(LOG) Uhtred & Garnett's Wedding and the Quiet Priest assassination attempt

Father Rychard Biach took a deep, steadying breath as he watched the nobles of Nharati file into his chapel. Most days, he thanked God for his good fortune; to be in the graces of a truly pious household, with more than adequate facilities and a sizeable flock for the Lord of Lords. This evening, Father Biach said a silent prayer for the strength to perform his duties to the pleasure of his God and his King. His heart thumped when the ambient music changed to the more fluttering tunes of the flute, signalling the bride's entrance. "Gentryman and Ladies," he began in the newer Common Tongue, once everyone of note had taken a seat. "We are all gathered in this House of God to recognize the union of Crown Prince Uhtred Valenti with Princess Garnett Farquhar." Hesitating over the next bit, he could feel his bowels clenching. Common law required objections to be heard, though to his memory, not one person had ever raised one in at least half a millennium in these lands. Father Rychard Biach swallowed to make his slightly-doubled chin bob back into his throat. "Before we continue, let God and man bear witness to any objections to this union." His heart caught in his throat as he waited a respectable interval, praying for silence.

Uhtred Valenti felt the nerves in his chest writhe with the imminent procession that now settled itself in the great hall. He had not been nervous on the day before the wedding, but now his breakfast threatened to churn out of his lips and splatter his bare feet. He was immaculately conceived, his black leather doublet simple, yet incredibly refined in its design with its floral-laced clasps and studded sleeves that he now tugged at nervously. Still, his smile was bright, and he regarded his family with the sort of foolish pleasure that comes from rather nauseating love. That is, until the pirest got around to the objection portion. Then a slightly steel glint flashed in his eyes. He had no sword, but he might as well have brandished one threateningly at the congregation.

Garnett waited at the back for the change in music, her heart pounding in her chest. The corset felt so tight she could scarcely breathe, feet now bare on the rug of the chapel. Clasping her father's arm tightly, she took a deep breath, her cheeks paper white beneath carefully applied paints and powders. Her stomach roiled as she took the first step, the princess seeming to float in a cloud of blue tulle. Diamond chips sparkled at the edges, while a single sapphire gleamed from her golden circlet. With each slow step, she swore her knees would give out on her, the grip on King Gregor's arm tightening as her magnificent blue gown threatened to weigh her down. She stared through her veil at Uhtred, eyes locked on him as she and her father halted, trembling through those heart-stopping moments as the priest waited for objections.

Fa'hallad Whinaad's eyes suddenly widened as something caught in his throat and he coughed, immediatly followed by a very loud clearing of his throat. Which of course made it seem like he was about to object. Boy that ought to make everyone real happy.

Evangilene looked about innocently as if she had done nothing wrong. She had a brief guess as to why the male next to her had coughed aloud. A sudden wave of pity would rush through her mind as she offered a fake sneeze to cover up his reaction, allowing some to think that the air was foul around them. Now the eyes would have to shift back towards Garnett without much more bodily commentary coming from the two of them.

Viridian Farquhar was feeling her usual displeased self. First of all, she couldn't understand just why the ceremony was not outside, sure the chapel was lovely, but it certainly made for a stuffy occasion. Then the shoes. She had picked her finest for this day, and had been forced to remove them. But, she plastered that plastic smile on her face, back straight as a board, hands clasped gently in her lap. When Garnett moved passed her, she got the usual once over, and was reminded again how she had not been invited to help her daughter get ready. She wanted badly to object, on grounds that Garnett's hair was not perfect, a single strand of hair seemed out of place. But, she knew such objections would be unwelcomed and downright silly, so she stayed her tongue.

Father Rychard Biach's nervous smile disappeared at the coughing from the foreign Prince, his chubby face threatening a smooth frown. "That being the case," he interjected hastily before the troublemaker could draw more attention, "let us pray." Another deep breath and his eyes rolled toward the heavens, his hands clasped in front of his belly. When now he spoke, his words formed the Old Tongue still dominant in the clergy. "Our Father in Heaven, look down with kindness upon your poor flock, each one of us to a man unworthy of Your Love. Spread Your Kindness to the hearts and minds of these bereft souls; smile upon this Holy Union which shall take place in Your Name. Bless Prince Uhtred and Princess Garnett all their days and nights, so that they may better worship You. Amen!" At last his grey eyes settled once more upon the congregation, his heart filled with devotion. "Who among us has come to present the Princess to her betrothed, before God and these witnesses?"

Uhtred Valenti locked his gaze on the man who had coughed, his eyes burning as though he was prepared to reach out from across the hall and take the man's head... Yet Evangilene's presence told the story for him, and a small smile flashed over his lips. She was making life difficult for the poor fellow already. Garnett's approach brought a catch in his throat as he stared, ignoring everything else in the hall henceforth. Indeed, even King Gregor's arm seemed a neutral spot in his vision as he locked his eyes on the veil. This was it. It. The foreign king could not have spoken up quick enough for his taste. Damn the elderly for their patience. He wanted her to be his now.

Garnett flinched at the gutteral sound from Fa'Hallad, her wide-eyed gaze snapping around to stare at him for an instant before it returned to Uhtred. Heavily, she leaned on her father's arm, his hand patting at her smaller one reassuringly as he nudged her to stand tall. Her chin lifted obediently, shoulders squaring as the old tongue poured over her, the princess unable to summon reverance at that moment, her thoughts warring between keeping herself upright and adoration for the tall prince awaiting her. It seemed she was just as impatient, for she made a move forward before her father answered, the King squeezing her hand to still her for an instant as he boomed. "I, King Gregor of Leugeilean, present my daughter to this son of Nharati." Almost chuckling, he bowed deeply to the prince as he extended his arm with Garnett toward the prince.

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen stood ramrod straight beside the dark pillar, dressed in all his finery; leather greeves of a splendid blue covered his shins, to match the gauntlets which covered his forearms. A thin shell of finely-worked plate rested beneath his clothes, giving his formidable form all the more bulk, while in front of his feet rested the head of a massive two-headed battleaxe he always carried when going into battle, and often brought to social occasions to help spread his prestige. Every sinew in his body pronounced his pride in this day, his whiskers actually twitching in a bit of a smile. Not even the cough by Fa'Hallad was enough to dampen his spirits as the procession continued uninterrupted.

Synaria watched Garnett with tears in her eyes. My how beautiful she looked! Syn should have expected it, having helped the Princess get ready just hours prior, but in the chapel light, it was as if Garnett was touched with a holy light. Finger rose to her eye to brush away the forming tears, free hand holding on tightly to the fabric of her saree so that she might not pull a Nefe and clap aloud simply for how stunning Garnett looked. And Uhtred, he was the very picture of a Crown Prince. Happiness for the pair dwarfed the fact that Raij was not beside her. Again.

Father Rychard Biach's Adam's apple bobbed beneath the layers of fat hanging from his jowels, his eyes dancing from the foreign King to the Princess, to his own sovereign lord...that weapon of war resting before him sending a chill through the Father's spine. When King Gregor gave his assent, the priest beamed. "The Princess may approach, to kneel with the Prince before this Altar of God." He indicated the high table in front of him, bedecked as it was with the implements of ritual stretching back beyond memory.

Uhtred Valenti felt the joy swell in his throat, along with a kind of terror that made him want to vomit. My god, but they'd be here in just a second. His emotions seemed to enjoy vacillating at will, leaving him a sort of shiny-polished wreck. He stood much like his father, that martial background making his spine unnaturaly stiff in standing positions. The peripherals of his gaze told him a benign story. The milling of priests about the procession, Synaria's heart-warming emotion, the presence of good knights with whom he had served with. Gregor's household was mostly a non-factor, though he did spare a glance at the Queen. My God, but her facade was masterful. As he held out his hand for Garnett to kneel with him, he took that well-practiced turn upon his heel to face the altar. With his eyes locked on Garnett to keep time with her, he would take his place in humility before his Lord. Hopefully, their Lord now.

Garnett blushed at her error, resisting the urge to duck her head. It simply would not do today. Despite her earlier move, she stared at Uhtred's hand for a long moment as if she didn't know what to do, the flush trickling down her neck even to the top of her gown. Swallowing hard, she lightly placed her hand in his, fingers trembling almost painfully. Nothing else in the room mattered to her as she sunk as gracefully as she could to her knees, her hand suddenly tightening around Uhtred's to keep her from toppling. There..her knees met the rug, and she bowed her head reverently, relieved to no longer be standing. Her skirt billowed around her, spilling against Uhtred's leg, the tulle of her veil kissing her shoulders.

Father Rychard Biach looked on as the pair knelt, clearly approving their reverence to the laws and customs of the land. "Marriage is the bedrock of the world; the foundation on which homes and Kingdoms alike are built. In the Eyes of God, the Union of two people is the wedding of two souls of His Creation. This is a covenant between the two of you with one another, and with the Lord your God." His gaze fell on Uhtred, lending gravity to his words. "Prince Uhtred of Nharati, repeat after me...." Line by line, he led the Prince through his vows as they had been handed down for generations.

Evangilene looked at her brother and Garnett kneel before the priest, a sense of happiness filled her as it would for any sibling at this moment. Facial features showed nothing more than a focused look of apathy. She was silent for the time being waiting for the ceremony to be over with all it boring details. She would wait patiently to get up an congratulate her brother and go about her merry way out of sight from all except the servants.

Uhtred Valenti listened to the words of the Father with rapt attention. He loved the Church, a sort of zealous devotion that was quite unfitting for a man of his previous career choice. He felt the quiet rapture in his heart, felt it as surely as he could possibly be touched by the hand of God... or perhaps placebo himself into it. He nodded to the Father and turned his head to Garnett, smiling graciously as he repeated every word. "I, Uhtred of the house Valenti, take thee, Garnett of the house Farquhar, to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness orin health. To love and to cherish, 'til death parts us, according to God's holy ordinace. Thereto, I plight thee my troth."

Garnett soaked in the words on marriage, stowing them away to study later, wondering that she dared make a covenant with an unknown god. Uhtred's voice jarred her from her thoughts, and she lifted her her head, scarcely realizing that she held her breath through his words. Her pale gaze never flinched from his, nerves slowly evaporating into a tender smile as tears sprang to her eyes. Quietly, with the priest's prompting, she began her own vows after a deep shaky breath. "I, Garnett of the house Farquahar, take thee, Uhtred of the house of Valenti..." Her voice firmed as she continued, her earnest words ringing out just loud enough to be heard. "..to be my wedded husband. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health. To love and to cherish, 'til death parts us, according to God's holy ordinace. Thereto, I plight thee my troth." Her gaze lingered adoringly on his face as the silence hung after her words, every one meant with all her heart.

Father Rychard Biach breathed a bit heavily, as if the effort of shepherding the two through their vows was almost all he could bear. Once they were both through the requisite words, he grinned, opening his hands before them. "Present your crafts," he intoned serenely, nodding to Uhtred to take up his own item first.

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen could not have cried even if he'd wanted too, but that reserved smile told all it needed for those who knew him well. At the exchange of vows, Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen's eyes searched the gathered crowd, his smile only faltering when he noted the lack of his younger son...the insult stinging, but light. Oddly, he felt a vein of pity for the exotic beauty he'd found for the boy...sitting somewhat alone. His gaze lingered for just a moment before he turned back to the proceedings, eagerly awaiting the next part.

Uhtred Valenti felt a stinging in his eyes, trying hard to ignore it as his vision clouded. Her requiting words made his breath seize in his chest, and it was all he could to keep from just tearing the veil away and kissing her. His stupid grin wavered only because of his trembling. That is, until the good Father gave him the signal. Alas. Uhtred blushed lightly at this one. He honestly had no idea what to make her. It had been a very difficult thing to decide what the hell she would even like! In the end, he had fallen back on what he knew. And thus, he presented a slender, silver shortsword, presented in its scabbard so that the gleaming reflection could not be seen on the blade. Only the hilt, intertwined with the knotwork designs that he had noticed her household prefering, gleamed in the soft candlelight.

Synaria stared at the proceedings, eyes tearing up more and more, until she was finally crying silently as they spoke their vows. Handkerchief was dabbed at her eyes, bright grin on her face. Attention was only interupted when she felt the weight of eyes upon her. Perhaps she had missed Raij in the crowd and he was there! Quickly she looked around, catching the King just as he was turning back to the ceremony. Brow quirked slightly to herself, a shiver of fear running through her. This was short lived, as she watched the gifts being presented, that smile lighting her face back up.

Garnett's smile deepened into something almost giddy at Uhtred's grin, the bride's paleness giving way to radiance as the ceremony wended onward. Joy poured off the girl, although there was certainly a moment of shock at finding herself presented with a sword of all things. She blinked at it, carefully taking the weapon, her fingertips tracing the elegant design as she beamed at Uhtred. "Thank you." She whispered, unsure if her appreciate was a break in protocol, but she could not have helped it. Bringing the gift to her lips, she kissed it sweetly before taking up her own. Five teardrop garnets graced the bowl of a gleaming silver goblet, the gems taken from a gift her father had given when she came of age. Her smile wavered, the girl close to tears once more as she held it out nervously the prince, the gift overlarge in her hands but perfectly sized for his.

Viridian Farquhar had been perfectly quiet, even her mind silent for she could find nothing to inwardly pick apart her daughter about. The ceremony was going beautifuly, and the vows nearly warming her... nearly. Her face remained quite impassive, brow only quirked when Garnett was presented a sword. Eyes blinked a few times, surely the prince had not gifted a princess with a weapon... whatever would she need one for? Then Garnett, giving him a goblet. It all seemed quite backwards to her. Disapproval was, as always in public functions, not shown.

Father Rychard Biach had not quite realized the significance of the sword on the table. His jaw nearly dropped when Uhtred took it up to present it to his veiled, blushing bride; gulping hard, he silently prayed to forgive the Prince his folly, worry lines creasing his brow. Hardly hearing the whispered appreciation, he took in a deep breath as Garnett herself presented her gift, only belatedly realizing that the pair had not exchanged words as they should have. Blinking, he gathered his thoughts, taking a second to order them. "These gifts come from your own labor," he ad-libbed quickly, "Wrought in fire and blood, they are a symbol of your devotion to one another and a manifestation of your vows." It never crossed his mind the abjectly Pagan nature of this particular ritual, the priest having internalized such contradictions long ago. He felt more at ease now, however, as he returned to the ancient script. "You have knelt as individuals, as two lands and two souls." Father Rychard Biach said, "Rise now, Uhtred and Garnett of House Valenti; joined in body, mind and spirit, one entity. What God has brought together, let no force on this Earth tear asunder." With a grin perhaps more lascivious than necessary, he all but winked at the Prince. "You may now kiss your bride."

Uhtred Valenti had forgotten the words entirely, but he did not care. Nothing ever went right in a wedding, after all! Worse things could have happened. He smiled apologetically at the priest before taking up the goblet that was placed before him. His curious wonder was far from displeased, grinning like a bit of a fool as he looked from garnets to Garnett. He carefully kissed its brim, nodding slightly to show that his gratitude. The words of the Father brought him to his feet, a waiting priest reaching to take the trinkets aside to free their hands for the precise moment.. They were passed on down the line to a quiet priest beside the entrance, who would return them when they exited. Uhtred could not help but look bemusedly at the Priest at his attitude, but shrugged it off in good humour. He turned to his new wife, hardly believing his eyes, and lifted up the veil. He watched her face for a time before kissing her lips deeply, thus sealing the bargain.

Garnett never realized that they had even missed the words they were meant to speak, simply listening as the priest continued, her grin widening at Uhtred's approval. Her hands fell from her sword as it was taken, the girl's gaze never wavering from her prince. Unable to help herself, she giggled as she used Uhtred's arm to rise to her feet, her cheeks blazing as he lifted the veil. Her fingers squeezed his arms tightly as she struggled to breathe, loosing herself in his blue eyes there in front of the whole gathered assembly. Without hesitation, her lips crushed into his eagerly, passion surging as her heart suddenly resumed beating. Still blushing, she broke the kiss, burying her face against his cheek, words whispered just for him. "I love you."

Father Rychard Biach demurely glanced away as the newlyweds fell into a forgivable, if a bit carnal, embrace; at his signal, music resumed from an enormous organ, filling the room with resonant chords and vibrant rythms to fill the congregation's heads and hearts with pure thoughts. When finally the two ceased their kiss, Father Biach turned his beaming smile onto the crowd. "I now present for your approval the Lord and Lady Uhtred Valenti!" Breast swelling with enthusiasm, he found himself beginning a hopefully-growing round of applause for the couple.

Viridian Farquhar's form had never lost it's slouch, hard look on her face present... but... was that a glimmer of a tear in her eye? Thoughts poured over her unwillingly at the little girl whom she had cared for as her own, taught the best she could. The control she had over Garnett had slipped from her fingers completely at that very moment. The Queen knew it, and for one reason or another it broke her heart. At the applause from the Priest, she too put her hands together in a gentle clap, Remembering herself the stray tear was brushed from her eye and the false smile on her face.

Fa'hallad Whinaad blinked and then stood up in his seat, bringing his weathered hands together to clap loudly for the couple now married. He restrained himself from any hooting and hollering which would have been customary in his homeland. These people seemed much more reserved.

Anastasio Bonmarito stood up himself, brushing back the massive feather plume that bedecked his hat and got into the way of his face upon standing up, such were the results of fashion, and, quite possibly to some of the audience, the result of simple bad taste, dressing up quite this colorfully at a wedding, but certainly, he looked confident enough standing there, as he raised his hands and clapped slightly, leaving his cane leaned up against the pews as he grinned at the newly-wed couple. Barring assassination or some other odd undiscussed occurence, he too would be standing up there eventually.

Evangilene stood calmly hands clasped together as she looked at the two with a sense of fear. Thinking that in just a couple of weeks she would be in the same situation though with someone she hardly knew. Digits in her left hand hit the palm of her right after a few moments in a silented clap, it was only proper of her to do so. Gaze shifted to her father then back again, the wounds on her back still there from the last time she had taken an ill action in the middle of a ceremony.

Synaria stood grinning like a fool as the tears ran down her cheeks, but thankfull unmarring the make-up she had applied. Hands rose to clap excitedly, bangles upon her wrists chiming loudly. A sad thought struck her. There would be no more nights where she could slip into Garnett's room and sleep beside her when she was sad, or missing her homeland. She turned, forgetting Raij was not there, to cry upon his shoulder, only to come face to face with a rather beefy nobleman. She winced, uttering a light appology before hastily turning back to the couple, resuming her applause again, if not but a bit awkwardly.

Uhtred Valenti broke the kiss only to keep the rest of the congregation from becoming nauseous. That, and the sudden inception of blaring, holy music seemed as though it would knock him right off of his feet. As they turned to present themselves to the crowd, he couldn't help but smile in awe. His father looked as happy as he had ever seen him, inspiring a foolish grin. His sister, the beautiful and incomparable Evangilene ever the sign of wild spirit, earning her a serene, quietly grateful expression for having endured what could not have been a very exciting ceremony. Sweet, exotic Synaria, so very emotional. Strangers applauding, men he had never seen before. It was all so very much! He couldn't help but hit his chest with his fist in recognition of them all.

Garnett peered out at the crowd in unmasked awe at the applause, the radiant bride with a huge grin on her face as she wrapped both of her arms around Uhtred's. Tightly she held to her betr..no, husband now. For the first time, she saw Synaria's tears, unable to help her own spilling from her eyes now as she smiled warmly at the woman she considered a sister. Shyly, she lifted her hand to wave broadly at the gathered crowd, catching the swipe of a tear from her lady mother. Gratefully, she managed a small curtsey to the room before her hands gained Uhtred's arm again, glancing up to his face adoringly as she waited for guidance.

The Quiet Priest dropped the goblet and walked silently forward upon his bare feet. He was easy to ignore, for he was just another quiet priest. He doubted anyone would even notice as he let the scabbard fall off the shortsword, holding it level in his hand. His peripherals were shielded by the low hood of his robes, making him forced to trust in the sheer improbability of what he was about to do. That wouldn't last, however. For the moment he was within a clear line of sight, the cloak portion of his priest garb flew off of his shoulders. The concealed crossbow was raised on a straining arm, pointing towards Uhtred. Cold green eyes found their mark and within a half-second's time he had shot the bolt. The concussion of the projectile threw the crossbow out of his hand entirely, leaving him with Garnett's shortsword to do any further damage.

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen felt the convergence of several threads in the elaborate tapestry of his life, this wedding a seminal event many years--if not decades--in the making. His legacy was now secure, for all intents and purposes...his dynasty had a strong foundation, in personal and political terms. Large fingers gripped the handle of his massive, weathered battleaxe lovingly, thoughts of actually using the beast far from his mind. When he caught his son's eye he gave a supportive nod, before turning to survey the reaction of his nobles. Eyes caught once more on that strange, dark beauty...a hint of pain showing in her tearful expression. Troubling himself only slightly over this, he allowed his smile to linger, if only for another frew moments. It was only by sheer chance that he saw that quiet priest slipping forward, the glinting of the rushlights off the exposed blade striking him as rather odd. Within a heartbeat he saw it all falling apart; even as the priest shed his cloak, Wyld's mind raced. Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen could only yell incomprehensibly, his fingers gripping the axe more fervently. It seemed an eternity for the long weapon to get off of the ground, though in reality his powerful grip tore it from the church's floor. "No!!!" Came the bellow, drowning out the music, which came to a sudden and screeching hald as the King wielded the overlarge weapon impotently, afraid to strike lest he damage Garnett or, much more importantly, Uhtred.

Seregon brought himself to his feet. He'd been completely dormant throughout the entirety of the ceremony. Vacant eyes locked upon the newly wed couple, strong hands slowly lifting to produce his own applause for the duo. Silence overwhelmed him other than the stern clapping. Attention slid across the room to the standing king, giving the man a long solem stare before shifting his attention back to Uhtred and Garnett. He took a single step forward to lean against the closest pillar once his clapping ceased and out of the corner of his eye he noticed a man moving up the center isle. It wasn't until a scream of an onlooking woman rang through his ears with the man's presentation of a crossbow that Seregon fully acknowledged him. Instcinctively a hand moved for his chest and produced a silver throwing knife. As the bow shot his hand released the knife, sending it to where he hoped it would intercept the bolt...

Anastasio Bonmarito glanced over, and saw the assassin raising the crossbow, his eyes going wide before he realizes it is indeed not pointing at him. He seemed to relax a bit when he realized that it was not an attempt on his life, but his gaze flitted about the room for any more possible threats. Seeing none, he was satisfied, and contiued to stare at the scene. His thoughts seemed to be racing at a hundred miles a second, eyes defocusing slightly as he watched the events unfold, not making any real sound, but certainly having a look of shock on his face as the bolt whistled and did....?

Evangilene gave a smile and a bow of her head towards her elder brother as she caught his expression. In one slow moment she turned her head, hearing some gasps amongst the crowd. She watched in shock as the sight of a cloaked figure lifted something. Though she could not tell if it was a dangerous action or not. Ears caught her fathers words, tone automatically sending a red flag in her mind's eyes. Hand lifted to her chest covering her heart as she slowly took steps back. Not knowing, nor caring whether or not a person was there, her instinct told her to make herself look as invisible as possible. Though the pain in her back woulf not allow her to hop over a pew and run from the room like many nobles would have tried to do in that situation. Throat was caught as she could not speech.

Uhtred Valenti had only noticed the priest when the crossbow was pointed in his direction. There was a strange moment of instant comprehension without the ability to act. Time was said to slow down in situations of stress and the heat of battle, but Uhtred had never found it to be the case. No, things lasted only for as long as they were supposed to. So the crossbow's release was thankfully quick. He flinched, prepared to double over as he tried to make his muscles push Garnett far away from the happenings... But after he did, he opened his eyes to find himself... whole? Confused, his hands patted his body. There was nothing sticking out of it. He looked back up at the false priest, bemused. "You bastard!" he said in his shock, before turning around to look over his shoulder.

Wolkere was of course, not attending the wedding ceremony. The 'good' doctor detested such silly things, and had been operating, by the looks of bloodied apron as she came in. Stained saw was in one hand, and it seemed she'd been on her way to get the tool sharpened, when she heard a bit of commotion coming from the church, or whatever it was. Wolk wasn't particularly familiar with the whole 'wedding' process, but she was fairly certain it was a happy event, rather than what she heard. Conveniently, the doctor lurked in the doorway, masked face turned to gather the situation at hand, and block any possible escape it seemed, because well, certainly no one would try and cross the path of the blonde loon by their own will.

Synaria's tears sprang all over again when Garnett had caught her gaze, her applause all the more loud, that is, until again she felt eyes lingering on her. Head moved back to the King's direction, and there was no doubt in her mind he was looking at her. Slowly her clapping faded, a strange look coming over her face. Had she erred in some way? Mind had no moment to ponder over this as the Kings yell penetrated her mind. Confusion first, as her eyes moved to where he was now looking, then her heart stopped as she finally understood what was taking place. The scream died in her throat, hands covering her heart. The tubby noble beside her shoved her violently out of the way to save his own hide, leaving Syn upon the floor, scrambling to right herself to see the condition of Garnett and Uhtred.

Father Rychard Biach was standing behind the altar, in the station he'd served for longer than many of the younger members of the congregation had even been alive. He thought it a bit odd that a younger disciple would approach the couple in their moment of glory, but he thought little of it...until the priest turned out to be an assassin, of course. His dull eyes widening in horror, he could only choke in a breath when the crossbow was raised. A lifetime of courage and cowardice warred within him in those brief few instants, but, perhaps thankfully, the decision of bravery was made by God. The crossbow bolt's flight path took it nicking through a loos billow in Uhtred's clothing, perhaps not even grazing flesh. This left no impediment to its continued path, however. Unlike Uhtred's razor-sharp senses, Father Biach's adrenaline-soaked mind dilated the time immensely, He followed the fletching's path while the shaft of the bolt neared him, unable even to move. Father Rychard Biach staggered backwards as the bolt sunk into the soft flesh of his belly, just beneath his breastbone. He felt no pain at first, only an abject curiosity when the feathers simply disappeared in his girth. Swallowing hard, he looked up to the crowd, now in chaos and paying him no mind at all. Uttering a small prayer, the mucles in his face drew into a grin of elation, and he fell to the floor, life fleeing his limbs as blood began pooling beneath him. Within moments he was dead, gone to whatever afterlife awaited.

Nefertise stumbled in to, what was apparently, complete and utter chaos. Wonderful. She had been late for the small dinner party that Garnett threw the evening before and now she was late for their wedding ceremony. What a wonderful sister! Regardless, she was here now and just sorta' standing awkwardly in the doorway as crossbows, throwing knives, and swords were flying about. "Oh.. my.." She'd take a few steps to the side and walk around the far end, hoping to avoid any randomly flying objects that were misdirected her way. A slight sigh and soft headshake was given, fear apparent but there was little she could do about it. I mean, hell, she was no match against several people who were already on the case! She'd have to fight her way through all of them and that just seemed utterly pointless. Oh, and the wonderful priest was now dead! The only person who could bless them, should someone pass on, and he's was completely lifeless.

Viridian Farquhar's clapping was short and sweet. Head started to bow to the pair, but the screams and commotion made her head snap back, at first, she assumed it was some sort of prank, one of those silly thoughts when one cannot bare what was happening. That all went away though as their gaurds moved in to sweep the queen away to some back chamber of the chapel, leaving the good King Gregor and her sons to rush into the scene.

Garnett froze, the cries and sudden action around her making the world spin .. ultimately tilting on her with Uhtred's shove. Stumbling, she screamed in fright, collapsing to the side as the weight of her dress pulled her down. Her brothers and father let out a dark roar, blades drawn as they clamored to the front. King Gregor's formidable bulk planted itself over his daughter, curved sword held as though it would gut any that dared come near her while her brothers aligned themselves with the Crown Prince, bloodlust in their eyes. She choked at the thunk of the arrow into flesh, her face white as she watched the priest fall. Her stomach wrenched, the girl nearly gagging as she lifted her eyes in disbelief to her new husband, half expecting to see a bolt sprouting from her neck. Relieved tears slipped down her cheeks to see him whole for the moment.

The Quiet Priest had failed. There was no way that he could get close to him. He watched the priest fall parallel with the dropping of the false priest's heart from his chest.. He twisted around, ready to flee, but stopped dead in his tracks. There was that psychotic woman, barring the way with a particularly malevolent impression. No way. He turned around and gave a shudder, realizing only far too late that he was going to die. The plan would have killed him no matter the outcome, of course, but that hadn't sunk in until now. So there was nothing left but to die how one should die. He looked towards the Knight who had thrown the knife. He had moved quickly. Sportingly. His teeth bared as he put the shortsword in the correct hand. Damn the prince, there were too many people near him. He charged for the knight.

Evangilene's face was splochy with tear as she shook her head repeatedly now know of any other action to do. Hazel orbs watched the arrow fly into the priests belly, and like any female would she felt some compassion for the old man. Though he was fat, and for all she knew unloved, she saw all available able body males working their way towards the assassin to murder him perhaps. Inhaling calmly she saw no one would tend to him, so she did something completely out of her character, out of the mere action of pity. She quick stepped towards the fat lump of flesh, and bent over him. Putting pressure on his stomach and lowering her head to his chest to see if he was still breathing. Eyes closed when she felt no rise from breath. Light green covered dress's hem was now covered in blood as she knealt in it. The one person in the kingdom, all could go to in a time of crisis and he was killed dead on the floor of his own beloved chapel.

Seregon was already between the assassin and those behind him. The second that knife left his hand he rushed to halt himself in the idle's center. The thud of the priest's body behind him made the knight's heart slightly sink, though he didn't take his eyes off of the newfound foe. Seregon did not draw a weapon, just planted himself where he was with his hands ready to produce whatever means of defense necessary and his legs, ready to give chase should the fellon flee. When he became the target of the man's attack Seregon's face shifted with a broad smile. Unusual phenom. When the assassin got close enough and granted his timing was right, Seregon withdrew that blade, took a hard step forward, sunk low on bent knees, and aimed that blade fo the underside of the assassin's. His freearm shot up as the knight lunged on strong legs. The shoulder of the arm with his sword was directed for the man's middle while the other sought to sweep his legs out from beneath him, rendering him on his back - where the large knight would stand over him. Assuming everything went as he had planned, the tip of that sword was put beneath the intruder's chin and he was greeted with a lifeless stare and a plesant smile.

Anastasio Bonmarito simply backed off from the confrontation, the only weapon he concievably had was his cane, and fellow family members from his kingdom? They, alas, did not bother to watch the whelp get married off. He stepped back into the little slit between pew and pew, fortunately having an escape well-planned. He never went into a situation without a very good escape plan. There were times in every man's life where he had to either fight or run, but alas, he could do nothing.

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen took a deep breath, his chest pressing against the platemail from the inside. As he watched the chaos devolve around him he hefted his axe, resting the haft on a shoulder as was his custom in combat before he would deploy it. Assuring himself that both his offspring and his legacy were secure, he passed a regrettable glance to the dead priest, grateful the pasing was quick and likely without much pain. Gaining his bearings, he watched the assassin considering his options. Rage and bloodlust rose in him, urging him to jump into the fray as if he were a young man, but nearly three decades of rule had imparted upon him a deliberative nature. "Do not kill him!" His booming voice echoed, once, twice, and a third time, louder with each repitition until there could be no doubt he was heard even by heads as thick as the foreign nobles and that of his long and trusted friend, Seregon.

Uhtred Valenti found himself unable to despair as he watched the priest sink to the floor. He had seen too much death to consider it important, even for a man of the cloth. He felt strangely detached from the wanton noise and bustle. Shock seemed to have creeped into his system, leaving him almost deaf and terrified. "Pray for him," he told Evangilene, his expression blank. It is as good as anyone could do at the moment. He pushed his way through the Gregor lads, who seemed all very eager to kill, and made his way towards Garnett. He brought himself to his knees before her and reached to grasp her close to him. "I am well," he promised, seeking to place a gentle kiss to her forehead.. "I hope I didn't push you too hard..."

Wolkere furrowed her brows, and once caught the tone of the situation, kept her position. Hiss fell from behind cloth and wire mask as the man made an attempt to move, saw jerking forward as if to threaten. Unfortunately, it was rather dull, and would hurt more than it would do damage. It was quite safe to say that the woman was not so panicked as the others, as she was that this mishap would have her burying at least one, as far as she could see, and probably fixing up several others. She winced from the order shouted across the room, but stood well in the door to keep said person from making anoter attempt to escape, and that saw of hers would surely keep him at bay.

Synaria finally righted herself onto her knee's, unable to stand at the moment. Her first thought was to get to Garnett, why? Because she was terrified, and knew Garnett must be a hundred times worse. But, there was no way for Syn to get to her. She was on the complete opposite side of the room. Syn sunk down low to the floor once again, looking beneath the rush of feet to see that Uhtred was well and caring for Garnett. Relief rushed through her, eyes now moving to the would-be assassin and the King's guard, stomach lurching, awaiting for the blood that she was sure was going to spill.

Evangilene looked up at her brother hands and dress now covered in blood. How stupid was she, to ruin her favorite dress? Chin gave a small bob, and she hyperventilated looking down at the dead person. This was a first, and if events such as this continued it would not be the last, time she saw a dead body. Body shivered as she lowered her head and closed her eyes, spine making visible tremors of fear roll through her body. Her lips would roll through a prayer for moment before moving to shut his eyes. She noted the red staining her tan skin, and quivered once more she would long await a bath after this. Small mutterings would be heard as she asked why anyone would choose such a happy day to attempt murder.

Garnett could scarcely see what was going on, occasionally glances shot between her father's legs. The King's bellow had her cringing, her hands reaching out for Uhtred. Trembling, she wrapped her arms tightly around his broad torso, choking on tears that wanted to rise as she nodded. Over and over, she pressed her cheek to his shoulder, eyes studying his neck and face, her hands patting over his back as if to make sure he'd not taken any harm. "No.." She managed to whisper, shaking her head as she sunk into him, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her face wretchedly pale. At the King's words, her brothers stood down, poised to leap into action should it be necessary. King Gregor glared for a long moment, finally moving off enough that the prince could care for his bride.

The Quiet Priest gave that wild thrust only to have it knocked high by parry. The false priest was not a soldier. It was obvious from the pocked flesh of his face, peasant sickness that had made his ears brittle so that pieces of them were missing. Yet he was not unfamiliar with a blade, either. So when that vaulting lunge came to him he found himself wrenching away. The problem with this, however, was that he found himself veering off into a candle stand. The candle stand that was firmly nailed into the ground. The concussion made him see white, shocked and wobbling as he spun with his side towards the night. His hair caught on fire as he waved his sword impotently at the knight, though was quite out of range.

Nefertise's eyes widened, glancing from Seregon to Evangilene and then to two unfamiliar people. Finally, eyes rested on Uhtred and Garnett before drifting to the priest on the floor who now lays lifeless. Dear God, another dead person.. and a.. second priest trying to kill Seregon? What had she walked in to? Her form crept slowly on the outskirts, before finally reaching Synaria and sneaking up behind her. A slender hand outstretched to touch the female's shoulder, obvious confusion worn on every inch of her face. The good news about the entire situation at hand was that hopefully her father hadn't noticed her rude and late arrival and.. if everything went well, she wouldn't be punished again.

Seregon stayed with him. When the male stepped back Seregon took another hard lunged step, not letting up. As the assassin crashed to the candlestand Seregon would likely meet the man's middle with an unforgivign shoulder. If it landed the force behind the massive knight should be more than enough to topple the stand, rendering the two on the ground. Should it not give way Seregon would simply stand up and seek to encase the male in a nasty bear hug, counting on his actions to limit the other's chances of retaliation and eating whatever few blows landed. Should they fall he'd scramble to keep himself atop the foe, straddling his chest if necessary and placing his sword to his throat. The fire did not falter him, just intensified his smile and caused him to put more pressure on the male to cease his assumed violent struggling.

Synaria jumped with a scream as Nefe touched her shoulder, but immeditely she pulled the princess beside her, hugging her tightly. Her eyes were wide, words lost and thusly unable to inform her of what was happening. She just hugged onto Nefe and returned to watch the scene. Only when the assassin's hair caught flame did she realize just how close she was, mere inches from the mens feet. Quickly she scooted herself backward a few paces, trying to drag Nefe with her.

Uhtred Valenti kissed Garnett's face and quietly picked her up. His hands cupped her cheeks as he did an inventory of his own, making quite certain that he hadn't accidentally pushed her onto, say, a pike. Glad to see her safe, he turned towards the action while keeping her pressed against him, surprised to suddenly see Nefertise; no matter how hard it was to see her stubby little body amongst the press of persons. The adrenaline, now that Garnett was certainly not going to die, made his fear evaporate. There was only one concern, a voice that boomed even louder than the king's: "Bring me Garnett's sword," he told Seregon. Yet even that was spoken with no real malice.

The Quiet Priest was in pain. Blinding, furious, unnatural pain that made his vision brighter than anything he'd seen before. The heat streaked at his flesh as Seregon came for him. He saw him with a gasp, and could only give a sharp hook with the sword pommel at his head. If it connected, it would lodge the sword quite conveniently into his own shoulder. If he missed, however, his other shoulder would dislocate. Either way there was a rather awful sound as he screamed. The candle stand did not break, but was bent diagonal as he felt part of his shoulderblade crack. He slank to a sitting position, delirious with pain and most likely crushed by a rather large knight.

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen took a step closer to the action, his bare feet sinking into the rich carpet just a bit. His focus narrowed, the pure anarchy around him becoming muted as he followed the thrashing combat between the desperate would-be assassin and his trusted knight. It soon became apparent htat Seregon was not aiming for a mortal wound; he felt a twinge of guilt for prolonging his friend's danger, for Seregon could have surely killed the monster of a man with a few sure strokes. It was of the utmost importance that this man remain intact, however, for the proper questioning. Heads would surely roll, but this man's would be reasonably secure if Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen had anything to say about it. When the bastard's hair caught aflame he smiled again, almost a grimace. "Let him burn," he told Seregon, close enough that he didn't have to yell, now.

Garnett shook as Uhtred lifted her, finally able to breathe despite the continued violence about the place. Uhtred was safe, and she was safe, fully confident that the amount of weapons and warriors in the place could quell one assassin. Closing her eyes tightly, she simply pressed her face into Uhtred's doublet, trying to calm her breathing. She stiffened at the call for her sword, her head lifting toward the chaotic mass, hair beginning to tumble and her veil askew. The scent of burning hair, and likely flesh, assaulted her nostrils .. a strange incense for a wedding day.

Wolkere watched the peasant and the knight toil, nearby, and then looked up to the King as he suggested they let the man burn. Brows lifted, and furrowed, wrinkling her forehead and those work-worn eyes. Normally she wouldn't protest one of the King's orders directly to his face. "Your Highness, with all due respect, this man should be taken care of, if you want him alive." Reason being she knew that if wounds were infected, and he became sick, well, delirium would set in, and then that would get them nowhere. Strangely enough, usually stone sullen eyes were alive and buzzing with urgency, as the masked woman faced the King. Perhaps she felt a little compassion for the fellow, though that would be quite a mystery.

Nefertise groaned slightly, the stench of burning hair and flesh lingering in the air as the feux priest was set afire. Of course, she didn't know he wasn't a real priest. She'd only come in on the others beating the guy senseless and then watching him burn. "Synaria, stand up. We must leave the church immediately." Sure, she was afraid, but not near to the point of losing thoughts all together. "Uhtred!" It was an attempt to call out her brother's name to gain his attention as the drapes and hanging ribbons above caught albaze from the priest's flaming head, "Send Garnett with me! This is not a sight either of them need bare witness to!" She could only hope her voice was loud enough and her words made sense. She was feeling incredibly odd at the moment, the fumes bringing a few coughs past her lips.

Seregon's vision shook as a blunt end of the sword smashed against his head. Oh that hurt, but outwardly looked as if the knight felt nothing. He'd trained himself to absorb pain until a later time, not allowing for any show of weakness no matter how great the battle or how demeaning the circumstances. As the sword lodged itself in the assassin's shoulder Seregon just proceeded with ramming the full force of his body against him and the candlestand. No longer going for the bearhug, he just applied as much power behind him in the little tim he had until he and the assassin met. The collision of their bodies would surely be bone crunching, more so for the unsuspecting assassin. Seregon righted himself as the man went to the floor, shaking his head and extending a hand to rip the sword out his shoulder. He did not move afterwords, just stood as he was, waiting for the fool to try a further assault or get away.

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen surveyed the carnage, breathing in the fumes of burning flesh and hair with something approaching relish. In this way his anger wassated quite handily...the pain inflicted brought him retribution without putting information into too much detriment. When the beak-masked doctor interjected he turned his glare onto her, his face falling into a snarl. As he surveyed her urgent gaze, his massive fists closed. With a heft and a grunt, he brought the worn battleaxe in a beautiful arc, skimming through the air until it thudded into the floor, splitting the carpet and the floorbeams with a sickening crack. "Fine, then," he barked. "You take care of him. Make certain he is presentable for...questioning."

Uhtred Valenti, despite himself, suddenly found the whole situation amusing. So amusing that he found himself laughing. Laughing so much that he found himself having difficulty breathing. The little bastard shot at him! And how he was in a crumpled heap with a sword in his shoulder. He waved idly at Nefertise and looked back to Garnett, brushing his fingertip over her cheek to clear the vestiges of tears. "Garnett. My love! My wife. Do me a favour, would you, and escort your goodly kith and kin towards the Princess Nefertise." He smiled widely. Totally inappropriate for the circumstances, but the same, warm joy of moments before was still with him. "And retrieve my goblet for me? Keep it safe." That was important.

Wolkere winced again at the King, and wrinkled her nose under the mask, her face mirroring his own. One of the benefits to the terrible thing was that she could easily make faces at the royals, and they didn't know. Woman's apron was brought off, and draped over the man's head to smother the flames, before she reached over, and grabbed him close to her, almost protectively. Saw tucked under one arm, and hand reached into one pocket to grab a rag and press it against the wound. Eyes kept on the King, hardening once more. "Oh, he will be in tip-top condition, sir." She didn't really have much reason to care about the condition of the failed assassin, but then again, she didn't care much for Uhtred either.

Synaria stared blankly at Nefe for a moment. The man was down for the count, the doctor more than likely going to have him taken away to be prepared. The sense of danger was leaving her, but of course, her body still trembled in the aftermath. Uhtred's laughing was a strange sound in her ears, and for quite a while, she couldn't even place what it was. Nefe's words to him made her mind turn to the day when she had yelled at Uhtred for his actions, claiming Nefe should not have seen them. It was funny to think the roles had switched. Slowly, she rose to her feet, but seemed hesitant of leaving, eyes having a hard time looking away from the burning man. She had yet to even smell the burned hair and flesh.

Garnett stared at Uhtred as though he'd lost his mind when he started laughing, her pale eyes wide as an unsettled giggle rose from her lips. Pressing her cheek into his hand, she listened, finally nodding before touching her lips to his cheek. "I will, my husband." She whispered, eyes searching his face for a moment. "And you will care for my sword?" Certain that he would, she drew herself up, stubbornly righting her veil and patting uselessly at her hair as she called to her father and brothers, asking them to attend her as she returned to the castle proper. It seemed they required little prompting, the three males forming themselves protectively around the princesses, one brother pausing to snag the goblet to give to Garnett for safekeeping.

Anastasio Bonmarito finally stepped out of his niche, grabbing the cane deftly with one hand and giving somewhat of a twirl, walking with it out of the small gap, edging his way around the burned peasant, looking like some kind of combination of ridiculous and wonderful in his clothing and hat, nodding to those present, saying, "If I may, perhaps we should give a cheer for the newlywed and the brave men who incapacitated the assassin?" He raises one hand, somewhat expectantly, saying, "After all, this is a wedding we are celebrating, we should be celebrating, until it is time to mourn the loss of the good father who was involved in this incident."

Evangilene lifted her head from behind the table, he frame obviously hidden from sight as she heard her sister call for the others. Hidden, and apparently forgotten. She had not left the priests side, and for somet reason was content that way. Though the scent of burning hair and flesh filled the air she remained. Hands flittering over priests body, she was giving him a pained look not wanting his body to go down with the church if it burned to the ground. Hazel gaze fluttered from the priest to her sister and the others. Perhaps it was a sentimental value, for only the cold hearted princess would want to stay with a dead body of one that she condided her most inner thoughts to. Chest gave a small puff as she grasped the old man by the hand and tried to use leverage to slide him across the carpet out of the building which was in perfect shape. It was irrational, yes, but weren't women often exactly that? Getting not more than an inch the pressure on her wounded back throbbed as one of her clotted wounds opened in her struggle. Landing on the ground in frustration at how weak she was, she gave a small whimper to herself sure that the attention would still be on the burning man and far from herself.

Seregon silently stood in front of the fallen foe, staring hard at him. He did not move nor speak even as the others did. He just stood like a living statue, arms at his sides with Garnett's bloodied sword in hand and feet firmly planted. Seregon's own blade had been long since sheathed and his shield had stayed dormant. The knight stared quietly down at the man until bringing himself to a crouched position in front of him. Granted he was still concious, Seregon's whisper of a voice came between them. "Who sent you...?" He had an idea, but he wanted his suspicions confirmed or denied.

Synaria took Garn's arm as she drew close, pulling the princess into a tight embrace. Gaze then moved to the obvious royalty, even if it was one she did not know, as he spoke. "Here, Here!" She responded, trying to force a joyful note into her voice, even if her insides felt like jelly. "Which is why I believe Garnett and I should be getting her back to the castle. She has matters that must be attended to tonight." She gave Garn a light smile and a bit of a nudge, then turned, ready for the pack of men to escort the ladies out.

Wolkere unfortunately, wasn't law enforcement, and she wasn't trying to well, capture the peasant fake priest man, but she certainly was trying to keep him out of more trouble than he'd get in. As the knight questioned, the woman spoke out again, "I would suggest asking him at a later time, sir, trauma to the head and whatnot will often make one forgetful, or mistaken." She tugged the prisoner into her side, gently, and would help him to his feet, "Bring the Father's body to the infirmary to have him prepared, and inspected." Of course, it was very likely he was dead, but for records she had to do the mandatory inspection.

Garnett managed a gracious smile for the foreign prince as he called for a cheer, the polished silver goblet clutched to her stomach. The small cheer that it managed to insight drew her smile deeper, and she nodded, her legs feeling as though they wouldn't respond properly. Wrapping one arm around Syn and offering a broad, if slightly forced smile to those surroundng her, Nefe included she took a step until Syn's comment pulled her up short. A blushing laugh rose from her, and she ducked against her sister's shoulder, brothers and father escorting the women off to the castle.

The Quiet Priest's eyes rolled into the back of his head. He didn't know what the whisper was, but he knew that he had to disincline the fellow to further interrogation. His brain was out of sorts, swimming with trauma and utter agony. A momentary moment of bravado seeped through the pain, and he whispered a reply: "Would you like to touch my prick?" It seemed a perfectly eeasonable request, the sort of base wit one could expect from a man who had just lost half of his brain matter through his ears. His groan made him silent, for he had lost consciousness. He would have dreams of crossbows flying through the air and floating around his head.

Seregon did not offer the doc even a glance of acknowledgment, nor did he react to the given response from the battered assailant. He simply rose to a standing position and turned away from the assassin. Enough of an answer was given by just the man's appearance alone, enough for the knight to draw a solid conclusion. As the ladies exited the chapel Seregon remained behind, simply staring over at the fallen body of the father. The knight was far from at ease, presented with a heavy feeling of distress and restlessness.

Nefertise blinked as her brother actually listened to her words. Oh my! That had to mean what she had said actually made sense. As Garnett headed in Synaria and her general direction and the boys surrounded them, she'd give a slight nod to Synaria's words before silently ushering them all outside and towards the castle. A glance was spared to the gentleman who spoke of celebrating, eyes lingering on Anastasio for a fraction of a second before her attention was turned towards the group once again. Who was that guy? For now she'd pass him off as someone Garnett's company had brought along, though she'd be sure to question both the princesses later on the male's identity. Seregon fell in behind them and had her attention for a few seconds. She'd definitely have to ask him what happened when she was given half the chance. For now, however, the princess remained in silence and headed towards the castle.

Synaria half supported, half leaned on Garn as they walked, other arm moving to lock elbows with Nefe. She refused to let either of the Princesses go until they entered the castle, half afraid of someone else hiding in the dark. When they entered, she grabbed the nearest servant and ordered wine. Lots of wine, figuring that any feasting done would more than likely be done at a later date. Too many things to take care of. Slowly she sank down on the couch, letting out a puff of air. "Well..." She uttered lightly, grinning at Garnett and Nefe, fear starting to abade.

Anastasio Bonmarito stepped out from... Er... Somewhere. I'm not entirely sure where things are around here, curses. He steps towards the group of women, and nods to the three of them, saying, "Well then, greetings to all of you, I hope that the wedding was not too strenuous with the events that happened?" He leaned slightly on the cane, the hat cocked almost in a comical sort of way, his green eyes glancing at each of them not in an appraising manner, but more of a friendly manner. It helped to get to know the locals: They knew more than he did.

Garnett wondered if her legs would even manage to carry her as far as the castle or if her dress would win the fight to weigh her down. Step after cold barefooted step, she made her way, the air and chill reviving her but only briefly. Once inside, her father and brothers indeed indulged in drink, talking in hushed tones at the table as Garnett herself sunk onto the couch with the princesses with a deep sigh. Her head rolled back to rest on the couch, once more lurching the veil out of place and crushing her hair. One eye opened curiously toward the stranger, chuckling softly, the whole thing suddenly ridiculous to her. "Oh, no, it was a jolly time." She murmured, gaze dropping to study the polished silver goblet in her hands, fingers gently caressing it.

Nefertise said nothing, lost in her own thoughts even as the wine was rushed over and handed to each of the princesses. The bottle was left on the tray and placed in the middle of the table. Nefertise could do nothing besides lift the glass to her mouth to take a fair swig and lower it, eyes deadset on the bottle and off in a daze. She was so lost to her thoughts that she didn't even hear their words, simply stuck in a loop on the events that just took place. That was the last person she wanted to see die in that brutal a manner, never again she'd wish to see that sight.

Synaria's eyes moved to the man, recognising him from the chapel instantly. "Greetings Sir." She said lightly, letting Garnett answer his questioning. As the wine arrived she eagerly took up the glass and took a fair swig. Mind replaying the attempt at Uhtred's life, and the death of the priest. Then, the rememberance to the kings eyes on her not once, but twice lingered. Strange look came upon her face as she remember his smile toward her, shiver running down her spine, and it causing her to take another large swallow. "It certainly was an interesting evening." She uttered lightly, trying to make sense of it all.

Anastasio Bonmarito hopefully would be remembered from the ceremony, as both his well-timed short speech at the end of it to end the ceremony on a high note and his hat were, again, hopefully memorable. He nodded to the ladies, saying, "You must forgive me for my rudeness for not introducing myself. I am Signore Anastasio Dellagnarte Bonmarito, son of the Doge of Valentina." He bows over-flamboyantly, his heritage quite apparent in his mannerisms and his dress. He nods to Garnett, saying, "Indeed, it was jolly, for a time."

Raij Valenti. The only way to describe the Prince right now was....mortified. Except not. To be entirely honest, the man had utterly no conscience in the light of the fact that he had completely and horrifically ditched Garnett and Uhtred's wedding ceremony. Terrible, really, but Raij had a difficult time caring. He barily knew Garnett and he did not find his brother to be one of his 'top ten' people in the world. Sooo, he ditched. Simple. All the same, he made sure to make his excuse valid. He ran all the way back to the castle, suddenly bursting into the room that held all of the commotion - panting and sweating. Hand was braced against the frame of the entryway, shoulders heaving up and down while unoccupied hand rested on his knee. "W-what'd I miss..?" He murmered, a wrapped box under his arm as he did so. As was very apparent, Raij made a good deal of effort to well...validate his absense. 'He was out shopping for a gift...for the happy couple of course.' Cue obnoxious eye roll. All the same, the lad remained where he was, looking the part of horrified, guilt-ridden wedding-ditcher. He'd be certain to get in trouble later, to be sure. "I apologize horribly for.." Deep breath. "..ah..not being here. I heard that an assassination attempt was made! Are you alright, Uhtred?" Feigned worry and all. Boy was Raij a good actor or what? He actually looked concerned for their well-being..when truly he was only worried about Nef and Syn. "Synaria?"

Seregon took his time leaving th chapel after of course retrieving his knife. Pondering over the knife while hands twirled it before his eyes, he strode slowly into the room with everyone else. The knight came to a halt just before the doorway, though did not lift his head nor his eyes from the knife. He could nearly feel the other presences in the room with him and assumed them to be looking his way upon entry, but still did not lift his head. His heart ached for the dead priest and the newly weds as well. What a day it had been... what a day indeed.

Garnett rubbed a hand wearily over her painted face before she pushed herself up from the couch, beckoning servants over to help her with the veil. She sent it off to her new room, the fabric too light and simply too much to be sitting around in. Still standing, she inclined her head to the fellow, frowning slightly at his agreement. It had been meant as sarcasm, but her mood had likely flattened her tone. "I suppose it was, but.." She shuddered lightly, making her way over to Nefertise, a gentle hand coming to rest on her hair while the other clasped the goblet still. Her lips set into a narrow line when Raij finally made an appearance. Speaking simply seemed too much right now, though manners dictated introductions, she couldn't seem to do more than retreat into silence, idly stroking Nefe's hair.

Wolkere had returned shortly before the knight, with prisoner on her arm, and a flock of guards behind. Because clearly Wolk wasn't capable of taking care of a dillusional and bleeding peasant. In the King's absence, however, she was forced to consult the newly wed Prince. "Prince Uhtred, what would you have me do with him?" As far as upkeep, she'd ordered something for him to eat, and a bath, and whatnot, because well, Wolk's main concern was his health, not who he had and had not killed. She may have seemed a little disappointed in something though, but who knew. Not even a hint that the doctor cared about the wedding, in fact she didn't, but most would have expected at least a feigned congratulations.

Uhtred Valenti had actually expected nothing at all from the good doctor. She was quite insane, and he had come to terms with that fact long ago. "His place is down those stairs. Tell the 'inkeeper' there that I want him made very comfortable." Pure malice dripped from his tone as he grinned. That is, until he saw Raij. Garnett's naked shortsword was still resting upon his shoulder as he began to storm towards the little man. His acting meant nothing to a fellow who had literally turned his life's work into disguises. This time, however, he applied none of his own. The snarl on his face was clear as he kicked the black seat away from between them. The shortsword lowered itself, pointing to the ground as he spoke. "What was that, earsling? I didn't hear you. Say it again. Say it again." Absolutely bullying, now. The stupid whelp should have kept his mouth shut. Uhtred had witnessed battle on his wedding night. The rage was upon him now, turning him into a very different creature. To be fair, Uhtred Valenti had never exhibited this sort of behaviour within the confines of the castle. This was the sort of thing that he had been so careful to hide; sheer, purposeless hatred that made him a wicked, wicked man.

Anastasio Bonmarito obviously got out of the way from the brother's quarrel; such things were not within his purveyance to solve, alas. He did, however, carefully study this interaction. Knowledge was likely to be gained from watching the two of them quarrel, a sense of them, as it were. Obviously, the big man had a temper. And something made him suspect that the smaller teen boy likely wasn't too sorry at all for missing the wedding, if he indeed had to deal with a raging and hateful temper such as the larger man.

Synaria barely heard the man's introduction, but she nodded her head anyway. "A pleasure." She said lightly, so absorbed in her thoughts and... drink. Lots of drink. Another glass was poured before she realized Raij had walked in. Brow perked up, face instantly flushing, impure memories flooding. Then it hit her and she turned white as paper. Perhaps that's what the kings glances had been about. He knew. A sour knot formed in her stomach. Mouth opened to answer him, but Uthred was suddenly raving like a madman. Before she knew it, Syn was on her feet, rushing toward the pair. "Please, Uhtred!" She called out, standing beside Raij. Oh she was mad as hell about him missing, but... she loved him, she belonged at his side. Instant fear seized her heart, having seen that murderous look in Uhts eyes once before.

Nefertise's head was just about to rest against Garnett's shoulder when her brother came storming in and right over towards her brother. Immediately and as quick as that ankle would allow, she'd lift slender hands in an attempt to force her brother back to calm him down. "Uhtred! Enough people are upset as it is. Must you aggitate the wounds so? Take your wife to your room, enjoy the evening, and relax with what time you have left of the evening." She figured words would fall on deaf ears and her hand would have reached for his the moment she finished speaking, attempting to push the sword off to the side and not so much out of his hand. "Please, Uhtred. Let the air settle and deal with him in private, father did not even make Evangilene and my punishment this publically known. Please, brother.." The old tongue slipped in the end, eventually winning over any logical sense of normal tongue she remembered at the moment. This castle.. on this eve, was slowly and very gradually falling to pieces.

Wolkere's left eye closed a little at Uhtred's decision, and then his reaction towards Raij. The woman was maybe several years older than the royal children, and felt, somewhat it was her duty to keep some piece between them. She'd step fowards, between Uhtred and Raij, and stare to the older prince, "I can not send him to the dungeon, he'll die." Arms reached down and crossed under her breasts as she stared at him, quite firm in her statement, "And your father wants him in a condition that he can answer questions." The tone in the doctor's voice and the hardness of her eyes was cool and reflective of the Prince's in a manner that it was so murderous, and the like.

Raij Valenti. Aw, and here the lad was hoping that Uht would just forget about his little transgression and get the fuck over it. No can do though, apparently. Lips peeled back to reveal his teeth, an utter sneer going down as he utterly and fiercely glared at his elder brother. "Seeing as how you cannot hear, I will reiterate myself for your benefit, I suppose. I asked you if you were alright, but seeing as how you are up and on your feet, I will assume that you are just fine. And so help me, Uhtred, if you fucking threaten me..." Warning tone was issued, Raij's words hardly formal at all. What did he care? The bastard could go fuck himself in Raij's mind. Of course, these were his thoughts before Syn and crew jumped in to help. Snarl erupted forth as he glared over at Nef, Wolk, and Syn. "Oy! Don't stand in my way! Synaria, get back. Please." Expression softened only briefly, unable to let his attention stray away from the immenent challenge his brother inititated. Hand rested on the hilt of his own sword, a glare sent his way. "You wanna beat on me, brother? Feel free to damn well try. Teach me a lesson." Raij was one hell of a good annoyance. Can you tell? He could bring out the absolute terror in anyone. His brother especially...seeing as how Raij and him never saw eye to eye. "Nef, please step aside. This is between he and I, apparently. Though, the reason I was gone for so long was to fetch a present for the happy couple. Clearly Uhtred is unappreciative of the efforts I took to seek the perfet one." Cue overly dramatic pout - not at all serious in the least. Raij was...displeased...with his brother. Did not like him at all. Why? Because look at him. Snapping so easily. Control, boy, seriously.

Seregon's attention was grabbed by the brewing conflict between the two brothers. Seregon paid it no mind. Instead, his attention found its way over to Anastasio. The knight had never seen that man before and had figured him for yet another patron for the wedding.Since he was still around, Seregon became interested in the man's identity and place amongst everything. So without a single word a steady pace brought him right up behind the man. Hand without the blade reached to tap him upon the shoulder while the knife was put away and his head lifted. "Have you a name? And a purpose?" Simple inquiries. The knight kept his mind focused upon the being in front of him and not on the thoughts and conclusions plaguing him anout the prior events... Though it wasn't long before the utter turmoil and frustration of things got to him. For the first time the knight raised his voice to an overwhelming level as Raij spoke up. "Enough!" The man's voice boomed so hard it nearly shook the room.

Garnett looked on in horror as her new husband flew into a rage, absolutely frozen to the spot. The day, her wedding day, that had started so beautifully had suddenly turned bloody and nasty, even once the would-be assassin had been subdued. Her gaze snapped to Raij with a glare when he hadn't the sense to shut his mouth, her face darkening at his continued lip. In a fashion, the sudden defense of the other princesses irritated her, anger lacing through her, red spots rising in her cheeks. Seregon's yell shook her, but she straightened, a grateful nod offered to the knight as she spoke in as calm a voice as she could manage. "Uhtred, may I have my sword please?" The goblet was held out in exchange, her eyes trying to will him to calmness.

Uhtred Valenti ignored those damn voices, and the little body that was obstructing him from Raij. The bastard had been clawing at his nerves for so long. And now he was challenging him? He would have laughed if he'd a sense of humour at the moment. As it was, he merely met the pompous twit's gaze with a cold and hard stare. He could reach out, reach out and crush his skull. Take another prize for the chest of hearts. Yet he could not. Not here. He turned his head slowly and spat upon the floor. "One day," he told his half-brother in the old tongue, "We will cross the elm branches and I will take your life." It was Garnett took his gaze from him, in the end. That hardness dissolved and he nodded, turning the weapon in his grip so that it extended to her by the handle; fingers wrapped around the guard. "Take the damned man to the dungeon," he snapped at Wolkere, disgruntled at the interruption as he received his goblet. Abruptly, and despite himself, he smiled. "God, but I am hungry."

Synaria simply stared at Raij as he asked her to move. She would not. Instead, fingers latched on to his elbow tightly. Seregon's sudden voice made her visiably jump, her already panicked heart racing even further. When Uhtred turned to look at Garnett, she exhaled a breath that she didn't recall holding. She slumped slightly, all the adrenaline from everything that had happened left a strain on her. Surely Raij would do nothing more, now that Uhtred seemed, disinterested. She could not find any words to say, glance was given to Garnett, practically feeling the irritation coming off her in waves. She wanted to appologize, but could not. By gods did she want to return to her cup and drink the night away. But she refused to move from her spot until she knew Raij would not continue to taunt Uhtred.

Nefertise drew in a sharp breath and couldn't help but allow for an eyeroll. She was done, that small shred of patience she was so desperately holding on to was gone and no more for the time being. She had been ignored once again, cast off to the side and openly asked to step away when she was only trying to help. Oh no, she was done with this. No more would she be a doormat for their little hissy-fits. "To hell with you both.." It was nearly spat towards Uhtred and Raij, her eldest brother's words having definitely stirred something up in the young female as he spoke of her youngest brother's death. She refused to stand around and listen to anything else that might be said. In a whirl of blues and blacks, the female's form was spun around and quickly exited the room to - perhaps, if the mood arose - sleep in the stables and give a physical 'piss on all of you' sorta' attitude as she stormed out.

Wolkere winced a little at Uhtred's newfound authority. She'd have to do away with that, as soon as possible. Couldn't have him thinking he was brave, or something silly like that! Hands rested on her hips and she grumbled, before glancing to Seregon, as if searching for some kind of protest. Regardless, she certainly wouldn't move the prisoner down to the dungeon, and it's likely, he'd be found sleeping in her bed the next morning, with Wolk nowhere in sight. She was going to get in trouble sometime, she figured.

Raij Valenti. Another positively feral snarl erupted forth from the younger, but definitely no smaller, male. If anything, the youngest brother was growing quickly, in muscle and in height. All the same, his grip tightened around the hilt of his blade, but he released it. In fact, the man looked positively unfazed by the threat to his life, a simple shake of his head offered to the man. Lips pursed as his words fell off his tongue before he could stop himself. "You truly are a coward, then, aren't you? A pity. I had hoped for the opposite to be true, but clearly, once again, you have proved me wrong." It was Nefertise's words that made him tense slightly, offering her a frown before then shifting to rest his gaze upon Synaria. "Let's get out of here." And, if Uhtred remained where he was, not acting on the insult Raij had intentionally thrown at him, he would depart - an arm offered to Synaria so that they could move elsewhere; away from Uhtred and the others. But not before he dropped the gift onto the closest level surface. "There's your gift. Enjoy." Inside was a simple thing - nothing major. Two things, actually. An intricately designed mirror he had found in market for Garnett (at the last minute no less, huzzah!) and a simple, yet comfortable, pair of riders pants for Uhtred. Eh, yea. You could tell there was no love lost on Uht. He had nothing against Garnett though.

Seregon did not take it lightly when his word was ignored. Sure Seregon was usualy quiet and reserved, but that was a mask for innert conflict. The recent happenings had slowly started to drag some of that turmoil from him, and what little had been released was anything but pretty. "Uhtred! Stop acting like a damn fool! It's your wedding day and you waste it dwelling in childish garbage when you should be celebrating with your wife. Instead you stand here and argue with your brother like a fool!" His tone did not let up, attention aimed at Raij. "Instigating will get you nowhere. Facades and false formalities cause only trouble, have you no brain!?" With that the knight had officially reached his limits and was on his way for the door before he remembered something. "And Uhtred, tell your father I wish a word with him." On that note, it was off to the harsh, cold, and unforgiving outside world where he belonged.

Garnett heard the threat in Uhtred's tone despite not understanding the words, worry creeping into her face as she took hold of the handle with a small nod. "Thank you, Uhtred." She murmured, voice faltering. The emotions of the day were taking their toll on her, tears rising unbidden to her eyes. Raij's tone nearly made her snap, her knuckles whitening around the sword in her hand, one quick worried glance spared for Nefe. It was fortunate that she hadn't understood his words. Even so, her free hand brushed warily at Uhtred's elbow, the princess swallowing the angry words she wished to spit at Raij. She should stay, she knew she should, for Uhtred's sake, but it was mere moments before she dissolved into a pool of tears, and she would not do that here. "If you will excuse me, my husband .. the day has been too much for me." She managed to whisper, the words a slurred rush, barely out her mouth before she dashed up the stairs to their room, nearly tripping on her skirt on the way up.

Uhtred Valenti, now that he had settled down, realized the blunder that he had made. It was not in threatening Raij. He had meant every word that he had said, and would see him in a dueling-tomb. He did nothing now, because when they laid out the elm branches it would be legal. But of course he needed permission. No, his fallacy had been in letting himself let loose this tirade now. He knew it the moment that he saw Garnett's face. He opened his mouth to speak, but she was gone. It crushed him. Off of his centre, he looked around at his peers as though he didn't recognize any of them, and then swiftly made his way after her. A wince was given to Seregon, displeased with the accuracy of his chastisement, and rather insulted by the presumption, but he did not have time for anything else. Goblet in hand and Raij's gift ignored, he stormed up the stairs to follow Garnett.

Synaria winced as Garnett took off up the stairs. She would need to make amends with her at a later date. Her eyes closed at Raij's further taunting of his brother. Slowly she rose to whisper lightly in his ear "This isn't the time, love." She had hoped that it would never be the time. Uhtred had been nothing but good to her, and Garnett, a sister. But her place in life was by Raij's side, and that's where she must stay. She nodded and turned to follow him.