Bryce Vehiron stood in one of his towers, arms at his back while he stared out into endless forest below, the clear blue sky reflecting in mossy hued eyes. Defined, masculine features were stoic and unmoving - it was like he was made out of some kind of sun bronzed granite, his complexion made the color of light, exotic sands by the climate. A deep breath was taken in and broad shoulders became wider, amplifying the fine furs draped along the top of a black cape. As he stood straighter, his height of six-foot-three was made evident. An athletic frame was hidden by expertly woven fabrics, denoting his Royal status. He wore black and gold, the formal uniform of a Knight. He'd been trained since he was a boy for this day, learning how to work a bow when he was just a toddler, his first battle - his first kill - when he was only just leaving boyhood and becoming a man. All of it prepared him for this day and what was to become of it. In a few hours, his bow and arrow would be commanded by his Queen, his abilities in the battle field used to defend elves and humans alike.
Endless training and constant athleticism whipped him into shape. Given the fact he was of pure blooded elvish descent, he was naturally a very powerful being - knighthood only fine tuned him, he was a gladiator of sorts - and it was apparent in the way that he handled himself; he was very still, almost entirely emotionless. To be entirely truthful, the Prince Elf was kind of horrified. He'd never been in love, he'd never had a woman (elf or human) on his arm. The entirety of his twenty-two human years had been saving for this day: he needed to be pure, as the higher powers insisted.
Eyelids blinked slowly and the man swallowed nervously, a backdrop of festive music and laughter flooding him from behind. The finest foods and wines had been imported from all corners of the world, commoners and allies flooded into the kingdoms in small hordes. Both kingdoms were at his home castle.. they were there to witness a major step toward peace, the new beginning of perhaps the most powerful union to date. This was all very strategic, a decision made by two Kings long ago: this marriage would band two very dominant races together, making each side practically unstoppable. If one went to war, the other had to as well.. the two worlds were very important to one another.
"What if I don't like her, father?" Bryce asked, his tone slightly withdrawn. An exotic accent was hinted in his masculine voice, evidence of his elvish language peeking through the common tongue.
King Vehiron sighed at his son's blatant inquiry, shaking his head and meeting his side. Together they stared out into deep forest, where many elves lived. Someday this would be all of Bryce Vehiron's, but that didn't seem to excite him at the moment. "You've met her before. Surely you have an idea of how you will adjust." The King replied, standing an inch or two shorter than his oldest son.
Bryce scoffed, "I saw her last when we were thirteen. We've both changed drastically since those days. She was beautiful then.." Bryce mused, head tilting to the side as he tried to picture her with maturity and a woman's frame. Surely she had male suitors begging at her feet, being such a coveted royal figure and all. "What if she doesn't like me?"
The King laughed in good nature and firmly gripped his son's broad shoulder, "Dear son, you worry far too much. If you do not suit each other, that is fine. You only need to be together for royal events and when it comes time to make heirs to the throne." A blunt truth, but obvious nonetheless. If their marriage was loveless, they could find ways to make it work without needing to be together as individuals.
This hardly comforted Byrce, but he graciously nodded his head in wordless understanding anyhow. Just then, an usher arrived to tell Prince Vehiron that he needed to stand at the pagan altar he was to be married in front of. With perfect poise, he took steps to where he needed to be and eventually stood in front of a priest. His back was to the rest of the church, which was filled with many curious onlookers. Loud yet delicate music began to play, and Bryce counted the beats, trying to gauge how much longer it would be until she was at his side. Where she would stand, he caught sight of her family - they were seated patiently, watching the elf. They had to know he was nervous, it was written all over his face. Lips were still, set in a square jaw - his high cheek bones giving him regal defining. Wide green eyes were clear, his grown out strands of dark mahogany hair half tied back.
A breeze drifted in through the open door and many open windows, toying with his hair and cape. With hands hands folded in front of him, he squared his shoulders and stood as straight as possible. Eyes blinked every so often, slowly. The wait was painful, and he willed her to meet him quickly so that they could get the ceremony past them