Chapter eighteen

When Empress Cassiopeia woke up, Lord Asher was already dressed.

"Where are you going?" She asked, half asleep.

"You're awake, Your Highness." He said, more to himself than to her.

"No, I'm speaking from my dream."

"I was about to get You breakfast, but I see there's no need."

The Empress covered herself with the bedsheets, "I'm sleeping", she muttered, expecting him to still bring her breakfast.

He chuckled, "I'll be right back."

As she heard the closing click of the door, a smile appeared on her face. He was so sweet she felt like melting. Would it be so wrong of her to be happy about their marriage? Although it was a last resource for him to escape his marriage, she couldn't help but wonder if fate had brought them to get married.

She had always wanted a friend close at all times. He was sweet, caring and patient with her, and she could not think of a better person to have close.

Since her childhood, he was the only boy outside her family she ever spoke to.

He was her dearest and oldest friend.

"What's on the menu?" She asked, as soon as the door closed behind the guy.

He was holding a silver food tray.

"We have wild berries tea, croissants with blackberry marmalade, butter cookies and strawberries."

Her mouth watered at the smell, "delicious".

He placed the food tray on the small tea table close to the biggest window in his large room.

"Allow me", he said, holding out a hand to help her out of bed. She took his hand happily, and let him guide her to the chair.

As she expected, everything was sublime.

They enjoyed their meal chatting about nothing, until Lord Neus came to escort her to her chambers, where the maids awaited for her to get changed and get married for the third time in a week.

Now, if you have gotten married once, you know how stressful it is.

Empress Cassiopeia was supposed to get married five times in five days.

If not for all the drinking, her liver was holding on for dear life due to the heavy stress on her shoulders.

Dressed, she once again repeated the ceremony that took place the two days prior.

Her brother walked her to the altar, the groom gave her his mohar, they performed the ritual and paraded through the capital city.

This time, her ring had sapphires.

Although he mispronounced her name at the altar, she pretended not to notice. She also pretended not to notice how he didn't hold her hand while they were parading, yet he seemed completely at ease with the crowd cheering them on.

Perhaps he enjoyed it more than her.

Soon, he was sent to the royal bedchamber. A maid was still applying lipstick to her cheeks as he walked in.

She was promptly sent away, and the Empress kept pampering herself up, pretending the man wasn't in the room.

"Good evening, Your Royal Highness." She greeted the Prince.

"Yes, Good evening Empress. Let us not be formal with each other, yes?"

That was something she enjoyed, having someone call her by her name. Someone who could stand at the top with her, that was allowed to use it.

"Very well, you are allowed to address me by my given name."

"Great, so Casket-"

"Cassiopeia." She said curt, going back to the mirror to hide her annoyance. She saw his reflection in it, he was standing there with a puzzled expression.

"?"

"Not Casket, Cassiopeia."

"Right, sorry. I'm eager to enjoy this marriage in the privacy of my own company, so let's not bother each other any further than this, alright?"

She turned around and gave him a disgusted look. "Who are you again?"

"I'm Prince Ramzan Callisto Ephraim Murad Vindbjerg, but since we are of the same social class, you can call me Ramzan or Callisto." He replied, annoyed.

"Ah, the Vindbjergian." She said, going back to fixing her make-up. She remembered him, she just took offense at his words and wanted to be as annoying as him.

"Have you forgotten me?"

"I apologise, I had three other marriages, and I'll have one tomorrow." She lied. It was petty and she knew it.

"Yes, so how I was saying, Casper-"

"Cassiopeia."

"Yes, Cassiopeia, same thing-"

"It's not the same thing. They're clearly two different words. Are you illiterate by any chance?"

The blush was evident on his tan skin. "They have a similar sound."

"They do not."

"Perhaps you lack dictation lessons."

"Perhaps you lack common sense." Retorted the Empress.

"Perhaps you lack-"

"Perhaps you could be quiet. I have an headache from hearing your voice."

Although fuming, he kept quiet. She took her sweet time fixing herself in the mirror. She didn't need to, but she could feel his annoyance from there and she enjoyed the childish sense of victory that came with it.

Cassiopeia, you should grow up. She thought to herself, mentally remembering all the "not lowering yourself to their level" type of quotes her etiquette teacher planted in her brain. Anyhow, the subtle smile on her face indicated that the teachings had been of little use.

He was still staring at her when she turned around, ready for bed. Although she realised she had put on makeup just to sleep, she deemed the guy too dumb to realise it.

"What are you staring at?" Asked the Empress with annoyance in her voice.

"I expected better."

"I beg your finest pardon?"

"I'm saying, I don't think you look as good as my wife should. Every woman in my life should be at least at my standards, even my mother was more beautiful than you." Explained the Prince, and lifted his hand to his head, as to indicate his height.

"Go weep to your mother then", she replied, having seemingly abandoned all her etiquette lessons. She was ready to draw her sword and slash him in half.

"My mother is in eternal rest. Maybe I should go cry to yours, I'm confident she'd know how to lift my mood up, if not something else."

"I'm sure you'd like that, but my mother's also dead", she retorted as if it was something to be proud of.

"Do you really always have to have the last word?"

"I'm bossy, you'll get used to that."

"As if. I'm fleeing this place at the first chance I get."

"I'll lend you a carriage."

He scoffed, turning around. "I'm not sleeping in the same bed as you."

"You're welcome to settle on the floor."

She snuggled under the covers, resting her head on the soft pillow.

"I am a Prince of a nation. How could I ever sleep on the floor?"

She pretended to be asleep, tired of his constant whining. Was that why his family just dropped him there?

"I'm talking to you."

"I said I'm talking to you."

"I know you're not asleep."

"Get up."

"Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up."

She was indeed about to get up, to get up and punch him.

Then, he stopped. The Empress thought she could finally enjoy some rest, but instead, she felt her body being picked up and clumsily lowered onto the floor.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?"

"Oh? So now you're awake?"

She didn't reply, instead she sat back onto the bed.

"Get off, I want to take the bed."

"There's room for the two of us, suit yourself."

"No there is not. You're too fat. You take all the bed-" He almost finished talking, when a pillow hit him square on the face.

She wanted to say something smart, but when she saw the face of bewilderment and shock he had, she couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"This is ridiculous. Absolutely a nightmare. I cannot stay here longer."

"Goodbye then." She said, trying to reach out for the pillow she threw, ready to strike again.

Anyhow, he was quicker and took it first.

"You hit me first, so this is self defence."

"You hit women?" She said, in a fake distressed voice.

"In my free time", he retorted, throwing the pillow at her.

Now, she was an Empress. Although the situation was even, she should have the upper hand, so it was only natural for her to swing the pillow back at him.

"So you chose war", he said, grabbing two pillows and jumping on the bed.

"War it is."

30 minutes later, the room was covered in duck and geese feathers, and the two laid flat on their backs, staring at the frescoed ceiling. Angelic scenes from the sacred scriptures were depicted, so contrasting to how they looked.

"So... Truce?" She asked, turning her head to him.

He held his hand out to help her up, but as she reached for it he took it back, making her clumsily fall on her bottoms.

"Truce", he smirked.