I've been so busy with art and working, that I haven't had the chance or the energy to really sit down and write as much as I wanted to.

It's been pretty draining and was kind of bringing down my mood. So, I decided just to start writing some random stuff and ended up with this.

No idea where it would go, or really anything much about it because I just wrote it up in an hour.

But yeah, enjoy so random one-shot from my mind lol

There were lace gloves on my hands.

Every time I looked down at them, I scowled and had to force myself not to remove them. They were frilly and itchy, and incredibly impractically. My something borrowed and old—Lissa's mother wore them on her wedding day.

I looked away from the gloves and caught my reflection in the mirror.

Every single part of me was covered in lace.

I looked like a snowman.

I wanted to tear the dress off, just walk down the aisle in my slip for all I cared. It'd be a nice fuck you to everyone that pushed the wedding on me. It would also give my husband to be a hint of what he had gained.

I didn't know his name, only that he was a royal and Moroi. Janine had given me a photo earlier that day, and I stared at the man for an hour. I was trying to find some connection to a photo that I knew I would never get.

The guy was attractive, with reddish brown hair and green eyes, but he looked cocky and like he had no care in the world. He was probably just excited to have some woman to have sex with and then leave to take care of the kids.

It made me so angry thinking about it, I had torn the picture in half and threw it in the trash.

I should have just taken option two and left home. Sure, I would have been homeless, penniless, and with no one to rely on, but at least I wouldn't be getting married.

At twenty, I was already considered overdue for this. I was trained and had completed my two years of required service as part of the guardians. Now, I had to take the next step required of a female guardian—continuing the race of dhampirs.

Guardians were in short supply, and our numbers were too low to keep up with the Strigoi that walked the earth. So female dhampirs had marriages arranged once they turned eighteen.

It was bad enough that they had us fighting Strigoi at sixteen, but they also controlled who we married.

"Rose? Rose," Janine hissed beside me, fingers wrapped around my wrist to lead me towards the double doors of the church. "They are ready to start, and you aren't even in place," she complained.

My mother had been stressing over this day, ensuring it was all perfect. Part of me knew that she hated me being forced into it, and if she stopped, she wouldn't be able to keep wearing that forced smile and say it was my duty as a guardian.

It was different when she was my age; there was no required marriage or high demand for children. She had me when she was twenty and was allowed to continue being a guardian; now, they wanted women to just keep having kids.

We came to a stop in front of the doors and gave the dress and the veil a once over, tucking a loose curl behind my ear. I reached up and pulled it free again.

Janine gave me a look but left my hair alone. "You are stubborn and strong-willed. Don't forget that," she instructed.

I wanted to comment, but the music started playing, and the door opened.

Janine stepped to the side, whispering, "Walk to the front and don't question it."

I tilted my head at her in confusion, brows drawn together, but any question I wanted to ask had to wait as a man took my hand and guided me forward. My mind was racing, about getting married and trying to figure out what my mother meant. But once I looked forward and saw the whole room staring at me, everything left my mind.

I froze.

Everyone was staring.

The man tugged my arm, a small smile of encouragement and then looked forward again. My feet moved, stumbled steps in heels that I could barely walk in—they were high and uncomfortable. A statement piece of money, royals showing their money every chance they could.

There had to be at least fifty people in the small church, and I swear I knew none of them. I knew I had friends here, hiding among the others, but I couldn't find them to give myself the strength to keep going.

If I married, I could still be around my friends; if I didn't, I would have to survive in the human world or as a bloodwhore—neither was appealing.

Giving up searching the crowd, I looked to the front instead in hopes of finding my future husband… but there was no one there.

Am I being stood up at my own wedding?

"Um…" I started, glancing at the blond man leading me.

"Don't worry," he replied softly and carried on.

Despite his words, when I looked up and just saw a priest, I was fucking worried. If the groom didn't show, did I have to marry another? I wondered if it would count as I tried and I could go back to being my best friend's guardian again.

It wasn't until we were a step away that I finally saw a man step up to the priest, his back to us. He was tall—so much taller than I thought he would be.

At first, I noticed their shoulders—broad and so very familiar. And then I noticed their hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of their neck.

It couldn't be…

My breath caught when they turned. Their deep brown eyes captured mine, and nothing made sense.

How was this possible?

It shouldn't be possible.

It was meant to be a marriage between a dhampir and Moroi, and he wasn't…

He smiled at me, and I thought about how one of those used to make me feel like I was walking on clouds. His hand reached for mine as a flicker of hesitation appeared in his eyes. I watched as he swallowed and took a breath.

And then a look of determination covered his face. "Roza?" he offered his hand.

My stomach flipped at how he said my name. Just as he used to say it. My hand took his without thinking, and he guided me those last two steps to be before the priest.

The man marrying us.

My brain short-circuited as one thought played on repeat—Why the fuck was I marrying Dimitri?