The first time she saw him, he was there to marry her.
They have not met before and she could not say which one of the mass of redheads in the throne room was supposed to be her fiancé until he presented himself. The wedding had already been planned, after all, and it went ahead as scheduled, just with one minor alteration: Prince Lance Almonte is taking his brother Klaude's place.
When she had heard of the former Crown Prince's mysterious disappearance, Lucette was, above all, uncertain. She was sad, indeed, but it was a dutiful sort of grief since she had not known her fiancé well enough to love him. She was mostly just unsure of what would happen now.
She had been betrothed to the foreign nobleman for five years. She had had clothes suitable for the relative warmth of the neighbouring climate made and she had learned about the customs of the lands she would one day help her lord husband govern. She would have to learn new things and marry someone else, along with all the hassle that would, no doubt, follow the announcement.
While the princess holds no special preference towards Brugantia over any other land, she had to admit that it was almost a relief when her father summoned her to his sitting room and told her that the House of Almonte needed an alliance with them now more than ever and that Prince Lance had written to say he would take her as his bride.
Considering his previous engagement, the teen girl considered she has simply moved the hassle down the succession line, but she could not make herself feel guilty about stealing Emelaigne's fiancé. She would get another one in time, Genaro would certainly make sure of it.
Lucette was there beside Lord Mythros to greet their guests when they arrived at Angielle. She looked at her husband-to-be only for the brief moment they were introduced, ever mindful that she was the lady of the castle and she needed to greet all of the guests and see to their comfort.
Lord Lance was seated beside her at the feast that night, but the bride's attention was on ensuring that the servants did their jobs well, that the food and drink was suitable for the great lords, that her step-brother Rod minded his manners, as well as her step-sister Emelaigne, who should have been old enough not to need the sharp looks she had to give her.
Oh, Lucette knew her courtesies and she did not neglect to speak to Lance, but they said nothing of consequence.
When her father and the foreign king left the hall for the quiet and privacy of the solar, Lance did not go with them. He asked her if she would accompany him on stroll through her late mother's garden and Lucette had no reason to refuse him.
Once there, a few rounds around the rosebush later, he asked, "My lady, I know your grief is fresh, as is my own, but will you consent to be my wife?"
It brought it a smile to her lips. The marriage had already been agreed upon and the contract prepared, but it was nice of him to ask her for her hand.
Lance was not as tall as Klaude, nor as handsome. He did not smile and laugh as easily as Klaude had, and he lacked a certain something Klaude had possessed that had made her imagine their marriage life many times in the privacy of her own bed. However, the differences were not all bad. He seemed more steady, demurer, to the point that she could not imagine him recklessly gallivanting away from the kingdom and the responsibilities thrust upon him by the crown.
Lucette nodded tersely, but responded with earnest. "It shall be my honour to be your lady wife, my lord."
When the cleric bid Lance to kiss her, Lucette received his kiss without any spark of excitement. It was without passion, so much so that she could imagine him kissing a sister the same way. Klaude's stolen kisses in the garden had made her heart pound, had made her want more. Even Waltz's or Fritz's kisses had been warmer when they had played together as children.
She might have suspected something then. She knew she was a beautiful woman. She is not vain, it was simply a fact. Men told her she was beautiful and she saw desire in their eyes when they looked at her, and admiration and envy in the eyes of women.
She might have wondered then if Lance's passion was reserved for another woman if she had not been preoccupied with her sister.
Emelaigne was deeply unhappy about marrying a man older than their father and, in turn, seemed to find relief in inflicting the same misery upon her older step-sister. Perhaps as punishment for the slight of stealing her age-appropriate, fairy tale prince of a match.
The new fiancé is, indeed, positively awful, and it surprises her that their father had not tried to pin it on Lucette instead, and if that failed, to give up the idea entirely. It is to point out, however, that while Genaro favoured his youngest, he did not favour her enough to let her out of the duties and obligations of aristocratic daughters, the marriage market chief amongst them.
She pointed out that Emelaigne would be a queen now, that she would help her husband to rule a large and prosperous kingdom. That she should be proud to be fulfilling the role that she was given. It was only a harsh reminder that she should look beautiful on her wedding day that stopped the blonde girl from crying.
It was an ungracious thing to say, but Lucette took notice to her step-sister by suggesting that the lord might die within a few years and Emelaigne would be regent for their children and she could marry a young, handsome prince then. That silenced her for the rest of the ordeal.
The wedding feast ended all too soon and it was time for the bedding. Lucette forgot all about Emelaigne when the foreign lords scooped her up and carried her to the bed chamber she would share with her new husband. Their drunken singing made her laugh despite her nervousness, even when one of them tore her gown in his haste to disrobe her. Those ladies from Houses sworn to Angielle who had attended the wedding brought Prince Lance to the bed and took pleasure in undressing him.
Then everyone left and it was only the two of them. Her lady mother had died when Lucette was too young for talk of men and marriage, she would not hear of any advice her stepmother had to give her, and her preceptress, a religious woman from the temple, was herself too ignorant of such matters to be of much help.
However, she is not an ignorant, having ease in finding information through unorthodox sources when it suited her. She knew what to expect.
She closed her eyes when Lance kissed her. Again, his kiss had no effect on her, so Lucette called to mind his brother. It made her bolder.
She had fantasized about this night, dreamt of it. She pretended the man with her was Klaude, as it should have been. They were married now, and it was proper for her to return his kisses and touch him the way she had never permitted herself to before.
Her lord husband was unfailing polite and dutiful for the fortnight he stayed at Angielle, and Lucette admitted to herself that she was no warmer towards him than he was towards her. She did not know how to be anything but courteous and dutiful.
Duty, it would seem, was a trait she and her husband shared. She embraced the redhead man and gave him her blessing and sent him off back to his homeland, along with a dowry of gold and blood, to settle the internal strife with the witches and secure the throne for his dynasty.
Warmth and laughter and love would come in time, she told herself. It had come for many royal couples and there was no reason it should not come for her, regardless of the circumstances.
Lucette would learn to appreciate Lance in time. The important thing is that, now, she is free.