The Lord of the Lake (7)

A serialised dark romantic fantasy novella

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Previously: Chapter 6

Chapter 7: The wedding night

Thymia observed Ulrich’s hands; his palms were strong, wide, and pale, with skin nearly too soft for a man, but it suited the gentle prince. A single golden ring shone on one of his stumpy fingers. Thymia wore an exact copy of Ulrich’s ring - it signified their engagement. The wedding was to take place after some days; Thymia and her family had been living in the King’s castle, in the capital of Hebeny nearly all summer. 

Ulrich hovered around her like an enraptured butterfly. Both of them were taking a walk in the King’s garden near the castle. 

Ulrich was truly wonderful - kind and loving, caring, and polite, handsome and strong, and Thymia felt nothing toward him… then why did both appear to be deeply in love? They were in love, but not with each other. Every time Thymia had to show Ulrich her affections, she imagined Erko instead of him. She knew it was vile and wrong, but as much as she loved the prince’s company, she could not stand his nearness. The poor man didn’t even notice, completely overtaken by his own happiness.

Just now, Thymia knew he was leading her to a half-collapsed pavilion, covered in blooming wild roses; it was a secret spot for young inhabitants of the castle to take pleasure in each other’s nearness. 

Oh, well! Thymia guessed, she’ll have to play the pretending game again. The poor fool almost melted from ecstasy as both kissed passionately behind the blooming roses. Thymia felt disgusted with herself - instead of a dark-skinned face of an Autumnian, a pale, red-cheeked one stood with his eyes closed, leaning for another kiss. Enough with the pretending! Thymia turned away and paced out of the pavilion. 

Ulrich had already noticed his bride’s sudden mood swings - oh, well! He can live with that. With the wedding coming soon, he was the happiest man in the world.

Thymia had taken a Snakeling sword with her to practice sword fighting in the garden. She began swinging the blade back and forth, keeping Ulrich from coming nearer. 

“You don’t need sword fighting, my dear. The castle is well guarded. The only sword you’ll have to lift will be the ceremonial sword at our wedding,” said the smiling prince.

“I’m not doing it for safety. I’m doing it for my enjoinment,” she retorted, still swinging the sharp, slightly bent Snakeling blade. Thymia hated her own cowardice - she should have called the wedding off long ago yet could not find the courage to do so; Ulrich was indeed the best man she had ever met, and she would be a fool to give him up. It’s all Erko’s fault! It’s just like him - to mess with her heart, and then die!

“The irresponsible scumbag!” She thought out loud.

“What?” Ulrich heard her.

“Oh, nothing,” she stopped practicing, and put the sword down. Just the chance Ulrich was waiting for.  He pranced toward the girl, embraced her body tightly, leaning for another kiss. Thymia closed her eyes pretending… Why couldn’t she be as happy as Ulrich was? Will she have to imagine Erko instead of Ulrich on their wedding night as well? No! The thought was sickening. She will call the wedding off, prophecy or no prophecy. Crane can shove her prophecy where the sun doesn’t shine! 

***

The sun had barely risen from the darkness when Oriole flew down from the higher shack. Erko’s shouting echoed far across the woods.

“Having nightmares?” She woke him up.

“What?”

“You called Thymia in your sleep again,” said Oriole. She made him some tea, but it didn’t help. Nothing did - every night since Thymia’s engagement, Erko called her in his sleep. He requested Snakegrass, which Oriole, of course, wouldn’t give him. Erko claimed, just one smoke - he’ll sleep like a baby. 

“If I could, at least, have some booze…” Erko pondered.

“No booze for Cranes apprentices!” Oriole objected.

“Crane doesn’t consider me a real apprentice. She wouldn’t even invite me to Nidum.”

Oriole frowned but said nothing. He was right; Crane lived in Nidum, the Birdling Queen’s  castle, with the Elders, she often invited her apprentices to take part in their meetings, or to do some reading in the castle library. Not Erko, not even once. Oriole decided to deal with this injustice.

“You’re coming to Nidum tomorrow,” she told Erko after meeting Crane.

“Really? How so?”

“But you’ll have to wear a hooded cloak, so nobody gets startled by your likeness with that man,” Oriole explained.

“How very kind of Crane,” Erko grinned.

“You want to go or not?”

“Alright, I’ll wear the hood.”

Erko wasn’t eager to participate in the meeting of the Elders, nor did he want to study in the library. He was bored to death living in the shack; besides, he had heard wondrous stories about the capital of Birdlings and the Nidum castle. 

Erko wasn’t disappointed. The Birdling city build into the treetops was grand; Blackwood houses, decorated with colourful ornaments far above the ground, and the castle - an enormous building, richly inlaid with green gemstones, songbirds flying in and out the opened windows singing their joyful songs, for they’ve finally come home, after being away the whole winter. 

Crane didn’t want Erko to be seen by the Birdling Elders, she made him go directly to the library. Oriole joined him, mostly out of sympathy.

He didn’t really care about the meeting of the Elders, he wasn’t eager to study; Erko paced through the beautifully furnished library, idly glancing over all those…books. Oriole found a hefty volume and some parchments on the usage of spring wildflowers in potions and didn’t waste any time - the future-healer delved into the knowledge of Birdling magic. Erko leisurely reclined on a richly cushioned windowsill, looking at the city of Nidum. Then he picked up a book somebody had left between the cushions. “The history of Autumna” - oh how very fascinating! Erko grinned to himself, and look! Some fool had even folded the corner of the page with High King Damian on it! Who would want to stare at that scumbag? Erko frowned, it was his own face staring back from the picture. 

He flipped through the book, accidentally opening the page with the description of Autumnian wedding dance. A sharp pain stung his heart - almost a year had pasted since he and Thymia danced… Erko kept reading, he sat up straight, then closed the book with a sly smile all over his face.

“Did you read something good?” Oriole noticed him smiling.

“Very good,” Erko confirmed. He took some more books - on the history and customs of Hebeny, and on plants used to cure insomnia. Oriole shrugged seeing his sudden dedication to studying but said nothing.

***

Thymia hated the dawning day the very moment she opened her eyes. She had dreaded it would turn out this way. Ulrich - the kind soul - had sent an enormous bouquet of roses to her chamber first thing in the morning. Very early in the morning… Thymia tossed and turned in bed; the sickly-sweet scent of roses made her queasy, the air felt hot and heavy, and there was not much time left to sleep anyway - soon enough a whole pack of maids marched into her chamber, the bride had to be dressed up for the ceremony.

Wrapped up in layers and layers of the finest white silk, richly embroidered with gold and emerald-green threads - the colours of Hebeny - Thymia looked at herself in the mirror. This was not the face of a happy bride. The tight gown squeezed the life out of her, the heavy emerald-and-gold necklace choked her; woefully Thymia remembered - nearly a year had passed since her make-believe wedding with Erko.  Back then she wore nothing but her own white, airy petticoat dress, they had the setting sun as the Ceremony Master, the sleeping dog as their only wedding guest, the blooming meadow as the festive hall and the lake as their wedding bed.

One more minute and she would’ve shaken off the heavy rags of silk and glittering gems, luckily her little sisters ran in cheering, along with her mother.

“You are the most precious, loveliest of all brides!” High Queen Eliani exclaimed, wiping tears from her eyes.

Thymia, all teary-eyed replied:

“I miss him so much, mother!”

“Don’t despair! You’ll see dear Ulrich soon enough,” mother consoled her.

“Not him! Nothing has healed me - not even Crane’s prophecy, nor the time passing. None of it has stopped me from loving him!” Thymia cried.

“You’re just anxious about the wedding, my dear. As soon as you see Ulrich, everything will fall into place,” the High Queen embraced her.  

“Slightest outburst from you, and you’ll feel the wrath of this old Birdling witch!” Crane threatened Erko, whilst walking into the festive hall of the castle. Erko made her take him to the wedding; of course, Crane and her apprentices were invited. Erko insisted - if Crane wouldn’t have taken him, he’d find a way to get there anyway. He had to see Thymia wed to another man, to finally be at peace. 

Heavy-heartedly, Crane took him to Hebeny, but Erko was to wear the hood over his face at all times.

“Promise me not to interfere with the Ceremony. Promise!” Oriole demanded as they were seated in the hall. 

“Alright, alright. I promise,” the grey-hooded man replied, looking around lively. 

The wedding ceremony was hefty and pompous, Erko got bored, yawning most of the time. He looked the groom up and down - so, this was the man who will take his place by Thymia’s side, instead of Erko? A poor choice - the prince looked gentle and pure, he’d probably never tasted a single drop of booze in his life. Although, some might think differently…

“Careful not to slobber all over your dress, Oriole. You’re eating the golden princeling with your eyes,” Erko whispered in her ear.

“Oh, shut your mouth!” She retorted, not taking her sight off the prince.

Then came the bride. She was more beautiful than Erko remembered, although he still preferred her in the petticoat dress, or even better - with no dress at all!

As the ceremony went on, Thymia could barely stand up straight. She felt faint a couple of times, yet still managed to brace herself - Ulrich looked so happy. He smiled like the gentle springtime sun caressing the frozen earth. Thymia forced a smile but could not go on pretending. She must put an end to this madness! The Master of Ceremony asked the consensual question. “Yes!” Ulrich replied loudly, smiling all over his face.

Thymia was about to say “no”, but to her own great surprise, the bride lowered her sight and replied “yes”. What a coward she was! Thymia scolded herself internally but could do nothing. They were wed, Ulrich kissed her gently, the crowd cheered, so did the people outside when the newlyweds greeted them on the castle balcony. A storm erupted from the dark clouds above them, pouring rain, but Ulrich didn’t care. He was the happiest man in the kingdom. 

Both raised the Ceremonial sword together; yet again Thymia looked at Ulrich’s hand holding hers - it was not the hand of the one she wanted… But nothing could be done.

“… and I believe the fruitful weather outside is a sign for the many little footsteps of the grandchildren I’m expecting to arrive soon enough after this wedding,” Ulrich’s father King Ulf finished his speech, with the guests laughing and cheering. All raised glasses. 

Thymia couldn’t drink or eat anything. The wedding celebration blurred out into a lengthy nightmare. Only thought on her mind was of the dreaded wedding night. She could barely stand kissing Ulrich. He was wonderful, but Thymia saw him as nothing more than a friend. How is she supposed to sleep with the man? The bride felt sick to her stomach, one more minute, and she would vomit right at the table. Luckily, it was high time for the newlyweds to be escorted from the celebration - no, not to the wedding chamber directly. They were led to their own rooms to take off the heavy ceremonial clothes and slip into something more suitable for the wedding night.

The maid helped Thymia change into a light, silky night dress. The bride begged the maid to leave her alone for a minute, she needed to pull herself together.

Thymia looked at her reflection in the mirror with tears flowing down her face, sobbing, and hiccupping. This won’t do! The girl turned away to get a handkerchief. Unexpectedly, a grey-cloaked figure emerged from the shadow of the curtains and grabbed her from behind, pressing a herb-scented cloth to her face. Thymia fought back, the scent made her weary, she cried for help and fainted. The maid rushed into the room, just to witness the grey-cloaked intruder jump out of the window holding the bride. 

Vaguely Thymia felt falling down, and strangely enough - the rain drops seemed to gather beneath them to cushion the fall.   They did not land entirely softly - the man hit his behind on the ground, shielding Thymia from the impact.

“That did not go well!” The man noted to himself moaning.

He limped forward, clumsily carrying the bride over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

With the thunderstorm raging, the castle guards noticed the lonely stranger running away from the castle grounds, when he was already far ahead.

“Who goes there? Stop at once!”

He picked up the pace, running downhill from the steep riverbank.

Without hesitation, the man jumped into the black stream. The impact and the freezing-cold water made Thymia come back to her senses, but she didn’t dare to fight - it appeared the current held the two, carrying them down the stream unnaturally fast.

Thymia struggled to take a breath with the water hitting her face, soon enough she began to shiver from the cold. Finally, the man turned to the riverbank, and the stream obeyed, pushing both of them onto the shallow shore. 

“Let go of me! What do you want?” She punched the man’s crotch, he moaned, loosening his grip. 

“I wanted to return something you’ve lost,” Erko took off his hood, holding his mother’s golden ring in his open palm. 

“Erko?”

“In the flesh!” The man smiled.

“You died. I saw your sight fade!”

“Oh that? I may have played along a bit, or else Raven would’ve cut my throat. But after you were gone, I nearly died of blood loss,” Erko explained carelessly.

“You pretended to die?”

“Yes, but now I’m all good, and I’ve come back to you, dearest!” He opened his arms ready to be embraced.

The fool! Thymia ran up and punched him in the face. Then she hit his stomach, then his smiling face again; she pushed the tall man into the water, kicking, punching, and screaming in a raging fury. All the time he laughed and moaned wholeheartedly.

“Why… are… you… laughing… fool…?” Thymia cried each word out with a kick.

“I’m so happy to see you again!” Erko laughed, stretching his arms to embrace her. It was too much! Thymia jumped on Erko, trying to drown him! Magically the water retreated from his face. Erko grabbed the girl, rolled over and laid on top of her, holding Thymia down with his weight.

“Easy there, don’t overdo it!” He said, breathing rapidly.

“What?! You’re going to take me by force? It’s just like you!” Thymia gasped.

“Very tempting,” Erko still held her down in the shallow water, “but not tonight.”

He got up.

“Tonight, you choose!”

Thymia pushed his hand aside. The infuriated bride walked away along the river.

“Where are you going, silly? Come back, let’s get our clothes dry!”

“I’ve made my choice; I’m going back to my lawful husband!” Thymia retorted, furiously kicking sand on her way. The thunderstorm had stopped, bright light of the full moon shone above the black stream.

“Don’t worry! Your golden princeling will be here after a couple of hours, if he’s a real man, that is. Until he does, we have time to talk. That’s why I brought you here.”

“You mean kidnapped me from my own wedding?”

“About that… it may turn out your wedding was a waste of time. Come!”

“Rubbish!” Thymia yelled, still she turned back and followed Erko into the woods. 

The dark forest was pierced by bright rays of the full moon. Thymia saw Erko doing something strange with his clothes - suddenly those appeared to be completely dry.

“Stand still,” he requested, raising his hands at her dress; to Thymia’s great surprise all the water gathered into the hem of the dress, then dripped down on Erko’s command. 

“How…?”

“Just a minute!”

He dried out the damp firewood, making the water leave it and rubbed the dry wood to make a fire.

Both sat quietly staring into the flames, just like they had done many times a year ago. Thymia shivered, he put the grey cloak on her shoulders. Still the girl looked at him with deepest contempt - the  irresponsible scumbag!

“Forgive me, your Highness. I have nothing to treat you with. Not even lingonberry tea,” Erko attempted to joke.

“Scum!”

“Of course. You must be full from the splendid wedding meal.”

“Stop the blubbering! Why did you bring me here?”

“Right. Let’s get to business,” Erko placed his mother’s ring in the moss near Thymia’s hand.

“You can take the ugly Hebenian ring off now. Your marriage is not lawful.”

“What nonsense!” Thymia exclaimed.

“Listen, it’s true! I read - by ancient Autumnian laws our pretend marriage was lawful, because we were in grave danger,” Erko explained. Thymia objected:

“Ancient Autumnian laws don’t mean anything in Hebeny!”

“Wrong, beautiful!” Erko smiled victoriously. “The Hebenian laws also acknowledge the marriages made in neighbouring kingdoms - Autumna and Avem.”

Thymia stared at the smug expression on his face, the fool thought she’ll forgive him just like that!

“Why couldn’t you stay dead?” She asked in despair.

“I could have. If I had seen true happiness in your eyes on your wedding day. That I did not,” Erko said seriously.

Both sat in silence, thinking.

“Besides, Crane had a prophecy. She thinks it’s about you and the prince, but I disagree.”

“Crane knew about you?”

“She helped me recover. Convinced me you’re better off without me. Are you?” Erko attempted to look into her green eyes, but she had turned her sight to his hands. Those were strong, dark-skinned hands of an Autumnian, with several tarnished silver rings on his slender fingers. 

Without thinking it through, or, more likely - without thinking at all, Thymia jumped on him, kissing Erko passionately. It’s her wedding night, and thus it shall be!