The entire day so far, Siverly would appear at random and deliver more herbs, salves, or tinctures for the old knight to consume. They were a bandage solution for a deadly problem, but at least they were making Arthur feel somewhat better and allowing him to press on for longer—fully aware that later he would pay for it.

The mage knew that his presence at that wedding was an unwelcome sight, considering his only reason for being there was to manage Arthur until there wasn’t any of him left, so he opted to hide away in the guest room he occupied. At least, that was where he was now after being kicked out of the guest house that the newlyweds would spend their first night.

Occasionally, he would peer out his window to catch a glimpse of Arthur, but otherwise, he left them alone. Even though there weren’t a lot of people there, he still preferred the solace of his own company.

However, the last time Siverly gave Arthur bitter herbs to chew on, the knight downed them alongside mead before the mage heard the man request a dance with his daughter. The way that Arthur had to gasp for air between each breath only solidified that he didn’t have much time left. Siverly, who was normally unattached to people outside of Henry, felt his heart crack, and he clutched his robes as he made himself scarce.

These people were good people. He could walk amongst them as his true self, and they didn’t even think twice about him. They seemed to hold no biases and even offered him a plate of the wedding feast in his room, not taking offense to his desire to eat alone.

He hoped Arthur would last longer than he expected him to.

The entire feeling of the guests changed when Arthur said he wanted to dance with Irene. She couldn’t help the inadvertent action to bring her hands to her lips as her father’s request was met.

Commander Lothian and Arne were the first at Arthur’s sides, and they helped him out of his chair and towards the bonfire where the dancing had been taking place. Irene waited there for her father and immediately held both of his hands when he was close enough.

Roles reversed in an instant.

Rochelle recalled the time when Irene was still a baby and had barely started walking. Arthur held her hands the way Irene was holding his now. It caused tears to sting her eyes, but she wasn’t alone as Celia went to her side and held her hands.

Fortunately, no other assistance was needed because Irene was strong despite how much smaller she was than her father. She easily held his weight as he wrapped an arm around her and relied on her like a crutch.

But it wasn’t only the burdens of his weight that she was holding. It felt like the burden of his sickness had been transferred to her. She was feeling it in its entirety now that her father could barely move by himself—the very man who taught her all the things she loved in life, like sword fighting and horseback riding.

The musician in the corner even adjusted the tempo of the tune he played, seeing that Arthur wasn’t dancing quickly, but at least he was dancing at all.

His feet didn’t move, but he still swayed. His breathing was ragged.

Irene tried to smile in spite of it all. Tears were gathering in the outer corners of her green eyes as she looked up at him. Her stomach muscles hurt because of how much she was trying to hold back the urge to sob.

"You found... a good man," Arthur managed.

"I have, haven’t I?" Irene agreed wholeheartedly. She tried to keep her voice light, but she knew it was wavering.

For the first time since he had been bedridden, Irene saw that her father’s eyes were watering. He had been so strong through all of it; it was clear that watching his daughter get married had stirred up his feelings.

"Bring my grandchildren... to see me," he whispered.

Irene’s chin quivered at that. She couldn’t take it anymore, and she relied on her father for a moment, still carrying a lot of his weight but needing his comfort for a moment as she leaned into his shirt and hid her face. Her arms wrapped around him, and the efforts to dance ceased entirely.

Her tears fell at the realization that the children she and Henry may possibly have one day would likely never get to meet the man who raised her.

A muffled sob escaped Irene’s lips, and she felt her father give her a proper hug as he held onto her. She didn’t want to cry in front of everyone, but they would have to be understanding.

Marrying Henry was easy, but nothing else about the situation was.

Rochelle could see Henry watching everything unfold. His expression was somber as he witnessed just how bitterly sad Irene was. It wasn’t the first time he had witnessed it, but it did strike him a bit deeper, considering it was also their wedding day.

In an effort to save the evening ahead, Rochelle realized she needed to step in. She wanted today to be a positive experience, despite the reason the wedding was small and rushed.

"The fire is starting to get low," Rochelle announced, squeezing Celia’s hand as she spoke.

Everyone knew what that meant. The Sunstoian superstitions were working for them, and the bride and groom needed to make themselves scarce.

Irene pulled away from her father, and with seemingly the last of his energy, he cradled her face in his massive hands and kissed her freckled forehead.

"Go and be... with him," Arthur whispered. "I am grateful... for him..."

Commander Lothian and Arne were soon at Arthur’s side while Rochelle gently guided Irene towards her husband.

Henry and Rochelle exchanged nods as Henry opened his arms for Irene. He gently held onto her and pressed his lips into the top of her fiery hair. While he appreciated his mother in law’s intervention, he had to accept the possibility that when they were behind closed doors, all Irene might want to do is lay there and cry.

All the guests began to offer claps and cries of congratulations for the newlywed couple. To that, Henry offered a smile and a wave before he led Irene towards the guest house they would be staying in for the night.

His smile soon waned once they were away, and Henry’s expression became one of concern.

Inside the guest house, there was a common area and a kitchen on the first level, but up the stairs the pair went as two maids quickly excused themselves.

He didn’t pay much attention to the space—at least not yet—before he pulled Irene into a comforting hug which she immediately returned.

"I’m trying to be happy," she whispered. "Otherwise, I’m going to ruin tonight for both of us."

Henry shook his head. "Don’t push yourself for my sake," he requested.

Irene pulled away, and she pressed the backs of her hands against her eyes as she took care of her tears.

"I want to," she insisted, a bit more determined.

Henry’s heart thudded. He wanted to, too. So, so badly.