Shackled Sorceress

Chapter 3 - To Have and to Hold

Everything was moving faster than Kalliope could process. The next three days after that fateful banquet was a blur, and she couldn't even speak, still in disbelief that she was getting married. One minute she was being fitted for a wedding gown, the next she was being drilled by her mother about Caelorian Court. 

They said Kalliope was born with a holy glow around her body. She could move things without touching them, the hearth blazed aflame when she was cold and glass broke when she cried.

Everyone in the Palace knew Kalliope had magic since before her memory. And she grew up expecting to always call the Royal Palace of Aleria home, no matter her desire for adventures. She grew up understanding, and accepting, that she might never have a family of her own, so she could devote her life to serve her kingdom. 

Those with magic, rare as they were, were both revered and feared. They were Gifts from the Gods, but they were also deadly weapons. Men and women of power desired magic, but only for servitude and never as equal. They were treasures to be kept at arm's length, never so close and so intimate that they might pose as a threat.

Princess Kalliope had accepted her fate. Never in her life could she imagine this day would come.

"I can't do this." She told Venus on the last day of the wedding preparations, as they bathed together before the ceremony.

"Yes, you can." Venus' voice was firm, left no room for argument and, not for the first time, she reminded Kalliope how much her personality could resemble their mother, "If I can marry that old boar of a man Eiras, then you marrying a handsome young Prince wouldn't be as much of a nightmare as you're making it out to be."

"Venus, please…"

"No, Kallie." Hands came to grab at her shoulders. There was no trace of Venus's playful nature, as she peered into Kalliope's eyes, "For whatever reason, Malus chose you. He chose you to be his wife. Don't you see? This is your ticket out of here! Isn't this what you have always wanted? For adventures? To see the world far, far away?"

In the face of Venus's passionate words, Kalliope's voice died in her throat.

How could she tell her sister that in the future Kalliope envisioned, Venus was always there by her side? That she could only deal with everything so calmly and so coldly up until now, because Kalliope knew that no matter what happened, she could have waited, right here, in Aleria. That no matter how detached their mother was, how early their father had passed away, this was still home. 

How could she say that to Venus, who was always so desperate to go against their mother, to escape the Queen’s rule, that she would use any means necessary to tick her off? 

When the maids came to prepare her for the wedding, Kalliope felt like she was losing sense of reality. She couldn't feel it when they slipped her into ceremonial garbs, made of layers of ivory gossamer and heavy with crystals. The crown and veil, pinned with Malus' gift, was heavy on her brows. Kalliope almost fell twice on the way to the palace courtyard, her grace all but gone.

Bells echoed through every corner of the streets, and rose petals carpeted her feet. Well-wishes and congratulations filled the air, but Kalliope felt like she would break if she spoke.

Dress trailing behind her, Kalliope marched on numbly, as if with each step, her world was crumbling away piece by piece.

Malus stood waiting for her down the aisle. He was in another ceremonial armour, but white this time. Kalliope couldn't help but think he looked out of place like this, without the ebony colours he seemed so fond of. 

His smile sparkled under Alerian sun, his eyes brightened when they landed on her. But Kalliope couldn't care. Not when she tried so hard not to stumble, amd felt her hope dashed away at the steely look in her mother's eyes and the oblivious encouragement in Venus's.

She didn't hear most of the Priest’s rambling about “to have and to hold” or “love for eternity”. Her mind was unravelling at a dizzying speed and her chest felt like it would explode with anxiety. 

She nearly startled out of her skin when a hand, warmer than the sun, curled around her shaking one.

“Breathe.” Melas whispered into her ear. His large, calloused hand completely encased her delicate fingers, squeezing in solid reassurance.

Kalliope sucked in a shuddering breath. And another. And another.

Her heart jolted painfully when the Priest turned to Malus.

“Do you, Crown Prince Malus Salthamael of the Caelora Empire, take Princess Kalliope Caunduen of Aleria, as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.” 

Her eyes misted over when the Priest’s gaze fell on her.

“Do you, Princess Kalliope Caunduen of Aleria, take Crown Prince Malus Salthamael of the Caelora Empire, as your lawfully wedded husband?”

It took all her strength, all her stoic resolution, to keep her tears from falling. 

“I…”

She glanced over to where her Mother, the Queen, was seething at her hesitation, and her sister who was nodding at her vigorously.

Something broke within Kalliope.

Perhaps...after all, the image she held onto...it was simply an illusion. Something that her, lonely Kalliope, was desperately clinging onto, because it was the only case she could keep a semblance of their family together. No matter how little that family would have been.

Kalliope ripped her eyes away from the faces of her mother and sister, and willed the tears away.

“I do.”

“Then I now pronounce you, husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

The crowd’s cheer was thunderous. Malus beamed down at her, so devastatingly handsome he could have made any other maiden collapse, and gently placed a kiss upon Kalliope’s lips.

Kalliope just felt empty inside.

On the way to the banquet hall, when they placed her and Prince Melas at the highest table, Kalliope felt like she was floating. Not the good kind, mind you, but the disorienting, numbing kind. It might be a blessing, as she responded to those who came to congratulate the newlyweds with all automated politeness of a Royal, letting her trainings take over in the wake of her despondency.

“-Kalliope. Kalliope?”

She almost knocked her wine over, when Malus’ warm hand cradled her face. Speechless, she stared at him as Malus, her husband, leaned close.

“How are you, dearest? You look rather pale.”

“I’m always pale.”

At the same time, both their eyes widened. But Melas rumbled with a chuckle, his thumb rolling circles into Kalliope’s skin.

“I knew you still have that fire in you.”

His words had her brows furrowing, “I have no fire, Highness. I can make some, if you so desire.”

That only served to widen Malus’ grin, “And I look forward to it. But perhaps not here. You know some of the Nobles can be rather...faint-hearted.”

There was a curl of disgust to her lips, “You have no idea.”

If it was possible, Malus seemed even more delighted at her answer and, before Kalliope could react, pressed a quick kiss on her forehead. Kalliope’s protest was drowned in the guests’ cheers at the display of affection. Malus turned to raise his glass to them, his hand slipped from her cheek, and went to hold onto her hand instead. 

Dumbfounded, Kalliope stared at their intertwined hands.

Perhaps she was right. Only the mad would want her for a bride. And Prince Malus was indeed mad.