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War is wearisome, the time sludges on, and she's noticed Radovid being worn down by it. The Queen of Temeria is sitting on his desk when he returns to the study. His eyes fall on her, tired, wearisome. He has a scraggly beard he hasn't shaved and dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. He sighs.
"Ella…"
She smiles, standing with a bounce and going over wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Get dressed into something to go out in please?"
He looks down at her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She sways slightly and he follows. "Why?" He asks.
"Oh there's a florist in Novigrad we should visit!" She brushes her nose against his. "After all, we should start planning what the wedding flowers will be."
"We're at war," he reminds her.
"Ah, don't be a spoilsport. We won't always be at war, and once the war is over we will be wed and we cannot be wed without a proper ceremony and celebrations!" She rests her head on his shoulder. "You're already so stressed, why don't we relax?"
There is a moment of silence, then he slowly lets go. "Alright, I'll get changed."
Radovid steps out of his room to where Arabella is waiting, breath catching in his throat as he examines her outfit. It is not mourning white, she is instead wearing a soft blue Redanian dress, an undershirt with a white ruff keeps the neckline modest. A simple gold circlet holds in place a white circular veil with bluebells embroidered on the edges—a gift from Stennis from when they announced their engagement. She is…stunning.
He takes her hand, kissing her knuckles. She smiles. There is for a moment a glimpse of what was, what used to be. There is still tragedy in the world, but here and now it is perfect.
Once they are at the city she links her arm with his, leaning against him ever so slightly. Their fingers are interlaced. A washer lady leans over to her friend gossiping about young love and couples. A teenager their age remarks that he's mighty pretty. The florist Arabella wants to see is near Saint Gregory's bridge, near the bathhouse. The shop is large, stocked with many flowers of the season. Some are even imported from Nilfgaard. He watches her look around in amazement.
The shop owner looks up from the farmer's almanack he is reading to the young couple. They make eye contact.
"Looking for anything in particular?" Asks the shopkeep.
Arabella stops marvelling to look at him, "do you do wedding flowers?"
"Perhaps, for the right price." He looks them over as if trying to decide whether they can afford it as they aren't there officially.
Radovid smiles, "Oh price is no issue my good sir."
"Of course, looking to provide for the future wife?" Says the shopkeeper.
"But of course!"
"What season will the wedding take place?"
"Ah! Right after the first Lammas after the war and the harvest rolled in!" Says Arabella excitedly.
"A late summer wedding?" The florist raises an eyebrow. "That's strange, any particular reason for a late summer wedding?"
"Oh because the weather is more ideal than an autumn wedding, and though I'd quite like an autumn wedding the first snow usually arrives by Saovine. I'm thinking blue hydrangeas, white asters, heliotropes, and something red…"
"We're working with a blue and red colour palette you see," adds Radovid.
"Because she's Temerian and you're Redanian?" Asks the shopkeep.
Radovid nods, "our family houses keep very patriotic colours."
"And why not now? Why wait til after the war? The war could go on for a couple more years the way I see things."
Radovid tilts his head slightly in thought, "I'd wager…late spring of 1274. Negotiations wrap up before Saovine kicks off the new year."
"That's only a year from now," muses the shopkeeper.
"Well with the King having taken Novigrad, and the low morale of Nilfgaard i don't reckon the winter is going to do much to spur the blackclad into winning the war. They're on a slow descent as I see it," Arabella says, nudging him softly.
The shopkeeper nods. "So you're looking for perennials for late summer, yeah?"
"Yeah!" She smiles. "I want the bridal bouquet to be pink and red, contrast and all."
He looks over to Radovid who just shrugs. "Whatever she wants I'm happy with."
The shopkeeper nods. "And how many guests will be attending the wedding?"
Arabella looks down at her hands quietly counting on her fingers. "A lot."
"A lot?"
"Every prominent family in the Northern Realms," says Radovid.
The shopkeeper squints, leaning forwards to get a better look at the couple. Radovid smiles, "hm?"
"Oh— OH I'm so sorry your majesties," he fumbles.
Arabella waves her hand. "Not important!"
He looks down at the engagement ring on her finger, the weight of everything setting in. They are on the eve of peace, the wedding will take place, and he will be able to breathe. His suffering is not for naught. Something has been born of this strife. He wraps his arms around her softly, pulling her in close as she discusses floral arrangements.
Arabella's frizzy copper spun curls caught the morning light, looking almost as a halo against the down stuffed pillows. He wrapped his arms around her lips brushing against her collarbone as he pulled her close. Her archery calloused fingers ran through his hair, brushing it out of his face and gently caressing him.
She smelled of citrus and woodsmoke, hickory specifically, and the light caught her freckled skin almost sparkling as she moved. He sighed curling up close to her.
"I miss the gardens of Vizima," she says softly.
"Is that why you wanted to go flower shopping?" He asks.
"Mhmn," she mumbles, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You seem more relaxed."
"The war is coming to an end."
"That it is," she agrees.
He presses a kiss to the scar on her collarbone. "Since peace is approaching…"
"Hmm?"
"Will you marry me?"
She laughs softly, "yes! Of course."
"Until death parts us?" He asks, looking at her.
Her eyes are soft, "no, I'll carry on until the next world. And the next. There isn't a life I'd want to live without you."
His cheeks burn. "What do you miss most about the gardens of Vizima?"
"The Redanian Violets should be blooming this time of year," she says softly. "I want to see them."
"You could see the Redanian violets here," he points out. "Given they're you know… Redanian."
"But then they wouldn't be the ones you gave me."
He smiles against her skin, "you're so sentimental…"