There was noof courseabout that at home. They said that her curls were unruly. That they didn’t present a good picture of the crown. That they needed to be tamed, just like she did.
But if she was going to forge a different identity, it was going to start now. She could give Ragnar what he wanted. But she would give herself what she wanted as well.
Her hair was fussed with while she ate, and then she was presented with more dresses. And then, as if by magic, even more appeared.
The selections were vivid, and the winning dress was green, with long sleeves that were tight around her wrist and looseup to her shoulder. It fell softly down to her knees, the lovely, natural fibers in the fabric making it swirl delicately when she moved.
The sides of her hair were affixed upward, creating a slightly retro style that showcased her curls. And once they had settled on that, the wedding gowns came in.
A parade of glorious silks and satins. She chose the simplest one. White and closely fitted to her body except for a train which flowed effortlessly behind her as she moved.
It was marked up to be fitted for this afternoon, and then she was put back into the green dress, and ushered out into the hall, and down the stairs.
Maybe she should feel something. Something more than she did. But marriage had never meant anything to her beyond this. An arrangement. Maybe in another life, with another set of circumstances, she would have been able to be romantic about it. But she never had been. She had only ever been able to be practical about the institution at best. And had dreaded it at worst.
She had never imagined marrying for love. But then, she had never imagined being able to marry for her own gain either, and buried somewhere in all of this was the potential for that.
She almost wanted to weep with relief. Reality hit, and hit hard. If she were being married to the president then her life would be over. She would be little more than his prisoner. And it would last for all of her life, a life that was determined by him. She would not have been choosing her own dresses; she was certain of that. Everything would be laid out for her. Chosen for her.
Even though she was being given choices within a set parameter, they were still choices.
This might be a tunnel, but it now had a light at the end of it.
The only other time she’d had light had been at the convent. Now she could take that experience, and she could make it into something even more expansive. Provided she got through all of this. She was guided down a long corridor, and then a large, black door swung open. There he was, sitting behind a desk. He looked up at her, those blue eyes burning bright in the relative darkness of the room. He had a weathered face. But it was no less beautiful for it. Each line spoke to worries he had carried for many, many years.
To the concerns that he had for his people. He was broad and muscular, and she thought then it was all the better for him to carry these burdens on his shoulders.
Do not romanticize him. He’s another man using you for his own interests. Just because you can use him back doesn’t make him benevolent.
It was a timely reminder. She looked over her shoulder, but there was no one there. All of the staff were gone. It was only her and Ragnar.
“Good morning,” he said, lifting up the stack of papers on his desk and tapping them once, the gesture so clerical. So civilized that it seemed directly at odds with him.
He was dressed all in black. Not in a suit, but in a black sweater, and beneath the desk she could see black wool trousers and black shoes.
She hadn’t noticed what he was wearing yesterday. Oddly, it had gotten lost in the kidnap of it all.
“Good morning. I assume that there is some public-facing event happening, or I wouldn’t have been dressed like this.”
“Correct. We are going to stream an announcement together about our upcoming marriage.”
“What exactly are we going to say?”
“I’m going to address the nation. You are going to sit beside me.”
“Am I meant to gaze up at you in adoration?”
“That is up to you.”
“This is going to look like a political alliance, you realize that, right. I don’t think people are going to find it overly romantic.”
“I don’t need my people to romanticize me. I need them to see me as someone strong and capable. Choosing you as a wife suggests that I am engaged in diplomacy.”
“You also want me because I can teach you something about this life. My father isn’t a good man. At least not on a personal level. But he is very good at making his people believe that he only ever has their best interests at heart. He’s extremely charming. His manners are beyond reproach.”
“Yes, as were my predecessor’s. He would lie, and he would smile, and he would slither off into the ether to do vile things. I am exactly as I appear.”
“Yes. But you might want to appear slightly more approachable. And you may want to let me speak.”
