Elias (GRIT Sector 1)

by Rebecca Sherwin

  "This pairing, last night's proposal, is not out of expectation. Love is a dangerous thing; it is the one thing that can cure and kill, heal and ruin, save and condemn. If you and my grandson sincerely love each other, there is no need to contemplate what could go wrong. You've made the decision and there is no going back now."

  "Can you be my grandmother for a second?" I hissed, shoving my plate away. "Can you stop with all this cryptic bullshit and just tell me that you're happy for us? Tell me that you want your granddaughter to be happy and that is why you want to jump into planning. Because you're excited. Because you want to see us together, happy and in love."

  "Trixie."

  I shrugged out of Elias' hold when he tried to calm me. I wouldn't bow to her like her word was gospel. She’d said there were no expectations, but there were. There were always expectations and Ruby always had a plan. Of course she'd seen this coming. Of course she'd accounted for this. This was just another phase of her bullshit evolution excuse.

  "No, I don't like this. We were engaged yesterday and I was still taken back to a prison cell, so let's not pretend this wedding has nothing to do with GRIT. Everything is accounted for, including this coupling."

  "Of course this was the plan," Ruby said, calming Elias when he tried to shut me up again. "But I'm not psychic. I know what I've set in motion and I know the outcome I want, but this breakfast was your fiancé's idea, darling. This morning has nothing to do with GRIT. I'm sitting here with my grandchildren, discussing what they'd like from me on their wedding day."

  "Why don't I believe that?"

  Elias scraped his chair back and dragged me from mine with a death grip in the crease of my elbow. I shrieked but had no hope of fighting him off. He led me out of the doors of the conservatory, down the three steps to the garden, and through the partition in the flowers to a small circular clearing with a bench in the centre.

  "Stop this," he growled, shoving me onto the bench. "That ring on your finger does not excuse your blatant lack of respect."

  "Fuck you," I spat, standing up. I didn't want to sit down. I wouldn't allow him to tower over me and intimidate me into playing house under his rules. "I have no control here. You left that out of your proposal."

  "I told you nothing would change."

  "So what's the point? Why are we getting married if I'm still insignificant?"

  Elias dragged his hands through his hair, loosened a button on his shirt and stepped back.

  "I want you to be a Blackwood. That's my only motivation for rushing. I didn't ask you to march into the church right now, I asked you to talk plans with me."

  "What if I want to keep my name?"

  Elias stilled, his expression clouding with fear of rejection.

  "Why would you want to do that?"

  Why did I want to do that? Why had I said it? What did it mean...did I even mean it?

  "I don't know, I'm just saying you haven't thought about me at all."

  "I'm only thinking of you."

  "How?"

  "Trixie, don't do this."

  "Do what? Ask you for the truth? Speak out of place? Stand before a man and refuse to submit?"

  "Shut up."

  "No. I refuse to be that woman. I won't sit there and let you plan my life."

  "Your life has already been planned and it has nothing to do with me. I'm following a path, too."

  "How did this even happen?" I groaned. "What the fuck are we fighting for?"

  "Us. Although we'll be fighting over your use of filthy language if you don't stop." I gasped, my heart slamming to a halt before picking back up. Elias took a step closer, trapping me between him and the bench. "We're fighting because we love each other and in an ideal world, that would be enough. Here, in this family, it isn't. We're fighting because the differences that fuse us together also threaten to tear us apart. I can't not try and control you, it's as simple as that." He cupped my face, stroking his nose over mine as his scent invaded me. He smelled like heaven and sex. Perfection. "We're fighting because you're strong and I'm weak. Don't ever think it's the other way around." He spun us around and sat down, guiding me to straddle him. "Ruby has more connections than me with the outside world. I have no knowledge of fashion or fairy cakes." Stroking my hair away from my face, he kissed my cheek. "I can do many things for you, Ashford, but I can't give you a princess wedding without Ruby. If you want a dress from Italy, she needs to make the call. If you want cake from France, she needs to arrange it with you. I can arrange protection, organise the food and discuss the future, but I can't give you what you deserve on the most important day of your life."

  My heart hurt. God damn, it hurt. He was thinking about me. Importing goods took time and if I wanted a silk dress with lace embellishments and layers of underskirt, we'd be lucky to be reciting our vows in six months. I didn't want to wait that long. I wanted out of the dungeon and I wanted into Elias Blackwood's bed.

  "No," I whispered, holding his face as he held mine. For the first time since we'd met and began this whirlwind journey together, he looked vulnerable. He wanted my approval, he wanted to know that I understood, and he hoped I wouldn't reject him for doing what he thought I wanted.

  "I've never been to Italy, nor have I read a fashion magazine," I said, knowing whatever I said wouldn't compare to Elias' way with words. "The only cake I've ever eaten came from the bakers on the corner of the street. I don't want luxury or riches, or any of the things that belong to the outside world but have no place here."

  "You don't? You didn't dream of your wedding when you were a child that involved so much more than a failing city, a criminal husband and a family with questionable motives?"

  "Of course I did, but I was a child who believed in fairytales. This isn't a fairytale."

  "But you should have it, for one day."

  I shrugged. "I don't want it. I want to wear a dress bought from a shop in the city. I want to wear comfortable shoes so I can keep up with you. I want Mae to do my hair and makeup and I want Richard to give me away. I want to marry you and I want our family to be present, and that's it." I paused for a second, wondering if this was a mistake. If I was about to make a mistake by threatening tradition again. "I want the next available date. I want you, and Ruby if you like, to find somewhere in the city that will marry us as soon as possible."

  I should have known she'd fight this. I should have known she'd throw the unpredictable out there and remind me that history had no place here. Trixie was a modern woman through and through and I damn well loved her for it. I didn't really care what she wore and what flavour cake we cut into. I didn't care who married us, as long as Trixie said 'I do' at the altar. I'd just wanted to give her everything she'd dreamed of, but only Trixie Ashford could want something as perfectly simple as a quick ceremony and small affair.

  "Are you sure?" I asked, searching her eyes for signs of deceit. "That's what you want?"

  "That's what I want. Nothing more than a ceremony and a dinner on the estate."

  "We can't have a honeymoon."

  That was the part I regretted the most but the one thing I would spend the rest of my life making possible. I would show Trixie the world, one way or another.

  "That's okay. We get a night, right?"

  "Oh yeah," I said, gripping her waist as I rolled my hips. "We'll get one night and another and another, and another..."

  Remember I said I used to dream about Prince Charming stealing me away from the castle to take me to paradise?

  The castle had become my paradise, and Prince Charming had nothing on my dark prince.

  I wasn't wearing an imported gown. I was wearing a simple ivory dress.

  I didn't have diamond-encrusted stilettos. I had simple ballet pumps that slid onto my feet and cushioned them in comfort.

  I hadn't been made over by a professional. My grandmother had worked wonders with trembling hands and worked my hair into a braid entwined with fresh flowers. My mother had applied simple makeup that allowed me to keep hold
of my originality.

  We didn't have a church, we didn't have a large wedding party, we had no bridesmaids or groomsmen; we had each other and we had our family.

  We didn't have grand cars waiting to take us to an exclusive venue. We had chairs set up in the meadow; we had an arch that would serve as an alter; we had a license to marry on the estate, and we had a minister who would marry us.

  A purple runner was laid out between the chairs, flower petals had been sprinkled on the walkway and Richard joined me in the conservatory as I looked out at our witnesses.

  "Are you sure about this?" he asked, placing his hands on my shoulders in a reassuring but questioning hold.

  "Yes."

  "It's not too late to change your mind."

  "There's no other destiny for me, Richard."

  I said this because it was true. Because I loved Elias more than I'd ever imagined loving anybody—especially someone who was as good as a complete stranger. But I also knew there was no choice; we married now and stood together united, or we continued the to and fro and threatened the revolution Elias had promised we'd initiate.

  "Okay."

  Richard said nothing more. He took my hand, set it in the crook of his elbow and guided me out of the conservatory. The music began to play; not the traditional wedding march, but something centuries old—unique, but familiar.

  Elias was waiting for me at the arch, with Trace on his side. My father, the only one I'd ever known, would give me away, but my brother would bear witness and give us his blessing. My prince waited for me with the conflict of a hundred ancestors dancing in his eyes. He smiled, but it wasn't broad. He relaxed, but it wasn't in comfort. He stiffened, and that was in fear and wonderment. He licked his lips and I knew where his mind was going. The dress wouldn't be missed when he tore it from me later. He was every ancestor he'd been raised to honour all rolled into one glorious package sheathed in black. I couldn't wait to be his wife, to own him like he did me; to be a part of his life and be his driving force like he was mine.

  We stopped at the altar and Richard handed me to his nephew, pressing our hands together before taking his seat.

  The minister stepped forward and greeted me with a small smile. We'd asked to omit the first part of the vows. Elias refused to give his father the opportunity to object. We wouldn't let him ruin this for us.

  "The vows you are about to take are to be made in the presence of God, who is judge of all and knows all the secrets of our hearts."

  The minister began the service. Elias had wanted to take that out too, hoping to shy away from acknowledging God was present and knew what GRIT had done. Elias wasn't sure He would grant forgiveness in a case that spanned hundreds of years of sin.

  "Elias, will you take Trixie to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and protect her, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"

  Elias looked at me, a thousand reasons why we shouldn't do this running through his mind. I knew he thought he'd be protecting me by shutting me out, but he'd be putting us both at risk by denying us something we were destined for. We were stronger together than we ever would be apart and I knew that's why he'd asked me to marry him. To ensure we were never left vulnerable and open to attack again. He wanted me to protect him as much as he would shield me.

  "I will," he whispered, no longer caring that we had an audience.

  "Trixie, will you take Elias to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honour and protect him and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"

  "I will," I answered without hesitation.

  We'd omitted the hymns, and we'd chosen not to ask the family to verbally bear witness. We'd chosen not to pray, not to take a moment of silence or read from a bible or book of hymns.

  With my right hand held tightly in his, Elias prepared to recite the vows we'd practiced in private in the lead up to our wedding.

  "I, Elias Blackwood take you, Trixie Ashford,

  to be my wife,

  to have and to hold from this day forward;

  for better, for worse,

  for richer, for poorer,

  in sickness and in health,

  to love and to cherish,

  till death us do part;

  according to God's holy law.

  In the presence of God, I make this vow."

  Elias loosened his hold and I reached for him, feeling the rough ridges of a murderer’s hand beneath my soft touch. He was warm, he held on tightly and he stroked his thumb over the back of my hand as if begging for forgiveness as I tied myself to him.

  "I, Trixie Ashford, take you, Elias Blackwood, to be my husband,

  to have and to hold

  from this day forward;

  for better, for worse,

  for richer, for poorer,

  in sickness and in health,

  to love and to cherish,

  till death us do part;

  according to God's holy law.

  In the presence of God, I make this vow."

  The minister received the rings from Trace, who winked at me as he stepped back, alerting me to the fact that I'd lost a tear. I blinked to clear my vision as the minister blessed the rings with a prayer. Elias placed the ring on the edge of my fourth finger, which had felt lighter and bare, since I’d handed the precious heirloom back this morning. Now it would be replaced by a simple gold band with Elias’ name engraved on the inside.

  "Trixie, I give you this ring as a sign of our marriage.

  With my body I honour you, all that I am I give to you,

  and all that I have I share with you, within the love of God,

  Father, Son and Holy Spirit."

  He slid the ring down my finger as he spoke the words, eliciting a strange electricity to ripple along the digit directly to my chest. He'd marked me. For life. I would wear this band until the day I died and beyond. The thought was daunting and liberating and terrifying. Elias dropped my hand and I took his, placing the ring over the edge of his finger, laced with scars of combat, rough with evidence of his aggression, tough from honing the ability to kill.

  "Elias, I give you this ring as a sign of our marriage.

  With my body I honour you, all that I am I give to you,

  and all that I have I share with you, within the love of God,

  Father, Son and Holy Spirit."

  I refused to let go of Elias' hand as the minister addressed our family. It was the only time we'd allowed her to talk to them, when we were joined and had stripped them of all power to stop it.

  "In the presence of God, and before this congregation, Elias and Trixie have given their consent and made their marriage vows to each other. They have declared their marriage by the joining of hands and by the giving and receiving of rings. I therefore proclaim that they are husband and wife. Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder."

  We were married. I was no longer alone; I no longer wondered who I was, where I'd come from and where I was going. I was a wife. I was a lover, a protector, a forgiver, a fighter.

  I was a woman of status, although I wasn't comfortable with that.

  I was married to a man of power, who I knew would show me just how much he possessed, and ensure I wouldn't be left pining. That, I was comfortable with.

  I was a woman who would have to compromise and negotiate.

  I was married to a man who would often refuse to do the same.

  I didn't care.

  I was ready for the next phase.

  I was ready for my own transition.

  I'd been fooled by a fairytale that had never existed...

  I didn't want to leave my wife on our first night together. I'd hoped I could get us off the estate and to the apartment where we could spend the night together without me feeling like a traditional failure for stealing a woman's virtue.

  But it wasn't to be.

  Ambrose had summoned me, sending a messenger to deliver me to his parlou
r.

  I had to leave my wife. I'd already broken the promise I'd made her mere hours ago and the temptation to refuse was overwhelming. But I didn't.

  I left Trixie with her mother, father and Trace, and exited the ballroom to find my father.

  He was in the room where he'd attacked Trixie. He was staring up at the mural on the ceiling, mumbling to himself about a harlot, a cheat, a witch. He'd morphed into someone I hadn't seen for years, and I'd almost forgotten how to handle the situation.

  Almost.

  "Ambrose," I said, joining him in the centre of the room. "You called for me."

  "She finishes this tonight," he said, refusing to look away from the painting on the wall that displayed everything my father was worried about.

  It was a depiction of war, of the women behind the force that brought peace and justice to a land. The women watched over their men, ensuring they made it home alive to their chambers. What Ambrose saw spoke volumes about why he hated my coupling more than he'd voiced. He saw dictatorship. He saw a clan of women sending their men to death. He saw destruction at the hands of the women who stole our hearts. He saw death in love and excitement in death.

  "She has married my son and she has found her way into an organisation that welcomes her to strip us bare. She does this tonight or I strip you both of your rights and power. I will take back the empire and I will end this crusade you've been on since you were a boy."

  "I'm not on a crusade. I'm living my life and I'm doing my job."

  "Then do it and ensure the task is carried out."

  He reached out and grabbed the weapon off the counter behind him, shoving it into my hands and forcing me to make the choice I'd been trying to prolong.

  "Ashford," Elias whispered, approaching me from behind. He held onto my hips, pulled me back and spoke in my ear. "Come with me."

  Taking my hand, he excused us from the hall and led me out into the entrance of the house. I knew where we were going as soon as I felt the tension that smothered us both.