From the moment Irene met Henry’s mother, Celia, she knew she had been making a mistake all along. Since Henry’s father had long since passed, Irene tended to ask questions about him, thinking that she was helping keep the memory of his father alive. She assumed that Henry must have taken after his father the way that Arne had taken after Arthur

However, she met Celia and realized that everything she loved in Henry had come directly from this woman.

She understood immediately how Henry loved those around him so effortlessly because Celia loved people openly and without assuming she would get anything in return. Her warmth, down to the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, was the same as Henry’s.

She had lighter brown hair than Henry and surprisingly pale skin for being considered a peasant, although she realized that was where he got his tiny bit of mage blood from, but she was also the one who stayed indoors and wrote stories rather than attending to the usual chores that her class came with. It was especially like that now that she was living with Commander Lothian, who undoubtedly made sure she never had to lift a finger if she didn’t want to.

By the way the southern Commander and Celia interacted with one another, it made her feel internally giddy. Their love was palpable despite its subtleties, but they never pushed it too far on behalf of those around them. She imagined Henry was a big reason for this.

Irene felt comfortable in Celia’s presence almost immediately. It seemed her mother did as well because as the wedding planning continued and the final pieces were put into place, it was a trio of Irene, Rochelle, and Celia at all times.

The most memorable thing to Irene was making a dress last minute—as every other piece of the wedding had been so far.

"I can send for a seamstress," Rochelle insisted. "It will be an extra cost to rush it, but I will not spare an expense for my daughter’s wedding."

Irene looked between the expectant eyes of the two mothers.

"Actually... I was sort of hoping we could do it ourselves," Irene admitted. "Henry and I have discussed that one day we will have to be wed in front of His Majesty. I can have all the fineries then. For now, I want every part of this wedding to be our own creation. It’s so much more meaningful that way and honors the Sünstoian rules outlined in Grandmother’s books."

"Of course," Rochelle quickly responded. "In fact, I think I have some of the skirts that your grandmother crafted for me when I was wed to your father. Let me search for them."

"After raising a rambunctious child, I became quite proficient in patching holes," Celia explained. "I will lend a hand wherever I can."

"I really appreciate it," Irene said.

This conversation was what led them to use pieces of Rochelle’s wedding dress to craft something entirely new and entirely Sünstoian the way that Irene wanted, and Arthur had requested. It was a cream colored number that fell off of Irene’s shoulders with light, fluttery sleeves. The skirts had red, blue, and green silk ribbons along the edges. Each layer of the skirts was thin and flowy, but stacked on top of each other, they flowed wonderfully together.

The significance of the colors to the Sünstoian people was red for love, blue for fidelity, and green for fertility. It was just a few of the many small details that went into Irene’s appearance as she prepared for her wedding.

Before she knew it, the day had come. It was a day that would change the course of her life forever and bind her to the only man she would love the way she loved Henry.

Even though the circumstances weren’t ideal, everything else was.

Irene sat in a chair at the front of her family’s home. Celia and her mother were fussing over her. She had gotten into the dress, but they were prettying her up further. A few other customs included tying braids through her naturally wild hair that were tied by ribbons that matched the colors of the dress she wore. There were also dried flowers placed at the crown of her head and pinned there so they wouldn’t fly out.

This was something Celia and Rochelle had also done to their hair. They were Irene’s maids for the day and the matriarchal team that was preparing her for the next phase of her life.

The final touch was placed as a fur her father once wore was fastened at her neck. It hung down Irene’s back, but she could pull it over her if she got cold. However, she doubted it, considering the beautiful golden sun she could see through the sheer fabric that hung over the window of the sitting room.

Irene’s emerald eyes were so focused on the window in front of her and the thousands of thoughts rushing through her head that she almost missed the creaking of the stairs from behind her and her mother’s quiet voice as she said, "I will give the two of you a moment."

The knight turned to see her father with Siverly on one side and one of their maids on the other. In his bear paw of a hand, he held a cane so that he wouldn’t lose balance. He was straining himself just to walk, but the expression on his face was proud as he was led to a couch and sat down. The other two rushed away quickly to give the father and daughter their privacy.

She rushed to her dad.

"Please, don’t strain yourself," she requested, breathless.

"Seeing my daughter be wed... to a good man is every father’s dream," he responded, voice already hoarse. "Only death could... keep me from seeing it."

Irene offered a sad smile. She was already feeling so full of emotion that day. She hated how comfortable her father had gotten talking about death.

"With the help of the others, we somehow managed to pull it all together," she responded. "A true Sünstoian wedding, just as you wanted."

Arthur opened his arms for his daughter, and she readily returned the hug. It was the first proper one in some time. She especially needed it that day.

"But... is it what you wanted?" he asked. "I know I requested something serious..." He coughed. "...during a dark moment of pain... but I still have to make sure I didn’t force... your hand faster than you were comfortable. All I’ve had time for... is reflecting. I made a mistake in pushing you..."

He was out of breath by the end of his sentence and trying hard not to cough.

"No, dad," she assured him. "We would have ended up this way no matter what. You forced us to reflect on a lot and know for sure where we both stand. I should thank you for giving me... us the opportunity."

Irene hugged him again.

"Then shall I take you to the man who will be my son-in-law?" he asked hoarsely.

When they finally made it to the front entrance of the large home and saw that everyone was already situated in position and waiting for the bride to make her entrance, many shocked expressions were seen at the sight of Arthur and all the effort he must be giving just to stand at his daughter’s side and lead her towards the priest who would bless them using words from the Sünstoian religious texts.