How She'll Survive

For her entire 21 years of life living on the coast, Leonor found comfort in the rain. 

Clouds wrapped around the Earth in a large hug and the low visibility made her surroundings feel small and approachable. The constant sound of water hitting something made every other noise feel quiet. There was a time in her past when she was lost in the rain and, despite being injured, the rain calmed her down enough to think clearly.

She spent many days in her life napping while it rained outside. Even on warmer days, she might be caught napping outdoors when it rained, always finding herself back in her bedroom. Francia was always the one who found her and put her where she belonged.

However, on her wedding day, the rain did not comfort Leonor. 

The sound of it hitting the multitude of windows and wooden roof of the church made her feel nervous as if the old structure might crumble and give their union another bad omen. For once, the clouds made her feel somber. She wanted to go to sleep because of everything hanging over her and not because she was relaxed. 

Leonor stood in front of a mirror with intricate gilded edges. Underneath her feet was a finely woven rug. On the walls were various pieces of art depicting significant religious events from sacred texts. It seemed to be a bedroom because of the bed in the far corner. 

After Duke Desmond arrived, Francia had secured a veil in Leonor's hair that had been done in a loose updo and allowed the sheer fabric to fall over her face. She gave Leonor a gentle squeeze on her shoulders and left. Count Mikael would arrive shortly to retrieve his daughter and bring her to the church's nave where she would be wed.

From underneath the sheer veil, Leonor looked at herself and misery filled her heart. She had to admit that the dress bought for her was unbelievably beautiful. It was a faint blue color to show off her purity with a layer of lace covering satin material. The dress was long-sleeved and an off-the-shoulder style that revealed more of her shoulders and chest than she normally cared to show. 

For once, her neck held a gold chain with a simple teardrop ruby at the center of her chest. She felt it wrong to wear a locket around her neck on her wedding day that represented her past when she was trying her best to accept her future.

The bride turned to the side and admired the train of her skirts behind her. To use that much silk on a single garment must have cost a fortune. The bottom half of her dress made her waist look tiny as if she could fall apart at any moment despite spending the past years strengthening her body and becoming a better mage at the Academy. 

A faint click was heard in the silent room and Leonor knew her father had come to retrieve her. 

As she already predicted, her father's eyes were cold. He had no qualms about letting his daughter go with a mystery man who could very well be who put her in an early grave. That would likely be the best outcome for him. Since her mother left the world, his care for his eldest daughter left as well.

In the past couple of days, those thoughts led her to wonder if her father reached out to the Duke first. She wasn't impressive enough to catch someone's attention. Her sister was the jewel of the house while she was his pathetic excuse for an heir. Anna was supposed to marry someone of higher status to elevate the status of the von Buriens. On the other hand, Leonor was to be the son her father never had and take the house when he could no longer run things himself. 

Marrying Leonor off first meant he didn't have to leave her a thing. All she worked for was for nothing.

"The Duke is waiting," the Count explained. "Best not to make him wait longer." 

Count Mikael offered his daughter his arm for the first time in ages. Her heart raced as adrenaline kicked in. In the past few years, the only times he touched her were to slap her. It felt strange to be led by someone she had no desire to follow. As they went forth, it felt like she was being taken to a pack of wolves. She was going to be eaten alive and her father was allowing it. 

A guard opened the tall wooden doors for the bride and her father. The smell of old books and incense hit Leonor's senses first. Soon after her eyes fell onto the beautiful stained glass behind the altar, portraying an angel coming from heaven. She was trying to think of anything else except for the situation ahead to try and calm her heart, but, unfortunately, as they walked into the room, she sensed a somberness in those witnessing. 

The left side of the room was considered the bride's side. In the front row stood her sister with a smug expression. There was an empty place next to her for her father. A few local cousins were in attendance considering they were easy to reach at short notice. The row behind had reeves and a few of her father's retainers. Behind them, Francia and the few and only helpers left at the Count's Manor. Lastly, guards sparsely sat at the back.

It wasn't a grand wedding by any means, but how could it be when it was at such short notice and was against the bride's will?

On the other hand, the right side of the room only seemed to be workers for the duke. Standing at the front was the messenger Leonor met before. Behind him were the Duke's maids, soldiers, and apprentices. They cast Leonor indecipherable looks as she passed by. 

Those in attendance were there to fill seats rather than celebrate a happy union.

Momentarily Leonor felt sick, wondering if that silence and unfamiliarity would be what she was subjected to for the rest of her life. She couldn't dwell because they had made it to the altar where her tall groom awaited her, his face still a mystery as his hood shadowed his true appearance.

The Count let go of his daughter and didn't look back until he was firmly planted next to his other daughter. When he saw Leonor frozen in place, he narrowed his eyes at her as if she were ruining her own wedding.

Her body begged her not to go forward. Even if the von Burien manor was a cold place, at least it was familiar to her. She knew how to hide and had a schedule that took her out of the house. With the Duke, there was no one on her side. Francia wasn't permitted to go with her.

Causing her to jump, Leonor felt something soft touch her other hand and she turned in shock to see the Duke reaching towards her. His white-gloved hand with a gold button containing his ducal seal brushed against her hand but he didn't fully grab it as if he didn't have permission. 

Leonor made a split-second decision, realizing he would guide her for the foreseeable future. Even though she wanted to cling to what was familiar, it was entirely out of control.

Perhaps if I show him respect, she thought, then I'll have a chance of survival. 

She grabbed the Duke's hand even though she hadn't met his eyes. 

Dutifully, he led her to the altar where the bishop stood. 

"You look beautiful, my lady," the Duke complimented her in a surprisingly gentle voice.

"Thank you, your grace," Leonor uttered stiffly.

Leonor finally gained the courage to look at his face despite lingering fear he might be upset that she paused for a disrespectful amount of time before going to him.

She was met with an emerald green eye and most of his face was covered in bandages. Surprisingly, his chin was uncovered and unscathed, but because of how his bandages hung from the upper half of his face, she couldn't see his mouth. 

Even though she could only see his eye, she felt like it held an expression that seemed just as lost as the one she likely wore.