Beatrice Point of View
The morning that greeted me was not one of ease—
But of burden.
What should have followed the celebration of union instead carried the weight of unrest, as though the very ground beneath this castle had been shaken in the night.
With the aid of two maids, I dressed in silence.
The garments laid out for me were unlike those of my homeland. In the North, our lands were cloaked in unending snow, and our attire reflected such a life—layered, heavy, protective.
Here—
It was different.
The island breathed warmth.
The gown I wore fell only to mid-leg, light in its making, crafted of but two fine fabrics instead of the many I was accustomed to. Its sleeves were short, its design modest yet freeing in a way I had not expected.
For the first time in many years, my h
