The king sat in his throne, grimace on his lips, eyes closed, as he pinches and rubs at the bridge of his nose and between his brows, desperately trying to relieve the building tension headache. He still couldn’t believe his precious girl had decided to marry a vargr/orc druid. A vargr org Warlord druid. One that, granted, he’s glad is no longer trying to invade their kingdom and turn them all into tree, but not like this. He’d have preferred death over his daughter deciding to woo the damn warlord. He’s not mad, just…. Severely aggrieved, disappointed, and unsettled.
“Papa?” comes his daughter’s voice from where she stood before him, sounding cautious and hesitant, as she stood beside her fiancé.
“I’m fine, my princess. Just… why? Why her? I’m… glad? You found a way to dissuade her prior path… but why?” The king croaks out, opening his eyes and raising his head to look at his daughter and the vargr pelted orc woman littered with scars who stood, towering, beside her.
The princess gets a sheepish look and retorts, “It wasn’t intentional, Papa. She’d pretty. And actually flirted with me first. She, uh, actually didn’t realize I was your daughter till after we’d spent the night in her tent.” Kamila, the princess, fidgets with the lower hem of her traveling tunic as she looks away from both Octavia, the Orc/Vargr druid, and her father.
The king sighs as he glances at Octavia who merely stands there, smirking smugly, her tusks only making her smirk even smugger somehow.
“Octavia, with all due respect, you realize you’ll have to cease causing havoc, yes? You marry my daughter, and you’ll have to have formal training for your position as the princess’ consort. Meaning no war waging until you have a very firm understanding on how this kingdom operates. And even then, you might not be allowed to, simply due to the fact we very rarely have any reason to go to war.”
Octavia shrugs, grinning, and states, “No fear, Franklin. Kamila already told me she’d help me find a new hobby. She mentioned the castle has a nice large lot of land I can use to cultivate.”
The king pauses, baffled, then sits up as he blinks in confusion them mutters, “She dissuaded you from attacking… with promises of druid land?” Franklin grimaces then sighs questioning himself, “Why hadn’t I contemplated that. If I’d offered you land to tend to, this probably would’ve ended years ago.”
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