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Jun. 28th, 2020 09:58 amThere are many places that Lord Haurchefant has been in his life that have been unexpected but standing on an airship landing dock waiting for the arrival of his betrothed is close to the top of the list. It's certainly one of the most nerve-wracking ones.
He's not unhappy about it, exactly, doesn't bear any kind of sullen resentment or bemoaning of his fate. He'd volunteered, after all. It's just... like something from a storybook, isn't it? The High Houses do play politics over love in marriages for the most part, his very existence is proof of that, but he's never heard of the arrangement being arranged entirely by others and certainly usually the couples had met before. But this kingdom far across the sea has older ways, and when it was stated in no uncertain terms that the way they were to cement their alliance was to marry their princess to a member of Ishgardian nobility, the Archbishop had agreed.
There were reminders, of course, that the Ishgardians had no king and of course the Archbishop had forgone all worldly pleasures in pursuit of his religious ones (a fact every Ishgardian knew was not the case at all, but the pretense was enough to exclude certain other knights from the selection process) so there were no princes to be had, but surely a suitable groom could be found among the High Houses. Whoever offered one of their sons for this would be quite favored, after all.
One might be forgiven for thinking that that was why he volunteered, or that it was coerced or asked of him in some way, but really, it was sitting there, listening to them talk about this poor girl like she was an inconvenience that pushed him over the edge. That the practice was backwards, but necessary to the kingdom, that it was a sacrifice for a noble Ishgardian to be stuck with some foreign princess. A jeering sidebar about how she was probably ugly, another about the joys of foreign women not so frozen stiff as their Ishgardian counterparts, were the final straws that had him hunting down his father.
There are so many that he can't save. But he's pretty sure he can save this one.
And so, here he is, dressed in finer clothes than he usually prefers when he's not in armor, waiting in nervous anticipation for a woman he's never even seen so much as a picture of.
He's not unhappy about it, exactly, doesn't bear any kind of sullen resentment or bemoaning of his fate. He'd volunteered, after all. It's just... like something from a storybook, isn't it? The High Houses do play politics over love in marriages for the most part, his very existence is proof of that, but he's never heard of the arrangement being arranged entirely by others and certainly usually the couples had met before. But this kingdom far across the sea has older ways, and when it was stated in no uncertain terms that the way they were to cement their alliance was to marry their princess to a member of Ishgardian nobility, the Archbishop had agreed.
There were reminders, of course, that the Ishgardians had no king and of course the Archbishop had forgone all worldly pleasures in pursuit of his religious ones (a fact every Ishgardian knew was not the case at all, but the pretense was enough to exclude certain other knights from the selection process) so there were no princes to be had, but surely a suitable groom could be found among the High Houses. Whoever offered one of their sons for this would be quite favored, after all.
One might be forgiven for thinking that that was why he volunteered, or that it was coerced or asked of him in some way, but really, it was sitting there, listening to them talk about this poor girl like she was an inconvenience that pushed him over the edge. That the practice was backwards, but necessary to the kingdom, that it was a sacrifice for a noble Ishgardian to be stuck with some foreign princess. A jeering sidebar about how she was probably ugly, another about the joys of foreign women not so frozen stiff as their Ishgardian counterparts, were the final straws that had him hunting down his father.
There are so many that he can't save. But he's pretty sure he can save this one.
And so, here he is, dressed in finer clothes than he usually prefers when he's not in armor, waiting in nervous anticipation for a woman he's never even seen so much as a picture of.
