"You're—actually—getting married?"

It's not often that Delly is the one to break a silence, but apparently, he's the first one with his wits about him enough to find a response. (Other than the count, of course, whose wits are always about him.)

"Yeah," responds Impey, slinging an arm around his beloved's shoulders. "Come on, it's been a year. There's no way I'm not marrying her after we've been living together that long; it'd be unfair to her!" As he speaks, Cardia blushes, but says nothing. She's never been especially comfortable with his public displays of affection, but she's going to have to get used to it if she agreed to marry him.

"Ah, I see," remarks Saint-Germain, lifting a delicate and thoughtful hand to his chin. "So this marriage is for purely altruistic reasons." His eyes might flicker in Cardia's direction for a moment, but it's always difficult to tell, since he never seems to open them all the way.

"I'm gonna pretend I know what that means and say yeah," responds Impey, rubbing his chin. "But there's no time for dictionaries right now; we're engaged!" He beams around at everyone, albeit somewhat more uncertainly than before, and draws Cardia closer still. "Are you guys seriously not gonna—?"

"Congratulations!" bursts out Lupin, getting to his feet, and his eyes seem to shine with all the light of the sun. Apparently, he'd been waiting for Impey to ask—or maybe he'd just been too stunned to say so earlier. After all, the great Impey Barbicane settling down once and for all probably seemed a little surreal. "And, if I may say so, it's about time. You two have waited a year for this…?"

Cardia clears her throat softly, and Impey practically swoons at her demure demeanor. "That's right," she responds. "Victor once told me that when normal people shop for clothes, they always try them on before they buy them. And Impey said it applied to relationships, too, so…"

"That's surprisingly mature of you, Impey," chuckles Saint-Germain, tilting his head. His smile is as kind as ever, and he seems to be offering a compliment… but something about his tone and countenance seems mocking, or ironic.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" exclaims Impey, unable to help but be defensive; rather than answer, Saint-Germain only chuckles mysteriously in response, taking a calm sip of tea.

"It means you're usually delusional and overbearing," translates Van Helsing dismissively, but turns to Cardia before Impey can even open his mouth. "And you're sure about this, Cardia?" he adds, trying to frown, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth ruins the effect of his alleged concern. "He's not blackmailing you, or anything?"

"Is it really that hard for you guys to believe she loves me?!" explodes Impey, but he knows they're not about to listen to him. (They never have in the past, anyway, so why start now?)

Cardia, bless her Horologium, answers the question levelly. "Impey isn't blackmailing me," she assures Van Helsing, with all the dainty forcefulness of the queen herself. "I love him, so I'm going to marry him, and that's all there is to it." Impey jots down a mental note that Cardia needs to work on her sarcasm-identifying skills… but immediately crumples it up and throws it out as he realizes that it's near impossible to tell with Van Helsing anyway.

"Well, I'd say that's pretty conclusive," says Victor, smiling his usual gentle smile, although Impey can't help but notice that he seems a little sad. "But you know I'm going to have to borrow your wife in the coming days if you want her to have a proper wedding dress… right?"

Impey frowns at him. No, not right. "I don't see why you need to borrow her," he says, narrowing his eyes. "You've known her measurements longer than me, you lucky dog, so why don't you just run along to the tailor's and poison-proof it yourself and that'll be that?"

Victor clears his throat, coloring slightly at the mention of measurements. (If Impey hadn't met Cardia, he'd say he's never met anyone so innocent.) "If you must know, I've been working on a gift for months—but I'm at the point where I need your fiancée if I want to make any further progress," he says, enunciating clearly, like he does whenever he's trying to buy time. "That's all."

Deliberating one more moment, Impey waits until Cardia looks up at him in search of an answer before finally bowing his head. He trusts Victor, and he knows better than to think Cardia will run off with someone else after she already agreed to marry him… but as spontaneous as he can be, he still likes understanding the situations in which he finds himself. If Victor isn't going to tell him what he's up to, this gift had better be a damn good one.

"Poison-proof," repeats Lupin, as if remembering something important. "I'm sure you'd already have told us if you'd found some sort of cure, but… I assume you two still can't…?"

"Don't remind us," growls Impey, brushing his hand up and down Cardia's waist to soothe her. She insists she doesn't blame herself for her condition, but Impey knows better; they've taken to avoiding mentioning the poison aloud at all, even to speak of curing it. They're sure they'll think of something someday…

"Amazing," remarks Van Helsing, shaking his head. "Truly amazing. I never thought I'd say this, but… you're a lot more patient than I thought." He looks away, grimacing as if the words are bitter on his tongue. "There. Consider that compliment a wedding gift from me to you."

"Nice try," snorts Impey, relieved to see Cardia crack a smile at last. "And by the way, I've never met anyone with less of an imagination. You can have plenty of fun without touching one another directly." He pauses to grin down at his beloved bride-to-be, heat and friction flashing through his mind. "Isn't that right, darling?"

"Impey," hisses Cardia, blushing furiously—using the sharp tone that means he's said too much. Impey casts a quick glance around the table to find Van Helsing looking disgusted, Victor shocked and flustered, Saint-Germain serene as ever… and Lupin marginally impressed, or even a little envious. Perfect. At least someone gave him the reaction he was looking for.

Still, he can't afford to offend his future wife too badly if he wants any such encounters to happen again. "Oops," remarks Impey, pressing a swift and apologetic kiss to the top of Cardia's head—thanking the stars that at least her gorgeous hair doesn't melt his face. "Sorry."

"This is all very entertaining," remarks Saint-Germain, offering much the same faint smile as ever, "but the reunion brunch you prepared for us must be getting cold by now. Shall we continue the domestic dispute over our meal?"

"Right, right," responds Impey, pulling out a chair for his dearest Cardia, and beams around at all his gathered friends. "Let's eat!"

Impey never could have predicted it, but that little conversation marked the lightest his heart would be for weeks.

He really doesn't like being either jealous or insecure, but what else is he supposed to feel? The very day after they announced their engagement, Cardia started spending all day every day at Victor's lab, for reasons both of them refused to disclose—and she always came back in higher spirits than when she left.

Even that might not have shifted Impey if she hadn't blushed every time he asked what was happening over there, causing him to remember all too clearly the same expression on Victor's face. "You'll see," Cardia always told him, but she could never quite meet his eyes, and her expression was faraway. "When we're married, you'll understand."

…Except that Impey couldn't help but think that it felt like an excuse, or even a lie, because Cardia hadn't let him set a date yet. Other than Victor, all the others asked when the big day was at least once, and he could never answer. "Whenever Cardia decides, I'll tell you," he responded each time—and though they all seemed surprised, at least they let the matter rest.

"Impey," says Cardia's soft voice, and he stiffens, almost dropping the gadget he's perfecting. Tinkering always keeps his mind off things he shouldn't be thinking about. At least machines are predictable, assuming he makes them right; there are no gray areas here, no surprises. Everything is formulaic and orderly, and all the variables are clearly defined… unlike his life. "Are you all right?"

Straightening up stiffly, Impey turns around to look her up and down. She's still up. "Yeah," he decides. It may not be a total truth, but it's not really a lie either. "You're still going to marry me, right…?" He intends it to be a confirmation of his affirmative, but it comes out more like a genuine question. He's never been good at concealing his thoughts, after all—especially from his betrothed.

"Of course I am," responds Cardia promptly, sounding surprised, and Impey relaxes slightly at her immediate reassurance. "Did you think I'd changed my mind?"

Impey lets out a long breath. "Well, you're spending so much time with Victor lately," he says slowly. "I don't know. I trust him, and I definitely trust you, but… I can't really help but…" He stumbles over his words and trails off, biting his tongue to keep quiet. Voicing his suspicions, the fears of inferiority he's suppressed for years, will only make them seem that much more real.

Cardia tilts her head. "I'm just happy because of the gift we're working on," she tells him, and even now a subtle glow of subdued excitement fills her eyes as she speaks. "But I can't tell you what it is yet."

Impey scowls at her words, but reflexively softens his expression as Cardia looks taken aback. "Why do you get to know about it while I'm being kept in the dark?" he asks, a little more sharply than he'd like. "If it's that amazing, you can't just keep it all to yourself like this. I want in on it."

"But Victor says you might demand a demonstration before it's ready," responds Cardia, almost timidly. "And… I think he's right. It's better this way, Impey." She steps forward to hug him from the side, and it takes a shamefully long moment before Impey can convince himself to return her embrace. "You'll see at our wedding—I promise."

"And just when is our wedding, Cardia?" asks Impey, looking down at his fiancée and searching her expression. Ordinarily, his enthusiasm might have rekindled at the mere thought of marrying the love of his life… but lately, he's had so many more questions than answers that he can't bring himself to get his hopes up.

"As soon as Victor's gift is finished," responds Cardia, frowning, as though the answer should be obvious.

Impey freezes, staring down at her in confusion and frustration. Since when is the groom expected to let his bride set a wedding date based on another man's schedule? Sure, Victor is their friend, but if he can't get their gift done by a specific time, then he'll just have to give it to them later. "I thought his gift was in honor of the occasion, not the other way around…!" he sputters, by way of trying to voice his turbulent thoughts.

Cardia shakes her head, withdrawing slightly from his arms, and Impey wants more than anything to draw her close and hold her there till she tells him everything he wants to know… but he can't bring himself to do it. "I love you, Impey," murmurs Cardia, caressing his face with gloved hand; he leans into her touch, but she turns away as if in sorrow. (No approximations of intimacy tonight, then.) "And I promise—if you can wait just a little while longer, it'll all be worth it."

So wait he does, trusting in Cardia's assurance of love for one last distant and uneasy week—until finally, she bursts into the shed one rainy afternoon, eyes shining and hair glossy as if in sunlight, and asks to marry him tomorrow.

…But even at his own wedding, Impey's troubles are far from over.

"Victor's been researching the Horologium for as long as he's known Cardia," remarks Van Helsing dispassionately, resting a hand on Impey's shoulder as he paces. "He's seen the most of her body out of all of us, so unless you'd rather one of us do it, he's the least intrusive option. Relax."

Since Cardia has no female friends, Victor was named best suited to help her into her wedding gown… to which Impey had serious objections the second he caught wind of it, but Cardia evidently did not. More troublingly still, no one will let Impey go inside to check on the two of them. "It's bad luck for a groom to see the bride before the ceremony," hisses Lupin—Arsène Lupin, whom Impey thought of as his best friend until that moment.

Trapped by the others' baseless superstition, all Impey can do is pace restlessly back and forth, tugging at various parts of his too-crisp white suit and running his fingers through his oddly smooth hair (which Van Helsing threatened to cut short if he didn't wash it) and praying his friendship with the others will last through the day. Even if Victor can't touch Cardia directly, that's not much comfort; Impey can't touch her either, so he knows the full range of alternatives from experience.

…But he knows he's going to drive himself crazy if he keeps thinking about whatever is happening inside—so Impey turns his mind instead to marveling over the speed with which they could set up the ceremony. He thought that the short notice might be a problem since they'd have to gather all their friends together again, but apparently Saint-Germain was procrastinating on leaving for France, and Van Helsing and Delly were in town on business. All they had to do was let everyone know when they should turn up to the mansion.

Everyone's roles fell into place in a matter of hours; after all, the guest list extended no further than themselves and their few friends. Van Helsing offered to make their wedding cake, but relented after Impey threatened to knock him out and put him in the oven instead. Once Impey baked several batches of red velvet cupcakes himself, Van Helsing flatly refused to help in any other way out of spite. (Unless you count babysitting Delly as he babysat Sisi.)

To no one's real surprise, the count is somehow also an ordained minister… or at the very least—as he says, in his usual mysterious way—he's "authorized to act on God's behalf". It was Cardia's idea to have him marry them; she has a justifiable aversion to most church officials, given her past dealings with priests. Since Impey has never been religious in the slightest, he was quick to agree: he'd much rather have a friend make matters official, anyway.

As for Lupin, he put himself in charge of 'special effects', whatever that meant. And Victor… Impey narrows his eyes. He volunteered to give Cardia away in place of her father, because—as he put it—his discovery of Zicterium was directly related to her creation, so there's no better person suited to the role. Still, Impey can't help but think his interest in her is decidedly not of a fatherly kind.

A soft gasp stirs him out of his scattered thoughts, and he frowns up at Lupin to find his eyes wide as if in shock or awe. "She's here," he murmurs, nodding at something behind Impey, and the groom turns slowly around.

There stands his bride, her beauty blinding… and for the moment, there are no words. Cardia's dress is fitted perfectly to her every curve, low-cut enough to reveal the Horologium pulsing blue with her imaginary heartbeat. Moonstones glimmer amid the many ruffles, like dew clinging to the petals of some precious flower. And her hands are… bare…?

As Impey stares, taking in the most magnificent sight he has ever beheld, the world simply stops all around the two of them, illuminated by the shimmer and sparkle of yesterday's rain—every color in the garden made more vibrant in the vivid vernal sun. Impey only remembers to breathe after Victor, emerging from behind, starts leading Cardia down their makeshift aisle. Thus begins their ceremony, unexpected yet long-awaited, and Impey can't help but pinch himself to see if he's dreaming.

Cardia keeps her head down for as long as she walks, but as soon as Victor lets her go and she walks to Impey alone, she looks up into his face with a blush as fierce as her determination. He almost laughs aloud at her expression; she looks almost like she's going into battle again than getting married. Somewhat gingerly, Impey touches Cardia's arm to reassure her, then slides his hands down to join hers. (Good; his gloves must be poison-proof after all.)

"Dearly beloved," begins Saint-Germain smoothly, and that's all Impey hears before he tunes out. All that exists anymore is Cardia, and himself, and the tiny distance between them—still too far, in too many senses, to bridge with a kiss. Her eyes are deep and radiant, more alluring even than the night sky or the vast ocean, and it's just as easy for him to lose himself in them.

Saint-Germain has to prompt him more than once to respond or to repeat after him when the time comes… and though Impey stumbles clumsily over the words, the same phrases on Cardia's flawless lips a moment later compose the loveliest music he's ever heard. There is no exchange of rings, because they don't need any rings to carry them forward; only their dreams. And then—

"You may kiss the bride."

Impey swivels his head to stare at Saint-Germain incredulously. He doesn't seem to be joking, judging by his unwavering smile, but he should know that's impossible. He opens his mouth to tell the count off for rubbing it in on his wedding day—but before he can say anything, Cardia smiles, straightens Impey's lapels… and then, grasping them firmly, pulls him down into a kiss.

The blood roars in Impey's ears so that he can barely hear the cheers all around him, or the fireworks Lupin sets off; he struggles for a moment, half expecting his mouth to burn and melt away—and it would have been worth it, too, just to touch Cardia again. But instead, Impey feels only the sweet warmth of her lips, and the softness of her skin. Just like the first of their handful of kisses, a year ago.

"C-Cardia," stammers Impey, his voice cracking, and only as he attempts to straighten up does he realize that she has flung her arms about his neck. His brain short-circuits so that he can't for the life of him think of how this can be happening, but it doesn't matter. All that matters anymore is that it's miraculously, wonderfully possible.

Cardia nods breathlessly, and Impey finds it suddenly difficult to look her full in the face, as though she shines as brightly as the setting sun. "Yes, Impey," she says simply, though he asked no question. "As long as I drink Victor's solution every day, you can touch me. That's what we were working on all this time." She reaches up to tenderly brush aside a stray lock of Impey's hair. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier."

Impey shakes his head. Everything he was feeling before has been washed away by euphoria, so that he can't even imagine what jealousy must feel like. "If I can touch you now, that's all I care about," he whispers instead, leaning his forehead against hers, and relishing the feel of skin on skin. "Hope you know I'll never let you go."

"Come on, you two, save the mushy stuff for later," teases Lupin, and Impey glances over at him with no small amount of annoyance. Can't he even refrain from stealing moments? He's supposed to be as much a gentleman as he is a thief! "Just get over here and have some cupcakes. We're starving after all the excitement, you know, and we can't eat till the bride and groom get the first taste!"

(Delly, however, evidently does not care for this pathetic human tradition, and has already devoured an entire cupcake by the time Lupin speaks.)

Impey rolls his eyes, and Cardia raises her hand to her lips to suppress a faint giggle like birdsong. "The only first taste I care about comes later," calls Impey, turning his eyes eagerly back to his wife. In this moment, he thinks he could look at her forever, trying to memorize every detail, and still notice new aspects of her to love every moment. "You guys go ahead and dig in. I'm gonna need a little exercise before I get hungry."

"Subtle," snorts Van Helsing, crossing his arms. "Real subtle. Have fun explaining that one tonight."

"Will do!" responds Impey, giving a jovial salute, and Van Helsing shakes his head before turning back to the cupcakes with visible anticipation. Impey, meanwhile, returns his gaze to his glowing bride… only to find that Lupin, perhaps predictably, has stolen her away for one reason or another.

Well, that's fine with him. She'll be his all his in a little while, and he'll belong to her more than ever. Besides, there's someone else Impey needs to talk to, now that his mind has cleared enough to better understand why the poison is no longer an issue. If he can touch Cardia now, and if she delayed the wedding because of Victor's gift, then that must mean…

"Victor," begins Impey, approaching his fellow scientist with no small amount of trepidation. "I'm… sorry." The word sticks in his throat like frosting, but he forces it out. This needs to be said, considering the extent of his insecurity over the past few weeks.

"You're sorry?" responds Victor, swallowing a bite of red velvet cupcake, and tilts his head slightly in apparent confusion. (Whether he picked up the gesture from Cardia or vice versa, Impey has no idea, but their mannerisms are undeniably similar.) "What for?"

Too late, Impey realizes that he never revealed his insecurities; any confrontations he'd ever had with Victor had been purely in his imagination… but, having backed himself into a corner, Impey clears his throat slightly and makes a determined effort to look Victor in the eye. "I thought you loved her," he admits. "So I got kinda… jealous, I guess. Especially after everyone volunteered you to help Cardia into her dress."

Victor's eyes widen, but Impey has no time to identify all the emotions flashing rapidly through them before they close, and he frowns fiercely. "Yes, well," responds Victor awkwardly, coughing and glancing aside as though the lawn has suddenly become extremely interesting. "Cardia loves you, so that's all that matters, right?"

…Right, except… "Not if you helped her int—"

"I didn't!" interrupts Victor, flailing his hands and looking flustered, but meets Impey's eyes with the conviction that comes only with honesty. "I just gave Cardia the solution, that's all." He holds up his gloved hands, either to accentuate his next words or as a gesture of surrender: "I didn't even touch her after she came out. I knew you'd want to be the first, after having to keep her at a distance for so long."

Impey beams at him. "Thanks a ton," he says, slapping him on the back a little too hard: Victor staggers forward and almost flies into the remainder of the cupcakes, but Van Helsing catches him at the last minute and pulls him back upright. "How'd you do it, by the way? Find the cure, I mean."

"Very carefully," responds Victor, scratching his head. "It took some negotiation, but as repayment for my role in the fight against Nemo, the queen finally pointed me to the stockpiled Zicterium I'd been looking for." He grins reminiscently. "I've been refining it ever since, trying to find the right balance to counteract Cardia's poison. It took a lot longer than I'd have liked, but… well, it worked."

Victor's tone is so casual that Impey gives an automatic nod… forgetting for a split second that he's talking about a deadly substance. Of course, he remembers almost immediately, and his voice rises on its own: "Wait—your wedding gift is poison?!"

"C-calm down!" exclaims Victor, waving his hands, and backs up a few hasty steps before Impey can throttle him. "Long story short, the Horologium was developed from Zicterium. It'd probably kill anyone else, but for Cardia, it's more like… a panacea."

Impey lets out a long breath, and Victor smiles somewhat weakly in relief. "Good to know," he says. "You almost gave me a heart attack there, so I'm gonna see if Cardia can do anything about fixing that."

Glancing around in search of his bride, he finds her talking and laughing with Lupin and Van Helsing. (It seems that Saint-Germain prefers to observe the festivities from a distance, his impeccably clean gloves miraculously still spotless even as he daintily takes a bite of cupcake.) "Sorry, guys," says Impey, slinging an arm around Cardia's shoulders. "I'm cutting in."

"We're just giving the bride some practical advice," says Van Helsing, glaring at him, but his expression is noticeably softer than usual. Even he isn't immune to the good cheer that comes with a wedding… or perhaps that's just the effects of confectionery, working its delicious magic. "What is this, a dance?"

"It should be," says Lupin before Impey can respond, looking him disdainfully up and down with quirked eyebrow and disapproving scowl. "I've never heard of a wedding without a dance, but I suppose that's a side effect of planning it less than a day ahead of time."

"Hey, nobody's stopping you from dancing," says Impey, drawing Cardia close. Sure, there's no music, but Saint-Germain has a few instruments lying around; Lupin can whip some up if he's that desperate. "You can do whatever you want. Everyone knows the reception is really for the guests, anyway, so go nuts."

"It's for… the guests?" asks Cardia, frowning in adorable confusion, and searches Impey's eyes. "But we're the ones that just got married, right?"

Impey grins, releasing her and prodding her nose affectionately. "Yeah, but that's the end of our involvement," he tells her, supremely confident. "The couple has a few better things to do than stand around and eat cupcakes."

"Better than cupcakes?" asks Delly, sidling into the conversation at exactly the wrong time: Van Helsing, thankfully, jolts into action and escorts him immediately away, ignoring his liege lord's protests and pointing out that he's neglecting his duty: Sisi has gotten into the flowers again.

"If you do it right," returns Impey, returning his attention to his wife and her question. At his very obvious wink, Cardia's eyes widen, a flush creeping slowly across her cheeks. Good; so she knows, or at least suspects, what comes next. (Not that Impey figured his wife would be totally innocent, given their many encounters in the shed, but one never knows with Cardia.) That'll make matters a little bit easier, even if he'll still have to walk her through it…

Lupin clears his throat in amusement, and Impey and Cardia both start. How long have they been gazing into one another's eyes? "Well, you two," he says, smiling knowingly, and leans on his walking stick. "Don't let us keep you from your fun. Ordinarily, I'd insist you stay at least a little longer, but I think you've waited long enough—don't you?"

Impey doesn't need to be told twice: sweeping Cardia effortlessly off her feet, and savoring her squeal of excitement, he sprints to the mansion door. The others call after them, well wishes or last-minute congratulations or lingering confusion as to what could possibly be better than red velvet cupcakes—but none of their words matter half as much as the breathless smile on Cardia's face.

"Well, milady," grins Impey, already ascending the stairs in leaps and bounds. "Looks like we're gonna go to the moon a little early."

I got this game less than a week ago, and I just completed Lupin's route a couple days ago, so I'm still getting used to characterization… but I couldn't resist writing this! Impey's was my first route, so I couldn't help but wonder what his and Cardia's wedding would be like—you know, since he proposes twice and still can't touch her by the time of the epilogue. It wasn't fair, so I fixed it for them.

…Also, if I ever get around to it, this story will actually be a two-shot, with the second (probably shorter) chapter focusing on what comes next. Rated M, of course, for reasons Delly doesn't quite understand yet…