2 Ash, 121
Morning light streamed through the high windows in the small dressing room that he'd been given in the Angevin Estate Manor. It felt strange, to take off his clothes to don finer ones, in a room he had never been in before. But he did so, with the aid of his brother, and the man who would soon be legally bound as his brother. Well, in truth he did so with the assistance of his faithful manservant, but Brenner and Eitan were there, sharing glasses of champagne and trying to outdo each other with tongue-in-cheek jokes about the upcoming event.
Despite the haste of the arrangements, due to the aggressive efforts of both Lady Sylana Dornkirk and Lady Friederike Angevin, it was shaping up to be the event of the season. Or, so he had heard from socialites on the street. Considering it was only the second day of the season, he doubted it would remain so lofty in the minds of the citizens of Zaichaer for very long. It was much preferred that way, for Stefan's sake. But he hoped it was at least all Delia had hoped it would be. The two matriarchs had consulted with her far more than they had with him, but this too was right to his mind. The bride should have the say in matters domestic wherever possible, and a wedding certainly fell into that category.
When the slim Dienerin, dressed in his own finery as reflected the auspicious occasion, finished with the final touches (cuff-links that matched Delia's jewelry) he made a final circuit of his master to ensure perfection, before bowing himself out of the room. Moving to stand with the other two men he took the final glass of fizzing alcohol and held it out to them.
"Well," He began, voice steady but huskier than usual, "Here we are gentlemen." Clinking his glass with each of their's he sipped. It wasn't his favorite, nor did he think either of them would have minded switching to something darker, but it was the appropriate choice for the day. Both the other men looked exceptional in their new suits, each handsome than Stefan in their way, which was comforting to him. Far from being jealous, he wanted the two bachelors to distract and draw the eyes of the waiting guests away from himself. Between them and Delia, who would no doubt be glowing, he felt reasonably confident that few people would even be looking at him. There were toasts, each man making his own and all drinking, until the glasses were emptied.
Before they could think of sending for another bottle the clock on the mantle chimed. It was time. Turning to the youngest of them he reached out and shook his hand, pulled him in for a quick hug. When it broke he said,
"Could you give us a moment, Eitan?" It was a gentle dismissal, but no less one for it.
Once the half-elf had made his graceful exit the brothers were alone in the little dressing room. Their eyes met and lingered together. Stefan leaned down then and pressed his mouth to his brother's, soft but not quick. There was barely any pressure to it at all, just skin brushing skin for a long moment before he laid his head down on Brenner's shoulder and whispered, like a prayer,
"Hail Zaichaer."
Thus fortified in his duty to family and State he stood, straightened his coat, and stepped out to face his fate.
The walk to the Angevin reception hall, where the marriage would take place, was a blur. Eitan and Brenner walked with him, and, when they arrived, moved to stand behind him as he took his place at the front of the hall. An archway, bedecked with flowers stood at one one end of the long room, and the hundred of chairs that had been set up were now filled with the uppercrust of Zaicharian society. Stefan's parents were in the front row, along with a few other relatives that he rarely saw. He let the rest of the ruffled, suited and bejeweled crowd remain a blur. Making himself breathe slow, through his nose he looked back at the two men who were standing in support of him. They gave him encouraging, steadfast looks and it helped, some.
The orchestra arrayed in the back began to play and, for a long moment Stefan couldn't look. He could hear everyone else turning in their seats it gave him a moment in which no one was looking at him. He needed that, so he took it. When he did finally turn, his bride was there, halfway to him, looking at only him with an expression not entirely unlike the ones Brenner and Eitan had given him.
Delia was resplendent in a gown of white and gold to contrast his own suit of black and gold. Leir walked beside her, supporting her arm, showing her off. When the pair reached him Delia's hand was placed over his own, and she whispered,
"Just look at me." As her father moved to stand between them and one step back, facing the crowd.
Together they turned to face Admiral Angevin. She was radiant and he was solemn, as they took each other's hands and Leir began to give his speech.
Stefan had harbored foolish hopes that his brother might have achieved the rank of captain before his wedding day so that it would be Brenner who bound him in marriage. But of course, it was Leir. It always would have been he that welded Dornkirk to Angevin. Officiating over the coming to fruition of plans the Admiral had dreamed up at a time when neither of the intended had been old enough to understand the road being mapped for their lives was an honor he would not relinquish to lesser men.
When the time came for vows Delia pledged her obedience to her husband, and the State. Stefan swore to offer his life, if required, in protection of his wife, whatever children they might produce, and the State. Their worldly goods were invested in each other, legally. No words were spoken of love. Stefan was grateful, for hearing such things spoke over him by Lord Angevin might have been more than he could have stood for.
Then he was being granted the right to kiss his wife. By her father. In front of practically everyone he knew.
How could he have forgotten about this bit? He kept himself from looking back at Brenner, which he was sure would have been a disaster, and instead took one of her hands in one of his and brought it up to his lips. The kiss was sincere, for he was grateful enough to adore her in that moment, and the crowd seemed to respond well, for once, to both his shy discretion and his affectionate gesture. Delia looked touched and delighted. Then they were turning to face the crowd.
He took Delia's advice, and looked only at her. The worst that would come of that was rumors that he was secretly a romantic. They walked down the hall and out, leading the guests into the ballroom, where they took up their designated spots to greet everyone. Some would stand in line and come right away, some would wander over to them after seeking refreshments and chatting among themselves. Either way, it would be at least an hour before Stefan would stop being on display, held up as available for the comments and congratulations of anyone and everyone.
Delia helped; charming everyone who shook their hands and answering almost all the questions so Stefan could only keep his smile painted over his face and nod as needed. Brenner helped to, in advertantly, by chatting with Jane Farroway, both of them looking happy and laughing now and then. Eitan gave him comissatory smiles and would run interference now and then by distracting guests who took longer than they should have with the newlyweds.
When the display time was over they were allowed a few minutes to get a drink and a nibble if they wanted it, before the dancing started. Stefan was required to take the first with Delia, of course, but after that they were divided and required to take turns with basically every member of both families, depending on gender. Seeing Eitan whisking Delia around the room, a bit too fast so she was always almost tripping before he caught her, making comments about how being an old married woman was making he clumbsy was the only real highlight of the torment. Dancing with his own mother wasn't awful, and the Lady Dowager snorted at him when he came to ask for her hand, making him sit beside her for a song while she pointed people out with her walking cane and made remarks about their parentage. It might have been enjoyable if not for the fact that she did so loudly enough for the persons in question to hear it.
After that they were, at least, allowed to leave the room to freshen up, which was good, because Stefan was just at the limit of how much champaing he could hold without bursting. When they were turned they were allowed time to mingle or dance as they wanted for an hour. Delia gave him a kiss on the cheek and made him promise to dance one with her when it wasn't just them with everyone staring, and then left to speak to her friends. Stefan would have to learn who her friends were so he could learn enough not to shame her when they came over or met socially.
He made his way to his brothers, first, hugging each of them again, shaking hands, letting him tease him, which was surprisingly very comforting. He kept his promise to dance with his wife once, and then spent the rest of the time trying to stay as close to quiet and against the wall as he could manage as his own wedding reception.
The call for dinner came at the end of the hour, which was at least some relief. Only a few people would be able to talk to him while they ate, though the room would be so loud that he wouldn't try to make conversation unless he had to. Once everyone was seated in the dining hall, set up with three separate huge tables, one on a dias at the back of the room for the couple and their immediate families, speeches were made. Unending speeches. After the official ones by the fathers and a few other family members nearly every male guest wanted to stand and have their say, make more congratulations or propose a toast. Stefan was not expected to stand as everyone else was, but he still was barely able to eat a bit and his head was throbbing by the time the three hour meal finally wound down.
Dienerin was waiting for him back in the borrowed dressing room, with sympathetic looks and no words beyond what was needed to help him out of his wedding suit and into something suitable to be worn for light travel. They weren't going far, thank the Empire, but it was tradition to change into something that wouldn't be spoiled by rain or dust. The man servant did his job with his normal efficiency, but strangely slowly. At least until Stefan realized he was trying to give his master a few moments of quiet. His look of gratitude got a friendly nod from the man, they didn't need words to understand each other after their years together.
When they could delay no more they moved into the reception hall, where all the chairs had been cleared away and a magnificent cake, taller than Stefan was, in it's place on the table, had been placed in front of the arch where they had made their vows. Peices were served to the guests along with tea, coffee, or more champaign. Stefan shared Delia's with her and had two cups of coffee. The sweet and caffeine helped perk him up enough to survive the two hours of dessert before they were, finally, allowed to make their official exit.
Flowers were thrown, well wishes made, it was loud, and chaotic, and awful. Delia was smiling and laughing throughout, helping to distract from his own fight not to glower at everyone. Or, perhaps she was genuinely happy. The thought made him stop being a bear about it and behave himself to shake hands and say his goodbyes. The two sets of parents waited right at the door. Eitan was not there, gone ahead to prepare the house for their arrival, most likely, good fellow that he was. Brenner was not in sight either, but he might simply have been lost in the crowd. Stefan would not have held it against him one bit if he had slipped away to enjoy a quieter part of the house in conversation with Miss Farroway, or even just gone home already.
When, at long last, he was allowed to hand Delia up into the carriage and step in behind her, it was all he could do not to wrap his head in his hands and groan. The door was closed and in a minute they were away, the sounds of cheering faded, and there was blessed quiet.
His wife, bless her, did not laughingly inquire as to what was wrong, nor even ask if he was alright. She sat, quietly behind him and slipped her gloved hand into one of his. He turned to look at her a tiny, tired, wondering smile grew below his furrowed brow and he raised the hand to his lips to kiss it again, before holding it in both of his on his lap.
It was done. Stefan Dornkirk was married. The duty that had been preached at him from the time he could walk had been fulfilled. Now, he need only rush onward into the role of fatherhood.
He closed his eyes, pushing the thought away and letting the rocking of the carriage wash over him until the lights of White Knight Manor came into sight.
Morning light streamed through the high windows in the small dressing room that he'd been given in the Angevin Estate Manor. It felt strange, to take off his clothes to don finer ones, in a room he had never been in before. But he did so, with the aid of his brother, and the man who would soon be legally bound as his brother. Well, in truth he did so with the assistance of his faithful manservant, but Brenner and Eitan were there, sharing glasses of champagne and trying to outdo each other with tongue-in-cheek jokes about the upcoming event.
Despite the haste of the arrangements, due to the aggressive efforts of both Lady Sylana Dornkirk and Lady Friederike Angevin, it was shaping up to be the event of the season. Or, so he had heard from socialites on the street. Considering it was only the second day of the season, he doubted it would remain so lofty in the minds of the citizens of Zaichaer for very long. It was much preferred that way, for Stefan's sake. But he hoped it was at least all Delia had hoped it would be. The two matriarchs had consulted with her far more than they had with him, but this too was right to his mind. The bride should have the say in matters domestic wherever possible, and a wedding certainly fell into that category.
When the slim Dienerin, dressed in his own finery as reflected the auspicious occasion, finished with the final touches (cuff-links that matched Delia's jewelry) he made a final circuit of his master to ensure perfection, before bowing himself out of the room. Moving to stand with the other two men he took the final glass of fizzing alcohol and held it out to them.
"Well," He began, voice steady but huskier than usual, "Here we are gentlemen." Clinking his glass with each of their's he sipped. It wasn't his favorite, nor did he think either of them would have minded switching to something darker, but it was the appropriate choice for the day. Both the other men looked exceptional in their new suits, each handsome than Stefan in their way, which was comforting to him. Far from being jealous, he wanted the two bachelors to distract and draw the eyes of the waiting guests away from himself. Between them and Delia, who would no doubt be glowing, he felt reasonably confident that few people would even be looking at him. There were toasts, each man making his own and all drinking, until the glasses were emptied.
Before they could think of sending for another bottle the clock on the mantle chimed. It was time. Turning to the youngest of them he reached out and shook his hand, pulled him in for a quick hug. When it broke he said,
"Could you give us a moment, Eitan?" It was a gentle dismissal, but no less one for it.
Once the half-elf had made his graceful exit the brothers were alone in the little dressing room. Their eyes met and lingered together. Stefan leaned down then and pressed his mouth to his brother's, soft but not quick. There was barely any pressure to it at all, just skin brushing skin for a long moment before he laid his head down on Brenner's shoulder and whispered, like a prayer,
"Hail Zaichaer."
Thus fortified in his duty to family and State he stood, straightened his coat, and stepped out to face his fate.
The walk to the Angevin reception hall, where the marriage would take place, was a blur. Eitan and Brenner walked with him, and, when they arrived, moved to stand behind him as he took his place at the front of the hall. An archway, bedecked with flowers stood at one one end of the long room, and the hundred of chairs that had been set up were now filled with the uppercrust of Zaicharian society. Stefan's parents were in the front row, along with a few other relatives that he rarely saw. He let the rest of the ruffled, suited and bejeweled crowd remain a blur. Making himself breathe slow, through his nose he looked back at the two men who were standing in support of him. They gave him encouraging, steadfast looks and it helped, some.
The orchestra arrayed in the back began to play and, for a long moment Stefan couldn't look. He could hear everyone else turning in their seats it gave him a moment in which no one was looking at him. He needed that, so he took it. When he did finally turn, his bride was there, halfway to him, looking at only him with an expression not entirely unlike the ones Brenner and Eitan had given him.
Delia was resplendent in a gown of white and gold to contrast his own suit of black and gold. Leir walked beside her, supporting her arm, showing her off. When the pair reached him Delia's hand was placed over his own, and she whispered,
"Just look at me." As her father moved to stand between them and one step back, facing the crowd.
Together they turned to face Admiral Angevin. She was radiant and he was solemn, as they took each other's hands and Leir began to give his speech.
Stefan had harbored foolish hopes that his brother might have achieved the rank of captain before his wedding day so that it would be Brenner who bound him in marriage. But of course, it was Leir. It always would have been he that welded Dornkirk to Angevin. Officiating over the coming to fruition of plans the Admiral had dreamed up at a time when neither of the intended had been old enough to understand the road being mapped for their lives was an honor he would not relinquish to lesser men.
When the time came for vows Delia pledged her obedience to her husband, and the State. Stefan swore to offer his life, if required, in protection of his wife, whatever children they might produce, and the State. Their worldly goods were invested in each other, legally. No words were spoken of love. Stefan was grateful, for hearing such things spoke over him by Lord Angevin might have been more than he could have stood for.
Then he was being granted the right to kiss his wife. By her father. In front of practically everyone he knew.
How could he have forgotten about this bit? He kept himself from looking back at Brenner, which he was sure would have been a disaster, and instead took one of her hands in one of his and brought it up to his lips. The kiss was sincere, for he was grateful enough to adore her in that moment, and the crowd seemed to respond well, for once, to both his shy discretion and his affectionate gesture. Delia looked touched and delighted. Then they were turning to face the crowd.
He took Delia's advice, and looked only at her. The worst that would come of that was rumors that he was secretly a romantic. They walked down the hall and out, leading the guests into the ballroom, where they took up their designated spots to greet everyone. Some would stand in line and come right away, some would wander over to them after seeking refreshments and chatting among themselves. Either way, it would be at least an hour before Stefan would stop being on display, held up as available for the comments and congratulations of anyone and everyone.
Delia helped; charming everyone who shook their hands and answering almost all the questions so Stefan could only keep his smile painted over his face and nod as needed. Brenner helped to, in advertantly, by chatting with Jane Farroway, both of them looking happy and laughing now and then. Eitan gave him comissatory smiles and would run interference now and then by distracting guests who took longer than they should have with the newlyweds.
When the display time was over they were allowed a few minutes to get a drink and a nibble if they wanted it, before the dancing started. Stefan was required to take the first with Delia, of course, but after that they were divided and required to take turns with basically every member of both families, depending on gender. Seeing Eitan whisking Delia around the room, a bit too fast so she was always almost tripping before he caught her, making comments about how being an old married woman was making he clumbsy was the only real highlight of the torment. Dancing with his own mother wasn't awful, and the Lady Dowager snorted at him when he came to ask for her hand, making him sit beside her for a song while she pointed people out with her walking cane and made remarks about their parentage. It might have been enjoyable if not for the fact that she did so loudly enough for the persons in question to hear it.
After that they were, at least, allowed to leave the room to freshen up, which was good, because Stefan was just at the limit of how much champaing he could hold without bursting. When they were turned they were allowed time to mingle or dance as they wanted for an hour. Delia gave him a kiss on the cheek and made him promise to dance one with her when it wasn't just them with everyone staring, and then left to speak to her friends. Stefan would have to learn who her friends were so he could learn enough not to shame her when they came over or met socially.
He made his way to his brothers, first, hugging each of them again, shaking hands, letting him tease him, which was surprisingly very comforting. He kept his promise to dance with his wife once, and then spent the rest of the time trying to stay as close to quiet and against the wall as he could manage as his own wedding reception.
The call for dinner came at the end of the hour, which was at least some relief. Only a few people would be able to talk to him while they ate, though the room would be so loud that he wouldn't try to make conversation unless he had to. Once everyone was seated in the dining hall, set up with three separate huge tables, one on a dias at the back of the room for the couple and their immediate families, speeches were made. Unending speeches. After the official ones by the fathers and a few other family members nearly every male guest wanted to stand and have their say, make more congratulations or propose a toast. Stefan was not expected to stand as everyone else was, but he still was barely able to eat a bit and his head was throbbing by the time the three hour meal finally wound down.
Dienerin was waiting for him back in the borrowed dressing room, with sympathetic looks and no words beyond what was needed to help him out of his wedding suit and into something suitable to be worn for light travel. They weren't going far, thank the Empire, but it was tradition to change into something that wouldn't be spoiled by rain or dust. The man servant did his job with his normal efficiency, but strangely slowly. At least until Stefan realized he was trying to give his master a few moments of quiet. His look of gratitude got a friendly nod from the man, they didn't need words to understand each other after their years together.
When they could delay no more they moved into the reception hall, where all the chairs had been cleared away and a magnificent cake, taller than Stefan was, in it's place on the table, had been placed in front of the arch where they had made their vows. Peices were served to the guests along with tea, coffee, or more champaign. Stefan shared Delia's with her and had two cups of coffee. The sweet and caffeine helped perk him up enough to survive the two hours of dessert before they were, finally, allowed to make their official exit.
Flowers were thrown, well wishes made, it was loud, and chaotic, and awful. Delia was smiling and laughing throughout, helping to distract from his own fight not to glower at everyone. Or, perhaps she was genuinely happy. The thought made him stop being a bear about it and behave himself to shake hands and say his goodbyes. The two sets of parents waited right at the door. Eitan was not there, gone ahead to prepare the house for their arrival, most likely, good fellow that he was. Brenner was not in sight either, but he might simply have been lost in the crowd. Stefan would not have held it against him one bit if he had slipped away to enjoy a quieter part of the house in conversation with Miss Farroway, or even just gone home already.
When, at long last, he was allowed to hand Delia up into the carriage and step in behind her, it was all he could do not to wrap his head in his hands and groan. The door was closed and in a minute they were away, the sounds of cheering faded, and there was blessed quiet.
His wife, bless her, did not laughingly inquire as to what was wrong, nor even ask if he was alright. She sat, quietly behind him and slipped her gloved hand into one of his. He turned to look at her a tiny, tired, wondering smile grew below his furrowed brow and he raised the hand to his lips to kiss it again, before holding it in both of his on his lap.
It was done. Stefan Dornkirk was married. The duty that had been preached at him from the time he could walk had been fulfilled. Now, he need only rush onward into the role of fatherhood.
He closed his eyes, pushing the thought away and letting the rocking of the carriage wash over him until the lights of White Knight Manor came into sight.
