The day Master and Mistress finally give up and marry each other is nicely full of sunlight and warm breezes and chattering, brightly-dressed courtiers, and Obi is determined to enjoy every last minute of it. Kiki and Matsuhide flank Master, and Dr. Garak with Ryuu give Mistress away in place of her late parents, but Obi is not fussing. He slinks through laughing guests and watches everything at once, and so when one particularly unintelligent small-time border lord rushes Mistress with a sword and incoherent shouts of "Witch!" and "Sorcery!", Obi deals with him quickly and neatly, easy as you please.
He wants to kill him, too, but it is a Mistress' wedding day, and she's upset with blood outside of her practice, so Obi consoles himself with a quiet short punch where it would hurt, and gets up. The elder prince can be relied on to deal with the things, in any case.
There's a lot of shouting, and Matsuhide claps Obi on the shoulder, and Mistress touches his cheek, and Master - oh, the way Master looks at him. The wedding day is awesome, in Obi's opinion.
There's a ceremony and the rings and the crown, and Mistress is shining, and Matsuhide cries, which is not surprising, and Kiki does too, which is surprising but way too dangerous to mention. Everything is glorious, everything is sweet and lovely, and Obi prowls the edges of the wedding crowd and looks in and feels pretty smug.
When the wave of ribald guests carries Master and Mistress to their room, splashes at the carved doors and departs, Obi stays, and nobody wants or dares to order him away. He sits cross-legged, his back to the warm wood, and worries a bit - who should he protect, if? - but surely they both are way too kind - too clean - to be like that...
There are indistinct whispers from beyond the door, rustling of clothes, quiet exhausted laughs, and then - other sounds - and Obi relaxes, leans against the door and drifts in pleasantly drowsy alertness. He takes his favorite dagger out, the one he didn't get to use today, cleans it in long leisurely strokes, and thinks of the wedding progress starting tomorrow, of different things he'll get to see, to do, to smell, to catch. To be useful at.
He likes being useful, oh, yeah. To a different Master he'd bring dead bodies like a cat proudly bringing mice, but these two, they seem to be pleased by seeing other people be well. By seeing Obi be well, sometimes, even. Obi likes it. Life is good.
The sounds crescendo, peter out, dissolve in exhausted and gentle murmurs; Obi finishes and puts his dagger close by him, and closes his eyes, and smiles.