Playing with Fire

"Are you not worried, though?" Carina couldn't help but question, resting back in her seat, the swell of baby bump rising as she did so, "Of how people will react? I... I know I said it is important to appeal to those who you might not have done before, but... changing colours, changing tactics and the kingdom's stance on such things... are you not concerned that it all may be too much for the people? And that they... they might not understand the representation of the purple?"

Her stream of questions, however, were cut off by his comment regarding her smile. Unexpected, and also unwarranted, Carina was automatic in her response to look down and raise a hand to her mouth as if trying to feel the smile in which he spoke.

It would have been so easy to go with her usual, biting comment in response. It was already there, right on the tip of her tongue. But that was back before they were attempting this new line of behaviour with each other. It was still hard to think that he wasn't saying such things with hidden malicious intentions, or believe that he wasn't behaving in such a way to try and get her to open up and become vulnerable. She had to continue to remind herself that he was being truthful, that he was being sincere and genuine. Why else would he have shown her so much of his own vulnerabilities, thus damaging his own image and opening himself up to attacks - both verbal and physical?

With the idea of physical attacks in mind, Carina's gaze dropped onto her bare wrist, as she came to realise he still hadn't replaced her bracelet. So, instead of responding to his comment about her smile, she simply cleared her throat and raised her arm to allow wrist and hand to rest on the breakfast table.

"You've not put the bracelet back on. I can understand how you may have forgotten about it. Things got... rather intense in there." She moved on, still finding it difficult to accept compliments in any form from him.

Being civil and supportive of each other would be fine for Carina, but she still couldn't find it in herself to acknowledge or be comfortable with any compliments or praise he wished to provide her with. After so long of fighting, hearing such words come from him in a positive manner where it wasn't a win if he did pass compliment, was an alien sensation. It still felt wrong, to be on this new playing field with Sven, where they were getting along and seemingly working together.

It felt like she was a traitor, that Emmett and her father and her ancestors would be turning in their graves if they knew what she was doing, what she was allowing. However, could she not see this new change as a win in itself? She was working with the king of Ignis, to change things for the better. Perhaps if there were Eirian people hiding underground, they may be allowed to come and live as they used to and rebuild their lives with her help.

"It's going to... take me a while to get used to this new side of you, Sven. I hope... I hope you can understand that and appreciate that." She finally spoke again, deciding to just tackle her issues straight on and be up front with him about it. She was brutally honest when they were trying to tear each other down, she may as well continue if they were to seriously begin working together.

"I can't deny that there will be times where I will doubt you and distrust you but... but I will try to work past those moments. It'll just... take time. I know I've said it before but... I just wanted to reiterate. If I don't respond to a compliment or a comment or something similar... it's not for a dislike of it, but rather a... an uncertainty of it. As I'm sure you are with me, I'm not used to... nice things coming from you unless it's about our child. So if you say something nice about my... my outfit, my smile, or just how I look... consider this my apologies in advance if I don't respond or acknowledge them."
 
Sven was already well aware that a relationship with the other wasn't going to blossom anytime soon after the past they had shared together, but he had perhaps gotten carried away with the new promise of civility between them because her discomfort at a compliment hadn't been expected whatsoever. In fact, the smile on his own face faded immediately at her admissions that she wasn't quite sure she was ready to accept them without comment, the confusion that filtered over his face unsubtle as he tried his best to come to terms with that.

He thought that by sharing his compliments he would be aiding the basis of a firm friendship between them; one of trust, decency and respect, and it would be - in time. He hadn't considered that it would take that time for her to trust him, having naively got carried away with the belief that things could start to immediately work out for them without any trouble.

And evidently, he had at least thought they were at a point where compliments could be offered across without there being any concerns of a possible ulterior motive, as the confusion flooding his expression served to prove.

It didn't help that he was also a little put out by her concerns about how the people would react to the abrupt changes in Ignisian policy, the King petulantly slumping back in his chair and setting his gaze firmly on his plate to avoid reacting in a way that could be construed as anger - though he was angry. He didn't want to show that when they were starting afresh with one another but it was difficult not to feel angry when he felt like he was being doubted for plans she had spent time convincing him to follow.

"...If the people revolt against me, I can die knowing I at least did the right thing for the kingdom - or tried to implement the right thing, at least. I don't wish to start riots or doubt in my leadership, but I have two choices, don't I? Either I persist with the old ways and lead a kingdom unhappily, or I implement policies I'm proud of, as much of a risk as it might be. But I think it'll be okay, Carina. I don't intend on manipulating anyone but-- there's nothing wrong with using a little charm, is there? And for what it's worth, I consider myself to be rather charming when I want to be," he eventually smiled, returning his gaze back across to her once the initial wave of annoyance had faded and he had managed instead to communicate with her maturely... rather than fling a plate across the room and pout like a child at being questioned.

"It'll be okay, I'm sure of it. But if I end up dead, you can stand over my grave and say 'I told you so', alright?" He snorted, reaching for the pot to top up his mug with coffee. "...The people loved my father but I think they'll like me too. I... I'm sure I have their support. Lauren ventures into the village; she tells me that the folk speak of me glowingly, so that's encouraging, isn't it?"
 
Her hand quietly withdrew from the table as he slumped back, eyes on him as she watched him carefully for his reaction. He was right to keep his composure and avoid any behaviours that could have been related to anger, as Carina found herself preparing for a heated retort that she may have expected before they were trying to be civil. She knew he hated being questioned, regardless of if the idea was his or not. If it was something he went with, or agreed to, she had learned that he didn't enjoy being doubted or corrected or questioned. Of course that meant it was something she did regularly before just to frustrate and anger him, but now...

But now instead he smiled, and answered... diplomatically. Calmly.

Carina blinked once, and then twice, as she observed him. A part of her wanted to ask if he was feeling alright, since there was not even a hint to the old Sven in the answer he just provided her. There was no petulance or sulking, and Carina found herself slightly befuddled as a result.

Truly he wanted things to change. He had told her as much, but actions always spoke louder than words.

Moving to make a start with her food, Carina froze at the mention of Lauren, knife and fork physically halting against her plate before she forced herself to continue eating, clearing her throat as she did so: "I would perhaps... take words with pinches of salt after all that has happened lately, Sven." She suggested tactfully. She didn't need to expose Lauren and the plan they had created, but she also didn't wish for Sven to put false hope and trust into anything the young maid said.

Even though Carina was oblivious to the fact that Lauren was still planning to plough forward with the scheme to murder Sven (with herself now also a target), she was still concerned that the young maid might still do something stupid and reckless.

"After recent events with Thorin and Natalia... I'm just thinking it might be wise to get the facts before believing the words of others." She pressed on, raising her gaze to him. It was what got him into trouble, after all, since he believed the words of Natalia and the cleaner before seeking out the truth for himself. "It may... even do you good... to get out among the people more. Interact with them, listen to them... let them see your face, hear your voice, even shake your hand. Become a... King of the People. Not a King of the Party, as it were."
 
There weren't many people left in Sven's life that he felt he could trust, but Lauren was one of them. He might not be romantically involved with her these days but he still turned to her for advice, especially in Natalia's absence after her dismissal. He had always had someone at his side who he could confess his innermost feelings and opinions to. For the longest time, that person was Thorin and, to a lesser extent, Natalia, with Lauren merely party to throwaway comments he offered to her casually after sex.

With the dismantlement of a lifelong friendship with Thorin, and the dismissal of a trusty confidant in Natalia, Sven was thin on the friend front. He liked to think that in time, as trust was built, Carina would permanently fill that role. He had already shared moments from his life with her that he hadn't shared with anyone else and that was before an unyielding trust had been built, but he trusted Lauren completely because, as far as he was aware, she had always shown him the uttermost loyalty.

Why couldn't he trust what she told him when he trusted her with his own words? Granted, Natalia had deceived him in the cruellest of ways, but he couldn't fathom the maid showing that same level of duplicity.

...And yet for someone who had so expertly manipulated others, Sven was a victim of that behaviour himself.

"I appreciate the concern, and I will be wary of others, but Lauren isn't just anyone, Carina. She's been your handmaid for months on end and I'm sure you've gotten to see the person that I know too. She's... to be trusted, I assure you. Perhaps you don't know her as I do, and maybe my words don't hold weight for you, but for what it's worth, I... I trust her with my life," he admitted with a faint smile, understandably unaware of the ironic choice of words - he trusted the maid with his life and yet she was actively seeking to rid him of it, and would have no regrets in plunging a dagger into his chest when the time came to do so.

"I can certainly head out and get to talk to my people, that sounds like a good idea," he commended with another smile, unafraid to show the expression even if the other was a great deal more hesitant to do so. He carefully piled more fruit into his bowl as he took a moment to think, his hand resting on the ladle contemplatively.

"...It can't hurt to get out and speak to them, I agree - but I'm not fighting an uphill battle. You may proceed with caution but I trust the information I've been given and... I'm confident that our people trust me, Carina. Confounding that trust with personal visits amongst them won't hurt, but I'm sure that I stand a good chance at implementing our ideas. I'll ask Lauren myself, but I'm sure she'll agree with me."
 
"That's exactly what you thought with Natalia, and look how that turned out." Carina couldn't help but point out, although also desperate to get some space put between him and Lauren. The maid's reaction to her pulling out of the plan to kill Sven had been expected, but the apology afterwards and the over emotion during it didn't sit well with Carina. While she wanted nothing more than to have Lauren back as a friend and her own confidant, it felt as though a line had been crossed and too many words had been said.

Unknown to her that plenty of words had been said between Lauren and Thorin.

"I'm sorry," she finally apologised, sighing softly, "I just..." Carina trailed off, deciding not to go forward with trying to explain herself. Allow him to fill in the blanks if he wished. Put it down to anxieties brought on by the pregnancy, the backlash of the last few days, the lack of desire to trust anyone in Ignis... whatever he came up with to satisfy his thoughts would be a lot better than what she could think of.

She occupied herself with a drink of juice, watching him from over the rim of the glass. Once more she tensed at the prospect of Lauren becoming even more involved with decisions he would make, and knew the only way to put a stop to this would be to tell Sven everything. Of the conspiracy to murder him, the plan to evoke a revolt among the same people who he thought liked him, to slaughter him and his advisers the same way he had slaughtered her brother...

But how could she now, with this new turn in the tale? It would only ruin everything, and put them back to square one with him being brutal and cruel to her. And she cold and vindictive to him. While she had trouble seeing that this new change was permanent, there was no denying that she liked it. It was refreshing, and invigorating. No longer was she exhausted before breakfast. Change was afoot, and they would be the two driving forces behind it. For the better.

"I would have proceeded with caution regardless. The Ignisian people hate me, and think you are better off without me. It would be best if... I wasn't there, when you go to continue winning them over." She had to acknowledge, reaching to pour hot water into a cup and add a mint tea mixture to it. There she hesitated, glancing to him briefly from the corner of her eye before forming two ice cubes from thin air to land in the boiling water.

"I'll mention it again, since you didn't comment the last time: you didn't put my bracelet back on." She murmured next, eyes on the ice-cubes as they clinked within the china cup, "I know we said these next steps are all about trust... but I'm going to... offer one last time. Are you sure you want to keep it off?"
 
He hadn't been exaggerating when he stated that he trusted Lauren, he did so explicitly, but he had also felt like he could trust Natalia and she had deceived him for a substantial amount of time without him ever once growing suspicious that what she told him wasn't truthful. Carina might have gone on to back down a tad and apologise, but her persistence had achieved just a flicker of doubt in the King's head, his slight frown indicative of that fact as he contemplated every moment he had shared with Lauren since meeting her.

Not once could he say he doubted her intentions or found her to be something she wasn't, but he knew he wasn't above being played. His ego might have dismissed such a possibility before, but after the situation with Natalia, he knew that he was just as capable of being manipulated as he was of being the manipulator himself.

He only broke out of the contemplation when becoming aware that a question was being directed towards him, lifting his eyes quizzically before he recollected the words that had been uttered. His eyes fell to her wrist once they had, his brows furrowing together as he considered the options before him. Either he put his words into action and kept the bracelet from her wrist, make a point of learning to trust her by allowing her powers to course through her without restraint, or he would simply lock the bracelet back onto her for his own safety because he couldn't claim to completely trust her as of yet. Like Carina, it would take time to trust her without any doubt--

But he wanted to try. He wanted to make it clear that he was working on bettering himself and part of that meant refusing to replicate the behaviours that had once dominated his personality... like decreeing himself superior to her and flaunting the use of his powers whilst she was left weakened without access to her own. As precarious a position he was placing himself in by allowing her free rein of her ice, it was something he knew he just had to risk.

"...We can keep it off, Carina. I don't think it's beneficial to restrict you of your powers so... yes, I'm sure. Just as long as you promise not to stick an icicle in my throat or chest or... anywhere, really," he laughed as he reached for the cream, adding a little to his coffee before taking a sip in satisfaction, crossing a leg across the other as he settled back against the dining room chair. The remarks were said playfully, aided by his laughter, but he was genuinely fearful that she could choose to hurt him now she had the opportunity to... but it didn't change his mind. He knew he had to start acting on his promises and this was the best way of doing that, however risky it would be.

"Besides, if our child has your powers, you'll want to help coach them through it when they get old enough, hm? Honestly, I... I think it'd be best if our children take after you. Don't tell anyone that, but-- it'll be easier on them. I had a horrible time trying to control my element when I was a boy; burned more rooms than you can count. Better -and safer- for everyone if they're more Eirian than Ignisian."
 
Soon, another month and a half had gone by, bringing Carina into her last trimester and almost to eight months pregnant. The anniversary of Emmett's death loomed, but with it, the contrasting and promising signs of change. The colours of Ignis had slowly melted away from red and into purple, much to the confusion of many within the castle. From what the young Queen could understand, many outside the castle were also confused by the change.

She, however, welcomed it, as surprised as she was that Sven's words were actually acted upon. But of course, it was all a case of her having to slowly believe that what he was saying, and what he was doing, wasn't all for the benefit of manipulating her and winning the long game. That being said, Carina slowly found herself being lulled into the trust Sven said they needed to have with one another. While an element of guilt still remained as to her feeling like a traitor, Carina continued to convince herself that her actions and behaviour was fine and well. This new partnership between her and the King of Ignis was a win in itself. She was having a say, sitting in on meetings, helping change the way in which the kingdom was run and expanded it's forces.

In Carina's eyes, she was helping. She was ensuring no other kingdom or city fell to the same fate as Eira or Hareane.

With that in mind, she was still grateful that she and Lauren no longer crossed paths. Or at least not as much. She still felt tense and anxious when in the other's presence, withdrawing slightly in her openness with Sven when the maid was around. However, as the weeks went by and still nothing had happened to Sven or herself, Carina began to relax slightly. The concern that she ought to tell Sven of what had been planned slowly diminishing.

The people were beginning to look more favourably upon Sven, as far Carina could tell. The more he went out among them and interacted, the happier and more excited they were to see him. As Carina often remained hidden in the carriage, knowing that the mood would change upon her appearance, she could see that jubilation to see their king gleamed within the people's eyes.

Things were changing. And Carina was too.

One late morning, after breakfast and after a spell of time Carina had to herself in order to see out the aches of false contractions, the young queen found herself sat in the library reading out loud from a book of Ignisian fairytales. She briefly looked up, pausing in her reading to study Sven who sat in the armchair besides the sofa. Her thumb gently stroked the book cover from where it held the novel from underneath, the other hand resting on the bump, now covered in a soft lilac gown.

"Would you..." Carina began before hesitating, pausing and contemplating how to word her question without it seeming as random a moment as it was, "Today... would you... I was wondering if you would like to... start that painting. The portrait you said you wanted to paint personally... of me. Did you-- did you still want to? I was thinking maybe... maybe it could happen... today. As long as you want to still. A-and of course have nothing else to do."
 
Sven was undeniably eager to welcome his child into the world and his happiness for his son or daughter to finally be in his arms overrode anything else he might have felt... but the fact that the time was going by so quickly was something he had started to find anxiety-inducing, and that feeling had only exacerbated over the course of the last month and a half. As eager as he was to finally have his child, the fact it was so close had only really hit him during the past month or so, the reality that in just four more short weeks he would be a father causing a nervousness to settle in him that he wasn't quite sure how to absolve himself of.

Nerves were understandable and expected, he knew that, but he hadn't anticipated feeling them as strongly as he did, constantly finding himself plagued by insecurities over his abilities as a father... and now more fearful than ever of the fact he only had a month to relax himself of those insecurities before he was flung straight into fatherhood.

But any fears he did find hitting him over the most recent weeks were always comforted by the excitement that would hit him everytime he headed into his child's nursery (inevitably to add another teddy bear to the child's ever-growing collection) or whenever he saw Carina and was invited to feel another of their child's movements or kicks. He hadn't emotionally blurted out how his feelings for her had continued to grow when they were inevitably focused on building up trust first and foremost, but it wasn't easy to ignore the fact the faint bubbling of attraction hadn't faded as he hoped it might.

Rather, it had intensified and become too present for him to ignore - though he managed to at least quash those feelings from spilling out over the surface just yet, deciding that it would complicate matters and when he was enjoying Carina's company more than ever before, he didn't dare say or do anything to jeopardise it.

He had come to adore their time together, where even silences between them felt comfortable and natural rather than awkward and tense. Moments in the library beside one another were perhaps the most meaningful because he knew that the place had become her favourite spot in the castle, and to be welcomed to share in that space with her meant more than he could effectively communicate to her. Sitting in an armchair at her side beside the ever-roaring fire, a book in his hand and a plate of toffees at his side, wasn't the sort of thing he had ever envisioned himself doing with his time as King but he had grown to appreciate it. He performed his duties well and his kingdom seemed to support him more than he could have hoped, so relaxing back like this when he had that spare time wasn't just enjoyable; it was well-earned.

He had just popped another toffee into his mouth and started a new chapter in his book when Carina broke the silence, peering over to her quizzically the moment what she was asking him finally registered. He had long abandoned the idea of painting her when she had failed to approach the subject in that entire month and a half. That didn't mean he had abandoned his hobby altogether, finally feeling brave enough to express it outside of his bedroom - he had ventured out into the hallway at first, as a baby step, but as recently as a few days prior, he was out in the royal gardens, in the open for any servant or knight to see him. Admittedly, painting Carina would be the highlight but he hadn't wanted to pester her and so let the idea drift away.

So, having thought it was never going to happen, he almost swallowed the toffee whole in his surprise that she was bringing it back up again. After a series of hard coughs, in which he had doubled over to avoid chocking on the sweet, he awkwardly smiled and set the discarded toffee aside with an inward scoff at his own stupidity.

"I-- I would love to paint you, Carina. I've wanted that since I first brought it up, so-- yeah, of course I'm still interested. I just thought you weren't into the idea, but-- I can paint you in here, where you're comfortable and where nobody will disturb us. And we can take breaks and-- you don't have to sit rigidly still. I can't imagine you'll be able to anyway; not with how the little one kicks at your ribcage these days," he snorted as he set his book aside in sudden excitement, sitting up at the edge of his seat with a nod. "You-- are sure, right? Because someone else can paint you; it doesn't have to be me if it makes you feel awkward."
 
At his choking, her eyes widened and she moved as quickly as her swollen stomach allowed her, but even then, she had only managed to get up out of her seat and take a few steps towards him by the time he had recovered. Her one hand, which had reached out with all good intentions to pat his back, hovered in the air before retracting back with a small, embarrassed flush to her cheeks. The young Queen took a step back, resting that hand back on her bump as she now lingered in front of him.

"I just... needed to be sure, that's all. S'why I took so long to... decide." She confessed, moving finally to sit back on the loveseat, rearranging the blanket so it laid over her legs once more. "I was... hesitant at first because I wasn't sure how much of this was real. The civility, the niceties... I just needed to be... sure. But this last month and a bit has proven... well it's just..." Carina struggled with her explanation, in the end settling to shrug as she looked up to him, placing her book back in her lap.

She laughed next, at his comment about the baby kicking at her ribs, looking down at the bump in question. A fond smile settled over her features as a hand came to settle over it, thumb gently stroking. "They do like to fidget, that's for sure. I can't imagine how they're going to handle sitting in meetings for hours on end when they're old enough."

Her eyes finally raised back up to him, settling on him to study him and soak in his reaction. Feelings had cropped up for Carina, as early as the last few weeks, toward Sven. This was not the same Sven she had been forced to marry. The one she had battled with for months on end, who had manipulated and threatened her... he was gone. And Carina had become aware of just how much she... liked this new Sven.

It would be hard not to feel something, for the father of her child, as she caught him from time to time in the child's nursery adding a new toy or ensuring everything was perfect. But then seeing him in his element, as the man he was beginning to be... interacting with the Ignisian people, paying close attention to the children at the gatherings - maybe that was because they were due to be parents soon and she zoned in more on how he was with children - but then also with his art. How relaxed and free and content he had become with being able to express himself, but also now he didn't have such heavy expectations on his shoulders. The attraction toward him was there, but unlike how Sven was beginning to accept his feelings for her, Carina was still very much in the denial stage.

"Maybe we could... do it here. Just like this, you know? With me just-- just sat here, reading, like I would normally do." She hesitated, finger tapping against the cover of the book, "Unless you can think of something else-- you're the artist after all. I haven't a clue about... these sorts of things." She laughed, the sound slightly nervous.
 
"Oh god, I-- I can't even think of our child being old enough to attend meetings. I'm sure we'll prepare them for it, they'll be supported far more than I was as a boy, but... I know I'll be a wreck. I'm petrified about fatherhood enough as it is; I can't imagine our child growing up and taking on responsibilities and-- looking to me for guidance. That scares me; I want to be a good father, you know? The idea of our kid being old enough to attend meetings will also make me feel ancient so, for the sake of maintaining my youthfulness while I have it, let's not think too far ahead, hm?" The King playfully remarked in return as he pushed himself up from the comfortable armchair, holding out his arms and cracking his back with a faint groan - and immediately laughed under his breath at the fact his actions rather contradicted the youthfulness he claimed to have.

He was only 21 so he knew he was incredibly young and had no reason to feel old as of yet, but he couldn't help but dwell on the fact he had already achieved most milestones a person had in their life. He had a job (the most important one in the Kingdom), a wife and now he had a child on the way. He felt old, even if he wasn't.

He chose not to dwell on it in the knowledge that Carina would just reassure him that he was being ridiculous - especially about his fears of fatherhood. She would have had every reason to feel concerned about his parenting abilities a few months prior when they were constantly at one another's throats - he had hardly appeared to be a person capable of nurturing and loving his own child. But things had changed since then. They had both undergone through own individual changes that meant, collectively, they weren't just able to abide one another's company but actually enjoy it.

So he already knew that she wouldn't cast doubts on him and confound his concerns, not needing to have her verbally say so for that bout of anxiety to ease.

"I'm the artist? I-- paint for a hobby, I wouldn't say I'm an artist. Trust me, you'll regret saying that when I end up making you look like an ogre or something. I've not done a portrait before, just landscapes, so... it's new for both of us," he smiled as he rested against the arm of the chair, having briefly poked his head from the door of the library to inform a passing servant that he would need his art supplies brought to him - such a simple request that he could say without concern now, but would have riddled him with terror in the past in the fear of judgement on his character.

"...Are you nervous? You? The woman that would snap back at my father and tell me I was an asshole despise knowing of the threats I bestowed upon you? Come on, Carina; it'll be fine," he reassured with a chuckle, cracking his knuckles softly once the easel, canvas and bag of everything else he needed arrived. He offered the servant a genuine word in gratitude before setting the wooden easel up proudly, opting for a space where he could get both Carina and the fireplace in frame.

"We can take a break whenever you need to and-- we don't even have to speak if you don't want to, if that's too... convivial."
 
Her cheeks flushed immediately once more as he called out on her nerves, causing the young queen to avert her gaze. Her eyes lingered on her hands as they stroked over the bump, distracting herself as best as she could as she tried to will the heat in her face to die away. "That's so much different to... to being painted. I've never been... particularly fond of being painted." She confessed, finally looking up at him to watch him set up his easel. "It's just a... I-I find it to be rather intimate. It's like the... the painter is staring into your very soul, and the longer they stare at you and watch you... the more they pick up. The more imperfections they notice."

Her fingers raised to toy with a strand of loose hair, contemplating her words, realising how deeply they could be interpreted. Her eyes came back into focus and locked once more back onto him, a smile quickly being placed on her lips.

"So if you make me look like an ogre now, I'll know it's because you've looked into my soul and that's what you've seen." Carina joked lightly in response, keeping the smile soft as her hand lowered from the strand of hair to rub at the back of her neck.

Once he was ready, Carina straightened and repositioned herself with her book, holding it so the hand that held the book up rested casually against the side of the bump, while the other hand rubbed absently against the other side. "No-- I'd... I can't just sit here in silence while you paint me. T-That would be too awkward. Too weird." Another nervous giggle escaped her, "We-- we should talk. Definitely talk... about... about something."

She mulled over just what they could talk about, before thinking of another added detail she didn't want to mess up. She reached up into her hair to begin pulling out the pins that kept her hair up. Soon she was brushing fingers through silver-white locks, to then pull her hair over the one shoulder, allowing it to look stylistically messy. Offering a sheepish smile, she returned back to her original position with the book and the other hand on her bump.

"Probably-- probably not the best thing to talk about right now," she spoke up once he had began to paint, trying to move as little as possible, "But uhm... it--it's Emmett's... anniversary in two weeks. I was... I-I was hoping to... go visit his grave. I-I don't know if you let Thorin mark it out, when we buried him but even-- even just going to the area. I'd... I'd appreciate it. To be able to go a-and try and pay some respects."
 
This was everything that Sven had wanted since he first approached the possibility of painting the other, and though he had barely started to sketch out the areas of focus, he already knew that he was going to enjoy every second. Not just the chance to put his skills to the test with a portrait, but the chance to work on something special with Carina that he hoped would exemplify the change in him more than anything else. He knew actions spoke louder than words and he had done his best over the last month to act on that, but painting her in an intimate setting and having it be fulfilling rather than tense and awkward would undoubtedly signal that change in him too.

Already, the atmosphere felt light and enjoyable with the light teases between them, smiling back across to her from behind the canvas in response. He knew that however well their trust had come along, this was still a situation she had had to spend weeks mulling over and so was hardly going to enjoy it immediately - so whatever he could do to ease those concerns, he would do. Even if that was only with light, playful conversation.

Admittedly, that aim was somewhat -or rather heavily- hindered by the topic of Emmett, the young King's eyes widening and throat feeling tight at the mention of the man's name. He was incredibly thankful in that moment for the canvas that obscured him from view, using that to express himself without having to hide how awful Emmett's name made him feel. He had apologised for the death countless times, expressed a great deal of remorse, but words couldn't quite describe how haunted he remained by it.

Often, he had dreams about that evening; how viciously he had slaughtered the Prince and took great delight in his demise. How he tortured Carina with the body in the dungeons without caring about how cruel it was of him. Only with the growth and maturity he had undergone since then could he reflect on that night and realise how horrid his actions were, but nothing was going to change the fact he had committed those actions.

And he just had to live with them now.

"...I know where he's buried; I had Thorin mark it out," he eventually replied from behind the canvas, though refused to lift his head back up above it, instead focusing intensely on keeping himself held together. He didn't want to paint from a place of guilt and sadness, believing that any emotion he painted with reflected itself upon the artwork itself - and he wanted Carina's portrait to harbour anything but those.

"You can-- visit, of course you can. I... wouldn't say no to that, Carina. You're welcome to see his grave whenever you see fit to. Not that... it's much of a grave, is it? I... I'll have that sorted out for you; have his body laid to rest somewhere more appropriate. An actual gravestone would be a start," he admitted weakly, an audible shaky exhale of breath sounding not too long after his words. Only then did he dare peering back up across at her, biting the inside of his cheek hard.

"...You can go alone if you'd prefer. I imagine my presence won't be welcome so... I trust you to go without me if you'd feel more comfortable. A knight will accompany you, a handmaid too, but I don't have to travel at your side. I can stay behind so you can-- pay your respects without me, ah... without me ruining things."
 
Carina sat on the loveseat for a while, having lowered the book as she listened to his response, watched his reaction. It was in that moment that she was convinced of everything. That he wasn't manipulating her anymore, that he was truly a different person. Not because he agreed to let her visit Emmett's grave, but because of his behaviour. She listened to the shakiness of word and breathe, and noticed how he kept himself ducked behind the canvas and knew it was to avoid losing himself to whatever anguish he was experiencing.

And she could see it, in his eyes, the moment he peered up to look at her. No one could fake that. No one could be that good of a manipulator that they could act with that sort of emotion.

She allowed his words to hang in the air for breath, the seconds melting into minutes, eyes simply flickering over him as she contemplated just what to do.

Eventually, Carina closed the book and balanced it on the arm of the loveseat, the blanket being pulled away from her folded legs which lowered to the floor. Pushing herself up, the young queen took slow steps to where he was sat up with the canvas, eyes remaining on him for the entirety of it. Only when she reached him did she hesitate, fingers entwining and squeezing softly together. She then reached out for his arm, pulling gently on it so he was at least partially turned to face her. From there she stepped forward and quietly wrapped her arms around him, hands pressed against the middle of his back and fingers splaying out.

Of course she couldn't get very close, all because of the bump that was in her way, but Carina positioned herself well enough that her head could turn and rest against his chest. Her ear resting just above his heart, where it thudded away beneath.

"Thank you." She murmured, voice barely above a whisper and a small crack sounding. Clearing her throat, she shook her head against his chest, and took in a deep breath of her own, "A-and you wouldn't ruin anything. What you've-- what you've just offered... I appreciate it. A lot."
 
The silence that fell soon after his response wasn't necessarily a comfortable one on his behalf, because how could it be? He was almost entirely sure he had said the right thing (though he said it not to please her but because he genuinely felt the way he communicated to her) and yet he held his breath in anticipation of some sort of backlash. Not that he could blame her if she suddenly erupted angrily at him - he had rid her of her last member of family, someone she had loved and trusted dearly. Someone she had sworn to protect. He knew that and thus taken great satisfaction in killing him before her, taunting her countless times for her failure to effectively protect him.

He hadn't really had that from her; an explosive rant at how his actions had affected her. He was grateful that she had given him the chance to prove himself through his actions but this new chance together didn't eliminate all the horrid memories that remained in their past... namely the actions he had put into place to hurt her. He wouldn't blame her for suddenly erupting one day and getting everything off her chest because he was sure (and again, couldn't hold it against her) that she was still hurt by everything that had happened.

By everything that he had done to her.

And so, when she approached and he had to watch her grow near, he tensed in anticipation. The times she had approached in the past like this was to attempt to slap him across the face. He had managed to catch her wrist in time but, though he was expecting that violence, he would have been happy to let it commence without attempting to stop her hand's path if she did raise it to hit him - he deserved a lot more than just a slap, after all.

His eyes even shut tightly in preparation for the stinging pain, only for the blue of them to wash with confusion as a different sort of contact was made. He smiled perplexedly at the feeling of her arms wrapping around him and her head pressed against his chest, peering down at her from his greater height as he struggled to really understand just... what this was.

He knew it was a hug, obviously, but he couldn't quite believe that he was experiencing it. He could count on one hand the amount of times he had been hugged in his life so that in itself was a strange experience for him to wrap his head around. The fact it was coming from Carina of all people bewildered him further - he knew they were friends now (even if that label had yet to be used) and she was his wife, but he hadn't expected any forms of physical affection from her.

And yet... here it was.

Eventually, after a few seconds further of trying to understand what was going on, he let the tension leave his body, the loss of that rigidity allowing for an arm to leave his side and gently rest around Carina, his hand resting as gently as possible on her lower back.

"...If I'm hot, I apologise, I-- it's rather hard to maintain an average body temperature when I have the, ah... fire thing going on beneath the surface--" he began, only to cringe in annoyance at himself and the mundanity of whatever he was blabbing on about. "Sorry, I-- don't have a clue what the hell I just said, I'm just-- I don't get... hugged often. It's... new, for me. For us. But I... I'm not opposed to it; it's nice."
 
A quiet laugh sounded from her at his comment regarding his flames, the young queen remaining there for a few seconds longer before she finally pulled away. "One doesn't usually have to say anything, when getting hugged. But I can't really talk like an expert. I'm the same as you." She smiled faintly, referring to the lack of hugs. Of course there were the handful she shared with Lauren, but they were few and far between. Back in Eira, it wasn't much different. She had Emmett, of course, and the siblings were close, but there wasn't much hugging or cuddling. Not after their mother died.

"As for the heat thing... perhaps it's lucky you have a wife who controls ice. You have someone to help you regulate... a-and anyway, I'm always finding myself to be colder than the average person. Why do you think I like my blankets?" She joked weakly, taking a small step back. Her hands raised to rest atop of the bump, thumbs stroking mindlessly. She stood there, watching him for a moment longer until she finally smiled once more and took another step back, turning, "Ah... s-sorry. I'll uh... painting. I'll... I'll sit back down. I promise I won't be a bad subject. I'll stay as still as our-- our little one lets me."

With that being said, she returned to the loveseat and sat back down. She began fussing around with the blanket, pulling her legs back up to fold them beneath her. She spread the blanket back out and slipped the book from the arm of her seat to hold it once more in hand.

"I...uh... promise not to bring up any-- any... I mean I'll choose better topics, now, to talk about." She cleared her throat, turning her gaze onto her book. The other hand rubbed absently against her stomach, a habit she had now developed and one she wasn't worrying about losing any time soon.

She knew it was a difficult subject for Sven, and had learned that not just now but also established that from the apologies that came sometimes from a conversation they were having, and other times from nothing. She found herself wanting to move on quickly because she knew it tortured him, knew it affected him. Of course it had horrendous consequences for her too, it sent a pain in her chest every time she thought back to that fateful day. It brought up all the guilt that she hadn't been able to protect her baby brother, but then also now that she's starting afresh with the man who murdered him.

"S-so... ah... how... how long do you think this will take to finish? Not that I'm in any rush, it's not like I've got anything else to do." She chuckled lightly, keeping her eyes on the book.
 
"And if we know the little one as well as we've come to over these months, you won't be sat very still - either they'll be kicking away at you or you'll be scurrying off for the toilet when they rest on your bladder. I think you left about five times during one of our dinners; that's the current record, at least. It is rather funny-- not for you, obviously, but I can't pretend not to find it amusing. I just thank whatever higher beings are out there that I'm not a woman," he snorted amusedly as the both pulled back from the expressions of affection, even if he had an urge to hold her into the hug for longer.

Hell, he had almost been tempted to dip his head and take her chin lightly in order to encourage their lips to meet, but he had evidently pulled himself together before he managed to do it. He wanted nothing more than to put all his feelings into action but he was well aware that Carina wasn't quite on the same page as he was at the moment, and thing between them were so... comfortable right now that he didn't want to inadvertently disrupt the flow in any way.

As he returned to her painting and watched as she returned to find her comfortable position back on the loveseat, he hid a faint smile at the question. He wasn't sure how much experience she had had sitting for portraits - he could assume that she had some experience being of royal blood, but so too was he and he hadn't ever been invited to sit for a portrait before. Either way, it would take a while to sketch out, paint and complete, especially when he wanted it to be special and that demanded his time and focus.

"...It won't be done today, I can guarantee that. It depends on how often you choose to sit for me, but say we manage an hour or two each day... I could have it done in a week, maybe? I could easily spend an entire month on it but by then the baby would be here and you won't have the time to sit for me like this, so... I'll get it done in a week," he confirmed - even if that promise suddenly caused him to panic, his head tilted as he observed his basic plotting on the page. He hadn't even painted someone else's portrait before, so that would take time to ensure he perfected the craft, and add into the equation that this was of Carina and he wanted to produce something she would be thrilled by...

The pressure was definitely on, even if he hadn't helped himself with the short deadline.

"I can easily manage to paint your likeness accurately, I have no doubt about that, it's just-- catching your spirit in the painting that needs time. I want it to reflect you as you are right now, you know? So-- that'll be a challenge; I don't want to disappoint you after all this anticipation."
 
Carina hadn't sat for many portraits herself. There was one when she was around nine, a family portrait, which hung within the now crisp and torched walls of the Eira Palace. She wondered if was still up, if it had managed to escape from the flames that probably ruined and destroyed all the other portraits and paintings within the castle. It was the last family painting they had done before her mother died, and it did sadden Carina as she thought back over those memories. Not to mention how she had no form of image to reflect back on, for her brother or her mother.

As harsh as it sounded, her father she didn't care much for. He had been a stubborn, abrupt brute before her mother died, and then became a drunk after the event. He didn't care for her opinions, so Carina soon learned to not care for his either.

The young queen dragged herself away from such memories as she realised Sven had already started answering her. She was grateful she had kept her eyes on her book, so it avoided him seeing the far away look in her eyes. She lifted them up so she could focus on him, offering her attention as he began to explain.

"There's no rush... well-- I mean, there is, but you know what I'm trying to say." She smiled quietly, a hand rubbing nervously against her thigh, "No need to try and get it done in a week... yes the baby will be arriving soon but-- but two weeks could work. Or even three. Besides, I'm sure as long as you get the bump done, I'll be back in here to read to them in the same place and position as I am now." She chuckled, looking to reassure him.

She knew how much his art meant to him, and that this probably wasn't something he'd want to rush, given how eager he was to do it in the first place. She wanted this to go well just as much as he did, but not because she wanted a good likeness on the canvas... but because she wanted him to be happy with it.

"You won't disappointed me... I'm sure of it."
 
"You sure I won't disappoint me? You haven't seen the finished product yet; don't speak too soon. Granted, I've barely even begun so perhaps I'm doing myself a disservice-- ignore me, I'm just-- anxious. I want this to be something you can be proud of. It'll be hard to take pride in a painting that makes you look horrid, won't it? Not that you'd ever look horrid, but my portraiture skills are underdeveloped and--" He forcibly stopped himself from further blathering when realising that his internal anxieties over what he hoped would be a successful painting weren't entirely helping the easy, relaxed atmosphere he wanted to create - both for Carina in the present, and for how he wanted to capture her in the paint strokes.

Besides, however it ended up, he was almost sure that she wouldn't be too cruel in her assessment of it. He would seek honest feedback on it without being offended if she wasn't as happy with it as he intended for her to be, but he also knew she would be tactful in those circumstances. Unlike months ago when she would have inevitably taken pleasure in seeing him hurt; targeting an insecurity and throwing all she had into breaking him down over it, things between them had altered enough to a point where any insecurity was dealt with gently and comfortingly, rather than pinpointed as a way of gaining the upperhand.

Not that he was going to paint half-heartedly. Despite knowing she wouldn't tear his efforts down cruelly, he wanted to avoid her having to be tactful; he wanted her reaction to the portrait to be genuine and for her to take pride in how she had been accurately captured in the peacefulness of the library.

"...You know, I'll try not to be anxious painting you because it'll inevitably impact the way I paint but-- it's hard to just... ignore the fact we're a mere month away from... the birth," he murmured, biting the inside of his cheek the moment he had admitted aloud just how soon the baby would be arriving. He had a mere month of normalcy before his life would change forever; before a new normality was due to begin for him.

"It's nerve-racking, isn't it? I suppose that's why I've... gone a tad overboard with the nursery. I've hyper-focused on it to distract me from the nerves. Poor kid's got enough teddy bears to last him, or her, a lifetime," he continued with a snort under his breath, returning his eyes to the canvas and, after pausing for a moment to judge the scale of the items in the background, he reached back for his pencil to continue the sketching.
 
"It's terrifying," Carina agreed to his comment about the baby arriving soon, hand moving from her thigh to the bump again just as a ripple was felt under the skin. She smiled, eyes lowering to the bump which was definitely larger than life. "I completely understand what you mean. I just... I feel so underprepared. Like there's only so much someone can do to prepare, but yet I still feel like I haven't done enough." She confessed, thinking over everything she had done and was still doing.

"I... find myself wishing that my mother was here," she admitted next, hesitating to enter another such deep topic revolving around her family but knowing she had to show this vulnerability in order to be honest. She wanted to be honest and open with him, it's what they had been doing for the past month and a bit, so why would she stop all of a sudden. Granted he didn't know anything about her family except for her parents arguing when she was little and her closeness with Emmett, and she could easily keep it that way. But he had been so open to her about his parents... it was time she granted him the same courtesy.

"She would be the first person I'd go to about any of this. About what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong, to ask her what I could be doing better. To find out what she did to help her through the more difficult moments..." She shifted, wincing at a small pain at the base of her spine. Reaching for a pillow, she placed it in against the spot, breathing a sigh of relief. "She was the one I went to about everything, probably the reason why her and my father fought so much," she commented dryly, a matching, amused smile on her lips at the thought of it, "Because any harsh comment he made to me, she would see it on my face in a moment. She had that sight, just some sort of instinct that just... knew."

Carina paused, glancing up to him and finding herself rosy-cheeked once more, "Ah, sorry. Now I'm the one rambling. Ignore me." She chuckled awkwardly, shuffling so she was sat up straight again, "We-- we haven't settled on a name yet, either. Boy or girl. If we want a first or a first and second. Or if we're going to give them three... we've not... had much of a chance to talk about it."
 
He exchanged a sympathetic glance with her regarding her fears considering he could relate to many of them, though he hid back on verbalising that sense of relief that he wasn't alone. The experience of becoming parents and having a small, innocent human be entirely dependent on them both was terrifying but it was also going to be the best thing Sven knew he would ever accomplish - fatherhood had always been a dream of his, to ensure that his son or daughter got to experience what it was like to have a father who actually loved them for who they were, rather than find disappointment in their every move or decision.

Focusing too much on the anxieties they felt did make him feel like he was overlooking the immense positives that were going to enter their lives in a few short weeks, and he knew he was probably guilty of not communicating just how excited he was at the ever nearing parenthood about to be bestowed on them both. He smiled quietly to himself at the thought - however nervous he was, the rush of love he already knew he would feel when he looked down at his son or daughter already making his throat feel tight in the emotional response the mere thought brought him.

He coughed it away as subtly as he could when Carina continued to open up to him, glancing above and over the easel to show that he was paying her his full attention, rather than leave her in doubt if he remained working away at the sketching. After all, he had been the one to open up most about his parents and, namely, the horrific childhood he had endured under their attempts at raising him. Every time he headed down that emotional avenue into his past, Carina had listened to him intently and been on hand to offer him encouragement the moment he had finished - now the roles were reversing slightly, he wanted to offer her that same show of support in return.

"...I'm sorry-- about your mother. She... She sounds like she was a wonderful person, Carina. I imagine she'd have been a fantastic grandmother; the only one our child would have probably warmed to considering the way your father was and-- no words need to be said about how mine were," he muttered, though smiled quickly to ensure her that he wasn't about to start rambling about his parents and their considerable flaws.

"...But we'll be okay, you know. You'll be okay. It's a process, right? We can't be expected to know everything straight away but we'll learn as we go. I... can't... reassure you like your mother would have done but I can at least tell you that you'll be a fantastic parent. It's not even in doubt," the man continued as he let his eyes stray back to his painting, a fond smile growing at the basic sketch he had created, already envisioning the painting at its final stage and realising that it would probably turn out okay in spite of his earlier panic.

"Names-- I've given it some thought, of course, but it's-- it's such a monumental thing, isn't it? Naming our child. I thought about it but it always ended up making me feel queasy with stress, so I never approached you with my ideas in case I piled that stress onto you and made you feel nauseous. And after the months you spent throwing up each morning, I thought it best not to risk it," he laughed, pulling away in order to retrieve his coffee from the nearby table, taking a quiet sip in satisfaction at the strong flavours.

"I'd be more than willing to name our daughter, should we have one, after your mother - first or middle name, dependent on your preference. I'm hardly going to bother honouring my mother and you speak so fondly of yours that... I'd welcome that if you found it a favourable idea. I'm lost when it comes to ideas for a boy, however."
 
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