The Dark Prince’s Chosen Bride

A Fete of Fairies

The feast was spectacular.

Emilia and Faren walked arm and arm out to the courtyard, a handsome pair of lovers in obsidian finery. When Emilia saw the sprawling tables draped in crimson silks and the ornate braziers glowing with tremendous fires-bringing both warmth and light to the cool night- she couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath. Faren watched her coyly from the corner of his eye, a satisfied smirk on his lips. He had taken special care in overseeing the celebration, spending all day making sure that the full splendor of the Dark Realm was on display for his Emilia. His Chosen.

He had hoped he would impress her with the sheer opulence of the occasion, but all of the carefully arranged details paled in comparison to Emilia. He couldn’t deny he found her lovely, her face as sweet and open as a flower in full bloom. The memory of how her full, shapely body looked beneath that scant gown when he kissed her soft hand in the firelight the night before had drifted into his mind all day. But nothing prepared him for the breathtaking sight of her, blushing and proud, walking towards him in her wedding gown. The whole fairy court could have been swallowed up by the earth for all he knew, because his eyes had only been on her.

He led her up some shallow steps to the head table and they stood, smiling and greeting guests as they filed out into the courtyard and found seats. Their own table eventually filled with Faren’s family - the King and Queen, Lucien and Allegra with a squirmy Fennella in tow, and a slender young man Emilia hadn’t met before. This must be the absent brother from this morning.

When the guests were seated, Faren raised both of his hands to get the crowd’s attention.

“Friends and family,” his deep baritone reverberating around the courtyard, “My wife and I welcome you to our wedding feast. It means so much you have come to celebrate our union - many of you traveling long and hard to be here, for which we are most grateful. Tonight is a triumph! Not just of my marriage, but of another chapter in the alliance between fairy folk and humankind. Another generation shall grow and prosper in peace! That is truly something to rejoice. So please… fill your cups and bellies! Dance and make merry! For your Dark Prince and new Dark Princess have much to celebrate!”

With his final word, lively music was struck up and an army of servers bearing platters towering with every delicacy imaginable began to lay the meal out before the guests. Emilia’s mouth watered as the table before began to fill. Bowls of roasted root vegetables in aromatic oils, piles of hand pies filled with minced lamb and gravy, platters of ripe fruits and mild cheeses sliced so perfectly a master swordsman must have cut them. But the crowning glory of the table was the spit-roasted peacock, skin crisp and deep brown, laid out on a bed of its own tail feathers. Emilia couldn’t imagine anything more decadent… that is, until she saw the dessert. An impossibly tall tower of palm-sized almond buns, filled to bursting with cinnamon date paste and frizzed with sticky toffee sauce. Emilia had to stop herself from diving headfirst into them…she was a Princess now, after all. Decorum was to be observed. Yes. Decorum.

Faren took this moment to lean in and whisper, his lips so close to her ear that her skin prickled all over her body. “Emilia, you must take care to only eat the food at this table tonight.”

One of her curved eyebrows shot up and she looked across the room at the tables of identical platters… it all looked the same to her, so what was the issue? Before she could even form a question in response, Faren answered..

“In the Dark Realm, for special occasions like the solstice, royal births, weddings…a lot of folk partake in heavy intoxicants. Once the children and elderly have made their way to bed, fairies often eat or drink substances that give us a euphoric feeling similar to humans drinking hard spirits. Belladonna berries, hallucinogenic mushrooms, ergot rye… Dark folk are immune to the more lethal side effects, but they are quite toxic - and often deadly - if consumed by a human. So please, at this feast and all going forward, only eat the food served at our table.”

“Understood,” Emilia softly replied. What else was there to say?

The food was delectable, and Emilia wished her stomach had more room. Meal finished, she allowed Faren to serve them both almond buns. He waited expectantly as she took an eager bite and had to smother the laugh that bubbled in his throat when she made an unladylike moan as she chewed. He had picked up early on that she had a weakness for sweets.

She devoured the bun, still wiping toffee from her fingers, when he turned to ask her to dance. He stopped, mid sentence, when he noticed a smear of date paste at the corner of her mouth. He gently wiped it away with his thumb, lingering on the soft edge of her lip, and then brought his thumb to his mouth, sucking it clean.

He couldn’t tell if the look on Emilia’s face was disgust or amusement. “Did you just…?”

“I did. We’re married aren’t we? I should be allowed to clean food off of your face, so you don’t make an arse of yourself.”

“No, you’re right. Thank you, my Prince, for sparing me that embarrassment.” Her voice was teasing, and it pricked at the awkwardness between them, puncturing it like a bubble.

They shared an easy smile.

A long shadow fell between them, and Emilia turned her head and saw the younger Prince staring down at her. “Hello, lovebirds,” he said in a languidly syrupy voice. Smarmy, Emilia thought.

“You must be my sister-in-law. I’m Thierrus. I apologize for not meeting you earlier… mornings don’t agree with me.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you now.” Emilia couldn’t imagine how much this man must hate mornings to miss meeting his future Queen…

“Indeed. My deepest congratulations to the pair of you. Brother, I was just thinking I should take my new sister for a spin on the dance floor,” he said, extending a long-fingered hand that ended in short, hawk-like talons.

Faren’s face was an inscrutable mask, but registered just a hint of annoyance as Emilia took his hand and was led to the dance floor. He hadn’t even danced with his wife yet, so why did his brother think he should offer? Perhaps he was trying to make up for missing breakfast, but still…

Emilia followed behind Thierrus, thinking of how different the brothers looked. Where Faren was dark and sharp, Thierrus was pale and broad-featured. Where Faren was imposing, Thierrus was slight.

Eventually she found herself with one of her brother-in-law’s clawed hands wrapped around her fingers, and the other around her waist, pressing uncomfortably into the yielding cloth of her bodice. The song was brisk, and she struggled to match his strides. “Such a short thing you are,” he teased, though he didn’t slow even a bit. The pace was demanding and he wasn’t a gentle partner. Mercifully, the song was short and ended soon.

Before Thierrus could ask for another dance, Lucien stepped in.

“Don’t keep our lovely Dark Bride all to yourself, brother,” the wolfish grin on his face seemed more annoyed than playful as he spun Emilia away from the youngest Prince. They danced a lively jig together, Emilia squealing when Lucien picked her up and spun her at the end.

A slow, sultry melody began, and Lucien excused himself to search for his wife. Emilia stepped to the side of the packed dancing space and inched her way towards her seat when Faren’s hand snaked its way to her wrist.

“Not so fast, my little bride. You’ve danced with my brothers. This dance is mine.”