"No-one has hurt me." She does not have the energy, in the moment, to lie: but if she is hurt, it is by her own hand - by her own choices. No-one has hurt her. She is hurting, all the same, but it does not seem just to say so.
She glances back towards the door, as though to check it is still closed, and bites down on the inside of her cheek. She does not know how he will take this, and it is difficult to face that uncertainty, when she herself does not know how to feel. Still, she does not have the luxury of small talk. Her voice lowers, steady but more urgent, speaking with a pace that brooks no interruption.
"It was a noble thing that you did, and I am grateful for it; but the law leaves little space for gratitude. To spill blood in the King's hall is death. Listen to me: I have pleaded with the King on your behalf, petitioned him for mercy. He will exile you, instead; and if we are away by dawn, no-one will follow. I will ready horses, gather provisions." Wondering whether he has picked up on that we. Knowing, as she wonders it, that she cannot try to avoid the point.
She sighs, and some of the steel goes out of her, some of the straightness leaving her spine. She is no longer looking at him. "It is not mercy that leads him to this; it is kin-right to his sister-daughter. I have told him that I took you for husband a month ago. So long as we are within the borders of the Mark, that must be true; and I follow my lord to exile, as a wife is bound to do; and you will live, and be spared."
There is a pause, then, and an almost apologetic tone enters her voice. It is easier to doubt his reaction than to feel her own. "It was the only way."
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sforzinda
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Date: 2024-07-03 09:23 pm (UTC)She glances back towards the door, as though to check it is still closed, and bites down on the inside of her cheek. She does not know how he will take this, and it is difficult to face that uncertainty, when she herself does not know how to feel. Still, she does not have the luxury of small talk. Her voice lowers, steady but more urgent, speaking with a pace that brooks no interruption.
"It was a noble thing that you did, and I am grateful for it; but the law leaves little space for gratitude. To spill blood in the King's hall is death. Listen to me: I have pleaded with the King on your behalf, petitioned him for mercy. He will exile you, instead; and if we are away by dawn, no-one will follow. I will ready horses, gather provisions." Wondering whether he has picked up on that we. Knowing, as she wonders it, that she cannot try to avoid the point.
She sighs, and some of the steel goes out of her, some of the straightness leaving her spine. She is no longer looking at him. "It is not mercy that leads him to this; it is kin-right to his sister-daughter. I have told him that I took you for husband a month ago. So long as we are within the borders of the Mark, that must be true; and I follow my lord to exile, as a wife is bound to do; and you will live, and be spared."
There is a pause, then, and an almost apologetic tone enters her voice. It is easier to doubt his reaction than to feel her own. "It was the only way."