“We are what ballads are written of, what bards sing of. We are epic, you and I.” - Samantha Garman

A turmoil of thoughts rage through me before I even open my eyes. Both expectancy and dread fill me.

From the maelstrom of emotions I am able to identify a few different ones. Firstly I want to float away on a stream of cowardice. I am not ready to commit myself to anyone and I doubt anyone would want me. Secondly I want to fight the current of the water I have been thrust in. My brother did not give me any choice. Lastly, I want to splash around in a lake of joy. I am getting married to Caith! It is like a ballad sung about the great elvish lovers Dubhan Darkwood and Aelia Ashtree.

That is if he doesn’t change after the wedding. My brother said that he has had a month to plan the wedding. That is about the amount of time since Caith and I returned.

I frown. I wonder whether Caith knew the whole time. That’s probably why he was so friendly. Maybe he was only after the throne and power. Maybe all the moments we have shared in the past month were all part of a grand ploy on his side.

No, I refuse to believe that. Caith is not like that - above all others, I should know. I think that I may claim to know him very well.

My heart beats faster as I think of his devilish smile and the complex emotions raging in his eyes. My hand reaches up involuntarily to trace my lips. If a single peck on the lips was that powerful, how extraordinary must it be to have more than that.

A frown scrunches my face - a frown he even said he liked seeing. The Crows have not flown in to wake me.

The first and hopefully only thing that I will ask Caith is to reinstate Ria as my maid and to banish the Crows as far from me as possible.

Maybe Ferdaid decided to show me some mercy and allow me the freedom to dress myself today.

Opening the door, I smell it before I analyse it: freedom.

With no guards in front of my door, only an unfamiliar maid awaits me. “Your highness, princess Aebbé, I will draw you a bath. Your wedding dress will be delivered while you take your bath. Is there anything else you require?”

“I would appreciate it if you could find me twelve white roses.”

The maid nods and enters my room. After a few minutes she informs me that the bath is ready before she silently disappears.

The multitude of thoughts continue to wreak havoc as I soak in my bath, drowning in bliss. In an instant, my life has changed for the better. Today I am allowed to forget the war and those dead in my family.

Hmm, the war, I should ask Caith if I can continue helping the injured. I don’t think he will refuse my request.

Where on earth will we stay? I can't move into a tent that he shares with his comrades. Perhaps he would move into my room. Oh, that would be awkward.

When I emerge from my bath, I find a dozen white roses and a dress made of pure white material sprawled on my bed. My fingertips brush against the silky lace as I pick the dress up and slide it over my head. The dress immediately shrinks to fit me comfortably and hugging all my curves. A three meter train bells out from my hips.

By weaving the roses into my hair, I manage to convince some of my rebellious curls to join the symphony on my head.

The dress is gorgeous and fits me perfectly. I wonder who the designer is. I will have to thank him or her afterwards with a shower of roses.

I walk to my dresser and take out Ferdaid's mother’s jewellery box. I do the clasp of the necklace and put the earrings on. The roses hang up to the middle of the distance between my earlobes and my shoulders.

I take out the flower Caith gave me yesterday. Just as I touch it, it starts to move and shimmer. It moves across my hand to my wrist to form a bracelet decorated with small replicas of the original.

A knock on my door announces that it is time for my wedding. I am accompanied by four guards to the great hall, but this time it does not feel like I am a prisoner. Now they are merely a formality.

The door to the hall opens as I approach, allowing me a glimpse inside. The giant grey hall has been decorated sparsely, but a multitude of white flowers fill the possible space. The high roof arches up, lit by thousands of candles flickering warmly.

The excited hum of the guests, packed together like sacks of grain before a famine, catches my attention. My brother would have tried to fit as many people as possible into the hall. He would see this wedding as a favourable opportunity to try and restore hope to his subjects and to display his wealth and power to the other races.

Ferdaid wears black, decorated wiith bottle green embroidery. For once he reminds me of the man he used to be, yet the lines on his face and his greying temples serve as proof that he has changed.

Standing on the throne platform next to him, is a head of very familiar golden curls supported by broad shoulders that beckon my heart to gallop towards him.

Containment cost me dearly as I battle to rather walk in slowly on the path between the guests. The hall has now been cloaked with anticipation and silence.

For a brief stretch of imagination and grief, I imagine my father and Friduric standing on the platform, just behind Ferdaid and Caith. They would be dressed in red and gold - their favourite colours. Father always spoke of this day, even when it became clear that he wouldn't live to see it.

The strict concentration I need to ensure that I don't plant my face on the lush crimson carpet, is shattered when Caith turns around and meets my eyes.

My breath hitches when he beams into a dazzling smile, the likes of which I haven't seen on him before. The joy he radiates today cause me to feel as if the strings tying me to this earth have been cut, allowing me to float towards him without an anchor.

The realisation that he has become my anchor is accompanied by the abrupt shock that I forgot to put on any shoes.

Imagining Caith's hearty rumble when I tell him that, causes me to burst into an even broader smile. He would tease me senselessly about it until the end of days. Spending the rest of my life with Caith will be bliss. I cannot imagine another way to spend my life from here onwards.

At least my dress covers my feet, so it should be hidden from the view of all the curious onlookers.

My brother moves towards me as I arrive at the steps to the platform, forcing me to reluctantly tear my eyes from Caith's.

Ferdaid takes my hand, kisses it and whispers: “You look lovely.”

My head makes a small bob-like movement in acknowledgement of his compliment.

While I try to look anywhere but into Caith's intoxicating eyes, Ferdaid gives my hand to Lord Caith and declares loudly: “I give you my most beloved treasure. Guard it and cherish it and your treasures will multiply.”

The moment Caith's hand encircles mine, a current travels through me, making me hyperaware of his proximity. His perfectly articulated, warm yet husky voice captivates me when he answers with the traditional response: “I will look after your treasure, for it will soon be mine. I will protect and cherish it.”

He gives my hand a tight squeeze, causing joy to flood through me. I risk stealing a glance at my soon-to-be husband, only to meet him staring at me with an unabashed smile.

The ceremony drags on, yet it doesn't bother me as I struggle to concentrate on anything other than Caith’s hand nesting mine.

Two golden bands on a white pillow are brought in by one of my distant cousins' progeny.

Caith is the first to take a ring, scooping the smaller one up before reaching over to take my left hand in his. Without breaking eye contact, he slips it on my finger: “I declare, before all the witnesses, my king and the Council who guides me, that the princess Aebbé, born of King Ardam, is my wife from this day forth until the end of days. I will provide for her, protect her and be the father of her children.”

Until the end of days? Those words are not part of the traditional vow, but hearing them ignites me.

Focusing on not shaking and letting his ring tumble through the hall, I embrace my turn to say the sacred vows. “I accept the Lord Caith of the Second Order as my husband. I will feed him and do all that is required of me to be a good wife. I will raise his sons and daughters, and be the shelter he requires.”

A charming smile illuminates his face as I slip the wedding band on his finger.

Another distant relative's heir brings a golden chain with a golden lock and key balanced on yet another white silk pillow.

Lord Riann of the First Order takes my right hand and Caith’s left and binds them together. He gives the key to the King before declaring in his gravelly voice: “You are the protector of this marriage.”

My brother accepts the key from his father-in-law. “I declare before all who are present that the princess Aebbé, born of King Ardam, and Caith of the Second Order are now joined in sacred matrimony. He will no longer be called Caith No-Name, but Lord Caith, Protector of Ardam.”

The crowd's cheer reverberates through the hall.

Caith and I take our seats at the high table. In an organised scurry, the servants bring in tables for the guests.

I feel giddy as I feel the cool chain on my hand. Caith and I have to remain bound by the wrists until the next morning when my brother has to unlock it. In this time we have to function as one.

The symbolism is extended into the meal. Only one plate, one fork, one knife and one glass are available between the two of us for the meal.

The meal that is served is quite simple. It does not differ much from the meals that are served daily. When Caith takes the knife and fork and starts to cut the meat, I take the fork from his hands and hold it in place. He shakes his head in amusement and allows me to take the fork. He knows that we will be equals in this marriage.

The neverending queues of well-wishers hinder Caith and I from having a conversation, or even eating. By the time the king announces that us newlyweds are to open the dancefloor, I am famished.

An area is cleared for us amidst expectant stares. Caith stands up from his chair, offering his bound hand to me. He leads me to the dance floor as a slow, intimate melody fills up the hall. His other hand gently pulls me closer until my heart collides with his. The commotion and company around us fade to black as I focus on his clean-shaven jaw.

“I like the roses in your hair. It is beautiful.”

“I like the beardless you.” When I realise the ridiculousness of my words, I aim to hide my face in his shoulder. My eyes are transfixed by rise and fall of his heart beating beneath his white shirt.

He gives a chuckle and lifts my chin up, his eyes captivating me once again. He takes the first step, leading me throughout the dance. For once in my life, I do not fight someone else’s lead, allowing us to move as one.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of dancing, eating and conversing with the guests. Everyone wants a piece of the newly-weds and we do not have any time for talking to one another.

When the night is late and it is time for us to retreat to our honeymoon bed, Caith picks me up in his arms. The fluttering feeling of drinking too much wine causes me to clutch onto his arms as the world threatens to tumble into him.

I blissfully sigh as I rest my head against his chest. His warm breath tickles the nape of my neck as he finally finds the moment for us alone. “You are beyond comparison.”

We are about halfway through the hall when loud thunder shatters into our privacy. A mixture of red, brown, black and silver light flashes into the room, solidifying into four imposing figures blocking our exit at the great door.

A collective gasp rises up as all humans, elves, dwarves and skados sink to the floor.

Caith takes his sweet time to lower me to the ground. While his arm supports me to prevent me from toppling over, his jaw sets into stone. As I start to bow down, he pulls me back up.

“No.” His teeth are clenched; dangerous ice flitting in his eyes. “You don’t bow down to them.”

The Council of Ardam have varying degrees of anger etched onto their faces.

I cannot tell if the hair or face of the First is the reddest - both a stark contrast to his green eyes fixed in a disapproving glower. With hands folded behind his back, he cuts a menacing picture.

The Fifth wears resignation on her freckled face. Her twitching fingers grasping an acorn is the only sign of her distress. An acorn crown resting atop her luscious curls has been put on in haste, yet she looks as magnificent as I have imagined her to be.

The Fourth's white irises seem to have storm clouds threatening to burst in them. Resting on a wooden cane with a scowl, the cane seems to be rather a weapon than an aid.

The Third One's fury seem to turn the air around her white as she fixes a murderous stare on me. She straightens her shoulders and throws her silver mane behind her in indignation.

The King is the first to dare rising from his bow. “My Council, it is an honour to welcome you at the wedding-.”

Before he can finish, the First One interrupts him with an explosion of fire erupting in front of my brother's feet. “Quiet. You are not to speak to me under any circumstance. I will deal with your treachery later. You may all rise.”

Ferdaid, luckily unharmed, scurries to the back of the platform.

“You are being too harsh on him.” Caith's cool voice chills me to the bone, yet I fear the backlash he will most definitely receive.

“You dare reprimand me? After all your mistakes and treachery, you tell me how I should treat the lessers! You leave everything to run off and rescue a petty little princess! Then on top of everything, you marry her!”

Caith draws me closer. I do not understand why the First One would be concerned at all by his actions.

“I do not think we should trouble the dear people in this hall with our quarrels, brother.”

My eyes fly up to meet Caith's, hoping that I just misheard him. Yet, the shame of betrayal burning there cause my world to shatter. Caith has never been Caith. He is so much more.

“You are right. Let us go and resolve this as a family. This marriage is not valid yet.” The First One raises his hand and the chain that binds Caith and me together snaps in two.

“I will come, but I have sworn before you and the witnesses here that this marriage is valid - and it will remain so to me.” Caith turns to me, and puts his lips to mine.

Without hesitation, I receive his lips as he pulls me tighter into his arms. I reach up and take his face between my hands, grasping the ends of his curls tightly. A flood of emotions and thoughts, inappropriate for an audience, fill me as I press myself closer to him.

He sighs reluctantly and pulls away, allowing the realisation that I have just kissed Khairrim Cadeyrn in front of the Council, to hit me.

“Aebbé, my bride, I will come to you as soon as I am finished talking to my family,” Caith whispers into my ear. He adresses the crowd of astonished onlookers. “I believe this wedding feast is over. Please excuse us.”

With that Caith exits the hall and leaves a hall filled with confusion - most of which emanates from me.

The rest of the Council disappear an instant after Caith - Khairrim Cadeyrn, I correct myself.

A swarm of heads snap towards me. I have given them something to gossip about for the next thousand years. The weight of their judgement and pity falls onto me. As my eyes dart from familiar to unfamiliar face, my shame reflects in every pair of eyes meeting mine.

I bolt through the main hall.

I cannot believe that Caith is the Second One! In all honesty, I can. Caith has always been more than just a man. I knew it from the start.

I should have realised it earlier.

I should have seen it in his stories and actions, in the way he carries himself.

The thud of me crashing against the closed door echoes through the hall. In futility I attempt to open the door that usually needs at least two beefy guards to open it.

Obviously, the door doesn’t budge.

Dammit!

My fist connects with the door as tears well up behind my eyes. The door still refuses to budge.

On Ardam and the Council! Open!

As I desperately contemplate raising it to ashes, footsteps approach me. Prince Eoghan's slender fingers touch the door next to mine. With a sympathetic smile, he helps me to push the door open, just enough to allow me an escape.

The door thuds close behind me as I run to my room.