[ she closes her eyes and leans into him again. he may be a man of violence, but his presence is both reassuring and soothing for her. someone capable of defending her, and willing to do so.

and more than that, someone who cares. truly, it takes so little to coax her heart to form an attachment to others, despite the losses she has endured. others might offer her wisdom. but he can offer something no other can: the tenderness of a father.

a belief and a faith in her which few others share. the ability to encourage her to do things others would never think or wish to. because that would be dangerous. yet he does not think so. she leans back enough to look up at him, and slowly nods while biting her lip. emotion is vivid in her eyes, and it is guilt. guilt and grief, a duo of burdens which would crush anyone given time. ]

Yes. Many times. Were I able to back home, perhaps my brothers might.. [ she sets her jaw and tips her chin up. ]

I have come to see how capable women can be in combat. And how invaluable such a skill might be. Yes.

[ point; and it stings, sharply at first and then easing into a dull, hollow ache in the pit of her heart and stomach. she does not flinch nor wince nor cringe at it. instead, she nods her head slowly. ]

I have begun to see that I should not rely upon others for my safety. Though, as you might understand, I have been raised to do naught else.

[ but she must change that. to stand against the second usurper her country would otherwise suffer in a row or fall beneath the righteous feet of his mother and be trampled in her wake.

elizabeth nods once again, gravely. ]

I am willing to learn.

Its root lies at the very heart of the faith I practice. A woman brought sin into the world against the advisement of a man, and thus it seemed we could not be trusted with aught.

A woman in France took up arms some decades past, and fought for her King against my people. In the end, she was burned at a stake for "hearing voices", but also, I think for daring to wield a blade and ride astride. My mother is reviled for daring to advise my father while he was alive.

Everything I have ever known tells me to seek out the strongest and best of men here and take their protection. But..

[ she shakes her head. ] I look at my mother there, prone and unable to even lift a finger. Who can aid here thus?

No matter what my people might think of me in the future, I will do this. I know it will be difficult. But I have proven a decent scholar.

Perhaps you will make a fine warrior of me, Corvo. I pray that you will. [ she nods, undaunted. ] Yes. My father's dagger will not be suitable.

I would never dream of it.

[ it is the prevalent school of thought taught by the church and believed by all god-fearing folk. once, so had she. and she still appreciates it when another will defend her and look after her. but she can appreciate the need to take her life into her own hands.

what happens when there are none left to look after her? already, her father is gone. and her brothers. next will be her cousins and uncle. none are safe. she turns her glance up to his eyes, level and steady. ]

Then must I count my own mother amongst that number? She is different, in my time. The throne is all which matters. God as my witness, I love her. But the boys.. [ she swallows hard and forces herself to admit it. ] Were most precious to her.

With weapons and without, please. Teach me. I would survive both this place and whatever awaits me at my homecoming.

[ elizabeth remains silent for a long time, reflecting on the nature of her family. they are, in hindsight like a pack of cannibalistic jackals. tearing their own apart and swallowing whole their own offspring. is it any wonder that so few members of it are left on both sides? no. lancaster and york, descended from the elder and younger sons of the black prince, respectively.

once they had numbered many, as the saxon barons had in the days of yore. now there are nearly none. the pathetic part is that it is entirely a self-inflicted thing, this over-pruning of the rose bush. its roots have become infected with fungus and will rot the plant from within. no amount of thorns in the world can defend a rose from such an affliction; be it white or red. it matters not. ]

Such will happen to my line, I think. Once my granddaughter is dead. [ the very word granddaughter rolls so oddly off her tongue. she is not nineteen years of age yet. how can she ever imagine herself a grandparent? ]

Bitterness, and an absolute inability to forgive. That will one day be my Mother. And my sisters and I will mean nothing compared to the memory of her boys and an empty chair without a York Boy to sit upon it, and a crown without a York head to grace. She will not change, as I recall. Thus.. I know not if I can or even should trust her now, regardless though she is younger.

[ she does not look relieved so much as resolved; a will of stone and steel. ] I thank you.

It shall not at least as far as I am concerned. No matter what happens, I would like children someday.

[ hopefully with a man who will love her, whether it be cesare or another. she is far more open to the idea of looking for a match on her own terms now than she'd been prior to her arrival. perhaps then she will need neither henry nor richard, and she can rule her people as she'd learned from her father as she'd sat on his knee as a child.

elizabeth has little room for allowances when it comes to her mother. she who has proven to value power and the material more than her own daughters. perhaps the fact that she is asleep is not so terribly after all, in a strange fashion. ]

She does have her happiness: my father. They chose to marry for love, though none approved of the match. They caused a resurgence of the civil war my father's ascension was meant to cease. And she was a widow. Which seems to be the only state in which it may be permissible for a woman to pursue her own happiness in my time.

[ bitter? no. ] And she is lucky to have him. I would give anything to see him again.