frost on a crimson flower
Oct. 26th, 2025 06:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
backstreetbardIt is, perhaps, some form of cosmic irony that the grand cathedral that once served as the seat of the Church of Seiros is one of the few structures in Fhirdiad that suffered no damage from the fires that raged for a time on the day Rhea set the city ablaze. It's only natural, then, that it would serve today as the venue for a wedding, although one would be forgiven for mistaking the event for a funeral, given the maudlin atmosphere.
The hallowed hall is decorated in colorful banners and flowers imported from much warmer climes, and though the guests are all dressed in their finest attire, many of them wear grim expressions. The Blue Lions are assembled--at least, those who survived the war. Notably, Sylvain isn't standing with them, counted instead among the personal entourage of Emperor Edelgard, unable to meet the eyes of any of his old friends. Certainly not Dimitri's, where he stands at the head of the hall near the altar near the nervous-looking officiant Count Varley.
Edelgard orchestrated this entire scene, of course. Well, Hubert helped with the logistics, but this had been her idea. The Kingdom could have been incorporated back into the Adrestian Empire just as easily as the Alliance was after Claude fled back to Almyra, but something stayed her hand at that decisive moment when she could have--and perhaps should have--killed him. Now, everyone who survived this bloody war will have to live with the ramifications of her choice, though perhaps no one will have to pay so dearly as...
All eyes turn to the hall's entrance as the small orchestra begins to play a bridal procession. Dorothea Arnault appears in the arching doorway dressed in a royal blue dress richly adorned with beads and embroidery, though for all she looks every bit the bride, her expression is somber. She might as well be marching towards the gallows.
The hallowed hall is decorated in colorful banners and flowers imported from much warmer climes, and though the guests are all dressed in their finest attire, many of them wear grim expressions. The Blue Lions are assembled--at least, those who survived the war. Notably, Sylvain isn't standing with them, counted instead among the personal entourage of Emperor Edelgard, unable to meet the eyes of any of his old friends. Certainly not Dimitri's, where he stands at the head of the hall near the altar near the nervous-looking officiant Count Varley.
Edelgard orchestrated this entire scene, of course. Well, Hubert helped with the logistics, but this had been her idea. The Kingdom could have been incorporated back into the Adrestian Empire just as easily as the Alliance was after Claude fled back to Almyra, but something stayed her hand at that decisive moment when she could have--and perhaps should have--killed him. Now, everyone who survived this bloody war will have to live with the ramifications of her choice, though perhaps no one will have to pay so dearly as...
All eyes turn to the hall's entrance as the small orchestra begins to play a bridal procession. Dorothea Arnault appears in the arching doorway dressed in a royal blue dress richly adorned with beads and embroidery, though for all she looks every bit the bride, her expression is somber. She might as well be marching towards the gallows.
no subject
Date: 2025-11-09 11:35 pm (UTC)The ceremony had certainly been a rather frigid affair, but Dorothea is nothing if not pragmatic. She's resigned to this now, bound by vows and promises and expectations, so she might as well enjoy what few pleasures this arrangement can afford her.
"I'm not going to lie and say I'm thrilled about this. I had hopes and dreams for my future too, you know, but this is my reality now, and I'm not going to wallow in misery forever when my situation could be so much worse, and has been so much worse."
She's trying to make it sound so simple, but there's a brittle note in her voice, like she could burst into tears thinking of all the unfulfilled wishes that are now forever out of her reach. He doesn't need to know.
"We're lucky to be here. We should both remember that."
Then she rolls to the edge of the bed and sits up with a groan, reaching for a towel to wipe up the mess between her thighs.
no subject
Date: 2025-11-11 03:05 am (UTC)It was still a wound.
He glanced at her after another moment, examined the curve of her back and her neck.
"...I don't know. Sometimes I think it would have been better if she had simply executed me."
He sounded a touch morose.
"But that is a selfish thing, isn't it? To wish for death."