She should have been happy. When she'd envisioned this moment as a girl, she'd imagined exhilarating euphoria. This was a blessed night, even a sacred night, and joy should have filled it. Instead, she couldn't ward off a foreboding sense of dread.
They had waited six months for Lucius to recover fully and she had hoped when the day came, memory might have dulled. Rather, every mention of the dress her mother sewed by hand, of the flowers to decorate the pavilion, of the savory dishes they'd serve was an unwelcome intrusion breaking her illusion of contentment. She let details fall into Kitty's hands once her suggestion to avoid the elaborate community celebration was met with objection. "It's tradition," Kitty had argued, then launched into a rousing history of every wedding she'd attended. Her father had simply advised that familiar events would soothe her melancholy.
Her nature had changed since her return to the village. She spoke less, laughed little, kept to herself. She avoided places that she'd once adored, ones she'd shared with a boy who had been her friend, unsettled Noah. If she had been alone, she might have gone mad or wept for eternity, but Lucius always appeared when she'd sunk too far down into the mire, his guiding hand pulling her out.
When the day arrived, she went through the motions, smiling falsely at every congratulations and ignoring the whispers of children who still regarded her as a mythical hero. Only during the ceremony itself did anything feel right when Lucius enveloped her hands and vowed in his soft, impassioned way. She returned with her own promises, sincerity in her words.
Then what she most feared had to be endured—the wedding reception, meant to be a celebration, but harkening back to the last time they'd celebrated a wedding, Kitty's, when screams had interrupted and skinned animals were found scattered throughout the village. Her stomach roiled, anticipating something awful halting the event once again, exposing her pretense of happiness and thrusting her back into terrible reality, into lies and deceit and striking pain.
She hadn't seen Lucius' color since they'd shared cake and been applauded. He'd be off being thumped on the back by men and boys and drawn into their conversation. She suffered the chitchat of the ladies, trivial discussions that belied the life-altering happenings of six months ago. Suddenly, he was in front of her, clutching her hand and pulling her away. She followed where he led, unheedful of her cane so confident was she in his guidance.
He directed her away from the pavilion into the abruptly cool night that lacked the radiating warmth of close quartered bodies. Frogs croaked in the ponds, crickets sang, and newly born grass whispered under her feet.
"Lucius?" she questioned, wondering anxiously what might have caused him to take her away before the customary dancing.
"It's not improper. I spoke to your father." He paused and then continued lowly, "You weren't happy there."
He encircled his left arm tightly around her right until they reached a series of steps. He let her climb them at her own pace and the smell of freshly hewn wood alerted her to their destination—the small home Lucius had built along with the other men and boys of the village. Her mother and Kitty had seen to its decoration. She helped with her voice more than her hands.
He didn't open the door, but her heart thumped harshly anyway. Further secrets had been revealed to her not two weeks back, her mother unveiling the intimacy between a man and woman, explaining in objective terms what pleasures marriage provided. She'd marveled at such a thing and worried her sightlessness would impede what her mother claimed men desired more than most anything.
Lucius turned her to face him. The distant piano in the pavilion still pinged away. His right arm slid around her waist and the other clasped her hand, raising theirs entwined to rest against his shoulder. She held tightly to him and he began to move slowly back and forth, letting her get used to the motion. Then he stepped lightly and she followed with ease, his solid grip a map to his direction. He traced circular patterns and figure eights, mimicking the dances they'd learned when they were children, but making the patterns his own nonetheless. When he stilled, embracing her fully, she lay her head on his shoulder. They swayed gently.
"I promised to dance with you on our wedding night."
She smiled genuinely. "So you did. And you have."
"Come." He released her. The door opened and she yelped in surprise when he lifted her off her feet and carried her over the threshold. She giggled. It seemed a silly picture, reserved Lucius Hunt carting a girl in his arms when she was more than capable of walking herself. And yet, it was so right at the same time. Then she was on her feet, inside the house, and the brief laughter faded from her lips.
He led her into the bedroom and shut the door. Nervousness returned instantly, gnawing at her insides when he gently eased her by her shoulders to sit on the bed. She tried not to worry or shake in fear. What had happened to the girl she had once been, the fearless one who'd gone into the woods? The one whose desire for the man in front of her had flared brighter with their first chaste kiss?
He shuffled about for a moment, and she kept silent. Then his footfalls stopped in front of her and the weight on the bed shifted as he sat near her. "Ivy."
"Lucius." A tear escaped her forced stoicism and she blinked to clearly focus on his color.
"What saddens you?"
She shook her head and made to lower it, but his hands cupped her chin.
"You never need hide your eyes from me." Her chin trembled in his grip. "You maybe…didn't want me after…" his breath hitched.
Her reply came out in a sorrowful rush. "No, the trouble isn't you. Never."
"Then tell me what hurts you."
Her tears began anew as his tenderness broached her defenses. "I'm broken. I'm not the girl you meant to marry…I am sorry." He held her shoulders for a moment and when he spoke his voice was laced with tears.
"You've never been broken, Ivy Hunt." His tone reprimanded and rested longer on the last word as if to emphasize their bond had been forever secured. "Just changed, same as me." He pushed her back, then took her right hand, drawing it forward. A soft gasp escaped her lips when he pressed her hand into his chest, bare and warm. A smooth raised line met her fingertips; she followed its length. Her curiosity ignited, she traced his chest, searching out each scar even those hidden in light hairs, memorizing each one's shape and location. The last, on his abdomen, was firm and tight, the deepest cut of all that marked him for life.
He spoke again, his voice quivering through heavy emotion. "You changed before, seeing, then blind. This did not alter my thoughts or make me stop wanting you. I choose to grow old with you no matter how you change."
She raised her head and could only manage a choked response. "I love you, Lucius." His fingers wiped away her tears, then moved to her chin, tipping it up. Their lips met and Ivy's fear melted away, washed clean in his pureness of heart. When he pulled away, he turned her back to him and his sure hands began to untie the laces of her dress. She couldn't stop the shudder when her shoulders were bared. He stopped to rest his work roughened hands on them, whispering softly, "I will not hurt you."
"Of course, you won't," she whispered back. "It's that…I'm not sure…I can see to do it well."
He chuckled faintly. "I can see and I'm not sure, either."
His laugh gave her strength and she stood, letting her white dress slip to the floor. She slid down her stockings, kicked them off her feet, then turned back. He had risen and drew her into himself, their freely naked bodies meeting for the first time. He kissed her once more, then they returned to the bed to explore the mysteries of love's union.
Ivy needn't have worried. Thoughts dissolved into sensations, tender touches, impassioned breaths, the purity of love. Lucius' color shone brighter then she'd ever seen it, his haze a glow encircling her soul. She studied every part of him, glorying in the knowledge only her hands would ever possess. When they lay back, spent and satisfied, he whispered into her ear, "There is no one else in my heart and never will be again."
His breaths grew heavy with sleep, but Ivy lay awake, her hand on his rising and falling chest, a finger once more outlining a scar. He bore unalterable marks in body, she in mind, and she suspected their scars would make themselves known whether they wanted them to or not. But for tonight, they were covered in the sweetness of love.
Ivy Walker Hunt closed her eyes and for the first time in months, slept in peace.
Author's Note: A hearty thank you to doberler for being my beta for this fic.