Her elegeant shoulders slumped when he touched them, weary, worn. All the peace that she had taken from her encounter with the Wild King was gone, spent with the anger and sorrow of their talk.<br/><br/>She did not want to be Queen, she was not ready to rule a people she hardly knew. Yet she did not fight him as his tight grip turned her from the golden window into his strong chest. Instead she melted into him, eyes pressed closely tight and hide her face against the plane of his chest that contained his heart, listening to its beat. "I can't be only a princess, not even for you Roarke...I need moments of time to let go." she talked into his chest, afraid to meet his eyes, to show him just how weak his perfect royal was, just how badly she chafed and broke beneath the yoke placed upon her. She was so afraid, afraid of loosing herself, of not being enough.