"You're just full of surprises aren't you."
Came the voice of the stranger.
"I seem to have saved you twice in one day your highness."
He said, looking down at her with piercing blue eyes.
"You!"
Ophelia couldn't help but stare at the familiar man In both shock and relief.
Despite not having met under the most pleasant of circumstances, she harbored a certain kind of gratitude toward him, gratitude she did not get the chance to express before an over-protective Vilda ushered her away.
"I suppose you wouldn't mind standing now?"
His words pulled her away from her array of thoughts.
Helping her regain balance, he held her for a moment longer, checking to see if she was alright before he moved to let go.
"Can you stand?"
The question was laced with concern, and this made the princess remember where they were...or best still, where she was.
"I think so," she replied quietly.
"Gently, it seems the wind would carry you away if I let go,"
he said in such an honest way, that she couldn't help wonder if she really looked that frail.
"What is she doing?"
A woman's voice questioned from behind them. That's when the princess realized just how close they stood in the presence of the nobles, not to mention her family and the northern guests.
The nobles had come to witness her union, now however they were witnessing a different kind of spectacle.
What excellent gossip the ladies would weave.
Stefan's previously bright eyes darkened, and it did even more, the longer he watched the man holding his cousin.
He could have reached them in a few short strides and pulled her from him, but his mother's hawk like gaze clearly warned him, not to move an inch.
So in reined anger he watched Ophelia, like a child who watched a stolen toy from behind locked gates. Most of the courtiers couldn't hide their puzzled expressions either, since the princess held unto a man so boldly in front of them.
But in all honesty, he was simply the one holding her.
Despite being slightly embarrassed from the stares and whispers, Ophelia was still thankful her strange savior had rescued her from another rude awakening.
"Your highness are you unwell?"
A northern noble woman whom she'd never seen before, inquired.
"It seems the princess is ill,"
one of the courtiers whispered, but it was loud enough that many others in the hall heard it.
"That's quite an understatement, she almost fainted at the sight of the lord just now, it is clear how discontent she is over the union."
another added, his voice several volumes lower than the others who spoke, but still loud enough that Ophelia could hear.
"How indecent!"
It was the queen who said this.
"Clinging a man in the presence of the court."
Eloise said, gently batting an embroidered fan just above her nostril, she rolled her eyes at the slightly disoriented Ophelia, thinking just how she looked pathetic in every situation, despite being dressed and addressed like a real noble.
"So frivolous." She added.
Princess Eloise had always had an eye for beautiful things, and this nobleman caught her attention like a hand carved masterpiece.
Everything about him was captivating, from his large muscled physique, to his slightly tanned skin and refined looks. The only problem was that he now held Ophelia whom she desperately hated.
"Are you alright Ophelia?"
Her uncle questioned, his tone sounded compassionate, however those who knew better did not miss the cold look he shot her way, one which said.
'Pull yourself together, don't embarrass me any further than this.'
The princess smiled at him then nodded politely. She wondered why he even bothered to ask, when it was obvious how much her near faint spell irritated him.
King Jonas hardly ever showed concern for the princess even when it seemed like he wanted to, and she'd grown used to it.
Ignoring everyone else Ophelia turned to the stranger who still supported her, with one firm hand on the small of her back and the other gently holding unto her wrist.
If it had been Eloise or any of the other princess's who nearly fainted, the servants and courtiers would have come running, even the unknown noble would have been chastised for touching a royal princess in such a manner, despite his good intentions.
But since it was her, no one really cared, she was the ill-fated princess afterall.
Regaining full control of her senses, she gently nudged his hands away then curtsied saying.
"Thank you for the assistance...my lord,"
Was he actually a lord, she wondered.
He looked like one, with angled brows that rested on a shapely face, and eyes the most unique steel colour she'd ever seen.
His eyes were blue with fine specks of white, Ophelia thought they looked like a whirlpool, breathtaking and so completely focused on her, she had to look away. Short groomed hair sat atop his head like a crown, falling about his forehead in small curls, it reminded her of the color of the burnt brass.
'He seems young, and is built like a soldier, a knight perhaps'
She thought glancing at his broad shoulders, hers were like small branches in comparison.
The stranger was a handsome man, but his wasn't a familiar face which brought her to the conclusion that he accompanied the northern envoy.
Plus he was dressed like them.
"I can stand on my own now."
She said, her face growing red as she studied his clothes.
He wore a heavy velvet coat fastened at the front and layered with intricate golden designs, underneath it was a similar grey vest which hid his broad torso. A black fur trimmed scarf hung on his shoulders adding an air of novelty to his already refined look.
Taking her hand away from his, she turned to the king and again took his outstretched hand.
Her uncle's lips were pulled in a tight line one that masked his sore irritation, and as punishment for her misbehavior, he painfully dug his gloved fingers into the princess's palm.
She winced.
"Behave."
He whispered, just loud enough for the her to hear him clearly.
"Are you alright?"
He asked kindly.
"I feel quite well Sire, thank you for your care."
She smiled. Ophelia didn't want to argue or say anything else to him, so she held back another wince and focused on the northerners rather than the throbbing pain on her hand.
"Hmmm. Lord Collin as I was saying,"
King Jonas pulled her along as he continued his conversation with the lord.
'Wait! Lord?'
She thought raking her mind for a certain information, while maintaining a genteel demeanor.
If the old man truly were her future husband then he ought to be regarded as duke, and not lord, as her uncle repeatedly called him.
He was master of the northern territories afterall, even the king could not ignore his title, or the rules of formality simply because they were acquainted...or could he.
Then it struck her!
The northern duke's name was not Colin, it was Adlad. Which meant the old man was anyone but her intended groom.
The princess released a tensed breath.
Stefan and the others were once again playing tricks on her, hoping she would act out or burst into a fit at the sight of the creased northern lord.
It was a good thing that she'd read about the political figures of Duslan in her own time.
"This is the bride and my dear niece, princess Ophelia,"
Presenting her before the lord, her uncle spoke as though he were showcasing an ornament. Ophelia could care less, she was only glad her soon to be husband wasn't the wrinkled man who was most likely standing in for the real Duke.
There were two types of marriages among the people of Duslan. There was the regal marriage and the judical marriage.
The former as it's name implied, was a ceremony of opulence. The wealth and influence of a noble family was earnestly displayed in such weddings, everything was done in the greatest of luxury to match the exquisite taste of (high) nobility.
Whereas the Judical wedding was the exact opposite. It did not require any lavish detail, only the presence of those who would be wed as well as relatives that would serve as witnesses to the union.
There were rarely feasts or ceremonies in the case of these weddings, and it was mostly practiced by commoners, aristocrats who preferred simplier lifestyles, or nobles who were forced into marriages of convenience.
In the case of both weddings, the final rituals of union were similar, and often overseen by a bishop, priest, deacon or high ranking cleric. A relative could replace the groom if he were indisposed for a judical wedding, but never for a regal one.
There was no need to ask what kind had been planned for Ophelia.
'Lord Colin is definitely related to the northern duke.'
Thought Ophelia as she stole a glance at the several courtiers in attendance. None of them were surprised by the presence of the lord, not even in the slightest. She laughed inwardly.
'To think that I am the only one, who does not know who I am to wed.'
"You have grown into an elegant woman your highness," the old lord said with a bow.
"It is a pleasure for this old man to see you after all this time."
He smiled at her. It was an honest smile that made his sharp eyes look smaller, and the confused princess couldn't help but wonder where she'd met the lord before.
"The pleasure is mine, my lord."
She curtsied in return, her hand still locked within her uncle's. She was glad he had stopped digging his fingers into it at least.
"She is like a daughter of mine,"
Ophelia held back a mocking sneer when king Jonas said this, schooling her expressions all the more.
"The north should care for her as I have these many years,"
'LIAR.' she hissed inwardly.
"I leave my dearest niece in your care lord Colin. Let the ceremony of union begin."
King Jonas gave her hand to the northern lord who was expected to accept her, rather he said something unexpected.
"You seem to have misunderstood my position majesty,"
The king slightly confused by his niece's unaccepted hand, arched an immaculately carved brow at the old lord.
"Have I now?"
He questioned.
"Indeed. I no longer stand here as a substitute for my brother-the northern duke, but as a witness to the union of your beloved niece,"
He turned to the princess, her cheeks flared as many eyes followed his in her direction. But as usual she calmly masked her own surprise and discomfort with a forced, charming smile.
The lord's eyes shot past the princess and rested just behind her. Surprisingly the strange nobleman still stood there, he watched the unfolding scene with much calm.
"And my dear nephew."
Gasps resounded throughout large hall at these words, the courtiers were not expecting this and neither was the royal family.
The queen clenched her fingers against the handle of her throne as she glared at the northerners. The other nobles voiced their own objections, feeling irked by what the lord had said.
Stefan who could no longer rein in his anger, bounded towards the envoy, fuming like a scorned housewife.
"What rubbish are you speaking of old man. Is the north looking down on us again! Are you..."
"That is enough Stefan."
His father's words shut him up midway.
Lord Colin who seemed to be expecting this reaction only sighed, while the rest of the northerners maintained their cold looks .
King Jonas dropped Ophelia's hand, and for the first time he openly glared at the envoy who stood before him.
"What insolence is this Colin?"
"We mean no offense your majesty, however the situation has... evolved."
"And who is this nephew you speak of?"
Ophelia stole a glance at the stranger who stood by the side, his expression remained stoic and he did not seem amused by the ongoing interaction. She studied his features keenly, searching for a resemblance, a similarity, a piece of the boy that had been lost many years ago.
His peircing eyes caught hers and she quickly looked away.
"He is my only nephew Sire."
Duke Adlad only ever had one child in his lifetime.
As children she was betrothed to his only son and they grew as friends. However their betrothal never went beyond the stages of infant engagement, that was because...
"Adlad's heir died eleven years ago. Do you jest with me?"
The king inquired with a scowl, his patience wearing.
"Quite the contrary Sire."
The lord didn't seem fazed in the slightest by the king's displeased look, rather he looked like he enjoyed keeping him on edge. He added.
"On this day I have also been charged by the Duke, to inform your majesty and members of the aristocracy,"
He gestured to the courtiers who filled the hall, everyone hanging on his words, waiting anxiously for the coming revelation.
Even Ophelia wasn't left out. The princess nervously squeezed her fingers together.
"To announce the return of his son and heir."
Another wave of surprised exclamations rang through the hall. The nobleman who'd been standing in place finally approached them, Stefan watched as he walked past him, his eyes widened in shock.
"Uncle at the rate you're speaking, we will leave this place by dusk tomorrow."
His voice caught Ophelia off-guard and when she turned around he was right behind her. He reached out and gently took her right hand, which surprised the princess even more.
"I am the son of Duke Adlad."
Ophelia clapped her free hand against her lips as she looked up at him.
"Claude." She whispered.
"My name is Claude Vladimir."
The nobles exclaimed.
If looks could kill, then the king's hardened eyes would have cut him down instantly.
"I remember you," the king stated coldly.
"Likewise your majesty."
He responded just the same way.
"Now. Can we carry on with this wedding."