Chapter Text
Wednesday pulled down the visor of her helmet, the cool metal sheathing her glazed eyes as they trailed after the betrothed couple working their way down the aisle. The dreaded day had finally arrived. It was always coming. She knew that, and yet still could not relinquish herself of the grand torment swarming her insides. The helmet dimmed her vision, but even that was not enough to erase the sight before her. No matter how she tried, Wednesday’s gaze remained fixed on the sight.
The crowned prince looked the perfect picture, dressed to the nines in his royal regalia. A white gloved hand curled around his bride to be’s arm, gently leading them further away. When he wasn’t looking at her, quiet understanding etched into his strangely thin smile, his eyes locked onto the altar that lay ahead. A royal clergyman stood waiting with his precious bible in hand, baring a toothy smile and crinkled eyes holding nothing short of malevolence. That cursed book. If only Wednesday would be granted the wish to shred it before where he stood.
The bride to be…
Wednesday felt her breath hitch in her throat, hand falling heavily against the pummel of her sword. So beautiful did she look, a long cascade of white swishing freely at her backside. The golden strands of her hair appeared like a halo under the glare from the church’s stained glass windows, framing the flush of her face. So achingly gorgeous. Wednesday’s gauntlet did little to lessen the pain of the sword pummel digging in and biting her skin.
It was with everything that Wednesday thanked the slit of her helmet for hardly allowing much insight into her expression. Even more so with the tactful distance she forced between herself and the altar. But it did little to stop crystalizing blue eyes from cutting across the crowd. She wore a rehearsed, light smile. Her full, round lips had once been responsible for darkening her every nightmare. Her eyes found their target.
Wednesday forced her lungs to carry out their executive functions. Her knuckles whitened around the emerald wolf jewel, her family’s crest, on her sword’s head. The mask of the perfect bride slipped, revealing the scared young woman beneath, knowingly walking to what might’ve just been her undoing.
Thought Wednesday’s expression Enid could see not, the tension in her features remained clear, shattering all trace of the queenly decorum taught to her. And Wednesday, for all the many bravery accolades decorating her midriff over the years, could do nothing but watch like a spineless coward.
The behavior was hardly new for her. Distant wishes of lips interlocking under the shadows of the night, and hands dipping lower than deemed appropriate infiltrated Wednesday’s mind. With gritted teeth, Wednesday tore her eyes away, shame burning through her veins.
Her eyes landed on another unthwarted sight—her dearest, oldest friend with eyes pinned to the back of the crowned prince’s head. Unlike Wednesday, no mask concealed l her range of emotions, forced to keep a stiff smile even as stray tears stained Bianca’s face.
Happy tears to the naked eye, but Wednesday knew better. Her own heart raged with turmoil. The shallow breaths she forced herself to take did little to stop the noose growing tighter around her neck. This must have been what it was like to throw yourself down onto your own sword. It was an abysmal feeling, knowing she had subjected herself to this fate. But must it burn like this? Their eyes locked, Bianca’s wide and red rimmed with despondence as she all but silently pleaded with Wednesday to ruin the moment. And their lives right along with it.
Ever the coward, Wednesday refused to let the traitorous emotion of hers win out over her sensible mind. A foul word bounced around the back of her tongue like a relentless foul taste she could not rid herself of, no matter how she pushed it down. Because that’s what love did to others, wasn’t it? Tearing them down until it shredded everything of who they used to be in the name of their paramour. Wednesday eyed the dagger splayed along her right hip, wishing more than anything she had the strength to carve out her heart and take this blasted curse with it, and maybe.. just maybe, the quiet hum of hope this was a distasteful nightmare.
Bianca didn’t need to see her eyes to understand. The last of her pitiful facade slipped and shattered at her feet as the soon to be wedded couple put more distance between them. Bianca fell back into the crowd, hastily raising a hand to her mouth to muffle her sob. The roaring audience accomplished that just fine.
With every growing step, the distance to the altar shrank. Every step, which served as a gunshot, the bullet rifling Wednesday’s heart and tearing through the other side. As though showing her a glimpse of what she so badly wished was hers. Perhaps if she’d acted faster, with more diligence.
She looked down at her gauntlets, where her hand had started to tremble along her sword. If not for the cool metal swallowing her hands, the angry black streaks wrapping and twisting around her knuckles, disappearing up her forearm, would be evident. Distantly she could even feel them pulse. Her deserved fate for following in Icarus’ footsteps.
Tearing her eyes away, she returned to watching the couple. Watching her own demise would be the least cowardly thing she could do. Just for a moment, whether it was a trick of the light or something far more sinister, Wednesday saw herself navigating down the aisle in place of the King. One of her family’s all black attire juxtaposing her para- the bride’s sharp white.
Wednesday expelled a harsh breath, batting away the image and silently cursed herself for thinking such a stupid thing. The smallest part, meanwhile, quietly mourned it. Enid could never be hers. Not in this life, or the next.
Arm in arm, the young couple stared at each other, not quite happy as almost newlyweds should be, but happy enough to satisfy the people. The screams and cheers quieted down, as though the attendees were one too powerful breath away from imploding this dream before them—their ideal of the perfect couple holding the perfect wedding. The thought burned bitter in Wednesday’s chest, the last thing a knight should ever feel.
The old clergyman cracked open his book, glasses nearly slipping off his nose as he mumbled through a speech Wednesday felt no urge to listen to. Not while bile churned in her stomach. She did nothing to claw against the noose digging into her neck, now sure enough to leave marks.
She nearly missed Enid slipping a ring onto her betrothed’s finger, uttering her ‘I do’s’ even as her eyes screamed everything but. The sight took Wednesday back to an old childhood memory that should’ve stayed forgotten.
Enid’s eyes cut to Wednesday, but it was gone just a quick. Wednesday resented her inability to look away.
Ajax followed in step, his much lankier fingers nearly dropping the ring before managing to slide it onto Enid’s finger. The ring, a sterile white jewel twice the size of Enid’s finger, was obnoxious enough to get in the way whilst she engaged in her favorite pastimes. And would be an even bigger nuisance during full moons. The striking opposite of what Enid liked. There had been a time when Wednesday was foolish enough to sketch one of her preferences as a child. Wednesday had lost the sketch in the chaos of being knighted, but could still picture it exactly.
The betrothed embraced hands, the clergyman looking entirely too pleased as he read off the last words. “Then it is with much pleasure that I pronounce you-“
The doors banged open. “I object!” A woman shouted. Her low, cool voice echoed off the church’s walls. Wednesday paled. She need not see her face to place it.
Gasps poured from the guests, some turning to their nearby counterparts to whisper harshly back and forth. Others angered by the uncalled interruption. Wednesday shot to her feet, pushing her visor atop her head, her other hand already braced back against her sword. Her presence at the wedding had been carefully omitted, lest it draw the wrong (right) people to chase her down and attempt an intervention over her stupidity. It appeared Wednesday’s efforts had been for not, much to her chagrin, as this intrusion would only delay the inevitable.
“Halt!” one of the palace knights shouted, having already pushed his way to the start of the aisle. More were quick to follow, their swords brandished towards the intruder. Nearly at the front, Wednesday glimpsed her mother between the array of knights. Two had snatched her up by the forearms, preventing her from advancing forward.
Forcing her way between the lead knight and her mother, Wednesday unsheathed her own sword, the blade wavering dangerously close to his breastplate. “Unhand my mother,” she growled. Her arm strained under the weight of her blade, an unfortunate side effect as of late.
“Would you really sully your title over a traitor?” Sir Tristan scowled, the best knight in the country, only second to herself by a margin he would never close. At the very least, he was wise to keep his sword holstered.
Wednesday raised her sword higher, the tip cutting into his neck. “Watch yourself.”
Whatever his next words were drowned out by the thudding of heels. The crowd separated, revealing Enid, Ajax only a few clicks behind. “Wednesday?” Blue eyes moved into her line of vision, a warm, smooth hand slipping over her own. Wednesday, ever the taken, offered no resistance as the blade fell away from the knight’s neck. A dark red blemish remained in its wake.
Far too concerned eyes, and too soft for their current audience, met brown. Enid scanned her features for any sign of harm. Wednesday pulled her hand away, ignoring the flash of hurt in response, despite the way the look would stay forever carved in her mind. Oh, how weak she was.
Enid turned on her heel, the softness replaced with something far firmer. “What is the meaning of this?” she snapped, glaring between the knights still holding Morticia and Sir Tristan. Enid taking on such authority wasn’t unorthodox, but rare. Many of the younger knights shifted awkwardly.
Neither spoke, eyes bouncing around the room, their allegiance sworn only to the crowned royals.
Ajax rested a supportive hand on Enid’s shoulder, the pulsing of Wednesday’s streaks growing more painful. He sent the knights a withering glare, so sharp and unlike the goofy young man Wednesday had begrudgingly come to know."Are you disobeying my betrothed?" he barked.
“No, Your Majesty.”
“Then answer the fine lady.”
Both knights dropped to a knee and raised a fist over their heart. “Apologies, my lady. We know Lady Morticia is a well respected member of the court, but with her blasted intrusion-“
“Silence.” Enid waved her hand. She chewed her lip in thought, Wednesday latching on to the sharp glint of a fang. “Every objection has a right to be heard. But we will do so in private. Escort Lady Morticia to the war room.” The knights nodded sharply, guiding Morticia from the room. Wednesday followed close behind. They hadn’t been her orders, those strictly tied to looking after Enid, but a word with her mother subverted her duties in this moment.
Enid’s hand tug at her wrist, but Wednesday pushed onward. She couldn’t dare look at the further anguish stirring in her eyes.
Each step towards the war room felt stiffer than the last. Tension radiated over every course of her bones. Wednesday wanted nothing more in that moment to strip herself free of her heavy armor, but to be bare now would only embolden what her mother had come to do.
She worked her jaw and fell in line with the other two knights, positioning just outside her mother’s peripherals. Her mind had already begun brewing scathing words to hopefully send her mother away. Her mind had already been long made up. If it were possible, things between them had grown more stifling, Wednesday’s lingering curse only a further detriment as she did everything to reject her mother’s help. But what would she know of all that plagues her?
Upon arrival to the war room, Wednesday dismissed the knights curtly, posing by the door as they waited for the others. Morticia knew better than to attempt conversation, but that did little to stop the pitying glance she kept watching her with. Wednesday didn’t spare her another look, eyes strategically scanning the room for threats (of course there were none)
Enid burst through the royal doors, looking far too flushed. The royal servants would most certainly riot over having to touch up her makeup again. Ajax and Bianca followed close behind, the old clergyman too trailing after them.
“But Your Majesty, everything must adhere to the schedule, per the agreement of-“
Ajax offered a polite smile, pausing in the doorway. “I’m sure this will only take a moment, Luther.”
The clergyman tried to squeeze his way past, tucking his Bible close to his chest. “I understand, but we must really continue-” His eyes skirted across the room, narrowing as he spotted Enid. “And I hardly think it’s appropriate for you to allow your bride to dictate this matter when she’s yet to become your wife.” Wednesday braced herself to intervene, and would do so gleefully. He had been practically untouchable before Ajax’s crowning, protected only by the old ways of the former queen and her outdated thoughts. And in turn, her open dismay towards Enid had only emboldened his own distaste.
Ajax placed himself more firmly in front of the door, blocking his view. “Now, Luther, you have done a great service for my family, but let me remind you, I am still your King. So I suggest you remember that next time before questioning my betrothed.”
The clergyman’s throat bobbed thickly, floundering for a pitiful excuse but simply bowed in apology and turned tail. Wednesday thought he had escaped further retribution quite easily. He deserved nothing short of being stripped of his role and thrown out onto the streets to take up his day as a boring commoner. Fortunately for him, the King was much more forgiving than herself.
Morticia swept across the room, deep frown lines forming as the betrothed couple gathered around the table. “I deeply apologize for barging in like this, Princess.”
Enid embraced the older woman, her formal facade falling now that it was just her closest confidants in the room. Her smile was as kind as ever, enough so to sweeten even the most bitter of fruits. Wednesday forced her gaze away, jaw clenched as her heart stuttered in her chest. Did that cursed thing never not betray her? “Don’t fret, Lady Morticia. I’m sure whatever reason was of the utmost importance.” Enid said, something Wednesday couldn’t determine lingering in her tone. Goosebumps prickled along her skin, the unyielding urge to turn around and lock eyes with tantalizing blue, no doubt already trained on her, suffocating.
Perhaps an excuse to remove herself would be wise. The words had already formed on her tongue, mindful to keep her eye on the door. But if Enid’s gaze was enough to knock her from her feet, the one Morticia fixed her served as Medusa’s stone, freezing her in place.
“Give us a moment,” Morticia asked, the previous friendliness abandoned in favor of something far more clipped. Though not her kingdom, no one dared to argue. Wednesday watched pitifully as they all filed from the room. Enid was the last out, steps stuttering as she brushed past Wednesday.
She held her hand out, offering a kind hand, a familiar gesture between them. At least it had been. Before Wednesday had selfishly tainted that. Clearing her throat, Wednesday took a step, not out of her reach, but far enough to be noticeable. Those crushing blue eyes widened, hand lamely falling limp at her side. Wednesday turned back to her mother, chancing a look back at the blonde only once her footsteps had quieted to a mere whisper.
The last thing Ajax expected was to find his royal advisor tucked away in one of the guest suites. The second to last thing he expected to see when he entered said room was her back to him, shoulders hunched with a hand clamped around her mouth to muffle her current sobs.
Bianca turned at the sound of the door, hastily wiping her eyes when she realized who it was. “Please don’t do that.” Ajax said, his hand moving to cover her own. “You don’t need to hide anything from me. You know that.” He kept his voice low, the reassurance clear.
Still, Bianca shrugged away his touch, wiping at the few remaining tears. She took a shaky breath, pale blue eyes still glossed over and ready to spill at any moment. It pained Ajax to see her in such distress. Never had he intended to let things go so far, but the end was finally near. Bianca bowed, eyes not fully meeting his own. “If you’ll excuse me, Your Majesty.” Ajax’s chest tightened. She never used his title, hadn’t in years unless they were in front of others. The formality cut through him, a burning reminder of the distance between them.
It had been far too long since they’d shared a moment alone, with his growing list of duties and Bianca insisting she had matters to attend to. That did little to erase his shame. There was little left he could not do these days. It may have been his crowned duty to look after his people, but in doing so he’d let the most important one fade into obscurity.
Standing there, merely observing her now, her beauty surpassed that of any woman. Golden glitter traced a path from her temple to cheek, bringing forth the few brown flecks surrounding her irises. He so desperately longed to trace said path with the pads of his thumbs, and follow it down the faint sprinkle of freckles he’d spotted over the coming years.
Ajax was no fool, as it may appear to others, aware of the relentless burning pyre in his heart only stoked and kept aflame by one lady. And he would’ve been remiss not to notice the same of Bianca. He placed himself in her path, eyes filled with determination. He had been unwise enough to let her slip away once, but no more. Ajax cupped her cheeks.
Bianca’s eyes flickered closed, instinctively leaning further into his hands. Ajax was sure he bore an expression brimmed with love. Such a simple action dwindling him to a puddle despite the lack of familiarity. Never again, he promised himself, would he deny himself the pleasure of embracing her. Was his last thought before putting them both out of their misery and kissing her. Their lips slipped together with such ease, embracing one another with such softness as though afraid to spook the other. If air hadn’t been a necessity, Ajax would subject himself to living in the space permanently.
Only once the breath expelled from their lungs did they pull apart. Already Ajax missed the feeling. Ajax felt Bianca’s words on his lips. “The treaty-“ Ajax stole another kiss, smiling into it as her lips quickly responded. She pulled back with a huff, bracing a hand over his breast. Surely she felt his heart’s erratic movement. “The Sinclairs. What are we to do now?”
Ajax slid a hand around to her back, guiding them from the room. “Enid is amending that.”
Alone with her mother now, Wednesday steeled her emotions and fixed her with a dour look. “Your interjection was unnecessary.”
Morticia’s lip quirked. “It took a strenuous effort to arrive at the castle on time. Spare us both the trouble of this petulant back and forth, my darling.”
“We would not have to, had you remained with father.” Wednesday pointed out, banishing the image of her parents coddled together somewhere on their estate. “My initial claim reigns true.”
“Even you don’t believe that,” Morticia tutted. Wednesday ignored the churning in her stomach. Only the inevitable was being delayed now. Her mother rounded the table, trailing a pointed nail across the top as she went. “Would you have had me remain home while my child is in grave emotional turmoil?”
“Pugsley always was the weak one.” The quip fell short. Morticia swiftly peeled back her gauntlet, exposing the marred flesh to light. Wednesday ignored her sharp gasp, stiffly snatching it back to put on. The inside had grown damp, sweat pooling along the crevices enough so to make her grimace.
Having regained her composure, Morticia spoke sadly, “Our ancestors never meant for it to be a curse.”
An uncharacteristic bolt of anger burned hot in Wednesday’s blood. “They should have thought about that before letting themselves fall victim to such a weakness. I am a well decorated knight, one of the best in this century. Only to be undone by such.. such…” Wednesday tore off her helmet and carelessly threw it onto the war table. Her armor had become suffocating. She unclipped her belt, the sword clattering loudly to the floor. “I have stared down more nefarious beasts and lived. Now, I hardly eat or sleep. And yet, despite it all, my insatiable need to embrace my love for her continues to eat away at me until I will eventually be nothing. So forgive me, mother, if I see it as nothing else.”
Wednesday’s chest heaved, a thin line of sweat gathering along her brow. Reluctantly, she looked back at her mother, expecting a pitying look. What she got was far worse. Her mother stared fixed over her shoulder.
“Wednesday?” Oh. Wednesday straightened her spine, slowly turning to its source. Not only had her outburst been unbecoming, but the reason for it all was staring at her as though she’d never seen anything more precious. For the third time that day, Wednesday’s heart beat uncontrollably.