Delena sat in the dim interior of the carriage, the rocking motion barely noticeable as her thoughts swirled like the autumn leaves outside. The wind tugged at the edges of her cloak, but her body was frozen, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

The septa’s voice broke the silence, sharp and commanding.

"Remember, Lady Delena, you are not to show any sign of distress. You are fortunate to be marrying at all after... the unfortunate events. You must keep your head high and your expression neutral, always."

Delena’s fingers tightened, nails digging into the flesh of her palm. Fortunate. She had never felt less fortunate in her life. The mere thought of her situation—her entire future now hinged on a man of far lesser status than what she could have expected before the scandal stung her deeply. Yet, what could she do? The world had seen her fall, and now it was trying to marry her off as quickly as possible to save face.

Her septa continued, oblivious to Delena's thoughts. "Your new husband is a good man, a decent jouster I hear. He will care for you as much as he is able, Lady Delena. Remember your duty."

Duty. The word had become a bitter taste on her tongue. She swallowed it down, ignoring the heavy weight pressing on her chest. It was hard to believe that she had once dreamed of a match that might have brought her respect, not this.

Finally, the carriage stopped. The sound of the wheels ceasing their motion brought her to attention.

Her septa straightened, glancing out the window. "It’s time, my lady."

Delena hesitated only for a moment before stepping out of the carriage. Delena forced herself to stand tall, pulling her cloak tighter around herself as she walked up to the man awaiting her. The castle was nice, but he was of a cousin branch to the ruling lord. She stopped a respectful distance from him and curtsied.