EL Official BK5 | Chapter 20 - My Sister's Wedding to a Monster... (Patreon)

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“Oops!” A small avalanche of items falling to the floor accompanied the exclamation as a small basket of hair clips and decorations was thrown from the dresser. It had been knocked by one innocent sweep of Claire’s dress, and the contents sent sprawling. 

“Calla, can you get that for me?” Claire begged, her voice dripping with sincere apology.

“Of course,” Calla responded like a steadfast soldier given a mission. She knelt to collect all the items for the bride to be with perfect grace and scary dedication. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen the girl exasperated, or fed up with anything. She never slips, the Pet training is sadly effective.

“Thank you!” my sister grinned, before turning to me as Lucinde set the final strands of her hair in place with a small flutter of fairy magic, “How do I look?”

It was a loaded question, and I took an appropriate amount of time to step back and look thoughtful. Her waist length hair was styled with the lower half hanging free like a silky brown wave down the length of her back, and the top half twisted into the shape of a surprisingly realistic rose. The fine strands were feathered out into fragile arches that I would have thought impossible, while few loose pieces hung forward to frame her face.

Sitting atop her head was a spindly tiara with white and pale blue gems mounted in silver twists that stuck out in a crescent fan. It reminded me of the feathers atop a bird of paradise’s head–that was probably a thought I should keep to myself. In any other situation it might have looked ridiculous, but in light of her dress, it blended in. 

Her wedding dress was nothing short of a ball gown. It had semi-transparent off shoulder, shoulder puffs that sparkled with glitter, leaving the upper portion of her chest bare across her collarbones. The bodice tapered at the waist in a ‘V’ shape before exploding into a cascade of white, satin fabric. It spilled over hoops holding it out in an arch around her and shimmered every time she moved.

She looked like a fairytale princess, but more than that, my skinny little sister had grown into a woman while I wasn’t looking. No longer shy or awkward, she held herself with all the refined manner of a sovereign leader and gave a dazzling smile.

“Well..?” Claire prompted with a knowing sparkle in her eye, I’d taken too long to answer.

“You look-... You look great..” I stumbled over my words, “Wait no, I mean more than that… you look beautiful, I’m so proud of you. You’re all grown up, and getting married… I don’t know where the time went…”

“Ahhh Charlie,” she complained, looking up to blink, “Don’t make me cry yet, I just had my make-up set.” 

“Sorry, I would hug you, but I don’t think I came with enough equipment to fight my way past the hoops of your dress,” I joked to lighten the mood again and she gave a little laugh.

“Good- can you go check on Markos? Make sure he’s ready?” she pressed, “He looked ill this morning, I think he might try to run.”

“Sure thing,” I agreed without a second thought. 

On the other side of the room, Eric, Hadrien and Lucinde’s daughters were entertaining Rose and Mikael, my current youngest niece and nephew. Coaching them on how to throw the flower petals from their baskets, an all but useless task. The kids were two and four by human standards, and Mikael liked to eat the flowers rather than throw them.

“I’ll come with you,” Eric spoke up, abandoning Hadrien to his siblings. 

***

Lucinde came with us too, apparently she didn’t trust her brothers to get Markos ready ‘correctly’. We arrived to find Achaicus trying to tie Markos’s tie for what seemed to be one of many attempts, and Nathaniel laying on the daybed with one arm over his eyes, waiting. It looked like he’d melted there while Achaicus was helping Markos get ready and Lucinde scoffed. 

“Useless idiots,” she muttered, smacking Nathaniel on her way past before brushing Achaicus aside to help Markos herself.

“It just won’t sit right,” the youngest twin complained, while the eldest didn’t bother to move.

Beside me, Eric scanned the room until he too located the Fae leader, and departed from my side as silently as a shadow to go to him. He touched Nathaniel’s arm, brushing his fingertips over the length of exposed forearm to where his sleeve folded. The Fae uncovered his face with the gentle motion, intuitively knowing who it was, as his mouth pulled into a soft curve. It’s still terrifying watching that hell sent angel smile.

Eric swayed and collapsed onto him in an impromptu trust fall that knocked the air from him under the weight, not that he complained. He accepted my friend into his arms as easily as taking breath, and Eric settled in against him, earning them a scoff from Markos. Although neither of them paid him any mind.

“Is my wife ready?” he directed the question to me, somehow deciding I was the best option.

“Yeah, she’s good to go,” I assured.

“And the kids?” he pressed.

“They’re all fine, ready to throw some flowers!” He didn’t appreciate the thumbs up I gave, but he did exhale the breath he’d been holding. 

“Good,” Seeing a fae, any fae, anxious is unsettling. But seeing Markos nervous was worse, “You should get back to her, this will start soon.”

I felt like a ping pong ball, bouncing between them.

***

The ceremony was held in Leúchtend, in one of the grand ballrooms with impossibly high, beveled ceilings and pillars built like the Romans had a hand in it. Bunches of flowers, candelears, and wide ribbons decorated every corner. Chairs filled with guests had been set in orderly rows and a rich, velvety carpet stretched the length of the walk way.

When it was time, I walked Claire down the aisle, arm in arm in slow steps behind Hadrien, Rose and Mikael. All her children look like Markos, white hair, purple eyes, pointed ears, as if they got none of our side of the family at all. The eldest of them held each of the little ones, keeping them on course. Rose threw fistfuls of the petals out her basket with stern determination, and Mikael did his best. Stopping only twice to stuff some of them in his mouth.

“Mikael,” Hadrien chastised the younger boy, before giving the soft command, “Spit it out.” 

Maybe not the best move. The soggy half munched petals dribbled from his mouth and I kicked them aside with my shoe before Claire could step over them. I didn’t want the flowing tail of her dress to get dirty, not that my sister seemed to mind. She chuckled, urging her youngest on when he turned back to look at her with a toothy grin.

“Go to Dadda,” she whispered the encouragement with endless patience.

When we reached the stage, I helped Claire up the two steps, and then swept to the side to take the kids from Hadrien. He stayed to bear the rings for his parents, while I risked life and limb wrestling the two little monsters into their seats.

Their vows were simple, traditional in an old neat way. When they kissed Eric slid a piece of paper under Nathaniel’s hand subtly, and magic crackled in the air. It sparked and broke apart, so that when Claire at last pulled back from Markos, the glittery spots of magic residue floated around them, and my sister began to sob. She turned into her husbands shoulder, mumbling something incoherent about not knowing how it was possible.

***

After the festivities subsided I sank back. Hoping to blend with the table cloth, I hovered near the buffet table and surveyed from behind my wine glass. Big parties are exhausting, and the reception was nothing short of an extravagant jamboree filled with music. Since Europe, people watching has become a bad habit of mine, but it helps soothe my anxiety.

On the dance floor Claire had stripped away the heaviest bulk of her dress and was dancing with her husband. He led her across the floor and back in a sweeping arc of movement not seen in ballrooms since the Victorian era, a hazard of dating something old enough to remember the French revolution I guess. Other’s pirouetted around them in orchestrated chaos until every inch of the floor was covered in silken dresses and heeled boots.

Through the crowd I caught sight of Eric and Nathaniel. My friend had interjected, stealing Nathaniel away from the Fae woman he had been dancing with like a spy executing a stealth mission with a rare, sly smile. They moved at a slower pace to the rest of the dancers, too busy insulting each other with severe insincerity. 

As they came closer I caught part of it, “Didn’t anyone teach you how to dance properly?” Nathaniel taunted, leading Eric in a slow backward square with steady pattern.

“Huh, it’s almost like learning to dance with a cane is difficult, or maybe it escapes your memory that I can't walk?” Eric retorted with his common calmness, as if they were discussing the weather. 

The Fae smiled, leaning closer to whisper in his ear, “It’s not like you to complain about not being able to walk, was I too rough with you?” he teased.

Only the faint heat creeping into Eric’s cheeks betrayed his emotion, “…Your ego is truly unmatched.”

Nathaniel snorted out a half chuckle, taking a moment to brush the hair from Eric’s face, “Are you hungry?” he asked, his tone dropping into the gentle concern he reserved only for my friend.

Their relationship scares me sometimes. Eric won’t let Nathaniel go anywhere without a pocket watch and a promise to return at an exact time, and the Fae is no better. He controls every detail of their day the same way he does the castle—with rigid structure. I don’t think I could take feeling so… locked in, like that. 

“If you’re done judging, Charles, care to sit with us?” Eric’s calm question interrupted my thoughts.

“I wasn’t judging-” I began in protest. Take your eyes off these people for two seconds and they spring up out of nowhere.

“The look on your face says otherwise,” he mused, gesturing for me to join them as they finished filling their plates from the buffet beside me. 

We took our seats at our assigned table, moving the tiny name plaques aside to sit. Achaicus was already there. His long hair partially braided while the rest flowed freely with the breeze. He gave a small sad smile as we arrived, before returning his focus to the cup of water in his hands, I hadn’t seen him dance with the rest.

Nathaniel placed a plate of food in front of him with one firm instruction, “Eat.” 

“Yes brother,” Achaicus agreed lifelessly. Europe had made him worse, not better. Now the only time he had any life in his eyes was when one of my sister's kids came up to him, he doted on them like they were his own. The man was built to be a nanny, that’s for sure.

My attention drifted momentarily to find the kids, they were with Lucinde and Malika. The woman had all three of them wrangled with expert skill while her daughter was trying to coordinate their food. It’s nice being part of a family like this, so distant from how our own family was… and I know Claire appreciates having this much of a support network. Someone is always willing to be around to help, and it’s spurred her into wanting to spawn an obscene number of little monsters.

“Should I be concerned about that?” Nathaniel asked, his lowered voice caught my attention again.

“About Kári? No… he’s…’good’?” Eric struggled to find the words, and I glanced over to follow their gaze.

Across the way toward the edge of the garden, Eric’s older cousin stood beside Feika. All the Vanir are monsters, tall and muscular in an intimidating way, especially compared to the slender frames of Fae. His tall broad frame towered over hers by at least a foot, making him look especially giant in comparison. She wore a plain, blush pink dress, and dangling earrings that sparkled under the lights, while he was dressed in black. They looked like a biker and a princess, night and day standing side by side.

Feika gestured to the rest of the garden, giving him some of history on it while he listened with surprising attention. Almost as if she were telling him the most important thing he would ever hear. When she finished talking, he asked another question and she began again.

“I don’t think it’s the plants he’s interested in,” I commented, but from the scrunch of Nathaniel’s nose, he’d already come to the same conclusion.

“He had better keep his hands off my niece,” he muttered with disdain.

“She’s an adult, she can do what she likes,” Eric reminded him.

“She’s a child.”

My friend rolled his eyes, “She’s older than he is, and barely younger than you.”

Nathaniel turned back to him as if his words were paramount to betrayal, “Quiet, eat your food.”

“So bossy~”

By the time I looked back, Feika was holding Kári’s hand. She was delicately drawing in his palm, tracing the lines of his skin, and he had his head tilted to the side in curiosity. He glanced up at her face with a look of pure confusion, and swallowed hard before looking away when she met his gaze. He was a wolf, and she a lamb, but somehow he looked like the one that was afraid.

When the bride and groom left the dance floor, everyone else began to take their seats. Kári and his sister, Karyna, had been assigned to the table beside ours with Lucinde and her daughters. The pair of them were the only Vanir permitted at the event, and only because of Claire.

My sister met Karyna when she accompanied Kári to visit Eric, and the two of them got along alarmingly well. “She’s a girl's girl,” Claire explained the one time I’d dared to ask. I still didn’t understand it, the girl was… certainly unique, in my opinion. 

Having inhaled her charm just once, I tended to keep my distance. Nothing like involuntary bodily functions to make you feel like an out of control teen again. Of course, it had been a condition of Karyna’s attendance that she keep her godly magic to herself, but that didn’t stop her from flirting with any Fae that moved. So it surprised me when I noticed her sitting still in her seat. 

She was leaning back with a glass of wine in one hand, and her lips pressed into a thin, irritated line. Her attention fixated on Feika and Kári in a sour way, like a jealous widow, and I was suddenly glad I wasn’t Kári. 

The pair of them sat without noticing Karyna down the rest of her drink in one go.

Claire fell into place beside me not long after, collapsing in a heap of fabric, “My feet hurt,” she complained, leaning against me.

“Let me take off your shoes,” Markos offered, but she shook her head.

“Don’t you dare touch my expensive fancy shoes Mr.”

“You’ll get blisters.”

“So? My husband is a magic doctor.”

A small smirk caught his lips, “I suppose he might be,” he agreed.

“Can you go get me something to eat though?” she requested, and he moved without any argument, “And check on the kids!” she called after him before taking a deep breath and turning back to me, “Are you having fun?”

“Me?” I was caught off guard, “Oh yeah, Fae know how to party,” I lied gently.

“The celebration will likely last days,” Nathaniel agreed.

“Ahh well, Markos and I will be gone on our honeymoon tonight so~” 

Nathaniel said nothing more, but Eric clarified, “The Fae will forget why they’re celebrating, and continue until they get bored.”

“Huh, all these years and I’m still learning new things about them,” Claire pondered, before a smile cracked her face as a new idea came to her, “So when are you two getting married~? Shouldn’t you be proposing soon or something, Nathaniel~”

“There’s no need,” the man responded without meeting her playful jeering and she pouted.

“Aww that’s no fun, you know you can,” she insisted.

“What he means to say, is that we’re already ‘married’,” Eric tapped the side of his throat where the Fae contract marked his skin, “We got married when we were teenagers.”

“That shouldn’t count,” Claire sighed disappointed.

“I gave him my life, there’s nothing more I can give,” he shrugged. 

“That’s not romantic,” she argued, but I stopped listening. 

A moment of unease settled as I considered the lifespan of the creatures around me. Children that barely aged, adults who looked the same today as when I had met them decades prior. The intrinsic horror pressed down on me like an intangible  weight. Claire and I were the same now. Seemingly unaging despite the passing of time.

Ronové was right. Human minds aren’t meant to stretch this far and I feel it. A cold, ever present sense of dread looms in the corners of my psyche, just beyond thought, it lingers. Years ago we went to our parents' graves. We attended Sheriff Barrett’s funeral, and Diane’s… Children I knew back then were older than I am now. They have lives, children of their own… But Claire and I? We vanished from the world.

Two more missing people, presumed dead. We live among monsters, their sense of time is warped and their morals less than ours. I try not to think about it. Eric is my friend, and Achaicus, Nathaniel, their family, my nieces and nephews… They are good monsters. So why am I so afraid of them? Afraid of the passage of time itself.

I wonder if my sister feels it too. Beneath her placating smile, do her children scare her the way they scare me? Does it hurt her that none of them will ever look like us? I glanced across the room to Calla, did she feel it too? Am I the only one that feels this way? I’m too afraid to ask.

Swallowing, I dropped my eyes to the table and tried to calm my breathing, “Charles,” Eric called my attention softly and I looked up into his deep blue eyes.

Ancient understanding lives in those eyes, like a creature I hardly know, as if he is older than I can imagine. “Yeah?” I whispered through thin lips.

“You’re okay,” he mouthed the words silently as if he knew.

Did he? Could he understand? I didn’t know, but I felt comfort for his reassurance.

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