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My father offers me his arm.
There is a brief moment in which I consider not taking it. I could defy him openly for the first time in my life. But I look up into his face and I feel the impossibility of that action. I can do so many things, but I cannot say no to my father.
There is a collective gasp as my father and I appear at the end of the aisle. It’s the sound of people who are obligated to be impressed. We’re all pretending they think I am beautiful, but there is no beauty like that of my father. They stare at him as if he is the sun himself.
My husband to be is up at the altar. I should have some kind of opinion on him, but I don’t. I’ve never even bothered to learn his name. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. This marriage does not matter. I have no intention of honoring these vows if I am forced to make them. I already know that I will run again, and that I will likely die in the escape attempt. I’ve accepted that there’s no place for me on this world. There was a place for me somewhere once, but Rex ensured that no longer exists. As soon as I am married, my worth as a pawn will be expended and I will be free to return to the dirt from which I came.
My solemn expression only seems to please the onlookers. I hear whispered comments as to how composed and exquisite I am. I know that all brides for the foreseeable future will be walking down the aisle looking utterly miserable. Pale pallor and downcast eyes are going to be so very fashionable.
I take step after step. Each and every one of them seems more wrong than the one before. How am I able to do this? Why are my feet prepared to move? It feels as though my body should refuse to take any action that brings me closer to this forced marriage.
The closer I get to the altar, the more I take in unwanted details, like the groom’s guard. They would usually be his best men, but my father is leaving nothing to chance, and I see that Commander Rex is actually up at the altar, grinning broadly as if this triumph is his triumph. ‘
The sick thing is, both my father by my side and Commander Rex up at the altar, firmly believe that this is the best thing for me. They are giving me to a man, so that I might live my life as a woman. There is nothing in this banal yet overdone horror that strikes them as wrong. Of all the attendees, I am the only one struck with a sickness deep in my belly. I am surrounded by many hundreds, and watched by thousands more, and yet I am alone in my despair.
We are almost at the altar. I am on the precipice of being legally and spiritually bound to another man…
BA-BOOM!
The sound of the cathedral doors exploding is immense. It is like the hand of God herself made a fist and punched through, splintering ancient, carved wood as if it were made of nothing but cheap matchsticks.
It is followed by frankly refined tones.
“My apologies.”
I turn around and, scales gleaming in the light of a post-apocalyptic day, is Kahn.
Everybody should be screaming, but they’re not. They’re just stunned, wondering if this is part of the plan. My father does like to put on a show. Perhaps they think this is just a little dramatic twist.
“I’m here for my mate,” Kahn says, striding down the aisle as if he has every right to be here. “I would have come earlier, but I was… tied up.”
Seeing Kahn standing in the middle of all my father’s guests is an incredible sight. He is dressed for the occasion, or at least, he is dressed for battle in the shiniest of armor. It gives him a slightly formal but very regal appearance. Kahn has always been gorgeous, but he has never looked as handsome as he does in this moment.
There is a scar on his face, a nasty gash that runs from his hairline to his left brow in a rough slice which has mangled several of his scales and even those that remain somewhat intact have not knit back with their neighbors as they once were. His hair is braided in a thick plait back from the center of his head, the back left loose and falling to his shoulders.
He looks so fucking hot, and more importantly, so very fuckingalive.
I thought I would never see him again. I thought I’d never again feel the way I currently feel, filled with hope and joy. The collar is pulsing rapidly, but my own physical reaction to seeing Kahn in the flesh, now striding down the aisle after me, for me, to claim me is so strong I can barely tell what is the collar and what is me. I let out little gasps of excitement and glee while my very soul is suffused in a kind of relief so potent I am sure I will never feel pain again.
I drink every bit of him in with incomparable thirst. He is so distinguished, so proper, so rough and so fucking ready to do battle for me — though he’s not making even the slightest hint of an aggressive move, everybody in this massive cathedral knows better than to fuck with him. He must have fought through hell to come and find me.
“Kahn!” I call his name with wild and unruly excitement.
I try to run to him, intending to meet him halfway down the aisle, but there is no running in this dress, and it feels as though someone is stopping me… yes, when I look over my shoulder, I see Commander Rex standing with both feet on the extensive hem of the dress. I shoot him daggers, which he ignores, as he is too busy staring at Kahn. None of the guard present today are armed in a way that would make the slightest dent in this alien’s armor, and nobody wants to create a scene. Better to allow a massive alien to crash the wedding than to cause a public scandal on this, my father’s special day.
My father steps out in front of Kahn, blocking the aisle. I always thought my dad was the largest person in the world, but of course Kahn is much larger than he is. Kahn could roll right through him if he wanted. He could rip my father’s head off.
But Kahn doesn’t. He comes to a respectful halt.
“Who do you think you are?”
“Kahn Voros,” Kahn says, offering my father his hand. “I’m the rightful owner of your daughter. I am also heir to a great alien fortune and large estates on my home world.”
If anybody else introduced themselves that way, I’d assume they were a huge fucking jerk, but I think Kahn has taken my father’s measure in an instant.
My father hesitates for a moment. I know he is running some calculations in his head. He is wondering if it would be better to attempt to continue this wedding as planned in spite of the very large, clearly warlike alien now standing in the middle of the cathedral — the very same alien he has already been briefed on by Commander Rex, or if it might be better to just give Kahn and me what we want.
Political and material considerations aside, my father has always been impressed by displays of boldness and strength, and what is more bold than quite literally crashing a wedding and demanding the bride? I cannot see my father’s face, but I imagine there is a look of quiet respect in his eyes.
