~~~{──────────
Morning.
Wyfkeep Castle, Wyf-fellon.
Wyfn-Garde.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}~~~
"Let us eat" the king declared after everyone was seated and the maids stood by the wall corners.
Salviana refused to glance at her husband and breakfast was soon to begin.
But the clattering of utensils paused momentarily as all eyes turned to Spencer Velthorne, the second prince of Wyfn-Garde, who stood up from his seat with an awkward grin. His golden-blonde hair, longer than both of his brothers, framed his face in soft waves, the ends curling just past his shoulders. He wore a deep burgundy doublet, embroidered with silver thread along the cuffs and collar, complemented by a tailored waistcoat that accentuated his broad, muscular frame. His hazel eyes gleamed, but there was a distinct unevenness to his gaze—his left eye, partially blind from an old injury, failed to track as sharply as the right.
Spencer was known for his stockier build and his strong jawline, but tonight, standing under the morning light, Salviana noticed a subtle gentleness about him. He didn't carry the icy distance of her husband, nor the weight of the crown prince's stern demeanor. There was something approachable, almost kind, in the way he smiled—though there was a certain awkwardness in it too.
"Father, father," Spencer started, his voice carrying a touch of calming energy, "be calm, we should make a toast first. You know, before we all dive into this marvelous feast, courtesy of the kingdom's finest chefs."
A murmur of agreement passed through the hall, though Salviana could sense the lingering tension that still hung in the air.
"Yay! I love toasts!" one of the younger royals, a distant cousin, chimed in, his enthusiasm earning a few light chuckles around the table.
Spencer raised his goblet, the silver of the chalice catching the light, and cleared his throat. "Right, well... today has a special morning. Not just because we've got a feast fit for kings—and I do mean that quite literally," he added, pausing for what seemed to be a moment where he expected laughter.
None came, least of all from his younger brother, the dark prince, who remained stoic, his dark gaze fixed on the untouched plate before him.
Spencer pressed on, unfazed—or at least pretending not to be. "But because tonight marks the addition of someone new to our family. A princess, no less."
Salviana's cheeks flushed slightly at the mention, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes at the table now turning toward her.
"I mean, it's not every day my brother—the infamous dark prince himself—gets married," Spencer continued, glancing toward the dark prince, who offered no acknowledgement in return.
A faint twinge of discomfort crossed Spencer's face, but he quickly masked it with another forced grin. "But, as we all know, marriage is a wonderful thing, right? A bond that brings people together, for better or worse, heh."
Salviana feared there was no better and if there was, it'll be the connection she'd have here and not with her husband─ it'll be only worse.
The weak joke hung in the air, unanswered. Salviana, though still somewhat overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all, couldn't help but feel sympathy for Spencer, who was clearly trying, though failing, to break through the wall of silence his brother had built.
"And speaking of bonds," Spencer added, shifting his weight as if to steer the toast back on track, "I'm sure that with the Seventh princess joining us, we'll all be the stronger for it. She's brought something special to our family—fresh air, maybe even some warmth to this cold castle."
This time, a few murmurs of approval followed, though still no reaction from the third prince. Salviana wondered if this was just how he was—indifferent, cold. But Spencer, ever the optimist, wasn't deterred.
And why was she simply the seventh princess? What happened to her name?
"So," he finally said, raising his goblet higher, "let's raise our glasses to our new Princess Velthorne! Welcome to Wyfkeep Castle!" he roared, his smile wide and infectious.
A smattering of polite clapping followed his words, though it was drowned out by the exaggerated roars of approval from two of their more boisterous cousins, who banged their fists on the table, clearly more interested in the wine than the toast.
Salviana offered a small smile, nodding slightly in acknowledgement. It was strange, she thought, how Spencer had somehow made the toast partly about himself and his brother, yet ended it warmly, with a sincere welcome. Despite his awkwardness, there was something endearing about his efforts.
Spencer, seemingly satisfied with his attempt, gave an exaggerated bow before passing an invisible "microphone" to the crown prince, gesturing grandly with both hands. "And now, my esteemed older brother, the crown prince, will take over." he moved his seat back and sat comfortably.
The crown prince, sitting stiffly next to the head of the table, sighed with mild exasperation before standing. He was every bit the royal, with his sharp features and commanding presence. Unlike Spencer, there was nothing awkward about him, but there was a cool detachment that made him seem distant.
As the crown prince prepared to speak, Salviana couldn't help but glance at the dark prince.
Her husband, still silent, his face unreadable, hadn't even raised his goblet during the toast.
Was he deliberately withholding his approval, or was this just how he chose to distance himself from the family?
Her mind churned with questions as the crown prince began to address the hall, but Salviana knew that her own journey within this family was just beginning. There was much more to learn about her husband—and the strange dynamics between the Velthorne brothers, royal in general.
Then breakfast was done and everyone started to vacate the hall, loud kids and maids coming for their lords and ladies.
Salviana didn't have to stand idly for long because now, without a word of explanation, he took her by the arm and led her swiftly from the dining hall the moment breakfast concluded. Uncertainty gripped her—she had no notion of what awaited her beyond these walls, nor what trials might lie ahead.
She only knew that whatever it was, she would have to endure it, though whether she would emerge unscathed remained a mystery.