Maiden of Moonlight | Tedros Pendragon

Chapter 2.8

" It was always dreams of us together and nightmares of us falling apart. "

r.s oceans

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" It is time." A voice said, causing the Montague girl to whip around, her heart drumming loudly in her ears.

Where was she?

The brunette stared at the lady who spoke through a gauzy veil. She peered down at her body to see her figure cladded in a beautiful white gown that cascaded onto the marble floor like a river of white silk. Gloved hands went to lift the veil as she rushed to the mirror, irritated mutters ignored as Marya only got the glimpse of her body shrouded in white as a servant tugged her away from her reflection.

She was a bride.

" We must make haste." Another woman rushed out, tugging the veil back into place and adjusting the glimmering tiara atop her head. " Your groom is waiting."

" What?" Marya uttered in confusion, " My groom? I am only seventeen!"

The maids glanced at the princess funny as they pushed her in front of a large set of oak doors, not giving the girl a moment to fix her composure as they opened the wooden slabs. Marya was shoved into the cathedral, her eyes wide as she turned to see hundreds of people staring back at her.

A clang resounded with the shutting of the only entrance and exit, and the Montague knew there was no way but forward.

Anxiety infused itself into her bones. Her heart thudded even more loudly than ever in her ears as she placed one foot in front of the other. Stares burned into her skin, peeling the princess apart. Marya had never felt such an urge to cry. It felt as though she were back to being a youngling in Crims.

Her misty eyes tried finding something to focus on, a distraction from the stress that risked to consume her whole, and they happened to land on the back of a head of blonde locks.

" Tedros," She breathed out, practically running to the altar to seek the comfort of the boy she had come to lo--care for.

Marya's heels clicked against the marble steps, her skirt in hand as she grasped the cloaked arm of the man she was meant to marry, " Oh, thank Go--"

" Miss me my love?"

A terrified gasp escaped her lips. It couldn't be-not him-anyone but him!

Blonde locks morphed into a head of greasy ebony strands that cascaded down the older man's shoulders. Skin paled to a sickening degree as cerulean blues became drowning abysses that threatened to imprison Marya within their depths.

" It is time to be wedded, my Marya. Until death do us part." He whispered, lips grazing the shell of her ear.

" Let go of me! " She shrieked, eyes filled with disgust at the sight of Lord Malleus, the Hand of the Red Queen.

Marya furthered away from the nobleman, yet the worst was yet to come as a heel caught into the back of the flowing gown skirt, sending the brunette tumbling into the altar. The crowd erupted into a bumble of gasps and Malleus chuckled lowly as he began to approach his bride.

" Running won't do you any good, dearie."

The Montague clutched onto the closest weapon she could find, but it wasn't much as she hustled to her feet with a silver tray in hand.

Her eyes widened in fear at the sight of her reflection. She wasn't herself anymore. She was but a child. The twelve year old version of Marya Montague. The little girl who was lusted after by Lord Malleus for as long as she could remember. That was why the maids looked at her weirdly when she informed them of her true age.