Summer of 1853

The Maximoff mansion where preparations were to be made going into the wedding was in a state of chaos, with girls running around calling for their maids and their dresses, servants hurriedly tripping in and out of the kitchen carrying extravagant dishes of the fried chicken, luscious ham, and dumplings that were to be served at the banquet after the wedding, carriages and horses crowding the generous plantation grounds with the arrival of guests, some from out of state, and musicians noisily tuning their instruments. Amidst all the frenzied preparations for the elaborate ceremony that was to take place later that evening, Rogue managed to slip in nearly unnoticed on dainty, ribbon-laced pink slippers, her hair carefully swept up into a fancy chignon that had taken over an hour to accomplish. The filmy pink silk dress that she'd been wrestled into as part of her co-maid of honor attire had taken even longer, with Miss Ororo switching from reasoning, to admonishing, to nagging, to pleading, to manipulating in an effort to wrangle Rogue into her dress.
"Ah look like a nightmare in pink with mah red hair!" the fifteen-year-old girl had protested, even as her corset had been laced and the "pink nightmare" had been carefully lowered over her petticoats. Now, Rogue glanced around stealthily, praying that nobody would see her until she could come up with a way to lessen the clashing effect of pink on dark red once she'd snuck into the room where the bride-to-be was being fussed over with some last minute adjustments to her dress and hair. Quietly, toning down her own bolder strides to mimic the light, gliding steps of her sisters, Rogue crept up the stairs, darting across the hallways and occasionally even hiding behind ornately-designed jardinières in an effort to make sure she wouldn't be seen by Amara or Tabitha. Finally, she spotted the door that she was sure led to Jean's dressing room, and quickened her steps until she reached the ornately carved French doors and pulled them open...and nearly fainted for the second time in her life.

The figure framed behind the doorway had been just about to leave, and now he gazed at her with the familiar amused twinkle in his red-tinted eyes, as his upper lip curled up in a friendly grin and he greeted in that lazy, drawling Cajun accent, "Ah, bonjour ma chérie ." As soon as Rogue had recovered from her surprise, she quickly tried to regain her composure while asking with as much ladylike dignity as possible, "Why, Mr. LeBeau, Ah hardly expected to see you here again after you went philandering off to New Orleans so soon after Ah'd recovered." Remy shot a lazy grin in her direction, before casually explaining while shrugging his broad shoulders, "Yes, well, I made a promise to Miss Jean that I would attend her wedding no matter what--"
"And Ah'm very glad that you seem to be enough of a gentleman to have at least been telling the truth about that promise and kept it," Rogue broke in acidly, unable to forget the fresh pain that seeing Remy again had brought back. Remy's eyes darkened slightly, and the easygoing smile on his face faded a notch as he thought up a counter to her biting comments.
"Well, my wife and I had to settle some, er, rather personal business back home," he finally explained in a somewhat vague tone of voice, running a hand through his longish dark brown hair. The old confidence returned, as he brought a cigar up to the corner of his mouth and added, "But as you can see, now that our problem has been taken care of, I've returned to keep my promise to Miss Jean like I'd told her I would."
"That's just so lovely of you," Rogue shot back, her voice dripping with blatant sarcasm, then asked cruelly while flitting her eyelashes in his direction, "So where is your wife then, Remy--oh, pardon me, Mr. LeBeau?" The cocky smile didn't slip from his face, as he fired back swiftly, "She's in New Orleans, Miss Rogue, thank you for being considerate enough to ask about her." Rogue suddenly felt that if they spent one more second talking about his wife, her head would burst and she would scream, so she quickly took a step backwards, sarcasm forgotten, and began to mumble, "Ah've got to go now, Ah really have to talk with mah sister..."

Remy abruptly reached forward and grasped her hand, holding her back and causing her to turn around and look directly into his eyes. Rogue felt dizzy at their nearness, but she forced herself to swallow her old feelings and return his gaze with a carefully blank stare, ordering evenly, "Please, Remy, let go of mah hand. Ah really do have to speak with Jean."
"I will let go," Remy replied in an equally steady voice, "but only after I've made one point clear to you." Rogue was afraid to meet his unveiled eyes now, and she kept her gaze focused steadfastly on the space between them as she asked in a slightly quavering voice, "What's that?"
"You've probably heard rumors about my and Belladonna's separation," Remy began calmly, and Rogue blushed as she remembered all the crazy gossip that had blazed across the county like wildfire following his departure a few days after her recovery.
"Ah...might have heard something like that," she finally conceded in what she hoped was a smooth voice. Remy looked amused by her modesty, and made sure she knew about it when he told her, "There's no need to lie for my sake, Miss Rogue, especially because I'll respect your wishes and keep away from this county after Miss Jean's wedding." Rogue's head snapped up in shock, unwittingly locking eyes with the Cajun she'd sworn she'd hate forever after his treachery.
"You'll leave me?" But you can't! her mind screamed, a flash of desperation quickly skirting across her eyes as she remembered those miserable two months during which Remy had been away at New Orleans, before she forced herself to calm down.
"After all, you made your point quite clear to me that spring day when Belladonna arrived," Remy was saying, his voice breaking into her thoughts and making her look up at him in confusion. "Your entire family is devoutly Roman Catholic, and would never approve of, let alone allow you, to marry a man who's been divorced in his life, so there's really no reason why I should keep coming back and serving as some nasty little reminder of that spring afternoon proposal."
"You won't?" Rogue's voice came out in a strangled little whisper before she even realized it. Remy's reply was unusually calm, casually amused even.
"I promise I won't--if that slap to the face is the way you respond to all proposals, then I certainly don't want to subject myself to it again with a second formal marriage proposal," he quipped, then had duck to avoid another slap.
"You scoundrel, how can you just toy with mah feelings like that?!" Tears sparkled brightly on the corners of Rogue's moody green eyes as she glared at the calmly amused Cajun, before she growled incomprehensibly into his face and turned around so fast that she nearly fell down. Remy reached forward and gently held her back to keep her from diving face-first onto the floor, but as soon as his hands made contact with her waist she turned around and violently wrenched herself free from his grasp, this time succeeding in landing a slap onto his hands.
"Don't touch me, you...you worm!" she bit out furiously, glaring daggers into his carefully impassive eyes before hiking up her voluminous skirts and running off.


Inside an elaborately decorated dressing room and completely unaware of the verbal exchange that had just occurred between Rogue and Remy, Kitty was practically skipping around from excitement, risking tearing her dainty pink maid of honor dress as she supervised some last-minute adjustments to her sister's appearance.
"I feel like I'm drowning in here," Jean's normally sweet, gentle voice spoke up dryly from underneath a mountain of frothy, pearl-lined white silk. Kitty laughed cheerfully, quipping, "Aw, Jean, you're starting to sound like Rogue with all that sarcasm!" earning a somewhat half-hearted chuckle or two from the beautiful redhead. An amiable silence settled between the two sisters, during which one of the attending maids lowered a gossamer veil over Jean's face while another placed a crown of tiny flowers on top of her head.
"Kitty," Jean spoke up suddenly, her voice sounding strained as the other girls continued to fuss over the perfect coiffures in her hair and the extravagant diamond and silver jewelry she was supposed to wear, "do you think I'm doing the right thing by marrying Pietro Maximoff?" Kitty snapped out of her blissful wedding day dream world, blinking surprised cornflower-blue eyes as she gasped, "Wh...what do you mean, Jean? Of course you're doing the right thing by marrying, Pietro--I mean, he's handsome, he's charming, he's a divine dancer, and granted he's a bit cocky, but that's really just part of his charisma and all--"
"Kitty, I'm marrying Pietro mainly because it would tremendously benefit both our families," Jean spoke up evenly, and Kitty flushed while conceding, "Well maybe that too, because it would help ease all the hostilities between Papa and Mr. Maximoff, but--"

The arrival of Wanda Maximoff prevented any further conversation between the two sisters, as the cold raven-haired beauty entered the lavishly furnished dressing room and announced somewhat frostily, "The seamstress is finally here, after a two-hour delay, to adjust your wedding gown, Jean...apparently her carriage got stuck in the marshes and had to be pushed out by some of the county's finest." Kitty breathed a sigh of relief, partly because the hem of Jean's dress was still a bit too long and would need to be pinned up, partly because it signaled an interruption in Jean's train of doubts about her big wedding day. That's the last thing our family needs, the perkily pretty brunette thought delicately to herself, wrinkling her nose while silently adding, to be rocked by such a scandal as one of its own jilting her fiancé at the altar!


The Maximoff family cook, a large black man with an usually jolly demeanor, now glared crossly at Rogue and gritted out in a strained voice, "Please, Missy, git outta de way!" as he hurriedly pushed past her, carrying with him a huge ten-tier wedding cake and a request for yet more dishes to be prepared. Rogue dutifully flattened herself against a wall, too miserable to even muster any feelings of indignation at the way she'd been jostled around or to even notice that careless servants had stepped all over the hems of her expensive pink maid of honor dress when she'd forgotten to pull in its extravagant full skirts.

After the first wave of servants and chaos had passed, Rogue crept away from all the noise and excitement, trying to find a quiet, private place like the library where she could sulk without being interrupted or bumped into. Briefly, she tried to conjure up a mental map of the massive Maximoff plantation, but was quick to give up on that idea when she realized how hopeless it would be to try and remember where all the enormous hundred-plus rooms were situated, and instead trod along blindly, opening doors and then backing out when each time a throng of people would inevitably be already lodged inside, polishing crystals and silverware, arranging flowers, dusting the expensive furniture, checking over dresses and suits for any rips or tears, or busy preparing even more food. Finally, the auburn-haired girl managed to stumble her way into a darkened room that seemed deserted enough, and she quickly closed the door behind her and sank onto a velvet loveseat, closing her eyes and waiting for the tears she'd been holding in ever since her brief conversation with Remy to fall.

They never had a chance to, when an all too familiar masculine voice spoke up, "So you've been needing an escape from all this madness too, huh?" Rogue snapped up guiltily, glancing around with a sinking feeling in her heart while silently cursing herself for having missed Pietro's half-hidden form by the heavy royal blue drapes.
"What are you doing here, Pietro?" she asked wearily, feeling too drained to even bother sniping with him. "With your kind of personality, Ah thought you'd be out there amongst the crowds, basking in all the congratulations and well-wishing!"
"That's what everybody thinks of me," Pietro quipped, and Rogue wondered whether she'd correctly heard a flash of bitterness in his voice. "But I don't mind, it suits me just fine--better that they think I'm some sort of vain, foolish pretty boy anyway; it's always an advantage when people have low expectations of me."
"Low expectations...?" Rogue's voice trailed off. Had she herself been underestimating Pietro all this time? She'd always prided herself on being a good judge of character...but look where that's led you, she chastised herself with semi-bitterness, remembering her disastrous fallout with Remy and the way cocky Pietro had always managed to make her speechless with a sprinkling of well-placed comments and observations about her thoughts and feelings.
"Oh, there's no need to feel sorry for me, Miss Rogue," Pietro was saying. "After all, when I'm getting pity from a standoffish wallflower like you--no offense--then I know I've really sunk to the bottom." Rogue was too lost in thought to even realize that he'd casually snuck in another jibe at her aloofness, instead observing quietly, "You're not exactly happy about marrying mah sister so soon, are you? You're just not ready to make that kind of commitment." Pietro was immediately on the defensive, as he snapped up and babbled in an angry arsenal of words, "What do you mean, not happy? Hey, I know exactly what I want, and when I want it, and...of course I'm ready for that kind of commitment, I just told you I'm not some sort of idiotic playboy, didn't I...?" Rogue smirked, enjoying the fact that, for once, she had the advantage over him.
"Pietro, listen to yourself," she interrupted calmly. "You're not trying to convince me that you're ready or even really want to marry Jean, you're trying to convince yourself--and you're failing."
"I--" Pietro opened his mouth, a thousand retorts ready to be fired off, then seemed to reconsider and reluctantly closed it, his eyes and slight slump of posture signaling his defeat.
"Think about it," Rogue told him, still smirking, even though she knew it was terrible to feel any amusement about something as serious as a possibly failed marriage, "the only reason you're marrying mah sister is to benefit your father--"
"Oh, shut up!" Pietro broke in abruptly, stalking away from his position by the curtains and elbowing past her to stride out of the room.
"Where are you going?" Rogue asked, feeling a small blaze of curiosity begin to flare up despite her thundercloud of distress and anger over losing Remy. Was Pietro going to call the wedding off? Alarm bells began ringing inside her head, as she inwardly screamed, No! He can't do that! Think of all the dishonor and scandal it will bring to both our families...and Ah'll be the cause of all of it. Her head hung in shame, as she realized that she'd carried her teasing and taunting too far...and yet somehow, she just knew that if Pietro really was going to call off the wedding, she would do nothing to stand in his way. She couldn't. Was it just a virtuous selflessness on her part to allow him to seek an end to a mistake before it happened...or just some sort of terrible selfishness because she wanted to keep Pietro around, unmarried and therefore still attainable, until she resolved her conflicting feelings about both him and Remy?
"I need some time alone to think," Pietro's cool, carefully even response broke into her jumble of thoughts, and Rogue looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of his disappearing back, feeling a strange mix of disappointment and relief at his vague yet non-drastic answer.


An uncharacteristic wave of panic seized the Maximoff mansion with just an hour left before the elaborate wedding ceremony. All the food was prepared and laid out carefully over long tables covered with the family's best white cloths, the elegant chandelier, with its five thousand diamond lights, sparkled dazzlingly like a welcoming beacon to the festivities, the halls were sweet with the fragrances of flowers, and the carriage was hitched and ready to take the bride and groom to the nearby church where a priest awaited to wed them. Only...

"Mist' Maximoff is gone! He's gone! We can't find him!" a terrified little black girl ran madly across the halls, screeching out her words like a siren. Inside the mansion, shocked heads began peeking out of rooms, as guests and servants alike wondered, "Mr. Maximoff? Why would the family patriarch depart when the ceremony's about to begin in an hour?"
"Not the elder Mist' Maximoff! Mist' Pietro!" the little girl hastily corrected herself, then careened around a corner to announce the distressing news to the young belles who were in the garden by the rose beds.
"Mist' Pietro's disappeared! We can't find him!" she wailed shrilly, causing a wave of hushed conversation to ripple across the multitude of elegantly-dressed girls. The little servant's distressed call floated up a window, where seated inside Jean was staring fixedly at her reflection in a mirror with Kitty a few yards away tucking some violets into her sash. The younger sister froze in mid-movement when she heard the announcement that Pietro had disappeared, gasping indignantly, "Why, what kind of a cad is he to just walk out of his own wedding...?" before she suddenly remembered that his bride-to-be was in the same room, and had heard the announcement as well. Kitty immediately rushed over to comfort Jean, nearly tripping over her long skirts and yards of ribbons in the process as she cried comfortingly, "Oh, Jean, I'm so terribly sorry it's happened!" Jean's face, peeking out from behind Kitty's lustrous chestnut hair as the younger girl swept her in a sorrowful hug, was surprisingly calm, as she replied evenly, "It's all right, Kitty. Please don't cry for my sake, I'll be fine." Kitty leaned back, every bit as shocked by her sister's peculiarly composed response as she'd been by news of Pietro's disappearing act.
"But..." she sniffled, wondering whether this was just a customary reaction by her always dignified sister. Surely not even Jean could remain this poised when faced with news that the supposed love of her life had just bolted, could she? But Jean was speaking now.
"In a way," she admitted with a shrug, "I'm glad he feels the same way. It's saved us both from an unhappy, albeit highly beneficial, marriage." Kitty was staring at her oldest sister in disbelief, as the elegant redhead stood up and stepped out of her white satin slippers while taking her shimmery veil off at the same time, her full white skirts billowing gracefully around her with each movement.
"Jean...what are you doing?" she asked, incredulity mixed with curiosity at her sister's actions.
"I'm changing out of this wedding dress--there's no need for it now, since there isn't going to be a wedding," Jean replied calmly, slipping the sleeves off her shoulders.
"But--" Kitty tried to sputter out a feeble protest.
"Kitty, you're still very young--you don't think of marriage as anything beyond lovely wedding gowns or traveling around the world on a lengthy honeymoon," Jean was saying amiably. "Maybe once you've grown older, you'll realize that marriage is a commitment far deeper than elaborate wedding parties. Now, will you please help me change out of this?" Part of Kitty wanted to protest that she was throwing away a perfectly good husband, the other part wanted to huffily point out that, at sixteen, Jean was only two years older than her. But Kitty kept these thoughts, amongst others, unspoken, and instead silently moved over and helped raise the frothy, delicate wedding gown up and over Jean's flaxen corset cover and three lace petticoats.


Rogue froze in shock and dismay when she heard the alarming announcement that Pietro had disappeared, feeling wave after wave of shame and guilt roll over her like some horrible ocean tide. Had she done it? Had she, bitter little creature that she'd been over her loss of Remy, been the cause of all this? And even now, when the supposed fairy tale wedding had been utterly ruined, why did she still dare to feel a tingle of relief and hope that Pietro was still single, and, by default, still attainable, no matter how slim her chances probably were with him? Rogue hated herself at that moment, hated herself because she might have just destroyed her own sister's chance at happiness, hated herself because she still couldn't make up her mind over whom she wanted, Remy or Pietro, hated herself because now Remy didn't want her so that must mean there was some horrible quality about her, hated herself because she still didn't know whether she loved Pietro or detested him, hated herself...
"Come with me," a male voice whispered from somewhere behind her, and Rogue froze, momentarily stopping berating herself as she paused to listen without daring turn around. The voice continued to speak, adding simply, "Meet me by the virgin forests at the edge of this plantation...I'll take you away from all this." And then he was gone, having spoken in too low a whisper for her to identify his voice and just barely decipher his words. Could it be...It must be him! Rogue felt her heart pick up speed with excitement, as she dropped the rose garland she'd been half-heartedly trying to weave and sped off in a rustle of skirts and honeysuckle fragrance.

A carriage was waiting for her by the edge of the black pine forests bordering the Maximoff plantation, just like he'd promised, as he reached out with one hand and helped pull Rogue into its soft, velvet interiors beside him. Rogue was almost faint with exhilaration, and, fearing that she might collapse unconscious for the second time in her life, she began quickly babbling about everything and nothing in an effort to get her mind off her crazy decision.
"Ah probably shouldn't even be here," she stammered nervously, glancing out the carriage window and noticing the various clusters of people that had begun to filter out of the mansion. "Ah mean, this is nothing short of elopement, and mah family would be forever dishonored by such a scandalous decision...and Ah don't even know how mah religion would punish me for this kind of action...and did you notice how nice the weather is today?...and..." The man had remained curiously silent throughout her entire rant, despite his air of charmed amusement at her nervous words that Rogue had managed to sense, and now she turned around to speak directly to him.
"Ah should probably just get off here and go back to the plantation..." Her voice trailed off, and her eyes widened in shocked surprise when she recognized the all too familiar features, before narrowing in anger as she spat out a single word.
"You!" she hissed acidly, and the devilish grin that sprang up on his lips were enough to make her want to strangle him.