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"I can give you nothing more than the love of a daughter," Saeryn said in a nigh whisper. "I cannot swear to you a proper oath of allegiance. I will understand-" Her voice broke "-if you choose to protect me and fulfill your oath... by sending me away."
She was not looking at him, so did not see the slight flush he felt upon his cheeks. He was old enough to be her father; it was well worth remembering, considering that his arms ached to crush her to him, to dry her tears, to . . . . . well. Just so. He kept his hands folded in his lap.
"Send you away! How could I stand as he who speaks for you and stands against all comers if you are not here? Silly child." Her head still bowed, she looked up at him with questions in her blinking eyes.
He looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. It was thus that he saw two visitors come in, arm in arm, well to do by the look of them, the young lady brimming with life, the somewhat elderly man stooped and tired.
"No more of this!" Eodwine bantered, tapping Saeryn's knee. "We have guests and you are my hostess! Dry those tears and snap to it! You have nothing to fear from me. Nothing at all!"
Eodwine stood, and caused the frowning and confused Saeryn to stand too. He wiped her tears with both his hands again, and gave her a peck on the forehead, which made her only more confused. He gave her a gentle push toward the now waiting pair, and watched as she walked toward them, back straigtening.
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