Author’s Note:

I am sure by now everyone is excessively frustrated with my pitiful attempts at authorship: I have not done a good job for the past two years. Anyhow, I will try once again to write something, and if I fail…well don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I am not certain in which genre this story should be placed, but to me it makes most sense to place it in Historical so that’s what I will do. It just feels historical to me. Anyway, it is a sort of retelling of The Bride Snatching but mainly only in terms of the basic theme. The characters are completely different and the plot line is too. Also, none of the writing is from The Bride Snatching and is completly new. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1:

“Paradise is under the shadow of swords.” Mahomet

A father never really understands how much he loves his daughter until he is about to part with her. At least that is the way King Charles felt on the eve of his only daughter’s wedding. As king of his small, landlocked nation he had had only time to raise his son to be a good king in his stead and not to bother too much with his daughter. Isabel, therefore, was raised by a string of nurses and then tutors, rarely spending anytime with her father. He had never really know her, never really tried, and now that he was about to let her go he could not help but feel regret and guilt. Charles had always made the necessary sacrifices for his country – as king it was his solemn duty to do so – yet he knew the sacrifice of his daughter would haunt him forever. Promised to a man she did not love or even really know, Isabel had already expressed her distaste at the match but would yield to her father’s wishes none the less. Charles tried to consider that the choice he had made for his daughter was not the worst for anyone. He hoped that thought would assuage his mind.

As per ancient tradition, Isabel donned her wedding dress and veil and set out a few hours before dawn to walk the worn path of every bride that had ever lived in the castle. Her bare feet strode the same soil and felt the same rough rocks as every princess, every lady, and every chambermaid of royal position. Equality existed for women in this one practice, and as the dew settle on the bride’s skin and the rosy light of day flushed the sky, they contemplated the great change in their life.

Isabel did not feel nervous or exited. Instead, a sedated anger filled her person: in spite of all her screaming and threats she could do nothing to stop the union she had not agreed to. Contemplating not the happy future of a bride, Isabel instead considered escape. Yet she knew that to be impossible.

The cool night air and the silence of the path comforted her; as a princess she had learned to relish whatever small moments she had to herself. Seeing a smooth, round stone on the ground, Isabel stooped to pick it up. While she stroked its perfect surface, Isabel though she heard something – a nicker of a horse or the whisper of leaves as an arm pushes them aside. Unaccustomed to being unattended, Isabel felt slightly alarmed but continued along the path. She told herself she had imagined the noise.

Yet suddenly, with all the silence of a snake, someone grasped her arm and pulled her against him. She tried to scream but he held something soft in one hand, a cloth perhaps, that he pressed over her mouth. Knowing what it was, Isabel refused to breath and drove her elbow into the man’s stomach. If the blow hurt the man at all he did not let on but instead twisted Isabel’s wrist behind her back and pressed the cloth firmly against her nose and mouth. With all her strength Isabel tried not to breath but knew that her body would inhale out of sheer instinct; desperately trying to hold her breath and force her body to obey her command, Isabel held herself absolutely rigid. In a sudden moment of thought or practice, the man gave her arm a sharp twist. Isabel inhaled.

The first thing Isabel felt was the sting of the sun on her exposed neck. She tried to move her arms but they would not budge. Head aching and stomach churning unpleasantly, Isabel open her eyes to a flood of white light. It took a moment for her vision to clear and the only thing she saw was the back of a horse and, closer to her head, a man’s neck. She was on a horse facing backwards, propped up on a man’s body. Pulling herself back to see who it was she allowed herself a moment of hope but saw an entirely unfamiliar face. A smirking face.

“You’re awake.” The smirking man said. With the effort of focusing on his face, Isabel’s head began to spin and her stomach to churn faster. She opened her mouth to speak but instead of letting loose a flood of angry words, Isabel vomited on his broad chest and promptly slipped into darkness once more.