This before he walked her up the mountain path set everywhere from dust to high branches of trees with bunches of bright red blooms and streaming crimson ribbons.

This path also smoked with burning coils of incense that scented the air amber. This for their Muse god (who would spark creativity, clear-headedness and elevate them). Then there was the scent of rose and cedar, for their Grace god (who commanded love and assisted positive energy). And last, cinnamon, for their Spirit god (who established balance and offered enlightenment).

While watching, from palace to altar, it would be determined by mothers and daughters in a manner that meant in the following days and months a rush on white silk and gold beading was had in the marketplaces. Thus, not dozens, but hundreds of brides wore much the same to their own nuptials.

As many had already worn (or soon would) versions of the red dress Silence of Wodell had worn days before to the parade.

At the end of their marital march, King Mars led his bride to the long panels of crimson and gold silk sheers that were twisted in the high canopies of cedar trees to form an altar above the bride and her groom. They stopped atop a bed of cedar needles that had fallen to the ground naturally and was now entirely covered in red rose petals.

There, only large coils of cedar and rose incense burned in brass plates around them, significantly heightening the smell of cedar in the air, the rose of the pedals they trod on, scenting devotion to Grace and worshiping love, lust and good energy.

As it should be at any wedding.

Silence of Wodell stood at her king’s side in her white and gold gown, her hand held in his pressed to the side of his bared chest (bared, except the leather straps crossing it, of course). Their backs were to their guests and his people. Their gazes were to the trees through which the lake could be seen, the snowy tips of the Sheeonee reflected in its surface.

Her shoulders were covered in the fall of black curls that went to her waist.

The muscles of his broad, brown back were also covered in his thick, dark hair and crossed with his kingly swords that bore rubies and emeralds in their hilts.

The black-robed priest to the Grace intoned in front of them until it was time for their now Relict Queen to approach them with the ebony box of marital chains.

Their king chained his wife first, and it would be oo’ed and ah’ed over for the next days, weeks, indeed done so in a way it would continue for years, the memory of their tall, mighty king bent to their small, dainty queen, the grin playing about his lips as he threaded the gold and diamonds and onyx and rubies through her marital hoops.