A woman from Hull was never meant to wear a crown. Yet today, they would place one upon my head.
The grand hall of Praylor's royal palace was a masterpiece of opulence and intimidation. Golden chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, casting a warm glow over the assembly of nobles adorned in their finest regalia. The air was thick with the mingling scents of exotic perfumes and the underlying tension of unspoken judgments.
As I, Verona Falkenrath, stood at the entrance, a hush fell over the crowd. Whispers fluttered like restless birds:
"The barbarian princess..."
"A wild falcon in a gilded cage..."
"Does she even know how to curtsy?"
Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes, I straightened my spine and strode forward, each step echoing defiantly against the marble floor. My attire—a deep crimson gown embroidered with silver threads—was a deliberate choice, symbolizing both the blood of my homeland and the sharpness of my resolve.
At the far end of the hall, upon an imposing throne of obsidian and steel, sat King Aldric Velthorne. His piercing gaze bore into me, a silent challenge. Beside him stood his son, Prince Lucian Velthorne, the man to whom I was to be wed. His jet-black hair, save for a single silver streak, framed a face carved from cold marble. Ice-blue eyes regarded me with a mixture of curiosity and indifference.
The herald's voice rang out, breaking the silence. "Lady Verona Falkenrath of Hull, you stand before His Majesty King Aldric Velthorne and His Highness Prince Lucian Velthorne to affirm the alliance between our two nations through the sacred bond of marriage."
I inclined my head slightly, acknowledging the formality without conceding submission.
King Aldric's voice was a deep rumble. "Lady Verona, do you swear fealty to the crown of Praylor and to its future king?"
A palpable tension gripped the room. The assembled courtiers leaned in, eager to witness the barbarian's capitulation.
Drawing a breath, I met the King's gaze unflinchingly. "I swear fealty to the alliance between Praylor and Hull," I declared, my voice resonating with unwavering strength. "But let it be known: Hull bows to no sovereign but its own."
A collective gasp rippled through the hall. Murmurs erupted:
"Insolence!"
"She defies the King!"
"This marriage is doomed before it begins."
King Aldric's eyes narrowed, a flicker of amusement dancing within them. "Bold words," he mused. "We shall see if your actions match their fervor."
Turning to his son, he continued, "Prince Lucian, do you accept Lady Verona as your betrothed?"
Lucian's gaze remained fixed on me, his expression inscrutable. After a heartbeat, he inclined his head. "I accept," he replied, his tone cool and measured.
The formalities concluded, and the courtiers began to disperse, though their curious glances lingered. As I turned to leave, a firm hand grasped my arm. I looked up to find Lucian standing beside me, his touch cold through the fabric of my gown.
"Walk with me," he commanded softly, though it was less a request than an order.
We exited the grand hall and entered a secluded courtyard bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun. The scent of blooming jasmine filled the air, a stark contrast to the tension simmering between us.
Releasing my arm, Lucian regarded me with a penetrating stare. "You have a penchant for theatrics," he observed.
I arched an eyebrow. "And you have a penchant for underestimating your opponents."
A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Is that what we are? Opponents?"
"Is that not the nature of political marriages?" I countered. "A delicate dance of power and influence."
He stepped closer, the space between us charged with unspoken challenges. "Tell me, Lady Verona, what do you seek to gain from this union?"
I met his gaze squarely. "The preservation of my people. The strength of our combined forces to deter those who would see us conquered."
"And in return?" he prompted.
"In return," I said, my voice steady, "I offer loyalty to our alliance, but not subservience. I will not be a silent ornament at your side."
His eyes flickered with something akin to respect. "Very well. But remember this: in Praylor, loyalty is earned, not given freely."
"Then we have an understanding," I replied.
He extended his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, I placed mine within it. His grip was firm, his skin cool to the touch.
"Welcome to Praylor, Lady Verona," he said, his voice a low murmur. "May our union be as unyielding as the crowns we bear."
As twilight descended, casting long shadows across the palace corridors, a summons arrived from King Aldric. Accompanied by a stern-faced attendant, I navigated the labyrinthine halls to the King's private study.
The room was adorned with rich tapestries depicting Praylor's storied history. Shelves lined with ancient tomes stretched to the ceiling, and a massive desk, cluttered with maps and scrolls, dominated the space.
King Aldric stood by the window, gazing out at the sprawling city below. At my approach, he turned, his expression inscrutable.
"Lady Verona," he began, his voice measured, "your display in the hall was... unexpected."
I inclined my head. "I spoke truthfully, Your Majesty."
"Indeed." He gestured to a nearby chair. "Sit."
I complied, folding my hands in my lap as he took his seat behind the desk.
"Praylor and Hull have long been at odds," he said, steepling his fingers. "This marriage is an opportunity to mend those rifts. However, unity requires compromise."
I met his gaze. "Compromise, yes. But not capitulation."
A faint smile touched his lips. "You are as spirited as the reports suggested."
"I am my father's daughter," I replied.
"Just so." He leaned back, studying me intently. "Know this: while you are under this roof, you will be afforded the respect due to a future queen. But respect is a two-way street. Do not mistake Praylor's civility for weakness."
"I would never underestimate my allies," I said evenly.
"See that you don't." He rose, signaling the end of our conversation. "You are dismissed."
I stood, offering a respectful nod before exiting the study. As the door closed behind me, I couldn't help but feel the weight of the path I had chosen. The game had begun, and every move would be scrutinized.