[The Princess smiles, but it's weak and lacking in its usual warmth, falling as flat as his initial description of the topic of their conversation. He doesn't know what she's thinking, not really, but that hint of anxiety within her statement of resolve strikes a chord in him, sour and dissonant, and as if possessing a mind of its own, his hand finds hers on the table, callused and taped fingers cocooning around her own.]

You don't have to, if you do not want to.

[He says, quickly, before pausing, his words racing out before his thoughts for once. But this... this is surprisingly important to him, for some reason. His head tilts down, his bangs veiling the conflict in his eyes as they land upon some indistinct point near their joined hands.]

... I did not tell you all this to pressure you, your highness. I meant merely to warn, so you are not surprised as I was. [Beneath his cowl, his lips purse, as though tasting something bitter.] Regardless of what she desires, regardless of who she is, you have no obligation to her besides those that you create for yourself. Please remember that.

[Is it because he doesn't want her to look that way should she ever learn of the Princess of Destiny? Or is it his guilt that demands he absolve her of any responsibility she might have to the ancestors that could only give her a world she feels she must sacrifice herself twice over to save? A mix of the two, perhaps, along with a dash of projection, but it's not as though it truly matters in this present moment. Just something else to ruminate over in the dead of night later.]