14 April 2012
James stood at his window, watching the Rooke banners flying as the entourage of his future bride approached.
He'd never met Emma before, and didn't want to. It was through sheer obedience and dedication to the Lyon lands that James was marrying Emma Emerson. At least, that's what he told himself furiously.
James's father, head of the Lyon clan approached James, a broad grin gracing his ageing face. Rubbing his beard, Arran Lyon surveyed his son with glee. James was a handsome one- he had his mother's cheekbones: high and firm. His mother's hair, dark and glossy. His mother's skin, fair yet lightly muscled. But his temperament, Arran thought proudly, no. James's temperament was not his mother's. It was Arran's own.
James spoke to his father without turning to acknowledge his presence. 'Why must I marry this Rooke girl, again, father?'
Arran sighed and rubbed his beard wearily. 'Son, marrying Ms Emerson will ally the Lyon and the Rooke clans and make us an even more unstoppable force against our enemies. You and Emma will be the bridge between our two clans, the makers of peace!'
James sneered. 'I don't want to make peace, father. I want to be a knight. I want to ride to the Royal Courts and try my hand in the archery competitions-'
'Well you can't.' Arran replied, simply. 'Come, we must greet our guests.'
Arran turned and walked from the corridor down towards the castle's main entrance.
After one last disdainful look at the approaching horsemen, James followed, his expression one of distaste.
---------------------------------
Emma missed Alec more than she had anticipated. One of her guards vaguely resembled him - they had a similar shock of russet hair, and had a horse with a showy, flouncy temperament. His name was Louis, but in her heart, Emma knew she was just trying to fill the void Alec had occupied by talking to him.
'M'lady?' Louis reigned his horse in to trot beside Octa, Emma's pinto mare.
'Yes, Louis?'
'We are approaching the Lyon Clan now. The castle is dead ahead.'
It was nothing Emma couldn't see for herself, but she thanked Louis never the less before sending him to scout ahead.
Emma ran quick eyes over the tall castle walls before returning her gaze to the pathway in front of her. It was a lot to take in - it was her new home.
---------------------------------
As the group of Rookian horsemen clattered through the front door of the castle, James and Arran Lyon were just descending the stairs into the main hallway.
James cast eyes over the chattering, weary-eyed horsemen, searching for a female somewhere. Searching for the girl who was to be his wife. Straining to catch a glimpse to the one he would be making vows to before the Gods.
At first, nothing.
Then, a few long moments after the main embodiment of the horsemen had filed into the main hallway, a girl walked into the room, quite alone.
Emma Emerson was not an ugly girl, James admitted to himself reluctantly. In fact, she really was rather pretty.
A tail of mousy brown hair trailed down her back, stray strands floating around her head like a sort of halo. Her eyes were wide and brown, though rather than the light tones of her hair, they were dark. Darker than any other eyes James had ever seen.
James found himself thinking unexpected thoughts: they complemented each other, Emma and he. They both had willowy figures and delicate yet sturdy frames.
James nodded to himself, deciding that she would do and waited for her to make eye contact.
When she did, she gave him the fiercest glare he'd ever seen. A sense of undeniable impending worry settled on James's shoulders like a cloud of ash on a fire place.
---------------------------------
Emma growled at the Lyon man who looked her up and down like a horse at the market and stalked towards him, hair swinging like a serpent behind her.
'My name is Emma Emerson of the Rooke Clan.' Her voice came out husky and low from the days of nonstop travelling. 'I have travelled here for three days. And when I finally arrive... There are no stable hands. No assistants. So I, future wife of your beloved James Lyon, had to stable her own horse and see to her own needs.' Emma seethed.
'Now will somebody,' her eyes fell upon a young man with dark shiny hair who was watching her guardedly. She fixed him with an icy stare, 'tell me where his Lordship, James is?'
Silence.
Then slowly, every head in the room turned to the man Emma herself was watching with fire in her gaze.
Momentarily stunned, Emma could only stare as the young man in question bowed mockingly and smirked.
'James Lyon, at your service, Ms Emerson.'
Emma's Story Continued. • Opuss № I