He'd heard the whispers; they'd been there since his adolescence, but had only grown in frequency in the months leading to the arrival of his betrothed. "Do you think he'll even be able to consummate the marriage?" "She's a pretty girl, isn't she?" "I don't think the most beautiful woman in the world would be enough to... move that boy."
They would stop talking about him as he rounded corners, and he pretended he didn't hear them, but he knew. The biggest, concern, of course, was going to be his ability to produce an heir. Beyond that, he knew, no one in the castle really cared, or even cared to know, what he did behind closed doors. But his affections were the worst kept secret in the kingdom and, while he was well-loved, there were whispers in even the smallest villages, wondering if there was a point to this marriage, if the king really hoped it would be fruitful. It seemed like a waste of time, and some mused that it may have been more worthwhile to marry the girl to Prince Corbett, and name his children as official heirs. Sometimes Bertrand tended to agree. But that wasn't the way to do things. just wasn't they way things were done.
He stared out of his window for a long time, that morning, his stomach a bundle of nerves. This wasn't the life he would have chosen for himself, and he sometimes cursed the gods for making him the firstborn son. He dreamed of the freedoms Corbett and Branson had; to live their lives with less scrutiny, occasionally running errands for the king, but overall simply there to act as a spare, in case some horrible tragedy should befall Bertrand. Perhaps he could have that arranged.
No, that was far too dramatic. He would be fine.
When he finally went to prepare himself for the arrival of the princess, it seemed as though his chambers became a flurry of activity. He was freshly bathed, and slathered with sweet-smelling perfumes. After that, he was dressed in brilliant blue, "To match your eyes. You need to look your best today." Ainara was right, of course. She never seemed to be wrong. Bertrand smiled and talked to his sister while she dressed him; the two had always been close. In fact, their closeness used to be a concern, as people viewed it as the beginnings of an unnatural relationship. In the past few years, however, it became increasingly clear that there was less than nothing to worry about when it came to the sibling's close friendship.
Ainara clicked her tongue impatiently as she fussed over Bertrand's hair, with him sitting on a stool in front her. "Are you nervous?"
Bertrand took a moment to think, carefully considering the question, "About seeing Deyrn again? No, not at all."
She let out a long-suffering sigh before speaking again, "About the marriage. You're tense."
No one knew Bertrand like his sister, that was true. He shifted in his seat, and shook his head, displacing some of the work she'd done- to her obvious annoyance. "I... I'll be fine. We're friends, it will... It will work out."
She paused and walked around to face her brother, hands on his shoulders, looking deeply into his eyes, "Bertrand," There was love in Ainara's voice, soothing, much like the way a mother speaks to her child, "You only need to produce an heir. Beyond that, I should think any woman would be glad to..." She paused, not sure how to phrase what she wanted to say.
She didn't get the chance to finish, as Bertrand interjected, "Father would disagree. He thinks three sons a much more suitable number."
A soft sort of sadness crossed the princess's face as she brushed a stray hair back into place, "I don't think anyone expects that of you, brother." It was, perhaps, a disheartening thing to say, though she meant it too be encouraging. She smiled softly as she placed a simple circlet upon his head- a silver circle with three sapphires affixed just above his brow. It had belonged to an uncle who'd died before he was born. She took a step back and smiled, "I dare say, Bertrand, you look glorious." He didn't bother to study his own appearance; he trusted his sister's judgement above all.
It wasn't long before they received the announcement that the princess was arriving, and the family began to gather outside in the courtyard. They didn't often receive guests straight from their carriage, but this was a special occasion, and they would not make a future queen of Prendre l'air come to them. Bertrand shifted from one foot to the other, shuffling nervously, which earned him a sideways glance from his father. He tried to stop, and stand still, but he found it difficult. The very idea that his entire future was to be arriving soon, it was enough to make the most stoic man nervous. The fact that he hadn't seen the princess in years, and the knowledge that he was to be the one to greet her, didn't help his nerves at all. There was a voice, in the back of his head, that wondered if Callum would be joining her. He tried to push the thought from his head; he didn't need the distraction.
He heard a soft shuffling, and felt a gentle pull at his leg. Without even looking down, he knew it was his youngest sibling clamoring to be picked up so she could see past the commotion. As he bend down to scoop her up, her soft giggles reminded him that Deryn had never met Alouette; they'd stopped visiting before she was born. He quietly spoke to and answered his sister's questions while they waited, and when the child reached up and removed Bertrand's crown, mussing up his hair in the process, Bertrand heard a quiet and frantic gasp of horror coming from his right. Ainara was not pleased. He gently chastised the girl, and as his mother took her from his arms, he did his best to place the crown neatly atop his head. Without a looking glass, though, it proved to be difficult. He turned to Corbett, to ask if it was on straight, as Ainara frantically leaned past him to try to fix it (and Bertrand's hair), which quickly erupted into a small, and slightly physical, argument; even as the carriage began to pull into the courtyard. They faintly heard Branson say, "Hey!" As if in a last-ditch effort to get his older sibling's attention, just before their father harshly, but quietly, said, "Enough! Stop it, all of you! They're here."
The three eldest shot to attention: all of them looking slightly disheveled, and frantically tried to smooth out their clothes and get their hair and accessories back into place. Bertrand took a deep breath as the carriage pulled up in front of them, and stepped forward as servants rushed to open the door. He plastered a bright, but genuine, smile on his face, extended his arms beside him, and said, "Welcome home! We're so pleased to finally have you."