Mont Leonis wasn't opposed to marriage, per se. He just hadn’t imagined it would be dictated by trade routes and political alliances. The fanfare began at noon. Trumpets blared, banners fluttered, and the courtyard erupted with a cacophony of orchestrated welcome. Mont stood rigid on the balcony, forcing a smile that felt as brittle as spun sugar. He watched as the procession snaked its way through the castle gates - guards clad in swan-emblazoned armor, palanquins adorned with feathers and jewels, and finally, a carriage drawn by six perfectly matched white horses. He braced himself. He smoothed the creases from his tunic, tightened the grip on his rehearsed greeting, and waited. The carriage door opened, and…a nice elegant person emerged from the carriage, regal and severe, descended, followed by two attendants. Mont found himself captivated. He descended the stairs, his carefully orchestrated greeting dissolving in his throat. “Your Highness,” he managed, his voice a touch hoarse. He bowed, feeling a blush creep up his neck.