It had been an uphill battle, and it was reasonable enough to say that she wasn't happy to be here. In fact, if they hadn't been the only un-allied bordering nation, she wouldn't have to deal with this. It wasn't her fault she was the oldest. In fact, she would have been more than happy to keep up her martial training and let her little sister do the dubious honor of being presented for marriage.

If it hadn't been for her little sister's childish streak, dissuading her father might have worked far better than it had. Instead, she had the facts known about the Galethan King laid out for her in precise terms. The man was strange. The man was nearly thirty years old and already had silver hair. The man kept a male harem that she was clearly supposed to ignore. She had her pride, and apparently she was expected to squash it and do her duty as a princess.

Itching for clothes that weren't so elaborate, she instead smoothed down the gold and blue velvet skirt, silently thankful that the covering attire hid her nervous twitches. She didn't want to be here, but her father had only needed one far-too-innocent smile out of Yuffie before shooting down any last arguments she might have had, and now, she sat in the waiting room to meet her husband to be.

Turning over what she knew in her head, she wasn't sure what to think. The man was known for his ruthless tactics against his enemies, and even tighter strung control over his allies. He'd seen battle face to face and was revered by his troops. She hadn't ever heard any stories of kindness about the man, and there was some rumor that he was actually a weakling, and ruled with an iron fist so people wouldn't doubt him. On that same tact, it was said that his political success was largely luck and puppeteering. Between the contrary descriptions of her trainer and her brothers, she had come to expect a former military man with scars, a gut, and premature gray hair.

Instead, she could do nothing but stare as the man stepped into the room. He wore the greens and silvers of his court, of course, but the fact that his hair was honestly silver was the first thing to really catch her attention. She'd honestly thought the word silver had been an exaggeration, but no, apparently that had been wrong. Her gaze dropped from his hair to take in the rest of him, skipping around his face. She'd heard rumors that he wouldn't even see foreign ladies for prospective bride status, and that he'd declined royal balls, so that meant there had to be some obvious flaw. No gut, possibly even muscles, though the constantly shifting material made it nearly impossible to tell.

Finally, she dragged her eyes upwards, bracing herself for some disfiguring scar, or for him to just plain be ugly. Who else needed harem slaves but the ugly after all? Green eyes, cat-like and strange, that she'd been told about… but there were no scars, and he certainly wasn't ugly. She was out of her league.

"Princess Lockhart." When he took her hand and laid a kiss on the back of the glove, she was frozen. She was expected to marry this man? Was he abusive and that was what was wrong with him? His voice wasn't grating, then again, he didn't look like the type to have a grating voice, and was that really such a bad thing…?

"Sire." Her voice was a squeak, and she quickly cleared her throat when he arched an eyebrow, straightening and taking a step back from her. She was going to hurt Reeve for not warning her about this. At least she wouldn't look as stupid in front of her father when she got herself sent home. Getting to her feet, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before trying again. "Sire, I have no wish to marry you."

"I know. I don't really want to marry you either."

She'd been all set to lay out her arguments, but that threw her, and her mouth, already open to argue further, to snap shut as she gave him a stare. Sure, she wasn't interested, but he was supposed to be! She might not have been the prettiest woman out there, but she knew she wasn't anything to scoff at. He was the man here, he wasn't supposed to just not want to marry her! He was supposed to make her work for it! Offended, she drew herself up. "What? Why not?"

He actually had the gall to smile at her. After an insult like that? The temptation to slap him was strong, but she squashed it with all her considerable dignity. "Because I have no interest in the political liability you represent princess."

She felt herself bristling, the true aim of her argument lost in the fact that he just insulted her again. She wasn't her sister! "I am not a political liability."

"No?"

"No."

"Are you willing to prove that?"

Was he challenging her abilities? He was! Straightening up further, she glared at him. "Of course, Sire."

He studied her for a long moment, then nodded, stepping back with a slight bow. "Very well princess." Turning away, he gestured to a blond woman near the door. "Lady Elena, please escort the princess to her rooms until the ceremony."

It wasn't until they were halfway down the hall that Tifa realized what she had just done, and she could have slapped herself. Hard.

She'd wait to do that until she was alone.