I felt like a butterfly pinned to a board, being inspected by everyone in the room. One in particular. She wouldn't stop gawking at me, her faultlessly fined eyebrows cocked over large, doe eyes gloomier than night. Her skin was so fine and smoothed, I could see the branching veins underneath. Her eyelashes were abnormally lengthier on the top than on the bottom, and her eyes were finely accentuated with kohl, extending out the sides to make her eyelashes seem so much longer. Her lips were petite, although I didn't know if they were like that or were thin due to her tightening them in critical analyzation of me. They were coated a dark red, almost burgundy. Her hair was once naturally a browner shade of blonde, like her sons', but I had heard she had taken vanity to a Saxon hair treatment to lighten your hair. I would say hers was nearly as pallid as my own. Her hair was pulled tightly into a creative arrangement of braids and buns; I thought it looked pretty but must be quite excruciating on her scalp. The blinding crown threaded somehow into it, burned my eyes every time it met the sun's rays.
Her gown was a brilliance of scarlet, it streamed about her effortlessly. She looked every morsel the regal queen sporting it as she was. It flourished off her shoulders, cinched at her tiny waist to flare out in a dramatic exhibition of lustered fabric. It was trimmed with pale fur at every seam and sparkled with beads, jewels and ornamental embellishments all over. The remarkable ensemble made me feel like an insignificant larva in contrast. In my loose dusky cobalt gown I looked more like a Roman servant than a monarch. My hair held a single braid down the centre of my back leaving the rest loose. The gown adhered to my body, as it draped loosely, the sides of my breasts were bare and most of my back except what the steam of encrusted sapphire beads covered before it broadened into the skirt. I was sure the opaque fabric covered everything but it didn't mean that the shape of my body wasn't still visible. Show it off, my mother had said. By the look of the future king's, my apparent soon-to-be husband face I was unquestionably presenting something. I half expected him to ask me to take it off from how much he eyed. And if I read him distinctly enough, he ether didn't want to admit that he peeked my way so much or he didn't know he was doing it. One look at his mother and I knew what she believed of my appearance. Her eyes spat 'whore' all over me.
Her daughter, Alexan's older sister, took pity on me. Making sure I was comfortable and that I was involved in conversations when everyone spoke their language I didn't understand. Princess Emery was a sweet natured woman. It was my older brother Erik, who pointed her out to me when my family escorted me to the larger than life meeting hall. She was what every future queen should look like; kind, gentle smile, formally, pinned up hair the same dark blonde as her two brothers. And her eyes were the same too. Bright in the core and darkly rimmed a deep blue. She wore a very modest, dainty emerald gown, yet it suited her wonderfully. I smiled timidly at her and she beamed radiantly back. Well, at least I have a friend. I won't be completely isolated and abandoned.
I didn't know why I was 'asked', more like summoned, to take greetings of the morn with them. I was unaccustomed of the food, and entirely disregarded or spoken over. If, they bothered speaking tongue I understood. I just sat, drank some water since I rebuffed wine, and nibbled on whatever it was I was being fed.
It took me a while, but I began to be increasingly aware that the King hadn't taken his eyes off me. I peered up and received those pale eyes, narrowing my own in a silent threat to stop gawking at me. The wrinkled man's face curved with an amused smirk. For someone who appeared so antediluvian, I didn't think he was relatively old. His sons, the twins, Alexan and Jaymen, were both the manned age of eighteen. And Emery couldn't be more than twenty or just over. I wouldn't say he was out of his forties. I frowned into my cup; I had noted that the second son was rarely seen. It was said that when they were born into this world, that Alexan was born an infant blessed by the Gods with the spirit of a stallion and the regal pride of a lion and power of a silverback. But the brother born after him was purpled, with the fear of being a changeling. One was born lucky, the other lucky to be born.
I froze as I felt my stomach tremble, I was barely full, but sensed I had eaten enough. I set down my food gently and sat with my hands folded in my lap. Of course, they noticed. I felt myself shrink, I felt queasy. I wanted to evaporate in case I spewed all over their colossal table. Everything in the room was enormous, extravagant. A clear display of wealth and influence. It was all very overpowering, I felt minuscule in my unacquainted surroundings. I closed my eyes tightly, willing myself to not descent to sickness. Soon the wave of anxiety passed, and I was alright again. It was far too soon to feel paroxysms of homesickness.
A soft, cold hand touched mine, bringing my attention up. Emery gave me a searching look and an encouraging smile. I nodded and pulled my hand away. "Tell me, Onyx -if I may call you that? Thank you- Tell me, do you like children?"
I radiated, "Oh, yes! I adore them. I've always wanted children, ever since I was very small." I answered, honestly.
"Grasping little opportunist." It was muttered under her breath, but I heard the Queen unmistakeably.
I glared at her, "Oh, yes. I quite enjoyed being robbed from my home, dragged carelessly onto a ship, being stripped away from my family, friends, culture and life. Of course, I did! I simply am so thrilled my plan to come to a country-I don't even know what country I'm in- where I don't know anything about everything, be forced to marry a man who I don't know, and never see my family again. Be abandoned and isolated here, with stranger. Oh, Aye! I'm a grasping little opportunist indeed!" I bit out, sarcastically. "Blutigen hündin." I muttered under my breath.
"What's your preference?" I looked at Alexan; he spoke softly, digging his knife into the thing on his plate. He met my puzzled eyes when I didn't respond. "Your preference? For a child. Would you prefer a boy or a girl?"
The king swatted his son on the back of the head. "A boy! A male heir, of course."
He ignored his father, and now met my gaze firmly. "I was asking her. Which one is it?"
I thought about it for a moment, before I shrugged. "It's in the hands of the Gods, I have no say in it." He frowned at this, "And neither do you, Prince."
"Alex." He said firmly, "Call me Alex, Onyxia. It would be laughable to stay on formalities when in a week, six days; I shall be your husband and lover. "
"Alex." I said, simply. I should call him by his name. The wife of Alexan. It made my jaw clench. I was no less a wife that cattle bought and sold. They called me the krummi, the crow, I wondered what they called him. I looked him over, if I was a krummi , he was a rovfugl.
He raised his cup to me, "Onyxia." He brought the goblet of wine to his lips, his striking eyes holding mine. "My shieldmaiden."
I blinked, and my mouth opened in surprise. What? Prickly, I regarded low at my hands. I heard his mother remand him sternly, but he didn't respond. I didn't know whether to feel insulted for his mark of ownership or deeply flattered at his devotion. I was torn between punching him in his grinning face, and kissing him.
There was a quick knock, then Sabe, my head handmaiden, wordlessly strolled in. She was a girl of my own age. Her face was sweet and innocent; her slanted, wide grey eyes lightened her features like a pretty cat. Her wheat-toned hair sat in a fluff about her like cotton. I was thrilled at her choice to stay by my side, although I had felt horrible to drag my girls along with me but they assured me that they were moderately pleased to stay. She bent at my side, "Meine Prinzessin, your sister calls you. She wishes you to come to her chambers to sort through the rest of your things." She bent closer to whisper to me, "Meine Prinzessin Genevieve, notes her despondency of your room. She says it famines the criterions of a future queen. She says these people thrive in filth and smell like horse.... urine."
She looked terrified, but I took her hand in mine for consolation. "I'll be along, Sabe. Tell Linnéa and Alet to prepare a change of clothes, and a bath so I may quickly scrub. Burga, Duscha and Surinam are at my sister's disposal to dress the room as they wish. You may take as much money as you need to visit the market to purchase anything you deem a must." Sabe nodded and waited at my side. I turned to the four observing faces. "If you'll please excuse me, there are matters that call importance of my attention." I gave an apologetic bow and waited to be dismissed. King Haraldur waved a hand, telling me to leave as I wish.
I turned to leave, just as two unseemly individuals walked in. They had the appearance of being.... oily. My skin crawled with an air of mistrust and uncertainty. The woman had a face that spoke of once being a fine beauty, a youth of innocence. Long faded. Her eyes were muddy hazel, which had a dull glaze over them indicating that she was ether a heavy drinker or indulged in powdered addictions. She was a tall woman, with the curves of lax from inability to recover after pregnancy, leaving her doughy in places. She had the blonde hair of someone who suffered the same input of vanity as the queen, although regrowth of her natural light brown was vivid at the roots. Her companion had a resemblance to the queen, which notified me that this was very probable to be her brother. His skin was damaged into wrinkling from overexposure to the sun. His long obscure blonde hair was tied back with a leather throng; it matched his growing furring of a beard. His dark eyes scanned the room on instinct, those weren't the type of eyes I liked lingering too long. With an intelligent smile, he looked down his nose, which obviously had been broken numerously, at me before turning a knowing look at my 'betrothed'.
His voice was raspy, gruff. He walked around me, making me edgy. "Ah! You've scored a fine one here, Alex m'a boy!" I glared at him as he patted my rump, wishing I had the rovfugl's dirk with me. "A nice beddable filly, isn't she? Aye, my two boys had their eyes on this one too. Told me she had breasts like a dream and a nice round ass." I fisted my hands. It was a mistake, as he tore the back of my dress, letting the whole top collapse. In the brief seconds it took me to react my breasts were bared to everyone in the room. I folded my arms protectively over myself, clutching the remaining rags of my gown from falling. The servants had the obedience to look away at least.
In a flash of movement, my betrothed was in front of me. Pushing me protectively into his back. I fought a smile as one of my hands got caught between us and was pressing against his rear. Oh, what my mother would say about that rounded, firm piece of flesh. At least his body won't be an issue; I suppose not everyone would be so fortunate. A body, that at the moment tensely vibrated with barely held in fury. "I'm sure Gier and Fredrik are writhing at their losses then, Uncle. But unfortunately, I do not wish to spoil my luck by seeing my betroths body, breasts included, until our wedding night." His voice would have sounded unbothered and polite if I wasn't used to reading into the moods of men. I had three brothers of my own not counting all my half-brothers, and I noticed the tensing of his jaw, the slight clench of his teeth, the silent bite hidden in his words. It was becoming quite clear that this prince wasn't someone you wanted to cross, his temper was rather unbalanced. It was a quality my grandparents would thrive to announce as endearing and attractive. "If a man's fuelled with emotions they could buck you like a stud or ride you like an enraged bull." My grandmother, Thetis, once told me. It didn't make sense until I was older, even now I didn't know which one would be worse. Or better.
His uncle laughed, "Oh, come now! These heathens aren't bothered to show their skin, they walk around in their bare all the time." I ignored the insult, for now, and rested my forehead slightly in the centre of warm shoulder blades as I felt his hands fist absently in the skirts of my ruined gown. I knew I should have worn something from my usual wardrobe instead of taking advice to dress like they seemed to do. "I say if you don't wish to check the merchandise before you commit to buying it, we shall do it for you. There's nothing wrong with inspecting the mare before it's ridden. We don't even know if the girls a virgin still! She could already be carrying a bastard in her belly."
The body I was pinned to hummed with a growl, and his fists balled tightly. I kicked his booted ankle in warning. I was not in the mood. I wanted to go in my room, break something and then bath and sleep. And if I had time, I'd feel like actually enjoying my sister's annoying company. But to go, he had to let me leave. Which at the moment seemed improbable.
"Take caution to your words, Uncle." Oh, there was a definite threat now. "This woman is to be my wife and your future Queen." I heard his mother's putrid remarks at that notion. "You will not lay one finger tip on her, nor a brief glance of the eye in her direction. And you may never insult her, in my presence or without." I peered under his armpit to see his uncle look at his nephew in clear disgust and loathing. If this man was from his mother's side it meant that he wasn't in line for any throne as Willow became queen by marriage to King Haraldur.
Since it was clear that no one was going to bother to extinguish this confrontation, I kicked the stubborn fighter again. "Let go of me, I want to leave." I muttered into his back. His head turned slightly, hearing me, and his fists slowly unfurled. Without a word or a hint of acknowledgement, I stormed out of the room with Sabe silently on my tail. I ignored the looks of anyone I walked past and fled to the room set up for me. Slamming the door behind me when we entered.
The damned room was more like a whole house placed in one space, it was huge. The walls were made out of a reflecting, smooth back marble, boarded by incredible painted murals. Giant statues occupied the space, when I first saw them I was horrified, having never seen anything like that I thought they were bizarre frozen people. The floor was a mixture of tiles and wooden planks. Rugs and architectural furnishings decorated the room, along with the boxes of my barely unpacked things. The bed was set low to the floor on short legs; high beams framed it with curtains that were somewhat vaguely transparent.
I dropped my torn gown to the floor and walked naked, bitterly over to my pile of clothing to pull on a fawn woollen gown that covered me to my elbows. I undid my hair and ruffled it with one hand before turning to my sister. "Genevieve." I nodded, "Greetings of the morn to you."
Her dark, stony blue eyes stared widely at me. Her thick lips parted in a scowl and her eyebrows frowned. Her hair was the straight version of our mothers, braided in a thick, singular plait that reached her hip. "What in the name of the Gods happened to you?!" She yelled, picking up my broken garment before Alet took it away to be mended.
I looked at her flatly, "These islanders are not like us. They lack the traditions of the inhabitants of Iceland, and their ancestors. But I suppose just because you're near a country doesn't make it like yours." She looked at me expectedly, I rolled my eyes. "His uncle wanted to 'inspect the merchandise before they commit to buying it'. It's alright! Don't look so murderous, sister. My saviour defended my womanly honour." I said somewhat bitterly.
My sister hummed in response. There were two different types of Viking women; shieldmaidens and homemakers. My sister was the latter. She found some sick joy in creating a room to be a home, whereas blood and battle are all I've known since I was recruited as a child. She had required position and status four years ago and found it with her husband and his earlship. I have only met him twice before, but he seems to make her happy. As a large bowl was placed on the floor filled with water and a cloth, I stripped down once more and began washing myself with the cool water. I found my sister watching me. "What do you think of your suitor? He is of form, is he not?" She smirked. "We've all been gossiping about him, haven't we girls? Hm. He seems strong, fit. He's a well enough warrior to beat you in a fight. He was the only one who could after-how many? Ten? Twenty? - to do so."
I rolled my eyes and drawled, "He's a god among men, I suppose." I scrubbed myself carelessly hard, trying to rid myself of thoughts of him by punishing my skin.
Her laugh was musical, "Oh, you suppose?" She snatched the cloth from me after a moment. "I wish you to be lucky, sister. To have him bed as a god as much as he looks like one." I blushed against my will, I hadn't really thought about that. "To feel that hardened body between your legs, to have his mouth on you, the slid of his-"
"Shut up!" I snapped. "I don't want to think about it! I don't want to imagine someone who has ruined my entire life and stolen me from my home bedding me! If it wasn't for the husband's rights it'll be as rape. He stole me from my home, he robbed me of my life, it's only suited that he'd thief away my maidenhead too." I pulled on the brownish- fawn garment again, this time allowing my maids to dress me properly. Lacing up the back and securing the rounded bodice to sit on my shoulders. The fabric had a draped feel and sat flowing about my slim body. It pooled at my feet slightly as I was absent shoes. "I'm surprised he did something anyway, I expected him to just sit there stroking himself at the view." It was a lie, I knew. I highly doubted a man like him would share his prize, just show it off. Come Friday he'd marry me and then force me into his bed, or rather the rarely used marital bed. As much as I thought it stupid to have a bed that you only use for wedding nights, I was glad to have my own bedroom separate from his.
After a few hours of reorganizing and redecorating what is to permanently become my room in which I shall wallow the rest of my days in, our efforts were interrupted by a knock at the door in which a rather flat and long parcel was delivered. Unsure and curious, I opened it. I stood up and stared at it. They had sent me my wedding dress.