"And this will be the quarters for the incoming Princess, my liege. Is it satisfactory?" Polkos Manathias chuckled at Jervo's question, the former's broad shouldered frame crossing the thresh hold before letting out a slight whistle. 
"I've never seen this guest room furnished so lavishly before. Lavender trimmed curtains, indigo bedding, the walls covered in all sorts of tapestries encouraging the person in here to almost worship our history..." He turned to face the head attendant of the Manathias clan with a smirk. 
"I do believe you're trying to indoctrinate our Dasvrochian beauty into believing that her culture doesn't have the proud history ours does." Jervo took a sharp inhale, exhaling as his narrow lips pursed together before they opened with response: 
"Prince Polkos, you know that I have decorated this area with the utmost care that both the King and Queen intended and-" Polkos waved his hand with a chuckle, strolling out of the room.
"Please, I know how much mother and father want their new future daughter-in-law to feel welcome, although I don't know how well she'll take to being in a guest quarter for a couple of weeks while the wedding preparations are being...prepared." The playful mirth that had usually bounced in his verdant irises disappeared, right hand rubbing the back of his neck, destroying whatever style the groomer had instilled to Polkos' ash brown hair. 
"My liege, is anything the matter?" Hand returning to his side, Polkos turned his head, shoulders once more in their proud, erect position. 
"Just realizing how...important this all is." Jervo walked to his side, placing a gentle hand on the Prince's arm.
"You will make a strong husband and an even more effective leader, my liege. Do not doubt yourself now." 
"Always know what to say, don't you?" A slight smile.
"It IS my job to address the royal family's needs, is it not?" The duo proceeded from the end of the stone hallway(accentuated by a grand painting of the Rings of the Capital, of course) and marched down a spiral staircase, Jervo informing:
"You will need to put on your formal attire for the ceremony later tonight."
"I figured. Anything else my parents need to remind me of? To button my pants? To take the lady's hand and kiss it gently instead of slobbering over her upon first meeting?" Jervo clucked his tongue, shaking his head.
"The tribes have all sent their head leaders along with their Avatar. Please understand that your parents are fraught with ensuring every last detail goes well." 
"Don't I know it." Entering a lower level hallway, they passed a bustling set of caters whizzing past them with trays stacked to the heavens with all kinds of foodstuffs that needed to be prepared. 
"You do have some free time before the ceremony. I suggest you run through your speech one more time before presenting yourself."
"Don't worry, Jervo. I might have spent some time away, but I can still pull off the acceptance speech with a straight face." The main hall was where they found themselves, the cathedral high ceilings painted with an elaborate map of the Continent with various symbols representing historical events in the formation of Metaschi, the "Middle Kingdom", the "Rings of Peace", the "Unifying factor" for peace. Underneath the ostentatious display, banners were unfurling from the rafters, the main gate wide open for servants and other contributing members of the gala to make ready for one of the monumental events in history. 
"Just be at your parent's side by seven o clock tonight."
"I'll be there." 
"Please do." 

________________

Garbed a dark purple tunic and black pants with gold trim, Polkos looked at himself in the full size mirror and snorted a laugh. 
"To think this would be my fate." He muttered, adjusting the buttoned vest over the tunic, wincing at the slightly-too-tight fit that the tailor had made. He could only hope that his betrothed didn't see the discomfort in his face when they first met. Not that he was totally comfortable with the idea of being married to someone he had never seen. This idea was one he fought against upon being officially reinstated into the family, but he had signed up for this when he came back. He knew that. 

Blowing out a sigh, he approached a nearby dresser, running his hand over the leather straps hanging pitifully off the hilt of a worn dagger. It hadn't been moved for ten months. He preferred it that way. To remind himself of the sweeping plains, the wind ruffling through his hair, the smell of copper and dirt and lilac and-

Something thumped against the door, a brow shooting upward as Polkos walked to the door, opening it to find the source of the disturbance.