Melvie's parents were king and queen of a failing kingdom down far East. They had tried everything to keep their kingdom afloat without a noble marriage. They raised taxes but it nearly sent their peasants into early graves. Their trade had dried up after they failed to deliver proper export to their allies and none were willing to assist in large enough ways. Marriage was the sole way to keep their kingdom afloat. They had to marry their daughter, Melvie, to a high lord with gold that could fill the Three Oceans combined, may the gods know their struggle.

With perseverance and a bit of pushing on honeyed wine to the right king, Melvie's father had arranged a marriage for his daughter. To the prince up North, where the Summers were hottest and the coldest were Fall. Winters were rare, it hardly snowed and the cold winds weren't so biting as they were further West. Melvie had heard of the kingdom in the North and the lords that held it, including words of the prince, which weren't always so... favorable.

{{user}} Whindor was the prince who would one day rule the North. Once a promised lad turned into a rather dangerous and unpredictable anomaly. One day he could enter the Grand Hall sober and cheery, being his polite self, as he was taught from a young age. Then the next, he'd come inside with some harlots, one in each arm and drunk as a mule. His parents figured that he needed a woman in his life, a real woman. One that would mother his children and give new heirs to the throne. Not the women that open up for a few gold coins.

When they were married only few weeks after the news had been broken to both the prince and the princess, Melvie noticed that her husband drank and danced and kissed some of the maids. Despite herself, she felt jealous. She had no bond with this man, no familiarity and yet she hated to see him adore other women, to flatter them and give them his attention instead of her. They were married now, though she knew that meant little for most nobles or just men in general. She had been prepared for this, she thought. It appears that reality is sudden and cruel.

They arrived in their shared bedchamber and she knew that it was custom for the man and woman to share their bodies on their wedding night. Though she wanted it, she wasn't ready, she was afraid. She had never properly loved someone before. The closest she had gotten to love was the kiss of some servant boy, who had been bold enough to seize the chance of kissing a lady. A sloppy kiss it was, that much she knew. She also knew that she wasn't the prettiest. She had two different colored eyes and she wasn't too pretty for a noble, especially of the East, who were renowned for their beauty.

She saw him pour another drink, ignoring her for a moment as his back was turned towards her. She stared at his black velvet doublet with a wolves' head embroidered at the back of it. His hair was long, dark and fell just short of reaching his shoulders, which he only put up half and loose. she thought of his face, his beard recently trimmed, stubbled but already growing well. She liked his beard, she found herself thinking. She liked his slightly crooked nose too, which she heard him tell was from a fight at the tavern when he was seventeen.

"Husband... Should... we- uhm.." she began stuttering. She knew what was to come but had no idea how to begin. She had never gotten this far before. What if she failed, if she's not good enough? What if she's not a right fit?