"Forgive me if I cannot force myself to be excited to die," Ophelia said, the excitement yet to reach her.
Giselle Valthorn, Ophelia's mother, straightened the wedding dress, which felt like a large shackle on Ophelia.
Giselle's smile fell momentarily, but it rose before the guests noticed it. "You will not die, Ophelia. I have found you a good husband. He is the kingdom's hero."
"And your husband's sworn enemy. A wedding will not end the hatred they bore for the Valthorns for a hundred years," said Ophelia.
The Valthorns were delivering someone to be tortured - a sacrifice to appease Hastings and halt the war.
Giselle wished Ophelia would take the chance to become the wife of a wealthy nobleman.
"Must you always be so ungrateful?" Giselle asked, grabbing Ophelia's arm. "Consider this payment for all the years I have cared for you. For all these years, Joel has treated you like his daughter."
Giselle pulled Ophelia close to whisper, "You should smile and consider yourself lucky that Joel picked you to be the wife of Lord Hastings. He could have picked your sisters."
"Why didn't he?" Ophelia inquired. "If this is a great chance, why didn't he pick one of his blood daughters to be the wife of a lord? He is always quick to spoil them, yet he has picked me this time. They are waiting for you."
Ophelia looked ahead at the children her mother had chosen over the two she bore.
Ophelia had long known her mother loved her step-siblings more since she gave them all her love to please Lord Valthorn, but her mother had stooped low today to send her off to die in place of Joel's daughters.
Giselle was tired of Ophelia's sour mood. "Your brother is still in my care. If you wish for his medicine to be paid for and for the finest doctors to treat him, then you will smile and not ruin this day. Do not ruin this for me, or we will all die."
Ophelia finally showed the smile her mother sought, but it lacked warmth. It didn't reach her eyes. "Don't worry, Lady Valthorn. I don't want to be on the receiving end of your husband's anger, so I won't ruin this."
Giselle huffed as she stormed away.
Ophelia turned to the door where all the other guests and her future husband were waiting for her. She gripped the bouquet in her hands, a rose thorn pricking her finger, but she paid no mind to it.
It was the least of her pain.
Bringing the bouquet close to her chest, the sleeve of her wedding dress slipped, revealing a black mark which was yet to heal.
Ophelia lowered the sleeve so the state of her flesh wouldn't scare the guests.
All Ophelia wanted to do was run, but she could not leave her sick brother behind. She couldn't take him away from this place since she would not be able to afford his medicine or doctors.
Ophelia stayed only for her brother.
She lived only for him.
Ophelia was silent as she pulled the veil decorated like a spider's web to cover her face.
The last of the guests rushed in, leaving Ophelia to ponder the future.
The loud bangs of drums were heard, signalling the start of the dreaded ceremony.
The doors opened wide, revealing the man she was bound to wed waiting for her with the two families sitting on each side of the room.
Ophelia made her way forward to her impending death.
One vow. One promise for peace stood before her and the stranger waiting for her.
On the sidelines, the Valthorns and Hastings watched Ophelia intently.
The right side of the room expected her to be well-behaved, while the left looked forward to her tears.
Ophelia stared at the man with a brooding gaze directed at her.
Dante Hastings was the renowned Lord of Moongrave, a land gifted to the Hastings family long ago by the king.
This was Ophelia's first time meeting with Dante, yet his gaze was filled with hatred as if he had loathed her for many years.
Ophelia kept her gaze forward, gripping the bouquet in her hands since it brought her comfort. The pain from the thorns partially took her mind off the ceremony.
Soon, the priest's words became a whisper, and the wedding passed with Ophelia not remembering any part of it.
Ophelia was brought back to her awful reality when her now-husband lifted her veil.
Dante wore a frown, his displeasure with the marriage evident. He didn't care about Ophelia.
Instead of kissing the bride as the guests would expect, Dante walked away since his duty was done.
Ophelia was left standing with the priest.
She wasn't brokenhearted that Dante would not play his role well to kiss her to please the two families.
There was nothing more to expect from a man known to have a mistress waiting for him in the very castle Ophelia would be taken to in the morning.
Ophelia lowered her veil to hide her face. She didn't want to be told of a bride needing to smile on her wedding day again.
There were no celebrations heard now that the two families were tied together by marriage. It had taken a hundred years for the two families to agree to a truce, and it would take a hundred more before this marriage changed anything.
Ophelia was happy the first time for the day when the maids came to take her away.
Ophelia walked by her mother, sitting next to her stepsisters. The sisters pouted, as if their day had been spoiled. As if they were the ones who were being sent off to a faraway land where their husband would not love them.
'This way."
Ophelie kept her head down as she followed the maids to the chamber where she was to be prepared for her wedding night.
Instead of Giselle being the one to meet with Ophelia to explain the wedding night, Ophelia was visited by Cecilia Hastings, Dante's mother.
Cecilia wore a scowl as she eyed Ophelia from head to toe. "How is a small woman like you to give him any sons?"
Cecilia didn't like the woman her son was forced to marry. It was an awful match, but at last, she had Valthorn in her hands to do as she wanted with.
"We must make her look presentable," Cecilia said, drawing close to Ophelia to remove the veil. "If that is possible."
Ophelia made the mistake of looking Cecilia in the eye after her veil was yanked off.
A slap echoed in the room.
Ophelia's face stung where she had been struck, and her gaze was no longer on Cecilia for a moment.
Cecilia smiled, satisfied, but that satisfaction didn't last long.
To Cecilia's surprise, Ophelia looked at her once more, seemingly unaffected by the slap. It was impossible that it had not hurt since the print of Cecilia's hand was seen forming even in the dim light.