Wedding from Hell

Wedding from Hell

 Chapter one

Today was the day. Her wedding day. Agate greeted the morning with a smile, energized and positively giddy with the prospects of what the day would bring, not even her angel being absent from their bed enough to dampen her mood.

Attendants buzzed about the room, helping with her protection runes, steam-ironing the gown she’d been fussing over for weeks now for one final time before she donned it – to be married. Her chest was full of fluttery joy, her smile so wide her cheeks ached from it.

A brusque knock on her door had her turning on her vanity seat, the appearance of a fae emissary led by a shadowy imp, surprising but not completely unexpected. With Queen Amara fast approaching her third trimester, inquiry missives from Queen Verity, who was bound by vow to act as midwife during birth, had been appearing with more frequency. Yet one glance at the coat of arms stamped upon the seal of the parcel had been enough to turn the giddiness flooding her body to ice. It had been sent not from the Courts of Spring or Summer, nor did it carry the insignia of the Light Kingdom, but that of the Court of Winter.

Conall.

Her frozen smile turned to clenched teeth, she hissed at her attendants to leave. She needed to be alone, to fortify herself against the rising tide of misery.

Her fingers trembled as she opened the letter to reveal familiar handwriting. Her breath seized within her lungs as words spilled from the paper to etch themselves on her heart. 

My dearest lady Agate,

  Please accept this small token as compensation for my part in damaging your lovely carcanet. Though its luster is found lacking in comparison to your beauty, it is my sincere hope you will wear it well, and keep me close in your thoughts. 

She opened the slim wooden box, a gasp catching in her tightening throat at the sight of a captivating string of sunlight nestled within, each pearly bead polished until they glowed from within.

“Yellow Agate.”  

The gift was as divine as it was devious – because she ached to wear something so beautiful against her skin, yet would never be able to do so without thinking of him. 

Which was a problem, because she was about to be married, and Conall was dead.

Once the threat to our Realms has been reckoned with, and peace has been restored to the lands, know that I shall return to your side with the intention of courting you as my Winter Queen.

Yours in ardour,

Conall.

A heart-wrenching sob snuck up on her with the swiftness of an assassin's blade, slashing through the layers of excitement until she was left raw with the pain pulsing beneath. Her happiness weighed down with the reminder of the price at which it had come. 

Clasping the strand tightly, she fought for composure, staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror, taking it in with dismay. Puffy eyes and a blotchy face framed by kohl coloured tears trailing down her cheeks. 

“Hells almighty, this won’t do.” 

“Gatie, everything okay?” 

Curse and rot. Swiping the back of her hand across her cheeks she turned towards the baritone voice she was intimately familiar with, one that thrilled her senses and sparked her soul. And knew she’d been busted the moment she saw the dark expression clouding Jez’s face. 

“I… uhh… um, I can't find the right shoes to wear with my dress.” It was the first excuse that came to her through the white noise of guilt and grief. 

With the letter and necklace concealed between the silky folds of her skirts, she offered him her most brilliant smile, one that every bride was expected to wear during her big day. Still, the dark frown on her angel’s face didn’t falter. Because he didn’t believe her. 

“Shoes...” For a moment it looked as if he might step inside the room, as if he wanted to say more. But he didn’t. Instead he let out a bone tired sigh, one she heard more frequently as the burden of the Hells continued to press upon his shoulders. 

“Alright, I’ll just leave you to it then.” 

This morning was far from the first time she’d woken to discover Jez gone, his side of the bed cold, his scent already fading from the pillows and sheets they shared. She missed him terribly, but there was no helping it. With the King and Queen absent, it was the Infernal Herald’s responsibility to hold the throne of the Nine Hells, a task Jez devoted himself to completely. 

She missed him. She needed him.

“Jez, I…” Her words died off as he turned his back to her. 

She could spend many happy hours ogling the outline of those broad shoulders, straight back and that firm leather clad ass, but was afforded only a glimpse this time as he stormed off again, leaving her within her now abandoned room, alone, to sink further into melancholy. 

“I’m sorry.” 

She wanted to call him back, but couldn’t bring herself to, instead remaining glued to the seat of her dressing table, angrily swiping at the kohl coloured tears clinging to her lashes while quietly revisiting the path that had led them to this moment, and the lives lost along the way. Her sister had been Jez’s first, and truest love. They would have married, and Conall – perhaps he would have been part of her future.  

What if they’d lived? 

Their lives had all so abruptly changed. Duty kept her angel away at most hours, buried beneath a stack of urgent petitions and endless slew of audience requests that kept pouring in and when he did return to her side, it was to crawl into their shared bed and quickly fall into a deep sleep. Not that she’d fared much better. In an effort to help Jez regain some order over the Hells, she’d thrown herself into the monumental task of restoring the nine circles to their gruesome glory, together with the dowager queen, Benzosia, spearheading the repair efforts of the damages left in Princess Glasya’s wake. And Hells help them all, there was so much of it.

Maintenance of the Nessus palace and the governing of the Nine Circles left very little time to plan her own wedding, even less when sleep was required. And while she’d toyed with the idea of postponing the scheduled ceremony, doing so would only complicate matters.

Negotiations with the ruling members of the demonarchy would go a lot smoother when she carried the title of Infernal Duchess, a station with sizable power and influence within the Nessus. She’d no longer have to play nice with the demons, but simply give orders. 

Disappointed, but realistic in her abilities, she’d already resigned herself to the prospect of a few hastily exchanged vows and a quick signing of the marital contract, when a more appealing solution presented itself.  

Her den-mother, a witch of some notoriety and influence had safely completed her return voyage to the pirate infested rift of Anu-Hia following the apocalypse, and in her letter the tough old crone unexpectedly penned an invitation for Agate to join her. A few responses with inquiries and little tugging on toughened heartstrings followed, and soon a wedding date had been set not only with her den-mother's blessing, but also the assurance that the ceremony would be arranged for them back home.   

And at long last that day had come–finally–her wedding day, a day marked for future happiness. 

Of all the days, why did the ghosts from her past choose today?

“I returned to congratulate a blushing bride, instead I found a leaking watering pot.” Another, equally familiar voice pulled her from dreary reverie, this one sultry, the accent neither fully Asurian nor Infernal. “Am I to assume this means you’ve finally come to your senses regarding the Herald?” 

“Sarratum!” She swiped at her eyes a final time before turning for her Queen in complete disbelief. “You’re back.”

There was no way for this to be an illusion. It was truly Amara who stood at her doorway, her wild braids woven around an obsidian crystal crown, black silk draping down her body while trails of rubies shimmered around her neck, wrists and… wow…a very pronounced belly. 

“You look huge–I mean great. Amazing even!” 

“I look as if I’ve swallowed a small planet.” Catching the falter in her usual bold steps, Agate quickly jumped to her feet to guide her heavily pregnant Queen towards the nearest seat. “Feels like it too.”

“You truly returned because of me?” The tears she’d been fighting back welled up again when Amara shrugged dismissively, which was as much of an acknowledgement as she’d ever get. 

Rather than trust her chaotic feelings and panicky thoughts, she silently pressed Conall’s now crumpled letter into Amara’s crimson stained hands, letting Conall’s final words do the speaking for her.

“I see.” After a moment Amara cleared her throat and reached her hand forward, tilting up her chin so their gazes met. “This is anything but unexpected. The two of you danced around this flirtation for the better part of a century. And in the end you chose the Herald.” 

“I did. I mean, I do! It just… doesn’t feel right. Had Dravite lived, this would likely have been her wedding day instead. And Conall… both their lives were taken so abruptly, their futures snatched away.” She inhaled a shaky breath, collecting her thoughts. “It’s as if I’m stealing away the happiness they both deserved in life. ” 

She sniffled and nearly jumped when a silk handkerchief was roughly pressed against her nose. 

“Your sister loved you, and Conall for all his rakish ways was clearly taken by you. Do you truly believe either of them would begrudge you the happiness you managed to claim for yourself?” 

“No. I just… miss them so very much.” With a small, final sob, Agate grabbed hold of the fabric to swipe at her eyes, comforted by Amara’s clumsy care even if she’d managed to bruise her nose. “Jez truly does make me happy.”

Amara’s own nose scrunched up then. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” And when, with a long suffering sigh her Sarratum rose to her feet again, Agate quickly joined at her side to offer a steadying arm when she wobbled slightly. “Alright, let’s get you dried off and dressed up. I traveled all this way for a wedding, I was promised there would be cake.”

Chapter two

Jez considered himself to be a reasonable man – former celestial, thank you very much – but the past few weeks were pushing the limits of his patience. And now today…

“Can’t find the right shoes.” 

Which was complete and utter trollshit, his Gatie collected shoes like a dragon hoards treasure. Since he’d moved her into his chamber, their chamber, within the Nessus palace, her former room had been consigned as her personal closet, and in only a few months time it was already beyond capacity. They’d had to add shelving. A lack of shoes was definitely not the reason he’d found his soon-to-be bride with a tear stained face on the very morning of their wedding. 

She’d lied to him, and he knew the reason – and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to kick himself. I disappointed her, neglected her – and now, rather than confront his failings, he’d turned away from her. Consumed by the turmoil surrounding the infernal throne, he’d allowed their wedding plans to take a sideline. 

Fuck. Why the Hells had he agreed to something as degrading as a hasty wedding in Anu-Hia? She’d grown up there in squalor, her childhood anything but idyllic amidst the stockades, slave markets, gambling halls and whore houses. This was the day in which they were to officially start their lives together, where she would be bestowed the coronet of Infernal Duchess, and here he was, taking her back to the place she’d struggled so hard to leave.

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Begging pardon, your grace?” 

The question and the sound of a shocked cough echoed, reminding Jez of the fact he was not alone. He could scarcely recall the last time he had been alone – or with her. He’d neglected her, and they were both suffering for it.

“Continue.” 

As usual, the moment he’d set foot into the throne hall, his time was swallowed up by the swarm of petitioners vying for an audience, each of them eager to gain favor of Cassius. Instead, they all found themselves pleading their case before the Infernal Herald instead – and today his leniency with their pettiness was at its limits.

“...therefore I feel that the King himself would be better suited to make a verdict regarding this issue. I can wait for him.” 

That last bit had his attention snapping to the current petitioner, some high ranking tosser from the Dis, if he recalled.

“Can you?” His body stilled, his head turning slowly to level his gaze on the now cowering demon. “There’s no saying when the King and Queen will return to the Nessus.” 

If ever. Who in their right mind would willingly abandon Paradise to return to Hell?

“Then summon him back.” The minor monarch sputtered between clattering teeth, clearly determined to throw all self-preservation to the wayside. 

“Summon the Infernal king?”

Some of the more intelligent amongst the demonarchy who’d been milling about the hall started backing away, all eyes upon himself, the second most powerful demon in the Infernal Realms and the fool who not only thought to question his authority, but dared order him about like a hellhound.

“You were granted the honor of an audience, were offered the opportunity to have the concerns of Dis addressed before the throne of the Nine Hells.” He tilted his head, measuring the size of the demon before rising slowly to his feet and allowing his wings to unfold. “You ought to be grateful, instead you dare waste my time!”

The once cocky demon was now glancing around, mouth gaping for words like a fish pulled out from the water while his waxy complexion beaded with droplets of panic sweat. 

“Vesa, lower it.” The rage clouding his voice sounded foreign to his own ears as his command echoed against basalt stone and obsidian glass, to be obeyed by his soon-to-be brother-in-law.

“Your grace, you misunderstood me…”

As soon as the echo of his command was interrupted by the creak of chains and the squealing of rusty gears, the sound persisted until with a heavy clank a large iron cage landed upon the floor. Vesarius, fond of bloodshed as he was, wasted no time in throwing open the heavy door of the cage before holding up his hand in a gesture of invitation.

“King Cassius would never treat me like this.”

And whyever not–I could use the outlet.

Anger guided his steps down the black dais, an odd sense of detachment taking hold of him as his own hand wrapped around the demon’s throat, and without a thought towards the mercy or forgiveness that ruled the celestial he had once been, Jez’Piel tossed the insolent prick inside the opened cage.

“You’re correct, Cassius would have you flayed open and torn to pieces first, but I’m a busy man.” A dust of orange rust covered his hands when the lock fell into place, and only at the last second did he resist the urge to wipe his hands. Not these pants. Agate had selected his wedding attire with care.

Shit. He was half-dressed for his wedding, and instead of fixing what needed his attention most, he was stuck dealing with the dregs of the demonarchy. 

I’m a big fucking idiot...

Both he and Vesarius looked up as the cage was lifted up towards the ceiling, only looking away when hearing the ghastly shrieks coming from the Dis emissary, and making sure he was well out of the splash zone when his black blood gushed down to pool upon the gold floor.

“Vicious things, and yet surprisingly cute as long as they’re fed.” Was all Vesarius said on the matter while Jez himself fought back a shiver of revulsion. 

Escaped out of their makeshift nursery in the flesh pit, Amara’s pet hatchlings had made their home in the rafters of the infernal throne room, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to move the carnivorous spiderlings without risking them harm. Still, with some clever thinking, they’d managed to make the best out of a bad situation.

“Doing some redecorating while I’m gone?”

The familiarity of that raspy voice sent warmth through his insides. Too long since he’d heard it last. Close to three months since they’d parted ways.

“Just feeding the pets.”

He turned towards the dais to find his bloodsworn brother and king standing there, leaning carelessly against the infernal throne. Cassius. Wearing his usual leather pants and opened crimson robes, dark hair trimmed and still damp, lips curled up in a devil-may-care smirk, there was no mistaking the breathtaking sight of him.

His thoughts stuttered. “What are you doing here?” 

“Better question, what are you doing here Jez? Aren’t you supposed to be getting married today?” Cass squinted his eyes and swiped a thumb across his now unsmiling mouth. “Fuck, don’t tell me we missed it, difficult to keep track of time in Eden.”

His words cut off with an ‘oomph’ as Jez tackled him in a hug. 

“You didn’t miss it,” Jez spoke into Cass’s neck, his words muffled in his fierce hold.

“Missed you too.” Cass briefly pulled him in tight, before slowly pulling back. “Then why aren’t you with Agate? Let Levistus or Benzosia deal with this miserable lot.”

Jez stepped back and swiped a hand down his face. “I uh, ordered the portals to the rift open already. But Agate needed some more time to get ready, so I figured I’d get some work done.”

“Half dressed?” Boasting a knowing grin, Cass planted himself across the Infernal throne Jez himself had been occupying only moments earlier. “We both know that’s how I prefer to work, but you? Try again...”

“I went to her, admittedly hoping for a head start on our honeymoon, but when I found Gatie in our room she was crying and I uh…ran”

“Ah.” Cass’s Hellfire filled eyes rolled to the back of his skull before his gaze narrowed. “Well, you better fix what you fucked up before we both get a lashing from that sharp tongue.”

“Gatie’s tongue is actually soft, sweet.” Jez smiled fondly and Cass snickered. “And very hot.”

The confession was rewarded with a playful punch to the shoulder when he joined his brother’s side by the throne.

“I was referring to my wife’s tongue. Mara was on her way to meet with Agate when I came looking for you. If she finds her crying…”

Fuck.

As if in warning, the heavy roar of thunder clapped from somewhere high above, causing basalt stone and gold bricks to groan and obsidian crystal to crack all around the Hall. 

“Herald, a word?”

The underlying threat gave him pause. Because Amara wasn’t a lady of words when actions spoke far more eloquently.

“Cass, I don't relish getting tortured on my wedding day.” 

“You don’t know what you’re missing” His sworn brother, the jackass, didn’t even have the good grace to look worried for him. Instead Cassius was grinning ear to ear as he watched his wife, the Queen of the Hells, approach the dais.

“I’ll distract her, you go make nice with your soon-to-be bride”

He could only stare and nod, feeling stupefied beyond reason when catching sight of the vision of loveliness Amara kept securely at her side.

“Nice…” Sweet Heavens.  

With locks the color of crimson fire, glowing skin and eyes of golden green, his Gatie was a beauty destined to beguile all who met her. And from the beginning, he’d been no exception. He’d tried to hold his barriers, to keep her safe and removed from his damned existence. But he’d fallen irrevocably.  

Dressed in glistening yards of thinly spun gold, his gaze followed the folds of fabric as it bound her chest and gathered at her hips, before cascading down a pair of shapely legs in a sheer cascade of copper silks.

“I… uhm… found my shoes.”

Her hands were painted red with runes, her arms and wrists bound with golden bands, and shimmering strands of yellow diamonds woven through hair, she looked like a dancing flame- the embodiment of sunlight after a dark winter’s night. Lifting her chin, he discovered her cheeks no longer wet and tear streaked but burning hotly beneath his gaze.   

“I’d have carried you every step of the way.” Brushing his calloused fingers along velvet soft skin, his heart seemed to expand within his chest the moment she leaned into his caress. 

“I might take you up on that still angel face, they’re new and not terribly comfortable.” 

Surely he would find a glint of disappointment or worse of all, hesitation in her gaze, yet when her eyes met his, he found none of that earlier sadness there. Instead he became enraptured by the love he saw reflected there, and grew enthralled by the beguiling smile curling those luscious lips. It was a smile she wore for him, and one he would fiercely protect.

Chapter three

“Where the fuck is everyone?”

Agate had to do a double take, doubting her own eyes when noticing that her angel, Lord Herald of the Hells, intense and stoic as a rule – was pouting like a petulant child. His hands were buried in his hair, his head thrown back, that already perfect bottom lip more pronounced in a sulky pout. She’d laugh, if she weren’t so sure they’d stepped into some alternate nightmare reality. Anu-Hia lay in ruins around them.

From the moment they stepped out of the portal and through the gates of the outlaw rift, they'd been assailed by smoke and dust. Most of the market streets and buildings lay ravaged by fire, making it obvious even Anu-Hia had not managed to escape the chaos and destruction rippling through the Realms. 

“Eek!”

She’d just about set her first step towards the ruined harbor when something scurrying through her peripheral vision sent her reeling back. Bloody Hells. Was that a gods damned rat? Or a furry toddler? She stifled the shudder before reaching out for Jez’s hand. Whose pretty sulk had devolved into a scalding scowl.

“This is all wrong.” 

“It’s not perfect.” Not by any measure. Still she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “We can make this work.”

His turbulent sea eyes flashed with ire as he met her gaze. “Make it work? Make it fucking work? No. This is not fitting of you.”

“But it is, angel face. After all, this is where I grew up. Maybe they’re waiting for us at the docks?” 

Unwavering optimism was her forte, even in the face of defeat. Yet no matter what clever tricks she could conjure, this would not be her dream wedding. Not when she had to fear her dress catching fire or, Hells forbid–some creature running up it.

Still she didn’t like seeing him so upset. Getting married was important, the wedding itself–not so much. Jez had made it clear he didn’t want to get married in Hell, which had made Anu-Hia the perfect solution, and that meant if she had to exchange her vows standing on a pile of rubble within a pirate rift, she would, with her head held high and her angel by her side.

“It doesn’t matter now, angel.”

“How can it not matter?” he shouted, drawing the eyes of both Cassius and Amara, who up to this point had been oblivious to anything and anyone other than each other. “This place looks like Hell had a holiday.”

Sure enough, Cassius turned then, his brows lifting in genuine surprise as if only now realizing they weren’t in the Nessus anymore.

“This is my fault. I should never have agreed to let that crazy old coot take care of this... ” 

“We’ve both had our hands full, and my den-mother was kind enough to offer.”

“Not good enough. This wedding should have been my problem to solve.”

Unexpectedly, anger sparked through her veins and where her emotions went, her mouth followed. 

“Oh, so our wedding is a problem now?” She poked her finger into his rock hard pecs, chipping a nail in the process. 

“Damn it.” His face softened. Too late. The absolute jerkface. “Gatie.”

“No Jez, you were too busy to be bothered.” Her breath hitched, nearly choking off her words as a sob snuck up on her. “You should have told me you didn’t want to get married.” 

Maybe she’d been too foolish, and he’d discovered himself still too much in love with Dravite. His first, and lost love. Though it angered her to her core, she couldn’t resent him. Not after having been served a small taste of that grief herself this very morning.

“What?” he roared, shaking his hand free of hers to bury it in his hair again.

 “No, I just didn’t–” 

“Drop yer weapons and surrender, we’ve got ya surrounded.” a voice called out, Jez turning with a snarl to the intruders. “Hand over all yer valuables.”

“Not fucking now.”

“This isn’t a good time,” she called out over his growl.

The raggedy interlopers shifted awkwardly, glancing around at each other.

“What part of we’ll be freein’ you of yer belongin’s don’t ye understand?”

“The part where you don’t know who the fuck you’re talking to?” Jez took a step back from her, tilting his head to the side, taking in the would-be robbers.

Another restless shuffle amongst the thieves.

Black wings appeared from Jez’s back, unfurling to block out the punishing sunlight, radiating their own dark magnificence, offsetting his golden hair and gleaming skin. Hells yes, I am marrying this glorious specimen of a man. Aware she was ogling, she discreetly checked for drool on her chin.

In the time it took for her to shake her lust-filled thoughts, Jez had drawn his sword, the blue flamed blade raised above his head as he leapt into the air, swiping down like vengeance from the heavens. Then chaos ensued. Screams cut through the air, some familiar, some not, while billows of dust wafted up to form choking clouds, obscuring most of the scuffle from view.

To be continued…