Wedding matter

[Riyria Revelations]

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    The feast was unostentatious but elegant. Lord Samuel Exeter didn’t possess the means to pay for expensive musician, foreign food or excessive decoration, despite the present from the crown. Etiquetted imposed him, as a member of both one of the Charted House and the Avryn Thirty-Two most prestigious family, to extend the invitation to a large amount of nobles and to organize a large ceremony for his marriage with Lady Bermun.
    A banquet had been arranged in the courtyard behind Exeter Castle. The majestic building, more similar to a fortress than a residential house, made enough shadows to temperate the warm air. Unlikely most of the melengarian palaces, the garden had no working fortain, or bizzarely decorated brushed, or exotic flower bed, only a large perfectely cut grass were table had been arranged and attendants and waitres moved elegantly, assuring that the guest didn’t remain with their plates empty and their glasses unfilled.
    Lady Simone Exeter, alongside her younger sister, was scrutting around to monitoring the situation, talking with the guests and assuring they were enjoying the meal, the music and prevented any problem that could happen.
    All family of Avryn were present, included the one that in the previous years had cursed his father’s name and refused to deal with him. Then his bride’s family and all that what connected to them, which was the reason of the Lanaklin’s presence, as Valerius Lanaklin, the elder son of the Marquis, had married only two months earlier Marquis Bermun’s elder daughter. Warric and Rhennyd send a couple of knights as rapresentation.
    Two years before, Samuel had been a shy young man, with no desire or possibility to partecipate in the social life of Melengar. That day, he acted self-assured, holding conversation as an expert host and party were part of his quotidianity, with straight back and attentive blue eyes. But his gaze wandered always to his wife everytime they were separate.
    “I hate weddings.”
    King Alric Essendon of Melengar sat at the cool of a tend, his legs elegantly stretched in front of him. He moved the fork slopply inside the plate were remained of the cake remained, splashed of cream and cherries.
    “How so?” Mauvin Pickering, at his right side, eyed him. “We get to drink without worrying all day.” To underline the concept, he shook his glass, full of red liquid.
    “Because it’s not about me.” Alric gestured to a waiter to bring him the tray of fruit. “Can you believe that no one has yet come to talk with me? All the attention is to Samuel.”
    Alric wore a sugarcoat worth three times Samuel’s wedding dress, red brocade with the crowden falcon embroied in gold on its back. He didn’t have his crown, not his royal mantle, but his presence was still evident by the prestigious position he’d been granted to.
    “Aren’t you happy to avoid political discourse for once?”
    Alric pouted. “Yes, but it’s beyond the point.”
    “You’re disappointed that Simone hired only male waiter.” Mauvin stole an piece of apple from the tray and threw it in his mouth. With cheeks full, he added, “I think Simone did it in purpose.”
    Alric didn’t answer, but his light green eyes wandered over the crowd, nobles gathered in small groups talking and drinking. His attention focused on the noble girls group, the one around the bride, all beautiful in their colorful dresses and elaborate hairstyle and fashion small hat. None of them gave the two boy a single look.
    “Will you hate your wedding too?”
    “I will turn it in the talk of the century.” Alric admired the piece of apple before throwing it away. “I will have only the most esquisite food from outside. I’ll have feral beast brought from Calis only for exhibition. Musician and actors and entertainment for every single person in Melengar. I will ask Arista to contact back his friend in Westerlins for it.” He smiled. “They’ll probably write about it on the historical book, alongside my victory against Braga.”
    Mauvin laughed. “And don’t forget, only female waitress.” He took a sip of wine. “Instead, I won’t mind such a small event for me. But I’d like combat and joust as a celebration.” He snapped his finger. “We may even propose a new tradition: for the marriage to be consumate, the groom must defeat a family member of the bride.”
    “You say it only because nobody can beat you.”
    “Hey, I may marry Arista so you will have to spar with me. It will be fun!” Mauvin beamed.
    “You’re full of shit.” Alric’s lips stretched in a smile, his eyes focused on something on the grass, a cricket or a fly. Then, he asked, tone low, “Since when we start imagining our weddings party instead of our journey?”
    Mauvin didn’t answer.

    Alenda is stunning in her wedding dress, pearl fabric and laces and diamonds that embraces her slender body, blonde air arranged in an elaborate chiffon with thousand of small braids and white flowers, coronated with a headbands with the veil and a white rose.
    Although her beauty can’t be compared to Mauvin’s mother, or even his sister, there is no one that won’t find her perfect, and theirs a good match. The couple is dashing, with Mauvin in his green sugarcoat and his dashing features and dark hair.
    It is enough to consider it a profitable wedding, considering the wealthy dote Alenda brings with her. But the two has been friend since they were barely teenagers. It isn’t the love agreement between the Count and Lady Belinda, but from outside it can be considered one.
    Mauvin raises Alenda’s veil and arranges it better over her shoulders. She wears a smile on her lips and embarassed red on her cheeks, but when Mauvin brushes her chin, she lifts her face and her eyes shines with expectation and happiness.
    They have kissed before, since their wedding has been agreed from their parents, in the private of the hallways, stolen moment between a celebration and another. In front of the priest and the crown, it is more of a sign than a show of affection.
    Alenda’s cheek are soft under his finger, her lips humid. She leans more at his touches, as she doesn’t want him to stop. He lingers too, more than it is polite, his hand still on her face, his eyes on hers. The priest is talking but they pay no attention.
    “Do not undress for me tonight,” he whispered, his breath tickling her skin. “I want to have the pleasure.”
    It is customary, especially for the first night, that the bride awaits for the groom in her room, not naked, no, that will take away all the pleasure, but in a simple way, with her nightshirt, and her hair down, like after a bath.
    In Mauvin’s words, there is another promise. The thought that he will be the one preparing her. He sees, in his mind, that he will take off all the hairpins that kept her blond braid together, one flower after another, and her breath will increase more and more. The dress will come later, when the golden cascade is down at her shoulders.
    He has more experience. Boys aren’t reserved in their adventures, and Lenare has complained about it more than once. Alenda hasn’t, which makes the entire ordeal scary and exciting at the same time.
    “I won’t,” she says. “I want it to be the best night of your life.”
    I have another person in my heart, he has said to her. She knows, and she doesn’t care. Marriage between nobles are often a business question. Hers, isn’t. She is marrying the man she loves, and tonight he will be hers. The other person has have him, and can have him in the future, but she will be the woman at his side forever.

    Out of everyone, Lady Taya Red was enjoyed herself. She’d clapped louder during the ceremony, she’d been the first to drink at the spounses’ life, she had even dared to ask first for a dance from the king. As the music continued, she changed partner to partner until she was sure nobody had escaped from her grasps.
    Only then, with a long, deep and satisfied breath, Taya slumped in one of the free chair at her brother Castor’s table.
    “I love weddings!”
    Castor was busy in a deep conversation with Fanen Pickering about the Melengar History, especially referring the battle of Drondil Fields. Mauvin was there too, listening and intervening from time to time. Both brothers had already danced with Taya, so the three welcomed her with just a gesture of their heads.
    “I hope it’s just the first of a long list,” she continued, to no particulary one. “After all, the new generation of lords and ladies of Melengar is starting. I understand Samuel being the first, since he’s already marquis and such, but… Oh!”
    Taya slammed her hands over the table. The suddend gesture made the glasses and dishes tremble, wine drops spilled on the wooden surface. The three boys jerked their heads to her, with baffled expression.
    “What if the king is next?” Her voice was lower, as she bent her body towards them in a conspiratory manners, her eyes dartening from them to the king, who sat down with Lord Valin in his private porch. “Can you image? I’ve never been to a king’s wedding! It should be glorious!”
    Castor frowned. “You haven’t been to a wedding before today.”
    “Yes, yes.” She gestured her hand, as to snatch away a fly. “But you know what I mean. A king’s wedding is rare, princes and princesses are wed pretty early. We got an unique chance!”
    Her attention focused on Mauvin’s face, expectant. “What do you say? When His Majesty will find us a queen?”
    Mauvin’s face was stone for a second, at the point Fanen elbowed him. “Maybe you will be the next to wed.”
    “Oh, I wish!” Taya lifted her gaze at the sky, her mouth slightly opened. Then, she crossed her arms and returned her attention to them. “But I’m afraid my father wants to marry me to one of the Jerls. You know, to keep the lands in the family. And that’s a little depressing.”
    “I understand perfectly.” Mauvin nodded. The relationship between the young generation of the Jerls and the Pickerings weren’t amicable.
    Taya tilted her head to the bride, in her white gown and white veil that enlightened her olive features and brown hair. She hadn’t stopped smiled once during the day.
    “I would prefer to marry to someone of another country, just for a chance.” Her moment of sadness lasted a second, before another bright smile appeared on her meaty lips. “What about you two? It’s better you move, or people will steal the best ladies.”
    Mauvin stretched his arms in the air. “If they choose someone else than us, I beg to differ about the definition of ‘best’.”
    “Oh, I don’t know.” Fanen chucked sarcastically and shook his head. “I dread for the girl that will end stuck with you.”
    “What do you mean? I’m a catch!” Mauvin slapped his brother on the head, then turned to Taya. “Right?”
    Taya pressed her lips together and stared at him. Tentatively, with slow words, she said, “You’re the heir of Galilin, which is the richest land of Melengar. And a member of the Thirty-Two Houses. And your aspect is very proportionate.”
    Fanen patted Mauvin’s shoulder and whispered in his ears, “That’s a polite way to say no.”
    “Come on!”
    “I mean no offence!” Taya lifted both arms in defence. “You’re just not my type. I do prefer men more… build up and less confident. But I’m sure a lot of other ladies disagree. In fact, I heard some very good comments today. Lady Alenda was especially kind in that regard.”
    “Thanks Maribor someone with good taste.”
    Fanen snickered. “I’m sure she was just polite because she’s friend with Lenare.”
    “Speaking about it.” Castor leaded better to his chair. He’d a pleasant smile and he’d listened all the conversation with amusement, even if he’d been ignored for most of it. “You may not be my sister’s type, but your sister is mine. Do you think I have a chance?”
    Mauvin glared.

    As it is customary, the King and the Queen sit in a special place during the wedding banquet. However, the guests’ attention is mostly on the newedly couples and the celebration they have prepared for the special occasion.
    “Maybe we should have avoided the elephant,” Alenda whispers in Mauvin’s ear.
    “Maybe. But father hasn’t let me have the competition I crave for.”
    “You’ll have plenty of occasion to show your skill, dear.” Alenda smiles and duckes her head to the royal couple. “But the elephant was a competition, correct?”
    It is. Mauvin can’t deny he has been a little bit itchy to show Alric he can have the best wedding ceremony. Alric, faithful to his promise, organized a feast that will be remembered for years, in Melengar and othe other places. Mauvin admits he doesn’t want to show any less. In his imagination, he and Alric will have a friendly bartender about who has have the best celebration.
    However, at the moment Alric doesn’t seem interested in judging the feast. He and his queen, his wife, ignore the protocol and don’t restrain in physical affection. Their hands always lingering to the other, and when they eat they lean towards the other so their arm or shoulder brush together. Their heads are always turned together, as they whisper and giggle and smile.
    It isn’t surprising: Alric married out of love, as he has always wanted. He and Mauvin couldn’t afford love expression in public, but in private Alric loves to cuddle and he earns for physical demostration of love. The fact that his wife is ready as much as him to that kind of affection is a proof their relationship will work.
    Mauvin takes Alenda’s hand in his. Considering that marrying is a part of their duties, he’s happy that both he and Alric has people they love at their side.

    The wine had watered down. It had been Simone’s idea, either because they couldn’t afford the right amount necessary for such a feast, and because she preferred not to deal with drunk nobles. She had been right, because some of them would have drunked themself into oblivious otherwise.
    Mauvin observed the red liquid in his glass; it was getting dark, and now the dim light reflected on the surface as he turned the glass and the wine spin around. The nobles that wouldn’t remain for the night were leaving, so around him it was all a sound of goodbyes and complaints and orders around. Alric was supervising the departures, while Fanen had accompained Denek to bed, much with his complains. Farer, the sound of hissing horses and screecing carriage’s wheels.
    “Weddings are nice, aren’t they?”
    A hand took off the glass from his grasp and placed it on the table. Lenare sat down next to him. Her hair were still fixed and her dress had no folds, as if she’d just came out her room after preparing, instead of an entire day fo celebration. In the orange light of the sunset, she was ethereal.
    “I haven’t finish drinking it.”
    “Haven’t you drank enough?”
    “If so, I would have throw even my guts by now.” But he didn’t grab the glass back, as he straighted better on the chair, his muscles sore for the long day of dances and eating. At her disgusted snor, he added, “Why aren’t you with the bride? Isn’t she getting ready for her wedding night?” He turned his attention to Samuel, who was bowing to one of his guest. “At least one of us will get laid tonight.”
    “Well, it’s not you wedding. Not that it had been a problem for you before.”
    Mauvin lay down his head and chest on the table, arms stretched fowards, but he turned his head to watch her. Lenare’s expression was impassible, her attention focused on something on the opposite side of the garden. She was purpusefully ignored the bride’s group. Samuel’s mother was among them, the eldest, while the others were all young, unwed ladies: Zendaya Bermun, Alenda Lanaklin, Simone and Sheila Exeter, among others. Even Arista Essendon was there, despite her lost expression.
    “You are the lady of Galilin. You should be there as a rapresentative of the Charter.”
    “The bride’s sister doesn’t like me,” she said at last, still not looking at him. “No reason to cause discomfort to Lady Toya over an irrilevant matter.”
    He leaped up. “How dares she! I can’t even challenge her.”
    Lenare restrained her laugh by pressing her lips together.
    “Why she doesn’t like you?” Mauvin pressed. “This is an Arista doesn’t like me kinda things? Because you know Arista…”
    “It’s not that Zendaya doesn’t like me as me.” Lenare shook her head. “She doesn’t like the idea her husband wanted to marry me first.”
    Mauvin opened his mouth, then closed it. He re-thought the assassment a little while. “Valerious wanted to marry you? Since when? He never said anything.”
    “My dear brother.” Lenare reserved him a patronizing smile. “Every single man that meets me won’t mind to marry me.”
    “Yeah, sure.” Mauvin snorted. “I love you, and Maribor knows how many suitors I had to scare away, but this is too much, even for you.”
    “Oh, but I can prove it to you.”
    With an elegant gesture of her right arm, with the grace of a cat, she lured the attention of three boys that were heading for the palace. When they were nearer the torches, Mauvin recognized them as three older Jerls: Howard, the eldest, that hid his pointy chin behing a trim brown bear, then XXX, the second, who was as tall as him but he’d squintier eyes and no bear. And then Robin, the third, who was taller than his brothers by two inches and the only one with grey eyes.
    “Lady Lenare.” Howard bowed. “Mauvin.”
    Lenare accepted the greetings with a smile. “Say, My Lord, if you are told that my father is thinking of you as my possible future husband, what will you say?”
    Howard froze. His cheeks under the beard reddened. His eyes dartened on Mauvin. At his side, xxx’s widened between surprise and horror.
    Mauvin gestured with his hand. “Go ahead. It’s a speculative question.”
    “Of course, My Lady, I will feel honored… I mean, I am the Heir of the Jerl land, and it is… But of course it is not your downry I like more, I mean…” He was babblering, tripping on his own words.
    “It will cause a civil war.” That was Robin, who had barely restrained his laugh by putting both hands on his mouth. “I personally witnessed XXX talking about how would be beneficial to the family if he marries you and Howard strongly disagrees with it, because of course his marriage will be the most beneficial for the family. Mother kicked them out, complaing about them thinking with a male organ I shall not repeat.”
    “Beneficial.” Lenare smirked.
    “I beg your pardon.” Howard bowed, then took Robin by his right ear. Ignoring his whines, he dragged hima way. XXX blabbered something in the order of “they were just stupid chats” then run after his brothers.
    As they disappeared in the dark, Lenare ducked her head to Mauvin.
    “I see your point,” he grumbled. He took back his glass and gulped down the remaining wine.
    “The only men unhappy at the idea of marrying me are the ones whose heart is already taken.” Lenare’s face was impassible. “Exeter. Hilfred.”
    Mauvin tilted his head towards their king. He was occupied in a tight conversation with Marquis Lanaklin and Marquis Bermun. Since they disagreed with Ethereld and his imperialism view, they had intention to strenght their ties to any royalist kingdom. Lenare watched the three men with mildly interest.
    However, she said nothing more.
    Mauvin sulked.

    Alenda’s first dance is with Mauvin, of course. Then, they exchange partners, as a gratitude gesture over their guests. The King and the Queen hasn’t joined at first, remaining in their seats and taking chance of everyone’s distraction to kiss longer and deeper.
    But then the King raises, in all his glory, with his crown and his golden mantel, his hand gestures to Alenda, who bows elegantly and accepts the honor of a dance. The Queen follows his husband and it is Mauvin who takes the opportunity to a dance with her.
    Mauvin remembers her during the royal wedding, with her white dress so full of diamonds it glittered like the moon. She is beautiful –of course she is, being Alric’s precious wife. Gracious, elegant, but witty. Even Mauvin can do nothing but approve of the choice, even if he and Alric has very different tastes when it cames to woman.
    During all the dance, however, her eyes never wanders from his husband. Mauvin knows the gaze of someone in love, and that is it.
    “I’m glad you love him,” Mauvin whispers. “He deserves someone on his side.”
    “My lord.” The Queen’s voice is delicate like a nightigale. “If you were a woman, I wouldn’t accept any of it.”
    No doubt what she is referring to. “If I were a woman, you wouldn’t be married to the king.”
    It is probably a lie: there is a reason why, despite their strong ties, no blood relationship has never been created between the Essendons and the Pickerings. Maybe it is a lucky accident that he is a man, and that the Queen is so in love to understand.
    “Then I’m glad you are not.”
    The dance ends and the Queen makes a step backward, her hands leaving the lingering sensation on Mauvin’s body. She tilts her head on the side: Alric strolles in their direction but, after a conspiratory smile with his wife, he turns to Mauvin, hand stretched in invitation.
    “Just give him back for the night.” The Queen smiles. “And you have a wife to take care to too.”

    The ladies scurried around the bedroom, preparing it and the bride for her wedding night. Simone assessed the situation and made sure everything was in order, her sister and Alenda prepared the flowers, others supervised the servants as they lightened the candle, store the dress and so one.
    Lady Zendaya Bermun, the sister’s bride and the only married girl in the room, was in charge of preparing the bride herself: she loosened her hair, brushed it as she wispered cheers and advices, while other ladies dressed her with the nightvest or brushed smelly cream in her hands and neck.
    Her Royal Highness Arista Essendon just stood on the doorstep, arms crossed and a frown on her face. They’d asked her to join because it was the wedding of a member of the Charter, it would be unpolite if the royal family didn’t sent anyone for the ceremony. She hadn’t moved from her position and no one of the others had asked her to. Simone had thanked her for her presence, then she’d took charge by herself.
    People scurried around Arista as if she was a piece of furniture.
    “It doesn’t have to hurt,” Arista blurbed out, absently-minded, in response as something Zendaya was saying. Everyone turned to her. She mused. “I read about it. It is supposed to be pleasant. It may hurt, but it isn’t a certainty. And Samuel is kind, so…”
    “Thank you, Your Highness,” Simone said.
    Arista nodded and turned her head away, a slight red on her cheek. The other ladies returned their attention to the bride.
    Zendaya stood up. “It’s better we go now, or Lord Exeter will get bored and go to sleep.”
    “He would never. He will wait all night if necessary.” Simone placed a hand on the bride’s shoulder, and she smiled, shy, but happy.
    With a relieved sigh, Arista followed the others outside the room, but when they moved away, she didn’t joined them in Simone’s living room to end the wedding with a girl talked. With a brief excuse, she run away, with the excuse of finding back her bodyguard. He’d left Hilfred at the main gate, as men weren’t allow near the bride before the night.
    But when he reached there, it wasn’t Hilfred but Mauvin who was waiting for her. “Alric confiscated Hilfred for helping with the horses.”
    Arista nodded, then slumpled uncerimonusly on the last step at the door. “Weddings are tiresome.”
    Mauvin threw her a funny look. “And it isn’t even your wedding.”
    “My wedding won’t be like thisNot so many people, not so many rules. If I ever marry, that’s it.”
    “Of course you will marry.” Mauvin didn’t look impressed. “As the princess, it’s part of your duty.”
    She huffed. “Sure, being exchange for political agreement. I won’t do that. If I ever marry, it’ll be for love.”
    “I’m not sure it’ll be allowed.” His tone was kind, but Arista glared at him neverthless.
    “Easy for you to say it, you’re a man.”
    “Hey, do not think I don’t have the same problem. It’s a matter of what we rapresent for our family and kingdom.”
    Arista raised an eyebrown. “Your father married out of love.”
    “But yours didn’t.”
    They remained in silent for a while, looking at the last remaining of people leaving.
    “It’s not that I don’t want to marry for love,” Mauvin said, at last, voice low and serious, his eyes not on her. “But it’s not guarantee for us. We should try to make the best we could.” At last, he ducked his head to her. “There should be a noble boy you don’t hate, you can built something with. I can understand refusing an asshole, but we’re not all bad.”
    “No one.”
    “Come on! Try. Say a name. I won’t tell anyone.”
    “Samuel wasn’t so bad, but he’s taken.” She frowned. “What about you? If you should decide now.”
    He didn’t hesitate. “Alenda Lanaklin.”
    Arista opened her mouth in surprise. “You’ve thought about it.”
    “I have.” He shrugged. “I like her, and I know her for a long time. If I have to spend all my life to someone, she’s a good choice.”
    His voice was toneless, so Arista studied him for a while. “Then why don’t you?” And because he didn’t reply, she added, “Oh, I’m sure she’s the one she doesn’t want you. Undestadable, you’re a menace.”
    Mauvin stuck his tongue out.

    All the pins takes ages to come down, the white flowers a little mountain on the bedsheet as Mauvin, slowly, meticulously, disentagles all the braids.
    “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea,” Alenda says, amused, as Mauvin fights with her hair.
    “You sure?”
    The golden cascada is beautiful to see once freed, once she shakes her head and let the hair roams free. They covers her neck, making it irresistible. She giggles as he kisses her, slowly, placing kiss after kiss in all its lengh.
    He is fasters and less gentle when it comes to take off her wedding dress, buttons and laces teared apart as he slides it down, revealing the naked shoulders and the perfect curves of her back.
    Alenda stands up, helping him to free hel legs from the gown, and then she remains only with the underclothes, that enlightened the curve of her little, perfect butt.
    “Take it out.”
    She obeys, shy but eager, and then she turns in all her naked glory. She is beautiful, the fair skin, the muscles legs, the two small rose nipples, hard for the cold. She stands there, unsure of how proceed. Then, she raises her gaze as he observes her and she closes the space between them, closing them in a hug and kisses him.
    It isn’t the simple, sweet kiss they’ve exchanged during the wedding ceremony, not the fast and amused secret ones. No, this is sensual, and full of love and desire.
    She drags him on the bed, still grasping his shoulder, her golden hair flushing around.
    “I want you to take me,” she says, “as you took him.”
    Unaware, Mauvin’s mind goes to Alric’s first wedding night. Voices say that the king has spend the entire neight and the day after with the Queen, without them leaving their room not even for eating. And that, after that, they’ve spend every night together and days when they get the occasion. Some even suspect she may be already pregnant, giving how much time they spend in bed.
    Mauvin hasn’t wanted to talk with Alric about it – they doesn’t talk about other relationship, and even less now that they’re so important. But he believes the voices: Alric is a giving lover, one that rely in the act of making love.
    In his mind, he can even image how that first night went, the way Alric touched and kissed and caressed, and how pleasant was for the Queen. He wonders if she, also, touched and kissed and caressed him as Mauvin does.
    “Usually, he asks me to be naked.”
    Alenda smiles. “Then strip.”

    Mauvin woke up in sweat, both for the warm and the tiredness of his strange dream. Outside, it was still dark. In the beds next to his, both Fanen and Denek were soundy sleepy, Fanen precising laying with both hands over his head, Denek with arms and legs spreaded to take all the space possible.
    With slow and silent movement, Mauvin enlightened a candle and moved to the nearest bathroom, where he brushed his skin with a towel. Then, with the sleep that escaped him totally, he decided to take a walk.
    It wasn’t his first time at Exeter Castle, but he couldn’t say he knew it well. He got lost a couple of times before reaching the destination he had in mind. It gave him the time to notice how the palace was in disarray: unlike Drondil Fields, that had remained a fortess during the century even in its interior, it had been heavly decorated but clearly Samuel hadn’t any chance to renovate. The fresco were faded, some cracks had been repaired with only a hand of mortar.
    By King Amrath’s decision, the Exeters hadn’t the right for personal guards, and the few Alric had brought with him were destined to protect his apartment. So Mauvin didn’t encountered anyone in his solitary walk: some rumors could be heard from the kitchen, which gave him the idea cooks were already at work.
    When he opened the backdoor for the garden, the dim light of sunrise invaded his sense. The cool air of the morning and the smell of grass invaded his sense and he breathed hard. It was so dipped in the feeling of silence that he jerked surprise at the creaking sound of steps.
    He didn’t have his sword with him. But it was only Arista, in her nightdress, hair wrapped in a messy, high bun and smelly herbs wrapped in a pillow sheet.
    “What in Maribor’s name are you doing here at this hour?”
    She frowned. “I can ask you the same thing.”
    He snorted. “Strange dream. You?”
    “Oh. I…” Arista looked at her wrapped sheet. “I noticed yesterday that around the garden grown some wild herb that I didn’t find in Medford. I absolutely want them.”
    “That’s not an explanation about the early hour.”
    She sighed. “I don’t want anyone to notice me. It could be seen as… suspicious.”
    “Because doing it in the middle of the night isn’t suspicious at all.”
    He was right and she knew it, so she changed subject. “What was the dream about that you run here?”
    “It was…” Definitely not something he could speak with her. And he even blamed her about it, because of their earlier conversation in which he couldn’t tell her that he wouldn’t marry for love because the person he loved was out of his league. “…Bizzarre. I already forgot most of it.”
    “Fine, do not tell me.” Arista shook her head, amused. “I’m going now, or this will become very suspicious, me, you, and those strange herbs.”
    “Suspicious indeed!” Mauvin laughed. But then, when she was about to leave, he called her. “Arista.”
    “Yes?”
    “I wish you marry for love.”
    She appeared surprised, but then nodded. “Thanks.”
    With nothing more to do so early, Mauvin returned to his room. Fanen and Denek were still sleeping. He blow off the candle and lie down, unable to shake off the dream from his mind.
    He couldn’t pinpoint the Queen’s features, see if she was a real woman or just a nightmares. She was beautiful, of that he was sure, with dark curly hair, maybe blue eyes, perfect face, small nose. But he couldn’t describe her, not in detail. She was a fear, the woman that would take Alric from him.
    But she hadn’t. Not in the dream, at last. It didn’t seem so, but Mauvin was certain that that was the most unprobable thing of all that. Wifes didn’t share. Or did they? Or was Mauvin the one that didn’t want to share?
    While the dream fell away, only one thing remain clear, as if he could still see it, touch it. The moment he and Alric had shared the dance, their hands interwined together, Alric’s hand on his shoulder, Mauvin’s hand on his waist. And they did it in front of everyone, as it was normal, as it was perfect, as it was as it should have been.
    He closed his eyes, forcing his imagination.

    It isn’t a wedding party, just a common feast. Maybe is Wintertide, maybe Summersrule, maybe someone’s else birthday. But they are there, unwed, alone, Alric with his favorite clothes, the blue sugarcoat with laces and the white boots. People are dancing around them.
    Mauvin stretches his hand.
    “May I have this dance?”
    Alric smiles before taking his hand.
    They aren’t good dancer. Mauvin prefers other kind of physical activities and Alric avoids any kind of work that imply fatigue. It doesn’t matter. It matters the way Alric is looking at him, the way their hands interwined one to another. The way no one is batting an eye at them.
    When the music ends, Mauvin doesn’t let of that hand. Keeping his eyes on Alric, he slowly brings it to his mouth and places a kiss on the back.
    “Will you marry me?”
    Alric tilts his head, smirking. “I don’t know. What is your dowry?”
    “This.” He stretches his other hand fowards, to show Alric. There is a beating heart on Mauvin’s palm, a red, bloody heart just thrust outside his chest. The more Mauvin looks at Alric, the more the hearbeat increases. “My heart.”
    “Silly.” Alric laughs. “It isn’t yours. It’s mine, I gave you years ago.”

    Mauvin pressed his face in the pillow.
    Wedding are good, and bad, and Mauvin hated and loved them.
     
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0 replies since 24/3/2023, 13:41   5 views
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