[she doesn't know that the world is turning just for her]

skill: [none]

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Love doesn’t mean much.

And there it was, the not-so-silent confirmation of everything Euphemia thought she knew; had learned from her parents who preferred their own pain so deeply that they, in effect, ignored the pain of their children. Had learned it from Vidarr who was married a million times over but never even seemed to glance her way. Had learned it when Aurelia voted for Nottin as the Pillar of Courage. Learned it from the sheer abuse she had seen in the world, perpetrated on the weak by the strong.

It was one of the world’s most enduring truths, that love didn’t mean much.

What meant a lot to Euphemia was to feel validated. In a reality where she felt so vastly different and less than her sisters, here was someone – a grown man – who was telling her that she was right. Not only was she right, but he agreed with her and lived his life according to such values. Certainly, it wasn’t proper behavior to go around thrashing women, but he was certainly standing for his beliefs.

In contrast, Euphemia let her unspoken discomfort suffocate her.

If love didn’t mean much, then the truth was that the fangs that killed were forever concealed just behind the same lips that kissed. It was this unsettling truth that the maiden felt grateful to receive.

Euphemia was the daughter of a man who lashed out. She was a woman who lashed out, even if it was only with words a shade of a pitch too high to be taken seriously. The shadowed man before her seemed so real, his features and emotions painted in sharp, dramatic relief against the muteness of their surroundings. The land was quiet, but he was vivid.

She began, ever so slowly, to admire him. For a moment, Euphemia believed she had glanced at the truest part of him. For better or for worse, she could see herself in him: ever-wounded, and ever-waiting to be healed.

Euphemia would never shove him. She would never betray her chosen one by calling them the name of another, in a tone only meant for lovers. I’m so sorry, Ric, She held her voice low, sincere. Unjudging only in the way empathy can be.

I’m sorry she made you feel like that.

Her gaze fell, trying to remain focused on him, actively stymying the memories that arose from her own experience. She took a deep breath, not wanting to glance over the violent nature of his admission – but he had taken responsibility, and Euphemia had a persistent belief that most hurts could be redeemed, if only their perpetrators took radical responsibility.

I think… Euphemia couldn't help but remain heartfelt, even as he transitioned back to sarcasm. I think you’re doing the best you can. Then she looked up at him, big sorrowful sunset eyes set aglisten with tears, wondering if such simple words could actually capture the depth of emotion and awakefulness he had made her feel.

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