Oriana sat at the front of the royal conference. The other elders were seated in rows facing her. The hall was large, and, of course, this might have seemed intimidating to many, as one might wonder why so many people were staring at a single person during a discussion.
Oriana could already tell that this meeting was going to grate her nerves. After all, she couldn't have canceled it even if she had wanted to—now that the king was dead, meetings like this were inevitable until a solution was found.
On the other side of the hall were long windows, slightly opened, letting in a light draught, perhaps to prevent the room from feeling stifling.
One of the elders rose as Oriana rolled her eyes inwardly, already anticipating the direction of this discussion. The man appeared to be in his late forties; his hair was slicked back in a style that did little to conceal his thinning crown, making him look strange rather than distinguished.
"Greetings, Your Grace, and our deepest condolences," he began, his voice calm and measured, reverent as he tried to steady it with a small pause. "We are all greatly pained by this loss.
The sudden news has shaken the kingdom, but now that His Majesty has passed, there is little we can do except to help restore the realm and seek a path forward."
The other elders nodded solemnly in agreement. Oriana listened silently, her face unreadable, legs crossed, neither nodding nor making the slightest movement, so no one could tell if she was agreeing or declining.
The man paused, as if granting the late king a moment of respectful silence, before clearing his throat softly and continuing.
"We are here to discuss that, with the throne vacant, a king will be necessary. You are queen, Your Grace, but a king is needed to enact certain laws and maintain order." He moved to take his seat but froze as Oriana's voice cut through the hushed room.
"What laws, Mister James?" she asked slowly, her words measured. The other royals' eyes widened in surprise—not only at her knowledge of his name but at the icy precision of her tone, which seemed to seep into their bones.
"Well… I…" The man straightened, trying to regain composure. "In every kingdom, there must be a king and a queen. Should one fall, the other is expected to carry the burden in unison." His hands, resting on the polished wood of the table, tightened subtly as the others murmured their agreement.
"If that were truly the case," Oriana replied, her voice sharp and deliberate, "it seems this conversation never reached my late brother, the king.
He has ruled without a queen all this time… or perhaps gender plays a more important role in this matter?" She leaned back in her chair, her face serene, yet every word was edged with authority.
The man quickly shook his head. "Your Grace, forgive me if my words have strayed. What I mean is that you will need a king. After careful consideration, we realized the kingdom also requires an heir—something the late king did not provide, and we wish not to repeat the same oversight."
Oriana's mind wandered briefly to her brother. He had spoken often of finding the right match, insisting that he sought a partner worthy of the crown.
Even in their last argument, she had questioned why he desired her marriage when he himself remained unwed, and he had calmly replied that he was still searching for the right one.
The elder finally lowered himself onto the chair, and a thick, tense silence settled over the room.
As he exhaled, relief seemed to escape him, though he straightened immediately, as if he had no intention of standing again until the meeting concluded.
Then, one of the elders spoke, cutting through the silence like steel:
"We have concluded that you shall marry tonight."
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Every eye turned to Oriana; even the faintest sound from beyond the hall would have broken the tension.
In fact, most of the silence was due to shock—how this woman had made them all feel. The fact that she was the only one unflinching and unimpressed in the rows surprised them in more ways than they could admit.
A soft, gracious laugh escaped her lips, widening into a genuine, elegant sound. The shock on the elders' faces deepened as they exchanged glances, struggling to comprehend what had provoked such a reaction. Oriana leaned forward slightly, her posture regal yet relaxed.
"I was not informed that some among you possessed such wit," she said, her voice lilting as her hands moved to her chest in a mock expression of bewilderment. "In fact, it feels as though I am in a hall of comedians. What an outstanding performance, I must say."
Confusion flickered across the assembly; no one understood what had amused the queen. Even more unnerving was that her laughter was entirely genuine, soft and melodic, without a single trace of mockery in its tone.
"Your Grace…" Another elder began, only to pause immediately as Oriana's hand lifted in a subtle but commanding gesture, halting him mid-word. She let her hand rest back on the polished table and fixed him with a steady, unreadable gaze.
"Even in the books I have read," she said slowly, her voice deliberate, "I have never come across such a… flash marriage. Or are you all implying that a groom—the king—is already prepared for me?" Her brow arched slightly as she tried to make sense of the declaration.
The notion made little sense; who married on the same day as the decision? This was not a time of war demanding instant action. They had not even suggested a period of preparation—they had said tonight.
A faint, incredulous thought passed through her mind: It seems they are already performing kingly duties…
Oriana had anticipated challenges, schemes, and political maneuvering—but never had she expected the council to decree that she should wed this very night. Where was she even supposed to find a husband?
Were they planning to parade suitors before her? Her teeth clenched slightly at the thought, envisioning various men arriving with flowers while telling her about the various estates they had in East Gantrem and the north.
A pregnant silence fell over the hall. Then, abruptly, another elder rose. He drew in a sharp, measured breath, the tension in the room thick enough to taste. All eyes followed him, waiting for the words that seemed to hang heavily in the air.
"We have also finalized that, should you refuse…" His voice wavered slightly as he rubbed his sweaty fingers together, his expression tense, chin lifted in an effort at authority.
"I am afraid… you will have to step down, while one of us assumes the throne as king."