Chapter Text
Dearest readers, the social season of 300 AS was a most interesting one indeed. I was there, in fact. There were romances to last lifetimes, scandals involving the most elite of nobles, and an engagement that changed the world for the better. But it didn't all start like that.
Courtship in Xadia was not an easy affair. Every year of engagements took months of planning, followed by the decision of which kingdom to host the debuts, along with accommodations. In fact, it was once said by the great Evenerean Queen Adelaide that the social season was "Nothing but preparations and pure pernicious dancing."
But for the eligible bachelors and bachelorettes, the next three months were a time of matchmaking and love, with a large helping of anxiety. Those who were new to society at eighteen were excited for a chance to meet their perfect match. Those returning for a second, third, (or gods forbid fourth ) season watched their chances diminish little by little. Nobody wanted an old spouse.
For the young royals, they were expected to marry someone of noble blood, such as themselves. For the young nobles, they were expected to marry someone of their status or higher.
Even so, at times, there could be some . . . unwelcome guests present at the formals. Yes, it was quite true that Xadia and the Human Kingdoms had been at peace for three hundred years, but there was still strong animosity between the two.
But they were able to put all that behind them and let bygones be bygones when the next social season was approaching. Human and elf couples weren't exactly uncommon, but they could be frowned upon by some insensitive parents. Already, there was a couple made out of the Lux Aurean Golden Knight and the sister to the Katolian queen. If that didn't encourage the younger generation to interact with each other, then it would never happen.
Take, for instance, Lord Viren of Katolis, already at his wit's end with both of his children for not finding a match sooner.
"This is going to be the year," Claudia said as she opened the windows in her father's study. "I can feel it."
Her brother shrugged and leaned on a desk. "Last year, some Durenian girl was totally into me. I want to see her again." He tapped his chin in thought. "But I can't remember her name . . ."
"Enough, both of you," said Viren, rubbing his forehead. "This year, you are both going to find a match. No matter what."
"But I want to wait for someone who actually loves me," said Claudia, turning around. "I don't care how long that will take."
"This is your third social season, and it's embarrassing that you haven't found a husband yet," Viren said. "Everyone I know has gotten engaged in two seasons or less, and it's upsetting me that neither of you two has."
Soren shrugged and stopped leaning against the desk. "When we find the right person, we find them. You can't just rush these things—"
"We're going to rush them this year. It's taken you four years, and this will be the very last. I do have rules for you two, however, regarding your matches."
Claudia sighed and kept an eye roll to herself. "We know, Dad. No elves and no Del Barians. We'll be fine, I promise!"
Viren raised a brow in slight annoyance. "Good. By Lady Justice's scales, I hope you two pick someone out during the presentation."
One may also look into the life of Princess Aanya of Duren. A spoiled, clever girl who wanted nothing more than to be permitted into the library to sit with her books all day or take a horseback ride into the meadows.
Certainly not dressed up in frilly gowns by one of her overbearing mothers. But, well, that was the expectation when you were a princess, no matter how much you hated it.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Queen Annika asked as she held a pale pink dress high in front of the large windows.
"It's pink," Aanya noted with a hint of disgust. This shade of pink looked considerably like vomit, but she supposed it was nicer than all the other pink dresses her mother made her wear. And it sort of fit with the way her hair color was.
"So?" asked Annika, turning to face her daughter. "You look lovely in pink, dearest."
Of course, you would think that, Aanya thought bitterly. You coordinate all of my clothing.
"Mama, think about this," said Aanya. "What if I didn't have a pink dress? Just this once? It would be so much nicer if I wore white or blue—the traditional colors of Duren. And just think of how nice everyone would think I look. Can you imagine all of the possible suitors I'd have in the next years?"
"Let her have a little variety," Neha, Aanya's other mother said from where she was reclining on a lounge couch. "All she wears is pink." She bit into a vanilla scone.
"She loves pink!" Annika turned to her daughter. "You love pink. It's your color."
"According to you," Aanya dared to whisper. "Please?" she said, louder this time. "Just a white dress? Everyone else wears white."
"I already had the maids pack some white dresses for you," said Annika, folding the dress up on her bed. "You'll fit in with everyone."
Aanya sighed in relief but flopped down on another lounge couch left of Neha. The golden chandelier glittered above, perfectly matching the gold streaks on the pale green walls.
Readers, let it be known that the Durenian royal family was incredibly grandiloquent. As the second-longest lineage in all of the Human Kingdoms, they had roots in resplendence, traced back all the way to the burning of Elarion.
So their palace was nothing short of glorious, only rivaled by the Sunfire palace in Lux Aurea and Del Barian palace in Serpentongue. Gold dotted every wall. Huge closets were nestled into bedrooms the size of stables. The finest accessories always decorated the dining table.
Teatime was especially pleasurable because the royal family always had the sweetest little tea cakes and the most earthy tea flavors. Each teacup painted looked (almost) like the teapot, pale blue with a white morning glory on it.
"I don't see why I have to go," Aanya fretted as she swiped a scone from one of the plates on the small tea table. "I'm too young to get married, and my societal debut isn't for another three years." She absentmindedly chewed on the scone, licking a good bit of icing off.
"We're royalty," Neha answered. "We have to go so we can reassure our nobles that they should carry on the tradition. At least you don't have to go to the actual balls, Aanya."
"Yeah, but I'm gonna have to lateeerrr," Aanya whined. She picked a bit of white icing off with her thumbnail and licked it off.
"That's still three years away," reassured Neha. "But I agree. If I didn't have to go to the social seasons, I wouldn't."
"What's not to like?" asked Annika. "The dancing, the lights, the dresses . . ." She trailed off with a dreamy, faraway look in her eyes and sat down daintily on her own lounge couch.
"You like it because that's where you met me," Neha hummed with a smile.
Annika smiled back. "Maybe so." She picked up her teacup with both hands and stared at it, reminiscing.
"Bleh," said Aanya, after she had finished licking the icing off of her scone. "What's so great about marriage anyways?"
"It's the foundation of our society, dearest," Annika answered with a delicate hand pressed to her chest in shock. "How do you think early trade agreements and peace negotiations were made throughout history? With marriage."
"Maybe I just won't get married then. It sounds awfully boring." Annika gasped, and her teacup wobbled in her free hand. Neha nodded in respect.
"Whatever you want to do is your choice," said Neha. "We won't push for marriage, and we won't tell you what to do. Right, sweetheart ?" The queen looked at Annika eagerly for an answer.
Annika made a little squeaking sound. "W- Well ," she said, drawing the word out, "I'm sure by the time you're eighteen, you'll have changed your mind. You're only fifteen now, you know. Plenty of time for you to make a decision!"
"My decision is 'no,'" Aanya answered, taking another scone from a plate. She licked some more of the icing off while she stared at her mother. Annika sighed heavily and sipped some of her tea.
And so, dear readers, you have seen six of the most important people in the 300 AS social season. Of course, there were a great many more of them, but it's always better to start off with the lesser perspectives.