This… oath. It would change their lives forever.
A lifelong responsibility. Dedication. Loyalty. Was he deserving of that? Truly?
Dante didn’t know, but it wasn’t his place to pass judgment. She was the Queen. She intended to be his Chosen. He, her Sworn Sword.
The weight of it settled onto his shoulders, and he found he couldn’t tear his gaze from her own.
I would die for you. For your children. For this kingdom. I would see you happy and content with life once again. To watch you grow into the Queen you are meant to be… would be the ultimate honor.
He was speaking, but it didn’t sound like his voice, too quiet, too certain. Still, he didn’t stop.
I see you too, mi girasol. The way you reach toward the sun, desperate to shed your winter coat and properly bloom. Your future is so bright.
Suddenly, the words felt like too much, and he had to look away. The intensity was searing, the tension thick enough to cut.
Did he want this?
May… may I have a few days to consider? This is not a small ask, nor one I want you making lightly. I think a few days, for us to truly sit with the idea, the reality of what our lives would be, are needed for something so sacred.
Turning back to her, his emerald gaze softened.
This is not me rejecting you. In fact, it is quite the opposite. My first instinct is to say yes, but I want this to be a safe choice for both of us. One not made purely on emotion.


