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“You did remember to tell Estinien,” Alisaie said, as she smoothed down her gown one more time, “that he’s not supposed to show up for this in armor, or with his lance in hand. Right?”
Iriya laughed softly. Her friend had been full of flippant comments about every bit of the wedding preparations, and all morning she had kept Iriya smiling with little anecdotes and ridiculous suggestions. It had been nearly impossible to dwell on the enormity of what was about to happen.
Not that the red mage had been unkind or unhelpful - the farthest thing from it! With Tataru at the helm of all the planning, the Warrior of Light had not had to lift a finger in the effort to put together this lovely, if very small, ceremony. Iriya had wanted, at first, to invite all the many friends she’d made over the years - a crowd large enough to fill the Sanctuary of the Twelve, for certain. But Estinien had gone so pale - before covering his dismay with a blustering sort of growl - that she hadn’t the heart to seriously argue with him. Instead she’d offered up a compromise of this more intimate affair, held in the Fortemps Manor gardens; large enough that their nearest and dearest friends could attend, small enough not to drive the former Azure Dragoon half mad with embarrassment.
All Iriya herself had needed to do, after that, was place the matter in Tataru’s small and eminently capable hands. Alisaie had put herself at the Lalafellin’s disposal, running messages and directing servants, penning invitations and helping with the floral arrangements. She’d personally retained the services of a well-known Sharlayan designer, so that both Iriya’s gown and Alisaie’s were perfectly suited to the both of them - graceful, flowing, gorgeous, and yet not cumbersome in any way.
In fact, the design of the gown had given Iriya a surprising amount of pleasure - granted that the process was made easier by the designer’s aid. But she had never thought of herself as having a knack for such things - certainly not after how odd she had felt in the gown lent to her for the Grand Ball, not so long ago. Perhaps because she had been the one to choose the beads, the swooping lines of the dress, even the subtle colors within the embroidery that would only be visible in sunlight.
As for her maid of honor - it had been truly fun to help her friend put together that gown. Alisaie’s favorite color - brilliant scarlet - was too strong for the color palette Tataru had chosen, but the Elezen girl had impeccable taste, and so her gown was a luscious shade of deep pink, perfectly matched to the blooms in Iriya’s bouquet, topped with a lacy mantle that spoke modesty without restricting motion. Alisaie was most pleased that both women could dance or fight in their new finery.
Emmanellain too had been indispensable. He had been Tataru’s right hand in every bit of decorating, and the two of them had designed not one but three menus - a rehearsal dinner, a wedding breakfast, and a meal after the ceremony itself. And now, as the sun was just beginning to descend from its zenith, it was nearly time.
Alisaie’s eyes sparkled with wicked humor. “Last chance to change your mind,” she quipped. “After all, you could do ever so much better…but if you’re sure?”
Iriya grinned and hugged her friend tight. “I’m sure,” she said, though the words came out as a whisper. She blinked rapidly to keep back the sudden tears that threatened, and Alisaie’s own smile was nearly as sentimental.
“Well then.” Her voice was husky as she hugged the Warrior of Light back. “Since he makes you so very happy.”
Tataru chuckled. “Some of us knew from the very beginning how happy Estinien made her, Alisaie. Now, let me take one more look at her makeup.”
Iriya turned to face the Lalafellin woman, who dabbed at her face with a small handkerchief and touched up one tiny spot on her cheek with the soft brush in her other hand.
“Perfect,” Tataru said with deep satisfaction. “Just remember not to rub at your eyes, Iriya.”
The dragoon nodded, smiling. Tataru might have said more, but just then the door popped open and Emmanellain’s voice came through. “Tataru! The replacement roses finally arrived! Come and inspect, please?”
“Oh! Certainly!” Tataru flashed both Alisaie and Iriya one last grin, and hustled off. But even as she whisked out the door, it opened further, and Lord Edmont stood framed in the doorway.
He looked at Alisaie and smiled. “I would like a moment alone with my daughter, if you please.”
“I’ll just stand guard. Can’t have that ruffian trying to come and scoop you up to elope, after all this bother.” With another saucy smile, the red mage stepped outside.
Edmont took Iriya’s hands. His eyes were warm and his smile was proud. “You look absolutely radiant, my dear.”
She let herself laugh, knowing the sound was just a touch shrill from how nervous she was. “Thank you. Everything came together so quickly, I haven’t even had time to really wrap my head around what we’re doing.”
Edmont’s smile softened. “You are taking your happiness in both hands - and it is my hope that neither you nor Estinien will ever let go of the joy that is in your hearts today.” He reached up, brushing back a wayward strand of her hair so that it lay properly. “Never did I hope, in my wildest dreams as a young father decades ago, that I would have the privilege of walking a daughter down the aisle. I count myself blessed to have you in our family, and I am deeply grateful to the gods for sending you to Ishgard. Far beyond any deeds to your name as Warrior of Light, we have all come to love you, Iriya. Very much. It brings this old man a great deal of joy to see you so happy.” Then, he grinned, a touch of mischief entering his gaze. “Though, should Estinien ever make the mistake of hurting you…”
Iriya laughed aloud. “You’ll have to get in line behind Alisaie,” she chuckled. Edmont laughed with her.
In the garden, the preparations were very nearly complete. Emmanellain and Tataru were fussing over a half-dozen urns stuffed full of roses, while the wedding guests waited patiently on the stone patio nearest the mansion. The Fortemps garden boasted several very large topiary unicorns, and a small wooden platform had been set up between two such green beasts, so that Aymeric would be standing beneath an arch formed of their horns. Ribbons and silk flowers adorned the topiary, and garlands of greenery and more flowers formed the little borders of the gathering-space. There were even little bouquets to decorate each of the four benches where the guests would presently be seated. All of it was done in shades of red or pink - Estinien couldn’t have named the hues, though he faintly recalled hearing words like “coral” and “salmon” being tossed about when Tataru had chattered at him about the decorations. He remained glad that he hadn’t needed to truly decide a single detail; the Lalafellin woman had been content with nothing more than a nod now and again, and Iriya had seemed very happy to have him there even if he provided no input.
Now, as the moment approached, he had to admit - even to his very inexperienced eyes - that Tataru had designed a lovely look to the entire garden. The colors spoke to him of Iriya’s hair, the many shades it took depending on the light and the moment. He was no poet, to describe how beautiful she was, but the flowers captured all that he could not say.
Estinien, Alphinaud, and Alberic stood on the dais with the Lord Speaker. Aymeric wore his usual garb, appropriate to his role as the officiator of the wedding; but the other three men wore black tuxedos, with flowers pinned to their jackets. Alphinaud’s flower was, naturally enough, a spray of gentian blooms, a spot of brilliant blue among all the pink flowers around them. Alberic, for his own part, wore a modest spray of green leaves surrounding a single edelweiss. Estinien tried not to fidget as his foster father and former trainer pinned the Nymeia lily back in place on the dragoon’s coat for the third time.
“Relax,” the older man murmured, with a half-smile. “There is no danger here.”
“Other than the danger of her changing her mind?” Estinien growled under his breath. “And the very real chance that I’m about to make a fool of myself?”
Alphinaud snickered, and the dragoon shot his friend a glare; the scholar raised his eyebrows, affecting an innocent look even as Aymeric chuckled.
“There is no chance that you will embarrass yourself, old friend,” the Lord Speaker reassured him. “After all, that is one reason why Alphinaud and I are here, is it not? To provide you just the support you require.”
Estinien made a noise in his throat. His eyes flicked across the garden, taking in the guests: the Scions of course, and Lucia and Handeloup; Heustienne and two of the other dragoons that had once followed Estinien as the Azure. “I am not meant for this sort of…performance,” he muttered.
“Do you recall,” Aymeric asked, “when you and I were training as Knights? Did I not promise you then, that I would stand at your side on this day, whenever it should come?”
Estinien grunted. “Aye. I remember.”
The Lord Speaker’s smile was as warm as his tone. “And did Master Alphinaud not join in that oath, when you lay recovering from your ordeal with the dread wyrm? To stand in a brother’s place, for both of us?”
“Aye.” Estinien’s pale cheeks began to darken. Alphinaud spoke in a low voice.
“So then, allow us to fulfill our oath. This will not be an ordeal, nor shall it take very long.” The scholar’s eyes crinkled at the corners and his voice shivered with suppressed laughter. “It is not, after all, a Sharlayan-style wedding, where you would indeed have to perform . Sharlayan grooms are required to compose a sonnet as well as memorize a complicated set of vows.”
“Thank the Fury for her favors, then,” Estinien rolled his eyes.
Alphinaud snickered again, and then turned to look towards the mansion. Aymeric murmured something to the younger Elezen, but Alberic cleared his throat, drawing Estinien’s attention.
“I know that pain and trouble remains between you and I,” the older man began. “My heart is full this day, Estinien, of joy and sorrow both. I never thought I would be so fortunate as to see the day when you found yourself still capable of love - much less to see you wed. You embark upon a much greater journey now, a longer path than any I could have dreamed of for you.”
“And nothing you taught me will apply to a single moment of my time with her,” Estinien nodded. His lips curved, in an expression that only Alberic could have called a smile. “And that is well, for it means I have finally grown beyond all that I once was.” He set one hand on Alberic’s shoulder. “It is thanks to you that I lived long enough to meet her,” he said. “And if my heart is still bruised from clinging too tightly to old anger, old resentment, well…with her help, I will heal. And perhaps…”
Alberic’s eyes gleamed in the sunlight, a hint of dampness quickly concealed. “Perhaps. I am certain she has the patience and the strength to stand with you, no matter how long such healing may take.”
“It is time,” Aymeric said then, and Estinien looked up, his heart in his mouth.
Artoirel and Emmanellain together helped the guests to their seats. The new Count would have been unable to attend if they’d had their wedding at the Sanctuary of the Twelve, but with Aymeric standing to officiate, the Parliament wouldn’t be in session, freeing Artoirel to be here, much to everyone’s pleasure.
A trio of bards stood at the ready, placed just far enough away from the group that their instruments would not be too loud; as Alisaie appeared in the garden door, they struck up a slow, sweet tune. Alisaie moved forward with a measured stride, grinning practically ear to ear; and just a yard behind her came Lord Edmont, with Iriya on his arm.
The whole gathering murmured at the sight of her, a murmur that only grew stronger when she stepped into the full sunlight beyond the shadow of the mansion. The sun struck rainbows from the many tiny crystals tucked among the seed pearls and tiny shell beads, making her gown fairly dance with a play-of-color no opal could have equaled. Her horns gleamed with a soft iridescence of their own, subtler than nacre and more lovely. Her eyes were firmly on Estinien, and perhaps only Edmont noticed how tense her hand was upon his arm. Her step was firm, her head held high, and if her smile was faint, the joy in her eyes was anything but.
They reached the little dais, and Edmont handed the Warrior of Light to Estinien with a small smile and the barest hint of an encouraging wink. The Leveilleur twins smoothly stepped into their positions as the couple faced each other in front of Aymeric. The Lord Speaker raised his hands, and his voice, and the ceremony began.
The after-wedding dinner was over, and the dancing had well begun; the sun was low in the sky, with perhaps another hour of light left before dusk. Estinien and Iriya stood outside the Fortemps mansion, with Artoirel, Edmont, and Alberic; a fine carriage waited for the newlyweds.
“All the arrangements are taken care of,” Artoirel said, and bowed. “I hope you enjoy yourselves. And now, I shall go back in and make certain our guests are properly looked after for the night.” With one last smile, he turned and went back into the manor house.
Iriya gave first Edmont, then Alberic a kiss on the cheek. Alberic murmured to her as she leaned up, “Take good care of my son, dear lady.”
Edmont for his own part simply shook Estinien’s hand once. As the couple prepared to step into the carriage, he said, “May your travels be swift and safe, and may you never forget to take joy in each other. Always remember, we love you, both of you. You will always be part of our family, you will always remain with us in our hearts - as we remain with you in your own hearts.” His smile was gentle. “And we shall ever be proud of you, our beloved children.”
“No matter where your roads take you, we will be here whenever you return,” Alberic added. “You can always call upon us for whatever you need, be it great or small.”
Estinien’s voice was gravelly as he tried his best to control himself. “Thank you. We appreciate all that you have already done for us.”
“We love you, too,” Iriya added, not troubling to hide the happy tears gathering again in her eyes. “We’ll be back soon!”
Estinien handed his new bride into the carriage, then got in and shut the door. The driver clucked to the handsome pair of chocobos harnessed to the vehicle, and with little chirrups, they began to trot off, carrying the two dragoons to the airship landing - there to take a private, special flight to a secret location that only Edmont and Artoirel knew.
Alberic gazed after them until they were out of sight, and then sighed. “Truly a day I could never have foreseen, or even prayed for. Not for myself, and not for Estinien. We both lived as if we’d never see the end of the war…and yet, here we are.”
“Indeed.” Edmont rested one hand on the other man’s shoulder. “We have given them all that we can; it is up to them now to make their own happiness. It is time that we began making the most of the future they gifted to us, would you not agree?”
“Yes.” Alberic smiled, though a trickle of water on his cheek caught the last of the setting sun. “Yes, indeed. It is time to begin this new life.”