Laekan Castle, Beliany
The days of the grand parties of King Leopold in the breathtaking gardens of Laekan had long ago passed. Indeed, there were few who remembered such events of the reign of her grandfather thought Princess Marie-Sofie as she glanced over them. She herself had been only a small child when her grand sire had passed away, leaving the throne to her father. Now she was a middle-aged spinster, dutifully in the shadow of her reigning brother, the current King Philippe.
The gardens were still lovely, though years of neglect under the reign o her father had dimmed them, reduced elaborate passages and greenhouses to simple paths and ghostly overgrown structures. But the castle remained, and while King Philippe busied himself with the affairs of the governance of the kingdom, their father, the late King Baudouin, having moved heaven and earth and taken advantage to return power back to the monarch, Princess Marie-Sofie was tasked with keeping the royal household in order.
As her sister-in-law, the late good Queen Eleanore had died several years earlier, the king’s sister had taken up the royal of the first lady of the realm, hosting parties, guests and critically, overseeing the upbringing of her nephews and niece. And most importantly at the moment, that of her eldest nephew, Crown Prince Jacques. The heir to the throne, she spotted him pacing in the vestibule of the castle as she stepped into the grand space, for he had always been a boy of nervous energy and had in turn become a man of short attention.
Prince Jacques took after his mother with her fair skin, dark black hair, and dark brown eyes. The blond hair and blue eyes that had defined three generations of the Coudenberg Dynasty had been washed out with the strong genes of Queen Eleanore. He and his siblings however did enjoy the beauty of their father’s side. Jacques was handsome and well aware of it. He stood tall and muscular, his black hair and thin mustache both well groomed. He’s appearance was only enhanced by the tailored Genoise suit he wore. The late Queen Sofia had been Genoise and thus it was still agree in Beliany that Genes was the capital of fashion.
“Nephew, do still yourself, you are making me dizzy,” said Princess Marie-Sofia as she entered the vestibule. The height that the prince had, at an even six feet, was surpassed by his aunt, who stood two inches taller. Princess Marie-Sofia’s mother, the aforementioned late Queen Sofia, had been a member of the Philippine branch of the Valwa famous for their height. Indeed, the princess’ cousins, were nicknamed the giantesses for they too shared in great height. Marie-Sofia had long curly blond hair, though she had started to find gray strands here and there and stunning blue and hazel eyes.
“Sorry,” Jacques said, though his movement continued. He looked to her. “Do I have to do this?”
Marie-Sofia thought for a moment. “No. I suppose you don’t have to.”
Jacques stopped, perking up.
“Though,” the princess continued, “I imagine it would be most disappointing for the Teylanders all this way and not to meet you.”
Prince Jacques frowned and went back to pacing. “I do not wish to marry.”
“No one is expecting you to marry,” said Princess Marie-Sofia. After the disastrous marriage of her own parents, who had been married to foreign a political alliance, the Belian Royal Family had agreed to abandon arranged marriages. “This is only an introduction.”
While King Philippe had decided against arranging a marriage for his son, he had tasked his sister was locating suitable matches. The princess had looked around for young women of suitable rank and age. She had selected Princess Henrietta of Teyland, the granddaughter of the late Grand Duke Louis of that small country. So Marie-Sofia had written to the girl’s mother and invited them both to come to Laekan to make introductions, to be a small informal meeting.
