Rogue wore a simple off-white gown that delicately swept the floor. Matching arm length gloves completed the ensemble. It was never how she had envisioned her wedding day when she was a little girl, but then she hadn't banked on being an untouchable mutant when she grew up.
The ceremony was all very formal and long. She hardly paid any attention to what was going on, answering only when she was asked to. It hardly felt like a wedding at all to her. There were no tears of joy, no excitement, and no confetti. There wasn't even a kiss to 'seal the deal'. The closest thing to any affection was holding Remy's hand, and even that was contrived.
There was no kidding anyone that this wasn't a marriage of convenience with both families benefitting from their union. Rogue had succeeded in what her team had set out to do. They had prevented the Thieves and Assassins from merging, and acquired Gambit and his resources without resorting to unnecessary violence. The icing on the cake was knowing that she had saved Kitty from a life of misery.
Remy seemed incredibly pale and sullen throughout the ceremony. He had set out to trap her as his bride and succeeded. But, as he quickly learned last night in his father's office, his new bride was quite a deadly catch. It didn't bother Rogue one bit that the stupid man had gotten more than he deserved for his part in the whole 'scandal'. It struck her as highly amusing that Remy LeBeau, the great womanizer had just tricked a girl he couldn't physically touch into marriage.
No one knew she had no control over her mutation on the Thieves' side, but Rogue suspected that Remy quickly realized that he had poked a dragon with a stick. He would not hold it past her to use her mutation on him, especially as a payback for getting her involved in his life 'til death did they part'. It was enough to finally keep the aggravating man at arm's length.
Remy was surprisingly well behaved and actually acted like a gentleman for most of the reception. He hardly spoke a word to her and kept his distance, only being around her when required. There was no doubt he was treading on thin ice, and was doing everything in his power to keep her from unleashing her mutation on him. As satisfying as his fear should have been to her, she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling of disappointment pooling in her stomach.
It didn't make sense that she should find herself uncomfortable with him not wanting to be around her. She was used to that reaction. She got it from people and mutants alike. It was part of the curse her mutation presented. She shouldn't have felt anything... it was just that with him, he had invoked family ruin to have her. Now that he knew what she was capable of doing, he didn't seem so thrilled to have her. It shouldn't have bothered her at all, and she pushed the thought aside. It was not like she cared what he thought at all, and it was only fair that they should both be miserable in this marriage. He got what he deserved, she told herself fiercely.
It wasn't until he walked her to the middle of the dance floor for their first dance, formally grasping his hand around her waist and leading her into a slow waltz that he tried to converse with her. She knew it was because he was uncomfortable being so close to her for a song that seemed to go forever that prompted him to speak.
"How are you enjoying the evening, ma cherie?" he asked softly.
"Please don't call me that," she answered flatly.
He gave her a tight smile, but Rogue could see the regret swimming deeply in his eyes.
"I noticed you didn't eat anything," he tried again.
"I'm not hungry," she answered back in the same flat tone.
"You should at least try the andouille sausage," he pressed.
Rogue felt like snapping at him. He never seemed to listen to a word she said. He still called her ma cherie, or chere regardless of the amount of times she told him not to, and apparently it seemed unfeasible to him that she just wasn't hungry.
"We can retire to our room, if you would like," he began again, his voice barely a murmur against the sound of the live orchestra playing the waltz.
It was the last thing she wanted to do. She'd be the last one leaving the party to avoid retiring back to her husband's room with him. She'd be staying here, prolonging the inevitable. Sooner or later she'd have to go with him. It was their wedding night. He was in for disappointment if he thought he was getting anything from all of this, husband or not.
"And what would we do there that we can't here?" she asked wryly, hardly expecting an answer.
"Why, consummating our marriage vows of course, ma Cherie," he answered pleasantly.
She refused to acknowledge the playful twinkle in his eyes. Rogue rolled her eyes in disgust. She barely knew him, and even if she could sleep with him tonight, she wouldn't. She was rather appalled that after everything he had done, he still expected to get laid. And expected that smoldering charm of his to work.
"Sure," she answered slyly. "Knock yourself out."
The coloured drained from his face again. "You really mean that, don't you?" he asked, looking her square in the eye.
"Yes."
"You'd knock me unconscious and invade my mind?" he clarified.
"Yes," she answered with a sigh. She wanted to say that she had no control over it. She wanted to explain to him that as much as she despised him, absorbing him from a touch wasn't anything personal. She wouldn't absorb him on purpose, but it would happen none the less. She didn't see why she should she have to reveal her weakness to a man she didn't like and certainly didn't trust. Ultimately, she decided to keep her mouth shut on the matter.
He gave a slow, serious nod; and she wondered how far she had pushed the knife. This whole marriage was his fault, why should she care that he looked pale and sickened at the idea of her absorbing him? She had never asked for or wanted this. He did, she didn't.
"Je suis désolé, mais you were my best option," he apologized. "I realize that I put you in a very difficult situation. Please understand that I couldn't marry Bella Donna, or your sister, for that matter."
For the first time, Rogue questioned his dishonesty. It sounded like a legit apology, but Logan had already warned her that the Thieves were slippery.
"I really don't need to listen to your selfish excuses," she answered back with her voice touching on venom. "You used me. You deliberately put my honour and my family's honour into question because you weren't happy with your choices. Don't think for a second that I'm happy with mine."
"I understand," he answered almost sadly. "But again, I give my sincere apologies."
The dance ended, and he let her go. He gave her a low bow before disappearing over to his brother's side. Rogue returned to Kitty, who was hungrily devouring a small plate of food.
"Oh my God, Rogue, you have to try this sausage. It's wonderful!" Kitty muffled out between chews.
It amazed Rogue just how much Kitty could pack away in her tiny body. Sometimes she swore Kitty could phase herself out of calories.
Kitty was shoving a tooth pick with andouille at her. Rogue just took the damn thing and popped it in her mouth. She wanted to say it tasted like ashes, but it was quite good.
She was going to miss Kitty when Cyclops and Logan took her back to New York tomorrow. Leaving Rogue behind in New Orleans for awhile had been Logan's tentative agreement with Jean-Luc. There were Guild affairs that needed to be handled before she and Gambit could follow the others to the mansion. Hopefully, she'd be home in a few weeks.
"I wish Bobby was here to try this bread. You know he'd love it," Kitty was saying absently as she slathered butter on a slice. "He's such a bread whore."
Rogue smiled for the first time that evening. She was definitely going to miss Kitty.
Suddenly, things didn't seem so bad. She had saved Kitty from a loveless marriage, and that thought alone would get her through the next few weeks.
It was hard to keep that thought in mind when the evening came to a final close, and it was absolutely necessary for the bride and groom to disappear to their room. Again, Remy had formally taken her hand, and like a pure gentleman took her from the revelry and up to his room.
His room was much bigger than the one she had been staying in. It was lavishly decorated with fancy wood trim and rich decor. Two large windows were well hidden underneath thick, ornate curtains. All his furniture gleamed with ebony lacquered wood in a modern version of Southern charm meets old society. She instantly noticed her bags piled neatly on one side of the monstrous four poster bed.
It was in that moment that it dawned on her what she had now been forced into for everyone's sake but her own. She would have to spend the rest of her life tied to this man. She glanced over at him. He was on the other side of the bed, loosening his tie somberly around his neck. She wondered if the full realization of what he had done had finally sunk in. He was awfully quiet, and went about undressing as though she weren't in the room with him.
His tuxedo jacket was carelessly thrown over a chair in the corner, and his tie was now somewhere on the floor. He sat down quietly on the edge of the bed and kicked off his shoes and socks. Next, he undid the buttons on his shirt. She shouldn't be staring at him, but the sense of normalcy in his actions was so strange and bizarre to her that it was hard to look away. It was as though this was just another day in his life.
To her, everything was surreal and uncomfortable. This room was too warm, too big and shared. Rogue had never shared a room before. She had always been given her own room, her own space, her own privacy. Now she was married, and the man she wanted to be furthest away from shared a room with her. Fortunately, because of her mutation, they'd be sharing a bed and not bodies. She doubted he'd sleep on the floor, and she was miserable enough without enduring the hardwood herself.
Remy was unsure what to do. For the first time, he felt ill at ease around a woman. The guilt shouldn't have come as a huge surprise to him. Naturally, he should feel a tad guilty. She was right. He had used her. He'd deliberately put her and her reputation in an awful position, all because he'd gotten picky. He had hoped she'd warm up to the idea of being his bride, but he realized that was wishful thinking. She hadn't fallen for him on the balcony days ago, and that should have tipped him off immediately that she was unlike any woman he'd met before.
He wouldn't really admit that he was in the wrong. She had been his best option. From his stand point, it had been necessary to place her in such a predicament. He hardly thought that being married to him was all that bad. He had enough wealth to support a more than comfortable lifestyle, and he wasn't bad looking. In fact, he considered himself to be a fairly attractive man. Her immediate problem seemed to be sleeping with him, or rather, just being around him in general. It was shame he was stubborn in his ideals and refused to not sleep in the same bed with her.
She had already made it perfectly clear that it was not in his best interest to try anything tonight. Frankly, it all felt weird to him to make a move, anyway. There was no point making her angrier and more upset than she already was, so there was no point in pressing the matter. It wasn't like anyone cared what they did behind closed doors… yet. All that mattered right now was that his Guild had acquired a woman with a rare and highly useful mutation. He didn't mind just sleeping beside her. He knew he'd much rather have her beside him than Bella.
Still, what had happened today had finally sunk in. He was married to a complete stranger. This wasn't some one night stand he'd met in a bar and would leave before the night was over. This was his wife, and he would see her every day of his waking life. It was a shame to start out with such an unhappy marriage. If he could have had it any other way, he wouldn't have been married at all. How could he explain to her that he was just as trapped as she was?
He couldn't. Just as he hated his father and the Guild for putting this on his shoulders, she hated him for doing the exact same thing. The best he could do was try to make her life comfortable and somewhat pleasant.
"The night stand and half of the closet are cleared for your things," he told her while slipping his shirt from his shoulders. "If you need more room—"
"I'm not unpacking. I don't intend to be here very long," she answered crisply.
"This is an unbreakable contract—"
"I'm going back to New York when your Guild's business is straightened out."
"And I'll be going with you," he answered in a poor attempt to assert himself.
"Honestly, I don't care what you do. You can't really screw me over again, so nothing you do from now on will be any concern of mine."
"Actually, I haven't really gotten to screw you at all yet." He chuckled.
Her whole body tensed and she shot him a dirty glare. "That's not funny."
Remy immediately went sober. He had never met a woman so defensive and uptight in his life. He couldn't understand how someone with a body like hers could be so prudish. The more he thought about it, the more he started to believe that maybe she was a humourless, cold fish—a nun perhaps. She had kept herself well covered the entire time she was here. Both Bella Donna and Kitty had worn tank tops and skirts or shorts, but this girl stayed covered from head to toe all the time. For crying out loud, she even wore gloves…
It hit him like a ton of bricks.
"You can't turn it off, can you?" he asked. "It's in your skin."
She didn't answer.
"I'm right, aren't I?" he continued.
She turned her body from him, closing herself off. "That's none of your business," she answered quietly.
"It's my business if we're sleeping in the same bed," he answered hotly.
"Don't touch me, and we don't have a problem," she shot back angrily.
There he went poking her with a stick again. For the life of him, he couldn't seem to stop aggravating her. He hated that she hadn't given him a straight answer. Jesus, she really did belong with the Thieves, dodging answers was step one to a membership. He decided he was simply being paranoid. She may hate him, but there was no way she was a murderess. If it wasn't safe to sleep beside her, she would have let him know.
She was not at all what he was used to, and her temper sparked like flints at the drop of a hat. He knew he didn't want her to use her mutation on him, but at the very same time, he was curious to see if she'd actually follow through. He wasn't about to test the theory, he'd seen Bella Donna crumpled on the ground in mere seconds. Remy would leave it alone for tonight, but as far as he was concerned, this discussion was far from over.
"Which side would you prefer to sleep on?" he asked, swiftly switching topics.
"The left."
"I'm going to get a glass of water," he replied before leaving the room. The truth was he just needed to leave the room. They weren't getting anywhere, and he was tired. Unless he left to let her get ready for bed, neither would be sleeping. He doubted very much she'd be changing in front of him. He was an unpleasant stranger to her.
He took his time dallying in the kitchen until he decided she'd had enough time to prepare for bed. When he quietly opened the bedroom door she was already in the bed on the left side with her back facing the middle.
He quietly put his water glass down and took off his pants when she muttered instructions to him, "I sleep under the sheet and you sleep on top of it, got it?"
"I got it," he answered back, biting his tongue and all its snide remarks.
"If you so much as lay one hand on me—"
"I won't," he promised, carefully sliding into bed over top of the sheet and under the duvet. He turned his back to her and shut out the light; trying his best to ignore the soft, warm body that would now share his bed.
