The day had been busy, enough that it kept her from worry too much about the night to come. A new royal couple had people to meet, gifts to receive, oaths and people to visit. A dozen other duties about the festivities, especially with how it seemed Sweeney was so well liked.
Which made it even more apparent how she had to make this perfect, in the back of her mind. She must be worthy of him. So when she went back with her maids for the nights festivities and explained to them the change of plans, they did not do these rituals the night before, and instead would be doing them tonight. It at least helped Anya be less irritated at it being put aside the night before.
Then, however, she informed them, it would not be the dance they had previously chosen. Her husband was a warrior, and now she saw how true that was. He would have a bride as fierce as he. She may never pick a weapon, true, but he would find her no less strong beside him. Not the artful pose and intricacy. No. A test of strength and prowess, then. Let him know he had his match.
Dug through her gowns with her, most in the style of his people now, but the few she had taken that were like home, and opted instead of something light, freer, that would show off the strength of her limbs.
Then, with the little rehearsal they had in the chambers, her ladies dressed as she was, though she was hard to miss. Her long curls were braided with ribbons, a well pinned in place wreath of flowers around her brow - and made entirely of the ones he had picked the night before at the wedding especially.
The arrival is not done with the usual announcements, but instead the beat of a single drum as the doors swing open, and barefoot, expression open, she stepped into the hall, past the eyes that watched, mostly pleased and excited, she hoped. She strode past to that simple beat to at last stand before him. There, she dropped down into a deep curtsey to greet her Prince and Husband, then rose, her eyes darting up to his. "With your permission?"
It was his hall, after all, and she was new to these lands.
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Which made it even more apparent how she had to make this perfect, in the back of her mind. She must be worthy of him. So when she went back with her maids for the nights festivities and explained to them the change of plans, they did not do these rituals the night before, and instead would be doing them tonight. It at least helped Anya be less irritated at it being put aside the night before.
Then, however, she informed them, it would not be the dance they had previously chosen. Her husband was a warrior, and now she saw how true that was. He would have a bride as fierce as he. She may never pick a weapon, true, but he would find her no less strong beside him. Not the artful pose and intricacy. No. A test of strength and prowess, then. Let him know he had his match.
Dug through her gowns with her, most in the style of his people now, but the few she had taken that were like home, and opted instead of something light, freer, that would show off the strength of her limbs.
Then, with the little rehearsal they had in the chambers, her ladies dressed as she was, though she was hard to miss. Her long curls were braided with ribbons, a well pinned in place wreath of flowers around her brow - and made entirely of the ones he had picked the night before at the wedding especially.
The arrival is not done with the usual announcements, but instead the beat of a single drum as the doors swing open, and barefoot, expression open, she stepped into the hall, past the eyes that watched, mostly pleased and excited, she hoped. She strode past to that simple beat to at last stand before him. There, she dropped down into a deep curtsey to greet her Prince and Husband, then rose, her eyes darting up to his. "With your permission?"
It was his hall, after all, and she was new to these lands.