“Oh, you are soo beautiful, my dear.” Leila gave her newest, and eldest daughter a teary eyed look. “Katrina, you did wonderful work on the gown.”

“Deirdre admired herself in the full length mirror and let out a small sigh. “Mother, I never quite envisioned myself as the blushing bride at my wedding. Life is strange, isn’t it?”

“You can say that one again, with feeling.” Katrina laughed as she made a few final adjustments to the bridal gown. “And all through your younger years I worried that you’d end up a catamite at some brothel in a place no one has ever heard of. I’d say that you’ve done considerably better for yourself than that and I am so happy for you.”

“I’d say my sister has done much better that simply ‘considerably’, Katrina.” Ilene added. “Wow, I never thought I’d be related to one of the most beloved women in the Kingdom!”

“Nice of you to say that, sister dear.” Deirdre smiled and shook her head. “I have yet to really earn that adoration, though.”

“As Father, our REAL father, tends to say when someone is avoiding things… bull shit, big sister.” Ilene laughed. “You have a real, seagoing ship named after you, have been in more battles than some soldiers can boast, and take care of your own no matter how humble their standing. Trust me, I know because I still live in the town. The people adore you big sister, the military would die to a man for you, and even guilds that shall go unnamed here and are usually ambivalent towards nobility love you. How many monarchs you’ve ever read about have had all that going for them?”

“None.” Mina stepped into the conversation. “Which brings up an unpleasant subject for such a happy day and I am sorry to have to broach it at all. But there are still people out there, who will very likely be attending the wedding, who would like nothing better than see our dear friend and well loved relative die at the altar. She is going to be queen, and already carries a potential heir in her delicate little tummy. Be aware, and if shouting starts, get down, get behind something solid, and wait for the professionals to handle things.”

Everyone sobered at that until Deirdre chuckled and patted a long bag that had been covered in white satin to match her gown before saying. “Come on all of you. Do you know what my ‘something old’ is?”

At their blank looks, she opened the bag and carefully withdrew her Goblin Claw with a smirk. “Think this would qualify for that one?”

Everyone, including her maids simply nodded without saying a word.

“Good choice, my friend and liege.” Mina broke the silence.

The soon to be bride laughed at the dour expressions her bridesmaids were wearing. “Oh come on. I survived the dungeons of Leslie when I started out almost buck naked. All of you know this dress fits nicely over my armor. If trouble does start, just drop, roll, and get behind something nice and heavy.”

“I think I’ll pass on that last suggestion, your Grace.” Mina grinned.

“Of course you would.” Deirdre gave her lady in waiting/deadly assassin bodyguard a smirk. “I would have been very disappointed otherwise. But the rest of you take my advice if things go bad. This may not be the most tranquil wedding Jhalmar has ever seen.”

Leila took Deirdre into a tight hug and whispered. “Daughter, do you know that you are one very scary person?”

“You know,” Deirdre answered while returning the hug, “you aren’t the first person to tell me that?”

“How does that feel?” Alomar asked as Garret flexed and moved in the wedding suit expressly designed to hide the fact he was wearing armor under it.

“Not bad.” Garret answered while still moving to check his mobility. “Warm, but I’ve been far more uncomfortable at social gatherings.”

“If that’s because you were working to keep your lovely, delicate, and demure wife-to-be from gutting someone with a dull spoon, I could understand that.” The knight answered with a chuckle.

“Don’t make jokes about that.” Garret told him. “Since that infamous spoon incident I’ve been constantly wishing there was some form of tableware that couldn’t be lethal in the right hands.”

Everyone in the room laughed at that.

Deirdre flicked her skirt, making the petticoats beneath rustle and grimaced. “I didn’t need armor underneath all this. It would take a cannon to penetrate the fabric.”

“Best err on the side of safety, your Grace.” Mina smirked.

“I know, I know.” The future queen muttered. “But with all this stuff I’m wearing it will be three days before we can officially consummate the marriage.”

“Oh, I’m sure both you and Garret are inventive enough to shorten that span considerably.” Mina laughed.

“Remind me to have you flogged.” Careful not to muss her intricately coiffed hair, Deirdre glared at Mina then added with grin. “Once I live long enough to have grandchildren.”

“I’ll make a note of that, your Grace.” The former assassin chuckled.

Attentively standing behind the altar and performing the duties of the maid she was masquerading as, Bridget couldn’t contain her smile. Those around her simply thought she was happy to be an important part of helping the wedding happen.

The surviving assassins were in place and ready, despite their losses to Vertigan’s people and that still unknown third player. They had found it necessary to close the distance originally worked out for the attack, but still, there were more than enough of them to do what had been planned. Bridget had delivered their weapons under the guise of offering refreshment to the throng awaiting a wedding that no one in history would ever forget.

“Remember this.” The one who always remained in shadows told his followers. “This future princess and queen is the daughter of one of our own. The Guard, and likely enough of Vertigan’s people won’t differentiate between you and the assassins, but never forget this. We have protected her Grace up to now, and we aren’t about to stop doing that because the official guardians don’t recognize us as friends.”

The gathered shadows answered their leader with a quiet chorus of agreement.

Their sergeant, young as he was commanded respect from the contingent of agents watching the back entrance. “Also, again, be aware that we have allies in this we don’t know. If you see someone taking an assassin down, assist them then leave them alone. Just make very certain that you allow the right people to go without interference.”

Garret checked the very workmanlike dagger before sliding it into the sheath at his side. “Not bad work on the flashy stuff for the hilt.”

He’d found the ornamentation slid easily off the real, leather bound hilt before even agreeing to take the weapon with him. His sword was also thinly disguised as a ceremonial weapon. “Good work all.”

“And what is her Grace carrying for a weapon, your highness?” One of the armorers questioned with concern.

“You don’t want to know, trust me.” Garret chuckled. “Only trust that is the most effective close in weapon she, or just about anyone else could possess.”

“Ahh, well that covers ‘the something old’ tradition. The chief weapons master nodded with a grin. “I shudder to think what she is using for something blue.”

“Likely her language if anyone dares try to interrupt this wedding.” Garret laughed.

No one argued with that at all.

“Never,” Chance Mul breathed as he beheld the bride. “Has a father had a more beautiful daughter just to hand her over to some other man.”

“Why you say the nicest things, Daddy!” Deirdre performed a graceful curtsey and grinned at him. “Such courtly things coming out of your mouth today, dear father. Just don’t forget I still remember Riddler.”

“You and more than a few others.” Mul ruefully agreed, then gave her a grin that showed where her mischief had come from. “But such is life, my dear child, such is life.”

“As you say, daddy.” She smirked then got a reminiscent look on her face. “Not so long ago I was nothing but a ragamuffin orphan no one really wanted.”

“Oh that’s wrong.” The baron countered. “I ached to know my children for more years than I care to tell you about. I would not disgrace your mother with the public knowledge that her ‘real’ husband had not fathered her children.”

“A thief with a sense of honor.” Shaking her head, she offered her arm. “I do hope that you never stop being so full of contradictions, my lord father.”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear child.” He chuckled. “I have contradictions I haven’t even pulled out of my pocket yet.”

“Good.”

“Are you ready? The march has begun.”

“As ready as I’m ever going to be, father.”

“Then hang tightly to my arm, ignore the crowd, and watch your husband-to-be waiting at the end of this walk, dear.”

“Oh gods.” She breathed as they reached the open door leading to the great central nave of the temple. “There are so many people out there!”

“What I just said, love.” The baron chided. “Remember this wedding is probably the biggest event in generations for this and several other kingdoms. Surely you can stand one short walk to reach what you’ve wanted since you met the man.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She softly answered then added. “Start walking, please.”

Garret watched proudly as his bride regally approached the altar on the arm of her father. Her entrance had been greeted by muffled sighs, ahh’s, and then a respectful silence for the feisty beauty who would one day be their queen.

Alomar leaned over just enough to whisper. “I think she has a rather firm grip on someone instead of it being the other way around for a change, my friend.”

“I noticed.” Garret flashed a quick grin in response. “But she is so lovely I don’t think anyone other than us have noticed that the good baron is likely to have a few bruises on that arm that are about the size of her fingers.”

“Worried?” Alomar asked with a smirk.

“About being married to that little hellion?” Garret asked in response, then sobered. “Or about that rumors that our shadowy enemies are going to strike at the wedding?”

“Either or.”

“The first, mainly, to be honest.” Garret shrugged. “My bride has proven she can take care of herself in a fight, and let’s see, she has the two premiere knights in Jhalmar, two mages — battle capable and proven, the finest assassin this world has seen in generations, and numerous other dangerous characters just in her wedding party. Not to mention she’s carrying her favorite back scratcher along.”

“I almost feel sorry for anyone foolish enough to try anything today.” Alomar grinned.

“I don’t.” Garret answered simply.

The nervousness faded into a wash of pride as Deirdre approached the raised dais and altar. “My beloved, the father of my child and my champion.”

“What was that, dear?” Baron Mul questioned.

“Just thinking out loud, father.” She responded with a genuinely happy smile. “Garret looks so regal, and handsome standing up there, doesn’t he?”

“That he does, dear one.” Mul answered and gave her arm a little squeeze. “I can’t think of anyone this father would rather see you with.”

“Oh, sorry about your arm.” Deirdre sighed. “I was almost terrified when we entered.”

“No matter, dear, though you are stronger than you look, believe me.” Her father answered with a little grimace. “Besides, what are few little bruises to worry about? Especially today?”

“I do love you, Daddy.” She laughed. “You always seem to have the right thing to say whether it’s acceptable or not.”

“I love you, too, my little darling.”

Her father gently set her hand in Garrret’s once they reached the dais, gave both a smile and backed away with a courtly bow. The couple looked at each other grinned and turned to face the altar and waiting priest without a word.

Jessica, Ilene, Mina, and Leila were ranged to Deirdre’s left, While Alomar, Elgil the newly knighted betrothed of Ilene, Anthalas who had pulled himself away from the wonders of his new found treasure trove, and Harald the court mage were to Garret’s left.

The ceremony went smoothly with all the right words, gestures, and responses right up to the final consecration of the marriage to the gods. At that point the very air shivered as subtle magical shields were dropped, a few people either screamed or shouted warnings, and a bewildering array of missiles filled the air.

After that, things really went downhill.

Mina pushed Deirdre down and aside as a large amount of those aforementioned missiles, darts, and small crossbow bolts sang their deadly song through the spot she had occupied a moment before.

Harald, Jessica, and Anthalas spread to form the points of a triangle with the rest of the wedding party in its center, raising their hands to form a protective globe around everyone on the dais and started fighting the opposing mages who had managed to hide themselves until the attack began.

Garret, Alomar and Elgil drew weapons that were obviously not ceremonial and formed up to protect the ladies who had no defenses of their own and the priest and his attendants scrambled, dove and rolled in undignified tangles of limbs, robes, and other accouterments in a near panicked rush to reach some form of safety.

Deirdre shook herself, looked to her sister and mother and had to shout to be heard. “Are you all right?”

At their frightened, but determined nods, she let out a visible sigh of relief then began to rise as Garret rushed to her side. “I’m fine, Love, I’m fine.

Gods!” she pales as something else occurred to her. “Their Majesties! Are they…”

“Covered by their own guard and your father,” Garret reassured her, “and being safely moved out of harm’s way.”

Standing and taking in the chaos a formerly solemn and happy occasion had fallen into, the midnight haired almost-princess’ blue eyes flamed with a very controlled anger. Reaching into a long and fairly well hidden white satin bag she began pulling something familiar out while growling. “That’s it! Ruin MY wedding will they?”

Chance Mul backed towards the now open secret door, sword drawn and his long dirk in his off hand, with these weapons he was more than a formidable opponent. To all but a few highly skilled weapons masters he would be unstoppable. But the swarm of enemies fighting through the panicked crowd to reach him, and the King and Queen were more than even his confidence allowed him to think he could handle.

Without turning, he commanded the guards moving to cover his back. “Never mind me, get their Majesties out of here and safe. I’ll hold the damned door.”

At their hesitation he sighed and almost gently ordered them. “I can take care of myself you lot. Your duty is to them. Carry it out.”

Once the door had closed and he heard the distinct click of it locking into place, Baron Chance Mul left his newfound nobility and Riddler emerged in all his slippery glory. Bolts, arrows, and darts passed through air where he had been a breath before, or were simple batted away by one of his blades. Without a word, like a murderous shade returned to exact an awful vengeance, he set to the grim task of holding that precious door safe.

He nearly struck out as a shadow detached from the wall nearby to stand at his side, but held his blow as he recognized the man. “Sestalphas. I thought you liked that cushy job of yours too much to risk something like this.”

Deirdre’s personal secretary shrugged while drawing a pair of long, lean blades out and almost negligently knocking another quarrel away from them. “Doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to do this. Besides, why should you have all the fun?”

Waiting for the gaggle of terrified clerics to clear the small door hidden by curtains behind the altar, Bridgette gave a few helpful shoves or kicks to hurry them along drew a long, slender bladed dagger from a sheath at her thigh and moved through the opening.

“Finally.” She breathed, watching the carnage, and making certain that all her enemy’s protectors were busy with other things. “Now I finish you, bitch. Once and for all.”

“Get us a healer!” Evaine briskly commanded while holding a piece ripped from her gown to a bleeding spot on Cedric’s shoulder. “The King has been injured.”

“I’m fine, Evaine.” Cedric smiled and patted her hand. “Had worse than this from shaving, and you know it.”

“Your color tells me otherwise, my love.” His queen demurred, then turned to the group of soldiers and almost screamed. “I said…”

“Festin left to do that when we saw the wound, your Highness.” The chief of their personal guard gently answered. “Jerome and Alis are on their way now.”

“How many of these traitors are there?” Alomar gritted out between surges of the battle.

“More than enough for me, sir.” Elgil answered grimly. “And here come some more.”

“My name…” Alomar got out as the three met another attack. “Is Alomar, Sir Elgil… Call me sir again and I might just take you task for that later.”

“Would. You. Two,” Garret punctuated each word with a strike of his own sword. “save the arguing about that till… later?”

“He does have a point, s.. Alomar.” Elgil admitted while working a bit to the side to cover the groom in this disaster of a wedding a bit better.

“Good man.” Alomar approved. Whether that was for the former squire calling him by name or for the move to cover a comrade’s vulnerable side was a question to be answered later.

Bridgette could hold back no longer she was more than close enough in all the confusion. With a triumphant screech, she leaped to plunge her dagger into her hated enemy’s back.

The only warning Deirdre had that someone with ill intent was behind her was a widening of her sister’s eyes and the beginnings of a warning forming on Ilene’s mouth. It was enough. Turning slightly and moving to her left had the wicked blade tearing through her gown but glancing off the armor she wore beneath it.

The turn carried her around enough to bring the thing she’d pulled out of the folds in her gown into sight as she brought it into a defensive position. Her eyes widened on recognizing her attacker. “Bridgette. I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away, even without an invitation.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Roric’s former lady growled while moving the dagger she carried. “And don’t think that fancy armor is going to protect you from this.”

“Maybe not.” Deirdre didn’t move but did raise her goblin claw a bit. “But I think this will.”

“A back scratcher?” The other woman almost laughed. “This is going to be easier than I thought.”

“Mina.” Deirdre shook her head as the former assassin began to interpose herself between the pair. “She’s mine. Get Ilene and mother to safety.”

“Your Grace…”

“I Said she’s mine, Mina.” Deirdre answered with a dangerous quiet in her voice.

“Whatever you say.”

“That’s what I say, yes.” Deirdre affirmed then gave Bridgette a smile that would have chilled a blizzard wind. “Welcome to my wedding you traitorous bitch.”

The pair didn’t even bother circling, just dove straight into the other with screams of mingled rage and pain as they collided.

“Think their Majesties are safely away by now?” Sestalphas ran one attacker through and flattened another with the hilt of his other weapon. We’d do much better with more freedom of movement, you know.”

“I know, I know, old friend.” Chance answered while making sure another traitor went to pay for his crimes before his god. “But I told them I’d hold this door, and hold it I will until I know they’re out of danger.”

“Well, I think we just got your answer, the other man grinned as the hidden door flew open and royal guardsmen poured out and around them. “Shall we?”

“A moment.” Chance briefly spoke to one of the guardsmen, nodded, then turned to his friend with an evil grin. “Now we can show these amateurs what it means to face a real pair of trained thieves and blademasters.”

“About time.” Sestalphas nodded in satisfaction as the pair moved out from the protective ring of guards. “Let’s teach these upstarts a lesson the survivors won’t soon forget.”

“My thoughts exactly, old friend.” Chance pointed with his chin towards a concentration of the would be assassins armed with those tiny crossbows. “Let’s start with them.”

Alis shook her head, sorrow clear on her still beautiful face as she approached Evaine. “I’m sorry, your Highness. The wound is easy to care for. The poison on the bolt is less so. I fear he is dying and there is nothing either of us can do other than to slow it and ease his pain.”

Evaine had been told of the poisons these attackers were using and though pale and with tears running down her cheeks, she accepted what her personal healer said with a calm that showed she was truly a Queen. “Do what you can, Alis. I — I will be with him but don’t expect much from me in the way of compassion for anyone else just now.”

“Understandable, Your Highness — my old friend.” Alis gave her Queen a quick hug and turned her own tear streaked face back to keeping Cedric alive and pain free as long as possible. “Jerome and I will make certain he suffers no pains we can prevent.”

“Thank you.” Evaine returned the hug. “Thank you.”

“Harald!” Ilene, instead of allowing herself to be taken to safety had stayed, handing out extra weapons, binding wounds, and generally making herself as unobtrusively helpful as possible, saw the dart work through the shields and strike the mage in the neck.

Without thought of possible consequences, she ran to his side. She had become great friends with the court mage of Jhalmar since her sister had become what she was and carefully pulled the dart out of the wound and helped the old man into a sitting position.

“Blue bottle, belt pouch.” The mage gasped out.

With some scrabbling, and several false starts, she found it and tried giving it to him.

“No, dear one.” He grated out, fighting the pain he was in. “Drink it. It will protect you. I am done.”

“No!” Ilene tried putting the opened bottle to his lips but he took her wrist with a strength she couldn’t fight and shook his head before gently telling her. “No, it would do me no good. I never did get to know your sister all that well, given the things that have been happening since she became what she is, but you, you I have. Don’t waste the last gift I have for you, little one. Please.”

“But you can’t die!” Ilene insisted. “You’re the court mage, maybe the most powerful in all the world. I won’t let you!”

“Child, dear child.” Harald actually chuckled and gave her chin a gentle thump with a finger. “Everyone dies, it is merely moving on to something else, and my time to move on has come. Now, come, drink the potion and accept my gift while I can see you do so. It would make an old man very happy, trust me.

Before you drink, I tell you to remember what I’m telling you.” He looked directly into her eyes with a force that wouldn’t be denied. “Temper your anger with thought, consideration, and mercy. Now drink.”

“All right.” Ilene hesitantly put the mouth of the tiny bottle to her own and tipped it up, taking the sweetish but bitter contents in one convulsive swallow.

“Behold my successor.” Harald smiled and ran on hand over her cheek with a gentle smile. “I wish that you had been my daughter, Ilene Mul, but as it is, you’ll do. Don’t forget what I told you earlier. You’ll do well. I know it.”

With one long sigh, Harald died. Ilene screamed in anguish and that scream reached places far indeed from that temple. Then, knowing what to do without really understanding how she did, Deirdre’s little sister took her place in the spot Harald had stood in and added a new power she still didn’t completely comprehend to the mage shield protecting the others.

Though that didn’t keep her raging grief from finding enemies individually and putting an end to their existence.

Bridgette thrust with all her strength at her enemy’s stomach but that one twisted aside with an agility she shouldn’t have possessed in that bulky gown. “What does it take to kill you, bitch?”

“More than you can bring to the table.” Deirdre grimaced. “Bad enough you wish me dead, but you and your friends threaten my husband and child.”

“Child?” Bridgette hesitated for a moment at that revelation. You are with child?

“Then even more important you should die!” She screamed while slashing brutally for Deirdre’s throat with her weapon.

The odd weapon Deirdre carried glowed for a moment then moved seemingly of its own accord to block that slash. Batting the blade aside and leaving Bridgette off balance.

“I’ve been merciful twice with you, bitch.” Deirdre told her with an almost sad note in her voice. “To my and other’s great regret. There will be no third time.”

Following that, she reached forward with the Goblin Claw and touched the other’s chest. “Go to your reward or punishment, but don’t plague me or mine again. I command it.”

A Blue white haze formed around Bridgette and brightened as the woman struggled to strike again. She froze with an expression of mixed rage and horror on her face.

“I would kill you without a qualm.” Deirdre told her. “But that would only release your damaged soul to do more harm. Where you go now will determine a good deal, but you’ll never rise to threaten me or my children again. Go.”

Bridgette screamed as something seemed to grab her and pull her away from her hated enemy. The scream diminished as she did, as if she was moving away very fast. Deirdre watched until the diminishing point vanished then shook her head and looked at the gobblin claw. “What did you just do?

What did I just do, come to think of it?” She went on then shook her head. “That was a bit anti-climactic but I suppose it worked. Now if I could just figure out what that was.”

The battle was over, and the attackers either dead or well confined in dungeon cells specifically made to hold prisoners with either mage power or who had help from mages. Ilene, grim faced and looking far older than her fourteen years made certain the surviving attackers were well prisoned then shook her head, sat down and cried.

The surviving wedding party, and others, gathered in a much smaller chapel and the high priest was found and brought there. Once the cleric had arrived, Cedric forced himself to stand, walked painfully to the altar and gave the priest a look that plainly said he would brook no arguments. “Finish the ceremony.”

“But Your Highness…”

“FINISH THE CEREMONY.” Cedric roared with all of his well known strength then softened his voice. “Now, priest. I would see this finished leaving my nation and people in good hands.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” The priest nodded and gestured for Garret and Deirdre to approach him as he closed his eyes, drawing in calm and the power of the gods. Cedric watched as a tearful Evaine joined him. “In the sight of this gathering, and the gods, I consecrate this marriage and declare these two before me as joined in matrimony and life. Let none come between them on pain of the gods’ wrath. So it is said, so let it be!”

Garret lifted the now torn veil covering Deirdre’s face and lifted her chin with one finger. “Hello, my wife, my beloved.”

“I greet you, my husband and love.” Deirdre answered softly and leaned forward and went to her tip toes to set her mouth against his. The kiss was long, heartfelt from both sides and in spite of all the upset, put flames in her belly and a fire between his legs.

“A moment, if you’ll forgive me.” Cedric interrupted their rapt regard of one another as he took Garret’s right hand, and Deirdre’s left, joining them with his over both. “The King is dead, LONG LIVE THE KING!”

Having said that, he smiled at the newlyweds, then sighed as he seated himself on the altar and allowed his wife, Evaine to hug him tightly before the light began fading from his eyes. “Rule well, both of you, with my last blessing.

I will await you, my love.” He quietly told Evaine. “Don’t grieve overmuch, I’m not about to lose you forever. Remember that.”

“Come my beautiful queen.” Garret whispered to Deirdre. “There will be time for grieving, and we will do more than enough of that, I know. But for now, the gods demand consummation.”

“I was going to brain you if you claimed a headache this time.” Deirdre managed to give him a little smirk as she lay back on the bed in anticipation. “Now get with it husband.”

Well, this one has been quite a ride hasn’t it? I want to thank all of you who have followed the somewhat erratic adventures of Deirdre and her loved ones, friends, and enemies. I know that at times it probably wasn’t all that easy to do.

For those of you complaining about the sudden closeness between Harald and Ilene I have something to tell you here. There is a story about that and it will be told, though think about it for a minute. Ilene’s brother/sister was going through what amounted to Hell and Harald seemed to know what was going on. Where would a loving sister (with the same genes and temperament Deirdre has) go for answers?

The goblin claw? Well that’s a mystery that might or might now be revealed in time, and yes, I know exactly what it is, what it does, and how it does it, I’m just not telling right now.

Will there be another tale about Queen Deirdre in the future? Count on it, just not in the near future. There are other projects demanding attention right now that I should see to. But that evil cabal is still out there, war still looms on the horizon like the dark clouds of a nasty squall line headed right at you, and the story is far from finished. I just need to recharge so to speak by working on something else for awhile.

Next. Thank you to the Whateley writers group who first convinced me that Deirdre’s story shouldn’t be scrapped and was going to be a good one. I know I’ve shamefully neglected you all recently and hope to change that soon, too.

Last but far from least, thank you so much to those of you who have encouraged me, kicked me in the butt when needed, and offered suggestions for this story. You all know who you are so I won’t embarrass you by mentioning names. Just know I treasure you, your friendship and your help.

Maggie Finson