You're a little out of breath when you make it to the top of the hill. It's a bit embarrassing how such a small climb has you winded like this but thankfully, nobody is there to witness you huffing and puffing except for the setting sun and the old oak gnarled with age. Severa elected to wait for you at the bottom of the hill with her pegasus instead of making the climb with you. Thank Naga for that. You love the scamp to death and all, but she would be utterly merciless with her teasing if she saw you now. You're not old, dang it!

"Hey." You sit yourself down at the base of the oak, right in front of the stone marker nestled comfortably in its trunk. The wording has faded with age and the weather, but if you squint, you can make out the name carved into the stone, a name that's as familiar to you as the back of your hand.

"Sorry I'm late. I've been busy as all hell lately."

You pause. You always have trouble figuring out what to say when it's just the two of you. There's just so much to tell her, and it's hard figuring out where to start.

A warm summer breeze plays gently across your face, tickling your nose and ruffling your hair. In the distance, you can hear Severa cooing softly to her pegasus.

"And before you ask, no, I wasn't moping away." You roll your eyes fondly and make yourself more comfortable- well, as comfortable as you can sitting on the ground. You thought about bringing a stool but quickly canned that idea since that would definitely have Severa making fun of you and your old bones.

"I really have been busy. Between mercenary work and the academy, I've barely got any time to myself. Laurent and Cynthia think that I can live entirely off a teacher's pension." You snort. "As if."

The warm breeze passes through the branches, and you take a second to close your eyes and listen to the sound of the leaves as they go shh, shh before settling again. The setting sun casts its light in long, solemn rays across your skin, whispers of warmth just ghosting by.

Shh, shh

You open your eyes and smile.

"So. What do you want to hear first?"

The Shepard's garrison is the last place in all of Ylisse you'd think would be an appropriate place to host a party. It's been turned into a bar of sorts after the war, but even so, there's still a lingering scent of sweat in the air and odd nicks in the stone wall that no amount of polish can completely cover up. But Cynthia was insistent on the venue and her miniature had vehemently agreed, outright refusing to host the five-year anniversary of the Justice Riders anywhere else but the garrison.

Justice Riders. Even now, the ridiculous name the three of them came up with has you shaking your head ruefully as you make your way through all the revelry going about you. Cynthia think's it's an awesome name, obviously. And it does have the added benefit of being easily memorable. There's not a kid in all of Ylisse who doesn't recognize the Justice Rider's colors or the riders themselves. You just can't believe how such a name made it past the board. Or Severa.

Pft, who are you kidding? She loves the name, the dork.

Speaking of which, just where is the squirt anyways? Usually, you can find her with the other Justice Riders, but the table with Kjelle and Cynthia strangely lacks her presence.

As you weave past the clamor and the hubbub of the crowd, neatly sidestepping a group of tipsy trainees, you finally spy Severa sitting by herself at a table in the corner. She's nursing a mug and a scowl and a familiar, rugged looking sketchbook that's seen much love and better days is open in front of her.

Huh. It's not like her to miss out on the festivities, especially one that's centered around the Justice Riders. You would know. In fact, she's so out of it that you're actually sitting down in front of her when she finally notices you, and she starts with a curse.

"Horse feathers! Drown me in a sack, Aunt Selena! When did you get here?"

You can't help the small smile that pops up when she calls you by your other name. At this point, she does it half out of habit, half out of respect. She's not stupid; by now, she knows your real name and who you really are. The physical similarities between the two of you are a good enough tell as it is, not to mention the tall tales that have sprung up ever since Grima's defeat. But she insists on calling you Aunt, and you really don't mind. Severa is her name now, just like how Selena is yours. Their names you've both earned.

"Hey there, squirt."

Severa's lips twitch at the nickname, the only warning you get, and she surprises you with a hug. You return it after a second with a chuckle and wry shake of your head. Even after the 23 years you've known each other, you're still caught off guard to how open she is compared to you. Maybe it has something to do with her upbringing, or maybe it's just the way she is. Well, heck, you're not complaining.

Once she pulls away, Severa gives you a quick once over. "You look good Aunt Selena," she says and then nods decisively as if satisfied with what she sees. "Lighter, if that makes any sense."

"Are you saying that I was fat before?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. By the way, is that gray I see in your hair?"

"What, no." You run a hand self-consciously through it. "It's dust!"

She snickers and you drop your hand with a scowl at her antics. "Kidding. It's good to see you haven't changed auntie."

You take the ribbing with an exaggerated sigh and shake your head, half exasperated, half amused. "You are so getting coal from me this Yuletide." She snickers some more and lifts her mug to you in mock salute. "This is the kind of greeting I get after all this time?"

"Says the person who thinks an appropriate greeting after a year apart is to hide her identity and fight her niece in a duel without any warning."

"Touche," you concede, and the two of you share matching smirks. "Though in my defense, I didn't know it was going to be you until you showed up. But forget that." You jerk a thumb back to the center of the pub. "What are you doing all the way over here? Party's over there, in case you've forgotten."

At the mention of the party, the smirk falls off her face and back into the scowl she was wearing earlier. She turns away and shrugs indifferently- or what she thinks is indifferent, but acting has never been a strong suit for either of you, so it comes off more huff-puff than stoic.

"Psh, you can barely call this little get together a party." She turns back to her notebook and flips a few pages forward. "It's more like the family friendly version minus all the fun stuff. Honestly, I'm only here because Noire wanted to go."

You have to raise your eyebrow because that's a bald faced lie if you ever heard one. You know from Cynthia's gossiping that Severa loves these anniversary celebrations more than anything, even shopping (which is a sin, hello, nothing beats a shopping spree! But you also love her so you can forgive her too). She plans weeks ahead of time what to wear, what to bring, and generally drives everyone else up the wall with her micromanaging.

The way she's acting now is the same way you act when you have something else on your mind, scowls and deflections and all that. Whatever it is though, you haven't a clue, and you'd have an easier time forcing Cynthia to give up on heroic posing than convincing her to spill the beans.

So instead, you drop the subject and try a different approach. "Then how about dancing? Everyone else is dancing."

She shoots you a look that can only be described as, 'really'? "I don't dance."

Right on cue, a blur comes bounding out of the crowd and lands next to Severa.

"Selena!" Noire gives you an excited hug when she sees you, a cheerful flush in her cheeks and a thrilled glint in her eyes. She's dressed in a pretty green gown, and you notice out of the corner of your eye how quickly Severa cheers up at the sight of her, the scowl on her face cracking back into a smile. "I'm so glad you could make it! How are you? Oh!" She claps her hands, suddenly remembering something. "Before that, how did the charm work for you?"

You lift up your sword so that she can see it, rattling the small talisman attached to the hilt. "Works like a song. Thanks again for it."

"Of course!" She nods enthusiastically, the fay feather in her circlet bobbing precariously with the motion and you wonder if she's tipsy or just drunk off the atmosphere. Before you can ask, she turns her attention to her partner, lighting up even further, if possible. "Severa!" she places a hand over hers and tugs and the smile that follows on Severa's face is definitely involuntary. "Come dance with me!"

Severa looks away, still smiling. "Oh, I don't know…"

"Please?" Noire asks with an earnest look that has the combined emotional impact of ten puppies all begging for a treat and oh yeah, Severa's definitely a goner.

"Oh all right," she concedes and fondly rolls her eyes when Noire cheers. "But later. I need to finish up these designs, but I'll save a dance for you before the night is over."

"Promise?"

Severa raises their intertwined hands to her lips. "Promise."

"I'll hold you to that!" With that, she gets up to join Inigo and Cynthia shamble on the dance floor. Severa watches her go with a fond smile. Then she catches the sight of your raised eyebrows and smug grin.

"Oh shut up." She rolls her eyes and tosses the sketchbook at you. You catch it easily enough and flip over to the designs she was talking about, smirk still in place as you peruse the drawings. Oh wow. Some of these are pretty good. One armor design also looks eerily similar to the one you wore in your time away.

"Cynthia still wants to use your armor designs for the Justice Riders?" you ask as you continue browsing her works.

"Yeah. She's been harping on me for the past few weeks to hurry it up so that we can get estimates for costs before the end of the year."

"Mhm. And what did you tell her?"

"That she can either wait a little longer for the perfect armor design or she can go around fighting 'the forces of evil,'" Severa makes sarcastic air quotes, "in a burlap sack dressed like a hayseed. Her choice."

"Atta girl," you say proudly, and Severa preens a bit at the compliment.

You turn the page over, idly perusing the other drawings as she goes back to fiddling listlessly with her mug. There are some more armor designs, a few crossed out with large frustrated X's, a couple circled. What else, what else… You notice that a few of the sketches are of people. You see her father in one, her mother in another, one of the Justice Riders posed together, quite a bit of Noire with various candid expressions on her face and-

Huh. You frown and bring the book closer to your face. You don't recognize the boy and girl drawn on the last page of the book, but there's just something about them that has you pausing in consideration. They look maddeningly familiar… But you have no idea why. You clear your throat to get her attention and ask, "Who are the kids?"

Severa glances up from her drink. And then promptly sprays it all over the table.

Okay then. Not what you were expecting.

"Oh my gawdsssss." Severa wipes at her chin and dives for the book. "You weren't supposed to see that!" she hisses.

"I'm hurt," you say dryly, darting backward and she overshoots, hitting her hand awkwardly against the bench. You try not to smirk at the pained swearing that ensues. "After all we've been through?"

"Oh so sorry," she bites back, not sounding the least bit sorry. "Let me rephrase: NOBODY was supposed to see that picture, least of all you!"

"Oh, well that makes it all better. Not. I'm touched that you thought of me specifically though. Touched."

"Great then you can give it BACK!" You scoot further back, and she makes another desperate swipe. "GiveitbackgiveitbackrightNOW!"

"Uh, no." You easily duck another swipe. "Not until you tell me just who the children are in the pic."

"Nobody! They're-," she growls and makes another unsuccessful pass, "absolutely nobody, gawds!"

"Uh huh. You're not planning on committing a kidnapping anytime soon, are you?"

"Okay, one, don't be an idiot and two, you can't kidnap people that don't even exist!"

That gets you to stop moving. "What?"

Severa snatches the book back, her face scrunched up in embarrassment. "I said, you can't kidnap them because they don't exist!"

You blink a few times, attempting to parse the meaning of her sentence. "Sooo… you're saying…"

"Do I have to spell it out for you? They're not real! I made them up, alright?!"

The pitch of her voice turns even higher at the end of her sentence and if not for the band playing in the center of the pub, you're sure a few heads would've turned at the outburst. But nobody notices, and you're the only one who gapes dumbly at Severa, who is steadily turning redder and redder under your gaze.

There's an awkward pause between the two of you. Severa is the one to break it first.

"I suppose now you're going to ask me just why on Naga's good earth I have that drawing in my sketchbook in the first place," she says, tone defensive and gaze evasive. How many times have you seen that before?

Well… you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious. But…

"Only if you feel comfortable sharing."

At your assurance, Severa's shoulders relax a fraction, though her expression is conflicted. She opens her mouth a few times before finally letting out a resigned sigh.

"You'd find out sooner or later…" She sighs again and turns to you. "What I tell you, you can't breathe a word to anyone else, got it?"

"Of course."

"I mean it! You can't tell anyone. Not even Noire."

Now that surprises you because one, Severa never keeps secrets from her girlfriend unless they're utterly humiliating secrets and two, lying to Noire is like trying to lie to a puppy, and you'll just feel like a jerk. But hey, you promised, so you stick out your pinky and say, "sister swear."

The last of the tension seeps out of her shoulders, and she gratefully links pinkies with you. "Thanks." She takes a second to compose herself and lets out an aggravated puff of air. "Gawds, I can't believe I'm about to admit to this." She takes the book and flips it to the page with the kids. "First off, who do they look like to you?"

You peer down again at the picture and take in as much as you can, like the posture of the girl, a hand cocked on her hip and a scowl on her face as the boy hangs a little behind her, slightly hunched over and a nervous look in his eyes. And damn, if it's not on the tip of your tongue but you just can't place a finger on it!

"I don't know," you finally admit after a minute of silence. "Long lost cousins of ours, maybe?"

Severa grunts. "Close," she says and then mutters something beneath her breath that you can't quite make out.

"Say again?"

Severa groans. "They're-what-I-think-my-children-would-look-like-okay?!"

You blink. "Oh." And then your brain makes the connection to what she said and- "wait, they're WHAT?!"

"Shhh!" Severa motions furiously at you, her face once again a frantic red. "A little louder, why don't you? I think there's a deaf mage in Plegia who didn't hear you!"

"Yeah, okay. Right. Sorry." The apology is more an automatic response. Right now, you can barely string a coherent sentence together with how caught off guard you are. Children? CHILDREN? And just like that, your brain shuts down. Again. "Right, sorry."

Severa huffs, but she seems slightly mollified by your apology, though her entire face is still redder than her mother's hair. You scratch the back of your head and feel the heat rising from your neck. What do you say after something like that?

"So um…" you tap the picture and ask, "they're… you know. You and Noire's…?"

Your question elicits the most scathing look ever from Severa, and you immediately feel like an idiot for asking such a stupid question. "No actually, they're the imaginary love children I conceived between me and Inigo, gawds, OF COURSE ME AND NOIRE, WHO ELSE?!"

"Alright, sorry, stupid question! No need to yell my ear off!"

Severa groans, changing moods faster thank you can keep up. "I can't believe you made me say the words Inigo and love children in the same damn sentence. Gawds, you must think I'm crazy."

"What? No!" She stares disbelievingly back at you, and you backtrack. "Okay, maybe a little. But it's not that crazy. I mean," you laugh, "it's not like you're thinking of asking her to marry you, right? Now that'd be crazy nuts!"

There's a disquieting silence from Severa's end. You stop laughing immediately.

"Oh my gods."

Severa groans again at your oath and drops her onto the table with a meaty thud. "Just kill me now. I don't care how you do it. Just do it now, oh my gawdsssssssss."

All you can do is stare dumbly back at her. This time, you're completely out of words to say. What can you say? Even now, after the years and all the trials the two of you have been through, you're still surprised at just how different the two of you are.

Well… maybe not that different.

The party has winded down somewhat, but there are still a few pockets of people enjoying themselves on the floor with varying amounts of energy in their step. In the center, you can see Noire, clapping and laughing freely, as Owain and Laurent trip over themselves in an attempt at dancing.

Memories of a similar dance and that same free laughter come flowing into your mind, like a warm summer breeze. You remember a time when you shared similar feelings as Severa, just as strong, just as real.

And you realize she's not crazy. She's just stupid. Stupid in love.

With a sigh, you take off your gloves. "Severa, look at me."

Severa grudgingly lifts her head from the table, a scowl on her lips and scathing remark on her tongue. The remark dies when she sees your hand outstretched in front of her, your tarnished silver ring in the palm of your hand. Her ring.

"What are you-?"

"Quiet," you cut her off, and she quickly clamps her mouth shut, eyes wide in anticipation. "If it were anyone else, I'd be a responsible adult and say something silly, like… I dunno, you're too young, or you've got your whole life ahead of you, blah, blah, blah."

You pause and take a deep breath. "But you're your own person, and I trust you, and your feelings. You wouldn't consider something like this unless you really, really meant it. And I see the way you two look at each other. It's like…like…" you trail off.

"Like we've been a part of each other, in this life and another," Severa finishes quietly, as if to herself, and you feel your heart stop for a beat because even though it's been so long, it still just hurts at moments like this.

As if realizing she said it out loud, Severa flushes and coughs into her hand. "I-I mean," she stammers, "o-or something."

And now you can breathe again. "Or something," you quietly agree. "Just… promise me one thing."

"What?"

The ring feels so heavy in your hands. "If… and I'm saying if. Huge, gigantic if. If you have to say your goodbyes one day," you hold up your hand as she starts to protest. "If you have to say your goodbyes one day… promise me you won't regret the memories you could've made." There's a hitch in your voice, and you clear you throat to get rid of it. "Instead, remember the memories you already have. Keep going, for both your sakes."

In your mind's eye, you feel a warm hand on your arm, a laugh and a smile. That same hand slowly turns pale, bloodless in your pleading grasp, slowly slipping away. Don't go. Please. Don't leave me.

"I promise."

You snap out of the memory with a jolt. Severa stares straight back at you, gazing so intently that she has to be looking at your soul. The earlier embarrassment from the night is gone, replaced only with a solemn conviction.

"I promise," she says again, sticking out her hand and you believe her. How can you not? You know that look in her eyes, the same one that says I understand. "I promise that if anything happens, that I'll keep going and live, for both our sakes."

Not so different after all.

You let out a breath you didn't know you had been holding, and the hurt earlier seems to lessen into something bearable. "That's all I need to know," you whisper, and your hand turns over, and the ring falls from your hand, straight into hers.

There's no fanfare when you let it go, no sudden explosion of feeling or weighty revelation. But the weight in your heart suddenly lightens. With a pop, the sounds of the ongoing party come rushing back. You suddenly feel like laughing, and you do once you catch a look at the stunned expression on Severa's face as she stares at the ring in her hand.

"Relax, squirt, you look like you're about to have a stroke," you sling an arm around her shoulder, and it's a testament to how out she is that she doesn't even bother to break away. "Maybe I should call Libra to check if you still have a pulse," you joke.

"That's…probably a good idea," she says faintly.

"Ha!" You snicker but then stop when there's no reaction from her. "Wait, you're not seriously having a stroke are you?"

"What? No, don't be stupid," she gets up from the table, still looking distractedly at a point past your shoulder. "I just need you to call the priest." Before you can ask her what for, she adds, "because I think I'm about to do something very, very crazy."

"What do you mean craz-," and then you stop dead in your tracks as it hits you. Your jaw drops. For the second time that night, your brain shuts down. "Now?!" you hiss in disbelief. "You're going to do this now?!"

"You gave me the ring, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah, but I meant it for when the time is right or something!"

Severa runs a hand distractedly, nervously through her hair. "No time like the present," is her glib response, which is hardly comforting. "No time like now."

"Now hold on-!" you start to say, lifting a hand to stop her. But then you pause. You can tell she's not listening to you, her focus entirely on the middle of the room.

And what can you say? You said you trusted her, and you'd be a hypocrite to try and talk her out of it. And it's not like you haven't felt the same way before. Even now, you can remember that same nervousness, that dizzying rush of hope and anticipation that led you to a similar decision. The same decision she's going to make.

"Oh what the hell." You let your hand fall. You can't believe you're about to let this happen. You're a terrible adult. "I'll get Libra."

Severa nods once, gratefully, and begins to move away. You stop her. "Wait a sec." You take out your handkerchief and wipe her face with it, and then you adjust her shirt collar, smoothing out the creases. This is what you're supposed to do… right? Honestly, you have no idea what you're doing other than it seems like the right thing to do at the moment…Maybe.

Severa seems to come to the same conclusion, looking at you strangely as you fuss. "What are you doing?"

"I dunno. Being a good aunt, I dunno. Shut up." You give her collar one last smooth and then move to her hair, sweeping the bangs to the side. She could use a haircut, but there's no time. You're just going to have to do the best you can with what you have.

"When you ask her, make sure to look her in the eye. Don't stutter, don't repeat yourself, don't blink and for the love of the gods, don't drop the ring because I will skin you if you do. But I promise to skin you after she says yes so you can at least pass on to the next life happy."

Severa rolls her eyes, but the empty threat seems to bring back some of her old sardonic manners because she remarks back, "Don't worry. I'm not you, remember?"

"Oh shut it." You tap her on the shoulder and then shove her forward, an exasperated smirk playing on your lips. "And good luck, squirt."

She stumbles forward, rights herself, and waves back to you without looking, her gaze focused entirely in front of her on the dance floor.

Without warning, she cuts in between Noire and Laurent and she picks the archer up by the waist, twirling with the momentum. Noire shrieks, first in surprise, then in delight as the two dissolve into excited laughter while the mage steps back with a good-natured smile.

Somebody in the back plays out a note on the fiddle, and the band begins a new song, this one slower and deeper. Severa sets her down, and the two begin a slow twirl, arms encircled around each other's waist. Noire leans down, touches their foreheads together and whispers something only Severa can hear in her ear. She simply smiles in response, one of the most serenely content smiles you've ever seen her make.

With a soft smile of your own, you get up from the table and make your way over to the exit. There's no need for you to stay because you know how it's going to play out. Besides, Severa will chew your ear out if Libra's not here to witness everything.

Just as you reach the door, a surprised gasp comes from the crowd behind you and well, maybe you can't stop yourself from taking just a tiny peek back.

Severa is on her knees with her hand outstretched, and the look on her face is torn between hopeful and absolutely petrified. Noire stands just a fraction away, hands cupped over her mouth, eyes wide, staring wordlessly at the ring in the palm of Severa's hand. She doesn't make a sound, not even a squeak; she only nods furiously, over and over again, tears streaming from her eyes and with that, Severa's expression melts into an ecstatic grin that's wide enough to split her face into two. Noire sniffles and laughs, all at the same time, and then throws her arms around her. The two of them go tumbling head over heels to the ecstatic cheers and whooping of the crowd.

You turn away, the soft smile still on your face, and close the door behind you.

"And then, get this, she ended up buying everyone a round plus extra!" you snicker, as you remember what happened after. "You should've seen the look on her face when she got the bill! It was all-!" You try to think of a word but for some reason, you're drawing a blank at the moment, so you just gesture with your hand. She knows what you mean.

"Oh and uh, sorry for giving away your Mom's ring without asking you first. It was a spur of the moment sort of thing, you know? But…"

You place a hand on the worn marker, slowly tracing the faded letters, and smirk. "I think, if you were there, you would have done the same thing. Am I right?"

There's no answer, save for the setting sun on your back. There's still enough light that you can feel its lingering warmth on the stone marker. You look away for a second, watching it sink lower into the horizon, and the smile slowly fades from your lips.

"You should've been there."

A sudden cool gust of wind blows past you and ruffles your hair in silent admonishment. The leaves on the tree rustle disapprovingly.

"Okay, okay! I get it, no moping," you huff, straightening your hair back into place. "See? No frowns."

The gust tapers down into a light breeze.

"So then, what else do you want to know. Hmmm… Oh!"

"The wedding!"

Despite the wedding being at least another few hours away, Severa already looks about ready to cry. Whether they're tears of happiness or frustration well, you'll have to wait and see.

"No, no, no! Listen here, soup for brains!" She jabs a menacing finger in the terrified messenger boy's face, looking absolutely intimidating even in her white and green wedding dress that's fit for royalty. "I don't care if they're long lost cousins how many times removed, if they didn't get an invitation, they're not allowed in. Secondly, get rid of the piñata because if Noire didn't order it, I didn't order it, then NOBODY ordered it, and the last thing we need is Cynthia or Owain to get their hands on it. And lastly, where in the blue hell are my slippers because if I have to wear these heels for a second more, I will make you EAT THEM!"

Definitely the latter then.

"You should probably go," you cut in edgewise, when Severa pauses for breath, and the messenger boy doesn't even need to be told twice. After his afterimage fades, you turn back to Severa, who is still fuming like a smokestack. Seriously. You can practically see the steam pouring out of her ears. "Congratulations," you say dryly, "I think you just made a grown man cry."

Severa snaps her glare to you and snorts derisively. "Hmph! As if it's my fault the caterers are incompetent! It's obvious; if I say be here at noon, they should be here half an hour before then! And don't even get me started on the interior decorators!"

"Severa."

"What!"

"Severa," you say again, this time injecting a bit of your mother into your voice. It has the desired effect. Severa glares at your for a second longer before visibly deflating, shoulder's slumping over.

"Maybe I overreacted a bit," she admits quietly.

"Maybe," you concede, gesturing for her to sit down at the vanity. You pick up the brush and take a handful of her hair and begin smoothing out the edges. It's getting long, but the white sheen she inherited from Henry lends a shimmery quality to it that goes nicely with her bridal veil, so the length stays. Severa hums contentedly as you brush. "Still though, that was a pretty nasty tongue lashing for someone who just came to tell you that the quiches are done."

Severa groans in embarrassment. "That's what he said? Gawds, all I heard was something about Cynthia and Owain and pinatas."

"Yeah, that was him telling you that they wanted to stuff the piñata full of quiches since they ran out of candy like, an hour ago."

Severa groans again, and you pause in your brushing to pat her consolingly on the shoulder. "Chin up, squirt. Compared to how they usually act, this is like a walk in the park."

"I know that!" Severa snaps, though not at you. If anything, she seems more frustrated at herself than anybody else. "I know that these things happen, and I'm used to dealing with them! I know how to deal with them!"

"But…?"

"But…" Severa works her mouth for a few seconds, and when no words come forth, she gives up and slumps in the chair. "I don't know," she concedes quietly, "maybe it's just everything coming together at this moment and all the crazy stuff that's lead up to it."

You remain quiet and continue to brush her hair. After a moment, Severa sighs.

"I just want today to go perfectly."

You snort before you can stop yourself. "Don't worry so much." You smirk at the incredibly disbelieving look she gives you in the mirror. "If there's anything I learned about my own life, it's that nothing is ever perfect, and it won't do you any good to pull your hair out over it."

"Really," she turns around to look at you, half disbelieving, half amused, "nothing is perfect? Not even you?"

You snort again; glad to see that she's back to her usual, sarcastic self. "Watch it, squirt. Thing's may not be perfect, but they can come pretty damn close to it. Like today for instance."

Severa tilts her head, looking genuinely curious as she takes in your statement. "What makes you say that?"

You wink at her. "I just do." You put down the brush, and the two of you admire your handiwork in the mirror. A picture perfect job if you say so yourself and judging by the pleasantly surprised look on Severa's face, she seems to agree. "Take it from someone who knows.

There's a knock at the door, and Cordelia sticks her head in, looking harried though the expression softens into a pleased smile when she sees the two of you. "Ah, I thought you'd be here, Selena. They need your help in the other bride's room. Some sort of situation involving an explosion and a piñata filled with quiches, I believe?"

You roll your eyes. Of course the dork squad would manage to turn something so silly into something so catastrophic. Of course. "I'm on my way," you hand the brush over to Cordelia, before turning to address Severa. "Think you can hold it together while I'm gone?"

She sniffs haughtily and crosses her arms. "I've been doing fine so far, haven't I?" she says, smirking back at you.

"Atta girl."

On your way to Noire's room, you're hampered at least a dozen times by various people coming and going in your path. In the main foyer of the church, Henry directs helpers to different locations, cackling delightedly when he spots you, and you return it with a quick wave and a smile. In a corner near the altar, Cynthia paces nervously back and forth while Kjelle, looking slightly put out at being forced into a dress, stares stonily at the wall, practicing her bridesmaid speech under her breath.

Soon, you reach the quiet hall where Noire is. Just outside her doors are a man and a woman, their backs turned to you, waiting patiently.

"I'm here, what's the prob-" is what you start to say. But then it dies out when they turn towards you and you stop dead in your tracks.

It's them. It's them.

Her mother regards you coolly, without a trace of any sort of expression on her face. She doesn't seem surprised to see you and you wonder if she somehow set this up, to catch you when you were least expecting it. If that's the case, it's working, judging by the cold churning in your stomach. Gods. You haven't seen the two of them since…

Since the funeral.

Her mother hadn't said a word or uttered any sort of cry of anguish. She only held onto her husband's hand as she watched their child being slowly set down into the earth. She was shaking, tears streaming furiously from her eyes but no sound escaped her lips.

You should have gone over to them, said something, anything. But you couldn't. It all felt empty to you right then. It was your fault. If you were smarter or stronger or a better person, she'd still be alive. It's your fault, your fault, all your-

Her father suddenly clears his throat, and you try not to jump a mile at the noise. If he notices, he doesn't make any comment. Instead, he sticks his hand out.

"It's… Selena now. Correct?"

The fact that he willingly offers his hand out to you surprises you more than anything. "R-right." Gingerly, you take his hand and shake. Any minute now, he'll drop it, drop the act. He'll curse you, scream at you, ask you why you couldn't have saved her, saved their daughter.

He doesn't. Your surprise turns into shock as he actually shakes it back and smiles at you. An actual smile. You try not to gape.

"I see. It's been too long. Far too long." He lets go but the smile is still there and just as genuine and fond. "Glad to see you're looking well."

"I- thanks," you mumble, not sure if he's simply being polite or if he actually means it. "You too." There are more wrinkles in the corner of his face than you remember and the gray flecks in her hair are more prominent than the last time you saw. But overall, they look…peaceful. Well, he does at least. She hasn't stopped staring, and it's impossible to gauge her feelings with that blank expression.

The feeling in your stomach is still there, and you can feel it creeping into the rest of your body, choking you. You briefly debate making a run for it, but you quickly quash that idea because running isn't what you do. Not anymore.

"Is Noire inside?" you ask after an awkward pause. "Mo-Cordelia said there was some sort of situation."

"Ah yes," for some reason, he looks uncomfortable, "actually…"

"That was a lie," she finally speaks up, and it takes all your courage not to jump out of your skin when she addresses you. "There is no situation."

The panic leaps into your throat, but you master it with a breath. No running away. It takes a few seconds, but when you feel a little more grounded, you're feeling brave enough to keep speaking. "Then why-?"

She tilts her head and replies, "We thought," she begins then pauses. "We thought you'd like to spend some time alone with her. One more time."

It hits you then, and your eyes widen in shock as the implications of what she said set in. No. That's impossible. Some wounds stay open even after time; you're sure of it. It's not so simple as letting them heal by themselves.

"I-I don't," you stammer, not even sure what you're trying to say. She simply stares back at you, dark hooded eyes unreadable.

Words, use words. Another breath and they wait patiently for you.

"May…May I?" you whisper pleadingly, desperately.

It's a request and a plea for forgiveness, all wrapped in one. She moves forward, and you stiffen, but all she does is place a hand on your arm and look you directly in the eyes.

"Child," she says, and there's no trace of anger or blame in her voice, just a steady warmth, "of course you may. You have every right to."

She has to be lying. There's no other possibility. Any second now, she'll change her mind. And yet, a small part of you can't help but nurture the tiniest sliver of hope.

"You'd let me?"

She moves back, fixing you with an understanding look that reminds you so much of her that for a second, they blur together.

"Of course, child. You are as much a part of our family as she is a part of yours."

And you can tell, by the look in her eyes and the warmth in his smile, that they never blamed you, not once and a part inside your chest just shifts. Suddenly, you feel yourself fighting back tears, and you swipe hastily at your eyes because the last thing you want to do now is make a scene.

"Thank you," you whisper, and it comes out more choked than you like, but you mean it with all your being. "I…thank you. Thank you."

She surprises you with a smile, albeit a small one, but a smile nonetheless and simply nods before moving to the side. "Go," she gestures to the door, "she's waiting for you."

You nod, not trusting yourself for words at the moment. You place a hand on the knob and close your eyes, reining your emotions back in control. Once you feel some semblance of yourself again, you take a deep breath and open the door.

The inside isn't much different from Severa's room, and you see Noire sitting at the vanity at the far end, staring absently at her reflection in the mirror with an almost dreamy sort of expression. She looks up when you close the door and immediately breaks into a smile.

"Selena!" she gets up and hitches her dress, a gorgeous gossamer gown of white with red trimmings, and makes her way to you. She gives you an enthusiastic hug, and you catch a familiar scent of cinnamon and pine. "I was wondering when I'd get to see you! I didn't think Severa would ever let you escape."

You're still recovering from the encounter with her parents, so the chuckle you give her is a little weak, though no less sincere. "Well, somebody told her there was some sort of piñata explosion happening here, so she gave me permission to leave. But it looks like you have everything handled pretty well."

"Oh, do you mean the incident earlier with Owain and Cynthia? There was a bit of a kerfuffle with a small fire and the quiches, but that's under control now."

To you, that sounds a lot bigger than just a little incident, but Noire's expression remains placid and dreamy, so you raise your eyebrows and remark, "Uh huh. You seem awfully calm about all this."

"To tell you the truth, I was panicking a bit earlier," she replies blithely, and that certainly explains the oddly serene expression of hers, "but I think I've transcended from panic into a higher state of being from all the chaos. Besides," she laughs and throws her hands up in the air, "I'm getting married!"

You can't help the smile that forms on your face at her infectious excitement. "Yes, yes you are. But not for another couple hours at least. Last I checked, we're still waiting on those quiches." At the crestfallen look on her face, you hasten to add, "But in the meantime, while we wait, why don't we do something nice to that hair of yours?"

Noire gasps in delight as if you had just offered her the entirety of the Ylissean treasury and then some to her. "Oh, would you? I'd love that!"

"Settle down then," you say, gesturing to the chair and she quickly complies, and eagerly hands you the brush with all the enthusiasm of a child being gifted a Yuletide present. "But before that," you gesture to her circlet and the fay feather tucked in there, "You mind if I take that out for a second? I promise," you chuckle as she visibly hesitates, "we can put it back as soon as I'm done."

After a second, she nods and takes it off, gently depositing it on the vanity. You pick up the brush and smooth out her locks before beginning to brush.

"I'm surprised you still have that musty, old thing," you jokingly remark as Noire relaxes and starts to hum underneath her breath. "Don't you think it's time to make Severa get you a new one?"

Noire giggles. "I should, shouldn't I?" she agrees, eyes sparkling mischievously. "But I'm afraid I can't do that. Not yet at least. Severa said I should only give it away when I've made enough happy memories with it to last me a lifetime."

That brat, taking the words right out of your mouth and stealing your lines to make herself look cool. What a loser. You shake your head and ask, "Well, then, how about today? Where does your wedding day rate on the scale of happy memories?"

Noire sighs dreamily. "Oh, I don't think there's any scale big enough for today. There's just so many feelings inside me that I'm fit to burst."

"Really? That happy?"

"Even more," Noire says in all seriousness. She seems to think a bit before adding, "Honestly, it's very cliché, but… I'm so happy right now that I could die tomorrow and be content with the memories we've made."

To your credit, your hand falters for only a fraction of a second. Your heart though, stutters painfully for that second but thankfully, Noire doesn't notice. You take a deep breath. Focus. It's just a slip of the tongue. She doesn't mean anything by it.

"That's- that's not something a bride should say on her wedding day," you scold weakly, your voice somehow managing to come out of you with only a hint of a waver.

But Noire emphatically shakes her head. "But it's true!" She stares fiercely into the mirror, and you freeze as she looks you directly in the eye. "I could die tomorrow, and my only regret would be that I wouldn't be able to tell Severa just how beautiful she's made my life."

The brush clatters to the ground, right out from you numb fingertips and you stumble onto your knee. You can feel you heart thudding in your chest, a painful beat as she utters the few words you thought you'd never hear.

You can't breathe. A choked sob rips out of your throat.

Noire turns around, her quizzical expression turning into one of mild alarm. "Selena? Selena, are you alright? Should I call a doctor?"

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak at the moment. A few stray tears leak out from the corner of your eyes, but you make no move to brush them away. You put a hand over your mouth to stop the sobs from coming out.

A warm hand slides into your own. Noire simply holds on without saying a word, and you take the anchor gratefully. The pain in your chest is ripping, but it's a real pain, a soothing pain that fills you with relief, and you relish in it.

Her happiness. That's all you ever wanted to know. That's all you ever wanted.

After a few more moments, you feel your breaths evening out and slowly, you come back to your senses. When you look up, Noire stares back at you, worry written all over her face.

"S-sorry. Didn't mean to scare you like that." You let go of her hand and try to give her your best reassuring smile. "What you said just reminded me of someone, that's all."

Noire looks down guiltily. "O-oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dredge up any painful memories."

You laugh, and she starts in surprise. "Just the opposite in fact. Those are some of the best memories I've ever made." You laugh again at the confused expression on her face. Gods, you just feel so light right now, like you could walk on air! She was happy. You made her happy. "Seriously, I'm fine. Don't worry about me." You pick up the brush again and gesture back to her hair. "Let's get back to making you look beautiful."

After a pause, Noire nods with a hesitant smile, and you tackle her hair with the brush with renewed vigor. This time, you're the one who can't stop smiling like a fool.

"Oh and Noire?" She looks back to you inquisitively. "About what you said about not being able to tell Severa just how happy she made you," you say, and she nods. "You don't have to worry. Something tells me she already knows. And something tells me she feels the same."

A spark lights up in her eyes. "Truly?"

You wink at her, and the smile that follows afterwards is the most genuine one you've had on your face in years. "Positive. Take it from someone who knows."

Noire is silent for a little moment longer. Then she looks up at you and smiles. "You know, I think you're right!" She chuckles a bit. "You know her best, after all. Thank you, Selena."

"Anytime."

Noire giggles again. "Severa was right, you know? She said that you have a knack for saying the right thing at the right time."

"Well, duh! I've got a dozen years' worth of experience on that greenhorn."

Noire's smile turns knowing as she asks, "Then, do you have any other kernels of wisdom to share for her bride-to-be?"

You pretend to think for a second. "Just one. Severa says she won't cry during the vows. If it goes anything like how mine did, she totally will, and it'll be a scene. Think you can do something about it?"

"I think I can come up with something. I'm going to be her wife, after all!"

Later, during the ceremony, you get to see what Noire really meant. She manages to get through them with barely a hitch in her tranquil expression. Severa, on the other hand, can barely blubber out her own, 'I do,' despite her earlier assurances of no tears. Just as she's on the verge of losing all semblance of composure, Noire steps forward and in an uncharacteristically bold move, she takes Severa by the waist, dips her forward, and kisses her soundly on the lips. There are few good-natured chuckles and somebody in the back wolf whistles.

When the two finally break apart, Noire's expression remains largely the same. Severa's, on the other hand, is flushed so red that steam looks about ready to waft off her face, but there's no hiding the absolute joy and happiness in her expression.

Not exactly what you had in mind, you think wryly as you discreetly wipe away a few tears of you own. But close enough.

"And then they brought out the cake! Nearly as big as the one we had, remember? Ours was definitely tastier, but theirs was alright too. Oh, I should bring some next time! Severa gave me the address for the baker she used. I know you'll love it. That frosting is to die for, I swear."

The sky is a fiery orange above you, and your throat is sore from talking so much, but you don't want to stop. There's still so much you haven't told her, so much that you still want to say. So much more. Even now, you feel like there's not enough time. But you don't mind as much anymore.

"That's it for now," you say after a reluctant lull. "If I keep Severa waiting any longer, her pegasus is going to throw a fit. Seriously, that thing is a handful." You laugh at a sudden recollection. "Oh, remind me next time I'm here to tell you about the time her pegasus got so angry it ate her shoes, alright? It's a hilarious story."

The tree groans agreeably in the breeze, and the branches whisper soothingly in your ear. You get up with a smile and place a hand on the marker. The stone is still warm beneath your hands, familiar and comforting.

"I love you."

When you get to the bottom of the hill, Severa is waiting for you, standing next to her pegasus and cooing softly to it. She looks up at the sound of your approach and smiles.

"You finished?"

"All done." You hitch a leg over her pegasus, and she follows suit, slipping fluidly into the saddle with the ease of a professional. Her pegasus paws at the ground impatiently, eager to be off. You pat it gently on the side. "Sorry for taking so long."

"No worries. Noire made snacks for the both of us to tide us over until dinner." She takes up the reins in her hand and looks back at you expectantly.

"So. Home?"

You nod and breathe in one last time. There's a hint of pine and a dash of cinnamon on the breeze. You close your eyes and let it wash over you.

"Let's go home."

"It was a parting in which a good bye becomes a thank you." - Takeuchi Sachiko