Spring brought those beautiful Heroes in the white gowns. Duplicates, usually, of Heroes already in Askr, of Heroes dressed up to be married, play married, play flower girl, or anything in the celebration of weddings. Deirdre saw them throughout the Order's ranks. They were beautiful dresses — she had casual dresses for the days she did not go into battle, even a pair of pants!, but she wore the same dress against the Order's foes time and time again.
Julia (her daughter — she only met her husband in this world, and their daughter he hadn't met) had another version of herself in the castle, dressed in a slightly different dress, but it was still not anything like the brides or the…bunny girls. It was fair, she supposed, given Lord Arvis wore no special outfits either.
Yet seeing the other Heroes had her mind spinning. Husband and wife, a claim supported by their daughter, but no pretty gown for her to wear. She did not need one, quite content to just call him husband, but she almost…wanted one.
"Do you think we will get a turn, Lord Arvis?" she asked as they met in front of the fountain. The end of the day, they set off to return to their Askran home. Incredibly glad to be out of the barracks, she never wanted to spend a night there again. Horrible enough the time Lord Arvis was too scuffed to leave the infirmary! "We are as married as that one man and his wife," she said, "but we are never invited to things."
"What are you talking about?" He looked her over, as if she got injured sitting on the sidelines. Nightly confessions from him told her he was steadily heading there, too. Maybe they could go to one of those funny beaches.
Having enough of being stared at, Deirdre tangled her hand with his. His sleeve fell over hers. "It is that time of year, Arvis! The wedding festivities."
He sighed, the cruel man. "It is not guaranteed we will participate. You know this, dear."
Yes, yes, she knew all these things. But she was here, in some odd land she knew more than her own, with a husband of all things. Why not dress in something nice and celebrate? She'd not had the chance to. They'd met oddly enough, him married to her while she knew only her name and the darkness that lingered behind her thoughts, but they were married.
Lord Arvis pulled her forward, intending to lead her back to their home. Familial tome under his under arm, he dipped down to her, a private moment from his guarded heart. "You were quite beautiful in your dress. I could not look away all night."
Foolish, cruel man! Always distracted by the bits of their Grannvalean life he let purposefully let slip, she glanced down at their shoes. Beautiful. How nice to hear it from him, rare his affections were. "Arvis," she said quietly; marriage talk made him soft, pecking her cheek. "We should get going. If we burn dinner early enough we can still eat out."
There was the issue, she realized — Lord Arvis was married to her. He'd seen her in a lovely gown, a lovely evening turning into a lovely night, but she had not seen him in his wedding finery. No night at his side, no special foods for the occasion, no stolen kisses while no one noticed them in a room full of people. How unfair.
He was married. She was not. It took her three years of seeing other couples to remember that important tidbit.
Deirdre waited for him again a week later at the same fountain, sat on the edge, belt gathered between her legs to keep it dry. He was running late; he was not a tardy man by nature, so she knew it was something to do with the Order, hoping he was safe (if he wasn't, she'd risk a night in the infirmary with him).
It gave her more time to think — ask him to marry her, and then what? Deirdre knew little about Askr's marriage customs despite her research, or her own world's, the vast library scant on information on that particular area. Truthfully, all she wanted was a nice dress and to kiss him. They acted differently than no other married couple she saw throughout Askr, except one of them was not technically married. Involved, yes, certainly looking for no other, but they went from half-strangers to You're my husband? to Askr has quaint townhomes available for Heroes in a little over a year's time.
She looked into the babbling fountain. A few bells and gold coins sat on the bottom. He would not tell her no. He rarely did, only on her most outrageous requests, and when he claimed her as his wife, there was no reason to dismiss her want. Tying a ribbon on things. Marriage! A husband who loved a wife with no husband.
The sun glittered in the rippling water. Why did they never get to go to the beach? Would he even like the beach? Did she know how to swim? Summer approach, which meant she'd be laid out dramatically on the floor of their sitting room to sink beneath the heat, tsk'd at and never joined.
Formally calling him husband could change that, she hoped.
He eventually returned to her, just as her mind wandered into what type of beachwear she wanted. Looking worn down, telling by the crease of his eyes (stronger in their world, he always promised, as if such a thing mattered to her), she rose from her seat with a smile. Today, she'd not gone to battle, bearing no weapon. "There you are!" she said. "Wretched day?"
"Most." Would he take his cloak off at the beach? Not likely. Poor man would burn up under the summer sun. "I will not eat your cooking tonight."
So rude! "Nor will I." They were getting better, quick as a glacier carving through a neighboring country. Hand in hand fixed his perpetual frown, tangling their fingers. Hopefully she had good news for him."Come! I have been wanting to see you all day, Lord Arvis. Let us leave your tome at home." Summer's approach; wedding dresses looked heavy.
A good husband, he followed after her. When she returned to battle, inevitably to lose, he could comfort her too; she did not consider herself a capable combatant, never a wound to her pride, though she gave herself to the Order the most she could.
Keeping mum until they got home, knowing he preferred privacy for his vulnerabilities, it was hard.
He opened the door to their home, always pulling her in with him. Hopefully he found it endearing how she stuck to him, following him to their room, watching him put away his tome. He rubbed his face with his hand.
Poor husband. "We do not have to go out," she said. Stepping across their bedroom, she came to his side. "A bitter, wretched day?"
"How often do you think I am shot by arrows?"
"Hush, hush." She slipped between his arms. For his cold mood, he took her, hands on her waist. She did odd things to him, content to come home to a wife. Cupping his chin, "Arvis."
"Deirdre."
The question, so a good, tired husband could finally have a wife. Maybe speaking it out loud would manifest a dress in her future. It could not be more cumbersome than her current dress. "Will you marry me?"
"We are married, dear."
"No," she rebutted. "You are married. I have only met you in this world."
"What are you angling for?"
Angling for! Why did she let this man in her bed? "Your hand in marriage, Lord Arvis." She brushed her thumb across his jaw. "The other heroes give me thought. You have seen me in my wedding wear. I have not. You have been married in the most traditional sense. I have not been. Give me a tiny wedding to a wonderful man."
He blinked. "You have not had a wedding," he echoed. Deirdre nodded, kissing his smooth cheek. "You want one."
"Yes. It need not be grand. You and I and some nice clothes."
"Alright." Well, that was easier than she thought. More time to fetch dinner. Maybe they'd try their luck with a new restaurant a bit further from home. He smiled. "You ask me to marry you in our world, too," he told her. "I am always amazed at how constant you are."
How constant she was…Lord Arvis leaned in to kiss her for a minute. Good. Asking him to marry her sounded just right, given how pushy she'd been during their time together. As he broke their kiss, she thanked him, then added on, "And once I am in the dress we may take it off!"
He sighed. "I have seen you out of your dress."
"A new dress." Husband and wife. "Let us have dinner. You and your wounds must be hungry."