There was a moment in time when Freya had thought this day would never come. She had never given much thought to her wedding day before—even as a child, she had never pictured it, since she had always thought she would spend her entire life in the convent. Once she left, although she imagined one day she would wed, she could never picture it. She had never met the right man.
Until now. This past month, she had been called to make decision after decision for the ceremony and the feast, and though through it all, she had Morgana’s help and Kathryn’s final say in everything, the preparations for her wedding had exhausted her.
What did she know about fabrics and colors? What did she know about banners and flowers, seating arrangements and musicians? Though Edward, Morgana, and James questioned her daily on the history of the allied clans, a month was nowhere near enough to have the knowledge they did, and so she didn’t even know who her guests were. Morgana’s teachings on manners and tasks that needed to be carried out by the ladies of the clan had helped, too, but once again, Freya felt as though she would need a lifetime to remember everything.
In the end, it was Evelyn who helped her the most. Stranded as she was in Clan MacGregor for the near future, given her uncle had died and she had no close relatives, she had little to do other than help Freya and despair over her own upcoming wedding.
That morning, as Freya let the maids dress her in a beautiful silk gown, a deep green, pin up her fiery hair, and prepare her for the ceremony, Evelyn sat by the window in Freya’s chambers, staring out into the distance. She tended to do that often; Freya had noticed it before, gazing out into the valley below with an empty stare, as though she could hardly see what was before her. Sometimes, she let her sit there for a while until she returned to herself. That time, though, she excused herself from the maids’ efforts and walked over to her to place a hand on her shoulder.
Startled, Evelyn jumped before looking up at Freya with a small, hesitant smile. “Forgive me… me attention wandered.”
“That’s quite alright,” Freya assured her. “Are ye?”
“Am I what?”
“Alright?”
“Aye,” said Evelyn. “I’m only thinking that in a month, I will be in yer position.”
“And that daesnae please ye?”
Evelyn fell silent, though Freya knew the truth. It didn’t please her at all. Despite everything, Alastair had been her beloved uncle and James had killed him. Not only that, but now she was forced to marry Edward in a haste, since Clan Campbell was left entirely without a leader. Edward had stepped up to fill the role James had left wide open, while Evelyn had stepped up to marry the man who had helped destroy her family, her clan.
“I’m sure Edward will be a good husband,” Evelyn said, ever the diplomat.
Before Freya could assure her that she could say anything she pleased to her, that she was there to listen, the door opened and Kathryn entered the room—like always, with an air of superiority about her that she never seemed to shed.
“Freya,” she called, and Freya’s blood ran cold. It wasn’t often that Kathryn addressed her, even now. “May I speak with ye?”
Freya exchanged a quick glance with Evelyn, and she could tell they were both wondering the same thing. Would Kathryn try one last time to rid the family of Freya? Could she truly go that far?
Reluctantly, Freya followed Kathryn into the next room, where the bed stood. She didn’t want to stray too far from the others, though she supposed that if Kathryn had truly decided to harm her, she still could.
Kathryn took a deep breath—and then said nothing. She parted her lips, but no words came out, again and again, until she finally sighed in frustration. Freya watched her carefully, but save for the clench of her jaw, nothing gave away her mood.
“Alright,” Kathryn said. “Here it is. Thank ye.”
Freya blinked in surprise a few times, and then it was her turn to be speechless. Had she heard Kathryn correctly? Surely, it couldn’t be!
With a roll of her eyes, Kathryn turned around as though that was all she ever wanted to say to Freya. But then, as she approached the anterior room, she paused and glanced over her shoulder at her. “I’ll always be grateful ye saved me son. Welcome tae the family.”
With that, she was gone, and Freya could only stand there and watch her retreating back in shock.
Though Kathryn had been more docile as of late, remorseful of her actions, Freya had never expected to hear those words from her. Even now, she had expected her to be combative, to want to send her away through any means necessary, but she had proven her wrong.
Perhaps there is hope fer us all.
As she stood there, trying to process that interaction, Evelyn’s voice called out to her. “Freya! It’s time!”
Once again, Freya froze. She had prepared for this moment; she had done everything in her power to prepare herself for the day when she would have to walk to the chapel at the very edges of the castle grounds and marry James in front of his family and the council. Even now that they had accepted her, even now that they had given her and James permission to wed after she had saved his life, she knew their minds had not completely changed about her. She was still a commoner, still nothing but a healer in their eyes, and she would have to fight tooth and claw to prove herself to them.
Evelyn appeared at the doorway, the small smile on her lips falling when she saw Freya.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Taking a deep breath, Freya shook her head and her thoughts out of it. “Naething. Naething, I’m fine. Let us head tae the chapel.”
Nodding, Evelyn followed her out of the room, where Morgana was waiting for them. When she saw Freya, she gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth.
“Ye look so bonnie, Freya!” she said, pulling her into an embrace that almost crushed her ribs. “James will be so excited tae see ye.”
Freya could only hope so. She knew how much he liked green on her, and that was precisely why she had chosen it for the wedding. And if, by the end of the night, he ended up tearing it off her, then all the better.
The three of them headed out of the keep and through the castle grounds to the small chapel. The walk there felt endless, as though time and space had both stretched to make it impossible for her to reach her destination, and her heart beat so fast she feared it would leap straight out of her throat. But in the end, she made it to the small, but opulent building, with its gilded decorations and stained-glass windows.
She didn’t know when she had come to think of a place like that as small. If anything, it was three times the size of the chapel back in her village, which was only big enough for the villagers and was made out of humble stone and wood. She was slowly getting used to the castle and her life in it, it seemed—few things in there surprised her anymore.
Outside, James was already waiting for her, flanked by Edward and his father, proud in his clan’s colors of red and green. Kathryn stood by her husband’s side, and though she was not smiling, she wasn’t frowning either.
The moment Freya’s gaze met James’ her breath caught in her throat. Under the morning sun, his green eyes shone with happiness and his hair resembled precious amber. His smile, when he saw her, was so wide that Freya couldn’t help but smile back, beaming at him with joy.
James held out his hand for her to take, and Freya let him lead her inside, where the council and the generals waited to witness their union. All eyes were on Freya as they walked down the aisle to the priest, and Freya couldn’t help but grip James’ hand in a vice, terror rising like bile in the back of her throat. She wished that at least her mother had been there, to have someone who knew her and cared for her smiling at her from the crowd. She had written her a long letter to recount all that had passed and to invite her to the nuptials, but her mother had declined. She had sent back words of joy and commotion for her daughter but declined, for she lived a retired life, and the trip would have been too arduous for her at her age. In return, though, she had invited the newlywed couple to visit her at the convent, so that James could complete his pilgrimage and so that she could meet him and give them a holy blessing.
When they finally reached the altar, James turned to her with a smile, leaning close to whisper in her ear. “Ye look magnificent. Everyone here thinks so, I’m sure.”
Freya’s cheeks heated at the compliment, though she was certain James was wrong about everyone else. Surely, they were only staring because of her humble origins, because they didn’t think she belonged there.
But then, Freya caught Morgana’s and Edward’s smiles, and saw that even their father seemed happy, dabbing at the corner of his eye with the back of his hand as he looked at James. And James, next to her, was smiling so brightly, everything else around him seemed to be cast in shadow.
“Ye’re almost stuck with me now,” James whispered in her ear just as the priest began the ceremony, his tone light and teasing. “Ye have only a few seconds tae run.”
Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, her lips twitching into an amused smile, Freya only shook her head. There was nowhere else in the world she would rather be than by his side.
The End.
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