She couldn’t help but notice how empty and lifeless his eyes were. They were darker than coal and as cold as the peak of a mountain; not a single ounce of emotion was to be seen. They were the type of eyes that could bring a person to despair, to fear for their lives. Eyes that could see, but couldn’t feel.
These eyes didn’t, couldn’t belong to anyone but to the most feared man in Viravion. Even Castor, king of Antarcion, feared his rival greatly; a man who was almost three decades younger than him.
Syren gripped her bare arms and shivered, despite the warmth of the castle. She had been dressed in a simple strapless dress, a gauzy shawl placed on top which did nothing to conceal her bare shoulders. The outfit made her feel exposed. Why had the maids dressed her in such light clothing, completely unsuitable for the eternal winter of their land? Especially on a day in which most of the hearths were devoid of any embers of fire.
She could not continue dwelling on her inappropriate attire, though. The matter at hand was far more pressing. She didn’t know why she was dressed as she was; why she stood peeking through a slit in a doorway, right at the dark-haired man Castor told her she’d be wed to. Her gut told her that something was going to happen, something entirely not in her favour which made her heart pound and the palms of her hands sweat.
“Lady Rillianne!”
Her heart all but froze at the sound of her name being called, the butterflies in her stomach turning to lead. She silently cursed herself for feeling so weak. After all, things couldn’t be that bad, could they?
She straightened her back and put on a mask of indifference, striding in with her head held high. She was determined not to let any weakness show, especially to Castor and the dark-haired man, the Emperor of Viravion. The task had proven to be more difficult than she had though, especially since she felt like she couldn’t even convince herself.
She stopped in front of Castor first, dropping into a polite curtsy like her maid, Minzy, had taught her. “Greetings, Uncle Castor,” she said softly, straightening only when he nodded his head in acknowledgement. She then turned to her future husband and proceeded with the same action.
“Greetings, er…” she faltered, the name of the man escaping her.
“Emperor Athren Zeric,” Castor cut in, sensing Syren’s error. “I would like to present my lovely niece, Lady Syren Rillianne.”
Like Castor, Athren simply nodded in acknowledgement, allowing Syren to stand up straight. She smiled and, despite her nervousness, found herself observing him now that she stood closer to him.
Her first impression?
The gossiping castle maids were not wrong about how devilishly handsome he was. As Minzy had said: appearance of an angel, soul of a devil. His black hair fell past his shoulders, pulled into a low ponytail, and long bangs framed a face chiselled to perfection. In fact, he looked too perfect with his straight nose, strong jawline and sensuous lips. If it were not for the scar that marred his cheek, she would’ve thought that he was a doll come to life.
Castor gestured for her to sit down on the love seat facing Athren. She obliged, sitting stiffly on the very edge. Something seemed…off. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but something was definitely lacking. The feeling nagged at her.
Athren and Castor continued to converse while she absentmindedly nodded politely at the appropriate times to make it seem as if she were listening intently. Their words fell deaf to her ears as she strained her mind, trying to figure out what exactly made her feel so uneasy.
And then it hit her.
Except for the three of them, not a single soul was to be seen in the room with them. They were in one of Castor’s grandest parlours, the one where social interaction was inevitable. The parlour, on normal days, would be considered the flame that draws flocks of moths every hour every day.
Athren’s status made him a special guest, hence his presence in the room. The strange thing was that there were no lords gathered around, debating about politics or some senseless matter. There were no ladies, huddled off to the side gossiping, sneaking furtive glances at the men. Not even Athren’s presence should have discouraged even the most obnoxious of the bunch.
Which left her wondering: what exactly was going on?
Castor clapped merrily, forcing her out of her thoughts. She blinked, startled at the action as well as her uncle’s sudden cheerful demeanor.
“Well, my friend, it is about time we start dealing with the more important matters at hand,” he said. A servant seemed to materialize out of nowhere right beside him, as if summoned by a hidden cue, and handed Castor some papers and a pen before leaving. Syren stared at the proceedings with her brows furrowed. Castor handed the materials to Athren, who scribbled something quickly and then handed it back. He then passed them to Syren, who took them automatically.
“What is this?” she asked, staring at the squished writing, trying to decipher the barely legible content. She looked up to find Castor’s eyes narrowed and instantly knew that she had said the wrong thing.
“Castor, she does not know the reason as to why she is here?” Athren inquired. Castor froze, leaving his glare on Syren for a moment longer before turning to Athren with a smile.
“Of course she does,” he cooed. “You know the younger generation these days, always so flighty and forgetful.”
Syren frowned. Why was Castor suddenly sucking up to him? Of course, she knew that he feared Athren greatly but right then he was being excessive. Especially with the honey coated tone he was using.
She did know, however, that he had just insulted her. She frowned, annoyance pricking at her, muttering words a lady should never say under her breath. Through this, she did not notice Athren watching her intently. She did, however, notice him as he leaned back casually, his arms on the armrests with one hand covering his mouth. Despite the fact that he had hidden the lower half of his face, she could’ve sworn that she saw his lips curve up.
“Oh? If I remember correctly, she is not much younger than I. Are you implying that I may be ‘flighty and forgetful’?” He removed his hand from his face and twined his fingers together, the picture of ease.
Syren blinked, startled. Was he…helping her? It looked like he was.
She bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a grin. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she had thought? Even so, he was still frightening.
Blood rose to Castor’s face as he stammered in reply, flustered by Athren’s words. “I…uh-I-I…n-no! I just…I…Pardon my rude words I…did not mean to offend you.” He hung his head in defeat.
“That, I am sure of, but you offended the girl,” Athren replied, nodding his head in Syren’s direction.
She didn’t know why he was defending her, but his motives didn’t matter as Castor turned to her, hate burning in his eyes, and said, “My apologies to you as well, my dear niece.”
Syren felt pleased. Never had she heard an apology from any of her relatives, so this was a first. What made it all the more satisfying was that it was Castor apologizing to her.
However, she didn’t know how to reply and so, found herself automatically turning towards Athren for guidance. He slightly tilted his head in encouragement and she turned back to Castor to say, “It is all right uncle. I know you meant nothing by it.”
“Well, since it is all solved,” he continued, seemingly unfazed by the previous incident. “I shall remind as to what these papers are for. My dear, they are official marriage documents concerning your union with Emperor Zeric here.”
Syren’s mind whirled and her heart beat faster. Marriage? NOW? She had been given the impression that the meeting that day was to decide on a date for an actual ceremony, another day where she’d be legally tied to Athren.
But of course Castor wouldn’t plan anything extravagant. He hated her and only kept her around because he knew she’d be of use some day.
And what better use did she have than to be sent off with the fearful emperor of their neighbouring country? It was like killing two birds with one stone: het rid her in the process of forming a (temporary) union with a nation stronger than his.
All so he’d have a little more time to strengthen his army.
She wasn’t supposed to know about Castor’s plan of inevitably attacking Athren’s kingdom, but they’d misunderstood her intelligence as they had mistaken her for an idiot.
But it was information she did not care at all about. Why would she care about what happens to either kingdom, both of which do not welcome her in the slightest?
As a traitor’s daughter, she had no loyalties and therefore no feelings of guilt.
That didn’t mean she’d take political marriage lightly, though. There was no love, yes, but she was still bound to a man who she did not love, who did not love her back either. “I wasn’t aware that I’d become someone else’s possession right this minute,” she muttered bitterly. It was supposed to be a comment for herself, but Athren had heard it as well.
“Castor, it has come to my attention that I haven’t spoken properly with my bride as of yet,” he said, leaning back into his chair comfortably.
“Oh…why, yes. It hadn’t occurred to me that you’d want to…er…chat.” Athren raised his eyebrow, not liking Castor’s way of phrasing things. “No! I mean the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. Well, you may proceed to converse, then.” Castor fell silent, a smile on his face. He didn’t budge, not fully understanding the hidden intention under Athren’s words until the other man cleared his throat. Castor blanched and, flustered, quickly excused himself before hurrying out.
“I shall be right outside,” were his last words before he disappeared.
Syren inwardly groaned. All she had to do was sign the blasted thing, but no! She had had to open her mouth and let a thoughtless comment escape. As a result, she was now alone with the only man who made her bristle with fear with just a mere glance in her direction.
Then again, she would’ve been alone with him anyway. Knowing Castor, he’d send her off to her husband’s land that very day.
She felt his eyes on her, making her fidget with nervousness as a response. She knew that if she looked up and made eye contact, she might just faint so instead, she kept her eyes downcast, staring at his polished black shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.
“You are obviously not very fond of your uncle,” he said at last, breaking the silence.
“Whatever makes you think that?” she replied innocently, bringing her eyes up to meet his.
“I’m not blind, nor am I stupid,” he smirked.
Bloody hell, he saw right through her.
“Alright, fine. I am not. In fact, I hate everyone in general,” she replied bluntly, letting her expression show disinterest.
It was odd, to be honest. She should’ve been frightened, should’ve shown him what an obedient wife she’d make, but instead here she was, talking down about her relatives. It was even obvious that her generalization of hating people included him as well.
“Oh?” he quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “It seems as if you, my dear, are two-faced.”
“That goes for the both of us.”
What in the world was she doing?!
He sighed. “As much as it would continue to entertain me to continue this childish banter, I’m afraid I don’t have time to deal with it. Personally, I couldn’t care less about your issues. This marriage is merely a political contract, you understand that, correct?”
“Correct.” Syren flamed with indignation. Childish?!
“Then it will be in your best interest to sign the papers and get it over with. However, do not worry.” His smirk reappeared. “We shall have a grand wedding back in my kingdom, if that is what you desire. You will still be able to fulfill the dream every girl has of wearing white on her big day.
“But do not, under any circumstances, mistake me for your prince charming.”
“I shall not.” And I’m already wearing white on my supposed ‘big day’. “You have no need to worry; I will make it my task to keep out of your sight.” She was fuming inside. Does he think I’m that shallow? That materialistic? Why would I want to attend an extravagant party that more or less commemorates the placement of shackles upon my arms and legs, binding me to a contract I’m unwilling to go through with in the first place?
"And if you so happen to find...another interest, then no one will stop you from pursuing that. However, I ask you to keep everything as covert as possible. It would not do well for neither me nor you if you were to be found out."
"Alright."
She was upset that her freedom was being thrown away. She was only 17 years old; there was just so much she hadn’t experienced. She wanted to fall in love and experience all that came with it; start a family, experience all life had to offer. Now with this incident, her dreams were far out of reach.
But she would not throw her life away just like that.
Athren didn’t care about her. She didn’t care about him. So why couldn’t she do whatever she wanted afterwards?
Simple: she can. Athren had given her free reign on what to do with her love life as well, so she was still in power of herself.
Syren wrote down her signature without any enthusiasm, presenting the completed document to Athren. They were snatched from her hand by Castor, who had literally appeared out of nowhere, it seemed. He must’ve been eavesdropping and, of course, she didn’t put it past him to do such a lowly act despite his rank.
“Well then, seeing as the formalities are finished,” he said merrily. “You two newlyweds are most welcome to be on your way.”