Walking down the elven road

Chapter 19

The day has arrived. Those few days have flown by, time didn't seem to feel like waiting a minute to let Melya catch up on everyting. She still hasn't seen Arion even though he arrived at the palace days ago. He must be furious, very much unlike him. He does have a valid reason so she can't be angry with him for ignoring her.

Maids have awoken her very early this morning. They didn't even give her a chance to eat anything, they started doing her hair, dress and make-up right away.

The three girls are quite shy. They don't say a word, but the Queen could have told them to do so. They managed to braid her auburn hair so it lies flat on the back on her head. The braids are done quite tightly, so they will definitely start to hurt if she doesn't get them out in a couple of hours. Fortunately, her face has been left alone. Mostly. A bit of gross black stuff is appied around her light blue, almost gray eyes. Apparently it should make her eyes look larger. She doesn't see the difference, it just itches terribly.

Melya does love her dress, though. She's certain it's good she got to have a say in its design.

The dress is a light blue, just like the flowers of the forget-me-not plant. The bodice is quite tight and has no straps around her shoulders, following the current human fashion, but the embroidery is typically elvish. It is done in silver and displays flowers. The flower buds are moonstones. The skirts have multiple layers, the Queen's wish, but Melya's demands are visible as well: the hem is covered in tiny, sparkling moonstones. The shoes were a point of discussion. In the end, Melya informed the Queen she would go barefoot to her wedding if she would not get what she wanted. So she got what she wanted: white leather sandals. No toe-killing tight boots or anything like that.

And now she's waiting until it's her turn to show up. She moves the bouquet in her hands around a little bit. She made it herself, from the plucking of the daisies , twigs and leaves to the arranging of all the plants murdered for the sole purpose of being thrown in a screaming crowd. Another really weird human tradition. Who came up with this nonsense?

The music changes. A servant sticks his head around the corner.

"My lady," he says timidly, like she could attack him at any given moment, "it is time for you to go and say your words at the altar." She nods, suddenly very nervous. A lot of people in the kingdom don't like elves. Any one of them could jump out of the crowd and kill her easily.

One step, two steps, turn around the corner. Gasps. Of course. She hasn't covered her ears. Her friends used to tease her about them. They said she was the elf of elves, because they are extremely pointy. Her father said she could stab a man to death with their pointiness. At this place, they mark her as an outcast, something else. Different from humans, different from "nomal" elves. Just great.

Fortunately, the altar is just thirty metres away. It could be worse. And the King and Queen got everyone to stay in their seat, that's a big plus. If anyone wanted to stab her to death he or she should stand up first and that would be quite conspicuous if everyone else is sitting down. And what that stupid Queen did with the decorations! She said the bride isn't allowed to see them until the wedding, but she probably said that so Melya wouldn't stop her from doing this. The Queen probably thinks it's very beautiful. Pink flowers. everywhere! Servants are throwing them down from the ceiling, the path is covered in them, the guests are covered in them...

... and Kithan is covered in them. He doesn't seem to be very happy about that. Or maybe he's just thinking this marriage is a bad idea and he's going to call the executioner to chop of her head. Well, at least her hair would be pretty.

That doesn't appear to be the case, though. Melya and Kithan look each other in the eyes, like they are asking each other if they really want to do this. Melya doesn't have a choice, Kithan does. He chooses to just go on with this. The master of ceremonies seems even more nervous than Melya when she thought she was going to be murdered at her own wedding. He mumbles his lines as quickly as possible, and when the time comes for Melya and Kithan to give their consent, he's content with them not running away. He steps back and yells: "You are now husband and wife. Now kiss."

Well, this is awkward, Melya thinks. Kithan is obviously thinking the same. He begs her with his eyes not to run away and quickly presses his lips against hers. The crowd slowly claps. That was disappointing, Melya thinks, I've heard he's dated a lot of girls. You'd think he kisses better than that.

To her great relief, no-one tries to murder Melya. There's no poison in the food, everyone comes to congratulate the couple, some people even mean what they say. Everything is going way better than expected. Zaran sits closely to the Royals, flirting with a girl who once hoped to marry Kithan but who now might aim her charms at his closest friend. Múralin has taken the seat on Kithan's right, as the representative of Xoriah, who doesn't want to be close to her former husband. She has placed herself among the nobility of her people, in a corner out of plain sight but still close to the table of high honor.

Múralin is currently interrogating Kithan about his friends, completely ignoring his daughter. As it turns out, Zaran is Kithan's only friend. The other boys were intimidated because of Kithan being a prince so he never got to become friends with them. 

"Zaran and I always pull pranks on each other," Kithan says, laughing. He's obviously thinking about one of his own pranks.

"Like?" Múralin asks curiously. Kithan doesn't know, but in the elven realm you really can't pull a prank on anyone. Their whole family will be offended because one of theirs was stupid enough to be lured into a trap, and the prankster for being so mean to prepare the trap.

"Zaran likes his bow and arrow, and he loves to show off. So, whenever he tries to impress a girl, I make sure his arrows aren't balanced so they never fly straight," Kithan chuckles, "He gets to have his revenge, though. He rubs itching powder in my clothes, or my shoes, or even my bath. Those days are terrible." He and Múralin both laugh.

"If I might be excused, I have to go and use the restroom," Múralin says and walks off.

"Most people aren't as interested in the foolish pranks Zaran and I pull on each other as that guy," Kithan says to Melya.

"That's because it's unacceptable for elves to pull pranks on anyone. Everyone is offended by it," Melya answers.

"That's ridiculous! How do you get to have fun if you can't pull a prank on anyone?"

"It's a different kind of fun. We discuss different topics and we love to let someone talk themselves into a situation where they just have a really, scientifically verifible wrong opinion."

"That sounds like so much fun."

"If you're used to it, it can be."

And so the wedding continues.