The Out of Season Wedding March [1/2]
Title: The Out of Season Wedding March
Author: Me
Genre: Romance/Humour/Drama
Characters/Pairings: PrussiaxHungary(xAustria. Well, it is their wedding. . .)
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 just because of Prussia’s potty mouth.
Summary: Non-nation AU. Just about everyone in the wedding party and guest crowd either stood up out of their seat, gasped ridiculously, or both.
Notes: It’s more or less based off of a song called Kekkonshiki no Uta ~kisetsu hazure no Wedding March~ by the ever-talented 雅 -MIYAVI-. I know there are probably a few fics concerning Roddy and Eliza's wedding, but I wanted to try my hand at it. (Though the AU part isn't so present until the 2nd part.)
EDIT: LJ’s being a bit weird with the formatting, so forgive the overly large spaces between paragraph breaks. orz
He wasn’t sure what to feel when the invitation slipped out from between bills and flyers in the pile of daily mail: Happy that she still thought about him enough to send him an invitation, or pissed because it was an invitation to her wedding with Roderich? He read it over and over, that fake typewritten handwriting on that lacey, ladylike paper. He crumpled it up, he tore it in two, he threw it in the trash. Then he fished it back out, smoothed out the paper, and taped it back together.
------
“Your dress is like, absolutely stunning Eliza!” Feliks - the 'maid' of honour - gushed, batting at Toris’ arm as he did. “I’m like, so totes happy for you two!”
Elizaveta smiled, her face aglow with make-up and the usual bridal trimmings. “Thanks so much, Feliks,” She returned, before looking to her new husband, dressed just as dashingly. Everyone was here; all her friends celebrating, happy for her.
All her friends were here, yes, but he wasn’t here.
She noticed his nonexistence in the room. She had noticed the moment she walked down that aisle. His lack of presence felt like all she could feel, even if her eyes were dead set on the pew before her, and Roderich standing to meet her. With every step, every click of her heel, she had to think, ‘this is right. This is the right thing to do.’ Was that wrong? She wasn’t sure anymore, and all of a sudden the gold, jewel-encrusted band on her ring finger felt like it weighed as much as the grand piano.
“What do you think you’re doing? Get’cher hands of me, I’m an invited guest, dammit!”
As the crowd began to settle to tables for dinner a commotion was raised at the doors of the hall.
“Invitation? Fuck, why would I still have it? Don’t people normally keep them and pin them up in memoirs and shit? I know I did. Wouldn’t miss this for the world though!” Gilbert laughed like he had been there the entire time, the hall’s security members perplexed. Someone told her to sit down and let someone else handle it, but Elizaveta stood up and marched over anyhow.
“Please don’t tell me you came here drunk,” She hazarded. In a fit between pride and maturity, (or immaturity) she had sent the invitation to him on a whim. (Without Roderich’s notice. You could imagine the surprise behind his half-framed glasses at this moment.) She didn’t expect him to actually come.
“Drunk? ‘The hell would I do that for?” He gave her that grin of his. That teasing, toothy grin that was as white as his hair. “On the contrary, this is the most sober I’ve ever been in my life.” He barked another laugh. The hall guests were silent, for the most part, unless whispering. Ludwig, Gilbert's younger brother - who was also there among the guests - decided safely not to speak up, and to continue to make sure Feliciano didn’t jump in on the scene.
Gilbert waltzed forward, now that the bride of the day had given a curt nod to the security to let him go. In one fluid motion, he took her wrist (subconsciously realizing how thin it was) and planted a chaste kiss on the top of her hand. The murmurs around the room grew a notch.
“Congratulations on the wedding, Mrs. Edelstein. I’m sorry I missed the ceremony. I was held up, you see.”
By my pride and maturity, or immaturity, just like you.
Elizaveta frowned. What was he doing? He was so 180 degrees. “Thank you.” Her tone was controlled. “But I will be keeping my surname.”
Gilbert released her hand, looked her over, and gave a catcall of a whistle. “I have to say, you’ve changed a lot since you were the little boy who thought he’d grow a penis. Good choice for the strapless dress. Sexy,” He clicked his tongue appreciatively, mimicking the curve of her hips with his hands in the air. Elizaveta in turn reddened with both frustration and embarrassment.
“Gilbert!!”
“Ah, but due to complications - Even with our long history together -“ he shot a look at Roderich back at the wedding party’s table, “I guess I didn’t get the chance to congratulate you into womanhood in general. Well, better safe than sorry.”
The albino took the bride’s chin between thumb and forefinger, pulling her forward just enough so he could close the distance between them via smashing their teeth together. Rough and clumsy but trying to be meaningful, the kiss was so very Gilbert, Elizaveta noted somewhere underneath the boiling irritation and infuriated embarrassment.
Just about everyone in the wedding party and guest crowd either stood up out of their seat, gasped ridiculously, or both.
Surprisingly, the bride had yet to move.
“Gilbert, I demand that you release my wife this instant! You are a travesty to our wedding!!” Roderich commanded, hands firmly on the dining table as he glared at the man who would always be the bane of his existence.
That seemed to bring Elizaveta back to her senses, since he eyes widened a fraction more, and a quick, resounding slap was enough to turn Gilbert in another direction. For a moment, she almost looked frightened. Frightened because she wasn’t all that angry, if you went deep down enough.
“Man, still got that rusty old stick up your ass Roddy?” Gilbert laughed, rubbing his sore cheek. “Better fix that aristocrat ‘tude, or you’re never gonna get laid, even by Eliza!”
“Gil,” Elizaveta started again, voice dry and almost tired. “What did you come here for?”
He stopped laughing, face turning serious. It didn’t last; he broke the silence with a sigh and a dry smile. “I get it, I get it. Just go sit next to your husband,” it hurt to say husband in her context, he found, “while I say a few words. They’re PG, don’t worry. Go go, go sit down.” He shooed her with his hand. She surprisingly complied, though still suspicious.
Gilbert stood upon the platform raised off the floor where the DJ had set up, and the band was standing. He took the mic from the Arthur, (Who was also the MC for the day) as well as the Englishman's guitar. “What’re you doing, git?!” Arthur demanded in a hushed whisper. Gilbert shrugged.
What the hell was he doing, anyway?
“Get off, you’re crowding the awesome,” Gilbert pursed his lips, shooing the rest of the party on the platform to go sit down. A one man show, as usual.
“Alrighty, let’s get this over with,” he laughed to the mic with sarcastic enthusiasm. The room was stuck in a loaded silence, everyone not knowing what to expect, but expecting something.
“So I heard this song when I was in Japan,” He began casually. A slew of eyes turned to the Japanese guest, who quickly averted his gaze and waved his hands about to convey that he had nothing to do with this. “But ‘cause Brits like Arthur proclaimed his language universal, I’ll give you all just the gist of it all song-like in English. Can’t speak a lick of Japanese anyhow, so I think it all works.”
Gilbert dramatically cleared his throat.
“Happy wedding,” He whispered with a strum.
Elizaveta found herself conspicuously on the edge of her seat as the man before her started off with a bang, doing his best not to move too far from the mic without standing still. He was always a mover anyhow.
“Congratulations, this song is what I give to send you off,
Thank you, this is a song of farewell to you whom I loved.
Bye bye.”
The entire guest party - even most of the wedding party - was absolutely astounded.
“I wonder if a time will come where I’ll get my chance,
Even if we’re reborn . . . y’know?”
Gilbert laughed. It was all he could do to keep from crying or doing something stupid.
“Groom, I’ll leave the competition ‘till then.”
Speaking of the groom, he was fairly perplexed as well. Roderich kept glancing from Gilbert to Elizaveta. While, yes, their marriage was fairly political, (It was an arranged business thing, really.) that didn’t mean it didn’t bother him that she had her eyes absolutely glued on the man on the platform.
“There will probably be times you cross each other,
And there will be the nights you fight,
But even so, since you’re together, you won’t be lonely, right?”
Even though I will, Gilbert thought dryly in the back of his mind. For the moment, he focused on those stupid words he tried so hard to memorize and the strings beneath his calloused fingers.
“Congratulations, this song is what I give to send you off.
Thank you for all the memories we had together.”
By now, most people had a vague meaning behind what Gilbert was trying to do.
“Well, I’ve decided that you look beautiful,
And I think it’s because I fell in love with you.
It’s irritating that it suits you, but . . .
You really are beautiful.
The fun times I had with you,
And the bitter memories when we did nothing but fight;
Now, they’re that beautiful sepia colour.
I’ll wipe them away with my tears, and . . .
And . . .
Softly say good bye.”
If it weren’t somewhat depressing, he would’ve found it quite fun to saunter around with all eyes on him.
“Already, I’m running out of things to say.
Even now it’s already closed inside my heart,
That time, I couldn’t say it . . .
I love you.
. . . I love you.”
She couldn’t do it. She had to leave, to get up. She couldn’t hear these words from him, not now of all times. The day her unity with Roderich had been decided, she promised to never look at Gilbert like that again. She gave up all hope on him because he would never ally himself with anyone.
She wasn’t an exception.
“No matter when it is, don’t ever forget the day we met
If you fight, remember our first date.
I’ll say it once more, Congratulations.
The virgin road is the only way from here on.
The wedding march is for the two of you to walk together.
Fight nicely.
‘May you find happiness . . .’
And don’t cheat on each other.”
The song slowed with a smash, and most of the party even clapped. The song wasn’t done just yet, but she definitely was. Elizaveta stood up from the table.
“Are you alright?” Roderich asked, taking her wrist before she was out of reach. She wasn’t facing him.
“Bathroom.”
A pair of red irises followed her form to the door, watching her leave in a direction that wasn’t the bathroom. She was gone, so was the fun of all this. The last few chords were slow, the last few lines whispered almost sarcastically.
“Someday, give your baby my regards when it’s born.
And seriously,
Don’t let it call me uncle.”
Author's Notes:
- I highly recommend listening to the song! 雅 -MIYAVI- is an absolute genius. Kekkonshiki was one of his older songs, but still one of my favourites. And yes, more or less, (ooh, I rhymed. Ku fu fu.) Gilbert's speech is the English equivalent to the lyrics. Though I played with it a bit to make it a bit more grammatically pleasing.
- I had a really tough time deciding on whether or not Gilbo should sing or just talk. I can really imagine him having a husky voice like Miyavi, too. (Well, he does. [/SHOT])
- In terms of the last bit of lyric, I didn't quite get it at first. (Thank you so much Masakarasu fansite for the initial translation!) The TLDR essence of it is 'Great for your kid, but I'm never going to talk to it, so don't let it think of me as family'.
- . . . In my headcanon, Gilbo is wicked at guitar. Damn you, fan art. Damn you.
- Comments, corrections etc. are loved! <3