𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐰 | 𝐥𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟖

you would never be the object of her devotion. that is something she agreed on and realised. 

she loved you, she adored you, she was smitten with you. 

but her home, her heart, would forever be the land so cold that even its archon whom she devoted her being to had lost the ability to love her people, or anyone for that matter. she would burn it to feel its warmth. 

"may i kiss you?" you asked.
"yes," she replied, before you did. then you asked again, and again. and again.

"do you even need to ask?" she laughed softly. longing.

some days it felt like she was the only one who bore that fidelity to the tsaritsa.
she was fond of you, she felt warmth for you, she found you endearing.

but, rosalyne wondered, was she to love and care for you? better yet, had she any right to? she felt the love she harboured was a toxin that could corrupt the most virtuous, even a god like yourself. did she deserve this? this kind of joy that was brought to her, poisons often feel good at the beginning. 
she worried her love to be violence. 

then there would be moments where she would forget these worries entirely. 

“oh, i can’t wait until we can go picnicking in the spring, or until we go and visit the fontainese opera or until―”
“you want to do all of that with me?” she interrupted. 

“of course.” you smiled. the kind of smile that made her feel weak in the knees, the kind from which she wanted to kiss your face and tell you how she felt, the kind―”why wouldn’t i?” 

“we haven’t known each other for that long.” it was something she kept telling herself. It has been 6 months now. something rosalyne reminded herself of, what if she were to forget? it was troubling to think of anything else when with you. she wouldn’t want to fall so deeply, fall so hard, that she would never recover from that fall. and keep loving you forever. 

“so?” you asked, and then she would forget again. 

you were quite the horrible creature, was her opinion. you made her forget and you made her dote on the things she wouldn’t have thought of before. you made her feel that she was held dear and cared for. you made her feel guilty, but how could she not when you were just so―

so loveable? 

she had gotten used to the city streets, to the crowded places where others would do no effort to make room for her. to the bright colours and the dialect of the region. 

“j’ai été manqué." she once told you. 
“i was missed?” you asked, “oh! you mean ‘tu me manque’!”
“what?” she never attempted to speak it to you again after that. 

you loved it when she used to try, her accent on certain words or the way her grammar was off by just a little. it seemed she didn’t even have to try and yet you were already completely charmed by her. 

you shouldn't be, though. 

“could you move? just a little, i mean ..my arm is falling asleep.” 
“hm?” she asked, “oh―yes, of course!” 

to love a mortal, it felt as if everything crumbled right in front of your eyes. to love a mortal was a sentence of death. 

"i love the colour of your eyes."
"i had hoped you would have said something different," she whispered.

maybe she deserved someone who could offer her much more than you could give, someone who could prioritise her. something which you can’t and never will. no, not maybe, certainly she deserved someone who exceeded what you could give.

"you have a good heart." she told you all of a sudden. rosalyne stroked your hair as your head laid in her lap, "you too." 

you couldn't believe her words were the truth, neither did she. 

you weren't a saint, no matter how many may have worshipped you. stories of grand tales of the past painted you as something awe-inspiring, someone who deserved to be revered. you weren't, you knew you weren't, and yet you tried.

this façade was as unreal as the mirror of the moon of the ocean's glistening surface. if you realised you never could be who fontaine truly needed, they would figure it out in due time.

she stepped into the shallow water, the sea ebbed and flowed against her ankles. it was cold, frozen, almost. you waited for her, as she waddled over, cotton skirts bunched up in her hands. 

just before both of you fell, ending up completely drenched, cheeks flushed and bright smiles. all too happy, you had forgotten simple moments as these still existed.

after all, who would trust one who lacks trust in themselves? 

you threw your roses into the abyss, this your best performance, yet.

"i can't think of a world or time in which i would not cherish you."

we're getting closer to the end whoa !

thank you for reading, have a lovely day or night <3

⤷ status: not edited
11.03.22