Work Text:
You hear Jade grunt discontentedly behind you. “Oh my god Rose!” she exclaims. “Could this dumb corset even HAVE more laces?”
“Don’t blame me,” you offer. “I had asked Kanaya to keep it simple.”
Jade sputters a bit in futile protest as she inadvertently jerks you toward her from behind. “If she thinks this is simple, (rgh) then she should be the one (oof) trying to lace this stupid thing up!” She growls, and you’re not certain if it’s due to her canine attributes or out of simple, human frustration. “We’ve been at this for almost (ngh) an hour!”
“Relax, Jadey,” says Roxy as she reaches for another bottle of nail polish. “Rose looks totes babely, and we still got loads of time.” She looks at you. “Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be Kanaya’s job to get you OUT of this thing!” she wonks. You mean winks. “Now hold still Rose, this is the last coat. Then it’s your turn, Jade.”
You smile, letting Roxy finish painting your nails, doing your best to remain still as Jade tugs and pulls at the lacing running up your back. You always told yourself that you were never one for being fussed over this much, but privately, you have to admit that you are certainly enjoying yourself right now. It’s a shame that a day like this can only happen once. Or at least, it’s only supposed to happen once. You hope that Kanaya is being similarly pampered and is enjoying herself at least as much as you are.
Your smile widens as you imagine her attempting to corral Terezi and Karkat, blind and known to think fashion is stupid respectively, into helping with her side of things. You stifle a giggle. Perhaps the carapacians are being of more use.
Your thoughts are interrupted by a sudden blinding flash of light. The three of you turn to see the source: Dave, studying the back of his camera. “For the candid album,” he explains without prompt.
“Dave!” Jade shouts. “Get out of here! No boys allowed!”
“Nah,” Dave simply replies, lifting his camera for another shot. “Now pretend I’m not here. I need to perfectly capture the raw emotion of you all being mad that I’m here.” He snaps another photo.
Roxy laughs and turns her attention back to your fingernails. “Don’t worry about him, Jade. S’not like he’s tryin’ to get an eyeload of his sister, right Dave?”
“What was that, mom? Couldn’t hear you over the sound of me trying to get an eyeload of my sister.” He takes another shot. “It’s an inscrutable sound, detectable only by those selectively chosen across all of paradox space, a group that consists exclusively of people way the fuck into whatever fucked up train of thought even leads to this particular destination, and dogs. So maybe Jade heard it too.” And another. “What do you think, Jade? Did you hear the sound of me trying to get my peep on all up in my fucking sister?”
You choose not to entertain this line of discussion further. “How’s Kanaya doing?”
“Would tell ya if I’d seen her, Rose. Fact is I think she was mostly done getting ready while the rest of us were still dragging our groggy asses out of bed this morning. Right now she and Karkat are sequestered somewhere having a moirail feelings jam, paleways. And they have much tighter security than this place.”
Roxy doesn’t look up as she carefully paints your last pinky nail. “Did Karkat threaten to withhold cuddles?”
“No comment.”
Jade snickers as she finally takes a step away from you. “There!” she says triumphantly. “…I think.”
“All done!” Roxy declares. Perfect timing.
You turn to face the huge mirror to your left. It truly is a lovely dress; the emerald-green skirt portion hugs the curvature of your hips, opening above the knee to give your legs mobility, tapering off to a modest, practical train. The top portion is cinched with the slightly darker overbust corset that Jade just finished tying off, with polished black boning all along the circumference. The corset is certainly doing its job; your chest looks fantastic. You look fantastic. You twist yourself around to get a more complete view.
“Oh-Em-Eff-GEE Rose, you look amazing!” Roxy gushes. “I can’t believe today is finally the day!”
“You really do look incredible, Rose!” Jade chimes in agreement. “Kanaya is one lucky lady! Even if her dresses are impossible to put on!”
Dave is still snapping photos. “They’re not wrong, Rose.” He stops for a moment and straightens himself out. “Listen. If I can be serious for a second…”
You mock gasp. “Truly a most suspicious gesture.” You smirk. “Go ahead.”
“Before you were my sister, you were one of my best friends. Which, saying it out loud like that, sounds weird, but whatever. I’m long past giving a fuck about sounding weird in front of you or anyone.”
“My, such tenderness!” you tease. “You’d almost think today was some kind of special occasion.”
Dave just shrugs. “Through all the arduous prolonged campaigns of snarky horseshit we’ve levied at each other over the years, I think I’ve earned me a minute or two of shore leave in the sunny beaches of Sinceritopolis, The realtalkinest place of the new Planet Earht.”
“We never agreed on that name,” you interject.
Dave continues, undaunted. “I want you to know that I’ve always respected you and felt you deserved the best. So, as your brother, as your Best Man, and as your designate chief co-bullshitter, I’m proud as shit to be able to watch you get married today.”
“Thank you, Dave.” You hope that didn’t come off as sarcastic. “It means a lot to me that I get to share this day with you.
Dave holds out his arms. “Bring it in, little sis.”
You smile warmly and accept the invitation for a hug. Jade and Roxy waste no time turning it into a group hug.
In the midst of all of you holding each other, you manage to say “You’re only one day older than me, you know.”
“Bullshit,” he responds. “With all the time travelling I’ve done, I’ve got a few months on you at least by now.”
Roxy giggles from within the group hug. “He’s got you there, Rose.”
“Point taken,” you say, as everyone starts to let go of each other. “How’s everything looking out there?”
Dave tallies the names on his fingers as he lists them. “Jane pretty much hasn’t left the kitchen all day, but she says she’ll be ready in time for the ceremony. John’s got the grand piano moved to the hall and looks like he’s ready to go. Dirk is revising his toast for the eight-hundredth time. Terezi’s been carting the floral arrangements around. There’s a lineup of chess guys awaiting Dad’s inspection of their outfits.” He switches hands. “Calliope hasn’t lost the jewelry, Jake is trying to find room for the glockenspiel in the hall but otherwise he’s good to go. You’re all here, I’ve got sick photos of everything, all in all things are looking good.”
“Jade, get over here and let me do your nails!” Roxy says.
“Yay!” Jade saunters over to the chair next to Roxy.
“Yes, perfect, go back to pretending I’m not here.” Dave raises his camera again and starts taking more shots.
You inspect yourself in the mirror again, then turn your attention to the vows you’ve written resting on the vanity.
Soon…
You stand outside the hall. Your heart is a ball in your throat. A week ago, you never would have believed that you’d be this caught up in anticipation. Thank god Roxy is so well-versed in cosmetic affairs, or you’re sure you’d have sweat all of your makeup off by now. Your hair also seems to be holding steady, which you feel is a testament to Jade’s expertise with a curling iron.
You really couldn’t have asked for two better Maids of Honor.
In the hall, Dad is addressing the gathering, but you can’t make out a word of it over the sound of your own heart pounding in your chest. You feel your pulse in every extremity, a sensation that is equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. You’re reminded of the first horror story you ever read when you were eight years old. That feels like an eternity ago.
You take a moment to observe your bridal party, hoping to settle your thoroughly rustled nerves. Dave is bobbing his head to a rhythm that exists only in his head, doubtlessly to fend off his own anxieties due to not wearing his sunglasses. Jade and Roxy have identical expressions of barely-contained joy, clenched fists raised in front of huge smiles. John and Dirk are standing at either side of you; you had decided that each held relatively equal claim to the “father of the bride” mantle. John looks his usual cheerful self, and Dirk looks his usual stoic self.
With two Maids of Honor, a Best Man, and two Fathers of the Bride, it’s an unusual arrangement, to say the least, but that’s truly the last of your concerns at this point.
On your mind right now is the troll around the corner, the troll you haven’t seen since this morning, the troll tending to her own, comparatively sparse bridal party. The troll you’re about to marry.
A sudden heat washes over your and you feel your skin flush. You wonder what she’s thinking about right now. You wonder if her dress still looks as stunning on her as you remember. You wonder what her vows are going to be.
But there’s one thing that you DON’T wonder.
You DON’T wonder if you’ve made the right choice.
From the hall, you hear that Jane has begun playing the march on the organ.
It’s time.
You take a deep breath, and give one final glance at each of the people around you, thanking them silently. And then, you begin to walk.
You turn the corner.
First you see Karkat, dressed in a black tuxedo. Somewhat predictably, the cufflinks are in the shape of his caste symbol. The expression on his face is one of pure ecstasy, one you never would have imagined on his ornery self the day you first met him all those years ago.
Next, you see Terezi. She’s also wearing a black tuxedo, with a notably higher waist on the pants. Her hair has been coiffed to a much rounder style than she typically wears, framing her angular face nicely. She’s grinning too, but this is much less of a surprise from her.
And then, you see her.
Tears already welling in eyes above a euphoric smile, her hands gathered around the center of her cobalt blue dress. The flowing, ruffled skirt stops just above her brilliant silver shoes, cinching at her waist as it tapers up her chest, up to wide straps that cover the tops of her shoulders. Her dress is notably less extravagant than yours, but every bit as elegant. Intriguing, without being too immodest, and practical, without looking cheap. She certainly knows her craft.
She has always looked this beautiful.
No words are exchanged when your eyes meet. You feel every one of your organs doing acrobatic fucking pirouettes all over your insides, and you can see in her face that she’s experiencing the same. You wonder if you’ll ever stop smiling.
You turn to walk down the aisle, your arms in Dirk’s and John’s, hers in Karkat’s. The walk to the front of the hall feels like it stretches on for miles. As you walk, you reflect on the lives you’ve had together up to this point. The barbs exchanged across online conversations, the growing understanding of growing misunderstandings as you worked together to crack the mysteries of the game you once played, learning that she had consulted your guidance just as you had consulted hers, the seeds of mutual respect and affection that bloomed across paradox space. So many seemingly impossible circumstances coalesced in a way to bring you into each other’s lives.
These moments, regardless of what anyone else might feel, to you, they are the true ultimate reward.
God, you’re glad no one can hear your thoughts. They might catch diabetes listening to this.
You’ve made it to the front of the hall now. Somewhere, Jake blows his nose with a bellowing honk. Dad continues to speak through the proceedings, and still you find yourself unable to focus on any of the words he’s saying. Your mind is too wrapped up in the implications of what this ceremony is, what it represents, and how it will surely shape the rest of your life.
You watch Kanaya. She doesn’t seem to be listening to Dad very intently either. Her eyes wander up and down your frame, and at some point she bites her lower lip, baring her fangs just a little bit.
More memories start to flood your mind. You remember your first date. You remember your first kiss. You remember your first night together. You remember your first anniversary, and your first sweep remembrance acknowledgement cycle. You remember fighting impossible battles at her side. You remember gazing upon the new world together, the first time you told her you loved her. You remember the look on her face as you explained to her the human concept of marriage, and then when you proposed…
You hope that the proceedings live up to her expectations.
Dad calls for your vows. You retrieve them from your dress’ concealed pocket.
“Kanaya Maryam,” you begin. “In my homeworld, marriage is a complicated and troublesome institution. Initially serving as a means for men to claim singular possession over women, evolving over the centuries into being a means of business negotiation and diplomacy, through which women were bought, sold, and traded as commodities rather than as people.”
Behind you, Dave mutters “Oh my fucking god” under his breath.
“And throughout humanity’s long and storied history, marriage has been used as means of enforcing cultural and racial subjugation, as a means of enforcing colonialist sensibilities, and as a means of enforcing rigid heterosexuality.”
You hear Roxy chortle.
“And while for many, the sentiment is rooted in genuine feelings of affection and devotion, it was difficult for most to completely separate themselves from these disconcerting aspects of marriage’s role in larger systems of oppression and marginalization, ingrained as they were into the fabric of our shared cultural understanding.”
Dirk has joined Dave and Roxy in their revelry of muted giggling and knowing nudges.
You continue. “Once upon a time, I might have had nothing to do with it, and would be wary of being in this exact situation, worried that I was merely perpetuating an ultimately negative cycle. But here, in the new universe that you and I helped to create, I realize that we are in a singularly unique position to truly redefine what it is to be married, to separate ourselves from all that baggage that the idea carries with it, and as we have done with so many things, reshape it into something new and, hopefully, something better.
“Kanaya, the love I have for you has only ever grown in magnitude, a pattern that I only hope will continue. I promise that our marriage will serve as a symbol for the new civilizations that emerge on this world as time goes on, of a rational, clear-headed approach toward long term relationships. We are people, subject to change as people often do, and as such, our needs and desires may change over time. And so, I also swear to you that if the day ever comes where our needs and desires change to a point where our lives together becomes unsustainable, that we will do the sensible thing and end the first ever marriage between a human and a troll with the first ever divorce between a human and a troll, and to do so without shame.”
The giggling has long since stopped being muted.
“But, my love, it is my sincere desire, here and now that we never live to see that day.”
Kanaya’s smile widens. She got the message. You knew that she would.
Dad clears his throat and asks for her vows. She retrieves them from her own sensibly concealed pocket.
“Rose Lalonde,” she begins. “In my homeworld, ‘marriage’ is not a thing that exists. Our romantic configurations are far too complex to conceivably accommodate the notion of a singular pairing across one quadrant being sanctioned in some way via religious or governmental authority, to the point where when you explained the concept to me, all I could think of was how hilariously quaint human civilization must have been for such an absurd notion to have become the cultural pagepiercer that you described.”
Oh, you knew you were in for something like this. You feel yourself becoming significantly more at ease. Karkat and Terezi are the ones restraining their laughter now.
“However, as you expounded upon the nature of marriage, I could see a growing longing in your eyes, and decided that to indulge you in this endeavor, as with many preceding it, would at the very least prove somewhat amusing.”
This is just perfect.
“With that being said, I will further say that the idea of spending a day on such lavish, extraordinary measures to celebrate the affection between two beings is not without its charm and appeal, and much of what has led to this particular moment has certainly been amusing. Thus, it befits me to indulge in these rituals, not only for the sake of improved xenocultural understandings in the new world, but also simply because sometimes playing along is a lot of fun.”
You feel your eyes well up.
“My people rarely used the word ‘love’ in conventional conversations about romance. Rather, the aggressive nature of our species resulted in our likening the emotion more to that of pity. Much of this, upon reflection, may have been needless posturing for the sake of intimidation, as our society once roamed its galaxy in pursuit of alien worlds to conquer and subjugate, but the fact remains that ‘love’ was rarely used in contexts such as these. I bring this up today to lend gravitas to the words ‘I love you, Rose Lalonde’. Stepping outside my cultural milieu to this extent is an act open to interpretation, but I trust in your abilities to correctly discern the intent behind it. For all that we have faced, and for all that we have yet to face, I only want to face it together.”
There is a brief pause as Roxy, Dave, Dirk, Karkat, and Terezi settle their laughter. Dad resumes his role in the ceremony, and soon Calliope appears with your wedding bands. As part of your commitment to reimagining marriage, you’d both decided that pendants, not rings, would be the article of choice to symbolize your union. At Dad’s prompt, you both simultaneously begin fastening the necklaces around each other, your arms crossing over hers.
Finally, the pronunciation is made. You lean into each other for the first kiss of your new married life. Her plush lips melt into yours, and you unconsciously savor every single sensation pulsing through you as you do. The kiss gradually escalates, until she slips her tongue into your mouth. Not to be outdone, yours slides alongside it, brushing lightly along the inside of her mouth. This dance that you have danced so many times before feels both intimately familiar and altogether alien.
Outside yourselves, Roxy woops and begins a round of applause.
But you’re not ready to end this show just yet. Each second is prolonged, every instant stretched out. You never want to forget this for as long as you live. And you are absolutely determined that you never will.
Finally, you pull slightly away from each other, still cradled together by your arms. Dad continues to speak and you continue to not pay him enough mind to make out the distinct words. He’s announcing the musical number that you’ve prepared, and on cue, John, Jake, and Dave take their place at the piano, glockenspiel, and effects board. You and Kanaya move to join them, sitting at the cellos already in place.
“This is a song that all of us worked on together,” announces John. “It’s called ‘Requited’, and we dedicate it to the happy new brides that be!”
He stretches his arms out and begins. A progression of notes flow like the breeze through his fingertips.
The first chord change. You lift your bow, looking over to see that Kanaya has done the same. The second and third chord changes occur, and the two of you play your opening notes in perfect unison.
Three more measures, and then her solo begins. You recall someone having said that Kanaya was lucky to have you, and in your heart of hearts you know the truth: you are both so incredibly lucky to have each other.
Dave begins the percussion effects, signaling that it’s time for your solo, accompanied by Jake. You recall how difficult it was to nail this particular sequence as you were all composing the arrangement.
Your favorite part begins. A call-and-answer between yourself and your beloved, a leitmotif symbolizing the collaborative journey upon which you are now embarking.
The five of you play on, each note echoing through the hushed hall. You steal a glance at Kanaya, who you note is doing the same. The sight of her eyes as they lock with yours is almost enough to cause you to miss a note.
The song swells into a climax, giving way to the tapping portion. You take back what you thought earlier; THIS is your favorite part. At least, until the final repetition of the leitmotif.
Really, you just love this song.
But not nearly as much as you love her.
-end-