Tracy sat rigid in the arm chair as Jerry leaned over him, paintbrush in hand. The older fairy was prattling on about anything that came to mind, and Tracy tried to focus on his stories, the account of his own wedding – "Be happy your girl isn't a Leprechaun; human weddings are so much easier to handle, let me tell you." – and the King-to-be was surprised that his best man couldn't hear the steady pounding of his heart. He was terrified.

He knew what he was doing, but somehow he couldn't wrap his head around it. Every time the thought struck, it came as an electric jolt to him, something that twisted his insides and made him stop breathing for a second.

He was getting married.

He and Rae talked about it for a long time, they'd been engaged for almost a year, and they'd had so much planning to do, of course, but it just… crept up on him. It was almost as if he hadn't actually expected to be here, having his best man painting the traditional symbols onto his chest, as was custom in a fairy wedding. (They'd made a lot of compromise, they'd joined fairy and human traditions to accommodate both sides of the family, and yet, he felt, it meshed perfectly.)

He just couldn't believe that in less than an hour, he was going to be married.

He swallowed hard, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling as the cold oils were slicked across his skin.

"Tracy!" The man's gaze flickered back to his friend, who was hovering concernedly over him. He jumped in surprise, and the paintbrush that was held to his bare chest smeared lavender and coconut oil in a wide streak and Tracy sighed. "Hey, you okay, kid?" Jerry asked.

The older fairy didn't move, waiting for an answer. "Yeah, I'm fine, mate. Must've caught something, haven't been feeling very well at all." His words tumbled out, slurred and anxious.

The man scoffed, though it went unnoticed. "Sure. But you know you do have to be conscious for your wedding vows-" he took a peek over and saw that whatever color had been left in Tracy's cheeks vanished. "Look, you're nervous, I get it, but having a heart attack before you even get to the altar isn't going to help." He said, setting the bowl of oils aside, looking his friend square in the eye.

Tracy rubbed absently at the side of his arm. "Can't help it, can I? I just… I don't know about this, it's-"

"Stop." Jerry cut across him. "That right there. That is the worst thing you could say on your wedding day. Trust me, I know this is big. But your girl is probably in the next room right now tearing her hair out and wearing a rut in the floor from pacing. She's just as nervous as you are, and for what? What's the worst that could happen?" he asked, and Tracy gave a groan, tossing his head back again. That was the last thing he wanted to hear, what could go wrong? "No, I mean it! What could go wrong? You both have consent. Are you gonna leave her at the altar?"

"No!" Tracy growled. He might be a nervous wreck, but he would never do that to her.

"Right. Is she? She's in there with both of your sisters, I don't think she could if she wanted to, which she doesn't. And as long as you two go through the rituals like me and your parents showed you, what could go wrong? Huh? Nothing!" Jerry moved forward and laid a hand on his arm. "You're getting worked up over nothing. I know this is big, hey, I remember my wedding; I was all over the place, okay? But if you don't relax you're going to end up spending your wedding night in the hospital." He softened his voice. "Kid, I've known you since you were bout this tall," he held his hand up to somewhere right above Tracy's middle. He gave his friend a curious look, and the older fairy shrugged. "You were tall for your age. Point is, I know you, and I know you're a good guy. The missus in the next room, she's lucky, especially with everything you two went through. You know that a lot of people who have their heart broken like that don't love the same way twice. That alone should tell you just what you mean to her. It's gonna be fine, okay?"

Tracy nodded, and Jerry poked him in the ribs. "Go ahead and wash it all off, we'll start over."

Tracy picked his head up and spied the scrubbing sponge on the sink basin, walking over and reaching for it with a huff. His skin was already sensitive from the first scrubbing, and he tried his best not to hit the spot on his ribcage where the skin hurt the most. "M'sorry, Jer." He said. "Not all there, y'know?"

"Not a problem." He said, mixing more oil. When Tracy stood up straight to dry off and his face was properly reflected in the mirror, Jerry could get a good look at him. "Geeze, kid, you're white as a sheet. Look, when we're done here you really ought to get something to eat, or else you could pass out in the middle of the ceremony." He said, as Tracy sat down, chest thrust forward and Jerry resumed painting. "Come to think of it, do you even eat? I don't think I've ever seen you take more than a cup of tea." Another poke at his ribs. "You certainly don't look like it. Get that pretty little wife of yours to make some pasta, sometime, kid." He said.

The color immediately rushed to Tracy's face, turning his cheeks, neck and shoulders a bright red. Jerry laughed.

An hour flew by, Tracy half concentrating on Jerry's ramblings as the markings were finished, and he dressed after everything had dried. His fingers were trembling too much for him to properly button his cuffs, what with only twenty minutes until the ceremony began, and Jerry took each wrist in turn, repeating himself, "Calm down, kid, you're gonna have a coronary."

He wiped absently at his face with his free hand as Jerry released his other wrist. He did get something to eat, forcing it down and hoping that he wouldn't be sick. Given the choice between passing out or being sick at the altar, neither one seemed like a very good option. He stood there with Jerry flanking him on his left and the family out on the right – it was a small wedding, immediate family, because for Rae's extended family to attend would mean exposure, putting his family at risk, and it was a unanimous agreement to keep as little people as possible on the guest list.

His heart hammered in his chest and he became more lightheaded the longer he stood there. The markings on his chest had begun tingling when he stepped up onto the platform, and he resisted the urge to paw at his chest or loosen his tie – he felt like he could very well suffocate, just then.

The music picked up and his heart stopped dead in his chest for a terrifying moment when the doors opened.

That was when things changed.

Mere seconds ago, he'd been terrified out of his mind, ready to pass out.

Diana and Iris came first, tossing purple crocus petals to the floor.

She came after, on her father's arm, swathed in a cream-silver gown, veil and train flowing behind her, looking as nervous as he did, but when they spied each other, there was suddenly nothing – no worries, no nervousness – nothing but an overwhelming joy. He smiled, his heart calming its frantic bid to escape his chest, and the moment she stepped foot on the altar, the paintings acted up, warming on his chest and calming him.

Tracy smiled down at her, hands twitching for hers, though he kept them at his sides. "Look at you," he breathed. "A proper Queen."