Married in Autumn’s Shine

King Harold’s palace was a grand creation, built by many gifted architects over many decades. New buildings and wings had gotten added over time until it had turned into the largest, most beautiful building across all the lands, something King Harold never failed to brag about.

The sprawling gardens were just as beautiful and ostentatious, flowers and trees cultivated by dedicated gardeners to carry the sweetest smell and the brightest colors. A carefully grown and crafted maze invited nobles to flock through and amuse themselves on warm days.

There were plenty of statues decorating the gardens, depicting heroes of legend, loving couples and leaping horses. Whatever had struck the fancy of the royal family had gotten made.

The grand temple where the weddings of the royal family were held was a massive building with high ceilings and large, stained glass windows. It was considered one of the highest honors among the nobility to be invited to have their wedding held at the palace, rather than in their home.

An invitation that was only sparingly passed out, so it remained something special, something nobles continued to covet.

Everything was set up for her wedding and Adelia had to admit that it had been beautifully done.

Sun-yellow and blood-red roses, along with colorful banners in the same colors, decorated the entire grand temple and the dancing hall as she was shown around. Musicians played sweet songs and refreshments were prepared, small crystal chalices filled with amber liquid and tiny little bite-sized foods.

She was swiftly guided out of sight once the guests arrived. It looked as though everyone of name and rank had appeared to watch her get married, not a single noble family willing to miss out on a wedding both arranged and paid for by their king..

Adelia was ushered into a side-room to await her intended’s arrival and she watched her guests mingle and chat through a crack in the door. She felt like this event was even more politically interesting than marriages amongst their lot usually were. She honestly just wanted to go home.

She was gently but firmly directed away from the door by one of the king’s servants before she could watch her guests any more. Three women had been ordered to make her comfortable until her groom arrived and to ensure no one saw her before it was time.

Lord Morrow especially wasn't allowed to see her or he'd risk bringing bad luck to their union. Not that he didn't already know what she looked like, only her dress would be a different one this time.

Adelia suspected the custom and subsequent belief of bad luck when the bride was seen by the groom before the wedding had grown out of arranged marriages where the couple hadn't met previously. To avoid scaring the groom off, should his bride be ugly in his eyes, he wasn't allowed to see her until it was too late to leave.

Waiting around was unexpectedly boring and allowed her mind to wander to places she tried to avoid. Adelia fidgeted and accepted the goblet of watered down wine she was offered.

She had no intentions of getting drunk, too worried about what she might do or say if she didn’t have full control over herself, but taking tiny, delicate sips at least gave her hands something to do.

The hour was growing late, but the marriage was going to be an evening affair anyway. It was certainly unusual, but no one had refused King Harold’s best friend this request. Not even her parents had been able to change things when they had asked about holding the ceremony at an earlier time.

Finally it had gotten late enough that only some faint color remained in the sky and the candles had long since been lit. It was then that commotion drew her attention anew, jolting her out of her frazzled restlessness.

"He’s here, Your Grace," one of the servants said and Adelia peeked out the door again before any of the women could stop her.

The curtains of the temple got drawn closed over the windows and everything was illuminated by numerous candles and three big chandeliers, gold light getting cast over everything.

It took her a second to spot Lord Morrow, but when she did, he honestly did not look overly different than when he had shown up at the ball. Maybe a little fancier, his black gloves looked to be embroidered and he wore a ruby-studded, black metal clasp to hold his long hair back. Otherwise he was still dressed elegantly in black and dark red.

More than ever, the red reminded her of blood.

Adelia was ushered away from the door once more and she heard King Harold’s voice calling out to his friend. It was too muffled to understand what he said, but his inflection was jovial and excited and there was a faint rumble of noise beyond the door as the nobles began to chatter even more on their way to their seats.

Mother slipped inside a long minute later and the servants dutifully stepped back, giving them as much privacy as the room provided. Mother fussed over her briefly and gently cupped her cheeks, surprising Adelia with the unusual, soft touch.

Mother looked serious and her eyes shone briefly with repressed tears, "You will be brave, won’t you?"

"Always," Adelia said, though her hands were cold and her knees a little shaky and her stomach churned and she wanted to run away, to disappear into the night like maidens in fairytales.

Mother led her through another door off to the side so they reached the outside of the temple where Father waited. He was wearing his best clothes, freshly tailored just for this event, forest green and gold and his eyes were dark and angrily displeased.

His eyes had looked like this when he had seen her with a hammer raised over her head, the blacksmith encouraging her to strike hot iron. His eyes had looked like this when he had sentenced her horse to death. She wished she could shove her wedding dress over his head and make him walk down the isle.

He offered his arm and said, with an aggrieved sigh, "Let’s get this over with."

Adelia took his arm while wishing she could walk herself to the altar at the very least. His touch repulsed her, but she swallowed it down as he motioned for the temple doors to be opened by the waiting guards. She managed to take one deep breath, before a loud, clear voice announced her arrival.

Heads swiveled in her direction, everyone seated in their proper spots and Adelia felt all the gazes of the nobility on her as Father walked her down the aisle, the musicians playing a soft, cheerful tune.

Lord Morrow awaited her by the altar, the priest standing a little further away from him than strictly necessary. King Harold looked giddily satisfied, having gotten the position of best man of the groom.

The walk down the aisle passed by in a blink and her future husband tipped his head politely when she reached his side. The priest wasted no time launching into his prepared speech, voice clear in the silent temple.

Lord Morrow took her hands into his gloved ones, as was tradition, looking focused and somewhat curious as he listened to the priest, as if he had never heard those vows before. Adelia had no idea, still, what sort of marriage customs the Wilds had, but at least this procedure was something she was familiar with.

Lord Morrow repeated his vows when the priest told him what to say and Adelia did as well when it was her turn, secretly proud that her voice came out certain and steady.

"I now proclaim you husband and wife," the priest announced and she briefly blinked in surprise when he didn't tack on anything else. It seemed that no traditional kisses were being demanded. She wouldn't complain about that.

Lord Morrow's eyes searched her face for a moment and when she met his gaze through the veil, he offered a small, lopsided twitch of a wry smile. Strangely enough, if she didn't know better, she'd say he looked a little apologetic. What would he be sorry for?

"What a joyous occasion!" King Harold laughed as the nobility clapped with polite cheer. "Come, let us celebrate!"

They were swiftly swept along to the decadent banquet that awaited them and Adelia felt a little lost, staring at all the presented dishes as she was seated beside her new husband. King Harold wasted no time, calling out for the musicians to play a merry song.

"Good evening," Lord Morrow’s voice, just barely loud enough to be heard over the din of chatter and music, made her glance up. "I apologize that this turned into a rather late event."

"It’s alright," she found herself answering, feeling a little bewildered. When he tilted his head slightly to the side, she quickly tacked on, "This way it didn’t turn into a day-long affair."

One of his mild smiles appeared on his face. "Is that usually the case?"

"More often than not, yes." She bit back the urge to ask him how his people married. So far, she was very glad he had kept to her marriage traditions rather than insist on his own, otherwise she would have felt even more adrift than she currently did.

They fell quiet while King Harold called forth the servants to pour the wine and fill everyone's plates with whatever the nobles wished to eat from the large platters that lined the long, broad table. Adelia chose what was easiest to eat and keep down, just in case she grew nauseous later. Lord Morrow picked the bloodiest piece of meat he could get and nothing else.

Lord Morrow’s attention was drawn away by King Harold and Adelia caught Izabel and Katrina’s gazes further down the table, both of them giving her questioning looks, tipping their heads towards her husband, silently asking if she was alright.

Adelia offered her best smile and watched their shoulders relax a little. They shouldn’t worry about her, even if their care made her feel better, a little spark of warmth in her heart that made her feel soft and gentle for a moment.

After dinner, King Harold pulled Queen Nina away to dance, nudging Lord Morrow as he passed them by, who in turn offered Adelia his hand. Quickly shoving down her nerves she accepted and found herself swept into an elegant dance, the same kind they had shared during the ball, back when everything had changed.

Now, standing this close to each other as he led her through the steps, it was impossible for her to ignore that he was a lot bigger and quite a bit stronger than she was.

It must come with the warlord territory and the fact that he was in control of part of the Wilds, a rough land notorious for only obeying those who had proven themselves worthy.

While King Harold had declared the Wilds allies to his kingdom, Adelia suspected that he desired to bring them under his control in given time through Lord Morrow. His kingdom was already the largest one of the continent, but having the Wilds be part of it? Should he be able to accomplish such a thing, he would certainly then be the most powerful king across the entire continent. He could, one day, even become an emperor.

Many nobles joined them in dancing, unwilling to not do as their king and sovereign did. All Adelia could think about was what would come once the festivities drew to a close.

She caught a glimpse of Lord Emmertal, once, who looked sour beneath his polite veneer and Adelia found that she was glad to not be dancing with him right now. She’d be utterly terrified, rather than just viciously nervous.

"If he is a bother, I can have him removed," Lord Morrow offered quietly and when she glanced up, she saw that he had spotted Lord Emmertal as well.

There was something in his gaze, as he stared the other lord down, that made her bite back a cold shiver. She swore she saw an almost bloody shimmer to his dark eyes, there and gone the next second. She must have just imagined it, no human had red eyes, after all.

A chill remained in Lord Morrow's gaze, however, reminding her of sharp, unforgiving steel. "I could bring you his head," he murmured and there was no jest in his tone nor even the smallest hint that he was being sarcastic or dramatic. His voice was steady and his words a cold, hard, certain offer.

It made her mouth dry, to hear such treason spoken aloud, if only for her ears to hear. King Harold loved Lord Morrow like a brother, gave him everything he wanted, but even he wouldn't be able to just ignore it if Lord Morrow killed a fellow noble. Especially not one as powerful and rich and influential as Lord Emmertal.

King Harold would be forced to call for retribution and Lord Morrow surely wouldn't just offer himself up for punishment like a lamb to the slaughter.

Adelia hadn't wanted this marriage, but she wanted a marriage that resulted in war even less.

"Let him be bitter," she answered, unwilling to to even touch on the offer of murder. She was also unwilling to cause a scene by having Lord Emmertal forcibly removed, no matter how much a large part of her wanted him gone.

Father and Mother would be terribly upset and while their desires certainly no longer mattered, Adelia did not wish to possibly upset King Harold by appearing unhappy with the guest list he had put together along with her wedding. It would not do to look ungrateful after all the money and work the king had put into her wedding.

"It suits him," she tacked on and this, at least, she meant. Lord Emmertal's sour face did suit him better than that terrible, hungry expression she had seen back at the ball.

Lord Morrow chuckled, low and darkly pleased. "Well said, I agree."

She offered a faint, careful smile and they fell quiet again as a new song began. Lord Morrow didn't offer any spins and dips and she was glad for it. She already felt small and vulnerable in his grip and she didn't want that feeling to get any worse by having him hold her close, hands gripping her tighter.

He would later, she knew, their wedding bed awaited after all, but the longer she could draw out the festivities, the better.

After a couple of dances Lord Morrow took them back to the banquet table to rest and eat more of the dishes, especially now that a new course had been brought out. The amount of food King Harold had ordered the kitchen to cook was ridiculous and, quite frankly, an absolute waste.

Adelia watched as her fellow nobles ate only the best, juiciest pieces of the already carefully pre-selected pieces. The rest went ignored like it wouldn't keep other people fed for days. She hoped the leftovers could be eaten by the staff later, that they could take some home to their families and perhaps even neighbors.

Adelia watched as her parents and friends danced, aware of the fact that the hour grew later and later. She barely touched the new dishes and resisted the urge to fiddle restlessly.

"Are you ready to retire?" Lord Morrow asked after another couple of cheerful songs had brought joy to their guests. She took a careful, deep breath and then made herself nod. It was time.

King Harold, who had taken a seat beside them by now and looked slightly drunk, grinned and shouted, "The newlyweds are ready to consummate!"

This was a part that Adelia dreaded, had already dreaded it back when she thought she'd marry Tirn. The crowd would split eagerly to escort the married couple to the prepared wedding suite, a room King Harold had provided for them tonight. The men would head for her and the women for Lord Morrow.

Adelia had seen a few weddings by now and knew how this would go, even if she didn't like it. Her dress would get unlaced by the crowd and tugged loose, making her ready for the taking. Her hands balled to fists beneath the table.

"I think we prefer something quieter," Lord Morrow spoke up before the people seated around them could even fully stand up. "Something a little more intimate and private than your traditions."

King Harold appeared briefly unhappy, but he waved the nobles off and Adelia did not like the way some of them cast her a badly hidden, hungrily-disappointed look. Lord Morrow offered his hand and she took it, staring at his shiny brooch, the same ruby-flower one as last time, that kept his ruffled cravat properly in place.

They departed with a last bow and well-wishes to the gathered nobles, who raised their cups in return. Adelia tried and failed to ignore the bed advice shouted after them by tipsy guests.

Mostly the advice was for Lord Morrow, but some was for her as well and the very idea of some of those sexual suggestions made her stomach churn worse than before. Lord Morrow made a low sound beside her, that almost could have been a growl, and it made her stiffen.

"Ignore them," Lord Morrow said, and he was definitely displeased now, his tone cold and hard. "Drunken buffoons without an ounce of matter between their ears, the whole lot of them. The difference between nobility and a random drunkard at a tavern is merely the amount of coin in their pockets."

She could hardly disagree and focused on the path ahead of them. It didn’t take them long to reach the suite and Lord Morrow opened the door, gesturing for her to enter ahead of him.

There was a big bed immediately within sight, along with a table at the side with a filled washbasin on top. A fire was burning low in the fireplace and the room was comfortably warm.

Lord Morrow stoked the fire a bit higher, adding some wood while Adelia took off her veil and removed the pins that kept her hair in the style Mother had carefully put it in. She hadn’t missed the fact that none of her trunks were here and all that was draped over a chair was a dress she could wear the next day. No nightgown.

She heard the rustle of clothes and found herself unable to turn around, feet suddenly feeling as though they had gotten rooted to the spot. She took her jewelry off next, her fingers feeling a little clumsy and shaky-numb.

"If it’s not too forward, may I offer you this?" Lord Morrow’s voice startled her a little and she made herself look over her shoulder, only to see him hold out his dress shirt. He still wore his coat, though it was more buttoned up now and she caught a glimpse of his vest beneath and a bit of very pale flesh. "I noticed you have no nightclothes to speak of."

Neither had he, there was only a neatly folded set of clothes on a chair on his side of the room. Still, this was kind of him and his shirt was better than nothing, so she accepted it with a soft, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I shall step outside and ask the servants to send some food and drink to us," he said, walking towards the door. "I noticed you didn’t eat much earlier."

Puzzled, she watched him leave, the door clicking closed softly behind him. Taking a deep breath, she decided to take the chance to undress. She took off the dress as swiftly as she was able, grateful that she managed to unlace it enough to tug it off unaided.

After draping it over the dress on the chair in the corner, she put Lord Morrow’s shirt on, fumbling with the buttons for a moment with how nervous she was. The hem fell to mid-thigh and she hurriedly slipped into bed, pulling the blankets up nervously.

All she could do was wait and she briefly wondered if she should have gotten drunk after all. If this was easier with wine or harder.

Lord Morrow returned a few moments later, offering another one of his mild, closed-lipped smiles. He sat down at the foot of the bed to remove his boots, tipping his head to look at her when he was done.

"I hope the festivities weren’t too exhausting," he said and she had no idea how to do any of this. How to speak with her new husband, how to prepare for what was to come or even just how to ask him to join her in bed so she’d finally get this dreaded thing out of the way.

"No, I’m alright, thank you," she ended up saying and watched as he leaned back against the bedpost, looking like he was in no hurry to do anything. Hoping to speed things along, she hesitantly tacked on, "It is getting pretty late, however."

"Ah, yes, you are quite right about that." He got to his feet again and pulled a small book from his coat pocket. "Please, get some rest. If you don’t mind, I will read a while."

This was not what she had expected. "Um, I…" She trailed off when he looked back at her, already halfway to the fire and the armchair in front of it. Did he think she was too exhausted for any activities?

Realization swept across his face and he turned to face her, his expression solemn. "My lady Adelia, I will not do you the disservice and disrespect of bedding you like a brute. Please, don’t worry about any unwanted attentions from my end."

Openly staring at him now, she felt utterly baffled and caught off guard. "We need to consummate our marriage," she found herself saying weakly. Everyone did after all, it was expected of her.

At this he scoffed. "A barbaric tradition if you ask me. We are married and gave each other our vows, did we not? I say that should be enough and if you worry, a few drops of blood can easily be spared on my end, since that is what your people will expect."

Strangely, it sounded like he wouldn't expect her to bleed. But wasn't that what always happened?

She had no idea what expression must have shown through the cracks in her composure, but his expression softened a little. "Rest, if you like," he said. "You are safe."

With those words he took the two steps left to the armchair and sat down, opening his little book and thumbing through to a certain point. He settled in, looking like he was in no hurry to do anything else and Adelia couldn’t help but stare at him. He looked even paler, somehow, in the light of the fire and the orange glow caused his dark eyes to gain a strange, blood-red shimmer.

Slowly, she leaned back and after a long minute began to make herself comfortable, slipping down until her head came to rest on a pillow.

She wasn’t sure if she believed or trusted him, but she still found herself hoping he hadn’t lied. Curling up beneath the blanket, doing her best to leave space for when he retired as well, she continued watching him, waiting for the moment he changed his mind. That he’d claim what every law said was his to take, no matter her opinion on it.

A knock at the door startled her briefly and Lord Morrow got up, accepting a platter of food with quiet politeness. "If you get hungry later, feel free to take whatever you like," he said as he set the platter down on a side-table.

Adelia only nodded, though she doubted shed get hungry. Her stomach was still clenching a bit uneasily. Lord Morrow sat back down and continued his reading, seemingly fully absorbed by his book.

Slowly, it became harder to keep her eyes open and exhaustion crept up to overwhelm her. She fell asleep to a log popping in the fire and the soft rustle of a page being turned, relief making her chest lighter.