Realistic or Modern The Moss and the Stones

[NickNacks]

The winters were ever present in the moors of Scotland, and the year following the liberation of Bryalshire was no exception. It was as though the country herself were in mourning over the blood that had been spilled on the cobblestone steps mere months ago. The skies were grey overhead, and a fine mist of rain dampened everything from moss to clothes.

The Whitestone statue of the late King William seemed to be staring at Duncan as he took a knee in front of it. Behind him, the voice of his messenger sounded again. "The carriage has arrived, sire."

The straight-backed oak chair which awaited him was not so grandiose as his throne, for which he was grateful, but it would still be rather uncomfortable. He was sure a fire had been lit in the main hall, which would make the air feel warm and heavy. The eyes of the statue followed Duncan as he reached for his walking-stick, hoisted himself up to his feet, and turned to face the archway with a somewhat weary expression. A slight, lilting accent painted his words when he spoke.

"Lead on, then."

He knew little of the woman who was to be his wife, other than her name and that she was reportedly fair. Neither of these things seemed to be of relative importance to Duncan, who tended to be studious in every aspect when he could afford to be. As for him, the young monarch could only guess at what she had been told. Hopefully there had not been some illustrious portrait of a courageous war hero who had marched blazing footprints over the English countryside back to his home of Scotland, lopping of the head of the traitor who had seized his birthright. Such tales had been spun already, and had spread faster than Duncan was able to correct them.

He had barely fought in the reclamation of Bryalshire. His cousin and aunt Lennox had died for him, along with countless others.

Standing near the table, which was already in the process of being set with wine and stew to nourish Lady Aspen and her chaperones, Duncan did not feel he looked the part of anything splendid. There were visible shadows beneath his eyes, and he appeared somewhat pale, a fact that wasn't helped by his dark green garments. He walked with the support of a small cane, which his advisor Sinclair had demanded he carry for fear he take ill again. But, beyond mere physical appearance, there was something vaguely haunted about King Brychan's face, something deeply unsettled, as though he were still visited by some restless spirit in the dead of night.

Duncan swallowed, drew himself as straight as he could, and awaited the arrival of his guests.

 

[Hati]

Aspen Westbrook hated her father telling her what to do. So when he told her she would be wed, the ensuing fight they had had sent the servants scurrying for cover. But in the end, as with most fights that she had with her father concluded, she had little choice but to reluctantly agree. Even if she was marrying the King of Scotland, she valued marriages for romance like the ones she read about in her books. But that seemed impossible now.

Her father was in the middle of a lecture about behaving when the carriage slowed to a stop. As if she would embarrass herself in front of the King. She had more common sense than that. Besides, she barely knew anything about her husband-to-be, other than what was already common knowledge. Even the townspeople on the outskirts of the kingdom knew of his reclamation of the crown. But Aspen had never met him. She had only been to Bryalshire once when she was a child, and she hardly remembered the visit.

The carriage door opened. Her father, Marquess Hector Westbrook stepped out, and then turned and extended a hand to her. She took it, hiking up her dress as she climbed out. One of her maids, Felicia, offered her cover from the fine mist raining down on them, but she declined. It was just a little rain, after all. She didn't miss the look her father gave her, but she ignored that. He wouldn't dare make a scene in front of the castle, and she didn't plan to either.

It was her wedding day, after all.

One of the servants from the castle beckoned them towards the doors. "This way," he said. As Felicia and her other attendants unloaded the carriage, Aspen followed her father into the castle. There was a slight frown as she stared up at it. Framed against the grey sky, the place looked almost melancholy. She could hardly blame it, with all the tumult from the past year.

Her father nudged her as the doors opened, and she pasted a polite smile on her face as they entered. The long table in the great hall was already set as they arrived, and Marquess Hector bowed deeply. "King Duncan," he greeted. Following his lead, Aspen sank into a curtsy. She couldn't help but glance up, taking in the sight of her future husband.

He certainly didn't look like the war hero the stories painted him as, but then again, she hadn't quite believed them anyway. She flicked her gaze back down, lest she be seen as improper after barely setting foot in the castle. Even if she didn't agree with the whole arranged marriage, she was determined to make it the least miserable as possible for both parties.

 

[NickNacks]

He could hear the faint crackling of the fireplace as he stood rather awkwardly in the main hall. On a second thought, he had carefully leaned his walking stick against the chair, as he didn't want his newfound fiancé thinking he was some sort of cripple. Sinclair had suggested he wear his crown, but he firmly refused-the thing was heavy for one thing, and for another, the image of it being pulled off the Tyrant Caelan's decapitated head was still fresh and harrowing in his mind.

Moments passed, and his anxiety began to rise a tad. He had tried to rehearse what he was going to say to the girl and her father, but the words weren't coming to mind. And beyond that, he thought, why was it that he was entertaining marriage to begin with? He'd only managed to retain his kingship mere months ago, and scarcely made it day to day. Taking care of a wife, as well as any future children? The thought alone was enough to make him swallow nervously.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but as the day Westbrook entered, Duncan thought that it was a stroke of luck. His father had been nearly three times his mother's senior when they had wed, and the mental image of being married to someone who was practically a child made Duncan extremely uncomfortable. Thankfully, though, she looked to be about his age. He attempted to hold her gaze when she glanced at him, but the idea of being studied made him look quickly away.

On sheer instinct, Duncan steps into the role of the distinguished monarch, brushing aside his own misgivings. "Marquess." he says, his voice a quiet tenor as he extends one hand for the man to kiss his signet in the traditional sign of fealty. Hector has not spared so much of a glance to his daughter, something that does not go unnoticed by Duncan. Undeterred, he continues.

"I trust your journey here wasn't too rain soaked," he begins, adding a touch of humor to smooth over any anxieties his guests might be feeling. "As well as I trust that the dowry has made its' way into your treasury by now." They had sent the gift over some weeks ago-small in comparison to most other dowry, but Duncan's own status was incentive enough.

But, try as he might, he continued to glance back to the girl standing just beside her father.

 

[Hati]

Hector straightened just enough to take Duncan's hand and kiss his signet, then stood up to face his future son-in-law. Beside him, Aspen stood, but kept her gaze respectfully downward. The definition of a well-raised noble. That had been something her father had drilled into her head during the carriage ride: to let him do most of the talking, and to be as well-behaved and respectful as possible. This marriage was important to her future and the future of the country. Aspen had bit back a retort that he should marry the king instead. With the way he was acting, that was basically how it felt. But instead she just placed her hands in her lap and smiled as her father nodded approvingly. Now, she stood next to her father, remembering the various lessons she had been taught, both as a child and when the engagement had been announced.

If it had been anyone else, she might have protested. Argued. But standing in the presence of the King of Scotland, she did her best to act as her father wished. A small voice in the back of her head told her that if she acted out, her father would take her back to their estate and she would never have another taste of freedom.

Hector laughed lightly. "The journey here was pleasant. And yes, it is safely in our estate. Thank you." As her father spoke, Aspen allowed her gaze to wander up to her betrothed. When her gaze met his her eyes widened and she quickly looked back down.

It didn't escape Hector's notice, and he shot her a warning glance before turning back to the king, once again all smiles and politeness. "Allow me to formally introduce my daughter, Lady Aspen Westbrook."

Finally she looked up, forcing a smile back on her face. She bowed her head lightly before speaking. "It is nice to meet you," she said softly, glancing out of the corner of her eyes. Her father gave the slightest nod. This was something else they had rehearsed in the carriage. "And it is my pleasure to be your future wife." She held herself properly as she had been taught, voice soft, like a lady's should be. Not quite looking him in the eyes, but looking up. A smile on her face. Gaze steady, not wandering. All things her father had made her do, so she wouldn't "ruin this opportunity for us all".

What her father wanted, he inevitably got. And if he wanted her to act the part of a picture perfect noble, then that was what she had to be.

 

[NickNacks]

It didn't surprise Duncan that Aspen was keeping her demeanor carefully shielded from him, at least in this situation. that was part of how the game was played, of course. Unfortunately, Duncan was not as skilled in the art of lying as he had once been-his temporary exile had gotten him used to living as more or less an ordinary person, with no one stopping him on the street or really paying him much attention at all. Despite the situation, Duncan had appreciated that aspect. However, within the span of a week, he was thrust back into that world of status and pretense, and was still having difficulty finding his footing. That was showcased here-his glance flickered almost uncertainly from the Lady Aspen to the elder Westbrook, as though attempting to find some joke that he was missing. Part of him wondered-or perhaps suspected-that the girl didn't want to be here in the slightest, even if she was claiming otherwise.

Duncan decided quickly that he wasn't sure if he liked Hector Westbrook. Their particular family had stood as loyal hassles for dozens of years-there was no question of that-but the events preceding his coronation had made Duncan somewhat suspicious of everyone equally.

When his attention was called to Lady Westbrook, Duncan inclined his head in a slow nod of recognition, even as she seemed to abjectly refuse to look at his face. Did she find him that unsightly, or was this more of a question of status? He offered a small smile, hoping to put her more at ease-as best he could, anyway, considering the situation.

"The pleasure is mine, Lady Westbrook, I can assure you of that." Truth be told, he was lying through his teeth as well-this girl could be a dignified nightmare for all he knew of her. "I know the situation occurred, um..." He paused a moment, glancing to Sinclair. The red-haired man was already narrowing his eyes at Duncan in disapproval-he was one of the few who were willing to openly contradict the young king. "...Quickly. And I appreciate you dignifying us with a response so fast. I hope you'll be comfortable here."

 

[Hati]

Aspen gave Duncan a polite smile, finally allowing herself to look up at Duncan. As angry as she had been about the whole marriage, she knew that most likely he had as little a choice in the matter as she did. She had her suspicions about why a wedding had been arranged so quickly. She was well aware of the circumstances surrounding him ascending to the throne. The only thing she couldn't quite figure out was why it had been her. There was no question about why her father had accepted. He had much to gain regarding status if his daughter married the king, and she did as well. She just didn't want it nearly as much as her father. Really, she hardly wanted it at all.

But her voice betrayed almost none of that, as she was fully aware of her father standing right next to her. "I'm incredibly humbled to be chosen, Your Majesty," she replied, though the exact opposite was true. While part of her was thrilled at the prospect of being seen as a good candidate for the king's wife, it was limiting enough being a noble. She could hardly imagine what it would be like to be queen consort. "And yes, I'm sure I will be. Thank you." At least that part wasn't a complete lie. Despite its dreary outward appearance and history, the castle was indeed luxurious.

Her father, at least, seemed pleased with her answers. "Yes, our family is incredibly grateful that you deemed us suitable," he said. He placed a hand on Aspen's shoulder, smiling fondly down at her. "We're very proud of her."

Aspen couldn't help the scoff that escaped her mouth. Most of her life had been filled with her father telling her on no uncertain terms that he wished he had a different, better behaved daughter. One suitable of being a noble. The pleasant look on her father's face disappeared as his gaze shifted to her. His smile was more forced. and she recognized the look in his eyes. It was the same one he had worn during their fight after he told her she was engaged. Momentarily forgetting herself, Aspen glared right back.

A smug look crossed her face when he looked away first. As she predicted, he wouldn't start anything in front of the king. Their shouting matches were legendary back at their home, but if the same occurred in the castle it would be a complete disgrace. "As we were saying," her father said, "we thank you again for this opportunity." She almost rolled her eyes, but had the sense to hold back. Once again, she settled into the role of a proper noble lady, as she should be.

 

[NickNacks]

It was a curious thought, as to why she had been selected rather than a more strategic option, but Duncan had understood the aim behind the selection soon after he had heard it. Under Caelan's forced rule, Scotland had been more than fractured, brother often pitted against brother as suspicion and paranoia clouded the so-called monarchs judgement. By selected someone from his own country, Duncan was effectively making a promise-to shelter and protect the rest of the country just as he would his wife. He'd think it poetic if he wasn't the one having to make such a claim.

Duncan couldn't help the small flicker of frustration that became evident when Aspen spoke again-she was still keeping up pretenses. Though Duncan could readily understand why, he was also sick of having to keep up that guise, and the idea that he may even be forced to wear a mask around the person who apparently would be with him the rest of her natural life was tiring. His eyes snapped back up to Hector when he spoke, ready to discuss his reasoning-as well as just a hint of flattery. "Your family's dedication to the crown hasn't gone unnoticed, Thanesman. We'd heard of your efforts against the tyrants in my...Er, absence."

For a moment, guilt and shame clogged his chest like mud.

"And my appreciation can't go overstated."

He let that linger as Hector quickly insisted that he couldn't be more proud of his daughter-only for Aspen herself to give a somewhat unexpected reaction. Duncan raised an eyebrow curiously at the subtle shift in dynamic. He might've guessed that all was not harmonious between father and child, but the fact that she had gone so far as to make it obvious...She'd incur Hector's wrath for certain. Eager to dismiss the occurrence, Duncan spoke again.

"You must be tired and in want of refreshement. Please, be seated and enjoy some food in my absence. If you could stand a bit more of my company, Lady Aspen, I'd like to show you around some of the main areas of the place." His eyes sparked with a wicked sort of humor even as his tone remained diplomatic and even. Once the two exited the main hall, however, his demeanor changed. His shoulder slumped a little, and a quiet sigh left his mouth, one hand going back to run through his hair.

"So," He said at length, "Not particularly likable, is he?"

 

[Hati]

Hector Westbrook may have been many things, infuriating included, in Aspen's opinion, but he was not disloyal. In that, she reluctantly respected him. The few times he discussed politics with her, he had said that if there was a chance to true king would regain the crown, he would wait and fight for it. It had certainly paid off in the end. He had been able to marry his daughter off to the king.

The fact that Duncan suggested taking her on a tour of the castle and leaving her father behind was almost enough to make her marry him then and there. She didn't miss the look in his eyes, and it made a genuine smile cross her face. "Behave," her father hissed in her ear before he turned to take a seat with the maids that had accompanied them. Aspen was all too glad to follow Duncan.

Similarly to him, once they were out of the main hall, she dropped her facade. She laughed a little at his words. Not the quiet, controlled tittering expected of a noble like her, but a true laugh. "No," she said, "he's not." As she spoke, she ripped out several hair clips, letting some of her hair fall free from where her maids had pulled it back that morning. They had brushed it back too tightly and it was making her head hurt.

"Surprising, he actually wasn't that bad. Usually it's worse." She didn't elaborate on how it could be worse, and didn't particularly want to. No doubt there would be further scolding when they went back and he saw her hair. At that point, she didn't care. She was tired of pretending.

"Your Majesty," she started carefully, "this whole arrangement..." She trailed off, not quite sure how to approach the topic. He didn't seem too happy about the whole thing either. But she was also aware calling it off would not be an option, especially since the country was so fragile. "Are you... quite sure I'm the one you want?" On the surface, it sounded a shallow question, especially because they both knew Duncan had had little choice in the matter. But she didn't mean it like that. She was educated in political matters, and knew the country's recent history too well. But all things considered, she had little confidence in herself as a ruler. Her father himself, in some of his more heated moments, had accused her of barely being able to run the estate when he eventually passed. He had said she was too concerned with her "silly little plants and foolish games" to be fit to be in charge of anything. Even if Duncan was the one who would do the majority of the decision making, she was still expected to be an adviser towards him.

She feared that if they had been too hasty in their decision to choose her, she would be unable to live up to the expectations placed on her. Aspen didn't want to be responsible for an already fractured country being divided further. Even she wasn't sure if her fears were due to her own doubts about the marriage, or if it was a result of the years of her father telling her she was never good enough. Perhaps it was both.

 

[NickNacks]

The change in her demeanor as soon as they were out of earshot of the hall was almost palpable. It was as though she became a different person, seeming to settle into herself with each step they took. For that, at least, Duncan was appreciative. In fact, had anyone asked his opinion, he would've likely asked her to come alone a few weeks prior, so as to get a better idea of the kind of person she was.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment as she unceremoniously took her hair down, even as the two of them spoke. He'd wondered a few times if some of the hairstyles women wore were often uncomfortable, and this seemed to prove him right. Her laugh, too, echoed a little in the space, louder than he expected, but also a bit more refreshing. It made him feel a little more at ease.

The short corridor where the two of them were walking was far less ornate than the main hall, though still paneled with oak. There were spears and shields lining the walls, the large antlers of some great elk hanging above the archway of the corridor like some cold warning. The whole thing was so empty-feeling to Duncan, who had grown accustomed to a smaller estate with his father, filled with Dom's loud shouts and the quiet gossip of servants.

His expression shifted to a quiet observation, and this time there was no real reservation as Duncan turned to look at Aspen for a moment. Worse, she'd said. He'd been somewhat lucky when it came to his father. Though absent-minded, William had been a good humored and overall kind man, when he wanted to be. Still, the heavy weight of expectation was something Duncan understood very well. "Sometimes fathers can end up seeing...More of our faults than we'd like," He replied. It might be best to just leave it at that.

He paused in his steps when she dressed him directly, turning to stand facing her. The question wasn't one he would've expected. Her distinct opposition of her father, as well as her quick removal of her hair clips had lead Duncan to think she wasn't very concerned with how other people thought of her. but this particular inquiry suggested otherwise. He looked down to his boots for a moment in thought. "...If truth's to be told, Lady Westbrook," he stated after a beat of silence, "I can't really say. I was as rushed into this as you were, and even as we stand here, I couldn't so much as guess what your favorite color is, much less anything else. But, all that said, I'd trust you more then...Say, some French monarch looking to swoop in and gather up the territories. That's the main reason." Feeling as though he'd phrased himself a little awkwardly, Duncan reached up, absently scratching the nape of his neck.

"By that I mean, uh...That made it sound like you were a last resort, didn't it? That's not what I meant to say." A small grimace came over the young king's face. "I only meant that...Well, I consider myself a kind person. Maybe a little cowardly, and a little quiet, but I can promise to be a good friend to you, at least."

 

[Hati]

Being away from her father made Aspen bolder. Their steps echoed throughout the hallway as they walked, and she looked around, noting the various decorations. They make it seem more like a display than a home. It seems lonely, and she can only imagine how it must feel for Duncan.

And more often than not, her gaze is trained on him. She only nodded at what he said about fathers, because she knew it was true and she was perfectly content to leave it at that. She had the suspicion that he understood, if only a little.

She stopped when he did, finally looking at him properly. Her precursory glance when she had first seen him was still accurate. He looked tired, shoulders slumped like the weight of the world was his burden. The weight of a country was, at least. It made her sad. He was so young, still. She was too. But there they were, bound together in an arrangement neither of them had chosen.

His answer to her question wasn't exactly what she had been looking for, but she understood it all the same. At least he was willing to be friends. She could manage that. After all, he was the person she was going to marry. "Friends, then. I mean, it's the least we can do, right?" She smiled, genuinely, not one of polite interest that she had been taught. Maybe things could work out after all. "And please, just call me Aspen. When it's only us, at least." She could almost hear her father's disapproval. It was like checking off a list, seeing how many things she could do to anger him. How many more until he finally exploded? As much as she sometimes enjoyed pushing his buttons, she didn't want to deal with the aftermath of her father's temper during her wedding.

Besides, she always associated the name Lady Westbrook to her mother. Her mother had died in childbirth, and sometimes that made her wonder if that was why her father seemed to resent her. But there was a sort of disconnect when she thought about her mother, because Aspen had never met her. She had heard stories from other people who exclusively called her mother Lady Westbrook, and so the name seemed to belong to her more than it did to Aspen. Titles were titles, though if it was just her and Duncan, she wanted him to call her by her name. It seemed more intimate that way. Less distant.

"By the way, my favorite color is red," she said. "Like in the fall, when the leaves change. Everything is so bright and colorful that time of year, and it's so nice to walk through the gardens and-" she cut herself off with an embarrassed smile, realizing she was rambling. "Sorry," she said, looking away, mask half back on even without being under her father's watchful gaze. "I get carried away sometimes."

 

[NickNacks]

Duncan had not been raised with the expectation of marriage as any kind of romantic affair. Love, King William had said, was much like an hours d'ouvre-it was pleasant to start out with, but not at all necessary. The act of marriage was more along the lines of a political arrangement than a bold gesture of fealty.

He hadn't asked William if he'd loved his mother-she had been dead long before Duncan wondered about such things. But he liked to think they had, at least a little bit. At least for a while.

His expression softened when she told him to call her Aspen-he wasn't on a first name basis with anyone outside his own court, and the gesture was a promising one. "Only if you'll call me Duncan," He replied with a small smile. He'd been known as Prince Duncan for the greater part of his life anyway, and the flurry of titles was often only another reminder of all that was expected of him, and of the absence of his father. It would be much easier to get along with his wife if they dropped the formalities.

He stopped and watched her for a moment as she began to describe the particular shade of red she liked the best. A lot of the times the first thing which came to mind was a dark crimson, like a rose or something similar, but the way Aspen spoke made him think more of a brighter shade, hints of orange and brown folded in the creases. "...I'll have to remember that," he remarked thoughtfully. "I always liked spring, myself, but there's something reassuring about how all the leaves change colors. Perhaps later I could show you the gardens, after supper."

Hopefully that wouldn't set off her father or his advisors too much-he knew it would likely send the servants into a flurry of gossip, but then, they gossiped about anything. Last Duncan had heard, he was apparently on death's door with the red fever-interesting, seeing as he felt perfectly fine. "We're in the corridor that leads up to the stairs at the moment," Duncan said, remembering that he was technically supposed to be showing her where everything was. "If you like instruments, there's a music room just there. My father tried to have me learn the fiddle, but I was never any good at it. Dom's-..."

He swallowed.

"Dom was better at that sort of thing."

With that, he continued on to the staircase.

 

[Hati]

Aspen had feared the worst when she had heard about her engagement, but she was beginning to realize she had been luckier than expected. Not just because of her betrothed's status either. She had hoped she would have been able to marry the one she loved, but knowing her father that never was going to matter. Best to just try to make the best of it. By being friends, at least, it seemed a start.

And her and Duncan seemed to agree on that. She smiled. "It's a deal," she declared, knowing she was lucky indeed. Not that she had heard anything bad about King Duncan, of course. But she had not known what to expect when she arrived at Bryalshire. He could have been anything, anyone for all she knew.

Her face lit up when he mentioned the gardens. "Oh, that would be wonderful," she said. She loved the gardens back at home dearly, and she could only imagine how magnificent the ones here would be. Her father wouldn't approve, of course. He'd say something about her getting her dress dirty and that it wasn't proper running around in the mud like some commoner. She didn't care. Not where she was, away from him and Duncan's advisers and finally feeling like she could breathe, if only a little.

Though she fell silent, again, when she heard his voice. Prince Dominic, another loss in the tragic story that had unfolded during the last year. Aspen would never understand what it was like, to have a sibling and then to lose them. She wouldn't understand what it was like losing everything like Duncan had. But her heart ached for him. He looked so alone as he ascended up the stairs, so she picked up her skirts so she wouldn't trip and hurried after him.

When she caught up to him, she opened her mouth, then closed it. She felt like she should say something, but wasn't sure what. They walked in silence for a few moments before she found her voice. "Duncan," she said quietly, alternating between looking at him and looking at the top of the steps. "I just wanted to say that..." She paused, trying to find the words. "That whatever happens, I'll be right next to you. I may not know how exactly to run a kingdom," a small, self-deprecating laugh escaped her, "but I'll be with you, always."

That was what wives were for, anyway. But her words seemed a deeper promise than that. They may have been forced together, but she was determined to do her best to support him in whatever way she could.

 

[NickNacks]

The loss of his brother seemed like a half-forgotten nightmare that had once seemed horrifically real, but now struck him as strange and muddled and impossible. Duncan waited near the top of the stairs for Aspen to catch up, his hand tight on the railing. Loss was a frequent thing in the world-people died all the time, of sickness or old age or violence. But it was always supposed to happen to someone else, so that when it crept towards you in the night, you were as ill prepared as a child.

His chest tightened and he swallowed hard, jaw clenching for a moment. He'd already spend several days in bed just the previous week, due to what his physician referred to cryptically as ill-humors. He didn't want to start his marriage off by falling ill again. Duncan drew a deep breath and turned back to greet Aspen with a fleeting smile.

He hadn't spent very much time in the gardens recently, on account of the weather, but the wistfulness in Aspen's voice when he'd mentioned them made him determine to allot some time for it. Not much grew in the moors aside from grasses and heather, but his mother had gotten imports of English roses and French lavender, so that the one spot in the courtyard was shot through with colors like stained glass. "If you don't mind the rain, we'll have to see it," he replied.

The rest of the tour progressed in awkward, tilting sentences on Duncan's part. Here was the room where she wold be sleeping before their ceremony, after which they would be sharing a room. There was the study, which was free for her to use. Here was the library, a large room filled with books of all kinds. Duncan was half certain he would be fine for the rest of the tour, even avoiding the stretch of hall which would've lead them to the family portraits, when Aspen suddenly spoke.

He turned to regard her with a neutral expression, only to have it falter when she elaborated. It seemed a very solemn thing to promise to someone you had just met that day, but the sheer sincerity in her face made him avoid her eyes. Had he been that obviously distressed? Lost for words, Duncan simply gave a nod, and his voice was remarkable;y quiet when he spoke again. "...You'll find the dining room where you left it, Lady-...Aspen. I'll join you in a few moments."

It would likely come across as guarded and mistrustful, to dismiss her so quickly, but Duncan could think of no other alternative. There were things too heavy to discuss with this bright-eyed girl he'd only just met.

 

[Hati]

Aspen listened quietly as he showed her the different rooms, occasionally nodding. In her mind, she noted the location of the room she would be staying in before they were properly wedded. The castle was larger than she was used to, and new to her, and it wouldn't do if she were to get lost. She paused outside the library, marveling at such a large collection of books. But she didn't stay long, hurrying after Duncan.

Her words seemed to catch him off guard, and for a moment, she briefly wondered if perhaps she shouldn't have said anything at all. It became clear that was the case when he simply dismissed her, and unable to help herself, her face fell. "I'll see you then," was all she said, giving him a shallow curtsy before turning away. All she had to do was retrace their steps to find the dining room again. The entire time she was going over what she had said in her mind, wishing she had just kept her mouth shut.

Maybe her father did have a point, after all.

When she re-entered the main hall, her father looked up. His eyes glanced to her side, where Duncan was not, and then moved to her, where her hair was down and tangled from where she had been running her hands through it. He abruptly stood up as she approached the table. "Aspen, a word?" he asked stiffly, disapproval etched in his features. It was phrased as a question but she knew she had little choice.

He lead her halfway down an empty hallway, a different one from the one she had just came from. "What did you do?" he hissed, not wanting to be overheard as he gestured at her hair. "Are you trying to stain our reputation?"

"It was hurting my head." Her voice was flat. Truthfully, she wasn't entirely focused on their conversation. Mostly she was thinking of how Duncan wouldn't meet her gaze, and then had told her to leave.

Unfortunately, her father seemed to notice. "Look at me," he ordered. When she didn't, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at his face. "This is your one chance to prove yourself, and I will not have you throw it away." Aspen's eyes widened. Her father had lost his temper before, but not quite like this: in the past, he had raged, all red-hot anger and fury. But now he was cold and collected. His voice was steady, but the threat underneath it was clear. "You will act as someone of your status should. You will do as you're told and you will not embarrass me or our name. And if I find out that you have disobeyed me in any way..." He let the rest of his sentence dangle in the air, and for once Aspen was afraid of what he would do. For once, she was afraid of him.

Ice coursed through her veins. "Yes, father," she whispered. Satisfied, he let her go.

"I'll have Felicia fix your hair. Don't disappoint me." With that, he left her, returning to the table with the rest of their servants. Aspen took several moments to collect herself, finding that her heart was pounding in her chest and her breathing rapid. When she emerged form the hallway, her back was straight, head held high. Like the perfect noble.

 

[NickNacks]

A long, slow exhale left him as Aspen turned and disappeared back down the hall, his entire stature deflating. Duncan hadn't missed the way her face had fallen after he'd excused himself. Why was it that he was so loathe to respond to any sort of kindness or sympathy that was offered to him? Maybe part of it was just being reminded of the events themselves. Guilt made him reluctant to even return to the dinner, and for a single selfish moment, Duncan wondered if he should fight illness to avoid going down. Of course, just after the thought crossed his mind, he felt disgusted with himself.

He buried his face in his hands, elbows leaning on the railing which overlooked the staircase. His palms felt cold against his cheeks, and the momentary darkness was soothing as he gathered himself up. His own personal feelings didn't matter. The country didn't care how he was doing, and it was not Aspen's responsibility to care for him, even as she'd seemed willing to do so. He wondered, bitterly, what his father might've done, before remembering that his father would've likely already been gripped by lunacy at this stage in his life.

Little was he aware, his companion was having a similar moment just downstairs.

Duncan began to make his way back down into the dining hall just a few minutes or so later, and his thoughts turned from self-deprecation to alarm as he caught the distinct hissing of a man's voice. His steps slowed and quieted , and he retreated to the far wall in order to remain out of sight.

'You will act as someone of your status should. And if I find out you have disobeyed me in any way...'

Duncan's eyes widened in shock. There was no mistaking Hector's voice, he'd been hearing the man speak at meetings and public matters since he was young. And there would only be one person who he'd be confident enough to dress that way. What was it he'd said to Aspen just minutes ago? Fathers had a way of seeing more of someone's faults than they would've liked?

Distress made his hand tighten into a fist. What a poor choice of words that had been.

For a moment which seemed to last years, Duncan remained further down the hall, after the two of them re-entered the dining area. He could've intervenes, and quite easily. he was King, there was no one who could possibly reject his authority here. If he emerged and commanded Hector to leave immediately, he would be within full rights to do so.

But he hadn't. He'd hid and waited, just as he had after his father was killed.

It was a moment longer before Duncan re-emerged into the dining hall, waving a hand to indicate that no one should rise from their chair in his honor. He avoided looking at Aspen, knowing it would be painful to see her expression, whatever it was, but he felt he was addressing her directly when he next spoke.

"I'm very sorry to keep you all waiting. I'm still recovering from a bout of illness, and am slow of movement sometimes. Please, help yourselves to as much as you'd like."

 

[Hati]

Felicia had been quick to fix Aspen's hair. Even as she painfully pulled it back and twisted it up, pinning it in place, Aspen said nothing. Once Felicia had finished, she took her place in a seat next to her father. He glanced over at her, nodding slightly in approval. She almost didn't dare look at him out of fear.

Hector had never been a particularly loving father, and they had had many arguments and screaming matches throughout the years, but it was never anything like this. She had never felt truly threatened by him, and it scared her. But perhaps what frightened her most of all were the implications in his threat. His words repeated in her mind dozens of times. "If I find out that you have disobeyed me in any way..." It implied he had connections in the castle, or perhaps he was planning on leaving Felicia or another servant with her permanently. Someone who could keep an eye on her and report any missteps of hers back to him.

If that were true, it meant she would never truly be free from his influence.

Aspen barely looked up when Duncan re-entered. Ever since she sat at the table, she had kept her head down. The woman who laughed and pulled clips from her hair was gone, tucked neatly away inside herself. Now, she only stared dully down at her plate. She picked at her food, her appetite having vanished after her father's talk with her.

"It is no problem at all, Your Majesty," Hector said. Aspen stayed silent, once again the perfect daughter he expected her to be. It was jarring how quickly her father could change his attitude, from cold and calculating in one moment to polite and respectful the next.

Not like she had much to say to Duncan anyway. Their previous interaction weighed on her mind almost as strongly as her father, and she did not want to make the same mistake again. Especially not with her father present.

Part of Aspen just wanted to run away, to escape it all. But that was a hopeless wish. Her father would never let that happen, and the repercussions if she was caught would be severe. Already he was furious with her for just taking her hair down, she was afraid of how he would react if she did anything more.

Her hands were shaking. In an attempt to calm herself down, she reached for her cup of water. Instead of picking it up, however, she knocked it over. The quiet conversation between her family's servants stopped. Hector slowly turned his head to look down at her. All she could do was stare, mortified.

 

[NickNacks]

The chatter over dinner seemed to be muffled, and even as Duncan appeared attentive and offered appropriate responses, he could scarcely recall what the topic was, exactly-it seemed to dance between wedding preparations and the trade status. Both were important things, but neither interested Duncan very much-besides, he had other things on his mind.

On top of that, every time he glanced towards Hector or heard him speak, a chill went through him as he vividly recalled the conversation he'd overheard. He had no plans to mention it to Aspen, as it undoubtably wouldn't be something she wanted to revisit, but the knowledge weighed heavily on his mind. She was totally silent as the food was served, and barely even touched her plate, a far cry from the young lady who'd told him about how much she liked the color red. And she had a right to be frightened-Hector was an influential man, and unc=fortunately, the castle could be something of a political playground.

He'd have to look after her somehow.

A dull thud drew Duncan's attention. Truthfully, he barely registered the spilled glass-that sort of thing happened more often than you'd think with such narrow tables-but the look on Hector's face was what really stood out. Without so much as thinking, Duncan promptly reached over and, in one subtle movement, knocked his wine-glass onto the stone floor.

There was a loud tinkling noise as shards of glass exploded against the ground, a few scattering several feet away. He was quick to chuckle when the attention was drawn back to him. "Ah-It's a bad day to be drinking, I suppose," he commented. "My apologies." Hopefully, Duncan thought to himself as a nearby maidservant promptly knelt to begin sweeping up the glass, the tension was broken, and Aspen would be more or less safe-and this way, she didn't have to feel like he was pitying her.

He definitely needed to get out of his own head-wallowing served no purpose. "So, Lady Westbrook," Duncan began, "I think the rain will lighten up a bit this evening, if you'd like to see the gardens after supper. My mother was very fond of it when she was alive."

 

[Hati]

Aspen didn't dare move, hardly breathing. She could feel her father's gaze on her, but before he had a chance to say anything, a glass shattered against the floor. Both her and her father looked at Duncan, and she let out a quiet breath. Her father shot her a warning glance, but seemed to let the incident go.

Conversation around the table picked back up, and her father resumed talking, though he kept a careful eye on her. It had been a close call. She immensely grateful towards Duncan, though she couldn't figure out if he had done it on purpose or not, though she had her suspicions. Her father, at least, did not. Forcing herself to keep her hands steady, she looked back down at her mostly full plate. The last thing she needed was to drop her fork or something equally as embarrassing.

Only when Duncan directly addressed her did she finally look up, her face carefully neutral. "That would be lovely, Your Majesty," she said softly. Beside her, her father frowned, but didn't object. As much as he disapproved of her tending to the garden on their estate, he wouldn't turn down such an invitation from the king. Though she could already imagine what he would say before she left with Duncan. He would tell her not to get her dress dirty and though the words were simple they would obviously reference his threat from earlier. And for once, she would be inclined to obey.

Dinner began winding down and servants cleared the plates away, including hers that she had hardly eaten from. Hector glanced at Duncan before leaning close to her. "I expect you'll remember our agreement," he said. To anyone who may have overheard, the words were innocent enough, but Aspen stilled.

"Of course, father," she responded, almost automatically. He nodded, before turning to answer one of Duncan's adviser's questions about the wedding. Meanwhile she sat there, hands clasped in her lap, wondering if she would ever be able to escape him.

 

[NickNacks]

Duncan was not a quick-tempered young man by any means. He was very methodical where most things were considered, almost always thinking carefully about each word before he spoke. But, seeing how Hector addressed Aspen made his blood boil-it was, plain and simply, not fair. Even if there was nothing he could directly do about it at the moment.

The rest of the dinner, to Duncan's relief, passed smoothly. The wedding ceremony would be in a weeks time, in order to allocate travel for a few of the other monarchs and nobles most of whom Duncan couldn't even name due to there being so many. By the time the dessert pudding was brought forward, the knots in his stomach had eased enough for him to breathe more easily, and he offered Aspen a tiny smile when she looked his way. If she really didn't want to spend more time with him, she didn't have to, but he figured it was as good as an excuse as any to remove her from the vigilant, judgmental eye of Hector.

Eventually, conversation dwindled. Duncan had the Westbrook's things transported to their respective rooms, to await usage. Evening had fallen by the time Duncan rose from his seat, giving Aspen a small jerk of his head to signify that she ought to accompany him out. Crickets were alive with song as the two stepped out of the hall. A few of the lanterns had been lit in the courtyard, casting a dull orange flame on the cobblestone ground. And, everywhere the eye could see would be met by plants-heather and lilac, the soft scent of jasmine imported from the orient, and the scent of rich, damp soil underneath everything like a weighted blanket.

"I don't remember my mother all that much," Duncan said after a lengthy pause, "But I always remember the most when I'm here. When she wasn't praying, she was gardening. Wouldn't even let the servants touch it." He breathed deeply, closing his eyes in appreciation for a moment before turning to Aspen.

"....Aspen, please accept my apologies for dismissing you the way I did. It was a bit...Well, a bit careless. I didn't mean to upset you."

 

[Hati]

She tried to pay attention to the conversations around her, because they were probably important, but her mind was elsewhere. It was almost a relief when Duncan stood, and she went to follow him. Her father gave her a look as she turned to leave, and she nodded stiffly. Without a word she followed Duncan out of the main hall.

The night air was chilly, and she suppressed a shiver when they exited the castle. Her hand reached up for one of the hair clips, but she stopped, glancing behind her fearfully. While no one had followed them out, Hector's warning had stuck in her mind, and it would be a long time before she would be able to forget it. Perhaps she never would. Her hand dropped back to her side. Even out of her father's sight, she didn't drop her act as she had previously.

The gardens were breathtaking. The familiarity of the environment eased her nerves, but only a little. She listened quietly as he spoke about his mother, and it was obvious he had cared very much for her. Then he turned towards her, and she pasted a smile on her face, speaking for the first time since dinner. "It's fine," she started, then paused briefly, "King Duncan." Despite their earlier deal to address each other with just their first names, her father had rattled her. It was easy to see he had gotten into her head.

"It's beautiful out here," she said quietly. Duncan's mother had put a lot of love into the gardens, and she could imagine just how much time she would spend out there. Then she winced. If her father found out... He hardly liked it when she was in the gardens at home, she didn't know what he would think about her being in the gardens after she was married. When they had exited the castle, she had pulled her skirts up so the hem didn't drag on the ground, and even standing there she was careful not to get them dirty. And each pin in her hair was in place, a direct contrast to how she had been when he gave her the tour of his home. In the soft light from the lamps, she just looked sad.

 

[NickNacks]

"Just Duncan," he reminded her quietly. He wasn't sure what else to say. The encounter with her father had left her a somber and sad figure, standing in the lamplight like a lost soul. Duncan wished, not for the first time, that he were better with words. Even Sinclair, with his fiery temper, was eloquent enough to rouse anyone up about nearly anything. His aunt Lennox was the same way, even if her eccentricities made her unlikeable to most. But he was sickly and often overthought, and it was difficult to determine what would make Aspen feel better. Her hair had been fixed, though Duncan couldn't help but think he'd preferred it when it was down.

Even her expression seemed withdrawn and resigned, like a carved mask of ivory. For a moment, Duncan looked at her and tried to guess at what she was thinking-perhaps she was thinking ahead to married life with terror and resentment. Perhaps her thoughts still choked with her father's threats. "....You won't have to stand him forever," The monarch said at last, his arms folding over his chest. "Just until we're wed. After that, you don't have to see him again if you'd rather not."

Being King did have certain advantaged-the ability to decide when and where and how often you saw people was one of them. He had a few individuals whom he preferred to avoid, and with the change in status, Aspen would have that ability, too-even with her own flesh and blood, it it was what she preferred.

 

[Hati]

It was almost strange, how quickly her perceptions of the marriage could change. When her father first told her about it, she had thought of it as just as limiting, if not more, as her life at the estate. But as she thought about it more, she wondered if it was what she needed to be free of him. She still didn't like the idea, but she very much enjoyed not having to live every day with Hector breathing down her neck.

"Yeah," she said dully, "that's what I thought too." His words still echoed in her head, as if reminding her that it had been foolish to even think she could be rid of him. Which servant would be the one to report back to him? Duncan could easily have them sent back to the estate, but that would just make her father even more suspicious. No matter which way Aspen thought of it, she would lose. It was possible she could have him banned from Bryalshire entirely, but somehow that seemed almost too extreme. Not to mention if there was one thing she knew about her father, it was that he was relentless. He'd find another way.

She finally looked up at Duncan, giving him a slight smile that didn't reach the hollow look in her eyes. "It'll be fine. I'll be fine," she said to him, though mostly she was trying to reassure herself. And if I find out...

Aspen tried to push her father's warning out of her head. Though the threat still hung over her, it was, for the most part, what she was used to. She had more important things to worry about, such as the actual ceremony. But if she was being honest with herself, she didn't enjoy the thought of having to deal with her father every day leading up to it, knowing how carefully he would be watching her.

 

[NickNacks]

She looked back at him, finally, with a smile that fell just short of her eyes. Duncan looked at her, quietly perplexed. This was something he had no real common ground with her on, but his empathy was as strong as ever. Women, he knew, had far more restrictions placed upon them-that came from the believe that God had meant for a certain role they ought to perform. But it was taken to extremes more often than not, and the results could be defeating.

"....Aspen." Moved rather suddenly, Duncan reached out, lightly grasping her hand in both of his. "It...." He swallowed, gaze flitting downward to his boots. for a moment or to, the crickets were the only noise in the area, along with the distant chatter of servants. He tried again. "Sometimes..." That didn't feel right either. He squeezed her hand absently. At last, his eyes met hers, steady and firm. "This sort of thing is...Well, do you remember what you said to me before dinner? Something about staying beside me regardless of what happened, or would happen? That sort of thing...Well, it goes both ways, doesn't it?"

"And by that I mean to say..." For someone who was so often eloquent in formal settings, he seemed to be woefully inept during private ones. "...Is that I don't want you to think you'll be treated that way by me."

"I know we don't know each other well," Duncan continued. "But...I suppose I want to know as much about you as I can. Why you like red so much, what you think about things...I don't want you to be scared to talk to me. I think that's the long and short of it." It was then, of course, that Duncan realized he'd been holding her hand for far longer than was probably considered proper prior to marriage, and he quickly released it, face flushing. "That's all I mean by that."

 

[Hati]

When Duncan took her hand, Aspen looked up, startled. But she didn't pull away. She waited for him to gather his thoughts, holding her breath without realizing it. In the quiet garden, at that moment it seemed like the world was just the two of them.

Her eyes widened at his words, and even after he finished speaking and let go of her hand, she stared at him. After a moment she collected herself, a slow smile spreading across her face. Not a forced one, and the woman from earlier seemed to be peeking out from behind her mask. She didn't doubt his words, as he seemed just as sincere as she had been when she spoke to him. Perhaps, she thought to herself, it had not been a mistake to speak at all.

"Thank you, Duncan," she whispered, and was surprised to find her eyes welling up with tears. She blinked them away, not wanting him to think he had upset her again-it was the exact opposite. While she was still unsure about their marriage, she was beginning to realize that she had gotten very lucky indeed. It was entirely possible she could have been forced to marry someone who would end up being as controlling as her father.

"I think," she said after a slight pause, "that we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other soon." And she grinned, thinking that perhaps this marriage would work out after all. "Together. We can... we can figure it out together," she murmured, dropping her gaze from his face. With a slight jolt, she realized just how much she meant it. She wanted the marriage to work out between her and Duncan. While it had largely to do with the fact that if it didn't work they'd both live the rest of their married lives miserable, there was something more, too.

 

[NickNacks]

The small smile on her face made him feel luges better, but that relief soon turned to slight panic after Duncan realized that she was nearly beginning to cry. "Ah-Don't be upset! It's alright..." His hands hovered in midair, unsure of where exactly he ought to place them.

Still, it didn't seem to be tears of despair or anything similar-she seemed to just be a little overwhelmed. While that was preferable to the alternative, Duncan still wasn't sure what to do or say in response. At least she wasn't being stiff and closed off as she had been when they'd first left the hall. He nodded once to her thanks, not missing the fact that she called him 'Duncan' rather than any lofty titles. "Of course," he replied with a small, shy smile.

She was right. They'd sort it out together-over time, more than likely. Neither of them were very well versed in regards to anything marital, and Duncan still wondered how exactly he ought to be acting around her. For a moment, Duncan averted his gaze upward to the sky-it was still partially cloudy, but a few pinpricks of starlight were visible even so. "Perhaps I should show you to your chamber," Duncan commented. "I'm afraid we'll be the subject of horrible scandal if we stay out too much longer."