Chapter 37 The Wedding
On the wedding day, the Wolf Spirit Temple stood solemnly and majestically. The ancient black stone walls bore witness to countless historical events and vows.
Imperial dignitaries gathered, and Jericho Swine, dressed in solemn everyday attire, sat in the front row as the officiant, his expression as enigmatic as ever. Outside the hall, the boisterous crowd was neatly kept behind the cordon by black-armored guards, but their cheers and chatter could still be faintly heard like a tide, adding a unique background noise to the wedding.
Draven commissioned an unprecedentedly lavish wedding suit for himself—a fitted tailcoat predominantly white, with lapels made of eerily lustrous emerald green snakeskin, meticulously edged with bright silver leather, and worn over a dark green silk shirt (styled after his "Blade Butler" skin). Standing beneath the massive wolf spirit statue, he revealed a rare, barely perceptible tension, his fingers unconsciously adjusting the overly stiff collar.
When the gentle strains of "Für Elise" filled the hall, all the whispers vanished instantly.
Alice appeared in the light at the temple entrance.
The wedding dress, woven from moonlight gauze, seemed to radiate a soft glow, making her appear like an elf who had quietly descended to earth. This wedding dress, which required dozens of top craftsmen and used moonlight gauze transported from the southern rainforest and Freljord polar ice crystals, was predominantly white and emerald green. The huge skirt spread out behind her, covering one-third of the main path of the Wolf Spirit Temple.
Her curves, accentuated by the pristine gown, presented a breathtaking beauty that combined innocence and sensuality. Her long silver hair was meticulously styled, adorned with a tiara collected by Draven, studded with countless tiny star-shaped gems. Her red eyes, pure and curious, surveyed everything around her.
She was being led by Darius. The Hand of Noxus had shed his heavy armor today, donning a sharp dark suit. His expression remained serious, but his movements were unusually steady.
Alice walked barefoot, with adorable flower girls scattering petals ahead of her. These petals were cleverly mixed with anti-magic stone powder and dazzling gold dust that Draven had acquired at great expense from Demacia, ensuring that she walked on a safe path with every step. She walked slowly and steadily toward Draven, her face bearing a pure and joyful smile, as innocent and radiant as a child receiving a beloved toy.
Draven watched Alice walk towards him, and in that moment, all his flamboyance and theatricality seemed to shed from him. His eyes were fixed on this woman, the only treasure he had searched for nineteen years, traversing war, and finally regained.
He reached out and grasped her slightly cool hand tightly, almost tremblingly.
The ceremony was presided over by Swein, whose deep, magnetic voice echoed throughout the hall.
“Draven,” Swain’s gaze fell on him, “Do you take Alice to be your wife, to love and cherish her, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, in riches and in poverty, until the end of your life?”
Draven took a deep breath and, in his signature booming voice that could echo throughout the entire arena, addressed the solemn hall, gazing intently into Alice's eyes, and declared:
"I do! I, Draven, in this life, the next life, and the life after that, I only want Alice! Wolf Spirit is my witness! Anyone who dares to object, I'll give them a good talking to with my throwing axe!"
The oath was crude and domineering, without any embellishment, yet it was so sincere and passionate that it moved everyone present who knew him.
When it was Alice's turn, she first looked at Draven's expectant face, then looked up at the majestic wolf spirit statue, and then, in a clear and melodious voice, earnestly and word by word, recited the words Draven had taught her repeatedly:
"Alice agrees! To stay with Djokovic forever and eat lots and lots of donuts!"
His innocent and pure words elicited a suppressed, good-natured chuckle, but everyone could see that Draven's eyes, which were always full of mockery and arrogance, were now filled with almost overflowing ecstasy and near-devout happiness.
When exchanging rings, Draven didn't present any extravagant rings in the conventional sense. They were two rings crafted from metal melted from his original throwing axe—the one whose handle was always adorned with that charred headband—their design simple yet unique, set with crimson gems the color of their eyes. On the inside of the rings was engraved a small inscription:
My glory belongs to you.
When Swain finally proclaimed in a resounding voice, "With the spirit of the wolf as my witness, I declare you husband and wife," Draven could no longer contain his overwhelming emotions. He suddenly swept Alice up in his arms, and amidst gasps and bursts of enthusiastic applause and cheers, he excitedly spun his bride around several times. Then, under the watchful eyes of everyone present, he kissed his beloved deeply and passionately.
end:
That evening, a grand wedding banquet was held at Draven's luxurious mansion, and the festivities were deafening.
On the highest terrace of the mansion, far from the hustle and bustle below, Draven had already changed out of his elaborate wedding attire and was now wearing only a simple white shirt. He held Alice, who had also changed into a comfortable nightgown, as they looked down at the magnificent fireworks display that had been set off to celebrate their wedding, a display so dazzling it illuminated the entire Immortal Fortress night sky.
“Alice,” he whispered, his chin gently brushing against the top of her fragrant hair, “now, the whole world knows you’re Draven’s.”
Alice snuggled closer to him in his warm, firm embrace, finding a more comfortable position, and responded with a sleepy, soft murmur:
"Little De... is Alice's now too..."
Draven paused upon hearing this, then couldn't help but chuckle softly, a pleasant vibration emanating from his chest.
“Yes,” he tightened his arms around her, watching the dazzling fireworks that finally exploded in the night sky, forming two huge crossed axes, and whispered in an unprecedentedly gentle and firm tone, “I am yours too.”
From then on, every time the Executioner of Glory spun his axe, it was not only to win the applause of millions, but also to please the only, eternal audience in his life.
His glory has finally found its only home.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
