The Kidnapped Bride (PG, fragment)
This is one of my story ideas that has seriously been with me for over 15 years. When I was about 13, I saw a very large and very gaudy rug in a flea market in NC. It depicted a man in loose robes on a white horse with his arm around a woman in many veils who was in front of him on the horse. Two other men on horses (one black, one brown) and heavily armed rode beside him. In the background was a large, vaguely Middle Eastern tower with an open window and a walled garden.
I was so intrigued by the rug that I came up with a story to explain what was going on. Then man on the white horse was kidnapping the woman in the veils to be his bride. The two men with him were there as escort. Obviously, the woman was in love with him but her father didn't approve. It was all very romantic.
I still love the basic idea and have started quite a few stories with the premise. So far, the fragment is my favorite version. ^^
Nankah, damn her, had laughed.
"You are not funny," Amenan told his sister, who was at least trying to control her laughter. Badly. "What am I supposed to do with him?"
The "him" in question was currently kneeling on the thick carpet that lined the one tent they'd brought with them. His hands and feet had been bound to prevent another escape attempt. Someone, probablyKhai, had put a gag in his mouth to stop his shouting. Amenan had learned more inappropriate and vile phrases in the Northerner's queer tongue in the past fifteen minutes than in months he'd spent on a Northern ship before his father had paid what they called a blood price.
His name was Osmond, or at least that's what Amenan had been told. The problem was that he was the twin brother of the Lady Mildrid and not the fair lady herself. He had kidnapped the wrong person.
"You have to take him to the temple in Karna at the very least. The ceremony demands it. Beyond that... well, personally I still think he'd make a very lovely bride. My mother's malachite and gold necklace would look stunning on him. I can only imagine the look on Father's face."Nankah grinned. "I'd loan you the necklace for that reason alone."
The sad thing was that Nankah was right. The green and gold of the necklace would look good on him. It would match Osmond's eyes: green like the desert and the fields after the floods. It was a sacred color, favored by the goddessDjenbe-suri who watched over marriages, fertility, sex, and unborn children. He had prayed to Djenbe-suri for a successful kidnapping for weeks before they'd left Karna. Obviously, the goddess had a sense of humor.
"You're right. I will at least need to take him to Karna." The ritual had been started and Amenan had to see it through to the end. To do otherwise would only invite the wrath of Djenbe-suri. That Amenan could live with, though there was a good chance that the goddess would make sure he remained celibate for the rest of his days if he did so. WhatAmenan worried about was that she would be so offended that she'd talk to her husband Khemo-ser who controlled the fertility of the fields and animals. As prince, even third in line to the throne, he couldn't risk that threat to his people. "He won't come easy though."
It was there in his eyes. They glared up at Amenan through his dark hair with a mixture of anger and malice. Osmond might be captured, he might even be restrained, but he was not cowed.
"That is why you have us. It's not common for the riders of a bridegroom to have to make sure the bride doesn't run away, but it's not unheard of," Nankah said with a shrug. Then she smiled again. "Though I do admit I never thought I'd have to keep anyone from running from you."
Out of all of his sons, Amenan most resembled their father who had long been regarded as the most handsome phara since the great phara Nkose, who ruled over a two centuries ago. His hair was black and thick, his eyes dark and expressive. Amenan's nose was straight and neither too big nor too small. His chin was well-defined and his cheeks were neither chubby nor sunken. His skin was the color of fine bronze, with wiry muscles beneath it. The fingers on his hands were long and elegant.
Having his potential bride look on him with such loathing - even if it was a man and even if it was not who he intended - was a blow to Amenan's pride.
"It's getting hot and we should get to sleep. Tonight will be another long hard ride." Nankah took the change in subject well, resisting the urge to tease him more with good grace. It was one of the reasons why her odd sense of humor didn't earn her more enemies. She turned to head towards rocky caves and her own bed. "You are family. You have every right to share the tent."
"And disturb you and your bride? I wouldn't dream of it."
Then again, Father would totally understand if he rang her neck. He might even thank Amenan for doing him a favor.
I was so intrigued by the rug that I came up with a story to explain what was going on. Then man on the white horse was kidnapping the woman in the veils to be his bride. The two men with him were there as escort. Obviously, the woman was in love with him but her father didn't approve. It was all very romantic.
I still love the basic idea and have started quite a few stories with the premise. So far, the fragment is my favorite version. ^^
Nankah, damn her, had laughed.
"You are not funny," Amenan told his sister, who was at least trying to control her laughter. Badly. "What am I supposed to do with him?"
The "him" in question was currently kneeling on the thick carpet that lined the one tent they'd brought with them. His hands and feet had been bound to prevent another escape attempt. Someone, probablyKhai, had put a gag in his mouth to stop his shouting. Amenan had learned more inappropriate and vile phrases in the Northerner's queer tongue in the past fifteen minutes than in months he'd spent on a Northern ship before his father had paid what they called a blood price.
His name was Osmond, or at least that's what Amenan had been told. The problem was that he was the twin brother of the Lady Mildrid and not the fair lady herself. He had kidnapped the wrong person.
"You have to take him to the temple in Karna at the very least. The ceremony demands it. Beyond that... well, personally I still think he'd make a very lovely bride. My mother's malachite and gold necklace would look stunning on him. I can only imagine the look on Father's face."Nankah grinned. "I'd loan you the necklace for that reason alone."
The sad thing was that Nankah was right. The green and gold of the necklace would look good on him. It would match Osmond's eyes: green like the desert and the fields after the floods. It was a sacred color, favored by the goddessDjenbe-suri who watched over marriages, fertility, sex, and unborn children. He had prayed to Djenbe-suri for a successful kidnapping for weeks before they'd left Karna. Obviously, the goddess had a sense of humor.
"You're right. I will at least need to take him to Karna." The ritual had been started and Amenan had to see it through to the end. To do otherwise would only invite the wrath of Djenbe-suri. That Amenan could live with, though there was a good chance that the goddess would make sure he remained celibate for the rest of his days if he did so. WhatAmenan worried about was that she would be so offended that she'd talk to her husband Khemo-ser who controlled the fertility of the fields and animals. As prince, even third in line to the throne, he couldn't risk that threat to his people. "He won't come easy though."
It was there in his eyes. They glared up at Amenan through his dark hair with a mixture of anger and malice. Osmond might be captured, he might even be restrained, but he was not cowed.
"That is why you have us. It's not common for the riders of a bridegroom to have to make sure the bride doesn't run away, but it's not unheard of," Nankah said with a shrug. Then she smiled again. "Though I do admit I never thought I'd have to keep anyone from running from you."
Out of all of his sons, Amenan most resembled their father who had long been regarded as the most handsome phara since the great phara Nkose, who ruled over a two centuries ago. His hair was black and thick, his eyes dark and expressive. Amenan's nose was straight and neither too big nor too small. His chin was well-defined and his cheeks were neither chubby nor sunken. His skin was the color of fine bronze, with wiry muscles beneath it. The fingers on his hands were long and elegant.
Having his potential bride look on him with such loathing - even if it was a man and even if it was not who he intended - was a blow to Amenan's pride.
"It's getting hot and we should get to sleep. Tonight will be another long hard ride." Nankah took the change in subject well, resisting the urge to tease him more with good grace. It was one of the reasons why her odd sense of humor didn't earn her more enemies. She turned to head towards rocky caves and her own bed. "You are family. You have every right to share the tent."
"And disturb you and your bride? I wouldn't dream of it."
Then again, Father would totally understand if he rang her neck. He might even thank Amenan for doing him a favor.