faderift | [Open] I Look At You

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[Open] I Look At You

WHO: Aleron Darton and Bethany Hawke, Malcolm Reed, Nathaniel Howe, The Grey Warden 2LiveCrew (even you Teren), The Seeker Trio, and YOU.
WHAT: A Noble Wedding Between Two Great Houses.
WHEN: Backdated to the first of Bloomingtide
WHERE: Endridge, outside of Kaiten in the Free Marches.
NOTES: Warnings for Exceeding Sappiness and Happiness. What is that? Why is this in this game? That's just weird.EDIT: I've put in headers if you want to tag under those, but please feel free to put in your own top levels!

It's a far distance to Endridge from most anywhere, situated five miles outside Kaiten. But the destination is well worth the journey. The roads are even and in good repair as they stretch out through gently rolling hills of green. Picturesque. Tranquil. This is precisely what Bethany had wanted for her wedding: somewhere outdoors under the Maker's sky.

The pastoral setting truly is breathtaking for anyone moved by nature. Lush pastures stretch out almost to the horizon, dotted with fleecy ewes and their bouncing new lambs. Gentle breezes dance through the trees, the rustling sending gusts of fruit blossom petals scattering to the winds. Within those branches, twittering birds in joyous song cover the backdrop of baaaaaahs arising from the sheep. Behind the birdsong, the burbling of the creek sings out as it trips along its way to the lake. The warming new summer air coaxes perfumes out of the flowers, filling the air with their mingled scent. Behind the bounteous gifts of nature looms a stone edifice, seat of the Darton family, an imposing but not ungainly castle. The house is the work of the first baron, built to be a stronghold against further Nevarran incursions and a sign to legitimize the new title.

Never let it be said that Ravonild does not know how to throw a party. She's graciously offered the house and the grounds for the wedding, but has had her hand in all the preparations. Every inch of the ballroom has been polished and shined. The great hall transformed into a banqueting hall large enough to accommodate the guests, which includes every far-flung Darton relative crawled out of the woodwork. Where she has not worked her magic as a hostess is in the location of the ceremony proper. It is arranged within the formal gardens, which were a gift from Aleron's father to his new bride on her arrival from Orlais. Holding the wedding there, instead of in the wilder walled garden with its riot of variety and colors was a conciliatory gesture to appease Mama for not having the wedding in Orlais. Regardless of the behind-the-scenes bickering beforehand, everything is now the very picture of hospitality and celebration. The music is unending, the wine is free-flowing, and the dancing will last until dawn.

The simplest portion of the wedding is the ceremony itself. The Darton and Hawke coat of arms have been placed on display within the gardens, but that is the extend of excess and showmanship. Nathaniel Howe gives the bride away, Aleron's sisters are the bridal attendants, Malcolm Reed standing guard as a groomsman. In a break from tradition, youngest sister Layla carries a bouquet in one hand and her newborn baby in the other arm. (The tiny one was fussy, you see.) Oh, and yes, the bride's maiden of honor is an elf - but considering it is Merrill of the Champion's Tale? It is given a pass for the excitement of seeing one of Varric Tethras's heroes in the flesh, next to the bride.

Beyond that, it is a traditional ceremony performed by the Revered Mother who blessed all the Darton children as babes. Portions of the Chant are sung. Vows and rings are exchanged. Though behind the flowers Aleron and Bethany are holding hands and making eyes at each other. In fact, it seems miraculous that they're able to respond as required since they appear already lost in each other and not at all attentive to the ritual they are engaged in.

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Bethany's had plenty of time with all of them - Isabella and Varric especially. Quite the education, honestly. Let us also not forget that most of the time, she sleeps in the tent nearest to Nathaniel and Anders. That's an education in itself.

Her lips parted to answer the other man, before she dimpled back at her husband, she took his hand. "Well, as long as it is a kitten that will get along with Gamlen, I would not object." She does have her puppy to consider after all. "But let us wait until we are settled in before we take on another mouth to feed."

"Fenris." And it is said with a depth of warmth that only the Kirkwall group has gotten, outside of a few dear friends. She has known Fenris for a third of her life after all, and it shows in the hug she gives him, without reservation.

"Thank you so much for coming." She holds onto his hands, gives him a long look. "No one has bothered you, have they?" She should have warned him, about Ravinold and her ...bevy of handsome elven servants. In fact - "Listen, that is my sister-in-law down the line there. Steer clear. For your own safety. She's ... somewhat predatory."

She dips down into a curtsey, and lets him lead her onto the dance floor. She is someone who loves to dance - who knows all the dances they can muster. Although she prefers the country dances, the ones they do around the Warden camp, she can hold her own here.

She dips, and swirls, and then says with more seriousness than she has with anyone else, "I will take care of him, Malcolm. I promise. Nothing will bad will ever come from him marrying a mage."

In response, Christine inclines her head a little. "I will take that into consideration." But even if she did miss the glint and the glance, she wouldn't be comfortable staying too much longer. Those in the upper class tend to make her easily irritated. People like Aleron who don't act better than others is fine, but she hates small talk with people who settle into the lifestyle so easily. So she's stuck between Aleron's sister... and Kirkwall. Which is worse?

"I will certainly sit down with the lambs before I go. I cannot pass up such an opportunity." And it's not like she wears this dress often enough to care if a lamb steps on it.

The gardens is an ideal place for a more peaceful evening. Or at least it ought to be. Inessa sighs as she urges Garahel move away with her from yet another nook that turned out to be, ahem, occupied. She's about to give up entirely and return to the crowds when she spots Fenris. Garahel perks up and barks, heading over for some petting, and she approaches as well.

"Beware, Fenris. The more isolated corners of the garden are well-occupied tonight. At least the ones I have found; if there are others, I would welcome the aid in finding one."

Nathaniel is in his dress uniform, turned out every lint (and pet hair) brushed away and every button polished. He hasn't attended such a posh event in some time, and he's not entirely sure how he should feel about it. Except happy, for Bethany. Nathaniel didn't have the chance to see Delilah married off.

He peeps through a curtain separating the bridal party from the guests, then turns to give her a smile, walking toward her.

"Are you ready?"

"Just a moment - "

Bethany is smoothing down the last little wrinkles from the bodice of her gown, down over the light feathers that cling to the skirt. She looks at herself in the mirror, exhaling, before she looks at Nathaniel's reflection in the mirror, her dark eyes bright with happiness -- and of course a touch of worry.

"How do I look?"

Nathaniel almost never cries. It's just the sort of family he grew up in, the non-crying sort. But now his eyes mist, and his smile wavers.

"A vision. Radiant. Confident. Joyful." He reaches for her gloved hands to hold them for a moment, his grip just a bit tight.

"When I first met you, about a decade ago, I saw so much of myself in you. You were so angry. Forced from a loving family into a life where you had no home, no nation, no friends. Your family wasn't even allowed to know if you were alive or dead, for so long. You were really just as orphaned as I was. And I took it very personally, somehow. I used to think I was teaching you how to accept your new life and become happy as a Warden, but that isn't how it was. All I ever did was give you a perch to land on. You took off flying on your own. You taught me happiness."

The rare smile softens and Aleron nods in acceptance of Emeric's conveyed regrets. He's always appreciated that he'd been among those who didn't cast off the young widower in the wake of his wife's loss. The distance to travel to the far side of the Free Marches is no small trek from Orlais and he knows it.

But as to plans for the future? Work awaits them both on arrival. Work for the Inquisition and work of a personal nature, namely convincing the acting viscount to turn over the Hawke manor to a Hawke. Darton now. Either way, they have no home in which to make their nest until that is settled and squared away. Bethany is far better with people than Aleron is, and it's going to take a skilled hand at diplomacy to make their case, since they are neither of them willing to use the more aggressive threats of violence approach.

"We're taking the slow route to Kirkwall, but I fear it's straight back to work for us both. There is much to be done and we've already dawdled in attending it with all the wedding preparations."

And once they've secured a house they'll have to set it up. It's a novel concept for Aleron who's never truly had a place to call home in his adult life.

Nathaniel Howe, don't you dare, oh. Now Bethany is tearing up as well, before she folds her fingers around him. Holding on tight to him, as she had for ten years.

A tear trickled down her cheek, and then the other, before she let out a soft choked noise.

"You know - you know I love you, so much. You've been the older brother I always wanted, but probably never deserved. Whatever I've taught you about being happy - well. You should know that you taught me everything I ever needed to know about being strong, being able to stand on my own two feet. For once - for once in my life ... unafraid."

She leaned in, and kissed his cheek, hard.

"Thank you. Thank you ... for making sure I saw this moment." She sucked in a breath, unsteadily, tears still rolling down her face, "Thank you for being my family."

It's the first time in years that actual tears have escaped Nathaniel's eyes and rolled down his face. First things first, he returns that kiss to the her glowing cheek, then takes out a handkerchief and dabs those tears away.

"We will always be family." His tone lightens. "I'm only giving you away in a symbolic sense, after all--I have to make sure Aleron doesn't bore you into a stupor."

She is still smiling at him - a smile that is surprised into a laugh that bubbles out of her. She lets go of his hand, so she can give him a swat, her cheeks still curved into humor.

"You are horrible! Aleron is not boring. He is just quiet." She informed him, with mock primness, before her dimples reappeared. "Besides, we can't all have the dashing mage roguish ones. Some of us have to take the darkly intense knightly ones. Like you."

She wrinkled her nose at him, smiling brightly, before she squeezed him again. "But you're right - we will always be family." Blood made no difference. "And I will always be here, to help lift you up again."

A smile and a faint blush. "Comparing me to Aleron is high praise. I would say I will always be there to protect you, but that's his job now, and he'll do well at it."

He turns slightly and offers his arm. "Your perch, my lady."

Aleron peels his gaze up from his newest niece to look at Anders. Very few in attendance know who he is, and for the sake of the peace, it's best for his identity to remain unknown. The Seeker is not best known for dissembling and lying of any sort chafes him horrendously. In doing the best he can to not out this particular guest, he looks over to his beautiful bride and just that alone draws a slight smile out of him.

"What most know is that Bethany is a Hawke and a Warden. That she is a celebrity for being featured in a book about her sister, and that their family is from an aristocratic line in Kirkwall. That is all that matters to them, that in their eyes, this is an advantageous match for both sides."

Don't be fooled. He knows what Anders is asking. However, Aleron has already run into their differing opinions about how they view Bethany. The mage obviously feels her magic is her defining trait; the groom feels it is only one feature, much as her hair or eyes or dimples.

"But do we ever truly know another? She is so much more, and that I cannot say anyone knows in full. She is good and kind and loving. Certainly some have learned as much. I hope they all do in time."

"Good, because I plan on giving you high praise as long as we are alive." She dimpled at him, before she goes to take his arm. She let out a long, and shaky breath, before she smiles at him.

"Always my rock, my lord." Her gloved fingers squeezed his arm gently, "Shall we go and face the throngs of darkspawn - I mean. Gentry?"

Aleron would point out that the young griffons seem well-equipped to care for themselves. Particularly Butterball. Especially when it comes to procuring food. He's got no direct experience with them himself, but stories circulate about their antics.

He's more interested in hearing confirmation that supplies sent out from here arrived safely and are being put to good use. It will please his sister greatly to hear it as well. He suspects she's using his connections to leverage herself somehow, but hell if Aleron knows how or why or you know what? Don't even care. Today is the start of a new life and that's good enough to let pieces of the past slide.

"Certainly we can go tomorrow. The oldest from this year's lambing season are in the east pasture."

There's a nod when Bethany agrees with his assessment of Ravonild's preference for entertaining. He's not innocent in suggesting that all the guests stay a few extra days, and Aleron knows it. More people around, however, keeps her attentions scattered elsewhere and off him, which is so much the better. Better because it keeps the two of them from resorting to shouting matches like young children all over again.

Honestly, its a marvel that there hasn't been a single outburst from the Darton twins all day. The whole family's been on the edge of their seats waiting for the inevitable blowout since dawn and so far have been vastly disappointed on that score.

"We'll take you round by the east pasture. It's the nicest and where the oldest from this year's newborns are kept." He clears his throat and adds in a quieter tone, "Though you might wish to take your beau along as well."

Left unsaid is that his sister is practically predatory in her tastes for attractive... things. Christine might not care to share him.

Bethany's hand gets a small squeeze. "Agreed. I'd prefer to have you a home in which to lay your head first." Even if that means he has to go toe to toe with Viscount Bran and threaten to cut off his supply of luxury milk soap. Because that's the best he's got short of resorting to violence. Or moving in with Mama and that is not happening.

Maker if his mother makes good on the threat to take a home in the Free Marches to be nearer her grandchildren (with her pointed look at her son who is behind in providing them), Aleron just might make another escape with his wife back to Nevarra. Lovely country, open to mages in many ways, no female relatives to nag him to death.

Attention goes back to their guest and away from considerations of impending doom of the familial variety. "But your coming this great distance is all the gift we require, and we thank you heartily for it."

It takes all those years of disciplined self-control for Aleron to refrain from laughing outright at his wife's warning to Fenris. As it is, he snorts quietly, but does manage to resist cracking even so much as half a smirk. The temptation is there, however.

Instead, he directs his attention to the query regarding the elf's treatment. It's not all that often that Aleron will dig his heels in and stubbornly demand his way about something. But in this case, he makes sure he's overheard, because he won't have people important to Bethany treated like servants. Especially not today. Especially not his sister and her potential for sampling at the sweets. A hand goes on Bethany's shoulder, just as an outward sign of solidarity.

"Yes, our thanks. We know it was no small distance to travel." This particular fellow is a guest, not the hired help. "And I know it especially pleases my wife to have her dearest friends present."

"It's my pleasure, Bethany. Butterball is fine--and eating everything in sight. I've tried to give him some attention, when Potato and Buttons permit me." Those names will never not make her sigh a little, but she's almost resigned to them now. Almost.

Aleron's news prompts a smile and agreeable nod from her, eager to see animals not blighted or bred for war. Mabari will always come first in her heart, but the innocence of lambs is a rare thing. "Tomorrow it is, then. I'll ensure that Garahel is left in suitable company. He will not interfere."

"I feel like I could burst, I'm so elated." And then in a shocking turn of events, Aleron impulsively leans in to kiss his lovely bride. Because to him, she is the most marvelous of all the Maker's creation. He is never so impulsive, but this is the miracle Bethany has worked: he is more relaxed and at peace than he has ever been. When he does pull away, it's only enough to breathe and finish his thought, "You've brought me more joy than I thought was possible."

He is long past the lingering fear that she would change her mind about him. Further still from the fog of grief that threatened to suffocate his life forever. But for more days than are possible to recount, he truly believed that the best he could ever hope for was a sense of numbness to dull the pain he's carried alone. Bethany has erased that blur of a half-life and restored to him a sense of meaning and purpose.

Such thoughts are not on his mind, however. Rather, his mind is absorbed with drinking in the pleasure of a private moment with his beautiful bride in a moonlit garden. The evening air is cooling but still thick with floral scents, crickets chirrup from under the grasses, this is magical. And it makes the prospect of their eventual retirement to Orlais not such a burden of a prospect after all. This sort of tranquility can be their every night if they wish it.

Right now, Aleron is drunk on happiness and love. It suits him well, dwelling on hope for their future. "I adore you, Bethany."

Kirkwall is no where that Gwenaëlle has been in a great rush to get to herself; she'll be among the last to arrive and that's just fine. The Duke will arrange more suitable accommodation when it becomes possible, but she knows she's looking at rather more time than she cares for in the Gallows - far from fitting.

Now isn't the time to complain. (But she will and at length, just. Later.)

"I don't envy that," she says, light, leaning against his shoulder. "But it'll be as well, when you're settled. And having one another once you're set to work, as well. I'm sure."

She thinks fleetingly of Asher - of Alexander - of no one in particular who gave her wine and somewhere to sit and be still. It's a companionship to cling to, wherever you can. She understands that, even as she steadfastly avoids matrimony.

"Oh good! And we shall be delighted to show you all the lambs - oh, they are so sweet. You will love them almost as much as you love the griffons." She dimpled again, squeezing her hands. Then she stepped back, her brown eyes warm.

"I hope you will have a delightful time." She grinned, dimpling, looking over at her husband, "And we both hope, I think, for you to enjoy every singe aspect of the evening."

Bethany caught onto Aleron's meaning instantly, before she looked back at Christine with a firm nod. "Neither one of us is very familiar with your young man, but let me assure you, you would like to bring him along to see the lambs. And everything else here, if you can."

Under any circumstances, she should not leave Church alone where Ravonild could find him. Neither one of them would be able to save the poor man if he was left for his own devices. Not without some serious growling.

She smiled at him, before her breath was quiet taken away by him stealing a kiss. Here, in the garden of all places. In the moonlight, with the scent of roses and other flowers in her nose, and she can hear the sounds of one of the fountains trickling as his lips leave hers. She keeps her eyes closed for a long moment, lips slightly parted, before she opened her brown eyes to see all the love in those beautiful blue eyes. The warmth of his expression, all the joy and the happiness.

She had done this. She had made this saddened soul burst from the seams with joy. And in turn ...

"When I was a little girl, I used to dream when I was little that one day I would grow up like my mother, wear a beautiful gown and have children that laughed and played at my feet. My husband, like my father, would bring home flowers from the field, and tuck them in my hair. It wouldn't matter if we had money, or riches, we'd have each other and ... and I thought that made my parents the richest people in the world."

She looked down at their hands, "Then my magic appeared -- and I thought -- well. That's it. There's no way. Mages aren't meant to marry, meant for happiness -- but there were my parents again. Defying everything to be together, and I thought ... maybe, just maybe."

A soft sigh, a heavy one, "A Blight, a flight to Kirkwall, a year grinding away in Lowtown, and one trip to the Deep Roads and I lost everything. I lost hope, I lost my freedom, I thought I had even lost the sunlight. It took me a ... very long time to turn the corner, to find brightness in the world again. My sister and brother had a lot to do with that. Nathaniel, even more. But I thought to myself - that's it. To live, to serve with honor would have to be enough."

She looked at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears, bright and happy ones. "But then I met you - and ... and I fell in love. And you loved me back, and it was everything. You ... are everything, Aleron. You are all my dreams come true."

She cupped his cheek, whispering, "I love you, to the stars and back again."

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Page 3 of 5

[Open] I Look At You

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Just before the procession | closed to Bethany

Re: Just before the procession | closed to Bethany

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of course she's his favourite! :D

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u know it

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