"Even a strong pair of shoulders can already be overburdened with more troubles than a humiliated pilot turned captive deserves to add to. Do not trouble yourself." She turns away.
"It's too late, I'm already troubled by seeing you unhappy." You insist, "Fa, please, don't do this alone."
She's as stubborn as you've come to expect, her shoulders only tense more, her knuckles whitening as she grips the railing.
"Why now? You're finally about to leave, you're going to get married and do all those things you've wanted to do. I'm even considering giving you the Tarrasque. As a wedding gift." Her back, shapely as it is, is like a wall in front of you, hard as stone and only half as yielding. Slowly, realization starts to dawn, "Do you not want to go back?"
"It's not about wanting, Admiral." She says, her voice dry and rough, "I am Fatima Ahmad, daughter of Abdul Ahmad. I am more than just an individual woman with her own desires and strengths, I am a daughter of a family line that stretches back to the first Muslim King of Britain on ancient Terra. This alliance will wed strength and influence in the new Solar System League to my father's household, my children could be generals in the unified army and spread the light of the sun to every system mankind has touched. If I back out, my father would never openly do anything but support my decision...but there would be ash on his good name. My sisters, when they grow older, might also find it harder to find a good husband because they would be tarred by my dishonor. I...I have...that night...I have been a very foolish, sentimental woman, Roarke Starwind. Please, forgive me for leading you on, and try to be happy." She lowers her head and does something you never, ever wound have imagined Fatima doing, covering her eyes with her hands and running away from you.
>[Go after her, if so what say?]
>[Let her be]