<span style="font-style: italic">"I am sorry, My Lord, but I've felt the lack of rest catching up to me today. Might I rest tonight and tomorrow? And rejoin you the day after?"</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">“Please rest, My Lady..this castle is yours.”</span>Motto bowed to Lady Genevieve and felt himself dying inside.  As soon as he was able, he raced to his chambers and Hector was waiting there to assist him out of his coat.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">“Thank you.  AHHHHH that’s so much better!  I...Oh.”</span><br/><br/>“Ice, Sire?”<br/><br/>Motto bit his lip and clamped a hand onto his own forehead.<span style="color: #00FF40"> “No.  I will not do this ANY LONGER!”  </span><br/><br/>“This?  Sire?”<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">“This… this...crazed animal...nonsense!” </span>The King moved to the window and opened it before removing his shirt.<span style="color: #00FF40"> “I’m losing my mind, Hector.  I’m literally mad at a moment’s notice if the princess is near.”  </span><br/><br/>Hector noticed the different way his King had referred to Lady Genevieve but said nothing.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">“I know not what I will say next!  Hear, My Lady!  Take the entire land of Gilthlore and do as you please!  Leave no small whim unfancied!  Lock me in the dungeon if it is to your liking!” </span>The thought of Lady Genevieve locking him in the dungeon made him feel light headed.<span style="color: #00FF40">“HECTOR HELP ME!”</span><br/><br/>“Sire..I -”<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">“NO.  I … SHALL DO IT ON MY OWN.” </span>The young King quickly got down onto the floor and began vigorous exercises (push ups).   He was extraordinarily fit and did them regularly, making it simple for him to carry on with his thoughts.<span style="color: #00FF40">“I am to get control of myself and cease this foolishness here and now.  Of course I shall be a kind man, Hector.  It is well and good to be pleasant to the Lady.  No more than a mere glance I will cast at her exquisite features.  When she takes my arm, I shall think of a corpse doing so.”</span><br/><br/>Hector looked up from the book he’d begun to look at.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">“Fine.  A corpse is too gruesome.”</span><br/><br/>“A sickly old man perhaps?”<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">“Yes.  Good.  A sickly old man with foul teeth.  No more sighing and groaning over her.”</span><br/><br/>“Groaning?”<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">“Well.. a little.”</span><br/><br/>“I see.  This<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">is</span></span>serious, Sire.”<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">“Laugh Hector.  Laugh at your silly King.  THEY ALL WILL IF I DON’T MASTER MYSELF!” </span><br/><br/>For the rest of the day the King focused on not thinking about Lady Genevieve.  That evening he continued his discipline and into the night.  He knew the servants would inform him if Her Ladyship needed anything.    The following day, he found it a little empty during meals but simple ate faster and busied himself with documents.    He met with his general advisors late in the evening and was shocked to learn that a payment was due to Faldothia.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">“Had I known of this I…”</span><br/><br/>“What, Sire?  Would have refused?”  A sharp man in grey clothes narrowed his eyes at the King.  “Did you think that Gilthlore would simply barge in to any kingdom and take their noble maidens without question?”<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">“No..of course not..I..”</span><br/><br/>“It was an agreement, Sire.  These things are done all the time.”<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">“Was it with my parents?”</span>Motto got to his feet in anger.  He felt terrible and strange.  The advisory board grew silent.  The King startled them with a violent bang on the table with his fist.<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #00FF40"> “WAS IT?”</span></span><br/><br/>“No, Sire..”  Hector answered from the doorway.  This elicited several unhappy looks from the advisors.  “Your father and mother had unique circumstances.”<br/><br/>The next day Motto stood dressed in his royal finery and strode to the west wing where the painter had been given space to work.   He wondered if Lady Genevieve knew of her price.  Perhaps she would feel embarrassment or resent him for it.   He entered and stopped.  Her gown was almost as beautiful as she was.  He bowed and waited for the painter to begin.  The painter looked to Lady Genevieve and the next thing Motto knew, his arms were being guided to...his hairs stood up on the back of his neck in such close company with Her Ladyship.  Her body moved yet closer and he nearly trembled.  Motto had to focus on NOT gripping her as firmly as he wanted to, while yet her HAND TOUCHED HIS CHEST and  HE DID SWOON.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">“hhhhhhhHeaven is this.” </span>He muttered, color burning his features and eyes closing to alleviate himself of the delicious view.<span style="color: #00FF40"><span style="font-style: italic">  ‘NO.  TAKE BACK YOUR STRENGTH.’ </span></span>He chastised himself and frowned with effort.<span style="color: #00FF40"> “I have endured many portraits.  This one will be easier because even if you faint I can still hold you and the painter will be able to finish his work.”</span>His hips screamed to move even if only a little and Motto was glad for her heavy skirt.  Even still, could she tell of his hardship and would she ever forgive him?<br/><br/>“Sire..!  Your nose!”<br/><br/>Motto blinked in confusion and felt something wet on his face.  He was bleeding from the left nostril.