The Ice Dragon King & The Slave-Queen

Chapter 2 - The Wedding

Taryn’s governess, Lady Riona, ushered her to the middle of the longhouse. The handmaid, Eve, and another two Varangian ladies helped Taryn into a simple white Celtic wedding dress that she had brought along with her trousseau from her kingdom. The dress was made of silk, soft to the touch and it fell gracefully on Taryn’s petite body right down to the floor. Lady Riona brought out a belt made of two thick golden ropes that were weaved together and tied it around Taryn’s waist, letting the longer end of the belt fall from her waist to her knees. When one of the Varangian ladies placed the veil on Taryn’s head, she let out a sigh at how beautiful it looked. Taryn had seen the veil when she first entered the longhouse and loved it. The length of the thin veil was only to her chest level, but it was the flower crown which the veil was embellished with that made her love it so. The flowers that were weaved around the crown were deep red baby breaths, her favorite color. The color was similar to the pendant on her grandmother's necklace, now lying snugly in between her breasts.

However, when the lady pinned the crown on top of her head and covered her face with the thin veil, dread started to settle in her mind again. She couldn't help thinking that this meant she was one step closer to her doom.

There was a knock on the door, a signal that it was almost time for the wedding and that they should make a move. The Varangian ladies giggled and started to increase their working pace. They did the final touches on Taryn's face before curtsying a little and leaving the room quickly.

“Do not frown, girl. This is your wedding. You should at least try to look a little happy,” Lady Riona said quietly to Taryn as she stood in front of her, smoothening out the wedding dress.

Taryn looked at the governess imploringly, but she knew that nobody could help her in this matter. She was to wed the Varangian king today and live to be his wife for the rest of her life — or should she put it, until the end of her life. She had never met the king before, and on the day when she arrived in his kingdom, he did not deign to even meet her and welcome her as his guest. It was a little later that she was told it was not the custom for a bride to meet their promised husband before the wedding ceremony. Taryn didn’t mind it at all, of course.

Before she came to this kingdom, she was told that the Varangian King had seen a painted picture of the Celtic princess sometime in the middle of the lengthy call for peace between the Varangians and the Celtics. The Varangian king’s reaction to Princess Orla’s portrait was not very favorable. Back in the Celtic king’s castle, she had also heard gossip that when Princess Orla saw a painted picture of the Varangian king, she screamed and threw his picture onto the floor.

It was said that Princess Orla screamed in despair, “How can I ever be asked to marry a man so ugly and fearsome? Such a man would only kill me in bed and tear me to pieces!”

"If the princess is unwilling to marry our king, then he will be forced to terminate the agreements with your kingdom. Especially the agreement involving the Varangians not stepping on this land," the Varangian ambassador, an old man trusted completely by the Varangian king, warned the Celtic king when news of the princess' rejection spread to his ears.

The Varangian ambassador was adamant about getting his way and gave the Celtic royals only a few days to make their final decision.

This was one of the main reasons why Taryn was taken forcefully from her home and brought to the royal family. On top of being pressured into marrying the Varangian king, Taryn was also told to persuade the king not to attack her kingdom after they were married. She was told that the agreement of marriage was made so that both their kingdoms could finally be at peace with each other. She was told that, as a wife, she would have the king's ears and would be able to make the Varangian king listen to her advice and trust her. She did not know how she was going to do all that, if indeed the king was a fearsome man like what Princess Orla declared. What if he tore her into pieces instead?

The door to the longhouse opened and a large man stood near the doorway. He looked young, possibly in his late twenties, but the deep scar across his left temple made him look menacing. It didn't help that, even though he was in his neat attire, he still had his big axe hung low at the belt near his waist. He didn’t smile at her or her two ladies but only bowed a little at her and swept his hand in front of him, indicating that it was time for them to leave.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she walked behind the towering man toward the wedding venue. As her governess and closest companion, Lady Riona walked right next to her, but Eve could not follow them along since the young girl was merely a maid and was below their rank.

The walk from the longhouse to the wedding venue was not very far but both Taryn and Lady Riona tried quite unsuccessfully to control themselves from shivering because the wind had started to pick up. The wind whipped Taryn’s thin veil about her and she feared it would fly away with the strong wind. The menacing-looking man’s booted feet made crunching sounds as they walked to the top of the clear hill, heading towards another longhouse similar to the one she was in earlier — but double in size — situated near the castle.

Every step that she took as they walked to the wedding venue was like the sound of thunder to her ears. In her mind, she could hear a voice berating her for agreeing to this sham of a marriage. The voice cursed this day, the day that she was to be married to a man so loathsome that the real bride had to be replaced by her. The voice cursed the God that she was told to worship for sending His clergymen to bully her and force her into this lie. The voice cursed the situation she was born in and the hardships she had to endure her whole life until the day she was handed over to this foreign king from a kingdom she had never known like a discarded piece of toy. The voice in her head was filled with anger, despair, and misery.

Taryn’s hand went to the hollow between her breasts, touching the pendant of the necklace underneath her dress, the same one that her grandmother had secretly given her. Right at that moment, she was missing her grandmother greatly, wishing the old woman was there to smile at her, rub the top of her head or even tell her stories the way she always had when Taryn was a little girl. Taryn prayed that whatever sacrifices she was making today would be worth the while, especially for her grandmother. She prayed that the old woman that she loved with all her heart was safe and warm wherever she was at that moment. She prayed that if her future with the Varangian king would be cruel, then someone would come and end her life quickly so that she wouldn’t have to endure the pain and heartache for too long.

“Wait,” the burly man said in Gaelic tongue roughly as he raised his hand in front of Taryn's face, stopping Taryn and Lady Riona a few feet away from the longhouse where the wedding was to take place.

The man entered the longhouse and closed the door behind him before Taryn could take a peek at what was inside. Lady Riona looked at Taryn, her lips pale because of the cold. Only then did Taryn realize that the governess was barely covered, especially since she too wore a dress as thin as hers, without any cloak on to cover her neck or shoulders. The mature woman was already shivering as they stood waiting outside in the cold weather.

Taryn tried to get her mind off depressing thoughts and looked closely at the façade of the longhouse. The house was made of thick and long wooden planks mixed with clay. The wooden planks were arranged in such a way that the outside walls looked bow-shaped, closely resembling an outline of a ship. The walls were high and strong. The roofs were supported by thick long planks that were buried deep in the earth, making the exterior of the longhouse strong and stable. After a few moments, Taryn realized that this particular longhouse looked exactly like an upside-down ship, without the masts. Even though she was in a miserable state, she still managed to feel quite impressed by the architecture displayed in front of her. In truth, the longhouse was similar to a pavilion compared to the other houses in its vicinity.

After a while, Taryn heard the sound of a flute being played somewhere in the distance. The music was sweet and lilting, reminiscent of a flowing river. Less than a minute later, the door to the longhouse was thrown open and Taryn sucked in her breath, thrown off by the beautiful interior of the longhouse.

The menacing-looking man was standing by the door. He looked at Taryn and raised both his eyebrows quietly, amused by Taryn’s expression. Taryn saw that the inside of the longhouse was brightly lit with many candles, even though there was also sunlight coming through the large windows. It was as well since the dark clouds were now hovering above their heads and it looked like the rain was going to pour heavily at any minute now.

Taryn saw many men and women standing in uniformed rows facing the opposite side from where she was standing. At the head of these guests, standing at what she assumed was the altar, were two men. One of them was an elderly man wearing liturgical garments that closely resembled those of the Christian clergymen back home. Taryn assumed the elderly man was the priest that was to marry her off to the Varangian king.

The other man at the altar stood in front of the priest, facing him, his back to her. Taryn thought the man at the altar seemed to loom large in the distance. The man’s shoulders looked to be as broad as the menacing-looking man's shoulders, who was now standing by the door, watching her closely. From this distance, she noticed that the man's hair was shorter compared to the other Varangian men that she had come across in this kingdom. Yet, she saw that he still tied his hair into a neat braid. That was all that she could see from that distance.

“That’s him, dear girl. That is the man you will marry. That is the Varangian king,” Lady Riona whispered next to Taryn’s ear, causing Taryn’s heart to pick up its pace once again.

The large man standing at the door cleared his throat impatiently, his lips pursed. Once again, he made a sweeping gesture with one of his hands, indicating that she should walk toward the man at the head of the room. Taryn turned to look at Lady Riona. The woman gave her a reassuring smile, nodded, and ushered her to walk down the aisle. Taryn tried to focus on her breathing and the soothing music as she walked slowly down the aisle by herself toward the altar, where the priest and the man she was to marry were waiting for her.

Taryn didn’t know how she made it to the altar, walking on legs that felt like jelly. She didn’t know how or what propelled her forward, but by the time she came to her senses, she realized she was already standing next to the tall man, facing the kind face of the elderly priest. Taryn didn’t dare to look at the Varangian king but as she stood next to him, she thought she smelled a fresh masculine scent, tingling her nose. With a quick glance from under her veil, she guessed that the top of her head barely reached above his underarm.

The ceremony was done in the Norse language and Taryn had no idea what was said by the priest. At one point during the ceremony, the priest indicated that both of them should reach out their right hands above a sacred book that was placed in front of them. The book had engravings on top of it with what looked like writings in an ancient language. Taryn thought it didn't look like any of the plain Bibles that the Christian missionaries in her kingdom used to carry around. The priest told the Varangian king to hold Taryn’s hand in his before he tied their hands together with a piece of red string. Then, he covered the string and their hands with a long white cloth embroidered with writings similar to the ones on the sacred book.

Taryn looked at the king’s right hand holding hers, noting the veins on his hand and the dust of golden hair on his arm. His hands were large, his fingers long, but he held her hand gently in his. Taryn noticed how warm his hand felt on hers, definitely warmer than her own. Taryn could feel herself blushing at the contact but tried to take deep steadying breaths to prevent herself from feeling faint.

Although the priest married them in the Norse language, some time through his recitation Taryn distinctly heard him pronouncing the name “Orlagh Ó Náel Sechnail”, which meant that the priest was saying the name of the Celtic Princess. She heard the name “Einar Asgerson” being said by the priest too, before he took the sacred book from under their hovering hands and touched it first to the king’s forehead and then to Taryn’s. Then, the priest handed them a cup. In it was a dark wine that smelled a little too sweet for her liking. The Varangian king sipped it first before the priest handed the cup to Taryn for her to do the same. Finally, the priest uncovered the embroidered cloth from their hands. He then untied the red string and placed it in Taryn’s hand, signaling to her that she should turn to face her husband.

The Varangian king watched his bride standing in front of him, her eyes downcast, her breathing fast. His hand reached out to Taryn’s thin veil, pushing it above and behind her head so that he could kiss his bride, as directed by the priest. However, as his fingers were about to reach for her chin so that he could turn her face up to look at him, he noticed that her chest was rising up and down swiftly as if she had been running, making him stop his hand mid-air in concern. A second later, Taryn’s eyes rolled back to her head and she fell into the king’s arms.

***

Taryn awoke to Eve sponging her forehead with a wet cloth and smoothing her ruffled hair. She opened her eyes slowly, the fire in the hearth in front of her glaring into her eyes. When Eve saw that Taryn had awoken, the handmaid was so happy that she rushed to the governess, waking her from a nap in the corner of the room.

Lady Riona quickly shot to her feet and walked over to Taryn, her perfect hair bun slightly awry, and asked, “Are you feeling better, dear?”

The governess bent over slightly and placed the back of her hand on Taryn’s forehead, checking if she had a fever.

“What happened?” Taryn asked in a small voice, her throat felt dry and her head felt like it was trapped in cobwebs.

“You fainted during your wedding,” the governess replied plainly.

Taryn nodded in understanding, pushing herself upright, and said, “I think it was because I was tired.” Or then again, maybe it was the wine.

“And probably because you haven't eaten anything since last night too,” Lady Riona added.

Truthfully, since the day she found out she was to be married off to a strange king in a strange land, Taryn had had little to no sleep and appetite. Her mind was constantly filled with worry. Most of her waking moments were spent worrying over her grandmother — who, until the day she was shipped off to the Varangian kingdom, still did not receive any news of her whereabouts — and worrying about pretending to be the Celtic princess, wondering if she would be able to pull off the switch well. She often imagined being decapitated by the Varangian king or his warriors when they found out she was a liar. That image alone was enough to give her nightmares.

“Where am I?” Taryn asked as she looked around her. She saw that she was no longer in the small room or the same single bed that she had slept in the longhouse for the past week. Right then, she was in a larger room, warm from the fire burning in the hearth opposite her. She turned her head to the side and saw heavy curtains covering the windows. There were no lights coming in from behind them.

“Is it night time?” She asked again, slightly confused as she looked at Lady Riona.

Lady Riona nodded. “Yes, dear. Many hours had passed since the wedding ceremony. The king carried you here directly after you passed out. This is his bedroom,” Lady Riona said, gesturing around the large room.

“The wedding festivities started shortly after the ceremony ended. It is in full swing right now. These people love their aqua vitae and their ballads. I do not think I would like to be inebriated on your wedding day. Furthermore, both Eve and I had no idea what they were talking or singing about. We decided we would rather be in this room and wait for you to wake up instead,” Lady Riona continued, sitting next to Taryn and patting her hand.

Taryn thanked both the governess and her handmaid as she leaned her head on the tall headboard behind her. Taryn took the chance to look around the room, grateful for the light spilling from the hearth and the candelabra on the nightstand next to her. She saw that most of the furniture in the room was made of oak, each carved carefully and intricately. On the hearth opposite the bed was a sigil, carved out of wood like most of the other things in the room too. The sigil looked like a serpent trapped in a globe, but instead of the head of a snake, it had the head of a dragon, with sharp horns on its head and baring its long teeth at her. The carved animal was painted black and its eyes staring at her from opposite the bed were made of shiny, blue crystals.

“What is that?” Taryn asked, her eyes watching the sigil, staring at it, intrigued.

Both the governess and her handmaid turned to look at the frame on top of the hearth as well.

“It is the sigil of your husband’s house, milady. They said it was a beast called Jörmungandr. The Varangians called it the World Serpent,” Eve said, her Gaelic accent thick and reminded Taryn of home.

“Such a beast exists?” Taryn asked foolishly.

“Of course not, dear. The beast Jörmungandr is one of many beasts in the Norsemen’s myth. They believed the beast existed thousands of years ago, at the beginning of time when their gods ruled the earth. It is nothing but folly, child. You need not worry your head about that right now,” Lady Riona said, quickly admonishing Eve after that, telling the young handmaid not to spread stories that might be misunderstood by others in the future.

Taryn had seen sigils of the Celtic ministers before. The noble families would take on the form of animals as their sigils and combine different colors to separate their houses from one another. All of the sigils she had seen before are of real and living animals, ones you can find on the farm or in the woods. Even the Celtic king’s sigil was a boar. Never had she seen one that looked like the Varangian king’s sigil, a mythical creature, but at the same time seemed real — especially with its twinkling blue eyes. She thought if such a beast exists today, it would be no surprise how the Varangians have managed to conquer many parts of the world swiftly.

“By the way, you are now in your marriage bed. Even though this is the king’s bedroom and this his bed, you shall have to sleep here on nights when he wants you to accompany him,” Lady Riona said, her eyes fixed on Taryn’s face.

Taryn nodded, although a little confused why the king might want her company, especially since they did not know each other at all. Taryn had never met the king before the wedding. She very much looked forward to getting to know him first before anything else.

“Child, do you know what happens in a marriage bed?” Lady Riona asked, her head cöcked to the side as she assessed Taryn’s reaction.

Lady Riona had never inquired about Taryn’s s****l experiences before. The topic was never spoken of since the first day they met until tonight because, back in their own kingdom, they were too busy preparing for the journey to the Varangian kingdom. When they arrived in this kingdom, they were either separated due to their ranks or because there were too many people around that Lady Riona could not bring up such sensitive matters to discuss.

“Yes, I do,” Taryn answered, her eyes unwavering.

Eve giggled at the foot of the bed. Taryn’s eyes flew to Eve’s face but her expression remained neutral.

“Are you sure?” Lady Riona inquired again, just to be sure. Lady Riona thought that if Taryn already knew or if she was already experienced in the matter, then Lady Riona would not have to explain to her about the uncomfortable topic of copulation right then.

“Yes, I am,” Taryn answered with confidence.

Back in the Celtic castle before she was shipped off to this kingdom, she had heard of the shenanigans that Princess Orla had gotten herself into every now and again. Her ladies were always gossiping behind her back about this boy and that who became the princess’ new interest in bed. It seemed that the princess had been actively fornicating since she first bled at fifteen years old.

Taryn did not understand the interest in mating amongst the young girls in the castle, but from the things she was told by the religious scholars, mating is important for reproduction, in both humans and animals. They said if one day she ever marries, she must allow her husband to join her in bed. They will sleep together in the same bed on their wedding night or any other night he wants, as long as she is not bleeding and she will have to cleave to her husband whenever he asks her.

Taryn never quite understood why she would have to cleave to her husband. Would she need a particular blade or a tool to do so for her husband? She thought maybe her husband would know better and guide her when the day comes. The only other thing she got from Princess Orla’s ladies was that the first time would hurt. She imagined it would if the tool used for the cleaving was blunt or too big, but again, she would leave that matter to her husband. Maybe the act itself was something good, seeing that Princess Orla was incredibly addicted to it even after three years since her first time, even though she hadn’t even married yet.

“If you already understand your duties, then I shall not need to explain them to you,” Lady Riona said with a smile and squeezed Taryn’s hand.

Lady Riona imagined that maybe Taryn had been subjected to such intimate matters back when she was a slave. It was not unheard of that some men, especially those who used slaves to do their work and bidding, would use those slaves for their own pleasure as well, in return for food or a roof over their heads. The governess looked at Taryn and couldn’t deny that Taryn was a very attractive girl. Men with power or means would usually take something in return for favors. Lady Riona wouldn’t want to inquire too much about this subject, however, in case it was too painful for Taryn.

Taryn looked down at her nightgown and noticed how transparent it was. She had never worn this nightgown before and asked in a worried voice, “I’ve never seen this nightgown before. Why is it so thin?”

Lady Riona looked at Taryn and wondered again if the girl really knew what she would have to do in her marriage bed but before she could open her mouth and ask Taryn about it, there came a soft knock on the door.

Taryn pulled the covers of the bed up to her chin as Lady Riona walked to the door and opened it slightly. Both Taryn and Eve heard some low voices exchanged between Lady Riona and the person behind the door but they could not make out what it was.

After Lady Riona closed the door, she quickly rushed to Taryn’s side.

“The king is on his way to this room right now, my dear. He wanted to check on you and I’ve told the maid who just left that you are now awake,” Lady Riona said before she told Eve to help plump the pillow behind Taryn and help her sit straighter in bed.

“If you are well enough, he will surely bed you tonight. So, if you are sure that you are well, you can agree to his request. But if you are not or if you feel uncomfortable, you must say it too,” Lady Riona said, looking straight into Taryn’s eyes as Eve fussed about the pillow and her nightgown.

Taryn did not understand what the governess meant. She felt alright at that moment and didn’t think she would need to say otherwise. But, was the governess telling her to say no? She wanted to tell Lady Riona to speak plainly but like a shot, the door to the room was thrown open and all three of them yelped in surprise.

Lady Riona and Eve quickly shuffled next to each other before curtsying to the Varangian king who was standing in the doorway. Half of his face and body were in the shadows, partly because the corridor behind him was dark. Taryn could hear loud music, laughter, and stomping of feet from the lower ground, indicating that the festivities were still going on boisterously.

The king did not move from the doorway but Lady Riona took the hint and said to the room, “We shall take our leave now, Your Grace.”

Before the governess and her handmaid left the room, however, Lady Riona turned around to look at Taryn, giving her a slight nod of encouragement. As the two women walked closer to the door, the king took a step into the room. Lady Riona then closed the door behind her without turning around.

Taryn couldn’t move. She felt like her breath was caught in her throat and no matter how hard she told herself to breathe and keep calm, her heart kept pounding heavily under her ribs. She wanted to steal a glance at the king but her eyes would not do what her brain was telling them to do. So, she ended up staring hard at the bedcovers on her lap, her hands still gripping the covers to her chin like a drowning child holding tight to a float in the rough sea.

The Varangian king stood watching Taryn for a long moment. He did not move a muscle as he looked at her reaction on the bed, seeing her clutching the bed covers as if they were her only savior from ruin. The edge of his lips curled ever so slightly, finding some humor behind it.

Then, the king started walking slowly toward the side of the bed, next to Taryn. The sound of his footsteps approaching made her feel like it was the sound of drums played before a public death sentence — her own death sentence. She imagined this was how the grim reaper would come for her on the day the Varangian king finds out about her true secret and decides to chop her head off. The idea made her breathing come in quick gasps.

The Varangian king stood next to her for a while, waiting for her to raise her head and look at him, but she never did. He reached out and touched her shoulder lightly, feeling her body tremble under his fingers.

“Orla,” the king called out her pretend name, his voice husky and firm, his accent evident.

Goosebumps appeared on Taryn's arms, and it wasn’t because she was cold.