Title: Prelude
Series: FE8
Character/Pairing: Carlyle and Ismaire
Rating: T
Word count: 404
Prompt: FE8—Carlyle/Ismaire - "stories left untold"
Author's Note: Hmmm. I like the tone of this overall, but the ending really bugs me. Anyway, thanks for reading—hope you enjoy it!
-x-x-x-
once upon a time…
-x-x-x-
The first time he saw her was her wedding day, garbed in silks of crimson and gold, intelligent eyes ringed heavily with dark kohl peering out from a small face caked with thick white makeup, her head covered and mouth and nose masked by a deep red veil. She was still young, barely out of womanhood, and as she passed him by with her retinue of giggling handmaids and solemn young priestesses she appeared younger still—a child playing dress-up, perhaps, or a fragile flower cut by a florist while still in the nascent stages of bloom.
He supposed he was not much older than the girl-bride and her groom, the boy-king he had sworn fealty and unwavering devotion to when he was only seventeen and the voice of his liege still squeaked and cracked with uncertainty. Six years had passed since that day, and not once did he regret that decision.
As the bridal party passed him by he bowed low, and out of the corner of his eye he saw his men do the same. He remained so until the sound of the bells and jewels the women wore at their throats, wrists, ankles, and waists was swallowed by the rhythms of drumming and melodies of pipes that signaled the groom's arrival. It was then he straightened, blade held horizontally across his chest as a sign of respect to his sovereign, his men following his lead as the groom's party came into view.
Despite his years of training, something forced him to look away from the grand site, back towards the women as they made their way to the sacred altar upon which the wedding vows would be made, promises of love and loyalty, oaths to remain faithful to each other until the world grew cold and still and the bright desert sun shone only on bleached white bone.
Their eyes met. Brief, fleeting—only a moment, and yet he felt within him an ache that went deeper than any wound he had ever received in all his years as a soldier.
He made a promise to himself that day, a secret oath he would keep buried deep in his heart, as the citizenry reveled late into the night and the girl-bride and boy-king were shuttered behind ornate doors until sunlight peeked over the pale white dunes of the desert.
And that secret he would keep, until the end of his days.
-x-x-x-
the end.
-x-x-x-
Xirysa Says: What the hell, FFN—no Carlyle for a character selection? Oh well. Thanks for reading—hope you enjoyed it!