*this is not a mary-sue fic, promise.* Carrion's been betrothed to a princess of Day since the day they were born. Can he adapt? Will she survive? Violence, terror, agony and betrayal-- just another evening in Midnight Realm. carrionxoc. full summary---

"Izis?" A soft, tender voice crooned from beyond the door. Said girl cringed and sunk her face lower into her arms. Dear God, the peanut gallery has arrived. There were three knocks at the door and then it creaked open, and Izis' elderly handmaiden poked her wrinkled face in. "It's time for you to meet your betrothed."

"Can't I just say I'm deathly ill with the bubonic plague, or something?" Izis didn't know what the bubonic plague was, she had heard it was some kind of Hereafter disease, but it sounded disgusting and repulsive.

"What on lordy lou's earth is a bubonic plague?" Nnewlda came through the door, all 4000 pounds of her. She waddled over. Izis swore she felt the floor rumble underneath her gargantium feet.

"Nevermind."

"Is this the dress you're wearing?" Nnewlda exclaimed, sounding mortified. She had found Izis' planned outfit laid out on the bed. "How morbid! What about the dress your sister sent you from the Yebba Dim Day? Orange would really bring out the colour of your hair."

"My hair is white."

"Even better!" Nnewlda said merrily. "Now, I'm pretty sure you would want to wear Mura's little scarf and gloves... oh, you would look so cute--"

"Nnewlda, please, for the love of God, leave me be."

"Now, now," the motherly maiden sludged over to her. Izis was slouched over on the windowsill, smoking foreign cigarillos. "Oh goodness, put that out, we don't want you stinking like smoke!" Izis rolled her eyes and stubbed it out on the coral pink ashtray before her. She turned in her chair, looking up at Nnewlda's massive, flabby face. "What would your husband think!"

"That I was a trashy, good-for-nothing money-scrounger and he would divorce me in a heartbeat." Izis replied. Nnewlda blinked, trying to decide if she was being sarcastic or not.

"With that attitude," she huffed, turning away. "Come on then, we'll get you dressed in that thing--"

"That was my mother's." she retorted sharply and Nnewlda didn't reply, finally noticing she had crossed the line with the bad-tempered girl. "I can dress myself. Now leave." Nnewlda sighed in defeat and bowed her way out, saying she would be back in fifteen minutes to take Izis to the dining hall.

-------------------------.-------------------------

Even though I would never admit it in a thousand years, I was nervous. I stood, fully dressed, looking at myself in full-body mirror. I had a boyish body, with small breasts but I at least had a little bit of hips to boast. I was short and too skinny, as Nnewlda often pointed out as politely as possible. Sometimes, I swear that woman wanted me to be just a plump little housewife with a hundred kids puttering around. God, I would rather... I don't know what I would rather do, but it wouldn't be pleasant at all. My hair was white. So was my mom's, and my grandma's, and my great-grandma's, and probably all the grandmas down the list had white hair. It was down. It was too straight. Dad often said it would give my angular face volume if I curled it, like mom had.

Whatever. The dress revealed all of my back, which I admit to myself was my best feature. The dress itself was black, sleeveless, with a low v-neck that at least gave me some kind of bust. Hey, I liked looking good, even though I wasn't keen on impressing anyone. Okay, I lie. Not like I would ever admit it though. I slid on mom's silver bracelets, putting the gold arm bands around my biceps and fitting in the silver hoop earings my sister had given me. Mura had a terrible taste in fashion, except when it came to earrings. For a choker? Hmmmm. I looked through my jewellery box and chose a nice silver one. My eyes were probably the most plainest brown ever, so I put on some kohl to make them pop out. That always looks nice, eh?

Nnewlda had wanted me to wear the hideous orange sundress Mura had sent me. God, I would rather hang myself with it then wear it. It was still in its box under my bed, where it would fester and rot. I was smoking another cigarillo-- Nnewlda and my fiance could go to hell. Not like I had wanted this, but apparently it was time for the Night and the Day to reunite. And what better way then to marry the youngest of the Day family off? I wish it was Mura, she was the princess.

Nnewlda returned moments later. She knocked and then entered. I turned to face her. Her face softened. "You look gorgeous." she said joyfully. I rolled my eyes. "Come now, everyone's waiting!"

"Really?" I groaned.

"Well, actually, Lord Carrion has just docked in with his ship on the island, with his grandmother. Your father is waiting for you, if impatiently I might add." I sighed and allowed Nnewlda drag me out the door. As we walked through the sunny halls, I realized that I was going to miss this place a little. Although the prospect of living in eternal darkness sounded a little bearable, I was going to dread being away from my family, as much as I hated to admit it. The golden statues, the cherubic angels, pastels of pink and gold and blue, watercolour emotions and tinkling laughter. White marble and kind words. Nnewlda had suggested she come with me and I stamped that idea out quite firmly. I know I had hurt her feelings, probably quite badly, but I was sick and tired of being taken care of, fonded over, my cheeks pinched by drunk relatives and flabby hands adjusting my clothes around me everytime I walked out the damn door. I had no privacy, and that was one thing I had always wanted before anything else.

We entered the dining hall, and my father and his subjects were sitting at the long table, waiting for me. They rose as I entered. Dad looked annoyed but he smiled anyways when he saw me.

"Dear Lord," he said as I sat down next to him. The others followed suit. "Your mother was wearing that dress when I met her. Blew my mind." I smiled. I loved it when dad talked about mom. "So, dear, you ready?" he gave me an encouraging look. I glanced at the bottles of wine situated around the table and my eyes narrowed.

"If you give me a few glasses of that, then yes." I pointed to the wine before me and dad chortled.

"I think it best if you meet your new husband sober, darling." his smile faded a little. "Although, you may need it." An afterthought. Oh boy.

"Is he as hideous as everyone says?" I asked. I was expecting a massively overweight dude with lots of body hair and sweating like a pig, and I thought about swallowing the dinner knife before me on the table if it came to that. No way in hell I was going to be having kids. Or even get intimate. The more I thought about this, the more I dreaded this meeting.

Dad opened his mouth to reply, when the butler Ramsel entered, making a grand entrance as per usual.

"M'Lord, Christopher Carrion has arrived." Ramsel said grandly, and there was a hint of distaste in his voice. My stomach clenched uncomfortably and I gripped my dad's hand under the table. God, if anyone saw me do that, I would have them killed. He squeezed it comfortingly.

"Relax. If he harms you, I will put him through the proverbial meat grinder." That caused me to snort a laugh. Nnewlda flinched at my right. Now she was embarassing.

"Okay."

"Send him in then! Don't be rude!" Dad called merrily, cracking open the wine. The cork shot to the ceiling and ricocheted, nearly gutting one of his servants. He laughed and poured himself a glass-- a much larger glass then usual-- and I noticed finally that this pained him even more then me. I felt bad for thinking selfish thoughts earlier. I had planned never to speak to my father again, after I had learned of the engagement last month.

Ramsel nodded, dipped out, and returned minutes later. In stepped two disgusting servents from Gorgossium. Most of them were scarred and there eyes were stark yellow. Then entered a man with criss-cross scars on his face. Then an ancient woman that looked like she had her entire skeletal structure crushed several times hobbled in. On her arm was an extremely tall man in black robes. His face was skeletal and his flesh grey, mouth horribly marred by what looked like remains of stitches. His eyes were the most intense cerulean blue I had ever seen and they swept the room before falling on me. I bit my tongue. Oh Lord. I thought. A large, vase-like contraption surrounded his face, and little worm like things flashed around in there.

"Is that him?" I hissed out of the corner of my mouth. A smile was plastered on my father's face and I couldn't tell if it was fake or not. He nodded.

"Yes, indeed."

I noticed as he walked closer, that two large metal wires were cemented to his skull and seemed to be feeding into the blue liquid in his glass contraption. I couldn't imagine myself kissing him. That would be hard.

"Mater Motley!" Dad boomed. "Get your saucy tart over here and give me a hug!" Motley wrinkled her nose and didn't embrace my father back, who didn't seem to care. I was kind of worried Motley was going to slit his throat if he wasn't careful. She looked rather unhinged. Her grandson hadn't taken his eyes off of me and I was feeling uncomfortable. I stared at my dad instead. He shook Carrion's hand. "Pleasure to see you again, Christopher! You look not a day above ninety!" he laughed. Several of his subjects tittered as well. "I am only joking." my father suddenly turned serious, and business-like. "I have someone you may want to meet."

"Thank you for inviting us here, Danver." Motley said, her lips peeling back from her stumpy green teeth in what I supposed was supposed to resemble a smile. I hoped I wouldn't have to have bonding time with her once we returned to Midnight. The wedding was supposed to be there. Tomorrow. Twelve o clock sharp, ha ha ha, I wanted to choke on my tongue.

"Of course, my dear. Anyways, I believe it's time that your grandson meet my daughter." he extended his arm towards me, and I creaked my mouth into something that I hoped resembled a smile. "Come here, darling." he beckoned me over and I trundled over, resigned. I stood next to him, looking up at Carrion. His gaze was unreadable, but unbelievably powerful. I felt almost hypnotized. You know the saying the eyes are the windows to the soul? This man brought the meaning to life. "Christopher Carrion, this is my daughter Izis, your new wife." the words sounded so foreign I nearly cringed, but I remained composed. "Izis, dear, this is your new husband, Christopher." After a few seconds my dad nudged me and I extended my hand. I suppose the proper way would be to kiss it, but with that thing around his face that impossible.

"Nice to meet you." I droned monotonously. He shook my hand.

"Mm." Carrion replied. He held my grasp for a few moments longer, as if trying to feel something more then my physical touch. Our hands fell away. Dad was prattling on to Motley, who looked annoyed. I knew he was only trying to make the situation less awkward for me, and less depressing for himself. Dad could have been an actor, and an extremely talented one at that. Eventually, father ushered us back to the table to eat.

I sat next to Carrion, of course. I had to. Couldn't be rude. Motley was on the other side of his grandson. I met the scarred man, who was a powerful lieutenant in Carrion's army. His name was Otto Houlihan and he kissed the top of my hand and smirked at me. That made my insides grow cold with fear. Not even Carrion had caused that reaction to me. I just picked at my food. Carrion didn't eat at all. How could he, with that thing on his face? Otto and dad were engaged in conversation. Motley wasn't talking to anybody. She looked like she would rather be dead then be here. I couldn't blame her.

Once dad nudged my leg from under the table, giving me a warning glance when Carrion wasn't looking. Talk to the man! his look told me. Then it turned pleading. Please, my girl, try to love him. I looked at Carrion. He looked like he was faraway, in another world, perhaps dreaming of another girl? I sighed.

"Aren't you hungry?" I ground out. Carrion looked at me. "Oh yeah." I said, foolishly forgetting that he had the contraption on his face. "Eh... are you like, eternally drowning?"

"No." he replied. His tone was calm, serene, powerful, deep. It shook me to the core. I could see why he was one of the most feared men in the Abarat. Maybe even the most feared. He looked odd in the sunlight shining through the windows. The whole Midnight family did, here. The subjects and servents and maids were all uneasy, their laughter forced and their joy fake. I caught looks of pity. I scowled back. Go to hell, I thought. Besides my dad, I don't think I was going to miss this place at all. Perhaps I was even excited for it. This place was boring, where nightmares didn't exist. Sometimes I wondered if I should have been born in the Midnight hour. I certainly thought a raven was more appealing then a dove, a dead flower more useful then a living one. "Magick allows me to breathe."

"Ah. Of course. Magick." I tried a laugh and failed miserably. "Shocker there."

By now, dad had gone through two bottles of wine and was starting on his third. We had been here for forty minutes already, and he was plastered. He thought it would be a good idea to start his annual ritual of initiation dance, which consisted of him jumping on the highest platform he could find near him, and then force his servents to make some sort of beat and sing while he danced the "eternal sun and happiness dance". It was quite a humourous sight. Dad and the uncles had put it together when they were still wild and crazy teenagers on the shores of the Yebba Dim Day. Normally watching him dance made me laugh hysterically until I cried. Except today.

"Say, say! Izis, dear, participate in the annual ritual of initiation!" he said happily, cheeks a bright red. He spilled his wine. "Clumsy me!" he laughed. He had spilled some of it on Motley's dress and a vein was bulging in her cheekbone. A servent rushed forward to clean the spill. Dad had forgotten about it already.

"I would rather swallow my tongue." I retorted. He squealed.

"Oooh, you are dark!" he pinched my cheek and I batted his hand away, flushing angrily. "Come now, let the festivities begin! Barker, Bailey, start the song and dance!"

"Dad... no..." I stood up as dad got on the table. Motley gaped at him, mortified. My father's main servents, Barker and Bailey, were probably equally as drunk and started pounding on the table in an awkward beat and started singing, very off key. Father continued to make an utter idiot out of himself. Houlihan was roaring with laughter.

"Come with me." I said. I didn't want Carrion to see this. I would never be able to look at him in the face again. He arose after a second, and he followed me out onto the balcony.

"I hate my gene pool." I commented, lighting a cigarillo. I leaned on the railing. I heard a crash from within and rubbed my forehead. "I'm sorry. He gets a little carried away with the wine sometimes."

"It's fine." he replied. I didn't dislike him, but I didn't like him. He looked monstrous, to be sure-- and I was aware that beauty was not only skin deep-- but even though I had heard many terrible things about him, for some reason, I was just...not...afraid. Maybe because I had always wanted my prince in shining armour to be a vampire, or I dreamed of stitched monsters and flyswatters and over-sized insects. My journals and diaries were filled with horror stories, novellas, poetry. While Mura had become a human/animal-rights activist across the Abarat, and our eldest sister Sukanne was exploring the depths of the sea, I had just wanted to be a writer, or something quiet like that. Something that would let me be alone. "Are you ready to return to Midnight, later?" he asked.

"I guess."

"I have rooms and maids awaiting you. Clothes, and other assortments." I looked at him, nodding.

"Thank you. I didn't get you anything." I replied.

"That is alright." he didn't sound surprised, or hurt, or upset. Good. I would have to make him a card, or something. I realized how stupid... God, I didn't know how this was going to go down. I got more and more nervous being near my fiance. He looked so dangerous. An embodiment of nightmares. I realized I was staring but he didn't appear to notice. He looked so strange in the sunlight, so threatening and angry.

"Okay." I looked back towards the dining room. Dad had gotten off the table; in fact, he wasn't even in the room. Motley looked awkwardly alone in her chair, sipping the wine. She caught my eye and she didn't smile. I didn't smile at her, either. "That is your grandma?"

"Yes. She creates the stitchlings."

"What are those?"

"Pieces of left over flesh and parchment, filled with living mud... she stitches them together. They serve as soldiers in my army." Carrion explained. I was a little mortified, but not shocked or surprised.

"Oh. Sounds..."

"Terrible." he finished for me. I had meant to say something completely different, but I guessed there was no point trying to lie about how I really felt.

"That fits well."

"You don't have to pretend. I know most people do not enjoy my company, or my profession, or even want anything to do with me." a bitter smile traced his scarred, lipless mouth.

"Yeah." I stepped towards the dining room, and then halted. "Do you want to come back in? My dad's gone."

"Alright."

We walked back into the dining hall. I stepped over to the butler. Ramsel was cleaning up spilled wine with a cloth and his foot, still looking dignified.

"Is that how a man mops the floor?" I asked him.

"Quite. I assume you are looking for your father?"

"Yes."

"He is emptying his stomach in the lavatory with Bailey."

"Charming..." I wondered over to my seat, now a little embarassed. Normally I would be taking secret pleasure in this, for my father's drunks are always spectacles to watch. But under the intense eye of Christopher Carrion, it was a little humiliating. "I guess the dinner is over then, eh." I said to Ramsel, picking up my own wine glass and topping it up. I glanced at Carrion. He looked very out of place and irritated. He must think we're all alcoholics.

"I think that is an accurate assumption, Izis."

"What time do we leave?" I asked Carrion.

"Whenever you wish, but prefferably soon."

"I think my dad..." I glanced towards the washroom. Bailey came out, holding a wine bottle. I looked away. "Okay. Let me go change. Then we can go."

"Of course." I turned away, and then remembered to curtsy. I turned around and curtsied low. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."

I left.

---------------~--------------

Nnewlda had followed me into my rooms. She was hawking at me about the wine consumption and prattling on about how unruly and humiliating my father could be.

"Give him a break." I retorted, pulling off my dress and getting into the one Nnewlda held me. It was a simple, pleasurable scarlet. I pulled on high boots and a long coat, twisting my hair up into a chignon. I pulled on some gloves and turned to Nnewlda. She was looking at me, fondly. She looked very sad, and I felt her emotion reflect through me. "Nelly," I extended my arms towards her and she flew to me, hugging me so hard she lifted me off my feet. I patted her back, and when she let me go my eyes were getting wet. "I'll write to you."

"And I will reply." she wiped a stray tear from my cheekbone. "Stay strong, my lady. Even though you are now the Queen of Midnight, there are still so, so many dangers out there for you." she was nearly about to start crying. I nodded and left. Three of my handmaidens, to accompany on the journey, trailed behind me, Nnewlda bringing up the rear.

Carrion intimidated me, without a doubt. I came to close to clamming up on him everytime I tried to speak with him. He offered me his arm at the gates, which I took. The date in which I was to travel was kept remarkably silent. My father, our subjects and whoever cared enough in the kingdom had assembled at the harbour. Dad hugged me. He still reeked of wine but he was crying.

"I love you, darling." he said.

"Love you too." I said, now trying my hardest not to cry either. My shoulders were shaking and my lower lip trembling and I kept rubbing my eyes. Carrion was silent, and I clammed up on him. I said goodbye to everyone. Then, I followed Carrion, Houlihan and Motley, and all of their subjects towards the boat. I walked the gangplank next to Carrion. I stepped onto the front deck, and what I guessed were stitchlings gaurding the cabin door. Sailors walked around, bolting up and down the mast. Two of them dragged the gangplank up. I turned at the railing, but I couldn't bare look at my family.

I followed Carrion into the cabin. The door shut behind me.