Concessions

Concessions 6 MINUTE READ

“So, in Silverymoon, there’s five different wedding gazebos with five different significances to sixteen different elven families,” Tova recited, frowning at the blocky letters of the notes she’d taken while Lyquis and her family sparred over the details. “And you said if you had to get married in a gazebo, you’d build one yourself in the yard. So. Uh. Was that a plan, or you saying you don’t like gazebos?”

“I detest gazebos and everything they represent,” Lyquis grumbled.

Tova frowned down at her notes, clearly confused. “Being outside and not being rained on?”

“The utter frivolous elvish-ness of it,” Lyquis said. Her tone slipped into a mocking lilt as she added, “Ooh, I’m an elf. I want to get married in a shed, but I shan’t want any walls keeping the stars and trees out. Also it’s magic, five thousand years old, and full of scrollwork.”

Tova made a note on the side of her page in careful capitals: NO GAZEBOS.

“Okay,” she said. “What about trellises?”

“Gazebos with holes,” Lyquis replied.

Tova squinted at her paper. “So, hold on…”

“Look,” Lyquis snapped, “I just don’t see the point in the fuss. We haven’t even waded into the horror of elven wedding gowns. You’re a gladiator, I’m a blacksmith. We’d be just as happy to have your friend the cleric of Chauntea come handfast us over the anvil in armor and leather apron. I’m baffled by the insistence on things being so complicated and precious.”

Lyquis glanced over at her fiancé for validation only to find her very carefully looking down at her pile of notes. Not much had changed about the way she was sitting, but her tail lay flat and lifeless on the floor, only occasionally sweeping out across the boards.

“What is it?” she asked, warily.

“It’s precious to me,” Tova mumbled. “Getting married. Getting married to you.”

Lyquis studied the tiefling with eyes no longer clouded by all of her familial and cultural baggage, and could’ve kicked herself for the idiocy. This was Tova. Tova, who had bowed to her niece when the little elven girl made her a flower crown, because she was so awed by its beauty. Tova, who had a big scar across one cheek because she’d been too excited about seeing her favorite color, and paid the price of rash action. Tova, who’d been born into slavery and survived demon princes and loved all things precious and beautiful.

Lyquis reached out and laid her hand over Tova’s. “Do you like gazebos?”

“I just think it’s neat how you can enjoy all the flowers and scenery and stuff but not have to worry about gull poop or rain,” she said, sniffling a bit in a way that didn’t bode well. “And it’s not like an awning outside a shop, it’s nice.”

A tear splashed on the page of notes in her lap. Lyquis’ heart seized in pain and terror.

“Tova?”

“I’m sorry,” Tova sniffed, swiping her eyes dry with her free hand, “I don’t know why I’m crying, you’re right, it’s a lot of trouble. It’s dumb. I’m excited to be your wife, the other parts are just getting there, yeah?”

Lyquis found herself awash, not for the first time in their relationship, in feelings of profound inadequacy. Surely there was someone else in the Realms more comforting, appreciative, loving, who would’ve made Tova happier than her. Who wouldn’t hurt her casually over old frustrations. But when Tova looked up, eyes still filmed with tears but mouth pulling into a slight smile, undoubtedly about to try to propose something Lyquis would like, Lyquis knew there was no one else. She wouldn’t tolerate it. As badly as she handled it sometimes, what she saw in Tova’s eyes she was too greedy to share or give away.

“There’s a gazebo by the Old Stone Orchard,” she said, before Tova could speak, “that isn’t much used. It has nearly no significance and less scrollwork. But the gnome family who own the property cultivate a beautiful garden. At dusk it lights up with hundreds of lightning bugs.”

“Oh,” Tova breathed. Lyquis watched her wipe her tears away and start imagining it, and she let herself relax again. Tova crying was the absolute nightmare scenario. Lyquis had always been terrible with people crying, but before she’d been able to walk away or else ignore them. She couldn’t ignore Tova. That ship had sailed, so to speak.

“What,” Lyquis began, picking her words carefully, “would be your… ideal… wedding… situation?”

“I marry you,” Tova answered. Lyquis rubbed at her forehead.

“That’s a given, you are marrying me,” she said. “But what would you dream it as being like?”

Tova flipped through her notes. Lyquis had a deep sinking feeling settle into her gut. How intricate was this going to be? But on the last page Tova flipped to there was none of the careful handwriting she’d mastered when Lyquis taught her how to read and write, but doodles. Undoubtedly even steadfast Tova’s mind had started to drift when Lyquis and her father slipped into Elven mid- ripping each other to pieces in the parlor. Lyquis leaned in and studied the page. Tova was no artist, but she liked drawing, so there was a considerable amount of detail to the stick figure proceedings.

“It’s in a gazebo,” Tova said, apologetically, callused fingers tracing the uprights of the domed building on the page. “And there’s flowers, because so many different kinds and colors grow here.”

“Is that my niece officiating?” Lyquis asked, squinting at the little figure.

“That part I just thought would be funny, it’s not for real,” Tova clarified. “I like the idea of it being Shyla. She’ll probably cry a lot, but also, if anyone tries to interject like your father said the Cormeers and Falscrens might, she can melt their faces off.”

“I’m warming to this plan,” Lyquis said. She leaned into Tova, carefully laying her head on her fiancé’s shoulder. “Alright. What else? I see there’s me, with the ears, and you, with the over-sized horns, and… wait. Are we both wearing gowns?”

“Yes,” Tova said, decisively. “When you get married, you wear a gown. I knew that much.” Then she glanced at Lyquis and hesitated. “Well, I know now that you don’t like them. But I think you’ll look amazing in anything.”

“You know, I don’t, so I’d been toying with the idea of ceremonial armor,” Lyquis admitted. “Just a few pieces for me, over something, and closer to a full outfit for you. But…”

But Elven wedding gowns were built for elves. Figure-hugging and narrow-cut to follow the long, lean lines of most Elven bodies. Tova was tall but built, muscled and curvy. Her in an Elven wedding gown would be… hmm. Possibly scandalous. A very appealing image. Obviously, the cut would have to be modified to go on at all, but Tova in something that form-fitting…

Tova started to snicker. Lyquis was shaken out of her reverie. “What?”

“You’re stroking my wrist really firmly,” she pointed out, with a grin. “What about my great picture has you horny?”

“It’s all the little hearts you drew above our heads,” Lyquis deflected, drily.

“That’s the love,” Tova said.

“I gathered.”

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED 3/8/2018 | REHOSTED 2/27/2024