(By Dirty.pretty.things)
Solomon never said a word to me the whole time during the entire carriage ride. I'd curled up into a tight ball, refusing to look at anything or anyone except for the floor of the carriage.
Dusk had fallen by the time we reached his manor. It was exactly as I'd seen it before when I was a child, running up here with my friends to sneak a look at the magnificent old house.
And the feeling that I got when we approached it was the same. As a child, I'd felt a sense of fear and curiosity. Now, I just felt fear.
Solomon got off the carriage first and came to my side, holding a pale hand out for me to take.
I refused and got off on the other side, tripping slightly and tearing my new dress on a loose nail with a foreboding rip. Tears rushed to my eyes.
In silence, I stumbled up the small cobblestone walkway to the large doors. A kind, dark-skinned man greeted us there, who gave me a small smile.
In need of a kind face, I smiled smally back and he opened the door for us. Here Solomon and I both froze.
It was a time-honored tradition for the husband to carry his new wife over the threshold of their home. I felt sick at the thought of letting him carry me, but bad luck would follow if the ritual was not completed.
Easily, as if I had just been a small sack of flour, Solomon lifted me up and I stifled a gasp at the ease that he held me with. He awkwardly stepped across the threshold and put me down.
"Welcome back," the man greeted Solomon, who shrugged and pushed past him into the house. I bit my lip.
I was so tired, but now, I was inside a manor. A manor. It was furnished richly in every single way, and I stood still for a moment, marveling at it.
"What's your name, miss?" the kind man asked and I turned to him, flushing.
"Anneka," I said, curtsying slightly.
"Pleased to meet you," the man said, taking my hand and kissing it the way gentlemen did. Why couldn't I have married him? "My name is Damascus."
"Pleased to meet you as well," I said, smiling a little more widely this time. He was so friendly, and I ached for any potential friends.
"So. Is it safe to assume that you are the new Mrs. Vanguard, miss?" he asked, looking at me gently.
I nodded, hoping that he wouldn't press the issue any further.
"Welcome home then," Damascus grinned widely. "Would you care for a tour?"
The thought of wandering around inside a beautiful home like this filled me with curiosity.
"Yes. Please."
"This is the sunroom. Solomon adores it here," Damascus explained, gesturing to a wide expanse of a room. I gasped.
It was an entire room filled from top to bottom in plants. Leafy trees, colorful flowers, and ripe fruit were scattered on tables and on the floor; on shelves and in ceramic pots.
The room jutted out of the manor and three of the four walls were composed of window panes, so I could see the fluffy snow outside. It was named the 'sunroom', and appropriately so. Everything smelled pleasantly of earth and leaves and. . . . sun.
"It's wonderful," I breathed, forgetting for a moment that I was married to the most horrible man on the face of the earth. "I love it already."
Damascus looked at me in an amused way. "Curious," he muttered.
I looked at him in question. "What? What'd I do?"
"Solomon feels the same exact way about his sunroom," Damascus informed me. "Looks like you two have something in common, miss."
I shrugged, choosing not to think about him right now.
Damascus closed the thin doors to the sunroom led me farther through the house. It seemed like a never ending maze of marble hallways and staircases, and it just amazed me that someone had enough gold coins to pay for all of it.
"This is the dining room," Damascus showed me a long room with an equally long table in the center. It looked dusty and unused. "Solomon doesn't really use this unless he's entertaining. But I imagine you two will eat here."
I found it hard to imagine such a cruel, cold man like Solomon having a party. It just didn't fit.
On and on through the house, kind Damascus showed me the gleaming kitchen, Solomon's private study, spare guestrooms, and even the stables outdoors.
"He owns his own horses?" I said in disbelief at the massive animals.
Damascus chuckled as a mare wandered over, looking hopefully for any signs of food. "Not really. He mostly buys them and then resells them again."
"Why?" I asked, timidly patting the mare's nose.
"He'll explain, I guess," he smiled at me and I internally scowled. I highly doubted that Solomon was going to talk to me, much less explain anything any time soon.
He led the way back indoors and I seemed slightly more cheered by Damascus's company and the fact that I was living in a large house. If I got sick of Solomon, well, there were a number of places I could escape to.
'Course, I'd probably have trouble finding them by myself.
"Thank you Damascus. I'll take it from here," a familiar, cold voice interrupted us as we walked back into the hallway.
Disappointed, I glared as hard as I could at my 'husband.' He looked at me in slight irritation.
"What are you looking at?" I spat, dropping my gaze the moment his charcoal eyes met mine.
"My wife, if you don't mind," he replied in a cold tone. "Come."
For a moment I wondered what would happen if I didn't obey. What could he do? What would he do?
"Don't make me drag you there," Solomon sneered, answering my thoughts. I made a face and followed him.
His home was definitely big. I had to admit that. It was nearly ten times as big as my old home, I realized, with a pang. And about thirty times as nice.
I looked around at the rich tapestries and carpet that coated the hallway we were silently walking in, wondering how a man as young as I had come by so much wealth. Inheritance, perhaps.
Solomon led me to the end of the hallway and opened up a large mahogany door that revealed the bedchamber. I couldn't help but gasp.
If I'd thought that the matchmaker's home was rich, nothing could have prepared me for this.
It wasn't overly decorated, but everything from the plain cherry wood dresser to the wardrobe to the glassy mirror on the wall hinted at gold. It must have cost nearly a trunkful of coins for the tapestries alone, which would shut out the cold.
"Our room," Solomon said dispassionately, looking at me for my reaction. I struggled to keep my face impassive.
"It's nice," I sniffed. "nice" was an understatement. Everything was the very finest---fit for a king. My eyes roamed around the cozy room and came to rest on the bed, with thick navy blankets piled on it.
"You don't have to," Solomon said in his haughty voice when he saw what I was staring at.
"Don't have to what?" I had no idea what he was talking about.
"I may be a . . . .let's see, what was it you called me earlier. . . . a monster," Solomon shrugged, looking at me with his piercing black eyes. "But I'm still a gentleman."
I blinked, having no idea what he was talking about.
He seemed to groan from my idiocy. "You don't have to share a room with me if you do not wish to," Solomon said scathingly in a voice that hinted about my stupidity.
"I never said that I didn't want to," I snapped back, even though the thought of sharing a bed with this. . . . . thing repulsed me to no ends. But I had to contradict him in every way. . . I didnt' ever want to agree with him.
Solomon cocked an eyebrow and seemed amused with me again. "It's your decision, Anneka."
Again, something about his rudeness made me feel angry and resentful. I already knew that he loathed me, and I wanted the feeling to be mutual. But then again, hating other people wasn't something that I was good at.
"Don't befoul my name with your filthy lips," I snarled at him, crossing my arms.
Solomon rolled his eyes haughtily. "I wouldn't dream of it," he said sarcastically.
"Good," I finished stupidly, glaring pointedly at him. For the first time, I properly looked at him and nearly gasped again.
He was handsome.
Of course, that didn't make him any nicer or kinder or less fearful, but. . . . he looked like a sculpture that a master artist made. His charcoal eyes matched his dark, shaggy hair, contrasting greatly with his pale, ivory-like skin.
"I thought you said I was a monster," Solomon smirked, crossing his arms. He'd noticed me looking at him.
"You are," I snarled back. "Your grotesqueness stuns me."
No matter how handsome or good-looking he was, he was still despicable.
"Don't pretend you know what beauty is," he hissed back.
Ouch.
Triumphant, and tired of bickering with me, Solomon strode out of our room. The minute he left, my strong front collapsed.
That last remark had been the last straw that broke the camel's back.
I fell to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. He was so cruel, so heartless. How could I live the rest of my life with him? What had I done to deserve this sort of punishment?
The matchmaker had promised that I would be happy. She lied. She had deceived.
I would never be happy in this place.
Never.
How could it have been, that a day ago, all I'd been worried about was if my husband had blonde or auburn hair? It seemed so trivial now. I should have worried about whether he would actually have a heart or not.
Sniffling and whimpering, I lay on the carpeted floor, thinking of my family and my home. Not here. My old home, back where I used to live.
Tears fell faster down my face and onto my pink dress, the one that Mother had worked so hard at to make for me. I wanted desperately to go back home, to wake up from this nightmare.
But I knew, with a sinking sensation, that this was real. I'd never escape from this.
A knock on the door gave me a start, and I sat up.
"Who's there?" I demanded, breathing hard.
"It's me," Damascus said kindly on the other side of the door. "I've brought you something to eat, miss."
I opened the door for him, hastily wiping my cheek with one hand. Damascus came in with a tray full of piping hot food. He caught one look at my face and looked surprised.
"Miss? What's wrong?" he asked, placing the food on a small table.
"I-I. . . I want to go home," I sobbed, drying my eyes with my sleeve. "I don't want to be here."
"Here," Damascus said, pouring me a cup of tea. "Drink this. It'll make you feel better, miss."
"C-call me A-a-anneka," I said shakily, taking the cup of tea and sipping it. The hot contents immediately rushed to my stomach and eliminating the cold feeling that had been dwelling there. "Thank you.'
"You're very welcome," Damascus smiled, sitting down on the floor with me. "If I may be so bold as to ask, why? Why do you wish to return home?"
"Because I hate it here," I said passionately. "I want to go home. I want to be with people who love me."
"My deepest sympathies," Damascus said quietly, offering me a plate of warm rolls. "Have a roll?"
I suspected that he might have been some sort of servant here at the house, and so he couldn't say anything bad about his master. It was okay. I just needed a friend right now.
"Thank you," I said again, taking one and biting into the fluffy bread. It was still warm and tasted absolutely heavenly.
"Solomon requested that you eat dinner in the dining hall with him," Damascus said and I nearly choked on the roll. "But I told him you were not settled in yet."
I looked up at Damascus. "Thank you," I whispered, putting all of my heart into it.
"Why don't you like Solomon?" he asked curiously. "I've heard that they say he's quite handsome."
"Handsome has nothing to do with it," I bit my lip. "He's cruel and cold. I could never live with someone like him.'
"You'll be surprised at what one thinks she can or cannot do," Damascus said mildly, standing up. "I will collect the tray once you're finished with it."
"All right," I nodded, taking another roll to eat.
As I sat in the bedchamber, eating bread and drinking tea, I decided that I wasn't going to give into this marriage without a fight
. I had to have some sort of say in this, didn't I? I wasn't some meek kitten who'd go along with what everyone else said.
"Come, Anneka." Solomon ran his hand annoyedly through his hair and glared at me. "Come."
I refused to move from my spot at the doorway, hating the way that he was treating me like a dog to be commanded.
"I'm not your pet," I snapped, trying to glare him down. He was succeeding---I was no match for his cold, obsidian glare.
"I happen to think otherwise," he snarled. "When I say 'come', you will come. Understand?"
"No, I don't think I do," I said ferociously. "Obviously if I'm too stupid to know what 'come' means, than I don't think I have enough sense to comprehend the English language."
Then, it all happened so fast.
In a trice, Solomon had me pinned against the wall with both hands and his livid face was inches away from mine.
"As long as we are married, you are to obey me," he said dangerously, his eyes boring into mine. "It's not a choice."
I bit my lip, trying to keep from passing out in fear. For a moment, I'd been convinced that Solomon was going to hurt me or something of the sort. I was deathly scared of him now.
"I'm about as pleased with this . . . . arrangement as you are," Solomon growled, wisps of his silky black hair touching my face. "So don't think that I'm having a picnic in the park about this."
Meekly, I nodded and he let go of my hands. I winced and rubbed them; he'd gripped them so hard.
In silence, Solomon and I both fetched some nightclothes from our respective trunks. I hadn't bothered to unpack mine yet, since I still hoped to somehow escape from this lifetime of misery.
I entered the bathroom, which Damascus had showed me earlier. It was almost like an outhouse, but much nicer and it was indoors, too. Grumpily, I changed into my cotton shift and stared into the small looking glass on the wall.
Why was I here?
What had I done?
I didn't deserve to be married to a man like Solomon. The matchmaker had made a mistake. Her promise was as good as ash.
I tried to busy myself for as long as I could, washing my face and brushing my hair with my fingers.
Anything to keep me from returning to his company.
I desperately wished that I hadn't been so rash to deny a separate room. I couldn't back out now, either, or I'd look like a coward.
But I couldn't stall forever, and soon I reluctantly returned to the bedchamber and refused to look at Solomon, who was sitting up on his----our bed, perusing an old novel.
Cheeks burning, I lifted the corner of the blanket and slid my thin body under it, resting my head on a soft, cushiony pillow. Tears leaked out of my eyes.
This hadn't been what I'd dreamed my wedding night would be. Nothing was as I had thought it would become.
Nothing.
I hugged myself and turned away from Solomon, facing the wall and keeping my eyes shut as tight as I could. Solomon shifted and I heard him close his book and blow out the candle, shrouding the room in darkness.
My eyes flew open as the lights went out and I hugged myself even tighter. The blanket was too thick---too warm, too suffocating. But I didn't dare move. I was that afraid of him.
Judging from the sound and movements next to me, Solomon had settled himself as well and we both faced opposite directions. His arm---his bare arm (I shivered) brushed my back accidentally and we both seemed to cringe.
"Good night," his voice muttered, as if attempting to be civil for once.
I chose to ignore his example.
"I hate you," I snapped back at him, feeling that those forceful words would get my point across. Mother would have been scandalized.
"How sweet. Good night," he answered back, with the air of finality and irritation.
Rest in results!
Picture of Solomon --->
Picture of Anneka --->
He was up early the next morning. I opened one eye sleepily and then rolled over on his free side, which was still warm. He'd only recently fled.
Coward.
He didn't dare to face me this early.
I hadn't slept much, mostly crying and falling fitfully into nightmares of Solomon and the matchmaker chasing me around the village. I curled up under the blankets, noticing just how cold it was in the morning.
I'd never noticed it before since I usually shared a straw pallet with my sisters and----
Tears sparked out of my eyes fast at the mention of home. Right now, Mother was probably cooking porridge and Florencia was probably helping her, complaining under her breath.
I would have given anything to be back at home, on my scratchy straw mattress instead of here.
Anything.
Thanks for reading! If you click the "See All Possible Results" button, I've posted some pictures to give you an idea of what some of the characters look.
And I've had some questions about how Anneka's name is pronounced. I've heard it pronounced two ways: the first one is pretty much just "ANN-nick-ah" or if you wanna get fancy, you can say it "AHN-nick-ah" or "ON-nick-ah" (the more formal sounding one)
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Surfing around the internet, I found this picture that really matched up to my idea of Solomon. You don't have to use it for a banner or anything, (and Solomon obviously doesn't wear mainstream contemporary clothes), but this is again, just to give you an idea.
I was just researching some blonde celebrities, and this picture of Cheynne Kimball seems to suit my idea. You don't have to use it for anything or accept it as your own image of Anneka, but I just kind of like how her eyes are really big and kind of innocent looking.
