[RPG] Ariana and Morthwyl ~ Blood of My Blood

[Timothy Collett]

A murmur passes through the small crowd assembled in the monastery  
chapel as Ariana and Morthwyl enter the hall.  Ariana gazes down the  
center aisle.  The path from the heavy double doors to the altar is  
lined by the eight templar-monks who live at the small sanctuary,  
clad in full battle armour, their weapons drawn and raised in  
salute.  About a dozen others sit in the chapel benches, the scholars  
and the women.

Ariana is startled by the shrill cry of an eagle sounding through the  
chapel.  Looking up, she can just make out the fair creature perched  
high up on one of the foot-and-a-half-thick rafters, as if to watch  
the spectacle unfolding beneath it.

She turns her attention back to ground level.  Standing in an alcove  
at the far right end of the chapel are two old men. Although they  
wear the robes of full Knights of the Order, they are ragged and  
weathered in appearance. Even these hermits, for what else could they  
be, have come to pay their respects to their younger brother.

Ariana inhales.  The incense burning in a censer atop the altar  
spread an earthy aroma through the hall that, combined with the faint  
scent of jasmine and herbs emanating from the flower baskets in the  
alcoves, creates a sense of warmth and security not often found so  
high up in the mountains, even by those accustomed to them.  Despite  
it, though, she finds her heart beating fast.  Her eyes widen as they  
near the end of the aisle.

The young couple halt before the old grey-robed abbot who will  
preside over the ceremony.   He looks to Ariana as if she could break  
him in half with her two hands, but when he raises his hands to quiet  
the guests and speaks, it is in a clear, powerful voice that belies  
his years.

“Welcome, my brothers and sisters, on this glorious day.

“We are gathered here in this place of contemplation to witness an  
event that our sanctuary has not had the honour, and pleasure, of  
hosting in many years. Few though we may be, today we celebrate the  
joyous union between two loving people.

“Morthwyl and Ariana, know that today you stand at the beginning of  
your new life together. As the divine union between our Lord and Lady  
brought life into the world, so shall the union between the two of  
you bring life and happiness to you both."

He turns to Ariana, who looks him in the eye, uncertain as to what he  
wants or will say...

“Ariana, though you are not of our faith, you accepted Morthwyl’s  
dedication to his path without complaint, and for that you deserve  
highest praise. As Tyr watches over us all, so surely shall your  
Goddess guide you in the years to come."

She relaxes and smiles, flushing slightly at his praise.

“But enough of the speeches. You have prepared your vows?”

The two nod slowly.

“Very well, then let us commence…

“Ariana, maiden of the House Anaris, is it your wish to become one  
with this man?”

Ariana replies instantly, her eyes shining like sapphires in the Sun  
that is her emblem. “Yes, it is my wish.”  Yes, more than anything  
and everything in the world...at last, at last...

“Morthwyl, brother among brothers, is it your wish to become one with  
this woman.”

Morthwyl, too, replies immediately, a warm smile on his face. “Yes,  
it is my wish.”

The priest speaks again, and looks through the small chamber.
“If there is one among us who objects to the wedding of these two  
people, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”

Silence. The priest smiles, gently amused with the formalities of the  
ritual. “Then in the presence of our Lord and Lady, let us proceed.  
Give me your arms.”

The couple both sink to one knee and look at the priest.

Morthwyl holds up his arm first, and the old man quickly draws a  
small blade and makes a small cut to his lower arm.  Though Morthwyl  
told Ariana about this before, it is still something of a shock to  
her.  A shadow of pain draws across his face for a moment as the  
blade bites into his flesh, but no surprise there. The cut bleeds  
profusely for a moment, and the priest makes sure to catch some of  
the blood in the goblet he holds in his left hand.

“Ariana, take your ring, the symbol of your love for Morthwyl, and  
place it on his left hand.”
Morthwyl holds up his hand, the bleeding from the cut on his arm  
already stopped, and marked now only by a thin red line. Ariana's  
eyes widen as she places the ring on his finger and looks back up at  
the priest, slightly rattled.

She holds up her arm and the priest repeats the procedure, catching  
her blood in the same goblet as Morthwyl’s.  She winces slightly at  
the pain, but it vanishes almost immediately, to be replaced by a  
strange warmth.

“Morthwyl, take your ring, the symbol of your love for Ariana, and  
place it on her left hand.”
Ariana holds up her hand and Morthwyl places the ring on her finger,  
a comforting smile on his face.  Though still somewhat unnerved by  
the ceremony, she smiles back.

The priest turns to the altar, pours a measure of wine into the  
goblet, and stirs the contents for a moment, whispering softly as he  
does so. He hands the goblet to Morthwyl and merely nods, knowing  
that Morthwyl is familiar with the ritual.

Morthwyl looks at Ariana. “I present to you, my love, this pledge,”  
he says as he looks her in the eyes, and takes a sip from the goblet.
“You are blood of my blood, bone of my bone. I vow to you the first  
cut of my meat, the first sip of my wine. From this day on it shall  
be only your name that I cry out in the night, only your eyes into  
which I gaze each morning.
“I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine. Never shall a  
grievous word be spoken about us, for our bond is sacred between us.  
Above this, and all else, I shall cherish and honour you through this  
life and into the next.”

Ariana smiles and responds without hesitation, almost singing the  
reply: “My love, I accept your pledge freely and with all my heart,  
never to forget it.”

Morthwyl hands the goblet to the priest, who passes it on to Ariana.

She looks Morthwyl in the eyes and speaks. “I present to you, my  
love, this pledge.”
Hesitatingly, she takes a sip from the goblet, not entirely  
confortable with the idea of drinking blood...  Then, haltingly, she  
speaks the vows.  Each phrase seems to ring in her bones, in her  
soul, and she feels the rightness of it with a growing certainty as  
she completes them.
“You are blood of my blood, bone of my bone. I vow to you the first  
cut of my meat, the first sip of my wine. From this day on it shall  
be only your name that I cry out in the night, only your eyes into  
which I gaze each morning.
“I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine. Never shall a  
grievous word be spoken about us, for our bond is sacred between us.  
Above this, and all else, I shall cherish and honour you through this  
life and into the next.”

Smiling, Morthwyl replies immediately. “My love, I accept your pledge  
freely and with all my heart, never to forget it.”  As he says it,  
Ariana feels something almost click inside her--whether it is from  
the power of the ancient ceremony, or simply from the knowledge in  
her own soul, she knows with absolute certainty that they are bound  
together for all time.

“Then may Tyr watch over you, and may Zisa shine her light upon you.”  
The priest speaks, a warm smile visible on his weathered face. “By  
the grace of the Earth Mother, may your love be as strong as the  
mountains. By the grace of the Sky Father, may your union weather any  
storm.

"Now, in the name of Tyr, I pronounce you wed. You may kiss now for  
the first time as husband and wife.”

--

"The only thing you can't trade for your heart's desire is your heart."
  ~ Miles Naismith Vorkosigan

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