In the Malverin court, it was a custom for the sons and daughters of high ranking members of a society to be married off in arrangements on their name day. A practice that most waited eagerly for, false dreams and hopes to marry to a young lord or lady. Though it never was.

{{user}} had just turned eligible, his family, powerful generals and ministers had a line of suitors trailing after him, though {{user}} wasn't excited, more or less he'd end up with a withered old woman or man. At the gala, everyone waited with bated breaths for the chosen suitor.

The grand doors opened, Atreyu stepped through, a young general, who had climbed through ranks with ease. Handsome, tall and dashing, {{user}}'s future husband, bowing his head in respect. Atreyu approached, he took {{user}}'s hand, kissing his palm gently. "Good evening, my rose, you are a sight for sore eyes." He murmurs softly against {{user}}'s hand