Chapter Thirteen
"Don't forget your lines, kid," Han Solo said. He gave Jag one last reassuring pat on the shoulder, then hustled back off the dais toward the side corridor that would take him to the rear of the cathedral's main chamber.
Jag watched him go, all the while fighting down the urge to wipe his sweat-soaked palms somewhere on his jacket or pants.
Not that he was actually worried Jaina wasn't going to show. Only a minute earlier, Leia had commed Han to instruct the two men to get into position to begin the ceremony – and she wouldn't have done that unless she and Jaina really were ready to get started. Of course, the plan had been for Leia to arrive at the waiting room and pick up Han in person. Which she hadn't. Which meant something had changed the plan.
Which, considering these were the Solos, meant something unexpected, ridiculous, and probably life-threatening had occurred.
Jag closed his eyes to avoid shaking his head. Better get used to this.
He opened his eyes and smiled. If nothing else, life with Jaina was never going to be dull.
Inhaling a slow, deep breath, Jag turned to scan the gathered guests before him. His parents, grinning broadly, batting smitten eyes at each other like a pair of lovesick teenagers. Leia, equally beaming, seated across the aisle from them with an empty seat on one side, Allana on the other. Wyn. So many other faces, familiar and dear, friends and acquaintances. All gathered here to celebrate this day with him – and Jaina.
And where, exactly, was his bride?
A quite cough, so discreet he almost didn't catch it himself, drew his eyes to the woman opposite him. The corners of Tenel Ka's lips curled, a subtle admonition.
Jag smiled back, then turned to his brother beside him. "How long," he whispered, his lips barely parting, "do you think she's going to make me wait?"
Cem grinned like a madman. "Not," he whispered back, "long enough."
If it weren't for the throng of witnesses, Jag would have blindsided him with a Jonkaret feint. Instead, he drew his eyes to the pair of tall wooden doors that remained closed at the end of the aisle.
And just then, they swung open.
To reveal a perfect image, one Jag would never forget as long as he lived.
When he had imagined Jaina on their wedding day – in any of the numerous versions he had envisioned over the last fifteen years – she had never looked this beautiful. She had been beautiful, of course. Just not like this. Admittedly, his failure of imagination probably stemmed from the fact that his idea of high fashion hardly extended past formal military uniforms. Still, he had seen numerous holos of his mother back in her days as a galactic superstar, and not even those could have prepared him for this.
Quite literally, she took his breath away.
The dress was strapless, exposing her neck and delicate collarbones. Her hair was swept up into an intricate twist of braids and curls, which only highlighted her slender features. The bodice of pink Corellian sateen was accented with appliqués of Alderaanian lace, and hugged her body right down to an impossibly tiny waist. From there, the skirt fanned out in a swirl of pink tulle decorated with hundreds of jewels.
She looked like a princess.
Then she smiled at him and became forever the queen of his heart.
Jaina broke their secret exchange and tipped her head at the man beside her, resplendent in his dress uniform even as he seemed to fidget at its constricting formality.
From everywhere and nowhere, the traditional Corellian wedding march began to play.
A half-cocked smile on his face, Han glanced over to Jaina on his arm. Instantly Han's face brightened, and Jag felt a little warble in his stomach. Han might be giving his daughter away, but Jag was certain he had never seen Jaina's father happier.
He watched Jaina's entire procession up the aisle toward him. Every step. Every gaze met, every little smile to a guest. Every time she stole a glance at him.
And then they were at the dais. Four steps up, slowly and deliberately. Han leaned in and kissed his daughter on the cheek. Then he offered her to Jag – and offered Jag a wink.
Jag tipped his head, and Jaina stepped up beside him. Their hands met, fingers intertwined.
They looked into each other's eyes. Jag knew he was grinning like an idiot – and he didn't care.
"Ready?" he whispered.
"Absolutely."
Motion caught his eye, and he raised his gaze a few centimeters to see a single large bead of perspiration emerge from her hairline and race down her forehead. Jag met her gaze again, and raised an eyebrow. Jaina just flashed him the trademark Solo smirk – and Jag couldn't help but smile back, broader than ever.
As one they turned to face the holy man.
The kindly old man looked to Jaina, then Jag, before turning his gaze to the seated guests behind them. "Today," he began, "we are gathered…"
This. Is. Real.
Jag almost couldn't believe it. It wasn't just real. It was surreal.
He was actually marrying Jaina. Nothing had gotten in the way. No one had gotten in the way. After all these years, after everything they'd been through, this day was actually happening. The day he had dreamt about, then hoped for, then tried to forget, then given up even letting himself imagine could ever be possible – now it was here. And it was better in reality than it had ever been in his dreams. Beyond imagination, beyond comprehension. And the universe hadn't imploded upon itself just to stop them from being happy.
Yes, this wedding was really happening.
Inside his head, Jag could only hear one thing.
FINALLY!
Suddenly, Jag found himself staring into the gaze of the holy man, who was looking at him expectantly.
Ktah!
Apparently Han hadn't just been lightening the mood after all.
But Jag was pretty sure – and right now, pretty sure was the best he had time for – what his first word in the ceremony was supposed to be, so he said it. "Yes."
The holy man winked at him, then faced Jaina. "And you?"
"Yes," she said, leaving no space between the question and her answer.
Jag took the hint, and paid meticulous attention as the holy man began to lead them through the centuries-old Corellian wedding vows. At each cue, he responded strongly and confidently, even when the words were almost comical in their clichéd romanticism.
They had chosen this, after all. Pondering the prospect of writing their own vows had taken all of about three minutes – before Jaina had realized she didn't really want to bother, and Jag had realized he didn't have any interest in baring the deepest emotions buried in his soul with even their families, much less a couple hundred guests or the Holonet at large.
In the end, the traditional vows had been a very easy choice. But that didn't mean Jag had let those feelings go. He had written them down, all right. Every last heartfelt detail, words that had come spilling forth without conscious thought. Drawing inspiration from those heady early months of their relationship during the Yuuzhan Vong war, Jag had written Jaina a love letter. Everything he would have said in their marriage vows, and more. But only for her, from his heart straight to hers.
She hadn't read it yet, of course. That was part of the price she had paid for banishing him from their bedroom these last two nights.
But Jag had some experience being an exile, and he'd devised a solution easily enough. With a small bit of assistance from his mother, he'd ensured the sealed letter now sat atop the small desk Jaina had taken as her own in their suite – not that she was going to be in any position to find it there until morning. She would read it soon enough regardless, and then all the emotions bursting inside him finally would be drawn full circle.
Not that she needed his letter to know how he felt. He certainly didn't need a letter – or even a single word – from her to know how she felt.
Truth be told, he hadn't needed to write the letter for Jaina. He'd needed to do it for himself.
And so it happened that Jag underwent something approximating an out-of-body experience as he heard himself say, "With all my heart," followed by Jaina repeating the same words, after which the holy man declared them husband and wife and granted him permission to kiss her.
Right. Like he needed anyone's permission.
It seemed as though he watched himself lean down and kiss her lips, a lingering, tender kiss. Inwardly he rooted for the groom to land something far more passionate, if not obscene, to reflect the man's true feelings for his bride – until he remembered the Holonet cameras, and appreciated the man's wisely chosen discretion.
And then reality hit him once more, a kilogram of permacrete slabs unloaded upon his mind. He was kissing Jaina. The ceremony was over. They were married.
FINALLY!
Jaina broke the kiss, and gave him a private smile that melted his heart. She stretched up on her toes, just a bit, and whispered, "Guess we have to get through this, huh?"
"Unfortunately, we do."
Together they turned to face the group. He offered her his arm, and she took it swiftly. Then they began the slow procession up the aisle toward the rear doors. The whole time, all Jag could think was, It's done! It's done!
And then it happened again. Abruptly, as if waking from a deep slumber, Jag snapped back to reality. He stood in the receiving line, shaking hands, accepting congratulations, carrying on with platitudes as the seemingly interminable parade of departing guests moved past.
He also realized what Jaina had muttered under her breath a moment earlier. "If you think this is bad, wait until tonight."
The reception. That thought was enough to make Jag wish they had eloped and endured whatever horrible wrath their families would have inflicted. It couldn't possibly be more atrocious than the absurd event looming before them.
"Thanks," Jag replied, putting a low growl into his voice, "for reminding me."
"Any time," she said, just before she extended her hand and greeted another of the Wampas.
So he kept at it, because there was no alternative. In this crowd, even flight wouldn't succeed. He'd be recaptured again – and not by the security detail, either – before he made it anywhere near an exit.
When the line finally wound down and everyone but the wedding party was gone, their mothers embraced. Their fathers, only a little bit begrudgingly, shook hands. Jag just wanted to sit down. Before he could, Raul hurried up, and the dressmaker and the two mothers whisked Jaina away.
Cem wandered over to Jag. "Hey," he said, his eyes darting meaningfully toward Tenel Ka, "you never told me Jaina's friend was so –"
"Don't," Jag snarled, "even consider the possibility of potentially thinking about it."
Cem glowered. "Spoilsport."
"It's for your own good," Jag offered helpfully, "as much as mine."
"At least you're saving your own backside as well, then. I appreciate that."
"Someday, little brother, you actually will."
Cem raised a brow. "Oh? And when will that be?"
Jag flashed a smirk. "Well, first you'll have to somehow acquire a girlfriend…"
"A spoilsport," Cem said, rolling his eyes, "and a pompous guant'no banahs besides."
"I do my best."
A few minutes later Leia and his mother returned, but not Jaina.
He looked at the two women. "She realizes that after the wedding is too late to run off, right?"
Cem laughed. "We still haven't signed the official papers, remember."
"Point." Jag glanced to Tenel Ka. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping track of her?"
Stepping to his side, the Queen Mother canted her head. "She's on her way."
When he moved toward his parents, Tenel Ka caught his elbow. She leaned in close and whispered, "You never told me your brother was so handsome."
Jag blanched. He stopped feeling mortified, though, when it occurred to him that Tenel Ka had just confessed to intentionally snooping. Which meant…
"Oh," Jag said, crestfallen. "Please tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."
"And if I am?"
Jag offered a defeated smile. "I know better than to argue with a Jedi."
Just then Jaina arrived at his side, looping her arm through his. "What'd I miss?"
"Nothing worth worrying about," Jag replied. "How about we get those papers signed now?"