He could tell she was distressed by something. It shown in her eyes, in the staggeringly beautiful pout upon her face. He wished with every fiber
of his being that he could run to her, tilt her head back so he could become lost in those violet eyes, and place a small kiss upon her lips. Just a small one.
No more forceful than a slight breeze. Inside, he was screaming. His exterior remained calm, fists ever-so clinched at his sides. Why did she do this to him?
Hadn’t he tried everything? Favors, deeds, gifts. He had even tried to write her sweet lines. Granted they were not in the least bit good, but he had tried.
For her.
❝I wish I could help you, my lady. Nothing in life would give me more pleasure. But I — I don’t know how to help you.❞
I don’t know how to help you. Those words burned as they left his lips. Weren’t heroes supposed to always have the answer? To always know how to help?
As he stood there, deep blue eyes searching her angelic face, he accepted f a i l u r e. To be defeated by such a gentle creature. The irony screamed at him.
Perhaps this was for the best. After all, who would want love from a a discarded boy from Hagsgate. A lady deserved a prince. Lír was no true prince.
❝Forgive me, my lady. I feel as though I’ve taken up enough of your time.❞
A clock tolls and resonates within the empty halls of the castle, cold water drips from the ceiling and puddles onto the dark floor. She feels her flesh against her cold palms, all around her is engulfed in shadows as the moonlight overhead was enveloped by the clouded night sky. The lady feels fear suddenly, a feeling no unicorn has ever felt for what would strke fear in to an immortal? Now she was both alive and dying all at once.
He was always there, violet eyes sought out his form and though she was feeling fear for the darkness that surrounded her; The Lady Amalthea could find no more cares for her fear when she saw the prince admit defeat. Whatever had frenzied her thoughts was banished as the Prince drew silence. Did his words hurt her? She questions with the slightest quivers of her lip as an ache forms in her chest, paralyzing her.
“Don’t go,” she whispers softly,
her heart lurching at the prospect of being alone;
of being without him.
She faces him now in full, truly acknowledging Lir. There is a certain light within her eye that is both of fox cubs and little rabbits and of him.
“I have time to give to you.” It is velvet coated plea, a half hearted lie that she now believed. Her time was both waxing and waning, the waves now a distant sound as the lady amalthea found the gaze of Lir’s.