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For a little while, Lucretia had thought about not going.
She knew what that invitation was for the moment she plucked it from her mailbox. How could she not? It wasn't hard to guess, judging from the envelope's ostentatious white and gold pattern, as well as the fact that it seemed to be emitting small sparks that glowed brightly, yet burned nothing. She let it sit for a few days before opening it, keeping it out of sight under a pile of other mail. But she knew she was being foolish to keep ignoring it, and just plain rude besides. Eventually, she gave in. It would be better for her to show up and support her friends than to stay at home, wallowing in self-pity, and be asked later why she had been missing.
So now Lucretia sits, in her finest robes, on the aisle end of the front right bench in a temple decked out to the nines in flowers, magical heatless flames, and swaths of a blue fabric unmistakable as anything other than denim. Her eyes are moist, yet her throat is dry.
A resounding chime echoes through the whole room, drowning out the quiet chatter and other background noise with the sound of bells, dozens of bells, golden and jubilant and perfectly tuned, and everybody shifts in their seat to look behind them at the massive oak double doors. Right on cue, the doors fly open and bang against the stone walls. The bells go silent, and from the doorway pure white smoke begins to billow cloudlike into the room. A few attendees look at each other concernedly. Did something go wrong? their faces say. But Lucretia knows better. A figure can be seen walking through the smoke, until the clouds part and from them emerges Lup, as radiant and splendid as the day she burst forth from her imprisonment in her own Umbra Staff. The smoke crackles and dissolves into golden and red and pink sparks, which wink out one by one until Lup is completely visible. She glides down the aisle, beaming like the sun, her eyes fixed on Barry. She carries a bouquet of white and gold flowers Lucretia recognizes as arbutus and lily of the valley, and her hair is styled into a braided crown over her forehead. Long golden bracelets twine up her arms from wrist to shoulder like gilded serpents. As she walks past the front row up to the altar, Lucretia notices bright colors flickering in the delicate white fabric of her dress—yellows, scarlets, deep, saturated oranges, even a pale blue occasionally—as if tiny flames were licking every lacy hem and pleated edge. Wrapped around her waist is a crimson sash—a tribute to the robes of that same color she and the rest of the Starblaster's crew wore for over a century. Nobody in the room, least of all Lucretia, can deny this simple truth: she is breathtaking. The music of the bells gradually fades to silence as she takes her place opposite Barry at the altar.
Merle clears his throat.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life.
I'm kidding, Fantasy Prince said that. We are gathered today to celebrate one of the true great loves of our time. One that has touched a hundred worlds over a hundred years..."
The words blend together in Lucretia's head. In an effort to distract herself, she looks across the aisle to Taako, who is sitting on the end of the row opposite hers. He's dabbing furiously at his eyes with a handkerchief, as if he doesn't want anyone to see that he's crying, which Lucretia knows is of course true. Next to him, Kravitz has one reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Oh gods, Taako. Lucretia knows he still doesn't entirely forgive her. He had never been one to drop a grudge easily, but after he had gotten his memories back, it was as if a solid brick wall had gone up between them. In the past few years, Taako had begun to start to forgive her (forgiveness wasn't quite the word; it was more of an understanding acceptance of why she had to do what she did), but there was still a tension between them that Lucretia knew would probably never fade entirely. If he ever found out how she felt about his sister, he'd probably never talk to her again. If he already knew... She shudders at the thought. He can't know. Can he? Please don't let him find out.
The two of them watch separately as one of the most important people in their lives speaks her vows and, grinning through her tears, brings her new husband in for a kiss.
The reception passes in a blur. There are toasts, jokes, sobs, and so much laughter. As emotional as everyone may be, the festivities are overarchingly joyful. Davenport stands on his chair, barely visible above the crowd, and leads the hall in an old folk song that rings in rounds between the tables. Taako starts (and wins) a drinking game. Merle chats up the jasmine growing up the trellis. While listening to Magnus wax poetic about the new border collie he's training, Lucretia catches herself staring at Lup, who's gesturing excitedly to Barry.
"Poor guy's fur was matted to hell and back when I picked him up, but he's really come a long way since..."
Magnus trails off, turning his head to follow Lucretia's line of vision.
"'Cretia? You alright there?"
She shakes her head, snapping herself back to focus. "Yes. Yeah, I'm. I'm fine."
Magnus seems unconvinced. "We'll talk about this later," he says under his breath, giving her a meaningful and slightly concerned look before returning to his dog talk.
Of course he'd say that. She had hoped he wouldn't remember, but it would be foolish to assume he didn't. For all the all-brawn facade he tended to put up, Magnus remembered everything about his friends. Everything including that clear night one cycle when the two of them had visited a local pub and Lucretia, already drunk off only two rounds of whiskey (the alcohol on that planet was somehow unnaturally strong. To this day, she's not sure how), had confessed to him in hushed tones that she had been in love with Lup for years. It was a secret she had never told anybody else, and decided she never would for the rest of her life. Magnus had always been the most trustworthy one on the Starblaster; he kept everyone's secrets. So late after the reception, when the lights have faded from the sky and Lucretia sits perched on the roof of one of the Bureau's towers, it's no surprise when there's a knock at the rooftop door. She turns to watch as Magnus climbs out and sits down next to her, two folded wool blankets under one arm. "I brought you this." He hands her one, which she wraps around her shoulders. It's soft and warm. "Thought you might need it."
"Thank you," she replies quietly.
"I also thought you might need this." Magnus unfolds the other blanket, revealing a bottle of wine and two glasses. Lucretia can't help but give a faint smile.
"Thank you for that, too."
"Some party, huh?"
"I forgot Davenport could sing so well."
There's a silence that could be seconds or minutes long. It might as well be hours.
Eventually, Magnus speaks up.
"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it—"
"It's alright. I do, I just... I'm not sure where I should start." She pours a glass of wine, hands it to Magnus, then pours one for herself and tales a sip. The two of them sit silently for another short eternity.
"It's not that I'm not happy for them," Lucretia starts. "It's quite the opposite, really. I'm so glad to see them happy together."
But I wish she would be happy together with me, says a voice in her head that travels like a spark down a fuse across the back of her brain and down her spinal cord, flaring hot and painful behind her chest.
"But it's not the same, is it." Magnus says quietly. It's not a question.
Lucretia sips at her wine a bit more and lets the bitter taste wash over her tongue. She shakes her head. "She looked so perfect and beautiful, Magnus, standing there next to Barry. They belonged at each other's sides. Gods, it was so perfect."
"I know."
"And you could tell both of them had never been so happy."
"I know."
Lup used to make Lucretia happy like that, too, but not in that way for a long time. Not since the early years aboard the Starblaster, when Barry was just another crew member and when Lup laughed or smiled or winked at her, she could picture a whole future with her. She would blush and shy away, and later recount the experience in her own journal separate from her logs. It was so childish and immature looking back, but back then, it was so new and exciting and real, this possibility that maybe one day they would decide to spend the rest of their lives with one another.
Of course, unlike the stories written in her professional journals, these imagined scenarios never had and never would happen. And part of Lucretia liked it that way. She could focus more on her work without someone else there taking up her attention, she didn't have to make conscious effort to look good for anyone, and she would never have to go through the stress-drenched ordeal of confessing her romantic feelings to anyone. But every time she thought about Lup, she felt a dull pang in her chest, somewhere behind the ribs and below the lungs.
She drinks deep from her glass and refills it, hands shaking as she pours. She's not alright, and she knows it, and she knows she can't do anything about it. She had hoped it would fade, but after over a hundred years, that scar still stings as fresh as if it had been cut yesterday and she knows there's no hope for her.
She pulls the blanket more tightly around herself, but it's still not tight enough.
Sometimes, late at night when she can't sleep, she stares up at the ceiling and thinks about all the times she could have confessed her feelings before Barry did. She wonders how different it would be, if she had been the one Lup had chosen to spend those countless cycles with, but deep inside she knows it would never work. Lup is voracious, a bonfire that must be constantly fed but cautiously watched for fear of being burnt alive, and Lucretia knows that she could never keep such a flame satisfied. She is merely a moth, entranced in Lup's wild light, and to ever attempt anything of a romantic nature with her would burn her to a crisp faster than she could blink. So she can only flutter in weak rings and spirals from a distance while Barry spends every day gathering firewood.
She takes another sip of wine, longer than the last, and it burns in the back of her throat.
"I don't know how much longer I can do this, Magnus." Her voice is rough and quiet, and she can feel a hard-to-breathe-around lump welling up in her windpipe.
"It's okay if you don't." Magnus puts a large but gentle hand on her shoulder.
"It's hard being in love, isn't it?"
Magnus looks down, and for a moment Lucretia wonders if she's gone too far, if she shouldn't have said anything that might have brought up memories of Julia. After a pause, he speaks. "Yeah, it can hurt like a motherfucker."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought up—"
"It's alright."
Gods, she's messed it all up again. She's gone and spoken without thinking, and like it always happens whenever she does so, she opened her big inconsiderate mouth and ruined the moment. Of course she would. Like anything else should be expected of her.
Shut up, she thinks back at herself. You've done plenty of important things. You started the Bureau. You saved the rest of the crew that one cycle.
You also were too much of a coward to ever confess anything to Lup, the negative voice hisses.
Lucretia runs a hand through her closely-cropped hair, winding her fingers though the tight curls, and tries to even her breathing. After a couple breaths, her heart rate begins to slow. She lets out a heavy sigh.
"Do you... do you think I should do anything about it?" she asks softly as she leans her head on her friend's shoulder. The lights of Neverwinter glitter brightly far in the distance.
"Depends on what you're comfortable with. I mean, if you wanna tell her, right now might not be the best time, what with..."
Lucretia smiles a bit. "Yeah, definitely not tonight."
"And maybe don't crash the honeymoon to say it either." Magnus says, smiling a little too. Lucretia can't help but laugh. Maybe it's the wine talking, but after being so nervous all day, she needed this comedic break. Besides, it helps silence the negative voice. She sits up.
"I'll just hide on the roof, no big deal." She snickers as the mental image of her perched on a roof like a sniper in her full robes and everything appears in her head. Magnus snorts and ducks his head to the side to laugh. Even in the dark, she can see his shoulders shaking slightly. She doesn't know if humor is the best way to deal with the situation at hand, but it doesn't seem to hurt, and damn if it isn't entertaining to see Magnus lose his shit over the idea of his former boss and even more former co-crewmember hiding out on a rooftop.
She smiles a little more and gazes out over the lights below. Maybe things won't be as bad as she had thought.