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“As for where we met…” Kit’s gesture took in Avin’s well-cut clothes.  “Well, looks like you’ve got some money…”

Sure–now.

“…So you probably know how rich families are – lineage becomes dynasty, marriage becomes power, kids become pawns…I’ll just say Val and I’ve been on opposite sides of that chess board since day 1.”  He looked at Avin as if unsure if he understood.

Avin nodded. “Sometimes you feel like you’re on opposite sides of the universe, and she–” he bit the sentence off before he said “crushes you”.

“Although, we’re both kind of useless pawns now, and you know what happens to useless pawns?” he gestured. “Awful isn’t it?  It’s nice being free though, I will admit.”

Useless pawns. He wondered if Kit knew exactly how well that described it. His hand crept up his neck to rub the scars there. The weather must be changing. They always ached when the weather changed.

He said something, hardly knowing what or why.

“You don’t understand, though.” Kit whispered.  “She’s…well, terrifying, to be honest.  And super sharp, too,”  He seemed to feel her sharpness, in a memory. “She just doesn’t melt, you know?  No matter how hard you’ll try.  And believe me, I’ve tried.”

“Just doesn’t melt.” It had taken a snowstorm that had nearly frozen her to finally make Elsa melt. Avin smiled, remembering the gnaw of cold and deeper ache of the words she had used.

Kit was talking again.“I’m afraid I’m finally outclassed.”

“Outclassed?” Avin’s attention came back to the boy in front of him. “You’re never that.” He remembered the countless talks he and Big Jack had had together. “There’s no such thing as class, Kit. You’re a person, she’s a person. You just live a different life; speak a different language. You’ll learn. One day it will happen, and suddenly she’ll see you in a new light.”

why was he saying this. He remembered so well the look of horror on her face as she had remembered the insults on the mountainside. The look of shock and grief when he had told her about the orphanage.

Or maybe you won’t learn to speak the same language. Try as he might, he would always be Avin Merrelsby; never the Duke of Westlyn. Never the husband of Elsa, princess of Vegada. Only Avin, Colondite, peasant, orphan. He clenched his fists.

“My wife used to be a princess. we were outclassed.” Are outclassed. The voice wouldn’t be quiet.

“When the question finally came, she still said yes.”

Why? Why had she said yes? His hands hadn’t even been clean, as he kissed his fiance on the steps of the castle at Carisald in front of a cheering crowd. And she had been wearing a circlet.

 

@calidris. I didn’t really leave it with a question or much to go by, but I’m really tired, so that will have to be my excuse. Hopefully you can work with something here. 🙂