(LOG)Tyltin & Maeryn's wedding

(12:30) Tyltin V had finally tired of waiting. The blasted coronation had gone off without a hitch; now the women just seemed to be stalling. He'd delivered his ultimatum to Garnett and Maeryn both: either the wedding would happen within the week, or he was going on a tour of Nharati's defences that would take him the rest of the summer...with or without the frail girl. Happily he was told to turn up at the chapel a scant few days later; when he did so he had the decency to dress for the occasion, his best Valenti blues and blacks covering the scars...all but the one on his face, which he wore proudly. He'd come early, arriving even before the priest; the small rows stood empty, light dim from cine-covered windows and low-burning candles.

(12:39) Maeryn had been sent into a panic when the ultimatum came. Nothing was ready. None of the flowers she had requested had came in, the guest list hadn't been arranged, no invitations sent out, no feast prepared. When the day finally came, all she had was her dress. Her mother's wedding dress fit her like a glove. The silk was still soft and the lace still creamy white. Garnett had accomplished reconstructing the veil. Standing in front of the mirror, she stared at herself. Garnett had tied her hair into an updo of complex braids and long loose curls that tickled her neck. The veil pinned securely in the mass of gold. Suddenly, her panic vanished. She hadn't truely wanted guests, and flowers meant nothing. What mattered, was he was in the chapel, even now, waiting. Garnett placed a silver chain, dripping with sapphires around her neck and gave a ghost-kiss to her cheek. With bare feet, she departed, leaving Garnett to stay or follow. Reaching the chapel, she hesitated, staring at the large wooden doors. What if he wasn't there when she threw them open? She was nearly too scared to find out. But finally, thin, gloved fingers pulled it open a scant few inches, so her bright jades could scour the interior. Finally they landed on the lone figure standing there. Ivories bit her lip as pangs of nervousness washed over her, but found it in herself to take her first full steps into the dim little room.

(12:51) Tyltin V never stopped to consider the enormity of this act, nor the implications it had for him and for the woman who'd so captured his attention. Instead he wanted it only to be over, to keep the rumors from whirring and keep this tenuous alliance between himself and his nephew secure. When the door creaked he turned, his impatient frown melting when the girl's blue-clad form stepped through the door. His feet crossed the carpet without a conscious directive and he met her half way, ignoring the red-haired woman who bundled the long train behind her to keep it from dragging along the floor. The Swordking had eyes only for the veiled beauty; fingers itched to pull off the netting, but he dared not, lest he upset her. "Are you ready?" Only then did he take note of Garnett, looking frazzled and drawn--witnesses were necessary, after all. A stirring from behind them denoted the emergence of a middle-aged priest, droopy-eyed and tired.

(13:01) Maeryn felt her nerves turn into a tremble that subtly shook her. She hadn't even noticed Garnett saving her dress from being shut in the doors. When he stepped near, she held her gloved hand out toward him, she needed something to hold onto, for fear her nerves could convince her feet to run, or coax her legs completely out from under her. "Almost." She uttered in a tiny voice from behind the gauzy veil. Finally, she too noticed the gentle pulls on her dress as Garnett gathered them and she turned to whisper to her. The older woman crossed the room and spoke quietly with a praying serving girl, who'd been hiding in the shadows. Mae watched her with a hawk-like intensity. The girl then, confused, crossed the room and stood beside the priest. Now that the numbers were even, and there was no duplicate blood, she returned those jade eyes to him, her smile warm. "Now I am." She whispered to him, her voice still meek.

(13:14) Tyltin V observed the oblique ritual after those whispered words passed from girl to mother, his jades following the older woman's motionto the hiding girl. When the servant took a more prominent position his brow arched, but he wasn't apt to question his soon-to-be bride's motives. "Very well," he answered her whisper, and gripped her gloved hand to escort her by his side up to the holy table. The priest stood waiting, seemingly bored by the proceedings. "Is there anyone else coming?" The older man drawled, addressing Tyltin directly; his eyes were far too pious to acknowledge her manifestations. The Swordking shrugged, looking left and right. "Will Drysllthen attend?" He wondered aloud to both the Wenfrith women.

(13:25) Maeryn walked slowly beside him, careful not to get tangled in the long mess of silk. Mae opened her mouth to answer the priest, until it hit her just why he wasn't looking at both of them. Annoyance hit her, but wisely, she closed her mouth. No sense in upsetting the clergy. Instead, pale, sparkling eyes shifted over to Tyltin, her hand tightening around his. "He's coming." She said quietly. She was sure there was no way he would miss the selling of his sister becoming complete. "I'm sure he will be here any moment." But the waiting was killing her, and she began to fidget, shifting her weight from one leg to another. It had yet to occur to her that she hadn't created a proper gift, as ceremony had dictated.

(13:33) Drysllthen would, in fact, be attending, but a meeting had run long. The King had finally, without allowing discussion of it, finally ordered the whole thing to a halt and went searching for Quess whom he had earlier sent a brief and cryptic message requesting that she be dressed formally and meet him in the entry way of the castle at this precise hour. He hadn't time to explain when he sent it,but when he found her, he tucked her hand into his arm and strolled quickly as her legs would allow through the garden. "Tyltin decided he would wed Maeryn immediately," he explained in a low voice. "Today, as a matter of fact, and I want you to stand up with them. Aerinne was supposed to." He continued in that quick undertone. His feet carried them quickly to the chapel door, and he slipped in and shed his boots. "My apologies, Tyltin, Maeryn," he offered with a bow of his head. Drysllthen's brow arched at the serving girl, the King tossing a questioning glance to his sister as he nodded toward Quess on his arm.

(13:37) Tyltin V couldn't catch the glint in the girl's eyes through the fine veil, but he heard her earnest words clearly enough. "Then we wait," he confirmed and glanced sharply at the priest, who seemed much more attentive now that his King was set to arrive. Tyltin himself wondered about Aerinne; he hadn't seen her in days, but knew that neither her nor Maeryn wished her presence here, so he didn't bother dragging her against those twinned wills. When at last the doors opened once more he swivelled his head, casting a long glance over the King. With a nod he turned again, taking little note of the Usurper's brat--she'd doubtless have smiled a last crimson grin if he'd taken the throne rather than his more pragmatic nephew. "Are we ready, then?"

(13:41) Quess donned the same gown from the coronation though without the expensive jewelry and many new floral accents to change the gown's appearance majestic to something less regal yet still very formal. She had little time for much more, and was lucky to complete such preparations when she met the King. Pleased to see him but rather curious as to the reason and great urgency to the matter, she dropped her jaw agasp. So unannounced? She nodded her silent acceptance, but felt rather bewildered by the suddenness of such a prestigious event. Once through the great doors, Quess placed her hand over Drysllthen's with a affirmed smile before slipping off his arm to approach Maeryn, smiling at the beautiful bride as she took her place beside her dear friend, even giving a polite curtsy to the less than enthusiastic Tyltin. She was trying to be less nervous around him, for Maeryn's sake.

(13:45) Maeryn turned her head to peer at the door over her shoulder when her brother made his arrival. Relief instantly washed over her to see Quess on his arm. Oh what a dear, thoughtful man! She thought to herself. She gave Drysllthen a sharp nod, and bright grin from behind her veil. As Quess approached, she leaned foreward to look at the still utterly confused servant girl. "That is all." She whispered to her, and gestured with her head for the young woman to leave. For a moment, she simply stood there, so with a low hiss, Mae added "Out." Finally the simple girl got it through her head and vacated. She then gave an appreciative smile to Quess and mouthed a silent 'Thank you.' before turning back to her husband-to-be. "We're ready." That nervousness beggining to resettle in her bones as she turned bright eyes toward the priest.

(13:48) Garnett settled quietly into her seat once the train of Maeryn's gown was arranged. Both bride and groom received warm deep smiles from her, and since the coronation, that terrible tenseness had fallen away from her and oddly some of the grief too. Pride shone in her jade eyes at the sight of her blonde daughter, radiant in Garnett's own wedding gown, as pleased as she had been on her wedding day. True, memories were powerful in the chapel, the site of her own wedding, but it was the proper way of things in light of all the similarities. Perhaps they would have their happiness longer. It was this she prayed for. Drysllthen's entrance drew her attention from them briefly, and she held out a gloved hand for him, inviting her son to the seat next to her as she gave an approving nod at his addition of Quess. Once settled, her eyes returned, fervency lighting them, to the ritual.

(13:52) Drysllthen shot Maeryn a broad smile and a quick wink, glad he had chosen well. Fingertips simply pressed to Quess' back to guide her to the front, and once she had taken her place, he swept over to Garnett. His long fingers curled tightly around his mother's for a firm squeeze, and he folded himself silently into the seat next to her. For all the ridiculous quickness of it, he was glad for both their sakes that it forced it to be a small private affair. Finally allowed a moment to breathe, he did so, leaving his hand in his mother's clasp to be the anchor he knew she would need on such a day.

(13:56) Tyltin V watched the serving wench depart in silence, apparently impassive about the inclusion of Quess in the vaunted comanion's role--a hint of suspicion entered his stare, but he turned his gaze to the priest after she took her place. The man was still in silent awe of the sudden arival, but he managed to regain his voice. "Yes. Well." Clearing his throat, the priest casts an eye to the mostly-empty crowd. "Are there any among us who object to this joining of houses?" A heartbeat passed before the Swordking himself answered. "No." The priest ignored him, eyes lingering on Drysllthen, apparently unimpressed by the Crown Prince's presumption.

(14:00) Quess nodded in a broad beam, unspoken words slipping through lips, "Always." She then took a deep breath to let herself catch up, falling all the more still and silent as her attention turned toward the clergy, clasping flingers around the opposite's wrist. She honestly had no idea what she was supposed to do besides simply stand there. Occassionally eyes would drift toward the couple as the service began, letting her expression draw more solemn though she couldn't help the pleasant curl of lips.

(14:02) Drysllthen's brow arched slightly at the Swordking's quick answer but a hint of amusement passed his lips, eyes wide to almost the point of innocence when the priest glanced at him. "He's correct. There are none." The King affirmed with a flick of his free hand that spoke the priest should get on with it. "And it is I, Drysllthen Valenti, that presents Maeryn Wenfrith to be wed to Tyltin Valenti on this day, so affirming the alliance between houses." It was, perhaps, not the proper order of things to anticipate the priest's question, but the King nodded for him to continue.

(14:04) Maeryn was blissfully unaware to Tyltin's feelings on Quess. Nor did she find reason to ask him if her presence was acceptable. He's the one who had rushed her, afterall... which was an exceedingly strange twist of roles. A wink was tossed at Quess before all her attention was absorbed by the speaking priest. When Tyltin answered himself, she had to bite down hard on her lip to keep from laughing outright. Her fingers tightened on his elbow, trembling in their want to giggle. Silly, silly man. When Drysllthen spoke up, she turned to look at him. Oh she knew this wasn't the way of a proper ceremony, but she was utterly grateful that both the men were trying to speed things along.

(14:09) Tyltin V was almost thankful for the King's interjection, for he could see the question rumbling slowly behind those muddied eyes of the cleric. The older man nodded. "It is at hand, then. These two children of God shall be united this day in one flesh, and their families will stand side by side as one under the fires of heaven." Those watery eyes landed on Tyltin. "What do you vow, my son?" The Swordking's brow drew down; he knew the words as well as any, but it would take a moment's gathering to say them. "I, Tyltin Valenti, Fifth of my Name, take Maeryn Wenfrith to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in illness and health, to love and to cherish until death parts us," and there he hesitated for a few long heartbeats, until he could see the sweat bead on the priest's brow. "According to God's holy ordinance." Attention turned then to the woman gripping his shoulder, and only then did he smile. "Thereto I plight thee my troth."

(14:19) Maeryn's heart stopped the moment the priest began. The urge to giggle completely dissolved back into that near panicked nervousness. Fingertips held tight to his elbow to keep from fleeing. She wanted this, yes, but the weight of it had finally fully caught up with her. No longer was it a novel idea to toy with. Her porcilain skin drained even further of color when she heard the vows leaving his lips. Tears gathered in her eyes, but did not fall. When his attention turned to her, those wide nearly-bewildered eyes turned toward him. His smile, however, brought one of her own to her face. When it was her turn, she repeated the words she barely knew, a few lines were switched in order with others. But she made it through the words without any real foul-ups, a triumphant smile lighting her face.

(14:25) Tyltin V kept his eyes glued to her face throughout her recitation, hardly able to restrain his desire to pull her close; that would have to wait. When she was done, the priest made a half-cough. "Yes. Well." The older man blinked at the blank table, a frown forming on his froglike lips. "The gifts?" And then Tyltin mused thoughtfully; it wouldn't be valid without an exchange, but he'd forgotten about that little detail. Then, turning back to the priest, he spoke. "The gift I'm crafting for myself and my love will take years to complete, with precise care and diligent attention and all the skill I can muster. My hands will mould it into a pleasing instrument of desire; my fingers will fill it with a fiery will and passion bright enough to light kingdoms and melt the cruelest hearts. I shall give my life over to the task, and when it is finished, I will present my bride with the finest gift I can offer: herself, realized." His gaze left no question that this abstract was sufficient.

(14:31) Drysllthen observed the ceremony in silence, lips twitching in fond amusement at his sister's slight mishap on the vows. They were sufficient though, and he scowled at the priest for being so dour. His hand answered the occasional clench of Garnett's hand, sidelong glance showing him her glimmering eyes but in truth, she'd seemed to lose something of that burden since the coronation, and this appeared to be lightening it further. His thumb grazed the back of her hand, attention drawn back sharply to the ceremony when he heard Tyltin began to speak of his gift. His brow arched, and his lips parted for a moment as if he would speak, but he simply nodded to override whatever objections the priest might have to that. Yes, best that there were no other guests.

(14:36) Maeryn's smile faded somewhat as the priest made mention of the gifts. With all the rush, she'd completely forgotten of the symbols. Her momentary panic was forgotten for a moment when Tyltin spoke. Her eyes went wide as she looked upon him. It was amazing to hear such poetic words flowing from his lips. Amazing still to hear him speak them amidst a crowd, small as it was. Each word pulled at her heart, and utterly warmed her. The tears that had gathered finally found their way down her cheeks. She wanted to bury herself against his chest, place a thousand kisses on his cheeks, but she held herself in still. Suddenly she felt the clergyman's eyes weighing upon her, impatiently waiting. She chewed on her lip in thought for a moment before it hit her. Gently she pulled a pin from her hair in the back, sending a long curl spiraling down her neck. This was twisted around her finger. With all the courage she could muster, she placed it over the flame of one of the near candles, burning a long thick lock of it from the rest. Several inches were clutched in her hand, trying desperately not to panic over the smell and ash. A ribbon, then, was torn from her hair and tied around the gold in her hand. And this, she held out to him. "So you might always carry light." She said in a quivering voice, tears still streaming in her eyes over his words. "Even in the darkest places."

(14:44) Tyltin V almost wished the priest had an objection for him, but when the King spoke up, the cloth-man relented and nodded, only to turn his baleful eyes upon the woman for perhaps the first time, his expression obviously repulsed. Tyltin himself was prepared to cover for the girl, but when she moved he turned his attention to her. His lips parted in wonder when she tore a lock of her own hair and cut it with fire. Once it was secured with the ribbon, he gripped her hand, bringing her hair-wrapped fingers up to his lips. He heard her tears in her voice, for her veil still hid her face. "I will keep it with me, wherever I go," he promised through kisses to her knuckles. Without the priest's prompting, the Swordking lifted the veil with his free hand, showing those pale, tearstained cheeks. "G-god bless this joining," interrupted the priest. "You may now claim your..." but even before he finished Tyltin's arms had encircled those bare shoulders, his lips claiming her mouth in a shameless show.

(14:48) Garnett's face held a knowing smile as the two gave gifts that suited far more than ones from a smith could ever have. Though she didn't realize it, with her hand gripping Drysllthen's tightly, she held her breath as the sharp smell of burning hair filled the chapel. Jade eyes darted between the two, head nodding her approval until finally a rather untoward, and rarely heard, laugh erupted from her when Tyltin took hold of her daughter so possessively. Eyes lit with tears as she watched the joining, the Queen Mother rising to her feet in acknowledgement of it.

(14:50) Quess hadn't expected such words out of the Swordking either. Perhaps the man did have a romantic and tender side to him afterall. She shouldn't have doubted, Maeryn did appear to love him so. She could see that in her eyes. She found herself gathering hands together, angled toward her chest as she watched the two share their first kiss as husband and wife, the utopian fantasies of marriage still looming in her heart. God, almost brought her to tears herself, just grinning at them with subtle blush as if she'd accidentally walked in on them.

(14:54) Maeryn was glad when the veil was lifted from her eyes, and she could see him without the slight obscurity the veil had offered. Her smile brightened her wet face. His promise ringing in her ears, echoing with his promised lifetime created gift. She knew no one else would ever understand the silent implications of each gift, the unspoken weight of them and it made each all the more precious. Gaze half-turned to the priest as he began to announce, but tore away when she found herself pulled toward her new husband prematurely. With a giggle that refused to stay respectfully silent, she pressed her lips into his, arms tossed over his shoulders. In that sudden, passionate moment, Mae forgot the rest of the room existed.

(14:55) Drysllthen couldn't seem to settle on who deserved his stare more, Tyltin and Maeryn for their rather heated embrace or his mother for her laugh, but both brought a broad smile to his face as he rose to his feet with Garnett. Despite the lingering guilt at the suspicion that he had indeed sold his sister, however well meant, he could not fault the union. "The Crown recognizes the union and offers its blessing as well," he joined in, eyes focused intently on Maeryn's tearful face, his head shaking slightly at the so very obvious passion between the two. He couldn't very well have denied them, worry at selling her or not.

(15:01) Tyltin V showed a modicum of restraint, if only just, as his tongue begged entrance to Maeryn's mouth and fingers played over the clasps at the back of her dress. At the priest's hacked cough he tore his lips away, tossing a glare in the man's direction. "It is finished," the Swordking said simply, and though the holy man wanted to object, the couple had kept to the key notes. "Yes," the older man agreed. "Now go forth and please God." The euphemism wasn't lost on Tyltin, though he had no intention of fulfilling the actual command. Returning his attention to the tearful girl, he stored her gift in a breast pocket and heaved her up to cradle in his arms. "Bit of help, cousin," he prompted, though his eyes still fell on the gir's--his wife's--face. The hand at her knees gripped at the dangling train pooled beneath her.

(15:06) Garnett seemed unable to contain herself any longer for she glided over to them with a beaming smile, another of those laughs slipping from her lips when Tyltin lifted the girl in her unweildly gown. Impulsively, she planted an affectionate kiss on the Swordking's cheek, her words for him alone. "Thank you, son." Fingertips touched brushed his back as she grinned over his shoulder at Drysllthen. She bent close to Maeryn too, unable to resist, her kiss brushing close to her cheek. "I wish you both all happiness together, my loves." Satisfaction, more than she'd suspected she'd feel, gleamed in her eyes, between the marriage and the coronation, some measure of what had been wrong was set right.

(15:08) Quess flashed Maeryn an all too broad smile, relieved at the odd sight of her being lifted, of being touched without negative recourse. As if it mattered, she still bobbed her head toward Tyltin in approval, taking a half step away from the couple to give him copious room to swing the girl around toward the door. Watching the Queen Mother giving her blessing eased her heart all the more at the couple's uniting, nearly all of Quess' concerns washed away about Maeryn's future. Hopes and wishes for Maeryn's future had overrided it all.

(15:10) Maeryn's gaze too, turned to the priest when he coughed, offering him a sheepish smile. The rest of the room finally returning to her. A deep blush lit her face as she turned and looked at Quess, then her mother and brother, laughing. Her nerves were gone and all that was left was unfettered happiness. She very nearly said something to the lot of them, her lips parted, but only a quiet cry of suprise escaped as she found herself lifted off her feet. Instantly, her gaze swung back to him, her arm coming up to curl around his shoulders for balance. The words of God fell on deaf ears. Her mother's kiss was accepted without a hiss or wince. It was met with a grin, and she bent in Tyltin's grasp to return it to the older woman's cheek. "Thank you, Mother." She uttered quietly. A kiss was then blown in the retreating Quess' direction with a wink on its heels, who's meaning might never be known.

(15:11) Drysllthen chuckled when Tyltin swept the girl into his arms, that voluminous dress threatening to swamp them both, and he was quick to stroll over to them. Crouching, he gathered the train in his arms and swathed it around Maeryn to pool in the front of the skirt, his bright eyes on them both. "Do you think you can manage her like that, cousin?" A grin punctuated his words, eyes darting between the pair of them. "And I want her to be able to walk ..oh..in a month or so." He winked at them both with a smirk. "Until then, I'll keep the councillors and nobles from intruding on the privacy of your wing. Send me whatever needs addressing, and I'll see that it's done." With a nod, he brushed his fingers near Maeryn's arm. "Congratulations to you both."

(15:16) Tyltin V raised a brow when the venerated woman approached, her kiss tingling his unmarred cheek oddly. He didn't respond to her given thanks; not in words, anyway. Instead he nodded, attention soon taken by his nephew, satisfied when the diaphonous fabric was gathered safely over the floor. He even managed a smile at the King's veiled remark. "Of course, my liege," he stated formally. With a last glance to all and sundry he started to the door, managing the girl's weight easily enough though it took some effort to keep the cloth corralled between them.

(15:19) Quess winked back at her friend, pecking a pair of fingers to her lips to blow one back for her. She had seen kisses blown before, but never partook of it herself. She certainly didn't grasp the full meaning of Maeryn's gesture but appreciated nonetheless. Did Drysllthen just say that?! In a church no less? A flurry of crimson heated cheeks had her ducking her head shyly before the Swordking took his new bride with purposeful strides.