"So, my pretty little savage, here I am, as requested."
Reaver stood in the treasury. Hobson had been shooed out of the room, despite many protests. The portly little man could hardly refuse the order of the man who would be his Prince in only eight hours, however, and the presence of Kalin, respected dignitary and reputed friend of the Queen, only served to strengthen the command. He darted out of the way and closed the door behind him, muttering something about nonsensical customs and time-wasters.
Rather than answering Reaver, Kalin clapped her hands three times. The doors opened again and a pair of women walked into the room. Page, striking as ever—if a bit stiff—in the ball gown she had once worn by Rose's side in Reaver's mansion, entered with a look of smug satisfaction on her face. She was followed closely by Hammer, shockingly beautiful in a gown of pure green and gold that brought out the tawny silver in her hair magnificently.
"Ladies," Kalin said, smiling, "please make yourselves comfortable. I believe you will find yourselves most pleased by this display, which has its roots so far back in Aurora's history that even I do not know how it originated. The idea is simple. This man wishes to claim a woman we all know to be far above him in every way. He claims to love her. We will put that to the test. She is ours until he proves himself worthy of her in our eyes."
Reaver simply rolled his eyes, clearly unperturbed by the demands being made of him and confident in his ability to meet them.
"We can all agree that he is a handsome man, yes?" Kalin asked.
"That goes without saying," Reaver put in, apparently unable to help himself.
"Yeah," Hammer agreed. "Bit too pretty for my tastes, actually."
"It runs only skin-deep, as everyone knows," Page said acidly. She folded her arms, tapping her foot. "What is this about, Kalin?"
"As you can see, there is a great deal of gold in sacks at your feet, all earned by our good Queen through the sweat of her brow, the shrewdness of her investments, and her willingness to risk her life for the good of our people. As you know, this man, despite his considerable wealth, did nothing to contribute to her cause—"
Reaver's jaw dropped in indignation, and he rapped his cane sharply against the floor to interrupt her. "I beg your pardon, Kalin, but that is simply not so. I offered many very lucrative suggestions. Her Majesty simply refused to take my advice. I can hardly be faulted for that."
"None of the choices you suggested would have entailed any sort of sacrifice on your part, Reaver," Page argued disdainfully, "so do spare us your platitudes."
He simply shook his head, sighing. "Erm, who invited Page, by the by? That gown is so very last-year! Might we get on with this, Kalin?"
"Of course. It is likely to take some time, after all. Ladies, you will note the delicacies upon the table before you. This is likely to take some time, so I thought it only fitting that we be provided with all the comforts the kitchens could spare while preparing for the wedding feast. In the meantime, the doors have been sealed. No one goes in or out until we have made our judgment."
"And what are the rules of this little game?" Reaver asked condescendingly.
"Simply this: the treasury Queen Rose worked so hard to build has been emptied into these sacks. It must be filled once more—and this time," Kalin said, narrowing her eyes as she smiled, "you shall be the one to see to that. You will earn this gold with your sweat, with a small taste of the humility your bride-to-be has demonstrated. In this way, you shall prove to us your love for her, and your worthiness to be her husband."
"Ah-hmm," he replied skeptically. "And what is to stop me from simply leaving, exactly? This sounds even more ridiculous that I had expected—and believe me, that is saying something."
Kalin was ready for him. She inclined her head. "If you do not believe yourself up to the task, it will fall to me to tell Queen Rose that you went back on your word—which you gave in her presence, as you will recall. Do you want a pleasant wedding night, Reaver? If you succeed, her admiration and pity for your ordeal will surely make her most…gracious."
"Ahh, blackmail, is it?" he answered with a smirk. "I thought as much. Very well, then. I shall play, I suppose. Tell me, how shall I refill the treasury?"
"You will dance, Reaver, and perhaps sing, as well," the Auroran woman said smoothly. "We shall decide how well you perform, and you will continue to do so until the treasury is full…or until you collapse from exhaustion."
Reaver's booming laugh echoed through the emptied treasury. "Oh, my poor little painted tart, in this you are outmatched, I fear. Surely you must have heard by now that my stamina is legendary. I do not tire easily."
Kalin delivered the coup de grace with an innocent smile, spreading her hands and lowering herself elegantly into her chair at the tableside. "Then this should be a simple matter for you, should it not? Oh, and while we are on the subject of your prowess, I suggest that you make good use of your ability to dodge. As guests of the Queen, we can hardly be expected to move from our seats, so we shall be tossing what gold you earn at your feet, and Lady Hammer is rather strong, as you know."
Reaver bowed deeply. "You may take your best shot. I suggest allowing our dear Hammer to do all of the throwing, however; your arms are likely to grow very tired, indeed."
"With pleasure," Hammer said, relishing the chance to brain him with the gold he seemed to love so much. She had already decided that she would not be aiming for his feet unless he stopped dancing.
"That is sage advice, so shall I return the favor, Reaver," Kalin said, unruffled. "You will likely earn more money if you are willing to dance without your clothes. I am quite certain that you know this to be true, given your…tastes."
He hesitated for only the barest moment before shrugging out of his coat. "I see. Very well, then. One caveat, if I may…" With one booted toe, he nudged his cane into the air and caught it deftly, unsheathing the sword within in the same motion. "Hammer, if you so much as think of unmanning me with one of those coins, I will bloody well end you."
Hours later, a much abused but intact Reaver stood before all of Albion—or so it seemed. Though the hour was ridiculously late, in keeping with Auroran custom, it seemed that every noble, commoner, beggar, and thug had turned out to watch the wedding of their saintly Queen to a man who had once shot an innocent worker to death in front of her. Jasper heard more than a few discourteous murmurs from his seat in the front row, but he had seen far too much to pay any heed to them.
Candles lit the path from the entrance to the Market, all the way to the Castle gate, where Reaver stood, along with an Auroran priestess, who would preside over the wedding. It might have seemed almost funereal, but for the roses. They were everywhere, on window sills, climbing houses, blooming on the Monument to the Fallen at the center of town, and lining the path, itself, beside the candles. Everyone who attended had been given a candle and a rose, as well. People had taken to wearing the flowers as symbols of their patriotism, lately, but these new ones were beyond anything anyone had ever seen. They did not fade or wither; they retained their freshness, and no amount of clumsiness seemed enough to crush them.
Something nudged Jasper's ankle, and he glanced down at the mechanical dog Ernest Faraday had made for Rose. The mechanized canine was highly intelligent—a true credit to Faraday's genius—but a trifle confused of late, because he seemed to have several names. Rose had fondly named him "Swift" after her own departed dog, who had been named for her childhood hero, Major Swift (then only a Captain, but already very famous). Reaver, on the other hand, consistently called him "Rustbucket" or "that thing which is not to be allowed on the bed." Jasper privately agreed with him, though wild horses would not have dragged—
A deafening cheer rose, and Swift Rustbucket wagged his tail against the cobblestones and lifted his head curiously. The cheer died down very quickly to soft sounds of admiration, and even the bards seemed to falter. Jasper glanced at Reaver, who had borne so much hardship in the past few months…Reaver, who had once tried to kill Rose in his mansion…Reaver, who had preserved Rose's spirit by doing for her what she could not when the time came to put an end to the Shadow Court. He looked so very alone, standing there, though he seemed in no way uncomfortable with it. He wore his characteristic smirk, as though the loathing of the people only served to strengthen him. Yet Jasper knew that though he was no ordinary man, he was a man, nonetheless.
Clearing his throat, Jasper stood with as much grace as he could muster—which was quite a lot, incidentally—and stepped up to the altar, standing beside and just behind Reaver.
"What do you think you are doing?" Reaver hissed through his smile.
"What you deserve, Master Adrian. Now, please shut up and pretend this was intentional."
"Hear, hear," came a whispered voice from beside Jasper. Ernest Faraday had followed Jasper's lead, much to the surprise of the other two men. He leaned on a walking stick, though he was looking a great deal healthier since his reinstatement in Bowerstone Industrial. Swift Rustbucket seemed to take this for his cue to bound up to them, as well. He gazed adoringly up at Reaver and then promptly collapsed on top of his boots, his rubber tongue lolling from his mouth as he panted. Reaver grunted—his toes seemed more than a bit sore—but made no move to push the mechanical creature away from him. His attention was fixed elsewhere.
A glow Jasper had come to know well approached. The tall, broad figure of Lady Hammer and the considerably smaller one of Page were lit from the back more than the sides, despite the candles. They made their way to the altar, followed by Kalin, who walked with her head held high. She looked almost like a sort of avatar of Avo, so bright was the light behind her, and so serene was her expression. Tiny bells embroidered on her girdle chimed as she moved. She stood in the direct center of the dais and bowed to the priestess, but whatever else she might have done was at that moment lost to Jasper, because he could see Rose, now.
She was the source of the brightness, and she had discarded the elaborate ruffles and voluminous skirts Reaver had foisted upon her. She wore the simplest dress in her wardrobe. Her only decoration was a thin circlet, which she had chosen in favor of her crown for the occasion. Her brother, Logan, held her arm tucked beneath his, clearly uncomfortable, but unwilling to entrust this duty to anyone else.
Reaver seemed to have stopped breathing. Jasper surreptitiously clapped him on the back, and he let out a rush of air, nearly choking, as he stared at her.
No one present could doubt the happiness of the Queen, now. Her smile was pure rapture, and her skin had never before glowed so fiercely as it did, now. Her narrow skirt fluttered around her ankles as she glided toward them—she appeared to be trying to hurry Logan along, though he put up an admirable amount of barely-concealed restraint. It was clear to all that this was very likely the happiest night of her life.
"You're a lucky bastard, Reaver," old Ernest said quietly.
"Professor, you don't know the half of it," Jasper replied dryly out of the corner of his mouth.
Reaver, for once, had no comment. He seemed torn between the enormity of what was happening and the surprise that not one, but two men had stood up with him—one of whom he had sent to prison, no less. He could not tear his eyes away from Rose, but he clasped Jasper's shoulder for the barest of moments before dropping his hand to his side once more.
Rose and Logan reached the platform, and Logan placed his sister's hands in one of Kalin's. Kalin took Reaver's hands, as well, standing between them. Logan seemed not to know where he was meant to be for a few seconds, glanced at the chairs in the front row as though considering taking one for himself, then sighed and stood between Jasper and Ernest at Reaver's side, looking very grim.
Kalin faced the crowd, still holding Rose's hands in one of hers and Reaver's in the other. When she spoke, every word was measured, and every guest was silent.
"People of Albion!" she cried, the rich alto of her voice resonating warmth. "This is far more than a wedding of two souls. Tonight, the cultures of Albion and Aurora are made one by example of the Crown. It is in the spirit of this that I call forth witnesses to the worthiness of the souls who stand before us, that we, the united peoples of Albion and Aurora, might bless their union in our hearts and with our voices."
She nodded to Jasper, who had only a vague idea of what he was supposed to be doing. According to Kalin, Aurorans did not rehearse vows, the better to allow what was truly in the heart to come forth, no matter how simple. He cleared his throat again—something seemed to be stuck in it, and his eyes were stinging. Looking away from Rose helped, but only slightly.
"I…I am Jasper. I stand as a witness to the worthiness of Rose, daughter of Sparrow. I have dedicated my life to serving this family," he said, gathering momentum, "and I can say with utmost confidence that were she alive to see this day, Queen Sparrow would be…very proud, indeed, of what her children h-have accomplished together." His voice broke for a moment, and he drew in a deep, steadying breath. "Queen Rose has surpassed all possible expectations in every way. I have seen her nearly every day of her life, and she…she is worthy, worthy of love, worthy of respect, worthy of every honor. I stake my very life on it, and...and I…oh for Avo's sake, Ernest, say something, will you?"
The inventor patted Jasper's arm reassuringly. "I understand, my friend. I, er, I've been out of circulation for a few years, ladies and gentlemen…I missed out on the Battle for Albion, and I must admit that I'm rather relieved. I'm a man of peace; above all things, I abhor war. But Queen Rose taught me that war is sometimes a necessary evil. We cannot all hide behind hopes for a better tomorrow. Someone has to stand up and make that tomorrow, and not just with quaint little theme parks and idealistic promises about the future, as I admit with some degree of shame that I have. Queen Rose is a woman of peace, but also a woman of action, and the very fact that I am standing here is proof of her goodness. She saved my life, liberated me from unjust imprisonment, and with the help of the man she intends to marry tonight, gave me back my livelihood. If you want my opinion, I say they're both worthy."
"Logan?" Kalin prompted quietly.
"You do not need my word to prove Rose's worth," Logan said gravely. "She demonstrates it every day."
"Very well," Kalin said. "Who will speak for the worthiness of Adrian White, the man we have so long known as Reaver?"
Page and Hammer exchanged dark glances, but it was Logan who spoke up, stepping forward.
"I realize that my word counts for very little after the atrocities I have committed," he said loudly, "but I have seen the devotion this man holds for my sister, and I will say that he has earned the right to marry her, if she will have him."
"He bled for her," Jasper added, "in a very literal sense. He sacrificed his well-being for hers. There is nothing in this world that he loves more than she. I, too, have seen this for myself."
"That does seem to be the truth," Page said slowly. "Reaver Industries is a memory, now. Bowerstone is free and its people are safe. He has also supported the changes in the government, though they will move him further away from power. That's something."
Hammer sighed. "And you can't deny that any kids they have are bound to be bloody adorable, can you? Besides, he danced naked for six hours to prove how much he loves her. Damn good singing voice, too. Who knew? But my shoulder's never going to be the same again. Had to chuck the whole treasury at him before he'd stop."
"I did warn you, in fairness," Reaver murmured with a sly smile.
"Yeah, take good care of him, eh, Rosie?" Hammer added quietly. "I might've…been a little too keen. Old grudges, and all."
Rose's eyes widened with shock. "Kalin?!"
Kalin winked at Reaver before answering her. "I assure you, he took his hazing well. He did not cry out a single time, despite the welts. He was very brave."
Rose's look of intense concern brought a wide grin to Reaver's lips. "Never again will I question the wisdom of Auroran customs—actually, that is almost certainly a complete lie, but, well, you get the idea, Kalin."
Kalin smiled and addressed the crowd. "Queen Rose, in accordance with Auroran tradition, has named me her Hearth Sister. Her happiness is my happiness, her well-being my well-being. It is my honor to give the final word which will seal the Witnessing. I give it now: this match is worthy."
She joined the hands of the couple and stepped off to the side. The Auroran priestess finally spoke.
"In Aurora, we marry beneath the moon because we have faith in the dawn to come. So it is with this union. As joyous as this occasion is, the great dawn is still to come, and with it, a brighter future—not only for the souls before us, but for all of us." She held out a lit candle. "Let all present bestow their blessing by joining the whole."
Reaver and Rose lit candles from her flame, then lit those belonging to the gathered parties, who made their way to the guests and spectators, until all of Bowerstone was alight, from the Market to Industrial, to the docks of Old Town.
Many apologies again for tardiness! Still very sick, but hopefully good news is on the horizon! Thanks to everyone for their support!
angelacm, kami2015, and Era-Age, you have been so patient with me, and I am eternally grateful for your many kindnesses-more than I can say.