It's been far to long I know, and I apologize

but sometimes life gets in the way and I'm back on a Thursday and ready for a couple of Thursdays and hopefully even more than that.

Discipline, that's what I need discipline. I'm sure that Jane would be able to set me straight.

Tessa, for you my friend, sorry for the hiatus I will make it up to you I promise ;)

The ride from the church to the main hall of the castle is quiet, immeasurably slow with not a word between them, yet it also felt like it ended in the span seconds. They sat side by side and each stared in the direction of the window on their respective sides. Gunther stole occasional glances but could hardly guess is she did the same. It just seemed far too daunting to break such thick silence that he kept his mouth shut and his eyes mostly averted. Then just as soon as they had settled in for the ride, it seemed that they where already at the castle. He'd never known time to be so malleable and volatile as today.

He waits outside of the carriage for Jane with his hands clasped behind his back. He has no tangible memory of actually getting in or out himself, but Jane refusing his hand outside the church as she made to get in the carriage sticks with him, the small rejection had sent a cold chill within him freezing out most of the heat that had ignited with their kiss at the altar. He felt it all through the quiet hazy ride from the church, a long jagged icicle stuck through his chest just narrowly avoiding his heart.

And thus upon arriving, for fear jamming the icicle further, he avoided the offer altogether.

They both stood outside for a moment as their driver made off, most-likely to tend to the horses, staring at the side door to the great hall where everyone was surely waiting for them. They had taken the long route, their driver parading them through the town first as was custom. A silent ride with all outside noise a dull roar to their ears and otherwise occupied minds. Neither had opened their windows, but there was no shutting out the crowd once they walked through that door.

He makes to take a step forward when he feels a hand on his arm. "Wait." She says. He turns to look at her but she is staring intently at the door as she takes a deep shuddering breath, steeling herself before they enter. It is the first bit of indecisiveness he has seen from her, and he remembers his thoughts of her as she walked down the aisle to him, he could tell how much she hated being paraded as so in front of everyone. Even then as conflicted as she might have been on the inside, she had done everything with purpose, had walked and spoken with confidence.

She hasn't removed her hand from from his wrist and the icicle in his chest seems to decrease in size the longer she leaves it there. It is the others and this ordeal that she seems most bothered by, not him. Perhaps he should have offered his hand to help her down from the carriage now that no one was looking, she might have actually taken it.

"Do you want to wait here another hour? I'm sure they won't mind if the food goes cold before we actually get in there" He tells her quirking his eyebrow at her in a mildly disdainful manner. He turns more squarely towards her and giving his back to the door, he feels the absence of her fingers immediately as they fall from his wrist with the motion. The piece of ice smaller, but still squarely lodged in his body stealing precious heat. Then again, she might have been more likely to slap his hand away as well.

"No." She tells him with mildly hard look. "I'm fine, its just..-" She let's the words fall short with a frustrated sound as she pulls slightly at the material of her dress in different areas, it is clearly a very uncomfortable thing to wear. He leans back against the wall next to the door, he can hear the ruckus from inside where it seems the others have already commenced the festivities, and just takes the opportunity to stare at her unabated while she musses with her dress and hair in attempt at comfort. It feels like something special to just look at her, she seems almost normal now groaning loudly about her hair, instead of the sad intensity in the church. "You'd think she had tortured me enough when she ran the brush through my hair like she was peeling corn husks instead of tending to breathing being. But no, she had to pull it back so tight that I swear she was trying to make it pull itself out." He smiles at her gripping. She looks so genuinely aggravated as she struggles with her mass of red curls, that someone had somehow managed to somewhat tame and mostly elegant knot, not to mention pulling here and there at her girl clothes and making herself generally unpresentable. But he is so used that frustration, (although it is usually aimed more squarely at him) that he might believe that this was any other day.

Except that it wasn't, she was in a dress pawing at her used-to-be-immaculate hair and his new bride of less than an hour.

"You keep that up and the people inside are going to think we got over eager during the carriage ride." He quips, mostly to see a reaction of the kind he is used to and because it is not entirely untrue. She stops what she is doing to glare at him with a you-are-complete-maggot sort of face, a few curls that at have managed a daring escape dangling in front of her eyes. "Don't look at me like that, you are the one manhandled yourself not me." She looks a right mess, her hair puffing on one side, bent and caved in on the other.

She rolls her eyes at him, getting back to her task of yanking on her hair. "I could hardly care what they think." She hisses at him. For a moment he thinks its because she is still mad then he realizes its because simply because of the hair pulling. Or more likely a combination of both. "I just want to actually be able to breath and think for the remainder of the day." That last look of slight outrage and flat annoyance melts what ever is left of that intrusive shard of ice and he begins to truly feel warmth again.

"Indeed." He answers, pushing away from the door and walking over to lend some assistance. Her hair smells strongly of lavender, compliments of her mother he's sure, but underneath it he can still detect the ever present smell of smoke that he has come to associate most strongly with Jane and her dragon. His height gives him the distinct advantage of seeing all the places where the pins are hidden, she doesn't complain when he begins to help her remove the pins one by one. In a few moments and after some slight miscalculations ("Ow! Gunther, you Biscuit Weevil!") most of which where accidental, her hair hangs lose and wild against back. It reaches down to her mid back now and he resists the urge run his fingers in her hair once more just for the sake of it.

"Well there is not much I can do about this dress," She remarks regretfully, patting some lace of her hip and moving away from him. "We might as well go inside, before they send a search party for us." She looks back at him questioningly. He reaches for the door only to be stopped by her hand once again, the warmth actually seeping and taking residence in his skin this time around. She moves to stand in front him, "And thank you, somehow this," She gestures at her loose hair, it falls around her shoulders in thick wild truly untamable curls. "Makes going in there easier." She turns towards the door once again.

They walk into the hall, Jane in the lead.

"You're welcome." He whispers toward her back and the smell of lavender and smoke lingering in the air.

Thank you to all my lovely reviewers. It makes my day to see the what you have to say.

So..

I'm thinking of just skipping the hall and feast/party portion and going on with the story

that part seems to want to keep getting longer and at this point I feel like I'm just delaying the other half of the story.

So what do you guys think I should do?

As usual, I would love to know what you guys think. Reviews are greatly appreciated and mean a lot to me!

See you next Thursday! Happy Holidays to you all, and happy days as well no matter what you celebrate.

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