[M] War and Peace ~ Breggo and Hannelorian [IC]

[Breggo13]

“Yes your highness, quite some time,” Rois nodded, allowing the younger woman to escort her away from Liam and his friends, giving another quick curtsy to the emperor without missing a beat. Much like her brother, the young Rhydderch - now Flores - was perfectly schooled in all aspects of decorum and propriety of the Asterious court and, while she lacked her elder sister's beauty that truly had crowned Eleanor as the diamond of their season nor Nora's liveliness of character that made her adventurous and bold, Rois had wisdom and a quiet confidence within her. “Frightened by you, your highness? Surprised that my brother has deemed me worthy of your acquaintance perhaps, but you do not strike me as someone who instills fear, regardless of what is spoken in the country.”

As they stopped in a more discrete area, Rois allowed her gaze to sweep across the ballroom in curiosity, observing the dancing couples with interest. “My brother was surprised and while he is pleased to see me, he doesn't fully support a decision that presently haunts me. Alas, it was never his choice to make and I will stand by mine.” When the princess royal requested something of interest, the countess’ eyes moved to hers with a soft smile. “Something of interest, your highness? I can tell you that Liam absolutely hated that coat he seems to have lent Radisson for the evening - the embroidery was done by a…a mutual acquaintance as a gift before he left for the Southern campaign. He keeps it but it's thr first time it has seen the light.”
“I would like to hear how you are, your highness,” Rois took a delicate sip, tilting her chin slightly. “The royal wedding is quite the event and it must be exciting to finally gain some perks from marriage.”

---

“Growing up, I was always the disappointment in my father's eyes,” Darius smiled sadly, watching the dancers. It was true - his father was an old-fashioned man who had served the empire and the Dragon Knight order until his retirement at which point he finally married a young woman who bore him two sons. It wasn't that Lord Vale was harsh or loveless - he was strict when it came to raising the boys, pushing them to their limits, always just slightly further than they were ready. Tears, complains, begging were disregarded but success was rewarded. Unfortunately for Darius, his father always measured him up against Marcus - even though they were nearly 8 years apart, it didn't matter. Having a slightly unsettled personality and needing to constantly be fiddling with his hands, the youngest Vale was not his brother. He never cared, never craved his father’s approval or to best Marcus, he just wanted to fly. “I heard that your son was to become his ward. I didn't mean anything by it, Lady Eaves. I simply meant that I was never Marcus and that was my greatest disappointing feature.”

“Let me try again,” Darius took a deep breathe. “My father does have a knack for pushing his charges to their max and encouraging growth but he also trully cares for them. He is not the warmest man but he is honest, loyal and protects those under his protection. What can I tell you about my birthplace that will ease your mind?”

“I am grateful every day that I have my dragon with me. Well, the whole Flight of them though they get cranky amongst themselves sometimes,” Darius ducked his head, trying not to get too sucked into a topic he loved and could spend hours discussing in more details than was appropriate at such an event. “The wedding…I don't know what to think but it is nice to see a lot of my childhood friends and talk to them.”

---

“One day, you must tell me what exactly Westley did to make him your constant target,” Radisson chuckled softly as they moved through the motions. Frankly, he didn't care knowing that both his fiance and his friend were more than capable of sorting their issues out amongst themselves but he was curious. Westley's reactions to George were rather amusing even as Radisson wondered if that would change once the blonde found himself a wife. And, for the first time, he wondered how having George as a permanent fixture in his life, as a competing priority, would change his relationships within the group of men. Would they stay the same or change drastically? How would his closeness with Maurice be affected?

“It's not silly - I grew up with Maurice but within months of joining the Dragon Knights, Liam and Marcus became my brothers just as much as he ever was. And of course, Alistair. Some bonds are forged stronger than blood and fast, especially when it's people who accept you without questions. I am truly sorry that it took so long for people to love you unconditionally - I am sorry it took me so long,” Radisson wasn't lying - looking back at his past, he wished that he had payed a bit more kindness to the blonde haired girl that was now his. He hadn't known and he had much different concerns then but there was a small sliver of regret and shame. “Why do you worry for Saskia - is there something specific or just pre wedding nerves?”

[Hannelorian]

Saskia smiled as the woman's candor. Saskia was often reminded that she was the youngest woman present, yet she seldom felt like it. Especially when she had to cut Beatrix down to size. "And why would Countess Flores be unworthy of my acquaintance?" The Princess laughed warmly and rested a free hand on Rois' arm for a moment. "I am more than capable of determining who I keep in my company." Saskia had a natural way of speaking, one that was often times a mix of comfortable, like one would speak with an old friend, yet still filled with all of the pomp and circumstance one expected from a woman in her position.

"No matter." Saskia sighed. "I am glad you harbor no fear toward the vile foreigner who has the audacity to steal away their Emperor." The Princess was painfully aware of her reputation and she had only just begun to turn the tide in Valadis in her favor. The country responds warmly to the foreigner rushing to provide assistance to those wounded after an act of terror. She raised the glass of champagne to her lips and took a sip from it as she listened to Rois speak of her brother. "We need more women like you, Countess Flores." Saskia commented off handedly, but rather pointedly.

"Your brother thinks you're wrong, and yet you stand by your choice." Saskia felt that pain particularly, though while she would not say it to Rois she felt that Liam had his reasons, and even she might be inclined to agree. Nevertheless, Rois was proving her strength. "My brother is the same way." The Princess lamented. "I am used to being told that I am mistaken. Yet, here I am. Standing in this room, preparing to be married and crowned. And if I had listened to a man, even if that man is my blood, our nations would be at war and my people like lambs to the slaughter."

Saskia was anything but a saint, Galadh was likely looking down on her with shame and judgment for her behavior on the mortal plane. "Whatever it is, and you need not confide in me, a stranger, be proud of it. Be proud of yourself." Saskia's smile turned into a wicked and knowing smirk. And then there was the matter of the jacket. "That jacket." Saskia gazed across the room, and she knew immediately that the acquaintance must have been Anne. But unwilling at yet to disclose her relationship with Liam, said nothing. "I am told that many of the youngest Greville's formal outfits are passed down from a bygone era. I am loathe to think of what had been the original choice."

Saskia shook her head and turned once more to face Rois. "How am I?" Saskia posed the question back to Rois, taking a moment or two to think about her response. "I'm terrified I'm going to fall flat on my face, literally." Another flash of a smile. "I'm well. Adjusting to life here. The wedding is exciting, as is the coronation. I get to participate in a ritual that is sacred, two really. It is the honor of my life." Of course that was the answer she was supposed to give. "The perks of marriage? Ah." Sex. Too bad she had already done that. Now that got her in trouble. "Let us just say, I am going to be relieved when all of this is over, and I can figure out what my life is going to be. When I figure out how best to serve the Empire as it's Empress."

-----

Beatrix's eyes softened at the mention of her son, it was the one subject that most avoided with her for fear of her anger, her wrath. But Darius was a kind soul, in many ways the opposite of his elder brother. "Your father is so proud of you, Darius." Now she eschewed with calling him Lord Vale, as he was entitled. But it seemed a more tender moment and as such she softened slightly. "Your father and my late husband were good friends. We entertained your father and your brother many times." Beatrix turned in her seat, looking up at Darius standing beside her.

"Of course he would never say it to you. That is not in his nature as a parent." Beatrix, since the birth of her son, had a new found understanding of parents and the choices they make for their children. "But just because he won't tell you, doesn't mean he wouldn't tell a rather charming young Duchess." Beatrix's charm was what built her little empire of spies and secrets. "He wants the best for you. A career you can be proud of."

Beatrix crossed her legs at the ankles and drew them beneath the chair at an angle. "I am not fearful of my son under the watchful eye of Lord Vale. Or the strict regime he will undoubtedly enforce on my son. I need only look at you and Marcus to know I needn't worry." A deep sigh escaped her. "I simply fear not having my child near me. He is of me, and I am of him. Being this far..." Beatrix raised a gloved hand to her eye as she felt it beginning to water. "Damned tears." Beatrix shook her head, almost disappointed in herself. "It is a pain beyond imagine, and I understand while there is unrest, he is safer there than he is with me in Valadis. "At the same time, it feels much like Marcus is punishing me, he enjoys wielding his power over my head." Beatrix stopped when she realized what she had said. "I apologize, that was most unfair of me in present company."

Beatrix spent a moment thinking of the Flight. "You are brothers. Cranky is a part of family." She gave a knowing nod and a flash of a smile. "You have an incredible opportunity, and an incredible journey ahead of you. Although... if I might impart a piece of advice." Beatrix didn't know what had come over her, being so... emotional and open, so friendly and kind without an agenda, without knowing she would get anything from this. "Don't lose yourself, or your identity. You are more than Eclipsion's rider, and constant companion. That is a part of your life. But not all of it." Beatrix stood up from the chair and moved to stand before Darius. "Your eyes are as deep as the ocean Lord Vale. Being complex is far from a sin."

--------

"What he did?" George's face turned bright red and she began to laugh, so much so that it caught the attention and stares of the other couples dancing around them. "That little fireball hasn't done anything at all!" George could hardly contain her giggling but she did her best to tamp it down. "I just seem to terrify him, I always have. And if I'm honest, I get a great deal of enjoyment out of watching him squirm. His responses are why I do it." George stops her motion as the song came to an end. "If he stopped responding with such fear, I'd stop torturing him." She raised a finger up and pressed it to Raddison's lips. "Please don't tell him. Don't steal my joy."

George was somewhat surprised by the apology. "Oh Raddison. You have nothing to apologize for. I wouldn't change how you or the others treated me in my youth." George too was honest, and only with Raddison would she be so blatant. She could simply be honest, to be direct. "If you had, we wouldn't be here. Maybe. Probably." George shrugged her shoulders. "I could be dead, like my family. And I know that's so... dramatic." George rolled her eyes at her own statement. "But I got to live and have a life. And part of that life is pain, and part of that life is beauty and pleasure and abundant joy." George wrapped her arms around Raddison's neck, and held him there for a moment before letting him go.

"As for the Princess..." George shrugged once more. "The Emperor separates emotion from action. He can be cold, distant." The Princess Syrenia cocked her head to the side. "The Princess Royal is not Alistair. She is deeply emotional and empathetic, and she is about to have the weight of the world on her shoulders. She can handle it, she can. But I worry, because no one else will worry for her."

[Breggo13]

“I do not believe pride belongs in love,” Rois responded gently, her lips holding a sad smile. She had seen all too well what pride led to. Was her own brother - as much as she loved him - victim of a woman's pride? Did he not struggle so much after her betrayal that he lost himself to the wine in a way that Rois feared for his sanity and soul? Had Nora's pride for being noticed by the young Valois rider caused her to step onto the pathway of solitude, constantly hoping for the impossible and rejecting any suitor that came her way? At one point, Rois had sympathized with Eleanor's love - once when she still believed in fairytales but now, she knew the truth. One couldn't let their pride get in the way of love because you never knew when that love would disappear. “I simply love my husband and wish I could ease his suffering. Even when he proposed, I knew his ailments and his age would catch up with him but I didn't care. It's hard to watch him lose himself but I knew what I signed up for. My brother simply did not want me to go through this pain.”

“If I were to guess, it was something resembling Lord Greville's youth,” Rois chuckled, hiding behind a hand. “Radisson Greville never cared about fashion and, as the story goes, growing up he would simply wear Maurice's clothes as the twins were the same. Once they grew up, let's say that the youngest Greville took after his father's simple elegance to the extreme, often with minimal elegance.”

“I am not sure if you trully understood the perks I was referring to,” Rois blushed though her eyes grew mischievous. “I'm sure your ladies would have mentioned the more pleasant physical interactions but the perks I spoke of had to do with something much more valuable - freedom your highness. The ability to go where you want without causing a scandal, to have the friendships you desire without needing to protect your virtue. To be your own person and serve your own cause. I…I must say, even with my kind father and later on Liam, I could only truly breathe freely when I was with my husband and running my own home.”

“Your highness, I do not mean to overstep and I understand that the emperor can appear far from warm and caring,” the pale eyes turned to the head table where Liam was laughing with the gentlemen, Alistair's own body seeming to relax and lose some of its sharpness. The young countess bit her lip, her expression turning sad before she gently took the princess’ hand. “However, even he does not have power over you. Deep down, he has a good heart however destroyed he appears. We used to spend summers together as infants and although I do not remember much as I was only two, Alistair was the one who always stole the most sweets for me.”

It was a distant memory, so faint that Rois could hardly picture where exactly it was but she did remember the summers when all the cousins spent their days playing in the royal gardens and chasing some of the hunting dogs. Mostly, it was done for Liam's benefit, the boy 9 and only a year younger than the hier of the empire. Unlike the two blondes, Alistair stood out like a sore thumb with his dark hair, scaring Aofie so that the oldest girl refused to be around him. Rois was too young to have such reservations and besides, while the older boys shared sweets with her sister, the moody boy would constantly slip her candies before disappearing to do whatever it was young boys did. Even then, he was quiet though it was hardly expected that a two year old would provide good conversation.

---

Darius didn't know how to react as he first sensed and then saw the young woman quickly blinking away tears. Without thinking, he offered the Lady of Eaves his monogrammed handkerchief, smiling with compassion as he did even as his mind tried to process the woman's words. The truth was always somewhere in the middle, the grey area that made it hard to remain true to your morals. It was empowering to be treading that line though few could do it - Alistair and Marcus certainly could not, both ending up on different ends of the line as they struggled with their demons. Each time they attempted to thread on the grey moral ground, they slipped and faltered, moving away to lick their wounds. The young rider always looked at the world in colors thus for him, it was easier to observe and think outside the box.

“You are too kind, your grace,” his voice was soft, slightly hoarse as he tried to hide back some emotion. “I am not sure what Calembribor has in mind for me but I hope that he reunites you with your son before long. And that he gifts you with more children if that is what brings you joy. You deserve every happiness.”

He paused as he heard her quiet berating of his brother but only to shake his head. “Some days, I wish I knew what went through my brother's mind. He doesn't exercise power for mere pleasure though - that is not his nature - but as a tool to get to what he wants as fast as possible. I do not know why he would do this to you but I am sorry.”

“May I,” Darius cleared his throat, a slight blush gracing his cheeks. “May I offer to get you a drink, your grace?”

---

“Fireball? Joy?” Radisson shook his head before chuckling. “Very well, I will say nothing to him though I do not know how I will explain to our child why one of his uncles is terrified of his mother. “ They have never openly discussed it but it had never even crossed the man's mind that the Flight would not be part of their family, however fragmented and complicated it was. He had been lucky to grow up with a loving father who managed to create a family even as their mother succumbed to madness. The least that Radisson could do was continue his father's work and pay it forward. He would be the uncle to all the kids on the Flight or any kids of the ladies that George deemed close. His children would grow up with the elite of the court but in love and compassion, learning from the best. The future, at least in his mind, looked bright.

“The princess royal will not shoulder it alone,” the man responded softly, his eyes catching his fiance's with determination. “She has you, Beatrix, us. We may be Alistair's brothers but that doesn't mean we cannot support her highness. Liam certainly is not afraid to voice his opinion and he respects Saskia. With time, I wouldn't be surprised if Alistair followed.”

[Hannelorian]

The Princess Royal listened quietly as Rois spoke, parts of her being aching in sadness at the pain that Rois must feel. "If your brother wishes to protect you, it would be in his best interest to let you experience the pain." Saskia, of course, did not mean to be cold or even callous, but rather she spoke bluntly as she often did. "Pain is a necessary part of life. And if there was immense joy that preceded it, well... that makes it all worth it." For a brief moment Saskia contemplated the idea of happiness. And it seemed to her, that she perhaps never truly understood or experienced what it was to be happy. Yes, her childhood was happy by comparison. She had loving parents, loving siblings. But to spend one's entire existence as a tool for diplomacy, was that really happy? And now she faced the prospect of a long and unhappy marriage. One where no matter what she did, or how good she was, she felt Alistair would never grow to love her or accept her. It was grim.

"I am sorry to hear that your husband ails. If there is every anything we can do, do not be a stranger. It would be an honor to help." Saskia brought back her smile, one that had faded briefly as she thought. But no, the world must never know her true emotion, to smile was to be better. As for freedom, well that was an entirely different fox hunt. Saskia understood freedom but had never had it. To serve herself, to champion her own causes, that seemed so far out of reach, almost impossible. "I will never be free." Saskia said softly, her gaze shifting downward for just the slightest moment. "I have spent my life, however short it may be, in service to my country. And I will spend the rest of my life in service to this Empire as it's Empress. There will never be a world where I can entirely selfish."

That was the reality of power, Saskia was willingly beholden to the people she was to serve and as such, there was little room for her own interests. "Every choice I make will be scrutinized, publicly, privately. Every person I choose to befriend means I have left out another, someone who perhaps disagrees with me and yet... that is me eschewing my own people." Saskia turned to truly look at Rois, she was beautiful and the family resemblance was strong. "Everything I do is for someone else, and that is the way it should be." Saskia was resigned to this fact, but she embraced it. "And that is okay, if I live in servitude so others may experience the freedom they deserve, then my work is important."

The Princess rested a hand briefly upon Rois' shoulder, squeezing it gently, warmly. "You certainly do overstep." Saskia let her hand down and shook her head. "But you're lucky, I like a boldness of character." At least sometimes Saskia did, sometimes she truly hated it. "The Emperor is a good man with a kind heart. He only wishes to serve, to help and defend the people of the Empire." Saskia knew her place, and she knew her audience, she would always be deferential to the man. "Struggle is expected, he was not raised for this, not like his brother. The amount of pressure on him is... astounding and yet he stands tall. He still is that same boy who stole candies for you as a child. No matter how hardened he has become, it is but necessity."

Truly Saskia could see the common threads of the Cliffheaven family, they were all cut of the same cloth. They were all kind and warm hearted. "It was a pleasure to meet. I am pleased you're here. And if ever you would like to take up a spot at court, I would be glad to see to it." As a member of the aristocracy, the Countess Flores would always be welcome at court, but Saskia was offering her a position as a lady in waiting should her fortunes change and she needed a place to fall into the future. "If you'll excuse me."

The Princess departed and returned to her position on the dais, this time standing behind her chair as the music finished and the room quieted.

"Another speech? I hear you cry." Saskia smirked softly as she addressed the room now silent and looking in her direction. "I promise it will be swift." She continued. "I would like to express my gratitude. It is truly the honor of my life to be here. I thank my brothers for their encouragement and warm words. I shall miss them dearly but rest in comfort knowing they are living in peace and prosperity as part of the Empire." The Princess cast her gaze at them and nodded in affirmation. "I would not be here if it weren't for the grace and good favor shown to me by the Emperor and the Dowager Empress. I look forward to beginning my service as a wife, and eventually as a mother to the next generation of the Valois line. I pray to Celebrimbor that I may do as easily and competently." Saskia knew she could do this, she had been so well trained but there was always hesitation. "Equally I look forward to my service as Empress. My life's work will be in that service. And work I shall to live up to that expectation. I will make mistakes along the way, but I will learn from them. I will strive each and every day to be better than the last. So I thank you, the people of Asterious assembled. Thank you for your hospitality, your generosity and your exceedingly warm welcome. As you have opened your hearts to me, I shall open my heart to all of you. Thank you, and enjoy the rest of your evening." Saskia curtsied to the people before her of all rank and position. Saskia served them, and she wanted to make sure they knew it.

An eruption of applause and cheers followed.

-------

"A drink would be lovely." Beatrix said warmly as she stood and took Darius' arm into her own as ladies often did. "I will see my son again. He is safe, that is all that matters. And as for your brother well... We have more in common than I care to admit. But you, don't change for anyone. You're an old soul my friend." Beatrix was unusually emotional, perhaps overcome in some ways, a drink would do well to soothe the nerves.

---

"Well what do you dread more? Explaining that to our children or explaining the birds and the bees?" George giggled as the two ended their dance and moved hand in hand back toward their table to hear the Princess' toast. "We all have each other. You are family now. Not just you and your father or brother, but Saskia, Beatrix, everyone. The only way we will thrive in this world and bring a new day is by working together and supporting each other."

And after the speeches there would be more dancing, more music and drinks, the wine would flow into the late hours before slowly coming to a close.

[Breggo13]

The fading glow of the embers in the fireplace were the only light that filled Lord Rhyddrech’s chambers aside from the lonely pale moon peaking through the practically closed drapes. The silver shadow contrasted sharply with the warm red tones, causing Liam’s face to appear covered in a spectrum of colors. In the darkness of the small drawing room, spartan in most ways, the distortum of light turned his face into a grotesque representation of the emotions currently battling within - the stoick warrior and the passionate hero. His hair, which was usually combed to perfection, was ruffled and messed up due to the amount of times he ran his fingers through it, trying to make up his mind as to what to do. Ever since his dance with Saskia, his mind was quietly playing her voice over and over in the back of his head, the words simple, a request of a friend and yet, they seemed almost an order - meet me in my rooms tonight, after all have gone to bed.

During the banquet, the conversations around him, Rois’ unexpected presence and his men had helped him keep his emotions at bay. He glanced at the Lysian royals for some time before engaging with the men in conversation and watched as Saskia won over a bit more support. It wasn’t much but every step forward that the young woman made was a triumph, a sign that maybe the Empire could change. And change it needed desperately if it were to embrace the young couple currently ascending the throne. It was an odd pairing, Liam couldn’t deny, to see such different people pretending - at least on Saskia’s side - that everything was alright. However, even with the wedding, if the act continued, how long would it be until others saw what he knew? That there was no love, no unity, no happiness? How long until there was a sense of falseness? How long…

The man sighed as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders and raised the bottle to his lips, closing them as rich, velvet-like wine rushed down his throat, burning some of the nerves away. With another sigh, he leaned his head back against the edge of the chair. How long would be be able to play this dangerous game that resembled walking a tight rope? It had been so long since he was even slightly touched by a woman but now, as he closed his eyes, he was consumed by flashes of memories - their first meeting, the day of the duel, the faithful hunt and his swim, their correspondence, the soft scent of her perfume that lingered on each letter. And then today, every touch and connection, every small breach in propriety and every stolen glance. He wasn’t sure how many times he sensed Saskia’s fleeting gaze but he knew without having to look that it was the young princess. His body would respond by going into a state of hyper alertness, his skin tingling and his cheek burning once again as though the invisible brand she left him with was ignited by a simple look.

Liam opened his eyes, taking another swig of the bottle, two empty ones already lying rather absently at his feet. His body had fallen back into his old habits with such ease, he would have felt amused if he didn’t feel like his mind was being split right down the middle. The silence of the room was deafening, interrupted like fireworks by the dying fire. His fingers tightened dangerously on the bottle’s neck, skin turning white as his gaze moved to glare at the embers, a single question seeming to echo no matter where he looked - should he go?

The invitation lingered in his mind, Saskia’s hot breathe sending goosebumps on his skin, her voice barely audible and the soft scent of her perfume intoxication. Meet me in my rooms tonight, after all have gone to bed. Liam was so hung up on these words, he couldn’t even fully remember what tone she had used. Was it playful, seductive, desperate? And what exactly about it had unnerved him so? Was it the fact that he seemed to feel something so forgotten to him around the young woman - was it that he felt desire?

A cold chuckle escaped his lips, making Liam shake his head with disbelief. After all these years of being unaffected by even the most beautiful women in the Empire and beyond, all this time after Anne when he thought he would never desire a woman again, the one his body wanted was his friend’s and emperor’s fiance. And as intrigued as he was about Saskia’s effect on him, as much as Carina’s offhand comment was starting to eat at his subconscious, he could not betray his oaths. Alistair was like a brother to him and hadn’t he already betrayed him - if not in his actions then in his thoughts every time his mind turned to the young Lysian woman or criticized the man’s decisions. Going to the princess royal in the dead of night would create a rift that no amount of brotherhood would overcome. Alistair may not love her but that did not give Liam the right to step into the place that wasn’t his.

You do know that had my cousin been smarter and my husband not so boorish about Lys, you could have been marrying the chit yourself Carina’s bemused voice echoed in his mind, making him groan as he stood up, stumbling slightly forward as his body protested the change in position. Placing the bottle heavily on the table, the man made his way to the window, throwing back the drapes so that the cold moonlight fully embraced him, pulling out the blue in his eyes. What if Saskia needed him though? What if this invitation wasn’t about seduction but about seeking solace, someone to confide in? She was isolated in Valadis, a foreigner thrust into a world that was cold and calculating. She had no one she could truly rely on, except perhaps him. That thought made his heart clench. What if all she wanted was someone to listen? Was it not his duty as a knight, as her friend, to be there for her? To turn away from her now could be just as much a betrayal, couldn't it?

His mind warred with itself, the internal debate a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. The stoic, disciplined side of him warned him to stay here, in the safety of his chambers, to drink himself into a state where temptation no longer held power over him. The other side, the side that had grown dangerously fond of Saskia, whispered that he should go. That perhaps in this moment of isolation, she needed him more than ever. The fire popped, a lone ember shooting into the air before falling back into the ashes. Liam ran his hand through his hair again, knowing full well that no amount of contemplation would give him the perfect answer. There was no right decision—only consequences.

“Calembribor, what am I doing?” his voice sounded raw, as though he had lost it. Deep down, he knew he wouldn’t - couldn’t - go no matter how much it hurt him. He could not betray himself, all that he stood for in a moment of weakness and compassion, in a moment of pure desire. He would be there for Saskia but not like this, not threatening to destroy everything his Flight had been trying to build and the young woman’s own hard work. His eyes wandered to the closed door, heart skipping a beat. He couldn’t go but did his body ache for him to give in, to make his way as the young woman requested. It wouldn’t be hard - quietly move into the other side of the wing and through the small servant passage to end up in her bedroom, quiet as a shadow, pulling her close, inhaling her scent…

With a sign, Liam pulled himself away from the image in his mind, stumbling to his writing desk. He couldn’t go but he could write to explain, to apologize, to pray that she understood. Taking another swig from the wine bottle, he dipped a freshly trimmed quill pen into the ink, words coming unbidden onto the page.

Dear Saskia,

I know it will be bold to say but it has been some time since I have thought of you as such - a dear friend even though our true acquaintance has been short. I’m sorry that I have chosen to express my thoughts so late an hour in this manner however, I must believe this is the best way forward without going truly and fully insane.

To start, let me thank you for the honor of a dance - I hope you believe me when I say that I have met few ladies who could attempt to rival you in this skilll. You have a gift for turning an otherwise formal occasion into something that feels personal, something sincere. That is no small feat in Valadis. But more importantly, I am humbled that you trust me enough to speak so freely. I know that the transition to Asterious was anything but easy but I will be forever grateful that fate - or your own commitment to your people - brought us together. Your friendship has been a bright spot in a seemingly neverending campaign that I have been leading for years.

However, it is precisely because of my respect for you and the position you are about to assume that I must decline your invitation tonight. I assure you, it is not a reflection of my feelings towards you, but rather a reflection of my duty—both to the Empire and to you as a friend. You are the future Empress, the heart of Asterious and, as the joke of fate would have it, my friend’s intendent. Regardless of my desire to be for you as your friend and humble servant, we must not forget the bigger picture of where we are. The court of Valadis is unforgiving and were someone to hear of this, it would cause a scandal that would destroy us both
.
I hope that I may await the pleasure of another meeting and another dance. May Calembribor watch over you, my dear friend.

Your humble servant,
Liam

As he sealed the letter with his own signet, Liam’s heart raced like a tribe of wild horses. He stood for a long moment, his intense gaze burning the paper in his hand as though he could ignite it just with the power of his emotions that had been simultaneously raised and subdued by the wine. With a heavy breathe, he finally pushed away from the table, his body making the treacherous and tempting way to Saskia’s door, knocking lightly for a second before slipping the letter under the doorway and retreating silently into the shadows, leaning against the dark servant’s corridor and closing his eyes, his senses trying to pick up anything of the young woman before he slipped away back to his own rooms, his hand finding the next bottle though alcohol did nothing more than remind him of the reason he was drinking.

[Hannelorian]

As the event had ended Saskia found herself laying on the rug before the roar of the fireplace in her bed chamber, the most sacred portion of the Empress' apartments. Her body felt the relief of a change in attire, the dress and finery she had worn for the evening were heavy, though she might argue their elegance was worth the pain she felt. But now she could breathe as she sat uncinched and free of corsetry. Her hair finally let loose and free of all sorts of pins fell around her shoulders messily but naturally. Every breath out was one in which she calmed her own nerves and allowed herself to shift into an "off" position. Within these four walls Saskia did not need to force herself to smile, or to laugh at someone's bad joke. She could simply be.

Once she set foot across that threshold into the assorted study, drawing room, library, etc... that comprised her rooms she was "on." She was Saskia the Princess Royal, Saskia the future Empress of Asterious. But in this one room, this one space she could just be Saskia. She had to act for no one. The Princess wore a simple blue nightgown and matching colored dressing robe, she sat there patiently with Fenrir resting in her lap, her constant companion. It was a pity he could not go to the party with her, she thought. A book in her hand she sat silently reading, her mind thinking about everything and yet nothing in particular. Not until she recalled what she had done.

Meet me in my rooms tonight, after all have gone to bed.

"Saskia, you are an absolute idiot." She said aloud as she rolled her eyes, the dog adjusting slowly in her lap as she moved. It was a moronic thought, one if he got caught, it would become a much larger issue not just between Alistair and Liam but potentially impact the entirety of the flight. What was she thinking? And more importantly what had she wanted to accomplish with that? Did she want to seduce him? Perhaps. A part of her mind wandered back to what she had seen at the lake and it started a fire within her taking her breath away for the smallest of moments as she felt herself giving in to the temptation of fantasy. Lost in the thought of what it would be like to feel his skin against hers, to feel him inside of her as their bodies intertwined and became one. Now that she had the taste, it was hard to stop herself. And just as her hands pressed down against the silk of her dress, delving lower did she shake herself out of it.

No. Saskia. That would be wrong. You're getting married. Her mother's voice uttering those words filled her mind and the Princess sighed deeply, acknowledging that it was wrong. Liam was good to her, kind to her, and perhaps that is mostly what she wanted. To be in this room, her room, the room where she had no need to pretend, so she could simply have a friend. Have someone see her, really see her. To exist in a safe space where she could forge an emotional and intellectual connection. Friendship. And besides Liam was a man of honor, there was no way, she thought, he would even be thinking of her. Not with so much responsibility on his mind.

He won't come. Her mother's voice again rolling through her mind. And Saskia had to acknowledge her that her mother's voice in her head was simply her own. He won't come. He shouldn't come. It's better this way. But what if he does come? What if he did show up at her door.

The minutes seemed like hours and there was nothing. Saskia felt herself growing tired as she set the book down onto the rug and simply stared into the fire. Her eyelids grew heavier as she leaned back against the chair that was likely more comfortable to sit in than on the floor. But she liked the discomfort of the floor, she liked to be close to the heat of the flames. Perhaps that was Alistair, he was the fire and she was still drawn to it. No matter how much she felt the sting of his rejection. Saskia began to wonder if he wasn't right about her, and perhaps she was just nothing, a woman of no particular importance.

And there it was, the light knock and the sound of something else. Fenrir's ears perked up and and he barked for a few moments before Saskia could quiet him down as she stood, the dog racing in front of her to the door. "Why would you even try?" Saskia questioned of Liam knowing it had to be him. But he was not there, instead there was a letter slipped under her door and stepping upon it gently with her naked foot she pushed it aside. And perhaps in the hopes of changing his mind she rested her hand upon the cool metal of the handle and opened it, stepping out into the hallway and looking around. Nothing but darkness, and the dim lights of dying candles.

Fenrir slipped past her feet and wandered out a little further, sniffing around as though he had something. And further and further out he went. "Come inside little one." Saskia cooed at the creature who was all too happy to abandon his hunt and return to place by the fire, waiting for his mistress to ultimately retire to bed where he could join her, ever watchful of what might come her way. Stepping inside, Saskia closed the door and picked up the letter on the floor and made the small walk back to her bedroom where she could close the door and open it.

But at first she didn't. At first Saskia simply set it down on the rug by the fire and sat beside it, staring at the envelope. She already had known it was Liam. But looking at her name written on the front, there was no doubt, she recognized his handwriting. And then it felt real and her mind began to race for different reasons, wondering what could be inside. Rejection, obviously, that was certain. But he didn't have to write, he simply could have not shown up and the Princess would not have held it against him, she would have just let it go and never mentioned it again. But a letter, that means he has something to say about why didn't show up, why he didn't come in.

"I think I'm fit to help lead an Empire but I'm too afraid to open an envelope." Saskia said softly, looking in Fenrir's general direction though he seemed to have drifted to sleep the moment he laid down. "Let's get it over with." Saskia stretched forward and took the envelope into her hands and tore it open rather unceremoniously, her eyes scanning the text. It was clear and diplomatic. It was everything she expected him to say and for a moment it felt as though her heart stopped, because within it was the truth.

Saskia stood up and took the letter and the torn envelope in her hands she cast them both into the fire knowing full well that keeping it, even if hidden, would have been a monumental mistake. "Time for bed little one." She called to Fenrir as she slowly removed the dressing gown and slipped beneath the covers of her bed, laying on her side she felt emotionally crushed, but was determined to move past it. He had no choice. If he were to see her, and if either of them weakened and succumbed to feelings they both clearly were harboring for one another it would be the end of the two of them. It would destroy everything. But without saying it, he at least told her that he did indeed have feelings for her, feelings he shouldn't.

"Oh Saskia..." She whispered softly as her eyes closed. "You are destined for misery, at least he can save himself." The exhaustion of the day washed over like a wave and slumber came so quickly that night. At least for the time being the world of dreams still brought her a much needed sense of relief.

--

The next day was uneventful. Saskia did not see Liam, nor did she attempt to seek him out. Rather, she spent the day before her wedding with her two brothers. The Princess Royal took the time to take them on a proper tour of Caelum Fortis, showing them the halls as she had come to know them. Stopping before assorted portraits or pieces of furniture, rattling off everything she knew about whatever they were looking at. In many ways it was their last hurrah as a trio, it was the end of their family as it existed and for the first time in any of their lives, Saskia was going to take precedence over both boys. Now they would have to live in Saskia's shadow forevermore. Though it was apparent to all of them, that they had always been in her shadow. Together with her ladies, the trio of siblings spent the night laughing, imbibing and emotionally preparing for the day ahead of them, the day Saskia would marry and rise to become an Empress.

--

George was the first to awaken. And she was excited. It was finally here, this big giant looming day that had been hanging over their heads. It was going to be a happy day. A beautiful day. Though she and Raddison were now officially engaged, the two maintained their separate quarters until their wedding. Not even the thought of a morning snuggle with her beloved, or Little George could distract her this morning. She was on a mission.

It was the moment she got up she threw her dressing robes and dashed into the hall, the morning sun had barely risen. The floors creaked beneath her feet as she closed the distance between her rooms and Saskia's. "QUINN!!!" George shouted, too loudly at that as she caught sight of Saskia's chief maid.

Quinn Falconer, knowing her part curtsied before the Princess Syrenia and smiled softly. "Is there something wrong?" She asked, a natural response to the woman shouting her name at the top of her lungs first thing in the morning.

"Is she awake yet?!" George was practically vibrating with excitement.

"She is not." A short and sweet reply.

"Are you just about to wake her?" George followed up with almost not listening to the answer.

"I was going to..." Quinn began to answer when George cut her off. "No. Let me do it. I'll wake her." George finished the sentence based on what she assumed the rest of it would be. And just like that George had gone off to open the doors.

"Let her sleep awhile longer... I was going to let her sleep." Quinn finally said though at this point to no one in particular as George was long gone, already well into the Princess' apartment. At this point Quinn was resigned to the events and simply followed closely behind.

George rushed through the enfilade until she reached the last room in which the Princess slept. She practically flung open the doors and running at a full speed launched herself into Saskia's bed, curling up next to her and lightly shaking her. The Princess, now awake was more than a little bit surprised. "IT'S TODAY! TIME TO GREET THE MORN!" George cried with enthusiasm.

The Princess stretched and strained as she turned over to face George. "You... don't need to yell..." Saskia said rather sleepily as she raised her arms up in a stretch before lowering them around the woman. "I see you are raring to go." Saskia smiled and leaned her forehead against George's in a sweet moment between friends. Quinn set to work opening the curtains and allowing the morning light to flood into the room.

"How is it first light already? I feel like I just went to bed." Saskia said as she turned to look out into the room to see Quinn standing there with a smile. "I tried to stop her." Quinn suggested, folding her arms in a small protest. "You tried and you failed." George taunted, wagging her finger at the woman. Saskia groaned a little before pulling herself to sit up in bed.

"An admirable attempt. I appreciate it never the less." Saskia said in Quinn's direction, offering a reassuring smile. "Tea? Wine?" Quinn asked as she approached the bed.

"Yes and yes." The Princess eagerly agreed and George nodded in agreement as she moved to curl herself up against Saskia. It wasn't much longer before Beatrix entered the room and shook her head. "Did you mean to wake up the whole castle?" Beatrix asked with a deep sigh. "And get out of her bed!" Beatrix made a shooing motion with her hands as if to dismiss the girl. "Or..." George began. "You get into her bed and we enjoy Saskia's last meal as a single woman together." George concluded with a nod. Beatrix eventually acquiescing and moved to the other side of Saskia and climbed into the bed. "So, what's the occasion?" Beatrix wondered aloud, obviously joking, eventually she would laugh.

The three women ate together in bed as the food was brought, Saskia eventually inviting Quinn to get into the bed as well, the four women then finished the meal and laughed through most of it. It wouldn't be long before a small hoard of servants flooded into the rooms to bathe, dress, and adorn the Princess Royal for the day to come.

"Gods help us. Let's do this." Saskia said softly almost whispering knowing full well that Westley had likely already awoken, and more similar to George than he cared to admit would have gone to rouse his fellow Knights, but perhaps more sensibly, letting someone such as Marcus or Liam eventually wake the Emperor.

[Breggo13]

The cold, grey light of the winter day streamed into the Imperial wing but unlike the banquet mere days earlier, there was no cheerful atmosphere among the men of the Flight. The relaxed teasing, the anticipation of fun, the debauchery, the wine, the smoke - all was replaced with an almost eerie silence. Although the doors of the young warriors remained open, there was no running down the corridor, no thundering calls of their names. Silence, hard and unnerving, seemed to have engulfed the brotherhood, each man seemingly preparing for war and not a wedding.

It had been an unspoken understanding, an instinct amongst them that unlike the relaxed atmosphere of a diplomatic party, the day of the royal wedding and coronation would be a testament and a test of their unity and strength. The Royal Flight would be scrutinized, challenged, found wanting and, if they were distracted, caught unprepared. As much as the day was meant to be a celebration of two people, of two crowns, it was a battleground of power. Asterious nobility remained divided and, for those who opposed the new regime, this would be the final nail in the coffin, the last potential lever to the emperor taken away from the biggest schemers. Whatever hope they harboured over the marriage falling apart, it would be put to rest and, withing a few days, a whole new game would emerge, one where the nobles fought over influencing the young empress and feeling just how much power she wielded within the empire.

Liam glared cooly at his own reflection in the mirror, his sharp gaze evaluating his appearance with the scrutiny of a vain debutante about to be presented to the empress for the first time. Not a single hair was out of place, the pale tones of his duvet in icy blues and silvers complementing his complexion and bringing the image of an ice prince to the forefront. His family crest was delicately embroidered on his sleeve, a last minute addition courtesy to his sister over the past day. The white scuffed leather of his dagger’s hilt and scabbard caused him to frown but it was beyond his control - it was simply preposterous to attend without at least some emergency mean of self protection. Something about the charged atmosphere put even the stoick, cold leader of their small band on edge, seeing danger in every shadow.

“You look like snow white,” Marcus’ humourless voice sounded from the doorframe, the rogue dressed in black, his eyes sharp like a wolf’s. “The emperor wanted to see us.”

“How many knives are you trying to hide in that outfit, Vale?” Liam asked with the same coolness, turning to examine the rogue closer. From his experience, he could assume it was at least a dozen but the minister of internal defense only shook his head.

“Enough to ensure that if I die tonight, I take a hefty bounty with me to appease Calembribor,” he responded, scowling. “The quicker this day is over, the better.”

“You’re being too paranoid,” the blonde responded, his voice steady and calm even though he couldn’t help agreeing with his friend. Something was certainly in the air, something he couldn’t place. And, his eyes closed for a second, he was getting ready to say goodbye to his sanity once again. Ever since his last - and in many ways - final letter to Saskia, he couldn’t help the persistent thought in his mind, questioning what if. The sooner the wedding was over, the sooner he could escape the capital, hide away in the North for the rest of the winter and be back in the heat of battle in a few months. Surely, he would be able to find some excuse as to why he could stay away? An excuse that even Carina would not be able to deny.

“It’s my job to be paranoid,” Marcus’ voice was low and, surprisingly, accusatory. “You left me here with Alistair to deal with these bastards on my own. Al helped but he couldn’t get his hands dirty - we all knew that.”

Sighing, he strode towards the door, stopping beside Marcus and gripping his friend’s shoulder. “You’ve done well, Marcus,” his own voice took on a tone of compassion even as the rogue looked up at him with slight disbelieve. “Trully, you have. One more day and I will take the weight off your shoulders.”

“Oh really? The honourable Earl of Cliffheaven will break with his own traditions and spend winter in Valadis?” the minister’s eyes gleamed with a wilderness. At this, Liam thought with bitter amusement, was how quickly his own resolve broke when it came to those whom he felt responsible for. Although Marcus Vale has long stopped being simply his flight member under his command, he was unable to shake the responsibility.

“You have my word,” Liam’s voice was strong and cold like ice, his own gaze turning frigid, “As your brother in arms.”

“Thank you,” the words were barely audible but there seemed a slight release in the way Marcus stood almost as though the weight that had been pressing him into the floor was lifted off his shoulders, the man growing a few inches and taking the first full breathe. “Thank you, brother.”

Liam silently squeezed his shoulder before moving out of his room, the image of his usual control and confidence in every move as he strode towards the emperor’s chambers. Since Alistair had become emperor, he had done this walk many times even though his presence in Valadis could be considered short and sporadic, the demands of the southern campaign keeping him away from court. The whole situation - Sebastian’s unexpected demise and Alistair’s unplanned ascension - had disrupted their whole Flight even though they refused to fully acknowledge it out loud. Some casualties were lesser than others, particularly the younger members of their troupe. Emeric and Darius, in particularly, had been shield from the worst that came with power, remaining for the most part as they were under Liam’s command in the South. Westley, although in some ways hindered by the circumstances of his birth, was also spared the political battles, too straightforward and too low ranking to be of notice by the intrigants such as Duke Throckmorton while Julius was branded as too immature to be a political figure.

The rest of them did what had to be done - Radisson acted as the quiet mediator and support at court, a less impulsive and kinder force to contradict Marcus and while he did all he could, he was never a leader within the Flight. Liam took over the dragon knights and the military, continuing to work in the front lines to keep Alistair’s support strong and protecting the empire from the external threats. Perhaps, he had hidden away from the web of lies and politics, leaving Marcus to handle the affairs at home. In some ways, it was a coward’s move for even as Liam finally stepped into his birthright as the Emperor’s confidant, he wasn’t sure he was ready. Nor, deep down, was he certain Alistair was ready. And while Liam would always support his brother and the emperor, was he hiding to avoid facing what he feared. That by supporting Alistair, he was betraying the empire?

Being on the battlefront was simple - he was serving his empire with his body, soul and mind, he was loyal, he had no temptation and he had no hesitations. Being back in Valadis, slowly, his subconscious concerns rose their heads one by one, awoken as it would seem, by a single young woman. Perhaps, Liam had been naive to think that Alistair would thrive without his presence, that he would find his own. Perhaps he had hoped that if he stayed away long enough, it would all be fine. Seeing Alistair’s behavior in such contrast with Saskia, it had felt like being dunked in icy waters, the young Earl unable to understand where he went wrong when it came to his friend. And as he saw Saskia being rejected despite her efforts, did he feel in part responsible for that pain because he had not been there from the beginning to temper Alistair’s fears and temper?

“Your majesty,” Liam bowed as he entered the bedchamber that was Alistair’s own, the emperor standing with his back to the door, eyes glued to the fire and his couterier rapidly adjusting one of the sleeves of his military uniform. With a flick of his wrist, the younger man dismissed the servant, the tailor bowing low and deep before promptly disappearing into the servant’s corridor, closing the door silently behind him. “You asked for my presence?”

“For fuck’s sake Liam, not today,” Alistair’s voice cracked, sounding broken even as his posture remained confident and composed. “I swear, I will kill you where you stand if you don’t drop the formalities. Are we not brothers?”

“We are,” Liam sighed quietly, turning to close the door he entered through, offering the pair a relative moment of privacy. As soon as the lock clicked, the emperor’s shoulders dropped down, his composure disappearing as though someone pulled out his backbone, leaving only a mess behind. Pale eyes flickered to the golden crown by the emperor’s side. “You finally decided to wear it?”

“It’s all pomp and circumstance,” Alistair sighed, turning so that his dark blue gaze met Liam’s. For a second, the older man lost his breathe, trying to find his friend among the fragments he could see in those eyes, lost and exhausted, the usual angry fires diminished. “They’re making me wear the cape and all the rest.”

“They?” Liam raised an eyebrow, smirking when Alistair growled.

“Fine, she is,” the emperor strode towards the small table, opening a huge flask of wine with an easy motion, not even noticing as drops of red went flying in every direction, splattering the wallpaper. Pouring two goblets, Alistair turned back. “I understand why I need to do this, what is expected but I hate it. It’s not me - all of this is not me.”

“Stop with your self pity, Al,” Liam accepted the drink, silently toasting the emperor before both men took a long sip. Looking down, the blonde scoffed. “You’re better than this, we both know you are. A dragon knight through and through with all that comes with that title. You’re a leader, a hero - you have men who look up to you and are ready to lay their lives fro you at a moments notice.”

“I feel like everything is slipping out of my control, like I can’t do anything right, can’t keep anyone I care for safe,” Alistair ran a hand through he short-cut black hair, his eyes looking wild like a cornered animal. “The only way I know to keep anyone safe it to keep them far from me. The girl, Sebastian’s kid, Alan. Ever since I was a kid, every time I got close to someone, they were ripped away.”

“No one can control everything,” Liam sighed, taking another sip. “You are not your father, you are not your brother. Do you know how Rois remembers you? Do you?”

“I didn’t think she would remember anything at all,” Alistair grumbled though there was a flicker of interest in his eyes.

“As the kind boy who stole her sweets while the rest of us were too big to notice her,” Liam’s lips twitched in a soft smile. “That hardly seems like someone who was ripped away or hurt by you.”

“We were kids,” the emperor protested but Liam cut him off with a hard glare.

“Stop making excuses. You want me to talk as your brother? You need to get your mind right - you can’t keep this anger at Saskia, at the world, at yourself. This recklessness of yours will be the death of someone and if you want to protect those who believe in you, who stand by you and fight your battles for a future you see, by Calembribor, give them someone to believe in.”

“Do you believe in me?” Alistair’s question caught Liam off guard. His eyes met Alistair’s blue ones, deep and unnerving to most. “Look me in the eyes Liam and tell me that you believe in me. You knew Sebastian, you conversed with Saskia - I am not them. I do not speak or act like a properly trained mutt at his handler’s command. Do you believe in me?”

Liam kept his gaze steady, the weight of Alistair's words sinking deep into the silence between them. This was no longer about the politics or the ceremony ahead; this was about trust, about who Alistair was at his core, about their brotherhood forged in blood and fire, in tough decisions and sacrifice beyond what most knew. For a brief moment, the world outside their conversation—Valadis, the nobles, the wedding—seemed to disappear, leaving only the emperor and his oldest friend standing in the flickering firelight, eyes locked as both tried to find the answer to their own internal questions.

"I believe in you, Alistair," Liam finally said, his voice low but firm. "Not because you’re perfect, and not because you’re like Sebastian or anyone else. But because I’ve fought beside you. I’ve seen what you’re capable of. You're not a trained mutt, and you're not meant to be. You're a dragon knight. You lead men into battle. You make decisions not out of fear or out of expectation, but because you believe they’re right."

He took a breath, his expression unwavering. "The world has never needed more of the same. It doesn't need a carbon copy of those who came before, not another mindless puppet on the throne. It needs someone who can fight for it, someone with the strength to stand alone when necessary. The man who stands before me - flawed, uncertain, angry - he is still standing. He is doing the best he can even as he faces an uphill battle unlike any faced before. So yes, I believe in you.”

Liam stepped closer, lowering his voice as he gripped Alistair’s neck, their foreheads coming together. “I believe in you but you can’t fight this battle alone. You need to accept the help and gifts Calembribor is giving you with grace, not with this pigheadedness of yours. For while I believe in you, until you believe it yourself, its all empty words.”

“Some days, I wonder if we were switched at birth,” Alistair gave a weak smirk, pushing away from Liam. “You would have been a much better emperor than I am. You were born for this Liam.”

“No,” the blonde shook his head in denial, “I was not born to take your place, I was born to serve the empire.”

“Is that why you are able to befriend my bride?” The dark haired man raised an eyebrow, striding over to the small dressing table, reaching for a comb. “You seem to have become rather close.”

“She is to be the empress, the heart of the empire,” Liam responded quietly even as his fingers curled slightly at his side, a momentary motion that would be impossible to see. The empress of Asterious, the vicious mistress of his misfortunes, the forbidden fruit of regret and curiosity. The wife of a brother and a friend. The temptress that seemed to be stealing his sanity one innocent - mostly - action at a time. “I do what I must.”

“May Calembribor shine his fire on us today,” Alistair responded quietly and Liam tended to agree. Today, they would all need divine intervention to make it through unscathed.

[Hannelorian]

The Princess' rooms were a flutter of activity, and unlike the eerie silence that descended amongst the men. Maids and the occasional footman or valet making their way either in or out, carrying some precious piece of something or other that would be required for the Princess' outfit. The speed at which their engagement and marriage was announced necessitated a bit of frantic planning and left plenty to chance at the last minute. Though it was not for lack of planning entirely, there was only so much time to see to an event that typically could take an entire year to plan. In the heart of the apartment was Saskia in her bedchamber, only attended to by select ladies as the preparations for such a day were considered sacred and ideally as few people as possible were intended to see her before she emerged from the carriage at the Cathedral.

None of the women assembled were prepared for what this day would bring, the amount of pain and sorrow that would accompany the flickering moments of joy that preceded it. The Empire was about to be tested in its greatest form yet. But for now Saskia stood in the center of her room, her arms outstretched as Beatrix and George assisted in unrobing the woman. Quinn would be the only other woman allowed to be present during this time as her chief maid, seeing the naked form of the future Empress was in a certain sense, a thing of privilege.

"Thankfully you aren't showing at all yet." Beatrix added as she escorted the Princess to her bath. "Maybe someone will actually believe I conceived on my wedding night." Saskia added with something of a sigh. "Though if I had to put money on it, I can't imagine Alistair will be keen to whisk me off into his bed tonight." Another sigh, Saskia still feeling utterly rejected and dejected. Ever since she had told Alistair of her pregnancy, he could hardly look at her, let alone contemplate any moment of intimacy or even privacy for the two.

"Your Highness..." George lamented having followed.

"Saskia, please." The Princess instructed before she allowed George to continue.

"Saskia, you don't know that. Men are often quite romantic on their wedding days, and besides over the years the two of you will grow to know each other more, and perhaps then something more can follow." George was trying to be optimistic, to console her friend. "I suppose I best get to waiting then." Saskia smiled as she sank beneath the water. The two ladies-in-waiting opting then to give her a few moments of privacy. The two of them began to prepare themselves for the day. Beatrix and George in matching gowns of billowing red silk with differing and custom made golden embroidery to reflect their respective homelands.

When the Princess finally emerged from her bath the hard work began. "Can I really do this?" Saskia asked, Beatrix's eyes grew sad, and George shook her head in slight dismay. "Are you really asking that Saskia?" Beatrix was somewhat irritated by the premise of the question, but understanding the emotions of the day for the girl who was after all, a few years younger than her, she held a degree of compassion. "There is no woman in the world more prepared than you are for this role." There it was, the fleeting moments of tender kindness from the Dowager Duchess.

"You were literally born for this." George added as she wrapped her arm around the Princess, her smile ever so bright as though filled with optimism. "The fact is... you won't be Saskia anymore." George said almost shyly. "You will be the Empress. You will serve to unite a fractured nation. And if you saw what we did at the feast... You were demure, flawless almost." George was doing her best, though admittedly Beatrix had more of a deft hand at this sort of thing. "There will be challenges, of course, not just in your marriage but within the realm of statecraft." Beatrix added. "But you will thrive in them. You are not alone in any of this." In all truth, Beatrix did not envy Saskia or the position she was about to step into. Being the Empress was difficult at the best of times. And in the worst it was downright impossible. But still, Beatrix believed in Saskia and her abilities.

"One of the men said the other day, the Empress is the heart of the Empire. And if our Empire is to have a heart, yours is the one I'd follow." Beatrix concluded as she finally prepared to get Saskia into her wedding dress. "You'll almost look as good as I did on my wedding day. And if you're lucky, you'll half as good as George will." Beatrix joked and it was enough to make Saskia laugh. Despite the horrors of Beatrix's own marriage, she did quite enjoy her wedding day. That was until she was left alone with her husband.

The Princess' wedding gown was a vision, a silk dress of pure white with long sleeves. The dress clung to her form beautifully, and was distinct for the simple fact that it was backless, exposing the young woman's perfect porcelain skin, the bottom of the dress billowed outward from the back, with a long train and a single line of delicate white buttons from the bottom of her back all along the train. It was elegance as defined by Saskia, tasteful yet tantalizing.

George, having learned from Saskia clasped her hands together in excitement, finally seeing it on Saskia for the first time. "Amazing." She said softly. George, responsible for the Princess' hair, withdrew a long white ribbon and began to set to work, carefully braiding sections, that would be elaborately interwoven into one another with the white ribbon running through until it was in something of an elaborate bun, which would allow for the proper accommodation of the diamond tiara which had been one of her mother's favorites, a cherished gift from a departed relative.

The Princess' makeup was simple, subtle and subdued, though her lips were adorned with a bright Asterian shade of red. The style of her gown, however, was Lysian in nature, one last tribute to her home. Saying goodbye was hard. But Saskia bore the brunt of her pain silently for the most part, only occasionally allowing herself to vent to her most trusted friends and advisors. Though if she were honest, all she wanted was to be asking Liam if she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life. Her shoes and remaining jewels were added to her body, and finally her veil was placed over her head, the shear fabric rested atop of her head and descended to the floor in the front and back of her, obscuring her image.

"So this is it... no going back. No time for regrets to backward glances." Saskia would not be seen by anyone from this point. All of the men, the Emperor and the riders were all in their uniforms and on their horses facing forward. Several carriages were aligned, the final one would carry Saskia and her ladies in waiting, giving them an opportunity to be far enough removed while everything else was already in motion. The State Coach was adorned with all of it's finery, as were the horses that the Knights and Emperor rode, everything in it's proper livery. All the while the Court and other invited nobles were assembling at the Cathedral.

The massive and ancient structure was gothic in nature, the floors within were obsidian created by the Dragons themselves, the towering windows were all in brilliant stained glass depicting important moments in Asterian theology and of course in tribute to Celebrimbor himself. The rows upon rows of pews lined the walls all facing the center aisle which had a thick red carpet laid down. Seats were reserved for the most important of those attending, such as the Dowager who would arrive to her own well deserved fanfare. The altar was impressive with a jagged stone of obsidian, some say forged by the first Dragon laying at the head. The Archbishop was making his final preparations.

The streets were cordoned off to allow the Imperials to travel to the Cathedral which wasn't far from Caelum Fortis. And behind those cordons were throngs of the citizens of Valadis, all waiting to catch a glimpse of the family as they embarked on this momentous occasion. The cheers were nearly deafening as Alistair and the Knights strode by, some of the younger ones like Westley, of course taking the opportunity to smile and wave, while the others all remained rather austere, likely scanning the crowds for potential threats. It was a breathtaking scene to watch the procession.

One of the last to arrive was the Emperor, and when he dismounted from his horse, he led the procession of Knights into the Cathedral and down the aisle, walking stoically but with a sense of regality and majesty, an ease and impressive stride. Alistair commanded authority with his very presence and while some resented it, in this moment he was the undisputed man in charge. And he would wait at the altar, with his designated groomsmen by his side. Even Carina appeared to be at least a little proud of how well put together he seemed.

Saskia's brothers were positioned at the door and when the carriage finally arrived and Saskia was revealed, she turned with such grace, and waved at the crowd assembled. And while they could not clearly see her, there was a brief moment of magic as history unfolded before them all. Saskia shared this moment with these people who would become her people, and she would adore them, forgive them their sins, meet them with compassion and unconditional love. No matter their evils, no matter their descension or disagreement, she was determined to succeed.

Theobald the eldest of the Castravet children stepped in front of Saskia and faced the grand doors of the cathedral which had been closed for this ceremonial moment. Crysos stood by Saskia's side took her arm as best he could with the veil, a delicate bouquet of flowers wrapped in white ribbon in her hands. The flowers were bright reds and purples with splashes of blue buds, another nod to Lys. Theobald had his ceremonial sword drawn, his real warrior's sword in it's sheath at it's side. Using the hilt of the blade he gave three strong knocks on the door, in a specific worn spot that had seen the same ritual performed many times over the centuries of Valois rule.

The mighty doors which seemed like hundreds of feet high, with delicate carvings of flames within the deep and dark wood opened slowly. Theobald now holding his sword in both hands out before him pointed toward the sky would take several steps forward. Joining him just as he entered, Beatrix and Georgiana stood at either side of him, walking at the same measured pace down toward the altar where Alistair awaited. With several feet of distance between the trio and the duo, Saskia finally began to step forward. The sound of beautiful music filled the air as she moved, a combination of Asterian and Lysian styles. All that were gathered rose in their seats and bowed their heads in respect as the Princess Royal passed them by. There were quiet whispers of how beautiful she looked, even if she was a foreigner. Men wished it were them waiting at the end of the aisle, and the women were jealous that their chance to snag an Emperor for themselves were officially dead.

George could feel tears welling up within her eyes and yet she held them back as long as she could. Beatrix as always held her characteristic strong and stable look. Saskia looking proudly ahead of her. She finally caught sight of Alistair and as expected he looked incredibly handsome, from what she could see beneath her veil. And of course there was Liam, looking dashing as ever. But all thoughts of them had left her mind, for all that she focused on was her drive to succeed, and to avoid tripping and falling and embarrassing herself.

The Princess Royal arrived at her final position, to stand beside Alistair, the two of them facing one another as they would until the day one of them died.

[Breggo13]

Unlike the internal tension and turmoil experienced by the men of the Royal Flight, Valadis itself was overflowing with a feeling of pure bliss and excitement. The streets leading from the gates of Caelum Fortis were roped off to allow the procession of royals, nobles and those in power to make their way uninterrupted to the main cathedral of the city, the doors of Flames opened to allow those worthy enough to observe the ceremony in. That didn’t stop the citizens from flocking to watch the various nobles make their way towards the cathedral, their cheers and gasps of awe echoing from building to building. Valadis has been transformed into seemingly one huge parade with banners, flowers and music. The smiling, eager faces of the men and women of the empire as they tried to reach for one of the coveted men of the Royal Flight, the children playing on the sides of the houses with their wooden sticks clashing in mock battles, the vendors selling drinks, snacks and even memorabilia - all of it seemed to ignite the Imperial capital with raptures.

The procession itself was a beautiful display of wealth, power and prosperity - the imperial wedding was the event of the century and no statesman wanted to feel as though they couldn’t match the emperor’s extravagance. Thus, each member of society deemed it their upmost desire to show off their latest acquisitions be it clothes, horses or wives. Young men rode on impeccably groomed horses of the finest breeding with gilded tack, the animals snorting and prancing in the cold winter morning, their breaths rising as small clouds, making them resemble dragons. The riders themselves seemed to be sporting a new fashion that had been slowly taking over the younger nobility - the slightly militaristic aspects of their jackets drew inspiration from the uniforms of the Dragon Knights, the various metal intricacies shining like drake scales. Rumor had it that one of the servants in the caves serving as homes for the dragons was brave enough to collect a handful of shedded scales, selling them for the jackets at outrageous prices and gaining himself quite a sum. The story also spoke of how many have attempted the same feat since only to be the creatures’ next meals. The bloodshed behind the rare acquisition only elevated those lucky enough to own an authentic dragon scale.

The older men rode in carriages pulled by their finest teams of horses, their coachmen all dressed in the finest liveries, the servants schooled to appear like statues as they rode on the backs though there was a certain undeniable pride that could be felt just by looking at the way their eyes gleamed. The noblemen within the carriage observed the gathered with a bored gaze even as they bathed in the adoration, once in a while giving the slightest indication of the masses with a light flick of their hand or a barely detectable nod that sent the cheers roaring. The ladies, with their finery and jewels observed the outside world through the sheer curtains that hid their own features from the commoners, only resting their hands on the windowsills. This only raised the overall curiosity about what the women were wearing and the most keen to follow the latest noble fashions after the wedding had gathered before dawn by the steps of the cathedral, waiting to observe each gown as the ladies were helped out of the carriages and escorted inside.

The Royal Flight that surrounded the emperor was one of the last to arrive, the group of men acting as friends and protectors on this day. Their faces were impassive for the most part although Julius and even Westley were unable to stop themselves from sending a few smiles towards a couple young ladies that caught their eyes, the islander even steering his horse a few steps to the side to brush his fingers against a cute looking blonde who blushed a deep red. A short command from Liam brought some order back even though the Earl of Cliffhaven did not raise his voice. The emperor remained impassive as the group rode towards the religious center of the Empire, his black stallion spooking at the stimuli around him but the man did not seem to notice, sitting deep in the saddle and moving as though he was one with the beast. Dressed in the dark colors of his military attire, the deep blue of his eyes came to the forefront, the same blue that was echoed in the faint embroidery on the cuffs of his sleeves. The royal crown of Asterious and the thick cape lined with fur seemed to heighten his presence until it filled not just the street but echoed to the corners of the city.

To the majority of passive observers, the emperor seemed to tower above all the men surrounding him however, were one to look deeper, he would be able to pick up the various different powers and energies surrounding the rest of the men. Marcus Vale rode in the back with his sharp gaze seeming to pick up on every individual in the crowd, assessing and classifying the level of threats. On the other side of the minister rode Radisson Greville, his expression softer but his eyes just as observant, the oldest of the men keeping an eye on the procession as a whole, dictating the speed of their group. The younger men rode behind the first two, their expressions more relaxed than their comrades although there was no levity in their demeanor - Emeric and Darius seemed to be more consumed by their thoughts, riding with passive observance of their surroundings while Westley and Julius exchanged a few phrases here and there in soft whispers. The final man riding a step behind the emperor on his grey was the young Earl.

As they approached the cathedral, the group halted before the gates, all the men exchanging one final look among each other before looking at their emperor, waiting for him to give a sign. For a long minute, Alistair sat atop his horse, seeming to be looking into the distance with a faroff gaze. There was nothing that could be read from his expression nor even his eyes as they seem to glaze over, the man seeming to be lost in his own thoughts. For that instant - a small riff of time - everything seemed to fade away. Alistair could suddenly see the past and the future, the various pathways of his life unfolding before his gaze like an endless labyrinth that stretched beyond the horizon. Each branch, every path was a decision that he made or stood before him still, some shrouded in the cold stench of death others of the bitter taste of betrayal. Pain, suffering, danger - those he could see well, could sense all around him but suddenly, there was a faint shift, the slightest tone of something new, something he hadn't felt since he first saw Saskia from a distance. Was it hope? Love? Desire?

“Your majesty,” Liam's soft call pulled Alistair back, thrusting him into the present with the force of a full blown dragon attack. Shaking his head and blinking twice, Alistair jumped off his horse, thrusting the reins into the hands of a waiting servant without bothering to look. Looking over the crowd with his cool gaze, he started towards the open doors of the cathedral, taking the stairs two at a time with his long legs, the rest of the men following a few steps behind. The darkness of the cathedral's interior contrasted sharply with the light outside, the interior lined with candles and flames blazing in unique chandeliers that appeared as though fire was running all around the congregation, living and breathing. The old Flammor dressed in his ceremonial robes of red and yellow stood at the top of the pedestal, patiently waiting for the last of the men to file in before signaling for the Tinders to close the doors before the arrival of the princess. As the bride, she would need to ask Celebrimbor for his blessing to the union and the opening of the Doors of Sacred Fire would signify that blessing.

“Your majesty,” the old man bowed his head in reference as Alistair approached, flanked by Liam and Radisson. After some deliberation, it was decided that it was best to leave Marcus out of the public eye of the ceremony in case he was needed to attend an unexpected crisis. Liam, by his rank and birthright, was to stand before the God as the emperor's witness and the younger son of a Duke was deemed most appropriate for the ceremony centered, in large, for appearances. “May I bless you with the sacred water before your bride arrives?”

“If you believe that sacred water alone can wash away all my sins, Flammor, I'd allow you to drown me in it,” Alistair responded coolly before sighing. “However, I would appreciate a blessing before the ceremony.”

“Of course,” the man bowed, though there was a slight crease of a frown in his forehead as though he was seriously considering the emperor's proposition. From the front row occupied primarily by Carina and the Flight, Julius' snort of disbelief was quickly covered by a rather realistic cough, Westley delicately patting his friend on the back and Emeric looking as though he wanted to disappear. Thankfully, no one aside from Liam and Radisson noticed though the latter quickly glanced at their group, a silent warning in his eyes. On the pew behind them, the Duke of Greville leaned forward, whispering something in the ears of both knights that instantly subdued them, returning an aura of composure and gravity.

“Here we are, my lord,” the Flammor held up a delicate jug that was designed in a way to resemble flames, different pieces of metal coming together to create intricate movement, rubies and other gems shinning like droplets. Inside, the bubbling scented water was colored red, the rich scent of burning wood and a specific blend of herbs rising into the air. Dipping a delicate brush into the content, the head priest spoke in quick draconic - an ancient dialect that had been forgotten once the unification of the four original kingdoms came together to form the empire - before flicking the drops onto the Emperor's forehead, the long sleeves of his robes rising like waves. The water burned but Alistair didn't move, his eyes watching the ritual with withdrawl. “And you, my lords?”

“Of course, Flammor,” Liam bowed his head, accepting the same hot execution as his friend, Radisson following suit. Everything was done to precision for the show because, as much as this union was about the people, it was about the image of happiness and success. Just as the old man turned to pass his sacramental objects to a High Ignitor, one of his protegees in bright orange, the knock on the Doors of Flames echoed through the cathedral, amplified by the huge black stone at the altar. One, two, three….the sounds resonated as everyone turned to look at the closed doors, the men rising in preparation to welcome the bride. The Flammor raised his hand, his pale old eyes turning to the emperor who only gave a short nod before he gave the signal, the doors swinging open and revealing first the eldest Castravet carrying the ceremonial sword, flanked by the Princess’ witnesses and then, to the sound of music modified for Lysian motives and approved by the Flammor, came Saskia.

Standing at the altar, Alistair's eyes took in his bride with a mix of dread and pride. For all that he didn't know how he felt about her, for all his anger at his own weakness and the position he put her in pushing this date much sooner than either had hoped, he could not fault her in this moment. The young woman was dressed in a style that seemed to reflect her from the inside, highlighting her features and projecting a different sort of power to the one that had been dominating the cathedral till then. She floated above the ground with one hand on the crook of her brother's arm. As the noblewomen rose with the ruffling of skirts and the heads of all bowed, it seemed as perfect as it could be.

With all eyes on the princess, Liam was allowed to for once watch the young woman without worrying about propriety or decorum - frankly, it would have been more confusing if he had looked anywhere but her. His heart skipped a beat and his throat tightened until he swallowed, his eyes trying to find her eyes under the delicate sheer veil but knowing that even if he saw them, she would be looking at her betrothed. Regardless of her feelings for him, Saskia would not do a single thing that would give cause for the event to be branded as imperfect. Her eyes would not rest on him for more than a second - today, everything was for Alistair, every smile, every glance, every touch. And standing a mere three feet behind the emperor, Liam felt the difference in their positions as never before. With a sigh that he kept to himself, the Earl of Cliffhaven raised his chin just a bit, his eyes growing colder and distant. He was honest about what he had to Alistair earlier - he served the empire and the empire needed the empress Saskia would be. His role now was to do his job and disappear from the spotlight.

As Crysos left his sister before the Emperor, bowing slightly, the Flammor raised both hands in the air, the music halting in a triumphant crescendo that resembled a roar of a dragon, a bell ringing once with a delicate melody. “The God of Fire has blessed this couple to be united and thus, as his voice in Asterious, I carry forward the sacred flame of union and sacrifice. Be seated and witness the rebirth of these two souls as ones united and forged in His fiery flames.”

The guests slowly seated themselves, the space being momentarily engulfed in creaks of chairs, ruffles of dresses and scrapes of spurs against the stone floor. In the back of the cathedral, hidden in shadows and away from the rest, a few select servants from Caelum Fortis were assembled, standing in their finest uniforms with bright eyes, watching the couple at the front. The majority were there to support the emperor, men and women who had watched the young boy grow up over the years often from afar but still held a special place in their hearts for him. Alma stood with her grey hair arranged perfectly, a handkerchief dabbing the one stray tear on her cheek while Barnaby tried to retain his stoick professionalism, his eyes looking a bit watery. Mrs. James was composed and listening to the Flammer, her hands clasping around a small sacred flame pendant, her own prayer silent on her lips and Quinn Falconer, the only one invited to support the Princess here, in the Cathedral, stood to the back, biting her lip.

As she watched the Flammer ask the couple to bend their knees, Liam removing Alistair's crown and Beatrix assisting Saskia so that the priest could place two sacred ones connected by a long red silk ribbon instead, the young woman battled an array of emotions with her. There was jealousy, not towards Saskia nor her decision to stand beside a man who did not love her but because she could be wed at all. While Quinn did not doubt that her kind mistress would allow her to continue working even as a married woman, she would not be able to marry the man she loved, not publically and not without it marring not only the two of them but the strength of the couple currently performing the ceremony.

Quinn was not a politician and she never strived to understand things that were above her head. It simply wasn't practical when she had work to do and wanted to move ahead. Seeing the toll Marcus’ new role had taken on him, she never pressed him for details, never asked what she could do to help. Somehow, she had felt that if she pushed him, if she tried to bring his work into their stolen moments, she would lose him and his trust. Sometimes, the rogue brought up what was on his mind, talking about this politician and that but it was a simple release. Things changed when Saskia arrived - against her better judgement, Quinn started a friendship of sorts with the future empress, trying to help her navigate Caelum Fortis in whatever small way she could. She learned and tried and….

Her reward was to watch something she could never have, not yet and, if the letter from the eldest Vale man was to be taken as truth, never as Marcus Vale should be looking for a wife in the near future to strengthen his position in court. The news of Radisson Greville's engagement to a landless, poor princess seemed to have caused an uproar with some nobles who felt that if their daughters could not wed the emperor, they should be allowed the men of the Flight instead. As unfair as it was, it seemed to be the way of the world and as happy as Quinn was for Saskia to finally be solidifying her place in the world, she couldn't help the pain she felt.

“I love you,” Marcus’ voice seemed to be equal mix reality and her imagination. She felt warm fingers wrap around her hand, pulling her backwards into the depth of a small anclove and without showing any surprise, she allowed him to pull her into the relative safety and privacy of the space. The second they were out of view, she felt his lips on hers, his arms pulling her closer until she was flush against the tall, rigid frame of her wild wolf. One more second and she responded with the same fevor and determination, shutting her eyes and allowing herself to melt into his embrace. For a few minutes, nothing else existed in the world besides them - no politics, no danger, no barriers, no pain. Pure love, deep and all consuming, sweet and intoxicating.

“You shouldn’t have,” Quinn finally whispered against his lips but aside from those words, she couldn’t pull away, her own hands snaking up to rest on his shoulders. Marcus kissed her temple but he didn’t look sorry in the least. “With so many people here, we’re bound to be seen.”

“I don’t care,” his own whisper was hot and angry, determined and passionate. “I’m sick and tired of hiding in the shadows, not when I love you.”

“It’s not about just us anymore,” the blonde bit her lip, her eyes growing moist. “You know it’s not - there’s so much at stake and you will hate yourself if something goes wrong, something you could have prevented. I can’t let you do that.”

“I know,” Marcus leaned down to kiss her once again, his actions soft now, gentle. Quinn’s heart grew heavier - she didn’t want to say those words. It would have been so much easier to beg him to stay with her, to risk it all for her own happiness, to be selfish but she couldn’t. She couldn’t because even as she hated pushing him away, she knew it was the truth. If anything were to happen today, tomorrow or next year, he would blame himself for being distracted. He would blame her and she didn’t know what she would do if he stopped loving her. And so, she had to do it. The tears slowly started to flow silently as she rested her head on his chest, listening to the sound of the Flammer’s voice echoing through the cathedral to their momentary retreat. With each word, muffled and distorted into simple sounds, she felt a part of her breaking. It would never be her, standing in a beautiful dress before friends and family, saying her oaths to the eternal flame with this man, her man. And even as he pressed her closer, Quinn tried to persuade herself that it was alright, that it was still enough.

While the two star crossed lovers hid away, the eyes of the empire remained on the couple as the Flammer finished the prayer and turned to the couple, his eyes kind as he dramatically raised his hands above his head, the long sleeves of his robe causing the nearest flames to dance and flicker due to the movement of the air. In the background, a single bell rang, the sound vibrating against every surface with a deep thrill, sending shivers down spines and pushing the ceremony into a finality as though the whole room was becoming a secluded, sacred place watched by the mightiest of beings. As the ringing died down, the flames within the cathedral danced, illuminating everything around and simultaneously casting deeper shadows, a play of illusion and magic, a reminder of the sacred flame. Taking a breathe, the rector started.

“Fire is the breath of life, the source of all creation and destruction, and within its flames, we are tempered. Today, as His chosen voice, I call upon the Eternal Flame to bless these two—Alistair de Vallois, Emperor of Asterious, and Saskia Castravet, Princess Royal of Lys. May their hearts burn with the passion of leadership, the courage to endure, and the wisdom to govern justly. Together, they shall be as the fire that warms and protects, as the flames that destroy what is weak and corrupt. In their unity, let the Empire be strengthened and renewed.” With slow, careful movement, the old man lowered his hands to rest on the heads of both young people, gently forcing them to bow their heads, the red silk uniting their crowns dipping between them in a looser loop.

“These crowns, bound by silk and flame, represent the balance of power, duty, and love that shall unite you as man and wife. Alistair, Saskia, as you feel the weight of these crowns upon your brow, know that the fire of Celembribor watches over you both. It shall burn away your fears, purify your souls, and forge a bond stronger than iron. By the ancient tongue, in the language of dragons and flame, I invoke the God of Fire: Calestahn vehr Celembribor vehn fra’delen. Breathe upon them the fire of life, so they may blaze a path through darkness and guide the Empire toward the light.”

Another bell rang, the flames seeming to once again come to life all on their own, racing around the guests and the couple bearing the crowns. A series of softer, smaller bells followed, playing the Call of Fire, a melody that seemed to hold power, drive, passion and yet remain warm and kind. The bite of the big bell in the background became deep and dimensional, full of meaning, a blunt reminder of the power of fire. Watching from his position, his hands holding Alistair’s crown, Liam felt his body respond to the music on its own, his gaze shifting to the flames, away from the couple if only for a second. The Flammer stepped back, taking the goblet of sacred water and brush from his High Ignitor, the younger man bowing deeply before his superior.

“In this flame-blessed water, I anoint you, Emperor Alistair and Princess Saskia, with the strength to endure all trials. May you stand tall in the face of storms, and may your hearts burn with an everlasting flame for your people and for each other.” With quick, nimble movements, the high priest drew the symbol of the sacred flame with the fire water first on the man’s forehead and then on the woman’s keeping the veil between the brush and her skin. As the couple looked up at him, his face softened and his tone became more intimate, warmer. “You kneel before the sacred flame and offer your hearts. Know that while fire is a force of creation, it also demands sacrifice. From this day forth, your lives are not your own. Together, you burn brighter, but together, you also bear the weight of the flame. Through every hardship, you must carry its light, not for yourselves, but for the Empire.”

Stepping back, the Flammer signaled the couple to rise with his open hands, Alistair helping Saskia to stand slowly, keeping the connection they had with their hands and the delicate ribbons that connected their crowns and trailed behind both people. Clearing his throat, the Flammer once again raised his voice so that it carried across the cathedral. “Let the flames be witness, let the Empire rejoice. In fire, they are united. And from this union, a new chapter in the history of Asterious is born.”

Right on cue, the interior of the cathedral erupted with the ringing of bells and the choir, the echoes of the ancient language and its prayers resonating in the air, the men and women watching joining in the singing as the emperor slowly lifted his young bride’s veil over the ceremonial crown. His eyes found the young woman’s for a second before he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. And as almost everyone cheered in the church, only a single pair of curious eyes turned towards the young Earl, a winning smirk gracing the woman’s lips for a brief second as she noticed the slightest of tensions in his face. As she watched her distant nephew, Carina couldn’t help celebrating the smallest parts of her plan slowly coming together.

[Hannelorian]

As the ceremony proceeded, it seemed like it was gone in a flash. It went quickly and Saskia remained composed, her eyes never having left Alistair from the moment she faced him. The smile on her face was bright and warm, and there was a rush of warm air when the veil was lifted and she was finally exposed, Alistair had kissed her and for a moment, she could have sworn he meant it, even if he was simply resigned to his fate.

Princess Saskia of House Castravet, Princess Royal of the Kingdom of Lys was now married, and as such she had just seen her Kingdom lose its standing, and her title vanish as per her agreement. Lys was now an Archduchy, a vassal state of the mighty Asterian Empire. And in this moment Saskia was simply Saskia, a mere woman bearing no title and holding no standing in the world. In this moment she was not yet an Empress, but rather the wife of the Emperor. And so she stood there, opposite Alistair with a smile spread broadly upon her face. It was over. Her entire life had passed her by, the man she was meant to be standing across from was dead and buried. Her contractual obligation was completed and at long last the people of Lys could breathe a sigh of relief knowing that the troops on their borders were not intent upon invading.

The Flammor bowed his head in reverence to the newly married couple and spoke a few words of encouragement and luck for their future. As this was happening three great thrones were brought out from the wings of the Cathedral and placed before the high altar. Each them clothed in a deep red velvet with silk cushions and high backs. One higher than the other two which was placed in the center of the trio of the chairs of state. The one to the left had the Imperial cypher of Carina the Dowager Empress, the one in the middle bore the cypher of Alistair the Emperor, and the third, to the right of the Emperor bore the cypher of Saskia revealed to Saskia and those assembled for the first time.

It was at that moment the Emperor then left his bride, and the Dowager arose from her position in the front row. Alistair took his seat upon the throne, the literal seat of power of all the Empire, his mother following in suit, curtsying before him before taking her seat. An attendant, bowing deeply before the Imperials, placed an ornate purple cushion on the carpet some few feet in front of the thrones and departed. The Flammor took Saskia by the hand and guided her the small distance to the cushion and allowed the young woman to kneel atop the cushion her hands affixed in a prayer position head bowed before her mother-in-law and husband.

Seemingly from nowhere four large silk screens appeared, each carried by two of the Dragon Knights who had quietly left their seats following the ceremony. Beatrix rising from the seat she had taken since the wedding ceremony moved to stand beside the kneeling Saskia, curtsied before the Imperials and stood there silently and facing them, a red garment of sorts in her hands. The silk screens were placed all around Saskia and Beatrix, each of the white screens bearing the crest of the House of Valois.

Beatrix as the most senior of Saskia’s ladies-in-waiting had the honor of removing Saskia’s tiara, her jewelry, and finally the ornate wedding dress, and instead dressing her with the simple red silk dress, one that hugged her body appropriately, showing off the young woman’s curves and youth. But it lacked embroidery or other remark that otherwise would adorn the woman’s clothing. With three taps of her foot, and a pile of Saskia’s clothing in her hands the screens were removed. Saskia to the audience was in the same position she had been in when the screens were brought out, knelt on the pillow with her head bowed in respect. The simplicity of the gown was a statement in and of itself about remaining humble in one’s position. With a bow of her head, Beatrix disappeared from the scene to hand off Saskia’s garments and finery to another attendant before resuming her seat.

The nerves were running through Saskia, she worried she might forget something though in reality the coronation from here on out was simple. What if she forgets the words? What if she made a mistake? What if she had been spared a stumble on the way down the aisle only to fail now. There was no time to think of it, a booming voice, that of the flammor who stood some feet from her interrupted her thoughts. Probably for the best.

“Saskia Miranda Elizabeta Victoria of the House of Castravet.” He called her. Saskia wondered if her full name had ever been used as often as it was on this day, probably not. Not even when she was a child and in trouble did her parents bother to use all of it, Saskia Miranda was sufficient to inform the girl that she was in hot water. At this queue Saskia looked up and waited for the words that came next. “Please recite the oath as commanded by the Lord of Fire, Calebrimbor.” It was a simple command and unlike in Lys where an oath was read, line by line, for the person to repeat, Asterious was a firm believer in tradition and a lack of guidance.

Saskia nodded softly and began from memory. “I vow to thee my country.” She spoke with little hesitation, a sense of authority and determination. “All earthly things above, entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love. The love that asks no questions, the love that stands the test and lays upon the altar the dearest and the best.” She was almost through it now, this was almost all over and she could perhaps finally live her life as she wished it. “A love that never falters, the love that pays the price. The love that makes undaunted, the final sacrifice.”

At the summons then from her husband, Saskia approached. ‘Of all the women there,’ recalled one witness ‘she was the most simply robed, and of all the women there she was by far the most beautiful.’ As she approached her husband the color of her cheeks was high, and her eyes were filled with that shyness or melancholy that her pictures have made familiar; and in contrast with the tiaras, plumes and necklaces of the ladies of court surrounding her, she looked ever so briefly more like she was going to the sacrifice rather than become the empress of the most powerful Empire in the world.

Saskia rose and swept her husband a deep curtsy before kneeling once more on the cushion. Beatrix, the Dowager Duchess of Eaves, attending Saskia stepped forward once again, this time accompanied by Georgiana, the Princess Syrenia and two others to assist in her robing. Saskia was first invested with a mantle of cloth of gold with its 15-foot train lined and edged with ermine, and its outer surface embroidered with the symbols of Asterious and Lys. Alistair had risen from his throne and walked slowly down the aisle to stand before his wife, the Emperor himself stepping in to fasten the diamond clasps. Saskia was crowned by the Emperor himself attesting to the fact that her power came through his grace alone. Alistair removed the Imperial crown from his head and briefly touched it to Saskia’s brow. Replacing it back on his own head, Alistair was handed a small crown of two thousand diamonds and gently sat it atop his wife’s light brown hair. With the crown secure, Saskia rose and kissed her husband who took her hand and led her to her place before the throne of the Empress of Asterious by the Emperor’s right, symbolizing the bond of the couple and her place as the Emperor’s right hand.

“Standing before you,” Alistair began, saying the same words that his father had once said of his mother, “is my dear wife, Saskia of the House de Valois, Empress of Asterious.” Saskia’s face beamed, now portraying nothing but confidence and calm. A new Empress had been crowned; a new day had dawned. And as if on cue, every bell in the cathedral and indeed in all the churches of Valadis rang out in explosive thunder, eclipsing the sounds of the applause of the court. The cannons that lined the walls of Calum Fortis burst into life firing celebratory fodder in honor of the marriage and coronation. A wave of bright light surged through the stained-glass windows, the Dragons of the Flight breathing their fire high into the sky as tribute.

Every Church, every temple, every monument, was filled to the brim with the people of Valadis who wished to pray and convey their good wishes to the Imperial couple. It was a testament to the strength of the Empire despite any divisions amongst the nobility, the people of Valadis seemed to be in lock step support for their Emperor, even if they had their doubts about him, or even about her, in this moment they were united. But not all was quiet within the Empire and in this one moment the lives of everyone in the Cathedral would change.

The Empress, the Emperor and the Empress Dowager would all resume their seats in their thrones. The moment being sketched fervently by artists who had been commissioned to turn some of these moments into official portraits. With the bells and the cheers subsiding something was amiss, and a few of the keenest observers including the newly married and crowned Empress could sense it. Saskia leaned over in her chair and whispered to Alistair "something isn't right." It was a feeling, like the hair standing up on the back of one's neck.

Then it struck. The sound hit everyone's ears first. Screaming. There was a terrible and pained scream. Screams coming from such a number that it managed to penetrate the heavy doors and caused everyone to turn their heads in that direction. An explosion from outside the walls of the Cathedral, the very ground itself trembled and shook under the pressure. The ancient doors burst open, wood shattering, splintering and spraying into the crowd as some of the stained glass windows broke, sending shards of glass flying through the air and raining down over those assembled.

Saskia could feel her eyes widen as several shards of glass rained down upon her, embedding themselves in her skin or slicing through them, thankfully only her shoulder being injured but she could feel the rush of warm blood escaping her body somewhat shielded by the red color of her dress. Saskia let out no whimper of pain, nothing as she simply sat and bore it. Her immediately turning to look toward Alistair to see if he had been injured.

Chaos had arrived. The rebels waited until everything was done to take credit for the murder of the Emperor and his newly crowned Empress, his bride. Here the horrors had just begun, as those closest to the doors would get the brunt of it as rebels began to flood through. The assembled nobility rising and screaming, ready to bolt.