<span style="font-style: italic">"Shall we get started then? "</span><br/><br/>The question the painter posed startled Genevieve and she issued her cup for a refill. Started?? Hadn't they already started? They had been standing for hours, hadn't they? No- the sun hadn't move any noticeable amount in the morning sky. She was handed another glass of water and this time, she drank it much slower as she felt her body temperature being to cool. She handed her glass to...someone, Genevieve was unsure and leaned forward in her chair, resting her chin on a hand, connected to an elbow propped upright on the armrest. Her other lay across her lap.<br/><br/>She was looking to King Motto. His silhouette against the morning sky. The strength of his shoulders. The way the sun cast shadows on his chiselled chin. She could just imagine running her hands through his thick hair and kissing those-Wait. Genevieve blinked, drawing herself from her daydream. What was he saying in that commanding, sweet and gentle voice.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"...are to be expected.. certainly..and I ...want you.”</span>To say that Genevieve blushed was an understatement. She sat back in surprise as the King stood before her, her eyes following his as he knelt. She looked to her hand in his before his eyes and she searched them He, the King of Gilthlore, her most prestigious suitor, knelt before her to ask for her hand. Nobody had ever asked her before. There was no malice in his beautiful brown eyes, only hope and vulnerability.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"I, Motto of Gilthlore..wish to have your hand in marriage, Lady Genevieve. I...have great admiration and...feelings..desirous inclinations..”</span>Genevieve blushed. She'd have been lying to say that the same desires hadn't been in her own mind.<span style="font-style: italic">"..for you, Princess of Faldothia. I shall not take you from your kingdom or purchase you like a mere jewel. I would have thee as my bride. My Lady,..will you take me?”</span><br/><br/>"I.. " She was floundering. Genevieve couldn't put her thoughts into words. It was as if they were stuck in her brain. All she wanted to do was kiss this beautiful man, but she knew how improper-"Blast propriety." The same servant gasped aloud as Genevieve slid from her chair and onto the floor before the King<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">and she kissed him</div><br/><br/>It was gentle at first, her hands resting on his shoulder and chest, a tender touch of their lips. The warmth from before grew in her belly, rising to her chest and spread through her limbs. The gentle touching of lips became something more. Something passionate and Genevieve's hands moved to his hair. It was soft, thick, everything she thought it would be. She had pressed herself against his frame. As if coming to her senses, Genevieve pulled back, a blush finally catching up with her, most decidedly, improper actions. "I will. I do take you, King Motto of Gilthlore, if you'll take me." A flutter as she awaited his reply. Could this action deny her something she didn't think she could have? They had known each other but a few days, but Genevieve hoped there could be happiness here.