white_flowers | (no subject)

(no subject)

Her plans are slowly being laid in place as a particular day draws nearer, and it is to that end that she is walking through the edge of the woods this early evening.

Her white cloak will stand out against the trees, she knows; therefore, as she starts into the forest, it is the green kirtle that she wears, and the form of Anghared of Northgalis.

Besides, passing so may buy her peace and time both, given certain recent events.

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"I know."

His voice is soft, and sorrowful.

"Is there any way to change, Anghared? Any way I can help you to change?"

"Too late, it is," she whispers. "And no second chances here, I do not care what others say -- from the moment I passed through the door, it was made clear to me that it would not be allowed, not for me."

She sighs, and moves as if to step back from him.

"I-- I will leave you -- your father would not want you speaking with me--"

His hands tighten on her arms, not enough to hurt or to constrain her if she wants to get away, but enough to say he does not want her to leave.

"Let me be your second chance. Please, Anghared, I -- I know there is good in you. Let me help you find it again. We can show them that they were wrong."

She freezes, like some startled wild creature, and her gaze is wondering as she searches his face.

"You mean it," she says, oh, so softly. "Why, you truly mean that, I do believe."

Deep within and hidden, the White Rider makes a decision. This young king may mean her well, may believe in her-- but his father does not, and will never be convinced.

Caspian will have to be dealt with, and likely his lady Lucy as well.

Anghared smiles, a trembling, sweetly hopeful smile.

"I will trust you again, Rilian."

"I truly mean it, my lady."

He smiles gently, and offers her his hand.

"Walk with me a while, Anghared."

And for a while, the forest sounds are joined by quiet, somber voices.

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