Her Hair like Roses

Copyright © 2012-13 Devon Swanson

All rights reserved

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(All characters, settings and countries within the contents of this story are purely fiction. Any resemblances to real historical figures are completely coincidental.)

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PROLOGUE  -Le Mariage Rouge-

                  It was one of those moments where the world seemed to be running at her full speed, with no sign of slowing down. And she had no way to stop it. No way to at least protect herself from it’s unmerciful stamped.

                There was no sympathy in that room. None of the attendees held back tears of sadness or joy.  There were no faces holding a kind eye or a sad smile. The faces she saw only stared back through a blind haze of anger, hatred and boredom. No, the faces within this room were not here by choice and most of them showed no sign of being modest about their displeasure at having to attend such a sorrowful event.

                The church walls rose high into the air, the grey stone only being interrupted by a few colorful splashes of stained glass and randomly placed tapestries. Long rows of benches, covered in plush pillows, spread out before her, leading the way to her fate and ultimate doom.  The velvet red carpet beneath her feet led straight to far side of the room. There, she could see a row of women she had never actually known standing at the left. Another line of all men was stationed to the right, leaving the middle to be occupied by nothing but the priest and an enraged looking man she was seeing for the first time.

                His black hair looked combed back, the long locks held back from his face by a tie placed at the base of his skull. The servants ordered to dress him for this occasion earned their pay well. Dressed in his finest military ensemble, with shining buttons and sharpened sword, the man at the end of the aisle was something out of a dream. A tall, lean figure and strong shoulders made him a prize among men.  The only wrong thing about him was the look of absolute repugnance on his otherwise angelic face. And it was centered on her. All her life, she had been hated. Whether it was by the people of her country or the members of her own family. But in that single moment, until she had stepped into this room, she knew she had never known true and utter hatred. Even so, her face held no emotion.

                As the sweet melody of a piano began to fill the room, she watched unaffected as the man’s face became even more contorted each time she stepped nearer. Her white dress glided down the red carpet, each foot keeping in time with the music. Just as she had been forced to practice. And with each row she passed, more holes seemed to be burned into her back. They wanted a reaction, they wanted her prove to them how weak she was. How superior they all were compared to her.

                Outside that room, they were all enemies just waiting for the right time to slit each other’s throats. But in this church, she was the thing they could all despise together, her and her red hair.

                Pinned and tied up painfully, her mind brought forth the memory of her mother, screaming at the servants to pull it tighter as they did their best to pin the abnormally long locks of red hair to her skull. Hidden beneath the white veil atop her head, laid the ban of her existence. The natural red locks given to her at birth were the cause of everything wrong with her life. The hate, the isolation, the loneliness. All because of something she couldn’t control.

                However, that didn’t matter. Not at the moment. Taking her final steps towards the altar, Luana looked forward; ignoring the look of disdain on her husband-to-be’s face and tried to convince herself to be happy.

After all, it was her wedding day … 

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In case you were wondering about the small french title waaay back at the beggining of the chapter, wonder no more!! I have been taking french in school for the past three years and I have never ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER found it to be useful ... AT ALL! Seriously, I've never used french outside the classroom. So in an effort to prove my mother wrong (she countinally points out that french is and will countinue to be completely useless to me) I have decided that the title of each chapter will be in french! So if you want to know what the titles mean I will translate them at the end of each chapter. I will also privode a "song of the chapter" for your joy and entertainment. So go ahead and vote, maybe leave an encouraging comment below and possibly even become a fan :D I will upload soon and I PROMISE that next time, the author's note or whatever you wish to call it, will be WAAAY shorter!!

HAVE A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! <3

Title Translation: The Red Wedding

Song of the Chapter: Thrift Shop (ft. Wanz) by Macklemore & Ryan Lewis