A Splatter of Other #Wattys2015

XIX

We were ushered out of the hall with cheers and good natured shoves, and while Archer managed to force a smile to his face, I kept mine turned down. While we were allowed to return to the festivities after consummating our marriage, most doubted they'd see us until the next afternoon, newlyweds and all. We were guided by the three Sisters, as Archer called them, back to the room I'd been prepared in, and after well wishes we were left alone.

"Franceska-"

"Don't," I interrupt, moving to take a seat in the mountain of soft pillows.

"I am so sorry, I tried. I tried everything but my Father-"

"Archer please," my voice breaks, and he drops down next to me. "What's done is done."

He is silent for a few minutes. "He expects bloody sheets by morning," he tells me, grimacing.

"Oh," I murmur. "I suppose you'll get in trouble if we don't...consummate things."

"I don't care," he replies, his face serious as he looks into my eyes, "until you are ready, we won't go any further than you are comfortable with."

"Even if he hurts you?"

"Even then."

I sniff, tears spilling from my eyes, "Thank you."

He leans forward to kiss the tears from my cheeks, "Hey now, it's not so bad, I'm a pretty cool guy. I even got you something," he reaches down the side of the bed and pulls up a carved oak wood box, before passing it to me.

"But...I didn't get you anything," I protest, the weight of the box more than whatever is inside.

"Yes you did," he grins, pulling up another box, similarly shaped.

I frown, "Give it here." Raising his eyebrows he does as I command and I place it to one side before opening my own. I pull away layers of soft silk to reveal a square of white, decorated with black and red beads and thread. Carefully I reach in and, pulling the soft skin out, lift it up to unfold a shirt and matching pants, plain pants. The details on the shirt are beautiful, with bead edges and patterned threading. The thread seemed to tell a story, the story of Archer and I, and in the middle is a tree that takes up most of the back. There are birds in the branches above, watching Archer and I lie together below, and I just knew that the birds represented each of our family members. It was beautiful, beyond beautiful, and my throat closes up with emotion.

"Do you like it?" He asks, worried after several silent minutes of me staring. "If you don't I can always get something el-"

"I love it," I whisper, putting them down so I could throw my arms around his neck.

"Oh, good," he replies gruffly as I pull away. As gently as I can I refold them and put them in the box, before getting Archer's and handing it too him. Smiling slightly at me he lifts the box, and his smile turns into one of an excited child. "My, my Frankie, how did you know I wanted new moon blades?" He pulls out two wickedly curved blades, like half sickles, and I shudder. The pommels of each were shaped like fangs and black ebony, with runes carved into them. The blades themselves were glinting silver, runic words carved into the iron.

"Just a hunch," I reply, moving closer to peer at the inscriptions, "what do those say?"

He tilts the blades to read, "Just about strength, swiftness, agility. Words of power," he smiles down at me, "thank you."

"But I didn't even choose them for you."

"Thank you," he repeats, pressing his lips to my sensitive forehead, and I know he isn't meaning for the swords. After that we put the boxes aside, and Archer pumps hot water into the bath for me.