BloodWin

Marcin sat by the fire watching it flicker in the hearth having nowhere to go but wishing it's confines.

He knew the feeling all to well being a prince isn't all the glamours one thought it would be. The paper alone is tiring. Makes one lose all hope in this forsaken world. But it can't be helped—it is his birthright.

He sighed and leaned further back into the chair. Throwing his legs over the chair. Taking a position similar to that of a spoon.

A book in hand along with a steaming cup of tea is the most rewarding aspect of his day. However, right into his third take, he heard the sounds of muffled crying.

He exhaled: really? Now you want to cry? After you agreed to marry me?

He decided to let her cry. Her crying perused onto the night to the point were he believed that she might never stop. But alas she did and he thanked God that she did. He knew that if she cried for a second longer he would go in there and tried to help alleviate her worries.

Marcin knew that whatever was making her cry would make him cry: under different circumstances.

One things for certain: this marriage has to happen. For him to secure his throne he needs a wife. A young and fertile one. Even if she was just 17 years old.

But he knew that she is but a sheep in a wolves den. And he was bringing her in could ultimately result in her death.

Marcin will protect her. He has too. He won't fail. In his quest.

Grace did agree to become his wife, against her better judgment.

He sighed; he knew she has every right to feel sad. She was giving up her freedom, her life to him. She may have had opportunities if he hadn't come to make her his wife. But this was not the time to feel regret.

It's time for action.