by Bryan Fields
With half an hour to go, our officiant stopped in to see how I was doing. Gaar was from Aerin’s world, one of the adventurers who had come to Earth with Angus back in the sixties. At least English wasn’t an issue for him. He was a senior priest of Crom, and looked like a retired gladiator. Tall, huge muscles, battle scars, and an aura of absolute self-confidence. He was wearing bright silver full plate armor, blazoned across the chest with a smith’s hammer striking an anvil.
He clasped my hands and said, “How are you feeling, son? Still trembling and ready to shit yourself?”
I laughed and said, “No, that’s one problem I don’t have. How are you at writing wedding vows on short notice?”
“Damn good, as long as I’m writing them for myself.” He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “Your vows aren’t for the audience. They’re for her. Tell her how you feel. That’s all you need do. Even if you think she knows it already, you should still say it. As long as you say what you feel, what you say won’t be wrong.”
As hokey as it sounded, it did help. Everything I’d come up with was an attempt to talk to the audience and explain how I felt, rather than being a promise to Rose herself. I checked the clock on the wall. “Oh, hey, twenty minutes left. Plenty of time.”
Gaar stood up. “Ten minutes, actually. If it helps, Rose wants to do her vows first.”
I stood up too. “Then I should get in a bathroom break. Who knows? The perfect speech might leap to mind.” It didn’t, but I felt more relaxed as we went out to the chapel and took our positions by the pulpit.
Even with the rehearsals we’d done, I got the shivers when the opening bars of “O Fortuna” sounded and the choir began singing...
O Fortuna,
Velut luna,
Statu variabilis…
The music and choir softened into a slow, measured rumble, matching pace with the bridesmaids as they came up the aisle.
Ember, Miriam, and Yuki—one of Rose’s friends from her dance company—were wearing long sleeved gowns of variegated silk, with billowing dark green skirts that changed to light green and amber above the waist. The bodices were close-fitting, with strong, straight lines accented with dusty-gold lace panels from the neckline down almost to the waist. They were Elvish work, measured and resized for Human proportions.
The ladies took position by the pulpit, and Gaar stepped forward. The music surged into a thundering overture and he swept his arms up, signaling the audience to stand as Rose and her father entered the chapel. It was my first look at the dress as well, and for a few moments I was very glad all I had to do was stand there.
Rose’s dress was crushed velvet in bold crimson, embroidered with gold thread crisscrossing diagonally to form diamond patterns on the sleeves and the side panels of her skirt. The points of the each diamond were marked with a brilliant leaded glass crystal in a gold setting. The bodice was sleeveless, smooth leather, covered with gold filigree and sparkling leaded crystals. The lower edge of the bodice shimmered with rows of dangling gold coins. She had a belt of gold chains, and gold dragonscale gauntlets on her forearms.
A royal purple mantle fell from her shoulders to the floor. As she walked, the edges billowed just enough to show the dress was backless. Her bouquet used royal purple roses accented with sprays of delicate silver flowers, neither of them from Earth. Her hair swirled around her like a second mantle, moving and waving in a wind no one else could feel.
She was beautiful, and awful, and glorious to behold. Should she cross paths with a hurricane, the wind would bow before her and beg her pardon.
She kept her pace timed to the music, reaching my side as the closing fanfare sounded. Her father gave her an ‘I hope you know what you’re doing’ look before placing her hand in mine. He gave me a reluctant nod and went to sit down.
“Please be seated.” Gaar set a large, iron-bound book on the pulpit, but didn’t open it. “As a child, if anyone had asked me what the best part of being a priest was, I would have said it was having access to the sacramental wine. Now, with the wisdom of years, I know the wine is…probably third, maybe fourth on the list. This time, this duty, this…privilege, of uniting people in the recognition of their feelings for one another—this is the best part of the job.
“Marriage exists everywhere, among all people. It exists in many forms, some familiar, some very different from what we know. What defines marriage is not its form but its purpose, and that purpose is the public recognition of a private decision. No law defines your marriage, or tells you when it’s working. No custom can tell you who the right person is, and no teacher or oracle can lead you to the right choice. For that, we look to ourselves, to our family and friends, to divine guidance, and, of course, to luck.”
“I can’t say if anyone decided David and Rose should meet; I don’t know any gods who post on social media. But, regardless of whether it was luck or divine will or destiny, meet they did, and they’ve been shaking the pillars of Heaven on a regular basis since then. It’s worked out so well, they decided it was just and right for them to proceed to take up the bonds of marriage, and make formal what, up until now, simply was.”
He paused, a roguish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m told I need to ask if anyone has just cause to object to this union, but, no. Not going to do it. Anyone who objected should have done so a while back. If you couldn’t be arsed to speak up before now, don’t bother. You lose.” He laughed and clapped his hands. So, onward!”
“One of the rules that come with this job is that you have to say something pithy and inspiring on what makes marriage work. Most of the time, you’re likely to hear something about the symbolism of the marriage rings. Crom thinks that’s boring. This is what we talk about…” He reached down behind the pulpit and unsheathed a two-handed sword larger than Kindness. He held it above his head, blade horizontal, turning it so the audience could get a good look.
“Rings…rarely have a purpose beyond their existence. They might be beautiful, or valuable, but they’re rarely functional. Marriages have purpose, just as swords have purpose. They can help you do great things, and they can fail—usually for the same reason.
“They fail, not because they are weak, but because they are too strong. A sword needs to be hard, but only in places. The edge of the blade must be hard, or it can’t be sharpened. But, if you hardened the entire sword to the same degree you harden the edges, that sword will shatter. The core of the blade must remain flexible in order to absorb the shock of incoming blows and spring back in to shape. That is the secret of a good sword, and a strong marriage. Yield, and you will triumph.”
Gaar sheathed the sword and clasped his hands together. “All forms of marriage, in all times and places, have certain components, certain acts and rituals, in common. The most fundamental of those is the declaration of love itself. Rose, please take David’s hands and speak your heart.”
Rose took a deep breath and let it out. When she spoke, her voice was low and throaty, as though she were giving Confession. “David, when I left home, I had no idea what I would encounter or who I was going to meet. I wasn’t sure what kind of person I wanted to be with. When I saw you, I was terrified to speak with you; afraid I would do or say something strange and scare you off. Instead, you…embraced me. All that I am, you welcomed. You gave me love, and wonder, and…trust. It was more than I had dreamed I would find.
“Being bound together by your culture and customs is…something new. I’m terrified of the idea, but more frightened of failing. Even so, every time I feel fear creep up on me, I think back to the night we met, and I’m not afraid anymore.”
Rose gave my hands a quick, powerful squeeze. “On countless worlds, bards and storytellers weave tales of adventure and daring, hoping to delight the crowd and win coins for their efforts. They love telling tales of Dragons and those who seek to slay them because everyone knows only the strongest and bravest warriors would dare battle a Dragon. However, only a true Hero would dare marry one. You, Da
vid, are one such Hero, and this is my testimony to you.”
I felt power flow through her, and I realized what the mantle was for—and why her gown was backless.
She was unfolding her wings.
She couldn’t bring them in at full-size, but even scaled to her body they were impressive. She extended them as high as she could without knocking into anything and held them there. No one panicked or started screaming. A few people looked alarmed, but most people nodded or murmured something approving, so the rest accepted it as well.
“David, my Hero, you have dared and done things that would freeze the hearts of lesser men. You have defeated every adversary who dared challenge you, and through it all you have remained honorable, kind, generous, and merciful.”
Rose brought my fingers to her lips and kissed them. “With you, I have fought demons, made dreams real, rescued the innocent, and touched the lives of the children I cannot have. None of these would have happened without you in my life. Therefore…”
Rose took a deep breath. “On this day, in this place, with these friends assembled, I who am called Glittering Heart of the Midnight Sun Rose, Shining Diamond-Bright Across Meadow and Peak to Mirror the Eternal Firmament, do bind myself to you, David Fraser, for as long as the wind and sky endure, for only with you may my heart fly free.”
Gaar said, “David, Rose has spoken her heart. Do you accept her love into your safekeeping and promise to respect her thoughts, needs, person, and spirit as you respect your own, so long as you both shall love?”
I bowed my head and kissed her fingers as she had mine. “I do.”
“Very well. Speak your heart to her.”
Inside, my mind was racing flat-out, but the wheels were off the road and grabbing nothing but air. All I could think of was, “Just try not to suck”.
Tell her how you feel. That’s all you need do. Gaar’s advice rang true. Besides, I had no better idea to work with.
I gazed at Rose and said, “If I have become stronger, it is because you have inspired me. If I have done great things, it is your belief that made those deeds possible. I had no wings of my own with which to soar, so you lifted me up with yours. It is your flame that warms my heart, and your touch is worth more to me than gold or jewels. It is my deepest wish to be with you always, as long as wind and sky endure, for only with you shall my heart fly free.”
Rose snuffled and her eyes turned police box-blue with gold flecks—Dragon body language for utter joy.
Oh, yeah. Nailed it.
Gaar gave me a nod and said, “Rose, David has spoken his heart to you. Do you accept his love into your safekeeping, and promise to respect his thoughts, needs, person, and spirit as you respect your own, so long as you both shall love?”
She mantled her wings, and the nonexistent breeze sent her hair snapping and waving out behind her like a banner before a storm. “I do.”
Gaar held up our rings and said, “David and Rose have chosen these rings as symbols of the vows they have made to one another. As you place these rings on each other’s hands, say, ‘I give to you this ring as an outer symbol of the bond that lives within us’.”
We did. I even managed to keep hold of the ring and get it on the correct finger.
Gaar held his arms out in benediction. “As you have declared your intention to be married and your love for one another before these family and friends assembled, and formalized it by the exchange of rings, the Temple of Crom and the State of Nevada do recognize and sanctify your decision. As you go forth into the days of your togetherness, walk with strength and honor, mirth and reverence, love and respect, and may your years be good and long upon this world. The rite of marriage is done; you may kiss.”
This we did.
And in all our wedding photos, my wife has wings.
Chapter Twenty-Six
There and Back Again
“All told, that’s eleven bottles of Scarlet River mead, one Elvish leather breastplate sized for an anorexic twelve year-old, one book of Elvish herb lore, one gold-engraved battle-axe, one pair of quartz dice. One bear claw in a platinum setting, one steel penannular cloak clasp, one cast bronze statue of an eight-legged honey badger, one book of magical theory, one gold tiara, one silver ring set with an amethyst. Three dress-uniform leather baldrics with gold buckles, one steel falchion, one long dagger with white gold furniture, one set of steel chain and plate war dog barding, two matching silver-fitted hand crossbows, one full suit of steel plate armor for a Human male, three dark brown leather leggings, one dark green skirt. One amber lump with a large dragonfly inclusion, one gold-rimmed mirror, one brass cauldron, one golf ball-sized uncut emerald, one midnight-black arrow fletched with phoenix feathers, and one stuffed and mounted death sheep.” I shook my head and gave a low whistle. “I’d say that’s a pretty decent haul for our first dungeon delve.”
“Why couldn’t those ruins have been designed by a lazy GM who stuck to cash and small gems as treasure?” Ember waved her half-finished glass of healing potion spiked with her favorite energy drink. “I still want the sheep. Anyone else interested? I’ll rochambeaux you for it.” She mimed kicking straight up into the family jewels.
Miriam said, “No, no, you can take it.” Everyone else nodded and the sheep was awarded to Ember by acclaim. I sure as hell didn’t want it—the fangs on that thing could scare a shark.
I pointed my pen at the pile in the middle of the suite. “Anyone else see something they want to claim?”
“I’d like the book on magic,” Eric said. “It’s the only thing I value out of the stuff we found.”
“No objections? Looks like it’s yours.” I checked it off the list.
Miriam picked up the war dog armor. “I think this is big enough to fit Nietzsche, and she would look so cool when we’re out running.”
“Armor for the friendliest and least-threatening Rottweiler on the face of the planet, check.” I picked up the Uber-Badger statue. “Anyone object if I snarf this? All right, thank you. Next item…”
We went through the rest, awarding the jewelry and other high-value stuff by dice roll. Thankfully, there were no extra baggage fees on Aerin’s jet, so getting the big stuff home wouldn’t be an issue.
Miriam stood up and stretched. “This was an amazing experience. Thank you guys for inviting me, but I think I’ll stick with table-top monster slaying rather than the real thing. Although, if you ever decide to just go shopping, let me know. I would love to have a closet full of this Elvish clothing.” She turned to Geneva and added, “Thank you for sticking with me. I would have been toast half a dozen times without you. Would you please return these wands to Aerin, since they’re mostly unused?”
Geneva shook her head. “Aerin gave those to you. They’re yours. You should think about finding a Krav Maga school when you get home. I think you’d enjoy it.”
“I’ll look into it.” Miriam waved as she headed up the stairs to her room. “Right now, all I can think of is a hot shower and a soft bed. Night, all.”
Geneva turned her tablet off. “Do you need someone to do your back?”
Miriam turned bright red, but nodded. “That would be…agreeable. I might need a little coaching, though.”
“We’ll start with a few basic stances,” Geneva replied. She linked arms with Miriam and both headed up the stairs. The rest of our fellow adventurers said their good-nights as well, leaving us to turn off the lights.
Outside, it was four thirty-seven Sunday morning, and Las Vegas was still thumping along. Here, we’d been married about fourteen hours. I put my arms around Rose and nuzzled her hair. “I’d say your parents picked a great wedding gift. That was fun.”
“It was.” Rose turned and kissed me. “Worry about thanking them later. You have a gift to unwrap.” She pulled her blouse open enough for me to see a blue silk ribbon wrapped around her chest and tied into a bow.
“Isn’t that two gifts?” I scooped her up and carried her into the master suite.
“Nope, I’m a
package deal.” Rose kicked the door shut behind us. “If you want the tail, you got to take it by the Dragon.”
“I can do that,” I said.
Later, pleasantly exhausted, Rose pressed her body to mine and drifted off to sleep. I traced my fingertips through her hair, down her cheek, and between her breasts. She wriggled a little and made a lion-sized purring noise.
I smiled and drifted off as well. No matter what might happen tomorrow, here and now I’m the luckiest sonofabitch in the world.
In all the worlds.
About the Author
By day, I’m a mild-mannered IT tech, and by night, a writer who spends too much time in online games.
I grew up reading classical authors such as Verne, Burroughs, Wells, Haggard, and Lovecraft, often in conjunction with large doses of Monty Python, Wild Wild West, and Hee-Haw. My current influences include Doctor Who, Girl Genius, and An Idiot Abroad.
I began writing professionally as a member of the content design team for the MMORPG Istaria: Chronicles of the Gifted. My first published book, Life With a Fire-Breathing Girlfriend, was published by MuseItUp in 2014.
I live in Denver with my wife, Noelle, and daughter, Alissa. The three of us can often be found prowling around Istaria, Wizard City, and the wilds of Azeroth. I also make occasional side jaunts to scavenge bits of ancient technology in the radioactive ruins of the Grand Canyon Province.
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