His bride

Callan

On her part, it was perfect timing.

As her title fell from his lips, her figure came into full view and his aunt's jaw dropped a little. The Princess was close behind Faramond and his men, and although she threw nervous glances around her, attempting to deflect the attention she'd suddenly stumbled into, she still looked magnificent. Damn that horse and that dress. She'd never looked more like a Princess to him than she did at that moment, in a foreign kingdom after she'd been practically sold to an enemy.

Grimacing, Callan turned to his aunt, whose smile had fallen and eyes had adopted a bewildered gaze.

"You..." his aunt began, narrowing her eyes. "What have you..." she trailed off, looking at him questioningly. Serafina was a woman who always caught on pretty fast. She had the sharpest of wits and an even sharper tongue. Yet at that very moment, all that sharpness had fled her, and instead she looked on, as perplexed and ignorant as the day she'd been born. Serafina swallowed her previous attempt and regained composure. "Callan Alexander Evermore of Acraeneia, I demand to know what you are on about!"

Callan winced at the mention of his full name, mentally willing his aunt to lower her voice, despite the fact that they were beyond earshot of anyone else.

"I said," he began sheepishly, "She's the Princess of Askemia, aunty. She's our...prisoner here." The word came unintentionally, and Callan immediately grimaced upon hearing it.

Serafina had always been the mother that Callan had never knew. She consoled him when he was at his worst and supported all (or rather most) of his decisions. Nevertheless, that day, she had never condemned his actions more. A flash of shock rippled within her eyes and she twisted the point of his ear, pulling him inside, behind the cover of the double doors. Even though she was mad, she still remembered the boy was soon to be King, and there was nothing a King wanted more than to look powerful and respectful in front of his people.

"Owww," Callan winced, as he bent down, trying to console his aunt. "Let me explain, Aunty." She let go and glared at him, arms crossed and glare fixed.

"Yes, I think I'd like that very much," she snapped. "I should think that it's quite appropriate for me to ask why my nephew's brought a young woman back from war, like she's some sort of trophy!"

"It's alright, calm down," he spoke in as calm a tone as he could manage as he rubbed his injured earlobe. His aunt was a freakishly strong woman. "Of course it is nothing like that, aunty. She comes willingly."

His aunt's expression told him he was not going to get out of this easily. "And she told you this?"

"Well, not really," he admitted, but as soon as he did so, he realised his mistake. Serafina did not look pleased.

"So you chose to make her decisions for her," his aunt concluded. "Because that is what I've taught you? To disrespect women and become this arrogant-"

"Your Highness," a voice behind interrupted her, and Callan could not have been more thankful. Of course he respected women. He hadn't realised that there could be a chance that he was actually doing more harm by bringing the Princess here. In truth, all that had occurred to him at that moment was to rid Isadore of his pathetic honour and teach him never to sacrifice love for the sake of honour. He hadn't thought that that lesson would come with the price of the Princess' liberty.

Callan turned, as Faramond bowed before them. His aunt's glare now turned upon Faramond, whose gaze shifted between the Callan and Serafina, sensing the argument.

"I shall assume this was a bad time."

"Well I just found out that my nephew has become an arrogant, sexist boy, who makes rash decisions, so I guess one would be correct to assume so," his aunt replied, staring daggers. Faramond's eyes sought Callan's in a silent plea for help. What did you do now? his eyes asked.

"I told her about the Princess," Callan muttered sheepishly. "But I meant no harm, Aunty. We had to teach that wretched Isadore a lesson, and—" Callan noticed that his aunt's gaze was no less frightful than it had been, and he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "We should probably welcome her inside then."

"Probably," his aunt repeated, glaring stubbornly, her arms still cross and her eyes never softening. "The poor maiden is probably frightened beyond comprehension." She jostled past Callan briskly, turning at the double doors, and Callan's tense shoulders drooped a little.

"Don't you look at me like that too, Faramond," he objected, "I thought I was doing her a favour. And besides," Callan added, as he accompanied Faramond to the entrance, "She doesn't seem to be having any trouble, right?"

The Princess greeted Serafina with an awkward almost-curtsey, and looked about her with an evident sense of discomfort.

"But perhaps," Faramond, replied, with a sigh, "she was already accustomed to trouble to know the difference."

Faramond advanced towards the rest of the men, leaving the Prince of Acraeneia alone at the entrance to the castle, suddenly regretting his decisions all over again. The boy wondered, as he watched his aunt usher the Princess towards the castle, if that was to be the fate of all his decisions.

Paige

She felt rather strange.

Everything seemed like an underwater dream, one in which the people moved slowly and spoke words with half-pronounced syllables. Her own actions seemed only to appear moments after she'd passed them in her mind, as if she were a half-functioning puppet and her mind the frustrated puppeteer. Therefore, Paige stepped with care, for fear she may stumble and fall. Stumbling was one thing, yet Paige knew that if she were to fall, she'd never muster the strength to pull herself back up again.

"Princess," came the woman's voice, before her. The title felt uneasy now, uttered from a strange woman in a strange kingdom, where she had been taken as a prisoner of some sort.

Paige adopted a curtsey, a mannerism with which she was barely acquainted. Far more often that she had spent in etiquette lessons, Paige spent plotting schemes to escape from those very lesson, unnoticed, daydreaming about riding through the kingdoms with her hair dancing behind her, the wind in her face, the sun in her eyes and only laughter in her chest. She had been successful in managing to evade her classes many times, however that victory had left her curtsey with much damage. Still, the woman before her seemed not to mind, and instead proceeded to regard her curiously.

"You are so young," the woman said. Paige felt uncomfortable beneath the woman's intent gaze. There was something in it that made Paige feel as if she were being deeply analysed, as if the woman could glean every memory, every thought, every belief Paige held in her heart from a mere glance. "You are so very young. And you have been through much for your age."

Paige looked about her desperately, pining for some escape. Her escape came in the form of Faramond.

"My Lady, the court has gathered in the throne room," he announced. "They await your counsel. I shall escort the Princess to her chambers."

"No need, Faramond," the woman said, much to Paige's surprise. "The girl will come with me." Although she thought she had come to grips with her newfound status, being referred to as 'the girl' had not ceased to unnerve her. She had no significance in this kingdom and was at the mercy of those around her. She could be tossed away like a child's plaything the moment she came too much of an inconvenience and she must never forget that. Here, she was disposable. Perhaps, she had always been so, but had merely never realised it. Or perhaps that was simply the truth about all women.

Faramond looked between Paige and the woman uncertainly, but the woman closed her eyes and a calm smile spread across her face. Faramond nodded and led the way down the hallway towards the throne room, Paige trailing behind uncertainly, wondering if anyone would notice if she were to simply slip away and disappear.

Callan

Callan had just entered the throne room and gestured for his people to take their seat at court when his aunt entered shortly after. Hewas surprised when he saw that she had brought the Princess with her. He had been certain that his aunt would insist the girl get her rest, after all, why would she be needed at this hour in the King's court? What role could she play here, save for acting as a reminder of Callan's reckless actions upon the battlefield yesterday?

He was frustrated too, that his aunt had brought the girl here, for he had come to find that his head seemed to work a little less methodically when she was around and his eyes seemed to flock to her when she was close as if she were the only light in the room and his eyes were two light-starved moths, craving the sight of her and only her. He was staring at her now too, how bold, yet fragile her beauty seemed to shine, and upon realising, shifted his gaze, abashed that he had been so rash as to admire her in the broad sight of everyone gathered in his court that day.

Aunt Seraphina gestured for the girl to follow her as she took her own designated seat in the King's Regent's chair. Paige hovered uncertainly behind, grateful to be concealed by the shadows momentarily.

However, Seraphina shook her head in disapproval and took Paige's hand in her own, leading her out towards the light. The court seemed to hold its breath. Who was this foreign girl from an eenemy kingdom? Why was she in court? Why had she been permitted to set foot upon their soil, their earth, their home? All eyes were on Seraphina, wondering what they'd do next. And all the while, Callan's eyes were for Paige, and only Paige. There was nothing in the room that day as captivating as the Princess herself.

Seraphina stood from her own chair and directed Paige towards the empty seat on Callan's right-hand side. The seat his mother had sat at many, many years ago. The seat that had been empty for too long and would remain empty until the day Callan was to find a bride worthy of taking that seat. The seat reserved for the future Queen of Acraeneia.

The seat to which Seraphina was gesturing now.

"Sit, child," she said. "The seat is yours to take, if you will."