Chapter 3
And so it was that Princess Yelena Belova was wed on the final day of summer.
The ceremony had gone on, despite her betrothed being unconscious for the vast majority of the proceedings. A quick sprinkle of cold water had Kate awake enough to say her vows and give consent to the marriage which was all she was really needed for anyway.
The two were then bundled off into a carriage and shipped off to the secondary estate about a half hour’s journey from the castle.
Melina had referred to it excitedly as ‘The Honeymoon Estate’ when speaking with the carriage driver. Yelena was choosing not to use that term.
It was a mostly silent journey. What, with Kate still slipping in and out of consciousness.
The couple had been accompanied by Clint, who had been assigned protection detail for the Princess and her Consort, as well as the duty of helping Kate to recovery.
He was an experienced warrior and an experienced medic, and it wouldn’t hurt for the new Prince to be seen with such a noble and respected man - given her less than stellar background.
Once they had arrived, their belongings - mostly Yelena’s - were carried off into the estate and Kate was taken away to the main parlour room for observation.
In all honesty, Kate didn’t know whether the room actually was the parlour room. She assumed so due to the seating and lack of dining tables, but due to the size of the estate it was entirely plausible this was simply a small storage space for unwanted guests or trinkets.
“How’re you feeling, kid?” Clint asked, in a tone softer than any Kate had been spoken to with for a long time.
“I don’t know. Everything is just, a lot.” The armour she still wore felt clunky and uncomfortable. But were wedding outfits supposed to be comfortable?
“I meant your injuries, Kate.” The Prince merely nodded in understanding, cursing herself for once more messing up. “But I understand you feeling that way. A lot has happened.”
Carefully, each plate of armour and layer of expensive cloth was peeled off, revealing wounds just as angry as they were when Clint had last seen them.
“I’ll be honest here, Clint, I don’t really know what I’m doing.” Kate winced, partly because of the sting she felt peeling the cloth away from her wound and partly because of how stupid she sounded. “I’ve- I’ve never been married. I’ve never been in a relationship. I’ve never even really met royalty, let alone speak to them or- or had close physical proximity to them.”
“Close physical proximity. How romantic.” The Militant snorted.
“Am I supposed to be being, you know, romantic? We’ve never spoken and I’m pretty sure the Princess wanted this even less than I do. The carriage ride was awkward enough, and I was barely awake! I- I can’t even imagine-“
“Slow down, Kate, slow down.” Clint motioned to one of the servants stood nearby, requesting a needle and thread for the stubborn wound that wouldn’t close.
“How can I slow down when I don’t even know how fast I’m supposed to be going?”
“Look,” Clint sighed. From his position kneeling in front of the Champion, he gave her the most sincere look he could muster without pulling a face. “I couldn’t tell you what to do in this situation. I’m not a royal advisor, so I can’t give you any information. Yelena probably doesn’t like me anyway, so I’m useless on that front, but if you want things to be less awkward, just talk to her.”
“I did! I was-“
“I heard you from where I was upfront with the driver, Kate. One word answers do not count as conversation.”
“Well, if the question can be answered in one word why would I say more?” Kate muttered petulantly.
Clint shook his head, resisting the urge to laugh at the poor young Prince as he took the equipment from the servant who returned.
“I don’t know much about Yelena, but I know her family. From the stories her sister told me, and from being on protection detail, I know quite a bit about the King and Queen. I also know that while they are magnificent rulers, life as their offspring was difficult, to say the least.”
Ignoring Kate’s hisses and cries as the needle dug through her skin, Clint continued. “What was your life like before the tournament?”
That gave the Champion pause. “Nothing like that of a Princess. I lived by scrounging for whatever coins anyone had to spare which was, not much if any. I had barely enough to buy food and cloth and I had no gift for saving. The seldom time any coin remained, I would spend it on the Festival of цвета.” (Colour)
“The Festival of цвета.” Clint echoed, a wistful look crossing his stony face. “I remember the times I would attend. Beautiful.”
“I know.” Kate smiled at the Militant, who mirrored the expression. “I would never miss it. Even if it meant going hungry till the next fortnight. My father and I would-“
She cut herself short with a low hiss as the needle pierced skin, though pain was not the reason she couldn’t bring herself to finish.
Not that of a physical nature, at least.
Sensing the change in atmosphere, Clint continued working in silence as he gave Kate time to stew in her thoughts.
“I could not imagine how life without it would feel.” Kate thought aloud. “I don’t think I could have found another reason to keep going.”
“The light at the end of the tunnel.” Clint tore the end of the thread with his teeth, deftly knotting it to keep it in place. “I don’t believe Yelena has ever been in attendance.”
Kate frowned at that, before she was interrupted by the harsh sting of Clint peeling her chemise away from the wound around her midsection that it had been welded to with blood and sweat.
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Yelena was lucky she was allowed to keep Sonya.
Tradition dictated all previous servants and Ladies-In-Waiting be unceremoniously removed from staffing and replaced by new, high quality servants as a wedding present from the spouse.
It seemed her husband being of ill-bred nature had some perks after all.
Kate could barely afford new boots, let alone an entirely new staffing, so Sonya was to remain the Lady-In-Waiting until further notice.
Which was good. Yelena didn’t think she could stomach trying to tolerate someone else.
“How are people taking everything?” She queried, watching in the mirror as Sonya’s skilled hands quickly undid the intricate braid she adorned.
“Well, despite it all.” Yelena hummed. “It is rumoured your husband’s lack of consciousness was due to the inebriation and idiocy of a drunken fool before her wedding night.”
“Good. Do the Vultures believe it?”
“Of course,” Sonya laughed lightly, “What disgraced peasant would show even the slightest decorum at such an occasion? They are eating out of your palm, Your Highness.”
Ignoring the shiver and sting of the words, of the similarity she bore and would always hold to her mother, Yelena allowed herself the satisfaction of knowing her cheek was working.
If the gentry had even the smallest notion that Kate wasn’t at her full capabilities. If they, God forbid, thought Kate was weak.
She would be nothing more than a rotting corpse in seconds.
A drunken fool however, could be tolerated. Laughed at. Kate already had experience dancing and singing for their entertainment as she fought for her life in the tournament. A career as a jester was much better than an untimely death.
Despite Yelena’s indifference, maybe even a slight annoyance, towards her new husband, she did not want her dead. Not yet at least.
While it would be an inconvenience to be sure, it would also leave her a grieving widow. One who would then be wed to whoever offered first as a way to avoid scandal and the risk of her becoming a spinster.
Kate wasn’t Yelena’s chosen, nor someone who she knew in the slightest, but she wassomeone who would be easily controlled.
She also was not one of the Vultures that circled her family in search of a victim.
“Your sister is very angry.” Sonya giggled, “Her face was as red as her hair when I last saw her.”
“As was I when she did the same thing.” Yelena recalled the day Natasha had left for the Maximoff Kingdom, returning not with herself, but with news of an elopement.
“And how are you enjoying marriage, Your Highness?”
“I have not yet had the chance.” She remarked dryly. By now, Sonya had begun to peel the heavy layers of silver jewelry from Yelena’s neck. “I have exchanged more words with the palace walls than I have with my ‘husband’.”
A soft knock at the door caused the pair’s gazes to fall upon the doorway, where a servant stood nervously.
“The Master Chambers are ready for you and your Consort, Your Highness.”