The silence stretched for minutes, as around them, everyone held their breath. Though they were at far greater advantage if war broke out, she couldn't help but sense the numbers meant nothing to the creature before her.
Even the courtiers and the archbishop, and even spectators who had gathered to watch could only retain their breath, awaiting the call for action.
One thing was certain that this night wasn't meant for peace.
Even Lucrezia knew too. She knew how this was going to end but not on the night of her… wedding? Of this unholy martyrdom beneath moonlight and omen. But what was expected of it?
On her eighteenth birthday, Madelyn read a book about a girl falling in love with a Bastard. Being locked in the tower of the Red Keep didn't only take her voice—only used when the King requested her presence and sometimes to Madelyn—but deprived her of the ability to read. Or lest write.
Unlike any other Princesses, Lucrezia wasn't offered a governess, but Madelyn, who taught her a few basic things. She could read simple writing, but was not fluent enough, until it got to the extent that she stopped trying.
The story was a complicated love triangle, but in the end, things went well and they got married. That was the first time Lucrezia got to hear the word 'marriage'.
And ever since then, she'd always daydreamed of this day—her wedding day—just like every other ordinary girl in the land. In the bloom of spring, beneath banners and bells, just like how Madelyn described whenever she returned from the outskirts of the pack. In every childish daydream, the ending had been golden with the gentle promise of forever.
Though she was no longer considered young in the eyes of many, granted she lived in the tower of the castle a few times in one year, she never imagined it would happen this way.
Most of her time, she dreamed of getting married someday, and in every daydream, the end was always perfect. Never had she fantasized about getting married to Lucifer's half. Not in her raucous dream did she envision herself dressed in a black bridal gown rather than the usual white from the story; Love Of A Bastard.
Although convinced he wouldn't harm her—yet—Lucrezia understood the complications of this marriage. To protect her Kingdom from the punishment of Hell, and save her mother from the cruel hands of the Alpha, she must tread this path.
The bell chimed, indicating midnight.
And still, King Vladmir said nothing but held the moment in his palm, letting it stretch taut as a bowstring. But that silence screamed danger.
Even Queen Catherine paused but not in fear. The Luna of this Kingdom feared nothing—but even she could feel it; the intimidation of him born out of ice and fire. It stretched on forever, carrying the weight of unspoken thoughts and motives until finally, a voice, that voice she'd been hoping for, cut through the quiet like a dagger.
For the first time, King Vladimir's voice was cold and clipped, locked onto the creature across the floor. "The bride has been brought to you, as promised."
Lucreiza released a small sigh of relief but her heart sank next at the King's words. This was it. This was her life now.
A spider-webbed chill ran down her spine when that darkness intensified, swerving in her direction. Her pulse throbbed wildly, sending a surge of chillness down her spine. It was vigorous, stimulating enough to run her blood cold.
Throughout, she felt relieved of the unattention upon his arrival, hoping it could stay that way. However, just like an ancient accord, signed and sealed as her fate, it was impossible. Especially from that one gaze.
Her knees almost buckled from its intensity, knocking air out of her lungs. King Vladimir didn't mention who the bride was, but it seemed the creature needn't be told who it was.
Heart throbbing wildly against her chest, Lucrezia clutched and unclenched her skirt, rubbing her sweaty palms against it when she felt his shadow move.
It was like the world had shrunk into a breathless chamber starved of air, as if someone had knocked the breath right out of her.
Time seemed to move slowly yet fast in a sporadic accord, denying her the ability to process everything. Process the fact that she was now married or the bride to the Lord of Sin?
She didn't realize that throughout, she kept her head lowered until his voice broke through her haze of anxiety. "Look at me,"
Lucrezia jerked slightly at the coldness in his voice, gulping the lump down her throat. It was raw and raspy, a kind belonging to something she'd never heard. So deep, so cold yet so void, like the life in that voice had long been sucked away, leaving nothing but emptiness.
With firm hesitation and anxiety coursing through her veins, her head inclined above in a torturously slow pace, violent enough that she didn't acknowledge the red-hot glare lobbed her way, dispersing her body like poison. She knew she couldn't mess this up; the Alpha, Luna, and Gammas, did well to remind her.
Run, Lucrezia. Run.
But the voice was mocking and audacious. Instead, she dragged in sufficient breath to tame her throbbing heart and swallowed the lump down her throat, unable to control her heart beating so fast she thought she would vomit.
Lucifer was known to possess ugly traits with a grotesque mask of ruin and malignancy with veins of molten gold pulsing beneath a skin color of sickening ashen gray. Horns curled grotesquely from his forehead and back to his crown of bone and fire; bones made out to form a Sin and fire burning in their veins.
A Sin she was betrothed to.
Lucrezia couldn't begin to name the things curling at the depths of her mind until her eyes met his.
And the world froze.
The first thing that bewitched her was those bright hazel eyes gleaming with void and festered with infernal rot.
He was young—or at least what Lucrezia could see of his face seemed young. His nose, cheeks, and brows were covered by an exquisite golden mask embedded with emeralds shaped like whorls of leaves. Some absurd fashion, no doubt. It left only his eyes—looking the same as they had been, strong jaw, and mouth for her to see, and the latter tightened into a thin line which surprised her.
His features, his body, his… human-like… No horns, no wings, no long and sharp canines spewing from the sides of his mouth, and sure not a monstrous shape of head with blight in his skin and claws.
He was tall, so tall her head barely reached his chest when she inclined to get a better view of this breathtaking creature.
This person was not a man, not a Lord. He was one of the Seven Sins, one of their ruling nobility: beautiful… it struck her ego to think, his black long hair resting perfectly on his shoulder, lethal in his scars and merciless in the manner of his tone earlier.
Despite the faint illumination at the angle he positioned himself, Lucrezia caught those scars from all four corners of his face. Although it wasn't that sharp and noticeable from a distance, she could still see the cruel and permanent dance on his face.
"What's your name?" he spoke again, and she almost jerked from her position. Almost. If not the tiniest string of composure in her.
Quickly looking away, her head lowered, "O-Olenna," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. It was soft and scratchy, one she couldn't recognize.
Lucrezia had always been silent almost all her life. Apart from Madelyn, she rarely spoke, however did when required of her.
And at this point, talking seemed foreign to her. Her voice felt strange, ugly to hear, and she grimaced after. It had been two years since a word had last left her mouth that she almost forgot the sound. "Milord," and added at the end.
Her heart raced when he didn't respond and the silence stretched longer than necessary. D-Did he notice something different? That she wasn't her step-sister, Olenna? Was it her voice? Or her eyes? Or her physique? Or the unattractiveness behind the black tiara?
A swarm of unanswered questions piled in her mind in one go, stealing the air from her lungs. Despite the chill of the weather, the fresh breath of wind carrying an earthy scent which escaped into the room depicting the state of the weather outside, she was burning.
Finally, he moved, breaking the spell of coercion as air rushed back into her lungs. He didn't utter another word, and turned, walking away.
Lucrezia fidgeted, aware of that sign yet hesitated. Now would be the best time to call it off, to run when she still could, but it was already too late.
Sensing the heated gaze in her way, she took in a deep breath and moved, following after him. The aisle stretched towards the threshold, and she lingered behind, walking in reluctant yet measured steps.
Lucrezia could hear the hushed whispers behind, a mocking pity and dread. After all, the witch is finally gone.
The air felt too thick, pressing down on her like a weight, and a thousand unseen eyes came across to be watching, judging, and still, rejoicing.
"The witch is finally gone," Lucrezia heard one say as predicted, whispering to the person beside her.
She refused to let the pang of ache poison her rationality, after all, this was her life now. This was it.
The cursed destiny of a witch.
The earthy scent of the atmosphere outside welcomed her in a chilly embrace. For the first time, Lucreiza breathed in the fresh scent of nature rather than the usual incense and perfume, like a breath of new life.
It was tempting to reckon the thought of eluding this Kingdom. Eluding the place that brought more harm than good to her, a Kingdom and people that regarded her as worthless. A Cursed breed.
But the reality of it all, wasn't the freedom. Lucrezia failed to realize she'd only stepped from the pan into the fire.
Real fire.
The full moon was still out, however, half of it was coated bloody red, and she stutttered a breath. Even the heavens above condemned this union of a witch and Sin.
Two abominable creatures.
Finally, the carriage of obsidian black came into view. With her heart racing wildly against her chest, Lucrezia moved her suddenly stiff feet toward it, folding her hands over her stomach as if to shield herself from the eyes that followed her throughout.
She couldn't breathe. It was difficult to, even more difficult at the cruel hands of fate. She couldn't do this. She didn't want to shoulder the weight of everyone and her people. She wanted to be selfish and run. Disappoint them. But another part yearned to prove them wrong.
The veil over her face blurred everything but she knew where she headed. The path she was forced into. To a creature who didn't promise death but something darker. And she didn't want to.
Lucrezia wanted to turn and run far away, but she knew it was far too late. The carriage was opened for her, but the sweet attempt to run beckoned her name more than anything.
She was close to giving everything up, close to running away, but the face of her mother lay within that carriage.
"Mama…" Tears brimmed in her eyes as she muttered to herself. Thankfully, her tiara concealed everything perfectly well, including the line tear that unconsciously trailed down her cheek.
Realizing it was only her imagination running wild, she took another deep breath and proceeded.
He stood tall and regal, cold in whatever bone he was made from as he waited. The first bone of Lucifer and the last winter of Sin, he was described. But even with that unmistakable darkness, Lucrezia couldn't help but feel pulled by his presence in an extremely different way.
She feared him, yes, but at the same time… and she shook her head, burying that thought under the strong alcove of damnation.
Her gaze fell behind for one last time, evoking the outline of the castle to memory. It wasn't because Lucrezia feared she might not remember details when she returned, but she knew she most likely wouldn't.
Her mother…. and her heart clenched, knowing she was somewhere concealed behind the stone walls and oaken double doors.
She'll return soon, that promise kept her sanity. For the nth time, tears welled in her eyes and she took in a deep breath.
For the last time, her eyes fell on her father, King Vladmir, who returned the gesture with that familiar look of responsibility, reminding her of the path she could never retreat and its consequences.
A part of her wished he would intervene. Call off the wedding and save her soul like his daughter. Lucrezia never felt hatred for him, despite all he had done to her but he crossed the line with her mother. She never wanted his apology. All she wanted was his love but she knew better than that.
The bell tolled, breaking the stillness of the night but the darkness remained, strong ominous, and promising as it clocked half minutes past twelve.
And like a good lamb, Lucreiza stepped into the carriage without haste, lost in the words of the Archbishop as he spoke the rite.
Inside, the interior was velvet and shadow, warmer than expected, lined with silken cushions and silver filigree.
To reach the kingdom of her groom— if it could be called a kingdom—they would travel through the Old Roads. The ones buried beneath the world, made before maps, before gods, and perhaps, before names.
She knew this would be her undoing and wondered if she would live long enough to carry out her mission. Long enough to last for even a day. Deep down, Lucrezia wasn't just terrified of her future but of the darkness that awaited her.
Even though she didn't want to show it.