small talk

"you'd have to settle down soon jair."

aisling, soon to be heir and future wife of her family, spoke while sipping on a cup of tea, or for more specifics, boiled milk(she was never one for flavors, her taste buds dissipated when she was only 3). the discussion was brought up on jair's upcoming coronation, soon to take over the throne when the time comes he's ready. he half expected an adult, worn out and treated the traditional customs with utmost respect, to say that sort of thing, but with a woman who barely turned 25? now that took him by surprise.

of course, aisling had always admired her family's teaching, even if it is motivated by power for territory and leadership amongst the rest of her country, but really, bloodlines of all things? it wasn't recently where her parents gossiped from the dinner table moments ago that she had potential to be labeled as 'unsuitable environment' to even concieve a kid, what good would an only son do?

"mm, what?" jair responded with a surprise look, finally looking at her. aisling was a dark brown haired, sun kissed skin with moles across her face and neck, covered by a beautifully tailored gown that reminded the duke of ivy greens down by the small private garden, fresh and blooming, it was a rather small gown but it shaped her entire persona wonderfully,

wonderfully as in, she was somewhat similar to an annoying pest.

but no, he would never say that to her face, lord knows the scolding he'll get when he even thinks about criticizing her. it's not welcomed as a suggestion even if he genuinely says it is. so he keeps any other comment shut, forever embedding in his brain until he escapes this shitty meeting.

aisling side eyed the man, making it obvious of her judgement, "you heard me loud and clear. you're a man, incapable of understanding the complex world of what woman go through, to either be picked or thrown. your whole life is dependent on a lovely wife who'd you pick as the best suitor, wait until birth, and then do whatever you wish with her. yet you don't seem to act upon these needs of yours." did jair really need that whole thing? probably so, it was a lie to deny this especially in this time of age, "didn't your dad speak of waiting until the perfect moment where you show enough maturity to be handed the crown on his head? this could be crucial to your emotional maturity, understanding that you must give a future heir to the throne."

"aisling, if i'm not too, mm, mistaken," jair winced at the small glare of aisling being interrupted, "my dad only says that because he's worried for me. that i'm too 'vulnerable', when really i'm more than prepared! the fuss about consorts and all that can wait until my dad finally gives the cane and crown."

"your way of speaking reeks of the opposite, jair."

"it'll pass, aisling. besides, i'd like to live my youth to the fullest--"

"you're at the age of being crowned for a man. i'd expect you to at least be aware that you cannot act like a teenager with little responsibilities and no shields." her contempt face really added to the passive-aggressiveness of her, a forte of the murchadha family.

"maybe you're right. but don't you want to take things at least a bit slower, or take your time? you're barely 25 and you're more tense than your father."

"i am fighting for the throne against my own kindred, jair. i cannot rest until i get my crown. idiotic boys get it so easy against us, if you want your crown then you should at least pretend you want to earn it." aisling scoffed, taking a big sip of her tea, a common habit to rid her stress levels, usually never worked.

after that was just a silent hour, staring into space as they both sat, so close yet so far. perhaps she was a bit right, it was so easy for him to achieve it, maybe that was why his dad wasn't giving it to him so easily, tapping the armrest while looking at aisling, the tired soul, gulping down nervously and just copying the way she sits.