The Beast's Bride

Leila woke up as the sunlight seeped into her room through her windows. She stood up from the piece of clothing which she used as her bed and stretched.

Before she could get up to begin preparing, it suddenly dawned on her.

No work today.

Her bright blue eyes shone as she joyfully grinned and lay back down.

Today was a special day, not for her, of course, as she was an outsider in the town.

It was the Day of Betrothal.

Should be called Day of Marriage, she mused, After all, the betrothed couples get married almost immediately.

The Day of Betrothal was the day hundreds of men and women, women aged 18 to 21 and men aged 22 to 25, would visit the local temple to find out who Deros, their god of love, had chosen to be their significant others. Their names would be taken down by the temple attendants and the priest would call out those who were meant to be together according to what the god whispered to him.

A barbaric custom in its entirety. Anyone in their right minds should have realized that it was actually the local priest, Eris, who made that decision, using that day to exert the power he had over the little town to his satisfaction.

That was why she had convinced Gideon, the only friend she had made in the town, to slowly make friends with the priest, bribe him even, so that he would let Gideon and his secret girlfriend for about two years, Iliana, to be wed and stay together forever.

Gideon had resisted at first, stating vehemently that the decision was made by the gods and not any mortal man, but as his passion and love for Iliana grew, so did his fear that she would be wed to another and he gave in and began to vehemently seek the approval of Eris.

Leila frowned. His efforts had better not be fruitless. He had worked too hard at pretending to like that despicable old man.

The flute players began playing the same tune that they always played on the special ceremony, or at least, that they had been playing since she moved into the town five years ago. She began to hum the tune softly.

If she were accepted as a member of the community, she would have been part of the happy yet terrified women washing their hair and faces, painting their lips, perfuming their bodies, and putting on their ceremonial white gowns.

She had turned 18 two weeks ago, after all.

But for once, she was happy that she wasn't accepted as a member of the community, for she could not imagine herself getting married to any of the men in the town, all of whom both despised and lusted after her because her unusual features.

She was a slim woman, a bit too slim. But unlike any of the brown or black haired women in the town, she had blood red hair paired with a pair of unusually bright violet eyes.

When she had first stepped foot into the community, a scared 13 year old, having gone through horrors no one her age should experience, desperately seeking protection, they had almost shunned her away, believing that she was a witch or sorceress. She literally had to perform slave labour, still did in a way as she was paid way too little for the amount of work she performed on the town farm, for the townspeople to grudgingly accept her on the condition that she didn't cause any trouble, which translated to, as she could tell from the fierce possessiveness and jealousy of the town women, that she was not allowed to even attempt to come close to and seduce any of the town men.

No need to worry about that. You can have your predatory men all to yourselves.

A knock on her door forced her up in fear. Surely, it couldn't possibly be her employer, surely, he didn't expect her to work today.

She opened the door cautiously and gasped as she came face to face with her intruders.

William and his gang of ne'er do wells, the only men in the community who had come dangerously close to raping her. Her tormenters.

A smirk was etched on his face as he menacingly approached her.

"Ready to get married today, sugar?"

Voloukh awoke to a loud pounding at his door. For a moment, he lay on the bed with his eyes closed, as the familiar pain that he had been enduring due to the dastardly wound he gotten from war, which he was sure had gotten infected due to his terrible self care, began throbbing again.

As he opened his eyes, he grimaced to the sound of the flutes outside. He hated that sound. It reminded him of one of the many things he could never have.

Companionship.

He reluctantly got up, wincing, as the knocks resounded again. Groaning, he opened the door and met a young boy staring up at him in fear. He grunted and rose to his full, towering height, his eyes flashing at the boy.

"What?" He barked.

The boy gulped and tried to steady himself.

"I ...am a ...messenger from the... mayor."

"Okay?"

The boy tugged at his shirt and messed his hair.

"The mayor says I should... emm... tell you that your presence is required at the Betrothal Ceremony."

Voloukh raised an eyebrow. "I do not serve this mayor of yours, but I am curious. Why does he want me there?"

"He says you are to choose a bride, sir."

Voloukh stared at the boy in disbelief for a moment.

"You mean to jest at me, boy?" He raised his right hand threateningly

"No, please I am serious. Please don't strike me!"

"Why would your mayor want to curse one of his females with a savage like me?" As those words left his mouth, he winced in pain inside. But he had long given up trying to pretend he was what he wasn't. He knew what he was.

"I do not know, sir."

Voloukh, again, stared at him incredulously. He was actually serious? He would finally have company? Someone to talk to? To sleep with? Someone who would teach him how to laugh again?

Those thoughts were quickly overshadowed with darker, crueler ones. Even if a female was given to him, he was more than certain that she too, would despise and fear him, that she would probably cry when he touched her, and wish for death to descend upon her.

He couldn't let a woman go through that.

But maybe, just maybe, he could treat the woman with enough kindness that she would see right through his monstrous features, maybe he could care for a woman.

Maybe he could love a woman.

And he would never know unless he tried.

He sighed. He would try to, and if his fears that he was too monstrous a human for companionship materialized, he would let her go. But he had to, he had to just try to free himself of the lonely, cold nights he had had ever since he was little.

"You. Boy."

The boy looked up. Voloukh could see that he had leaked his pants.

"Tell your mayor I accept his gracious offer. I do not understand the madness behind it, but it doesn't matter, I'll come."

"Marriage?" She blinked in confusion, a cold shiver passing down her spine. "But I'm not a town girl."

William laughed and stared at her wickedly. Behind that wicked glare, however, Leila could sense the lust that she always saw in his eyes whenever he looked at her.

It was the same look he always had when he and his gang had rounded her up several times as she went to the community garden, sticking out their phalluses, threatening to do all sorts of hideous things to her, whilst laughing and assaulting her.

It was also the same look he had when he, at a particular night, had stumbled to her room drunk, and had almost forcefully penetrated her had she not fought and scratched and bit with all she had.

"I know, right? Shocked me too when the mayor announced it, sugar. But perhaps..." He edged dangerous close to her. "Perhaps they've found out that your tight little sheath is not a curse, after all. A pity they didn't realize that earlier, all the things I would have done to you."

Damned mayor. That ugly, obese man had never had a kind look or word for her.

William laughed. "Maybe, I'll be the one to marry you, sugar. If I am, oh baby, I am going to have a lot of fun with you. And even if I am not, that won't stop me from sharing you with whoever is."

Grook, William's right hand man threw a white gown at her. "Hurry up with that. The ceremony will start at any moment." He growled.

Her heart and mind racing, she picked up the gown.

"May all of you excuse me so that I can change?"

"No, we can't sugar. I'm curious to know what's underneath those hideous gowns you wear."

She stood, staring at them. They sneered back at her.

And without a second thought, she bolted off the window.

...............................

Voloukh was still in a daze as he cleaned himself and rode into the town on his horse. After saddling the horse to a tree, he walked round the town, staring a bit too intensely at every female he saw. Most, upon meeting his eyes, grimaced, shuddered and quickly walked out of his view. The rest didn't notice him.

Shortly after his arrival, he began to hear mutterings around him. He was known for only coming out to visit the night market for foodstuff. Why was the beast of the woods suddenly in town, on this fateful day? Surely, he could not possibly be looking for a bride. Golly, he really was repulsive. The gods must have been meaning to make a monster and mistakenly created a revolting excuse for a human instead.

Voloukh tried his best to block out the mutterings but they soon broke his spirit. His fists immediately clenched and veins popped out of his eyes and every inch of his body. It took a huge amount of restraint for him not to begin a bloodbath.

Fuck them!

How dare they say such things about him in his presence? Did they have an inkling of an idea what he had been through, how he had gotten his scars?

His throat suddenly became parched and his eyes sighted a mead and wine seller setting up his shop.

He stormed towards the man.

"Drink!"

The man, upon seeing his, fell down in shock and surprise and scrambled to stand up.

"Do not waste my time!"

The man quickly ran inside and came out with a jar of wine. Before Voloukh could pay, he scrambled back inside.

He dropped a copper piece on the man's table and left.

Before he could open the jar, someone body slammed into him, just slightly affecting his balance but causing his jar to shatter to the ground.

His corneas turned blood red in fury as he, after staring at the broken jar, turned to stare at the perpetrator of the mess.

And his eyes locked with a pair of bright, beautiful violet eyes.

Violet?

Did such eye colour exist? Fascinating.

The owner of the eyes gasped in terror and quickly bolted off.

He turned back and caught a glimpse of the girl with the violet irises. She ran into the market and some men, one holding a white gown, ran after her.

An unwilling to be bride.

Who was she?