Chapter Text
Day 30: Rhapsody
Pairing(s): Artoirel/Stephanivien, Emmanellain/Sicard, Charlemend/Edmont (hopeful)
Rating: Teen
For as large as the Ishgardian Orthodox Church was, there were only so many pews available. As such, not everyone that wanted to attend the latest wedding could. Artoirel, with help from Aymeric and Francel, did his best to get a good variety of members from the House of Commons as well as the expected House of Lords. Though the latter consisted mostly of family and friends, seeing as the wedding was between nobles.
Although Artoirel had been in charge of planning the wedding, he did make sure his fiance's closest friends and associates were invited. Joye had been especially thrilled by the invitation he gave her. It was certainly unnerving to be embraced by anyone other than Stephanivien, especially a woman.
"Quit frowning! You're meant to be happy on your wedding day." Emmanellain chastised his brother, rubbing the furrow between his brow. "Honestly, you'd think you were going to a funeral."
"I'm starting to wish I was." Artoirel confided with a grimace. "What was I thinking, agreeing to make it an open affair?!"
"Even Sicard and I had the Astalicia closed off for crew and invited guests only." Emmanellain picked his brush back up and dabbed it into the powder he'd brought back from Thavnair. "But you're the one that wanted to mix your personal life with politics." However he was smiling as he brushed a faint dusting of color on his brother's cheeks. "Which I actually appreciate."
"You intend to have a proper wedding before Halone then?" Artoirel asked, trying not to sneeze as Emmanellain worked.
"Maybe," he hummed, "but I don't think it will be here in Ishgard." The frown returned and he clicked his tongue. "Halone can bless us outside the church, you know. Sanson said the Sanctum of the Twelve is lovely... And warmer too." He stepped back to admire his work. "That and Lymlaen is also present there. Not that Sicard's terribly religious... But sailors and their superstitions and all that."
Artoirel hummed neutrally and a rare, comfortable silence spread between the brothers. Though the elder was still tense, he was pliant enough to cooperate with Emmanellain's efforts to make him more presentable.
"How was Thavnair?" Artoirel eventually asked, as the nerves grew too much and he realized Emmanellain was being far too quiet for his usual.
"It was incredible." As predicted, Emmanellain had been holding back and was eager to share. "The fabrics and dyes were all so colorful and exquisitely made. Not to mention the alchemists' perfumes and powders. This present one included. It's meant to absorb oils without drying skin out." He set the lid back on the powder jar and reached for a small shell. "This here," he dabbed the tip of his finger in, "has some healing properties. It worked wonders after Sicard got over-eager one night. I thought my lips would never recover the assault." Artoirel's own lips pressed thin. "Thankfully Nidhana had just the solution. It will also add some color... Your lips need the help."
"Stephanivien doesn't seem to mind my lips." He decided to give his brother a taste of his own over sharing. Of course, he should have known better.
"I doubt he cares how chapped your lips are when they're where he wants them." Emmanellain quipped shamelessly.
"Have you always been this vulgar?" Artoirel pouted and his brother took the opportunity to dab the ointment over his lips.
"More or less. It was really only around Chlodebaimt." He answered. "Of course, proper ladies don't care for it the way the women he pursued did."
"Chlodebaimt?" Artoirel's brows rose.
"Taught me everything I know about courting a woman." Emmanellain gave a pained smile. "Though he fared better than I, what with his strong arms and his handsome face..."
"... Was he as attractive as the captain?"
"Nearly," Emmanellain laughed lightly, "but his skin was much too soft like his sister's. Not to mention he didn't have nearly as much hair as Sicard."
Artoirel was only vaguely beginning to regret asking after his brother's taste in men...
~
Stephanivien stood in front of his vanity, admiring the freshly painted color on his upper lids.
"You look... quite fetching, brother." Laniaitte commented from the door beside Francel. "Did Lady Tataru design the garb?"
"With help from Emmanellain and Joye, yes." Stephanivien swept the tail of his coat dramatically.
"I thought Artoirel would prefer to see you in something more traditional." Francel smiled, dressed in a simple coat of muted green rather than the usual bright he usually favored.
"Emmanellain vouched for me. After all, I've never looked good in traditional clothes."
"How has Lord Emmanellain been? I've heard nothing new of him in weeks... Or even much before then..." Francel asked.
"Likely fooling around in Ul'dah or drinking in Limsa Lominsa." Laniaitte rolled her eyes.
"Ah," Stephanivien studied his sister, curious, "you didn't know? He's been vacationing with his crew in Thavnair."
"His crew?" Laniaitte scoffed. "You mean Captain Sicard's crew."
"No, I mean Emmanellain's. He officially joined the Bloody Executioners a month ago." Stephanivien informed her.
"They seriously let that foolish dandy join?" Her red brows rose in surprise. "I suppose even pirates need entertainment."
"Sister, that is my soon to be brother-in-law you're speaking of." Stephanivien scolded lightly. "I should think you'd be relieved that you'll be seeing less of him."
"What do you mean?" Both his siblings asked at once.
"After the wedding, he'll be returning home to Limsa Lominsa." Stephanivien was amused by their surprise and he returned to finishing his makeup.
"But what of his duties at Camp Dragonhead?"
"Honoroit will be helping until Artoirel has appointed Emmanellain's replacement."
"Replacement? He means to replace his brother? What scandal has Emmanellain caused to warrant being removed from his post?" Laniaitte frowned.
"Well, it depends on your definition of a scandal, dear sister." He laughed and let down his hair. "Artoirel gave Emmanellain his blessing to leave. On the condition he not remove himself from the family's registry."
"What? Stephanivien, are you saying Emmanellain intended to-"
"He eloped." Stephanivien revealed with glee.
"Chocobo shite!"
"Sister!"
~
"Artoirel, Emmanellain," Edmont entered the room, Charlemend at his side, "are you both ready?"
"Nearly," Emmanellain answered, fighting to smooth the top of his head, "bloody..." His frustrated utterance was stopped by his father's hand on his shoulder.
"May I try?"
He handed his cane to Charlemend and withdrew a jar from his pocket. Emmanellain sat on the bench before the vanity, curiosly watching his father in the mirror. With a concentrated look, he took the paste from the jar and worked it through his youngest's hair.
"Your hair always was difficult." He puffed in amusement. "Every morning, your mother would bring you up here and have me fix your hair just like this."
"It hurts less than I remember." Emmanellain hummed.
"... I'm sorry," Edmont apologized as he finished, "it was hard to be gentle with your squirming... And it was difficult to act gently back then."
"... You were gentle with Haurchefant." Emmanellain murmured.
"Hardly," Edmont sighed and wiped his hands clean. "I feel as though I was only ever allowed to discipline him."
"Yet you never struck him." Emmanellain's response surprised Charlemend as he looked appalled at Edmont.
"He never gave me a reason to," Edmont sighed, remorseful, "but I admit... You gave me even less. I just... I did not know how to get you to understand. No," he shook his head, "perhaps it's more that I didn't really try. I'm sorry, Emmanellain."
"Edmont, as important and touching as this is," Charlemend spoke tactfully, "the ceremony is meant to start in a bell and no makeup in the world will hide puffy eyes."
"Is a man not allowed to cry on the day of his son's wedding?" Edmont sniffed and cleared his throat to lighten the mood as Charlemend suggested.
"Its usually the daughter's wedding you're meant to cry at." He teased. "So you should save them for Emmanellain's wedding." Said son gave him an affronted look.
"I'll have you know that I give as good as I get!"
"Brother, please..." Artoirel groaned.
~
The ceremony was conducted without incident. Though there was a fair amount of whispering when one of the grooms' brothers was announced, a roguishly handsome male hyur on his arm. As the Haillenartes followed, the lady Laniaitte, donning a suit, silenced them with a critical, icy glare.
Artoirel walked to the altar at his father's side, he turned to watch expectantly for his fiance. Stephanivien, with his mother on his arm, followed shortly after. The neo-ishgardian inspired garb drawing a murmur or two from some of the more conservative members of the audience. An approving whistle came from the crowd on his side and he gave the bard responsible an appreciative wink.
A small smile greeted Stephanivien at the altar and his mother released his arm, pressing a teary kiss to his cheek before walking with Edmont back to the pews.
"You look delightful, my dear." The machinist whispered as the clergyman began the spiel.
Of course, ever the diligent man, Artoirel kept his lips pressed. But the coloring of his ears was assurance enough that he felt much the same about his fiance.
In the pews, Sicard watched the union, body tense from the unfamiliar atmosphere. This Ishgardian wedding was nothing like the ceremonies in Limsa Lominsa. Even proper weddings had a livelier fan fair than this. His golden gaze glanced at his mate to find him enthralled by the boring speech.
He forced his attention back to the couple to find Artoirel, much like Emmanellain, staring intently at the robed man. Stephanivien, however, had yet to take his eyes off his fiance. Sicard began to bounce the leg pressed to Emmanellain's, his antsy energy no longer containable. He startled when a hand landed on his thigh, squeezing it.
Curious, he glanced back at Emmanellain. But, though his hand was beginning to massage his leg in a soothing manner, he was still fixed on his brother's ceremony. Even as his fingers slid inwards, brushing uncomfortably close to Sicard's-
"Ahem," Charlemend quietly cleared his throat and the hand retracted. But only to his thigh.
"Spoilsport," Sicard whispered, disappointed at his mate got up to make his speech.
"I now pronounce you eternally bounded before Halone."
A cheer erupted from the machinists in attendance as Stephanivien swooped down to press their lips together. Emmanellain and Sicard joined with the Haillenarte siblings. Charlemend rolled his eyes but gave a polite clap, nudging the man beside him to do the same. Baurendouin's face was even sloppier than his wife's as he reluctantly followed his fellow count in clapping.
"You may borrow this," Edmont offered the father of his newest son a handkerchief, his own eyes wet but proud.
"Sorry, just," he hiccuped, "I had always hoped for... But I suppose we still have Laniaitte and your youngest."
Charlemend and Edmont exchanged a grimace behind the man's back and the latter sighed before patting his shoulder.
"About that, Count Baurendouin..."
~
Following the formal ceremony, the guests which wished to celebrate the couple were moved to the Firmament. Francel had set up a spectacular after party with help from his older siblings and Charlemend. The stage, open to any who wished to perform, was quickly taken by Emmanellain, Guydelot, and the Warrior of Light. A dance soon started, led by Aymeric and the newly married couple. Artoirel and Stephanivien silently thanked the man and Emmanellain both for their lessons as they only stepped on each other's toes a time or two.
"Captain," Edmont called out to Sicard as he watched his matelot perform on stage, "could I have a word with you?"
"Aye..." He replied with more confidence than he felt as he stepped away to follow him somewhere quieter. "What's it you want, pops?"
"Pops?" Edmont repeated before shaking his head, "Captain Sicard, I know you've already had something of a binding ceremony with my son."
"I did, aye. Ain't nothin' gonna break that bond neither. Not all the money in the world." He replied defensively.
"That's good to hear," Edmont nodded, "however, I would ask that you consider becoming an official ward of my house."
"What's that all entail?" Sicard asked suspiciously.
"It would give you rights to come and go in Ishgard as you please. Until you see fit to marry my son properly."
"You gave me your blessin' and meant it?"
"Of course."
"... Even though we can't promise you an heir?" He overheard the conversation the man had with Stephanivien's dad and crossed his arms.
"Charlemend has proven Ishgard has no need of such things. His nephew will be a great successor to his title." Edmont replied. "I confess, I have no close relatives... But blood is not the only relation out there."
"... Guess that's a relief..." Sicard considered the man for a moment. "I don't think Emm's wantin' our future kids pressured to succeed their uncle."
"... Future... Kids?"
"Limsa Lominsa's got a lot of orphans what need homes. Emmanellain's been helpin' out, but you know how he is with kids." He nodded to where Honoroit was watching his lord. "Only a matter o' time for he takes in another."
"I'll look forward to that day."
"Aye, well, if that's all, pops, I'm gonna get back 'fore he starts to worry I've gotten a talkin' to."
"Of course. Take care."
"Hmph," Edmont started when Charlemend appeared beside him after Sicard left, "so you'll be a grandfather after all."
"It would seem so." He studied the man's melancholy expression. "... I'm sorry."
"Don't be, with any luck, my son might just gift me a miracle before I got to Halone's Halls."
"Not about that." He shook his head. "About... I should not have refuted that accusation in the past."
"It makes no difference if you had refuted it or not. We both would have ended up going our separate ways and siring children with whoever our parents chose." Charlemend crossed his arms and watched the newlyweds from afar.
"Our parents no longer have any say in who we choose." He pointed out. "Though I doubt you have any interest. I rather missed our time together. Would you care to go fishing, seeing as our last attempt was rather..."
"... I shall think about it." Charlemend replied. "I have also missed your company."
The music continued late into the night, a passionate rhapsody of love and new beginning.