Thread: Taming the Bride (Prince & darkest_fate)

Juniper's entrance was about as extravagant a performance as Aric had witnessed. Granted, as a low-born warrior who had spent most of his life killing people on the battlefield he hadn't attended many noble weddings, but he doubted any bride could match the impact the tall, slim blonde produced on the small audience in the chapel. The trumpeters had volleyed back and forth, teasing her arrival, before launching into a complicated, airy and ethereal march that Aric had never heard. The melody seemed to climb endlessly, multiple horn voices cleverly following each other in canon to make the listener imagine an infinite flight of rising notes. No doubt it was some piece commissioned by Juniper specifically for her wedding day by some famous Ithilian composer. Then the bride entered the room, her mere appearance causing an audible gasp from the crowd that had already risen to receive her. Aric begrudgingly allowed that she was indeed quite beautiful, he would not dispute that. No man could. And he would not argue that her outfit, hair and makeup were quite stunning. All the myriad elements --the music, her gliding walk, that willowy body, the dazzling ornaments in her golden blonde hair, the shimmering white dress and her haughty distant look-- conspired to make her appear like some fey spirit who was magically floating down the aisle towards Aric. Clearly the girl had tried her best to make this wedding, even forced upon her against her will, a spectacular celebration of her beauty, grace, taste, style and elegance. Worship me , she seemed to cry, all of you wish you were me. Aric was lost in the spell for a moment, eyes greedily drinking his fairy bride in and examining the tempting hints of her womanly curves that he could pick out under her white gown. Perhaps fucking his new wife wouldn't be so bad after all, and suddenly giving up whores for at least a year seemed much more doable. He was starting to think he was a shrewd man, like his advisors claimed, to win his rival's kingdom and prize Princess by merely rustling his sword. Yes, Aric, you clever bastard, you can win off the battlefield as well. This royal piece of ass was going to be a fun little fuck toy to explore, and with none of the risk of disease that came with common whores. Then Aric started to realize she hadn't even glanced at him, or even the crowd. Her eyes were fixed at some imaginary spot in the distance, beyond the altar, chin raised slightly as if she had only disdain for the earthly beings that were soiling her heavenly presence. His smile faded and his eyebrows furrowed as she stepped up to stand before him and the still swaying priest. A realization hit him that made him set his jaw and turned his gaze baleful. This bitch thought she was better than me... then all of my people! The one thing Aric was still sensitive about, after all these years, was that he wasn't born into nobility. He'd fudged his genealogy a bit by now, claiming that his grandfather was a hedge knight for some remote Viscount, to show some noble blood, but he knew everyone considered him low born and, well, classless. He embraced it, to some degree, knowing that trying to put on noble airs would make him even more a fool, like a clueless man pretending to know how to fight attempting to impress seasoned knights with his sword work. What he didn't know would be all too easy to spot. Most of his lords and leal servants went out of their way now to tone down their manners and airs, in deference to their salt of the earth King, but Aric was quick to pick up any hint where someone thought his poor birth made him somehow deficient. Usually their head ended up on a pike outside his palace gate. Ahem.. My beautiful Prinshess... oh what an angel you are! I wish I could kissh you.. slurred the priest, apparently elated to have this vision of perfection so close to him. A trembling hand produced a flask that had been stashed somewhere in his robes and the man tried to take a nip to steel himself. The vows, interjected Aric icily, knocking the flask from the priest's hand and sending it clattering onto the stone floor of the altar dias. The clanging metal rang out in the now silent chapel and Aric fumed silently, knowing everyone was looking at him. Damn drunken priests. Yesh... yer majesty.. we have our majesty... King Aric Ulffson of...of House.... the priest paused screwing his face up for a second. Technically Aric wasn't in a major noble house which was causing his confusion. ... of House Ulffshon? King of Greater Kaldia and firsht of his line. And then we have the beautiful Prinshess Juniper. Jusht a lovely girl... so pretty... magical... our queen to be... yes, of Ithilien... our King is so lucky my lady. Just say the damn vows! exclaimed Aric in frustration. This whole wedding was derailing in his mind and he wanted to return it to what he had intended, a legal formality for the peace treaty and not some fete for his new wife to impress the crowd. Say the vows. Eat dinner. Then fuck her senseless. The priest belched, looked embarrassed, seemed to consider vomiting for a second, and then nodded. Prinshess Juniper...do you take thish man... Aric exhaled, glancing over at his bride again finally to see how she was handling the less than fairy tale ceremony he had arranged for her.