Rejected

Drabble 8: Wedding Bells

Delilah patted the white delicate flowers pinned into her flowing dark hair. There was nothing left for her to do but wait and yet she still found herself fidgeting with her attire.

 

Suddenly her necklace looked garish, her dress too unflattering and her veil seemed askew. The panic that bubbled forth was immense despite her recent iron clad constitution.

 

Delilah wished she could call in her maid and start all over again but there was no time. She was to be wed in an hour and she felt miserable by all the choices she had made. Perhaps there weren’t enough flowers or not enough pews for the attendees or perhaps she would walk out of her carriage and straight into a puddle.

 

The girl continued to stare at the objectionable reflection and did not notice anything amiss until the window slammed shut.  

 

“What-?” Delilah was unable to continue for a firm hand landed on mouth. Her eyes blinked uncertain if she was dreaming.

 

“What possessed you to break into my room?” Delilah hissed at the brightly smiling Crown Prince. The medals in his military uniform blinded Delilah for a moment as they were hit with the morning light.

 

“How could I allow anyone the honour of seeing my bride first,” Damian declared with an infectious grin.

 

“The groom cannot see the bride before they meet at the altar. It is tradition!” Delilah tried to convince him although there was no point. He had already received a good view of her baby blue outfit.

 

“As if I care about tradition. I could not wait for another moment. Did you not wish to see me?” Damian took Delilah’s nimble fingers in his grasp and gave her outfit a pleased look. The bride felt herself breathe freely again.

 

“Of course, I did,” Delilah answered barely meeting his eyes, “Wouldn’t they miss you by now?”

 

“If they did not mean for me to run off then they shouldn’t have begun narrating the most wretched tales about their wedding nights,” Damian spat out with a look of disgust.

 

“My goodness,” Delilah dropped the man’s hands in haste and found herself facing away from him.

 

“Is it too hot? You look... Oh well. Yes our talk was wretched,” Damian announced without noticing anything amiss except his fiancé’s waning complexion, “You must have gotten an attempt at a lecture as well.”

 

“My sister Zartashia very kindly invited me into her room yesterday,” Delilah answered, pursing lips.

 

“She should have invited me as well. I garnered absolutely nothing of use from Jerald’s woeful tale of sorrow. His new bride apparently turned up completely hammered at her own wedding. She fell asleep during their vows,” The Prince uttered with an incredulous air, “Baker’s tale was even worse. I shall relate every single one to you when the day is over. I cannot bear this burden alone.”

 

“I promise I haven’t had a sip of anything more then a fruity drink. You know I despise being intoxicated,” Delilah finally found the courage to face him.