No Dresses for Rebels
A wave of fresh tears were threatening to cascade down her face, she was trying to hold
as many at bay in the futile hope that her love would see her face made up to rival the
goddess of beauty, before salty rivers ran, ruining such work. Her proud smile
matched only by that of her parents, both standing at the alter with the priest, her
mother's tears flowing freely in a good humored mocking of her efforts to stall her own.
White doves flew, everything was a mass of white and gold, and her little sister ran
ahead, enjoying her job of throwing red rose petals into the pews. The bride's heart swelled,
knowing how lucky she was to marry her true love, giving her position in life. To
marry her prince.
And there he was. A white tuxedo with gold trimmings, his short, blonde hair sticking up
on top, quirky as running his hands through it was, the oxymoron of a tidy mess suited him.
He turned to face her and she could feel her heart wanting to skip a beat. Her favorite
feature of the bridegroom was his beautiful green eyes that shone with a mysterious
gold light, perhaps a blessing from his patron, the sun god, Allent.
The woman's steps faltered. He was now looking at her. But he wasn't. That wasn't her
love, what were those holes where green used to dance with gold swords? Now empty,
abandoned, as much as his smile was absent. But, in every other aspect, it was him, his
hair, nose, strong chin, all him. The bride shook her head scolding herself, 'you are just
nervous, as is he,' she silently argued, 'he loves you and he must just be trying to not cry.'
This sounded entire plausible, considering her father had joined in drown the world with
salt water splashes of happiness.
The vows were simple, elegant and recited perfectly by both bride and groom. They held
hands through out, his hand freezing, she noted but thought nothing more of it. And as they
faced each other for the final blessing and "I do's" She finally looked into his eyes, her prince,
best friend, lover, but she saw no more emotion than when she walked down the aisle. Until,
wait, he gave her a smile, although it felt as if he was looking right through her, and he winked.
It paled in comparison to his regular flirtations but she felt herself leap at the small warmth and with
it, her lips finally gave way to a full smile.
They turned back to the priest, ready to bind them, officially, forever. Finally, she let her tears
spill, the salt bitter on her lips. She looked once more at her love before she heard a cried
from behind her, "LONG LIVE THE KING!" And with that, her world, and head, split and were
no more than a black abyss.
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