How strange a man he was - one moment, he seems honourable. The next, he takes that was without price with a mercantile interest... and regards it like he might a lover, more than she ever expected for a Betan. She nods to it, an explanation with it. "We do not bring about Kings except in times of strife. In those moments, they are the sword that protects our people. But fitting for you too - you will be part of that defence."

The rest - it didn't matter. He wasn't aware of how that between those that upheld that honour, this was the world. Such a thing was binding until death. That he had asked for her whole soul, bound for the rest of their lives, completely, in asking for the blade. That she had no choice but to accept. It wasn't much more than the central part of a longer ceremony when she had married the first time. But she'd heard of it certainly, it happened with village girls in these times often enough. A blade that could be the only certainty a married couple might have. A need to find some hope in that motion. If she thought of it like that, it wasn't so bad. So then, let it mean that, in motion if not quite in... well, body. If anyone asked ( and they would, is the irritable groan of a thought ) she could say it had been given in mutual goals.

She rises then from his bedside. "If we are not are freed, perhaps I can take comfort with you having it. Should I fall, should they take my life -" an understanding, that if she was going lose, she would die in the battle to the end. " - the hope of my people will not not fall into my enemies hands."

A miserable thought, but for it, she smiles softly.

It will be held with her new husband.