Sequel: Fulfilling Fate ›
Arranging Fate
I'm Getting Married!
“I’m getting married! I’m getting married! I’m getting married! I’m getting-.”
“For the love of the goddesses, would you shut up?” my sister groaned, tossing her head back.
I giggled and stopped dancing around the room. I threw my arms around her shoulders and hugged her.
“I can’t help it,” I said excitedly. “I’m getting married today, Izzy!”
“You don’t even know who he is,” she pointed out.
“That’s the best part.”
“Come on; you’ll be late,” she said, ignoring me.
I quickly got out of my nightgown and she put on the beautiful pink dress. It flowed around me and there was a deep blue sash that would tie around my waist. My mother came in with a trembling smile, putting a blue necklace around my neck.
“Your father gave this to me when we got married,” she whispered. “I know he’d want you to have it.”
I hugged her tightly and stepped into the heeled shoes my mother had gotten. While my sister braided my long blond hair, I tried not to bounce.
My name is Aviel and I’m 20. Even though I was still young, the elder villages had made the traditional age 18. Already people were starting to whisper and stare at me. I didn’t mind at first. My sister, who was four years my senior, got married but her husband died in the war that had just ended. She was heartbroken and spent nearly two months in bed, not talking or eating. They were poor so she moved back in with me and my mother. When she got married, my mother had given her a pair of earrings. The necklace was to be my gift; a token of good fortune.
Our father died from battle, too, when I was just a little girl and the villagers all rallied to help my mother raise Isabelle and I. It wasn’t easy and we had to work hard for the life we had but we had each other. The three of us looked identical: Long blond hair, bright blue eyes, and pale skin. I was a tad shorter than my mother and sister, though.
When I started attracting more negative attention, my mother sought the guidance of our female elder. They had many secret meetings. People thought that the female elder was actually a matchmaker in disguise but I didn’t think so. She was too private for that. So, when my mother came home a month ago to announce my wedding, I was surprised. I didn’t know any young men in the village who were interested and that’s when she said it was being arranged. She wouldn’t tell me who it was, though.
That’s how it usually went with arranged marriages and I was excited. I’d get to spend the rest of my life with this young man. I knew exactly how it would go: We’d move into a modest house like this one, we’d fall in love over a large dinner one night, then we’d have an army of children. We’d live happily ever after, just as my parents had. Well, without my husband dying, that is.
“You’re ready,” my mother said finally and I beamed at my appearance.
In addition to the beautiful dress, my eyes were lined in black and the lids were brushed with pink. They had applied light pink lip paint and I resisted the urge to wipe it off. I hated having my lips painted but I went with it just this once.
I jumped to my feet and walked out. We climbed into the open top carriage. My best friend, Eva, was in there, too, and she hugged me. She looked close to tears. At first, I thought it was because she was excited for me. I’d soon realize that wasn’t the case, though.
People waved and cheered for me and I waved back. I was beside myself with excitement, completely missing that those around me were crying. Their tears were not of joy.
When we got to the church, I practically ran in but hung back, waiting for my mother. Usually it would be my father who gave me away but he was gone. Being the only living guardian, it was my mother’s task. She wiped her tears away and I took her arm.
The doors opened. Most of my friends were sitting on the left side of the church. They waved and I looked to his side. There were only a few people. Two women and five men were seated on the first pew. They didn’t look like a very happy or friendly bunch.
My future husband was standing at the altar in a completely black soon. It was like he was at a funeral, not a wedding…. He wasn’t facing me and my mother began to shake as we walked closer. He had his hands behind his back and his left leg began to shake. At first I thought it was from nerves. As I got closer, though, I realized it was impatience.
That’s when I noticed that something was… off.
My mother kissed my cheek and glanced at my husband-to-be. He didn’t acknowledge her; he just kept looking forward. From this position, I saw he was about a foot taller than me with pale skin like everyone else. His black hair was cut short but I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were. His jaw was strong and currently set. Yes, he was very impatient and it wasn’t because he was excited to get married like I was.
The priest cleared his throat and people stopped whispering amongst each other. I heard my mother blow her nose into her handkerchief.
“We are gathered her today to join this lovely young man and young woman in marriage,” he began. My betrothed, though, cleared his throat pointedly. The priest sighed quietly but looked at him. “Under the view of the goddesses, do you take this woman to be your wife?”
“Yes,” he said in a deep voice.
An irritated, deep voice….
The priest looked to me, smiling.
“Under the view of the goddesses, do you take this man to be your husband?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
This wasn’t how weddings were held. He usually said prayers over the couple, showered them with some flower petals. I even saw them in a basket beside us. When he saw me looking, my betrothed sighed heavily and nodded once to the priest. He picked up the basket and sprinkled them over us, whispering his prayer instead of saying it for all to hear. His voice was low and I couldn’t hear all the words.
“Under the eyes of the goddesses and those assembled, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
I turned to him, smiling, but he just leaned forward and pecked me on the lips. That was it. Not even a second of contact. Some of his guests clapped twice and I looked to mine. I was confused and a little hurt when he wiped his lips on the back of his hand. I hugged my mother who sobbed into my shoulder.
“I’m confused,” I whispered.
“Aviel,” she began but a hand took my elbow.
“It’s time to go,” he said.
“But I want to say goodbye,” I said slowly.
His eyes rolled. “Why?”
I was taken aback by his response. I looked to my sister who was crying into her friend’s shoulder. Before anyone could speak, he dragged me down the aisle. His hold on my elbow was a little painful and I told him so. He didn’t say or do anything about it, though.
A very expensive looking carriage waited for us. There were two behind it and I assumed that’s where his guests would go back in. My husband threw the door open and gestured for me to climb in. I lifted my skirts, trying not to trip, and got in on the left side. The seats were made of comfortable velvet and I ran my hand along it. I hadn’t sat on such a fine fabric before.
He got in across from me and slammed the door shut, pounding on the outside twice. It lurched forward and he glowered out the window. My luggage had been loaded into the carriage already and I looked out the window, too.
We were leaving the village and going up a winding drive. I realized he must have bought that house that was rumored to be just outside the village.
I cleared my throat and he glanced at me briefly. His eyes were black, something that took me by surprise. He was an outsider, that was certain. But from where?
“S-So, what-what’s your name?” I breathed.
“Why do you want to know?” he asked and I recoiled a little.
“We’re married,” I whispered.
“Oh. Right.” He cleared his throat. “Zion.”
“I’m-.”
“I know your name,” he interrupted and I looked down.
We didn’t speak for the rest of the trip and I kept my eyes on the black floor. When it came to a halt, he got out first. He didn’t offer to help me out and I tripped on my gown. I fell out and he sighed, frustrated, as he caught me.
“Thank you,” I said in a small voice.
“Don’t embarrass me in front of my colleagues with your clumsiness,” he hissed as the other carriages pulled up.
“I’m not clumsy,” I retorted, my hurt feelings quickly fading into anger. “If you had just helped me a little-.”
“Don’t wear such long dresses then,” he argued and I glared at him. “Now come on.”
“For the love of the goddesses, would you shut up?” my sister groaned, tossing her head back.
I giggled and stopped dancing around the room. I threw my arms around her shoulders and hugged her.
“I can’t help it,” I said excitedly. “I’m getting married today, Izzy!”
“You don’t even know who he is,” she pointed out.
“That’s the best part.”
“Come on; you’ll be late,” she said, ignoring me.
I quickly got out of my nightgown and she put on the beautiful pink dress. It flowed around me and there was a deep blue sash that would tie around my waist. My mother came in with a trembling smile, putting a blue necklace around my neck.
“Your father gave this to me when we got married,” she whispered. “I know he’d want you to have it.”
I hugged her tightly and stepped into the heeled shoes my mother had gotten. While my sister braided my long blond hair, I tried not to bounce.
My name is Aviel and I’m 20. Even though I was still young, the elder villages had made the traditional age 18. Already people were starting to whisper and stare at me. I didn’t mind at first. My sister, who was four years my senior, got married but her husband died in the war that had just ended. She was heartbroken and spent nearly two months in bed, not talking or eating. They were poor so she moved back in with me and my mother. When she got married, my mother had given her a pair of earrings. The necklace was to be my gift; a token of good fortune.
Our father died from battle, too, when I was just a little girl and the villagers all rallied to help my mother raise Isabelle and I. It wasn’t easy and we had to work hard for the life we had but we had each other. The three of us looked identical: Long blond hair, bright blue eyes, and pale skin. I was a tad shorter than my mother and sister, though.
When I started attracting more negative attention, my mother sought the guidance of our female elder. They had many secret meetings. People thought that the female elder was actually a matchmaker in disguise but I didn’t think so. She was too private for that. So, when my mother came home a month ago to announce my wedding, I was surprised. I didn’t know any young men in the village who were interested and that’s when she said it was being arranged. She wouldn’t tell me who it was, though.
That’s how it usually went with arranged marriages and I was excited. I’d get to spend the rest of my life with this young man. I knew exactly how it would go: We’d move into a modest house like this one, we’d fall in love over a large dinner one night, then we’d have an army of children. We’d live happily ever after, just as my parents had. Well, without my husband dying, that is.
“You’re ready,” my mother said finally and I beamed at my appearance.
In addition to the beautiful dress, my eyes were lined in black and the lids were brushed with pink. They had applied light pink lip paint and I resisted the urge to wipe it off. I hated having my lips painted but I went with it just this once.
I jumped to my feet and walked out. We climbed into the open top carriage. My best friend, Eva, was in there, too, and she hugged me. She looked close to tears. At first, I thought it was because she was excited for me. I’d soon realize that wasn’t the case, though.
People waved and cheered for me and I waved back. I was beside myself with excitement, completely missing that those around me were crying. Their tears were not of joy.
When we got to the church, I practically ran in but hung back, waiting for my mother. Usually it would be my father who gave me away but he was gone. Being the only living guardian, it was my mother’s task. She wiped her tears away and I took her arm.
The doors opened. Most of my friends were sitting on the left side of the church. They waved and I looked to his side. There were only a few people. Two women and five men were seated on the first pew. They didn’t look like a very happy or friendly bunch.
My future husband was standing at the altar in a completely black soon. It was like he was at a funeral, not a wedding…. He wasn’t facing me and my mother began to shake as we walked closer. He had his hands behind his back and his left leg began to shake. At first I thought it was from nerves. As I got closer, though, I realized it was impatience.
That’s when I noticed that something was… off.
My mother kissed my cheek and glanced at my husband-to-be. He didn’t acknowledge her; he just kept looking forward. From this position, I saw he was about a foot taller than me with pale skin like everyone else. His black hair was cut short but I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were. His jaw was strong and currently set. Yes, he was very impatient and it wasn’t because he was excited to get married like I was.
The priest cleared his throat and people stopped whispering amongst each other. I heard my mother blow her nose into her handkerchief.
“We are gathered her today to join this lovely young man and young woman in marriage,” he began. My betrothed, though, cleared his throat pointedly. The priest sighed quietly but looked at him. “Under the view of the goddesses, do you take this woman to be your wife?”
“Yes,” he said in a deep voice.
An irritated, deep voice….
The priest looked to me, smiling.
“Under the view of the goddesses, do you take this man to be your husband?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
This wasn’t how weddings were held. He usually said prayers over the couple, showered them with some flower petals. I even saw them in a basket beside us. When he saw me looking, my betrothed sighed heavily and nodded once to the priest. He picked up the basket and sprinkled them over us, whispering his prayer instead of saying it for all to hear. His voice was low and I couldn’t hear all the words.
“Under the eyes of the goddesses and those assembled, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
I turned to him, smiling, but he just leaned forward and pecked me on the lips. That was it. Not even a second of contact. Some of his guests clapped twice and I looked to mine. I was confused and a little hurt when he wiped his lips on the back of his hand. I hugged my mother who sobbed into my shoulder.
“I’m confused,” I whispered.
“Aviel,” she began but a hand took my elbow.
“It’s time to go,” he said.
“But I want to say goodbye,” I said slowly.
His eyes rolled. “Why?”
I was taken aback by his response. I looked to my sister who was crying into her friend’s shoulder. Before anyone could speak, he dragged me down the aisle. His hold on my elbow was a little painful and I told him so. He didn’t say or do anything about it, though.
A very expensive looking carriage waited for us. There were two behind it and I assumed that’s where his guests would go back in. My husband threw the door open and gestured for me to climb in. I lifted my skirts, trying not to trip, and got in on the left side. The seats were made of comfortable velvet and I ran my hand along it. I hadn’t sat on such a fine fabric before.
He got in across from me and slammed the door shut, pounding on the outside twice. It lurched forward and he glowered out the window. My luggage had been loaded into the carriage already and I looked out the window, too.
We were leaving the village and going up a winding drive. I realized he must have bought that house that was rumored to be just outside the village.
I cleared my throat and he glanced at me briefly. His eyes were black, something that took me by surprise. He was an outsider, that was certain. But from where?
“S-So, what-what’s your name?” I breathed.
“Why do you want to know?” he asked and I recoiled a little.
“We’re married,” I whispered.
“Oh. Right.” He cleared his throat. “Zion.”
“I’m-.”
“I know your name,” he interrupted and I looked down.
We didn’t speak for the rest of the trip and I kept my eyes on the black floor. When it came to a halt, he got out first. He didn’t offer to help me out and I tripped on my gown. I fell out and he sighed, frustrated, as he caught me.
“Thank you,” I said in a small voice.
“Don’t embarrass me in front of my colleagues with your clumsiness,” he hissed as the other carriages pulled up.
“I’m not clumsy,” I retorted, my hurt feelings quickly fading into anger. “If you had just helped me a little-.”
“Don’t wear such long dresses then,” he argued and I glared at him. “Now come on.”