"This land shall be our home. A safe haven for the survivors of this terrible cataclysm. The dragon's have returned, the world has been torn asunder, but this island, and that which we will build on it will guard us. I hope to have children in this world. Let us make it safe for them." - Mayor Jean Desramaux upon the founding of Havaresse, the city that would eventually come to bare his family's name.

"Gods damnit." King Phillipe crouched down to scour the floor again, having dropped his cuff-links for the second time now. Curse my clumsy hands. The young king saw the glint of light from the one he had dropped, just underneath a chair. Got you. He slowly made his way back up, staring at the molded piece of silver in his hand. They had been handed down to him when his father passed, having been handed down to him when his father passed and so on. These silver cuff links had been in their family since their progenitor first was elected mayor of Havaresse. Mayor, if only he could see what he'd made. Jean Desramaux was gifted the cuff links by the towns blacksmith, to commemorate his election and thank him for his leadership after the Resurgence. The entire town had pitched in what they could for materials, they had hoped to make a necklace and brooch as well, but simply did not have the material. An amazing thing, to give the only piece of wealth you own to another as thanks. Now I must do my people proud, so that I too will be deserving of leading them. There was a brief knocking at the door and then the sound of it opening and closing. Phillipe turned to look and saw his cousin, Prince Mathi, slowly approaching.

"I was beginning to wonder when you would show, cousin. Here, help me get this cuff link on, my hands will not stop shaking." Mathi laughed and made his way to the king, hand outstretched to take the piece of silver.

"My deepest apologies, your Royal Highness." Mathi gave a cheeky grin as he secured the link into its proper place. "There you are, cousin. Now you look like a bridegroom."

"If only I could feel like one." Phillipe looked himself up and down in the mirror. His hair had been pulled back, a golden ruffled shirt adorned his torso, while black trousers hugged his legs. Resting on the chair sat his jacket, a crisp snowy white with black embroidery.

"You do not feel the part?" Mathi had wandered over to the table by the windows, upon which sat a small tray of snacks. He picked up some dried apple slices, kept in the store rooms since the harvest, and crunched down hard.

"I... I do not know. Are we doing what is right? For us? For our people?"

"You are doing what your father thought was right. He often knew what he was doing. Eat, it will help." Prince Mathi extended the tray before the king, finishing chewing through his third apple slice.

"No thank you, cousin. I do not think I would be able to keep it down. My stomach feels as if it will jump right out of my throat."

"Well, best it did so now instead of at the ceremony."

"Be serious, cousin."

"I am being serious! How dare you accuse me of being anything but." The young prince gave another cheeky smile before setting the tray back down where he had found it and returning to the king, jacket in hand.

"Outstretch your arms, Phillipe. There you are. Now button up. Excellent." Phillipe turned to see his profile view in the mirror. Everything fit correctly, he could move freely, then why was he so uncomfortable?

"How do I look?"

"Dashing as always, cousin. I mean it, you are well put together."

"Well, thank you. Have you seen the princess, cousin?"

"Yes. Would you - "

"No. I would like to be surprised. But, well... how did she seem to you? Was she excited? Was she anxious? She could say no, of course. I could too. Either of us could. I hope she knows that. That this is not, that it is not; that she is not being forced." Mathi let out a deep sigh and gave the king a knowing look.

"I think we all know neither of you can say no at this point, cousin. This is it. You are going to walk out that door to the temple. The priest of Geshan will say their piece about love and eternal happiness and blah, blah, blah, then you and the princess will say a few nice words, and that will be that. Our kingdoms will be joined." King Phillipe looked back at himself in the mirror for a moment. Was this the face of a king? Of an emperor? He scratched his freshly shaven face, something that was not always altogether necessary in the morning.

"Is this right of us, cousin?"

"What do you want me to say? That this will be the most perfect union on all of Yarucasna? That your marriage will be blessed with happiness by the gods, and your knew empire will feel wealth and prosperity for another four centuries?" Phillipe looked at his feet in the mirror.

"I do not know what I want you to say. I may not want you to say anything. This just, can not go wrong." Mathi walked up behind the king and placed a hand on his shoulder. They may eye contact through their reflections in the mirror.

"Cousin, today, my job is to get you out that door and to the alter. Your job, as king, as Phillipe Desramaux, is to marry the Princess Jolijn Biljvank and unify our kingdoms. Let time tell us who was right and who was wrong. Try your best to enjoy the day, you have no other choice."

"But I am King."

"But you know your father knew what he was doing." Phillipe sighed and turned to face the young prince.

"You are right. I think I will have some apple slices. I will need the energy when it comes time to dance after the ceremony. Let us be happy today, let us enjoy the day." Mathi gave a large grin as he made his way back to the food try, grabbing a handful of dried apple, pear, and plum slices for the two to share.

"What do you think of the princess, cousin?" The young prince handed a mixture of dried fruit slices to the king as he asked the question.

"She is beautiful, she is charming, and she seems intelligent. By all accounts, she will be the perfect Queen." He tossed a pear slice into his mouth - tart, the fruit was not fully ripe when picked and sliced to dry.

"Yes, I should say. You really should be nervous, lucky enough to marry a princess who could walk circles around you with her looks and intellect."

"Are you calling your king dumb?"

"No," Mathi tossed a dried apple slice into his mouth. "I am calling my cousin dumb. I would never speak disparagingly about my king, and you know that." The two laughed.

"You are right, though. I should not be so worried. It really could not have worked out better."

"Well, I think she is getting the short end of the deal, cousin. After all, she will have to now be related to me. Not to mention Thierry and Guillaume, too."

"A curse I would not wish upon anyone. I think she will learn to manage though, as the rest of us have. Speaking of Uncle Thierry, I understand he finds himself finding ill this morning?"

"Yes, dear Uncle Thierry awoke with a terrible headache. But, fear not, he will suffer through, as he would not miss the wedding for anything. Do not expect him to stay much after that, though."

"To be honest, I am surprised he is attending. I assumed he would not out of protest to the whole thing. He tried to talk me out of it at my father's funeral, you know."

"I am not surprised. Though, since then, he has seemed to have changed his tune a little."

"He was a great help in getting the servants organized. Hopefully, it would seem, he has come to terms with the union. And even if he has not, it will happen all the same."

"Speaking of which," Mathi looked out to the window to the position of the sun, his last piece of dried plum in his mouth.

"Yes, let us get going."

Princess Jolijn spun in front of her mirror, the mid-day sun casting a radiant beam onto her white gown with golden embroidery. The handmaids had just finished getting her into her wedding dress, and she needed to see how well she would be able to move in it. It flowed with ease as she whipped herself around once more, the rays of the sun hitting the embroidery caused a gleam that looked like a circle of light around her as she spun. What amazing craftsmanship. The dress had traveling with them from Biljrend, along with the tailor who was making it. As they traveled, the old tailor would occasionally need to have her try different looks, taking a few new measurements here and there, all to give this spectacle as the end result. Jolijn spun herself one more time before remembering there were still others in the room with her. They were all looking on with astonishment, each handmaid expressing thoughts of awe and some of jealousy. There was one handmaid, however, who had traveled with them, who seemed to have very little thoughts on the subject. Perhaps she has seen more beautiful dresses, or simply does not care for the lives of royalty. A brief thought did pass through the woman's mind, though. Only a glimpse, but enough to make the princess stop. It was her, laying on the floor, blood slowly soaking her dress.

"Thank you, all. That will be all for now." The five handmaids bowed and made their way out the door. Larynwy followed and closed the door behind them, then leaning up against the frame inside the room.

"What do you think, Larynwy?" The elf was in her usual regalia, her warriors plate with sword fashioned at her side. Despite her protests, the handmaids still managed to dress her up a little bit. Her hair had been put up into a bun at the back, with eye liner and lipstick making their way to her face. A golden sash with a black rose across it was tied across her torso, from left shoulder to right hip.

"You know what I think, your Highness."

"I do not like to read your thoughts, you know that. I try very hard to respect your privacy."

"I think you are - pretty, your Highness." Jolijn gave a small curtsy to the Burraddoudo warrior, who in return looked away to avoid eye contact.

"Why thank you. Even if you do not mean it, I appreciate it. The dress is loose enough, and yet I feel I can not breath." The princess placed her left hand on her stomach, feeling her diaphragm slowly move up and down with her breaths. They were normal, and yet they felt so difficult. Her stomach certainly did not help either. It felt as though one thousand butterflies had flown down and were fluttering about constantly.

"Let me see." Larynwy swiftly made her way to the princess' side.

"Oh, no. I am simply nervous, nothing to be concerned with." Larynwy slowly made her way back to her leaning post.

"Very well, your Highness." There was then a knocking at the door. A stern voice of an old man came from the other side.

"Are you descent?" Both Jolijn and Larynwy recognized the voice of King Jurrien II. Larynwy opened the door and let the old king in before closing it again behind him.

"You are positively stunning, my child." Jurrien ran up and gave the princess a large hug before taking a step back. "You look just as beautiful as your mother had on our wedding day. I think back on that day fondly, something this King Phillipe is will be damned lucky enough to be able to do some day also." The king looked around for a chair and then promptly planted himself in it.

"Thank you, father. If only she could have been here today."

"I miss her everyday, and curse the gods every other for taking her from the both of us. But I am here, no? You still have your aging father to support you on this momentous day. I wish I could say the same for your groom." Jolijn looked down to her feet for a moment before looking back to her father, her eyes now holding sorrow by the hand.

"King Phillipe has great strength, it would seem.  I do not know if I could go through with this if our roles had been reversed."

"Strength has nothing to do with it. Or maybe it does. Either way, it is honorable. You are marrying a fine man, my child. I would have called off this whole thing if I thought otherwise."

"Would you still call it off now? If I were to ask?"

"Without question." Jolijn smiled at her aging father. The old king had always been wily, and only continued to be more so with age.

"There will be many people there, no doubt."

"All who could come, have come. All who matter, that is. But today is not about that, it is not about who is here to show support and who is now dead to me. Today is about the union of two kingdoms, and of two people. I want nothing more than for your happiness this day. Promise me you will keep out of people's minds. You should not be worried about the thoughts of others."

"I promise, father. I - I did have one encounter, however." The princess fiddled with her fingers, face down to the floor with her eyes barely visible to her father now.

"Yes?"

"One of my handmaids, Emma I believe. She came with us from Niljden. Her thoughts just now, they were... well. She thought of my death, in this gown." King Jurrien II shot up as Larynwy joined his side, hand on the hilt of her sword.

"We will look into this at once. Think of it no longer, my child."

"No, please. It is almost time, and I would like you to walk with me there. I am sure it was nothing. Just, a strange thought."

"That thought is not nothing, your Highness." Larynwy wrapped her finger tips on the hilt of her sword.

"Right you are, Larynwy. Would you be so kind as to handle this? Report to me at the reception." Larynwy gave a confused look to the old king before nodding slightly and exiting with haste.

"There, it will be handled and I can still be here with you."

"Thank you, father."

"Ah, I do love weddings. Especially the receptions. The chefs in this castle are spectacular, truly a blessing from the gods. I hope you have been enjoying their cooking as much as I have." Jolijn chuckled as she patted her fathers stomach.

"I fear no one can ever enjoy food as much as you do, father. But I have had my fair share."

"Do not mock your father, it is unkind. In truth, though, I did find my doublet a little too tight this morning. Perhaps I will only have two slices of pie tonight."

"Of each kind?"

"Now there is an idea. But no, unless you want your father to explode, or at least burst a few buttons, he will control himself tonight. As painful as it will be. Now, I believe it is nearing that time."

"Oh, yes. It is."

"Are you ready, my child?" Jolijn looked deeply into her father's eyes. For the first time in a long time, she saw sorrow. But, just beyond that emotion, was joy. The joy for the future, for the bright world that will come from this union.

"Yes, father. Let us go." She extended her arm to take her father's.

"Are you not forgetting something?" Jolijn's eyes lit up with fear and surprise, and then remembrance. The crown. Jolijn took the golden rose crown from the pillow it sat upon. Looking in the mirror, she slowly lowered it firmly onto her head.

"How do I look?" King Jurrien II gave a large smile to his daughter.

"Like an Empress."

The old prince began to fidget with his golden collar. He genuinely did not know where the sudden sense of anxiety was coming from. Everyone present in the temple - well, most of everyone present - was ecstatic for the ceremony to begin. The guests had been encouraged to intermingle with one another in their seating arrangements, though many ignored this. A clear line of separation had been set early on in the pews. On the left side of the temple, the Duke D'Aurrennes, Duke Hemroux, Duchess Renangers, Duchess Parseille, and Duke Garlennes were seated along with their retinue. The Duke D'Aurrennes was joined by his wife, five children, and three grandchildren as well as four attendants. The Duke Hemroux sat with his wife, three children and one attendant; the Duchess Parseille was joined by her four children and two attendants - it had been explained to the old prince that she lost her husband to battle with the Guilds ten years prior. The Duchess Renangers was flanked by her husband on her left and her lover on her right, between the two she had seven children - all of them having been legitimized - of which only one of each sire was present. The Duke Garlennes was strangely alone; in his time at the castle, Hein had been able to learn much about the nobility of the Desramaux Dynasty and knew that the Duke had suffered several tragedies, having lost two wives to disease and one in childbirth, with only two out of eight of his children having survived to adulthood. The Duke Garlennes was joined by two attendants only. Notably absent from the Desramaux side was their eastern most vassals - the Dukes of Pelaresse and Lebatou, the Duchess of Licon, and the Count of Jaquingnon. One member of the guests had decided to mingle, and that was the Count Guillesse, though he insisted he be called by his true name of Beauves Lefeuvre. The Leveuvres were the first noble house and nation that the Desramaux conquered so long ago; the once kings now ruled over a small patch of woodland and plains in the north that were too cold most of the year to do anything with.

Aside from Count Beauves Lefeuvre, the right side of the temple housed fewer guests, as most of their vassals had decided not to attend, mostly as a form of protest against the whole affair. The Duchess Heerzijl came alone, leaving her oldest child in charge of their lands in her absence. While Lars Van Niljveld II could not have been bothered to attend himself, he did, surprisingly, send a deligation in the form of his younger brother Elco and oldest nephew Stans, along with five attendants. The Duke Rodzijl was joined by his two daughters, having left his brother in his stead at home. The Duchess Mathieden made the long journey with her younger brother, Magnus, and left her four sons at home to look after their estates for the months she would be gone. Their other vassal in attendance, the Duke Alloopen, had been outspoken against the marriage from the very beginning, yet he was the only vassal who brought his entire family to the ceremony. Joining him in the pews was his younger brother and younger sister, their families, his three children and their families, as well as almost ten attendants. All in all, the Alloopen delegation was nearly thirty strong. The Duke had made the decision to leave their castle's steward in charge of their estates in their absence. It seems he came around afterall. Why else would the Duke bring so much of his family, if not to show his complete support?

Prince Hein still could not shake the feeling of anxiety that was growing within him. He could sense something was wrong, but not well enough to know what. There was simply a strong feeling of foreboding that weighed him down, slowly filling his lungs with dark green phlegm, an attack was coming on, he could tell. Where is Jolijn? The sooner they began the ceremony, the quicker this strange anxiety would subside and he would hopefully not be forced to leave halfway through to hurl his lungs up and only to then re-swallow them. The old prince turned to face his mother, the Duchess Zelderloo, who had been sitting with deafening silence as they awaited to the wedding to commence. Across the isle from them sat the rest of the Desramaux family. The king's uncles and cousins, all lined up, seated father beside son. It was strange, Hein could have sworn there were more of them. Prince Mathias and his son, Prince Mathias called Mathi. Prince Guillaume and his son Prince Renault. Three are not present. Prince Louis, Prince Thierry's son, as well as Prince Claude and his son Prince Jean-Claude.

"Mother." the aging duchess slowly turned to face her younger son.

"Yes, Hein?"

"Do you happen to know why not all members of the Desramaux family are in attendance?" the old prince watched as his mother rolled her eyes in a way imperceptible to most, but easily seen due to years of practice spotting it.

"No doubt for the same reason much of our kingdom's nobility does not attend." Satisfied with her own answer, the duchess turned back to face the alter, where the nervous king and overprepared priest awaited the arrival of the bride. Prince Hein felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was strange, but her words chilled him to the bone, his heart began to race as a sense of dread encircled him.

Finally, the doors to the temple swung open, as all in attendance swung their heads around to see the most beautiful of sights. Princess Jolijn, dressed by the divines themselves, a radiant white dress with golden roses and vines parading around her, slowly began making her way towards the aisle. By her side, marching just with great stoicism, eyes straight ahead with hands clasped behind his back, was King Jurrien II. There was a great deal of pride in the old king's eyes. Pride in what was about to happen, that all of his planning and forethought was about to pay off. There was also a sense of relief in his eyes. Perhaps that this was finally happening, or perhaps because of the great promises from this union. The pair processed up to the alter, in front of which, King Jurrien II spoke in hushed tones to King Phillipe before he turned to Jolijn, hugged her, and kissed her on the cheek. The old king then helped his daughter up the few steps before he made his way to the first pew to the left. The young couple smiled faintly at one another, the princess shifted the weight from foot to foot while the young king could not find a good place to rest his hands. How sweet. The priest raised their hands high.

"Geshana, Mother of the Gods, Blessed Goddess of Love, Fertility, and the Harvest. Send us down your Blessings, that this union be provided with the promises of Great Fertility, Abundant Love, and a Bountiful Harvest in all of their years together. Do this, we pray, not just for the young union, but for all of the people of their two lands, who will be together joined as one as well today. For, today is not only a beautiful union of two people, but also the momentous joining of two great and noble kingdoms, whose rulers are entrusted by its people to look after them, to ensure your yearly gifts are felt and received by all. May this union bring great bounty to all who inhabit this now empire." The priest then bowed their head, all others in the crowd slowly joined. Hein was quite surprised when he turned his head and saw his mother bowing her head as well. 

"I now ask all in attendance here today, be they god or man, speak now if there is valid reason this union be - " the priest found themselves trailing off, their eyes having met King Jurrien II's. "Valid reason this union be... Speak now if there is valid reason this union be unfit for you, Mother Geshana." After a very brief pause, the priest looked to the princess and young king.

"Princess Jolijn of House Biljvank, King Phillipe of House Desramaux. By the power of the gods and man, you are wed and your lands united as one. You may embrace as you see fit."

All in their pews held their breathes for a moment as the young newly weds looked deep into each others eyes. A moment of hesitation felt by both. King Phillipe then moved his hand to the Princess' cheek. Reaching up her hand to clutch his, the two once more looked into each other's before taking the plunge. The room cheered with rejoice as the young couple pressed their lips together, arms holding the other tightly. When they finally released one another, King Jurrien II stood up in front of the alter.

"With all the gods present this day, let us rejoice, let us celebrate!"

After eagerly following the energetic king to the grand dining hall, in which the reception was held, Princess Jolijn finally entered the grand celebration with her husband to great applause and the clinking of raised glasses. She could not help smiling. The king was an excellent kisser, something she had not expected but was very happy about. Hand in hand, the two made their way to their table, a long table placed at the back of the room, it had been set to seat ten, with Jolijn and Phillipe sitting in the center, with Prince Mathias, Mathi, Guillaume, and Renault seated to the right side of Phillipe and King Jurrien II, Prince Hein, Duchess Hekket, and Prince Thierry seated to the left side of Jolijn. Along the sides of the room were more long tables, each outfitted with places for all guests in attendance, this time forcing both sides to intermingle. The décor was an aggressive amount of black and gold table clothes, napkins, and drapes hanging from banisters. A large tabard hung over the front of the Royal Family's table show casing the united family's new crest. The left half was a black rose on a golden field, with the right half being a golden rose on a black field. Beneath this crest, stitched to as to wrap around the shield, were the words 'Prosperity and Loyalty.' These were to be their new house words, the words of House Desravank. Our new dynasty.

Servants brought around bottles upon bottles of wines, all different colors readily available to whomever should like it. The delicious scent of roasted quail, braised duck, delightfully seared boar, roasted yams, grilled onions and mushrooms, creamy sauces, rich cheeses, and fresh breads erupted from the kitchens as each table was filled to the brim with what must have been all of the food in the castle store house. All in attendance eagerly dug in, filling and refilling their goblets as they eagerly drank the liquid to help wash down their meals. Soon the hall was filled with the raucous sound of engaging conversations between vassals that now found themselves under one banner, suddenly needing to get to know their new neighbors intimately. Jolijn looked to her father, who had paused from his third duck to make eye contact with his daughter.

'How are you enjoying yourself, my child?' The princess allowed her mind to open up just enough to allow a dialogue between her and her father.

'I could not have asked for a better reception. Our vassals seem overjoyed.'

'Yes, as I expected to happen once the ceremony was done. They have come to terms with the union, and now eagerly seek to gain friends with their new peers.'

'What of those who are not in attendance?' The king scoured the room before returning with a scowl on his face. It quickly softened as a small grin overcame the wrinkles on his face.

'Pay no mind to that tonight. They will come to regret their arrogance, but tonight is for you. Eat, drink, dance. The affairs of state can wait until the morning.' At this, the old king turned his eyes to the young king, the two nodded, and Phillipe stood up, glass raised high.

"My friends and countrymen, for we are all fellow countrymen as of today, raise glasses with me!" the room fell silent, only for a brief moment though as the revelers quickly found and raised their glasses, some already clinking with those next to them. Jolijn noticed even Hekket had raised her glass, though her face was hardly that of excitement.

"Today marks a most momentous of occasions. The likes of which will affect our respective houses for generations to come! For so long, too long, our noble kingdoms stood alone. Side by side, and strong in their own respect, but quickly finding ourselves overrun from all sides by would be enemies and conquerors, eagerly eyeing our lands and our people. No longer! No longer will our alliance and friendship be only that of convenience. No longer will those who surround us see two smaller kingdoms, with limp hands shaking. Now we are wholly united. Now we are twice as strong, twice as imposing, and twice as rich. Raise your glasses, as brothers and sisters all of us. Raise your glasses with me, to our new union, to our new house, and to our new empire! To House Desravank, and the Desravank Empire!"

Whether it was merely the words from her new husbands rousing speech, the intoxicating food, the general drunkenness of the crowd, or all of the above, Princess Jolijn was surprised to find such a resounding cheer from the crowd of revelers. All nobles in attendance, including Duke Alloopen and his entire family, cheered with such enthusiasm that the chandeliers began to shake. After what felt like an eternity of clinking glasses and gulping drinks, the musicians made their way out and began playing for the wedding guests. Now, filled to the brim with food and continuing to stuff themselves with more food and drink, the honorable nobles of the land made their way to the center of the hall to dance. Seeing her cousin, Prince Hein, having vacated his seat to join her father in procuring croissants, Princess Jolijn took the opportunity to sit beside the Duchess Zelderloo. Once she was behind her great-aunt, Prince Thierry stood and bowed.

"My Queen." The old prince brought his head back up, his eyes fixated on hers. The Duchess maintained her expressionless face.

"Not quite, but I thank you all the same. For tonight, though, we are just family." Prince Thierry gave a small bow of his head and made his way over to the rest of the Desramaux Princes.

"May I sit beside you?" Hekket did not look to face her great-niece.

"You may." Princess Jolijn slowly took the seat, taking a small sip from her glass that she brought along with her.

"How dod you like the food, auntie?" Jolijn noticed the bare plate before the duchess, showing signs of once hosting a scrap of food.

"Duchess." Hekket's voice was as dry as her wine.

"Pardon?"

"Duchess, dearie. You are to be queen, empress I am told. I am afraid you are going to have to start utilizing proper titles from now on. I am the Duchess Zelderloo, your Highness." Her great-aunt took a small sip from her large glass. Just behind her stood Nils, a fresh bottle of amethyst in hand when the duchess demanded.

"Between family, we have always seen titles as superfluous." The princess found her words twisting in her mouth, a strange sense of unease as she attempted to diffuse the unnecessary tension.

"Are we family?" Hekket's words hit the princess like a brick wall.

"Of course we are. Would we not be?" Jolijn attempted to hide the offense she felt by her great-aunt's question.

"My children bare the name Biljvank, and their children bare the same and their children after them will also. You are a Desravank, and your children will not be a Biljvank. That is, of course, assuming I heard your new husband correctly just now. So, are we really still family, Princess?" Jolijn focused all of her might into not retaliating with her ziende, though she so wanted to dive into Hekket's thoughts. I wish to understand why you can be so wicked. But then she remembered Priest Volka's teachings, and her father's words for tonight.

"Yes, we are family. That does not change." The Duchess Zelderloo turned her eyes to the side, for the first time in their conversation directing them at Princess Jolijn, though her face still faced outwards. This was short lived, as she lifted her glass to her lips and returned her vision to the hall and all the dancing guests.

"I never thought you would be queen one day, at least not mine." The duchess sipped her glass and placed it back on the table. "You are sweet, Princess, but sweetness does not save you from this life, this world."

"I am not so small and sweet anymore, Duchess." Jolijn began to emulate her great-aunt's posture. The two women now faced out towards the hall, neither one looking at whom they spoke to. The Duchess gave a light chuckle.

"No, of course not. You say our familial relation will not disappear? Then let your great-aunt offer you some aged wisdom. Look around you, tell me what you see."

"Many things." Jolijn could hear her great-aunt roll her eyes.

"Who do you see?" Jolijn slowly scanned the room. By now, Hein and Jurrien had made their way back to the table and were conversing with the many Desramaux Princes and King Phillipe. Her eyes then turned back out to the hall, filled now with great joy as not a face was without a smile; every guest was happily dancing with one another, glasses being drained and refilled by the many servants in attendance.

"Two kings. Several princes. Some dukes."

"Ah. You always were the more adorable of my nephew's children. Yes, dear Princess, it is a veritable sausage fest, and being sweet with them will get you nowhere, lest you desire being a means to an end."

"What end would that be?"

"Children, lineage for your new house and husband. You have thoughts and things to say I am sure, but, remember this: when you open your mouth around them, make sure what comes out is direct and worth hearing or you might not like what goes in instead." Princess Jolijn turned to face her great-aunt, who had herself turned to face her great-niece. The two women locked eyes for a moment, each one attempting to share understanding with the other through no use of words.

"Consider that free wisdom from not just your great aunt, but your loyal vassal as well. Now, mull on that, my glass is empty and I do not see Nils anywhere." The Duchess rose, bowed, and took her leave. Jolijn, confused, looked around for the servant who had been behind Hekket all night, but he was no longer there. Princess Jolijn rose and returned to her seat, slowly finishing the pieces of boar she had in front of her, along with her sapphire wine.

The evening progressed much the same as it had since its inception. Revelers continued to drink and eat, dance, sing a little, and converse about both friendly and stately matters. King Phillipe approached his wife, hand extended.

"Queen Jolijn, may I have a dance with you?" Jolijn perked her head up slowly, her mind struggling to keep out the thoughts of others, while simultaneously swimming around with what Hekket had said. A smile came over her face when she recognized what Phillipe had said. Before she could respond, however, her father came over.

"I am afraid I must take the first dance from you, Phillipe. It is Biljvank tradition that a father dance with is daughter and a mother dance with her son. While I recognize you unfortunately cannot share in this tradition, I ask you humor an old man." Phillipe gave a wide smile and bowed to the old king.

"I will eagerly wait for our chance, then." Jolijn rose to her feet with her father's hand as the two made their way to the center of the hall. They seamlessly faded into the crowd of party goers.

'I was unaware of such a tradition, father.' Jolijn placed within her father's mind.

'I know. That is because there is none. But, you seemed troubled, and I let my fatherly impulses take over. Tomorrow Phillipe may take the responsibility of consoling you, but tonight I do so for possibly the last time.'

'Do not say that, I am sure you will have more times to be there for me.'

'While I have no doubt, I know Phillipe will do for you all that you need. So tell me, what has you so troubled on this joyous occasion?' Jolijn looked around the room, trying to find the Duchess Zelderloo, but could not.

'It is Hekket. She gave me some, strange advice, advice about knowing my place.'

'She is a cruel old woman, spiteful that she was never queen and that my uncle was crueler than her. Pay no mind to her and what she says tonight.' But Jolijn could not stop searching the crowd for her. She did not know what, but she felt a sudden sense of dread as the hairs on the back of her head stood up.

'What is it, my child?'

'I do not know, but something feels wrong. Something is not right, but I cannot tell.'

'Hmm. Open your mind, search the room, but only slightly, do not let yourself get overwhelmed.'

Princess Jolijn allowed her mind to relax ever so slightly, but that was all she needed to do for her ziende to open up. She winced, clenching her eyes shut as the pain subsided. Her eyes then met her father's, a focus point for the rest of her as her mind was allowed to search the room.

'By the gods, I cannot eat another, but these quails are so delicious.'

'Some of these male servants are delightfully good looking, perhaps I will take one home for dessert.'

'That Duke D'Aurrennes is far too presumptuous. Our place as Dukes of the realm will never change.'

Jolijn continued to scour the crowd, being met with thoughts of the evening, of possible events of the bedchambers later in the night, and the greater desires for more food and wine. Then she turned her attention to the servants.

'Duchess Heerzijl has fallen ill... again.'

'The Count Lefeuvre has peculiar taste in, everything.'

'The other's... the other's... Hein, must get him away...'

The Princess continued searching through the attendants. Most of them were gossiping amongst themselves about the less than savory actions of some of the nobility, but there were some that were notably silent. No thoughts, not talking with others, simply watching, almost as if they were waiting for something. She turned back to the nobility, and it was then she noticed some of them had gone missing, had left the party without saying anything.

'Some of the guests have left abruptly, and some of the servants are acting strangely. I sense a lot of anxiety from a handful of them.'

'Hmm. I will look into this. Go, dance with your husband. Do not worry anymore about this.'

King Jurrien II let his daughter hands go as he made his way towards a small grouping of servants near the entrance. Jolijn would not let this leave her mind, though, and she bolted to find her cousin. Prince Hein had returned to his seat at the long table and was enjoying another pastry, it was square with a jam circle pressed into the center of it.

"Hein, where is your mother?" Prince Hein looked up in great astonishment as the princess hastily asked the question.

"Jolijn. My mother? She, she left not so long ago. She asked me to leave with her also, but I was awaiting the next round of desserts. The pastries they make here are truly remarkable, I must try them all - "

"Did she leave with anyone?"

"What?" Some buttery delights fell out of the old prince's mouth as he responded mid bite.

"Did she leave with anyone, Hein?" The old prince attempted to speak through chewing.

"No, she - no wait. She did, she left with Prince Thierry. And Duke Alloopen's sister, Frida, and her family left in the same direction shortly after. Why?" Princess Jolijn opened her mouth to answer but quickly felt a sharp chill fall down her back. Making eye contact with her cousin, she could tell he felt the same thing. There was then a scream from the front of the room.

Princess Jolijn felt her face turn white, her hands began to sweat uncontrollably as she spun around to face the front double doors - they were closed. The band had stopped playing. Father. Jolijn searched the room, whose jovial guests were suddenly scrambling away, finding places to hide or to just see what was going on. Clear your mind. Clear your mind. Center. Center. Find the source. Find the - a cold hand gripped the princess' left wrist. Whipping herself around, she saw the stone face of Emma, a knife in her other hand.

"The King is under attack! Banners, to your King!" A shout came from across the room, the Duke Hemroux, along with the two of his sons and the Duke D'Aurrennes drew the swords from their scabbards as they leapt to King Phillipe. Another scream rang out. A man's voice. Emma pulled her hand back, the wind up. Steel clashed. More screaming, a young girl. The servant girl tried to push her hand forward, but it was frozen. Fear glazed over her face as she frantically eyed her dagger, stuck in place. She looked back up to face her target, sweat dripping down her face. The Princess Jolijn's eyes had lost their emerald irises, and instead were filled completely with a dark glow of amethyst. Emma attempted to run but found her feet stuck to the ground. She looked left, and then right. All around there was screaming. Duchess Heerzijl has been run through the stomach by a dagger. Where is he? The assailants have taken advantage of the chaos. The Duchess Renangers kneels beside the body of two older men, she wails inconsolably. The Duke Rodzijl stands before his two young daughters, a broken wine bottle outstretched as two assailants try to gut them all. He slits the throat of one as the other sticks their blade into his side. His oldest daughter hurls their goblet, sending the assailant stumbling back with a bruised head. A servant from earlier, Stephen, pulls a small crossbow from a hiding spot in the room and fires at King Phillipe. The Duke Hemroux side-steps and takes the bolt himself, collapsing into his middle-sons arms. Guards begin bashing at the door. The wood is splintering. The blood is pooling. Where is he? Larynwy has begun searching for him as well, having leapt from her table into the fray. Four assailants fell at her blade. The first had his back sliced open, the second her throat, the third lost both arms and was left to bleed out, as the fourth found the blade of a sword suddenly protruding from his back and out of his front. The Burroddoudo pauses to look for Jolijn. Go. The message reaches the warrior who simply nods, crouches, and rushes forward once again.

Emma tried to scream but her mouth was stuck shut. There was no part of her body which she could control anymore. Motionless, she listened to the battle in front of her. Then she felt it. Almost imperceptibly slow at first, her right arm was slowly turning upward. Able to move her eyes, the servant saw as her blade, once intended for the Princess Jolijn, was slowly beginning to turn upwards, point approaching her own side at an alarming rate. A muffled cry was all she was able to release from her vocal chords. Hoping, praying that any of her allies would see her, hear her. It was in vain. As slowly as it approaching, the blade made its way between her ribs, her eyes shooting open from the silent pain. Cold steel finally found its target, stopping for only a moment, enough time for her throat to attempt another scream. As the dagger pierced her own heart, just before she collapsed, Emma's mouth fell open and her shout came out.

They recognize her. Good. The assailants have turned to face their own. Emma's scream. The Duke D'Aurrennes slices the back of one and then runs another through the chest. The eldest daughter of the Duke Rodzijl landed a finishing blow to the back of the head of the one who will have caused her father's end. Blood fills what was the dance floor. King Phillipe has taken the Duke Hemroux's sword and has cut down three of their assailants. The doors shatter open as the guards flood the room, halberds at the ready. Where is he?

Princess Jolijn gasped for air, her lungs taking in and releasing as much breath as it can as quickly as it can. Prince Hein rushed over and help his cousin to her feet, his shirt showing dark green stains. The survivors began seeing to their wounded and dead family. Sons, daughters, husbands, wives. Duke Yves Hemramaux IV wiped blood from his mouth as his two younger sons helped him to his feet, his oldest stood in front of them, sword out stretched with the tip at the throat of one of their former attendants who was cowering on his back before them. Jolijn searched all around.

"Jolijn, come quick." The princess turned to see her new husband. King Phillipe was sitting by one of the long tables, blood soaked rags filled his hands. Beside him, was King Jurrien II, breathing, pale, with bandages wrapping around his blood covered side. Larynwy stood by, her sword in hand, ready to cut down any who would approach uninvited.

"Father!" The princess ran to her father's side. The old king grunted as he placed his hand into his daughter's.

"My child. You are safe?"

"One of them came for me, but - " she was not sure what had happened. She suddenly was not herself, no longer in control. At least, not in complete control. She remembered turning to see Emma, and then she could faintly direct what was happening, but the freezing of her would be assassin was not something she had done intentionally. "But, I was able to turn her knife on her. Then I ran to cover with Hein." The old prince looked up with confusion, but quickly fixed his appearance as he locked eyes with his cousin.

"Thank the gods you are alright. We will find who did this. We will bring them to justice." King Jurrien coughed as he turned his head to face Phillipe.

"We will bring them justice, you are right. But, I believe I know who was behind this. Prince Hein, do you know the location of your mother?" The old prince shuffled his feet before looking straight up to his two kings.

"I do not. She left before the attack. With Prince Thierry." King Phillipe's eyes were filled with flame as he looked up to Hein.

"There is little that can be done tonight. They are gone, no doubt they had horses waiting for them and have begun their journey east. Mathi." Prince Mathi emerged from behind them, he had been making his way around with the other Desramaux Princes to provide aid to the wounded and sympathy to the family members of victims. Guillaume was the only member to be wounded, having taken a wine bottle to the back of the head.

"Yes, cousin?"

"Send a patrol out immediately, perhaps we can catch the conspirators before they get too far along the Northern Road. Send them with the message to prepare all banners along the Northern Road for an eastern march. Tell them to pursue, but go no further than Renangers if they do not catch their prey. We must assume they did not act alone, and that their allies were preparing for the worst possible of outcomes." Mathi bowed and left swiftly, taking the eldest son of the Duke Hemroux and the Duchess Renangers with him.

"They will pay for this, and all of their co-conspirators." King Jurrien II gritted his teeth, speaking in a manner never before heard by his daughter. Such hatred, such merciless desire to bring harm down upon their foes.

'Death, for death. Cruelty, for betrayal. Blood, for blood.' Her father's thoughts echoed in her mind as they locked eyes, his expression only softening ever so faintly when they met hers. Four guards with a stretcher carried him off shortly after, Larynwy and Priest Volka followed close behind.

King Phillipe sat on his bed, body facing the moonlit windows while his eyes stared directly into his goblet. The clear liquid reflected a face scored with tears that had made their way down his cheek and onto the floor. He still wore his wedding attire, though he had allowed his jacket to be unbottoned. So many had died today, died for him. Yves Hemramaux IV, the Duke Hemroux, did not make it long into the night after the wounds he suffered, while Emilie LuRene, the Duchess Renangers, could be heard throughout the castle halls, her two sons from her now deceased husband and lover giving futile attempts to console their mother. Members of the Biljvank nobility debated who should send word to Duchess Heerzijl's son, Hendrik Heerma, informing him of his mother's death and his subsequent ascension to her seat of power. Arjen Ruuding II, the Duke Rodzijl, was still alive the last the king had heard, but his wounds were not getting any better. The Duke's two daughters, Krisje and Marlijn, had been by his side helping treat their father. The diamond wine cooled his throat, hoping it would also allow his mind to grow blank and his body to rest. There was then a knocking at the chamber door.

The king paused for a moment, eyes focused on the wooden frame. Placing his goblet down with his left hand, Phillipe picked up a dagger with his right. Slowly, ensuring not a single squeak came forth from the flooring, the young king approached the door. He hid the dagger behind his back with his right hand as he allowed the door to open a crack with his left. Nearly dropping the dagger in surprise, the king opened the door fully.

"Princess Jolijn." Jolijn had changed out of her wedding gown and was in a simple blue dress. In her arms was another article of clothing, stark white, but no signs of embroidering.

"I hope I have not woken you at such a late hour." The king blinked quickly for a moment before coming to his senses.

"Of course not. Please, come in. You will have to forgive my confusion, I had thought you would be by your father's side tonight." Phillipe closed the door behind the princess as she entered fully, he could tell she was thoroughly examining his living quarters. It had not occurred to him how messy they were, with books strewn about with some articles of clothing.

"I had thought to do so, but he encouraged I find a bed just before he closed his eyes to sleep."

"How is he?" Jolijn turned to face the king, her beautiful eyes filled him with warmth.

"King Jurrien is doing well, as well as one can be with a wound in their side. My father would not stop cursing the names of those responsible, demanding Larynwy bring him his sword and armor at once. She did not do so, of course. Priest Volka was able to sew his wound up and give him a sleeping remedy so that he might rest, the hope being the sutures would take overnight."

"I am glad to hear that. Your father possess a strong soul and an iron will." Jolijn gave a forced smile to the king, though her eyes never lost their heat.

"Yes, that he does." The two maintained eye contact for a moment longer, neither really sure what to say next. Should they discuss their next strategy in pursing his uncle and her great-aunt? Perhaps who else might have been involved with the plot. Phillipe was sure the Duke Pelariaux was involved, and feared Licon and Lebatou had also lent a hand, or at least a promise of support. Of the ten assailants, they had managed to take two of them alive. One was refusing to talk, but the other, a servant who came with the Biljvank party, what was his name again? It began with an N, or maybe an M... Whatever his name was, the king had been informed he was willing to talk, but only with the king. They would meet in the morning.

"We were married today." The princess' words suddenly smacked the king across the face with the might of a flanged mace. Eyes wide open, the king felt himself sputtering before finally mustering a response.

"Yes, umm, we were. I - yes."

"It is strange, is it not? A day that was supposed to be such a joyous occasion was replaced with one of tragedy and sorrow. So easy it is to forget the good beneath the evil."

"How right you are, Jolijn." The king looked at the princess, she was expecting something, but he did not know what.

"I will be forthwith with you, then. It is tradition that we would consummate our marriage tonight. However - however, with the events of the day, I would rather that we did not."

"Of course. The thought had not even crossed my mind to do so, there are much more pressing matters ahead of us."

"Yes. Though, we were still married today, and I would not like to be alone." Phillipe suddenly felt his tongue dry up as the moisture left his mouth and filled his palms. By the gods. They would begin sharing a bed, tonight? Of course tonight, what other night would it be? There should not be a sense of awkwardness, they were married. She is my wife and I her husband, this is perfectly normal. The king felt himself begin to bow but quickly stopped himself, lifting his body upright to face his Queen.

"From this day forth, these are our chambers. May I offer you some diamond wine? I was having some earlier with the hope that it would aid me in my sleep." Jolijn gave a genuine smile to the king, one that he could not help but mirror back.

"I will pass on the wine, but I will ask for your assistance in preparing myself for bed. I unfortunately do need help in removing this dress." Phillipe stumbled over to her, one hand on the other to keep them from shaking.

"Your dress? Yes, your dress, right. In the back? Ah, I see it. Like - yes, there... umm, there you are." The king slowly undid the line of small buttons up Jolijn's backside. Through quivering hands, he did his best not to struggle, while taking his time to admire the strength of her back.

"Should I turn around as you change fully, now?" Jolijn laughed at the king, her eyes now taking on a more playful tone.

"You may if you like, though you will see the way I look disrobed eventually." Contemplating the proper action in the moment, the king found he was too slow as Princess Jolijn slowly removed her dress. Now standing before him, shining brightly in the moonlight, was the most beautiful thing the king had ever seen. Her figure was svelte, but sturdy, with legs that Phillipe was certain could crush a man's head. While her breasts were not large, he could not help but cock his head to the side, basking in the glory of her naked form. Her hair, now in let out of their braids, cascaded down to just above her nipples, teasing them with each slight turn of her head.

"Shall I put on my sleeping gown now, or would you like to stare a little longer?" The princess said with a wide grin. Phillipe fixed the positioning of his head on his neck, forced his mouth clothed and forced a cough to clear his throat.

"My apologies, do you need assistance with putting that on?" Jolijn chuckled.

"I will manage." The sleeping gown slipped over the princess' head, delicately falling into place around her body. Phillipe could not help but notice the outline of her nipples from underneath the thin material. "Will you need any assistance in changing? Or does the king sleep fully clothed?" Adjusting his pants slightly, Phillipe let out a slight laugh.

"No, I umm. I am fortunate enough to not need attendants to help me change. However, seeing as I assisted you, I would be remiss not to ask in your aid also." His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he felt her touch his shoulders, encouraging him to let his jacket slide off and into her hands. She folded the clothing and placed it on a nearby chair before coming back to the king. Her hands were soft as they grabbed his ruffled shirt from the base and slowly pulled it up and over his head. As she returned again to help, the now shirtless king outstretched his arms to stop her.

"I am able to continue from here on my own." He could faintly hear a giggle from his queen as he removed his pants and undergarments. A sense of horror and embarrassment came over as he learned the source of her giggling. He quickly grabbed his sleeping trousers and pulled them on with haste.

"There is no need to be embarrassed, Phillipe. I think I would be quite offended had you shown no signs of arousal after seeing me naked." The king was able to give a small grin of appreciation to Jolijn's sentiment. What he really wanted to do next was ask what she thought of it, though he also felt the urge to escort her to the bed and make the marriage official. However, fueled by a sense of modesty and greater sense of respect to her previously stated wishes, he instead said: "You are beautiful." Appearing to not expect that response, the princess blushed and gave a bashful smile.

"Well, now that we are both descent, shall we get comfortable in bed?"

"I believe so. Take whichever side you desire, Queen Jolijn."

"I am afraid I am not queen yet, and hopefully not for a long while." Jolijn's demeanor shifted from hidden excitement to revealed sorrow as she made her way under the bed covers.

"I apologize. I did not mean... what I meant by that is - well, you are Queen of the Desramaux Dynasty."

"I understand. Please, let us discuss something else."

The two sovereigns lay beside each other, both on their backs, eyes straight up to the stone ceiling above them. It was a brisk night, but with the princess beside him, the king only felt the need to pull his covers up to his stomach, allowing his arms to sit on top of them. His head continued to swim with the events of the day, after the brief respite provided by Jolijn's joining him. A small movement was then felt, slowly crawling over the duvet until it reached his left hand. Tilting his head up slightly and peering over, Phillipe saw that the soft and warm object that had made its way into his clutches, was Jolijn's right hand. He let his head hit the pillow again, feeling suddenly warmer than he had already felt. An urge hit him then, not one of sexual desire, but of compassionate longing. Phillipe turned his head to its side so that he might take in the image of his wife, laying beside him basking in the moonlight. Sensing his eyes, she turned her head to face him and, despite the low visibility, he could see the shimmer of wet cheeks and weeping eyes. Pulling his right hand up and over, the full motion of which forced him onto his left side, King Phillipe brushed away the tears streaming down Princess Jolijn's face. So warm. So tender. Cupping her face in his hand, eyes captivated by her own, he pulled himself closer so that their lips might meet in a sweet embrace. For only a moment, time stood still. There had been no terror brought down upon their families earlier that day. Prince Thierry was not riding east, a traitor to his own House and Kingdom. King Jurrien II was well, practicing his sword fighting with one hand and eating a slice of pie with the other. The King and his Queen danced under radiant moonlight, golden attire reflecting back at their thousands of onlookers. And then they released. Eyes smiling back into the other's, the couple returned to their original positions; though now, the king hoped, they could find some peace with the aid of each other's presence. Peace, at least, for tonight.