AngelEyes

“So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate.”- Matthew 19:6

Her brow pinched tight to the centre of her forehead in tortured silence, fighting the tears begging to spring forth.

The inky veil fell in front of her face, almost opaque with blackness and heavy with tulle, cascading to the shiny abyss of parquet at her feet and covering her blonde tresses. Lace roses edging the bottom of the piece burned hot from the lamplight.

She kept her chin raised, her shoulders back, holding herself up with majesty and grace, no matter that she truly wanted to crumple to the floor in hysterics. What good did it do her, fighting against the devils who brought her here?

Her mind called out in utter desperation, Please, God…please, help me!

Silence was the only reply.

Tears filled her violet eyes, which cast to the floor in despair.

Why is this happening…? Why won’t you answer me?

The real question was, why did she expect a response? Her voice tolled in her mind, ebbing into nothingness. Her plea went unanswered, no matter how many times she called out for some kind of acknowledgment. Silence. Nothing but silence.

Her tears pooled until they overflowed, sinking down her cheeks.

The faceless demons fussed over her, fluffing out the enormous skirt of her gown. The torchlight hit the tiny crystalline jewels bedecking the pitch organza and set off a dazzling show, the walls of mirrors bouncing it all back to her.

She lifted her chin and pushed her shoulders back.

I won’t do this…you can’t make me do this. I won’t do it!

A gold halo-like headpiece was placed atop her head, her body buckling from the immense weight. She righted herself and took a deep breath. Gilded spikes leapt up from the spurs, menacing and evil—worse, the absolute perfection of the obsidian stones set in it sucked out all hope within her. This was her crown.

Dainty chains swept down from the headpiece, affixed to a gilded filigree knot on her forehead; they kept it in place, just as whatever force kept her in this one.

One demon handed her an extravagant bouquet, her hand gripping the chunky black crystal. Dried roses ached with death among the crisp dark foliage, shocking blue wisteria dripping down and surrounding her hand.

The many whispers of an unknown and no doubt long dead language filled the room. Her gaze bounced around, trying to place the sound, each of the half-dozen creatures bowing to her with reverence. They then slunk back, each leaving the room, but not daring to turn their back to her, the whispers following.

This is it—she knew she was ready, ready for him.

Her dread was palpable, and her tears begged to rise again. That hideous creature, her husband-to-be, was waiting for her to join him, to be united in unholy matrimony. She didn’t want to imagine what it was, the evil she was to be bound to for all eternity.

He was the Devil. It made the taste of fear sour on her tongue.

The room spun around her, sucking her to the mouth of the chapel in the depths of the castle in a single moment. Those same demons flanked her, her unsure gaze taking them in as well as the Gothic chapel, the sharp arches and haunting arabesques of the molding making her feel like a speck of dust in some grand, unknowing scheme.

Her legs became weak at the thought of flight, but there was nowhere to go…there was no escape.

The demons about her held the ends of the heavy black fur cloak, letting the ends cascading from her shoulders spill out at her feet. Music began, an organ playing a haunting ballad, the evil dripping off each note. It filled with her with such dread, shaking her head, tears spilling down her cheeks; she didn’t want to do this, yet an invisible force lifted her and pulled her down the aisle.

She fought a sob, still shaking her head. The shadowy figure of her groom was almost undecipherable through her tears, but he was the destination. Her destination.

She came to a stop at the red velvet steps before the tabernacle. Her shaky breaths were loud, trying to calm herself. His fingertips took hold of the bottom of the veil and lifted it off her face, caressing it back.

She sniffled and pursed her lips to fight another sob. Her gaze lifted, prepared for the worst—until she froze.

A pair of dizzying, unworldly hazel-green eyes stared back at her. Flecks of gold swirled within the almost too-perfect green before amber melted into the pupil. Thick lashes lined them, matching the halo of auburn curls surrounding his head.

She expected nothing less than a hideous monster, but the man who stood before her was nothing short of angelic, with his soft, full lips, his high cheekbones, and sharp, masculine jawline.

He towered over her, his muscular body adorned with a suit made of striking red feathers, almost looking like armour, especially with the heavy medieval sword sitting at his hip, his left hand resting on the hilt of it. But the strangest part of his ensemble was the stiff gold collar around his neck, which matched the shackle and chain locked on his right ankle.

His eyes fixed on her, staring back at her with a knowingness—and heated desire.

She could see it raging in his gaze, her eyes widening. He looked away from her, casting his gaze to her feet.

She scanned around—there was no one else there. They were alone, the five wooden pews on either side of the aisle empty, even the faceless demons gone. There wasn’t even a priest. It was just the two of them.

He was the groom…but wasn’t she supposed to be marrying the Prince of Hell, Lucifer, the Devil himself?

He took her left hand gently, a spark igniting between them from the touch. Neither of them pulled away from the sudden shock; instead, they froze on the spot, their eyes locked together.

Silence draped the chapel, his eyes never leaving her as he raised her hand and slipped a gold band on her fourth digit.

If this was indeed the Prince of Darkness, she was now his Wicked Princess.