and even when truth doesn't help with the sting

[onlyhalfwild]

A couple of days later, the weather takes an abrupt turn for the decidedly nasty. The clouds were dark and ominous, and to make matters even worse, there was a slight miscommunication. When they hit a clan border, divided by a large strip of open ground, but no escort was waiting for them. The clan that had escorted them seemed anxious to leave

Comments

[sosilversoexact]

It's oddly unsurprising that their wedding takes place on a day like this--by the time Martel and Maryani retire to their chambers, his nerves are a wreck for a variety of reasons having little to do with their marriage and everything to do with the reason they'd chosen now to be married.

Almost funny. Less so, with what Sparhawk had had to tell them after the siege that had blessedly not lasted half so long as Sarabian was worried about. Goddamn Krager, though. Martel's eager to get out of his armor, to say the least.

[onlyhalfwild]

Maryani hurls herself onto the sofa with a great sigh. "Cyrgon," she mutters, "I can't believe Krager really said he was working for--a god's got to be involved in this, Martel, but I don't know that it could conceivably be that one. Either way, I really, really dislike this. This was way too close, and it's just the start."

When she's stressed and has had an enormous week (marriage and battle and death and she hasn't even gotten to kiss him properly as a married woman yet, not in private), she talks.

[sosilversoexact]

As fond of the steel wardrobe as Martel is, right now it's mostly a hindrance and he's not much of a conversationalist while he removes it--briefly summoning her assistance, in a fascinating switch from the usual--but eventually, he's across from her on the sofa and not looking much less stressed.

Perhaps moreso. There are things he's still not bringing up.

"Sarabian's a political child," he notes, finally. "Vastly intelligent, but--if Ehlana can't take him in hand quickly, he's going to slow things down." He likes Sarabian, but if they have to stop every ten minutes to remind him of the situation it's going to be bloody hindering awkward.

[onlyhalfwild]

"She will. I'll remind her, if necessary, but I don't think it will be." Maryani starts unplaiting her hair, rolling her shoulders while she does this. "I'm not tired. I ought to be tired, but--instead I'm keyed up. How are you?"

There's a lot coming for them, after all.

[sosilversoexact]

Martel inclines his head in acknowledgment--it probably won't. He watches her for a moment after her question, not honestly sure how to answer it or if he wants to. "It's been a very long day."

It's been a series of very long days packed together into an eternity of months.

[onlyhalfwild]

"It has," she agrees.

And then she looks back at him, and smiles slightly. "We're married."

[sosilversoexact]

"What an amazing thing," he responds, not as dry as he was trying to be.

[onlyhalfwild]

She abruptly pounces him and bites his shoulder, violently, in response to that.

[sosilversoexact]

Martel almost laughs, letting himself be knocked sideways some and holding her where she landed. "My wife." There's pleased affection in it--and some surprise, honestly. He'd never intended to give up, but it seemed like a faraway thing that might never happen.

[onlyhalfwild]

"That's right." She smiles at him again, settling close by. "We've really got to thank Stragen and Ehlana properly soon. And now I can't make any more 'devoted mistress' jokes!"

[sosilversoexact]

"Ah," he says, half to the ceiling. "She's uncovered my true motives."

[onlyhalfwild]

Maryani bites him again, and then adds, sweetly, "I think Sarabian propositioned us earlier, or wanted to, you know."

[sosilversoexact]

"I was sincerely hoping I imagined that," Martel says, slightly pained. It might be affectation, or it might not.

[onlyhalfwild]

"Do you have thoughts on the matter?" Maryani grins at him. "He's awfully fun, and Elysoun is a little tall but she's still within the bounds of your type, I think."

[sosilversoexact]

"My thoughts are 'no'," he says, succinctly, before the latter half of what she just said to him occurs and he frowns slightly, looking at her in askance. "What type?"

[onlyhalfwild]

"You like the following," she begins, climbing forward to drape herself against him, one leg caught around his waist, "long dark hair, narrow shoulders, petite build, and most importantly: sass."