This marriage nearly came out of the blue. But with Duke Harold of Highheart on his death bed and he, the fully pronounced next 'heir'; he knew he had duties and obligations, and with the Grand Duke being heirless, he knew he, being a new and upcoming duke, couldn't fail the same. But a marriage to a foreigner was a strange proposal indeed! And who was he to deny the demands of the crown? He followed blindly behind Grand Duke Allarrick and only questioned innocently once that 'Oh, she's Serenian?'
He had been briefed for weeks all about her. Her families standing, her wealth, what she looked like and all of that. The thing that struck him the most odd of all was that she was openly a mage.
Although he never outwardly challenged Grand Duke Allarrick's war, he wasn't a man truly fit for it. Rage just wasn't him, nor anger, and it took a lot to get him riled up so. In fact, he was a man of many virtues and never once stumbled from the path of his own chosing morals...
Except that one time he fell in love and had bedded a woman he thought loved him. It had been a mistake, and he still felt the guilt for it. Would his wife to be ever forgive him? He would confess to her, certainly, of this, but he had so many other things he'd have to do for her to ensure her transition here in Connlaothian society went smoothly.
Their meeting would be a wedding, she to come to his keep, and then escorted together to the church to confirm the paper work wedding in person. So he was decked out in the colors of Highheart; a strange mixture of blues and golds with white embroidery. He couldn't wear the Dukes full colors, but at least had to pay his respects, especially on his wedding day.
And he was nervous, his hands clammy with sweat as he readjusted his buttons ten times over. There were too many of them, lining him from neck to thigh, but such were the attire of the occasion. He even wore a ribbon in his hair to match, that of which he had Britta tie in herself for him as he was finishing up getting ready. The bow was white, and she was happy she got to pin little blue and gold pearls into it.
"Daddy looks pretty!" she told him, beaming. She was old enough to understand what was going on, and also well enough to question, "I still wish you were marrying Dahlia." And the way she pronounced it, it sounded more like DUH YEE UH.
There was a painful touch present in his eyes as he got to his knees and patted his daughter's shoulders.
"Lady Gray doesn't wish to marry me," he reminded her. "And the Grand Duke himself chose my new wife. We should consider ourselves lucky!"
Britta made a face as her father went on to tell her this. she was so stubborn sometimes and only beginning to learn about the laws revolving around the nobility. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead.
"Your dress makes you look like an angel."
"I'm a princess."
Her father laughed.
"That too. You truly are." he told her, scooping her up and kissing her cheek again.
Off in the distance, he heard some commotion through the window and there was a knock at the door.
"Lord Draven. Your wife's caravan is on the way."
The stairs were too long as he made his way from his tower room. Even Britta grew impatient of the walk and rushed on ahead, despite his protests. And he tried to catch up to her, and a stubbed toe later, she was already rushing out across the lawn at the site of the pretty lady dolled up in white.
"She has white hair!" she cried gleefully, seemingly unphased by any propriety that her cries might elicit. Her father never disciplined her that way. He never had to. And she was rushign straight through the mud.
"Britta!" Edward called after her, doing the same, and grimacing as he felt his boots splatter across the muddy lawn. He hoped it didn't get into his pants or the tails of his shirt. Changing into something else would be off putting at best.
But as he chased after his daughter he began to slow at the sight of his wife to be-
And she was certainly something, a raw of opulence standing at the end of the cobblestone path with a gushing fountain alight behind her. Britta was already before her long before Edward could even see the woman's face-
and he already knew she was beautiful, and he couldn't help himself but gawk.
Britta was all questions to the woman, seeming not to hold back.
"You're pretty! Your hair shines like diamonds. Is it made of diamonds? Can I see your diamond hair? Did your mother make your dress? My grandma didn't make my dad's. He was sad she didn't. He got his suit from Duke Harold. Do you know Duke Harold? Did he send him? Do you know the Grand Duke? I never met him. Just once. Your dress is pretty. It's prettier than mine. Does your marriage mean I'll bea princess? Are you a queen?"
The questions were unending and finally Edward jogged over to Adalia's side, trying to catch his breath, hsi cheeks pink.
"Please, do forgive my daughter, my Lady." He bowed most regally before her. "I am Lord Edward Draven, your intended." He was still huffing as he gestured his hand towards Britta whom he took her hand and pulled to his side. "This little talkative princess is my daughter, Lady Britta Draven. Say hello, Britta."
Britta made a face.
"Hello."
Edward's face was aglow. His daughter was the world to him and just chasing after her made him forget the strange butterflies in his belly...
That was, until he got a good look at Adalia's face.
And she was beautiful.
