When Octavia was young, she had pictured her wedding day differently.

She supposed there were elements to what she expected. She was in a castle. She was wearing a pretty dress. Her future husband was someone she barely knew. Sighing, she let her hands run over the lace stitched over her stomach. The fabric was a soft white with beaded jewels of blue sewn throughout. It felt like a jab to dress her in revolution colors as she was sent down the aisle to a revolutionary.

Octavia tugged at the end of her sleeves. They were also lace - serving mainly as pretty designs over her otherwise bare arms.

"Your father would be proud."

Octavia's jaw clenched. Friedrich stood behind her, meeting her eyes in the reflection. He stepped further into the room, placing his hands behind his back.

"I'm being serious," he added. "I know this is not what he would have wanted for you, but he would be proud you did what it took to survive."

Octavia and her father had only spoken of her wedding day a handful of times. It was Antonia who had often brought it up, worrying their father would marry them off for whatever alliance or trading agreement was needed. Whenever he asked Octavia if she worried about her future match, she merely shrugged.

"You wouldn't let me marry someone cruel," she had said. At that time, it had been her only requirement. She had faith that her father would choose the right person. After all, her own parents' marriage had been a political arrangement. The story felt like a fairytale, though she noticed it occasionally changed.

After Octavia's grandfather won the war against Dualis, he fell ill from some battle wounds and later died. Romanov worried that the Dualians would use the moment of uncertainty to attack again... and they might have. Octavia's father had only been fifteen at the time and far from a battle-hardened warrior.

And then her mother wrote a letter.

This was when the story got mixed up. Octavia never understood some of the gaps in the tale. Sometimes, the letter was a romantic tale, and other times, a political plea for peace. Octavia's mother never revealed what she actually wrote in the fateful letter. All she knew was that her mother had gotten married to a king, and her mother's sister... had gotten married to Friedrich.
It wasn't a wild guess on who got the better end of that deal.

"Thank you, uncle," Octavia said now, turning to face Friedrich. "I wish he could have seen this moment."

Friedrich pursed his lip, tilting his head down. She kept staring at him, hoping the shame would eat him alive.

"I didn't want this, Octavia."

Was this it, then? The long-awaited confrontation? Would Octavia sit here and scream - calling him a traitor? Friedrich was her family. 

"You chopped my father's head off," Octavia said quietly. Bells rang out somewhere in a different part of the castle. She could hear people chattering away, excited whispers muffled by the stone walls.

Friedrich looked up again, expression tightening. "I didn't enjoy it. I let you choose where his resting place was." Octavia looked away. "I let you choose your husband. This hasn't been easy for me either."

Octavia's eyes flashed. He had let her choose her husband... what a joke. "I'm sorry life is hard for you right now," she said dryly and took a step to walk around him. Surely, the ceremony was almost ready to start. She stopped by the doorway, noting the guards and soldiers in place.

"Why did you choose Dainn?"

Octavia paused by the door. This question may be the real reason why Friedrich was here. He knew she was planning something. Octavia considered her answer. She could say it was because Dainn was the only Revolutionary she had spoken to at great length. She could say he was ranked highly and wanted to marry someone of power. She could say that she just liked his dragon.

The truth was this: Dainn had fire magic, and if Octavia had any chance of saving herself and her sister... she needed that magic.

"Why did he say yes?" she asked, looking over her shoulder. Octavia had been prepared to win Dainn over, to spend days convincing him to agree, only for Dainn to give in the first time she asked. Part of her was a little disappointed. With all the other Revolutionaries besotted by her, she had thought he might at least present a challenge.

Friedrich snorted. Shaking his head, he took a few steps closer so he loomed only a few inches behind her neck. "Pity," he answered.

Octavia bit her tongue to keep from snapping back. "You know, I never asked," she said, still not looking back at him. "Why did you marry Aunt Jivanta? My mother said only her marriage was needed to bring peace."

Silence. Octavia could feel him hovering behind her.

"She married me out of pity, too," he finally said. Octavia looked over her shoulder, brows pulling together. A flash of regret touched Friedrich's face as he looked off into the distance. "She was a good woman," he murmured. "Kind. If she was here... she would know what to about Antonia."

"What do you mean?"

Friedrich's eyes snapped to hers. "Your aunt was a very important woman in Dualis. More important than your mother. More important than your father. She would have done great things if she hadn't married me."

That didn't answer her question about Antonia, but Octavia got the feeling he would say nothing more on the matter.

Taking an even breath, she walked forward, pushing the door open so she could walk out and focus her mind. She needed to be sharp for the next few hours. She had poured over this plan for days and refused to let any second-guessing get in her way now.

In the gardens below, people rushed about with food and various supplies. Octavia had insisted this wedding needed to be an ordeal to appease the spirits of her ancestors if nothing else. She had no idea if anyone believed her, but Nema had graciously offered her support and said the spirits needed to be soothed.

The rest of it went in crashing waves. People spoke to her, but she did nothing more than let them push her in the direction she needed to go, readying her for whatever the next task was. At the end of it all, she was at the top of a large staircase that led into an aisle with people standing on either side of her.

Gripping whatever flowers had been shoved in her hands, she recognized a tune swelling. Someone gave a light push, and she stepped down the first stair. They were in the cleared-out area at the front of the castle, which just felt taunting. Behind the officiant stood the doors to her freedom, a large piece of wood barricading them closed. She lifted another foot, wondering if it had always been this hard to walk before now.

Dainn at least looked equally awkward from where he stood up front, eyes fixed everywhere but on her. Part of her wondered if his acceptance of this proposal had been forced. The only pity in his eyes seemed to be for himself.

She supposed it didn't matter. If her plan was timed right, neither would have to go through with this. At the very least, she could throw herself at the end of someone's sword and be reunited with her father.

But as she finished her death march, Octavia couldn't see the signal Nema and Antonia had promised her. Had something gone wrong? Was someone hurt? Had Nema betrayed them too?

"You may now be seated," the officiant said. Octavia could have jumped at the realization that she had somehow reached the front of the aisle.

The crowded hallway felt like the riots by her castle all those weeks ago. Despite the formal setting, something about it all was hostile.

Dainn inched away from her as they both fixed their gazes up front. A prayer started, the Romanovians whispering to the spirits while the Dualians in the audience politely waited for them to finish.

Antonia had said she would use her magic to dim the candles whenever she and Nema were out of the castle. Octavia looked around, wondering if they had made the sign too subtle. Had she missed it? Could she go ahead with her escape?

"Miss?"

Octavia blinked. Miss? Right. That was her. Everyone was looking at her. Dainn tugged absently at his sleeves as he gave her an irritated look. Octavia narrowed her eyes in return.

"What?" she asked quietly. The officiant offered her a consoling look before holding out a pillow with two seeds on top. Oh. Octavia slowly reached out and grabbed the first seed as Dainn took the second. It hadn't occurred to her that they were doing a Romanovian wedding. Would they be expecting a Dualian version for Dainn as well? Did it matter?

"We have taken a seed from each family," the officiant continued. Octavia's jaw clenched. "One from the Thalestris gardens-" What was left of them, he meant. Her family's gardens had surely perished by now. "-and one from Anja, Dualis. Today, they will be planted together, allowing a new piece of nature to grow."

How did the candles look brighter? Octavia breathed out slowly. It was fine. They were just taking a little longer than planned to get out of the castle. All she needed to do was stall.

"Vows." Her voice cut over the officiant, echoing over the room. Everyone else murmured, confused as Octavia forced herself to smile. "We need to say our vows."

An awkward pause followed.

"...you want vows?" Dainn asked her quietly, clearly unimpressed. Octavia gave him a wry smile before nodding. "You know, it would be less painful if you tried not to drag it out," he muttered.
Octavia stared him down, daring him to try and argue with her in front of the entire revolution. 

"It is my wedding, too. I'm getting vows," she whispered back. Dainn rolled his eyes before giving a subtle, you first, gesture.

Okay. Great. What were her vows? Clearing her throat, she looked at the officiant, who shrugged.

"I vow..." she looked around, inwardly cursing the candles. "To honor the sanctity and symbolism of this marriage and not kill you."

A low rumble of laughter went throughout the room. Octavia wasn't sure if they were laughing at her or thought she was joking, but she appreciated the few seconds it bought her.

Dainn pursed his lips, nodding slowly before clasping his hands in front of him. "Thank you," he mouthed to her, the sarcasm dripping into his expression. "In that case," he said, louder so everyone else could hear. "I also vow not to kill you." He kept her gaze, neither of them breaking away. "For the sanctity and symbolism of this marriage."

"Thank you," she mouthed back, hoping the spirits wouldn't be upset for making this vow when she fully intended to kill him within the hour. Dainn might have been thinking along the same lines because he mockingly pressed a hand over his heart.

"All right," the officiant said. "Heartwarming, both of you."

Octavia's eyes flicked again to the candles. What could have possibly stopped Antonia and Nema from leaving? Everyone was here, she had made sure of it. Friedrich, his personal guard, and most of the castle employees... Could Antonia and Nema not break through the few defenses Octavia had left them with?

"If nobody can think of why these two should not be joined together in spirit, then speak now."
Part of Octavia hoped her mother might emerge from the crowd. Maybe Savoy might reveal himself to be alive. Her father, possibly. Perhaps Friedrich would have a change of heart and stop this.

Nobody spoke out, though, and Octavia's voice felt as if her own voice had been snatched right out from her.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Dainn and Octavia looked at one another. Neither moved. Everyone waited. The candles remained stagnant. Octavia would not be the one initiating anything. Her pride could not handle that. The officiant looked between them before clearing his throat.

Sighing, Dainn grabbed one of her hands and kissed her knuckles. He glanced over at the officiant, giving a questioning look. There was a mutter throughout the group.

Dainn cursed under his breath. "Don't bite me," he added to her. Octavia did not make such a promise but didn't attack when he leaned over to quickly brush her lips. It was barely a second - Octavia was almost worried they would say it didn't count - but the room burst into thunderous applause.

The candles went out.