AN: Here we are, the next piece to this one.
I hope you enjoy! If you do, please let me know!
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Jean-Luc offered his assistance, though it was unneeded and unused, to prepare the room. Laris replicated what she wanted for them, according to the ritual or her tastes, it didn't matter, and Beverly handed her things, lit candles, and did anything else that needed to be done. Jean-Luc waited, patiently, until it was time to begin.
"The ceremony is, roughly translated, a ceremony of truth and terror," Laris offered.
"Not exactly what I had planned for my wedding day, but…" Jean-Luc said. He got a warning look from Beverly. Laris simply looked slightly amused.
"During the first part of the ceremony, we exchange our vows of commitment to each other and our promise of truth with each other and loyalty to each other."
"Now things are seeming a bit more familiar," Jean-Luc teased. "I assume you will lead us in our vows?"
Laris smiled at him and nodded. She invited, with her hands, Beverly and Jean-Luc to join her in the center of the room. Comfortably, they all held hands and they followed her instructions, repeating the vows as she said them. There wasn't a single thing in the vows to which Jean-Luc objected, really. The vows, themselves, despite her title for the ceremony, were simply vows of love, loyalty, and honesty. He gladly exchanged them with both women, and listened as Laris and Beverly exchanged them with each other.
Jean-Luc found himself quite relaxed after the exchanging of vows. He'd said them. He'd heard them from both Laris and Beverly. He knew that he meant them, and he believed that both women meant them. Nothing about him felt profoundly changed in the terrifying way that he had somehow once convinced himself it might, if he were ever to marry. He simply felt happy and hopeful about their future together.
"Now, we would exchange our true names," Laris said. "This name is only to be used in the most intimate of moments. It should never be spoken with those who are not part of our bond. It can, under certain circumstances, cost someone their life…so being entrusted with it is a serious part of our vow of loyalty."
Jean-Luc understood, as Laris shared with them her true name, the reason for her insistence that their ceremony take place so privately. Romulans, he knew, were masters at torture and other such pleasantries. The things they were sharing with each other, today, were things that could be used against them all. They were not things that would lightly be shared in mixed company.
"We don't have names to tell," Jean-Luc said, after Laris had spoken her truth. "Therefore, it would seem that…you remain the most vulnerable of all of us."
He could see, in her eyes, that she knew that. She nodded gently.
"The most trusting, then," Jean-Luc added softly.
"If one of us is more vulnerable," Beverly said, "then it only means that…that's the one of us that's most protected."
Laris obviously liked this sentiment, and Beverly caught her face, exchanging a tender look with her that Jean-Luc thought was every bit as intimate as any kiss they might have shared.
"Laris hardly needs either of us for protection," Jean-Luc said. "She is quite capable."
"Sometimes, it's more about the sentiment than the need," Laris offered.
"Well, then, if that is the case, then the sentiment is doubled," Jean-Luc said. "I may have no true name to exchange with you, but I can offer you the promise that we will always do our best to make sure that you are protected from all harm."
She smiled.
"In exchange for your true names," she said, "I accept your true intentions. Now, we have to exchange our greatest fears. These should be the one thing that you truly fear most in the world. As with true names, we don't share each other's fear outside of our bond."
"For obvious reasons, really," Jean-Luc said.
"For the same reasons," Laris agreed. "Shall I start?"
Neither Beverly nor Jean-Luc minded that she went first. As Jean-Luc listened to her admit her greatest fear—the fear of being left truly alone, really, after coming from a society that was quite communal, since witnesses were the best way to avoid deception—he started to wonder if everyone, deep down, had the same fear. Nobody wanted to be alone—not truly alone—and tied to that was, of course, the loss of those that one truly loved, since it wasn't simply arbitrary company that people craved.
As Jean-Luc listened to Beverly echo Laris's sentiment with slightly different words, but exactly the same reality—I fear losing those that I love most and finding myself alone and without them—he started to be quite certain that the fear was universal and, if not universal among everyone in the world, at least universal among the members of their household.
So, when it came time to admit his own greatest fear, he laughed at the sentiment.
"I'm afraid I have nothing new or profound," he said. "Like both of you, my greatest fear is losing those that I love the most. For some time, that has meant, at least in my heart, losing Beverly." He smiled softly at Beverly. "Now—it extends to mean so much more, as my family grows."
They exchanged kisses, and Jean-Luc was pleased that, despite the gravity of the moment, the kisses they shared among the three of them were not serious at all. Everyone was in good spirits, and there was simply a feeling of happiness practically vibrating among them all.
"Is that the ceremony?" Beverly asked.
"There is one more part," Laris said. "The…well…I suppose it's really more or less translated to the act of balance."
She had placed, on their dresser, a plate. On the plate, there was a small cake of sorts, and a dagger. Beside it, there was a glass of water. Laris led them over to it.
"We each grasp the dagger with one hand," she said. "Essentially, all of us becoming one." They moved into place to do that, huddled together, and Jean-Luc found himself smiling at the shimmer of excitement and joy in Beverly's eyes. "We are allowed to make, together, three cuts. With those three cuts, we are to divide the…the cake…into three equal parts."
"How do we do that?" Beverly asked.
"That is for us to decide," Laris said.
"Well—if we cut the cake at these points," Jean-Luc said, drawing imaginary lines in the air with his finger, "then that should divide the cake into three equal portions."
"That would have to be precise," Beverly said, "for everything to be equal."
"I believe that's the challenge," Jean-Luc said.
"The challenge is—working together as one unit," Laris said. "If I could offer one secret? It will be best if we agree upon who should do the actual directing of the blade. That way, we are working together, allowing them to lead, instead of working against one another, with each of us trying to be in control. We should each offer at least one suggestion for how this should best be handled."
"Perhaps you should do it," Jean-Luc said. "You are the Romulan, and it is a Romulan ceremony. You've done it before, and you have some insight, perhaps, that we lack."
"I've told you what I know about the logistics of cutting the cake," Laris said.
"You are a leader, Jean-Luc, and you're used to making decisions to get desired results," Beverly offered. "Maybe you ought to lead us."
"You are a doctor. A surgeon. You're used to making cuts that are carefully considered and precisely executed," Laris said to Beverly.
"I agree," Jean-Luc said. "Beverly, you are the obvious choice, here."
Beverly nodded her agreement. She moved the dagger, and both Jean-Luc and Laris relaxed their hold on the handle to allow her to direct it as their hands all rested together. Once she was confident that she had the feel of it, despite the presence of their hands, she made the cuts and they placed the dagger back where it had been before.
"We chose what was best for our situation," Laris said. "For our bond. We won't always make the same decision, but we must strive to always make the best decision—valuing the input of each member of our bond."
Jean-Luc liked the sentiment. Honestly, his whole body responded to it. And, then, he noticed Beverly's disappointment.
"What is it?" He asked.
"It's not even," Beverly said. "The pieces are close, but they aren't even."
"Therein lies the second lesson of the challenge," Laris said. "Of course, I know the secrets, since I have been bonded before, but this is meant to teach us more than just working together and making the best choice for our family. Beverly—if I asked you to choose a piece of cake, and you chose the largest piece, I would let you have it, even if I wanted it for myself."
"Because your ultimate desire would be for Beverly's happiness," Jean-Luc said. "As would mine."
"But what if you wanted it?" Beverly challenged. "And I want you to be happy?"
"Just like we will not always make the same decision as we did with the dagger about who should lead us at any given moment, we will not always make the same decision about who should have what piece of cake. Some days, you may find that you don't want much cake at all. Others, you may both be ravenous, and I may find that satisfying your needs is important enough that I am willing to divide my own piece between you—so that each of you have more—and go without, knowing that there will be cake for me another day."
"I wouldn't dare let you go without," Jean-Luc interrupted. "There's plenty there."
Laris laughed quietly.
"The cake is metaphorical," Laris said. "There won't be cake every day. It's simply to say that…things will not always be even. In fact, perfect equality is arguably impossible. What's important is the balance of a lifetime. Each person gets what they need, when they need it. There will be imbalances. Jealousy and the like are not inherently evil. They are simply emotions. What's important is that we have truth in our bond, and we all feel comfortably communicating our needs, honestly, so that we can find a balance where everyone's needs are met."
"Essentially what any union should strive to do," Jean-Luc said.
"But one of the things that we often fail at in relationships," Beverly said. "Honestly? I like that we are all aware that…we need to be aware."
"Is there more to the ceremony?" Jean-Luc asked.
"You can eat the cake," Laris said with a laugh. "But—we have completed all the required parts of the ceremony. The rest is up to us. The ceremony is concluded, otherwise, and our bond is official—as long as we all agree that it is."
"Then, if I may introduce the idea of a common Terran practice to celebrate the closing of our bonding ceremony?" Jean-Luc asked.
"Of course," Laris said.
Jean-Luc picked up a piece of the cake, cupping his hand under it to minimize the amount of cleaning that they would have to do later.
"There is a practice, in some weddings, where the newlyweds feed each other cake," Jean-Luc said.
"I've seen that," Laris said. "You offer to feed them cake, and then you wipe it all over their face instead."
Jean-Luc laughed.
"Some people do that, yes," he said. "However, I do happen to know that the meaning behind the original practice was to feed each other as a declaration of your dedication to feeding—or providing for—and caring for your partner for as long as you live. Although I will gladly repeat the practice tomorrow, for the public demonstration to our friends, I would like to propose that we do that now, as a private promise of our dedication to caring for one another throughout all the years of our union."
"Jean-Luc…" Beverly said, clearly moved by the sentiment.
He laughed quietly.
"And for this reason, among others, we have handkerchiefs. Did you need another?"
"I have mine…somewhere," Beverly said.
Jean-Luc dropped his hand from its job as a crumb shield long enough to fish another handkerchief from his pocket and offer it to Beverly. She apologized for her tears, but was quickly soothed by both him and Laris.
"Here, my love," Jean-Luc said, offering the piece of cake to Beverly first. "With this—I promise to provide for you and take care of you for the rest of our lives." Beverly allowed him to feed her a small piece of the cake. He offered the same section of the cake out toward Laris. "Laris? I promise you no less."
Laris accepted a bite of the cake. She wasn't teary-eyed, like Beverly, but there was a particularly green hue to her cheeks that said she was processing everything her own way.
Beverly laughed quietly, took a piece of the cake—one of the not-quite-even thirds—and looked at it.
"Laris—I'll start with you, so you're not relegated to the position of 'you, too,' for the entire process," Beverly teased, giving Jean-Luc a look.
"If I did that, then I am truly sorry," Jean-Luc offered.
Laris laughed.
"I'm not offended," she said.
"Laris—I promise to provide for you and take care of you for the rest of our lives," Beverly said. After Laris had bitten the piece of cake, she offered it to Jean-Luc. "And I promise, Jean-Luc, to provide for you and care for you, as well, for the rest of our lives."
"Jean-Luc," Laris said, picking up the last piece of the little cake, "I promise to…to care for you and provide for you for as long as we live. And…Beverly? I promise to care for you and provide for you as long as we live."
"Well—now I can see I'm simply being upstaged," Jean-Luc said, laughing. He picked up the small piece of cake that he'd put down earlier. "Laris—please?" He smiled at her and offered the cake.
"Really—there's no need," she insisted.
"Honestly," Beverly said. "I was only teasing."
"I am well aware that you were teasing," Jean-Luc said. "And that there is no reason to do this, except, of course, that I need it for my own peace of mind. But, correct me if I'm wrong, isn't the goal of this entire thing to make sure that we all get what we need? If you would, Laris."
She nodded and accepted a small taste of the cake.
"I promise to provide for you, and to care for you, for the rest of our lives—not equally, since we've already determined that to be an impossibility—but in every way that you need or desire."
"Not that there was anything that needed to be improved upon," Laris offered. "But—I think that repaired any damage that might be imagined. The important question, I suppose, is do you feel better? Since it was your need, after all…"
"I feel much better," Jean-Luc said. "Now…what is the next step in our bonding ceremony?"
Laris shrugged and looked between Jean-Luc and Beverly.
"Consummation," she said. "Unless, of course, there is some other ritual that you would like to practice?"
"I'd like to go to the restroom and…freshen up," Beverly said.
"Me, too," Laris agreed.
Jean-Luc nodded.
"If I'm allowed to leave the protected sanctuary of the space," he said, "then I'll just…use the guest bathroom."
"Any of us may come or go as we please," Laris said. "It's just that nobody else is allowed. The entire thing should be private."
Jean-Luc laughed quietly.
"Oh—I agree that it ought to be quite private," he said. "I'll return shortly."
He stepped out of the room, leaving the women to freshen up, and headed for the bathroom that he'd been using since their arrival. He did his best to ignore that his pulse was quite fast and his knees felt a little less stable than he'd learned to rely on them to be.
As he stepped into the bathroom, he laughed at himself in the reflection of the mirror.
He was sure that he would have his anxiety under control, soon, and the absolute truth established in their bond meant that he could simply tell his partners that he was feeling nervous about the next step in their relationship.
He only had to work up the courage to do so by the time he returned the sanctuary of their bedroom.