Xanadu
By Alara
Chapter 29: "To such a deep delight 'twould win me,"
When they finally got back to the hotel (all a little drunk, as they'd immediately gone into a pub to celebrate and to thaw out, which took them several hours), the girl at the desk waved them over.
"Ms. Ashe?" she said. "There's a phone message for you; they'd like you to call back as soon as possible."
Roisin glanced at Remy questioningly; he shrugged. He wasn't expecting any calls from home.
"Huh. Wonder who it is." She walked over to the desk and accepted the folded slip of paper from the girl, thanking her absently as she unfolded the paper. The message was brief, written on memo paper:
To: Rose Ashe Time: 3:24 AM/PM
Re: Big news!
Note: Call Mercy at 505-153-9082 ASAP. News about H., news about T. Must talk!!! Call soon!!!
"She particularly requested I put in the exclamation points," the girl at the desk said, almost apologetically.
Roisin rolled her eyes. "Well, at least I know it's definitely from Mercy. But I don't recognize that number…" she frowned.
"Hmm. Here, call her from my phone. We can have it traced later if it's not her." Remy suggested, and handed her his phone. Quickly she dialed and waited as it rang once… twice…
On the third ring, it picked up and Mercy's breathless voice said, "Hello? Mercy speaking."
"Mercy, it's Rose," she said. "What's wrong?"
"What's wr—oh! My message must have surprised you. And this is a new cell. Sorry.—Hey, everyone, Rose is on the line!— No, nothing's wrong, actually everything's very very good. You'll never guess! Try and guess what I'm going to tell you!"
"Ya just said I'd never guess," she replied dryly, smiling; her friend was excited about something.
"Oh, you're no fun."
"I can be. You try and guess the news I've got." She smirked into the phone, examining the ring on her hand delightedly.
"I don't know. You're the one who's been travelling all over the globe, doing all sorts of great things and having all sorts of adventures. It could be anything."
"See? I'm not the only one who's no fun." At that point, Rose started to feel Remy's stare boring through her head, and got back on point. "So, seriously. What's the news?"
"Do you want the great news or the better news first?"
"Uh—"
"Well, actually they're relatively great or better to each other; the part I think is 'great' you might think is the 'better' news—"
"Mercy, I don't care. Pick one and spit it out." She cut her off, her own anxiety growing.
"I'm engaged." The other girl's glee hummed through the phone.
"What? Wow! Hey, no kidding. That's fabulous! —Me too!"
"I know, isn't it—" she stuttered to a halt. "What?!"
Roisin heard muffled sounds on the other end of the line, and supposed that the others, undoubtedly gathered around the phone, were asking Mercy about her exclamation. She heard her say, distantly, "No, everything's good, I just—" She came back to the line. "Are you joking? Because if you are—"
Roisin laughed. "No, I'm not kidding. I've got the ring to prove it. And I'm so excited for you! When did Henri propose?" She saw Remy's jaw drop as he overheard her, and he gave her an incredulous look.
"When—oh—well—yesterday, after we finished the mission. When did he—?"
"Today. We actually just got back from celebrating when I got your message."
"Good Lord, I can hear your smile. Wait, let me tell the others." Her voice became a bit muffled again. "You'll never guess what, everyone—Remy finally proposed!" Muffled cheers and 'way to go's came over the line.
Henri called out, "To Rose, right? Tell him he's not allowed to come back unless he's proposed to her."
Roisin laughed again, and passed along the message to Remy, who rolled his eyes. He took the phone from her. "Mercy, put Henri on de phone, please." There was a slight pause. "Congrats, frère. O' course I proposed t' Roisin Dubh, y' t'ink I'm suicidal? An' at least I didn't take t'ree years t' get t' it, unlike someone I could mention." Roisin couldn't hear Henri's response, but she suspected it was profane, since Remy threatened, "Oh, y'll pay fo' dat next time I see y', Henri. Here, put Mercy back on de line." Another slight pause, then, "Congratulations, Mercy. Glad t' see m' brother has some sense. Here's Roisin back." He passed the phone back as she shook her head at his antics.
"So, what's the other piece of news?" she asked, when it seemed everyone had calmed down a bit.
Mercy became suddenly serious. "Well… You're coming home."
Roisin actually felt herself pale, and the room began to spin slightly. "What?" she gasped quietly. Remy's eyes focused on her instantly, and their guards, sensing the change in mood, came to quietly surround them.
"Yesterday, we got him. We captured Trask. An' le roi is keepin' him in a cell somewhere only he knows about 'til you can get home and help us figure out what t' do with him. So, tomorrow morning, you'll get an overnighted package with your tickets home. We miss you."
"We miss you, too, and—oh Lord— we'll see you soon," she got out, over a suddenly full throat.
"I know—I bawled for two hours when I realized your running was over, finally. This is when Henri took advantage of my emotionally crumbled state to propose." The muffled 'Hey!' from Henri made Roisin smile a bit. "So, I'll let you go and get your bawling done yourself—and we'll see you. Soon."
"Yeah, see you," Roisin whispered, and hung up.
"Chere? What is it?" Remy's red eyes caught hers, concerned. "Is everyt'ing all right?"
We're going home, she suddenly realized, and joy overtook her for the second time that day. She threw herself into Remy's arms and kissed him, then twisted away to hug the bewildered guards, and tucked herself back into Remy's arms and announced, "We're going home!"
The others let out a simultaneous whoop of excitement, and she felt Remy stagger against her, also knocked lightheaded by the news as she explained the circumstances to him. "Really?"
She nodded, smile overtaking her face. "Really. Our tickets will be here tomorrow morning.
He whooped for joy himself and kissed her. "Dat officially makes dis de second best day o' my life."
"The second best?" she wondered aloud. "I said yes to your proposal, our most vicious enemy is imprisoned by your father, and we get to go home after being away for almost a year of living out of suitcases. What on earth could be your best day?"
"Oh, I decided dat earlier. I just don't know what day it is yet. You tell me."
She shook her head in confusion. "What? How should I know? It's your best day."
"What's de day you want t' get married, chere?Tell me, an' I'll know what day to most look forward to."
She smiled as she took his meaning. "As soon aspossible." She reconsidered. "Well, actually, I guess I should phrase that as 'as soon as Tante will let me marry you.' 'Cos you know she's going to want to go all out, and she'll probably say something like, 'Chil', you got de rest of yo' lives t' be married, but only de one chance to get dat way.' Or something."
Remy laughed. "Dat does sound like Tante. Maybe we should elope?" He suggested brightly.
She gave him a what-are-you-insane look. "No… I really want to live more than ten minutes past getting home. If we eloped, then Tante would kill me. If she didn't, Mercy would. And if for some reason Mercy didn't, 'Donna would. So, no elopement. Try again."
"What d' y' t'ink?" Remy drew their bodyguards (by this long a time together all good friends) into the conversation. Suggestions rose on all sides and continued 'til they all went up to their rooms to sleep, leaving a very bewildered girl at the desk to stare after them.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Three days later saw them arriving on a red-eye, exhausted but exhilarated to be home again. Adding to their excitement was the fact that the whole LeBeau family was there to meet them at the airport, plus 'Donna and Marius Bordreaux. Mercy and 'Donna quickly sequestered Rose, to exclaim over the ring and their homecoming, and for Mercy and Rose to begin planning their weddings.
During the drive home, the talk turned to Trask and what ought to be done with him. Roisin had been thinking over it, as had Remy, and they'd come to one agreement, at least.
"We're not the only ones to have been harmed by him. The other survivors should be asked, even if all they say is they want nothing more to do with him," Rose pointed out. 'Donna grimaced, but nodded.
"Let's ask them quickly," she said. "He even creeps me out." Her face had hardened at the mention of Trask. "That beast is a menace."
"'Donna suggested simply 'slaughtering him like the pig he is,'" Mercy confided to her in a whisper. "Marius had to… convince her otherwise. I wouldn't have argued with her, though."
Roisin flicked a glance at the violet-eyed beauty calmly driving the car. "How did he convince her?"
"He promised her the next big assignment."
"The next—?"
"Whenever the Guild next gets contracted for a big hit, she's going to be the one executing it. Him. Or her, as the case may be."
"Whew." She blew out her breath, and exchanged a look with Mercy. "Well. That's certainly a reminder that I'm back in the thick of Thieves and Assassins."
"You're telling me," Mercy returned. "They finally let me take a bigger role with taking out Trask. Actually, it was quite the familyaffair. Jean-Luc, Henri, me, 'Donna, Julien, the cousins…"
"Was that 'quite the family affair' or 'quite de famille affaire'?" Roisin asked humorously.
Mercy chuckled at her sally. "Both, but more 'the family' instead of 'de famille.' This was definitely more personal business rather than Guild business." She hugged her suddenly. "Oh, it's so good to have you home, Rose!"
"It's very, very good to be here," she agreed, and settled back contentedly for the rest of the trip.
A few days later, Henri poked his head into her room, where she was writing emails to some of the Thieves and Assassins she'd met overseas. She turned at his knock. "What's up, Henri?"
He grinned. "Soon you'll be able t' call me frère," he pointed out, and hesitated. "May I ask you somet'ing?"
She turned away from the computer to face him. "Sure." He hesitated again. "Look, I'm not 'Donna. I won't kill you for asking the wrong question."
He chuckled at that. "She is pretty damn intimidating, I'll give you dat. Not dat you aren't, yourself," he added. "Or Tante…o' Mercy, come t' t'ink of it. Wait, how'd we end up wit' all dese dangerous, strong-willed women around?"
"You're smart and have a good sense of self-preservation?" She suggested facetiously, and pushed errant white locks out of her face. "Now, quit stalling and ask y' damn question, already."
"Well. I wanted to know—actually Mercy and I wanted to know—if you—and Remy—well, if y' wanted t'… share a wedding day?" He raised hopeful eyes to hers. "We don't want to wait t' get married either, an' neither o' us want t' step on yo' toes o' anything, but—" He stuttered to a stop at her smile.
"That's a great idea!" She exclaimed. "Why didn't Remy or I think of that?"
"Remy's not as smart as me?"
"Hey, that's my fiancé you're insulting." She shook a fist at him. He mock-cringed in response. "Well, let me discuss it with Remy, first, but if he has no objection… I have no problem with that!"
He grinned. "Good. Dis famille has a bad track record for wedding day disasters; I figure at least dere'll be safety in numbers."
She laughed at that, and as he left considered how much laughing she'd been doing since she and Remy got engaged. Hell, how much laughing she'd been doing since they'd escaped, even with maniacs and the Feds and God-knew-who-else after them.
"I think I'm gonna like being married to him," she decided, a sense of contentment filling her, and she turned back to her emails, pondering how best to convince Remy to marry her… as soon as possible.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
With herself, Mercy, and 'Donna pushing for a wedding earlier rather than later, they finally managed t convince Tante that March was not too early to have a nice wedding, and also that having a double wedding would not in any way detract from their enjoyment of that day.
"But every bride's wedding day is s'posed t' be her day." The older woman fretted. "Not hers-and-someone-else's."
"Tante," Mercy laughed, and bussed her on the cheek. "It's sweet, but really—Rose and I want to share our wedding day! We discussed the pros and cons, and talked it over with Henri and Remy, and we've all agreed that we couldn't imagine a better way to share our special day with everyone than to literally share our special day."
"Besides, this way, the whole dang Guild doesn't have to show up twice." Roisin pointed out.
"Well. If you say so. But don't come cryin' t' me if y' t'ink de other girl's stolen yo' spotlight; Tante warned y'."
Roisin had a sudden awful thought. "Tante, you haven't received any… premonitions, or anything, that would tell you this is a bad idea?"
"No, no, chil'." She waved her hand irritably. "Jus' goin' on what dis ole lady's seen time an' again from young brides. An' y' are young."
"Well," Roisin shrugged, "Twenty might be young to get married, yes, but I'm a lot older than most twenty-year-olds."
Compassion entered Tante Mattie's face. "I know y'are, chil'. Wish it weren't so, but wishin' don't accomplish much. Well," she sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Guess you girls have convinced me. Yo' weddin's in March, then? Dat's only t'ree months to find dresses, figure out what food…" She started ticking points off on her fingers, and Roisin and Mercy grinned at each other. Tante Mattie was on their side, now, and God help anyone who wondered at the speed of the double wedding now.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
For a solid week, Roisin and Mercy practically lived on the street from all of their wedding-dress shopping, the time traveling from shop to shop spend poring over dozens of magazines. Eventually one of the older women in the Guild, Cara, took pity on them. "Silly girls," Cara, who was head of the reconnaissance section, chided them, taking the magazines out of their grasping hands. "Don' y'all know de t'ings you be lookin' for are right over your heads?"
She received blank looks in response. "De attics, girls, de attics. Tons o' t'ings dere could easily be fitted fo' y'all. An' dey're meant fo' de Guild women. Come wit' me." She led the way, and, shrugging, Mercy and Roisin followed.
"Have you ever been up here?" Roisin asked Mercy as they followed Cara's swift steps up what seemed like hundreds of stairs.
"No," Mercy said. "I honestly forgot there even were attics in this house."
They reached the top of the stairs, and Cara opened the door to the attics triumphantly. Instead of the expected dust and age, the door revealed neatly kept supplies, trunks, and other odds and ends arranged around the spacious room's walls.
"Wow." Roisin said, impressed. "This is some attic."
"It's my domain, since de recon group needs some t'ings for only a few particular jobs, but when we need 'em, we really need 'em. Still. Our stuff doesn't take up all de space, so we keep de Guild specialties up here—de masks, a lot of the jewelry, and—" She heaved open the doors of an immense wardrobe. "—de heirloom dresses."
Both of them gasped as dozens of gowns seemed to burst from the doors. Dresses, gowns, and scarves similar to Rogue's own were arrayed in what seemed like hundreds of colors and dozens of fabrics. The styles ranged from old to new, short to long, skimpy to voluminous.
By the end of the afternoon, Mercy had settled on a dress. Hers was a pure, pure white traditional-looking confection with pearls sewn all over the renaissance-style bodice in wandering patterns, which trailed gradually off as they encroached on a wide, multi-layered skirt of tulle that belled out around her. One of the multitudes of Guild scarves served her well as a wrap for her bared shoulders, and she happily declared herself ready to get married. "Did you find anything, Rose?"
"I think I just did," she replied, struck by the simple beauty of the gown she'd just unearthed amidst the riot of couture. The bodice was simply cut, with a square neckline that flattered her figure, and wide ribbons that served as 'sleeves' that skimmed just around the corners of her shoulders. The ivory colored satin nipped in at an empire waist and fell in shimmering folds to the floor; a small train cascaded behind. The bottom edges of the gown were cut in lacy patterns so that her feet and ankles flashed amidst swirls of fabric; the hem was weighted by delicate beadwork along the very edge, a gleam that caught the eye intermittently. She grasped a delicately-woven shawl comprised entirely of lace rose shapes that chased each other and lent an irregular edge to the shawl, but seemed to be made for the gown. "Don't you think this would look wonderful as a veil?"
"Oh, Roisin Dubh, that's perfect," Cara gasped. "Y' might get le diable blanc speechless, fo' once."
"Wouldn't that be something," Mercy chuckled. Roisin snickered, and agreed.
"Now, let's get dese down to de seamstresses t' make sure dey fit all right—Mercy, I t'ink we're gon' have t' shorten yours a little, an', Roisin, I want t' make sure dose capped sleeves stay put." Cara said briskly, and gathered up both girls and gowns to usher them downstairs. Before coming out to the last landing, she stuck her head out the door. "Henri!" she yelled. "Y' fiancée's coming t'rough wit' her dress, so you git."
They heard a muffled protest through the door. "I said, GIT." Cara repeated, firmly, and Henri's footsteps shuffled off. "An' no peeking."
"Aaw, Cara…"
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
After that hurdle was crossed, the rest of the limited planning and the rest of the time seemed to fly by. Time with Remy was scattered and fragmented, but always good, and she was happier by the day. Before they knew it, the end of March was upon them, and the wedding day dawned cool and clear. Roisin barely remembered any of the morning before the wedding—not the hairdressers, not the makeup artists, not the photographer.
She did, however, notice the odd person or two from the press standing around the parish church when she and Mercy arrived.
"Oh, them," Mercy waved her hand airily. "De press shows up fo' any notable event wit' de famille. You haven't been around to see it too much, though. Some people just like to mob-watch," she shrugged it off, so Roisin did as well.
Even if she had been worried, it all would have fallen away when it was her turn to walk up the aisle. Jean-Luc was giving her away, and she swore she saw tears in the Guild leader's eyes as he offered her his arm. At that point, a brilliant smile overtook her face even as her eyes welled with tears of happiness.
"Y' look beautiful, Rose Noire." He whispered to her. "I don' t'ink my son deserves you."
"Probably not," she shot back. "But then, I would say I don't deserve him, so I guess we're even."
He only smiled in response, as the music indicated that it was time to turn and walk up the aisle then; she turned, caught sight of Remy waiting for her to one side of the altar, and completely forgot about everyone else in the room.
He seemed to be similarly struck, his eyes never leaving her veiled face as they slowly approached.
When they finally paused near him, he reached out for her hands before Jean-Luc had even finished lifting her veil. His hands were cold, and shaking. She turned that brilliant smile from Jean-Luc's paternal kiss on her cheek to Remy, and squeezed his hands in her bare ones. "It'll be all right," she mouthed to him, and tried to turn her attention to the priest.
It was no good, though; she already knew the prayers the priest was saying over them by heart, which left her mind free to ponder the weight of Remy's hands in her own, her own pounding pulse, carefully deep breaths, the slight drag of the veil on her hair…
As though from miles away, she heard Mercy and Henri give their vows to each other, and then Remy repeated the ancient promise to her:
"I, Remy, take you, Roisin, for my wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part." His eyes burned intently as he gently slid the glittering white-gold band to rest against her engagement ring. "With this ring, I thee wed."
And then it was her turn: "I, Roisin, take you, Remy, for my husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part." Her hands were suddenly clumsy; she nearly dropped his ring as she placed it on his finger. "With this ring, I thee wed."
And then Remy's lips were on hers, gently, softly, and all at once she could hear and see everyone again. Vaguely she heard the priest announce their new status to the church at large, but her whole focus was on Remy; the rest of the mass went by in a blur, as did the trip to the double reception. It was not held in the same place as the ball had been, she noted with amusement; apparently de famille had decided to let the media get its fill of the wedding day, in hopes that the couples would later be left alone.
Well. They'd see how well that worked out later, she supposed, but lost track of the thought as Jean-Luc beckoned them, and Henri and Mercy, close to him.
"What is it, pere?" Remy asked, his arm around her tightening slightly. "It's not dat b—"
"No, no." Jean-Luc waved his concerns away. It seemed that his broad smile was permanently affixed to his lean face. "Just wanted t' give you all yo' weddin' gifts. Here." He pulled out two thick sheaves of papers, handed one to Mercy and the other to Roisin, and vanished into the crowd as only the king of Thieves could.
Mercy and Roisin exchanged equally puzzled looks, and unfolded their respective papers.
Roisin was the first to realize what they were. "Oh my God."
"What is it?"
"It's a—a deed. To a house." She read a bit, and laughed. "On Guild seat property, but far, far away from the main house. About two miles away across the swampy part."
Henri was reading their own deed over his new wife's shoulder, and chuckled. "Ours is 'bout half a mile from yo's."
"Guess dey want t' make sure de newlyweds get their privacy." Remy commented, and got a smiling eye-roll from Roisin in response.
"Good," came a sudden comment from Belladonna, who was lounging against a nearby pillar. "'Cos dere's not'ing more annoyin' den a bunch o' newlywed lovebirds makin' googly eyes at each other over breakfast."
"Googly eyes?" Roisin repeated incredulously. "Right, 'Donna."
"Mark my words. Googly eyes. You will." The girl smirked, then hugged both of the brides. "Thanks, by de way, fo' not saddlin' me wit' some hideous bridesmaid's dress. Y're good friends. And," she added, with a significant look at the grooms, "'f y' ever need help keepin' dese two in line…" she winked. "Congratulations again."
They thanked her, and circulated on to their next guests, in between times marveling at Jean-Luc's generosity, and happily wondering if anyone would be offended if they redecorated. The reception went on for hours, but the happy couples excused themselves long before any guests started to leave.
When they arrived at their house—their house!—Rogue thought excitedly, they spent some time puttering about, checking out the rooms, the sparse furniture—it looked like someone had planned for them to redecorated, she noted with approval. The Guild's magic had ensured that their wedding gifts were neatly piled in a corner of the living room, neatly labeled as to who had gifted what. Remy suspected Tante.
Finally, with a shared glance, they headed upstairs. Rose felt suddenly shy, standing in the doorway of the master suite. Someone had scattered rose petals across the floor; their heady scent rose to surround them. She laughed when she realized that same someone had dyed some of them to be 'black roses,' so red, black, and white motes danced across the deep pile of the carpet.
Remy's warm arms curled around her waist, where she hesitated in the doorway. He tucked his chin into the crook of her neck. "Nervous?"
"A little," she admitted, biting her lip. "Not only have I never done this, I never thought I could, so…"
He smiled gently at her. "'s okay. I'm nervous, too."
A surprised laugh burst out of her. "You are?"
"Yeah. Do somet'in stupid here, would ruin my reputation forever." He slid one capped sleeve off of her shoulder, and kissed it. A pleasant tingle emanated from the spot. "But den, I'm a married man now. My reputation doesn't mean anyt'in'. Only you do."
Shyness, nervousness fell away as desire enflamed her. She reached out to pull him down to kiss her, and soon found herself plastered against him. She pulled back, but his hand in the middle of her back kept her in place. "It's okay, cherie." He reminded her, "We're married now."
"We are, aren't we," she said in wonder. "I'm married."
"Now, my sweet Rose," he said, mock-serious as his hands dipped lower on her back, then slid higher to begin to tug at the long row of buttons on the gown. "Y' know I've been t'rough a wedding before. An' de main reason we got dat non-marriage annulled so easily was dat it was never consummated." He'd gotten the first half-dozen or so buttons undone. "What d' y' say we make dat an impossibility fo' us?"
"Yes," she said simply, and began working on his buttons herself.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Yes, I know this chapter is another rush-through-info type of chapter… but there's really no reason to go through every friggin week pre-wedding, etc. Plus, the characters want me to get to the next 'good part,' but I've got to build the bridge to get there first. Thanks for all of your reviews—over a thousand now, waahoo!—and please, please, keep them coming. I really do appreciate it when people take time to write a note about what they like or dislike or whatever—it makes the time I spend writing seem much better spent, much more worthwhile. –Alara
