Ailuin considered all that she said before responding to any particular point. She was used to this circumspection from him; he could be spontaneous with personal matters, but weightier ones required the king to wear his crown and think on things.
"His raiment need not remain the same year round," he thought aloud. "If you simply cannot make one choice." There was a ghost of a smile as he rather perfectly imitated her tone of voice from adolescent years. "The balancing act remains that tightrope walk between tradition and change. Thiovan will surely be delighted by the creativity and imagination involved, so when you have made your selection of adaptable geniuses, we all can surely discuss details over the music and tipples." The king did enjoy his daughter's parties, even as old as he was and as staid as he seemed.
"As for the children of the gods, you are most likely correct. Their birthing pains might make violent waves in the aether, but most waves diminish over time." Of course, there were waves that—expertly manipulated—augmented power, but that was something they would prepare for anyway. They always did; it needn't be reiterated. Akantha was clever enough not to need such reminders.
He glanced at her, eschewing the pageantry for a moment, then smiled softly.
"I do. Does it offend you? Your mother and I will share a bond of love forever, I think, although it has evolved from what it was before you were born. I will wed again, but I will always be cognizant of your feelings. Cold logic doesn't always apply itself in matters of the heart, and if you ever have misgivings, they will not anger me. I do not wish to be the cause of your suffering ever."
And he was curious who she would marry, whether it would be entirely political or involve love as well. He would certainly have opinions, both as king and father, but would strive to be respectful of her autonomy. If she became heir-presumptive, of course, he might need to offer more advice than less.
