Marielle stood near the edge of the stone fountain, her head tilted slightly as she looked at Iryna with absolute judgment. The soft, rhythmic splash of water pouring over the carved marble basin was the only sound breaking the heavy silence between them.
Slowly, Marielle raised her hand, extending her pinky finger and sticking it into her ear. She gave it a light scratch, twisting her wrist back and forth as if trying to clear out unwanted physical debris that might be distorting her hearing.
"Weird," Marielle said flatly. She pulled her finger away and flicked her hand toward the nearby rosebushes. "I could’ve sworn I just heard you say that I was going to be betrothed to you."
"That is precisely what I said," Iryna replied smoothly, her arms folded gracefully over the fabric of her gown. She didn’t so much as blink, standing tall on the cobblestone path with the calm posture of someone discussing the weather.
Marielle let out a long, dramatic sigh, rolling her shoulders to loosen the sudden tightness creeping into her neck. "Look, I love a good joke as much as the next knight, but not this kind. Did you draft that punchline while you were stuck in bed with you brother’s help? I’ll admit, it’s pretty creative, but too bad for you, I’m not falling for it."
Marielle smirked, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and shifting her weight onto her back foot. She waited for the punchline. She waited for Iryna to break character, roll her eyes, or let out that quiet, melodic chuckle that usually signaled she had successfully riled someone up.
Instead, Iryna didn’t laugh. She didn’t turn away, and she certainly didn’t break eye contact. Her expression remained entirely serene, cool, and steady, her eyes locking onto Marielle’s with a quiet intensity that drained every bit of fun right out of the air. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead, but between the two of them, the atmosphere turned thick enough to cut with a blade.
The smirk on Marielle’s face slowly pocked and faded. Her brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing as she studied the complete lack of humor in the princess’s face.
"Wait..." Marielle muttered, her voice dropping as all the confidence suddenly drained right out of her. "You’re actually..."
"I am one hundred percent serious," Iryna confirmed softly, taking a single, deliberate step forward until the hem of her dark dress brushed against the scuffed leather of Marielle’s riding boots. "I have officially chosen you for the betrothal match."
"What in fresh hells?!" Marielle burst out, taking a sharp, instinctive step backward. Her hand flew up to slam against her forehead in sheer disbelief. "Are you completely out of your mind?!"
Iryna tilted her head slightly, a small, amused curve touching the corner of her lips at the sudden explosion of energy. "Why so shocked? Would you rather I demand the Duke for the peace treaty? I assure you, your brother would burn the continent to the ground before agreeing to let me anywhere near him."
"No, obviously not!" Marielle snapped, her hands waving frantically in the air as if trying to physically swat the idea out of the sky. "Do you even realize what you’re saying right now?! This is absurd! It’s completely unprecedented! You can’t just randomly pick people off the street for a state alliance, and you certainly can’t pick me!"
"Oh, but I can," Iryna purred smoothly, closing the distance Marielle had just created with another slow, measured step. "Consider it one of the very few perks of almost dying on this land to secure your peace. The crown granted me the right to choose whichever bloodline representative I deemed fit for the marital treaty, and King Alderon has already formally agreed to it."
Marielle froze mid-gesture. Her arms dropped limply to her sides, her jaw literally dropping as she stared at Iryna in total, stunned silence. The wind caught a few loose strands of her hair, blowing them across her face, but she didn’t even bother to brush them away.
"King Alderon... agreed...?" Marielle repeated, her voice cracking slightly on the king’s name.
"He did," Iryna said pleasantly, clasping her hands loosely behind her back. "If you don’t believe me, you are more than welcome to march straight into the grand throne room, or his study, or wherever he is, right now and ask him yourself. Though I doubt he will give you a different answer than the one I just provided."
Marielle stood there on the cobblestone path, her mind hitting a full-blown dead end as she tried to process the absolute political disaster dropping onto her head. She gripped the hilt of her dagger out of pure, reflexive habit, her knuckles turning white against the wrapped leather as her eyes narrowed tightly at Iryna.
"What do you really want, Princess Iryna?" Marielle demanded, her tone dropping into a low, sharp growl. "What kind of twisted game are you playing?"
Iryna’s playful demeanor softened slightly, yielding to a rare moment of absolute honesty. The teasing smirk left her lips, replaced by a calm, sharp look that made it very clear she was no longer joking.
"It’s no game, Marielle," Iryna said softly, looking directly into Marielle’s eyes without dropping her gaze for even a fraction of a second. "I want a proper family. I want a spouse who can actually support me in this foreign land, someone who isn’t a sniveling, spineless opportunist trying to use my royal title and territory for power."
Iryna took one final step, stopping directly in Marielle’s personal space. The faint, sweet scent of jasmine clinging to her dress washed over Marielle, making Marielle’s chest tighten involuntarily.
"You fit that description better than anyone in this entire kingdom," Iryna continued, her voice steady and smooth. "I respect your strength, Marielle. You are an equal who can actually face me, hold your ground, and tell me to my face when I’m being impossible. You don’t bow down to political pressure, and you don’t break under a blade. And frankly... at this point in my life, I don’t trust anyone on this land except the North."
Marielle swallowed hard, her throat feeling suddenly dry. The sheer sincerity in Iryna’s voice was far more disarming than any sword thrust or political maneuver. For a second, Marielle couldn’t even find her voice, her heart hammering against her ribs as she stared down at the princess.
She forced herself to take a deep breath, flexing her fingers on her sword hilt, desperately trying to rally her defenses before she lost complete control of the conversation.
"Even if all of that is true..." Marielle muttered, shifting her weight and trying to sound as stubborn as humanly possible, "what makes you think I’ll ever agree to this? It’s not like I have anything to gain from becoming your wife. I’ll tell you this, I don’t like sitting at some high table playing politics."
Iryna leaned in slightly, a slow, breathtakingly confident smirk spreading across her lips as her eyes gleamed with a delight. She reached up, her fingers lightly catching the edge of Marielle’s jaw.
"Is that so?" Iryna whispered, her voice dropping into a thrilling purr that sent a strange, electric spark straight down Marielle’s spine. "Do you really believe a marriage with me offers you no advantage? That having the weight of a royal house behind you is of no use, Marielle?"
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