Written for the ficvariations challenge on livejournal.
It was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. Lothiriel should have been walking down the aisle right now on her father's arm, towards the man who should have been waiting at the alter for her. She was supposed to be clad in a pale gown – white or cream or even blue – but she wasn't.
The floaty light silk gown she'd chosen was a dream of the past. Instead of the pale material caressing her skin, Lothiriel was dressed in dark, heavy velvet. She was walking down the centre aisle supported by her father towards the man she loved, but this was not her wedding day. This was the funeral of her betrothed. He was waiting for her at the alter – in a coffin.