AN: Happy New Year, wonderful people! Here's to an amazing 2018 for all of us! May happiness, good health, love, good grades and all that jazz find each and every one of you this year!

This is the first part of the Wedding Chapter, hope you enjoy it. *drum rolls*

By the way, who happens to be a Star Wars fan? I've recently joined this mad train and I am suuuuch a reylo shipper, any other reylos please stand up. :D

Fearsome Hamster

"You know what you have to do..."

Margo turned her head slightly – she could have sworn she heard something. However, the room was empty save for her and Nana who had been working tirelessly for the last hours on her granddaughter's appearance. It was the long awaited day after all.

She pressed a cold hand to her burning cheek, slightly smearing the faint rouge Nana had so carefully applied. Her grandmother sent her yet another reprimanding look and continued to weave her magic into her rebellious curls, twisting them into an intricate coiffure and skillfully adding pearl beads in the plaits. The young woman forced her fingers to lay still on the vanity. There was a fever building up inside her that made her restless.

Perhaps it was merely a syndrome of the proverbial cold feet, but she had not been feeling herself the last couple of days. A troubled mind, restless nights, little to no appetite – Zachary would have had an overprotective fit had he been here to witness. Thankfully, she had somehow convinced him to stay away until the wedding and surprisingly, he had actually listened.

"Margo, you look so beautiful."

She snapped out of her thoughts and realised Nana's nimble fingers finished their masterpiece. Her reflection in her bedroom's old mirror no longer showed the scared girl she was used to seeing everyday, but a regal looking woman. The tight corset of her gown sinfully embraced curves she had always hidden away, while the gossamer delicate lace around her frail shoulders brought back an illusion of innocence. A few locks of dark hair had fallen from the updo, framing her face, a tousled look Zachary's wandering fingers had also achieved in their past moments of passion. Even her lips were discretely painted with pomegranate balm to mimic a well and often kissed mouth. Her sneaky grandmother – she had done this on purpose.

Before she could open her mouth to thank her, Nana opened a nearby jewelry box and gently clasped a pair of sapphire earrings on her ears, the only piece of silver she had not dared part with and sell. Margo gasped – these had been her mother's favourites.

"Your mother would have been very proud of the woman you had become, my child," Nana whispered, a faraway look in her wise eyes.

"Nana, thank you for everything." Overcome with emotion, she embraced her grandmother tightly. During the harsh winters of life, some people were indeed like the unwavering fire in the hearth. Margo rejoiced in this moment of peace. Without this woman, she does not know what would have become of her.

Suddenly, Nana escaped the embrace with unexpected agility for her age. Her eyes glinted with a mischievous spark. "Oh, I forgot the perfume!"

Margo groaned. "Nana, you know I do not like it, please–" before she could finish, a puff of rosewater hit her nose, making her sneeze. Just as quick, her grandmother peeled the decoletage of her gown, letting more perfume spray directly onto her chest.

"Nana!" Margo cried outraged.

"Shh, child, you will thank me later," her grandmother whispered conspiratorially while winking. She could only begin to imagine what Nana was scheming; as a result, an intense blush covered her cheeks all the way to her ears.

A sudden knock at the door ceased Nana's overzealous assault with the rosewater. She breathed a sigh of relief even as the unforgiving figure of Lord HartWell filled the doorway. Her father shot both of them a glare. "You need to hurry, we cannot have Lord Frost waiting for us like this. It is most–"

A loud crash somewhere in the manor interrupted the scolding speech. HartWell sighed exasperatedly. They all knew who the culprit was.

"For Heavens' sake, Thomas, leave the bloody chicken alone at least this day!" her father boomed, grabbing the already balding hair on his head.

......................................

They were finally on their way to the chapel. 

The carriage sent by Zachary was exquisite, adorned with garlands of white orchids and led by four pure-blooded pristine horses. Opposite her seat, her little brother was swinging his feet happily, constantly peeking his head out of the cabin, staring jaw-slacked at the proud stallions. Margo grinned at his enthusiasm, discreetly pulling a stray feather stuck to Thomas's vest, a mark of his previous overzealous playtime with the chicken.

Her father was seated next to her, constantly taking out his golden pocket watch and grumbling in the corner of the carriage. He was obviously still concerned they would arrive late. 

"We are running behind schedule – Lord Frost shall be most displeased. He had already been most magnanimous," he sighed dramatically, arranging his crinkled top hat. Do not worry, father. Zachary's coins are not going anywhere.

From the other corner of the carriage, Nana's voice rang out caustically "Pascal, if you wanted him that badly, you should have been the one to marry him." Her father pursed his lips in response, but did not say anything else. Margo hid her laughter behind a cough, sharing an amused look with her smirking grandmother. 

All of a sudden, the gentle trot of the horses ceased and the carriage stilled. Margo looked outside. It was still the middle of the nowhere, why have they stopped? Lord HartWell bumped his head on the ceiling from the sudden rough stop. "Coachman, what is the meaning of this?" he angrily snapped, opening the carriage door and stepping out. "We do not have ti–"

HartWell's words died in his mouth and he stumbled back inside the carriage. A cloaked figure had carelessly pushed him in. Oddly subdued and quiet, her father did not fight back, a dazed almost drugged air remaining in his eyes even as his rugged attacker seated himself comfortably on her father's top hat.

Margo gasped. The mysterious man was strangely familiar and the long scar bisecting his face seemed to echo a warning in the depths of her subconscious. She had seen him before, but where?

"I do not want to hurt you, but I will if you struggle."The stranger extended his arms to Nana and Thomas, both huddled together in fright. 

No, this bastard was not going to hurt her family. She had a vampire as soon-to-be husband and had personally been through far worse the last few weeks to be afraid of this scruffy nobody. Her fingers formed into a tight fist and aimed it purposefully at the stranger's nose–Ben had once taught her that was a vulnerable area and with the right speed and power, she could push the idiot out.

Just before her hand could reach his face, her fist was painfully grabbed in a strong hold. Ah, it hurt. The stranger snapped his fingers and Nana and Thomas fell into a catatonic state like HartWell. Poor Thomas had been frozen while he had been aiming to stomp on the attacker's feet.

A whimper fell from her lips seeing their faces so devoid of emotion.

The stranger was inspecting one of her fingers, more specifically the digit scarred by Benjamin's thorny rose a few days ago. Mysteriously, the scratch had not healed at all.

"What have you done to them?" she demanded. The stranger only tightened his grasp, her skin white from the merciless pressure he applied. He snapped his fingers again, and her limbs froze. She could not even move her fingertips.

"Now now, that is no way to treat a generous man who only wants to offer you a wedding gift," the scarred man sneered, pulling something out of thin air. Her eyes fearfully fleeted toward the object. It looked like an ivory hair comb, but it was wickedly sharp and something about it screamed pure evil despite its beauty. She closed her eyes in disgust when she felt the stranger arrange it in her hair.  

Her breaths came out in short pants when she felt his hot breath across her ears. "You know what you have to do...," he whispered. The man pulled back, the scar making his malicious grin even more incongruous on his face.

Daring even further, the man grabbed her jaw. "Send my warm compliments to the groom," Her stomach revolted, his touch was disgusting whereas Zachary's was always tender and careful, unlike the brute currently holding her. 

She bared her teeth; one more inch closer and she would bite his bloody ear off. 

However, with another snap of his fingers, darkness fell and she slumped on the carriage's leather seat.

......................................

Zachary paced in front of the arched entrance of the quaint chapel Margo had chosen for their joining, letting the fresh morning air soothe his frayed nerves. Manners demanded he wait for his bride at the altar along with the other guests. However the idea of being confined with so many curious humans all gathered in one place unsettled him after the long years chained in the cold earth. His mate was not even besides him to comfort his beast.

Darn, he missed her terribly. The last time he had seen her she had been fleeing away from him, unsettled by the the intensity of the passion igniting between mates. He had let her go then, his rational side winning against his instincts and advising him she perhaps needed more time to come to terms with this. Now, lonely and left standing to wait for Margo to arrive at their wedding, regrets started to surface. He should have not allowed her to leave his manour. He scowled. What a silly utterly human notion. Why would the groom not be allowed to see his beloved bride before the ceremony? Zachary pulled at his bow tie angrily, snarling.

"You are growling again - should I remind you that humans generally don't emit such sounds?" Lazarus, the ever serious enforcer  admonished him again.

Zachary rapidly turned around, peeling his lip off and letting his fangs slide in front of the obnoxious gargoyle near him. Lazarus merely raised one eyebrow in response.

"Thank Heavens we are still not at the altar in front those humans. I swear, if we do not end up glamouring all your human guests to make them mysteriously forget of any volatile supernatural manifestations of yours by the end of the day, I shall consider myself lucky, " Lazarus sighed. The other male rolled his wide shoulders confined in a fancy dress shirt. "And stop pulling at your clothes, you are the one who wanted an official ceremony after all. At least you do not have a pair of wings underneath your coat." Lazarus streched one long arm. Soon, an umistakable ripping sound filled the air.

Zachary smirked, his sour mood slightly alleviated, hearing the gargoyle curse underneath his breath. The idiot had torn up one of his sleeves.

"What is it taking her so long?" he whispered, pulling his dark locks viciously, another outlet for his escalating panic.

"Maybe your bride finally came to her senses and ran away," Lazarus' gruff tone was a poor imitation of teasing, he realised his old friend tried to make a joke, but it had the opposite effect.

He stopped his pacing, breathing heavily. Could she be slipping from his grasp right now? Was she finally recognising that a monster like him could never deserve any of her shining light in his dark miserable life? A strangled whimper escaped Zachary, his amethyst eyes brimming with terror.

He was readying to speed his way to her home when Lazarus grabbed his forearm. "Damn it, you smitten vampire. Have some self-respect, she will come. Give your mate at least the illusion of freedom." Immediately, Zachary swatted the other male's hand away. He only wanted to be touched by Margo. The broided handkerchief she had forgotten at his manour in her haste was now in his coat's pocket- he brought it to his nose and deeply inhaled the sweet lingering scent. If he was not graced with her touch, he would make do with what he had. Even if that meant sniffing her lost item like an abandoned stray dog looking for its owner.

"I do not recall inviting you to my bonding ceremony," Zachary grumbled, carefully folding the precious handkerchief back in his pocket.

Lazarus rolled his grey eyes–mating brings pandemonium to one's sanity – he both longed and dreaded for the day he would encounter his fated one, should she even exist.

In the far distance, a carriage was suddenly heard. Zachary and Lazarus stilled. The nearly inaudible trot of hooves hitting the ground as horses pulled a carriage could not yet be picked up by the guests waiting in the chapel, but their superior senses did.

The bride had arrived.

Overflowing with excitement, Zachary took a step forward towards the incoming carriage. His indigo eyes were bright and a smile had unknowingly blossomed at the corners of his mouth. Margo was here. She had not run away. His cold heart was already singing in joy. He was aching to press her to his chest, hear her gentle breathing, stroke her soft hair and reaffirm her presence in his world, Lazarus' words had stung more deeply than he intended.

"Wrong direction, lover boy," The gargoyle dared to step in front of him again and this time he was dragging him to the chapel's doors. "The altar is the opposite way". Closing his eyes, Zachary willed his instincts back in check and allowed Lazarus to lead him back inside the chapel.

Wedding first. Kissing Margo senseless second. Beating Lazarus for his impertinence third.

......................................

The guests were waiting inside the chapel.

Thomas and Ben's lovely little twin sisters had sprinkled flowers on her way to the altar.

The wedding march had already started.

Everything was perfect.

Yet, something felt utterly wrong as she glided slowly along the aisle, grateful for the white veil covering her head and hiding the nerves surely written on her face. Something was wound tight inside of her, a tension creeping in her muscles and clouding her mind. Something was very wrong indeed; and that was not her irritating aunt's Hortensia unexpected arrival at the wedding. Something far worse was hanging in the air, just waiting to be unleashed. 

In an attempt to dispel her anxiety, her wild eyes roamed across the chapel. Benjamin was nowhere to be seen. However, she spotted his beautiful eldest sister, Celine, smiling somewhat forced, the reason being Madame Percy seated right next to her and her incessant murmuring. Trust the tavern's mistress to not stay silent even during a wedding march. Down a few rows, Mr Fredor's kind eyes briefly caught her gaze until he shifted them back to Nana; the gentle librarian was clearly pining after her grandmother. On the left side of the altar, Nana and Thomas were seated together, both watching her with love in their eyes as she and her father approached them. 

Margo smiled back at them and felt the bundle of tension inside her unwind slightly. Her father's hand left her arm and she turned to face the man soon to become her husband. 

The sight of him took her breath away.

Zachary. His intense eyes had been following her faithfully ever since she stepped foot out of the carriage. A different kind of tension enflamed her the more she stared in his otherwordly amethyst eyes and the dark sensual promises that lurked in his gaze. 

With hurried moves, so unlike his composed self, Zachary quickly discarded his gloves and gently took her own hands in his large ones. Margo's breath hitched when she realised his hands were shaking.

"You are divine, my love," he whispered gently like a devoted lover, as if they were the only two people alive on earth, still holding her eyes captive. So are you, she wanted to murmur back, but a huge knot had settled in her throat. 

His short dark locks were dishevelled and Margo wanted to desperately test their softness underneath her searching digits and tousle them even more. She wanted to leave her mark on him.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the last remnant of reason was warning her not to fall so deeply. Not to lose control and risk getting herself hurt. Not to allow anyone new in and disappoint her like her father had done. Her entire adult life, she had built these walls around her heart – she felt secure in the barren land she had created, but yet nothing could ever prosper there. His unwavering devotion was slowly crumbling away her guards and showing her the chaotic but staggeringly beautiful universe beyond her sheltered soul.

Perhaps letting herself be vulnerable before him was worth it. Looking into his orbs, she was humbled by the realisation that Zachary had long since laid himself completely open to her. The fragility she detected in this powerful proud creature was solely meant for her.

They were still lost in each other's eyes when the priest coughed to gain their attention. Zachary reluctantly snapped his head in the direction of the minister, a low growl reverberating in his chest. The now frightened priest shrunk away from his gaze, stuttering on his words and holding the holy book tighter. From the corner of her eyes, Zachary's long-haired friend shook his head.

"K-Kind s-sir, d-do you take t-this woman to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part?" 

Zachary lifted her right hand, bringing it to his mouth. Time stood still as he slowly dragged his lips across each knuckle, laying a final kiss on the digit bearing his ruby encrusted ring. Margo could feel a blush staining her cheeks.

"I do. I vow to always put your life and desires above my own, to honour you and protect you till the end of time. My life is yours in this life and beyond." His ardent words brought tears to her eyes, now thankful more than ever for the veil still covering her.

A tremulous voice betrayed her feelings when it was her turn to recite her vows. Her hands shook as well when she put a simple golden band around Zachary's finger. 

She was was feeling more clumsy than ever, her heart racing. Margo was sure he could hear it.

"You may now kiss the bride." 

Her breath shuddered when Zachary stepped even closer and lifted her veil with sure hands. The desire in his eyes was obvious, yet he cupped her chin so delicately with his long fingers. He had aways been a walking contradiction. 

A strange softness entered his gaze as he bent his head towards her. 

She closed her eyes.

What a mistake that had been.

In her mind, she was now in a strange twisted version of the quaint chapel, the once gentle light streaming through the stained glass now replaced by a bone-chilling darkness. There was an encompassing silence in this new reality– all the guests were gone, the decorative flowers withered away,  the chapel benches' all vacant. In their stead, immense pools of blood smudged the walls, the floor, even the mural painted ceiling. Everything.

Her stomach was revolting at the sight, her bile threatening to come out.

She turned to Zachary for comfort, but he too had disappeared.  A horrendous beast took his place, a monster exactly like the one in the cemetery. Crimson liquid ran in rivulets down the monster's mouth, fangs bloodied and dark indigo eyes still very hungry despite the massacre in the room.

Her perverse subconscious reminded her that this creature was in fact her Zachary.

Something echoed insidiously in the ravaged chapel of this never ending nightmare, stoking the panic escalating in her chest.  Why could she not break away from this vision? "Yesss, beware the monster you are tying your fate to."

No, this was still her Zachary. She refused to believe he was capable of such atrocities. Margo stood still in her spot, despite the creature now advancing towards her. Its steps thundered menacingly in the emptiness of the room.

"Beware of it, for it shall strike when you least expect it," the malevolent voice continued. The chapel's stained walls started to shake as the creature now stood less than an arm's length away from her. Her legs locked together, she refused to run away.

The creature bent its head in her direction, dangerously close to the nape of her neck.

"You know what you have to do." The last warning of the mysterious voice was barely heard as   the creature pressed its lips to her own just as everything fell apart.