They deserve it all.

His brother.

My castle ... my own castle. Not a singular wing for me, a whole castle. Not a tower to reside in when people are bored of me, or a house I got gifted to me because my father wanted to get rid of me the few months that woman came. This will be my castle, with my servants, my own cooks, my own painter, my own foundation. I start from here on. This is the beginning of my life, truly my beginning, what I have worked to get since I was born.

And I think I might set this whole place ablaze with my intense stare and hidden beaming smile, but Alistair yells at me from within the palace, right by the doors, preventing that.

"Come in, will you?!"

I start walking, each step I set on stone I want to be remembered, each step I take, each breath I take within these ports, these high big glass and metal ports. All for me.

"That's the kitchen I suppose." Alistair says when he touches the stone island.

I walk to the fire pit and obviously look it, then the yellow dusted oven, the wall with hanged utensils, the already stocked cupboards with ingredients and beam at him with a mocking smile. "How smart of you, I would've never guessed."

"I just wish to see our bedroom. I need a big comforting bed, but not so soft I'll drown in it, nor must it hard, that could end up making me hobble, and out of all the older people I've seen, I do not want to hobble."

Alistair is really good at talking, really good. And even when he speaks, not boring as such, but rather with a tone that makes you feel like an actual person, which sounds rather odd, but it's quite frequent that people tend to get lost in the maze within their mind, and he's like the voice leading you out, speaking words of directions, sparking you with something that makes you feel real. Because he is talking to you, he looks at you and asks for your opinion like you really are real, not a figment of your imagination, like it's all real for those moments. I like that about him, that with him I am real.

And his smile, always so blinding and contagious, so very contagious, and to resist is like to refuse your mind of pleasure. It's not hard for me, I tend to refuse myself pleasure if it's even the slightest bit of a risk to what must lead, or else I wouldn't, complete loneliness and ultimate death.

"Then again, if the colors aren't complimenting each other, I'll have to redo the whole thing, I can't sleep in a bedroom with for example neon colors." Then he turns to me, his eyes on me, as we walk the long halls, and I pretend I don't see him for the moments I can, but I can feel his smile and his warm light eyes and they kindly pierce me, stabbing and hollowing out the bits of my guard until I give in. "Would you be able to? I do wonder if you care for such things, if so, then we could speak of that, or the other rooms, I'd like an archery, and of course we'd have our armory. The castle is now our home now, so I hope you'll feel equally at home too."

It's quiet for a bit, but not a painful quiet, like a silence you wish you could marry ... though I suspect I did. "I suppose ... if I have a good nights sleep and no decapitated heads are looking at me, I suppose I can. Colors, as long as they don't psychically attack me, then I care quite little, yeah." I sigh and give in to the tingling fun sensation of the realization I kept at bay to not seem like a little kid who just got her first toy. "Funny to believe we talked about how our different armories would look like, how mine would be better than yours, though now we'll share one."

He sighs happily. "We wouldn't have to. We're King and Queen now. We can have a dozen armories for all it takes, a whole wing dedicated to bloodshed."

He makes me laugh, but I swallow it as soon as it came out. "Only within our forest. Let's try to keep the bloodshed to a minimal outside of it."