For What is Bought in Blood

The Tide Still Rises

Alula

This time, I did the pacing.

"You did not come here to marry, Reagan. Why would you antagonize her like that? You had to have known she would call your bluff." Pacing and ranting, I twisted my hands. The skin was already irritated by how tightly they were clutched earlier, and now they were becoming raw.

Reagan stands as well, staring blankly at me from the opposite side of my room. He seemed to be processing what just happened as well, only his mode of silence only exacerbated my nervous chatter. On the side of pacing that allowed me to see him, I could feel the pleading in my eyes as I scanned his face. He stared back but gave nothing away.

"Why did you even bring your mother's ring?" It laid mockingly on my desk now, the deep blue stone catching the sunlight through the window. When I wasn't scanning his face for emotion, I was glaring at that ring with reproach. Did his parents also hate my family, would they be disappointed now?

"I have to go out tonight, but how can I even entertain the idea of blending in when my nerves are knocking together at lightning speeds?" I run my hands down the sides of my dress. Blood from my friction-torn cuticles makes no mark on the deep red dye of the gown.

Reagan suddenly sighs, and I spin around to face him. I know the panic is evident on my face and he suddenly chooses to stare at the floor.

"I am the oldest of seven brothers, Princess. When I announced my departure to this... function, my youngest brother insist I bring the ring with me. He insisted it would be good luck, and I could use it if we... fell in love." He runs a hand through his hair, a small smile playing on his lips at the memory.

"He is only eight summers and does not know that love between married couples is rare. He only remembers the love my father kept for my mother after she passed," he looks to the ring now as if the memory of his mother is attached to it. The stare seems blank, but the green of his eyes seems to flutter with remembrance. I feel my chest restricting with empathy, with the desire to soothe the grief still present there. Despite our current engagement, I have no inkling to what his response may be to that. I stay still.

"As for this marriage," he looks at me now with what I think must be guilt. "We can't refuse it now, but I think you know that. I suggest we reach a compromise of sorts, as to not dampen one another's independence." I furrow my brow, wondering what sort of independence he means.

He moves closer to me now, but my feet remain locked to the floor. He searches my eyes for warning as he gets as close as possible, dipping his head to maintain eye contact. I know my eyes are wide like a freshly born fawn, but I remain silent to allow him to make his point.

"We play our parts, we get married. But we choose our own company for... intimate things." I recoil, putting space between us. The idea of being married but retaining other relationships is not something I ever really thought of.

"So," I begin, eyeing him with confusion. "We are married but lay with other people? Do we ever um... lay, together?"

Crinkling skin covers some of his green eyes as he chuckles, and the sound sparks me with anger.

"Only if we decide we want to."

My top lip curls in disgust and he chuckles again, stepping backward from me. This man didn't really choose me and holds no affection towards me. I will not give him my body just because tradition tells me to.

"And when I am expected to produce children?" I mention, retaining some strength in my words to fight the rising unease in my stomach.

"I am hoping that we will turn this country upside down before then," he casually claims.