Chapter Thirteen: A Royal Wedding
It was her wedding today. Most people would feel excited about it, but Clair was anything but. She glanced at her bed, her skin crawling at the mere thought of having to share it with someone else. It would no longer be hers. Everything in this room would belong to Benga. She kicked the bed then winced at the implosion of pain in her foot.
"All gone. All of it," she murmured. But was anything in this room truly hers anyway?
Her future husband was currently being tended to by the castle servants to prepare him for the ceremony. As the future wife, she wasn't allowed to be seen with him, so she was forced to stay within the castle, and there was nothing to do but look out the window and mope. How did other women do it? How could they be happy having to give their possessions to their husbands? How could they be happy with submission?
There was a knock on the door. Ah. Perfect timing. It saved her the trouble of searching for her slave. Normally they'd be sleeping in the quarters just outside the main castle keep with the other castle slaves, but she didn't want to walk around searching for her, especially in her current attire. She was wearing a long, form-fitting blue gown made of silk which had a wide neckline and elbow-length sleeves. A belt made of symbolic stones held her dress together. She had red jasper for love, beryl for purification and amethyst for piety and martyrdom. Lastly, she had a golden tiara around her head and a transparent blue veil to shield her face. The veil would be lifted by the groom upon initiation by the priest, so he could kiss the bride to seal their marriage. Her skin crawled again at the thought of Benga kissing her.
"Disgusting," she muttered, shuddering.
She wasn't sure what her husband would be wearing. There hadn't been a wedding of importance in all her years of life, so she had never witnessed what the wealthy wore. Male peasants wore simple tunics and females wore the prettiest dress they had in their possession. Grandfather had never mentioned anything about the attire he had worn for his wedding and she had never brought it up. She had never been the one to be interested in weddings unlike many other females of her age.
She opened the door. Instead of finding Lyra, she found herself looking down at Joey. For some mysterious reason, her grandfather had seen potential in the boy. She only saw him as a hindrance, and she had caught him numerous times dropping items on the floor and making a mess of things. "You're not the person I wanted to see. Where is Lyra? I want my servant. You are not her."
"She's been staying at the quarters, my lady," the boy said, bowing slightly. "You hadn't summoned her, so she stayed there."
Right. "Very well. Get her now and bring her here. Be quick."
She shooed him away as if he were an annoying fly, and the closed the door in his face. Turning around she leaned her back against the hard-wooden door, her hands moving to the amulet around her neck. She wouldn't be able to wear it at the ceremony – her grandfather wanted her to wear the golden necklace her mother had once worn. Fingers moving to the back of her neck, she undid the string and placed it gently on her bedside dresser.
A strange feeling of emptiness overcame her as she pulled her hands away. She hadn't owned the amulet for longer than a week and already she felt vulnerable without it. Never had she grown so attached to a piece of jewellery before. Perhaps the magic of the priests still lived within it and that is why it felt the amulet was calling to her. Her thoughts were broken when there was another knock on the door.
With an annoyed sigh, she turned back to the door and opened it. Joey had returned and this time he had a companion, her personal slave, Lyra. The girl was looking at her face, but she wasn't connecting with her eyes. "Joey, you can leave." Joey bowed once more and left. Clair looked at the girl. "If you are to be my slave then I should learn more about you as you will be coming with me to Unova. So, what can you do? What were you taught in that village of yours?" The questions she didn't ask before.
"I carried out domestic household duties such as cooking and cleaning, my lady. I also helped my mother chop down wood and hunt because my father wasn't around," she said softly, still not meeting her eyes. "I even learned how to sew dresses and I was taught how to read and write."
Clair frowned. That was odd. Tilting her head to the side, she gave the girl a curious look. Her mother must've been someone important then if she knew how to read and write. A runaway bride to a nobleman? A runaway daughter born too wealthy parents, perhaps? "Your mother sounds like a strong woman. It's hard to survive in a man's world, but to take on a man's duty? Impressive."
"She was a capable woman."
"You certainly are an odd one. I can see why grandfather purchased you."
Clair looked at the girl again. Lyra had put on a bit of weight now and didn't look so thin. It was amazing what a couple of good meals could do to someone. Still, the girl was nothing to look at, but no one could match her beauty. Standing near Lyra only made her look more beautiful. Clair reached a handout towards Lyra's face, and pushed a few strands of hair behind her ears.
"Um, my lady?"
"Your hair was bothering me though I suppose you don't know much about hairstyling."
Lyra shook her head. "Not at all, my lady."
"I can tell," Clair replied dryly. "I asked you about tending to my horse previously. Do you actually know anything about horses?"
"We didn't have a horse."
"Good. Now is a good time to learn. I am expecting a gift tomorrow and normally wealthy husbands give their wives a fine horse. I'll need the stable cleaned. My former horse will be retired to the farmlands. Everything you need will be down there already." Clair walked over to her dresser and pulled out the top cupboard. She reached in and pulled out a small silver key then handed it to Lyra. "This is the key to unlock her stable. It needs to be clean. Fresh hay. Clean water. The usual necessities."
Lyra took it and nodded. "Of course. I'll start now."
"Excellent. The royal stable is located at the northern end of the castle boundary. There you'll find my mare, Calimorfus. It translates to beautiful from old priests' script. Now go. I have to do my nails."
Lyra didn't need to be told twice. She turned around and left.
Clair closed the door. At least her slave wasn't stupid. Unlike the other castle ones. She turned her attention back to the amulet and picked it up again, unable to stop herself. It was such a strange but beautiful piece of jewellery.
"…Our bodies may die, but our spirits will forever live on."
Startled, her fingers released the amulet. It fell on the floor. "What in the name of Arceus…" she murmured, staring down at the item. The voice had belonged to a man. Presumably the original owner of the amulet. One week of owning the item and this was the first time she had heard anything. Perhaps she was hearing things. She decided to pick it up again and stash it away in the top drawer of the dresser. Now wasn't the time to panic. She had a wedding to attend to. Her own wedding. The amulet mystery could wait.
That was one task Lyra never had to worry about back in her village of New Bark Town – cleaning out stables for horses because they didn't have any as they had no need for one. She could understand why; it was tough work cleaning out the stables. There were horse cleaning specialists known as grooms who were responsible for horse care and cleaning. Unfortunately, Clair thought she should take on the responsibilities of a groom. Her duties included cleaning the horses, exercising the horses, feeding the animals and hauling water and fodder. It was tiring work.
She paused for a temporary moment, allowing herself a chance to breath. She had spent the past half hour trying not to stand in horse faeces as she removed the old hay straws on the floor. Fortunately, there were some nice boots provided at the stall to make the task a little more bearable in case she did misplace her feet. The stench was overbearing at first, but she soon grew accustomed to it. Another bath was going to be required after this and hopefully there were no interruptions.
Her thoughts shifted back to the day she shared a bath with Lance. She imagined a lot of women would've enjoyed being that close to him – he certainly wasn't unattractive by any means, but what prince wasn't? But he wasn't like the other princes she had heard about in the stories. Generally, the royals were often portrayed as arrogant bastards who saw themselves as above everyone else, but Lance wasn't like that. How many masters took their slaves to a bath without taking advantage of them?
"I didn't realize you had groom skills as well," Lance said.
She almost jumped, startled. She had been so entranced by her work she hadn't even heard him enter. Turning around, she placed the rake next to the fence and looked at him. He was dressed in his ceremonial knight armour which was comprised of a white feather plumed barbute helm, a silver cuirass chest plate, pauldron for the shoulders, silver gauntlets for the forearms, cuisse plate for the legs and finally sabaton for the feet. In more simplistic terms, it looked heavy and uncomfortable. He also had a magnificent golden cape attached to the back of his chest plate which had a dragon stitched onto the material.
"Oh," she stammered. "You're here."
He gave her a rueful grin. "You sound disappointed. I hope my presence does not distract you."
She shook her head. "No, not at all. I mean. Of course not."
"I didn't mean to startle you." He walked over to the stall, resting his arms on the gate.
"It's fine." She walked over to the bucket of water and lifted it up. It was a large steel pot that reached her thighs. Fortunately, the grooms had already filled it water. She just had to carry it back to the stall. Carrying it was no easy task and she had to hobble to move.
"Let me help you with that."
Lyra couldn't stop him. He walked over to the opposite side of the stable and helped her lift the bucket then carried it back towards the stall. Gently, they lowered it in the far most eastern corner. There was a slight pang of pain at the bottom of her spine. If she had done it alone it would've been so much worse. "Thanks," she said, looking at him. "But you didn't have to help."
"You would've struggled and might've injured your back," Lance pointed out. "You won't be able to serve Clair to the best of your ability with an injury, so I helped to prevent that. Clair's never had a personal servant before – I think you'll be good for her. Maybe you can tell her some stories of your life beforehand. She likes stories."
"I suppose I could tell her about the time I chopped wood the first time."
"…Maybe skip the labour stories."
"Right. I'll keep that in mind."
Silence fell. She wanted to work – Clair expected to work – but how was she to focus on her task with Lance standing so close, and staring at her like a hawk watching its prey? Maybe if she turned her back to him… With her back now turned, she hoped she could work. She grabbed a broomstick nearby and started to sweep the floor.
"Do I make you uneasy?"
She continued to sweep. "No."
"Lyra. Look at me."
How could she refuse a direct order from the king's grandson? Halting her activity, she turned around, and forced herself to look at the bridge of his nose, so she didn't have to meet his gaze. "Have I done something wrong?"
"Not at all. I just wanted to talk, and I'd rather look at your face. Clair is getting married today, and you'll be required to depart with her when she leaves for Unova in a few days. It's a long journey to Unova, but I've heard it's a grand city. You'll be safe there." He frowned then looked away, if bothered by something.
"Have you been to Unova?"
He turned to face her again. "No. Grandfather needs me here. Clair too."
"And now you won't be here for Clair anymore."
"No. It's an unsettling thought. Clair is… difficult. I do not know how she will adjust."
"Clair will learn."
"Not everyone is born to be so obedient, Lyra. She is a wild spirit that does not want to be held down. The only reason she hasn't run away yet is because of me, but even then I feel my influence is waning. As she ages, her mind becomes more adventurous. She has questions that I cannot give answers for." He looked at the ground and rubbed his neck.
"I'll do what I can to help her."
He looked up. "And how are you going to protect her?"
"You said she would be safe in Unova."
Lance turned away again, and rubbed his chin, his brows furrowed but he did not speak.
A strange feeling gripped her stomach. A jumpy feeling like there was something inside. "We're heading into dangerous territory, aren't we?"
"It's home to magic. Magic is used freely there."
Silence again, then, "How long do I have left here in the city?"
"At least another week. Sufficient time needs to be given to the Unovans to recover from the long journey, and to make sure no one has fallen ill. I'm also sure there are some terms grandfather and Benga would like to discuss and that won't happen immediately."
A few more days in the city then. It was strange to be leaving so soon when she was just starting to settle in. She wondered if the servants were treated any different in Unova and if so, how would Clair react? It would be foreign territory for both her and Clair. Could Clair adapt to a completely new environment? "That makes sense, I guess. What are you going to do? Will you visit?"
"Only if grandfather commands it or I receive an invitation. But otherwise no, my place is here, and my duty is to serve the crown in Blackthorn to whatever end that might be." He moved back from the stall and leaned against the post. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier at the baths."
"You don't have to apologize for anything."
"No, I should. I put you in awkward position."
She shook her head. "It could be worse. I could've ended up in the public baths with all the other people." Forcing a dry laugh, she added, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but that marking on your neck… What is it?" The electrical spark only happened when she brushed her fingertip against it. Her mother's words about sexual attraction briefly repeated in her mind, but she didn't believe that. There had to be some other explanation.
Silence fell. Moments passed until Lance spoke up again clearing his throat. "I almost died after I was born. So, a spell was placed upon me to keep me alive at the expense of other symptoms and that is why the mark is there. You said you had seen it before in your mother's books? Maybe you could take a better long this time." He removed his helm and placed it on the ground, so she could see his neck better. "You might need to grab one of those hay bales to stand on."
Clearly, it would be a waste of time to remove all his armour off, so she could see his neck. There were two hay bales nearby. She walked over to grab one and dragged it back towards Lance then carefully placed a foot on the top to check the sturdiness. It wobbled slightly under her weight but remained steady enough. Lance moved in front of her, tilting his head forward so she could better see the mark. Now that she had time to focus on it more, she noticed there were three small dots in the centre of the crescent moon making positioned to be the points of a triangle. Evidence a binding spell had been used. Whoever had performed the magic was trying to keep something from being exposed.
"It's a binding spell," Lyra answered, recalling the images from her mother's books. She wasn't sure how her mother knew what spells looked like; they didn't have a mage in the village – but perhaps the knowledge had been passed onto her mother from her father before he had disappeared. "They were used to contain something undesirable from breaking free. You might want to stop a wild animal from escaping its cage, so you place a symbol on that creature – much like the one on you – to stop it from running away. Binding spells are powerful magic linked to curses and hexes, but it does take a toll on the body which would explain the symptoms you mentioned."
"I'm curious to know how your mother knew so much."
"Believe me, so am I."
He turned to face her again. "She wasn't a mage, was she?"
Lyra shook her head. "Would you have me executed if I was?"
An uncomfortable pause. Lance sighed. "I don't hate mages; my grandfather does. But I don't trust magic. If you were a mage, I would have to kill you. That is what duty would require me to do to protect the kingdom and its people."
"Even someone innocent? People don't have control over their births, Lance. Magic is the reason you are alive now after all. Would you be able to live with yourself if you killed an innocent person because of the blood that runs in their veins?"
He said he had almost died. Although it wasn't rare for mothers or their babies to die during or shortly after childbirth, she found it strange that someone of highborn status would come to close to death. Normally deaths would be a result of poor social and economic conditions, untrained medical people, or bad luck.
He didn't have a response. Instead, he changed the topic. "I should leave you to continue your job."
Her words had obviously unsettled him or given him something to think about. It must be hard being in such a position. Torn between duty to a crown and your own morals. Eventually it would drive him mad. She was surprised he had held onto his sanity for this long, but she supposed he had yet to make a difficult decision. But he raised a fine point. Had her mother been a mage or had her father been one? Her mother never talked about her father. She didn't even know the man's name. Lance had his secrets. She had her own unsolved ones. With a sigh, she continued with her work. One day the truth would be revealed.
.
Falkner rubbed his eyes, a deep groan escaping his throat. His head throbbed, as if he had spent the entire night drinking himself into a stupor and woken up the following morning with a heavy weight in his head. But he hadn't been drinking - the last thing he remembered was hitting his head on something hard. "Arceus, where am I? What happened?" he murmured.
He spotted Morty ahead, swinging a golden sword at the air, fighting an invisible force. Morty didn't have a golden sword, and Surge certainly didn't keep any at the blacksmith weapons rack. Maybe he was dreaming. He rubbed his eyes again. Nope. Morty was still holding a golden sword.
"Finally, you're awake," the blond remarked, turning around to face him.
Falkner clambered to his feet. A wave of pain imploded in his forehead. He groaned again, bringing a hand to his head as if that would somehow cure the pain. Nothing changed. "What happened?" he repeated, looking around for signs of the battle. He found the woman's body lying a few feet away, a stab wound in her stomach, a bloody pool around her.
"She died."
"I can see that. But how? I remember her throwing fireballs." Falkner frowned at him. "How did you survive?"
"I know how to deal with mages." A partial truth. The best way to deal with another mage is to use magic in return. "I've done it before. Once you know how to counter the spells, they're not so difficult. Most of them aren't trained in melee combat, and they still die like any man."
Falkner tilted his head to the side. "That doesn't answer the question."
"That's all I tell you. I'm just experienced. You're not."
The boy's gaze shifted to the hole in the ground. "That wasn't there before."
"There's a crypt down there, and you'll never know what I found – a fancy sword." He withdrew the golden sword and grinned at Falkner. "I assume this was Henry Blackthorns's grave because I've never quite seen any weapon like this before. I don't know why he'd be buried out here. Thought the man was a hero, but I guess someone stopped believing in him."
Falkner's eyebrows raised. "So, you killed the mage and were rewarded with a fancy sword."
Morty shrugged. "Yes."
"What makes you so special? You haven't even been here that long, and already you've accomplished more than most of our people. So many people have come to explore these ruins, and all have failed. How did you even succeed?"
"Maybe Arceus watches over me?" Morty suggested with another shrug of his shoulders.
"Why would he bless a sell sword?"
"I don't know what to tell you, Falkner. You don't see many mages in this part of the world anymore, so your people aren't well equipped to fight off mages."
"Yet you know."
"I've seen a lot of the world." The boy certainly asked a lot of questions. "But don't get overly excited. It's just a golden sword that belonged to a king. Whatever power was in this blade has long since gone. We should probably return to the city and report to Chuck. He'll want the sword for himself, I presume."
Falkner nodded. "Right."
"You'll be fine to walk?"
"Yes, of course." Falkner's pace was slow, but at least he was steady on his feet.
As they exited the ruins, Morty glanced over his shoulder, casting a look at the ruins once more. It was odd that a king would be buried this far from the city, but it didn't seem anyone had been able to break through the altar. Except for himself. The mage's blood had been the key to unlocking the altar.
"I'm surprised Lance never came here to investigate the ruins himself," Falkner mused.
"He already has a fancy sword. There's no need for another."
"But this is the one that slayed the dragonite."
Morty shrugged again. "Maybe his grandfather didn't want anyone to know." Though he couldn't fathom the reason why unless he was ashamed of Henry Blackthorn. "You and I both weren't around when the war happened. All I know is this sword is our reward for defeating the mage who was guarding these ruins. We're bringing back an important relic of the city's past."
"All part of Arceus's mysterious plan."
"Indeed." He didn't say another word, preferring to avoid a discussion about the gods. Fortunately, Falkner didn't seem interested in continuing the discussion other. In silence, they began their journey back to Blackthorn.
.
Many of the peasants had left their homes and put their tasks on hold to witness a rare event – the marriage of their princess to Prince Benga of Unova. Guards were stationed at every corner of every street and the paths were decorated with a variety of white flowers. She even noticed a man with a lute in the crowd. He was probably writing down notes to sing a song about the event in the tavern later. Clair didn't feel nervous very often – she had no reason to be – but right now she felt butterflies in her stomach. All these people had come to witness her ceremony.
She looked towards the crowd, drawing in a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She was certain the entire city had temporarily ceased work just to come and get a glimpse of the royal wedding. Even the slaves were present. Some people looked happy; others looked unimpressed. Some couples were holding hands; others had their arms crossed. That was going to be her. The unimpressed wife forced into a marriage for political purposes and not for love.
Clair wasn't frightened of much; but seeing the children in the crowds, she felt uneasy. Producing an heir to the throne. That was her role in life now. To be the loving wife taking care of the cooking and cleaning duties as well as raising the children. Her arms dropped to her sides, her fingers curling into fists. Her husband would have total control over her now and she would have to do everything he asked. She would be no better than one of the castle slaves. No freedom. All control taken from her. Even her possessions would fall into Benga's hands. Divorce was not possible for a woman for there was no law to allow it. You were wedded to your husband until death or until the man decided he wanted to marry again. She drew her attention from the crowd and looked to her family to the right behind Benga. It brought her small comfort being able to see them clearly. At least they were facing her and not standing behind. Lance was holding the sacred blade; apparently it was the same one her grandfather had given to their grandmother.
The ceremony was due to commence any minute now. Prince Benga stood on the right side and Clair was positioned to the left before the doors of the castle. Although not an official priest, Samuel Oak had been selected by her grandfather to legitimize the marriage. He was the king's closet friend after all. He was dressed in white robes that touched the ground with a golden sash around his waist. Standing before the crowd, he cleared his throat and greeted them.
"Blessings and merry meet. Gentle lords and ladies, their bands having been published, we are here today to join the fair Prince Benga of Unova and the fair princess Clair together. They have asked you here to share in their joy, and to declare their love for one another before you as a community. Lord, art thou here this day in pledged troth of thy own free will and choice?" he said, turning his attention towards Prince Benga.
Benga wore a three-quarter length black tunic with wide sleeves and an open, round neckline. A golden cape was attached to the back of his shoulders with a symbol of some type of insect stitched onto the material. He wore a black hose for his legs instead of the trousers the peasants wore, and his shoes were pointed to indicate his status.
Clair wore her blue dress as was socially accepted across all classes. She did not wear a veil – instead, she chose not to wear one to show her hair to the crowd which was adorned with white flowers. In addition, she wore a wreath of ribbons on her head. After marriage, her hair had to be braided and covered by a veil to indicate her new status.
"Aye, Father," Benga replied.
Samuel turned to Clair. "Princess, art thou here this day in pledged troth of thy own free will and choice?"
No, she wasn't, but she couldn't lie. Fortunately, all wedding speeches were the same. She just had to repeat whatever Benga said. "Aye, Father."
"In as much as this fair prince and princess have pledged their troth to be married this day, we call upon Arceus to bless this union. Therefore, if anyone can show just cause, why they may not be joined, by Arceus's Law, or the Laws of the Kingdom, let them speak now, or else hereafter keep silent for all time." He paused, surveying the crowd. No one spoke up. "There being no objection to this marriage let us continue."
He turned around and walked over to her Lance who was standing to the far right in his knight attire holding a long sword. Clair hadn't had the chance to speak to anyone but her grandfather before the ceremony – and he had only said a few words. Apparently, her grandfather believed it was bad luck for the bride to converse with others during and before the ceremony. She watched Samuel take the blade. He returned, holding the blade between Clair and Benga.
"Swear you now on this sacred blade that there is no reason known to you that this union should not proceed."
"I do so swear," Benga said. Clair repeated his words.
Samuel looked at them both. "Is there any reason known to you why this partnership should not be made?"
It was so tempting to speak her mind, but she kept her mouth shut. "There is none," Benga said. Once again Clair repeated his words.
Samuel smiled and arched his neck up at the sky as if calling out to Arceus above. "Heavenly Arceus, creator all things in the realm above and on land; we humbly ask thee to bless this union; may these thy servants seek goodness all the days of their lives; may they be strong in defence of what is right, and may they be united even as thou art with Arceus. We humbly prey in the name of Arceus."
Closing his eyes, he lowered his head in a moment of silent prayer. Clair noted that several people in the crowd also followed. Once the silent prayer moment had passed, Samuel lifted his head again and returned the sword to Lance. Lance avoided making eye contact with Clair. She supposed he thought he'd be a distraction.
Samuel turned to face Benga. "Do you Fair Benga take unto thyself as wife Princess Clair and pledge unto her before Arceus and these witnesses to be her protector, defence and sure resort, to honour and sustain her, in sickness and in health, in fair and in foul, with all thy worldly powers, to cherish and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"
Benga nodded. "I will."
Samuel then turned to Clair. "Do you Princess Clair take unto thyself as husband Fair Prince Benga and pledge unto him before Arceus and these witnesses to be his protector, defence and sure resort, to honour and sustain him, in sickness and in health, in fair and in foul, with all thy worldly powers, to cherish and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"
"I will."
She wondered how much longer the ceremony was going to last. She was growing tired of standing before the crowd being watched like a hawk eyeing its prey. Fortunately, Samuel seemed to be thinking along the same lines. He walked towards Chuck. The commander was holding a small brown chest. Samuel lifted the lid and reached down to grab the rings then moved back towards Benga and Clair, giving them each a ring.
Both rings were identical in size and colour. The only difference they had was the centre stone. Clair's ring had one of a dragon head to represent her people whilst Benga's one had the insect. She would have to question him about his family's symbol sometime. Having an insect as a symbol for a royal family seemed laughable to her especially in comparison to her dragon.
"Heavenly Arceus," Samuel started, briefly looking up at the sky again. "Bless these rings which noble Lord Benga and Fair Princess Clair have set apart to be visible signs of the inward and spiritual bond which unites their hearts. As they give and receive these rings, may they testify to the world of the covenant made between them."
Benga took a ring. Clair held out her hand, so he could slip the ring on. "Receive and wear this ring as a symbol of my trust, my respect and my love for you."
Clair returned the favour. She was secretly glad that she was second otherwise she wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't as if anyone had given her a script that Samuel and Benga seemed familiar with. "Receive and wear this ring as a symbol of my trust, my respect and my love for you." She slid the ring on his finger and kept her eyes fixed on his face. He smiled at her, raising his hands as an invitation for her to grab them. She smiled back hoping it seemed genuine and held his hands with her own.
"This circle will now seal the vows of this marriage and will symbolize the purity and endlessness of their love," Samuel announced. "We will now to the ancient priest hand fastening ritual where three cords will be placed over their joined hands. Lance will now place the burgundy rope to symbolize romance, partnership and happiness."
Lance came forward to tie the rope around their bound hands. He still didn't make eye contact with her. Clair tried to keep a straight face. This ceremony had already gone on for far too long. She just wanted to go back to her room and contemplate the boring life she'd soon be living.
"Chuck will now place the ivory rope which stands for peace, sincerity and devotion," Samuel said, gesturing for the man to come forth with his rope. Chuck obliged and did as asked then stepped away. "Edward Blackthorn will now place the gold rope which represents unity, prosperity and longevity." Her grandfather stepped forward to fasten the rope around their hands. She felt a bit foolish standing here with her hands on Benga's own, but she knew this position wouldn't last much longer. "Lastly, I Samuel Oak will tie the cords together to signify the tying of the knot."
He tied all three pieces of rope together loosely, so it would be easy to untie afterwards. Benga looked into her eyes. She focused her attention on the bridge of his nose instead. "Truly, I am a lucky man," Benga whispered. She forced a grin, fighting off the urge to roll her eyes at his comment. He certainly wasn't unlucky.
Samuel continued. "As this knot is now tied, so are your lives now bound. Woven into this cord, imbued into its very fibers, are all the hopes of thy friends and family, and of thyselves, for a new life together. With the fashioning of this knot, you tie all the desires, dreams, love, and happiness wished here in this place to your lives for as long as love shall last. In the joining of hands, the fashioning of a knot, so are your lives now bound, one to another. By this cord you are thus now and forevermore bound to your vow." He paused for a few moments then spoke again. "May this knot remain tied for as long as love shall last. May this rope draw your hands together in love, never to be used in anger. May the vows you have spoken never grow bitter in your mouths. As any child discovers when they are learning to tie their own shoes, the first move is to cross the ends. As your hands are bound by this cord, so is your partnership held by the symbol of this knot. Two entwined in love, bound by commitment and fear, sadness, and joy, by hardship and victory, anger, and reconciliation, all of which brings strength to this union. Hold tight to one another through both good times and bad and watch as your strength grows. I shall now remove the cords."
Thank Arceus, Clair thought. What a waste of time. It wasn't as of the ropes were bestowed with some magical power. Still, she was thankful the ropes were being removed. She felt a bit foolish.
Benga smiled again. "To our new future," he whispered.
Again, she forced a smile. May a life without freedom begin, she thought sourly.
"Thou hast pledged troth of thy own free will and sworn upon the sword, thou hast exchanged rings and been bound together by the ritual of the cords. May it be granted that what is done before the gods be not undone by man." Samuel turned to Benga then Clair. "Before I proclaim you joined, thou must kiss three times on cue. Once for luck, twice for love and thrice for long life."
Clair's jaw almost dropped. Three times? Wasn't once enough? Benga didn't seem bothered by this at all and he leaned in. Kissing was something she had never done before. She was a princess after all, and no princess could kiss a man until given permission. She had to remain pure and innocent. Fortunately, Benga was more than happy enough to take the leading role. He kissed her once on the left cheek, then another on the right, before finally pressing his lips against her own.
"By the power vested in me by King Edward Blackthorn, I now pronounce you Lord Benga and Princess Clair, husband and wife."
His words were met by a round of applause from the crowd. Clair turned to face the crowd as Benga did the same. He waved to the people. She just wanted to take a bath and wash his taste off her face. The crowd parted, and the guards stepped forward. She was supposedly going to be escorted to the city gates to go on another trip around the countryside with her new husband. How thrilling. She hoped she'd have some time alone afterwards. Karen had promised to take her to the slave pits. She had to have some excitement in her soon to be dull and mundane life.
Benga held out his hand. She took his hand and allowed him to guide her down the steps and through the parted crowd. People called things out to her, but she didn't pay any attention to their words. She didn't even make eye contact with the commoners. What was the point? It wasn't as if she was ever going to befriend any of them. Besides, she'd be leaving the city in a few days. Benga waved to the people. He seemed to enjoy the attention.
"This is the beginning of something new, Clair. A new world in which we can all be free and live in peace and harmony."
She kept her mouth shut. He still believed in his foolish dream, but would he survive to see his dreams become a reality? The man didn't know much about fighting at all. How would he protect her if trouble fell upon them? She didn't know anything about the military and defences of the Unovan people. But if the prince wasn't a fighter then she didn't have many hopes for the rest of them. Only time would tell. Remaining silent, she simply nodded to show she was listening and allowed him to guide her down the path through the cheering peasants.
People celebrated in the streets and inside the tavern. Only the castle knights and the Unovan soldiers could celebrate within the castle walls. The castle servants were tending to the soldiers, running back and forth bringing food and ale. Lance sat at the table at the front of the hall next to Benga. Edward sat on Clair's left his expression unreadable.
Red and pink roses decorated their table to celebrate the special occasion. There were even roses hanging off the other tables in the hall, a stark contrast to the usual dreary room. There were candles for each table as the wall braziers could not be lit because of the castle banners on the walls. On the eastern wall, the Unovan symbol of a giant flying insect filled each red and white banner, whilst the western wall had the dragon head banners. A union of the two houses.
Lance observed the crowd. The crowd was alive with laughter and singing. He spotted Siebold with some Unovan knights laughing raucously about something someone said. They were all red in the face from a combination of laughter and strong ale. Only the castle servants were not celebrating. He spotted Lyra with Ethan at opposite end of the hall. They were both on their knees scrubbing away at the ground.
"Do not look so sour, Lance," Prince Benga said, raising his goblet to his lips. "Tonight, we celebrate! You should drink your wine, or I might have to have it for you. It would be a shame to let it go to waste."
"You can have it. I'd prefer to leave tomorrow morning with a clear mind." He pushed his full goblet towards Benga. In the early hours of the morning, he had to leave for Violet City and escort the priest back home. He also had to meet with Bruno at the weeping willow tree which sat upon the hill overlooking Violet City.
Benga chuckled, his face red. "Arceus smiles upon me tonight! I am truly a fortunate man!"
"Indeed," Lance replied dryly. "I wish you all the best for the future."
Benga placed a hand on Lance's shoulder. "We will make the world a better place for our children. Can you imagine a world without a need for war?"
Lance snorted. "They are just dreams, Benga. There will always be war."
"You do not have strong faith, but Clair believes. I told her my plans and she supports them."
The man was an outright fool. Lance wanted to get away from him, but Clair would be most disappointed if he left her wedding celebration. What was his grandfather thinking in making Clair marry such a blathering idiot? "Of course."
"In my ideal world, there would be no need for any of this," Benga said, raising his hands and gesturing to the crowd. "We would all be equals."
"A nice dream, but impossible. There will always be a difference in class."
Lance searched for Lyra in the crowd again. He found her talking to a burly Unovan soldier. The man was twice her height and holding a drink in his right hand. Lyra took a step back, but the man grabbed her arm. Lance surged to his feet and walked around the tables, sticking to the shadows to not draw too much attention.
"Leave her be," Lance snapped.
The Unovan soldier turned around with a scowl, his face a bright shade of red. There was even drool coming down the right side of his mouth. He reeked of strong ale. "What? You want her too?" He turned to Lyra. The poor girl was trembling. "Fine. You can have her. I'll find another wench to cure my thirst."
Lance glared at the man as he walked away then shifted his attention to Lyra. "Did he hurt you?" he said, examining her wrists for any signs of injury. Nothing but a bit of redness.
She shook her head. Still trembling, she said, "I thought he was thirsty."
Lance held her arms gently and waited for the girl to stop shaking. "He meant to use you for other means in the later hours of the night. Our knights are sworn to chastity until they retire, but the Unovans are not the same. They will do as they please." And he had no choice but to let both Clair and Lyra enter an entirely new landscape.
"You intervened."
"You're Clair's personal maid. As long as you are within this city, you are under my protection."
"Thank you."
He gave her a brief smile. "You do not need to thank me."
She looked down at her feet, as if embarrassed by something. He tried to think of something to say to comfort her, but no words came to mind. They both knew in a few days she would be departing for Unova, and no one would protect them. Especially not a serving girl. He doubted Clair would extend her protections to her maid.
The Unovan knight returned to the table. Every so often, he'd glance in Lance's direction, and exchange words with his comrades. One of the knights even pointed at him, but no one acted – no one wanted to risk making a fool of themselves in front of their prince in a foreign land. "The night is far from over, and these men will continue to drink until they can no longer walk properly. I'm sending you back to the castle quarters."
"But I'm Clair's personal maid."
"And I overrule her. It's for your own safety." He looked into her eyes. "If anyone asks, I'll just say you had to go and do something for me. No one will question me." Except for his grandfather, but he hoped the old man hadn't noticed.
"What if I'm needed?"
"There are other castle servants they can call upon."
"What if Clair needs me?"
He frowned at her. "Do you want to be safe, or spend the rest of our night harassed by drunken soldiers? I don't want any harm to come to you. If Sheila asks why you've returned, tell her I sent you. She won't ask. Now go. Sleep well."
She didn't ask more questions, and hurried away, slinking into the night. Even the soldiers had lost interest returning to their conversation. Lance returned to the front table and took his seat once more. Benga had left to obtain more food for himself, and Clair took the opportunity to occupy his seat.
"I saw what you did."
"No harm should come to your serving girl, Clair."
Clair rolled her eyes. "She's a slave, Lance. That's her job. Be submissive."
He glanced at her and narrowed his eyes. "Is that a position you would like to find yourself in?"
"No. But why do you even care? In a few days, you won't ever see her again. She'll be become just a distant memory." She looked down at her lap, fiddling with her fingers, uneasy. "I do not look forward to the events after the celebrations over. I've lost control over myself, Lance. Benga owns me now."
"I'm sorry." He had nothing else to say. It wasn't as if he could make Clair stay home and risk making an enemy of the Unovan people. If the necromancers were planning something, then they didn't want to fight two wars at once. "I will try to visit."
"What? To see me or my servant?" She looked at him now.
He frowned. "Lyra cannot protect herself. How would it look if that soldier had impregnated your serving girl?"
Clair pressed her lips into a thin line, folding her arms over her chest, her right leg crossed over the other. A gesture of annoyance. A stance Clair often took. "You care more about her than you do about me. You're not going to intervene when Benga forces himself onto me."
"You are his wife, Clair," Lance replied, his voice low. "I cannot interfere. There are rules."
"You're so obedient, Lance. For once in your life, I wish you'd just put yourself first." She turned away and looked straight ahead, pretending to smile when the people looked at her. "Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow morning and this will all be some horrible nightmare." She shuffled back to her seat again as Benga returned carrying another plate of food.
"If only," Lance murmured.
