Summery: you've been put into an arrange marriage with Heinrich Harlander, the night falls and you don't know the man, as you prepare for the dread of a stranger performing the bedding ceremony, something questionable happens that leaves you puzzled yet satisfied…
Sidenote -this a replica on a dream I had abt Harlander, so l thought I should write it ig, also id like to make it clear im British so sorry if I get the German wrong :/
Night has bloomed, the stars sprinkled in the sky, glittering faintly. God creations chatters and rustling in the grass and woods fade to sleep, a soft caressing breeze jittered the trees leaves, the gentle crinkles soothing.
I stand infront of the full length mirror, the gold swirled design of the mirrors rim not distracting enough. The room...Herr Harlanders room to be specific, is large and enchanting. Its detailed and exquisite interior almost overwhelming. Neat sets of tables stood accordingly, paintings hung and watched, polished silk padded chairs sat by the open fire. Nothing like my own room, from my own home, now so far away from me. As dreamy and cozy as my new environment was...it was so empty, so tight and drowning, it felt like a prison.
Heinrich Harlander was a dark horse, i barely knew the high headed and shadowed fox. As soon as my father found a legitimate match, i was shipped off to Scotland. spent only a second to say goodbye to my family, my home, it wasn't fair. This man was polite enough but there's and edge to him that's infecting and infesting, it felt suppressing almost.
And now after the tradition in white, exchanging rings and speaking the oath. The most suspenseful and gut twisting part of it has dawned.
I look back at myself in the mirror, i see a woman, fairly young woman, afraid and chipped from the comprehension for what's to come. My hands tight to my chest, scraping the skin around my nails, my brows knitted together, I felt like a statue. My fine linen nightgown draped over my trembling body, the shadow from the fire emphasising the sculpture of my form through the fabric.
I sigh as I look at the bed behind me through the reflection. Its silk sheets neatly smoothed out and prepared, floral embroidery embellished on it. A dark oak canopy bed, sheer drapes on both sides including the front, all tied to the wooden poles with tassels, accompanied with a pelmet with a curtain track. Beautiful but daring.
I have no way out of this, no way to say "no" to a man who clearly has power, considering I stand in his home, his room, his wealth. I wonder what if he's...ruff, cruel and will leave me not wanting to look at him ever again. A grabber? a spitter? a bruiser? How could I live if he was like that behind closed doors.
He was so much older not to forget, surely he was experienced, but that's irrelevant to my source of comfort. I feared he would be careless to me and would only find me a source of drive. I only mattering to him as means to carry his heirs.
I turn around so fast, nearly snapping my spine. There was no knock, no invention to come in. Slowly, like a praying jaguar, Harlander’s head peeks through, held high, a broody face looked back at me. He walks past the door frame, his broad body looming. Seeing him shut the door, his gaze never leaving mine, it felt possessive, like he knew I was all his to admire, drinking in the sight of me. The sound of the soft click of the door shutting made me tremble more than before, trapping the air and suffocating the silence.
My hands still at my chest, now appearing as my shield. However, something intrigued me. Harlander was still wearing his evening suite. The suite he had got changed in after our ceremony at the church earlier today, but it was shuffled, like he had been lounging in it most of the evening. He wasn’t drunk to be clear, there wasn’t much of a party after, it was a swift and directed wedding.
His cravat was loosened, exposing his sternum, the top buttons of his shirt undone, he wore his petite coat, his waistcoat underneath that both were tailored snug on his body, framing his broad grace.
Still performing as the jaguar, he slowly walks over to me, wandering eyes flicker down my form, stopping at certain areas for a little too long before slithering back up to meet my gaze again. A ever so faint smirk crooks in his wrinkles.
“Turn around….” he commands, voice gruff and vibrating.
I hold the air that I breath, hot spits of fire prickle all over my skin as my heart is breaking against my bones, pounding hard and loud. Slowly, I turn around, now staring at not only myself in the mirror but him. I watch his frame fill the space of the mirror as he got closer, I was like a bright lamp and he was the shadow lurking, the dark atmosphere filling more than my light.
Harlander now stands right behind me. I flicker my eyes back up to his face, he blinked back softly, making his efforts purposefully calm, slow but prowling.
My breath hitch’s when his large, dominating hands take my loose hair. His fingers brush against my neck and jaw as he collects it. He was warm, possibly warmer than I already was. I watch him gather my hair, holding it gently in his loose grasp from the back. I feel the tickling on my scalp of my moving strands as he (to my surprise) begins to plait it.
As he works, his eyes flicker to my hair and back to me in our reflection. His smile grew a little wider, amused by the effect he had on me. There was a moment of silence before he speaks again.
“Your trembling” he bluntly states.
I look at my hands, seeing there a little shaken from being put on the spot, I lower my shield and let my hands fall to my sides.
“Das ist ein braves Mädchen…” -that’s a good girl
he continues to plait my hair, neat and tightly folding sections over one aother. I wondered why he was doing this, I thought he wouldn’t care how my hair would be, thought he would get straight to the bed and be done with it. I am sure he wasn’t interested in me, he barely looked at me at ceremony eailer today. Walking down the aisle, he never turned around, as were exchanging vows, he still didn’t move his body. Unwrapping me from my veil, he even avoided the kiss…he smiled contently but did not kiss me, only smiled.
He is handsome I will no doubt admit. When I first saw him a day before the wedding, it was noticeable to me he held a stoic sharp sculptured face. His cheekbones fair, nose large and ridged, coordinating with the rest of his face and his eyes, a composed hazel. I go over my opinion as I stare at his concentrating face, still cautious what he plans to do with me.
“I will not bed you tonight liebling…”
I’m taken back by bafflement. My mouth parts slightly, I could tell he was serious, after today, why should I be suspecting if he’ll bed me in the first place? I say nothing and let him continue.
He finished doing my hair, taking a ribbon from the dressing table near by, he tied the bottom in a loose bow. His hands land to rest on my shoulders, somehow compelling me to relax them. I was scared for this very night, and yet, now that he has said this, taking care of my hair so solemnly, I was just starting to think otherwise of him…entirely.
“You’re frail, I’ve seen enough of that today”
I couldn’t read his directions on this, not even from his tone. His hands on my shoulders gave a possessive squeeze, like he didn’t want to let go just yet, he looks into my eyes, observant to my reaction, prideful to his doll, but something else hid behind those dark eyes...
There was a thick silence between us, I tried to say something but no words formed. I wanted to ask why even though he had already elaborated. Why ignore me, why distance yourself when you agreed to the ritual. Did I come here for nothing? Was I given away for only to be looked at? However, I was somewhat glad, I didn’t know him, don’t know his motives, didn’t know his crafts, I was simply scared the entire day towards a stranger I dreaded wasn’t a beast.
His gaze lingered on me for a little longer then usually this past moment, and for that moment I see his mouth twitch, thinking he was going to kiss my head, but he doesn’t. He stands composed with oneself and says.
And lets go of my shoulders, giving me one final smile, as his face was so so nearly out of my view when he turned to leave, I see it drop.
I turn around abruptly, watching him go. He reached the door and simply walks out, he did not look back at me, did not say anything else, he just… walked out?
The door shuts and I’m left alone again.
The fire still crackles softly, the whistles of the soft breeze of the trees still whisper through the windows cracks. I was left exactly how I was before he came in…expect for my hair. I take it in my hands, looping it around so it’s draped on my chest. My fingers bumping over the plaits sections. I admire his careful work, tight and tidy, perfect for bed. My fingers trace the bow he left, a silk ribbon, smooth to the touch.
And somehow, somehow…I find myself smiling looking down at my plait. I then flicker back up to the door he walked out from, and I stand there, staring at it.
Maybe he wasn’t what I was afraid he was going to be.
Maybe he’s is a gentleman…
-yes he really did just “leave” in my dream lol
blakekathryn
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