“That’s a child nursery rhyme.” He huffs, amused. “It’s for luck. I get it. But I don’t see why she should be uncomfortable the entire night.”
“It’s not only for luck, kid. It’s also to ward off evil and ensure riches in the lives of the bride and groom.”
Masaccio rolls his eyes, and he sighs loudly.
“It’s too late dad.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“It’s too late to ward off evil after the life you’ve lived. You’ll need more than a sixpence in a shoe.” He laughs.
I pick up a book from the table next to me and throw it at him, but we are all laughing.
Maybe he’s right. But there’s no harm in following traditions - just in case.
Standing at the altar I am stiff, and the anxiety has tripled. What if she changes her mind? What if she runs? All of these stupid thoughts are taunting me. Telling me I don’t deserve someone as beautiful as her.
But I do. I fucking deserve her love and her obedience. She is mine. I fucking want her, and I will have her.
The church organ begins to play, and I take a sharp breath, staring down the red carpet towards the open church doors, waiting for my first glimpse of her.
She steps out, her long, lace-and-silk wedding dress is black as night. As dark as my soul. And more beautiful than I could ever have dreamed.
It dips low over her chest, with thin straps glittering across her shoulder bones. A soft black veil hiding her eyes from me, but even beneath it I can see her smile, her lips painted as dark as blood. As rich as the reddest rose she is carrying in her hands.
I watch her walk slowly towards me and hear the crowd around us gasp - in complete awe of her.
A whisper hush runs through the church as she steps up onto the platform alongside me.
I stand closer to her and slowly lift the veil off her face, letting is float down her back.
Her eyes are greener and brighter than ever before. Her happiness shining through them.
I stare at her, into her soul, as the priest speaks of love and eternal life. My life is with her. Forever. And my heart is screaming so loudly with that knowledge that I want to grab her in my arms now - I want to hold her and never let go.
Impatience spikes through me and I shoot a warning glance towards the priest. “Get to the good part.” I snarl.
Misha giggles and throws me a look that says I should be patient. But I’m not. I want her.
The priest hesitates and stammers quickly over the vows, making us repeat after him that we will love each other until the day we die. That we will take care of each other through sickness and in health. I grit my teeth - I want to hear him say the words.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
I grab her in my arms and swing her backwards, pressing my mouth against her red, red lips. I kiss her with fierce passion. With full possession. I kiss her until neither of us can breathe.
She giggles against my mouth and digs her long nails into the back of my neck, pulling me close.
When we stop, staring into each other’s eyes, the crowd screams and shouts excitedly.
I scoop Misha into my arms and carry her back down the aisle.
My dark, cheeky, beautiful little Raven. She is my wife. She is my everything.
On the dance floor at our reception, surrounded by other guests, dancing to the same song, beneath the same glittering sky of stars - I pull her close and whisper in her ear. “I’m sorry your mother couldn’t be here, my dark princess.”
She shakes her head. “Vincent, this was the happiest day of my life. It is perfect. Everything is perfect. One day, when the time is right, I will sort things out with my mother. But today - it’s about you and me and no one else.” She pulls herself tight against me and I kiss the top of her raven black hair.
“It’s about you and me, little raven, no one else.”
