It is a well-known fact that nearly every woman dreamt of her wedding day since she was a little girl. From which flowers would line the aisle, to the flavor of the hors d'oeuvres her guests would enjoy, each detail was a vital decision that reflected the woman's individuality, as well her groom's willingness to make her happy in every regard. A wedding was not just a legal agreement between two people, but a communion in every sense of the word. Two people with different dreams and wishes, in completely different places in life, would come together and share things that they'd never shared with anyone before; two lives would fuse into one. It sounded terrifying when worded in such a way, but what made the stress and shock of leaving the familiar comforts of one's life behind for a new one entirely, was the love that person felt for their intended.

Every bride fantasized about the look on her future husband's face when he saw her in her wedding dress for the first time. She daydreamed about the way the sunlight would stream into the church, and the jovial expressions on the faces of their family members as they surrounded them on their special day. Many brides also imagined how it would be after the wedding, when she and her new husband were alone in their bedroom, and preparing to unite in a way that was sacred and holy in its own right.

For Quistis, all of those girlhood dreams and expectations had been thrown out the window. As she stood alone in the bridal suite of Deling City's Church of Hyne, she smoothed her hands down her dress, admiring her reflection in the floor-length mirror that stood before her. With a passive expression, she took in her dress, which was made of decadent blush-pink silk, and covered from top to bottom in cream-colored lace. Intricate beadwork and embroidery decorated the bosom, and ran along the hem in a scalloped pattern. She had to admit that, despite how miserable the "happiest day of her life" had turned out, she did think her dress was beautiful.

With a sigh, she sank down onto the tufted ottoman behind her. From outside the door, she could hear the muted sound of their guests milling about the church, and she pressed her mouth into a thin line as a wave of anxiety washed over her. Selphie was supposed to appear at any moment to finish putting her hair up, and she waited both patiently and impatiently for her handmaiden to appear. Part of her wished that Selphie would never show up, and she could hide away in this room until everyone she knew went home. But the other part of her wished that she could just get this over with as quickly as possible, then she and her husband could move on with their lives. Whether they would mutually avoid one another on a daily basis was yet to be seen, and Quistis clenched her hands in her lap at the thought of how utterly miserable the rest of her life would likely be. If the past two weeks were any indication of her future, she didn't think she was too far off from reality.

Since they'd announced their engagement, Quistis had seen her fiancé a total of two times. The first was the day after their engagement, when he'd returned to Trepe Manor to speak to her father in private. On his way out the door, he'd informed her that he would have his coach return in an hour or two to take her into the city.

"After all," he'd noted, "you need a dress to get married in, don't you?"

He'd said it without a smile, and in such a blasé tone, that it had irritated her instead of making her feel grateful for his consideration. If he didn't wish to do things for her out of true kindness, then why did he bother to do them at all? Did he simply feel obligated to? It reminded her of his proposal, and how he'd given her such a beautiful ring with so much sentimentality behind it, only to ruin it with his brusque attitude.

The memory only served to annoy her again, and she rose to her feet before pacing around the tiny room. It only took her a minute to complete one revolution, and feeling suddenly drained, she paused by the single window and stared out at the street. If she weren't getting married to a man she most definitely did not love, let alone barely knew, she might've thought it was a beautiful spring day. The irony of the fact that she'd ended up right where she'd tried to avoid being was not lost on her.

Outside the window, multiple carriages rushed back and forth down the road, and Quistis could practically feel the frenzy from where she stood. A massive tree with wide-reaching branches stood just beside the church, and its canopy of leaves stretched over her view, casting shadows across the yard. The white blossoms of the tree had already begun to dwindle, signaling the transition from late spring to early summer, and only a handful of petals remained. Absentmindedly, she watched a few of them float down from the branches to below the window, and a slight smile teased at the corners of her lips.

The sound of the door opening interrupted her moment of peace, and she looked back over her shoulder. Selphie, looking frantic with multiple strands of hair sticking straight up in the air, rushed into the room and quickly shut the door behind her.

"I'm so sorry, m'lady. I had to run back to the manor to get your gloves, and there were so many more people here than when I left, and—"

Quistis held up her hand, interrupting Selphie. "It's quite all right, Selphie. After all, they can't get started without me, can they?"

She tried to offer a playful smile after she'd spoken, but it fell flat, and Selphie's expression crumpled when she noticed. Tactfully, she chose not to mention it, and instead said, "I suppose that's true, miss. Well, come on, then. Let's get you finished up so you can get this over with!"

"You know, the amusing thing is that..." Quistis trailed off as sat down on the ottoman again, and while Selphie's fingers threaded through her hair, she finished, "I was just thinking the same thing."

On the opposite side of the church in the groom's chambers, Seifer stood in front of his own mirror, tugging on the lapels of his tuxedo. Ever since he and his valet, Raijin, had arrived a couple of hours ago, he'd been fidgeting with his suit. When he reached down and pulled on his left sleeve, Raijin looked at him reprovingly and chided, "Sir, if you continue to do that, I'd imagine that your tuxedo would become lopsided, you know?"

Seifer rolled his eyes at his friend. "I highly doubt that a tuxedo designed by Lady Ellone could fall apart so easily."

"Yes, well, just because you're acquainted with the Marquess' sister, it doesn't mean she'll simply hand you another suit for free." Raijin moved in front of Seifer, brushing his charge's shoulders with a lint brush as he finished, "And most certainly not an hour before you're to be wed."

At the unnecessary reminder of his impending nuptials—or loss of freedom, as he saw it—Seifer cringed. "Ah, yes…there is that."

Briefly, Raijin locked eyes with Seifer before moving behind him to continue dusting the wide expanse of his broad shoulders. "Perhaps she will not be so bad, you know? I've heard people speak of her, and it seems as if the consensus is a positive one—generally speaking."

"Did you ask only women?"

Raijin paused. "No, sir. Why would you think that?"

"Because if you'd asked men, then you would've arrived at an entirely different consensus."

"You must be speaking of her nickname."

"Indeed," replied Seifer, rolling his shoulders once Raijin moved away and set the brush down on the table.

"May I speak frankly, sir?"

Intrigued at Raijin's tone, he looked up and met his friend's gaze. Normally, Raijin wouldn't bother to ask for permission to speak openly. He simply did it. "Yes…"

"I do not believe that Lady Trepe is as cold as the ton seems to think she is. I can hardly believe that any lady could be so aloof and rude—or at least, not naturally. If she truly is the way people say she is, I would think that she'd have good reason. Perhaps someone in the ton treated her unfairly? Or—"

Seifer held up his hand, preventing Raijin from finishing his train of thought. "I know exactly what it is, Rai. She's simply fed up with society and its rules. By this point in time, I believe she's had nothing short of five or six marriage proposals—all of which she's turned down."

His friend's eyebrows cinched together, as if he couldn't fathom why in the world a lady would do such a thing. When Seifer saw his expression, he continued on to say, "For whatever reason, she's chosen not to marry." As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized where exactly it was that he was standing, as well as what he was about to do. "Good Hyne, man. We're about to get married—the very last thing she ever wanted to do. Exactly how miserable is the rest of my life going to be?"

Raijin shot a sympathetic look in his direction, and Seifer began to pace around the room. "Is she going to glare daggers at me every time I so much as look at her? I mean, I am a man; we are to be husband and wife. Does she expect me to never lay a hand on her? Or if I do, is she going to ignore me every time we're in the same room together afterwards?"

He wrung his hands in the hair, and that was when the door to the room opened. Zell stepped inside and spotted Seifer pacing anxiously, mumbling obscenities to himself, and occasionally glaring up at the ceiling. When the Baron looked at Raijin for answers, the valet explained, "My lord is experiencing what I believe is called 'cold feet'."

Seifer whirled around and pointed at Raijin. "I am not getting cold feet. I am simply facing reality, and getting extremely pissed off about it."

"What are you on about, Almasy?" Zell questioned, shutting the door behind him.

"This! This whole...farce! I am getting married, Dincht, to a woman who wants nothing to do with me!" Seifer railed, pacing even faster.

"For the love of Hyne, stand still. You're making me dizzy," Zell mumbled, closing his eyes. When the sound of Seifer's brisk footsteps came to a stop, Zell looked Seifer in the eye and said, "Listen. It's true that Quistis didn't exactly want to marry you, but you got yourselves into this situation. Whether you want it to or not, this is happening. The best thing you both can do is to simply accept it, and help each other; talk to one another."

"I'm expected to consummate the marriage. You know that, right? How the hell am I supposed to do that if she wants nothing to do with me?"

Zell sighed and crossed his arms. "I know this is going to sound strange, but you could always try courting her."

"Court my own wife?" Seifer repeated slowly, sounding exasperated with Zell for even suggesting such an absurd idea.

"Yes, Almasy, court your own wife. You don't know her, she doesn't know you. But if she did, consummating the marriage would likely seem a lot less...awful. It might make her happier than if you tried to force yourself on her—especially tonight."

Again, Seifer threw his hands up in the air. "Wonderful. I can't even bed my own wife on my wedding night."

"Women are fickle creatures, but it'll be worth your time—she'll be worth your time."

For some reason, Zell's statement sparked Seifer's anger, and his gaze shot up to meet Zell's. He switched tangents and accused, "Are you telling me that you know she's worth my time? How exactly would you know that, Dincht? Have you...have you experienced her for yourself?"

Zell's expression transformed from hopeful to completely aghast, and he had to quickly backpedal as Seifer stalked towards him. "No, no! That's not what I'm implying at all! I simply meant that Quistis is a wonderful person, one of the best that I know, and if you take your time to get to know her, she'd be worth the wait! Good Hyne, man, don't—"

Seifer wrapped his arm around Zell and pulled his friend's head down, grinding his knuckles into Zell's skull. When Zell cried out, Seifer grumbled, "That better be what you meant, Chickenwuss, because I swear to Hyne, if it wasn't—"

In a muffled voice, Zell cried, "It was! It was! I meant nothing more than that!"

When Seifer released him, Zell stumbled back and attempted to reshape his hair, running his fingers frantically through it. He glared up at Seifer and said, "I asked you not to call me that anymore!"

"It seemed appropriate, all things considered," Seifer replied, and Raijin snickered from the corner of the room. When Zell shot a glare in Raijin's direction, Seifer's valet masked his laughter with a cough.

Seifer faced the mirror again and adjusted his jacket, letting out a deep sigh through his nose. Raijin and Zell must've sensed the shift in his mood, because a few seconds later, their reflections joined Seifer's in the mirror. Both of his friends stood on either side of him, in a visual display of support on what was supposed to be a joyful event.

Raijin patted his charge on the back and left the room, claiming he was going to check on the proceedings outside. Once the door shut behind him, a few seconds of silence passed before Zell laid a hand on Seifer's shoulder. "It will work out, Almasy. I believe that to be true with every fiber of my being. Now you have to believe it, too. "

Seifer met Zell's gaze in the mirror. His uncertainty must have been visible on his face, because Zell squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. Finally, Seifer nodded and mumbled, "You'd better be right, Dincht."

Selphie stuck her head into the room and announced, "M'lady...it's time."

Quistis lifted her eyes from the engagement ring on her finger and met Selphie's gaze. She offered a curt nod and rose to her feet, gliding gracefully across the room to stand in front of Selphie. Her friend held out her hand, offering support, and Quistis took it with a contrite smile.

"Lead the way, Selphie," she instructed in a soft voice.

They made their way along the back hallway of the church as it wound its way outside. Soon enough, they emerged into the blinding sunlight, and Quistis saw her father standing beside the church's doors. He gave her a reprimanding look—likely thinking she took far too long—before pointing at a spot on the ground right next to him.

When she tensed at his unspoken demand, Selphie laid her hand gently on Quistis' forearm. "Just think, miss. After today, you'll be free of your father," Selphie whispered.

"Thank Hyne," Quistis mumbled back.

Far too soon, Selphie was handing her over to Viscount Trepe. He linked their arms and, just as she suspected he would, he murmured, "You couldn't have shown up to your own wedding on time, Quistis?"

"What does it matter, Father? Whether it's now or five minutes ago, you'll be free of me by the end of the day. I'll have done exactly as you wanted," she sniped, cooly looking away from him and into the church.

With a sneer, he turned them to face the interior of the church. Up ahead behind the altar, the priest signaled for the organist to begin playing. Deep, booming chords echoed throughout the church, and the entire congregation stood in one cohesive motion. When everyone was on their feet and facing the open doorway expectantly, Quistis and her father moved forward, pausing for a second between steps. Once they'd passed the first row of guests, the organ quieted down and the harpist began strumming, filling the space with romantic, soft music.

The entire time they made their way up the aisle, Quistis kept her eyes trained on the ground. She just couldn't bring herself to look at her future husband; a part of her was terrified to see him waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Granted, the entire situation felt rather final, but that last thing, the sight of a man she barely knew waiting for her to say "I do", drove everything home for her.

Finally, they reached the end of the aisle and she was forced to look up. Her gaze immediately honed in on Seifer, who was standing to the right of the priest. He filled out the shoulders of his neatly pressed tailcoat so well, that she had a hard time looking away. Eventually though, her eyes drifted to his face and she sucked in a tiny breath at how incredibly handsome he looked. Though the expression on his face was less than welcoming, she could understand where he was coming from. She couldn't help herself from appreciating the long, straight edge of his nose, or the prominent line of his jaw.

Much to his credit, he offered a smile when their eyes met—even if it was a tad bit tight. Her father pulled her gloved hand towards Seifer's, and once their hands were clasped, he gave Quistis a chaste kiss on her temple and backed away. She stepped up onto the slightly raised platform that Seifer was standing on, and he connected their other hands as well. Their guests sat back down and once the final chord from the harp dissipated, the priest began.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of his lord, the Marquess of Balamb, Seifer Almasy, to Lady Quistis Trepe of Deling City. Surrounded by friends and family, we…"

The sound of the priest's voice faded into the background as Quistis' eyes fell to their joined hands. He had strong, masculine hands, the tops were crisscrossed with pronounced veins. His skin wasn't nearly as fair as her own, a slightly lighter shade of bronze rather than the pale side of the moon. Begrudgingly, she admitted that it only served to further his allure.

She was lost in thought for so long that she didn't realize they'd reached the vows. When Seifer opened his mouth and softly said, "I do", her gaze shot up to his. The corner of his lips quirked upwards, and he looked at her in a way that meant he knew that she hadn't been paying attention. Feeling frazzled, her eyes darted around before landing on the priest. Her panic must've been visible, because Seifer squeezed her hands in reassurance. It seemed like a lot of people felt the need to do that today.

"And you, Lady Trepe? Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? In sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

A lump formed in her throat, and she struggled to swallow it down enough to say her part. "I...I do."

"Then I now pronounce you...husband and wife! Ladies and gentlemen, Marquess and Marchioness Almasy of Balamb!"

Applause rang throughout the church as Seifer bent down and placed a gentle kiss on Quistis' lips. She did little to reciprocate, though it was more out of shock than an actual lack of desire to. By the time she fully realized what was happening, she and Seifer were walking back down the aisle and out of the church.

His open carriage was waiting for them, and they made their way over to it, surrounded by friends and family who were throwing petals into the air. Quistis had to remind herself to smile. After all, wasn't that what newly wedded brides were supposed to do? It was difficult, though, considering everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. It felt as if she were a bystander, witnessing the first phase of her life disappear into the past, unable to process anything but her fear of the coming days.

Once they reached the carriage, Quistis gave her mother and father very brief, dispassionate hugs, and Seifer offered his hand to her. She gave him a small, thankful smile, which he politely returned, and she climbed into the coach. Not long after, he waved to the crowd and sat down beside her, instructing his driver to take off.

The minute the church faded into the distance, Quistis began to feel the panic settle in. She was married now, for Hyne's sake. The very thing she had been trying to avoid had happened, and all because she'd salaciously agreed to take the Marquess'—no, her husband's—suggestion and throw caution to the wind. Despite that, she knew she couldn't blame him entirely. It was half her fault that they were now riding to his townhouse in the heart of the city, where they would stay for a week before packing their things and moving into his estate in Balamb.

Though the ride was a short one, neither one of them said anything the entire time. Quistis was wrapped up in her own thoughts, and it seemed as if Seifer was as well. The one time she'd considered saying something to him, she'd glanced at him, only to find that he was staring in the opposite direction, the slight furrow of his brows marring his otherwise smooth forehead. His expression alone had been enough to discourage her from speaking up, and she'd resumed staring off in her own direction, dreading the moment they'd arrive.

Eventually, the carriage pulled up to an elaborate residence, complete with two stone lions flanking the deep mahogany front door. Someone had lit the sconces on either side of the entrance before their arrival, making the facade appear welcoming and cozy. The purposefully pre-established mood helped relieve some of the nerves that was causing her stomach to roil, and she made a mental note to ask who had done it so that she could thank them later.

Seifer climbed out of the carriage first and made his way around to Quistis' side. Once the footman had pulled down the steps, her new husband offered his hand to her once more with an impassive expression. Feeling oddly incensed at the look on his face, she moved to step down from the carriage without his help, but her foot slipped and she careened sideways off of the rung.

He darted forward and wound his arms around her slim waist to pull her back. As he went to place her back down on solid ground, he slowly slid her body down his own. They were pressed so closely, she could feel the hard ridges of his muscles underneath his wedding clothes. Though it left her flustered and blushing—from the smirk on his face, she knew he noticed—she tried to hide it with attitude.

"I was doing perfectly fine. I didn't need your help," she told him indignantly.

"I'm sure. Is that why you nearly fell on your face?" he quipped, and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

Now thoroughly irritated, she let out a huff and pushed out of his arms, stalking towards the front door. The sound of quick footsteps behind her caused her to whirl back around, and she was surprised to see that Seifer was nearly upon her. She knew he was tall, but he must've had a far longer-reaching stride than she'd anticipated.

When he stood just in front of her, he placed his hand on her lower back and guided her up to the door, asking, "Don't you remember that it's tradition for the groom to carry his bride over the threshold?"

A gasp escaped her, and she glared up at him. "You wouldn't dare."

His response was a low, foreboding chuckle. When he next spoke, he leaned down to whisper directly in her ear. "Oh, my dear wife. You've much to learn about me." The second the words left his lips, and before she had time to prepare, he scooped her up in his arms and the door opened with perfect timing to reveal his valet.

"Welcome home, my lord—and of course, my lady," Raijin greeted.

With a jovial smile, Seifer carried a protesting Quistis through the doorway and into the marbled foyer. The second they were standing in the center of the room, Quistis pounded on his shoulder and demanded, "Put me down!"

His smile widened, and he replied, "Very well," before pretending to drop her in his arms. As predicted, her arms shot around his neck and she actually squealed before he tightened his grip on her again. She shot him a glare and he chuckled before setting her down on her feet.

The second she was standing solidly on the ground, she stepped away from him and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "If you aren't going to listen to me when I ask you something, I can tell you right now that our marriage is going to be a rather unhappy one," Quistis retorted, her expression tight with anger.

"Oh, is that so?" Seifer's previously amiable mood disappeared, and his posture now mirrored hers. "I believe that you and I both fall into the category of 'difficult to tame'. If you believe that I'm going to acquiesce to your every request, simply because I'm your husband, you are in for a very rude awakening, Marchioness of Balamb."

Quistis didn't respond, choosing instead to glare at him in silence. While they were locked in their little staredown, Raijin sidled up to Seifer and whispered something in his charge's ear. When Seifer nodded, Raijin backpedaled to stand against the wall once more.

After a few more tense seconds, Seifer explained in a tight voice, "My valet informs me that your handmaiden is now finished with putting your things away in your room. If you'd like, I can show you the way."

"Yes, I would like that," she replied, in an equally terse tone of voice.

Without another word, Seifer pivoted on his heel and strode across the foyer, his heels clicking against the polished marble. Their footsteps echoed throughout the expansive space, and he led her towards the curved grand staircase on the opposite end of the room. As they ascended, she trailed her hand along the gleaming balustrade, unable to stop herself from admiring the quality of the wood, despite the tension in the air. For a temporary residence, the townhome was quite a bit more lavish than she'd expected it to be.

When they reached the second floor landing, he turned left and they made their way down an equally opulent hallway. The carpet was incredibly plush, and their steps were nearly impossible to hear, which was a stark contrast to the entryway.

Finally, they reached the end of the hall and Seifer faced her before gesturing to the closed door on his right. "These are your chambers. I'll give you time to explore them at your own leisure, and I'm sure your handmaiden is already familiar with what's inside." Then he gestured to the door on his left. "These are my quarters. They are also accessible through your rooms by an adjoining door. If, within the next few hours, you've calmed down, I would love for you to come to my room, and we can...converse—get to know one another. Once the sun sets, and you feel ready, knock on the door."

Quistis' lower abdomen clenched in nervous expectation. She was sure she knew exactly what he meant by "get to know one another", and though she understood that that was now part of her wifely duties, she was both dreading and anticipating it. Part of her knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he would never force her to do anything she didn't wish to do. It was true that she didn't know him very well, but the two brief, very personal encounters before their marriage had shown her enough of his character for her to trust him at least that much.

However, he was still a man, and she knew that very, very well. It was their wedding night, and he was likely expecting to receive the prize that he felt he deserved. To be fair, she couldn't begrudge him his legal right, but what if it was horrible? What if it...hurt? What if she absolutely hated it, and grew to hate him in return? It wasn't a life she wished to live, but she couldn't see any way out of it. She could try to prolong the inevitable, but it was a useless endeavor, and she knew that as well.

Unable to form a response, she simply nodded, and though Seifer returned the gesture, she could've sworn she heard him let out the tiniest sigh at her lack of communication. "Very well, then. I will see you in a few hours, my lady," he murmured.

As he moved to walk past her, he paused when he was standing right beside her. Gently, almost hesitantly, he reached out and grasped her hand, lifting it to his lips to plant a chaste kiss on the top of her hand. Surprised, she turned to him and gazed up into his clear, enchanting eyes. A tentative smile teased at the corners of his lips, and, touched by the thoughtfulness in his gesture, she returned it.

Once he let go of her hand, he made his way back down the hall, and down the stairs to the first floor. The second he disappeared from her view, she opened the door to her chambers and hurried inside, closing the door behind her before leaning against it. Her eyes slid shut and she took a deep breath through her nose, trying to calm her racing heart and mind.

"M'lady?"

Quistis' eyes shot open, and when she realized that Selphie was standing in front of her with a concerned and curious expression on her face, she rushed forward and enveloped her friend in her arms. "Selphie! Thank Hyne you're here."

"Well of course, m'lady. You did say I could come with you, didn't you?" Selphie asked, her arms wrapped around her charge.

"Of course I did. I just—I might be panicking a bit. I'm supposed to head over to the Marquess' chambers tonight for...you know. I don't know what to do. I mean, I know what to do, but—"

Selphie pulled out of Quistis' embrace and gripped her friend's shoulders tightly. "M'lady, listen to me. You're making it worse by going over everything in your head like this, and you do this every time. Take a deep breath, and we'll take our time gettin' you ready for his lordship. Just talk to him about your concerns. I'm sure he'll listen to you."

"But what if he gets impatient at the fact that I'm so inexperienced, and then he becomes angry at me? I mean, look at him, Selphie. He's a Marquess, and he's handsome. I'm sure he's had plenty of women before me." Quistis broke off and started pacing around the room, her slender, perfect eyebrows furrowed. "Curse society for expecting women to be virgins on their wedding night! If I'd just fooled around before today, I wouldn't be nearly as nervous or worried."

Selphie raised an eyebrow at her. "Be realistic, m'lady."

Quistis sighed and flopped into the armchair beside the bay window. "I know, I know," she replied, throwing her arm over her eyes. "Society will never allow women to be free souls and do as we please. I was simply mourning something I will never have."

Selphie twisted her mouth up in discouraged agreement, before bounding over to Quistis and grabbing her friend's hands. "Come on, miss! Let me show you around your room, get your mind off of all this until it's time to get ready!"

At first, Quistis didn't budge, but Selphie's optimism was unrelenting. When her friend tugged on her hands again, she finally rose to her feet with a resigned sigh that transformed into a fond smile; Selphie always knew how to pull her out of the doom and gloom.

Over the next hour, Selphie dragged her all around her chambers, pointing out every little amenity that her rooms contained. The door from the hallway led into the main living area of her rooms, which was complete with luxurious furniture and a massive fireplace that was also open to her bedroom. A couple of small bookshelves were pushed up against the wall, and Quistis was genuinely excited to have the chance to relax, doing something she wanted to do. To be able to read while sitting in the window seat, which had a perfect view of the gardens below, sounded absolutely wonderful. Her father had never been willing to buy her new books, claiming that she had far more important things to be focusing on, like finding a husband.

A narrow door led the way to her actual bedroom, and once they passed through the doorway, she gasped at the sight that greeted them. The largest four-poster bed she'd ever seen sat directly in the center of the room, complete with maroon velvet curtains that were currently tied to the posts. Underneath the velvet curtains, sheer lace curtains lent the bed a mysterious, romantic air, and Quistis immediately fell in love with it. It was something she'd always dreamed of having, and she couldn't believe that this was what needed to happen in order for her to get one.

On the far wall, next to another door, was a mahogany dresser that matched the wood of the bed. The fireplace that opened up to both rooms sat across from the bed itself, and on the opposite wall, beside the windows, rested a gorgeous vanity that was paired with an equally luxurious chair. Overall, the room was far more than she'd ever expected from her new husband. Gratitude spread through her, and a hint of a smile teased at the corners of her lips.

I'll have to be sure to thank him later, she mused. At the thought of "later", her previous nerves crept back in and she fiddled with her fingers as she gradually turned in a circle, taking in every aspect of the room. Once she stood beside the bed, she slowly traced the elaborate carvings on one of the posts, distracted by her thoughts.

Selphie remained by the fireplace, watching her charge with a blank expression. Eventually, she asked, "What do you think, m'lady? It's rather grand, isn't it?"

A soft chuckle left Quistis, and she turned to look back at Selphie. "It is indeed grand," she agreed in a quiet voice.

Selphie tilted her head. "Do you not like it, miss?"

"Oh no, I do. I was just...thinking about later. Again."

A frown took over Selphie's face, and she suggested, "What do you say we start gettin' you ready? Maybe the ritual of things will help calm you down?"

"Perhaps," she mumbled.

Selphie wasn't having any of her dismal mood, and her handmaiden gently led her towards the vanity against the other wall. "It'll be just like this morning, m'lady—only better!"

"How is this better?" Quistis questioned as Selphie leaned down to pull her wedding dress up and over her head, and she winced as it snagged on a few of the pins in her hair.

Once the dress was off and Selphie had laid it over the back of the chair, she started on the long process of unlacing Quistis' corset. Quistis reveled in the feeling of her breath returning to her lungs as the corset gradually loosened, and the second it was off, Selphie tossed it aside with a hmph! Her antics elicited a giggle from Quistis, and now that she was clad only in her shift, she sank down into the chair so that Selphie could pull all of the pins out of her hair.

Her handmaiden worked in silence, and the only sound that filled the room was the quiet plink as Selphie tossed each pin onto the vanity's surface. With each pin she removed, a thick strand of Quistis' blonde hair was freed, and eventually, all of her hair fell to her shoulders in perfect waves. As Selphie brushed through her hair, she softly commented, "Your hair is so beautiful in waves, m'lady."

"Thank you, Selphie. It takes far too much work to get it to look like this, though. I couldn't subject you to that every single morning," Quistis replied with a smile.

Selphie laughed and said, "If your husband ends up liking them, I'd gladly do it for you, miss."

Her smile faltered. "We'll see, I suppose."

Selphie paused in her actions and briefly squeezed Quistis' shoulder in reassurance. Once she was finished brushing her hair, she swept all of it to the side so that it laid over Quistis' right shoulder, offering an air of sultriness that she didn't normally exude. More often than not, her hair was up in a tight chignon, because she preferred it to be out of her face. There were probably no more than four people in the ton who had ever seen her with her hair down: her father, her mother, Selphie, and Zell—though Zell had likely only had that opportunity once or twice, and it had been in their younger years.

While Quistis was lost in the past, Selphie had gone to the dresser to retrieve something. When she reappeared in the mirror, Quistis met her friend's gaze in the reflection, then lowered her eyes to the silky nightgown that was now in her hand. Slowly, Selphie unfolded it and held it up against her body so that Quistis could see it in all of its glory.

Like her wedding gown, it was a soft peach, almost blush pink color, lined at the edges with white lace. It was beautiful, but there wasn't much to it, and after she rose to her feet and Selphie pulled it over her head, she saw that the hem only made it to her upper thigh. Out of reflex, she tugged at the bottom of it in an attempt to cover more of her most private area, only to find that there just wasn't enough material to do so.

Selphie grabbed her hands, stilling them, and quietly said, "It'll be all right, miss. I'm sure he'll be kind and gentle with you."

She let out a shaky breath and met her friend's gaze. "But what if he isn't?"

"Then we'll deal with that then. There's no sense in making him up to be this horrid monster in your mind, because it could ruin the entire thing. You've got to approach it with an open mind! I know you can do that. You always do, and you do it better than anyone else, m'lady."

Overcome with nerves, Quistis pulled her hands back and faced the window, hoping for some aesthetic relief. When she saw that the sun was nearly below the horizon now, throwing the gardens into shadow, and causing the sky to appear as it were on fire, she inhaled deeply before slowly letting it out through her mouth. "I don't suppose I can put it off any longer, can I?" she whispered.

From behind her, Selphie murmured, "No m'lady, I think not."

A few seconds passed before Quistis whispered, "All right. Let's get this over with, then."

She assumed that the door on the other side of the room was the adjoining door that Seifer had spoken of, and she made her way over to it with clammy hands. As she passed by the dresser, she grabbed a robe out of it and wrapped herself in it for some added protection. She knew that by the end of the night, it would make little difference, but if it helped lessen her anxiety in this moment, then she had to try something.

When she finally felt semi-ready—who was she kidding, she was nowhere near ready—she pulled the robe tighter around her body, and raised her hand to knock on the door. Just before her knuckles made contact, she hesitated.

Behind her, Selphie quietly encouraged, "You can do it, m'lady."

Quistis glanced over her shoulder at Selphie, and when her friend smiled encouragingly, she nodded and turned back to the door. I can do this. I know that I can.

This time, she knocked firmly before letting her arm drop to her side. Within seconds, she heard the deep timbre of Seifer's voice call out from beyond the door, and she knew that she couldn't go back now.

"Come in."

A/N:

As always, thanks to Strings805 and StarryNight101 for beta-reading :)

I know I don't update this story as often as everyone would like, so I just want to thank all of my readers for sticking around this long. Still surprised by how many people are interested in such a seemingly farfetched AU for these two :P

See you guys next time! I always say "hopefully sooner" and then it never happens, so I won't even bother this time :P