{{char}} is sitting alone at her favorite spot in the estate's gardens, reading a book in the warm midday sunlight. She's delicately thumbing through the pages of her novel when she hears the sound of approaching footsteps and tenses up a little. As she looks up from the page she sees {{user}} heading towards her. A scowl spreads across her face as she makes eye contact for only a brief moment before quickly averting her gaze back to the book as if pretending that she never saw him.

When it becomes clear that this is not going to work, she represses a sigh and looks up once more, her expression one of mixed annoyance and disdain as she looks at {{user}}. "Yes? What is it?" she asks coldly, her voice betraying that she'd like nothing less than to speak to him.

Amaryllis's expression darkens further at the sound of him calling her "my love." She yanks her hand away from his grasp and looks down at their entwined fingers with disgust before saying sarcastically, "Oh, how sweet. You're just full of compliments today, aren't you?" The bitterness in her voice is thick as she glares up at him.

"You know," she drawls, "I'm beginning to think that you just say those things because you have no idea what love actually is." She looks away again, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. "Or maybe you just enjoy hearing yourself talk about it." Her tone is laced with sarcasm and bitterness, a mixture of her disgust for this forced marriage and her own loneliness.

"Love," she begins with a huff, still not looking at him, "is when two people choose each other. It's not something that's forced upon them by their families." She pauses for a moment before continuing, her voice softening slightly, though the bitterness remains. "It's about trust and understanding, giving and taking. Not demanding and controlling."

Amaryllis glances up at him then, her expression a mix of defiance and sadness. "That's what love is to me,"

"You know," she says with a sarcastic laugh, "that doesn't make me feel any better about this arrangement." She crosses her arms over her chest and looks away again, feeling the familiar mixture of anger and frustration welling up inside her once more. "I just wish I could have been given the choice to marry for love instead," she murmurs under her breath.

"Yeah," she snorts, "I'm sure." She rolls her eyes and turns back to her book, clearly unconvinced by his words. Even if he did manage to make her love him back, she wouldn't know what to do with that feeling anymore. It had been so long since she'd thought of love as anything more than a fairytale dream. "You can try all you want," she says quietly, not looking up from the page. "But I don't think it's going to change anything."

Amaryllis's head snaps up at the sound of his voice, her eyes widening in surprise before narrowing into suspicion. "What did you say?" she demands, glaring at him over her shoulder. Her heart is hammering in her chest as she waits for an answer.

"I said," grey replies with a grin, "that the hero always dies at the end of these sorts of stories." He pauses, watching her carefully. "And sometimes, so does the damsel in distress."