Chapter Text
“You’re here,” she says with a breathless quality.
“I am,” he speaks firmly. The corners of his lips twitch upward, just for a moment, but his stoic façade held to scrutiny. Ayaka giggled, aware that it was merely a mask for his nervousness.
Aether’s eyes were a magnificent shade of gold on most days. On rare occasions, it was a storm, a roiling calamity; on some others, it was the gateway to heaven. Like at this moment. Hers, hopefully forevermore.
They were in their best attires, carefully made with the best artisans and the highest quality of materials. A last-minute decision, surely, but it truly mattered not. Only the best for her, a nobility, and for him, a hero of many nations.
The occasion? A marriage. A secret. One undergone behind the attention of plenty.
The participants? They themselves, alongside a handful of witnesses.
Kamisato Ayaka would have loved for it to be held on her homeland. To partake in the celebrations alongside her people, her subordinates and now-friends of diverse social standings. But it couldn’t happen. Not now, not yet, when Inazuma was reeling from the loss of its people—its Shogun and her promise of Eternity—and the land was only recently united with her blood, sweat, and tears.
She knew this union was not welcome there. She knew, yes, but still her heart yearns.
Tears fall, but his attentive fingers cup her rosy cheeks—careful, always cautious, not to smudge the light cosmetics adorning her face—and wiped her tears away.
“Kamisato Ayaka,” he speaks with unwavering fondness. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were having second thoughts.”
A voice from behind Aether cut him off. “And I suppose you did not shed tears of your own by your lonesome, old friend?”
“That’s what Zhongli said!” a high-pitched voice—Paimon’s, Ayaka recognized—interrupted with slight indignance. “Anyways, ignore the old guy, you two! Today’s the big day, huh?”
A cacophony of noise proceeds after the duo’s disruption. The lady laughed and promptly forgot her tears.
It wasn’t a traditional Inazuma-style wedding. There was an absence of formalities and tradition. There were no attendants and no wise words from the High Priestess; instead, on a poorly maintained shrine on the land of freedom, a small ceremony takes place.
Morax—under the guise of the wise man Zhongli—was in charge with the procession and the vows. His words were laden with age and knowledge; under his careful supervision, a contract encompassing Forever was being written.
“Man is greed, cruelty, envy incarnate,” he began. “History is paved with nameless dictators and oppressors; for every kind-hearted individual remembered for their deeds, ten others are whispered with infamy. It is the nature of man to be destructive, both to their own kind and to others.
“But mankind, in its infinite capacity to harm, also has the capacity for good. Not one of us here today can deny such facts, for in front of us all stand the two people who best encompass this truth.”
Blue and gold eyes meet tenacious brown. There were unshed tears, unsaid words. Zhongli took a deep breath, and then—
“Just skip the vows and kiss already!”
“Shush, tone-deaf bard! Don’t ruin the scene!”
As one there was a rush of chuckles and exasperated sighs. Levity restored, the Archon-made-man continued with his duties.
“Kamisato Ayaka and … Aether. Just Aether,” scattered chuckles resound, “I trust that you know the gravity of today’s occasion.
“I shan’t ramble on with words already said—literally or otherwise.” He gave Venti a sidelong glance. “I trust that no distractions will be levied upon the ceremony, lest they be subject to the wrath of the rock.
“Today we are gathered here today to join Aether and Kamisato Ayaka in holy matrimony. Lady Ayaka, please repeat your vows after me …”
It seemed as if a dream too good to be true.
Behind the too-thin screen upon which she did her duties, Kamisato Ayaka dreamt of a future that was not her own. A man, then-unknown, who saw her for herself and not her duties as elder or nobility both. A promise kept. Courting, perhaps in secret, tantalizing yet exciting all the same. An inquiry, and acceptance from peers and her family both. And then, a marriage.
At first it was glimpses of the union she attended some time ago, that of a cousin thrice-removed and a foreigner from Fontaine. This was immediately after the abolishment of Sakoku, before the murder of their disillusioned Shogun, and the skies parted enough for golden rays to bless the couple’s marriage.
Ayaka remembered the memories fondly, though not without guilt. For it wasn’t as if the recollection was valued for the ceremony’s significance—even now the names of both participants were muddled in her mind—but as material for her daydreams. Superimposed upon the faceless couple was herself and—him. Aether.
Days were spent waiting for him as he embarked on his journey. Months dedicated to managing the fallout of a world war. Years to recover from the toll of brutal sacrifices.
And now, as the divider was discarded and the veil hoisted up, showing her naked expression to her beloved, Kamisato Ayaka found herself dissociating. Perhaps this, too, was a dream. One that she will wake up from, slouched from the seiza she was on from behind the shoji.
Ayaka recited her vows in an exhale. Nervous, her breaths were shallow and intermittent, careful not to break the illusion if this, indeed, was a dream. Her eyes were simultaneously sharp and blank, searching yet lost, and Aether—bless his heart—took notice almost immediately.
“I do,” he promised, words heavy with conviction. The weight of his declaration washed over her, and she woke up. It wasn’t a dream. It was real; and here she was, staring blankly at him as if he was a ghost!
Before Ayaka could collect herself, however, the man presiding over the ceremony told the fateful words and her apologies were sealed with a kiss. Chaste, light, intoxicating, filling.
She dislikes the lack of forcefulness. Instead, in a rare fit of rebellion, she closed the gap with zeal, accidentally clicking both their teeth with the lunge. They broke the kiss with a sputter, though any other words were drowned with a heavy applause.
This was real. This was … he had … she was …
“We’re married.”
Her eyes teared up unbidden—thick, fat globs trailing down her cheeks and messing up her mascara even further—as he wiped them all away again. Gently, carefully. A repeat of earlier, but this time having done their vows and committed themselves to each other.
Through thick and thin. To Eternity, no matter the length nor passage of time. In love, disillusioned yet taken with the dream, having turned it to reality.
‘I love you,’ his smile told her a thousand times.
‘I love you too,’ her hands—entwined with his—conveyed with equal fervor.