Rhys was already still worrying and fretting and everything in between... but then she spoke, and his whole heart went to hell and didn't come back. He truly had made a mistake. Not just a mistake. Something that was so horrible people would have scars forever. She would have scars forever. He had done this. This was his fault entirely. It was almost ironic that he had stolen away something she loved, causing her to turn to the one thing she had left... him. He felt sick at the thought. Not just sick. Disgusted at himself. At everything. At Atius for being Atius, at the king for attacking him. At himself for not just subduing them. He may not be able to keep her from falling apart, because he could feel himself slowly breaking. The deaths had added up over the years, the extra weight on his shoulders spreading cracks through his facade of not caring... his very sanity. Then she came along and burrowed a hole into his black heart, and that weakened his walls even more. Lastly, the end straw... the king and Atius. Seeing them every time he closed his eyes. Every time he looked at her, being reminded that all the pain she was feeling... it was all his fault. She had just said it. Just said that he was the only thing preventing her from falling apart. Falling. Apart. He was also the one to make her fall apart in the first place. If he had never done any of this, maybe it would've all been fine. The king would've seen her potential, they wouldn't have let Atius marry her. She'd have been fine. Happy, even. Now all he saw was someone suffering so much loss she was pulling apart at the seams. And he was the knife cutting the stitches.

.

His chest tightened, and not in a good way. In a way that suggested if he wasn't a healthy ish young ish adult, he would be having a heart attack. He was 63 percent sure he wasn't, though. He was fiiiine. His eyes legitimately clouded over for a moment as real, heart stopping, lung crushing, painful panic set in. He had ruined everything, in a matter of minutes. Her whole LIFE, practically. He slowly looked at his hands, and suddenly, it looked like they were covered in blood again. Rhys recoiled away from his own hands, before realizing it was blood... but his. Not theirs. He couldn't do this now. No, no, no. If he had already ruined everything, then he'd spend the next 20 years putting it back together. He would not fall apart so that Phoebe would have a pillar to lean on. +For her.+ He thought, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they had mostly cleared, and he forced them to her. No, let them stray to her. He was forcing them away, and failing. They landed on the distance between them, her hunched shoulders, dejected look, and he was moving before he had the chance to think about the repercussions of his actions. He shifted closer to her and wrapped his arms around her, ignoring the hurt in his shoulder, careful to keep the blood off of her. He pulled her slightly closer, into his shoulder, and just held her there, embrace firm yet gentle. One that promised he wouldn't let go. "Like you said. It will get better." He murmured after a moment. "Whether it take weeks or years, it will." Once you had hit rock bottom, it could only go up from there.

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He barely registered her words, but they made sense. 2 days. Almost two days, anyway. That didn't matter anymore. What mattered was he finally stopped worrying about himself and starting worrying about her. It didn't matter how black his heart was. As long as he kept it away from her and took all the blood on his hands... she would be unscathed. Always innocent. Safe. He would deflect any harm, because he had caused more harm than anything else before. He would pull her into his arms day and night if it meant that someday she'd be back to herself. She would never forget, but he hoped she could forgive. He hoped he could see a smile again. Someday. He would wait forever.

Phoebe Nightlingale

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Phoebe would probably never understand what it felt like to kill someone, whether it be out of self-defense or with malicious intent. She could only imagine what Rhys was enduring as he sat there beside her on the couch, quiet and flinchy. He seemed disturbed, much unlike the man she was used to being around before everything had happened. She wished she could do something to have that relaxed, almost.. happy-looking Rhys again, but she didn`t even know what that first step would be. Phoebe had already conveyed she wasn`t upset with him, never with him, but instead it was the weight of everything that was tearing her apart. Her poor mother certainly hadn`t deserved to be stripped of her husband while he was healthy, yet.. Phoebe wondered if she would have been fine with it- in one way or another- if she knew about what her husband had been plotting. She presumed it had all been Atius` scheming, especially the marriage between him and her, but her father had still gone with it without hesitation, uncaring about how scared and ill the General always made her feel. She didn`t know when it would happen, but she would also be thrusted abruptly into the position as queen, as ruler of the country her father had governed with an iron fist. Truth be told, she was beginning to regret avoiding all the meetings her father had held.. if only she had been just a little more responsible.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she suddenly felt Rhys embrace her, gently moving her closer with a reassurance and firmness that didn`t go unnoticed. Phoebe, even if she was hurting due to everything that was unfolding around them, felt herself relax for the first time in days and it was all thanks to him. It was only Rhys that had this calming effect on her and she silently prayed it would never vanish. She knew he was still in pain from all of his injuries, yet he had cared enough to simply hold her close. A somewhat shaky exhale escaped her as she closed her eyes, leaning into his shoulder gently. She felt completely protected and surrounded by him, a feeling that she knew she would become attached to if she kept feeling it. Phoebe would have embraced him back in return, but she was mindful of his injuries and remained as she was. Besides, he probably knew enough by the way she had leaned into him, not away.

``It.. will,`` she whispered, reassuring herself more than anything as she repeated his words. Phoebe did remember saying that and she had meant it, but even now.. there were far too many unknowns and threats to know for certain that everything would be okay. She just had to trust those four simple words: it will get better. Phoebe felt almost as if she was getting too comfortable with his touch, but that didn`t really prevent her from nestling her head between his neck and shoulder. Whenever it was just her and Rhys, everything felt.. okay, despite everything that was probably occuring outside of the walls of her chambers. She opened her eyes to look over at the window, noticing how the scene before her was similar to the night when she had helped Rhys back to her room after she had sutured his wounds. Moonlight was streaming through the glass, lighting up her chambers and not making it so dark and foreboding if there hadn`t been a source of light. It was then that she quietly observed something.. Rhys` eyes reminded her of the night sky, they were dark but there were little speckles of color here and there if one looked hard enough, like the stars. The thought nearly made her smile, yet her expression remained neutral despite it. She wouldn`t deny that she felt comfortable in his arms and the idea of sleeping then and there was a welcome one, but she didn`t want to close her eyes and slip away from this moment.. not yet, anyways.

Rhys was only holding on to his threads of sanity for her. He wanted to go to his room and fall asleep and never wake up, but that couldn't really happen now. He had a chance, two days ago. A chance to escape the pain. He didn't take it. Because of her. Always. His gaze trailed up to the window, the moon full and shining moonbeams into the room. It was a silly thought, but the moon didn't have problems or impossible choices. It was merely a hunk of rock, unaware of the light it reflected onto the earth. He knew, on the surface, that Phoebe wasn't angry with him. She might be deep down, but it didn't even matter. She was still hurting. He sighed quietly, going from midlife crisis to quiet suffering. He'd stuff down the pain, if only to hide it from her so he could focus on her. She would never allow him to help her if she truly knew what he was thinking. He couldn't let that happen. She deserved so much more... but that didn't happen.

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Rhys didn't change his grip, but he was trying to decide when he should let go. His thoughts shifted slightly when she relaxed, exhaling quietly. As he had promised himself, he would do whatever was best for her, so when she leaned into his shoulder, he didn't let go. He let out a low sigh, his mind swirling with thoughts. Now they were thoughts of how to best help her. How to get her through this rough time. How to be there for her without pushing or getting too close. How to figure out the right way to be near her. Everything seemed right right now, but would it always feel like this? He needed to stay vigilant in thinking about the best ways to do everything. Maybe that would distract him from... life. He could make a new life. Revolving around not letting her spiral. Or at least being at the bottom to catch her.

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He didn't move an inch as she let her head rest, his gaze flicking to the window as he just watched the cloud he could see hover just above the moon, yet not hinder its glow. Just as he was like the night, she was like the day, her vibrant blue gaze reminding him of the sunniest of skies. It was serene, at the moment, quiet, peaceful even. The room was lit by the moon, the floor looking silver in its shine. His own body began to relax just slightly, the comfortable silence like a pad over his mind, slowing it to a normal pace. He didn't have to worry about his wound hurting or Atius attacking her or anything happening in this moment. He could just sit and exist. Feel her being actually relaxed in his arms, which he was certain hadn't happened for at least two days. The only worry on his mind was if she was getting enough sleep- obviously no- and when the last time she ate was. When that thought surfaced, he decided to make sure that she ate breakfast, at very least. This was a hard time, but starving herself wouldn't fix it. His eyes stayed fixed on the window, the gentle light soothing the concerns in the forefront of his mind. Everything would be fine, someday, as he said. Everything may fall to hell right now, with all these changes, but in a year or two, when she was getting used to ruling... everything would likely be better than fine. Although she didn't want to be ruler, as he knew... he also believed that was what was going to make her a good one. All the best leaders are people who never wanted to lead. It has repeated itself in history for decades. George Washington never wanted to be president... yet he made quite a good one. Dwight D. Eisenhower never wanted to be a general, and yet he also succeeded. Rhys knew, with some help, that she would as well.

Phoebe Nightlingale

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The silence that hung over them was almost welcoming, especially with the addition of the moonlight that provided the two of them with enough light to see each other and the room they were in. Phoebe felt at home in Rhys` arms, as if everything would be okay as long as he was holding her; the sentiment was definitely foreign to someone like her, and she blamed her exhaustion for it. She had only taken a nap that lasted a few minutes the first day Rhys had slept, her mind haunted by the blood and the knowledge that her father and the General were dead; Atius had deserved what happened to him, but it was her father`s death that was disturbing her on a plethora of levels. If Rhys hadn`t killed him, there would`ve been an incredibly likely chance that he would have been the one that ended up dead, not her father. That possibility hurt more than the reality that her father was dead, for some reason. Her thoughts eventually drifted towards a whole different possibility, one she honestly liked the idea of, but doubted if Rhys would even consider it, let alone feel grateful for her thoughtfulness. She didn`t know how much he enjoyed being a servant, after all.. didn`t know if he preferred working compared to having a position that didn`t require as much manual labor.

Phoebe was aware of how mistreated he was by other royals, along with the other poor servants in the castle. Maybe, her first order could be related to their mistreatment, to somehow lessen it. The idea was sincere and honest, yet she also knew the others would listen for one second before calling her insane and accusing her of wanting to destroy the ``balance`` between royal, commoner, and servant. Phoebe wanted everyone to be seen and treated as equals, but she knew it could be merely wistful thinking. She sighed as she lifted her head a little, tilting it to quietly examine Rhys` face. He seemed a little calmer now, as if her leaning into his touch had helped just a wee bit; it made her heart warm and her gaze soften. Even if Rhys was set on taking care of her, she would try her utmost best to help him in return. She let out a soft hum of thoughtfulness before she asked quietly, her voice curious, ``What would you be, if not a servant?``

She hated referring to him as a servant, but it was still what he was. God, if it were up to her she would change the term to something else entirely. Phoebe waited for his response, whether it be a mere shrug or a genuine, verbal response; she wondered if he even wanted to do or be something else other than a servant. Maybe he wanted to be in the woods his whole life, to keep to himself. She had noticed how almost always he left the castle and to the forest surrounding it whenever he could, so she figured it was his way of taking a break from the chaos that was always happening here. For a moment, she asked herself the question that she had asked him. If she hadn`t been a princess-soon-to-be-queen, she would probably do something relating to the arts, whether it be painting or indulging in books for the rest of her life. She liked the idea of that far more than being stuck in a throne room where she dealt with politics, drama, and conflicts that were all affected by her decisions. She had a hunch that the stress and weight of it all would be enough to give her a heart attack.. she didn`t doubt that at all.

As Rhys held Phoebe close, he felt her tension, her thoughts racing despite the calm exterior. She's lost in thought, haunted by the events that transpired. Her father's death weighs heavily on her mind, and he could sense the complexity of emotions she's grappling with. Guilt, grief, and perhaps even a hint of relief – it's a tangled web, and he was not sure she's fully aware of her own feelings. Not that he would know any better, but he felt like he had learned a lot about her lately.

.

He wondered, vaguely, what she's thinking about me, about my role as a servant. Does she see it as a burden, or does she genuinely want to help me? The idea that she might be considering ways to improve my situation touches something deep within me. It's been a long time since anyone has shown genuine concern for my well-being. It's impressive, really, that she could be raised how she was... and still turn out so amazing. He didn't quite know what her plan was when she was queen... but he trusted whatever it was.

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As he glanced at her, he noticed the faintest glimmer of a plan forming in her mind. She's thinking about something, but he wasn't quite sure what. Perhaps it's related to her newfound position, her desire to make a difference. He hoped she'll consider the servants, the ones who worked every day without complaint, who are often overlooked and underappreciated. If anyone can bring about change, it's her. He knew that... and he knew that she would. Anything she felt she could do, she would. He was truly lucky to be here with her.

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As Phoebe's question hung in the air, he let his gaze drift from the darkness outside the window to her inquisitive face. "What would I be, if not a servant?" He repeated her words softly, my mind wandering to the possibilities. He's been a servant for so long, it's hard to imagine being anything else. He had never gotten the chance to think about anything but being trapped here, forced to serve. And really... he was more of a slave. He wasn't getting paid. He was being held hostage. Sure, they fed him and gave him a home, but only because they couldn't let him outside the castle. It was... concerning to think about.

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He looked down at Phoebe, her eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity, and he felt a pang in his chest. She's so much different from the other nobles I've met. He knew that, but this seemed almost different. She was asking him what he would do if he wasn't a servant. She knew how the servants were treated was wrong. She saw him, truly saw him, and cared about his well-being. It's a strange feeling, but one he was always grateful for.

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"If I weren't a servant," he began slowly, pausing a moment, a small, amused smile growing on his face. "I cannot believe that this is the question I can barely answer..." He mused with a shake of his head. He had expected it to be something different. "I've always enjoyed carpentry." He finally stated slowly. "And blacksmithing. Specifically weapons, but just working with metal." His eyes flicked to the room around them, gaze slightly thoughtful. Rhys had never had a problem with referring to himself as a servant... he was used to it by now, even if he still disliked it.

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He paused, considering Phoebe's question for a moment more. "But I wouldn't care what I did as long as I got to do it myself. Not for someone else." He finally said, voice still quiet. He had always hated serving others that were just too lazy to do it themselves. It would be the perfect life. He could work in his shop he built himself, go to the lake in the evenings, sleep in a real bed, walk through the forest whenever he felt like. Simple.

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His eyebrows crinkled slightly as he saw something, a hand moving to pick a small bug out of her hair. It was deeefinitely a testament to how she wasn't taking care of herself well enough. With a low grumble of something incoherent under his breath, he moved his arm just enough to pull a piece of paper out of his pocket, wrap it around the small insect, and put it back in. After a moment, his brain kept stabbing at him to ask to hopefully keep distracting her, so he did. "What about you... if you weren't in the position you are. Or a royal at all." He asked, his head tilting just slightly. He could guess it was something meaningful and relaxing. Quiet. Maybe drawing? Then again, he hadn't seen her draw. Then again, he hadn't seen her eat, so just because he hadn't seen it did not mean it didn't happen.

Phoebe Nightlingale

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The small smile that had formed on Rhys` face told her that she had asked a genuine, good question and it made her feel almost proud of herself. Usually, her questions were often dismissed as ridiculous or unnecessary, but it seemed like Rhys was actually grateful for it. Her eyes brightened with anticipation as she waited for his answer, her mind already plotting to somehow get rid of his current predicament as a servant and to give him a life he deserved; it was in her power, but even then.. she knew it would be a little suspicious. Regardless, she listened careful as he spoke: carpentry and blacksmithing.. honestly, she should have known it would be something similar to that. It had never gone unnoticed by her how he always went out of his way to make things easier for everyone in general, so she really should have expected it to be something related to working.. working a lot. It was his last words that truly gained her attention, the reality of it all dawning on her: he was like a prisoner here, unable to work when he wanted, who he worked for, and what he worked on.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when he reached over to grab the bug she had noticed, her eyes widening just a little. Yeah.. she really was a mess. Phoebe didn`t even remember when the last time she ate was and she would probably have to clean herself off once Rhys decided to sleep. Then again, there was also the possibility that both of them were going to be unable to sleep tonight. For her, it was definitely her thougths and for him.. well, he had already slept for nearly two days. His question almost earned her attention immediately, her gaze flicking upwards to look at him directly. She blinked once, almost surprised that he had asked her the question she had asked him; she really should have expected that. It would seem a lot of things were easily found surprising by her lately, which she blamed her exhaustion for completely. She had already thought about it, however.

``Painting,`` she whispered softly, the smallest of smiles shifting onto her face at the thought. Truth be told, it was her mother that had been the first person to ever hand her a paintbrush and a few paint colors. She used to have all the time in the world to sit down and paint, but it was after the assasination attempt that she no longer had the luxury of taking time off for her own sake; as always, her father was to blame for that. Honestly, the one thing she painted over and over again was the view from the balcony, wanting to perfect it one day. Whenever she didn`t feel like painting that, she resorted to painting the gardens from memory. ``My mother actually taught me. It was her own escape from all the responsibilites on her shoulders and, since it had worked for her, she figured it would work for me. And it had, until I didn`t have much time for it anymore.``

Phoebe sighed once she was finished explaining, returning her head to its former position against his shoulder. Knowing he might still be in pain and that his body was probably sore, she ensured the weight was light, not wanting to bother him in any way; he had already let her before, but she would keep being careful. She wanted to know as much about Rhys as he would let her know, so much so she found herself already thinking of another potential question. Unfortunately, most of them were definitely ones that would be considered too personal or overstepping her place; the last thing she wanted was to drive him away due to her own curiosity. She knew the general information about Rhys, a few more intricate things that he had told her whenever they had been in the halls together or in the privacy of the gardens. Yet.. she still wanted to know more.

As he spoke, he noticed the way her eyes brightened and she actually seemed to listen like she was interested. Rhys knew he made the right decision by thinking about his answer and giving an in depth explanation- as much in depth as he ever got. It wasn't like he described every excruciating detail, but he had gone so far as to specify what he had thought about. That was a lot for him. He did truly enjoy both things he mentioned, when he had to do them for the castle. The king would occasionally assign him to build furniture or make daggers and such, and also, his father was a blacksmith, so he learned quite a bit. Definitely not because his father taught him, though. No, because he skulked around in the shadows watching with the utmost interest as his drunk father barely managed to avoid cutting off their hand.

.

He could see when it really registered with her, when she pieced it together that he ... well, hated it here. The castle was beautiful, he loved the gardens, and her friendship was amazing. However, he was a prisoner. Plain and simple. He didn't get to pick and choose, he didn't get to leave when he wanted. Although he had got used to it, he would think every once in a while about a different life. One where he collected the spoils of his creations, relaxed when he needed, and enjoyed life. A slightly sad slightly amused smile twitched his lips up at her wide eyed glance at the bug. He would have to make sure to ask her about something having to do with her well being.

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Rhys could see the surprise in her eyes that he even bothered asking a question. He didn't mind, though. He was withdrawn and usually didn't care about people's desires and dreams, but he seemed to want to know everything about her. What she would do if she wasn't a princess was a good place to start, right? He gave her his attention when she answered, a bit of a pleased look flashing across his face for a second. He had guessed almost correctly. He tilted his head and listened carefully, his gaze softening slightly. Every piece of information like this was like shining a light on a new piece of her, and he enjoyed seeing each one. "I'm glad you enjoy painting, even if you don't have as much time to do it." His lips twitched up. "I tried painting exactly one time. It ended with a ripped canvas and an exasperated Rhys, and I decided not to paint again." He had only been 16, to be fair, but painting was not for him. Drawing, yes... he enjoyed charcoal art, mostly, but not painting. They seemed so similar but were so, so different.

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He paused for a couple moments, then ventured into what he felt like he should ask. "When was the last time you ate?" His voice was gentle, but a wee bit concerned. He was already planning on something that was quick and easy to make to give her. Maybe scrambled eggs. If he snuck into the kitchen at 2 in the morning, no one would notice, right? She needed to eat. And eggs were full of good stuff. Yeah, that was a great idea. He glanced back at her as he waited patiently for an answer. Whatever she said, he was still making her food, whether it was tomorrow morning or immediately. He didn't want to move, so the latter seemed like the better option. Though, he didn't think sleep was likely for either of them tonight.

Phoebe Nightlingale

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With everything happening, she knew it would be rather difficult to get Rhys out of his status as a servant without drawing suspicion. Since her father and the General had already known about her being close with Rhys, there was no telling who else knew about it and to what extent. For all she knew, neither of the two had known before someone else entirely had told them about it. She frowned at the thought, but it vanished as soon as it camel it had practically been nonexistent. She would get him a job- a real job- where he could do what he enjoyed and could also control himself fully, having the freedom he deserved. If she was able to get him a high position, that would definitely be a bonus as well.. yet again, that would also be suspicious. Phoebe figured she would have to wait a while before planning out how she was even going to do this; the deaths had occured literally two days ago, after all.

Phoebe`s heart warmed at his reply, his statement of him trying painting once was- surprisingly- enough to make her laugh for a brief moment, the sound soft and the littlest bit controlled; she had never burst out into laughter or simply laughed without worry since royals were expected to laugh in that.. controlled, authoritative way. Her eyes, which had still contained traces of exhaustion and sorrow, truly brightened this time as she lifted her head to look at him properly. It was amazing how bonding, even if slowly, could change how comfortable and open one was with another so.. quickly; Phoebe loved it, to be honest, even if Rhys already knew her walls were torn down for him and him alone. She couldn`t help herself when she whispered a lighthearted tease, a smile gracing her features, ``I can imagine the look on your face. What would it take for me to even make you consider trying to paint again?``

Phoebe waited to observe his reaction before she, once again, returned her head to the comfortable spot between his shoulder and neck. If she had her way, she would stay like this forever, wrapped up in his arms. He made her feel safe and understodod, so much so she doubted he would ever truly do anything to intentionally hurt her or anything similar to that. His gentle question made her frown a little, reality dawning on her and reminding her of what was truly going on in the castle. She took a moment to respond before whispering quietly, ``The last time I ate was the morning before.. everything happened.``

Ever since she had taken Rhys to her room and kept watch over him while he recovered, she hadn`t been able to eat. She didn`t know if it was because of how drained and stressed she was or if it was because she was consumed by the death of her father and her mother`s reaction. Additionally, it could easily be all the gore from that night that had scared her appetite off, even if she hadn`t really had one in the first place. When her gaze flicked up to his face, she realized he was contemplating something and she figured he was going to make her eat in one way or another. She realized that he had also probably not eaten, so maybe.. she could persuade him to eat with her, if her presumption was correct, of course.

Rhys could tell she was thinking, though about what, he couldn't guess. Something to have to do with everything. Meaning she probably wasn't thinking about a crossword puzzle. That was his most amazing guess, at the moment. A small frown had flitted across her face, but disappeared immediately, so he wagered it was a pressing matter but not the deaths. Maybe she was thinking about how to argue with him so she didn't have to eat. That wouldn't work. She was eating. Or maybe she was thinking about the fact she hadn't slept in probably 2 days. His head tilted slightly, eyes flicking over her expression. He may be good at reading people, but he couldn't read minds. As much as he wished he could.

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His eyebrows lifted in mild surprise as she laughed- actually laughed for a second. Immediately a smile came onto his own face. Score. And, he decided, that was the best noise he had heard in forever, so this was the perfect conversation. Everything was going amazingly. As amazingly as it could with the problems of everything hanging over their heads like clouds of suffering. Still, her very laugh surely chased away his cloud of suffering slightly. It was like a pure ray of sunshine splitting the air. His own heart lifted as her eyes really brightened. Although there was flecks of grief and exhaustion, they still brightened in a way that made him want to do anything to get it back. This time, he didn't need to think about the answer- it seemed quite simple and plain, like there was only one right thing to say. One thing he wanted to say. "Just ask, princess. I'll paint with you whenever you want, despite the fact I severely suck at it." He replied in a soft, slightly amused tone. He wasn't joking, though- if she asked, he'd paint a thousand pitiful canvases. Each one likely worse than the last as his very threads of sanity start to unravel.

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Rhys was guessing that she hadn't eaten in a little while, but she had to have eaten something, even if something small, since the night it all happened, right? His eyebrows creased as she finally did speak. That was so much worse. Almost an entire day before it all happened? It had been a little more than 3 days then. He tried to keep a concern frown off of his face, but his lips twitched down just slightly. "I'm guessing you aren't planning on sleeping tonight, so will you allow me to make you something small?" He asked after a moment, glancing down at her. Something small that could keep her going for a little while, until she felt good enough to eat more. He still thoughts eggs were a stellar idea. "On that note... do you like eggs?" It seemed like a stupid question... who didn't like eggs... but he had to ask. He would literally eat anything that was served to him- except sushi, only crazy people ate that- because he couldn't pick and choose. He understood that she could, so she might have different preferences. Still ... they were eggs. And he could season them deliciously. Salt and pepper, obviously, but if you put in seasoned salt and paprika? Delicious. Then, it also helped too literally cook the cheese with it. Tasted amazing.

Phoebe Nightlingale

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Phoebe somehow felt herself relax even further as she watched his reaction to her words. The way his entire expression seemed to brighten, an indication that everything that was going wrong was temporarily forgotten.. She realized, even if it sounded a little absurd, that she was capable of making him happy by simply being herself, by letting her walls remain lowered and bare for him and him alone. It would seem they both had similar effects on each other and that was what she had hoped for; it meant that the way she felt was reciprocated, even if just a little. Her smile grew when he told her he would paint with her if she simply asked, the idea of seeing him so frustrated over something so simple as painting was.. comical, and she knew the sight of it would be enough for her to laugh again. Besides, she doubted he could be that terrible at painting, especially when she believed that art came from the heart and held meaning that only the creator themselves could truly ever understand completely. She nodded, her voice a quiet and equally amused tone, ``No one can truly suck at art. I like to think that its a gateway to one`s soul.``

She believed with all her heart that one of the best ways to understand someone was to look at something artistic they created. It was the strokes of the brush or pencil that mostly spoke volumes, but also the shading and colors.. All of it told a story, even if it was hard to understand and put together. The more complex a person was, the more difficult it was to understand them; she knew Rhys was commplex, but that never- and would never- stop her from getting to know him more. Regardless, she noticed the way he frowned slightly when she admitted that she hadn`t eaten in literal days, which made her feel a little guilty. She would have eaten sooner if she hadn`t been so overwhelmed and sickened by the deaths and the newfound weight on her shoulders. Almost desperately, she wanted to get rid of that frown, but she knew that the key to it was simple: she just needed to eat and him as well. Phoebe sighed softly before she replied, ``If you want to. And eggs do sound good..``

``You should eat too, if you haven`t already,`` she added after a few moments of pause, leaning back so she was sitting up straight again. She was already missing the way she was able to relax against him, but if they wanted to go make food, they would have to get up eventually. Suddenly, she remembered that he was injured and that he should be resting and not up and about, doing things for her that she could potentially do herself. She frowned, her expression becoming a little worried until she saw the look on his face. Beneath his concern, she could tell that there was no way he wasn`t going to get her food; there was a quiet determination in his eyes, almost daring her to protest against eating. She should have figured that was the case, knowing Rhys; it always seemed like her wellbeing was his priority, much like his was her priority. That was simply what friends did: care immensely for each other and put each other first, unconditionally. Regardless, even if she was a royal, she had never been a picky eater and was always open to trying new things; most foods were delicious to her, including delicacies that were often considered absolutely disgusting. She had a strange taste, but that also meant that she was incredibly easy to please when it came to food. It was harder to make her disgusted by a food`s taste than to make her like a certain food.