Scholar and Scribe Invitational - A Bride for Prince Boris

This post is an entry to the October Scholar and Scribe invitational, on the themes of vampires and horror. You can find the link to it HERE.

This one actually takes place in a particularly grim corner of my Dungeons & Dragons homebrew setting. I've kept the horror dialled down - it's there in spades, but most of it will happen in your head when you think about the true impact of what's going on 😈

Enjoy !

Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio

The first snowflakes of autumn were drifting down from a sky the colour of old lead when the signs were pasted up in the cobbled town square of Valisov.

The poster showed an engraved print of a couple - a man and woman - standing before a priest. Under it, the words read "The wedding of Prince Boris and Lady Sophia of Karmond. The Ides of the Month of Fogs. All citizens are warmly invited to the wedding and feast."

It was only three weeks away, but announcing weddings at such short notice was normal in the Principality of Vlach. It was a realm of steep mountains, their lower slopes shrouded in dense pine forests, and bad things could happen on the paths and tracks that linked the fortified towns and settlements huddled in hollows and small riverside plains.

For three weeks, the town was abuzz with growing excitement. Everyone knew that this was more than just a political wedding, that Boris and Sophia had been childhood sweethearts.

People were hired to make bunting and prepare for the feast. The Great Hall on the ground floor of the citadel was cleared of the water barrels and stores usually kept there and turned into the feast hall. Word was that Lady Sophia would arrive from Karmond the week before the wedding.

And so, exactly as expected, at midday a week before the wedding, when there was already an inch of snow on the steeply pitched roofs of the town, bells rang out and a caravan clattered through the town gates. A carriage drawn by six white horses and two wagons, escorted by a strong body of mounted mail-clad cavalry.

But there was some consternation when the caravan didn't stop in the town square for Sophia to debark to promenade for the gathering crowd. Instead, with the carriage's green velvet curtains drawn tightly shut, the whole caravan disappeared into the citadel.

There in the citadel courtyard, Boris waited for his bride, his love. But when the lead knight dismounted and removed his ornate zischagge helmet, a feeling of impending doom crept over him. It was Sophia's father, Margrave Sigislav of Karmond. His face was grey and drawn, his cheeks streaked with tears. Boris saw now that his mail was torn open to reveal a bandaged right arm.

The old man fell to his knees at Boris' feet. "My Prince, we... we were attacked on the forest road. Not brigands or kidnappers. Wolves. Dozens of them. Led by great beasts that were not men or wolves, but something halfway between with the strength of giants. They seemed to know why we were travelling, and...."

Boris felt his heart in his throat. "Sophie..."

Running to the carriage, he pulled open the door. Then he too fell to his knees, retching and fainting.

Sophie and her maid were there. Dresses torn and drenched with blood. Huge gouges and bite-marks were everywhere, and the maid's left arm and right leg had been torn off. It was clear that the two poor girls were very, very dead, and had been for many hours.

For two days, Boris was confined in his room. For his own protection, they said.

Out in the town, preparations carried on as before. Everyone knew something was not right, but no-one knew what, or how bad it really was. The Vlach way was to continue with what you were doing and hope that somehow everything would turn out right.

At dawn on the third day, before many folk were out of their warm beds, Prince Boris rode out alone, swathed and anonymous in a heavy hooded winter cloak.

He rode for most of the day, arriving at Vlach Town late in the afternoon. It was the capital of the Principality. A twist in ancient custom meant that although each town had it's own prince, margrave or count, Vlach was ruled by a Prince who had at least nominal suzerainty over the local princes, although the reality was that they were proud, quarrelsome and often rebellious.

Boris sought an audience with Prince Vaclav, which was granted. He was taken through to a private chamber deep in the castle, where the Prince waited. The dark-haired, solid-looking man looked up, and Boris knelt before him, a vision of abject despair.

"My Lord, please... help me. We... we were supposed to be married. Sophia and I. In four days. And now she's dead. Murdered on the road from Karmond to Valisov. Help me... I don't know what to do, I'd do anything to have her back."

Vaclav leaned back in his ornate chair, a contemplative look on his face. "Anything, you say ? It won't come to that. I'm the prince of this land. Your love isn't dead, she just needs healing. Allow me to attend your wedding in person as a guest, and I will make everything right for you. Consider it my wedding gift."

Four days later, the bells of Valisov pealed out a joyous cacophony. Everyone in town knew the wedding was on, and the sense of relief was felt everywhere.

The service was held in the Great Hall by a priest of Svarog. Prince Boris was to the altar as Sophia was walked up the aisle by Margrave Sigislav. The peasant women ooh'd and aah'd in wonder at her incredible wedding dress, studded with crystals from the highest peaks, with it's long train and heavy lace veil.

Few noticed how stiffly Sophia walked, and the few who did would have put it down to a recent illness, or the weight of her ceremonial garments.

At the altar, the priest bade them to hold out their gloved right hands, which he bound together with a wreath of yew and holly. Then he uttered the words Boris had longed to hear ever since his childhood.

"Prince Boris of Valisov, and Lady Sophia of Karmond, I pronounce you husband and wife. May your lives be filled with joy for evermore. You may kiss."

As Boris lifted the heavy veil, his first though was how pale his love and new wife looked; learly she was still recovering from her ordeal and whatever the Prince had done to bring her back.

Sophia leaned forward to kiss him with unexpected rapidity. He didn't have time to react. Her lips fell upon his, and he felt a sharp pain as she bit down hard on his lip.

He tasted blood; his own.

But then her hand slid up between them and forced his mouth closed, onto her bottom lip.

He tasted blood; hers.

Her voice came to him. Her same lovely voice, that he thought he'd never hear again. "Now we shall indeed be together forever, my love. Forever."

The world spun. The congregation and even the priest seemed oblivious to the rapid events that had just taken place. It was as if time had stopped and the two of them were in their own separate world. No-one was any the wiser.

Except for one man. Prince Vaclav, standing near the happy couple with a half-smile playing on his lips. His plan had worked perfectly. There would be no more rebellions from quarrelsome princes in Valisov and Karmond.

The Arms of the Principality of Vlach - created in the Worldspinner Heraldry Generator