Confetti and petals scattered pastel colours through the calm breeze, the townsfolk releasing them from the windows and roadside. They flocked to watch the royal carriage pass over the cobbled street, cheering and screeching congratulations as they passed by. Children pulled their parents along with the horses' cantor, as ladies gossiped and giggled to themselves.
Byleth shied away from the carriage window, averting her gaze to her knees. She clenched her fists in anticipation as another wave of heat rose to her face, watching the ivory silk of her dress crumple between her fingers. She felt the air nip at the back of her neck. A reminder that her hair had been carefully arranged an hour earlier, only two curled strands free to frame her face. A daintier hand then came into view, resting on hers assuredly.
"You're getting quite the reception," Edelgard said, her voice reassuring and even. "It seems the whole town has gathered just to get a look at you."
"I've heard that people have travelled from all sides of Enbarr just to be here. Something joyful like this... Well, it's just what people need after such hard times," Dorothea added. She was sitting across from them, Petra by her side.
"I don't think I've ever seen you this nervous, my teacher," Edelgard said softly, "to think! You fought in the most intense of battles, even stared death in the face more than once, and this is what causes you to lose your head?"
"This… this is different," Byleth mumbled, her nerves beginning to fray. Her stomach sank lower and lower, as each beat of the horse hooves counted down their arrival. "I didn't realise my heart could beat this quickly…"
"You're so precious, professor! I bet our dear Hubie is just as nervous. I'm sure he'll take one look at you and forget his vows!"
"He will surely lose his head!" Petra chimed.
"I'm sure he's faring much better than I am," Byleth replied. She pulled the veil over her face to hide her embarrassment.
The midday sun shone through the stained glass of the church, bringing with it a myriad of soft colours. What was once a dishevelled building now shone bright, buzzing with energy. Thanks to Ferdinand and Bernadetta's efforts they had made it more than fit for a wedding.
They stood by the alter, Hubert waiting for his bride, while Ferdinand waited for Hubert's façade to crack. The man in question seemed to have overdressed for the occasion, looking more the groom than Hubert did. Not that Hubert minded - but the crowd of strangers, who had congregated outside the open doors, would likely be disappointed when it turned out to be him taking the hand of the bride.
"You look positively dashing!" Ferdinand said, smoothing out Hubert's lapel.
He shakily slapped away the nobles' hand. "Please, stop fussing over me," he said under the background chatter and sweet whine of violins.
"What is that? Do I hear horse hooves?" Ferdinand teased, cupping a hand to his ear.
"I will revoke your best man status here and now if you refuse to cease taunting me," he said, trying to steady his composure.
He chuckled, "I cannot help it, never have I seen you so on edge before!"
Hubert brushed his fingers through his hair, looking away. He could see Ferdinand regarding him out of the corner of his eye, drinking in the sight of him flustered as if it was a fine wine. Even though Hubert wanted to thank the man for being by his side that day, he could not find the words, and a part of him did not want to give him the satisfaction.
"Accept my apologies," Ferdinand said, clapping a hand to his shoulder. "It is already nerve-wracking without me bringing it up. I must admit, if you had told me just a year ago we would become close friends I would have thought it a cruel joke! Not to mention you marrying the professor of all people." He looked away sheepishly as Hubert's eyes narrowed. "But I digress. It is an honour to be here with you."
Hubert sighed tersely, throwing caution to the wind. "The honour is mine," he murmured.
Before Ferdinand could stutter out a baffled reply, Bernadetta raced over. She was dressed in a refined purple dress, akin to her hair colour. She barely gave Hubert eye contact.
"T-they're arriving outside," she squeaked, "g-good luck! If… if you'll excuse me." She headed off to inform the musicians before Hubert could thank her.
"I am surprised Byleth did not ask her to be a bridesmaid," Ferdinand said, raising an eyebrow.
"She did… Bernadetta outright declined. Too much pressure, so she said," he replied half lucid, attention fixed to the doors at the foot of the aisle.
The background chatter fell silent when the music quickly changed. A striking combination of violins and cellos. He felt his stomach drop, cursing himself for giving in to the anticipation. Ferdinand's reassuring grip on his shoulder gave little in the way of reprieve.
He held his breath when he saw her enter.
If he ever cared to picture a goddess from that day forward, it would be of her at that moment.
The silken dress that hugged every part of her that he loved. The way the feathers on her bodice snaked up to dust her shoulders. The way he could see the outline of her face through the sheer veil that fluttered with each step. Even the way she clutched the bouquet of red flowers through the nerves.
The other women were dressed in red, but that was all he cared to regard. He barely even registered Edelgard's bashful wave as she walked by before she took the bouquet from Byleth's hands.
He swallowed hard as he pulled back her veil, noticing immediately why she had her face covered. She was blushing fiercely. They huffed a brief laugh to each other and, with shaky hands, he cupped her face. Her dazzling eyes met his and he felt his blood rush. His beautiful wife.
"You look…" magnificent? breath-taking? extraordinary? Nothing came to mind that seemed comparable to her.
"There are no words," he whispered.
She beamed back at him, plucking a feather from her dress, and placing it in his breast pocket. She then took his hands in hers, squeezing gently. It was so sweet and tender he felt his heart fit to burst.
The music dimmed as the priest began the ceremony. Hubert could scarcely pay attention - eyes and mind fixated on the woman before him. The way she would glance away now and again, the feeling of her hand shaking ever so subtlety in his own. He didn't want to miss a moment.
"It is now time to recite your vows to one another," the priest said.
Even the curious crowd outside the doors had fallen to a held silence.
"Miss Eisner, if you would begin."
She took a deep breath, looking down at their hands before meeting his eyes.
"Hue… Hubert von Vestra," she said, trying to speak through her nervous smile. "I vow to be by your side. As your lover, confidant, and friend. I promise to be your bright light in the darkness. A warming comfort in the cold. And shoulder to lean on when life is too much to bear on your own."
He felt the warmth of her hand in his, akin to her vow. Brazen and ardent.
She took the ring as Ferdinand presented it. Hubert treasured the way her face lit up when she realised he had the family heirloom resized to fit.
"I… give you this ring as a symbol of our love, trust, and marriage," she said as she pushed the ring onto his finger.
"Lord Vestra, if you would," the clergyman said.
He had prepared a long preamble, but the mere sight of her clouded his mind, words lost to breath. He brought her hand up, brushing his lips over her knuckles. Biding himself time to collect his thoughts. He kept her hand firmly in his grip as his watering eyes threatened to betray him.
"Byleth Eisner," he said unevenly. He cleared his throat, acutely aware of how dry it was. "You have taught me many things, but I feel the most important was that my life is mine to give… and I give it to you freely. From this moment to all the days we have ahead of us, I vow to love you in word and deed, cherish you, and protect you with all of my being."
She closed her eyes, shoulders heaving as she fought back the tears. He felt his throat close up. "I give you this ring as a symbol of our marriage, and my devotion to you."
He slipped the ring onto her finger, trying to ignore Ferdinand's ridiculous grin from behind his new wife.
The priest then affirmed their vows, and they said 'I do' bathed in the stained-glass lights. He pronounced them husband and wife and they shared their first kiss as a married couple. He felt the tears on her cheek transfer to his, and as they parted, he finally heard the cheers and commiserations roaring from the crowd. It was sobering, and he finally felt he could breathe easily again.
They walked back down the aisle hand in hand, bombarded by petals and confetti from all directions.
After celebrating in a nearby tavern for a while with close friends and many well-wishing strangers, they took the carriage back home, taking a welcomed break from the overwhelming revelries.
Byleth gasped when they arrived, their doorstep adorned with bouquets and small gifts.
"It seems the townsfolk have caught on that you like flowers…" It was then that it hit him that had never gifted her flowers. He was not one for frivolous gestures, but he kicked himself none the same.
"It's very sweet," she said as she pulled him towards their home, "but I think sorting them is a tomorrow problem."
"I'm inclined to agree with you."
"We are going to meet back up with everyone, yes? We are the guests of honour after all. Besides, I need to throw the bouquet at Dorothea and Petra," she giggled.
"If we must…" he smirked.
"You know, technically, this should be our first time… I can pretend if it would make you feel better?" she teased, pushing a finger to his chest as they stepped towards the porch.
"No need," he replied, hitting her with a mischievous grin, "with what I'm about to do to you, you'll likely scream as if it were your first time." He picked her up bridal style, taking enjoyment in her surprised squeal.
Her cheeks burned a striking shade of crimson, flustered and giddy. She laughed, unable to pull the smile from her lips as she buried her face into his chest.
He smiled back at the woman in his arms. It was genuine. Blissful. "I missed being able to make you blush like that."
It was a wedding to remember, and a day that would be forever etched in their memories. And Byleth noticed that for the first time, that evening, her husband slept through the night without stirring once.
I'll leave what he does to her up to your… *cough* colourful imagination.
I've never written a wedding before, it took me a lot longer than expected.
*forebodingly throws drama glitter instead of confetti* See you in part 2!
Thank you for reading! \o/
