Work Text:
“You don’t have to love her now. You don’t have to love her tomorrow or the day after that.“
And so, he found himself at the entryway of the temple, countless eyes watching as his soon to be bride lit the room brighter with each step. The smell of burnt meat and fresh blood stuck to their clothing. Their hands a dull red.
“It’s your duty. You know you have to do this.”
A wish for the veil to be opaque went unanswered, and her wide grin shone through. Genuine, but shaky. Pentheus opened his mouth to speak something comforting to her, but closed it when her name couldn’t come to mind.
“And maybe one day, my little ouá-ouá, you will love her.”
He would at least take care of her.
She held out her hand as he led her into the chariot. Their hands met and a quiet laugh followed a little ‘Gods, were you that nervous?’ as it struggled to grab one another. The wind that blew against them pulled back and exposed her burning eyes below the white veil.
It was what had to be done. It was what mother wanted. What grandfather stressed was vital. It would all be for naught if he didn’t-
He whipped at the horses to begin their charge. The flames fluttered around them, lights turning orangey to red they closer they came before flickering and dying as they passed. They were waiting to welcome them both home. The horses came to a trot as Autonoe and Ino waved, gifts in hand. Pentheus couldn’t, wouldn’t look them in the eye. How could he explain that today, of all days, his heart was heavy. That his eyes burned and he wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. As she held the small boxes (pearls from Aunt Ino, arrows from Aunt Autonoe if he knew them well), he wondered where her family was. If they cared that she would likely never return home now that she was a wife. A mother soon. Pentheus held his stomach for a moment and gripped at the fat.
She peeked inside and made a soft gasp. He whipped the horses once more to take them to their home. The small clangs of pearl or gem or whatever secret was inside the box echoed and swallowed up the clops of their gait. With each step they clanged. With each clang they stopped drifting and landed squarely in the center of the road. Would he have received the same gifts? The same soft smiles and laughs? The same feeling of dread upon reaching the front of the palace.
His mother held out her hand with the kindest face she could, and gently so gently eased his wife off the chariot. Cadmus slapped his back with a laugh, his age never removing an ounce of strength and pushing him forward. ‘Are you already so charmed that you forgot how to drive, little ouá-ouá?’ He coughed and struggled to respond with anything more than ‘Grandfather, I’m not a boy any longer.’
No, once he lifted the veil he could consider that over.
Agave led her away. His, now their, aunts would arrive soon. They had to return home. Dress well in such long bright gowns with rubies and sapphires that maybe he could have worn in another life. Less gifts, more feasting that Cadmus no doubt went out to capture himself despite the insistence of those who wandered the house unsure if they had duties anymore than to stand and intimidate. His face, withered as it was, beamed and laughed. He talked in a voice that would bounce across the halls. It would be just them two. He had no uncles. No living male cousins. Any far distant family has their own kingdoms to rule. For a moment he wondered if he could join his mother and sister but he didn’t dare cause a commotion with Cadmus. Didn’t dare ruin this day any further.
Not when Harmonia had holed herself in her room and refused to come out.
And so they sat down together, his grandfathers presence suffocating him more with each laugh and question. Is she pretty? He hasn’t seen her face yet. When do you plan on giving your mother grandchildren? Soon. Tonight. The truth is he doesn’t want to think about it. He tells Cadmus that is between spouses and it would be rude to indulge. Cadmus is pleased. Pentheus wants to cry as the table empties and time runs out. Are you feeling well? He’s fine, grandfather. Nervous. He’s young. His wife is a stranger but he’ll love her with time. It’s what his Grandmother had said.
She was wise. She was here long before when their house was only a field. She’ll be here long after Cadmus, long after himself. She knew what was best. If only she’d come out and bless them.
He tore smaller and smaller pieces of bread from his hand. Swallowing endless amounts of wine in hopes he could bury tonight. At least tonight. But his wife had appeared behind him with the toll of the bell, and cocked her head as if finally she was able to accept this union. Accept her place as a queen and part of their house despite her fears. Despite her own reluctance. He was a coward. Still he led her to his, no, their room. She wrung her hands and swayed.
He lifted the veil and hoped the day he did love her would come soon.