The Arranged Marriage

For King and Country

In a small country off the coast of Europe, on a large hill overlooking the capital city, sits a beautiful castle. The sun shines upon it, highlighting the marble walls with the golden trimmings. Inside, the castle is an anthill of activity. All the inhabitants are in a flurry, trying to prepare for the guests that are to arrive that very afternoon.

I myself am currently occupied with the seamstresses who are doing the final alterations on my gown for this evening's welcoming ball. The gown is a lovely dark blue with a black lace bodice and three-quarter sleeves. There is a firm knock on the door and the head of my personal guard, Natasha, strides in.

"My apologies your highness, but the king would like to speak with you in his study," she says. I've known Nat all my life, we grew up together. Her father was one of my father's closest friends. When she was old enough, she had started her training to become a knight, and today she is a captain of the guard.

"Can't it wait? My fitting is almost over," I reply, keeping as still as a statue so the seamstresses don't accidentally poke me with a needle.

"I'm afraid not, your highness, he said it is quite urgent," Nat insists.

"We have everything we need, my lady," the seamstress closest to me assures me with a smile.

"Very well, let me just get changed." I quickly change into my favorite lilac purple dress before making my way through the castle to my father's study with Natasha right behind me.

When we reach the large, heavy oak door I don't hesitate to give a firm knock, waiting for my father's voice to call me inside.

"Come in," I hear moments later.

Natasha escorts me inside before bowing to father and leaving.

"You wished to see me?" I enquire as my father looks up from the many letters strewn across his desk.

"Y/N, yes. Please, have a seat," he gestures to the tufted chair before him and I dutifully take my place. Upon closer inspection, I can see that he has something weighing more heavily on his mind that the daily toll of his royal duties usually takes.

"Is something the matter?" I ask gently. Anything I can do to ease his burdens, I will. Ever since my mother passed when I was a small girl, it has only been the two of us. I know that the advisors urged him on more than one occasion to take a second wife, but he would not hear of it. He told them to throw that idea out with his morning chamber pot.

"No...well, yes. Y/N, what do you know of our guests?" His question throws me off guard for a moment, but I recover swiftly to answer him.

"I know that they are the rulers of one of our neighbors, the king's name is Joseph, the queen's name is Sarah, they have a son about my age named Steven Grant, they have a powerful military, a prospering country, and they are one of our greatest allies," I rattle off a few of the facts that I had learned by heart.

My father nods approvingly. "Very good. Recently I have entered into negotiations to further our alliance with them. I have just received their acceptance of our terms. However, they do have one condition. The marriage of you and Steve. We announce the engagement this evening at the ball."

Of all the things they could have asked, this had never crossed my mind. But I am not a fool, I know we will need their aid if we are to win the war against king Thanos and his despicable Black Order. If I must marry Prince Steven, then I shall do so.

"Does he know yet?" I ask my father with firm resolve leaking into my voice.

"If he does not know now, he will by this evening. I suggest you get some rest, my dear, we have a long evening ahead of us and I need you to be at your utmost perfection, even more than you already are," father dismisses me with a sad smile.

That evening I have dressed in my midnight blue gown with my hair piled up on my head and cascading down my back in ringlets as I wait for the prince to escort him to dinner.

The click of his boots on the polished floors alerts me of his approach. I turn to find a tall figure with a broad chest tapering down to a narrow waist, cornsilk yellow hair and sea blue eyes striding towards me in a black dinner jacket, slacks, and a vest that matches the blue of my gown, with polished black shoes. My first thought is that he is extremely handsome. Then he draws close enough for me to see his expression and the coldness in his eyes with which he regards me.

"Your Highness," he says in a mock polite tone with a stiff bow.

"Your Highness," I reply with the same coldness he shows towards me before turning around. 

"The ballroom is this way," I say as I start off down the hall.

Once we get to the doors I take his offered arm and plaster a warm smile onto my face. If this is what the rest of my life will be like, I am in for a very long life indeed, but one thing is certain, no man will break me, certainly not Steven Grant Rogers.