Tate Beth Summers

"A womans' desire for revenge always outlasts all her other emotions"

: 20

Gender: Female

Role: Betrothed to Eldest Son of Adarlan

Appearance:

Tate has always been short, even at 20 she stood at 5'2. Though that didn't stop the curves from pulling through at sixteen- the right areas filling out. Her cousins often told her they envied her for her curly blonde hair and striking Green with flecks of blue orbs- often even teasing her in the early morning hours when her hair was a lions nest. Freckles adored her cheeks and nose, light brown in color- that slim nose crooked just a little from a spat with her cousin. She was beautiful but not the most- certainly by far. Perhaps- if she didn't wear old clothes now; she'd look more proper- lady like. But she was often found in those worn out pieces of cloth- boots to match. But Tate wasn't the prissy girl, instead often going on hunts with her uncle even after he protested many of times- trying to remind her of her future duty. But each time- those doe eyes won over his heart, & she was mounted onto and horse and tagging along.

Backstory/ Personality?:

From age 5 Tate has always been creative, her love for painting unmatched in the little town she grew up in. Her father had often brought her paints from the town, after all working for the King paid handsomely. She could recall the nights when he used to barge into the cabin doors, taking off those shiny boots and placing them neatly by the door; She'd come running out of the room and tackle him into a hug- though with how short she was she held onto his legs mostly. He would tease her constantly about that- often calling her a dwarf saying how her mother must have been part dwarf. Speaking of, Her mother had died during childbirth, but that never stopped her father from telling her the stories of her. In fact- Tate was named after her mother; her father so heartbroken for years. And as Tate grew into a young child and teenager soon after; there were many nights she would hear her father's cries from his bedroom.

But one night, that door never opened and her father never returned. And the next day, when The Kings' officials came into the cabin without notice taking away a screaming Tate; she found out that he was dead. An accident according to the King. She was then taken to her uncle- who raised her from age 13 and up. Teaching her the skills she needed to know, and giving her the real truth behind her father's demise. And boy the anger that boiled in that small girl that day, her whole body shaking and on fire. Or so it felt. Tate didn't want to believe it at first, but when the news of the Queens death came a few days later; She was not in the least shocked. She had thought the King had done it- if not for the rumors that spread on for months...years. Two brothers in a feud because a freak accident. While the King stood Idly by doing nothing to repair what was broken between them. And when her father died, so did that fortune she was blessed to have. The King forgetting all about the little girl who lost her father due to his cruel actions. Because a father wanted to go home and raise his daughter in peace- without leaving her alone everyday. Not that she was truely alone now, Her uncle Iven made sure of that- along with his wife Lyla and twin daughters Lena and Mena.

So what happens now that, Iven reveals the Kings death- and her marriage to the eldest son.

More of her personality in story ;)

Rian Sorley Iverson

“I never said it could be fixed, but at least I was willing to try.”

Nickname(s):

Ri (He highly prefers going by ‘Rian’ though)

Age:

24

Gender:

Male

Role:

Eldest Prince of Adarlan, Heir to the Adarlan Throne

“Change is the one thing each and every one of us have in common; it alters our lives, our environment, our selves, and even the world. For better or worse.”

Personality:

Leader || Head Strong || Ambitious || Determined || Just || Moral || Honest || Understanding || Patient || Careful With Trust || Calculated || Overthinker || Non-judgmental || Protective || Adaptive || Observant || Cautious || Serious || Thoughtful || Empathetic || Helpful || Communicative || Forgiving || Only Lies to Protect Others || Emotionally Reserved || Demonstrates Great Self-Control || Witty || Petty

Appearance:

At first glance, Rian's features embody a near intimidating coldness. A defined jawline setting the build of his more heart shaped face combines well with his sharper set of cheekbones. His eyes though are his most prominent facial feature and usually the first thing one notices upon first gazing upon Rian. These eyes of his always hold a great restlessness, with several shades of sterling silver and gray constantly swirling and storming, while his irises are flecked with a darker shade of brown. A dark set of ever so slightly curled, and thicker lashes frame his slightly hooded eyes. And looking past his eyes, the brows that rest above are angled and only add definition to his hardened stares. His nose is more delicately structured, but slightly down turned. His softer rose shade lips are thinner and are usually always held in a straight line. Rian’s rich, chocolate colored hair is practically always slicked back to retain a more respectable fashion. Never can one catch his hair disheveled in any way though, as it usually retains a faint combed and groomed appearance at all times.

He stands at a more average height of 5 '11, though his posture could give the impression that he’s just a smidge taller considering how well he holds himself. His build is fairly proportional considering he's not heavily lined with insane muscles, but isn't lacking in that department either. He's certainly noticeably toned, which is more suitable to someone who would be considered a swift combatant. His overall skin color is a soft olive, with faintly warmer undertones to compliment his overall complexion. There, of course, a variety of smaller and vastly faded scars littering his body in various places, but none are of grave significance both in appearance, and how they were earned.

History:

Rian, though reserved and maintaining a more humble demeanor even through childhood, has always understood that he would be wearing the weight of an entire kingdom on his shoulders one day. It’s a burdensome sense of responsibility that he has desperately wanted away from since his youth, but has known nothing but the relentless training, lessons, and teachings he’s endured. Ruling and guiding his kingdom’s people is all Rian has ever known, and he fears, it’s all he will ever know. A weary cynical child was Rian, struggling to see the world in the bouts of color and wonder other children seemingly saw it in. In the earlier years, despite the small gap, Rian was closest to his younger brother then anyone else in the entire kingdom. The prince would often attempt to sneak away from lessons to make play with his brother, but he never seemed to get out of his father’s grasp for long.

Rian has never exactly known affection from his father, it seemed that he really only earned his father’s favor because Rian’s life benefited him in some way or another. And silently, Rian had been envious of the relationship shared between his mother and Spencer, as he never did seem to have enough time in his schedule to be with either of them. However, the world came crashing down around Rian upon the news his brother came home with about their mother’s demise. And for perhaps the first time, Rian was unable to retain a hold over his emotions snapped at his brother. It certainly wasn’t the first time the family has suffered at the hands of Spencer’s arrogance, and Rian made it clear that their mother’s death would be the last heartache suffered by the family due to Spencer’s actions. But to Rian’s dismay, not once has Spencer ever considered himself to be in the wrong, and instead became a slave to an anger and thirst for vengeance that Riam thought would be quenched by triumphing in difficult task after difficult task. Rian truthfully would never place his brother in a situation he thought he couldn’t get out of -after all, Spencer was the best combatant Rian knew-, no matter how angry Spencer has made him over the years.

Still, even in the present, the two have never seen eye to eye. Rian believes they never will, and knows reasoning with Spencer is a pointless feat. And somehow, beyond Rian's comprehension, he's apparently the bad guy.

Spencer Falk Iverson

“We’re past me getting angry, now I’m just getting even.”

Nickname(s):

Spence

Spen

Age:

21

Gender:

Male

Role:

Prince of Adarlan

Charismatic || Energetic || Arrogant || Bold || Flirtatious || Promiscuous || Two-faced || Emotionally Volatile and Flippant || Sadistic || Unempathetic || Remorseless || Impulsive || Guarded || Malevolent || Amoral || Selfish || Passionate || Sincerely Loving and Genuine to a Select Few || Fiercely Protective || Loyal to Few Things || Obedient with Respectable Individuals || Humorous || Sarcastic || Vindictive || Vigorous || Thrill Chaser

Appearance:

Attractively angular is Spencer’s face, thanks all in part to his diamond structured facial front. His cheekbones reign higher, in a more defined fashion, while his jawline is just short of severe. Running further down, rather than narrowing into a more pointed form, his chin gently rounds. There is no time one can catch this face unshaven, as Spencer prides himself in retaining a clean appearance. The greatest flaw of Spencer facial wise is the purplish tinted bags of an ever present exhaustion resting beneath his contrastingly lively eyes. These eyes, while possessing a predatory gently hooded shape, possess darker faintly curled lashes atop, while the bottom lashes are a bit thinner. The color that makes for the spectacle in his eyes is that of a rich cerulean blue, with prominent flecks and streaks of sterling silver that are easily seen when they glint in the right light. Above these alluring orbs sit eyebrows that are of an average thickness at the beginning, while they form a slight arch just short of the midpoint before lightly thinning at the ends.

His nose is merely average, and dare be said delicately structured; a neatly straight slope with a soft button type roundness. Below rests an easily defined cupid's bow, adding a flare of definition to his facial front. While his upper lip is rather thin, straight, and lacking much personality, his bottom lip has a visible, light pout. These lips fair in the tone of a lighter peach. His ears retain a more pointed figure, though they are of perfect size to complement that of which makes up his facial structure and the shape of his head. Shorter but full sits the faintly curled, dirty blonde head of ringlets Spencer possesses. A near ombre of light browns and dustier honey blondes make up his shades of hair, though these colors easily flow into one another rather well. Tapering down to the nape of his neck and both behind and barely over his ears, they handsomely thin, though that light curl is still a bit evident.

When it comes to build, Spencer’s is that of a more proportional rectangular type figure. His shoulders are perhaps not the broadest, but they square near evenly with his hips that are straighter versus narrowing. At a height of 6’2, the more athletically built stance he holds is quite easy to see. Toning fares the most though in his biceps, abdomen, thighs, and calves. The parts of his body that do without a complimentary show of light muscle are thinner, but definitely not frail in appearance. Overall his skin tone can be regarded as fairing on the spectrum of a soft ivory, though he does possess a subtle touch of warmer undertones. It is a color that stays rather light all year round, with the exception of a lightly sunkissed type look in the summer.

History:

As the youngest of the Adarlan royal family, it was of no surprise that the primary fawning and focus of the family and kingdom was the eldest son; the heir to the throne. Spencer, as a child, was far more reserved and starved for attention and approval. He strove to excel in the few things he managed to gain his father’s attention of; such as combat. And while Spencer desired his father’s attention more than anything, it was his mother that made points to nurture his need for attention. Spencer and his mother were very close, and especially throughout the entirety of his childhood. And it was in these days, that both Spencer and Rian had an honest, brotherly relationship. Despite their differences and paths they knew they would be taking in life, they were brothers first. Until they weren’t.

At 14, Spencer and his mother embarked on their weekly riding trip through the more densely packed woodlands of Adarlan. A rockslide prevented the pair from continuing on their usual path, and while his mother insisted they turn back, Spencer was convinced that with a little persistence, they could make it over the rockier trail that bordered a sheer drop into a ravine. Spencer -as ambitious and confident as ever- went first to prove to his mother that the rocky passage was safe. And hesitantly, upon seeing her son’s success, the Queen of Adarlan followed… but a shame it was that her horse lost its footing, triggering a smaller slide of the collection of rocks, sending the Queen to her demise. Considering the horse had fallen on top of the smaller woman, and the fall itself, it was only natural that she fell victim to the accident.

Once Spencer rode back and alerted both his father and brother of the Queen’s demise, grief filled tension struck between the brothers. With Rian blaming Spencer’s arrogance and poor decision making on their mother’s completely avoidable death, and Spencer vowing to ensure Rian would one day know what it feels like to lose everything. And thus, a vicious rivalry ensued. Spencer has since then aspired to do nothing more than rip Rian’s throne, reputation, and ultimately their father and kingdom’s support from him. The more calculated Spencer’s jabs and schemes have gotten though, the more Rian had displaced him in various places to undergo meaningless duties. Success had never been more important to Spencer than it has been since the death of his mother, and there is nothing that Spencer will allow to get in the way of everything he’s striving to have.

It was winter here in Adarlan a small mist of snow falling from the sky- but never enough to coat the grounds. There was a constant pounding on the noise- stirring the sleeping beast in her bed. Tate groaned, throwing her arm over her head in annoyance as she shouted "Go away." But of course it didn't. And moments later, both cousins came barging into the room with their hands on their hips. "Father says to wake up. You two have something to discuss." Mena snapped rolling her brown eyes and shuffling back out the door, leaving Lena standing their awkwardly. Tate growled, throwing the thin blanket off of her and moving to throw on some clothes. It didn't take long to find the discarded pieces in the corner. She picking them up, sniffing them and throwing them back down with a huff. "I can't wear those. I need to wash them." She uttered, looking up at the girl still standing in her room. "Is there something else?" She jabbed, eyes slitting like a cat. "J-Just..Father said to wear one of our dresses. That's why Mena is so angry this morning." Lena stuttered, slowly inching out of the creaking room- "I have a few options laid out of my bed. I have to return to the chores." She sighed, disappearing.

A dress? The hell was her Uncle Iven thinking trying to throw a dress onto her? She shook her head, sighing as she headed towards the twins' room right next to her own. Compared to Tate's this one was much nicer- the furniture actually didn't creak threatening to break each time you touched it. Nonetheless, Tate moved toward the bed, picking up the lilic fabric and scowling. "He wants me to wear...this." She hissed lowly, not expecting Mena to be in the room seconds later closing the door behind her. "Your complaining about our dresses? Yet you wear rags all the time." She sneered, moving towards the small mirror that laid against a dresser. "Y'know. I can't wait to get rid of you." That made Tate scowl further- brows pinched together. "The hell does that-" But she was stopped short when Iven's voice came booming down the hallway "Tate! Get your arse in here now!" Tate narrowed her eyes to slits, pointing a slim finger at Mena before walking out "This isn't over."

Iven was sitting at his desk when she walked in, her mostly green eyes finding his. Papers lined his desk, making her worry spike up as she moved toward his desk and took a place in the chair sat in front of it. "Tate. There's something I need to tell you." He began to explain, Tate shaking her head as she leaned back crossing her arms. "Why do you want me to wear a dress?" She retorted. Iven visibly winced, leaning back in his own chair afraid she might lash out at his next words. "I...You..Your father.." He said, taking a deep breath as he began again, "You know he used to work for the King- Well..The King- Is dead. And his eldest son; is taking over as King." He paused, letting the words sink in- before starting again. "Your father and The King striked a bargain long before he did- After his second son was born. He signed away your hand in marriage- Im afraid there's no easy way to say it." And again, her world came crashing down. If that was possible. "W-What do you mean?" She rasped out, throat seemingly closing up as she swiftly stood knocking the chair down in the process. "This is a silly joke right? Uncle Please tell me I don't have to marry the son of someone who killed my father!" She growled, fist slamming onto the table.

Iven jumped, standing himself- bracing himself. "Listen here Girl." He snapped back- chest rising; "No one said you had to love this kid. You could learn things there- things you can't and will never have here." He added- "Don't make this harder then it has to be because weather you like it or not- Your marrying The Kings son. And there's not a darn thing you or I can do to change that." Tate growled again- face red with anger. "I wish my father never died!" She screamed running out of the room and back into her's; slamming the door behind her. Iven sighed, sitting back down and putting his face in his hands "Me too." He silently cried- only wiping away the tears when Lena walked in. "Dinner is almost ready." She announced leaving again. And oh how he wished, upon everything that his daughters wouldn't suffer from

this either; more worried for them, then the strong willed Tate.

“Your father, The King, is dead.”

Rian perhaps wasn’t the first to be made aware of the King’s passing just a few days prior, but the news certainly hit him the hardest. Gossip certainly blew through the castle as violently as a wind storm. Words of rumored regicide was carelessly thrown around, just because it gave everyone something to talk about. There was an overwhelming sense of knowing that if Spencer had currently been residing in the castle, he would have been the first people would assume played a hand in the King’s death. But from everything Rian was briefed on by his advisor upon recieving the news, and from the royal physician herself, there was no apparent foul play in the King’s demise.

The former prince sat unnaturally still in the faux leather chair within his own private study, awaiting for the advisor that had once more requested an audience with the new King. These past few days though, it seemed everyone had wanted to gain a private audience with the young King. More often than not these people being various nobles seeing it as an opportunity to attempt to weasel their way into Rian’s better graces, and manipulate the grieving young man. But Rian was not blind to the selfish desires that fueled the actions of those that belonged to the upper class of Adarlan. And truth be told the new King was grieving a loss, just not the loss of his father.

“Your Highness?”

A few gentle raps at the study’s door followed the question, before the door opened and a small figure briskly shuffled in his direction, seating himself on the opposite end of Rian. The former prince’s gaze focused on the sight of the older man and the lines in his forehead tightly creased in unspoken concern. “Yes?” Rian asked calmly, his brow faintly arching to accompany the question.

“I know the last few days have been filled with an overwhelming level of strife, Your Highness. And as much as it pains me to further burden you at this time, I’m afraid the work of a King has no regard for allowing anyone much time to heal. Your address to the kingdom was well received though, and you forged a well founded bridge to a new era.” The advisor spoke, offering comfort in a professional manner. The address Rian gave to his people just the morning before, at least, was well spoken. Something his father wasn’t quite, but Rian was an artist when it came to speaking by word of mouth.

“Now, the most pressing matters today, if you don’t mind,” the advisor briefly paused, awaiting any protest from Rian before continuing. “Your father’s funeral will be held in three days time; I feel it best to celebrate his reign before swearing in the official reign of Adarlan’s new King. And then… there’s the matter of the woman your father betrothed you to…” Rian’s gaze narrowed slightly, not enough to be received as threatening, but enough to express his dismay at hearing this. Of course, Rian was aware of the fate his father had forced upon him -just as everything in his life so far has been-, but his father always kept the details of this arrangement just out of Rian’s grasp.

“I assume a summons to the palace has already been sent to my bride-to-be then,” Rian stated, knowing he didn’t have to ask, as he already knew the answer. “Let me assume this next; you think it best for me to wed as soon as possible following my father’s funeral, to bring a sense of hopefulness and stability within the palace. Then, if I may assume further, you think it best to host my coronation a set amount of days after the wedding, to officiate me and my bride simultaneously as the official King and Queen of Adarlan.” Rian’s tone remained so steady, so frigid, that the room began to prickle with a coldness that even winter itself would be envious of. The advisor faintly gulped, but nodded to confirm the new King’s words. “Tell me, was my father foolish enough to go by every word you offered on your every whim? Was it even really him who ruled this kingdom, or was it every goddamn noble and power hungry leach in this kingdom's walls breathing down his neck that coerced him to do the things he did? Make no mistake, Nikkos, I am not my father. Do not expect me to reign like him, do not expect me to mindlessly nod along to everything you say like him, and do not assume your every notion will be approved before you have the decency to address me first.”

Even though it was more than obvious that the young man was fuming, nothing on his face, no glint in his eyes, and not a single trace of this rage was detectable in his tone. It was passive. Too passive. But Rian would not be treaded over by anyone, and he needed to make that clear now. “Anything else?” Rian pressed, tilting his head slightly to the side to see whether his advisor had the gall to further speak.

“A-actually yes, Y-your Highness… your brother, Prince Spencer is expected to return from the Westlands within the day. I received word of his impending arrival early this morning.” The advisor choked out, and only then did Rian’s gaze flame with a brief flicker of vexation before it vanished.

“Well then,” the young King spoke as he rose from his seat, his black and gold embroidered attire clinging gently to his form, “ensure both my bride-to-be, and my brother, are properly received. I can only guess that you’ve arranged a fanciful feast for the occasion, and if you haven’t done so already, please prepare the east annex for my betrothed, and the west for Spencer.” Rian spoke before he began to walk in the direction of the study’s doors. “Notify me upon the arrival of whomever makes it to the palace gates first, I’ll be overlooking the plans regarding my father’s funeral, my coronation, and now my wedding in my personal chambers.” Rian threw over his shoulder, opening the door as if to leave before he abruptly halted in doing so. “And if it’s not much trouble, ensure my betrotheds’ family comes to be in the possession of a comfortable bout of wealth, courtesy of the new King’s wish to not leave the family empty handed.” Rian finished, leaving the advisor to scribble down the new King's every demand within the study.

The day dragged on, and the only time Tate had let herself cry- was in her bedroom. The hunt she had taken with Iven a quite one; & Anger taking over its place as she was called down to dinner hours later. Iven sat at the head of the table, his jaw set into a hard line as he pushed the food around on his plate. Though for Tate, Angry or not she ate the stew; something they often threw together in the kitchen and enjoyed as a family. Mena leaned forward on the table, palms flat as she smiled sickenly sweet- "Hey Tate. I heard your new husband is Handsome, Maybe I can take your place instead?" She mused- but Tate wasn't having it. Not today. "I doubt the King would want a bride as Rude as you for Queen." She snapped back- rising to her feet in an instant- Mena following now with a scowl. "H-He would much rather me then some Orphan!" She shot back. That was low- and the pain that blew threw Tate's chest was suffocating. All air was sucked from her lungs as she now stood there gasping for air. Iven growled, "Mena! That is enough. Go to your room now." He roared- sending Mena and Lena scurrying off. Lyla walked into the cabin moments later- her eyes going wide to find the situation at hand. Before Mena had walked off apparently the strew that Tate was eating from lay sprayed on the floors and walls from throwing it towards the girls' head.

"What in the word?" Lyla hissed, making both parties look up at the woman. Tate still fuming began to pick up the shattered remains of the bowl- Iven bending down to help. "Just another Spat darling." He hummed, placing a gentle hand of Tate's shoulder when they were done cleaning. "Make them pay for what they did to you. To us..." Iven murmured- moving toward his wife moments later and embracing her into a hug. "I would say Welcome home but.." Iven mused, kissing her cheek and then taking the mail she had in her hands. "Hm. Whats this?" But it didn't take a fool to figure it out. It was a summons for the future Queen- the letter having the Kingdom's seal. He blew out a puff of air, "I will be in my study. Tate please do come find me when your done." And with that walked towards his office again sitting down to read the parcel. Then an hour later that door swung open revealing Tate as she quietly made her way into the room. "I assume that letter- Is my summons." She sighed, placing her hand out for her to read.

By the time she was done, her hands were shaking as she slowly sat into the seat waiting for her. "I don't understand why father would have done this." She muttered, teeth catching her lip as she often did when nervous or anxious. "He wanted to ensure that you married someone who could take care of you." Iven replied, shrugging his broad shoulders- "Tate you are resilient. This new King won't know what hit him when you show up. Find out anything and everything you can. Learn new things; And maybe one day..You'll love him." He added. But it was Tate who barked into laughter; dry laughter. "Don't be so hopeful Uncle. Im being forced into a marriage that I'm just finding out about- I don't think The King will be to happy either." She hummed, tapping her fingers on the arm rest of the chair. "I leave tomorrow?" She whispered after a beat of silence between them. "Yes." Was all he replied; head shaking in response. "And how will you all survive? Between me and you we both know that what hunting we do, Is what's keeping us alive." She hated to say it out loud but it was the truth and her worry would only grow. Iven sighed, "Don't you fret about us Tate- We will be fine. I'm sure both girls will either find a husband or perhaps...a job in the town." It didn't take away her fear, her heart shattering as they both stood to embrace each other, "Go to bed now. I'm sure those officials will make no time to retrieve you for the King." He sighed, pulling away after a minute. "You have been a blessing Child. And your father would be proud of the woman you are becoming. And have yet too." Tate smiled, letting the tears slip down her face as sue nodded, "Thank you Uncle. For everything." She whined before walking out the door again that day and heading up to her own bedroom.

The next morning came quicker then the family hoped, and even though Mena may have hated Tate she knew her father would miss her. Early that morning, Mena stuck into Tate's room placing the purple lilic dress onto the end of a chair and disappearing back out as if she was never there. Tate had barely slept, tossing and turning and waking up from numerous nightmares. And when she awoke to find that dress on the chair, her heart sunk as reality hit her all over again. Today was the day she was leaving everything and everyone she knew behind, to marry a King who may or may not know about his own father's hand in her own's demise. Nonetheless the slipped the dress onto her sun kissed skin, the color making her green eyes pop. Truthfully, Tate felt beautiful in it though she'd never admit it. She grabbed a brush, doing her best to comb out the wild mess ontop her head; the golden curls tanging right back up. She eventually gave in, heading out of the room when her name was called by Lyla. "There you are." She huffed, grabbing the girl by her shoulders. "They have just arrived." The news made Tate stiffen, her shoulders squaring as she headed out of the door to find Iven and the twins unloading trunks of something. "What's this?" She asked, brows rising in question. "The King has given us fine clothing and jewels to last us a lifetime!" Mena yipped oblivious to the shock that rocked through Tate. "Oh." She uttered, shaking her head and then looking towards the many guards stationed by the horse. To say she was angered he would take these lengths to make sure 'his bride' made it safely, was an understatement. She pressed her jaw together, teeth gritting in the process. It didn't take long for one of the to walk toward her, waiting for her to say her goodbyes but never once touching her.

The goodbyes were short and sweet, her uncle holding her the longest before the Guard made him step away from her so they could depart. And if her fathers' death hadn't crushed her soul, then all four crying faces she watched disappear surely did. She was on her own now, heading towards a destiny she had only known about for a day. The details from the letter still embed into her brain about how she was going to be a wife and Queen in merely a couple of days.

For the first time, in what felt like a very long time, Rian spent the rest of his day in solitude. The only thing occupying the young King being the roaring chorus of thoughts that have plagued him for days now. Switching his focus constantly between the plans at hand, pondering the uncertainty of the marriage he didn’t want, and the sudden -drastic- change of being his kingdom’s new King. It was the only life Rian was groomed to have though, his father ensured such. And yet, even over a lifetime of knowing this day would come, Rian still found no peace in the reality that he is King,

Sleep -for the most part- evaded Rian, his symphony of thoughts not proving to be a soothing lullaby. But Rian was accustomed to restless nights; courtesy of his chronic habit of stressing and worrying. The castle itself would still technically be in mourning until the funeral took place, and as tradition went, black would be the primary shade of color worn by those dwelling within the palace walls. Rian being no exception; with his well-tailored black trousers, long sleeve undergarment, and the black jacket that bore the golden embroidery of the Iverson family crest -two swords forming an ‘X’ with a pair of Raven’s wings attached- on the back. The sleeve cuffs and hem of the jacket were also lightly decorated with golden embroidered designs.

The new King went about his morning; eating a light breakfast in the dining hall as he watched the sun’s light slowly envelop the palace, conversing with his advisor, and ultimately waiting. The most concerning aspect of the arrangement for this marriage was that Rian didn’t know quite who he was being wed to. ‘The daughter of an old friend’, was all his father ever said, and Rian never had the pleasure of wringing any more information than that out. It’s been years since Adarlan has had a Queen, and the last thing anyone -maybe especially him- needed right now was a Queen that would bring more strife than satisfaction to the kingdom as a whole. This was all more of a business transaction in Rian’s eyes; he didn’t anticipate love, but rather two people finding a way to live in close quarters for the greater good. If he hadn’t been so accustomed to a lack of freedom as a royal, maybe he would have been a bit more upset at what his father arranged.

“Your Highness, your bride is nearly at the palace gates.”

Rian removed himself from the dining table that had already been cleared and cleaned off several moments ago, although the new King moved in a manner that reflected no rush. “I’ll be in the courtyard in a matter of moments then,” Rian began, ushering with his hand for the advisor to follow as he began to walk, “And what of Spencer’s arrival?” I expected him to arrive at the Devil’s hour last night.

“The prince’s return is expected shortly, certainly in time for tonight’s celebratory feast.”

Rian hummed in response. Expressing neither displeasure or satisfaction at that news. If Rian had to guess, Spencer would make a showy arrival. After all, he was dispatched to the Westlands with a small cavalry in order to upend the troublesome, heathenous tribes along the trade routes. And just as Rian had known would happen; Spencer reigned victorious in his battle. Now, the young King could only hope that his brother was battle weary enough to not cause a showy scene on such an important day. However, Rian also knew his brother well enough to not remain too hopeful of such a thing. Spencer was a creature that flourished and thrived on few things; success, confrontation, and misfortune.

The pair exited the palace’s front and descended the few stone steps down to be finally standing in the courtyard. Nikkos stood to the left of Rian, his hands clasped behind his back as his posture stiffened. While Rian’s hands fell to his sides, his eyes traveling up and to the semi-blue sky. Cloudy days were all too common in the winter of Adarlan, so Rian relished in the small splendor of the blue hued sky. Blue enough to drown in, if only I were so lucky.

The sound of hooves pounding the ground pulled Rian back into his present reality, with his steely gray gaze untethering from the sky and in the direction of the small collection of individuals reaching the gates. Hardly any conversation was exchanged before the gates were open, and Rian’s eyes moved to the horse carrying a much smaller figure -an evidently feminine figure though. The purple dressage the female was clothed in, in accompaniment to the brighter blonde hair, stood out rather greatly against the darker themed… everything that surrounded her. Rian’s expression remained neutral; not cold or distant by any means, but not exactly expressing any joy pouring out of him. In any case though, his stiff neutrality could easily be passed off as Rian still in mourning.

As they neared closer, Rian made the effort to step forward, nearly simultaneously as the horse drew to a stop, and a guard offered his hand to help the woman down should she need it. Rian quickly allowed his gaze to study the woman; she was beautiful in her own right, but it was all too clear to Rian that she didn’t exactly come from a family of nobility. Mostly because she didn’t seem to have the aura of a pompous and proud, wealthy elitist. Which most noble women certainly had.

“Welcome,” Rian addressed from a short distance to the female with a subtle nod, “I’m Rian Iverson, King of Adarlan.” He politely introduced, though saying his new title sickened him slightly. "We’ve prepared a chamber in the east annex where your servants will wait on you, foot and hand. And where I do hope you find comfortability. This is a foreign place to you, but I do hope you'll come to consider the Adarlan palace your new home in due time.” Rian paused, keeping his gaze solely on the woman. His future wife. "Now, shall we relinquish ourselves of this winter air and make our way inside? I'd love to give you a tour, if you're willing of course." Rian added, gesturing with his arm to the palace's front doors.