Marianne Newhook stood within the crowd of noble dignitaries beneath the walls of the inner fortress of Castle Greyrook, capital of the Kingdom of Gandora. She wore a simple but elegant blue sleeveless dress that was trimmed and encrusted with golden squares that wrapped around her shoulders, and the modest neckline. It was a garment that befit her station and wealth, but there was nobody here she meant to impress. She'd only found herself in this crowd, awaiting a victorious army, at the behest of her older sister. Farelia Newhook was five years Marianne's senior, and had been wed last year to the boring and severe Lord Clement Braughtley. But Marianne always considered Farelia to be a guiding element in her life. So when Marianne wrote to her older sister about her tribulations catching her man abed with a serving girl, she insisted she had to join her in Gandora City as her handmaiden.
And so, the brunette from far-off Ralmeere had joined Farelia and taken up residence in the expansive courts and apartments of Castle Greyrook. Over the past several weeks, she'd ingrained herself in Farelia's circle of friends, especially the girls that were of an age with the twenty year old Marianne. Namely, mischievous Nyrene Pryce, who never met a boy she didn't like. And of course, there was the brash and honest Sharra Darly, the charming redhead from the far-off Bonecoast who wanted nothing more than to ensure the best of lives for her friends in the city.
Marianne hadn't yet decided if her sister had been right. Certainly, a change of scenery, being far from the locale of Sir Victor's betrayal had done quite a lot for her emotional state. But still, the memories remained. She and Victor, a retainer of her father's, had been engaged in the sweetest of courtships, characterized by long summer strolls on the walls of Ralmeere Fortress and warm winter nights abed under layers of passionate sweat.
Yet that crashed to pieces months ago, when Marianne paid a visit to Sir Victor's meagre chambers. She wanted to bring him his favorite vintage of wine from her fathers' stores, a sweet treat that they were to share together like they had so many times before. However, when the dark wooded door crept open at her touch, he saw the slender knight atop a serving girl. Zelsra was her name, Marianne thought, or perhaps it was Zeeta. She wasn't sure of the girl's name, but her face was burned into her memory. Watching as it shifted from bliss to horror as her brown eyes met Marianne's. Victor took no notice at first, and the taut muscles of his ass flexed as he drove into the lithe servant twice more, before he looked over his shoulder and issued Marianne a horrified look of his own.
The subsequent conversations between the two had been brief and cold, nothing like the year of courtship that preceded that day. Things were over between the two. Marianne had not mentioned anything regarding the infidelity to her father, the Lord Andrew Newhook, but Victor took a different assignment guarding a shrine in the country outside Ralmeere. Marianne was unsure what happened to Zelsra. Perhaps she followed him? Perhaps they were married, even. Perhaps she was round with child, and their days were full of warm smiles and long walks and passionate nights, similar to what she had with Victor at one point. Oh, Victor. Sweet, shaggy haired, smirking Victor.
Marianne loved children. She knew she wanted one, or two, even, when the time came. Women who had children out of wedlock were pitied and chastised. Many of those girls visited fallen doctors or forest clerics to rid them of the child prior to birth, but if Victor had gotten her with child, she would have kept the babe. She wondered what their son would have looked like. Would it look like Victor, with the same sad and darkened face? Or would he have looked like her, and her lord father?
Painful visions of what transpired and what might have been eroded at the edges of Marianne's vision until the lazy rumble of trotting horses brought her back to the present. The army had returned.
Or rather, the noble elements of the army. Much like the neighboring kingdoms, the Gandoran forces were primarily lead by an intermixing of educated nobles and veteran generals, and it was the nobleman who poured into the castle courtyard to strut for the audience of proud and cheering nobles that congregated here.
These men had been off for some time, nearly a year, bringing a smattering of unorganized tribes into the realm through a series of decisive victories. After their conquest had completed, they turned right back around to return to the Gandoran capital, eager to return home.
Nyrene elbowed Marianne. "Well. Look at that." she said, her voice coiling with interest. The black haired girl wore a white set of fitted pants that was studded with silver, and a simple blouse with a flattering neckline, criss crossed with grey laces that provided tiny windows to her pale skin. "Pour that in a wineglass." she said with a nod to the man at the head of the arriving procession.
His large and muscular frame dropped off his horse, a huge charger that was as dark as the man's armor. He was young, with a righteous mane of black, slightly curled hair that he slicked back with a hand bejeweled with rings. Prince Jason Algrave.
The Prince's set of jet-black ornate armor made Jason look gigantic, a dominating black obelisk against the colorful array of lace and silk that characterized the crowd of nobles and courtiers that ringed the returning warriors. Yet the prince looked not like a man who'd just recently in battle, in fact he just as easily could have been a man returning from an extensive vacation from the way he issued confident smiles and relaxed gazes to those who'd gathered to welcome him.
He embraced the old castellan of Castle Greyrook, Sir Harrion, and exchanged a few brief words with him. Sir Harrion looked like a proud father, witnessing his son's wedding. He'd likely known the prince since birth - Farelia told Marianne that he'd been the castellan here for nigh on thirty years. He was a kind man, but Marianne's chestnut eyes didn't rest on Harrion long.
Prince Jason was the picture of a maiden's dream, Marianne had to admit. As she grew into her teens, Marianne had acquired a taste for tales involving intelligent, beautiful ladies and their knightly suitors. Even her new apartment with her fellow debutantes in Greyrook held shelves and shelves of novels, including ones like Elrita's Love and Gail & Benfred. They were guilty pleasures, certainly, but pleasures nonetheless. When Marianne wasn't reading news reports and histories, she could drift away into romantic worlds where powerful and handsome men were the picture of chivalry. Where they were faithful.
If she had to guess, that's where Marianne acquired an interest in knights. She certainly wasn't unique in that regard - Nyrene was currently quite fond of Sir Kent Bragg, a skinny and mop-headed blonde who was part of the Gandora City's defensive garrison, but he had scarcely seen a battle. Marianne had to wonder if the knightly moniker itself was enough to earn him the right to occupy Nyrene's bedroom from time to time. Kent reminded her of Victor, funnily enough. Somehow, Marianne figured that the comparison wouldn't bother Nyrene much.
Prince Jason's eyes were so blue that Marianne felt as though she could see them dance from across the yard. Immaculate black feathers ringed the collar of the knight's armor. If Marianne hadn't known any better, she'd have guessed he intended to show up for a funeral. Oh, but he was a dream. His black hair flowed elegantly down the back of his head and seemed to melt into his very being, his shadowy, dark stature.
