Hermia breathed deeply as she let Rosa and the other handmaidens she'd brought with her fuss over her long, white robe. Trimmed in gold, the pleated linen fabric was one of the most beautiful outfits Hermia had ever owned; although her father had the money to furnish a lavish wardrobe for her, she had never had much of a leaning toward that sort of thing.
Rosa's deft hands moved from the hem of her dress to arranging her hair, which had been teased carefully into loose corkscrews earlier that morning. The maidservants, in their stilted Latin, had described it as being like a halo of copper (Hermia had snorted in scorn). Rosa smoothed it over with a bit of wax,as the maidservant Maria set to work on lining her eyes, which had rolled at the mention of cosmetics earlier, with kohl. Rosa then pulled back the front of her hair and pinned it with ivories, and finally attached the long trains of fine-knit white cloth to them.
Maria brushed her cheeks once more, reddening them, and curtsied before Hermia. "You-you look like an angel, my lady. I wish you much happiness."
Hermia nodded and shooed her away, thanking Rosa and doing the same with all the handmaidens until she was left alone. A silver pane that served as a looking-glass hung on the stone wall in front of her, showing a demure-looking figure wrapped in white draping below the neck, with more falling around a bright crown of pearls and amber that lay around her face. Their was a thick mar in the mirror where that face should have been; Hermia could not see the thick, false shadows that lay about her eyes, or the rouge that dotted her lips and cheeks.
That's what I am, she thought, sighing. Beautiful but faceless.
The past few weeks, in which her leg had healed (it had turned out to be only a sprain) had left Hermia empty of most of her free will. Constant insulting and, rarely, threats of isolation by Draco had quickly taught her that it was better to not voice her murderous thoughts. Now, on her wedding morning, she felt no emotion whatsoever towards him: all anger had been buried deep beneath the surface, her grief had been subdued, hope of rescue by Potius and Wesellius had been abandoned. Even the happiness that Draco wanted her to portray at the ceremony felt false and rather pasty, much like the makeup that had been caked onto her usually suntanned cheeks, hiding- what had Rosa called it? Oh, yes, the servant's skin.' Hermia snorted for the millionth time that day.
And what's to happen now? Their carriage had taken Draco and his family to Rome the day before; Hermia and her entourage were set to depart in a matter of moments. The wedding would take place that night, at a large open garden in one of the more suburban areas of Rome. Her father and brother would be in attendance, as well as many of her childhood friends. So Hermia had resolved to herself that she would smile, say I do, greet hundreds of people warmly at the celebration afterwards. She would be the perfect wife.
At least, for the wedding.
**
Draco smoothed over his pale blond hair one last time as he paced around the pavilion that had been set up in the garden for the preparations. His father was at a final meeting with his future father-in-law; both mothers were roaming about the main garden area, ordering around slaves and slavewomen, placing flowers and pottery. Rows of benches, festooned with leafy garlands, had been placed in rows facing the simply white-draped altar. A single white bloom, spectacular, wide, and dewy, plucked from the garden of the Serpenti townhouse, floated in a small golden bowl in the center of the table.
He sighed and sat again, trying to calm down. This really shouldn't be that hard, he admonished himself; after all, he hated the girl. It would be rather nice to have a new flavor, though; at his father's bidding, he'd had a period of what his mother called cleanliness' since he had become engaged. Draco had found he missed the feeling of the warm body of Rosa or Lacrimosa beside him each morning.
Then he laughed, realizing that Hermia would probably make a rather enjoyable partner. She was so chaste, so innocent, so maidenly he wondered if she had ever been compromised by, what was his name, Christos. The boy had looked a bit thick to him, but, of course, he thought everyone was dull in comparison to himself.
**
The train of carriages sailed down the cobbled roadway, the windows curtained in white and their backs loaded with Hermia's trousseau. They stopped at the end of the street, before the set of torches that lit the entryway between two tall hedges into the garden. Hermia's mother, Flavia, waited at one side; Draco's mother, Narcissa, stood on the other. They both wore plain white gowns, and flowers in their hair, which on the parts of both was twisted up into a bun.
The drape that served as the door to the carriage was pulled open by Rosa, and Hermia dismounted. Her veil had been draped over her face, giving her the appearance of a mysterious yet blushing and innocent bride. Behind her carriage, one of Draco's sisters whom she'd chosen to be her bridesmaid- Lucia Tertia- and Aurelia, Lena, and Latia, her childhood friends who'd joined them when they'd entered the city. All wore simple headdresses of pearls interwoven with small white wildflowers, pinned from ear to ear, and their hair long. They each greeted the two mothers in turn; Hermia embraced hers, and felt tears come to her eyes (Rosa warned her not to cry, for her kohl would streak down her face, making it look as though she'd been weeping black paint).
Here, Cassius arrived, kissing his daughter on both cheeks and hugging her tightly.
"Oh, Hermia, my dearest daughter," he began, while wiping his eyes. "You know that this makes me happier than anything on earth. I always knew you would bring prestige and honor to our family."
Hermia sighed. There went my last shred of resignation, she thought reluctantly. Her father had unknowingly placed a huge responsibility on her shoulders. There was no way she could back out of this now.
Hermia hooked arms with her father, waved off Rosa, and inhaled deeply. The entourage lined up in front of and behind her- the mothers stood together at the head, followed by Hermia and Cassius. The bridesmaids- Lena, Latia, Aurelia, and Cornelia- came behind them, each holding a small gathering of white flowers. Hermia herself carried no flowers, but left that to Draco's youngest sister, Theodosia, who came at the very front, mainly looking adorable and sometimes tossing white flower petals into the air.
A lute tune, haunting and melodic, wafted on the spring breeze from somewhere ahead in the torchlit maze-garden, and Theodosia skipped forward. Hermia forced her feet to move, and somehow she found herself entering the main garden; it was brightly lit by a combination of a dozen torches and bright, unfiltered moon- and starlight overhead.
May it be
An evening star
Shines down upon you
May it be
When darkness falls
Your heart will be true
Still, the figures at the altar were shadowed with the contrast. Row upon row of people Hermia didn't know, all with dressed hair and pretty robes, lined the garden. The pathway for the bridal party was cleared, and the mothers and Theodosia hurried up the aisle to the altar.
Hermia bit her lip beneath her veil and gripped her father's arm more tightly as they began to move again. They were passing the people, who whispered and laughed and applauded appreciatively, but Hermia heard none of this. Her ears were blocked; her eyes could focus on nothing but her destination. Now she could make out Lucius' hair, more silver than blonde, and Draco's paler color; Theodosia, Flavia, and Narcissa's white gowns were easily visible. Between them stood a balding elderly man, robed in ivory, whose dark eyes were clouded with age.
You walk
A lonely road
Oh, how far you are from home
Now she was almost there, sweeping past the last torches, climbing the short flight of steps to the platform. Letting go of the gown she had lifted to take the stairs and folding over her veil the way Rosa had shown her, she detached herself from her father and turned to face Draco.
Mornie utulie
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie alantie
A promise lives within you now
Draco had watched, mesmerized, as the girl in white trailed down the aisle, then ascended the steps. Although he had known her identity somewhere in his subconscious, when she lifted her veil, he could not believe that this goddess-like creature was the same person as his shrewish, unwilling fiancee, who spent all her time either moaning about home, reading books, or insulting him. Her skin shimmered in the moonlight; her hair reflected the torchlight in its russet curls; her expression was unreadable. She seemed to be wavering between a glare and an excited smile.
Hermia tried to keep her lips neutral; she had a tendency to write what she was thinking all over her face. The officiant began to read the vows, but she paid very little attention, as Draco had found her hands, cold and numb, and was taking them in his. All she knew was that the proceedings had, well, proceeded without difficulty until the priest got to the part about whether anyone objected.
Two hedges pushed apart in the center, revealing two very scruffy, tired-looking boys. Potius and Wesellius stood there, not even bothering to brush themselves off; Potius manage to gasp out that they did.
The priest looked rather indignant. "On what counts?"
Wesellius looked up and moved closer to the stand, glaring at Draco. "He-"
Hermia knew what she had to do. Extracting her hands from his, she lightly ran down the steps and placed a hand against Wesellius' lips. "This man has nothing to say," she told the priest, but keeping her eyes fixed on his.
May it be
The shadow's call
Will fly away
"What?" asked Potius, stepping forward.
"I said," Hermia continued, her eyes still not leaving Wesellius'. "That their reason is no longer valid."
Wesellius took hold of her wrist and yanked her hand away from his mouth. "What are you talking about, Lady Hermia? You don't love him!" He pointed a firm finger at Draco, his eyebrows lowering violently.
Hermia glanced at Draco, looking desperate. "Wesellius, Potius, I don't need your help. I thank you kindly for your offers, but I know my path."
May it be your journey on
To light the day
When the night is overcome
Potius' face took on a very different expression, one of understanding and disappointment. It tore a bit at Hermia's heart. "Wesellius, come on," he told his friend, imitating Hermia in that, though he was not speaking to her, his eyes did not leave her face.
Wesellius was frozen silent. Hermia glanced at Draco again, this time warningly; then she tilted her face upward and kissed Wesellius. She pulled away quickly and whispered something unintelligible in his ear. He nodded slowly and followed Potius through the hole they'd made in the hedge.
Hermia felt rather empty inside.How was she to know that she had done the right thing? Is this what I want? she asked herself as she repositioned herself at the altar. She knew the answer. It wasn't what she wanted; it was what her mother, her father wanted, and Hermia also knew that she could never let them down. This was a sacrifice, indeed; the question was, was it a sacrifice she was prepared to make?
You may rise to find the sun
Mornie utulie
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie alantie
The priest had begun to read the vows once again. Neither Draco nor Hermia had prepared endearing speeches; Lucius simply motioned for him to continue with the ceremony. So they came at last to the questioning.
"Serpentius Draco, do you take this woman to be yours, a mother to your children, a head to your household, a light to your life?"
Draco's old smirk returned in full force, darkening his face and words as he answered. "Aye, I do."
"And Cassius Hermia?" The officiant did not bother to finish the question.
Hermia tilted her face fully upward and looked Draco directly in his silver, catlike eyes. "Aye, I do."
They were the hardest three words she had ever had to say.
A promise lives within you now
A promise lives within you now
A/N: So, how do you like it? Sorry for the long wait on the update (wow! 4 months!), but I had a) serious writer's block, b) no time to write, though I did have a ton of ideas, and c) some trouble with storylines and plots. It took me a while to decide on the outline for this chapter, but once I did, I wrote it in about two hours! Yeah! Go me! (well, it was kinda short sorry, it's chronic)
Anyways, if you're happy that I updated, you have the one and only Rachel Hunt to thank (look her up; her stories are quite good). She inspired me and got me going on this chapter, so thank you! Yay for Rachel!
This is probably the last chapter, but if you want me to add an epilogue of any sort, tell me in a review and I'll get right on it! I think I resolved it pretty nicely, though I'll probably get some crap for making Hermione end up marrying Draco, and having her kiss Ron at the wedding yeah, well also, I'm not exactly an expert on ancient Roman wedding ceremonies, but I'm setting this after Rome's conversion to Christianity. I still don't know much about what marriage rituals were like, though, so please don't flame me for the technicalities on that. I apologize humbly.
The song used is May It Be,' by Enya, which is from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack and, I thought, fits perfectly with this chapter. And you know those words- mornie utulie, mornie alantie? They mean darkness has come, darkness has fallen.' Just so you know.
Also, since I want to get this up ASAP and answering reviews in the chapter takes forEVER, here's the deal:
To add an epilogue, I'm going to need at least 10 reviews telling me to. If you guys do this for me, I'll write and post the epilogue, with review answers included, as soon as I can.Got it? Well, get reviewing! Love you ALL!
~Goldenberry~
starice@hotmail.com
P.S. Congratulations to Rachel Hunt, again, on being my 100th reviewer! Go her! Let's see, it's at 116 reviews now ** calculates ** 116 divided by 6 WOW! That's like 20 reviews per chapter! Did I mention that I love you guys SO MUCH? Also, if you review, I will most likely read and review your fic, so