King Wilfor of Thumberlond had come to Princess Phalen's holdings with marriage upon his mind. Five years before, his Queen had sickened and died, leaving Wilfor and his kingdom without an heir. Now, at 47 years of age, that situation worried him. He was the last of a long, illustrious line without even a single distant relative to claim the throne at his death. Moreover, there were several influential and ambitious famlies, who Wilfor feared would tear the kingdom into pieces in a vicious civil war to determine the new dynasty. One of the reasons that he had approached Phalen was because of her reputation as a strong but fair ruler. She had chosen the warrior road, rather than marriage as the way to secure her tiny principality for herself. Rumor had it that she distained marriage, not wishing to be subservient to any person, let alone a man. Regardless of that, Wilfor was interested in Phalen because she was far younger than he--in her mid to late twenties, he'd been told--and she would be a strong regent, capable of ruling and holding the kingdom until their child ascended to the throne. Wilfor had sent diplomats to negotiate with her, but she had remained cool, even dismissive of the idea. Finally, Wilfor had come in person. The first day, relations between them had been stiff and formal. Carefully, Wilfor laid out his proposal. He even promised to install her has Queen and co-ruler. They would be equals in every way. Phalen seemed dubious, but at least she had not rejected him out of hand. Wilfor wondered if it had been a mistake to come in person. He was aging and bald, although his remaining hair and his beard remained black without a trace of gray. Nor was he handsome. His face had always been gaunt with sunken cheeks, and his sharp nose was--well, even he had to admit it--huge. Wilfor remained realistic about his charms. Phalen's interest--if any--would be the queen and co-ruler business; not him or his personality. Wilfor had been pleased to discover that Phalen was more attractive than he had been led to believe. However, Phalen was definitely on the older side of twenty, not the middle. That worked to his advantage as her childbearing years would be greatly reduced. On the other hand, she wasn't some inexperienced ninny at ruling either. That worked to hers. The second day, they were more relaxed and, at times, even seemed comfortable around each other. Late in the evening, Phalen stopped by his quarters and invited him to take a walk with her. The moon had risen, bright and round, in the clear night sky, lighting the landscape. They climbed the hill in silence, but it was clear that Phalen had more on her mind than just a walk. The silence between them was discomforting, at first, then began to melt away into something more relaxed. Throughout their negotiations, Phalen had given no hint of a favorable outcome to his proposal, but plenty that sounded like refusal. Was Phalen going to reject him? Every time he glanced at Phalen, it was clear that she was thinking hard, but her face remained a mask. Convinced that Phalen's answer would be no, he could no longer bear to look at her. His hopes sinking, he stonily stared at the ground ahead. A low sigh issued from Phalen. Out of the corner of his eye, Wilfer risked a peek. For the first time, she was looking at him with approval. Wilfer filled with joy. He shifted his gaze away from her face. When he finally risked another glance, Phalen smiled at him, offering her hand. Without even thinking about it, Wilfor gently wrapped his fingers around hers. The marriage arrangements of royals were business and political transactions; romance was not expected to be a part of it. Yet he liked her and she apparently had some regard for him. Perhaps, they would grow to love each other. He hoped so. Together, they climbed to the top of the hill.