Foreword:
A heartfelt thank you to everyone for your reviews and kind messages. Your support and feedback mean so much to me!
This is the six chapter of my series, Dorian the Everlasting. If you're new to the story, I highly recommend starting from Chapter 1 for the best experience.
I hope you enjoy this installment--happy reading!
Chapter 6 - A harem and a choice
I stepped into my study and found Duke Eimon of House De'Rollo awaiting me--a rare sight. As ruler of Nor'Fazen, a land whose name in the old tongue meant "The Northern Frost," he carried the weight of his people on his broad shoulders. Centuries ago, the northernmost parts of the continent were far colder than they were this day, though the winters still held their bitter bite.
On the day of my Bedding Feast, Nor'Fazen was a land of rugged prosperity. Its dense forests supplied lumber in abundance, its mines yielded copper and tin, and its hunters brought forth the finest animal pelts. Though it lacked the wealth of its northern neighbor, Kor'Haven, it remained a formidable duchy. Its people were as resilient as the frost itself--stout, unyielding, and fiercely loyal.
Yet, for all its resources and brave warriors, Nor'Fazen teetered on the edge of peril. The duchy bordered the Crown Lands' northernmost territory, a dangerous position should the Black Queen choose to march her forces north.
The realm was in turmoil, its lords and ladies walking a knife's edge. No duke of the outer regions dared openly oppose the Queen, but none pledged their banners either. Everyone knew she was unfit to rule, her crimes too grievous to ignore. And so, the Game of Houses churned--a delicate dance of alliances, troop movements, and whispered coalitions. The air was thick with tension, each lord waiting to see who would strike the first match to ignite the flames of rebellion.
And here stood Duke Eimon in my study, a man with much to lose and more still to gain.
Duke Eimon's move--his gamble, really--was to offer me his prized daughter as my first concubine, a bid to forge an alliance with me, a young and powerful lord. It was a bold gesture, one designed to secure my favor and, in turn, some form of support. Likely, he was angling for a defensive pact from the South, a buffer against the Crown Lands should they decide to march north.
The logic was sound. If the Queen faced threats on two fronts, Nor'Fazen's odds of survival would rise dramatically. Whether this was truly the Duke's aim, I could not say with certainty. But if I were in his position, it is precisely what I would have sought. The question had been, why offer Cladia as a concubine and not offer her in marriage? The information I possessed explained exactly why.
The Duke himself was a man of strength and steel, a leader who bore no trace of weakness. He was older, his thick beard threaded with golden rune beads in the Northern style, a symbol of his heritage and rank. Like most of his kin, he was tall and broad-shouldered, a towering presence in my study.
I greeted him with a bow and an apology. "Duke Eimon, I am terribly sorry for taking you away from the feast, but there is something I must discuss regarding your daughter, Cladia." My tone was earnest, my words deliberate.
The Duke's eyes narrowed, his suspicion plain. "Aye? An' what's this business about my lass then?" His voice was rough and thick with his Northern brogue, each word weighed down with weariness.
"She is your only unmarried daughter to have reached the age of majority," I began, laying out the facts plainly. "She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, highly accomplished, and born of the second wife of a powerful duke."
He grunted, his gaze sharp. "Aye, she's a fine lass, no doubt. Ye're fortunate to have her offered to yer empty harem, aye? She's nae some common wench."
Bowing my head slightly, I replied, "Please, Duke Eimon, I seek not to offend. I know why you offer her as a concubine. I know she is barren."
His eyebrows shot up before his expression shifted, his eyes growing watery. "Aye, barren she is. Elsewise, I'd ne'er offer her as a concubine--not even fer a lord as mighty as yerself."
I placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a gesture of sympathy. "I understand how you might feel. I, too, have a daughter and would weep dearly if she were robbed of that gift."
The Duke's jaw worked as he stared at me, his emotions warring beneath the surface. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. "Aye, I thank ye fer sayin' so. Ye'll nae take her, though, aye? That's why ye've called me here, to break this to me?"
I stepped away and poured us both a drink, the clink of glass against decanter filling the silence. "I have not made a decision yet. But I wanted to understand the nature of her affliction first. Could you tell me how you became aware of it?"
Eimon let out a low, weary groan and sank into a chair by the wall. "Ach, it's nae a tale I tell lightly, Lord Damion. She was only a wee bairn--eight winters, mayhap. We were ridin' the hills round the keep--Clads loved the horses, loved the freedom o' it. Then, outta nowhere, a bloody mountain lion spooked the lot of us. We went tumblin' hard, aye. By the gods, the beast was more scared than fierce, or it'd've been worse."
He paused, running a calloused hand through his beard. "Cladia, she fell hard--right on a jagged stump. Pierced her belly clean through. I thought she was dead, Lord Damion. Thought the gods took her there an' then. But the lass, she's strong. We rode for the surgeon as fast as the horses'd carry us, her blood paintin' me saddle red. When we got there, she was white as fresh snow. The gods spared her life, aye, but nae her womb."
He took the glass I handed him, the liquid trembling slightly in his grasp. "Every lord in the North heard the tale. Not a one came with a marriage offer. She's barren--she'll never bear a child. What use is a lass like that to a lord, eh? So aye, I had no choice. She's too fine to rot away unwed, but I'd nae see her thrown in with some harem's leftovers. If she was to be offered, she'd be first--a place o' honor. Not some common trinket fer a duke's amusement."
His voice cracked, and he took a long sip of his drink, his head bowing under the weight of his words.
"Duke Eimon," I said softly, drawing his gaze back to mine.
His eyes narrowed, his expression guarded as he braced for the rejection he clearly expected.
"I wish to ask for Cladia's hand in marriage, as my third wife," I said, with unwavering resolve.
His face twisted, first with confusion and then anger, and he rose abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone floor. "Are ye daft? Ye mock me, aye?"
I stood my ground. "I am perfectly serious, my lord. She is not a concubine; she is meant to be a wife. I propose a betrothal period of a week, during which I can get to know her. Unless there are unforeseen, irrevocable differences, I will marry her within a fortnight. Your family need not travel again. Is that fair?"
His anger softened, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why? She'll give ye no heirs. What kinda lord marries a barren lass?"
"I already have six children and will take five concubines by night's end. My legacy is secure. Beyond the honor of having your daughter by my side, I seek an alliance with the North..." I met his gaze directly, "...with you."
His eyes widened, realization dawning. "Aye, that's it, is it? Alliances. The realm's torn to shreds, the Queen's lost her wits, an' allies are what's needed most. Aye, I'll accept yer offer." He stepped forward and clasped my wrist in a firm grip. "My wives've spoken well o' ye, Lord Damion. Ye treat yer women with respect, an' fer that, I'll trust ye with my Clads. When war comes, ye'll have the strength o' House De'Rollo."
"To Cladia and our alliance!" I said, smiling.
