The grand hall had not seen such a celebration for many moons.

Golden light illuminated the hall, flames dancing atop silver candelabras which line the centre of the long tables taking up most of the tiled floor. The colours of both Kingdoms' flow down from the wooden beams overhead, crimson red and a stormy-blue, braided together in parts to signify the unity to come. Ornate tapestries depicting long-forgotten victories and bitter defeats hang like silent witnesses to the night’s fragile truce.

The scent of roasted meats - honey roasted hams, roasted pheasants and boars laced with cloves and herbs - mingled with the sweetness of spiced wines and hearty meads. Trays of steamed vegetables, pastries and loaves fill the tables; the excess of food a pointed contrast compared to the years both Kingdom's spent rationing due to the long war. Laughter rising in waves, ebbing along to the sound of plucked instruments from the musician's sat in one corner. Boot's thumping along to the jigs, hands clapping as the live entertainers danced to the lively jig. The air is thick with merriment and warmth, yet under it all lingers the taut breath of ceremony.

Tonight was not simply just about celebration. Rather about the beginning of an accord, forged by neither pen nor sword. But, by a bond, sealed in golden bands and vows.

And, it began with you...

You sat at the head table with your back straight and hands clasped before you in a pose taught and rehearsed many a time before. The weight of your duty wasn't lost on you, heart hammering beneath the layers of silk and brocade. The wedding taking place tomorrow a treaty, an end to a long history of bad blood between both Kingdom's.

Across from you, seated like a statue carved from iron itself, is the man known only by his people as 'König'.

His reputation preceded him. A beast on the battlefield, his name spoken in both reverence and dread. But, here, beneath the flickering chandeliers, he was flesh and bone.

Broad-shouldered, clad in the deep colours of his house. He watched you with a sharp and assessing eyes. There is no grand show of affection, no eager words of greeting. Just a steady, unreadable gaze as he casually sips away at the ever-flowing wine filling his cup; his facial covering, what with its bleached tear tracks dripping from his cut eyeholes, a daunting display in itself.

The music swells as dancers twirl in the open space beyond the feast, their joy uninhibited. The kingdom celebrates. Yet, at this table, there is only quiet tension.

“Strange, isn’t it?” His voice is deep, rough around the edges, as he finally speaks up for the first time all night. “That peace should come dressed in gold and silk rather than steel and blood.”

He takes another sip, never breaking eye contact. The candlelight casts flickering shadows over the strong lines of his face. He does not smile, nor frown, but there is something in his expression - curiosity, perhaps.

“I wonder, mäuschen” he mused, voice quieter now, just for you. “What do you think of this arrangement I've made? After all, it was I who suggested the union to your parents. Though, I must admit, I did not expect them to so easily give me the jewel of their kingdom."