His heart aches, and not for the continued belief this is a diplomatic dismissal. To only be a companion out of obligation. It isn't foreign to him, and so he knows the weight. Still, most -- himself included -- had had moments of mutual want, pockets of intimacy, even if nothing came of it. That she has been so alone makes him want to gather her to him and lavish her wish gentle touches.
The strength of that want nearly bowls him over, and he'd be grappling with it were she not still speaking.
And then he's blinking, mouth open, because if he knows her at all, he knows how she stumbles when one of them has found something to engage her with which she does not know how to speak. His heart is warning him to step back lest he bruise himself worse, but every piece of knowing his charge tells him that she's trying to--
"If you desire my companionship, it is already yours," he says, skin prickling with fiery self-consciousness. This is past what he rehearsed, past any sense of safe territory, and yet some protective part of him wants her to feel the way she -- Ashe, not the position of princess -- is cherished.
He could say more, but, he knows what it is to be overwhelmed with a more experienced person offering things he did not know how to receive, let alone direct his preference on. Carefully, slowly, he gets to his feet, watching for any change in her demeanor. His heart beats so thunderously he feels sure he will lose his balance again, but he reaches her all the same, holding his hands palm-up in an invitation for hers. Nothing about this is proper. He does not like standing above her, does not like being the one to lead, does not know what to say. But he offers her a smile, one that he lets warm his eyes and soften his face. "Serving you makes my heart full, my lady. If I may do that more deeply, then I am eager to."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2023-08-07 10:58 pm (UTC)The strength of that want nearly bowls him over, and he'd be grappling with it were she not still speaking.
And then he's blinking, mouth open, because if he knows her at all, he knows how she stumbles when one of them has found something to engage her with which she does not know how to speak. His heart is warning him to step back lest he bruise himself worse, but every piece of knowing his charge tells him that she's trying to--
"If you desire my companionship, it is already yours," he says, skin prickling with fiery self-consciousness. This is past what he rehearsed, past any sense of safe territory, and yet some protective part of him wants her to feel the way she -- Ashe, not the position of princess -- is cherished.
He could say more, but, he knows what it is to be overwhelmed with a more experienced person offering things he did not know how to receive, let alone direct his preference on. Carefully, slowly, he gets to his feet, watching for any change in her demeanor. His heart beats so thunderously he feels sure he will lose his balance again, but he reaches her all the same, holding his hands palm-up in an invitation for hers. Nothing about this is proper. He does not like standing above her, does not like being the one to lead, does not know what to say. But he offers her a smile, one that he lets warm his eyes and soften his face. "Serving you makes my heart full, my lady. If I may do that more deeply, then I am eager to."