Five Times Ryn Orun Got Married (OC, Anakin Skywalker, Ferus Olin, others) PG-13
Dear attanagra,
You said you wanted wedding!fic. You are getting FIVE wedding fics, none of which may be what you were looking for. But you know what? If you don't like 'em, I'll just have to keep trying until I get it right! And in the meantime, my pen did this stuff in a notebook that you might want to read.
Cheers,
Wyn
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. This story is purely a work of fan fiction, and I am not making any profit from it.
Author's note: Five snippets from five AUs.
Five Times Ryn Orun Got Married
One
Anakin skywalker is brave and compassionate and gorgeous, everything she always wanted and never dared to ask for in a man. She should be thrilled to be marrying him.
But this isn't real, he isn't choosing her: this isn't Anakin marrying Ryn, this is the Chosen One doing his duty.
She closes her eyes and does hers, too.
"I, Areth'ryn Llewellyn Orun, by the grace of the Almighty, pledge my life and loyalty to you, Anakin Skywalker …"
Two
"Friends help each other," he insists, so earnest. "Don't marry that blue guy, Ryn. Let me help you. Marry me."
"You don't love me."
"Neither does he."
She can't tell him that it doesn't matter whether the Chiss loves her, the only man she'll ever love gave his heart away before they ever met. "Padmé."
"She'll understand," Anakin says, and Ryn can't tell whether it's conviction or desperation she hears in his voice. "We'll figure something out."
Like what? Ryn wonders, but in her heart she knows. When the time comes, she will let him go, set him free to follow his dreams. In the meantime, she takes his hands and speaks the words of the ancient, impersonal ceremony distinctly, giving them all the weight of her meaning, throwing herself headlong again.
Free fall, she thinks, and almost smiles.
"…to share your hardships and your joys, to stand beside you in all things …"
Three
He drags her outside and goes down on one knee in the herb garden, under the spreading oak.
"Marry me."
"We're already married!"
"That was for Loreth. For the Jedi. The galaxy. Marry me for … for us. For love, Ryn. Let me choose you this time. Give me a chance to do it right."
"We already -"
He catches her cool fingers in his warmer ones, the strength of his grip somehow reassuring and trilling at the same time. "Please."
They go to Tatooine for the wedding, and say their vows under the desert suns, with Shmi and Cliegg and Owen and Beru and Obi-Wan and Evinne and Kit and Jinn and Obi standing beside them.
They could have been alone; their eyes are only for each other.
"… to make your people and your enemies my own, to be your companion in all things, as long as we both shall live."
Four
It's a quiet ceremony, attended mostly by Padmé's family. Ryn tries not to think too hard about the implications of that; she's known for years that they have practically adopted Anakin, anyway. And the Naberries have always been kind to her.
And still, she can't help whispering to Anakin, the night before the wedding: "Are you sure you want to be doing this? Are you sure you're ready?"
He kisses her, and she tastes fruit and wine and Anakin. "I'm sure. I can't wait."
"But … mmmph." It's an effort to pull herself away from his mouth. She sometimes thinks she could kiss him all night and not get tired. "You don't have to marry me, you know. I mean -"
"Sh. I know what you mean." Anakin shushes her objections with another kiss, slanting his mouth open over hers, and Ryn hears herself sigh in appreciation. "And I'm marrying you. Tomorrow." Another kiss, longer and deeper this time. "I love you."
And Ryn is guiltily aware that this is the best thing that has ever happened to her. A better woman, maybe, would have felt regret over the circumstances, but all Ryn can bring herself to feel is profoundly grateful that they have found their way to each other, after all. She'd die herself, to take away his pain and give him Padmé again … but since it won't help, maybe she can give him some joy instead.
In the morning she marries the love of her life.
"I, Anakin, Skywalker, take you, Ryn Orun, to be my …"
Five
"Marry you?" she repeats, incredulous. "Are you out of your mind?"
"Yes," says Ferus imperturbably. "I'm crazy about you, Ryn." He looks down at their hands, his fingers wrapping a little more tightly around hers. "I always was, you know."
"No," says Ryn, still trying to fight her way back from stunned. "I didn't. You left."
She feels his wince in the slight tightening of his fingers, before he gets a hold of himself. "I'm sorry about that," he says quietly. "I was … confused. I know it's no excuse. But I do love you, Ryn, and I'm not going anywhere this time. Marry me."
"I'm Lord Vader's personal assistant and you just went undercover to foment a rebellion!" Ryn exclaims in frustration - exasperation - maybe a little bit in love. "How the hell is that not going anywhere?"
"So we won't see each other that much," Ferus admits, shrugging a little. "I know, it's not perfect. Duty comes first, and sometimes I hate it. I don't like the choices you're making. But I can't care any more. I'm tired of loving you from a distance and never saying anything. So the real question is: do you love me?"
Bail Organa performs the (very private) ceremony. Breha weeps into a handkerchief. Lord Vader is not present, but Ryn suspects that he is cutting her a wide berth that weekend on purpose. (They avoid the subject scrupulously for the next fifteen years, and Ryn knows that silent lack of curiosity is his wedding gift to a girl Anakin Skywalker once betrayed.)
The afternoon light slants into Bail's office, peeking between mountain ridges in the distance and too sharp for comfort, and Ferus looks into her eyes and Ryn lets herself, just for a little while, believe.
"I, Ryn, take you, Ferus …"
You said you wanted wedding!fic. You are getting FIVE wedding fics, none of which may be what you were looking for. But you know what? If you don't like 'em, I'll just have to keep trying until I get it right! And in the meantime, my pen did this stuff in a notebook that you might want to read.
Cheers,
Wyn
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. This story is purely a work of fan fiction, and I am not making any profit from it.
Author's note: Five snippets from five AUs.
Five Times Ryn Orun Got Married
One
Anakin skywalker is brave and compassionate and gorgeous, everything she always wanted and never dared to ask for in a man. She should be thrilled to be marrying him.
But this isn't real, he isn't choosing her: this isn't Anakin marrying Ryn, this is the Chosen One doing his duty.
She closes her eyes and does hers, too.
"I, Areth'ryn Llewellyn Orun, by the grace of the Almighty, pledge my life and loyalty to you, Anakin Skywalker …"
Two
"Friends help each other," he insists, so earnest. "Don't marry that blue guy, Ryn. Let me help you. Marry me."
"You don't love me."
"Neither does he."
She can't tell him that it doesn't matter whether the Chiss loves her, the only man she'll ever love gave his heart away before they ever met. "Padmé."
"She'll understand," Anakin says, and Ryn can't tell whether it's conviction or desperation she hears in his voice. "We'll figure something out."
Like what? Ryn wonders, but in her heart she knows. When the time comes, she will let him go, set him free to follow his dreams. In the meantime, she takes his hands and speaks the words of the ancient, impersonal ceremony distinctly, giving them all the weight of her meaning, throwing herself headlong again.
Free fall, she thinks, and almost smiles.
"…to share your hardships and your joys, to stand beside you in all things …"
Three
He drags her outside and goes down on one knee in the herb garden, under the spreading oak.
"Marry me."
"We're already married!"
"That was for Loreth. For the Jedi. The galaxy. Marry me for … for us. For love, Ryn. Let me choose you this time. Give me a chance to do it right."
"We already -"
He catches her cool fingers in his warmer ones, the strength of his grip somehow reassuring and trilling at the same time. "Please."
They go to Tatooine for the wedding, and say their vows under the desert suns, with Shmi and Cliegg and Owen and Beru and Obi-Wan and Evinne and Kit and Jinn and Obi standing beside them.
They could have been alone; their eyes are only for each other.
"… to make your people and your enemies my own, to be your companion in all things, as long as we both shall live."
Four
It's a quiet ceremony, attended mostly by Padmé's family. Ryn tries not to think too hard about the implications of that; she's known for years that they have practically adopted Anakin, anyway. And the Naberries have always been kind to her.
And still, she can't help whispering to Anakin, the night before the wedding: "Are you sure you want to be doing this? Are you sure you're ready?"
He kisses her, and she tastes fruit and wine and Anakin. "I'm sure. I can't wait."
"But … mmmph." It's an effort to pull herself away from his mouth. She sometimes thinks she could kiss him all night and not get tired. "You don't have to marry me, you know. I mean -"
"Sh. I know what you mean." Anakin shushes her objections with another kiss, slanting his mouth open over hers, and Ryn hears herself sigh in appreciation. "And I'm marrying you. Tomorrow." Another kiss, longer and deeper this time. "I love you."
And Ryn is guiltily aware that this is the best thing that has ever happened to her. A better woman, maybe, would have felt regret over the circumstances, but all Ryn can bring herself to feel is profoundly grateful that they have found their way to each other, after all. She'd die herself, to take away his pain and give him Padmé again … but since it won't help, maybe she can give him some joy instead.
In the morning she marries the love of her life.
"I, Anakin, Skywalker, take you, Ryn Orun, to be my …"
Five
"Marry you?" she repeats, incredulous. "Are you out of your mind?"
"Yes," says Ferus imperturbably. "I'm crazy about you, Ryn." He looks down at their hands, his fingers wrapping a little more tightly around hers. "I always was, you know."
"No," says Ryn, still trying to fight her way back from stunned. "I didn't. You left."
She feels his wince in the slight tightening of his fingers, before he gets a hold of himself. "I'm sorry about that," he says quietly. "I was … confused. I know it's no excuse. But I do love you, Ryn, and I'm not going anywhere this time. Marry me."
"I'm Lord Vader's personal assistant and you just went undercover to foment a rebellion!" Ryn exclaims in frustration - exasperation - maybe a little bit in love. "How the hell is that not going anywhere?"
"So we won't see each other that much," Ferus admits, shrugging a little. "I know, it's not perfect. Duty comes first, and sometimes I hate it. I don't like the choices you're making. But I can't care any more. I'm tired of loving you from a distance and never saying anything. So the real question is: do you love me?"
Bail Organa performs the (very private) ceremony. Breha weeps into a handkerchief. Lord Vader is not present, but Ryn suspects that he is cutting her a wide berth that weekend on purpose. (They avoid the subject scrupulously for the next fifteen years, and Ryn knows that silent lack of curiosity is his wedding gift to a girl Anakin Skywalker once betrayed.)
The afternoon light slants into Bail's office, peeking between mountain ridges in the distance and too sharp for comfort, and Ferus looks into her eyes and Ryn lets herself, just for a little while, believe.
"I, Ryn, take you, Ferus …"