From the moment her fathers failing health could no longer be ignored, the young Prince had sought his place upon the throne in the kings' place. As Ulrik lay bedridden, his body weakening, withering away at the hand of an unknown illness there had been talk of which of his children would ascend as his heir. By traditions hand, it would be the eldest and thus Aleina would serve as Queen until her fathers' recovery. Or in his death, take the crown as would be her birthright.
It was gender that betrayed her. For yes, she was firstborn of King Uldrik, but first and foremost she was a woman. In traditions far older, far crueller, she is nothing more than a pawn --- a tool for political gain. Her brother knew this well and when the opportunity presented itself, he grasped it tightly by the horns.
Veiled as an alliance between the Kingdom of Alfheim and Vanaheim she was offered, as one does a precious gem or a prized cattle, to the Vanir king. She was to become his bride and her choice in the matter was none. Within the week of Prince Malius announcing the arrangement, Aleina was sent away to the Vanir Kingdom --- removed as a threat to her brothers self-appointed crown.
Many things were said of Vanaheims king and none were of kind words. King Haaken was said to be a tyrant, cruel in his motives and burning in temper. When she arrived he had been kind, as kind as one would be to an object they covet. For that’s what she was in his eyes, an object he would come to possess from the moment their hands were bound in wedlock.
With each passing day within those castle walls, with no word from her father, dread had consumed her further. She remained separate from her betrothed as often as she was able. Matters of the realm were kept far from her ears, she had never believed Haaken wanted a Queen and though she would convey the role, her title would be closer to his whore.
It had been a fortnight since her arrival to Vanaheim. In the past three days and nights, she remained in her chamber undisturbed by all but servants who brought her meals. When there came a knock upon her door outside of these hours she was perturbed.
“My lady, there is a man here to see you --- “ Ther servant was flustered, out of breath as though they had sprinted a great distance prior to arriving at her door “ --- He comes on orders of King Uldrik, of your father! He is speaking with King Haaken in the great hall.”
The mention of her father was enough. The length of her gown gathered in her hands, hurried steps carried her through the halls and to the great hall where she did not knock --- but rather burst through in a flurry bated breaths. King Haakens sat upon his throne at the halls head, eyes fixed downward on the stranger stood before him --- a man with hair of silver snow. Haakens gaze had snapped from the stranger and locked onto her as she entered, disrupting whatever discussion the two of them had been entangled in.
“My beloved, I do not recall summoning you.” Dark brows furrowed, Haakens tone oozing with displeasure at her sudden arrival.
“My father.” Aleina, ignoring the remark, approached the throne to where the stranger stood with hesitation. Taking in what she could of him --- he was not of Alfheim, such a fact could be easily determined by his manner of dress. “I hear you have brought news from my father?”
