[She hears him coming, and it's true that the instinct is strong to try and maul him, but she's not a creature of base instinct, not really. She smells him and it makes her calm, because the pain is intense.
He pulls out the knife and she screams, and huffs, her paw twitching. Charles' scout is one of Daphne's kin, not a shifter, but he knows enough. He kneels next to Charles, hands his sash over to tie it around Daphne's shoulder. She snarls and snaps, but he moves fast to get out of the way. She should. I'll run ahead, and tell her aunt to prepare, and get them to come here.
He gets up, and he's moving, because the important thing now is making sure that they know how to heal her.
Daphne, meanwhile, pants through her mouth, snuffles, her paw twitching. The hunter is still yelling, and the Portuguese is close enough to Spanish that Charles can likely make out not only his cries for help, but his screaming that the tiger is a demon, it's a demon and it came straight from hell.
She butts her enormous head against Charles, to let him know she knows who he is.]
[ The rest of his men appear in the trees, and one of them approaches the screaming hunter, drawing his sword. Immediately Charles snaps at him. ]
Get back!
[ The man does as he's told, carefully sliding his weapon back into its scabbard and falling back again. Charles turns back to Daphne, meeting her large yellow eyes as he rests a hand on her head, stroking just once. Then he gets up and approaches the Portuguese hunter lying beneath his elephant.
Those curses, or pleas, or both, whatever they are all direct towards him as he comes closer, but he ignores it. Not a single word matters. Eyes flashing with rage, he draws his own sword, and as soon as he's close enough to do it, his boot shoves the hunter's head sideways and then presses down, the cries turning to gurgles. Then Charles brings his cutlass down with a roar of fury, the blade slicing clean through the hunter's throat.
Instantly the jungle goes silent, except for the blood spurting from the crushed body. He reaches down and grabs the head by the hair, and then tosses it to one of his men, who catches it with only the barest flinching. ]
Take the heads. All of them.
[ The look he gives to them makes it clear that he's not joking. ]
Including the elephant.
[ Then he swipes his blade on the corpse's fancy coat, and quickly returns to Daphne's side. His men behind him have already gotten to work; now he doesn't see or hear anything else but her. He crouches beside her, sliding a hand into her fur again. This is going to be difficult for her, but it's either this or she has to suffer out here in the jungle, as the stench of blood and death rises like steam from the earth. ]
Time to change back, tigress. Let's get you the hell out of here.
[She watches, her eyes fixed on the man’s death. She can’t help but feel a lick of warm affection; this is her lover, this is the man she chose. Someone who would not let anyone else kill an enemy, because he wants to be the last thing they see. Because he knows the value in it.
The men start to work on his orders, low buzzing arguments about the best way to behead an elephant when he comes back to her, and her attention focuses on his words.
It’s going to hurt to shift back and she doesn’t want to. She knows she should. She knows he can carry her like that, that they must have done something, hit something when they stabbed her because she still can’t move her paw very much.
Still she stays a long moment, huffing her breath and trying to get ahold of herself.
The men are almost done, and she’s been a tiger the whole time. Ten, fifteen minutes have elapsed and Charles is still there with her, watching her, when finally her shape changes and she’s back to herself. The first thing she does is cry out as the pain screams through her.]
Charles-
[Her voice is so low it’s almost a growl. The blood and the wounds are still there, her hands smeared and stained. She reaches her good hand to him, her eyes closing to slits.]
[ He waits, prepared to do so for as long as necessary, because if she doesn't shift then she's not going anywhere, and if she's not going anywhere then neither is he. But Daphne is strong, and proves it yet again as her shape reforms from tiger to woman.
The sound of her pain rakes across his flesh like a knife down his spine, and Charles immediately grabs her hand in his own, giving her something to grip that's solid and won't let her go.
Without so much fur disguising her wounds, it's easier to see the ones left by bullets, which makes him grit his teeth so hard it nearly snaps his jaw, breathing hard at the sight of her so damaged. She'll heal, but this won't happen immediately. He wishes he hadn't killed the man under the elephant so quickly. He's thinking now that he'd have liked to flay him first, and hoist the man's skin like a flag just off the shores of Portugal.
Seeing her in so much pain makes him feel deeply, sickeningly powerless. But the only sign of it is the tightness of his jaw, the hard line through his brow. Charles reaches out, hooking one hand under her knees, drawing the other around her shoulder. It will hurt, but then they'll be on their way. ]
I've got you. Hold on to me if you can. One, two--
[ Before three, and as quickly and smoothly as he's able to manage, he pulls Daphne into his arms and stands up with her cradled against his chest. His men can do what needs to be done here, even if all they do is collect the heads and leave the rest for the jungle. He's taking Daphne home. ]
[She doesn't want to be moved, but what she wants and what she needs are at deep odds right now. The animal part of her brain - the tiger part - wants to hide somewhere safe and sleep and wait for the pain to subside. The human part knows that this is how she's going to get it.
Besides, there is no place on this planet safer than in Charles Vane's arms, because he would burn the jungle down and take himself with it before he let anyone hurt her more.
Her good arm comes up to grip his shirt, and she presses her face against his chest. There are more important things, anyway.]
You got the other half?
[She means the other half of the hunting party. One or two have to have escaped, to send the word back - don't go in that jungle. There are demons in that jungle.
Her voice is softer than she would usually like. One of his men, not her kin, but one of the men who would follow Vane to the ends of the world, is coming up behind them to keep an eye on Vane's back.]
[ Charles doesn't trust survivors. Survivors take information with them, letting the enemy return in greater force. He'll be delivering this particular message in a different fashion.
Hence the heads.
But right now his only priority is her. He knows his way through the jungle now, and takes her straight back to the village, where Daphne's aunt and the rest meet him before he's reached the first bungalow. He doesn't let them take Daphne from him. Wherever she needs to go, he'll be the one to get her there. ]
[They don't take Daphne from him; they know better. Instead they lead him into Daphne's room, and her aunt has him set her down on in an empty tub as she moves around her, speaking quickly, stripping her of her trousers and shirt to find all the bullets, scolding as she checks the wounds, tugging out iron bullets and checking the cuts, as Daphne holds her teeth together and growls, furious. It's the kind of medical care that made Daphne extremely popular in Nassau; she could remove bullets fast and without mercy, not caring if anyone screamed, but the men almost always kept their limbs. Daphne isn't even a particularly excellent healer, but they all some.
Priya is efficient; when she's done, she leaves Charles with a ewer of water to clean the blood off her. Better you than me, I am too angry to look at her for more than a minute.
It's the truest sign he's ingratiated himself with her family. They wouldn't leave him alone with her when she's injured and vulnerable otherwise. And don't let her shift, Priya snarls as she leaves. The stupid girl will aggravate her wounds.
Daphne looks at Charles, her hair stuck to her scalp from sweat, her mouth half open, and she pants a little.]
[ Once Daphne is in her aunt's care, Charles steps back to give the woman room to work, though he's certainly not about to leave the room; he only lingers on the other side of the bed, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, and says nothing as one bullet after another is pulled out of Daphne's flesh.
She will heal, but... god, that looks horrific. He's been shot himself, and wouldn't eagerly repeat the experience; Daphne took several at once, from bigger guns. Deciding what he wants to do with their trophies is a moderate distraction from her pain, but he indulges it until her aunt finally leaves them alone with each other.
Daphne looks like she's been to hell and back, but there's more life in her now than there was in the jungle, so. At least that's something. Charles pushes away from the wall and approaches the bed. ]
No. [ He reaches for her good hand, and brings it to his mouth for a kiss. ] These wounds speaks for themselves. But we also did what we went out there to do.
[She looks up at him, and tugs him down onto the bed with her, so he's at least on her level. She makes a little noise of pain, because she didn't quite expect the tiny shocks that hit her, and grumbles a bit. She's the worst kind of patient, too eager to be healed to let herself get better.
She dips her head to kiss his hand back.]
Weren't you supposed to leave one to go running home telling tales?
[She says it as she tries to get him close. Priya left the bowl she had dropped the bullets in next to them, and occasionally Daphne finds herself looking over at it.]
[ He sits down on the edge of the bed near the pillows, to be close to her, but if she thinks he's getting any closer just yet then she's angling for disappointment. He knows exactly how impatient she's feeling because he'd be feeling exactly the same way.
When she asks him that, he shakes his head. ]
A man who faces me at sea is fighting on neutral ground. We're all at the mercy of nature out there.
[ Noticing her glances, he tugs the bowl a little closer and dips his hand in to draw out a little sphere of lead, holding it for her to see. ]
But to come here, threaten our home and your life? They lost the right to decide how this story goes. I'll tell my own.
[She doesn't stop tugging but she does stop fussing a bit, her eyes big when she looks up at him. He looks like the sea right after a storm; fathomless and dark and like he swallowed a ship. Dangerous, but calm.]
They weren't supposed to threaten my life.
[She says it with a sigh, but okay. She holds his hand like it's an anchor and she's going to set sail otherwise.]
Who are you sending to give them the heads back, then? Better make it one of your men. We all know how the more European they are, the more likely they are to think mine are savages who don't know anything.
[She's getting bossy because she was scared; she was afraid she would die, but she can't say that so easily, not yet.]
[ Listen to her. Full of bullet holes and still trying to get feisty. ]
I will - if I send the heads back.
[ He's still undecided, which is what he was brooding over while her aunt Priya pried the bullets out of her body. Rage and vengeance tells him to carry the heads all the way back to Portugal and fire them from the cannons into the city, with her name carved into their sunken cheeks. But such a brazen act would demand action taken against it, and who knows what Portugal would send for the purpose? There's only so much he can do to protect her from his place at sea.
He toys with her fingers, watching her very carefully. ]
We could post them up, at the edge of the jungle. As a warning. Even rational men will think twice about ignoring a curse like that.
[She has an urge to fight with him, but she actually likes the idea. It would be smart - especially if it just showed up. Heads on pikes. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, but her silence is almost as good as an agreement.
Finally she nods a little bit.]
It would work.
[She says it especially carefully.]
You’re not going to go do it yourself, are you?
[She clears her throat. No, that isn’t what she wanted to say. That isn’t how she wanted it to sound, a little fussy.]
You could. I could order you to.
[She doesn’t particularly want to do that. She doesn’t particularly want to let him out of her sight.]
[ He narrows his eyes, albeit playfully, at the weak threat. At another time in his life, he'd have wanted to leave his name on all of it - and hers - to make sure it was crystal goddamn clear. But these days he prefers to be strategic. Having something to protect can do that. ]
I'll let you decide who to send, tigress.
[ He lifts her hand again, tangling their fingers. ]
But I want to keep the elephant.
[ By all rights, she gets to do whatever she wants with it. Less to him because she's the queen, so much as because she's the one who killed it, so she has the claim to it. But offering to trade for something he doesn't think she much wants anyway seems perfectly fair. ]
[She wrinkles her nose a little. A dead elephant - head and all - isn't exactly a momento. She felt bad for killing it. It was the only innocent member of that party, completely without blame for the crime of trying to kill her, or invading her jungle. But still, she leans forward a bit.]
What are you going to do with a dead elephant?
[Presumably clean the bones and bleach them, and then display them somehow, or take them aboard his ship, or turn the ivory of the tusks into jewelry.
She's not going to say no. She's going to bargain with it.]
I'm going to decorate my ship with it. Fix the skull to the prow and let my prey watch it as it charges them, turn the bones into weapons.
[ There's plenty to be done with a dead elephant, and for as much as he'd like to do, there might even be some left over. No sense wasting what's already dead. ]
Maybe send them to a bone carver, turn them into something worth whispering about.
[He gives her so much jewelry, and she loves every piece, but she's always a little hungry for more. Rings, and gold, and glitter. She, like pirates, likes the glitter for the sake of glitter, and for the sake of security. When he was about to be killed, she sold every piece of jewelry she had hoarded from when she was kidnapped, her earrings and rings and necklace, the bangles of precious gold, all to outfit a sleek fast ship, pay the crew, get him out of Nassau.
This is him paying her back, in a way.]
Good.
[As to the second.]
You can just lie next to me, and hold me, can't you? Surely you can keep yourself in check.
[ But there's amusement in his eyes, and compliance, as kicks his boots off, and then slides himself up the mattress on the more spacious side of her, pausing just to lean in and kiss her softly, his hand sliding up to touch her face.
Then he grips her chin firmly, his lips brushing hers. ]
Just know that if you ever put your life in danger like that again, I might just finish the job myself.
[ He would fucking never, and she should know that quite well. But sometimes a threat needs to be made just to underscore how seriously he feels about it. ]
[She watches him, eyes bright, mouth just a little open.]
I think you were at sea for months and we were only together a few times. I can't blame you for wanting to touch me.
[She's just as hungry as he is. She kisses him, and her heart beats a fast thud, desperate as anything. She growls a little at the grip, at the words.]
Did I scare you?
[She whispers it, her voice dropping the fury. There are some things that they can only say in whispers. Her nose presses against his.]
[ Despite the trace of an edge in his tone, the way he touches her is gentle, as if she really is fragile right now.
He shifts back to the pillows, giving her something warm and solid to lean against but not wanting to encourage her to move too much. Her body will heal itself quickly enough, but until that happens, he'll do his best to keep both of them in check. ]
How did you feel, seeing me at the gallows? You froze the blood in my veins, woman. Don't do it twice.
When he woke up, after that first day at sea, she slapped him for being so careless with his life. She slapped him and then burst into tears, because Daphne feels everything more intensely, even the potent mix of fear and relief.
She doesn’t like being afraid.
She knows he feels everything, too. He’s a fury because he’s all passion, which means fear is a potent thing.
She leans against him, her hand reaching for his.]
I don’t intend to.
[She sighs softly.]
I thought my heart stopped, when I saw you on the gallows. As though I swallowed poison.
[ He'd maintained then, as he would now, that he made his choices deliberately and would make the same ones again; Jack Rackham lived to fight another day because of it, and he was satisfied with the bargain. If Daphne had done the same, maybe he'd feel differently. Instead, it was simply a careless turn of events that might have cost her life if one of those bullets had found a better mark.
Then again, he probably wouldn't feel differently at all.
Charles has never been one to overstate his feelings, but he wouldn't disguise them from her. They know each other; he wanted that so badly, to be known deeper than his legend by someone he could trust with it, and of the very few people who have managed it, Daphne is the only one who never betrayed him afterward. So why hide anything from her now? ]
I don't fear my death. But I fear yours. And I'll never stop trying to protect you from it - even if you slaughter an army of elephants.
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cribellate2022-02-27 11:31 am
no subject
He pulls out the knife and she screams, and huffs, her paw twitching. Charles' scout is one of Daphne's kin, not a shifter, but he knows enough. He kneels next to Charles, hands his sash over to tie it around Daphne's shoulder. She snarls and snaps, but he moves fast to get out of the way. She should. I'll run ahead, and tell her aunt to prepare, and get them to come here.
He gets up, and he's moving, because the important thing now is making sure that they know how to heal her.
Daphne, meanwhile, pants through her mouth, snuffles, her paw twitching. The hunter is still yelling, and the Portuguese is close enough to Spanish that Charles can likely make out not only his cries for help, but his screaming that the tiger is a demon, it's a demon and it came straight from hell.
She butts her enormous head against Charles, to let him know she knows who he is.]
no subject
Get back!
[ The man does as he's told, carefully sliding his weapon back into its scabbard and falling back again. Charles turns back to Daphne, meeting her large yellow eyes as he rests a hand on her head, stroking just once. Then he gets up and approaches the Portuguese hunter lying beneath his elephant.
Those curses, or pleas, or both, whatever they are all direct towards him as he comes closer, but he ignores it. Not a single word matters. Eyes flashing with rage, he draws his own sword, and as soon as he's close enough to do it, his boot shoves the hunter's head sideways and then presses down, the cries turning to gurgles. Then Charles brings his cutlass down with a roar of fury, the blade slicing clean through the hunter's throat.
Instantly the jungle goes silent, except for the blood spurting from the crushed body. He reaches down and grabs the head by the hair, and then tosses it to one of his men, who catches it with only the barest flinching. ]
Take the heads. All of them.
[ The look he gives to them makes it clear that he's not joking. ]
Including the elephant.
[ Then he swipes his blade on the corpse's fancy coat, and quickly returns to Daphne's side. His men behind him have already gotten to work; now he doesn't see or hear anything else but her. He crouches beside her, sliding a hand into her fur again. This is going to be difficult for her, but it's either this or she has to suffer out here in the jungle, as the stench of blood and death rises like steam from the earth. ]
Time to change back, tigress. Let's get you the hell out of here.
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The men start to work on his orders, low buzzing arguments about the best way to behead an elephant when he comes back to her, and her attention focuses on his words.
It’s going to hurt to shift back and she doesn’t want to. She knows she should. She knows he can carry her like that, that they must have done something, hit something when they stabbed her because she still can’t move her paw very much.
Still she stays a long moment, huffing her breath and trying to get ahold of herself.
The men are almost done, and she’s been a tiger the whole time. Ten, fifteen minutes have elapsed and Charles is still there with her, watching her, when finally her shape changes and she’s back to herself. The first thing she does is cry out as the pain screams through her.]
Charles-
[Her voice is so low it’s almost a growl. The blood and the wounds are still there, her hands smeared and stained. She reaches her good hand to him, her eyes closing to slits.]
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The sound of her pain rakes across his flesh like a knife down his spine, and Charles immediately grabs her hand in his own, giving her something to grip that's solid and won't let her go.
Without so much fur disguising her wounds, it's easier to see the ones left by bullets, which makes him grit his teeth so hard it nearly snaps his jaw, breathing hard at the sight of her so damaged. She'll heal, but this won't happen immediately. He wishes he hadn't killed the man under the elephant so quickly. He's thinking now that he'd have liked to flay him first, and hoist the man's skin like a flag just off the shores of Portugal.
Seeing her in so much pain makes him feel deeply, sickeningly powerless. But the only sign of it is the tightness of his jaw, the hard line through his brow. Charles reaches out, hooking one hand under her knees, drawing the other around her shoulder. It will hurt, but then they'll be on their way. ]
I've got you. Hold on to me if you can. One, two--
[ Before three, and as quickly and smoothly as he's able to manage, he pulls Daphne into his arms and stands up with her cradled against his chest. His men can do what needs to be done here, even if all they do is collect the heads and leave the rest for the jungle. He's taking Daphne home. ]
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Besides, there is no place on this planet safer than in Charles Vane's arms, because he would burn the jungle down and take himself with it before he let anyone hurt her more.
Her good arm comes up to grip his shirt, and she presses her face against his chest. There are more important things, anyway.]
You got the other half?
[She means the other half of the hunting party. One or two have to have escaped, to send the word back - don't go in that jungle. There are demons in that jungle.
Her voice is softer than she would usually like. One of his men, not her kin, but one of the men who would follow Vane to the ends of the world, is coming up behind them to keep an eye on Vane's back.]
no subject
[ Charles doesn't trust survivors. Survivors take information with them, letting the enemy return in greater force. He'll be delivering this particular message in a different fashion.
Hence the heads.
But right now his only priority is her. He knows his way through the jungle now, and takes her straight back to the village, where Daphne's aunt and the rest meet him before he's reached the first bungalow. He doesn't let them take Daphne from him. Wherever she needs to go, he'll be the one to get her there. ]
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Priya is efficient; when she's done, she leaves Charles with a ewer of water to clean the blood off her. Better you than me, I am too angry to look at her for more than a minute.
It's the truest sign he's ingratiated himself with her family. They wouldn't leave him alone with her when she's injured and vulnerable otherwise. And don't let her shift, Priya snarls as she leaves. The stupid girl will aggravate her wounds.
Daphne looks at Charles, her hair stuck to her scalp from sweat, her mouth half open, and she pants a little.]
I suppose I deserved that, didn't I?
Are you going to snarl at me too, lion?
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She will heal, but... god, that looks horrific. He's been shot himself, and wouldn't eagerly repeat the experience; Daphne took several at once, from bigger guns. Deciding what he wants to do with their trophies is a moderate distraction from her pain, but he indulges it until her aunt finally leaves them alone with each other.
Daphne looks like she's been to hell and back, but there's more life in her now than there was in the jungle, so. At least that's something. Charles pushes away from the wall and approaches the bed. ]
No. [ He reaches for her good hand, and brings it to his mouth for a kiss. ] These wounds speaks for themselves. But we also did what we went out there to do.
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She dips her head to kiss his hand back.]
Weren't you supposed to leave one to go running home telling tales?
[She says it as she tries to get him close. Priya left the bowl she had dropped the bullets in next to them, and occasionally Daphne finds herself looking over at it.]
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When she asks him that, he shakes his head. ]
A man who faces me at sea is fighting on neutral ground. We're all at the mercy of nature out there.
[ Noticing her glances, he tugs the bowl a little closer and dips his hand in to draw out a little sphere of lead, holding it for her to see. ]
But to come here, threaten our home and your life? They lost the right to decide how this story goes. I'll tell my own.
no subject
They weren't supposed to threaten my life.
[She says it with a sigh, but okay. She holds his hand like it's an anchor and she's going to set sail otherwise.]
Who are you sending to give them the heads back, then? Better make it one of your men. We all know how the more European they are, the more likely they are to think mine are savages who don't know anything.
[She's getting bossy because she was scared; she was afraid she would die, but she can't say that so easily, not yet.]
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I will - if I send the heads back.
[ He's still undecided, which is what he was brooding over while her aunt Priya pried the bullets out of her body. Rage and vengeance tells him to carry the heads all the way back to Portugal and fire them from the cannons into the city, with her name carved into their sunken cheeks. But such a brazen act would demand action taken against it, and who knows what Portugal would send for the purpose? There's only so much he can do to protect her from his place at sea.
He toys with her fingers, watching her very carefully. ]
We could post them up, at the edge of the jungle. As a warning. Even rational men will think twice about ignoring a curse like that.
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Finally she nods a little bit.]
It would work.
[She says it especially carefully.]
You’re not going to go do it yourself, are you?
[She clears her throat. No, that isn’t what she wanted to say. That isn’t how she wanted it to sound, a little fussy.]
You could. I could order you to.
[She doesn’t particularly want to do that. She doesn’t particularly want to let him out of her sight.]
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I'll let you decide who to send, tigress.
[ He lifts her hand again, tangling their fingers. ]
But I want to keep the elephant.
[ By all rights, she gets to do whatever she wants with it. Less to him because she's the queen, so much as because she's the one who killed it, so she has the claim to it. But offering to trade for something he doesn't think she much wants anyway seems perfectly fair. ]
no subject
What are you going to do with a dead elephant?
[Presumably clean the bones and bleach them, and then display them somehow, or take them aboard his ship, or turn the ivory of the tusks into jewelry.
She's not going to say no. She's going to bargain with it.]
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[ There's plenty to be done with a dead elephant, and for as much as he'd like to do, there might even be some left over. No sense wasting what's already dead. ]
Maybe send them to a bone carver, turn them into something worth whispering about.
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I have two conditions.
[She raises her eyebrows and looks up at him.]
The first is that you cut a slice from the tusk and make me a ring. I want you to carve it.
[Her lips quirk a bit.]
And I want you to get into bed with me and keep me warm right now.
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To the first, I'll do my best.
[ He kisses the back of her hand, with a little bit of a bite. ]
As to the second, are you sure you aren't in too delicate a condition to receive the company?
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This is him paying her back, in a way.]
Good.
[As to the second.]
You can just lie next to me, and hold me, can't you? Surely you can keep yourself in check.
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[ But there's amusement in his eyes, and compliance, as kicks his boots off, and then slides himself up the mattress on the more spacious side of her, pausing just to lean in and kiss her softly, his hand sliding up to touch her face.
Then he grips her chin firmly, his lips brushing hers. ]
Just know that if you ever put your life in danger like that again, I might just finish the job myself.
[ He would fucking never, and she should know that quite well. But sometimes a threat needs to be made just to underscore how seriously he feels about it. ]
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I think you were at sea for months and we were only together a few times. I can't blame you for wanting to touch me.
[She's just as hungry as he is. She kisses him, and her heart beats a fast thud, desperate as anything. She growls a little at the grip, at the words.]
Did I scare you?
[She whispers it, her voice dropping the fury. There are some things that they can only say in whispers. Her nose presses against his.]
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[ Despite the trace of an edge in his tone, the way he touches her is gentle, as if she really is fragile right now.
He shifts back to the pillows, giving her something warm and solid to lean against but not wanting to encourage her to move too much. Her body will heal itself quickly enough, but until that happens, he'll do his best to keep both of them in check. ]
How did you feel, seeing me at the gallows? You froze the blood in my veins, woman. Don't do it twice.
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When he woke up, after that first day at sea, she slapped him for being so careless with his life. She slapped him and then burst into tears, because Daphne feels everything more intensely, even the potent mix of fear and relief.
She doesn’t like being afraid.
She knows he feels everything, too. He’s a fury because he’s all passion, which means fear is a potent thing.
She leans against him, her hand reaching for his.]
I don’t intend to.
[She sighs softly.]
I thought my heart stopped, when I saw you on the gallows. As though I swallowed poison.
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Then again, he probably wouldn't feel differently at all.
Charles has never been one to overstate his feelings, but he wouldn't disguise them from her. They know each other; he wanted that so badly, to be known deeper than his legend by someone he could trust with it, and of the very few people who have managed it, Daphne is the only one who never betrayed him afterward. So why hide anything from her now? ]
I don't fear my death. But I fear yours. And I'll never stop trying to protect you from it - even if you slaughter an army of elephants.
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[She was afraid. So afraid that she’d die and he would hurt, afraid she would die and everything she built would be for nothing.
Afraid he would be alone again.]
I promise to never make you watch me die, lion. I promise you can kill as many men and as many elephants as it takes.
Does that satisfy you?
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