Chapter Text
Logan sighed for what had to have been the twentieth time in five minutes, Her Majesty’s letter still crumbled in his left fist, his other hand rubbed his temples in a soothing manner. The weight of the Queen's command bore down on his mind as he leaned further back in his chair. It was a heavy reminder of the duty he had been left to carry for his family and the territory. David has it so much easier… He thought, letting his mind drift toward his older brother and the life he had chosen as a merchant. David had left the moment he had come of age, working his way up the family’s southern port until he was their primary source of annual income. The elder walker son had proven himself a superior merchant lord. Though the monetary benefits were substantial, David’s real interest lay in the freedom from not being named heir.
Of course, his brother’s freedom came at the price of Logan’s. Someone had to be in charge of the estate, someone had to keep the marquisate safe and running smoothly. Logan glanced around his study, the walls lined with books and the portraits of his ancestors leading down to his late father, each one a silent witness to his turmoil. Another sigh escaped him. Twenty-one. But who was counting? The creak of the study door pulled his attention away for the moment. The family’s loyal butler, Paul, stepped in, offering a respectful nod in greeting. “Sire, I’ve had the maids arrange drinks for you and Lord Russ in the drawing room.”
“Thank you, Paul.” Logan replied in a low voice, rising from the overstuffed armchair. He straightened his coat and ran a hand through his hair to tame his locks. “And Paul? Have the maids freshen up a room in the west wing once more.”
A look of surprise crossed the older man's face before he schooled his face back into a neutral expression. “Are you expecting another guest this evening, milord?”
“So, it would seem,” he replied, with a glance back down at the Queen’s letter, Logan took a breath to compose himself. “It appears my bride will be arriving sooner than expected.”
“I see. Of course, milord, I will have the maids make up her highness’ quarters at once.” Paul replied, giving another nod before he left to attend to his duties.
After a moment, Logan stuffed the letter into his coat's inner pocket and made his way out of his study, leaving the judging eyes of his ancestors' portraits behind. As Logan meandered through Walker manor, he did everything in his power to quiet the racing thoughts that plagued him. A Wife. His wife. The thought left him staggering for a moment, his right hand pressed against the cool stone of the manor wall to steady himself. He could feel the heat traveling up his neck and over his face. Dammit. He was a decorated military officer, for God's sake. He had faced some of the worst scum imaginable. Yet, the idea of marriage left him reeling.
It wasn’t as though this was some stranger he was being betrothed to either, he reminded himself. Both he and his brother had interacted with the royals more than enough times growing up. He couldn’t quite place her highness, Princess Christiana, in his memory but he was sure he had been introduced to her at least once. Logan pushed himself away from the wall and continued down the corridor, his mind still racing.
~
Keegan held the brandy snifter aloft, admiring the fair coloring for only a moment, the amber liquid glinted in the light from the chandelier above. The chandelier, a grand fixture adorned with crystal droplets, cast a warm glow that illuminated the opulent drawing room. Dark wood paneling lined the walls, intricately carved with delicate patterns that spoke of luxury and refinement. Plush red velvet sofas and armchairs were arranged around a central wooden coffee table, creating an inviting space. Keegan swirled the Armagnac gently, inhaling the rich, complex aroma that promised a symphony of flavors.
With a decisive tilt, he downed the contents, feeling the liquor burn his throat in a pleasant, familiar way. The warmth spread through his chest, bringing with it a sense of comfort and nostalgia. As the rich flavors of the Armagnac lingered on his palate, Keegan closed his eyes, savoring the intricate notes of caramel, vanilla, and oak. The familiar burn was more than just a physical sensation; it was a ritual, a moment of solace in an otherwise tedious world. The moment of silent contentment was broken as the drawing room doors opened, revealing Logan's scowling face.
"Pour me one, will you?" Logan asked, making his way across the room and slumping down into one of the chaises. The weight of the day seemed to press down on him, and he rubbed his temples once again in an attempt to alleviate the building tension.
"Stressed?" Keegan chuckled, pouring another glass of liquor, a bit more than he had for himself. He sauntered towards his friend, extending the glass with a knowing smile. "You look like you've been through the wringer."
"One could say that" Logan grumbled, taking the glass and downing half the contents in one gulp. The burn of the liquor was a welcome distraction from the thoughts swirling in his mind. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a letter, handing it to Keegan. "This came last week."
Keegan huffed, setting his glass down on a side table, an intricately carved piece of dark wood that matched the rest of the room, next to the chaise Logan occupied.
As he scanned the contents, his eyes widened in disbelief. When he finished reading, he let out a bark of laughter. "You have been selected for marriage?"
Logan's scowl deepened as he nodded. "Apparently, the Queen thinks it's time for me to settle down. Some sort of royal decree to strengthen alliances or whatever."
Keegan shook his head, still chuckling. "I can't believe it. You, of all people, getting roped into a royal marriage. This is rich."
Logan groaned, rubbing his temples with his free hand. "Trust me, I'm not exactly elated about it. However, it seems like I don't have much of a choice."
The other Lord's amusement lingered, a lopsided smirk still playing on his face as he plucked his glass back up. "Are you going to go through with it?"
Logan's shoulders slumped as he leaned further back into the chaise with an exasperated exhale. "Do I have a choice? As if either of us could refuse Her Majesty's orders.”
“Fair enough.” Keegan agreed with a nod, taking a sip from his glass. “When is your bride expected?”
“If the Queen’s letter is correct, tonight.” Logan answered, taking a small sip from his glass.
Keegan raised an eyebrow, "Tonight? That's quite sudden."
"Everything else happened fast as well. I’m still getting used to running the marquisate, and now I’m being thrust into a royal marriage. And to top it all off, I’ve still got to prepare for the hunt.” Logan sighed once again, his gaze growing distant as he stared off at the fireplace. “Reports are claiming the creature's numbers are far worse than the previous years."
"We've faced worse in the war and come out on top.” Keegan replied, offering the letter back to Logan. Though the thought of leading their men into the wilderness, facing the unknown threats that lurked in the shadows, was daunting. Each year, the creatures seemed to grow more cunning, more dangerous. Still, Keegan was confident in their skills. “This year's hunt will be no different."
Logan managed a small, appreciative smile, taking the letter back from his friend. "You're right about that at least," he replied, remembering the close calls, the narrow escapes; the comrades they both had made and the ones they had lost along the way. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on each man's shoulders, knowing that the safety of their respective territories depended on their success. The memories of past hunts haunted them both, a constant reminder of the stakes involved.
"Of course, I am." Keegan retorted, his tone returned to his sarcastic default. “I'm always right. It's a burden, really.”
"Poor you," Logan chuckled in response, rolling his eyes as he took another sip from his glass. He knew Keegan was attempting to lighten the atmosphere, and for a moment, it worked. The tension in the room seemed to ease, replaced by the familiar camaraderie between them.
"Damn right, poor me. I not only have to suffer through another round of 'Let's Not Get Eaten by Monsters,' my favorite time of year,” Keegan scoffed in feigned offense, "but I also have to listen to you complain about securing a royal bride. Before me, no less."
Logan let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "You make it sound like I'm the one causing all the trouble here, Lord Russ."
"Well, someone’s to blame. Might as well be you, Lord Walker." Keegan shrugged; another chuckle left him.
Logan laughed as well, glad for the momentary distraction from his worries. "You know, sometimes I wonder how I ended up with a friend like you."
Keegan raised his empty glass in a mock toast. "Luck, my friend. Pure luck."
~
Christiana took a deep breath, savoring the crisp night air that carried the promise of a long winter. A chill ran up her spine as she opened her eyes, taking in the serene beauty of the gathering snow. The Northern landscape was breathtaking, with the ground and trees blanketed in a pristine, untouched layer of white. The only sign of human presence was the tracks left by the horseless carriage, weaving their way through the otherwise undisturbed snow. The moon cast a silvery glow over the landscape, making the snow glisten like a sea of jewels. The tall pines stood like silent sentinels, their branches heavy with the weight of the fresh snowfall. Christiana could hear the distant howl of a wolf, a reminder of the wild, untamed beauty of the North. The sound caused one side of her mouth to quirk upwards in a delighted smirk.
As she walked further into the clearing, the snow crunched softly beneath her boots. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself, seeking warmth against the biting cold. The air was filled with the crisp, clean scent of pine and the faintest hint of wood smoke from a distant hearth. The stillness of the night was both calming and invigorating, filling her with a sense of peace and renewal. She felt free for the first time in years, despite her impending nuptials. The challenges and worries of the day seemed to melt away in the face of such natural beauty. Christiana closed her eyes once more, allowing herself to be fully present in the moment, letting the tranquility of the scene wash over her.
"My lady! Please return to the carriage!" a worried voice called out to her in a half-shout, half-whisper, the urgency evident in its tone.
Christiana turned towards the source of the voice, seeing Thomas, her loyal guard, emerging from the shadows. His expression was a mix of anxiety and determination, his eyes scanning the area for any potential threats. He had been her exclusive guard since she was a child, often claiming the grey of his hair was caused by the princess and her antics.
"Please, my lady," Thomas implored, stepping closer. "It's not safe out here. We need to get you back to the carriage."
Christiana hesitated for a moment, taking in the serene beauty of the snow-covered landscape once more. The Northern night was tranquil, almost magical, but she knew Thomas was right. Reluctantly, she nodded and began to make her way back towards the carriage “Yes, alright…”
As they walked, Thomas remained vigilant, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his sword. The silence of the night was broken only by the soft crunch of their footsteps in the snow. Christiana couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment as she left the peaceful clearing behind.
"You should be more careful, my lady," Thomas said gently as they reached the carriage. "The night can be dangerous, especially in these parts."
"I'm aware, Thomas. While I appreciate your concern, I am hardly in any danger here," Christiana replied with an edge of irritation in her voice. "At any rate, I only needed a moment to breathe now that we've made it this far."
"I understand. But your safety is my priority. Please, try to stay close from now on." Thomas offered a sympathetic smile as he opened the carriage door for her.
Her maid, Rosetta, gave the princess a disapproving look as the young woman returned to the warmth of their carriage. "My lady," Rosetta interjected, "Thomas only means we can't be certain your mother's people are not still following us. So, we must remain vigilant until we have arrived at the manor."
Christiana sighed again, nodding her head as she slumped back in her seat. Her gaze drifted to the carriage window, letting the snowflakes dancing in the moonlight hold her attention. Thomas and Rosetta exchanged a look, a silent agreement passing between the pair. Without another word, Thomas gave a short bow and closed the carriage door before returning to the driver's compartment. He pulled a pale, glowing blue stone from his coat pocket and inserted it into the dashboard console. The middle-aged guard was still getting used to the new-age technology that resulted from the kingdom's pact with the mages of the eastern border following the end of the war. However, there was no denying that the magical, horseless carriages made long-distance travel much more manageable.
As the carriage began to move, the sound of its enchanted wheels crunching the snow underfoot filled the air. Inside, Christiana leaned back, her eyes fixed on the frosty landscape outside. The moonlight bathed everything in a silvery glow, casting long shadows on the snow-covered ground. She could see the distant outline of the manor they were heading to, peaking through the treetops like a hidden gem.
~
The enchanted carriage glided gracefully through the quaint, snow-laden town. Lanterns cast a warm, golden glow, illuminating the cobblestone streets that crisscrossed through the wintery wonderland. The tall pine trees, their branches heavy with snow, stood as silent guardians, creating a natural archway for the carriage to pass under. When the town's last house faded into the distance, the winding path led through a forest that seemed almost ethereal under the moonlight. The snow sparkled like a blanket of diamonds, and the crisp night air was filled with the scent of snow readying to fall.
Ahead, perched majestically on a hill, the grand manor came into view. Its spires reached toward the sky, the windows aglow with the welcoming light of a hundred candles. The manor's intricate stonework was adorned with delicate frost patterns, and its towering turrets pierced the night sky, casting long shadows on the snow-covered ground. The snow itself sparkled under the moonlight, creating a breathtaking scene that seemed almost otherworldly. Flanking the entrance were massive stone lions, their fierce expressions softened by the dusting of snow that clung to their manes. The grand hall's doors stood open, spilling golden light and warmth into the chilly night. Inside, the chandeliers glistened, their crystals catching and reflecting the light in a dazzling display.
The waiting staff stepped forward, their breath visible in the frosty air. Their silhouettes were framed by the golden light spilling out from the manor's grand hall, creating a scene reminiscent of a painting. The group stood with anticipation, their expressions a mix of curiosity and excitement as they awaited the arrival of the princess. The carriage came to a halt, and a footman quickly stepped forward to open the door. As the princess emerged, the staff bowed deeply, their eyes filled with a mixture of reverence and admiration.
An elderly butler stepped forward to greet Christiana, while a series of maids and under butlers moved around them in an almost choreographic display, their woolen cloaks fluttering as they collected the luggage stacked on the racks of the carriage. They moved with practiced precision, their actions synchronized and efficient, a testament to the meticulous training they had received. The soft rustle of fabric and the clinking of luggage provided a gentle backdrop to the otherwise silent night.
“Your Highness, I am Walker Manor’s head butler, Paul. It is a great honor to receive you, my lady,” Paul said, his voice steady and respectful. He offered a deep bow, his movements graceful despite his age.
The princess nodded graciously, her gaze taking in the grandeur of the manor and the warm reception she was receiving. “Thank you, Paul,” she replied, her voice carrying a regal grace. “The honor is mine.”
Paul straightened and gestured towards the entrance of the manor. “Please, Your Highness, allow me to escort you inside. We have prepared everything for your arrival.”
With a final glance at the sparkling snow-covered grounds, Christiana allowed Paul to lead her into the warmth of the grand hall. As they entered, the golden light of the chandeliers bathed them in a welcoming glow, and the scent of freshly baked bread filled the air. Inside the manor, the hustle and bustle of preparation were evident. Servants moved swiftly yet silently, ensuring every detail was perfect for the princess's stay. As Christiana walked through the grand hall, she felt a sense of belonging and anticipation. The staff's respectful bows and kind smiles made her feel truly welcomed, and she couldn't help but be impressed by the seamless coordination and dedication they displayed.
Paul led her to the grand staircase, its bannisters adorned with intricate carvings and garlands of evergreen. “Your chambers have been prepared in the west wing, Your Highness. I trust you will find them to your liking.”
Christiana smiled warmly, her eyes reflecting the soft glow of the chandelier above. “I am certain I will, Paul. Thank you for your attentiveness.”
The butler nodded, pleased with her response. “It is our pleasure to serve you, Your Highness. Should you require anything, please do not hesitate to ask.”
“There is one thing,” Christiana started hesitantly, her gaze drifting to the ornate staircase, “I can’t help but notice my fiancé did not come to greet me himself…”
Paul's expression remained composed, though a flicker of understanding crossed his eyes. “His Lordship, Lord Logan, has been occupied with urgent matters concerning the estate and the upcoming hunt. I assure you; he is eagerly anticipating your arrival.”
Christiana nodded, though her concern lingered. “I understand. It’s just that, given the circumstances, I thought he might...”
Paul offered a reassuring smile, his demeanor calm and collected. “Rest assured, Your Highness, Lord Logan will join you shortly. He has been most diligent in ensuring that every detail of your stay is perfect.”
As they ascended the grand staircase, Christiana took in the intricate carvings and the rich tapestry that adorned the walls. The air was filled with the ever-present faint scent of pine, mingled with the aroma of fresh flowers arranged in elegant vases along the corridor. The manor exuded an air of timeless elegance, a testament to its storied history and the care taken to maintain its grandeur.
They reached the top of the staircase, and Paul led her down a corridor lined with portraits of past generations. Each face seemed to watch over them, their eyes filled with the wisdom and experiences of ages past. The soft glow of wall sconces cast a warm light, creating an inviting ambiance.
Paul paused before a set of double doors, the polished wood gleaming under the light. “Here we are, Your Highness. Your chambers.” He opened the doors to reveal a spacious room, elegantly furnished with a four-poster bed draped in rich fabrics, a writing desk by the window, and a cozy seating area by the fireplace.
Christiana stepped inside, her eyes widening at the sight. “It’s beautiful, Paul. Thank you.”
Paul gave a respectful bow. “I am glad it meets your expectations, Your Highness. Should you require anything else, please do not hesitate to ring the bell by the door.”
Christiana nodded. “Thank you, Paul. You’ve been most kind.”
With a final bow, Paul took his leave, closing the doors behind him. Left alone in her chambers, Christiana took a deep breath, taking in the warmth and comfort of her surroundings. She walked over to the window, gazing out at the snow-covered landscape beyond. The moon cast a silver glow over the grounds, creating a serene and tranquil scene. The manor, with its timeless beauty and welcoming warmth, felt like a sanctuary. And though she had yet to meet her fiancé, she held onto the hope that their union would solidify the freedom she sought from her family.