Late last night, after spending a good few hours on Tumblr getting extremely emotional about THOSE series 3 pictures, my brain created these little bits of fluff and happiness, and so now I've calmed down (slightly), I'm posting them here. Enjoy!
The vicar gave him a small smile and a nod. It was time. He stood and stepped forwards, feeling like he'd forgotten how to walk, but all the while taking deep, calming breaths. Supposedly calming. He was nervous. He'd never been so nervous in his whole entire life. Not when he graduated from university. Not when he first moved to Downton. Not even in France when it could have so easily been the end. He was so nervous that he felt sick. But in a good way. In a good, heady, dizzy, giddy, excited way.
He swallowed. His hands were shaking. He clasped them together in front of him, his knuckles white with the tension. He started tapping his thumb against his other hand, unable to stop the nervous energy that was bubbling through him and threatening to spill out. He looked ahead, and the vicar caught his eye with a smile, and he nodded; a barely imperceptible movement.
The doors opened.
The music started.
His heart stopped. This was it. This was happening right now. He licked his lips and swallowed again, his gaze dropping to the floor, every cell in his body focussed on staying still, and not turning round. She would be at his side in two minutes. But oh how those minutes dragged…
He could hear the congregation murmuring, but nothing above a low mumble. Nothing that would give anything away. He looked up to the ceiling and took another deep breath. And another. And a third for good measure. Was it normal for your legs to feel like they were made of blancmange? His heart was racing. Was he sweating? He felt hot and cold at the same time. His thumb didn't stop moving.
A nudge at his elbow. One last deep breath, and then he turned. Everything had stopped.
And there she was; a vision in pale lace and silk, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, smiling as brightly as she had when he'd proposed. As she did whenever she saw him. And then her hand was placed in his and for one brief moment he felt the slight tremble of her own nerves. Nerves that were rushing through her. Rushing through him. They squeezed the other's hand, a gesture unseen by everyone else. And their eyes were locked, and he knew he was staring at her with his mouth open, as he had done all of those years ago, but he couldn't help it, and she quickly raised her eyebrows, smile stretching a little further. And they both took a deep breath, before turning to the vicar, their grip on each other the only thing that felt real.