Chapter 76: Ch 76: The Ceremony in the Grass

Ch 76: The Ceremony in the Grass

The sun slid past the highest point in the sky, beginning its lazy afternoon descent. Its light poured over the south meadow like warm honey, setting the long grass aglow and making the petals of a thousand wildflowers seem to pulse with colour. The big oak tree at the meadow’s edge cast a deep, dappled shadow that crept slowly across the ground. It was time.

They gathered by the willow-lined stream, their secret congregation buzzing with suppressed excitement.

Orion stood beneath the willow’s longest branch, which he had decided would serve as the ceremonial arch. He felt a faint, ridiculous flutter of nerves. He was to officiate a wedding. He smoothed down his simple linen shirt, trying to adopt an appropriately solemn expression, but the corners of his mouth kept wanting to twitch upwards.

Millie was the stage manager. She had directed everyone with fierce, whispered intensity. "Quiet! They’ll hear you from the manor! This is a *secret* holy thing!"

She had used her boot to scrape a shallow, neat aisle through the grass, leading from the edge of the oak’s shadow right up to where Orion stood. It was about four feet long. It was perfect.

Toben had outdone himself with the flowers. He hadn’t just picked a few. He had created arrangements. Bunches of purple clover and white daisies were tied with blades of grass and placed at intervals along the makeshift aisle. A larger, lopsided bouquet of buttercups, bluebells, and one slightly wilted dandelion rested at the "altar" spot near Orion’s feet. The air smelled sweet and green.

Willem was the last to arrive, looking intensely focused. In one hand, he carried a small, smooth piece of birch bark—his parchment. On it, he had inscribed the vows in his neat, careful script. In the other hand, held with utmost care, were two tiny, perfectly coiled circles of the fine gold wire. The rings gleamed in the sunlight, delicate and surprisingly beautiful.

Lissy was ready. Her apron was filled with a cloud of soft, pink-and-white flower petals she had meticulously collected. Lady Rag, sporting a tiny crown of woven clover, sat primly on a nearby rock, the guest of honour.

And then there was Abel.

He approached from the direction of the manor, walking with a slow, stately pace that was utterly new. His face was set in an expression of profound gravity. In his large hands, held before him on a flat piece of moss like a royal cushion, lay the bride and groom.

He had prepared them.

Horsey, the bride (this had been decided after a brief but heated debate about traditional roles, which Millie had settled by declaring that Horsey had "older, ladylike energy"), wore a delicate veil. It was a single, gauzy puff of dandelion seeds, carefully balanced between her ears. It looked ethereal and terribly fragile.

Dragon, the groom, sported a smart cape. It was a deep green leaf from the oak tree, secured around his wooden neck with a thread of the same gold wire. It gave him a dashing, heroic air.

Abel’s own green eyes were wide with the importance of the moment. He reached the start of the grassy aisle and stopped. He looked at Millie, who gave him a sharp, approving nod.

The ceremony began.

There was no music, so Millie provided it. She began to hum. It was a tuneful, wandering melody, something she might have heard from a maid at a real wedding long ago. It floated on the still meadow air, simple and sweet.

At the signal, Lissy took her role as flower girl seriously. With tiny, precise steps, she began walking down the grassy aisle, scattering petals from her apron. They fluttered down like pastel snow, landing on the green path.

Then, Abel walked.

He took one slow, careful step after another, holding the moss cushion steady. His gaze was fixed on Orion under the willow. He was giving them away. He was bringing them to be joined. His heart felt so full it might burst, a mixture of joy, responsibility, and sheer wonder that such a thing was happening.

He reached Orion and stopped. He looked up, his expression asking silently if he was doing it right.

Orion’s feigned solemnity softened into a look of pure, warm affection. He gave Abel the smallest of nods. *You’re perfect.*

Millie stopped humming. A deep, expectant silence fell over the meadow, broken only by the gentle gurgle of the stream and the buzz of a contented bee.

Orion cleared his throat. He looked down at the toys on their mossy bed, then at the small, rapt faces of the congregation. He began, his voice quiet but clear, carrying easily in the open space.

"We are gathered here today," he said, the formal words feeling both strange and right in this sunlit, grassy chapel, "in the sight of... well, in the sight of all of us, and the sky, and the stream, to join this Dragon and this Horse in matrimony."

Willem nodded vigorously, checking his birch-bark notes.

"It is a serious thing," Orion continued, "to promise yourself to another. To choose a companion for all your days, whether those days are spent on a shelf, in a pocket, or in adventures across blanket forts and pillow mountains."

Toben let out a sigh of dreamy agreement.

Orion looked at Abel. "Who presents these two to be wed?"

Abel drew himself up. His voice, when it came, was strong and sure. "I do. I am... I am father for both. Horsey has been with me always. Dragon is new, but he is good. I give them to be married." He extended the moss cushion towards Orion.

With careful fingers, Orion lifted first Horsey, then Dragon, from their bed. He placed them side-by-side on the flat top of a large, smooth river stone that served as the altar. They stood there, wooden and serene, the dandelion veil trembling slightly in a breeze.

"Do you, Dragon," Orion asked, addressing the carved figure, "take this Horse to be your lawfully wedded companion? To stand by her in times of calm and in times of pretend storms? To share your treasure hoard of interesting pebbles and sunny windowsills? To be faithful and kind, for as long as your wood shall last?"

He paused, as if listening for an answer. The meadow waited.

Abel, unable to contain himself, whispered loudly, "He says yes! He told me. He wants to share his best pebble."

A smile touched Orion’s lips. "The Dragon consents." He turned to the horse. "And do you, Horse, take this Dragon to be your lawfully wedded companion? To let him ride upon your back in games of great adventure? To share your hay and your quiet corner of the shelf? To be patient and brave, for as long as your wood shall last?"

This time, Lissy whispered, "She says yes. She likes his cape."

"The Horse consents," Orion intoned. He glanced at Willem, who stepped forward, the wire rings gleaming on his palm.

"The rings, please."

Abel took the rings from Willem with immense care. His big, clumsy-seeming fingers were suddenly deft and gentle. He held the tiny circle of wire above the dragon’s front foot.

"With this ring," Orion said, guiding the words, "I thee wed. A circle of gold, for a love with no end."

Abel carefully, ever so carefully, slipped the wire loop over the tip of the dragon’s carved foot. It settled snugly. He repeated the action with the second ring, placing it around the horse’s front leg. The gold wire caught the sun, a flash of tiny fire.

"By the power vested in me..." Orion began, then paused. What power? By the power of a neglected Omega son married to a childlike heir? By the power of a morning kite and a shared secret? He found better words. "By the love that brought us all here today, and by the truth that every heart, no matter how small, deserves its happiness... I now pronounce you Dragon and Horse. You may..."

He didn’t have to finish.

Abel, beaming with tears shining in his eyes, reached out. He very gently tilted the dragon’s head forward, until its snout once again touched the horse’s muzzle. He held them there, in their sanctioned, marital kiss.

"They’re married!" Toben yelled, breaking the silence with joyous abandon.

The meadow erupted.

Lissy threw her entire remaining handful of petals into the air with a shout. Willem executed a formal, stiff little bow towards the newlyweds. Millie grinned, her hands on her hips, surveying her perfect production with satisfaction.

And Abel. Abel laughed. A pure, unfettered sound of delight that echoed off the willow leaves. He picked up the married couple, holding them high. "Look! Look at them! They did it! They’re married now! It’s okay!"

He turned and showed them to each child, as if presenting royalty. He was so happy he seemed to glow from within.

Orion watched him, his own heart so full it ached. This silly, profound, beautiful game. This was the man the world called broken. This was the man who understood the sacred duty of marrying two wooden toys to protect their happiness.

The formal part over, the celebration began. There was no cake, but Millie had thought of that. From a hidden spot by the stream, she produced a slightly squashed honey cake, pilfered from the kitchens. She broke it into careful pieces, one for each of them. It was their wedding feast.

They sat in a circle in the grass, eating sticky cake and talking about the ceremony.

"You spoke very well, Lord Orion," Willem said, brushing crumbs from his notes.

"The flower throwing was optimal," Lissy added shyly.

"The cape was the best part," Toben declared, mouth full.

Abel just held the newlyweds in his lap, looking from them to Orion and back again, his smile never fading. "Now they can kiss whenever they want," he said, with deep satisfaction. "It’s the rule. For married ones."

As the afternoon sun began to lengthen the shadows, painting the meadow in gold and purple, the secret wedding party started to drift apart. The children, their duty done and their excitement spent, began to yawn. Millie shooed them back towards the manor, reminding them once more of the secrecy oath.

Soon, it was just Orion and Abel under the willow, by the quiet stream. Abel still held the horse and dragon, now sitting side-by-side on his knee.

"Today was a good day," Abel said softly, leaning his head against Orion’s shoulder. "We flew a kite. And we fixed a problem. We had a wedding."

Orion put his arm around him, pulling him close. He kissed the top of Abel’s head, smelling sun and grass and his clean, calming scent. "It was the best day."

Abel was quiet for a long moment, watching the water slip over the stones. Then he spoke, his voice thoughtful. "Myorion?"

"Hmm?"

"Our wedding was in a big stone room. With lots of people staring. I didn’t like it." He paused. "This one was better. In the grass. With friends. With you talking." He looked up, his green eyes clear and earnest. "This one felt more real."

Orion’s breath caught. He looked at the two wire rings glinting on the wooden toys. He thought of their own cold, political ceremony, a transaction witnessed by a bored aristocracy. He thought of this afternoon, of petals and home-made vows and a love so genuine it sanctified a patch of grass.

He pulled Abel closer, resting his cheek against his hair. "Ours is real too, Abel. Every day we choose it, it becomes more real. But... I like this one better as well."

Abel nestled against him, content. He held up the married toys. "They will be happy. We made sure."

"We did," Orion whispered.

And as the sun dipped towards the horizon, filling the south meadow with a final, glorious wash of light, the two men sat together, guardians of a secret, keepers of a tiny, wooden love story that was, in its own perfect way, absolutely and completely real.