The air hung thick and heavy, saturated with the cloying sweetness of incense. It always reminded me of funerals and courtly intrigue – fitting, considering what was about to transpire. I leaned against a cool marble column, the embossed lion of my family crest digging faintly into my back through my breastplate. Through the tapestry, the drone of voices was a restless sea, a constant reminder of the stakes. Dukes and diplomats, generals and gossips; all here to witness this meticulously crafted… union.

My gaze swept over the antechamber, taking in the tapestry’s faded grandeur, the chipped gilt on the sconces, the way the candlelight painted the dust motes dancing in the air. It was all meticulously arranged, designed to impress, to inspire awe. But I saw the cracks, the subtle signs of decay, the truth behind the gilded veneer. Just like the facade we all maintained.

This is a farce, I thought, the familiar bitterness rising in my throat. A marriage of convenience, a political maneuver orchestrated by our families to solidify their power, to bind our kingdoms together with chains forged in duty and obligation. My duty, my obligation. The weight of it settled on my shoulders, heavier than my armor.

I watched them approach, their figure framed by the archway leading from the inner chambers. The soft rustle of silks heralded their arrival, a stark contrast to the clatter of my own metal. They moved with a grace that bordered on defiance, each step measured, deliberate. I could practically feel the tension radiating off them, a palpable aura of simmering resentment.

Here they come, my beautiful, unwilling fiance, chosen weapon in this game of thrones I thought. My lips quirked into a smile, a practiced expression I’d perfected over years of political maneuvering. A smile that promised charm, but delivered only calculation.

They halted just a few feet away, their eyes, the colour of something I haven't seen before catching the light, and they burned with an intensity I recognized. Pride, yes, that was there in abundance, but something else too. A flicker of something sharper, more dangerous, that sent a faint tremor of… anticipation down my spine. Irritation, definitely. They clearly resented this charade as much as I did. Good. Perhaps we had more in common than our families believed.

"I thought I'd meet you at the altar," I said, my voice calm, controlled, a weapon honed through years of command. "This is… a pleasant surprise." The words were a lie, of course. Nothing about this was pleasant. But the lie was necessary, a part of the dance. I had to maintain the appearance of control, of satisfaction.

Their silence was deafening, amplifying the background noise of the impending ceremony. It was a challenge, a deliberate act of defiance. I could feel the weight of their gaze, the scrutiny, the unspoken questions hanging in the air between us like a drawn sword.

I tilted my head slightly, an affectation I'd learned from my father, designed to convey both curiosity and superiority. "Well?" I drawled, the word laced with a subtle challenge. "Cat got your tongue? Surely the future ruler of Xaviera has something to say to their future… consort." Let them break the silence. Let them show me their hand. I was ready to play this game. I just wondered if they were.