Aerith & Tifa (Tirith)

[The Painted Lady]

"He wants to help..." Sabela said softly.
"But I'm not sure how he can..."

[Tifa Lockhart]

Llyr shook his head, looking as positive about it all as Sabela.
"Geraint has always been too optimistic." He murmured, looking down-hearted.

[The Painted Lady]

Sabela sighed softly.
"So... we're giving up then?" she asked quietly.
"There's nothing left for us?..."

[Tifa Lockhart]

Llyr sighed and looked up, fixing Sabela with hopeless eyes.
"Bela... what hope is there? it's not like i can bring peace or... assassinate this prince for you..." He looked away again, shaking his head, "I just dont think... there is anything i can do."

[The Painted Lady]

Sabela felt a warm tear slip down her cheek.
"I wish you wouldn't say that... can't there be a little hope left?"

[Tifa Lockhart]

Llyr smirked a little and reached up to wipe away the tear that slid down Sabela's face.
"Yes... there is still hope." He said, his smile sad, "I still hope that you will come to love this prince and lead a happy life with him."

[The Painted Lady]

At that, Sabela swiped away Llyr's hand, looking angry. She stood away from him.
"How can you say that?!" she said, forgetting about staying quiet for now.
"How can you hope for something so horrid?!"

[Tifa Lockhart]

Llyr's own temper flared up as Sabela swiped his hand away. She didn't understand at all.
"Because at least then you will be happy!" Llyr snapped, his eyes burning as he stood to impose his height, "There is nothing, nothing i can do to stop this from happening!" He jammed his eyes shut and a tear slipped to roll down his cheek, "So the best scenario i can think of is you finding you actually like the man you're forced to marry. That way at least your life wont be hell with him!" He furiously wiped his tear away.
"Would you rather I not hope that!? Would you rather be forced into marriage with a man you hate!?"

[The Painted Lady]

Sabela did shrink a little as Llyr towered over her. He could intimidate her when he wanted to.
"I'd rather be with you..." she whispered weakly.

[Tifa Lockhart]

"Let it go Sabela..." His sighed, shaking his head, the words that came from his mouth made his throat bleed, and his heart seethe with agony, "We'd need a miracle... and i've given up living my life waiting for one." He sighed, knowing she'd hate that he'd given up on them. HE hated that he'd given up, but there was no way they could make this go their way.
"You've a few more days... then you have to come to terms with the reality... not the fantasy we've lived for so long."

[The Painted Lady]

"Let it go..." Sabela repeated quietly.
She backed up until her legs hit her bed.
"Let... it go..."

[Tifa Lockhart]

Llyr sighed, knowing he'd done that damage that needed to be done. Hopefully now she would hate him, and the isolation he'd undone while he was ill had been re-established.
"You can't cling to the impossible." He said, standing up and putting his shirt back on, "God knows i learned that the hard way. Clinging to the idea that my family were going to come and find me. So i adapted to what I had, accepting the reality and abandoning the fantasy. As it turns out, my reality was good, rather than bad. Now you just have to do the same thing with this." He head for the carriage door, "I am the fantasy, and this husband... he is your reality." He didn't spare another look back at Sabela, not wanting to see the wound he'd intentionally inflicted, "Good Day, Princess." He opened the carriage door and departed, pulling it shut behind him without another word.

[The Painted Lady]

Sabela was shaken into speechlessness as Llyr continued his attack. His words stung and the pain spread like poison in her body. He wouldn't even look at her! Her eyes and throat burned and her vision began to blur. She dropped to the floor and slumped, feeling helpless. She could do nothing but cry...

[Tifa Lockhart]

The next few days of travel were silent, eerily so. The Princess never came out of her carriage, and Llyr never ventured more than a few feet towards it. He remained at the top the column, staring out into the distance.

They were met by an envoy from the Hasnian capital not long after Llyr returned from his illness. Most of their group turned and left then, leaving Llyr and two other Knights to guard the princess. They followed the envoy to the great city without another word, the procession quite solemn.

Llyr did not come to think much of the great city when he saw it. Though it looked just as he had imagined it would. Tall and majestic, with spiraled towers reaching for the sky. Its walls were white and perfect, but the entire structure lacked the warmth of his home. There were no gardens, just ornate architecture and sculptures to dress the city up a little.
Even its people were cold, hollow-eyed and wary as the foregin procession moved through their streets. Llyr was appaled by the lack of a celebration to announce the monarchs arrival, Sabela deserved such things. Especially seeing as it was her freedom that was buying their peace.

The palace was no different, cold and white. Towering menacingly overhead. There was one improvement though, the King and his courtiers stood on the steps, waiting to greet them. Llyr found himself subconsciously mapping out the castle, trying to plan the perfect siege. He knew it was poor manners, but he could not help himself.
"Welcome!" The king announced in a voice that was far too sweet to be truely merry. He approached them as they came to a halt, a lone Knight clad in black armour following by his side.
Llyr dismounted his horse, ensuring he was presented neatly before coming to bow before the King.
"Greetings Sire. I am llyr, Knight of <insert kingdom i've forgotten> and Champion to the Princess Sabela."
"Well met sir knight!" The King announced, hiding quite skillfully the displeasure he harboured for Llyr's lack of surname.

Behind them Geraint opened the carriage door, peaking his head inside.
"Are you ready my lady?" he asked, worried for her well being. Sabela had spoken to no one since Llyr's returned, and he was worried that something had transpired and broken her spirit.

[The Painted Lady]

Sabela turned, dressed in her best gown, her golden hair cascading in soft waves to her waist, pushed from her sapphire eyes by a silver circlet. She did look beautiful, but everything about her was stiff... formal. Like it was quite clear she harboured every hatred for what was happening. Her emotionless expression broke for a moment as Geraint posed his question - she wasn't ready - but then she nodded, eyes hardening and lip stiffening. She didn't speak though. Not yet; she was scared she'd break.