The wedding night.
The thought struck Lyssia with a chilling clarity she could not believe she had neglected until now. Not out of fear for his intentions being cruel—of that she was strangely certain. Tirian was many things, but cruel to the innocent was not one of them. But, his inexperience with tenderness, might pose to be a problem. He was a mountain of a man. Orielle was delicate as flower.
How will he treat her? Gods, he might hurt her accidentally. Without intending to. Without even realizing.
Across from her, Mirra's mind spun in a different direction entirely, cheeks warming as mortification set in.
Is this something I should... explain? She's so innocent… and the king—gods, he's probably just as clueless. What if he frightens her half to death? What if he… oh heavens, what if they're both hopeless? Should I find them, some books? No, no—must stay positive. Of course nature will take its course... they will know what to do... right?...
Lyssia cleared her throat.
"My lady," she began, her voice gentle but undeniably tense, "do you… know what's required of you on the wedding night?"
Orielle paused, visibly flushing, but met Lyssia's gaze. Her answer was matter-of-fact, yet given with a fragile attempt at composure.
"Yes, I know about it. Of course I do... I lived on a farm—animals mate to reproduce, so of course humans do the same."
Lyssia and Mirra froze. Both try their best to keep their laughs in.
Farm knowledge.
Farm.
Mirra's thoughts trembled—half amusement, half horror.
She's trying so hard to seem calm. At least she seems to know something.
Lyssia leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. She explained gently, delicately, sparing Orielle embarrassment while ensuring she understood the tenderness required—and the vulnerability involved.
Orielle listened—and then her eyes widened and her cheeks went even more red, but she still tried her best to remain composed. Then finally her hand flew to her mouth as a nervous, squeaky laugh escaped.
"Ahh, ha, yes… seems very much like the animals on our… farm. Completely… norm… normal…" waving her hand as if trying to dismiss the thought further.
She shot to her feet, smoothing her stola with jerky hands.
"Perhaps I was wrong. I am hungry. Do you think I could have my food from this morning brought back to me?"
The maids broke. Laughter burst from them like a shaken bottle uncorked, relief washing over the room.
"We'll bring you something fresh, my lady," Mirra giggled, scampering out the door.
When the laughter faded, Lyssia's smile lingered softly—yet her thoughts were heavier than before.
She's adorable, our Orielle. I'm sure the king would grow to be gentle, or at least develop something towards her, even if it's just protectiveness. Everyone calls him a monster, but it's because he was shaped into a warrior. Gentle matters require another kind of strength—one he may lack entirely. Perhaps… I should speak to Sir Torvax about this...
The War Room
The war room—known only among a select few as the Council Chamber—lay hidden beneath the throne room itself. One would never suspect the simple stone tile concealing a trap door led to a place where countless battles had been planned, where kingdoms were won and nations threatened into stillness.
The air inside was thick with ink, leather, and the metallic tang of anticipation. Candles flickered against maps sprawled across a scarred oak table pitted by years of strategy. The walls held shadows like soldiers in waiting.
King Tirian stood at the center, broad shoulders casting a decisive silhouette. His black shirt hung loosely, unbuttoned at the collar. A crude sketch of Varakor's eastern outpost lay beneath his hand.
A scout knelt before him, head bowed.
"The outpost is as the prisoner described, my lord," the scout reported. "Fifty men, well-armed. Built into the crags; watchtowers on both sides. We caught a messenger, reinforcements expected by week's end."
Tirian's lips curved into a faint, hungry smile.
Perfect timing. We strike tonight. Before they bolster their numbers.
"Let's get this done before the rites and ceremony." His mind flicked through the plans.
"Good work," he said aloud. "Torvax, assemble twenty of our best. And leave three of the Elite commanders to watch the palace and the girl."
Torvax nodded. "Yes my lord."
SirKahiel, shifted beside him. His hand tightened on his sword.
"My lord… may I remain behind with the lady? Everything is still new to her. Bringing knights she's never met might cause unnecessary strife."
Tirian's eyes snapped toward him, irritation flaring at such sentiment.
"She'll be surrounded by knights she doesn't know throughout her entire stay here. What difference does it make to have a familiar face now?" His voice was a steel blade—sharp, controlled. "That's enough. Focus on the outpost. We can't lose one of our best for this ambush."
Kahiel bowed his head, swallowing hard. I'm sorry my lady, I would've liked to make your stay more comfortable...
Valek cleared his throat."My lord, with the wedding preparations underway, the priests insist the rites be precise. They require you to meet with Lady Orielle to discuss with her the de-."
Tirian waved a dismissive hand, only focused on the ambush ahead.
"Torvax will handle it. Tell her what she needs to know. I've got more important matters."
And with that, the king strode out.
Torvax watched him go, pity playing at his mind for Lady Orielle.
The Dining Hall.
The dining hall that evening was quiet, cavernous in its silence. The long table gleamed beneath soft firelight. Bronze platters held roasted pheasant glazed with honey wine, garum-brushed vegetables, warm olive bread, and a small dish of figs drizzled with spiced syrup—meals reminiscent of Bordhein's traditional customs.
Orielle entered with calm grace, her cream-and-silver stola falling in elegant folds. Her hair was braided intricately, threads of polished silver beads woven through her hair.
Her gaze swept the table. Empty.
A flicker of disappointment clouded her features before she masked it with her gentle smile.
Mirra, trailing behind, noticed instantly.
The king isn't here? Where could he be?
She darted a glance toward Lyssia—who had already sensed another troubling detail.
Why are there more knights tonight? Three Elite commanders no less… guarding her? Has something happened?
Before they could speculate aloud, a knight stepped forward.
"Lady Orielle," he said, bowing. "The king is away tonight and will return tomorrow evening. We are sent by his command. I am Sir Dante, and these are Dame Yida and Dame Peinn. Please, eat comfortably. We are here only to protect you."
Orielle nodded, serene as ever, though her fingers tightened faintly on the chair.
"I see, Thank you," she said softly. "What did the king... Ah, never mind. I'll just ask him tomorrow" Her smile formed warmly but her disappointment was hard to hide.
The servants exchanged glances full of quiet pity.
She hides it well, thought one maid. But dining alone… neglected already and they're not even wed yet?Though what can one expect from our king...
Another whispered under her breath while polishing a tray. The Cursed King leaves her without a word. Poor thing. She deserves better.
But Orielle delighted gently in her meal, praising flavors she'd never tasted in her village. For a time, she brought life back to the somber hall.
Later, after Orielle had her bath, Lyssia and Mirra were getting her ready for bed.
Mirra putting out the lamps spoke impishly."I wonder where the king went tonight? Perhaps preparing for the funeral?" She turned to face Orielle and Lyssia who was lighting a small scented candle.
Lyssia's carefully thought about her words before speaking. The king didn't prepare anything ceremonial. Fighting—yes, investigating threats—absolutely. Ceremonies? Never. He wasn't even preparing his own family's funerals...
"Perhaps an intrusion," she murmured. "The king is swift to extinguish danger."
Orielle eyes grew but before she could say anything Mirra sat on the bed excitedly.
Mirra grinning."Or maybe he's getting you a wedding gift, my lady!"
Orielle at first surprised but then she laughed."Oh, Mirra… he's far too busy for that."She carefully pulled the blanket up as she drew her legs in. "Lyssia... you said an intrusion could be the reason for his absence? Do you think he's doing something... dangerous?"
Lyssia and Mirra, cautious hope flickering between them.
She's curious about him, Lyssia mused. Even after all his bluntness. Has she ever loved before?
Mirra smirked proudly "The king is a warrior, even if he is dong something dangerous, he's not gotten this far without being good at protecting himself." Orielle nodded her head in understanding.
"My lady," Lyssia asked gently. "Have you been in many relationships before?"
Orielle blinked, startled. "No! My village was more like family. It would have been strange to… feel that way about anyone there."
Lyssia frowned. "But what about them feeling that way for you?" I can't imagine she went her whole life without at least one boy falling head over heels for her beauty?
Orielle dismissed the idea with a shy laugh."Of course not. We grew up together. There were only friends."
Lyssia was far from convinced but let it rest. "Then the king will be your first love?"
Orielle's eyes widened and her cheeks flushed "Fir-First?! Ah I ... well I wouldn't say... Love..? love? no, love seems to soon! I don't... don't even know him..." She covered her face trying her best to hide her redness.
Lyssia laughed quietly to herself and pulled on Mirra's dress to follow her. "Of course my lady... It's only been a day, I completely understand."
Orielle nodded "yes, exactly... it's only been a day..." Lyssia and Mirra smile to themselves then bow. "Sleep well, my lady," she said softly as they made their way out the door.
Orielle made herself comfortable in the blankets.
"Good night, Lyssia. Good night, Mirra. Thank you for today!"
As the door shut behind them, in the quiet darkness, Orielle smiled softly to herself.
"Father said he loved Mother at first glance…" she whispered to herself. "Hehe… I wonder... I might feel something… at least a little. But not love… not yet. Though he is handsome… yes, quite handsome."
She giggled softly, curling underneath her blankets, and closed her eyes, with only warm thoughts of her possible future.