Ｏｎｅ.
My knees were already turning grotesque shades of purple and green. Kneeling before Goddesses
alter, I prayed the evening away, pleading for guidance to be granted upon me. With every prayer
spoken, my hands shook vigorously. The very thought of the idea had made my stomach turn
inside out. I was terrified. At the young age of seventeen, my life had already been planned out
before me. For three gold coins and a couple turnips, my father sold me off to a nameless man.
"He is an agreeable man," he spoke coldly to me before turning his back.
It was no secret that Father never wanted a girl. I was incapable to work in the fields, or carry
the family name. In his eyes, I was merely a pestering insect that fed off his bread. Upon the
night of my birth, Mother grew terribly ill and died within hours. Father had lost all chances
for a male and was now stuck with me.
"Ye will work for yer bed, your food. And if your work is then deemed good enough, shall
ye sleep and feast. But ye will not dine with me."
For seventeen years I worked as Fathers cook and personal worker in the fields. Though I could
not till the soil long, I did help seed the earth with Turnips and fresh greens.
Shifting from the uncomfortable position on the floor, I took to my feet. With wobbling knees,
I stepped out of the small alter room, and made my way up the creaking steps that led to the
main floor of our small cottage. Peering at the top of the steps, I observed Father, who sat in
one of the chairs in the corner. A pipe hung low from his mouth puffing great white clouds of
smoke. His dark eyes squinted towards me, before he slowly rose from his seat.
"Ye better be done with those damn prayers," he spat. "There is a dinner to be cooked."
Father and I waited at the steps of the poorly built Chapel. Standing under the arch of the
Goddesses open arms, I watched carefully for the names less man to appear from the shadows
of the night. I had thought it odd that the man I was to wed, were to request to be married
under the cover of night, but I did not dare to question father.
The soft tapping of heels came. Turning my head towards the sound, I made out the distant
figure of a man approach. The tightly wrapped cloak made it impossible to see his face, or
any part of his body.
"Do not say a word, Diana," father hissed in my ear as the strange man approached. His
hand gripped my arm tightly to where his nails buried themselves in my dark skin. "Yer late."
The man stopped bellow us, and slowly gave a nod.
"Is she for yer liking?" Father sneered as he pushed me in front of him.
Clad in a simple white cotton gown, I was not bride worthy, but yet the cloaked man nodded.
"Then shall we go on with this damn ceremony. Me bones ache in this cold night."
The chapel was very plain. There were only five rows of cushions and small tables. At the
front was the two alters. One for the God, and the other for the Goddess. A moons adorned
the Goddesses while the sun splattered across the Gods. Quickly spitting out a quick pray,
I made my way up towards the front of the chapel. Clenching my fists, I knelt before the
Goddesses alter while my husband to me did the same to the Gods.
For an hour, we sat together in prayer. His head bowed as well as mine. I dared not sneak
a peek of his features from underneath the cloak.
"I pray for courage. I pray for guidance," the words tumbled out of my mouth in
squeaks.
He said nothing, simply nodded his head. Father on the other hand strode from the back
of the room towards the alters. Producing a dagger from his boot, he grabbed a handful
of my hair.
"Ye hair be gone. For the rest of yer days, ye shall walk as a shadow behind this man.
Yer hair shall not be needed, for it will only attract the attention of unwanted demons.
Ye shall be faithful, or Gods condemn you to hell."
Placing the tip of the blade to my dark brown curls, he slowly began slicing away pieces
of hair. Within minutes my long hair that once hung bellow my butt, was now at my
shoulders. Father stepped back once it was done, allowing me to run my fingers through
the lack of hair I now had. Sniffling softly, I bowed my head once again and gave one
last silent prayer.
"And now, the unity."
I turned to face the cloaked man. Quickly he grasped my hands, and tightly gripped them,
his thumbs brushing up against my palms.
"Gods be the witness, yer married." Father glared over at me, before turning
swiftly and exiting the church. I was no longer his problem.
