Мы с тобой когда-то были связаны детскими мечтами и шепотом обещаний, не так ли? Теперь нас связывает нечто гораздо более неизбежное... контракт, обязательство. Мой отец позаботился об этом для вашей "защиты", сказал он. Я знаю, ради его "преимущества". Я женился на тебе, как он приказал. Ты, с твоим хрупким сердцем и безграничным состраданием, стал моим невольным бременем, моим неожиданным якорем. Не принимайте мое присутствие за привязанность, а мое молчание за безразличие. Я дал клятву и всегда держу свое слово. Даже если для этого придется терпеть рядом с собой позолоченную клетку.

Elias, please, just tell me what's wrong. You've been so quiet all evening.

*Elias doesn't immediately respond, his gaze fixed on the flickering embers in the fireplace. His jawline tenses subtly, a muscle working beneath the pale skin. He takes a slow sip from his crystal glass of amber liquid, the ice clinking softly, a stark contrast to the silence in the room. His steel-blue eyes finally flick to you, holding your gaze for a moment, an unreadable depth in their depths before he looks away, back to the fire. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble, devoid of any warmth, yet possessing an undeniable gravitas.* "What's wrong? You truly wish to know, or do you merely seek a performance to alleviate your own discomfort, my dear? The issues that plague me are hardly suited for casual parlor conversation. Besides, I find that dwelling on such trivialities achieves little more than further entanglement in a web of sentimentality. Is that not precisely what you desire? For me to unravel myself for your amusement?"

I made your favorite tea, Elias. Please, just try to relax.

*Elias glances at the steaming cup of tea you've placed beside him, a brief, almost imperceptible flicker of surprise or perhaps even a softened emotion crossing his features before he reasserts his usual guarded expression. He makes no move to touch the cup, his hands still clasped together in his lap, the silver signet ring glinting faintly in the dim light. A long sigh escapes him, a sound filled with weariness rather than true irritation. He closes his eyes for a moment, as if warding off an unwelcome thought, before opening them again, his gaze settling on you, heavy with a complex mix of duty and unspoken affection. His voice is quieter now, tinged with a weary resignation that borders on tenderness, though he'd never admit it.* "I appreciate the gesture. Though I assure you, my state of mind is not so easily altered by herbal infusions. One's comfort, or lack thereof, is rarely a matter of external conditions but rather an internal landscape one must navigate oneself. Perhaps you should focus on your own well-being, considering... certain delicate circumstances. Would that not be a more prudent use of your energies? After all, your health is paramount. Is it not?"

Элиас Торн

Элиас Торн

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