Fratrin - Brother, but one of honour, friendship, or of oath rather than one of blood relation. Refers to the bond of karifratrus
Torin - Torini plural. Male turian of the age of majority (15)
Puer - Puerin plural. Child.
Ylasiun - The ancient turian version of heaven. The realm where all honourable warriors spent eternity.
Caris - Beloved, precious, cherished
Derra - Wife. Female bond-mate.
Dilan - fiancee
Maribellu - Beautiful female … undercurrents of radiance and within a close relationship (wife, mother, grandmother, etc.)
Pulkar - Beautiful when referring to a male. Handsome, but it goes deeper, referring to the beauty of spirit as well. Used within a close relationship. (Father, son, husband)
Verro - Husband, male bond-mate.
Merillien - Tiny, scaled bird analogues prized for their intelligence and the beautiful scaled harmonies they sing. Most merillen have pale, opalescent scales in various shades of white, beige, and grey. Rare cases come in a pale red or black.
Primarch Adrien Victus steps out the back door and onto the lawn, dew-damp moss cool against bare talons. He looks up at the watercolour masterwork painting the horizon between mountain peaks in washes of violet and ripe peach. Spirits, if he'd known how light his burdens would feel in the mountain air …. But then, it wouldn't be the same without his Jane.
Speaking of, Shepard and Garrus sit down on the lake's grassy bank, a small fire snapping and shooting sparks into the twilight. Brilliant, gold and red, the tiny flares flash to life in the coals, twisting upward together in an intricate dance only to fade, embraced by the cool, evening air. He looks past the fire to the glassy water, almost perfectly reflecting the sky. Shepard calls their home heaven. She's right.
Cool fingers whisper along his talons, drawing his attention from nature's beauty to the one who will be swearing the bond oath with him over the next few days. He looks down; Jane's emerald eyes smile up at him.
"Are we going to do this?" she asks, her voice effervescent with teasing. "I've been trying to keep Garrus from vibrating himself into another plane of existence, but I'm losing ground." She grips his talons in her dry, calloused palm, her face blooming through three shades of rose.
Victus can't help but reach up, brushing her cheek with the back of his first talon, his heart too big to keep trapped behind his keel. "Garrus is nervous?" he asks, his mandibles betraying him as they flutter against his face.
Her blush deepens. "And maybe, just maybe, I have the odd jitter here and there."
"Just the odd one?" Wrapping his arm around her, Victus marvels at her warmth, most of it emanating from far deeper than her flesh. Her heart burns like the sun, radiating so fiercely that it heats the entire galaxy.
"Mmmhmm." She hums as she wraps both arms around his waist, squeezing in a way she doesn't yet understand the power of. "This is my favourite place in the entire universe."
He hugs her. "I'm very glad to know that, because I plan on holding you here for the next century or so." It's thirty metres to the fire, but they take their time, dragging talons and toes through the thickening dew. The air … there's nothing else like the scent … the lake, the lalifolectus … nothing to compare with the lightness of it as it slips in and out of his lungs: amorphous joy.
Garrus rises to greet them, still deferent, still reserved. Victus hopes that will change tonight. They can't allow the sun to rise on the walls that still remain between the three of them. Victus reaches out to give Garrus's shoulder a firm squeeze. If nothing else, he hopes to stop having to convince the other torin that he's not jealous or feeling slighted.
"You ready?" Victus asks, seeing in the other torin's gaze the ghosts of years of doubt. He's still not convinced that loving Shepard won't lead to heartache. Well, more heartache, anyway, because spirits, Garrus has suffered enough for any five lifetimes.
Garrus looks over at Shepard, his scraped-raw yearning escaping for two breaths before he trammels it all back behind his clenched jaw. Still, he manages a wooden nod and grips Victus's shoulder.
Shepard grins up at both of them, her nerves also manifesting as a clenched jaw. She detaches from his side and reaches out to draw Garrus in, pulling the torin over until she can bump him with her hip. "Smile, big guy, we're becoming a family. It's a great thing."
"I know." His mandibles flutter as he stares down at Shepard. "Officially becoming a family."
Standing on her toes, Shepard kisses his mandible. "Yeah, we've been a family for a long time, you and I. I couldn't have taken a single step after Omega without you." She wraps her arms around Garrus's neck.
Victus sits by the fire, a beautiful stillness settling over their mountain sanctuary. He leans back into his chair's embrace and watches as his dilan pulls away from her best friend.
Deliberate, almost resolute in posture, command settling back over the slight frame of the elementary school teacher, Shepard strips off her gloves and tucks them into her belt. She holds out trembling hands. "Garrus, I know I've done this before, and I know I've asked this before, but will you take my hands and keep a tight grip on them for the rest of our lives? Can you love me?"
Victus winces when Garrus hesitates, but the torin doesn't do his usual glance over at the primarch for permission. Maybe, just maybe, this is the moment.
Garrus closes the slight distance Shepard placed between them and takes her hands. "Spirits, Shepard, I've loved you from the first time you hung up on the council." He leans in to press his brow against hers. "Every day I end with you in my arms is my very best day, no matter what."
Victus can't help but grin. How many times has he thought that exact same thing?
"It's the same for me, big guy." Shepard's—his Jane's—smoky voice eases Victus back into the moment. He draws in a deep breath, the air cool as it whispers around them, spiced-wine sweet … almost sacred.
"When you agreed to allow the courts to decide Saleon's fate … well, after that I couldn't stop staring, marveling at the torin you'd become … at your strength." After kissing Garrus, she pulls away and nods toward the fire. "Come on, we leave Adrien sitting there all zen-like for much longer, he's going to fall asleep on us."
Victus chuckles, lifting his hand to grasp hers, tugging her into his lap. She sprawls, tumbling into his arms, giggling with an innocent happiness that lifts Victus's heart and sets it soaring. Gentle arms cradle her against his body, savouring her slight weight; her scent, warmed by the fire and intoxicating in her arousal; her flesh, delicately sensual in a way that begs his hands to learn every curve, every nuance. He can't wait to experience every small way she changes over the cycles.
"Are we going to do this?" she asks, her eyes twinkling in the growing starlight. "Not that I'm complaining about cuddling around a fire with my fellas, but I thought we had some fairly momentous plans for this evening."
"I suppose we do at that," the primarch agrees, bending to kiss her. For a moment, he dives deep into that contact, the velvet of her lips and tongue sliding over his still a wonder to him. And dear spirits, the taste of her …. He inhales, breathing her in deep. She's the best sort of addiction.
Shepard comes up for air first. She pulls away, leaving a cool trail of kisses along his mandible. "Let me up, caris. I have a couple of big days coming, and I really don't want to sleepwalk through them." She grins up at Garrus. "Little help?"
Victus lifts as Garrus takes Shepard's hands, pulling her to her feet. She pivots and settles into the deep, hammock-like lawn chair to Victus's right, pulling her feet up to sit cross-legged. Garrus sits beside her so that they form a tight circle, their knees touching.
Shepard rolls her shoulders and clasps her fingers, turning her arms inside out until her knuckles crack. "All right, let's get to it."
"It's a simple, beautiful moment." Victus strokes her hair, brushing it around her ear. "You don't need to be nervous." Cupping the back of her neck in long talons, he leans in. "You don't even have to swear the oath. It can remain between Garrus and me."
Without a second's consideration, Shepard shakes her head. "Nope, we swear this together. The whole point is to bond the three of us into a unit, not just the two of you."
Heart pounding, feeling too big for his chest, Victus nods then pricks the pad of softer flesh at the base of his thumbs, a small drop of blood blooming in the center.
Shepard holds out both hands: one to Garrus, one to him. Victus stares at her offering, astonished … no, that's the wrong word, he's not surprised by the beauty of her heart or her limitless ability to love. Honored, maybe? Or humbled? Maybe what he sees doesn't need to be explained.
Victus grips her hand, turning it to rest palm up. While Garrus does the same, the primarch traces the valleys and ridges with a talon. Her skin feels as delicate as the finest silks, but he knows it's nearly as tough as his own.
"Normally, you'd do this yourself," Victus says, lifting her hand to nuzzle her palm, "but your talons are sad little things, definitely not up to the task." He looks up into her eyes from under a shaded brow, a question left unasked. Shepard nods, the trust shining down on him stilling the breeze. Menae rises over the mountains, nipping at the spurs of sunset, waxing full.
Victus pricks the fleshy pad near the heel of her palm, her blood almost as dark as his in the dancing light. He weaves his talons with his dilan's, then holds his hand out to Garrus. Garrus's grip trembles ever so slightly, his digits cold but strong. When Garrus takes Shepard's hand, Victus meets and holds the torin's gaze.
After a breath, only long enough for the weight of the ceremony to take hold, the primarch says, "Until and beyond death."
Garrus nods, some of the dry ice behind his stare thawing, as if, only now, on the cusp of forging the bond, he allows himself to believe his deepest desire might be fulfilled. "Until and beyond death," the torin repeats.
Victus looks to his Jane, and smiles, his mandibles fluttering with a mind of their own. "Until and beyond death." As he says the words, he feels their truth.
When Shepard repeats the oath something sweet and gentle takes root at his center, tendrils of cerulean and silver moonlight binding them together.
He closes his eyes as Shepard and Garrus exchange their vows. From behind him, he hears laughter brighter and more beautiful than the fire's sparks. Terion and Marc must be wrestling the puerin into the bath. Perhaps while the other two-thirds of their partnership formalize things between them, he'll throw his gauntlet into that battle.
"Have we put you to sleep, my gorgeous primarch?" Velvet lips brush the already clotting punctures in his palms.
Chuckling, he shakes his head, but leaves his eyes closed. "I'm awake, just basking in the moment." A smile highlights his words. "Don't you feel it?"
That time, her lips brush the upper plate of his mouth. "I do." She kisses him again. "And starting tomorrow, it only gets deeper and stronger." She sighs, a warm breeze caressing his nose. "You going to go help get the wild ones into their beds?"
"Yes." Victus returns her kisses, speaking between. "And I'll see you and Garrus a little later?"
Instead of a reply, she wraps her arms around his neck, fingertips whispering over his hide as she lifts into him, deepening the kiss. Into the kiss, through the breaths they share, Victus's dilan encodes every bit of passion and devotion, every beat that her heart takes for him, and somehow it translates perfectly.
And for those breaths, the moonlight wraps them in peace.
Victus pauses to take in a deep draught of the afternoon air. Sylphs of meadow mosses, lake water, and that sweet-apple scent of autumn curl around him, brushing beneath his nose. He grins, how strange and appropriate that the air should smell like Earth on the day he bonds with its most remarkable child.
He looks toward the lakeshore pavilion where all their loved ones—friends and family—wander over the lawn, laughter and calls of greeting ringing out in a merry cacophony of happiness. They're blessed, all of them so very blessed, and in these moments, he knows it strikes as deep a chord in their hearts as it does in his.
Closing his eyes, he drifts on the notes from the small classical orchestra. The piece is one of Shepard's favorites, a pleasing melody by a composer named Beethoven. It suits both the day and occasion to—as his Jane would say—a 't'.
"Primarch!"
Victus turns to look at the source of the only argument he and Shepard suffered through in planning that day. "Admiral Hackett." Victus offers his hand, grasping the man's wrist. Despite his misgivings about inviting the admiral to co-officiate their bonding, he respects and honors Shepard too much to be anything less than welcoming.
"A beautiful day," the admiral says, filling his lungs with mountain air. "And this place …" He shakes his head, wonder making his blue eyes gleam. "I certainly can't fault Shepard for wanting to retire to a place this remarkable."
"She deserves all the beauty and peace we can offer," the primarch agrees. "Between here and teaching, she's happy." Under their obvious face, Victus threads a subvocal of warning. He'll brook no threat to the equilibrium his Jane has found.
Hackett smiles and nods. "Indeed. Thank you for including me in your celebration." A throaty chuckle rumbles between them. "I'd never been to a live hideth turram match until yesterday. It was a …." The admiral hums. "...bracing experience."
Without dropping his guard, Victus laughs. "The great hunt has been a part of the bonding ceremony for as far back as recorded history. Once clans became too large for the hunt to be practical, the hideth turram match took its place." His smile blooms, his mandibles fluttering as he recalls the previous day's mayhem. Despite Shepard's team having the least experienced players, Wrex, Grunt, and Jack more than made up for it, fighting his team to a draw. If his ancient ancestors could be believed, it meant great things for their life together.
Hackett glances at his omnitool. "Guess I should get myself down there and be sociable."
Victus nods and smiles, the first hint of nerves fluttering in his belly. He doesn't have much time before Garrus escorts Shepard to the pavilion so he strides off to greet everyone.
He never would've guessed that twenty minutes could pass so quickly, but it speeds by in a blur of smiling faces and clasped wrists. The next thing he knows, Terion is herding him under the pergola. The wooden arch drips flowers in hundreds of hues between white and pink and silver-mauve. It's all so perfect.
So very perfect.
And then everyone stands, turning to face the long avenue of rylamia. The tangled branches riot toward the sun, looking trimmed with gold, the husks left behind by the dead flowers glimmer in the sun.
The day couldn't be more perfect if he plucked it from his imagination.
… If he is imagining it ….
Heart in his throat, Victus stares, mind frozen, heart racing, as Shepard approaches the head of the aisle. Garrus walks at her side, the torin's—his fratrin's—mandibles spread in a joyous smile. Their ceremony and its oath seems to have brought Garrus some much needed peace.
Peace. Spirits, he's been scrambling for so long: lonely, worried, mourning. Could everything he's been longing for finally becoming reality? It seems more likely that he took a bullet during that last skirmish on Menae. Truly, the last half decade seems too surreal to be true.
For the briefest of moments, fear slams his heart against his keel. What's he doing? He backs up a step rather than meeting Shepard's stare. He tries to look up. He knows she'll be worrying, the voices that wake her, screaming in the night, insisting that he's getting second thoughts. Dear spirits, he feels the clouds drifting over her joy even without seeing her. She deserves so much better than he's giving her at this moment.
"Look at her," Terion whispers, leaning in tight to Victus's aural canal. Talons close around the balls of his shoulders as his pahir takes a breath, then says, "Pari, just look at her. You'll know everything you need to know."
Following his pahir's advice, Victus finally looks up, the sun gleaming off her hair burning away his fear and doubt. He's never before seen beauty to rival his Jane. Layers of sheer lace and silk flow around her, and he knows that his first instinct about her was true. She's a praela in human form. Spirits, what madness seized him the moment before? It had to be madness for him to even think about backing away from taking Shepard's hand and holding it tight for the rest of his life.
Emerald eyes sparkle up into his as Shepard takes the last step. He can't breathe. When did they replace the air with wet cement? Garrus offers Victus her hand. Staring at it, he remembers the first time he took it. Palaven burned huge in the sky, reapers even larger as they stomped across Menae's chalky surface, killing everything in their path. He clasped those fingers that day, their grip a bridge across a wide torrent of churning terror, awe, and doubt.
The warm fingers of certainty … of home ... close around his talons, bare skin against hide. Jane smiles, her other hand pressing against his cheek, thumb stroking along his cheekbone. "Hello there, handsome."
"Hello to you, too, maribellu." He lifts her fingers to his mouth, nuzzling them softly. "I have never seen anything more beautiful than you," he whispers into that contact before lifting his head to meet her stare and hold it.
She chuckles. "It's the dress." But her nose and cheeks bloom, a gentle wash of colour.
He leans in and whispers, "It can't be the dress, because all I can imagine is taking it off."
Her blush deepens and her eyes shine even as she feigns scandal. "Why Primarch … and in public no less." Her laugh rings like the bells of ylasiun, and the rest of the ceremony disappears into voices.
He hears and sees nothing but his Jane. Their eyes remain fixed on one another, and then her voice reaches him through the stillness of his joy. She's making her promises to him.
"I'm grateful that turian bonding ceremonies include making promises to one another," she says, her voice soft, silk caressing his skin. "We so rarely stop and tell one another … tell everyone just how remarkable our mate is and how much they mean to us."
She slips one hand from his talons, but only to press her palm over his heart. She stares at the point of connection for a moment before looking up into his eyes once more. "Adrien, you are my north star. No matter where I sail, you're the beacon that guides me home. You're the kind, steady shoulder that props me up when I'm weary. You're the strong arms that comfort and protect me when the nightmares claim my nights, and sometimes, erupt into my days. And you're the gentle voice that leads me back when I stray."
As she pauses, taking a breath, her words burrow deep into his soul and take root. Her smile deepens even as tears gleam in the corners of her eyes. In that mist, he sees himself, reflected back in colours and light from a thousand angles, each humbling in its beauty. It's a gift that leaves him overcome. Spirits, this is the torin Jane sees when she looks at him.
He doesn't deserve it.
The warmth of her palms cup his face, the sweet-apple sylphs and gentle melody of the strings coaxing him to close his eyes, to embed the moment so deeply in his heart that it will shine there forever. He gives in to their whispers, leaning into his Jane's touch.
"This is what I promise, my love." Her voice cracks, and she swallows, her throat working for a second. "I promise to cherish and protect your beautiful spirit; it truly is one of God's most singular, miraculous creations. I promise to honour your love, for it's the purest light that has ever shone upon me. I promise to take care of you through times good and bad."
Victus opens his eyes, his spirit soaring so far above them that it leaves him lightheaded. He focuses on Shepard's eyes, anchoring himself in the million shades of green sparkling up at him.
"I'll fall short. I'll get scared and cranky and impatient. I'll get self-involved and insensitive. I'll let you down, but more than anything, I promise to dedicate my life to loving you and our family, always with your example as my guide." The mist returns. "I love you, Adrien. Always know that I love you."
Reaching up, he brushes a single tear from his Jane's cheek. It's one of the endearing peculiarities of humans that they cry when they're happy as well as when they're sad or in pain. He glances toward their officiants, nodding in reply to their indication that it's his turn.
"I've never been a particularly superstitious torin," he says, capturing both of her hands in his once more. "Soldiers tend to have their rituals to bring them luck or the favour of the spirits." He smiles, mandibles fluttering softly. "Not me. At least, not until you ran into that firebase on Menae, red hair and bullets flying, barking orders and …" He shakes his head. "... bringing a hope back into that bleak nightmare that saved the lives of every soldier there. That saved my life."
Leaning in, he lowers his voice, not caring if anyone else hears. He's making his promises to her, after all … sealing the bond of a lifetime together.
"That day taught me where the myth of the praelas originated." He lifts one of her hands to his mouth to nuzzle the smooth skin over her knuckles. "More than anything, the day you blew into my life, riding that gestallan wind, you gave me a reason to open my heart again. You showed me that love changes with life and age and different people: always precious and beautiful, but individual."
"I promise you every happiness that is within my ability to bestow. I promise you family and all the laughter and tears that come with it. I promise to be your shelter when the cold winds come down off the mountains and your open sky when you need to fly. I promise to ease your hurt and buttress your courage." He stumbles to a stop, tongue tangled on the thousand promises pouring from his heart.
Mandibles dropping, he sighs. "Spirits, caris. No torin has ever loved anyone more than I love you, and I promise to live with our love at the center of our life, informing everything I do, everything I say, and everything we become together."
Shepard reaches up, taking his face between her hands, eyes locked on his, and once again, their officiants disappear into a far off whisper. Right here. Right in this place, in this moment, in his beautiful derra's gaze … this is where he wants to live. Forever.
With the last iota of attention he's willing to take from his derra, he hears the words husband and wife, and then his Jane is in his arms, her lips soft and passionate, tongue shy but eager, arms wrapped tight around his neck. Dear spirits, they're bonded!
Arms wrapped tight around her, he lifts Shepard from the ground, swinging her around. She laughs, bright bells ringing out her delight as she presses her cheek to his.
"Congratulations, Primarch Victus," she whispers in his aural canal, "you're a married torin."
He turns his face into her neck, breathing her in. "And to you, Pridamani Shepard-Victus." He nuzzles the downy spot just beneath her ear. "Now, about getting that dress off."
When they began planning their bonding ceremony, Shepard insisted that there be a public celebration at the Military Academy. 'The galaxy needs an excuse to just let their hair down, throw their worries aside and have fun,' she said. So over the four days, a small army of chefs keep lines of tables filled with a remarkable feast. If some of the dishes are made with less than standard fare, no one notices let alone complains. Full bellies are still rare enough to be appreciated.
Concerts, vids, hideth turram matches, basketball, and a biotiball tournament have kept tens of thousands entertained. Thanks to Kaidan, Palaven gets an enthusiastic introduction to a game called horseshoes, even though the pieces of curved iron the players throw look nothing like shoes to Victus.
Those parts of the ceremony they hold at their home are broadcast on huge vidscreens so the people feel included but Shepard doesn't have to face the throng. And then she amazes him, handling the crowds and stress like the war had never happened. Tarc, half the time he wants to turn and run … until his Jane wraps an arm around him or slips her hand into the crook of his elbow, and the panic fades. But Shepard presents equal parts serene, happy, and poised, every millimetre the pridamani.
Finally, it's the last day, and their promises are made. Traynor has taken enough pictures that Victus is almost certain he and Jane would show up only as blank spaces if the comm specialist took even one more. There's a few moments before the evening meal is served, and Victus has Shepard all to himself for a few, precious seconds.
"I have a surprise," he whispers in her ear.
"Oh?" She turns to face him, drapes her arms around his neck, and presses her body snug against his. "Do tell."
He shakes his head, setting a stern mask in place: the general at his most strict. It no longer fits as it once did. Although he can't quite put a name to how he feels about that, he thinks it might be relief. Ah, well … a discussion to have with his derra on a less busy and joyous day.
He strokes her back, knuckles tracing her spine. "No spoilers."
Staring at him with wide, pleading eyes, she bats her lashes at him. "Please, darling ... pulkar verro … beautiful love of my life." Slinking in a little closer, she slips a knee between his thighs. "Pretty please?" More lash batting.
"Why you wicked temptress!" He laughs, the sharp sound erupting through his fragile stoicism. It lasts only a heartbeat before he polices his mandibles and brow plates, bringing them back under control. "Nice try, maribellu, but you'll just have to be patient." He gathers her in against his side and guides her through the merry crowd of friends to the far end of the pavilion. A large curtain partitions off a corner of the tent, and it's there he stops.
She looks up at him, the teasing draining away as she meets his eyes. Sliding her arms around his waist, she lays her cheek against his chest. "I can wait just about forever if I can wait here."
"Always," he whispers against her hair. After giving her a moment to settle, he says. "I wanted to do something to include your parents." When she freezes in his arms, he strokes her spine, slowly coaxing her back into his embrace. Once some of the iron melts, he pulls back the curtain. "A happy memory, I hope."
Shepard turns in his arms. "Wha …?" She claps her hands over her mouth, eyes misting.
He holds his breath, heart still and silent in his chest, not sure which way the tears are heading. Spirits, he hopes he hasn't made a terrible mistake.
"Ice cream?" she finally whispers through her hands. She looks up at him. "Soft serve ice cream?" A strange little hiccoughing sound breaks the lock keeping her hands stuck to her face.
"Chocolate and strawberry swirl," he confirms, his silent heart suddenly impersonating the orchestra that accompanied Shepard's journey down the aisle.
Joy blossoms, fed by tears, as her hands, loose from her face, flutter like merillien. "Oh, sweet spirits," she says, a musical keen escaping to take flight alongside her hands. "How?" Another soft cry and she flings her arms around him. "Oh, my beautiful husband, how did you know?"
Embracing her, he nuzzles her ear. "You told me, caris … when you came back from Mahavid."
Her chuckle warms him through. "Ah yes, the night of sooooo much rum and lost memories." Leaning up, she kisses him softly. "Thank you for this, love. I don't know what I believe any more, but I hope they're here. I hope they know that today, I married one of the two most remarkable torins in the entire galaxy."
Her grip on him tightens, almost painful … almost electric in its intensity. "Most of all," she says, barely more than a breath brushing his face, "I really hope they know that I've found my way home."
A-N: And here we are at the penultimate chapter of this love story. I hope you enjoyed these few moments stolen for you. I luvs you *tosses kittens and chocolates ... both with parachutes*