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The last week had been the hardest of Yvette's young life, and it was no near even close to getting the slightest bit better. There was more dark rather than any light and her happiness was slowly fading. Her feelings were like that of a burning coal, the red was burning her cheeks almost beautiful, but if anyone said or even moved in the wrong way in the slightest she'd burn them at the touch.
The arrangements for the wedding nearly done. The flowers Yvette had requested were nearly in place. The gown that was being hand sewn, almost complete; final touches were being made. The alter — yet again, Yvette had to request — was almost built thanks to a strange man named Floki. Stress was filling her tiny frame to the tippy top, along with unease and hate. Hate being for her father and the heathens, unease for the way these men would look at her, and stress for all the wedding planning.
It seemed that these people did not plan a wedding. They have a certain way of doing things — which involved blood — and Yvette by the god of it was not having it. If she was to be forced here to marry a man she could not love she would at least love her wedding. Fighting with Asluag over the last few days to achieve her goal was more then tiring but Yvette was determined. Which is were she was off to now, into the great hall to speak to that woman about the blood. Yvette was not going to have blood smeared on her skin.
Aslaug, great you are here," Yvette exclaimed, her voice brimming with a hopeful lilt. To her dismay, however, Aslaug's countenance darkened, her brows furrowed in displeasure.
Yvette's heart sank, realizing that this would be a long and arduous conversation. She had always hoped to catch the woman in a more agreeable mood, but as time passed, she came to understand that her mere presence was enough to sour Aslaug's disposition.
"What is it that you want?" Aslaug inquired, her tone laced with a hint of malice. Yvette swallowed nervously, her eyes darting around the room in search of an escape.
"I wish there to be no blood at my wedding," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Aslaug let out a long, weary sigh, her eyes rolling heavenward. "Less of what you want, and more of what the gods - "
"God," Yvette corrected, her voice unwavering.
In that instant, Aslaug rose from her chair, her face twisted in a sour expression. The air in the room grew thick with tension, and the shadows seemed to stretch and twist, as if mirroring the turmoil within the hearts of the two women.
"Do you wish to make it here, child. Is it not your dream to see your father live another day?" The two women stared at each for a long moment. "If it so then I suggest you start acting like it. You are only here because I see it fit to have an alliance with your father but if that changes, then may your God save your soul." Aslaug stood, watching her as tears threatened to fall from her eyes. A sly grin appeared on her face - Aslaug wanted to intimidate and terrify her.
Perhaps it worked. Yvette clenched her jaw, trying to withhold the urge to leap forward and slap the pleasure filled look on Aslaug's face. In that moment Yvette backed away, nodding her head gently; a single tear rolling down her porcelain colored skin. what was she to do? She feared if she opened her mouth they would slaughter her right here.
Aslaug pride fully raises her head, knowing she's won this fight. "If it is fate then it will be that sooner or later Blood will stain your skin." She croons, her devilish smirk marking it's self in Yvette's mind. She couldn't pin point the feeling Aslaug was giving off but she knew somehow - somewhere deep inside her bones that this woman knew something she did not.
Yvette gave the woman a disenchanted smile before walking away, making her escape. This place we surly going to be the death of her and Yvette knew it.
