"Do you need me to punch you in the face on your wedding day?" Gladio asked.
"Preferably not. Then again, that would be quite an effective distraction." Tristan ran his fingers through his hair and began to pace again.
Prompto took hold of Tristan's forearm in a firm grasp. "Stop moving, Tris. Take a deep breath."
"I tried that technique, but she's still not here."
"We have fought bloody battles together, my friend," Ignis said. Tristan's spiked blonde hair and wire glasses caused the two to frequently be mistaken for brothers. "We ended the rebellion in what was left of the Empire. We defeated monsters that make my worst nightmares seem G rated. We can even get through this—your fiancé ten minutes late for your wedding."
"If you ladies don't stop squawking, I'm going to charge you each five Gil for being seen in public with you," Gladio said. He'd made the comment mostly out of habit; in truth, he found his new friend's behavior amusing, almost endearing. Gladio had never seen Tristan so nervous.
The four men had plenty of distance between them and the three bridesmaids to keep the conversation private. The guests were, of course, already assembled in the Cathedral of Altissia. Clusters of white gardenias and strips of light purple cloth adorned the columns. Gladio vaguely wondered if they'd managed to fit black into the decorations for House Lucis. He hadn't been inside yet; he'd pulled up in his suit forty-five minutes ago, let the women out, and stayed in his car reading The Phenomenology of Mind until Ignis had banged on his window with some choice words.
"She doesn't want to do this." Tristan sighed and faced the cathedral, eyes glazed. "I can't make her spend the rest of her life—"
He trailed off when he heard a side door open and Lady Lunafreya walked toward them. She'd aged well, the shallow smile lines and crow's feet only making her look wiser. She crossed her arms and paused. Finally her eyes flicked toward Gladio. "Luciana would like to speak with you."
Gladio felt three additional pairs of eyes turn toward his direction. He ignored them, caught off guard more by the queen's facial expression than the request. "Of course. Please give me one minute, Your Highness-I need to get something out of my car."
Lady Lunafreya nodded once. Curtly.
Gladio reached his car in several swift strides. He retrieved a small paper bag from the backseat and was not surprised to see Tristan at his side when he shut the door.
"You don't have to do this, Glad. You don't have to talk her into it." There was no trace of anxiety on Tristan's face now. Only resignation. "Tell her…it's okay, I'm not upset. We'll work out a way to send everyone home and keep the alliance between our houses."
"You are an idiot."
"Or if it's just about tonight—tell her we can sleep in separate rooms for awhile. I don't care."
"You are even more of an idiot." Gladio took a step closer to Tristan, towering over the other man. "It's not necessarily a terrible thing that she wants to talk to me. But it does mean that we need to enact Plan B."
Tristan's eyes widened. "Are you serious? Plan B is so….lame."
"She loves clichés." Gladio had kept his queen waiting long enough. She still had a small frown of unease as Gladio approached her.
They entered the cathedral from a side entrance. Lady Lunafreya silently walked him through a long corridor and stopped outside a door on the right. "She's alone. And dressed." Her eye contact wavered.
Gladio suddenly interpreted the emotion behind her behavior. She was jealous. Her daughter wanted to speak with a member of the Crownsguard on her wedding day rather than her own mother, the Oracle, who spoke with gods.
Gladio rested a huge hand on her tiny shoulder. His fingers reached to the other side of her back. "Lucy values your opinion very highly, my lady. She only wishes to speak to someone outside of the family right now. To get an outsider's perspective."
Lady Lunafreya's expression softened. "Then she wouldn't have asked for you. You've always been a member of House Lucis." She stepped out of his reach, turned, and left.
Gladio's throat closed. He swallowed deeply and waited for his vision to clear before knocking on the door.
"Come in," a subdued voice answered.
Gladio cautiously opened the door. This changing room was about four times the size of his childhood bedroom. He expected to see the room in various states of disarray, but the assistants had already cleaned up. Luciana sat with hunched shoulders at the mirror.
Approaching quietly, Gladio laid the small brown paper bag on the table in front of her. Turning to meet her gaze, his inhaled his breath sharply.
She was beautiful.
Her wavy blonde hair had been twisted with white gardinias, leaving a halo effect. She had opted for a simpler dress, no fancy bows or lace or necklines. Sometime around age twelve, everyone had waited for a growth spurt that never came. Luciana stood confidently at just over five feet tall, a pixie like her mother, and faced each challenge braver than most grown warriors that Gladio knew.
Except for today. At this moment, she looked exactly like a scared seventeen-year-old girl.
Luciana slowly, shakily stood up, and Gladio pulled her to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed the side of her head into his torso, crushing two of the flowers. She'd told him before that she was at the exact height to hear his heartbeat.
Gladio found himself wondering—as he'd always told himself he would never wonder—where all the years had gone.
"Maybe in a few years, you'll be so happy you won't believe you ever cried in my arms on your wedding day," Gladio said. He chose not to remind her that she'd agreed to this marriage when her parents had first asked her. Or that her parents had also had an arranged marriage.
Luciana pulled away. "This is no time for hugs. I know that, Uncle. An entire cathedral of people is waiting for me. You're a soldier through and through. I suppose you think I need to get out there and do my duty for my house."
Gladio remained silent.
"I had to speak to you." Luciana shrugged and hugged herself, a childlike gesture. "I'm not sure why. You're my father's sworn shield. Of course you're going to do what's in his best interests."
"That shield also extends to you, Your Highness."
The young woman sighed and began pacing in exactly the pattern that her betrothed had. "I am a female, so my only role is to solidify a political alliance. With my body. Everyone forgets that I never lived through this horrific war that I've heard about my whole life. All we speak about is reconstruction, finding new leaders, guarding the borders—what is so terrible to everyone else is what I call life. It's all I've known."
Gladio stepped in front of her, forcing her to stand still. "I would have spoken to your parents long ago if I thought your heart could not grow to love him."
Luciana sank onto a small couch. After a couple of tries, Gladio was able to find an angle that allowed him to sit next to her and put his arm around her.
"I leafed through my calendar and counted all the times he and I have met," she said. "Today is number six. I am marrying someone today that I have met five times. He's in his early thirties and that's fine, no one cares when a man gets married that old—"
"Have care how you speak. Tris is twenty years younger than me."
The first traces of a small smile appeared. "Sorry, Glad."
"Are we going to continue to philosophize about how unfair the world is?" Gladio asked. "I'm not sure where you're getting that idea. All of the rest of us believe that the world is perfect, kind, and just, and life is the same for everyone everywhere."
"Alright, okay, I get it."
"So let's talk about what really matters. Your soon-to-be husband. His name is Tristan, by the way. And yes—I hate to say this, but the evidence is right before you-he is an idiot."
Luciana nodded. Gladio thought ninety-eight percent of men were idiots.
"And an honorable man."
Luciana frowned in surprise. In his lifetime, Gladio had only described a handful of men as honorable.
Gladio thrust his hands into his pockets. He headed toward the window, looking out on a perfect spring day. He opened the window and looked slightly upward in thought, his vision focusing on the past rather than the manicured garden of Altissia. "That war to end the rebellion last year….words can't describe how horrifying it was. We agreed never to speak of it with civilians. Between the sniper attacks and the new breeds of monsters, it's a miracle that we came back alive. We left on our mission about a year ago now, just after the announcement of your engagement, and Tristan had immediately volunteered to help us. Your father, Iggy, Prompt, me—Tristan naturally fit in. He has a warrior's sacrificial instincts, naturally thinking of others before himself, like it wouldn't have occurred to him that there was any other option. He even saved my life once when I was…indisposed."
He heard a trace of humor in Luciana's tone. "What book were you on the last page of?"
"'King Lear.' What a tragedy." Gladio smiled. "I remember that before you left, he promised you that he would write you one letter a week and make sure it got to you if there was any possible way it could. We were gone for thirty-six weeks. How many letters did you get, Lucy?"
Luciana's voice was quiet. "Thirty-six."
Gladio turned around. He was not surprised to see that she still appeared unconvinced. He walked to her, spanning the distance in two long strides, and tilted her chin up to look at him. "You remember that when the war was finally over, the king and his guards stayed at Duscae with Tristan's family. I've seen how he treats his mother, his sisters, his nieces. He will treat you as an equal. He will value your hopes and dreams and help you accomplish them. With the two of you facing the world together, you will be an unbeatable team."
Luciana had begun to cry silent tears. No makeup was smeared because she wasn't wearing any.
Gladio used both thumbs to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks.
"I've never heard you speak of someone like this," she said shakily. "I…I like Tristan…I've just never thought of him like that before."
"That's because he gets nervous when he's around you. He's gentle. Not weak."
Luciana grasped his thumbs with her hands. His thumbs were all that her hands could fit around. "When you say it like that…making this about him, not the institution of marriage, political alliances…my heart does feel secure in marrying him. I just wish that I knew…that I was certain that what I'm doing is the right thing."
"I knew before I walked into this room that you wanted to marry him," Gladio said. "You would have asked to speak to anyone except me if you wanted to back out of this marriage. The fact that you summoned me—with all my beliefs about duty, missions, self-sacrifice—let me know that all you needed was a small dose of courage to help you take the plunge."
Luciana managed a grin. She still looked uncomfortable, but now more confident. "Thank you."
Gladio's eyes crinkled down at her. "When you can't focus, I focus for you."
She beamed up at him for a moment longer. Then she nodded toward the brown paper bag on her dressing room table. "What book did you bring me, Uncle?"
"One Thousand and One Nights. A collection of Solheim stories, framed by the story of Scheherazade and her future husband Shahryar, who certainly did not love each other when they first met. She told him a continuing story every night for one thousand and one nights, and by then they were deeply in love." Gladio winked at her.
Luciana's eyes widened. She had never seen Gladio wink before. "So…you are hoping that my husband and I will grow to love each other…and read a lot in our marriage?"
"You could do worse."
She crossed her arms. "Just one modification, then—we will have to rename that book One Thousand and One Days. My husband and I will be busy at night."
Blood rushed to Gladio's neck and face, and he gaped at Luciana as she giggled like the schoolgirl that she was. "Do you need me to wash your mouth out with soap on your wedding day?"
This retort only made her laugh harder, and then she abruptly stopped. A melody was drifting in from the window.
If the sky that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
And the mountain should crumble to the sea
Luciana rushed to the open window, stopped herself just in time, and ran back to the mirror. She patted down her hair and flowers, blinked rapidly to make sure all evidence of her crying was gone, and sprinted back to the window.
I won't cry, I won't cry
No I won't shed a tear
She leaned out of the window. "Someone help, I think a basilisk is being murdered outside my bridal chambers!"
Tristan stopped playing his lute and took a full, long look at his bride.
Luciana was obviously enjoying the way that Tristan was looking at her.
"I don't think you're the first man to ever have this idea," Luciana teased, but her smile was growing incrementally wider.
Tristan found his voice. "But it's making you smile, my lady."
Luciana's rejoiner died on her lips. She said nothing, leaning against the windowsill, her eyes never leaving the man she was about to pledge her life to. Tristan resumed.
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
There was a soft knock at the door. Gladio slipped away to answer it, grateful for the opportunity to give the couple their privacy.
King Noctis entered, his eyes questioning. Gladio shrugged. "Plan B," he said in Noctis's ear.
"Is that…? You two are idiots." Noctis saw his daughter at the window. Gladio witnessed his friend's heart melt.
"Look at her," Noctis said in a low voice, eyes burning with tenderness. "Am I doing the right thing, Big Guy?"
"Yes, I think she is making the right choice," Gladio said.
"Thank you for speaking with my daughter. You've shielded me from many things, Brother. But you can't shield me from this final walk. Today, when I will hand my firstborn to another man." Noctis's voice broke.
Gladio put a hand on his friend's shoulder.
Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me
Oh, now, now, stand by me
Oh, stand by me, stand by me, stand by me
The song ended. Lady Luciana leaned farther out the window and whispered briefly to her fiancé. They heard Tristan's voice, low and passionate, the couples' words only for each other. Then Luciana straightened and walked toward her father.
Noctis held his elbow and Luciana took it. She gestured to Gladio to stoop down to her level, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek. Noctis grasped Gladio's hand in a firm handshake.
Gladio didn't do well with ceremonies. He tuned out the words and spent the service carefully assessing Luciana's frame of mind, finding it more than acceptable. The congregation erupted into deafening cheers as the newly married couple walked back down the aisle.
As the third groomsman out of three, Gladio waited his turn, then approached Noctis's sister Cara and held out his elbow. She took it and the couple carefully made their way back down the stairs.
Cara didn't even have to whisper. "Did you have to…?"
"Yup." Gladio searched the congregation for their twelve-year-old daughter Carissa. He blew her a kiss to embarrass her, and she flushed and looked down.
"And it worked?"
He turned to smirk at his wife, that same, confident smirk he'd had since his youth. "Yup."
Cara assessed her husband in admiration as they walked. She loosened her fingers from his elbow,
tracing his forearm, and finally gripped his hand tightly as they left the church.
An unbeatable team.