by Igraine on Thu Jun 14, 2012 10:07 pm
The wedding proper didn’t take very long. Nimue was startled when Thorin produced rings made by his own hand. She looked up at him with a brilliant smile as he slipped the ring on her finger, and she looked at it closely. The black goldstone sparkled like the night sky and the blue black metal shone with a deep brilliance. The runes she didn’t understand at first but their meaning was implied. Safety, Harmony, Hope, such is the language used during weddings and the beginning of a long journey.
Nimue slid Thorin’s ring on his finger, citing her vows with calm nerves. She smiled up at him when the ceremony was over and wrapped her arms around his neck as they kissed as Husband and Wife. In Thorin’s arms Nimue didn’t reach the ground. He was massive and protective and everything she never knew she wanted in a husband.
A soft ripple of noise radiated out from the pair, enough of a disturbance to cause Nimue to look away from her husband as he set her on her feet. It was then that she hit her knees and clasped her hands together, bowing to the only creature standing – besides Thorin.
Queen Mab was the stuff of legends, the beautiful Fairy Queen from childhood stories long thought to be fiction. Standing here, in an enchanted forest glade made to serve as a natural cathedral for the newlyweds, she looked completely surreal. Mab was a tall woman with translucent, but not transparent, porcelain skin. She had brilliant eyes that seemed to be iridescent like the sheen and color of a peacock feather. Mab held her head high, her white blonde hair falling in loose curls that were gathered in a silver mesh net. A diadem of brilliant diamonds, peacock ore, and pearls, twined in beautiful silver branches around her delicately shaped head. Mab looked no older than twenty-five years old and yet her eyes held age untold within their depths. She moved with the grace of a woman thirty times her age, and she was older even than that. A quirk of a smile lifted the edges of her delicate petal pink lips. They looked soft, as if they were nothing more than the whisper thin petals of a rose.
“I see you have found a mate, Nimue.” It was a simple statement, but it set an explosion of activity into motion. Fae were running this way and that, gathering whatever they thought the Queen might need. Before long she was seated on a makeshift chair of cushions and twigs. She smoothed her silver gown over her knees as she sat, a scepter resting on her lap in her hands. If Thorin focused he might see the outline, the barest hint, of glass like wings that extended from her back. The Queen of the Fae was generally the only creature that exhibited such wings. There were wings aplenty within the Seelie Court, but the Queen had the most unique pair in existence. It was the cause for many cultural adaptations of tradition and once Mab was gone everyone would question what sort of wings Igraine would sprout. It was obvious that Kahlan would have sprouted white feathered wings, but that was also her heritage. Many Fae had bets out that Igraine would have feathers instead of the delicate glassy looking wings Mab sported.
“I am sorry, Majesty, I didn’t think you would want to attend my nuptials.” Nimue moved closer to the Queen and bowed low again. When she felt the Queen’s feather light touch on the back of her head she straightened and knelt in front of her. Mab’s stare was something that she had taken the full force of many times before for her transgressions, but that was not to say that she didn’t respect the woman and that she wouldn’t be sad when Mab finally left the
Throne to complete her transition into the next phase of her life.
“You have been an exceptionally trying child. I have always been interested in what you would make of yourself.” Mab reached out and ran her thin nimble fingers along Nimue’s cheek and jaw, cupping her face gently. “Show me the ring, child. I am curious what this son of Isabella is capable of crafting. Caderyn said that he was a good student. One takes notice when the best blacksmith of the realm compliments his student.” Mab studied the ring on Nimue’s finger with a scrutinizing eye, taking note of the metal and choice of gem, her eye not missing the runes on the ring either.
“Fascinating. You there, Husband of Nimue and Son of Isabella Aedren Rivenfelde. You have fetched a wife like none other, and I find myself relieved that you did not take Igraine to wife. She will not be able to have a husband very early in this career of Queen of the Seelie. Love comes later or mayhap acceptance more so than love.” Mab got to her feet, her delicate feet sheltered by slippers of the same silvery fabric of her gown. She walked to Thorin and circled him, taking note of his stance, his appearance, and his overall general hygiene.
“Son of Isabella, Husband of Nimue, you are now a Son of the Seelie. I would like to see you smith something for me. Something simple. I want a bracelet of this strange blue black metal with blue sapphires, moonstones, emeralds, and rubies. All of the materials, apart from the metal, will be delivered to your choice of abode. You will also have as many men and materials at your disposal for the creation of your own Smithy. Consider me curious, adopted Son of the Seelie.” Mab walked back to Nimue and ran her fingers through the woman’s fiery red hair and smiled.
“See that you have children before I transition, my child. I am curious to see if your offspring are as valiant and oblivious to the rules as their mother.”
Nimue blushed prettily and got to her feet, hugging Mab in a familiar gesture. The Queen simply hugged her back, smiling into her hair, cherishing her for her youth despite Nimue’s age.
“What say you, Husband of Nimue? Are we in agreement?” Mab looked up from where she held Nimue gingerly, looking frail and incredibly powerful all at once.