Alexan PoV
I didn't even turn when the doors opened behind me.
I kept my eyes focused on the carved, golden altar before me and inhaled deeply to calm my rapidly beating heart. I had known that all famous kings of importance had given sacrificed something; eyes, hands feet and... others, for glory and fame in marriage. But this sacrifice seemed ... unfair. Because I was sacrificing my life, my freedom and in a way my heart. It scared me terribly. I had woken this morning with a rush of nerves and fear of what was to come. Kyarah lay beside me, the only woman I felt I could trust enough to speak my mind. The three years that had past, it felt odd to be taking someone I barely know into my bed for the rest of my life. There was a respectful hush where only the music wafted to my ears.
I closed my eyes and a small prayer went from my lips, "Forgive me."
I felt they procession coming in, closing into me and I felt my throat constrict when I was meant to turn and bring Onyx up the dais before the high priest.
My father, who I had avoided in my anger, looked every bit the king he was. Silver and gold with his magnificent crown on his head, he looked down at me and my soon to be consort as we neared each other. I felt the full crowd of people behind me; I felt the eyes of her family and mine upon my back. I turned to my soon-to-be wife, Onyxia looked like she was going to flee at a given moment and when I extended my hand, I saw her give her mother an uncertain glance. Of course she was confused, this was a complete opposite to what she most think weddings were like. It wasn't as festive or as decorative as they're own celebration. Her family's reaction I missed, but I saw the way something died in her when she extended her trembling hand, letting me pull her up beside me.
Her eyes were bright today, a vivid blue, that darted everywhere at once. She was very clean and the smell of lavendrer lingered on her skin in a hypnotic aroma. Her eyes were lightly dusted with a pale greyish-violet power, making them stand out through the long, thick fan of eyelashes. Her pinkish lips sat in their natural pouted frowned expression; I smirked to think that she was born frowning. Her pale hair was braided and bunned in the most technical way I have ever seen, it must have taken extreme effort and time. Thin slivery chains were threaded through it, matching the thin elegance of her jewellery. Her dress was draped across her shoulders in wide, flowy sleeves, revealing her thin arms. Multiple threads connected to a broach in its centre, holding the garment up. Its skirt was flowing and trailed behind her in a sway of white fabric.
She looked absolutely stunning. She'd be breathtakingly imperial if she smiled. I strummed my thumb over her shaking hand, she gripped my fingers tightly. Her breathing was harsh, almost on the verge of sheer panic. I watched fascinated as she scowled herself and took a deep, deep breath. Again, and again. Until she calmed, and her fingers no longer shook. Brave woman, so very brave.
It was held in the very hall that had held my father's coronation. People filled the hall, humming and talking to themselves, introducing sons to daughters and men to women. Everyone was dressed gaily and everyone was anxious to see the bride I had taken. Not everyone had seen her, but they knew she was Viking. Word had spread of her beauty and inquiries made about how I would couple with the woman I had imported from afar. They talked freely and made no secret of their curiosity. So, as I stood on the altar, could hear them all.
Onyxia PoV
I knew who she was, without anyone even having to tell me. She was Kyarah. As I stood at the altar, barely hearing the words being vowed by the priest. I was rather uncomfortable with the unfamiliar ceremony; it was not like how we do weddings back home. And for that I was deeply saddened. I toyed with the beading of my white gown, noting that I wasn't the only one wearing white.
Her gown was made out of shimmering, ivory material; it caressed her figure like it was a whimsical skin, like mermaid's tail or a silkie's body. It made a deep V at the front, creating a glimpse of her subtle breasts. The gown draped across her shoulders and acted like a small cape at the back. It was expensive; he must have paid a year's wager for it. I had noted that the ports of this land come across very different cultures and ethnics; it was only common sense to note that it inspired the fashions here. Her hair was golden, long, perfectly waved. She has a rounded head with a pointed chin, almost too filled out for her skinny, child-like body. Her lips were small and thin, like a bird's beak. She sat with a look of sour amusement. I let it pass, if she was in his bed before me she'll remain there long after. It was not unusual in my culture to be sexually free but it was frowned upon to sleep with a single lover more than once and continually when with wife. Her misty toned green eyes peered at me, analysing. She didn't look much older than me; perhaps we were of the same age.
The crowd was a deafening hubbub. A few bold men had been making wagers about the time it would take me to walk after my husband was done with me and that made me shudder in fear. Images flashed into my mind and I had to close my eyes against them. Images of A.J pinning me down, forcing my legs open and ramming in. Images of me screaming in agony as he made me bleed from the most intimate place of my anatomy. Images of me curled up and bleeding and dying when he was finished and went away while I lay crippled. I blinked back to reality as I heard my attention being called.
The priest was looking at me with a sour expression, I had been absent minded to what he was saying. I lowered my gaze and murmured a soft apology. The priest had both a goði and a gyðja standing behind him, I was thankful for that. The exchange of dowry and mundr settled before the hundreds of witnesses standing behind and around us. Once that was completed, the marriage ceremony began.
I noted one of the priestess pass the ancestral sword of house Jagontá to A.J, on it balanced our two wedding rings. Silver and gold. I felt a bolt of stress, "Did I need to bring our family sword too? It is such in our tradition." I whispered to him under my breath, glancing up to catch his slight shake of the head. "Oh."
The priest's voice boomed, "Do you Onyxia Kateline Haleigh Gyda D'Luna, first of your name, so swear to take this sword under your protection to do so until it may past down to your son born from this wedlock?"
I nodded. "I do so swear."
"Know that what you both vow here will last you for eternity" A.J took a deep breath and focused on the floor. His hand flexed over mine and caused me to wince a little.
"Alexan Dominitri Rydna Haraldur Jagontá, before all the people of this great kingdom, before the royal family, honoured warriors and the Gods themselves," King Haraldur looked at his son "Do you vow to take care of this woman to have as your own, to protect, to give and to honour and respect till the end of your days?"
"I vow to do so." He said gruffly.
"And do you swear to keep her safe and give her justice and uphold the honour she bestows upon you?" The priest continued.
"I swear," He said softly, causing some of the crowd to hum over whether it was said or not.
"And do you swear to protect all that she gives you, all that is her?" The priest almost shouted.
"I swear!" He said loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Then by the power of awful right, I will offer you your birth right. Kneel before me and before the Gods as I place this crown upon your head and by the law of power in me, name you King Alexan, guardian and protector, ruler and overall authority, king regent of this kingdom." To loud cheers and applause, A.J stood now king. The priest now turned to me, "And do you, Princess Onyxia," he said, "swear, as you stand before all witnesses gathered, here and above, and your royalty and ours, that you will serve, obey, honour and care for this man. And take him as your husband, lover and protector?"
Serve ... obey. What a contrast between them, I noticed. "I swear and vow, as Odin is my witness."
The priest nodded "Then place your vows upon each other and seal it"
A.J dropped my hand and turned; reaching for the ring he had with him. I did the same and we faced each other.
"I, Alexan Jagontá" He said "take you, Onyxia D'Luna, as my wedded consort. To cherish and honour till death do us part" He took my shaking hand and placed his golden ring on my finger.
I gulped, short of breath, before lifting my own ring "I, Onyx... Onyxia D'Luna take you, Alexan Jagontá, as my intended husband, my cherished king and my lover till ... till death do us part" I guided my silver ring on Alexan's long finger, trying not to think of the strength in his hands.
He offered the priest his wrist and gestured for me to do the same. I did so very unsure and confused, I glanced at my parents but they just looked confused. The priest cut our wrist lightly, but caused blood to flow. Shocked, I covered the wound and cradled it to my body. With his free hand A.J gently brought my wrist back and pressed out wrists together so the priest could bind them. I was so bewildered, and he looked more confused at my reaction than anything else. "Then I, High priest, proclaim that from this day forth, you are wed, husband and consort, serving this kingdom for as long as she needs you" A roar of applause rose to the high ceiling and I closed my eyes, blocking out the moment.
It was done.
The feast began with a rather fun tradition known as, bruð-hlaup. It places the two families of the married couple up against the guests of the wedding in a race. Whichever group arrived last at the hall had to serve the ale all night to the members of the other party. Lucky for my husband, I was a fast runner, even in a wedding dress. He caught up with me easily, snatching me up over his shoulder, causing me to yelp in surprise. Everyone around me was full of laughter and joy; it was hard not to feel happy. An emotion I didn't think I'd feel on my wedding, but I was bubbling with laughter. My injured wrist no longer stung, and I gave it no thought after I was happily bandaged. My husband gently let me down; placing me on a flat, lounge behind a large table. I sat in a comfortable cross-legged fashion; he smiled down at me as he sat beside me.
While everyone began sitting down at their tables and places, King- or was it now high lord? - Haraldur approached us, barring the long ancestral sword in his hands. Its blade shimmered with a brownish glaze. I looked at my new husband uncertainly, but he just nodded for me to kiss the blade as he had done. I cautiously pressed my mouth to the cold metal, the sticky residue lingering upon my lips. It tasted overly tangy, bitter. My now father-in-law held out his hand, reaching for my arm ring, I jerked back pulling my arm out of his reach. The new King threw a dark look at his sire, before reaching for my arm himself. His fingers brushed the thin band of metal that lay tight on my forearm, not quite small enough to fit my wrist. "No!" I said stubbornly.
My husband sighed, and griped my arm tightly. "You can't wear it anymore, you're no longer a maiden of that house. I won't take it away from you, but you can't wear it. Not in public anyway." He had to pull it somewhat to get it to release from my arm, a red indent formed where it was before. I felt tearful, we got that when we came of age, to swear allegiance the earl and the king, my father. "Hey, look at me... I'll wear it. For you." He pushed the golden ring on his own arm, fitting firmly upon his wrist. I felt angry; I pushed away from him and sat a bit further away. I heard him make a sharp remark to his father in their own language before snatching the sword away and passing it to me. After a moment he moved close to me, nuzzling my neck in a very public display of affection. I had noted more than a few of the men throwing him glares and dirty looks over their cups. "You're mine now, skjöldur mær minn. Don't forget that." He growled in my ear.
I reached up and pulled his hair in what I hoped masked as a tender, playful gesture. "I'm still not going to give you what you want. I refuse to be your propriety, nor you trophy mare."
He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it tentatively. "Hmm, trophy mare? I like the sound of that. I look forward to riding you later, my Valkyrie. We'll see how much of a thoroughbred you are, skjöldur mær."
"I'd kick you off before you even saddled." I reproached quietly, faking a smile for our audience that watched. "Perhaps you should mount me right now, put them out of their misery to how they wager if you will breed me as an animal as I was sold like one." I snapped with a bitter sharpness.
"Don't test me, Onyx." He warned, "Or I will take you up on that boast. They don't care how I put a son in you."
I cut into my slob of meat with annoyed gusto. "Then you'll finally make yourself a just king." I swallowed down some mead.
"What does that mean?" He inquired, beginning to eat as well. "Hmm? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Leave me alone." I muttered.
Surprisingly he did. He simply ate his meal in silence, talking only when asked a question or spoken to. Good, he could behave. After a while I gradually relaxed into the environment, sitting less stiffly and more closer to him. For show, because his father gave him a meaningful look, A.J wrapped an arm around my neck to tilt it so he could kiss my head. I was content to let him; I didn't want to cause strife between those two. We still hadn't kissed, and I didn't plan to kiss him, but it seemed to grate upon Haraldur's nerves. He looked more and more displeased.
"Don't." I said, when A.J moved closer to me. "I know what you're thinking, but don't. You don't have to." I remembered his reaction when my lips brushed him, and I wasn't stupid or vain enough to fool myself that he wanted any sort of genuine affection from me. 'Save that for your lovers', I thought to say. He had no problem kissing or touching them. Just my inferior, barbarian's skin. I wasn't part of the deliciously fabricated, exquisitely jewelled world. I was a shieldmaiden; blood and battle. Not appearances and displays of wealth. A troubled thought came to me, "Who picked out my wedding gown?"
He chewed in thought, reluctant to tell me it seems. "Does it matter?"
"Was it you?" I guess, it would explain his reluctance and his refusal to answer simply.
"Don't be stupid." He muttered, dismissively. He was right; he didn't care for me that much to pick out something of that much importance. "It doesn't matter. Don't ask me again." I opened my mouth to argue but thought better of it. I put down my eating utensils, no longer feeling hungry. He glanced over at my plate and frowned, but said nothing. I glanced around trying to see my mother or sister; perhaps I could go sit with them. It took me a short while to spot them. My sister looked like a faeish creature, her hair tumbled loose around her and her pale pink gown made her skin glow. She sat with Emery, in her blue gown and flower filled hair. I couldn't see my mother over the sea of heads. I moved to stand.
He lashed out and clutched my arm firmly, "Don't get up!" I frowned down at him, puzzled. "I just want to talk to my sister." I explained. He gave me an impatient look, tugging me back down next to him. Closer to him. "If you get up from this table, they'll expect that it's time for the bedding." I gave him a startled look, and then an outraged huff of annoyed amusement. "So I'm stuck talking to you all night." I couldn't prevent my sarcastic disbelief from entering my tone. He gave me a look that asked 'Is that so bad?', I responded out loud. "I'm stuck with you for the rest of my life, I shouldn't be forced to have every single moment by your side." I kicked the table leg, and sat with my arms crossed and head bowed. The clear look of a stubborn child.
After what seemed a long moment I felt him move beside me, obvious that I had no intention of cheering up I felt his hands upon my hair. Tracing the braids with his fingers. Tickling me when he ran a nail along the rim of my ear. I rubbed the tingling feeling away with my hand. "Can I undo your hair? It looks painful." I nodded, feeling numb. He could take me right now and I wouldn't feel the care to stop him.
"It's not." I assured him. Slowly and carefully he unthreaded and unbound my hair in sections, his movements almost putting me to sleep. "It's going to look messy." I whined emotionlessly. He didn't say anything, just continued to release my hair and smooth it out. I remained in my crouched position, resting my head on my hands. Once it was done, he set all the decorations from my hair on the table, then massaged my scalp. "Stop it." I snapped, annoyed by the gesture.
"Stop what?" He asked back, not phased my mood.
"Stop acting like you're going to be nice to me, you're not. You know you're not. One day you'll break every vow you ever gave to me." Just as my father did when he married my mother. His hands paused, and then he moved to sit behind me, cradling my body between his legs. His arms wrapped around me, and he rested his head on my shoulder.
"As I've told you before, I want you here for a very long time. One day is not today, I have no plans to upset you before I take you to bed. I want you willing, I don't like rape." He rumbled in my ear. "I want you safe, I want you happy. That would please me, and you were brought here to please me. And I you in return. So you'll just have to get used to my 'niceness', but your right; I'm not a kind man." I shivered when he bit my ear lightly, "You're a cleaver girl, and at the moment you smell very nice. And I want you. So what do you think we should do about that, skjöldur mær minn?"
I turned my head to look at him, an eyebrow cocked. "Cut off your balls?" I suggested. He gave me a flat, unimpressed look before standing up and dragging me with him. The crowd cheered in gleefulness.
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