Duty.

Morning came to Arrowthorn pass clear and with a deep frost on the ground. Tents in the encircling army lined white with hoarfrost. Sound travelled strangely up into the mountain range and along the battlements, where the men stood quiet and watchful, unwilling to break the spell that seemed to have settled over the castle.

Lord Maugh's remaining army likewise showed no appetite for another assault after the departure of Duke Edric Blackmuir's men. The invaders hesitant to leave their tents and out into the chill. The silence felt unnatural after so many days of shouting men and clashing steel.

Jacinta woke Lady Amelia just as the first rays of sun were touching the far horizon.

“My Lady,” she called gently into Amelia’s curtained bed.

Amelia stirred slowly, finding her ever loyal handmaiden already preparing warm water for washing as she set foot onto the cold flagstones at last.

"It is time and we have much to prepare." Jacinta said.

"I know."

Neither woman mentioned the wedding.

They washed in silence before Jacinta began the familiar ritual of combing Amelia's waist-length hair. Despite the siege and everything that had happened, Jacinta insisted upon plaiting her lady's hair as she always had. It was one small piece of normality neither wished to surrender.

"Shall I fetch your wedding dress?" Jacinta asked softly. It was one that had been commissioned by the seamstresses in the country’s capital almost four years back and had arrived just before the siege. There had been no flow of such materials since.

Amelia shook her head. "No."

"Not even today?"

"No dresses."

Instead, she walked to the chair by the fire where she and Sir Rifkin had removed Alden's gilded plate.

"I shall marry as I have defended Arrowthorn. Lest Welwyn forgets we have a siege at our gate."

Jacinta smiled despite herself.

Together they dressed Amelia in the mail, leather and polished plate. Every buckle was fastened with care. Her sword hung at her left hip, the blade Jacinta had recovered from beneath the bodies at the foot of the walls. When Amelia finally placed the visored helm beneath one arm she looked less like a bride than a commander about to ride into battle.

As Lady Amelia left her chambers for the chapel where the wedding was to occur, word of her appearance spread quickly through the castle. Servants stopped to watch. Guards straightened proudly at their posts as Amelia passed them. Once in the sanctuary even the oldest veterans still remaining smiled to see their lady clad once more in armour. If she would defend them, then they would gladly defend her.

Only Welwyn appeared disappointed. He waited inside the castle chapel wearing a finely tailored doublet of crimson velvet embroidered with silver thread. His boots had been polished until they shone. Rings glittered upon his fingers. He looked every inch the noble bridegroom.

As Amelia took her place beside him, she looked every inch the Lord of Castle Arrowthorn. The contrast was not lost upon those assembled.

Sir Rifkin stood quietly near the front despite the bandages still hidden beneath his tunic. Steward Osric Hale occupied the opposite side of the chapel beside several senior household officers. Jacinta remained a respectful distance behind Amelia, watching her lady with quiet pride.

A murmur spread through the chapel as the great doors opened once more.

Four household guards entered bearing Lord Caiden Arrowthorn upon a litter draped in the colours of his house. Thick woollen blankets covered his legs against the mountain chill while a fur-lined cloak concealed the many bandages that still bound his wounded chest. Great cushions had been placed behind his shoulders so that he might witness the ceremony upright. Though pale and greatly weakened, the Lord of Arrowthorn inclined his head to those gathered as they rose respectfully to their feet.

Amelia hurried to her father's side and knelt beside the litter.

"Father, you should still be abed. You are still not well. You must recover," she said gently. A tear formed at the corner of Amelia’s eyelid.

"I would not miss my daughter's wedding while breath remains in my body," Lord Caiden replied, a weary smile touching his lips. "Help me stand," he said to the men around him.

With Sir Rifkin supporting one arm and Osric Hale the other, the old Lord painfully rose to his feet. Every movement drew a grimace from him but he remained standing long enough to look upon his daughter.

"You wore the armour."

"I did, Father."

"I am glad." His tired eyes wandered over the gilded plates that had once belonged to his only son Alden before returning to Amelia's face. "You look every inch an Arrowthorn."

Amelia felt more like her father's heir in that single moment than she had at any time since the siege had begun.

Caiden reached out with trembling hands and took Amelia's gauntleted hand. He then beckoned Welwyn forward. "My nephew."

Welwyn stepped before him and bowed. "My Lord."

With obvious effort, Lord Caiden placed Amelia's hand into Welwyn's.

"I entrust my daughter to your care," he said quietly. "Guard her well. If you fail her, you fail Arrowthorn itself."

"I swear it, my Lord," Welwyn answered solemnly.

The old Lord searched his nephew's face for a long moment before slowly nodding. The effort had exhausted him. Sir Rifkin and Osric gently lowered him back upon the litter as the priest stepped forward to begin the ceremony.

He spoke of duty.

He spoke of family.

He spoke of sacrifice.

Amelia scarcely heard a word.

When the time for the vows came she answered clearly. "I will."

Welwyn in turn spoke with considerably more enthusiasm. "I will."

Their hands were bound together with a length of white ribbon before the priest declared them husband and wife according to the laws of the kingdom.

A polite cheer rose from those assembled. It lacked the joy of an ordinary wedding at Castle Arrowthorn. Everyone knew why the marriage had taken place.

Lord Caiden managed a faint smile before lifting a trembling hand in blessing toward the newly married couple. The guards quietly bore him from the chapel before the congratulations began, his strength spent by the effort of attending.

The wedding feast that evening proved modest but welcome. The deer brought back by the hunters was roasted whole and divided amongst the whole household, noble and common alike. Fresh bread from the castle’s kitchens accompanied thick vegetable broth, while the castle's remaining stores of ale were opened in careful measure.

For the first time in years laughter echoed through the great hall. Minstrels played and soldiers sang. Children chased one another between the benches while hounds feasted on some of the first scraps of bone they’d had in a good long time. If only for a single evening, Castle Arrowthorn remembered what peace had once felt like.

Amelia remained at the high table beside Welwyn but spoke little to him.

Whenever a knight approached to congratulate her, it was her defence of the walls they praised rather than the marriage.

"You saved the castle, My Lady."

"It was an honour to follow you."

"We would ride through the gates behind you any day."

“My sword by your sword.”

Welwyn's smile grew thinner with each passing compliment directed towards his new wife. Not one man praised him. It was a harsh reminder of his favour amongst the keeps residents.

As the feast drew towards its end the steward, Osric Hale, rose with a goblet in hand. "To Lady Amelia Arrowthorn."

Every cup in the hall was raised.

"To Lady Amelia!"

The cheer shook the rafters.

Only afterwards did Osric add quietly,

"And to Lord Welwyn."

A handful of voices repeated the toast.

Welwyn noticed.

Amelia noticed too. She saw the resentment behind his smile. She knew then that marrying him had secured Arrowthorn's succession. It had not secured peace within its walls.

Late that night, when the feast had ended and the castle settled into silence once more, Lady Amelia Arrowthorn stood outside the chamber that had been prepared for her marriage bed. Jacinta adjusted one final clasp upon her lady's armour.

"You need not keep the breastplate on now, My Lady."

"Would that I could," Amelia answered quietly.

Taking a steadying breath, Lady Amelia Arrowthorn opened the door and stepped inside to meet her husband.