Aleron is happy. Actually, the man is deliriously happy, though perhaps it might be hard to tell. He's been smiling all day, but it's his subtle version that is just a fraction above lineface. Fortunately, Bethany is adept at reading his small emotional markers. It's more obvious in the way his eyes watch her wheresoever she goes, how they shine, his relaxed posture. Deliriously happy.

But also painfully overwhelmed. Aleron has never been one for parties, and he has nearly hit his capacity for small talk and just people. Large crowds, huge swaths of distant relatives, the dull roar of voices rising as the wine casks are emptied, he endures these as part and parcel of a celebration which for once in his life is actually about him and his wife. My wife. How sweet those words are to him and he looks down at Bethany again with a swell of pride and adoration.

Out of a rare impulse, he takes hold of Bethany's hand and leans over to whisper in her ear, "Come with me, darling?"

It possibly sounds suggestive, and frankly now they are wed, all things are permitted. But that's not quite what he has in mind. At present. He more wants to sneak away to a remote corner of the walled garden for a few precious moments alone with his beautiful bride. And just a teensy break from having to be social.