22- Queen

                                    

                                          
AN: Fluff, disgusting amounts of fluff, because I say so. Whoops. 
...
                          
Beads of gold and small pearls were threaded into her hair, weaved into one large plait perfected by Geirdis's thin fingers. 
                          
"You look lovely, my lady." Geirdis says, handing her gold earrings to decorate her lobes. Then she places the pendant of Mjölnir over her collarbone, securing it at the nape of her neck.
                          
The lady in question did not recognize herself. The lavander water in the large bronze bowl ripples at the slight touch of her small fingers, her distorted reflection revealing khol lined eyes and rouge colored lips. 
                          
"She's quite right, dear sister-in-law, as lovely as Freya herself." Hvitserk smiles as he walks in past the leather divider, hands clasped behind his back. Artemis turns round to look at him, smiling happily at his arrival. 
                          
He too was dressed extremely well. His golden hair was braided neatly in an intricate style, pulled back into one singular braid. The silken green shirt brought out his eyes and his dark breeches looked soft to the touch. He steps closer, pulling from behind his back a thin silver coronet shaped as vined hollies with small rubies in between.
                          
A traditional northern bride was to wear a crown of wild flowers. A summer wedding meant an abundance of beautiful flowers, but with the coming of winter, they were dying with the slow passage of the winds. There was nothing traditional about this particular wedding.
                          
"Hvitserk..."
                          
"It was our mothers. Ivar would like you to have it." Her eyes focus on the shining coronet, a delicate symbol of power. 
                          
"Would you not like to give this to your woman someday?" She questions.
                          
"Ivar is king, and these are his wishes. He was always the closest to our mother, and besides," Hvitserk shrugs, "I've no interest in such things. Today you become Kattegat's queen, it is only right for you to wear a queens crown."
                          
Artemis grabs the thin coronet from Hvitserk's outstretched hands, the delicate silver feeling heavy in her hands. It was a thing of beauty, such remarkable detail despite its simplistic design. 
                          
"I cannot accept this." She says suddenly, catching the way Geirdis's eyes followed the shinning metal in admiration. Artemis stubbornly gives back the crown, waiting for Hvitserk to grasp it, but he never does. He only smiles, shaking his head as if dealing with a rowdy child.
                          
"It is rude to deny something as significant as a family heirloom," He jokes, moving forward to grasp the coronet, "I've never known a woman to deny jewels." Carefully taking it in both hands, he gently places it atop her dark hair, sinking it into place. He then steps back, smiling bashfully.
                          
"If anyone is to wear my mothers crown, it should be you." He says warmly, adjusting a piece of hair over Artemis's healing ear, "And Ivar wouldn't have it any other way."
                          
She smiles back just as warmly, turning back towards the bronze bowl to rake her eyes over her reflection once more. The silver coronet gleamed in the natural light coming from the window, and the rubies sparkled vividly, like the reddest roses on a fair spring day.
                          
"Thank you, Hvitserk." He nods with a smile, head turning back when he hears the guard call for him.
                          
"Prince Hvitserk, My Lady," Dafi steps in with a slight bow, "Heahmund has informed me that the king is ready."
                          
"Very well," Hvitserk replies turning to look over at the nervous bride, "It is time. Let's go show Kattegat its new queen." He stretches out a hand for her to take, and she does, albiet very nervously. She gives Geirdis a quick glance, and the girl waste no time in offering her mistress a smile. She smiles back, standing up, and linking her arm into Hvitserk's.