The king then placed the ornate crown on her head and she was surprised at how weighted it was. She straightened her neck, adjusting to its heaviness, and met the eyes of the king.
The old man said a few more words and she blinked when he repeated the words, "…The hundredth king…"
She had heard that somewhere before, where? She couldn't quite recall.
When the final words were said it was apparently customary for the king and queen to bid the guests farewell. He took the left side and she was left to the right.
Thousands of smiles and awkward phrases later, she blinked in surprise upon seeing an exceedingly familiar face. "Maxwell?"
His face lit up in a smile causing the dimple in his chin to emerge, "Indeed, my sister."
She swallowed at his choice of words. He knew very well that she was his sister Mirella, but his sister Yavanna.
"Have you been treated well?" He asked as he bent forward, grasping her hand to leave a courteous kiss on her knuckles.
She nodded, the images of the library and of the bruise on her face emerging in her mind as though it was only yesterday, "I have been. How have things been at the palace?"
His eyes narrowed, "Things have been… strenuous, to say the least. You leaving has left a rather large hole in the workings of our family."
She smiled softly, "I sincerely doubt that, but it's nice of you to say such a thing."
He chuckled, his hazel eyes glinting in amusement and annoyance, "The people miss you, and our siblings, though they share your blood, do not share your skill with the people. I'd say the citizens of Harkburg are lucky to have you."
Her smile widened, "Thank you, Maxwell."
He stared at her a few minutes more before sighing, "Mother said you'd been having dreams?" She could see a hesitancy behind his eyes that she wasn't used to.
She clears her throat, "I have."
"And… they've gone away?"
"No."
He looked out the door as though waiting for something. Licking his lips, he said, "Well, I miss you sister, or, your majesty." He said, painting a smile on his face. She forced a small one onto her own lips. "Be safe and smart and I will hopefully see you shortly."
She nodded and he began to walk away, "I'll write to you, Maxwell." He turned his head and smiled. Her own smile faltered when she felt like he was concealing something in his hazel eyes.
"At last! This day has come!" She swivelled, startled, at the loud, praising voice next to her. An old man stood before her, his beard long and white, and his eyes pale with age. His face was uncannily clear of wrinkles giving him an off-putting youthfulness. "The hidden woman finally reveals herself. Tell me, when will you heal our kingdom of its wretched disease?"
She stared at him with wide eyes, her throat slowly bobbing as she attempted to translate his words. She cast a nervous glance across to the king who was paying attention to a man. "I…"
"Grandfather! There you are!" Turning to look to the right she spotted a young man waving at the old man; his grandfather. "My apologies, your majesty. My grandfather is rather superstitious."
She stretched a smile onto her face, "That's no problem, Duke…"
A shocked look appeared on his face, "How… how did you know my rank, your majesty?"
She blinked and her eyes wandered a second, "I… I'm not sure." The title has just come to her.
He smiled, "Oh, well it is no matter. It is a pleasure to meet you, your majesty. I pray that your reign is as fruitful as you are beautiful."
Her lips parted on a gasp as her face heated slightly, "Oh! Well that's very kind of you."
He smiled and bent forward to kiss her knuckles, "Duke Horace Engel." His smile ended up looking more like a smirk than the polite one he'd worn previous.
The greetings and salutations continued throughout the morning and into the afternoon, until her feet were aching and her arms were tired.
When all of the noblemen and women had evaporated she was led back to the chalet. Stepping into the building she saw the servants once again rushing about; this time to pack everything up.
"Where is his majesty?" She asked, feeling a wave of exhaustion hit her. She pressed her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes.
"His majesty left and is going back to Harkburg, your majesty. He said that you were free to stay back at the chalet for as long as you need." A nasally voiced servant said as he dropped what he was doing to answer her.
'I'll bet he did.' She grumbled internally. She felt a shard of anger pierce her at how blatantly he was rejecting their marriage, specifically the fact that it would never be consummated. She cleared her throat shortly, "I see. Well, I will head back this evening, thank you."
The man nodded and left hurriedly out the door. As soon as she found her way up to the top floor and discovered she was alone, she released a heavy sigh. Her determination to stand as the Queen of Nothad diminished and she felt a gaping hole grow in her chest.
Sitting at a desk she began writing to her mother and brother. After an hour had passed she had finished relaying her thoughts on the ceremony, all non-biased because she knew her mother would become snippy if she sounded discontent. And after quite a bit of consideration, she had added that the king had no interest in ever fulfilling their marriage agreement. Maybe her mother would provide her with advice on how to go through the city and castle without feeling like a fool.
The veil was such a painful and obvious reminder. A violent thought emerged in her head that she should just rip it off, let the king try to defend himself by saying that he had not slept with his wife. An angry pout shaped her lips as she fought to regain control of her emotions.
"Edith." She called. The maid had been standing in the corner of the room since she had begun her letter to Maxwell. That letter had only illustrated what she'd learned of the culture and history of Nothad so far. She knew he would enjoy such tidbits.
"Yea, your majesty?" She asked, stepping up to the desk.
"Could you send these letters off?" She asked as she quickly finished addressing them.
"Yes. Your highness."
Placing the wax on she left the stamp there to cool. She stood and asked Vivian and Lorraine to help her out of her dress. The heavy crown was removed and Yavanna found that it felt rather odd without it. Her dress was removed and replaced with a finitely more comfortable one made of shades of green wool.
She sighed internally when she came face-to-face with her reflection. She knew what she looked like. It had only been a few days or so since she'd last seen her face. But it felt like an eternity. It was not a beautiful face, and it was bruised and pale. But it was a familiar sight nonetheless.