"For our children," he uttered, as the gold ring was slid on her thumb, held for a moment, and removed.
The groom had long prepared for this union, and by the smug smile he knew the wait was soon over. Victory, at least, an illusion of it, was within his fingers.
Breathing silenced in the crowd. As their impatience brew like an incoming storm, Celene's gaze did not abandon the shimmer of gold, nor the man who placed the ring on her index finger.
"With the blessing of Andraste and the Maker's grace."
Hardly a whisper was heard from the thousands upon hundreds of Val Royeaux citizens, who had eagerly lined up to witness the ceremony. There were many nobles from neighboring cities too, in all manner of colors. The breeze from the surrounding trees spoke louder than the guests did, sharing tales that no one else would. Like perhaps what the significance of the choice of flowers, dress or having the ceremony in front of the Night Gate, rather than the Imperial Palace, the Grand Cathedral, or even outside the Academie of Chevalier's?
Candles lit up the scene just enough to witness the Grand Duke and Empress in their beauty, but finer, intimate detail?
The answer was as clear as the meaning of this arrangement. Orlais must not cling to the familiar, but forge a new path, where mistakes of the past are forgotten.
A challenge.
Celene met the eyes of her cousin behind the veil. There was mirth on his face, hidden in the twinkle of his eyes, anticipation of their lives that would follow. A ceremony was the only time when the faces of Royalty were not hidden away, though there were strict guidelines on how where guests were allowed to stand in order to preserve an element of secrecy.
"For my wife." Gaspard finished.
The metal pushed past the knuckle of her fourth digit. It's chill snapped her to the moment. She took a breath that was not full from the restriction of her corset. The ring fit well, and would not fall to the ground.
They would not wither in the cunning face of diplomacy.
Celene forced a small smile, as she had in rehearsal, one she could never get exactly right. It lacked candour, and perhaps, despite Gaspard's specialization in combat, he was going to learn when she was deceiving, whether she wanted him to or not. It would take years, possibly five or six, but they'd vowed to co-exist for the rest of their lives, so it was an eventuality, not a possibility. Unless one were murdered.
Her secrets would not be revealed so effortlessly.
As the priest expressed the obeisant words Celene had learned by heart, excited mutters washed over the crowd. The breeze of the branches may have been fighting for attention, as she wished for it to stop. The tumbling of petals to the ground was a reminder of all the soldiers who had fallen in Gaspards name, the Nobles who had died by hers, and the end to what few dreams she still clung to.
The Grand Duke swore their marriage would strengthen Orlais's power within Thedas, that their voices could determine more than one alone. She disagreed. Likely, they would only have more reasons to quarrel, but she would try to cooperate. Before that, she'd try to make him see what was right and fair.
They linked their ring hands together, and kissed once. The crowd tittered, then burst into applause. It was a sound Celene thought too polite for her allies.
