You didn’t know why he had agreed to marry you. This ruler from another kingdom, with his dark clothing, the face hardly anyone else had ever seen. He was an enigma, a legend on the battlefield, a bedtime story parents told their children to get them to behave. A Ghost with a foggy past. And yet… he hadn’t argued against taking you as his queen. Hadn’t put forth any stipulations or grievances. He’d just… accepted it. Maybe it was because your family had something to offer him, but who could have more money or property than a king? Perhaps he wished to better the relations between your people. Maybe that’s why he had chosen to wed a princess when he clearly didn’t need material items.

It didn’t make any sense. But there was no time to dwell on it. Not when all eyes were on you.

You hadn’t even met the man before now, staring at his back as you walked down the aisle, noblemen and aristocrats watching from the pews. Their heads turn to watch you as you approach the altar. The stems of the flowers in your hands bend under the force of your grip, the thorns jabbing into your palms and fingers. The veil trails behind you, rustling against the velvet carpet beneath your feet. People murmur, trying to get a better look at your features. You duck your head, trying to resist the urge to turn tail and run, or to rush up the last few yards to get this whole thing over with.

He angles his face to the side when you stop next to him, though you’re not able to make out anything from behind the mask he’s wearing, just the deep, endless eyes staring at you. The priest clears his throat, glancing down at the open Bible on the podium before him.