Royals

The quill scratched against the parchment as Hope signed his name on the contract. Once his name was shining in ink on the page, he pushed it to his father, who looked it over, nodded, and gestured for a scribe. "That's done then," Bartholomew said, as the scribe carefully picked up the marriage contract. The king sighed. "I'm sorry, son," he said to Hope. "I was planning to let you choose your next bride but circumstances being what they are—"

"I understand," Hope said shortly, standing and offering his father a standard bow. His father nodded, face drawn and pale, and Hope left the room.

He swept through the castle, greeting the courtiers milling around as courtesy demanded but not lingering to speak with anyone. By the time he got to the stables, the groom already had Alexander saddled, which made Hope smile. He was getting too predictable, but for today, he didn't mind.

The ride to the cathedral did nothing to clear his head. Instead, the pounding of Alexander's hooves on the city's stone roads seemed to drive his thoughts even deeper into his mind. Marriage. Again. Marriage to a foreigner, a woman he had never even met. After the catastrophe that had been his first marriage, he was amazed that his father had considered a new alliance, let alone gone through with the betrothal.

He passed through the cathedral's main apse without even really seeing any of the worshipers, passing by the altar with only a bow and a murmured prayer before descending into the burial vault. He stopped first by Alyssa's tomb, offering his first wife a nod of respect. Though she had died in disgrace, having attempted to betray him and his family, she had still been his wife for nearly five years and had begged him not to forget her in her last moments. He had insisted on her royal burial in the family crypt. He didn't linger, though, and instead pressed deeper until he reached the resting place of his mother.

Here was as much peace as could be granted in this Chaos-torn world. Her sarcophagus was beautifully carved, Bhunivelze's angels guarding her in her eternal rest. The sight calmed him, as nothing else could, as though by coming down here to be close to her, he drew her spirit close to comfort him. As his mind settled, he considered this new problem with all the rationality he could muster.

With the Chaos acting up more than it had in decades, constantly encroaching on the Wildlands, food was getting more and more difficult to grow. They had miles of fields out there, but that was worthless when a single outpouring of Chaos and its accompanying beasts could wipe out an entire farm. His father was worried and there was talk in the council about pressing all the way to Caius' temple, to try to stem the flow of Chaos. Madness, and likely to end in death, but what other choice did they have? They needed to protect their lands and their people.

But in the mean time, they needed food. And Yusnaan, with their vile alliance with the fal'cie, had a never-ending supply of it. The two city-states had never been friendly but had also never been particularly hostile. With this treaty, they would be bound together. Yusnaan would get enough gold to fund their revelries for at least another year and Luxerion would get the food they so desperately needed.

And all it took was Hope marrying the Patron's sister-in-law. Not an insulting match, as she and her sister were the only true royal blood the city had left.

Their parents had died when the two girls were barely in their teens. In the mad scramble for succession that followed, most had expected the elder to immediately marry and secure the throne, but she had held off, somehow keeping the city's privy council at bay for years. He didn't know how she, as a woman and barely more than a child, had managed to rule that city for six years until her sister married and she was able to pass off the Patron mantle to her brother-in-law. It was madness, but she had done it.

They'd sent a miniature along with her signature. He'd glanced at it in passing at the council meeting, but now he drew it out to look at it again. She looked lovely, her rose-colored hair tumbling to frame her face. She had full lips, deep blue eyes, and a healthy glow on her cheeks. He'd heard her described as the plainer of the two sisters, but her beauty was nothing to sneeze at. She was only six years younger than him, this mysterious woman, this Lightning Farron. He wanted to meet her. And he would. After all, in less than six months, she would be his bride.

Notes

I've been celebrating my summer vacation with way too much medieval fiction. Hence, this little side project. Shorter than usual, but I just wanted to have some fun with world building and enjoy the challenge of keeping Lightning in character in a totally different setting.

Hope you enjoyed, and don't forget, reviews make me smile! (and update, hahahaha)

SJ