Wedding Bells

Imagine that one of your fictional characters is getting married. How would it happen? Write the scene.

Alternative #1: Imagine that someone close to one of your fictional characters is getting married.

Alternative #2: Imagine that you are getting married!

Weddings can bring out the best and worst in people. They’re watershed moments that tend to be remembered for decades. They can be small or large, happy or bittersweet, tragic or uplifting. And like many other such moments, they can tell you so much about all involved.

 

As an illegitimate daughter, Cea had only been allowed to attend her father’s wedding as any other unrelated member of the house might: standing anonymously amongst the other unmarried, low-ranking sons and daughters of the house. At the reception she hung back, away from the wedding party, sipping her drink to cover the disconnected feeling that haunted her.

Her father’s new wife was barely two years her senior.

This shouldn’t have surprised her—didn’t—but it certainly felt awkward. She hadn’t even met the young woman, and had no idea what to call her.

It was late when Cea’s father steered his new wife toward Cea. His handsome face was impassive; she knew the wedding hadn’t been his idea, and he likely hadn’t met his new wife before the wedding was arranged several weeks earlier. He obviously wasn’t pleased with the turn of events, but she knew he’d do what the family required of him. The young woman at his side had long brown hair tied back in a thick braid that hung below her waist; she was a vision in silks and velvets. Her face was flushed; some observers might mistake her high color for excitement, but Cea saw the flustered look on her face as she glanced at her new husband. And who could blame her? Dern was a handsome, highly sought-after match; she’d probably hoped to be swept off her feet, not to find that her spouse could hardly even look at her.

Dern lowered his hand to Cea’s shoulder and gifted her with one of his small smiles. “This is my daughter, Cea.”

Cea watched the young woman’s eyes widen. She would have been told of Dern’s daughter, of course, but she’d probably imagined someone rather younger than Cea’s sixteen years.

“Cea, this is Selena.”

Cea curtsied to her father’s wife, lowering her eyes. “Lady, welcome to our home,” she said softly, an almost-undetectable note of sympathy in her voice.

“I see someone I should speak with; why don’t you two get acquainted?” And just like that, he was gone, abandoning his new wife to his daughter.

Cea suppressed a sigh. “Most of the guests you should meet have gone; if you’d like, I could give you a tour of the house.”

Selena pulled herself up as tall as she could, which was several inches short of Cea’s height. “I don’t need the charity of an illegitimate daughter.”

Cea saw one or two heads turn, and again suppressed a sigh. “Of course, Lady. If you change your mind, any servant can tell you where to find me.” She turned and walked away, placing her empty glass on a table and fisting her hands to drive down the frustration that built inside of her. As she left the room she felt a cold chill pass through her hands. She rubbed them together to warm them, stretched her fingers out as she uttered a frustrated oath, and caught her breath as a small, glowing bolt of cold flicked out from her fingers to leave a pock mark in the wall. She stared in shock for a moment, then glanced around quickly to make sure no one had noticed. Seeing no one, she ran all the way to her room, closing and locking the door behind her.

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