Marrying Captain Blackthorn

The dressmaker had completed all the necessary adjustments. I finally peeled off the gown. A wave of relief washed over me. The dress had been so tight I could barely breathe. It revealed too much of my chest, and my back was almost fully exposed, leaving me feeling vulnerable. The restrictive fit limited my every move. Servants rushed about, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls as they prepared for the event. The grand hall was transformed: long tables draped in crimson velvet, contrasting sharply with polished silverware and fragile crystal goblets. Bouquets of roses and lilies lined the centerpieces, their fragrance mingling with the beeswax candles glowing softly in the elaborate candelabras.

Outside, craftsmen worked tirelessly to erect a canopy for the wedding ceremony. Silk curtains billowed in the breeze, rich purple and royal blue shimmering under the sun. Lanterns hung at every corner, casting a warm glow that softened the edges of the day. Evening fell. I retreated to my room for dinner. Facing my parents was out of the question. They had traded me for their gain, and tomorrow, I’d be wed to a man known for his cruelty. Sleep evaded me, my mind weighed down by dread. Morning broke, and my lady-in-waiting found me on the balcony. The salty wind whipped through my hair as I stared at the black sails docked at the harbor. Seeing them filled me with disgust, the dread from last night returning.

Inside, she guided me toward the bathtub, its warm water steaming, perfumed with lavender. I slipped off my nightgown and sank into the bath, the heat soothing my weary body. She combed through my hair with care, ensuring every knot was gone. Once bathed, I wrapped myself in a plush towel and sat at my vanity, ready to be groomed for the day ahead. My ladies-in-waiting gathered around, their whispers mixing with the rustling of silk as they prepared me for the ceremony. My dark hair fell in waves, soon woven into an intricate braid adorned with delicate pearls and crystals. Hues of rose and gold were brushed onto my cheeks, and my lips were painted a soft pink, enhancing my pale skin.

Then came the gown. A masterpiece of silk and lace, delicate and heavy all at once. I rose from my seat, stepping into it as if donning armor for the day. The bodice hugged my frame, accentuating my waist and neckline. Lace trailed down the sleeves, shimmering in the light with every movement. At my feet, a pair of satin slippers, jeweled with crystals, awaited me. My lady-in-waiting handed me a small box. It was from Captain Blackthorn. My hands trembled as I opened it to reveal a sapphire necklace and earrings. She fastened them on me carefully. Finally, the veil was placed. A cascade of white lace and diamonds, glittering in the soft light. This finery was courtesy of Captain Blackthorn. My parents could never afford such luxuries. My thoughts were interrupted by my father’s entrance.

“You look beautiful, Isabella,” he said, his voice hollow.

“Thank you, Father,” I replied, forcing a smile.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted,” he said, his tone heavy. “We didn’t want this for you either. We had no choice.”

Without another word, he took my arm and lowered the veil over my face. We stepped through the door. The assembly rose. I couldn’t see Captain Blackthorn. While I walked down the aisle, I noticed the grand transformation of the castle hall. Wooden pews lined either side, cushioned in deep crimson and royal purple. Golden chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm glow over the gathering. Tapestries depicting scenes of valor draped the walls, adding to the regal atmosphere.

At the far end of the hall, beneath a canopy of silk, stood the altar, adorned with marble and fresh flowers. Behind it, a tapestry embroidered with the kingdom’s crest glowed in the candlelight, casting shadows across the stone floor. While I walked, all eyes turned to me.  My gown trailed behind in a wave of silk, shimmering in the flickering candlelight. Tears welled in the eyes of the guests as they beheld me, a radiant bride. At last, I saw him. Captain Blackthorn stood tall at the altar, commanding attention with his presence. His dark hair fell in loose waves around his rugged face, and his stormy eyes locked on me. He exuded power and authority, but a dangerous energy simmered beneath it.

Older than me by a few years, his muscled physique spoke of a life at sea. He wore a finely tailored black velvet coat, his broad shoulders exuding strength. A single gold hoop earring glinted in the candlelight, a subtle nod to his pirate past. We reached the altar. Nausea surged in my throat, my heart pounding in my chest. My father took his seat as Captain Blackthorn stepped closer. He lifted my veil, his smile predatory.

“You’re even more beautiful in person, pet,” he whispered, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

The preacher stepped forward.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to join this man and woman in holy matrimony. Do you, Captain Blackthorn, take this woman to be your wife?”

“I do,” he said without hesitation.

The preacher turned to me.

“Do you, Princess Isabella, take this man to be your husband?”

I hesitated. Captain Blackthorn leaned in, his voice a cold whisper.

“Say it, or you’ll regret it later.”

“I do,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Captain Blackthorn seized me, crushing his lips against mine in a kiss so forceful it stole my breath. When he finally released me, his grip on my waist remained unyielding. The room emptied. He pushed me against the wall, pinning me with his weight.

“You drive me mad,” he growled, his voice thick with desire.

I struggled to catch my breath, the cold stone pressing into my back. His lips were on mine again, harder this time, the pressure unbearable.

“Get ready, I’ll strip you of that dress soon enough.”

Just as suddenly, his grip loosened. A wave of relief surged through me, but it vanished almost as quickly as it came. My skin still burned where his fingers had dug in. Before I could catch my breath, he seized my wrist again, this time with more urgency, dragging me forward. I stumbled after him, heart hammering, trying to keep pace. The sound of music and laughter swelled with every step, a cruel contrast to the tight knot of dread winding in my stomach. The glow of the ballroom spilled into the hallway ahead, warm and golden, but it felt like walking into a trap.

As we crossed the threshold, I was hit by the splendor of it all. Chandeliers sparkled like stars above us, casting their light over dancers spinning with effortless grace. The air shimmered with perfume, champagne, and the hum of conversation. It should have been beautiful. Instead, I felt exposed, wrong-footed, like I’d wandered onto a stage uninvited. He pulled me to a stop in the middle of it all and let go of my wrist. My skin tingled in the sudden absence of pressure, but his gaze pinned me in place. Then, without a word, he turned and slipped into the crowd. My pulse spiked. I stood frozen for a second. Then I followed. I pushed past laughing couples and drifting waiters, the noise pressing in around me, too loud, too bright. Finally, I saw him beyond the swirl of dancers, standing at the edge of the floor. His eyes locked onto mine, unreadable, and something in his stare made the room seem colder. He extended his hand. I hesitated, blood roaring in my ears, every instinct screaming caution. Then, slowly, I stepped forward to meet him.