Emmanuel had referred to Belle as an English friend of his, and obviously, she responded in french, and he chuckled. The prince did not know fluent french, he studied a bit with his tutor growing up, but she spoke too fast for him to comprehend the words he had learned written on paper, for him to read at his own pace. However, he was able to put the pieces together that; regardless of what she said, she was probably reminding him of her frenchness. “I apologize. My favorite french friend in england, my lady.” He corrected himself cordially, because he wanted her to know that he did remember her nationality and all.
He laughed again, accepting her french as incomprehensible to him, but endeared by her flexion of her native language, then reminding him of their friendship. He nodded, agreeing with her. “Usted sabe espanol, Bella?” He said, translating her first name into his language, dancing on the line between it being a name or an adjective. “Porque si no, eres mil veces mas hermosa de lo que habia imaginado.” He said it in the most monotonous tone he could, watching her delicately tuck back her hair. Belle was a jack of many trades, but last he knew, her Spanish was not fluent enough to understand that. He did not want for her to understand what he had just said, surely, she already knew she was flawless. He did not want to focus on her physical appearance, as her true magnum opus was her intellect. Additionally, he was a friend to her. Who was he to disrespect that?
She seemed suspisciously immune to his reference to family, and he saddened a bit. Could it be she was not getting on well with them? Emmanuel knew of her relationship with her brothers, who she had very positive relationships with. She was not always close with Josephine, but in his mind that was just because of the little they had in common. And obviously, noble parents were seldom the sincere people that their image projected, but they had never sounded too far worse than others in contrast. In that brief moment, he questioned what had provoked her silence. However, he shrugged it off, as she was continuing in her response, and he had not reason enough for further inquiry.
In said response, the girl seemed to imply she regarded him highly too, almost as much as he did her. He could not help but half-smile, touched. He wondered if she thought of him, too, when the days were long, or the nights were sleepless.
But those were impish, boyish thoughts which he would not allow himself to continue. They lasted milliseconds before he returned to his serious demeanor. “Please, do not grow overconfident, Lady Fleur. For you still have no chance against my wrath when we reach the arching range.” He teased her. It had only been a few minutes, but he was beginning to feel comfortable speaking with the human manifestation of her. Comfortable enough to begin to show her his humor, as he was a gentleman, but aside from being a lady, Belle was his friend, meaning she was perfectly apt to fall victim from his sarcasm.
On the field itself, she was unexpectedly so flattering. Of course, Emmanuel had received plenty of compliments from his men, but that was because they were brothers, fighting for the same cause on the same side. Lady Fleur, however, was not of their same clan. That was not to say she was not as valiant, however it was warming to receive approval from someone on the outside. It meant that his actions had meaning; that the woman who heard all his tales had imagined him just the same as he had felt. It was the very thing that drove him, when he remembered the letter he would be writing to her that night, aside from joy, he also felt curiousity as to whether or not she would be proud of the choices he was making on those fields. Now he knew she was.
He thanked her, and she continued to suggest he compete in a hunting contest with her, of which he would be delighted. “I had not heard of it yet, but that would be a wonderful idea, Lady Fleur. I have not been hunting for some time, come to think of it. Have you, my well-aimed lady?” He asked, joking in reference to her precise ability to hit bullseyes. An ability he had just now discovered in amazement.
Also, though, he wondered if she would have wanted to join the contest herself. He assumed female contestants were not welcome, as ignorant as society was. However, he would find it hard to believe that Belle did not hunt on her own time.
It was a fascinating concept, the sport. Men left their homes in warm clothes, with all of their men, in order to shoot upon an unsuspecting animal, that they caught off guard and alone. How horrible it was, that was what they were required to do in order to provide their families with bellyfuls of food. He knew it all too well. For many years, he had done the same with humans, losing lives in the process of reaching one sole objective. In the early days of his time away, the thought of it sickened him; torturing others for reason so small. Today, he had grown accustomed to it. A man down was just a warm body grown cold, so was a deer. It was a part of life. He had no problem confronting that.
His chest was sunken as he shared vaguely of his last battle, but it rose a bit when he laughed at Belle, struggling to comfort him over his supposed loss. Chuckling, he reassured her. “No no, my lady, I assure you it was a fine battle.” He paused, reflecting. “It was quite inspiring, actually. The capital of the missions glowed at dusk, and my men and I managed to rescue many people. I still remember their faces. I had blood running down my forehead from a hit, and the natives had tears down their cheeks. But still then, we managed to be happy for each other, mere yards away from reaching the horizon that freed them. I am immensely grateful to have been there. It was just later in the day, when I had gone home, that I had not felt so glorious…” He said, overwhelmed by the emotions he was to feel if he continued sharing. Still, a part of him craved her further question, he did not want to tell her, but he wanted her to know the reason for his hurt, and to have a friend there in england who could understand all he was suffering.
Later, after their discussion had settled, he watched her drop an apple to the ground with her arrow, and he tilted his head, showing an expression of sympathy for her. Then, he laughed at her very humble suggestion. “Well, Lady Fleur, if you are still aiming for the target, I am confident that you will bring down many, many apples.” He teased her some more, implying that she would mess-up again as they looked at the fallen fruit.
He glanced to the side of him, then, and saw her look of disapproval at him and he laughed softly, not wishing to upset her. “My apologies, my lady.” He said, turning around and quickly using little effort to angle his equipment, and then shooting for the ground. Emmanuel turned back to the girl, giving her a kind expression. “See? You remain triumphant.” He crossed his arms with a huff, subtly giving her the win because he wanted to keep her happy.
@kristi belleeee