He smirked.
It is not.Francis assured her, putting up with her needling with a fond sway of his tail.
Francis was relieved when Kairos agreed to his terms. Predictably, perhaps, she still had a retort for him. Francis snorted despite himself, the fires not forgotten but much of the worry over them set aside amidst the pair's banter.
Oh, please do - I would be worried you might blow right off in a strong breeze otherwise.He gave her a toothy grin to punctuate the reply.
They both looked a sight, her fur singed at the edges, his own cream tones smeared with soot and ash. But Francis' eyes glittered with joy, the grimy banner of his tail swaying pleasantly behind him.
Even when they grew more serious, Francis expression remained open and expressive. At her heartfelt thanks, his ears wilted slightly, nose tilting toward her as if tempted to sweep away invisible and unformed tears from her cheeks. As always - he refrained, but Francis did not miss the chance to try to offer support in his own way.
Miss Parthenon - The day you finally demand of this world its delivery of what you truly deserve, not what you have been taught to expect, will be a day I finally grasp contentment again for a time. I will present you with all you ask for and more, if it is within my limitations.He was just a man, after all, prone to pitfalls the same as any other - the only thing that made him different were the expectations tied to his blood and title.
He exhaled a long sigh at her request, though.
My, but the Parthenon was an expert at finding his limitations with unmatched speed.
I think you already know that is not a promise I would provide, even if I could make such a promise with any intention of keeping it. I can't swear to....succeed in my efforts to protect you.He glanced away from her: It was a different world, and different failures that came to mind with such an admission, wounds more open and raw to him than any roughness in his throat and lungs from the smoke.
But you have the promise of my best efforts for your sake.
If pressed, he'd say it was the same promise he'd offer any under his care. But that would be a lie. A Prince knew what it was to lose soldiers to a war - Francis understood the realities of a few lost to save many. He'd been raised to make those hard choices - the ones he'd be damned for, and the ones that would keep him up at night for the rest of his years.
He was the Golden Prince, but he wasn't perfect. There were a few, so very few, he knew himself to be compelled to sacrifice the many for.
Frightening, it was, a weakness so glaringly obvious he wished it didn't exist. But he knew, too, those he considered in that closest circle to be the reason he weighed his choices so carefully, the reason he cared enough to strive to be....a good man.
I am sorry.His voice, a husky whisper, intended only to reach the cupped ears of the woman beside him - and even then, only barely.
He was sorry, that he could not take that particular worry from her mind. He was sorry, that even with his refusal to fail to protect her outright, he still might do so. What was he doing, saying what he said, acting the gentleman prince, encouraging her to stand on her own boldly, when he couldn't even catch her if she fell?
Guilt swelled, a stinging, festering thing, within his chest. Francis' brows furrowed deeply, casting stormy shadows over his down-cast gaze.
