Aurelia steadied herself with a breath as she set foot into the courtyard, steeling herself for the first leg of her journey. The path from the castle doors to her stagecoach couldn't have been more than twenty-five steps, but it stretched obscenely before her like a winding path all the way to Sommerfirth. Flanked on either side by visiting nobles and family members alike, it reminded her of a funeral procession; waiting at the end was her hearse, attended by her draconic undertaker. 

Firm in her resolve, Aurelia painted on her best "excited bride-to-be" smile and stepped off the landing and into the sunlight, making her way down the line, individually saying her goodbyes to her brothers and their families, and smiling and nodding to the visiting nobles who had attended to pay their respects. It was excruciating to be sure, both the sadness of saying goodbye to her family and the maddening slowness required to conduct this ridiculous custom at all. If she had had her way, she would have broken out in a run and taken refuge in the coach; sadly, etiquette was a shackle most firmly fastened around the ankles of royalty. 

She lingered a touch longer with her father at the end of the line, letting him take her hands in his and accepting, with newly tear-filled eyes, a kiss on the cheek after his formal farewell had been recited. She was reluctant to go (especially seeing that the same shine in her eyes had glazed over her father's), but finally, she had to tear herself away. 

At her stagecoach at last, she turned an eye back at the line of nobles, following them with her eyes to the castle walls and up, up until she had to squint at the blinding white of the sunbathed towers above them. It hurt her eyes, but still she stared nonetheless until the light had burned away the tears that threatened in her eyes. 

It was only reluctantly that she turned away; she could feel the pressure of time and she knew she couldn’t linger any longer. Turning back to the carriage, only one challenge remained. The half-breed, armour glinting in the sun, alien face all but covered by his helmet, awaited her. When she neared, he offered his hand to her. 

For a second, she simply stared at the clawed, scaled hand before her in morbid fascination; she normally would have snubbed the offer, and perhaps have summoned a different knight to escort her into the carriage.Hell, she would have chosen another knight altogether. But she wouldn't embarrass herself now. She remembered the scornful looks she'd gotten when she snapped at the half-breed in the throne room. She'd been stricken by shock then, but wouldn't make a fool of herself this time. 

With only a brief hesitation, she took the hand offered to her, ever-so-gently grasping it and allowing the dragonborn to help her into the carriage. She even gave him a polite nod as he did so, as any proper noblewoman would. By all accounts, it was a prime display of etiquette. 

His scaly hand was warm, Aurelia noted to her surprise. The silver scales felt more like finely polished stone than steel; while she had never given it more than a passing thought, she'd expected touching him to feel like touching an empty suit of armour. 

The thought didn't linger, however, past the closing of the carriage door. By then, she only wondered how far they had to get outside of the palace walls before she could cry.