Work Text:
Was it chance or more
that brought her there outside my door
that strangest night?
With prideful eyes she did implore
I read her fate for summertime.
Silken scarf and jasmine scent
came drifting in a sweet portent
of things set right.
Fresh hope is meant
for those of us in summertime.
See her steel in spine and hand
come breathe the sun at her demand
and take the fight
to those who planned
to steal from us our summertime.
Now my lady dancing home
to wisdom and to mercy shown
for those in plight
a hand is thrown
reaching out with summertime.
Set the mirror, cast the spell
then listen for the tolling bell.
Now dressed in white
we know we fell
In love at last in summertime.
By the time summer ended, you knew you would marry her. The way you worked together in those months, the way you saved each other, you knew there would be no other choice. Still, you waited until it was seemly to propose. She must have had the same idea though, because she beat you to it. You remember being stunned, and then bringing out a ring of your own, and then both of you dissolving into laughter. It was perhaps the happiest moment of your life until today.
Asra fusses over you, smoothing out your dress and adjusting the pins that hold your hair up. You let him, because you know it’s from a place of love. You look in the mirror when he’s done and gasp. So does the enchantress in the reflection. The dress that you picked out a month ago seems somehow more beautiful, the beading catching the light in a way that almost dazzles you. The jewels in your hair sparkle and wink. Your bouquet, freshly cut just minutes ago, brings out the color of your eyes.
Your nerves fall away, forgotten. Whoever this shining person in the mirror is, they have no reason to fear. You turn to Asra with a grin. He regards you with an expression that’s almost sad before he smiles again. He takes your arm, and together you exit the pavilion to face the waiting crowd.
Your stomach gives another lurch as you see how many people are in attendance. It looks like the whole city showed up to witness the ceremony. Then you breathe in the smell of the fresh summer air, the lilacs in your bouquet, and Asra’s own comforting, smoky scent. You feel centered again, and the excitement takes over. You beam at the crowd, and they cheer. The music strikes up a triumphant tune, full of lute and flute and something else that you can’t name.
That’s when you see her.
At the other end of the aisle stands Nadia, resplendent in white with a crown of diamonds in her hair. Her dress, all silk and lace, hugs her curves before flaring out in a long train. The long locks of her tyrian hair have been swept into an elaborate updo reminiscent of the Masquerade. Beneath it, her face is glowing. Your breath catches to see her expression, so full of wonder and tenderness as she regards you.
Asra gives your arm a squeeze, and you remember the steps you practiced. As the music plays on, you and Nadia walk toward each other until you meet in the center and turn to face Julian, who volunteered to officiate. As you do, your arms brush and you catch Nadia’s jasmine perfume underpinned with the lavender and white roses of her bouquet.
“You look nothing short of radiant,” she murmurs to you. You blush, smile stretching wider. Before you can compliment her back, Julian begins to speak.
You remember only bits and pieces of his speech. You remember when he binds your hands in silk; you remember when you say your vows, choking up only a little. You remember the crowd roaring in approval when Julian pronounces you partners for life. You don’t even wait for his permission to kiss.
Nadia is at once soft and fierce against you. You can feel the excitement flow between you, a deep thrum in your chest. You’re married. You’re married.
You hear a whoop from the front row that can only be Portia and you finally break apart, beaming at one another.
Your wife (your wife!) leans her forehead against yours as you breathe together, the cheering of the audience flowing around you like a river parting before a stone.
“I love you so much,” you whisper.
She gives you a private smirk. “So I hear.” Then she’s kissing you again, breathing her words against your lips. “I love you too.”
Your heart swells with feeling you can’t quite name, stealing your breath as you hold her closer.
It’s later as you dance, your head resting against her shoulder as she leads, that you realize what this new feeling is. It’s a little like how you feel when you see her after a long day of work, a little like falling asleep comforted by her warmth. A little like coming home.