Till Death Do Us Part
A deep sigh escaped the lips of a clearly restless laicar woman, who kept twirling her long black hair with her fingers as she laid on top of a double bed in a room. It had an end table on both sides of the bed, a wardrobe and a full body mirror in the opposite corner of the bed.
“Now, now, my dear, it can't be that bad,” an elderly laicar lady explains as she organizes the clothes of the wardrobe laying things on top and to the sides of it. She has tied her dark brown hair to a small neat bun on top of head, and wore a loose evening dress.
“B-but, mother, what if he doesn't like the dress?!” the restless woman flusters.
“If he doesn't, then Cecil could just buy you a new dress more suited to his tastes, yes?” the elderly lady chuckles at her own recommendation.
“W-well, I guess,” the enchantress replies meekly, “but I have to wear his dress then.”
“Now now, dear Priscilla, you have more things to worry about than what your fiancé thinks about your wedding dress. You really should try to sleep, tomorrow is a big day for us all, but especially you,” and with that goodbye her mother left the room, leaving the restless Priscilla alone with her thoughts.
She rose from her bed and sat on the edge of it, glancing to the wardrobe, which had its door partially open, she could see the extravagant dress in question. It had been quite a task to try to find a proper dress that the enchantress both fit into and liked the look of. It was pure white dress with a top and lower half, connected by a thin floral vine at the front. There was an accompanying partially see through veil as well resting next to the dress in the cabinet. Cecil had not seen the dress as was tradition, in fact it had been almost five days since she had last seen her fiancé.
The enchantress wondered if he was as much of a wreck mentally as she. They had obviously talked a lot about marriage before making the commitment of reserving and planning the church ceremony. Without realizing it, as her thoughts were of Cecil she had began to smile.
“Guess I should try to sleep, tomorrow is the day,” she said to herself as she undressed and laid to bed.
The next morning, Priscilla woke up to the sun rays piercing the window curtains. She stretched her body as she got out of bed with an accompanying yawn. She confirmed the time from a clock on the end table, four hours until the ceremony was scheduled to begin. Putting on a plain dress, she walked downstairs to have something to eat for breakfast.
Her parents had already woken up and were setting up the breakfast ingredients on their kitchen's table. She greeted both of them, gathered various fruits and sea food on her plate, before sitting down to eat.
“Dear, the carriage that will take you to the church will be here twenty minutes before the scheduled time, so make sure you are ready by before then,” her father, Alexander, calmly explained. He was a bald burly man in his forties, his body clearly displaying the history of his vocation of carpentry, “We will leave a while before that, your friends should be getting here somewhat soon, right?”
Priscilla lifted her gaze from the food and promptly nodded to father. Her mother, Silvia, appeared from behind a curtain, “Dear, the bath is ready for you,” the enchantress responded with another nod, finished her food and stood up to get ready for the bath. She grabbed a towel from the rack that they had setup for drying. Carefully stepping into the water, it was warm but not too hot for her, feeling her body loosen and relax the enchantress let out a sigh of relief. Lifting her gaze to the ceiling.
“Today is the day, huh?”
Priscilla's thoughts began to wonder as she sat in the hot water, about how her life would change after being officially married to Cecil, even if most of her friends had convinced her that nothing would change in her daily life. Still the thought of being called wife made her blush or was it just the ambient heat?
By the time she left the bath, her two friends who were to be serving as bridesmaids for her had arrived. Both of them laicar, one had short and tomboyish blonde hair, Clare, while the other, Teresa, had longer and curly brunette hair. They were carrying bags holding their own dresses.
"Hey," Priscilla simply greeted as she ruffled her hair with a towel, while another towel was wrapped around her. Their faces lit up noticeably as they saw the bride to be.
"Well, nervous yet?" Clare asked with glee in her voice.
"Don't be like that, Clare," Teresa chided the other bridesmaid, who simply shrugged her shoulders to the remark.
"Haha, no I am not nervous yet, besides as long as we get to the ceremony in time, its going to be okay," Priscilla calmly reasoned with the other two and indicated that they go to her room. The process of dressing up into her dress was more arduous than she thought, and alongside the makeup it took them almost all of the time to get ready. In addition to the dress, Priscilla wore a partially see through veil on top of her hair, a pair of golden bracelets and a matching necklace, which was ornamented with a sapphire in the middle. Her bridesmaids stood in awe as they looked at her.
"Being that beautiful should be illegal," Clare remarked with a smile, "but then again, its not like we look too bad either," the blonde glanced at Teresa. Indeed both of them were also beautiful in their dresses, all three white dresses. They heard a muffled bell from outside.
"Ah! The carriage must be here, let's go. Your new life is about to begin in earnest, my dear Priscilla," Teresa smiled calmly as she looked at the enchantress, who nodded in agreement.
A few moments later the carriage arrived at the church and the ladies stepped out and into the church. Alexander was there to greet them. Nodding to the other girls, he interlocked his arm to Priscilla's and turned around to the doors to the main chamber where the ceremony was held.
"Are you ready, my dear?" he asked from his daughter while looking at her.
"Yes," Priscilla affirmed after a deep breath and the doors were opened for them to walk down the aisle to where her fiancé waited patiently. Everybody turned to watch them as they entered the chamber. There were not that many guests, around ten persons from each family. To Priscilla's right were her friends and family, Silvia sat at the very front, while Cecil's parents were on the left. She had taken barely any steps and her gaze caught the awestruck fiancé waiting, his expression caused her to smile gently.
On the end of the aisle next to Cecil, stood a priest of the church, who wore a traditionally ornamented priest's robe meant for ceremonies. It took her a few more steps to reach them, enjoying the attention every step of the way. She stopped directly in front of Cecil.
"You look absolutely gorgeous," he said smiling at her. The priest cleared his throat and they turned towards him.
"Friends, we have been invited here today to share with Priscilla and Cecil, a very important moment in their lives. In the years they have been together, their love and understanding of each other has grown and matured, and now they have decided to live their lives together as husband and wife," the priest looked at everyone in the hall in turn as he spoke calmly and clearly.
He turned to look at Cecil, "Do you, Cecil Nullius, take this woman to be your wedded wife?"
"I do," he replied calmly. The priest nodded and turned his gaze towards Priscilla.
"And do you, Priscilla Teres, take this man to be your wedded husband?"
"I do," she replied calmly.
"Then by the right bestowed to me I present-"
Suddenly the doors to the main chamber slammed open and a group of five people stepped into view. Each of them wore a similar hooded cloak that covered their faces, and pulled out a pistol. The man in the middle stepped forward but did not speak.
"What is this?! I will not stand for this insolence! Get-" a loud bang echoed in the church.
"Calm down, holy man, we have simply come to collect our dues," the man in the middle spoke, but his voice was distorted by something and it was clear that it had been made to complete the disguise.
"Y-your dues?" the priest confirmed. Some of the people present began to whisper quietly as to not draw attention to themselves.
"Yes," the cloaked man pointed to Cecil with his pistol, "Cecil, either you pay up what you owe us or we will take her," the man demanded as he pointed to Priscilla with the pistol. Cecil remained silent but his eyes showed a mixture of fear and anger.
"Now, what will it be, boy?" the cloaked man questioned.