A/N: By now, I think we all know what's going on with Carys, but CarlaPA asked a really good question: why it's different from the books.

Not sure if I've mentioned it for a bit, but I'm breaking canon on this one! Throw out most of what you know from the books, we're shifting almost completely from here on in! I have a run-down of what happens during this time, which I'm happy to share. If you'd want to know specifically what's going on with her before we watch it play out in the next book, please PM me. I do plan on it being discussed in the next part, which will be called Blue Moon.

Without further ado, I would like to present for your reading pleasure, the wedding of Carys Ivy Vale and Carlisle Cullen. I could have condensed it but I expanded it all instead, and so there's one part today, one part tomorrow.

Get ready for the cheese! And I know I full-on described Carys (and partially others) WAY too much, but I don't think I've described her enough throughout the books. It's something I'd cut down if I was cutting the whole, but... I don't want to haha! I'm so excited!

Eclipse, Chapter 32

Two miles down the long winding drive, one mile from the main house, Carys stood before the counter in the small bridal hut beside the barn. It was almost two o'clock, guests were arriving, and she was in a pickle. No. Not a pickle. She was having mare. Or, rather, she was in a pickle and having a very large mare at the same time, and she couldn't think of a stronger term for it when she was this close to panic.

Behind her, Rosalie was attempting to close the last three of the first row of hooks and eyes on her wedding dress. The rest had been easy. Set within the bodice the trick was to be firm without accidentally pulling too hard. It would be all too easy for a vampire to misjudge and rip the fabric if they weren't careful.

Leah might have been better suited to the task, but she had all but jumped at the chance to get some air by following Amy ten minutes before. They had gone to collect Shauna for the pre-wedding toast.

After three hours stuck in a room with vampires, Carys couldn't blame her. She hadn't missed the strength of any of her bridesmaids' discomfort - the worst of which was Leah's - no matter how oblivious her mum had been.

Esme alone had managed to entirely conceal her natural aversion.

"Suck it in!" Rosalie exclaimed again.

Carys tried to hold in her tears. What if it didn't work? What would she do then? Holding her breath and sucking in as much as she could already, there was only so much she could do. She couldn't understand how she'd done this to herself. The dress was snug when she'd last tried it; snugger than it had been the first or second times, but it hadn't been an issue before.

Running out of breath, she gasped, gritted her teeth, and then strained anew.

"I can't," she whispered hoarsely. "I'm all... sucked in."

"You had the risotto, didn't you?" Rosalie complained, just as she had when Carys arrived that morning. "I told you to have a salad."

"I did... have a salad... And I... told you... I only had... half."

It was true. But half the large salad had been followed by half of Carlisle's lobster risotto. And half the dessert he ordered.

Their rehearsal dinner had been an intimate affair in the end. They'd decided it was the best course of action when Carys' friends Gina, Kathryn, Abigail, Ryan and Steve, and her godmothers Hannah and Adjoa had arrived, all at severe risk of jet lag.

They'd had drinks at the resort where the guests were staying, then left Shauna with her grandparents before the long day.

With only her mum (who thought she needed to eat more at any given moment), Findlay (who didn't want to get in the middle of a potential argument on the eve of Carys' wedding), and Carlisle (who insisted on getting cake so that Findlay wouldn't feel weird eating dessert alone), she'd all too easily forgotten the Rosalie approved list of food and drinks.

"Stress can make humans bloat," Esme deflected helpfully. Hovering over their shoulders, she'd given it a try before handing it over to Rose. "Don't worry, Carys. There's no need to panic. It's only three hooks. Could we leave them, do you think?"

"Yes, but-okay." Rosalie humphed. "No. It will sit all wrong."

The fabric loosened.

"I'll be dammed if a blasted inch of bloating defeats Rosalie Lilian Hale," she muttered under her breath.

She took up the placket again and spoke normally. "New idea. I pull, and you push your muscles, Carys. Suck in and shove it all down towards your hips. Yes. Just like that. Now hold on. Almost there... Hold on. Hold on. Hold-got it! Yes!"

Once she'd finished with the last three, her fingers made lightning-quick work of the second row of clasps, closing the placket. The invisible zip at the back secured the two halves of the outer bodice.

It slid up with ease.

As soon as Rose released her, Carys let everything go.

Her body settled into place; the dress didn't budge or pull at the seams. The slight bloating had shifted down now, by just an inch. Just enough to be free and hidden beneath the skirts. The dress was just as comfortable now as she remembered. She could breathe again with ease.

Thank God.

She blinked away her nervous tears.

From what she could see, it was impossible to tell that they'd spent over ten minutes forcing three measly hooks into place. Or why.

"You could have worn spanx," Rosalie muttered.

"Not really," Carys admitted a touch awkwardly. "I mean, I could've, but I don't think it would've made a difference."

"Then it's a good job the dress was ordered before you lost a bit of weight." Her voice was observant rather than rude, but it struck a slight nerve. "There's no way-"

"Okay, okay, fine." Carys sighed in defeat and turned to stand before the long mirror at the end of the white room. "I ate dinner like a normal human being... It fits though... doesn't it? And it looks good, right?"

She stared at her reflection, smoothing her hands over her bodice.

Her hair had been arranged into a Grecian style, lifted from her temples and pinned in place at her crown behind her gold headband, the shining mass of curls falling heavy down her back. Shorter ringlets had been tamed and styled to frame her face.

Alice had spent an hour perfecting her makeup. Everything had to be waterproof because she was sure Carys would cry at some point.

It was subtle, natural but full-faced in that way that often only came from a long time in a makeup chair. With the exclusion of her eyeliner, it might look as if she'd simply woken up with perfectly blushed cheeks (which, granted, she sometimes did), impossibly long lashes, slightly darkened brown eyelids with a hint of gold to them, her face contoured and blemish-free. With the addition of a cinnamon primer Amy had scoffed at - "I really don't think that's needed," she'd said, "Carys has beautiful lips already" - her lips would remain as full and rosy as they were when she woke each morning.

Her gaze lowered to her dress.

The white was so stark against her skin, it emphasised her colouring. It sparked something in her brown skin and eyes that all but shone.

She knew she was being kind to herself in her assessment, but when else should she be kinder?

The bodice cut straight across her chest, emphasising her bust and the v of her waist before it appeared to sink into the folds of the wide skirts. They pooled on the floor around her, far longer at the back than the front, and she'd had to practice how to walk in the dress, kicking out the silk with every step, just a little. Just enough that she didn't catch herself and fall. The voluminous detached sleeves Alice had made for her in the same fabric were secured on each arm just above where her scar began and a few inches from her wrist. They didn't look as if they'd been added to conceal, more that they had been made along with the dress.

The one change to her plan was the pair of earrings she wore with her other jewellery. Nearly identical to the ones Carlisle had given her two years before, they were set in gold to match the whole. He'd given them to her the night before, and she'd given him a pair of cufflinks for the occasion. The gold would better match her necklace and her veil, when it was in place - transparent save for the gold leaves which cascaded over the top of her head, following the line of her arms to the tips of her fingers.

"Doesn't it?" she whispered again, seeking the confirmation of others.

"You look wonderful," Esme said. "And the skirts-"

"You're fine," Rosalie announced dismissively, cutting the older vampire off. "You look perfect. Stop stressing." Job done, she stepped up beside her and began to examine herself, instead.

Carys smiled hopefully.

She couldn't quite believe Rosalie meant perfect in the sense of literal perfection, or versus her bridesmaids, even, but perfect for the day.

It was more than enough.

"The green really brings out my eyes, doesn't it?" Rose asked.

The family had all fed in the past couple of days, and Rosalie's floor-length green and gold dress really did set her light-gold eyes alight. The cowl back, coupled with her old Hollywood curls and makeup, made her look as if she'd just stepped off a red carpet. The darker shade of green lit her pale skin, making it striking rather than washing her out as she said some shades could.

Just like Alice, Esme and Leah, her outfit marked her out even more than usual.

They each drew the eye immediately - and held it.

Carys nodded in agreement. "It really does," she told her. "You look spectacular."

"Oh, I know," Rose enthused, tweaking a stray hair into place. "Emmett won't be able to keep his hands off me."

"You look spectacular too," Carys added to Esme, who turned away from another mirror to indulge her with a brief smile of thanks.

Esme's strappy gold dress skimmed her curves all the way to her knees before flowing out to the floor. Not for the first time since the caramel-haired vampire had pinned her tresses into a low chignon and donned the dress, Carys felt a pang of jealousy.

She twitched her voluminous sleeves and tried not to let her feelings show as the two vampires chatted. She didn't like the way she'd felt for the past hour. After months of insisting she wanted them dressed to the nines, she was embarrassed to feel drab in comparison. Even now, now that she had seen herself and believed she looked as beautiful as she ever would, her bridesmaids exceeded her.

Alice skipped into the room, drawing her attention as the door swung shut behind her.

The petite vampire had slicked her hair back while she was gone. It made her look even more fairy-like. Her strapless full-skirted tea-length green dress suited her personality just as well as Rose's did hers. It bounced with every step and seemed to exaggerate her gracefulness and boundless energy.

Hopping onto the counter, she kicked her legs and said, "I'm surprised the waist measurements were wrong."

"They weren't," Esme said. "Or, they weren't the other week," she corrected. Crossing the space, she squeezed Carys' right shoulder. "Don't worry. You look wonderful. Radiant. I'd so much as say you were glowing. And you're secure if it worries you."

"Thank you, Ez," Carys said with a tremulous smile.

Gently pushing Rosalie to the side ("Hey!" the blonde complained), Carys adjusted her dress and looked herself over again; Rose had chosen to move, and they both knew it.

"Are you really surprised, Alice?" she asked after a moment, curiously eyeing the little vampire's reflection.

"I caught a glimpse last week, but no, I didn't know how hard to would be to get you into it until a few minutes ago. I figured things would go better with Rosalie at the helm."

Accepting the answer with a nod, Carys jumped up and down on the spot. Her breasts were, as Esme had said, secure. The edge of the bodice covered most of the swell, and they didn't look to be at risk of falling out of place.

"Alice," she asked again, twisting this way and that, "do you think-"

Alice met her eye in the mirror and smirked.

"Oh, he's going to be looking," she confirmed. "But what's new?"

"He-? Oh! Ugh!" Esme grimaced when she cottoned on. "I didn't need to know that," she told them both. "I really, truly did not need to know that."

Rosalie smothered a chuckle.

"Sorry Esme," Alice trilled without so much as a hint of sincerity.

Esme sighed.

Carys said nothing.

Biting the inside of her cheek against a grin, she refocused on her reflection and took a deep breath. Fine. Leaned forward. Nothing moved. Shimmied, half-bent at the waist. Perfectly acceptable. It was still fine to dance in.

Having completed her checks, she straightened, adjusted her left sleeve yet again - in case it had slipped in the past few seconds and exposed the dreaded nausea-inducing claw marks - and gave herself a brief nod.

"Ez, could you help me with my veil, please?"

The veil was already in her Maid of Honour's hands. Grinning proudly, she stepped forward and had Carys duck, then slid the comb into place behind her headband. "We'll pop it over before we leave."

Carys hummed happily, twisting her hands together.

She stopped still, then squealed quietly, bouncing in her high heels.

The three vampires stared at her, confusion etched across their features.

"What's happened?" Alice asked.

"The butterflies are back!"

Alice and Rosalie groaned; Esme went to grab the ice bucket without a word, but Carys caught a hint of a smile as she turned.

They'd heard all about how she thought the butterflies were a good omen. Each of them had told her they were just nerves or excitement. She knew they were right, but she hadn't felt them all morning and it had worried her.

Carys smoothed her dress over her belly. She could almost swear she could feel them through the fabric. Shaking herself, she dismissed yet another silly thought and adjusted her headband.

It was a good job Edward swore to keep out of Carlisle and her heads for the day.

Amy, Leah and Shauna returned a few minutes later with Sarah and Monica in tow. The first time any of them had seen her dress, her friends exclaimed over it just as much as Carys did their outfits. While Monica's wrap dress was absolutely lovely, it was Sarah's suit which Carys was most enamoured with.

Amy waited her turn to sweep ahead and hug Carys.

She had taken one look at her daughter and begun dabbing at her eyes with a green handkerchief. The fabric matched her dress and Nefertiti headwrap. Much like Rosalie's green set off her ultra-pale skin, Amy's perfectly suited her dark complexion.

When, after they'd toasted, Amy realised her handkerchief was damp, she tucked it into her clutch and removed another, identical to the first.

The move made Carys' affection for the woman bubble over into a laugh. It was so like her mother. She found it so difficult to control herself that Esme snatched her champagne flute in case she spilt it.

Shauna, unlike the rest, seemed content to stare at Carys in wonder from the safety of Leah's arms. Even after she had had her little Mary Jane shoes removed and was settled on her older sister's hip, the wide-eyed stare continued.

It wasn't until Carys had given Monica, Sarah, and their mum the presents she'd bought them and they were halfway through their drinks, that the little girl broke free of her spell and started babbling again.

Tipping forward, she all but smacked her head against Carys' shoulder, then nestled her face into the crook of her neck. It was Shauna's reaction that moved Carys past the very last of her reservations.

Polishing off her drink, Amy asked for a moment alone with her eldest.

Seeing the time, Sarah and Monica took Shauna with them to find their seats, and the bridesmaids stepped outside to wait.

"Now we don't have long," Amy said, adjusting Carys' veil over her shoulders, "so I won't make a meal out of this, but..." She stared up into her eyes. "You do know how proud I am of you, don't you?"

"Mum," Carys whined.

Amy grabbed her hands. The seriousness in her mother's dark eyes made a lump rise in her throat.

"No, no, don't deflect. Look at me. Good. I'm not-" Amy's voice cracked and she took a deep, steadying breath "-I'm not saying this because you're getting married. I'm saying it because you are... You-" she sighed and tried again, blinking back her tears "-are not the person you were when you came here. You've grown so much. And I have this feeling like I'm not going to see you for a long time, and-"

"Mum," Carys whispered tearfully.

"No, no, listen, my lovely. No matter what happens, or how many bloody bears you taunt, I want you to know that I'm always a phone call away if you need me. I know I've not always been the best-"

"Yes, you-"

"Shh. We don't have time."

"Sorry," Carys mumbled.

"All I've ever wanted is for you to be strong and happy. I just want you to know that I love you, and I have never been prouder of you. Or anyone, for that matter."

Sensing the speech was done, Carys marshalled herself. She wanted to lie and say she'd see her all the time, but she couldn't do that to her mum. She couldn't lie to her.

"I'll call," she promised thickly. "And email, and skype and stuff. I will."

Amy's smile took on a wistful quality. "I know. But you're going to be living an exciting life, and I know visits will be few and far between. I just want you to promise you'll try to come see me when I'm old and grey and can't remember my own name, let alone yours."

Carys smiled and nodded. She wouldn't be lying if she agreed to that.

"I promise I'll try."

"Good... Just..." Drawing away, Amy let go of Carys' hands and scrunched up her nose. "If you're gonna get plastic surgery like that lot out there, don't go overboard? I know it might be tempting, but-"

The moment was ruined for Carys, who all but rolled her eyes. "Mum."

Amy waved a hand dismissively. "Okay, okay. I know they've been tasteful about it, but-"

"Mum! They haven't!"

"Sure." Amy tapped her nose and grinned. Her smile faltered as soon as her hands dropped to her sides. "I wanted to ask you something else..."

"What?" Carys asked softly. She searched her mother's face for the answer.

"I know I told him not to come, but would you have preferred to have your dad here?"

Ah.

Carys shook her head immediately.

"I think he'd blubber more than you, and you only have so many handkerchiefs. Besides," she went on, a little confused by her mum's strange expression, "I wouldn't put it past some people to steal your seats if he wasn't saving them."

Amy choked on a half-laugh half-sob. Slapping Carys' shoulder, she said, "I meant your father, you twit!"

"Oh!" Biting her lips together, she felt her cheeks grow hot. "I thought you meant Findlay." That was embarrassing.

"No, I didn't."

"Well... No. To be honest," Carys said truthfully. "From what I remember and what Findlay told me, I don't want him anywhere near either of us. Your propensity to rile me up for fun aside, I wouldn't be me without you. The older I get, the more I'm turning into you. I know I'm not supposed to be happy about it, but I am. More than you'll ever know, 'cause I'm never gonna admit it again," she joked. "I-"

The door opened, cutting off what she was about to say as they both turned to see Esme poke her head in with an apologetic expression. "Sorry, but Findlay's come to get you, Amy. We only have a few minutes until it starts." Retreating, she closed the door again, and they turned back to each other.

"I love you. You're the best mum I could have hoped for. Thank you."

Amy gave her hand one last squeeze. Shifting a little to the side, she looked her over and gave her a satisfied nod. "I love you too," she said, reaching around to lift the veil.

It fell, a transparent wall between them, to Carys' waist. She fancied it was a poignant symbol.

"And you're the best eldest daughter I could have dreamed of."

With that, Amy turned on her heel and strode quickly for the door. Carys watched her leave with a faint smile. When the door clicked shut, she whimpered and closed her eyes. It wouldn't be the last time they saw each other, she decided. Before the end of the year, she would visit them.

Her eyes opened when the door swung again, and Rosalie strode in with a fierce expression on her face. "Good. I was worried you tested how waterproof your makeup was."

Carys shook her head, watching the vampire as she adjusted the back of the veil. Something told her she was less concerned about her appearance than her emotional state.

"Nothing worse... fucking... Volturi," the vampire muttered, almost too quietly to be heard. Facing her again, she took her hand and smiled. "Do you need a minute to compose yourself? Or are you going to be okay?"

"You're being suspiciously nice," Carys whispered. Her voice was slightly too shaky for her liking.

Rosalie shrugged. "I'm always nice to you... These days."

Carys' lips quirked. "I'll be okay." Judging by the face Rosalie made, she didn't believe her. "I will," she insisted, louder this time. "Carlisle-"

"Won't mind waiting a few more minutes for his bride."

All of a sudden, it hit her. This was her wedding day, and she was about to walk down the aisle. There was no more waiting, no time to be nervous or stressed. It was here. An excited grin sparked and grew until it hurt her cheeks.

Only then did Rosalie relent.

Pulling her towards the door, she snatched up the five bouquets - made up of baby's breath, sprigs of greenery, and yellow peonies - from the counter as they passed. The larger, she gave to Carys immediately.

Alice had been correct. When they stepped outside, the sun remained hidden behind the clouds. The day was fair and mild - a little on the chilly side, but nothing too bad.

A long trellis packed to overflowing with bright fragrant flowers had been laid out, shielding the bridal party from view as they lined up to make their entrance. Above it, the arches could be seen, covered in greenery and flowers. The golden chandeliers were out of sight for now, along with the congregation.

Set off to the side of the long aisle, the string quartet struck a chord and began to play.

Esme went first. She paused by the end of the trellis for the briefest of moments before stepping out.

Whispers and gasps sprang up on the other side.

Ten seconds later - Carys counted - Esme must have reached the glass-covered walkway. There was a collective gasp, and three shrieks from people expecting her to fall into the water.

Alice, Leah, Rosalie and Carys fought to contain their laughter, and Carys gave Rosalie a thumbs up.

After waiting long enough for Esme to reach the altar and turn, Alice schooled her features and followed. She garnered much the same reaction as Esme had, minus the secondary shock.

Leah was next.

Carys took the moment she stood in view to admire her again. Her hair had been slightly curled and pinned with the gold clip over one ear. The jewellery and shimmering dress were coupled with black eyeliner and gold eyeshadow, a deep blusher to match her russet complexion, and a lipstick that darkened her lips a shade. She looked incredible.

The murmurs were louder this time.

"What're they saying?" Carys whispered.

Rosalie cocked her head. "They're in awe. They think Leah's stealing the show. They thought the same of the others, but it's getting worse."

"Wait 'til they see you," Carys joked.

With a raised brow, Rose rolled her eyes. "We all know you're the star of the day," she whispered before stepping into view.

Carys began to count again, blocking out the reactions this time. It had taken Rosalie exactly a minute and forty seconds to make her way down the aisle each time they practised.

Heart-pounding, she trembled and took deep breaths of the heady, perfumed air. Her palms began to itch. She thrust a hand into one pocket and drew out a scrap of silk, brushing it over her hands. The last thing she wanted was to drop her bouquet because her palms were sweaty.

There was no reason to be nervous, she told herself, shoving the silk scrap back into place. It was only an aisle. Surrounded by most of Forks. No, no, only half of Forks. No, a fraction of Forks. And their plus ones.

It's only Carlisle really, she reminded herself. I've walked towards him loads.

The music changed, moving seamlessly to the Wedding March.

Her cue.

Carys straightened her spine and smiled, focusing on one step at a time. As she turned and moved into view, she paused to fist her hand in her skirts and veil, shifting them into place behind.

A sea of faces watched her in silence as she slowly made her way across the paving. There were no gasps, no murmurs this time. It made her a little nervous. Questions sprang to mind about her dress, her arm, whether they'd come less to see the wedding and more to see the latest victim of the predators in the forest.

Clutching her bouquet tighter, she watched Carlisle's back as she approached. What she could see of him appeared so normal, so familiar - from the long lines of his dark suit, to his carefully coiffed collar-length blond hair - it calmed her a little.

Almost to a person, the crowd beamed out at her. That, too, helped.

Garrett turned to grin from beside the altar and she returned the gesture a little unsteadily. Carlisle had forced him into a suit, she saw. His long hair was confined at his nape. He nudged Carlisle - who rolled his tense shoulders; now she was close enough to see, she could tell tension rolled from him in waves - and said something to him.

She reached the end of the covered aisle, flanked by rows and rows of flowers.

Below the first chandler, her heel struck the glass with a clack, and Carlisle turned to watch her.

Their eyes met.

Everything else fell away.

He was staring at her as if he'd never seen a sunrise before. It was the only way she could describe the look of utter adoration, amazement, and relief she knew was reflected in her own expression.

His tuxedo fit him to perfection, cut to emphasise his lean, muscular physique. He'd told her once that whatever he paid his tailor, he felt as if they deserved more. She had to agree. Then she found herself wondering how much he paid his tailor in the first place if he doubted it was enough.

Briefly lowering her eyes, she reasoned with herself that it was a foolish thought. A ridiculous thing to be thinking about walking down the aisle. How much a tailor's paid.

When her gaze flicked up again, focused intently on him as she was, she was able to see venom pooling in his eyes.

"Don't cry," she whispered, barely moving her lips, "your memories will be blurry."

She knew he'd heard her - or someone had passed on the message - when he chuckled and swiped at his eyes. The move meant nothing, she knew, but his eyes cleared.

The seconds stretched on; each step seemed an eternity, but she didn't want it to stop. A large part of her wanted to mete it out, to enjoy the feeling for as long as she could.

He was so very handsome.

He all but shone with sheer, unbridled joy. Hewn from stone, he was his own sculptor's imagining of perfection. Apollo incarnate. His strong jawline, striking cheekbones, his lips - the bottom fuller than the top - lifted in a devastating grin.

Carys grinned back at him.

She wondered what he would think if she told him what she was thinking. Probably that she needed to put down the romance novels for a little while. Or that she needed to read more, and tell him in the most flowery language she could manage, just what she thought of him.

No wonder Rosalie married Emmett so often. No wonder Alice and Jasper had done it more than once. Carys had only married Carlisle once before, but she already wanted to do it over and over again, just to feel this way.

It was drugging.

He stepped down to meet her, took her hand in his, and drew her to stand before him. Bending as if beginning a bow, he recollected himself and the century with a strangled sound and a flare of his golden eyes. Carys shook, barely suppressing her affectionate chuckle. He took up her veil to cover himself and straightened, drawing the transparent material over her head.

Carys passed her bouquet back to Esme.

Almost immediately, Carlisle offered his arm, tucking her hand securely into the crook of his elbow while she lifted her skirts to navigate the step.

"Good save," she whispered.

"Thank you," he murmured. "You look..." He slowly shook his head, curving his hand over the top of hers. "I find myself speechless."

A little self-derisively, she whispered, "So does everyone else, apparently."

Carlisle's smile deepened.

He hadn't relieved her of her fears, but she couldn't resist the lure of his open adoration. All the vulnerability she'd felt that morning was no match for the way he looked at her. She gave in to the urge to press closer to him.

In his eyes, she again saw her feelings echoed. He wanted to kiss her just as much as she wanted him to. And there was the spark of possession. Perhaps she was only imagining it in his expression, but she felt it.

He was going to be hers.

All hers.

They'd said it to each other before, but the ceremony meant something to both of them. The legal side alone was important, but the symbol meant more.

Saying the vows in public.

The service itself; the ceremony they'd both grown up with.

There was the act - and Carys would have been lying to herself if she didn't admit how important it was to her - of giving him a wedding band. Sliding the symbol of their commitment onto his hand for the world to see, so many months after she'd first worn one.

Father John gently cleared his throat.

"Dearly beloved," he began. "We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony."

It was an effort to concentrate on his words. If asked what the vicar had said, she wouldn't be able to answer for a large part of the service. Carlisle held her undivided attention. Staring forward, the vicar seemingly held his. She wondered what the vicar would say if he knew Carlisle had also been a Protestant clergyman, centuries before.

Carys focused and only allowed her gaze to stray to Carlisle when the service called for it, but they communicated their happiness, excitement, and moments of nervousness in other ways.

Occasionally, his fingers twitched or pressed over hers. She squeezed his sleeve each time, seeking to reassure him. When her fingers twitched or pressed, he stroked his thumb over her knuckles, reassuring her. When they came to the "I will's", his hand tightened almost to the point of pain. He only loosened his grip once she'd answered in the affirmative.

It made her smile.

As if she would dart off now.

Repeating her vows, memories of the last time they'd made similar pledges swirled through her mind. This time there was no, "until my second death do us part". There was, "for now and forever".

The vicar smiled secretively as he said the words for each of them to echo.

When they'd asked him, he'd warned them they might be tempted to add the word, "Amen".

He was right.

Carys nearly slipped, eliciting a low chuckle from Carlisle.

Subsequently, her fingers shook when, at the vicar's direction, they exchanged wedding bands. Carlisle was once again the picture of calm. He slid the ring into place and raised her hand to his lips.

Her breath stuttered.

He cast her a knowing smirk from beneath his long lashes. If she'd had to move at that moment, she wouldn't have been able. She was rooted to the spot. His cool lips brushed her skin once again. He turned her hand; his lips followed the move, trailing before they firmed and lingered over the inner face. Her lungs locked. When he released her, he had to give her time to draw a deep breath.

Carys was tempted to frown, but she didn't want him to see and take it the wrong way. He might think that she was frowning at his actions, rather than the reaction they'd caused in her. She didn't want to risk him having so much as a moment of self-doubt - not when they were surrounded by others and she couldn't assuage his worry.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss." With twinkling eyes, Father John put particular emphasis on the word now.

Carlisle drew a slow breath. As if by design, she copied the movement without thinking.

His hand snaked around her waist, and she all but jumped at the sensation. It was getting truly ridiculous now. He'd touched her waist plenty of times, and he'd kissed her hand far more. They'd done and seen far, far more than that, still. There was nothing to be over-sensitised about, and yet each touch sent a frisson through her, jolting her composure.

Brimming over with happiness and pride, he bent and set his lips to hers; her own parted on a sigh. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck - and found herself knocked off balance, half-spun and dipped in his arms.

Carys could vaguely hear cheers, whoops, and titters from the crowd, but she was lost in the kiss. Carlisle supported her, deepening the caress - though it remained chaste in comparison to their usual exchanges - slanting his lips against hers. She eagerly returned each press and shift. Over and over until she was breathless.

Only then did he return her to stand with a flourish.

He grinned down at her - elated and a little too smug for her liking when she was little more than a bundle of nerves - while she drew a deep breath, and then he bent low.

Catching her behind her thighs, he lifted her high in the air and spun her around and around. Her stomach dropped. Laughing with him amidst the cheers from the crowd, she struggled to maintain her equilibrium and dropped her forehead to his, palming his cheek.

"I love you," she said when he drew them to a halt.

"I love you," he told her, just as happily.

Lowering her to her feet, Carlisle waited - this time for her to recenter herself and take hold of her skirts - then grabbed her free hand and ran them back down the aisle.

It was her left arm he'd taken, but he didn't seem to notice. Her eyes strayed, more than once, to her sleeve, in case it fell. It didn't so much as shift, she noted with relief, deciding to put the issue from her mind from the rest of the day.

He didn't stop until they reached the barn, where he caught her by the waist and - ignoring the staff who could likely see them - backed her against the wall just inside the doors.

He bracketed her shoulders and trapped her there, pressing close. "We need to greet our guests," he said, surrounding her with his scent, locking her in place with his dark gaze and unyielding strength.

He lowered her head and she found herself offering her neck without a thought.

"So... you... need," he explained, punctuating his words with open-mouthed kisses to her neck and shoulder, "to... stop looking... at me... like the cat-" he cut off with a groan, capturing her lips.

That got the cream, Carys filled in for him with a proud smirk.

It was the last thing she thought - lost in the kiss, which she returned just as hungrily - until he raised his head to allow her to breathe. She giggled and slapped her hand to his lips when his hands began to stray, holding him in place. "Then you need to stop kissing me," she teased. "People will talk."

His words were muffled against her palm. She lifted her hand.

"Let them," he growled.

Giggling harder, she wriggled, ducked out of his arms, and ran outside. The return to plain view was the only thing that saved her from being dragged back to the shadows, or so he informed her.

Carys didn't want to say anything and lose out on a minute of his carefree side, but she knew either he or one of the others would soon remind him that he was supposed to be in his mid-thirties. Until then, his energy would likely be passed off as a love-struck groom, and she was content to enjoy her time with her Carlisle for as long as it lasted.

His hands returned to her body - the touch was far more acceptable for the public arena. His right hand flattened against the side of her belly, the left curved around the side of her waist.

"Can you feel that?" she asked, looking up at him when the butterflies returned. She'd wanted to talk to him about it all morning, but they'd been kept apart since he'd dropped her at the small house late the night before. "I swear they're getting worse. I thought I could feel them from the outside earlier."

He kissed her temple and removed his right hand as their guests approached.

"Carlisle?"

"Hmm?"

Face blank, he met her eye. Carys' brows pinched together.

"The butterflies," she explained. "They're getting stronger."

"Oh," he indulged. "Are they?"

"Just a bit," she murmured.

To Be Continued...

A/N: having a mare and being in a pickle are the same things. They mean you're in a difficult or unpleasant situation. The reason the vicar thought they might slip and say "amen" after "now and forever" is because the contemporary Church of England (and all Protestantism?) Lord's Prayer ends with "now and forever, Amen".

Thank you to: Guest (Yes! They're just so... I can't think of the word, but perfect), GuestMG, jhaenox, BMBMDooDoo-Doo-Doo-Doo, ReadLikeHermione, LeeForShort, Momochan77, CarlaPA, seconddragon, Guest (Volturi-free zone!), Indiana Jones 1935, BubblyYork, PsychoMutt, 0oKitteno0, Guest (It's one of those, and I'm just going to say that Carys hasn't worked it out... ;) ), Guest (Guests are on fire today! Ding ding ding! Yes, it was because she's gone through so much and whatever happens she'll be changed by the end of the year. They'd agreed on her having seven years before she was changed, but that was cut short, and when she was really low about it, she gave him her book of things she wanted to do as a human. He asked her if he could keep it safe rather than destroy it as she wanted him to, but he still feels guilty for shortening her human life... He might just feel a bit more guilty at times for another reason shortening it a bit more... Haha! :D )