"Let's go!"
Shouting the order at the envoy that readied themselves for departure, Claude shut the carriage door behind him as he got in.
After a series of shouts and instructions, several riders pulled on the reins of their horses, and with a jolt, the carriages were pulled in motion.
Ophelia finally released the tensed breath she'd been holding all through.
The union ceremony had gone smoothly after Claude's revelation. Although the royal family and nobles were shocked by it, no one could prevent it from happening when lord Colin swore an oath of truth, and gave the king, duke Adlad's handwritten note.
The authenticity of it was confirmed by a royal scribe and declared by the officiating priest, thus the wedding union carried on swiftly, despite the sneers and frowns that followed the marrying couple.
Ophelia exhaled again, leaning into the cushioned seat of the carriage.
"I am finally married."
She unconsciously said the words out loud, and her fellow passenger chuckled.
"Finally is one way to put it."
She looked at him, and he held her eyes, then added almost mockingly.
"Princess."
She looked away.
'Where had the kind stranger dissapeared to.'
Ophelia was left to ponder over her own thoughts.
She wondered why the sudden change in his attitude. Earlier when he stopped her from ending her life he'd been so warm and kind, and again when he saved her from that nasty fall.
Now however, he seemed like a different person entirely, one who couldn't be bothered to spare a glance.
She was confused.
"Thank you,"
She felt uncomfortable under his inquisitive gaze, and his icy countenance wasn't helping.
"For stopping me back in the garden and... then in the hall,"
"Anyone else would have done the same,"
He answered casually, like it was some unimportant thing. The princess though slightly embarrassed continued.
"Still I am grateful for it,"
"You're welcome."
She rewarded him with a brilliant smile, one which brightened her features and made her look even more beautiful.
However her new partner wasn't fazed by her beauty, or anything concerning her for the matter. He turned away resting a large forearm on the carved window frame of the moving carriage.
An awkward silence settled between them.
Ophelia allowed her thoughts to overcome her as she looked outside the partly open window.
The man, now her husband, said his name was Claude. He'd claimed the identity of not just the boy from her past, but also their long forgotten relationship, although the latter couldn't be helped and they were already married.
'At least he's not a wrinkled old man.' she smiled to herself.
When she was certain he wasn't looking her way, she peered at him, ardently studying his features.
His countenance remained impassive, showing no sign of wonder at the passing elegance of the imperial capital, or any form of curiosity towards the new wife that sat across from him. The only information his unchanging expression gave was his desire to be left alone.
His, was a large physic, and although the arms that had held her twice that day were gentle, they were also nearly as hard as stone, and she did not miss the callouses that had brushed her wrist.
He was clearly a swordsman, his slightly tanned skin was more proof of it. Maybe not a very reputable one, as she had never heard of any knight or northern warrior bearing the name "Claude".
It wasn't a common name afterall.
On the other hand, the princess knew very little of the ongoings of Duslan, outside of the numerous books she scoured and her nightmarish visions.
Her thoughts fluttered back to the last nightmare she had, the one where her death in the imperial palace was all but assured.
'Now,' she thought,
'Something has changed.'
Even though it was one of the smallest details in her dreams, it turned out to be the main reason why she ended up agreeing to the marriage wholeheartedly.
Ophelia desperately wanted to leave the imperial palace, and in doing so, she hoped to avoid her doomed faith...
But was it enough?
What if the nightmares were only dreams afterall?
To be honest, the princess wasn't truly certain if her nightmares were visions of the future, she only had a strong foreboding, a feeling that they (the dreams), especially the most dreadful ones would come to fruition.
Waving away the strings of dismal thoughts, she retrieved her hand from her throat, which she'd unconsciously been stroking.
Ophelia's eyes rose again to the sharp and stoic face of her husband, out of all his defined features she favoured the color of his hair the most.
It was short, slightly wavy and well-groomed, the color of fine brass, with strands that casually fell over his forehead.
His traits could easily win the heart of any woman as well as some men, noble or otherwise.
And for the third time Ophelia couldn't help feeling glad that she hadn't been wed to an old man.
However, the only resemblance he bore to the Claude from her childhood, was the fairly rare hair color, and even more unique steel blue eyes.
"Am I making you uncomfortable princess?"
He inquired, still nonchalantly gazing at the passing city.
Many sounds could be heard outside the moving carriage. The constant rattle of it's running wheels, the repeated thudding of horse hooves against the cobbled grounds, calls and cries of people who went about their business, only stopping to cast a glance at the envoy and the northern sigil they beared, as well as the wagons that followed closely behind it, after which they carried on with their lives.
"Oh no! Not at all..."
She was more at loss on how to regard him. Thinking whether it would be appropriate to call him 'lord.' Or 'young duke' perhaps, she could not call him by his name as that would be rude and somewhat unpleasant (on her part).
However calling him 'husband' was entirely not an option.
"That is good to know. But then, why do you keep looking at me?"
His eyes turned to hers and her breath hitched.
"I-I I didn't mean to bother you,"
Turning away to hide her flushed cheeks, the princess mentally slapped a palm against her face.
"You didn't bother me at all, I'm only curious,"
Now focusing completely on her, she felt the full weight of his gaze, his frosty demeanor did little to ease her nerves. Swallowing the small lump in her throat she decided to ask the question that had been troubling her since they crossed the palace gates.
"Are you really Claude?"
His jaw visibly hardened when she asked this, Ophelia noticed but chose to ignore it and continued.
"Or just a man playing as him?"
For a moment they were both quiet, his piercing gaze didn't leave hers. The princess felt like a bunny caught in the clutches of a viscous lion. The hair on her back stood erect and goosebumps shot through her arms, despite her resolve to hold his gaze, her instincts screamed at her to look away.
She did and he chuckled.
"I don't play princess, and I don't tell lies either...not as often as you high-handed nobles at least"
She bit her lip, 'Was that an insult?'
The nervousness that had almost suffocated her quickly died down after his last comment, despite the urge to retort or defend herself against his words, she chose to ignore it. He scowled at her, resting his jaw against his left wrist.
Now, it was his turn to study her.
"Then who are you truly?" She questioned, ignoring his rude behavior.
"I am very certain I introduced myself already,"
his scowled deepened at her upset frown.
"It is not possible that you're him,"
"I've heard those words more than a hundred times this season. It's starting to sound annoying."
He brushed his palm against his hair in an irritated manner, which upset an already pent-up Ophelia, even more.
"I don't believe you're Claude, he died years ago,"
"Princess what you believe is not my concern,"
"Then tell me the truth. Who are you really? and how did you become duke Adlad's heir?"
She questioned again, meeting his eyes for the third time.
"It does sound annoying the more you say it."
He sighed, exasperated.
"Just why are you being so rude?"
She asked angrily.
"Princess, you're calling me a liar yet somehow I am the one being rude?"
He was right. In the case of manners they were both speaking informally to one another, and to be sincere, she was not acting too politely either.
"I just...I wish to know the truth,"
She said, soberly.
"You did not doubt my identity during the union ceremony, yet now, i'm not to be trusted,"
He mocked Ophelia, and her upset frown returned.
"I never had a say in the case of my marriage,"
She defended herself.
It was true that she had all too willingly married him, but that was simply because the choice which awaited her if she refused, was a lonely life in the palace as Stefan's plaything, and the eventual death she repeatedly suffered in her nightmares.
"Or... You were glad the groom wasn't an old man, you saw no reason to protest?"
This was also true, and it made Ophelia's cheeks burn. It was absolutely embarrassing how he could say it calmly, she felt as though he could read her thoughts.
"This is nothing more than a political marriage,"
She retorted angrily.
"On that I agree." He added, retaining his frosty countenance.
"I had planned for us to have this conversation tonight, but since you've mentioned it, there is no need to wait till then."
The way he spoke was far colder than before, the princess wondered what it was that he wanted to say.
"I have no interest in you whatsoever," he stated.
"I only agreed to this damn union, because father forced me to. And if the king was so willing to sell you to the old man, then i'm sure your case is similar to mine, so there's really no need to hear your opinion of me."
He said the words coldly, not holding back or sugarcoating them behind any sentiment.
"I don't expect anything of you princess. And just the same, it would be foolish of you to expect something of me."
She was utterly speechless.
"I will not regard you as my wife, that position will remain vacant untill I marry a woman of my own choosing. I will not visit your chambers or associate with you unnecessarily,"
It was a political marriage, and having any kind of expectation in such circumstances were never advised. But when she heard he was Claude, somehow, somewhere in her heart she'd started to nurture the hope that maybe their inclined relationship would work out.
Now though, those thoughts seemed like childish fantasies, reminders for the princess that it was past time she grew up.
Still he hadn't finished speaking.
"I will however, accord you with the respect due to my father's honoured guest, and that is all."
Ophelia looked down at her hands, shame and the reality of her situation were slowly closing in on her and it was suffocating.
"I don't believe you're him. You're not the Claude I remember."
She whispered quietly.
"You are married to the son of Vladimir now, you can believe that."
She shut her mouth in astonishment. Ophelia wanted to say something but chose to remain silent, unable to think of anything that could contradict what he'd said.
A nasty jolt sent her flying off the cushioned seat towards the opposite one. Fortunately Claude reached out just in time and held her, stopping the impending crash.
"I wonder if you fall on purpose so that I'll catch you."
"I don't expect you to."
She retorted, pulling away from him. From the corner of her eyes, she could have sworn he smiled as she looked away.
"My lord we're almost at the gates, everyone is prepared to cross,"
One of the dozen soldiers who rode beside the carriage, announced. Claude gave an order to him. The sight of his armour made Ophelia uncomfortable, it reminded her of the invading army from her dreams.
"Do you know what a loch gate is?"
Claude asked, turning to her after the soldier rode past.
"I've read about them, "
She answered quietly.
From what she'd read, loch gates were ancient relics etched into the very foundations of continent since time past. They had once been used by people of diverse cultures, to traverse great distance's in short periods of time. However that was centuries ago, and the magic that fueled the gates had been lost with other elements of the ancient world.
Now only few powerful mages could wield the loch gates, and the mages of Duslan only served themselves or the five great houses.
"Of course. We're about to cross one, you don't need to worry, it'll be over in a moment."
"I am not worried,"
"Then forgive me for thinking differently,"
She held back the urge to roll her eyes, but curiosity got the most of her.
"Can your mage open the gate,"
"It wouldn't be possible to pass through otherwise, would it?" He teased, a dry smirk playing on his lips.
"That wasn't an actual answer."
An upset Ophelia retorted.
"Yes she can."
"She?"
"She."
He said flatly.
His frigidness returned, but it no longer bothered her, she was more interested in learning about the mage who could wield a loch gate, long enough till an envoy of carriages, wagons and over twenty riders passed through it.
"Well may I--ahhh! AAAHHHHH!"
A stinging pain shot through her scalp, searing into her skull. To Ophelia it felt as though a nail was being driven into head.
"Are you alrig-"
Her shrill scream, silenced Claude next words.
The terrible pain intensified ten fold when she attempted to speak.
Giving a keen wail she threw herself against the seat then thrashed widely, jerking like a trapped animal as the agony intensified.
"Princess! Annon get me Morgan NOW!"
Claude shouted the words.
The pain continued to rise till Ophelia could no longer scream, she only struggled to breath, gasping for air like a fish out of water.
Her vision blurred, and soon after, the many raised voices could no longer reach her ears.