A Fairy-Tail Marriage

*****

Braxton and Althea sat at the head of the banquet table in the great hall, with Blake on Althea’s right. Cala had chosen not to join them for dinner; Jonathan made her terribly uncomfortable and she did not want to be in his presence. She had apologized to Braxton after speaking her mind, but he had assured her that most people felt the same way and he was in no way offended.

Jonathan arrived ten minutes late, his little dig at Braxton. Dinner was served five minutes later, and the group ate in silence, saving the conversation for after. Althea ate slowly, her eyes on anything in the room other than Jonathan, but she caught him staring more than once, his eyes narrowed. Once the servants had collected the plates and served coffee, Braxton opened the discussion.

“All right, Jonathan, let’s hear it. Why are you here? And where the hell have you been?”

“All over, little brother, on adventures in other kingdoms you couldn’t even dream of,” Jonathan boasted.

“Sounds great,” Braxton deadpanned. “So why are you back if the adventures were so amazing?”

Jonathan chuckled. “No curiosity? Not even a little?”

“I’ve never been the adventurous type,” Braxton reminded him blandly.

“Ah, well, I bet your fairy wife is disappointed to hear that,” he commented snidely, his double meaning quite clear to all at the table.

Althea maintained her dignity, remaining quiet at the small insult. She was sure there were several more to come.

“Mind your manners, brother,” Braxton warned amiably, his voice hiding the anger. “So I take it you are unhappy in my choice of bride?”

“Unhappy? I’m downright disgusted,” Jonathan claimed. “Those creatures are pathetic. They need someone to rule over them, not someone who wants to be their equal.” He pretended to think, lifted a finger, and said, “Ah, so that’s why you married one. She can be your little s*x slave.”

Braxton’s jaw clenched. Althea put her hand on his thigh under the table to calm him. He smiled at Jonathan. “Why are you here?”

“I am here to make a formal challenge for the throne.”

Blake hissed. “A formal challenge? Your mother, and the people of this kingdom, chose Braxton. You have no claim.”

Jonathan waved a dismissing hand at Blake. “Yes, yes, best friend, thank you for your incorrect assessment. If I make a formal challenge, Braxton must accept.”

Blake turned and looked at Braxton, whose eyes hadn’t left his brother. Althea had no idea what a formal challenge meant. “Braxton, what does he mean?”

“Your husband must fight me to the death to keep his throne,” Jonathan answered, watching Althea’s face. He enjoyed the shock and fear that appeared there.

“What?” She turned to Braxton. “Is he telling the truth? A fight to the death? That’s crazy.”

Braxton smiled at her but spoke to Jonathan. “Jonathan, is this really what you want? To kill or be killed over the throne?”

“I will make a better king than you will, Braxton. You are weak, in every sense of the word, and cannot rule as competently as I can.”

“Braxton is the best king this kingdom will ever know,” Blake shouted, rising from his chair to defend his best friend and liege. “He has brought peace in his short reign. You will bring war.”

Jonathan laughed at the display. He rose as well to make his parting comments. “The fairies do not deserve the same luxuries werewolves possess. I will put them back in their place as king and restore this kingdom to its former glory.” He looked at Althea. “I hope you like the tapestry in the hall. Life will soon imitate art.” He returned his gaze to Braxton. “Tomorrow morning, in the west field, at ten.”

After he left, Althea turned to Braxton. “This can’t happen! You can’t fight your brother for the throne!”

He cupped her face in his hand. “Althea, I have no choice. He’s made a formal challenge, which I’m sure he’ll spread all over by morning. Either I fight or forfeit the throne.”

Blake rose. “I’ll have the west field prepared for the battle.” He left the room without another word.

Althea stared after him. “He seems so unconcerned.”

“That’s his way. This fight is inevitable,” Braxton said. “Let’s go upstairs. I want to speak with you in a more private setting.”

*****

In her room, Braxton sat her down on the bed. “Althea, I have to tell you something.”

“Okay,” Althea murmured, her fear that he would tell her some other strange custom the werewolves followed.

He detected the fear in her voice. He sat next to her and took her hands in his. “Don’t be scared. This is good,” he assured her.

Althea laughed a little, her disbelief clear. “Just tell me.”

“I’ve fallen in love with you,” he gushed. “I have to fight tomorrow. If I’m unsuccessful, I don’t want to die without you knowing that.”

“If you’re unsuccessful? You won’t be,” Althea affirmed. “And I love you too. That’s why I’m terrified right now.”

“Don’t be. I’ve been fighting my whole life. Werewolves are born to it.” He leaned over to her and kissed her, his hand on her thigh. “Now, I believe you promised we’d finish what we started earlier.”

The next morning, Althea walked with Braxton to the west field. He had asked her to stay at the castle, but she had refused. Cala walked next to her, and Blake was beside Braxton carrying a bow and a quiver of arrows, giving him advice.