To start anew
Procella fiddles with her bouquet, pulling lightly on the split leaves of the ivy wrapped around the bottom of it. Not hard enough to tear, of course - ruining your wedding bouquet is the epitome of bad luck. She keeps her eyes firmly on the flowers as she waits, doing her best to ignore the murmur of the small crowd gathering outside. Her fingers trail along the stems. Ivy, honeysuckle, convolvulus, roses - the traditional wedding flowers, interspersed with tiger lily and the occasional peppermint leaf spreading its fresh scent every time she squeezes the stems a bit too hard. Along the bottom, a wrapping of maple leaves to tie off the whole thing.
It’s a very formal bouquet, she knows - barely containing all of the traditional flowers, the hopes for wealth and prosperity obvious in the amount of tiger lily splashing a bold orange across the bouquet. It’s not how she would have designed it - but then again, very little about this is of her own design.
Across the pavillion, her soon-to-be-wife should be waiting in a similar hidden spot. Procella imagines she is just as nervous about this as she is. Although Veronica Eansa didn’t really seem like the type to get nervous. The few times they had met before, the knight had been… quiet. Polite, of course, but keeping her distance. Procella smoothed her thumb over the maple leaves, carefully aged to acquire that perfect red-orange tone to match the tiger lilies.
A reserved nature. That seemed to fit perfectly. Procella wished she had more time to get to know her. But the old Quartermaster of the castle was very ill, and her parents wanted her in an advantageous position for becoming the next one. That’s why the wedding was here, at the court of Iris, in one of the smaller gardens. Procella knew that if she looked out, she’d spot her whole extended family taking up half the seats - the thought made her smile. Her youngest sister would be the flowergirl, as a show of respect and welcome. Ani had been so proud - fairly bouncing around the room this morning as they were getting ready.
The rest of the visitors were unknown - a mish-mash of representatives from the court and what she assumed were personal friends of Veronica. People she would have to get to know over the next weeks. Months. Years. Life. Procella swallowed, feeling unusually small.
Veronica, meanwhile, could barely keep herself from pacing. The wedding hadn’t been a surprise, per se - she knew it would happen some day. It had been her parents price for letting her go into knight training. Her brother, the lucky bastard, didn’t have to worry yet for a few years. Being the oldest had some perks. At five years old, the threat of marriage sometime in the far future hadn’t seemed like such a high price - it hadn’t for a long time. Not until it became reality.
And now it was. She was about to get married. She’d stay in the castle, of course - her knighthood wouldn’t disappear just because she tied the knot with someone. She would still have her post, her few friends, her training. But there would be changes. People would see her differently. Not to mention that there would be an entirely new person in her life, someone she would be with for the foreseeable future.
It wasn’t even that she minded her fiancée. Procella seemed nice enough, from the few times they had met - talkative, but sweet. And… Despite the fact that she was a good head taller than Vera, there was a distinct air of… Vera didn’t know what to call it.
Procella looked like a spooked deer. Like a small fish in a new, big pond. Vera carefully touched the Chrysanthemum flowers spread throughout the arrangement, the delicate pink petals giving way under her fingers. Joy and loyalty, huh? Vera hoped she could give Procella reason to keep such a lovely flower.
The music starts. Procella’s father ducks in, meeting her nervous smile with a broad, familiar one of his own. He’s carrying an olive branch. Vera’s posture straightens, shoulders squaring as if going into battle as she waits alone for her cue. The rustling of her family’s ancient oak tree above her is familiar and comforting.
Simultaneously, they step out, eyes meeting across the petal-strewn walkway.
Ten years later…
Vera couldn’t help but smile, leaning against the door to their bedroom. Her morning practice had just concluded, running drills with bleary recruits and slightly less tired initiates. Coming back in for a short wash, the scene in front of her had made her stop.
Procella was still sleeping, covers kicked away in the summer heat. She had stumbled into bed well after midnight, hands cramping and fingers stained with ink as she snuggled into Vera’s back. Now, she was curled up on Vera’s side of the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest as she breathed slowly in and out. Vera knew that if left alone, she would sleep for another hour or so before slowly waking up.
With a small smile, she gave the single, dark pink rose she was holding a last twirl before carefully laying it down on the vacant pillow, where Procella would see it, before carefully tip-toeing out of the room to return to her duties.
I’m grateful for our love.