I'm what you want, not what you need

It all had gone so quickly suddenly. He only had to speak one little word out of his mouth to his aunt and arrangements were made. Invites were written, letters were sent, and ships had arrived. It was not like their little wedding was one to write home about anyway: just the youngest of the Vylasar's being married of to one of their own. He knew what people might think, might say, but sorcerers did this for generations: keep their precious and ancient magic close to their home, buried away under the sea like some legendary treasure you might hear in pirate stories.

Ezekiel had prepared himself - or rather, had been prepared for the nightly ceremony. Twilight had fallen already and he had never felt this anxious. It was not some battle he could win with hard thrown punches, harsh words or even brutal magic. No, this was a fight he could not win. It was written in the stars that he should unite with Chaska. He just didn't know how he should feel about it. He fiddled with the delicate silver chains hanging down from his ears. He had been decorated in something that should be worthy of a Vylasar. Except for his fingers, which seemed deliberately barren. He looked from his reflection in the mirror to his hands and bit the inside of his lip to further hide any emotions while he held his gaze down.

At some point his aunt had come by to approve of him. He had immediately tensed up in his whole body as he saw her and spoke with as little words as possible. Until eventually there was a quiet knock on the door. It was time to head to the temple. He was to be accompanied by his family. A curt nod followed, as he carefully put on the waistcoat that had been prepared for him. No, he needn't have to worry about anything, everything was arranged for him into the minute details. Just as his bride was.

It was completely dark as they reached the temple, apart from the small torches that had been lit. There wasn't even moonlight to guide their paths. The sky above the come was clear, but no moon was to be seen. It was a lonely blank canvas, littered with tiny specks of stars. But it's star piece was missing. He had no idea if getting married at a new moon was bad luck, but he couldn't help but worry a but. But, even so, it was fitting for them: Chaska and he never seemed to follow the ordinary path of rules and tradition anyways.

The silver haired sorcerer's eyes were drawn from the sky back to the temple. He placed his hands behind his back as he walked forward, his breath trembling as he exhaled slowly. He forced his expression to sink into his usual mask: his lips in a straight line, his eyes slightly narrowed as focused himself at the task ahead. Chaska had yet to arrive, so he kept his gaze on the battlefield of his lifetime ahead of him. From that moment on, he would be alone. No-one would back him up, just him and Chaska.

natuurlijk fluit fit

It was easier to force his eye onto the lion's den. He could feel the crowd getting bigger behind him, but he was not one to fake a smile to all the people - probably family - he didn't know the names of. He supposed they were from Chaska's side: proud parents, excited siblings, old friends from the capitol. His side felt all the smaller. There would be no tough father to pat him on the shoulder as he would enter his adult life, no mother to wipe away emotional tears as her son would put a ring on the finger of the girl of his dreams. This was no cliché romance story. It was more bitter than sweet.

It was only when he heard rustling in the crowd that he moved again. First, barely noticeable, when his fingers tightened a bit stronger around his hand, still kept still in place behind his back. And then by licking his lips and lowering his gaze to the ground, his head moving down with the movement. He had no idea what to expect of it all, he hadn't bothered talking with Chaska about it. It was like every wedding he ever attended: a pretty couple, some fancy words and festivities after. It had been a long time since he attended one, though. Never would he have imagined his own would be next. Ezekiel furrowed his brows and a determined huff exited his nose as he squared his shoulders. He eyes were drawn back up, and then he looked over his shoulder, turning his body as he locked eyes with his bride.

The beading on her dress sparkled orange in the torchlight. There was no moonlight to light her up silvery blue, so shadows from the fire flickered over her silhouet. Ezekiel set his jaw as she moved towards him, every step seemingly taking an eternity. He had no idea what he should feel at this moment. Was it resentment over his faith? Or should he feel happiness? Were those feelings in his stomach nauseous nerves, or something completely different? In any way, he could not tear his gaze from her. He had always known she was beautiful, and he knew it better than anybody in this whole crowd. It was no different because she had been dolled up in some expensive fabric and molded into this version of herself. Tonight they would be up for display. Only one night.

And even though it all happened in slow motion, she was with him before he could even process what was happening. She stepped up to the last step of the stairs and almost if it was second nature at this point, she linked her arm with his. And as they did, they shared another look from the corners of their eyes. He couldn't tell what she was thinking from that look. He supposed she would be happy. She had been asking for this moment, multiple times, almost desperately. He had yet to figure out why. So why wasn't she absolutely beaming? Reveling in the spotlight, making her family proud. He felt even more anxious now, pursing his lips together. But he ever so slightly moved over to her. ‘‘No turning back now,’’ he whispered, only for her ears to hear.

Without looking back at the crowd, he moved forward. He could feel the eyes burning in his back, so he did not know what was the more safe space. Standing outside, or in there. He walked slowly as at the end of the aisle the priest was waiting. He knew everything that was supposed to happen from now on, it had been explained to him a million times, as if it was expected that he would fuck it up. The funny thing, however, he expected that he would feel utterly alone at this point. Like a little duckling that had lost it's mother. But when he glanced back towards Chaska, he felt the slightest bit of comfort that she was the only person that could understand. And she understood, he knew. Perhaps not the whole of it, but she was like his brother in arms. So as he faced the priest when they arrived to the crime-scene, he gave them a slight nod.

Ezekiel had played this moment in his head countless of times. He had tried to imagine what it would be like. He wasn't much of a romanticus. He never thought marriage would be like that of the fairy-tales. He had seen real marriages all around him. It was out of convenience, just like them. He just wondered if those couples just gotten used to each other over the years, or that they truly started to love each other. It was like family in a way, wasn't it? You couldn't choose them, but you just couldn't help but get attached to them. The way he still loved Myrddin, in a way, and he still wanted to make his aunt proud. It was brainwashed into his every being. And when he looked at Chaska, maybe there was a place in his heart that would tolerate her over time. Maybe one day, they would not fight anymore.

She held him tight as they shared a few, quiet words between them. With fleeting glances and nerves they probably both had, but pride did not allow to let them reach to the surface. Nothing would really change after this, would it? They would not suddenly fixed all their problems. They still would have the same indifference between them, argue about the same things, make up like they did before. But as he felt his breath tighten in his chest, he laid his hand on hers grasping his arm for a second. They'd be fine, indeed. It was just the rest of their lives. He looked away at the ground, closed his eyes to collect his thoughts, before charging into the temple.

Once the ceremony was initiated, the priestess started to speak. All those words he heard a few times before. About holy matrimony, about how their deity had blessed them with ancient magic. What honor it was to be an Vylasar. She blessed the union of them. The names of Lythrana and Laphiss were dropped, but he didn't really listen to what she had to say. It didn't mean anything to him, truly. It was not that he was a non-believer, but this - all of this - was fixed. It didn't feel like faith, or like it was written in the stars. He felt like an actor, just playing his part. He didn't dare to look the priestess in the eye during all of this. He just bit his tongue and hearing the words without really listening.

He would be lying if he said he wouldn't be dreading this moment. He would hate to speak some hollow words to Chaska. Because, after eveything, she deserved more than that. He had considered stating some cliché words, telling her what she wanted to hear. Pledge her love and duty. But he couldn't, because it would be lies. And they promised each other that they would no longer pretend. He had thought about it. What would she prefer? Things she wanted to hear, or the truth? He could lie, make a memory of something that would be something she could tell to her peers in the future. Or something completely different. Something authentic to them? He knew he was bad with words, ever since he had learned the world wasn't as pretty as he'd always imagined. But when he looked at Chaska, her silhouet still caught that sense of beauty and uncertainty that made the world exciting when he was a boy.

So once the floor was theirs, only one witness for their vows to each other, he had no idea what to say. He could tell her she was the moon and the stars, the breath of magic in his veins. But it would be a lie. He could tell her he was hers and she was his, but that would be something they would fight about in the future. He could tell her he would be there for her, in bad or worse, in sickness or hell, but even that would not be true. They were to set on their own paths, whatever those would be. He could only promise her his hand, his loyalty for what it was worth. So he took a deep breath, and turned towards her, placing her delicate hands in his.

‘‘I won't be yours, because I belong to myself,’’ he started bluntly, knowing it was not what she wanted to hear, but what she needed to hear. ‘‘But I will try to give you which is mine to give.’’ He didn't dare to look at her straight in the eye, instead he focused on her hands, intertwined with his. A frown was on his face as he awkwardly tried to... say whatever he needed to. He wanted to be real, most of all. He wanted their forever to be based on lies. ‘‘I'll pledge to serve you in the ways you require.’’ He looked back up at her. ‘‘I'll be your shield and protect you, whichever way I can.’’ It was all he could offer. ‘‘I'll keep our secrets and fights, and do whichever duty calls me to.’’

Had he rehearsed the words before this night? Oh, he had done. He didn't care that he didn't pledge his undying love in front of the priestess. He didn't care that she might tell everyone. It was real. He would do what was necessary. And further than that, he could make no promised. He could not promise her love nor loyalty. He could not promise to be the perfect husband. He could not promise to harvest the stars from the sky for her. There was only an agreement. A believe that they would not hate each other for the rest of their lives. He could keep her safe, for Lythrana's sake, he could summon a bear. Nobody would hurt her if he could stand between them. He blinked slowly as he looked back at her, carefully, almost shy, as if he expected to hit him in the face once more. Even if this marriage was for show, he had meant what he said.

The words he spoke, maybe weren't spoken from the heart, but at least of the honesty that his mind could muster. He had never lied to her. He would choose not to say certain things to her, but every word he had spoken to her had been true. So he would not promise childish love, lies of a happy ever after. Because he could taste what lingered on the horizon for them: never a simple agreement, driving each other into madness, the taste of salt and rust on their lips. It wouldn't be easy. They were forced together, and while some nights it was great, the bad nights still outweighed them. He wasn't looking forward to the coming night, spending it celebrating something he didn't believe in. Break bread and drink to something so fabricated. While he would love to think that everything would change once they'd wrapped around in some cold embrace, he feared that it would be just that. Just skins touching, not minds.

And yet they hold each other's gazes like if they would avert them, the world would stop spinning. It was like he wasn't afraid anymore, that anywhere else than this bubble that they'd created would be scarier still. And while he spoke, he feared what she might think of his words. Would she curse him once again, for ill fitted words or stroking against the grain of tradition? Or might she be touched by them? Maybe it was selfish to even consider that possibility. Especially for him, which mind and thought he protected do diligently, caged away from her behind lock and key, only for her to occasionally glance upon through barred windows. And yet he might even unconsciously wanted to hand her the keys, for her to pry him open, because he couldn't to it himself. But even that key, she would have to wriggle out of clenched fingers.

Ezekiel's eyes windened slightly at her soft smile. It wasn't much, but it resembled an understanding between them. That she understood his position, as much as he understood hers. That they could not change between night and day with just a few weightless promises and a ring. But he meant what he said. As duty commanded, he would give what he could to her. If only it would be a raised sword and bared teeth. It was the only way he knew how. So he smiled back, if only it was in relief. He wasn't scared of her words that would come, as he knew they would be truths as well. It was the only promise they still clutched at, to stop pretending. At least with each other. It was the fragile trust he unknowingly clung himself to.

Chaska's words were much more poetic than his. It was clear that she was much more well-read than he was. She talked to gracefully about the stars, leaving out the moon as not even a crescent smiled down at them tonight. She made grand promises: eternity. His expression turned more grave, as his eyebrows furrowed slightly. And as she continued every well-chosen word, he felt heavy and light in his stomach at the same time. The word "wife" still sounded otherworldly to him, but he would be no stranger to it after a few moments. As he would be her husband. They would be forced into adulthood soon enough, as she promised to endure it by his side, no matter how tough it would become. He squeezed her hand with an upturned corner of his mouth as she spoke about not swimming against the current. As if they wouldn't fight again, but maybe at least he could be with her up that stream she talked about. Or maybe he just didn't understand her metaphors. Or maybe after all, she put up a show for a priestess.

The last words held more weight than what had come before. No competitors, but a place beside him. His eyes widened at the sound of that. Did she truly realize? What kind of amends did she make with herself? Or with him, without him knowing? Had she given up fighting against the grain, or did she truly wanted to stand with him? In a way they were still children, not knowing what this meant, which responsibilities they had promised to each other. And yet, as one hand untangled from hers and trailed up to her neck, placing it just above the pearl necklace that started all of this. ‘‘As equals,’’ he whispered gently. The whole idea of this woman belonging to him was uncomfortable at the very start for him. And they'd spend to much time exposing themselves to each other in ungodly ways anyways.

And before the priestess could even call out her proper blessings, he pressed his lips against hers. It felt much more natural than it should be at a night like this. But things were not happening like they should be anyways. There was no moon, no giddy smiles or good nerves. The air was heavy, they just hadn't decided yet if it was filled with dread or glee. That that storm would blow over, or that thunder would erupt in a matter of time. But he kissed her anyways, getting reacquainted with the taste. And for just a long second, he let himself slip into it.

Ezekiel was glad that at least this part of their lives - the start of it, maybe - was in private. Nobody would be able to reciprocate these words. He had no idea what the priestess would tell, but the words that were spoken were only for each other. Even if he could probably never perfectly recite what Chaska had spoken to him, as it was more of a poem than a promise. Perhaps the two of them could coexist, as he might ask her in the future to explain it to him, word for word. But he had gotten the gist of it, she promised to be dutiful by his side, as a companion, rather than a competitor. Had it been like that all this time? Fighting over who was right, who would come out on top. Maybe she had already won, getting what she wanted, making him vow these things, realizing he didn't lie a word. Whatever spell she'd cast over him, making him soft and compliant.

But it didn't seem the end of the world anymore. He could imagine it, some life, side by side, as she so prettily had described. Through seas and currents, whatever that meant. It painted a picture he hadn't expected of her. They hadn't spoken much what would happen after this, she only voiced time and time again that she wanted this. A temple, a vow, a kiss. And as he grazed her soft skin once more, tenderly as he leaned in for that kiss, it wasn't half as bad what would happen after. They could live alongside each other, or spent separate lives, continuing this dance of push and pull. Whatever it was, at this moment, it wasn't that scary anymore. He looked at her as he told her he wanted to be equals, and she produced some political correct words. A sharp exhaled exited his nose, amused by the lack of fire in front of an official. ‘‘I do,’’ he whispered, not bothered by prying eyes for a change. Before the kiss lingered for a while to long, probably obviously not their first. But probably the first for them to not be followed by some wandering hands.

As they pulled back to each other, he quickly pursed his lips together to not look to pleased. He didn't want the pleased look in the eyes of their family members when they thought they might have been responsible for a decent match. He raised his eyebrows when she looked a bit to smug for his liking. He wanted nothing more to tease her back, but as he heard a small cough next to him and he looked back at the priestess, he realized his mistake. The rings presented to him, his hart sunk a bit. Well, if it hadn't been obvious before, it was obvious now, that the innocence was long gone.

The silver haired sorcerer tried to play it cool as his hand went back to her hands, looking at her delicate fingers in his rather small hands, if only to keep his own from fidgeting. This felt the worst, the weirdest part of it all. Chaska had been walking with his pearls around her neck for weeks now, and as he disliked that symbol of engagement, sometimes he had looked down at those pearl to earth himself back to the ground. But now he would have one of his own, a simple piece of metal to tell the world that he was a married man now. That he belonged to someone, if it was of his own choosing or not. A token of love, some would call it. Not for them. He had no idea what it meant yet, apart from binding them together. And as he slowly picked up the delicate ring for Chaska, silver and with shimmering lapis lazuli adorning it, he hesitated, if only a moment, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the weight of duty.

‘‘I give you this ring as a symbol of our marriage.’’ He gently put it around her finger, then quickly closing his hand around hers, to hide the gem from his eyes as he looked back up to her. He stole a quick glance from the priestess, as if it was expected of him to say more. ‘‘And as a symbol of all we have promised an all we shall share.’’ He nodded quickly and kept his gaze on her now. He didn't know why the nerves suddenly had returned with a vigor. Why this felt the most real of all, having something tangible of their promises.

It were these final moments before having to face the crowd of people that was waiting past the exit of the temple, that he wanted to be dragged out as long as possible, and be over as quickly as possible at the same time. He still didn't feel ready to enter this new chapter in his live. Suddenly there would be always somebody by his side, whom he should take care of, protect and keep in his mind at all times. Although he would be lying if she hadn't already invaded his mind. But an easy lie to tell to himself.

So when the next trinket that bound her to him was now part of her, he almost felt guilty in a way. He shouldn't be, because he gave her what she wanted. Even now, standing with her hand in his, he didn't know why. Why she wasn't eager at the start, but always this kind of optimistic about it all, and after a while almost desperate. He had wiped her teary eyes while she asked why not marry her. And now he was met with a soft smile, where he felt the tension in his jaw rise.

He looked down at their hands once more as she didn't hesitate to slide a ring over his finger. And as she repeated the words necessary, he wanted nothing more than clasp his hand together, feel the silver with his other hand, but he refrained himself from doing so. He just looked at their hands for a while, matching silver on their fingers, glimmering with blue. That was it then, as she again promised her place by his side, just making clear what this tiny trinket meant. One he should not remove, but keep on him at all times. He looked back up at her, giving her a tiny nod as his gaze softened slightly, brushing his thumb across the back of her hand. Did he feel different? Honestly, he did. He had expected to have a burden lifted, but suddenly he felt it heavier than ever, as he finally let his fingers flex and feel the silver burn in his skin.

Ezekiel wanted to do what he was best in: run away. But for this ceremony to be finally over, for everybody to witness, was that damned shell. He didn't know what he would prefer, something bad? It would be easy that their marriage was doomed from the start, nobody would bat an eye at the mistakes that they would inevitably make. And they sullied their marriage anyways. But somehow a good sound was even more nerve-wrecking. Because than they had to live up to this expectation that everything would be brilliant anyways. That they would be brilliant. He turned to the priestess, clutching Chaska's hand tight as the conch shell he had collected from the beach was presented. He hadn't looked into it much that day, when he was still angry with her. It was completely ordinary, pearly white with some peach-colored markings. He had picked it up, weighed it in his hand and took it home, not even taking an effort to look for something else. But now he started to second-guess himself as the priestess raised the shell to her lips. He tightened his grip on Chaska's hand and closed his eyes as he felt his stomach turn. And then from the deafening silence, a perfectly clear sound filled the temple.