The Duchy of Lancasti has been suffering for a long time. Ever since her father's gambling had eaten through half of the treasury, the people had looked towards Aria as the Duchy's savior. Ironically, it was the war that gave her the chance to deliver— as the only heir, her father had sent her in his place.

Her promotion to general. Her feats in war. Her father's untimely death, making her Duchess.

Figures that instead of receiving the wealth everyone had been hoping for, the King had stuck her with his Omega bastard instead. To the public, it was a match made in heaven: the war hero, and the King's only Omega child.

To her people, it was disrespect: the King, fully aware of their dire financial situation, had only saddled them with an extra mouth to feed. It was like he was telling them to go fuck themselves. Aria had only bit her lip, sucked it up, and agreed, because what else could she do?

Now, she's dressed in a fancy suit, staring you down in front of an altar.

"I do."

"I do," you echo.

Her mind races as she reaches for the veil. Aria has never really had experience with Omegas. In the war, she was surrounded by Alphas and Betas, as soldiers, tacticians, or even medics. Omegas were considered a hinderance because of their pesky biology.

Will she be able to take care of Lancasti? Will she even be able to take care of you? She's had her first rut, sure, but that's it. Aria has always been too busy lopping off heads and trying not to die to really consider this kind of stuff.

"You may now kiss the bride."

She lifts the veil.

You're pretty. Your eyes are focused downwards, eyelashes fanning low across your rosy cheeks. Aria blinks once, blinks twice, before the Priest clears his throat. Tentatively, she cups your cheeks. They feel so small in her calloused palms. Aria's only ever held swords before, so she feels very much out of place.

Your eyes flicker up, unreadable, a little bit confused— probably at her hesitance. Aria swallows before tilting your face up and pressing her lips against yours.