Chapter 5: Prologue: Dance of Deaths
His eyes, a striking shade of greenish-gray, possessed a clarity reminiscent of a transparent lake. Their beauty was undeniable, but to Sophia, it was an unsettling revelation.
She stumbled within herself.
Those eyes, with their unearthly allure, seemed incongruent with the heart of a man as ruthless and seemingly devoid of humanity as Ragnar.
It was a visual paradox, a captivating gaze that contradicted the malevolence dwelling within.
He extended his hand, and Sophia hesitated before reluctantly accepting it. Together, they descended the stone steps, making their way towards the venue where the reception would take place.
The wedding bells echoed, not in joyous celebration, but as a somber melody—a mournful dirge for a kingdom betrayed. For Sophia, each toll carried the weight of guilt and the burden of unforeseen consequences that now intertwined with her destiny.
*
The somber atmosphere enveloped the funeral home, where the fallen warriors from the recent war lay in repose. Each lifeless form received meticulous care, as they were gently bathed and adorned with ceremonial garments, their faces etched with the solemnity of their final journey.
The air was heavy with grief as mourners gathered to pay their respects, the flickering candlelight casting a soft glow upon the grieving faces. Healers and priests conducted solemn rituals, invoking prayers for the departed souls and seeking solace for the grieving families.
The scent of incense lingered, a poignant reminder of the spiritual essence that accompanied the passage to the afterlife. The echoing dirge of sorrowful hymns reverberated through the hallowed halls, providing a haunting backdrop to the shared grief of the assembled.
As the night wore on, preparations for the upcoming funerals continued, with family members arranging flowers and candles to adorn the caskets. The weight of loss hung in the air, yet there was a collective determination to honor the fallen and provide them a dignified farewell on the morrow.
In the joyous aftermath of the wedding vows, the celebratory feast unfolded in a grand spectacle of opulence and revelry. Lavish tables adorned with delicacies from every corner of the realm invited guests to indulge in a gastronomic journey. Exquisite dishes, from succulent roasted meats to rich desserts, adorned the banquet, tantalizing the taste buds of those in attendance.
Laughter and merriment echoed through the halls as the guests, adorned in resplendent attire, mingled and shared tales of the newlyweds. Goblets were raised, and toasts were made, filling the air with the clinking of glasses and the spirited cheers of well-wishers.
The lively ambiance of the celebration embraced both the victorious and the bereaved, offering a momentary respite from the somber realities of war.
As the night progressed, the spirited atmosphere intensified. The heady aroma of fine wines wafted through the air, fueling the revelers' joy and unleashing uninhibited joy.
The dance floor became a stage for twirling couples, their laughter and footfalls harmonizing with the rhythmic beats of the music.
Amidst the resplendent tables, Ragnar extended his goblet. "To love, to unity, and to a future forged in the fires of our shared destinies!"
The assembly echoed with the clinking of glasses, and the nobles offered their cheers. Sophia, clad in regal attire, smiled through the bittersweet echoes of her recent struggles.
As couples swirled on the dance floor, Ragnar approached Sophia, extending his hand. "Dance with me, my queen, and let the world fade away for a moment."
Sophia hesitated, then placed her hand in his. "For a moment," she agreed, her gaze holding both sorrow and newfound strength.
In another corner, Prince Uzana Clementine, Ragnar's brother, attempted to engage Adeline Shad, an ordinary healer girl.
However, Adeline, fueled by resentment toward the Gamaaloth, simply brushed him off with a cold demeanor.
Uzana, undeterred, persisted, "I see you're not easily swayed, Adeline. But perhaps, in the dance of life, we can find a common rhythm."
Adeline, unmoved, replied, "The dance of life has led me through darker paths than your kind can comprehend, Prince. I prefer solitude to the company of conquerors."
Adeline walked away, leaving Uzana behind, seemingly unfazed by the prospect of losing her head.
Uzana stood in stunned silence, blinking rapidly, not expecting to be dismissed so outrightly.
"Did I just get rejected?"
Reeves and Roman, standing nearby, burst into laughter.
"Looks like it, Prince. Not everyone is enchanted by royal titles and charming smiles," Reeves quipped, a smirk playing on his face.
Uzana, still processing the unexpected turn of events, muttered, "Well, that's a first."
Then, Reeve and Roman rose from their seats to approach Shi by Reeve and Helvis by Roman, the two healer girls standing stiff in place. They didn't move away, but they also didn't fully embrace the presence of the two Gamaaloth on the edge of consciousness. Eventually, however, they chose to accept the arrival of the two handsome and towering Gamaaloth men.
Reeve approached Shi with a wary expression, while Roman approached Helvis with a similar demeanor. Their two worlds, previously separated, now converged in the middle of the room with a palpable tension in the air.
Shi and Helvis attempted to offer friendly smiles as a gesture of peace, but the limited range of their facial expressions conveyed that the entire situation was still in an adjustment phase. Both worlds stood before Reeve and Roman, letting the moment unfold without spoken words.
Amidst the silent tension, Reeve extended his hand towards Shi, breaking the ice. "May I have this dance?" he asked with a genuine smile, attempting to bridge the gap between their different worlds through the universal language of dance.
Simultaneously, Roman mirrored the gesture with Helvis. "Care to dance?" he inquired, offering his hand with a friendly expression. The air was filled with anticipation as the healer girls contemplated the unexpected invitation, and the Gamaaloth men patiently waited for their response.
Shi, hesitating for a moment, glanced at Reeve's outstretched hand. She then looked around, noticing the curious gazes of those in the room. Taking a deep breath, she finally nodded and placed her hand in Reeve's.
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Chapter 6: Prologue: The Masked King
Helvis, on the other hand, met Roman's gaze and offered a small smile. She placed her hand in his, accepting the invitation to dance. The room fell into a brief silence as Reeve and Roman guided Shi and Helvis to the center, where the soft music played.
As the dance commenced, a subtle transformation unfolded. The healer girls, initially reserved, began to move with more ease, following the lead of their Gamaaloth partners despite their imposing figures.
The onlookers watched with a mixture of surprise and admiration as the two worlds, initially hesitant and distinct, began to blend harmoniously on the dance floor. The atmosphere shifted from tension to a shared moment of connection.
The dance became a metaphorical bridge, connecting the healer girls and the Gamaaloth, transcending cultural differences and past grievances. In the fluidity of the dance, unspoken understanding blossomed.
The two girls, on the verge of being captivated and falling in love, were enveloped in the rich scent of wine emanating from their bodies, mingling with the traces of blood on their armor-clad attire. Tears welled up in the eyes of the healer girls.
Arnulp approached the young healer girl named Lavatri, his target since arriving in Cescil. He reached out for her hand, and despite Lavatri's attempts to pull away, Arn's grip remained firm.
"Care to dance with me again?" he asked, his speech slightly slurred from the effects of alcohol.
Lavatri sensed the strong scent of potent wine emanating from Arn's body, and it mixed with the lingering smell of blood on their armor. Tears welled up in the eyes of the healer girls as they observed the surreal scene unfolding.
Before Lavatri could voice her rejection, Arn took the lead and pulled her into the center of the grand hall. His movements were erratic, guided more by intoxication than rhythm, and Lavatri desperately wanted to break free from his grasp.
However, Arn's hold on her waist was unyielding.
In response, Lavatri retaliated by gripping both of Arn's arms, deliberately digging her nails in with a mix of frustration and defiance.
Arn winced in pain, but he showed no signs of stopping. His mind seemed to have been cast far behind his head, lost in the fog of alcohol.
As the festivities unfolded, Ragnar steadfastly maintained his anonymity behind the sturdy mask that concealed not just his face but his entire form.
Whispers about the Gamaaloth painted them as not only ruthless but also adorned with scales and wolf-like snouts, sporting sharp, menacing teeth.
Contrary to the monstrous image, the rest of the Gamaaloth soldiers looked perfectly ordinary, some even remarkably handsome.
Despite the evident normalcy of his fellow Gamaaloth, Ragnar opted to keep his face veiled. Sophia couldn't help but delve into speculations, questioning why the Gamaaloth prince persisted in hiding his visage.
Perhaps, she pondered, there existed a perceived ugliness beneath the armor and mask, a reason compelling him to shroud his appearance in mystery. The curiosity lingered in Sophia's mind, and the enigma surrounding Ragnar's concealed face fueled her imagination with intrigue and wonder.
The wedding ceremony unfolded in a peculiar setting, resembling more of a battlefield than a celebration.
Attendees adorned in battle-worn armor moved through the venue. The thick stench of iron-rich blood lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of rusted weaponry and the acrid odor of burnt flesh—a fire from dragons.
Every person present bore the marks of conflict—tarnished copper, dirty teeth from prolonged periods without the luxury of bathing in the midst of battlefields, and the distinct aroma of singed flesh.
The atmosphere was charged with an unusual intensity, an amalgamation of the joyous occasion and the lingering echoes of past grievances.
Why was Ragnar in such a hurry to marry her? To the extent of conducting the wedding ceremony on the same day as the massacre.
People said Ragnar's haste in marrying Sophia was fueled by the urgency of the situation. The looming massacre and the uncertainty of the battlefield pushed him to solidify their union amid the chaos.
"Is that true?" Sophia wondered silently.
As Ragnar approached her, Sophia's gaze fixated on him, her vision haunted by the swirling images of Elder Cryica's severed head. A throbbing pain pulsed through her head, and she groaned, feeling a tumultuous churning in her stomach.
In the midst of the ceremony, a wave of nausea overwhelmed Sophia. She retched and cried simultaneously, unable to contain the pain that had gathered in her heart.
The union, originally intended to be a beacon of joy, now unfolded against a backdrop of anguish, mirroring the turbulent emotions that permeated the war-torn landscape.
Sophia caught a fleeting glimpse of Ragnar sprinting toward her, his face etched with profound concern, while the throbbing in her head intensified. It was as if both sides of her skull had just been pounded by the relentless beats of a distant drum.
"Why? What is causing him such worry?" she wondered.
Sophia stumbled as her vision blurred. In that moment, Ragnar stood before her, just as her legs lost their ability to support her weight.
Ragnar swiftly caught her, preventing her from collapsing.
And then, there was only darkness.
*
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