Here's a riddle for you

Harper

Harper patiently waits as her defenses shudder and cave in on themselves. It's a painful process, and he wishes he could take some measure of it off her shoulders. Equally, he remembers when his mentor held him through it all in this exact same way, and how important it had been despite the difficulty. Even if he were a more impatient man there would be no rushing or wishing for a swift end. In fact, he's deeply honored that she chooses him to do this with. He isn't sure he deserves it, but god if he won't try to be.

Her murmured confession holds implications Harper does not want to assume, but which he nevertheless suspects. It makes his own heart try to shy away, hiding behind walls new and old. He holds it in place by the skin of his teeth, gaze moving past the crown of her head to look out over the overgrown fields as his jaw flexes slightly with the effort it takes to be both brave and calm. "I'd hope that, even if we're both scared, we can still treat each other gently. Even if what we both want doesn't align." He's careful not to express his assumptions, one scarred hand splaying across her spine. "What makes you think that what you want is too much? Is it something grander than what most people want?" He doubts it. He can't envision Maea wanting something like a title or right to rule a region, or power to subject and entrance. It might seem like too much to her, but he doesn't think it's anything so outlandish as that.

I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments
you can't trust a thing I say