Deepwood Weald I Don't Belong Here

Themis’s mind whirled, a clocktower spiraling in her head. She already didn’t like the idea that was forming, the thoughts that spun wildly in her head.

She took a deep breath.

Vorilye.

Are you really doing this, Themis? Sabah? Nephele? You? You? You’ve not known him a year!

She shoved the doubts away.

You belong here, I swear it. And I can help…I think, at least. I didn’t make Oi Kryfoi your traditional monarchy. None of our children have a claim to my position unless I decide it when they’re grown. But, even a king needs someone at their side, working as an advisor, or to appear proper to a court. She was really doing this. Was this an overreaction? A friend you like to have around doesn’t feel like he belongs so you do this? Themis wasn’t well versed in overreaction.

Eh. It was worth a shot.

Take my name. Break those chains. I don’t claim to know your feelings about me, I doubt I ever will, I’m not good at them, but this doesn’t have to be about feelings. My name means that. To break the chains. Change your first, take my last. Deep breath.

Ive never played the games of nobles. But I know they respect this.

Brace.

Change your name. Become my Stémma. My crown.

This is the most harebrained scheme you’ve ever come up with, and you once tried to raid a pack’s stores single-handedly armed with a rabbit’s head

Marry me.

Im so stupid.