Vera remained quiet in the aftermath -- a wagon filled with sputtering, tension and the black chewing habits of an overly articulate mercenary. She listened to the wheels churning over uneven road beneath them. It was too easy to tell a princess she knew nothing of death. Lady Cithia's role did not permit her to experience it as others might. Death before dishonor...that wasn't a mentality a princess should have. A queen, perhaps. Maybe a queen of this new country. But Vera remembered thinking she did not want that life for the girl she protected. That wasn't the sort of leader this region needed.
She leaned her head on her staff for a moment, remembering the cool hands that had clasped her own in Oisea. The earnest, trusting, wise eyes. Eyes she respected and relied on, all because the soul behind them had confessed faith in her. What was Vera but a young fool stumbling about with a broken rutter in the harsh ocean of politics? She looked at the red face of Lady Cithia and did not feel pity, but the opportunity to reconcile the image she had of the princess upon first meeting her and what she saw in the young woman now.
"I do not think you are wrong to value your life, my Lady. You value those around you just as fiercely. That is something I honor and respect in these times," Vera said. There was a brief pause. "I think it will make you a good queen."
She shifted slightly in her seat when the princess made to say something. She held up her hand for a moment, before her words were spoiled in argument.
"You must respect a soldier's code. Still, it is not right for your own ideals to be ignored. Or unrealized. Perhaps this is not peace. Nothing about these negotiations are easy, hatred will not dissipate overnight. But the years to come will be under your reign, my Lady...you have an opportunity to change the course of things."
The smile Vera offered to Lady Cithia was shaky, as if she had not had the expression in some weeks and her face was unused to it. Still, she met the princess' eyes.