At a young age, I had always dreamt of my father's approval. It was especially difficult when we nearly always had the opposite way of thinking. When it came to deciding the importance of something, it had always been his reputation that came first; never family, or health. He hadn't always been that way, though; it had only been that way since mother had passed. I remember him being quite affectionate and compassionate, when I was just a boy. Ever since then, he has become cold and distant. Drowning himself in his studies…. and alcohol.

"Nicholas!" his distinct voice rang throughout the otherwise empty house.

I strode along the house into his office located on the other side of the wing of the household. "Yes father?" I asked, closing the door behind me.

"Nicholas," he gestured to the leather loveseat in front of his desk, "I wish to speak with you about some matters."

"Like what, father?"

He poured me a drink and handed it to me and then pouring his own.

He leaned back into his chair, taking a sip. He soon lowered the glasses that were resting on the bridge of his nose to get a better look at me. "Have you had any thoughts towards marriage?"

I fell back into my chair, setting my drink down. Was I supposed to? He had never brought up the subject before. I had never considered it a necessity, at least, not for right now. Of course, I'd thought about it, but I hadn't looked into it farther than that.

"No." I stated simply "No, I haven't. What's bringing all this up?" I dared ask.

He stood from his seat and stared out from his normal spot at the window. He did not face me.

"I am not well, son," His tone never changing, he took a pause. "I feel it is time that I hand the house over to you."

"But father—" He raised his hand, cutting me short.

"I don't feel as if I am well enough to run this household for much longer," He finally turned to face me. "And you can't run this household alone… or forever."

I sat in silence for a moment. "What are you suggesting I do? To find the next woman I see in town and bring her home to marry?"

He put his hands in his pockets and looked at me. "I have found you a suitor, so even if you do not choose to marry, you will still have possible heirs."

"Do I even get a say in whom it is I marry?" I snapped.

He gave me a warning glance, "Do you not appreciate what I am giving you? I'm giving you my home, Nicholas."

I stood out of rage. I knew my anger was irrational, but so were his decisions. It was my choice in whom I married, who I would have children with. I stormed out of the room without a second glance and ran up to my chambers only to slam the door and fall back onto my bed.

Only later that night was when it had sunk in. Father was ill, I had gained rule over the mansion, and he had set me up with someone whom I had never met; someone with whom I was expected to run the household with.