where you go i go

Seven

One year after the end of the war, Nayoko knew that Lawrence was no longer the prince she had shared classes with. His jaw had become chiselled and the soft, roundness in his face thinned into hard lines. Still, when he flashed her his boyish smile, Nayoko realised that perhaps he wasn't so different. And when he led her by the arm to the balcony, the same one where they had shared their first embrace after the war, she was hit with a different realization: Ahmund was right.

The same thing had happened before, almost five years ago, when Lawrence had approached her at a ball, cheeks flushed and tongue loose with flattery. She had blamed it on the alcohol then, too naïve and consumed by her studies to notice the truth behind his compliments. She was sure she was just a side fascination, a pastime for the prince so his school days weren't just filled with studying and sparring.

But as Lawrence kneels in front of her on one knee, one hand holding hers and the other holding a glittering ring, she's not so sure anymore.

"Be my Queen, Nayoko. Take the seat by my side and rule as my equal."

Nayoko could see the plea in his golden eyes almost as clearly as she could see herself reflected in him. There were now two thrones in the Great Hall instead of one, a clear sign that the Emperor has been meeting with suitors.

Perhaps she'd known all along that somewhere down the line, he would ask for her hand, a suspicion that their shared trauma and grief could only lead them down one path. Maybe that's why she didn't waver this time. She declined.

Lawrence stood, and just like Nayoko thought he would, hid his pain behind a mask of indifference. It would do neither side favours to get emotional about this, while they still had to play the roles of Emperor and Archivist, but he would allow himself tears in private.

"I cannot say I'm not hurt, but I also can't say I didn't expect this. I respect your decision, my Lady," Nayoko cringes at the title, "but may I ask why?"

Nayoko turns to face the gardens. Below, the people of the Empire celebrate the first year of peace in a decade. Women and men dance in a flurry of brightly coloured dresses and sashes. A pot-bellied man lets out a booming, thunderous bark of laughter that sounded not so different from her father's, but Nayoko knew better than to search for him in the crowd.

"You know why, Lawrence. There's a chance – a small chance, I know – that I would outlive you and your children, and your children's children." She presses her lips into a thin line, "And no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I wanted to, I would not be able to join you in death. And that pain would be unbearable."

She turns, taking Lawrence by his shoulders.

"Allow me to be selfish just once, Lawrence."

The finality in her voice hit him like an axe to a shield, painful and hard. When he speaks, though his voice is strained, the bitterness is gone. In its place, acceptance.

"If I truly love you, I can not cause you that pain. And I do love you, Nayoko."

She falls into his arms, a sob wracking her body.

"Thank you, Lawrence, thank you."

Lawrence cries too, letting the tears cascade down his cheeks and he falls against Nayoko. The wave of emotions and scrambled thoughts almost take him under but Nayoko's hand at the back of his head, threading through his hair, brings him back to the surface. They release, and Nayoko notices his eyes are red and puffy and his collar has been stained a shade darker.

"We deserve happiness too, my friend," Lawrence says with something akin to a smile, "We deserve this much."