Chapter Text
Azahara stood outside the room, two of her Tia’s maids right behind her. Her and her fiancés advisors had both entered with the contracts. This was interminable. She was making the deal for this marriage to become her own person, and yet right now, everything was in the hands of her aunt, and not in hers. She wanted to cry. The door opened. “Come in, Your Highness.”
She had expected Basíle to sit there. Their meeting a couple of days ago in the gardens, where she had apologised for lying and randomly deciding his fate for him, where he had expressed that he did not mind marrying her as much as her way of going about telling him. They way his eyes had held hers as he gave her the rose… She had expected him here. But next to him sat… it must be another of the brothers. Gabriel? He was visibly older than Basíle, dressed more like a fighter. His eyes colder, not as calculating as the Kings, but not the warm brown of Basíles. Azahara sat down.
The discussions passed. Azahara told of why she actually wanted to marry. “I feared as much.” The King Rollodius declared. “May I then implore that you marry Gabriel instead. He is older than Basíle and yet unmarried. He is also a fighter and a general.” Sahras breath hitched. She wanted to cry out. Azahara searched for a reason this would not go. “I have no doubt that while Gabriel is wonderful, I have fight enough. I am smart enough and ruthless enough to win this war. What I am not, is in possession of qualities needed when ruling a country. I am too intelligent for my own good and I can be cruel. So, pardon me, your majesty, but I do not need a husband who is a strategist or a good fighter. I need a husband who is kind enough for the both of us.”
The words rung in Basíles head. “Kind enough for the both of us.” She saw him. She wanted him because of who he was, not because he was the closest in age or she didn’t know there was another option. Her face was hard, staring down his eldest brother. Which was ironic, considering that, even when sitting, she was still shorter. “Very well. Basíle, do you consent to this?” Basíle nodded frantically “Y-yes.” “Then you are both dismissed, brothers. We have other business to discuss.” Basíle and Gabriel left the room. Gabriel strode away. “Brother, wait!” Basíle called out. “No. Have fun with your Ice Queen and your flowers. I’m going drinking.”
Azahara could not believe she had confessed that. She could even less believe that she had delivered all her (known) flaws, and yet Basíle had still said yes. Was he afraid of what she could do to him? Or was he just too kind to say no after all that. Azahara shook her head slightly, willing the diplomatic and intelligent to rise back up. Sahra wanted to dance in pure joy.