[11 vs 18] You stare at Rekhyt in silence.
[1 vs 7] You break before he does. You take a step forward, then another, suddenly reaching out and grabbing at the collar of his undone jacket. He doesn't flinch as you twist the fabric tightly in your hand and lift. Your hand shakes as the knuckles go white. "No. I hate this. I hate having these people too afraid or to-- I didn't want this."
"But you saw a problem? You saw something that you wanted changed -- and you still see something. Something you cannot let go." Rekhyt questions. You slowly give a nod.
"All the people who...who expected me to fight, to protect, to do my duty," You spit the word, "They--"
"Did nothing. You're here of your own choice. Of your own agency. You're powerful enough that you don't have to be here, aren't you? Could anyone really stop you?"
"...No."
"Remember that. Even if it seems like an illusion, you always have a choice. Win your war -- will your people be upset with you if you left them afterward? Or do you want to be chained here forever? Do you enjoy your own suffering?"
"Why are you doing this?" You snap, tightening your grip. Rekhyt lets you.
"I am one of your prospects for marriage, Pheobe. Would I be a good husband if my spouse suffered?" Rekhyt laughs. "Oh don't look so shocked, you must have realized my intent by now." With a shove, he pulls himself away and straigthens up. His eyes narrow slightly. "This is silk, by the way. Do be careful."
"You could become Khan with my support?" You guess.
"Of course not-- I'm not even the spare. But tell me -- who holds more power? You, or Emma? The one on the throne isn't always the one who rules. But, I digress. Enough philosophy and enough of my poor lecture on power. What do you think of my proposal?"