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Zephirin is not an anxious man. He is not known for being nervous. Yet right here, right now, in this moment, he couldn’t stop himself from toying with his cufflinks - a coming of age gift from his parents, platinum swivel bar, holding a polished larimar, which itself was engraved with the three spears of Halone. He couldn’t help himself from constantly adjusting his cravat. It was only when he moved to adjust his hair that he was finally stopped by Adelphel.
“I did not spend an hour assisting you, only for you to ruin it at the blasted altar. You have no reason to be so anxious, honestly , you’ve known this man since you were 10. You trust him with your life and he with you. If you think he would ever hurt you, or worse, regret this, then you do not deserve him.”
Zephirin opened his mouth to speak, but shut it quickly, simply nodding in agreement. Adelphel was right. Gliommoux would never dream of hurting him. Gliommoux had fought for Zephirin’s sake since they were children. He had no doubt that that had not changed over the years they had spent both together and apart.
Releasing the tension he had in his shoulders, Zephirin did one final readjustment of his cufflinks to ensure that they were showing correctly. Just as he lowered his hands, the organ began to play, announcing the beginning of the procession. Zephirin felt his shoulders tense, but forced them down as he turned to face the aisle. He only relaxed as he watched Ffiora and Allemande come down the aisle, scattering petals as they went, giant grins on their faces as they skipped and twirled to make the skirts of their dresses flare. Rionnent followed behind, face taunt as he concentrated on not tripping over his own feet, however he immediately relaxed and beamed up at Zephirin after he successfully passed on the rings to Adelphel and Haumeric.
There was a pause from the organist, as they allowed the guests time to stand, before beginning the entrance music for Gliommoux. Zephirin had been preparing himself for months. Preparing himself to see Gliommoux in whatever attire he had chosen - they had chosen Zephirin’s suit together. A 6 piece suit, the jacket and trousers a matching ice blue with royal blue trimming, the waistcoat and handkerchief a raptor blue with othard blue details, the shirt a pure white, and a cravat of dragoon blue.
He had no idea what Gliommoux had chosen for himself, he only assumed that he would go with some kind of suit because of the large amounts of family members who were still… rather behind on how things ‘should’ be. Hells, those of them that were like that only showed up to the wedding because it was set to be the largest event the Durendaire’s had hosted for years.
The thought of him and Gliommoux’s wedding ceremony being used as a reason for such sorry excuses of ‘family’ to flaunt their personal or children’s accomplishments made Zephirin’s blood boil. However all thoughts left his head as he heard the doors to the church opened and he saw Gliommoux.
The first thing he noticed was the suit jacket. It was pure white with two elaborate floral designs sewn into it, one flowing down from Gliommoux’s right shoulder, whilst the other grew up from his left hip. It was buttoned up all the way to Gliommoux’s neck and whilst it was slimming, Zephirin knew what was hidden underneath. Knew that beneath the silk of the suit jacket was the strongest man he knew. The strongest man he would ever meet most likely.
He allowed his eyes to follow the trail of flowers down Gliomoux’s left hip, and finally understood why so many of the guests were murmuring amongst themselves. Of course Gliommoux wouldn’t hold himself back on his wedding day just so some backwards thinking family members would be content. Beneath the silk suit jacket was, of course, a dress. Zephirin could only see the skirt, but he recognised the design from that alone. Gliommoux had been gushing about Stella York dresses ever since Kamui had requested his help in planning his own wedding, and this was one design that Gliommoux had shown Zephirin on multiple occasions - that was before he had proposed, however. The dress was clearly made for him, as the skirt began just as the jacket ended, with the white lace floral design on the tulle layer building from the design on the jacket.
Finally he brought his gaze up to Gliommoux’s head. His black hair, so often worn down or in a hastily done ponytail, was drawn up in two tight braids that twisted behind his head, drawing Zephirin’s attention to his face. He inhaled sharply as he saw he was spotted staring, the piercing blue eyes he had drowned himself in so many times, now had a wet sheen to them. Zephirin wanted nothing more than to meet him down the aisle and dry his tears, but he knew Gliommoux would get mad and hand his ass to him on a platter. So he stood at the altar, waiting patiently as his fiancé made his way towards him, burning each moment to memory.
“You’re wearing makeup,” was the first thing that came out of Zephirin’s mouth, eyes focused on where he knew a scar lay under Gliommoux’s left eye, “Why?”
Gliommoux huffed and gave him a childish pout, “Maybe it’s because I don’t want people to see our wedding photos and remember that time I got beaten up because my husband was still a brat,” Gliommoux chuckled as he stuck his tongue out, “Nah I’m kidding, the girls said if they couldn’t wear makeup then I would have to in their place, and you know I can’t say no to them.”
Zephirin flinched at the memory - old enough to know better, but too weak to stand up for himself, he had caused Gliommoux more than a simple scar that day… “I-”
“I swear to Halone if you say ‘I’m sorry’ for that one more time I will beat you to death with my bouquet.”
Zephirin shut his mouth, biting his tongue on the way. He had no doubts that Gliommoux would do just that. Instead he looked into his love’s eyes and smiled, “You look beautiful and I love you.”
Before Gliommoux had a chance to respond, the ceremony began.