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Spawn of the Night

Author's note: My own relationship that ended tragically when he passed away in a car crash inspired me as he...  Show full author's note »
Author's note: My own relationship that ended tragically when he passed away in a car crash inspired me as he always told me such tales. In remembrance of him, I wrote this out (as he always encouraged me to explore my inner "author"). Everybody deserves to have a look at his creativity. :')  « Hide author's note
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Autumn of 1762, Daryn Nightshade/Richard of Montevoy

I knew it wasn’t her fault for being afraid. Marriage was a huge step. And she wasn’t asked for her preferences. It was all politics when they arranged her marriage. It just happened to be a coincidence she fell in love with me. But I wanted things to be different. I wished we could have gotten engaged because I asked her and she said yes for love of me. I wanted her to give herself wholly to me without being forced to. But it
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was too late to plan anything for her. She would be my wife whether she wanted it or not; she would have to love me even if she didn’t want to. She was only nineteen. I was twenty-two. The difference was slight. Yet she knew I was more experienced in all aspects and she was afraid of disappointing me. The other day when she had pulled away, I had gotten angry at her for rejecting me. I had ignored the fear written all over her face. But I realized now that she was terrified of everything that was happening. She had to give up her only bit of freedom to become a wife and soon she knew she would be forced and pressured to have a child. She was terrified and she had every reason to be.

I awoke to the sound of gulls in the distance and the fresh smell of salt. Colt was banging down my door; at least, that was what it sounded like. “What is it?” I called out, annoyed. The door swung open, “It’s your wedding day.” My heart pounded frantically. I looked down at myself; I was still in bed, I still had a little gunpowder on my forearms and I was sweating. “I should get ready,” I said to myself. “Yeah, you should. We’ve docked under Richard’s name. You have an hour before you should be there,” Colt agreed and left me alone in the huge cabin. I remembered when Lucy had been held captive in here. Now, I was marrying my hostage. I jumped out of bed and washed up in the bathroom I had built in.

I pulled on the white shirt, white waistcoat and trousers and white cravat. I tugged on white dyed shoes. I ran my fingers through my hair several times; fixing in and trying to calm myself. When I opened the door, my whole crew was waiting for me. “G’ Luck, sir!” “Congratulations!” “Sir, nail her good!” were all the claps on the shoulders and whistles I received. “Shut up, all of you,” I snapped and they were all silent. Only Colt broke the silence, “You’re the youngest man on this ship. You’re the smartest and bravest and most experienced. Don’t tell me you’re nervous on your wedding day?” “I’m not nervous,” I snapped but then relented, “I’m terrified.” They laughed all at once and enveloped me in a burly group hug. “Don’t get his clothes dirty!” I heard Colt yell. Still laughing, they fell back and gestured for me to go.

I was ushered straight into the cathedral. Her mother instructed me to stand exactly two feet away from the altar and to make sure I was facing the door. I hated the nerves spiraling through me. It wasn’t as though I was getting shot down. I was marrying her, that’s all. My nerves frazzled when I saw Colt slip in as my best man. He nudged me, “I saw the bride. She looks gorgeous. You’re a lucky man.” I gulped in fear; rocking back and forth on my heels. “Relax, it’s going to be fine,” Colt hissed. “Easy for you to say,” I muttered back. He smiled, “Here comes your bride now...”

Autumn of 1762, Lucinda Ashe

I hadn’t slept till midnight. I was awoken before dawn. A servant girl drew me a bath from the nearby stream and I had to bathe under my mother’s watchful eye. Later, maid servants poured creamy milk down my body and washed my hair in no less than lavender and rose oils and herbs. I was whisked away into a room where they had lain out my gown and veil. My heart pounded now.

My mother made me wear a robe of white Oriental silk; the rarest and most luxurious. The gentle maid servant that had been there with my mother on her wedding day drew a brush through my hair before twisting locks around her fingers and pinning bits of my hair to my scalp. They gently removed the robe once they had finished with my hair, painted my lips a rosy pink and powdered my face. I shivered in the cold. Then, my mother passed me an inner corset and lace drawers that I pulled on quickly and gently. They tied the corset as tight as they could to make my body seem thinner and more robust. I drew in a deep breathe before they slipped the white bridal gown over my head and allowed it to settle on my body.

The gown was made of the same silk as the robe. It had French lace over the neck and shoulders to create a sleeveless top before silk hugged my breasts and waist. It flared out into a long train that dragged the floor and made it hard and heavy to walk. Pearl buttons ran down the length of my back from my neck to secure the gown into place and to make its removal all the more easier. White satin high-heeled slippers were placed on my feet. A single white rose was placed in my hair. The veil was secured to the back of my head by a diamond comb hat belonged to Daryn’s great-grandmother; or so he claimed. They then pulled a layer of the net-like lace over my face and its hem fell to my waist in the front; it trained along with the gown at the back. I felt like a princess had my nerves not given in and terrified me.

I was ushered into the carriage drawn by four white horses alongside my mother. She held in her hands my bouquet of white St. Joseph’s lilies. Before we arrived, she handed me white lace gloves that trailed up to my forearms. I pulled them on and she handed me my bouquet. Standing in front of the heavy doors of the cathedral with my father at my side made my nerves scramble. I was getting married in a few minutes. Just as I thought I could make a run for it, music flared up inside. The bridal march blared through my head and the heavy doors swung inwards to reveal the interior. Standing amongst the beauty of the cathedral, stood a miracle. My eye focused on this miracle and I smiled. He smiled back. All I could see now was the path that led to the man I loved, Daryn Nightshade.
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