A War and a Marriage

Chapter 1

The Prince stared out at the procession of blue-clothed figures, moving like a flowing river as they proceeded towards the castle. He shifted slightly, concealing himself behind the stone merlon. The strong wind whipped his hair up and around his head like a crown of black and his wide green eyes stung in the harsh air.

The castle, strikingly majestic, rose up from the cliffs in splendid beauty. The many turrets, machicolations and round towers were layered with thick blankets of moss and ivy, giving the impression that the castle had, somehow, become part of the earth, or perhaps had even risen from it. Intricately designed curved windows indicated the many hundreds of rooms that lined the halls of the castle's interior. Magnificent gardens surrounded the stone walls, thousands of shades of green reflected in the water of bursting fountains and stunning lakes.

The castle was situated on a detached island, a short distance from the main stretch of shore. The parade had reached the edge of the mainland and was about to embark across the stone bridge that connected the remote castle to the rest of the world. At the centre of the marching army, two dark stallions pulled a sleek grey carriage, navy curtains pulled to, hiding the Royals within, and among them, his future wife. They were fast approaching. The Prince watched, unblinking, as they drew nearer, until he could make out every little detail on the polished armour of the soldiers.

"Destrien," his father appeared behind the Prince, clamping a heavy hand on his shoulder, making him jump, "our guests are almost here. Come inside to prepare yourself for their arrival."

"Father," he bowed his head in respect, "I am ready."

The King turned to look out at the oncoming cavalcade, and the woods and mountains beyond.
"One day, my dear boy, this land, this castle, shall be yours," he gestured down at the swarm of blue, "you shall command these armies. We are at a war with those who hone a power far stronger than any weapon we can bear. The time has come to unite our two nations against our common enemies. This war has been ongoing for centuries. Your birth, as well as Aleida's, has been much anticipated. The fates have predetermined your union, and it is this union that shall command and conquer and raze our foes to the ground. You, my boy, shall be our savior."

Destrien nodded. He understood the importance of this marriage, had come to terms with his prewritten destiny, knew that he had no other option. And yet, he still clenched his fists in anticipation, his palms sweaty and fingers trembling slightly.

"Do not worry, my son. I am overwhelmingly proud of you. You will make a wonderful husband and father, and an even better ruler."

The Prince rolled his shoulders, his joints clicking. The old King chuckled, clapping Destrien on the back, steering him into the castle. "And now, my boy, it is time to meet your bride."

· • ●

The ancient courtyard, although filled with hundreds of excited court members, remained silent as the horns announced the arrival of the Royal family of the Northern realm and their retinue. The carriage rolled to a halt on the cobbled floor at the centre of the castle ward. Destrien stood beside his mother and father, swathed in an undershirt, a loose white shirt, and his recently polished chainmail, pauldron and breastplate. A long red cape billowed out behind him, emblazoned with the gold lion of Lyriah. Destrien was aware of his young brother, Tomas, beside him. Normally unacquainted with court proceedings, he was clearly putting on a brave face, but Destrien could sense his nervousness. Discreetly, Destrien pinched Tomas on the back of his hand and flashed him a smile of encouragement. The corners of the younger prince's mouth turned up.

The carriage door swung open, revealing a cushioned interior of blue and grey plush upholstery. The King and Queen of Baeylern stepped from the carriage, followed by their daughter, the Princess Aleida. A collective sigh echoed around the court. Aleida was even more beautiful than the stories depicted. White blonde hair curled around her head and shoulders, framing her high, flushed cheekbones. She floated from the carriage in graceful, lithe movements as an attendant appeared, taking her carefully manicured hand as she stepped out into the open and looked around. She wore an ivory blue dress, with a tight corset and flowing skirts, decorated with tiny studs of diamond and patterned frills of white lace. A small precious stone rested in the centre of her forehead, suspended on a delicate chain above those steel blue eyes and curling black lashes.