flagrates: (10002)
clive "arby's" rosfield ([personal profile] flagrates) wrote 2023-07-05 01:36 am (UTC)

[ She is the furthest thing from simple — she is complex and faceted, an icicle, beautiful to behold but sharp if you're not careful, and it's what he loves about her. That she's descended from queens came as no surprise to him; she's always held herself like one, even when they were small.

She's cool to the touch on the back of his hand, and just for a moment he lets himself feel her, realize that she's there with him, in the flesh, that even if she does go somewhere it won't be without him and if it is without him then she will return to him. She told him once that she knows he will always come back to her, and it is true, as long as she'll have him, but not a day has gone by where he doesn't think the same as her. As long as she'll have him, she will return to him.

He lets out a sigh at her admonishment; she's right, and he knows it, but he's been gone too long already and the people need him—

And so does she, says a selfish part of him. More than any of those other people. And if he goes out and truly does kill himself this time, then what good is he? No good for her.

At her mention of the north, he looks up at her, a little surprised. And then he smiles. ]


I've always wanted to go to the North.

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