His daughter. Married.

On more than one occasion during the ceremony, Hadrian had found himself misty-eyed. Valeria Delaney was the thing that had kept him tethered to shore even amid the stormiest of seas. She was his crowning achievement, his greatest joy, and the living memory of his sister on this earth. But, thankfully, not a tear was shed, and when the boisterous music struck up in the courtyard, his past sorrow was forgotten entirely.

Valeria was married; into a good family, to a man that loved her. As a father, he couldn’t ask for more.

After a cup or two of mead, Hadrian was buoyant, his festive spirit in full swing. He shook Keir Delaney firmly by the hand, squeezed Valeria tightly, and kissed her on the cheek. “You take care of my girl, Lord Delaney,” Hadrian cautioned Keir with a twinkle in his eye before clapping him on the shoulder and departing to dance.

For all his military training, Hadrian was a nobleman as well as a soldier. As the Ushers were new nobility, his father had taken great care to see his children as cultured as any with noble lineage reaching back generations. Hadrian navigated the dances and his partners - of which there was an abundant selection - with ease. Hadrian was forty-five, beyond the age one could be considered an “eligible bachelor,” but in his dress uniform, with his beard trimmed and his sliver eyes sparkling, he gave every young soldier in attendance a run for his money.

Hadrian’s eyes did not search for Kennet Caern. He assumed she’d be in attendance, of course, but he had decisively put her from his mind. He’d spent five years searching to no avail. Tonight, he looked only at what was right in front of him - which, at present was a blushing raven-haired noblewoman with stars in her eyes.

Before Brenna Delaney raised her toast, Hadrian had already raised more than a few of his own. One whiskey followed another, punctuating his increasingly imprecise turns about the dancefloor. The raven-haired woman who had caught his attention had seemingly attached herself to his arm. His drunkenness did not seem to bother her, as she seemed irretrievably smitten. Her father, however, did raise an eyebrow, but Hadrian’s title seemed enough to restrain him.

But at some point, when Hadrian’s words began to dull in their clarity, things took a turn. His eyes started to search for Kennet, and, when they found her, had a more difficult time keeping away. The dances stopped, and his attitude towards the woman grew increasingly aloof. She compensated by standing a little closer, by batting her eyelashes more furiously, but it seemed like it was a battle the woman was going to lose. When Hadrian excused himself to fetch another drink, he failed to return to her side. This had the woman looking impossibly dejected, even near tears that Hadrian would never see.

Hadrian raised his glass. He watched his daughter dance with a smile on his lips. His eyes kept drifting to Kennet and, whether she saw him or not he would not look away. When others started to join his daughter and son-in-law on the dancefloor, Hadrian would go for another whiskey and, with one last lingering look at Kennet, make his way toward the darkness of the garden hedges for a reprieve from all the merriment.

[ EXIT HADRIAN ]