milliways_bar | Wedding Day: (the dream is ended-this is the morning)

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Wedding Day: (the dream is ended-this is the morning)

The day is very fine. Something--or Someone--has kept the weather calm and clear, and the blue sky arches over the small congregation by the lakeshore like a cathedral ceiling. Caspian and Lucy had decided, when he asked for her hand, that they would marry outside, by the lake and the forest and with only the blue and gold and green of the air and the water and the trees about them.

There are simple white chairs for the wedding guests, adorned with blue ribbons and tiny pink wild roses, but little else is arranged out on the grass, and the only movement comes from the arriving guests. It seems the bride and groom prefer it that way.

And the odd thing is--it's September.

And yet the air smells sweetly of lilies.

[Millitimed to approximately 3pm this afternoon. There are two subthreads: for the arrival of guests and the ceremony itself. Slowtime is a certainty, all weekend long. Have fun!]

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The robes Caspian had chosen for today--fresh blue with golden threads glittering among the fabric--fall in folds from his shoulders as he makes his way towards the open grass before the gathered guests, and Peter, standing at the end of the chairs, turns to follow him. Together they walk silently, and their faces are set in a joyful solemnity, and the gold that gleams on Caspian's brow comes not only from his fair hair catching the light of the autumn sun. There is very little of the boy about him now, and it is not so hard to remember that Caspian had been a King, under the Lion, when he turns, tall and with shoulders straight, to face his friends and await the arrival of his bride.

And the joy which illuminates his face glows even more brightly than the gold in his hair or the sun glancing off the water nearby.

Mary's face is intent, as she carefully throws her flowers, and makes her way towards the seat saved for her, and Susan follows. (For all the queen may have a headache, she looks radiant and peaceful).

After Susan come the twins, each with a ring on a pillow on their backs, each with a garland looped several times around their necks. They look up at The Him when they stop at his feet.

MAMA SAYS WE CANNOT SET YOU ON FIRE NOW.

DO NOT GET USED TO IT.

And then...

And then it's Lucy's turn, and her grip is rather tight on Adam as she takes a breath and looks over at him. "Ready?"

Adam laughs and squeezes her hand, and before she has the chance to worry more about it, he takes a step forward. His eyes turn to her, and he smiles once before turning his head forward again, catching Alanna's eye in audience and squeezing Lucy's hand.

It's a fairly short walk, all things considered, and when they reach the front, Adam turns and leans in to place a light kiss on Lucy's cheek.

"Thank you," she whispers, and kisses his cheek back.

"For all of it."

And then she lets go and steps away from him, and there's Aslan, and there's--

--there's Caspian.

And none of it's been rehearsed, really, not very much, but she slips his hand into his and she stops worrying that anything will go wrong.

He holds his hand out to her and his breath catches because she is so beautiful and it's Lucy and then her hand is in his and he can just about feel Peter's grin behind him.

He smiles at her, and then they turn together, because there is a glow brighter and more beautiful and joyful beyond, and it is from Him that all the light seems to come.

Aslan steps forward on velveted paws, head held high, golden eyes bright.

"Lucy the Valiant, Queen in Narnia. Caspian the Seafarer, King in Narnia. Glad I am to see you both, here at last."

His voice is not loud, but it carries, strong and sweet.

"The road behind you has been long, and what remains ahead of you longer yet. Still from here on you shall not travel it alone, not to any eyes, but with each other, hand in hand, if that is your will."

"Aye, it is our will, Aslan," comes Caspian's response, strong and clear. The voice of the Lion is like that of a great bell, tolling joyfully, and through Caspian's blood sings a lovely thrill of warmth and richness like wine as he twines his fingers with Lucy's.

When Lucy was a little girl, she dreamed of getting married.

None of her dreams ever involved anything like this.

Reality is so much more wonderful than dreams, she thinks, and her voice is calm and steady as she says, "Aye, it is."

(yours is mine is ours)

Her hand squeezes his, gently, and she feels a little dizzy as she smiles.

Aslan's voice is warm, and deep, thrumming with the barest edge of a purrr as he bends his head.

"Then I wish you both home, hearth, and joy, and such peace as any man and woman may find. Be good to each other, love one another, keep each other held safe in hand and heart and mind, and above all else do not fear, for there is nothing more terrible, nor more beautiful, than a love such as this."

He leans forward, rough tongue brushing first Caspian's forehead, then Lucy's.

His breath, as always, is sweet and warm.

Her eyes close, for a moment, as she smells the breath

(like lilies and summer and water that's sweet)

that's so familiar, and Lucy thinks she's never stop smiling as she bends and takes the ring from Lilac's pillow.

And then she looks at Caspian, and all the words she thought she'd known fly out of her head.

It's several moments, as she stares, and then takes a deep breath and says, slowly, "I tried--I read books, on what vows are like. All sorts. And a lot of them--they're lovely, but they weren't what I wanted to say. Or they were, but not enough, as it's a bit late for death parting us."

Another breath, as she looks at the ring in her hand and then back at him, and green eyes are bright.

"But I read the books, for ideas, and I wrote something, anyway, and now I haven't the faintest idea what it was." It's a choked sort of laugh. "But--but this is what I wanted to say. That it's you I choose to spend the rest of my days with, to go to sleep and wake up next to, and to laugh with and cry with and fight with. You are my dearest friend, Caspian. I love you, all the parts of you, the ones I know and the ones I haven't learned about yet. And--and I'd ask that you'd take that love and keep it, and me, as I give you this ring," Lucy finishes as she slides it onto his finger and looks up at him again.

He listens in silence, deep joy warming the gray of his eyes and his hand tight in hers, and when she has finished, he looks at the ring and smile to see the lion there, though the gold of this could never rival the living gold of the Lion standing before them.

"I love you," he begins, and that is to Lucy and Lucy alone, his voice soft and it's a promise and it's a statement and mostly, it is just true. As he goes on, his voice grows clearer and stronger, and he bends to take the ring from the twin by his feet. The diamond glitters like a tiny star.

"Were we in Narnia, I could give you part and parcel of everything I was and had and would be. Here, I have no kingdom and no title that is not a name only, but instead of part, I give you everything--all my heart to love you with, all my soul to honor you with and all my body to worship and protect you with. Let me follow where you go, and where you will stay, I will, too. And as I have no name to give to you, let yours be mine also."

Slipping the ring onto her finger, Caspian watches the star of the diamond gleam against her skin, and then he raises his head to meet her eyes, his own full of only a steady, clear light that does not falter and does not fade.

"So I give myself to you, Lucy Pevensie, and under the sight of this sun and this world that holds all others take you to wife as lady and Queen and friend and lover. And since you take me as husband, share also with me your name, and let me bind myself to you with the naming as well as with love and honor and friendship.

"As with this ring."

"We are well met again, Caspian Pevensie."

Then Aslan raises his head , looking out over the assembled crowd.

"One formality yet remains to bind past and present, here and in the worlds both have left behind, though never in their hearts."

He lowers his head again, voice softer, just for the bride and groom.

"Two such strong organs I have rarely seen. You will do well. Very well."

"We will," she answers back, and she knows it with out a doubt as she bends again, this time for garland.

(entreat me not to leave you, or to return from following after you)

Her voice is softer than it's been, as this is for Caspian alone--and Aslan, as she thinks no matter how soft she could speak, he'd hear her words--as she sets the garland around his neck.

(for where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay)

"Flowers fade, even the prettiest of them. And rings can be lost. But no matter what happens--

(your people will be my people, and your God will be my God)

--and no matter how things turn out, my love for you won't. And even should something happen and we be apart, I will always be your wife. Nothing is strong enough to change that."

He reaches out to touch the curve of her cheek lightly before stooping to take up his own garland from Lavender. This one goes over Lucy's brow, bright on her brighter hair, white with the faintest blush of gold, and if they are not quite the same as those flowers which had grown so peacefully among the sweet waves of the Utter East, then they are at least very like them.

"You told me stories," softly, "of princesses asleep and mermaids left behind and of princes more interested in fighting dragons than in the lady they meant to save.

"In this story, the princess has ever been able to save herself, and the prince has no need to kiss her awake because they have both come this far with their eyes open. And I think I rather prefer it this way."

The sweet smell of the flowers slips around them, and he drops his other hand to holds hers, so that they're hands are clasped between them.

"And this story shan't end."

"And so it is done!"

Aslan's voice rings fierce and true above the crowd, like the tolling of great bells.

"Love and joy go with you both. Now, go out to meet your friends and family as Lucy and Caspian Pevensie--husband and wife."

And she is well-pleased to do so, but before she'll step away, there's one last thing.

"Another England tradition," she murmurs as one of her hands goes to the back of his head and pulls him closer. "Now you kiss the bride."

It's soft and sweet and meant with every bit of her.

And he does.

Pulling her against him, he bends his head to kiss her, and it is not their first kiss, nor in any way unlike any others--

Except that it is.

Because this kiss is as husband and wife. And it has never tasted so sweet.

She pulls away after a few seconds, and just looks at him before looking back at the guests, and the twins at their feet who look vaguely ill, and all Lucy can do is laugh for joy as she pulls her husband towards their friends.

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