It should only be a few minutes now, he holds his breath. The rich purple silk of the aisle is waiting to be graced by her presence; however, that is not its only purpose. It also serves as border patrol for their separate families. From his spot at the altar, Lily has the perfect view of the drastic difference between her world and his.

He glances at her pristine family. Their tailored suits and shimmering diamonds glimmer against porcelain skin. Delicate blonde or white curls frame each face. Their posture is so perfect that it indeed seems as though a pole has been shoved up their you know whats. Nobody coughs or even seems to blink as they sit there and wait for what can only be perceived as a funeral. He's almost scared to move, to breathe even just in case that will break their trance and they will come after him for taking one of their own.

His eyes shift to view his side of the church. His only real family were his grandparents who had raised him. Unfortunately, they passed away before being able to see their boy find a "sweet young gal". So, he invited the family he had chosen and, in turn, had chosen him. Basically, his "family" is the exact opposite of what he just observed. His army friends are slouched, sprawled, and in every other position except sitting up. All of them but Erza, of course. She's too busy fangirling over the wedding with their lovely ladies to reprimand them for their rude behavior. Even the hair of his family looks unacceptable. Their hair is mostly wild and unkempt in colors that vary about as much as the rainbow; their outfits do as well now that he's taking a good look at them. Lily feigns a cough to hide his chuckle at the attire of his friends. Did they own an iron? Or maybe even a suit jacket? He shouldn't complain too much seeing as Gray is still completely clothed. His best man and only groomsmen, Gajeel, taps his shoulder and silently asks "what's up". Lily doubts that Gajeel has failed to notice the haughty, disapproving glances he's received from the bride's immaculate family. So he should realize how much this feels like a sin. She's so clean and pale and he's so… so…

"Damn. Look, Lil."

She's here. She didn't get cold feet in the limo. She didn't realize what a horrible mistake she's making by settling with him. Air rushes into his lungs and light floods his eyes, blinding him to everything else in the room.

This sensation is not new. Every time he sees her his heart flutters this way and his soul reaches to entangle itself with her ethereal being. However, the soft flow of the tulle skirt as she walks, the way it hugs her slim waist, and the dainty lace sleeves atop her kissable shoulders…this is new. He has never seen her like this before. This isn't another fancy dress, it's her dress for him and only him. Doesn't she know that he'll stain its soft, white fabric? That he doesn't belong by its side? He should be kept as far away from it as possible. His family is resilient, not so breakable and not so clean. That he'll allow himself to have, but not this, not her.

"Hey!"

She halts halfway down the aisle, causing her father to stumble.

"Sorry, Papa. Go sit down, okay?"

Everyone is eyeing Shagotte curiously, including Lily. Her grey eyes truly are the window to the soul because they clearly show her every emotion. Right now she doesn't seem nervous or sad like he hopes and fears, just angry.

"If you're not going to cry then I will turn around and get back in the limo. I did not spend hours getting all dolled up for you to stare at me like a kicked puppy!"

His feet are rushing towards her before his mind tells them to. In one swift motion, his right arm draws her in, his left-hand cradles the back of her neck, and he brings their lips together in a passionate kiss. He tries to express his insecurities, his flaws, how beautiful she looks, and, most of all, how much he loves her. They finally break apart. Half the room is covering their eyes from the impure sight and uttering horrified gasps. The other half is whistling, standing on the pews, and cheering them on.

"There they are. Looks like I'll be a married woman at the end of the day after all."

She slips off her lace gloves to cup his tearstained cheeks, quickly covering her smirk with his lips once more. He's not quite sure how long they spent in that position, but it was long enough to make the priest rather uncomfortable.

"Ahem!" They part with flushed cheeks, "Um, pardon me, but the kiss is usually reserved for afterwards. If you could escort Miss Shagotte to the altar then I will hurry up to that portion of the ceremony."

This comment received roaring applause from one side and haughty eye rolls from the other, Shagotte's vivacious laugh echoing above it all. She rushes ahead, the tell-tale limp to her step that shows her strength, and throws her arms around Gajeel. She thanks him for cleaning up so nicely for their special day. She doesn't care at all for what she should or shouldn't be doing at her own wedding. Looking at her now, he can't help but shake his head. How foolish of him to think so little of his love. Yes, she is graceful and dainty and of course she is beautiful and poised! But, she does not belong on the pew with her family. She is stubborn, creative, sensitive, moody, loud, hilarious, opinionated, competitive, generous, and an absolute dork. She is okay with getting pancake mix in her platinum blonde hair because it gives her an excuse to dump the whole bowl onto him. She's dirt-stained jeans when she helps him plant flowers at his grandparent's graves. She's an amazing back massage that doesn't lead to anything else because she's "a lady". She's someone who loves his fear of thunderstorms, his stubble, and his sense of humor. She's the only girl he'll ever want and, gazing down into her grey eyes at the altar, he knows that she's more than happy with that.