[ She nearly hesitates, parting her mouth to speak — only to find no words on the tip of her tongue. Nothing she suspects he'll want to hear, nothing that feels attainable to her. At best, these fantasies he invites her to indulge in are an escape from the prison of their reality; at worst, it is merely a reminder of two lives she must decide between.

She mirrors him, tilting on her not only to face him — but to invite the soft drag of his fingers through the messy strands of her hair, fanning out across his pillows. ]

I'd go somewhere far away and find peace for myself.

[ Far from civilization. Far from the light they shine down upon her. Far from the pedestal Ravka has propped her upon. Far from a world that would invite themselves to become an audience to her life, a permanent spectacle for the world to see and worship and criticize. Thus far, this — this moment, encased in glass away from the remainder of the world — is the closest she has come. ]

There's no one to bother us in the sea. No duties or responsibilities or creative rumors. [ Across the space between them, she reaches, fanning her fingers over his cheekbone before it drops to his pillow. ] And it's not really stealing if I give you my permission.

[ It's a nice dream, at any rate — but perhaps that's all it can be: a dream, hazy and slipping through their fingers. ]

What attainable thing would you do? I don't know much about the handbook of future kings, either.