Mia Alexandrakis ʚɞ Polyxena (polyxene) wrote in mythopoeics, @ 2012-02-13 20:45:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !mini-log, !zurvan, arthur pendragon, polyxena |
Arthur shouldn't have been nervous. He was a king, after all. He was used to making nice with any number of royals and diplomats. He did know that this was different though. This was his future wife. He'd seen pictures of her and declared her beautiful but he was never sure how accurate oilpaint and canvas could be.
Arthur had met Queen Freyja in the past, though, and he knew that she was beautiful. The queen's twin brother was also feted as quite the looker. Still, Arthur probably should have known better. He should have known that Polyxena would be more beautiful than any woman he had ever met.
Polyxena never knew what to think of Arthur, she had declined seeing portraits of him. There was nothing in a painting which would tell her what she needed to know, it was best to see how he spoke, how he acted. His mannerisms in public- and when he had arrived and she had observed him privately from a window above, she had been pleasantly surprised.
There were no expectations of anything, but she still liked the unexpected blush that crept along her throat whenever she felt his eyes on her. Again, she tried not to expect too much (and she had promised Gawain to see him, there was no denying where her heart laid), but she was still very soothed by the goodness she saw in Arthur.
"My king." Polyxena extended her hand in greeting.
"Princess." Arthur inclines his head before he gently takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. When he raises his eyes to meet her gaze, he offers her a smile. He is not the sort to modulate his smiles depending on who he's talking to; this smile is purely Arthur and surely she can see that he's a little nervous but the smile is open and friendly.
"I am so glad to finally have this opportunity to make your acquaintance," he says, as though they have all the time in the world, and all the freedom to dally (they do not).
The treacherous blush rises along her neck, spreads across her cheeks as if she's but a mere girl (she is not). She inclines her head, "Likewise." And they are to be wed, and they are expected to be happy- could they be happy? Maybe. There is something dashing and confident about him- a little warm but not too openly. Private enough to be just between them, but true all the same.
"Please, let me show you around, I hope we shall get to know each other well before the wedding." For both of their sakes- and if not happiness, at least peace of mind.