Heavy silence hung over The Tower’s gargantuan, round throne room, empty save for two ponies facing each other. Arianrhod forced a smile, her eyes glistening with tears.
Gaunt looked away, at the white marble wall, at the central dais and its empty throne, at the floor before his hooves. Anywhere but his wife’s gaze. As long as he did not look up at her, as long as he did not meet her red eyes, none of this had to happen.
She reached out to brush his cheek, but still he could not look up. “My love,” he quietly pleaded, “thou needest not do this. ’Tis not too late to go back.”
Though her smile grew heavy, she held it. “I must, dear, for it is my duty.” Her voice shook with each word she forced out. “Mother would never allow me to abandon it, to abandon my birthright.” The corners of her lips quivered as she clenched her jaw.
Arianrhod leaned in for a kiss. It lasted only a brief moment, but it gave Gaunt one final look at his wife’s visage.
“Stay strong, dearest,” she whispered. “For I will need thee after the ritual.”
As she turned to stride towards the centre of the room, he whispered, “Please, don’t leave me.” He hoped she would hear him, but he did not want her to. He knew it might change her mind.