The ceremony was held in the Haradrim fashion, though the Vikings had insisted in certain traditions of theirs to be perpetuated. As such, Rezef had been required to write vows to her husband, and they had to kiss to seal the pact. A Haradrim priest and a Viking druid would over look the ceremony, making sure the gods did not disapprove of the wedding. In all honesty, Rezef could not care less.
The wedding was held in front of the Hall of Fire, the priest standing on the threshold. Hiccup stood before him, the rain having stuck his hair to his face. He seemed miserable standing there, waiting for a bride he did not love –would never truly learn to love. From time to time, his gaze would stray to Astrid's red eyes, and he would be the only one to notice the tears mixing to the rain. He could feel the stares of the twenty Haradrims behind him, all seated on the right hand side of the aisle. He could not help but shiver when he looked at them, their rouged, golden or blackened lips, their cold stares and war clothes. Women wore a facial scarf, red and shielding from view any humanity they still held. Some had chains around their ankles, men and women alike. Others wore rich clothing, embedded with gold.
He could only hope his wife would be less scary.
Murmurs were blooming in the crowd, with the bride meant to arrive in less than half an hour. Suddenly, silence downed as Gothi walked down the aisle and sat beside the Chief of the Vikings.
"_the bride has come." Announced a priest in Norse. The words we repeated in Haradrim, and all the people of the South rose. Humming began from the throat of a man and a woman, voices harmonizing. The steady beat of a male voice joined them, until all Haradrims present had begun to sing. Some hummed, whilst others made sounds with their hands. The Head of the Tribe, Morfiil then began to sing.
His voice was not the best, yet the words in the tongue of the Haradrim made it seem like Bardr himself had come down from Asgard. Sounds seem to roll off his tongue, sweet and welcoming. The booming of a voice next to him was like thunder, whilst a woman's calm tune replied. The song was harmony, balance and life.
The bride appeared.
She was a fully clad warrior, her blade's handle on her back reflecting the last rays of the sun. Her leather armour was the one of heroes, simple and efficient. Her clothing was rich, but complimented the simplicity of the warrior she was. The three lines on her cheek, shared by all Haradrims present, seemed to give her a wild look, only accentuated by her hair, unbraided and unkempt in parts, flowing behind her.
She was beautiful, and he could have loved her. But she was not Astrid.
She walked to him with the grace of a feline, not missing the way his eyes strayed to the blond girl crying quietly in the back of the ceremonial procession. She could taste her sorrow on the air, their broken love. Rezef took stance next to her soon to be husband with a bitter taste in her mouth.
The Haradrim priest took a cup from the hands of the Druid, raising it to the heaven. He took a golden coin and placed it above it.
"_blessings from the heavens."
He then levelled it in front of him, and both soon-to-be -weds extended their right hand. Two drops of blood fell in the cup, as the priest uttered those words again.
"_blessings from the earth."
He then lowered his arms, black onyx powder in his hand.
"_blessings from the deads."
Hiccup took the cup first, bringing it to Rezef's lips. She took a sip, before cradling the chalice and raising it to her husband's mouth. His face scrunched up at the taste, but he drank it nonetheless, swallowing soon after. She handed the cup back to the Haradrim priest, who hid a smile and turned to the druid, stepping back to leave the Viking in charge of the ceremony.
"_Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, do you take Rezef Aath Golnaukhûn Bûrznûl Mornûl Morgûl as your spouse, and thus until death doth you part?"
"_I do."
"_Rezef Aath Golnaukhûn Bûrznûl Mornûl Morgûl, do you take Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III as your spouse, and thus until death doth you part?"
"_I do."
Her voice was thickly laced with a chanting accent, something he expected she would never loose. As surprising as her name, as the time she had invested into learning his language.
"_exchange your vows for one another, and may we be the witnesses of a blessed union."
They winced, both fully aware their union would be everything but blessed.
"_I, Hiccup, promise to care for you. I will strive to love and provide you with anything you might need, be it love or attention, care or relief. I promise to stay by your side, when all around you seems to crumble and fall. I make the vow to forever strive to understand you, even when our own humanity pushes us aside. I swear to never raise a hand on you, in anger or violence, but rather to let those hands build you a home. I wish to never..."
His voice faltered, and his gaze switched to the blond girl behind her. Rezef knew the following words were not to her, but she let it be. They deserved their happy ending as well.
"_I wish to never be parted from you and always love you. I promised to remain by you until death or love doth us part.I promise to do so, and I will continue to uphold my death, love or life doth us part."
It was her turn now. Those vows had taken her a long time to write. She was not used to the Norse grammar, but it had not been the problem. Rezef did not want to lie. She would have to chose her words carefully, as to not bind herself to something she could not do.
"_I, Rezef, promise to care for you. I will strive to help you achieve your goal, and the one your heart truly pursues. I promise to uphold your name and reputation, through war, love and bloodshed. I make the vow to forever strive to understand you, even when our own human selfish needs carry us apart. I swear to never harm you, be it by poison, words or acts and to rather create for you a home where poisons have antidotes, words are as honey and acts are ones of love. I wish for my path to never stray from the one of your happiness and to always strive to achieve for you love. I promise to you happiness until I can no more, by death or love. I will continue to uphold my promise."
Those words fell like acid from her lips.
"_Until death, love or life doth us part."
She did not falter in her vows. Her voice had been firm, flowing with her chanting accent. Hiccup had not expected to hear such fine Norse from her, and he had been surprised and touched she had learnt his language. Her icy black eyes had settled on his, and suddenly he knew.
That she knew.
The rest of the ceremony had been nothing but a blur in Hiccup's memory. All he could remember was that she knew. Yet, Rezef would forever remember it.
When she had been younger, a girl who still dreamed to be a princess, she had always imagined she would fall in love and marry someone of her choice. It was, after all, as current for love marriages to happen than for arranged marriages in the tribe of the South. As an Assassin, she had totally abandoned the thought of marriage. All she would have been to a man would be another doll in a Harem, only one that could kill. No one would love a Haradrim Assassin. She was death's angel.
And yet, here she was. She could have loved the boy. She would have, but they needed to be two for it to be love. Otherwise, it was only pain.
And sometimes, she could almost feel a fiery stab of jealousy pierce her.
Hiccup had Astrid. But who did she have?
As a young girl, she would have imagined her first kiss to be to a boy she loved. It would have been under the night sky of the Great Desert of Harad, and it would have been magical.
Her first kiss had been to a drunken old man in a tent. She had killed him ten minutes later, when he had lost enough of his reason to not be able to defend himself.
She had always thought her marriage kiss would be the one she would want to remember as her first kiss, yet even the one with the drunken old man in then tent seemed better than the one she had shared with her husband.
When the druid had said to Hiccup;
"_you may kiss the bride", his face had drained of all colour. With shaking hands, he had undone her facial scarf. His eyes had widened when he had seen the colour of her lipstick, the shape of her face, and he had nervously swallowed. He was leaning in apprehensively when Rezef took pity of him and, grabbing his fur jacket to lower him down to her level, kissed him on the lips for a quarter of a second. Quickly, she let go of him, a blush starting to form on his cheeks. She had put her facial scarf back in place and had wordlessly stared at the druid.
The Viking official would always remember her eyes, lifeless and cold –and pained. The cheers and whooping of the Haradrims, followed by the polite clapping of the Vikings did nothing to her mood, and she merely stared blankly ahead. She was already dead. When Hiccup had finally gathered himself enough, the Druid said;
"_I declare you husband and wife. May the gods smile upon the hour of your union."
And he felt as if he had just sentenced them. From the dark pain in her eyes to the paleness of his skin, this union could have not been any more a parody of marriage. It was so painful to watch, so hurtful to even envision the druid wondered why. Why bother in believing in love, when two people like those two wouldn't ever find it?
Chin high, her husband beside her, Rezef walked past the priest and druid to the door. She deftly passed over the threshold and wrung out her hair from the rain outside. Hiccup came in next to her, as cheers and claps from the marital procession erupted. Stepping over the threshold of the newlywed house (theirs was too far away so the Hall of Fire had been chosen) without tripping meant a life of happiness for the couple. She looked at him without a word as he sat at the head of the table and went to grab a tankard of ale. When all the guests had come in and silence was made in the Hall, she brought the tankard to her husband and both drank from it. Cheers erupted again, and soon the Haradrims were eating, laughing and fighting loudly, sign the reception was a good one. Only Rezef sat by her husband at the head of the table, unspeaking and unmoving –until one of her tribe spoke to her in their singing tongue. Hiccup watched as she rose in response to a jab from one of the Haradrims. He saw her walk, no –prowl towards her prey and suddenly, the commotion stopped on the Haradrim side. All turned to the woman who was face to face with the one who had called to her earlier.
Morfiil stood by, leaning against the main table as he watched the two begin to circle one another in the space made by the arms of the U shape the tables had been arranged in.
"_what is going on?" asked Stoic.
"_it is a Haradrim tradition that one of the newlywed fights against a member of both households. Rezef is currently fighting against my son. Soon, she will be against you or someone close to you."
"_we must be careful of her then, we would not want to harm her before the nuptial night."
Morfiil laughed patronisingly.
"_you should not worry about her. She is tougher than you might think."
Stoic watched the girl and her cousin. They were circling one another, judging the other's stance and guard when suddenly the boy drew his sword at his hip and lunged for her knee, unguarded. Faster than lightning, they saw her draw her twin blades, twirl them and sidestep her cousin, slamming the hilt of Nazt against his head. He stumbled, before catching his balance and smiling. A few words were exchanged in Haradrim, before they shook hands and she looked expectantly at her new father in law. He was about to get up and fight, when she smiled and motioned for Astrid to get up. The girl's eyes widened, and she clutched her axe in her hand.
"_don't be scared. I just want to know your name." Once more, her accent had flown, but the gesture touched those present. There was no warmth in the words, just as there was no warmth in her, but the language carried warmth for two.
"_Astrid. My name is Astrid."
"_will you fight me, Astrid?"
Collective gasps and shouts rose from the Haradrims, sending the Vikings into a panic. One of the Haradrims even stood up and walked up to Rezef, but the girl merely stared him down and he backed down. Her voice snapped, short and cold in the room, silencing the debates. Morfiil translated for the Vikings, amused.
"_it is a great honour than the one to be invited to fight. Especially by an Assassin."
The two girls stood at the centre of the U, facing one another. Astrid was clutching her axe and shield, whilst Rezef had her twin blades strapped securely on her back. Her hands were by her side, as she leant against a table. Astrid made a step forward, and suddenly the stance of the woman changed. Her foot slid to the right, her position swapping in the fraction of a second from relaxed to entirely guarded and tense. Her eyes seemed to pierce Astrid's soul. The saw everything without focusing on one thing, taking in every detail. She knew the layout of the tables. Could see every dent in the girl's axe she would use to her advantage. Astrid felt naked under her gaze, a prey quivering before its predator. Rezef was in the Time.
Each warrior has a Time. A rhythm at which he breathes, moves and lives. Understanding the Time and learning how to live in it was the key to being an accomplished warrior. Yet, Assassins learnt more than just living in the Time. They controlled it. The Time was theirs, because they were one with it.
Rezef felt Astrid's decision to attack even before the girl decided to. She sensed rather than saw her prepare to pounce, and immediately recognized she was planning to follow it up by a front flip, making her fly out of Rez's hitting reach. Astrid's hand subconsciously tightened around the handle of her axe, as she raised the shield a bit higher. A split second before the girl had begun attacking, Rezef had moved.
Her body had twisted to the right, the axe sweeping less than an iota past her body. With her left, she accompanied Astrid's swing, setting the girl's centre of gravity off balance. She watched, as the blonde still succeeded in her front flip but landed rather sloppily.
Her axe was now laid at Rezef's feet.
The girl picked it up, weighing it out in her hand before she grabbed the blade and handed it back to Astrid, handle first. The blonde took it, but with a pull from Rezef was tugged forwards. The Haradrim grabbed her arm and twisted, forcing the axe to clatter to the floor once more. She freed the blonde woman, before inclining her head to her.
Morfiil smiled, before turning to Hiccup.
"_Rezef seems to have taken a shine to the blonde. I am rather stunned –my niece is very secretive. It is good she has found a friend. Rezef will most probably invite her to be with you often, once she is settled."
Hiccup's eyes widened.
Something was going right. Rezef was his wife. She was meant to be possessive and unforgiving, as all Haradrims were. She was supposed to throw tantrums and order the best of him, expecting him to get her the moon and the stars whether or not he liked her –because she was his wife and that was the way it went. She was not supposed to encourage his relationship with the blonde, was not supposed to make it easier for him to cheat on her.
So what was she doing? Was she torturing him? Mocking him? Hiccup did not know.