Superstitions

15 May, 1362. Magdaline Castle, Islia

William sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with his cuff links and running an impatient hand through his hair. He was waiting for Camilla to return to their apartments but she seemed to be taking a very long time.

"Well, fuck this." he growled to himself. "Do all brides take this long to get ready? No fucking wonder they all end up late to their own weddings."

Lady Meg Vere and his great friend Robin Sainsbury were to be married in only an hour and Camilla had been in Meg's room all morning, allegedly helping the bride to get ready.

How long did such things take? What the hell were they doing in there for hours on end? William grumpily pushed his hand through his hair again, fairly sure it was a mess by now.