Evening had come and the castle was lit by thousands upon thousands of candles with all present clutching one for warmth as well. Quite naturally, Princess Stayen drew all of the attention as her bridal procession made its way down the paler stone steps that left the Wallwalk progressing towards the Groom’s Entourage impatiently waiting at the farthest end of the Grand Inner Ward. She stared straight ahead, her eyes fixed, glassy most would have said had they not been hidden by an inordinately heavy and out of place looking veil. Emissary Yot had taken it upon himself to ensure that just the proper mix of opiates had been administered… and, for the first time in her young life, Steyan was dull and seemingly lifeless.
His Soliness, Celebrant Kreppt, performed the matrimonial ceremony which breezed to its conclusion without the barest hint of a hitch…or at least that was the private joke shared between Bram and his long time tutor. The blood of the newlyweds was mingled in the sacred vase which was sealed, lit ablaze, and fired into the heavens to explode in showers of the most glorious fireworks ever seen. The only deviance from Royal traditions were the connubial vows which, for the first time ever, were not uttered by either Bride or Groom but captured instead within the sentiments of a solitary poem which to many seemed to emphasize the union of two lands more so than two hearts.
Let this night bring with it many days
with heart in mind and blissful ways
of peace and sharing and hope and trust
in boundaries broken and ground to dust.
Let two bodies merge to unite as one—
two worlds; two lands; every distinction unsung
for giving and dividing and conquering hearts
of two peoples together that never shall part.
As the full moon stood glaringly still, a white carriage, boasting sixteen white stallions, took the new royal couple away in grand fashion; once again under a hailstorm of exploding fireworks. As the carriage dwindled from sight the festivities quickly ended however, for the ceremony had lasted well into the night and it was after all a Day of Intolerant Light to follow with the coming of Death’s Dawn.
Once a month the sun rose rampant and ruthless; in fact so cruel that it burned all that it touched thus crops were shielded; all flammable structures reinforced or tucked away; while the entirety of Halyshea barricaded themselves within the walls of their stone houses where they sweated it out in a day long ago proclaimed wisely for prayer. And so it was that the peasants of Halyshea quickly finished their glasses with last minute toasts of goodwill and love towards the royal union to briskly depart, leaving the soldiers the task of cleaning up which included the dismantling of the new ballista for its wooden exterior had not yet been heat treated.
Keane stood in the shadows of his dingy dungeon cell beside the solitary window though beyond reach of the yellow beam that dared still insist his world to exist. His untouched dinner sat exactly as it had been set down, well not quite exactly for the tiny claws of two small mice could be heard scratching against the metal plate as they shared what could only be considered a most mammoth feast between them. The bottom of the thick wooden door behind them had been hinged very poorly allowing the tiny creatures easy access indeed.
It was at that moment Keane recognized his means of escape— but did nothing— for no longer had he anywhere to go that mattered. He stepped forward and stood in front of the steel slatted window, staring at the full moon. He took a step back so the shaft of light hit him squarely in the chest and his mind became clear and set in its ways. He would stand like this until Death’s Dawn… when the Malevolent Sun would rise to purge a hole through the heart he could no longer feel beating.
It seemed he was no longer in charge and his world had other plans for him for a squad of six guards came and moved him to a cell that would allow access to the King’s Court without risk of death by sunshine. His hands and feet were shackled and his mouse-picked dinner tossed down before him one more time which he kicked at his oppressors in disgust. His eyes met each of those of his lost guard sending a clear message; he would kill them all if he only got the chance. He had no King; he had no country… no land; no world… no woman to grace his side. He wanted to escape and go to her though he was afraid of all he might find… and, worse still, what she might bid him do to ease her pain for he knew her pride and tenacity all too well.