Emilia could feel her heartbeat in her ears as he knelt before her. His appearance at this moment, knee on the ground, disbelieving eyes looking up, was an open confession to his brokenness. He had revealed himself to her, or at least she thought he had, believed with all her heart he had, and she wanted to embrace him while those wretched barriers were down.
She did not embrace him. She knelt down in front of him so that they were eye to eye, equal, one just as admittedly broken as the other. She did not let go of his hands. She felt as though she never would.
"...I do not know," Emilia said quietly. "I cannot say why I love you. I have no glowing metaphors for you, nor do I know any grand virtue you possess that I can speak of. Perhaps I am just as mad as you are, forever in love with a man who will never love me back." She paused, looked to their joined hands for the strength to continue with speech, then looked up again. "I cannot tell you why I love you, but I can profess with all my heart that I do. Believe it, Iago. I do not know how you feel, and by my faith, I have given up trying to determine your emotions long ago. But do not think that I speak not in earnest when I tell you that I love you." She blinked tears from her eyes. "Iago, I love you."
