![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
knightoftheswan"Knight of the Swan?"
The name was beginning to grow on Lohengrin. Or perhaps it was the voice that called.
He turns to find Elsa standing behind him.
("It's this moment," he would later tell her, "that I realized I would always remember your face, for it began to follow me in my fondest dreams after this encounter.")
"My lady?" he responds.
Then he notices she is holding her hand out to him, a white cloth sitting neatly folded in her palm.
"A token of my favor," she explains.
He grasps the handkerchief, allowing himself no more than the slight brush of his fingers against her palm, and finds that a white swan has been threaded in the corner.
"Your handmaiden does fine embroidery," he muses, softly running a thumb over the image.
"To tell the truth, I did the embroidery work," Elsa says.
Lohengrin looks from the handkerchief to her hands. Without thinking, he takes one to examine closer. Elsa releases an easy to miss breath that she didn't notice she was holding before.
"Lies do not become you, my lady," he says. "Your hands show no calluses or pin pricks."
"But I did make it," she protests. "I have been sewing since I was a child. The needle just flies through my fingers, only a gentle touch to guide each thread."
"Truthfully?"
She takes the handkerchief back and insists, "I will show you, then."
Elsa pulls a needle and thread from a pocket in her dress. Lohengrin watches her work, her delicate hands swift and skillful. It takes some time but he doesn't mind. When she presents him the handkerchief again, a tight E sits by the swan.
The corner of his mouth twitches upward as he takes it again. His thumb traces over the loops of the E.
"Forgive me my doubt, my lady," he says. "I shall never make that mistake again."
The name was beginning to grow on Lohengrin. Or perhaps it was the voice that called.
He turns to find Elsa standing behind him.
("It's this moment," he would later tell her, "that I realized I would always remember your face, for it began to follow me in my fondest dreams after this encounter.")
"My lady?" he responds.
Then he notices she is holding her hand out to him, a white cloth sitting neatly folded in her palm.
"A token of my favor," she explains.
He grasps the handkerchief, allowing himself no more than the slight brush of his fingers against her palm, and finds that a white swan has been threaded in the corner.
"Your handmaiden does fine embroidery," he muses, softly running a thumb over the image.
"To tell the truth, I did the embroidery work," Elsa says.
Lohengrin looks from the handkerchief to her hands. Without thinking, he takes one to examine closer. Elsa releases an easy to miss breath that she didn't notice she was holding before.
"Lies do not become you, my lady," he says. "Your hands show no calluses or pin pricks."
"But I did make it," she protests. "I have been sewing since I was a child. The needle just flies through my fingers, only a gentle touch to guide each thread."
"Truthfully?"
She takes the handkerchief back and insists, "I will show you, then."
Elsa pulls a needle and thread from a pocket in her dress. Lohengrin watches her work, her delicate hands swift and skillful. It takes some time but he doesn't mind. When she presents him the handkerchief again, a tight E sits by the swan.
The corner of his mouth twitches upward as he takes it again. His thumb traces over the loops of the E.
"Forgive me my doubt, my lady," he says. "I shall never make that mistake again."
