like his business partner than his wife. There wasn’t a moment after that during the festivities that Rian had found the right words or moment to speak the things idly sitting on his tongue for Tate. It was effortless to say a thousand things everyone else needed and wanted to hear from him, but for Tate, he was beginning to believe there was no word he could ever say to her that would alleviate whatever torture she was enduring in silence. As Tate had divulged to him that she was done for the night, he gave an attentive nod and wrapped up the discussion he had been in the midst of before tailing the woman’s trail.
Even when he had been right in front of her, Tate didn’t look much like the person she was the day he had first met her. How many more people did he have to mourn in this life because things just out of his control? “Goodnight,” he had uttered quietly to Tate after she pressed a kiss to his cheek, everything he had been wishing to say dying with her absence. He knew misery loved company, but why of all people did Tate have to be the one chosen to be the company of his misery? The most tortuous thing to Tate was that as much as he had found himself wanting to keep someone like her close, if she had asked to be set free before this, Rian might have set fire to a few bridges to make it happen. And that, he discovered with heart-clenching realization, was how much Tate had grown to truly matter to him. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
The days after the wedding ceremony were long, filled with either meetings for the coronation or impending bedroom changes. Seems Tate was correct when it came to the pressures of the council; they wanted an heir. 'In case something were to happen' as they often worded it even when Tate tried to steer the conversation away from children. She was simply not ready, not when Rian had been withdrawing himself lately as well. Though Tate was no better. She only hoped the council did not see it. Sighing heavily she pushed the dinner on her plate around, sitting alone in the dining hall was usually peaceful; today though it was dreary like a bad storm on the horizon. After attempting to eat the less an appetizing meal Tate stood from the table; smoothing out the royal blue gown she wore. After three or so months here Tate was becoming used to the formal wear; the schedules- though she did miss her old life before. There were no restrictions then as to what a lady should do and say; here everything was judged. Especially herself as the future queen. The title caused her stomach to turn sour, the food she had previously eaten threatening to come back up. Rushing from the dining room, Tate nearly bumped into the royal mail carrier; his own face flushed. "Oh I'm sorry your highness." He quickly murmured bowing slightly; another thing Tate was having trouble accepting. "My fault, No need to apologize." She hummed, going to step around him. He stopped her by shoving a letter toward her; "Mail for you my lady." He added before scurrying off and towards Rian's office. Or so she guessed from the direction he left. Frowning Tate looked over the letter before heading to her rooms; closing the door softly behind her. That bad feeling returned as she sat in a chair; pulling the letter open. Her eyes darted across the page once. Twice. Three times before she dropped it onto a table with shaking hands. Her breathing became harsh, heavy as she stood and paced the room only stopping to spin towards the door when it opened. "My lady?" Her maid called stepping into the room, "Im here to-" She stopped taking in Tate's tense form, "Are you alright?" She asked closing the door behind her as she moved to the frozen Tate. Shaking her gently, Tate finally came back to- "I'm fine, just news from home." She whispered wiping the tears from her cheeks. "What did you need?" She asked instead her heart racing. "Oh. Alright." Her maid hummed, "I'm here to help move your things into the Kings room." And again, Tate felt like she was suffocating; her lips pressing into a thing line before nodding. "Of course, The council did say tonight I had to." She huffed, "Just..give me a moment? Maybe some tea?" She asked watching as her maid did as requested. Tate wasted no time grabbing the letter, a few things in a small pouch before rushing from the door; thanking the lords Rian had not given her guards. At least, not tonight. Tate slowed as she came to another hallway, a guard on duty watching the back door to the gardens. Cursing, Tate slowly inched out trying to act casual as she passed him. "Your Majesty, where are you headed?" He asked, head tilting as he took in the pouch and shoes she wore for such a late adventure. "Rian requested me at our spot." Tate lied easily, waiting for him to call it. He didn't. "Be safe." Was all he replied before letting Tate slip from the back doors. The night was surprisingly quite, and Tate not thinking twice didn't stop herself from finding an easy place to scale the wall before dropping on the other side; the forrest just beyond beckoning her. As if knowing who waited for her out there. Her home. It was a few hours into the walk, and Tate was becoming tired, the gown she wore doing little to shield the cold night air. The frost of winter kissing the wind, as if taunting Tate for her decision. But she pushed on, not stopping until she cleared the other side of the forrest into a tiny village. "Finally." She breathed freezing as a twig snapped behind her. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
The castle was a place Spencer would not mind watching being engulfed by flames. If anything, it would be a long time coming. Rian was insistent he stay despite his efforts to leave. It was vital for Tate’s protection, the King had said. Tate was far from his problem anymore though, and there were plenty of able-bodied men in and around the castle that could tend to trailing the young woman. Since when had he convinced himself to settle for being a babysitter? The more he tried to look forward, the more detached he became from feelings of the past. It served him well enough to enable him to survive the first time he lost someone. Surely it would do the same with the second round. “I didn’t realize you shared your mother’s appreciation of botany.” “I don’t.” Spencer had replied curtly, eliciting a light chuckle from his elder cousin who kept the prince's pace through the garden. The men were eye level with height, and could easily be mistaken as brothers if only for the shared golden hair and sharp features. Basile was older of course though and carried an aura of both maturity and superiority that exceeded his current status. “I heard you’ll be a more frequent presence in court from my brother. Does he seek to grant you a seat on the council as well?” “In time,” Basile had replied with a smile that was all but telling to his satisfaction, “I still have affairs to settle at home before I divide my time between the Duchy and the royal court. Not that I’m complaining, I enjoy a challenge. A concept I believe we both share.” Spencer’s attention was more or less purposefully diverted toward flowers that, in a way he could not comprehend, reminded him of Tate. It was frustrating beyond measure. “I haven’t seen Catherine since the wedding, is she not as welcome by Rian?” “They’ve always had their differences as we both know,” Basile mused, walking alongside his cousin. “Catherine will primarily remain at the Duchy in my stead. It still needs someone in the line of succession to remain on the grounds of the estate.” Basile gave a measured pause before speaking again. “It must be mildly disheartening to know your place within the succession will be revoked in the coming months. Your support as the next in line for the throne regardless remains unwavering, most especially among my own Duhcy and all but one other. The leadership of a man who has faced true battle is not easily disregarded by nobles and the commoners alike. It fosters a message of strength, arguably one of the most vital images a man in power can possess.” “Are you saying you think me more suitable than Rian as King because of what I’ve done in service to the kingdom? That his image isn’t ‘strong’ enough?” Spencer scoffed, shaking his head. The idea of being the highest authority was attractive, but the reality of having so much responsibility was repulsive. “Of course not. Rian was bred and raised up to be just as he is, and in that regard, he is perfect as a traditional leader both in image and strength. I’m merely assuring you, cousin, that your value among the kingdom is not as minuscule as you may otherwise believe. In any case, I look forward to being more present and at the disposal of both Rian and you. It’s been too long since we’ve been so close.” With a final pat on Spencer’s shoulder, Basile excused himself from Spencer’s side to attend an audience with Rian he had been delaying. It actually hadn’t occurred to Spencer until his discussion with Basile that he was, in fact, still next in line for the throne. The next heir. However, as Basile also pointed out, not for much longer. Rian and Tate would eventually produce an heir of their own and Spencer would fade out into being an irrelevant extension of royalty. The scope of the future did not sit comfortably with him, but neither did the consequences of what would occur if Rian was out of the picture.
The conversation with Basille had gotten under Spencer’s skin in ways he hadn't been provoked before in a long time. So much so he had spent hours pacing laps around the garden. On one hand, he knew Basile to tilt scales into his own favor whenever possible. But what benefit did Basile have even if Spencer remained as not only the next in line for the throne, but if he ever touched it? Spencer was better at strategy in a fight than he was with the delicacy of politics, which was practically a silent war in itself, as he’s been learning up close over the past few months. On another lap, Spencer had gone both still and silent as he heard someone else moving briskly through the area he was in the vicinity of. Thankful for his darker attire, Spencer stealthily maneuvered through his section of the garden until he had a semi-distant visual of whoever was in such a frantic rush. Only someone worth noting as suspicious would attempt to flee this way, and Spencer entertained the possibility that he was on the heels of whoever had tried to assassinate Tate. Those speculations died upon the flash of a blue gown hugging a frame he was too familiar with though. It angered him more than it sparked his curiosity to see Tate scaling a wall to escape the castle grounds. If he wasn’t allowed to leave this place yet, then neither was she. Perhaps he was being petty by trailing her just to take away her option of reaching her destination at the last minute, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be any better than what he was. Hours. This walk was taking hours and even Spencer was becoming averse to the weather that did not spare his skin from being nipped by the cold air. Was Tate really so desperate to run away that she would endure this walk in this temperature with just a gown? Maybe she had a greater sense of determination than he had initially given her credit for. Worse than the air was the direction she was heading. Spencer was more familiar with the city, where he was also well acquainted with stories of danger about the few villages scattered in between the capital and woodlands. She was going to inadvertently get herself killed, or worse. Why did he always have to put her safety above his own interests? Why couldn’t he just hate her enough to not care? Spencer froze once he got a little lazy with his stealth, having stepped on a branch. As soon as Tate turned toward the sound, the prince didn’t even bother trying to conceal himself any longer. “What the hell are you doing out here?” He asked heatedly, shamelessly trudging toward her, but not without his gaze sweeping their surroundings. “The ship that had your opportunity to run away on it has already sailed. You don’t get to just leave, especially not alone. How in love are you with the possibility of dying, Tate?” He vented coolly, divulging fragments of anger he had harbored toward her. Despite his verbal reprimands though, he took off his black overcoat and placed it around her shoulders, not bothering to ask permission since it was obvious she was cold. “This was a stupid choice in attire to run away in too, don’t you think?” He chided under his breath, stepping away and crossing his arms - both because he was cold, and as another way to express his frustrations. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Regretting her decisions was not something Tate usually did. Until now. She spun quickly, only to find Spencer walking out from the tree-line, making his way toward her with purpose. Tate backed away from him, "I'm not going back." She muttered, shivering when he placed the cloak over her shoulders when Spencer himself was probably cold. Again, she backed away from him even as he did;not trusting herself nor him to try something stupid. Like throw her over his should and march them right back to Rian where she would have to explain herself. The thought had her backing up more; creating much needed distance between her and Spencer should she need to run. Not daring to take her eyes off him. However she noted the faint redness to his cheeks, the tense shoulders. He followed her. And now she would have to do something she may regret later; because no one in hell was she telling him the truth. Not when she was this close to finding it. Him. "Go home." She added shortly after, her shoulders rising and falling to match her heavy breathing. "You belong there, not me. All you have to do is walk away. I'm no one. No one will miss me, or look for me. We both know that. Another girl will marry your brother happily, I tried." She growled, only looking away briefly when hearing more voices. These much closer than she liked, her and Spencers own voices drawing their attention no doubt. It was late in was night anyone could be out but mostly those who did the worst of crimes or drunk at the taverns; though by now any tavern would be closed for the day. Especially with daylight slowly rising over the trees. "What I do does not concern you Spencer especially when you have done everything in your power to ignore my presence." She huffed a bitter laugh, "Gods you're a fool for following me here." She added, narrowing her eyes in his direction. "You think I haven't heard of you practically begging Rian to let you leave? All so you don't have to face what you're feeling? So tell me, Why is my running away any different from yours? If you can't recall I never had a choice- Now I do." She added softly; turning on her heel and continuing her way towards the village; the homes in shambles from what she had grown accustomed to. But Tate was a far way from the castle and she had zero intentions on going back. ---------- Wade moved silently in the hallways, his own pace in a hurry. His letter was surely delivered by now. He needed only now to get to his daughter in time. "Wade." A voice called from the darkness of the hallway, peeling themselves off the shadows of the walls and into the little light the house provided. Darkness was the resistance best cover; and so far it worked That King was too foolish to look further; though it was not the boys fault their father never told them about the real resistance. Why so many commoners hated the royals; and not just the King. Well, the old King. Everyone seemed to adore this new King; and his Tate. "Where are you goin?" The voice asked again, this time leaning forward into Wade's face. "Get my daughter. It's time." He grunted; moving around the man. However was quickly held back by a strong grip, his own too weak to fight back especially after what they did. What he did. While Wade was smart- smart enough to take poison and fake his death; he lacked in physical strength. The poison having worked in more ways than he hoped; but the resistance needed him then. And after signing away Tate's life he had no choice but to join them; fight with them. And now everything was settled; Tate was married to Rian, the king- and he would take everything those royals did not deserve brick by brick. Starting with Tate. //eh. Crappy post; My brain doesn't want to funtion. Though Yours on the other hand had me falling to my knees xD// |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
(It was great lol) As Tate continuously backed up, Spencer would inch a portion closer. It upset him to see her moving away from him like she wanted nothing to do with him, or like he might do something to her that went against her immediate will. While he knew he had been icy toward her and made his presence scarce over the past few days, it was still a bit disarming to think she could have more easily swept whatever she had felt toward him, no matter how small, under the rug. Silence became the prince as Tate directed him to go home, and continued a series of words he didn’t care to hear, much less care to accept. She paused briefly after her first go at trying to deter him, with his own attention briefly diverting toward the other voices in the area. That divide was cut short as he turned back to Tate, clenching his jaw and deflating some of his own agitation as she rightfully called him out on his own actions. She was right, of course. Not on everything, but a few things certainly. He could turn around and walk home. He could forget she existed in due time. But he determined that the reason he was finding it so hard to just let go of Tate the way he knew he was capable of… was because he didn’t really want to. “I would miss you,” Spencer said as he watched her walk away, the authenticity of his statement betraying his prior aggression. Taking a few wider steps to close the distance she had created, he grasped her wrist firmly, but not tightly. “I did ignore you, and I wanted to convince myself that you were someone I could hate. And I am a fool, much more than you give me credit for. But you're also wrong, so much more than you realize.” While he was reluctant to let her wrist go in the event she would run, at the end of everything, she deserved the opportunity to choose to stay and listen for herself. “I can't just go home, because that place is not my home. It hasn't been for a long time, and I'm the last person next to you who belongs there. What you do does concern me, it concerns me so damn much I just walked miles after you to make sure you didn't get hurt. And I think it's so selfish and ignorant of you to not see that you are someone, at least to me. You exist in my world, and you occupy so much more space in my head than I care to admit. I would miss you. I would miss your unbearable optimism, and your sad smiles that try to convince everyone but yourself that everything is okay. I would miss your laugh, and your gods awful taste in stew.” Drawing a longer breath out into the cold, the prince lowered his gaze as he recollected his thoughts.“I care about you is what I’m trying to say. Enough to know the one thing you’ve wanted more than anything these past few months is to be weightless and free from the burden you didn’t choose. I know how much leaving means to you, and if you really want to go without looking back… I’ll let you go.” He said, swallowing something thick that had formed in his throat. Tate was never meant to be his in any capacity though - she was just one more thing out of his reach, another thing he would have to learn to live without. Lifting his gaze to the sun beginning to break over the horizon, despite the clear sky, he couldn’t help but notice just how dim it still seemed. (I was miraculously faster with getting this post out lmaooo) |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
--two post in one day, i feel special. :3-- The almost plea in his voice had Tate freezing in her steps a few feet away; shaking her head. "No. Your life will be the same as it was once. I'm not something to miss; I am no one." She argued, looking down at his hand that held her wrist. Not tight enough to hurt but enough pressure that it claimed her attention. The feeling of never belonging in this world hit her so suddenly- she was breathless. It was a fact, Tate had never lived. Even as a child, as far back as she could remember she had done nothing but endure. Yet those small moments with not just Spencer, but Rian to were the ones she held onto tightly. Afraid that if she even blinked they would both disappear and yet Tate was willing to walk away from them both if it meant saving them the hurt they did not deserve. And yet Spencer did not stop his confession, a surprise fit of laughter falling from her tear stained cheeks, "That stew was amazing." She argued before turning back toward him; a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, until he forged on bringing back the guilt of just running. Leaving Rian to pick up a mess he would not have created. Tate did not want to go back; however..leaving the way she was only would make things worse. What if Rian would send soldier's after her? Or see that Spencer is gone as well as she as see just how much feelings Tate had hid from him. Now, Tate was breaking not one but two hearts- and her own. Maybe for the last time, Tate moved closer to Spencer; wrapping her arms around his waist as she buried her face in his shoulder. All that she could think was she needed him, but couldn't really have him. Not without consequence. For what she was going to say next would change everything; perhaps even how he felt towards her. "I left because my father is alive." Tate choked out; releasing him and stepping away- bracing herself for the accusations that would follow. Because who would believe the orphan girl had not lied? No one. "That is why I left. He sent me this." She whispered pulling the letter free along with the small pressed flower. Something her father would have done, the small rose feeling brittle in her hands. 'I am alive and well. Meet here.' Was all the note said. The reason he lied was still a mystery. And perhaps it always would. --------- Wade watched from the tree lines as confessions were made; his heart twisting. He would hurt his own kin to get revenge. For what? A kingdom that hated their King? A kingdom that was so broken even the councils did not care to try and fix things. Instead of giving his daughter and what he assumed was a friend the time to talk; he stepped out from the shadows. His own cloak hiding most of his features. Tate was the first to spot him since he was behind the male with her but he revealed in the way Tate's body tensed up her face scrunching in confusion. Them realization. Tate put herself in front of Spencer; watching as her father stood there assessing them. "D..Dad?" The poor girl stuttered, looking over the figure of a man who did not exist anymore. "Tate." He replied; his own voice rough from the travel it took. Of course he would never give the location out of the resistance; not even to his blood. "You..you were dead." Tate rasped, her knees wobbling with the effort to stand. "No. The farmer boy next door caught a sickness; He died." He muttered referring to the casket and funeral she was likely thinking of. "But.." She paused as if the information was clicking with the facts. It was a closed casket; No one had seen inside. Because they had said he was beaten so badly you could not recognize him. "I did what I needed to do." He replied almost blankly before turning to greet the others that slowly began to trickle from the tree-line; blocking Tate and Spencer in. "Who's your friend?" He asked, looking over the man- noting the difference in clothing; the fine details. Someone of importance. He grinned, "Do tell." "Just a guard. My husband insisted on brining him." She lied so easily, so effortlessly she wished Spencer wasn't here. Because trouble was what her father would bring. "The more the merrier; A guard who knows the castle? Smart girl" He chided her as if she were a small child. "Now, let's go discuss some things..shall we?" He hummed watching her face fall. Tate who thought her father a saint; was beginning to understand now just how vile he really was. Her own father. What would he need to gain access to the castle for; Why? Would sorry ever make a difference? Does it ever? It was just a word, one against a thousand actions. "Rian will be looking for me shortly, so let's not take long." She again lied, though only hoped if Rian did notice they were gone; he would not ignore it. But Rian had a kingdom to run; he could not galivant across the world looking for his missing wife and brother. |
|
|
Winter 
Day Weather: 
