Maribelle fingered her ring nervously, turning it about her finger, feeling the small gems and engravings, trying to keep herself from going mad. She breathed deeply, trying to calm her nerves lest she appear anything less than proper in her father's presence. He always was so very insistent on the keeping of appearances be it in the presence of company or the confines of home life. How was it her governess put it? Ah, yes, 'The way one carries oneself in public is a show of their abilities as an actor, a feat of which even the most uneducated of plebeians is capable. The way one presents oneself at home displays one's true nature. A woman of class must learn to act as a woman of class both in public and in private. Acting otherwise would make her no better than the lowborns who find their worth in deception of character."
Maribelle lived by these words. Her governess taught her daily. Her father reprimanded her if she slipped up. Her mother acted as a role model and a gentle reminder of her status. Thus it became such nature to her that even in times of war she would allow none of the surrounding barbarians to break down her pride and upbringing. She drank her tea and wore her fine clothes. She spoke with respect to those who deserved it and she told the lowborns of their barbaric actions in hope that they might turn new leaf. She wanted to be a positive influence on their unfortunate lives, but in the end it was they who changed her.
It was a subtle change, really. She was less hard on others for their uneducated speech. She ceased to complain over the slightest smug of dirt on her clothes. She even... she even cared for the peasants in their company. Thieves, soldiers, dancers, mercenaries, scholars, nobles, mages, and knights. The lines began to blur between them as time wore on. Each battle brought them closer. Each encampment drew them into something akin to friendship.
Maribelle twisted her ring in circles around her finger, biting her lip. The difference wasn't so obvious until now. Returning home to the most well-to-do family in all of Ylisse save the royal line made the contrast clear.
At the sound of footsteps, Maribelle sat up, her hands placed on her lap, her back straight, her head held high. The door to the drawing room opened. Her father came forward, his face stern. He was every bit the man he was before the war.
"Good day, Maribelle," he said formally.
Maribelle bowed her head in greeting, "Afternoon, Father." She was pleased with how steady her voice sounded. "Please, be seated," she offered, gesturing elegantly to a chair across from the couch where she sat. She put her manners and grace at their very highest in hopes that it would pacify any displeasure he had with her previous conduct.
He looked at the chair in contemplation and silently refused. Instead he began to pace. "I wish to broach the subject of your recent marriage."
Maribelle's eyes widened. She lost her composure for a second, "P-pardon?" she sputtered. She was not expecting the subject to come up in this conversation. Perhaps a later date, yes, but now she had hardly prepared herself. Her thoughts were not in order. She did not know how to properly defend her actions, clever as she was. "Is now... really the best time, Father?"
Not missing a stride, he continued, unphased by her surprise. "I thought it best to address the matter now rather than wait for the attention of the other noble houses to fall upon us with questions we may be unable to answer. Only recently -my gratitude to your comrade in arms- has the scandal of thievery been cleared and I find myself with another troublesome situation. Thankfully, with the newfound peace, the people of Ylisse have the war's end to occupy their minds. Now is precisely the best time."
Maribelle turned her gaze down to her hands, fiddling nervously with her ring again. It had quickly become a habit over the past few weeks.
Her father stopped pacing and folded his hands behind his back, facing his daughter. "It is good fortune that you chose a husband of title, but this does not excuse your method of action. Not only did he neglect to request courting privileges, but you also failed to seek our permission to accept and go forth with the wedding."
She felt like she should say something, but her throat was dry, her tongue heavy, and the words would not come. She kept her eyes downcast and said nothing.
"There is also the matter of its abrupt nature, practically elopement. Your dowry must be prepared and given to the family." He looked thoughtful. "Considering their unwealthy, declining state, no doubt there will be demand for it soon, so we cannot waste time, lest it become obvious to the public that this was unplanned." He looked at her disapprovingly. "I thought we raised you to higher standards then this? Honestly, marrying a man from a desperate house on the verge of losing their titles? Such man can hardly be trusted to have non-monetary intention-"
"I would never wed such a materialistic, dissimulative fortune hound!" Maribelle cut in, rising quickly to her feet and meeting his eyes with determination and defense. Telling her she went about her courtship, engagement, and wedding wrong was one thing, but accusing Ricken of such foul play was another all together. "I'm far too clever to be beguiled by some miscreant excuse for a noble. Ricken's intentions were completely honorable. He has never done anything but protect me and bring me happiness. I wish not to hear another word if they be only to foul his name."
Her father was taken aback by her sudden outburst. She was always such a strong-willed child, but he never knew her to so forcefully talk back to him. "Maribelle."
"Yes, father?" She replied just as forcefully as before.
He took a breath and opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again as if unsure of his words to come. "By the haste with which you took his hand in marriage, I..." he trailed off uncomfortably. "Well, the question must be asked."
Maribelle frowned. "Pray tell what question?"
"Did you rush into the binds of matrimony on account of previous acts of impropriety between you?"
There was silence between them. Maribelle's expression flashed embarrassment and then fury before calming into a cold anger. Her father could not tell if her silence meant affirmation or denial.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice returned to its normal imperious tones. Gathering her skirts she walked swiftly to the door. "Speak to me again when you are prepared to refrain from voicing derogatory thoughts about my husband."
The door shut heavily and her father stood alone and baffled as to the reasons behind his daughter's actions and words. Maribelle was a different girl than his sweet daughter who lived before the war. Now she was a free-spirited war hero and he was not certain he liked the change.
A/N: Thus concludes chapter 1. Reviews and Critiques are more than welcome. I appreciate both negative and positive feedback so go ahead and tell me if there's something you think I could have done better or if you feel like someone is acting out of character. Also, please tell me if you catch any grammatical or spelling mistakes. I do my best but I don't always catch them all.
I am a slow writer. Anyone who's ever tried to read on of my ongoing novels knows that. Therefore, I will try to avoid major cliffhangers unless I already have the second part written, because I don't want you guys to die of anticipation while I twiddle my thumbs in thought for three months. I hope to have the next chapter up by next month, though.