"Sy-on boy?!" legally 20 year old Anya Forger exclaims. "What do you mean I have to marry Damian?"
"Exactly what I said," Loid Forger says. "I know it doesn't seem fair and I know you didn't get on with him back in school but it's been decided by the Westalian government, you've made a name for yourself as a hero for the people for both Westalians and Ostanians, you've become the perfect candidate."
"But why Damian? There are loads of Ostanian rich boys my age? Why the one who hates my guts?"
"His father put him forward when the idea was brought up," Loid explains noting his wife Yor Forger seething in kitchen at the idea of forcing their daughter to get married.
Over the years he's noticed an innate anger within her, an aura of a killer that didn't fit her homely image. He didn't bring it up for the sake of peace between them but on some very rare occasions, he even felt scared of her as well.
Suddenly, Anya turned to the magazine she had been reading, flipping through the pages until a familiar face appeared on the pages, and oh-so familiar crest.
Her former classmate and future husband brandished the page in fashionable outfit.
Is that really Sy-on boy?
She couldn't deny he'd become more handsome through the years but she couldn't imagine herself alongside him. They hardly ever got on back when they were children, perhaps the years apart has eased their relationship.
~~~~
Her assumption was wrong. Over the next few weeks, the Forgers and the Desmonds met each other every few days to discuss wedding plans. Despite her disapproval, Yor accompanied Anya to the dress shops to buy her wedding dress. They'd looked for hours until they finally settled.
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Then the wedding day finally arrived. Damian hadn't bothered too much with his suit. He was a model, anything he wore looked designer on him. A plain white suit with a pink rose he'd secretly picked out because it reminded him of Anya's hair.
He was opposed to the marriage at first. He wasn't told who the girl would be. "Just some girl from your old school."
That helped. Like there weren't hundreds of girls attending the school in his years there
He had waited impatiently at the table as the butler told him that his fiancee and her family arrived.
Then she came in, faking grace as she walked over to the table and sat down across from him. Her hair twice as long as he remembered but her hair ornaments still placed on either side of her head.
She hadn't changed, not really. Just more beautiful.
"Anya...?" he says surprised,
"I guess you do remember me Sy-on boy," she said to him.
Since then those words had been echoing in his mind whenever he thought of her.
For him the weeks dragged on, he'd been excited, but when she finally walked down the isle, her 5'6 height besides her father who was 6'1, slowly getting closer to him, he'd surpressed his excitement.
He stood at 6'0 but that single inch felt like a whole foot taller when Loid bent down slowly and whispered in his ear, "hurt her and I'll kill you and leave the body somewhere no one will ever find it."
What scared him more, was the glares, Yor Forger had been sending him throughout the last few weeks. He'd barely slept as her anger had been haunting his nightmares.
The ceremony took place and just as the priest said "you may now" he was cut off as a golden hair piece flew through the air, right between the bride and groom and straight into the wall behind them.
"Mum?!" Anya exclaimed as the whole church turned to the woman in question.
Her arm was still out stretched.
Loid made her sit down again. The priest began sweating and breating heavily, "I guess we can skip that part."
