It would not be too much of an interruption.

[Oh! Are you—? Um, hello,] he says.

[If you wished to collect your kiss from my beloved now - perhaps you remember, from when you first saw the island, wanting one - then you could visit us and do so.]

Isibel extracts one hand from the cuddle-wrap to wave lazily at him.

That looks to be an admirably cuddly cuddle-wrap. Lycaelon admires it for a moment.

Aianon gently unwraps his wings from around the snuggling Isibel and Ansharil, so that he can sit up and beckon to Lycaelon.

"Huh?" he says distractedly.

"You are gazing at my dragon. You may wish to stop and think." She puts her hand between his eyes and Ansharil.

[Fate, I guess,] says Liselen. [I don't have anything specific to tell you about it.]

[So presumably you do not have to do it to save the world.]

[Absolutely no world-saving involved,] Liselen confirms. [It's all up to you.]

[Okay...] says Lycaelon. [That's... good? I guess?]

[If you share my initial discomfort with the idea but would otherwise like to, it can, of course, be patched by magic.]

"Right," he murmurs. [Thanks, Lise.] "Are - what do you think, I'm not just deciding this for me, am I?"

Isibel flops onto Ansharil. (She is already Bonded with him and can look at him as much as she likes.) "It would be different. Perhaps in a good way, though."

"I would not mind," says Aianon, running his fingers through Lycaelon's hair (and being careful with his talons) as Ansharil hugs Isibel. "I could love you happily."

"Apparently I could love you too," says Lycaelon. "But - sharing each other's minds, that's optional? Right? You fixed that?"

"...I do not know how the wish will hold, with another mind added to the Bond. I will be safe; my aura will do it - you might have to wait a short while for Lazarus to have another look at us all and make a replacement wish."

"It's not the mind-reading that I can't stand so much as the closeness," he says, "and I can live with that in small doses. And... I want to. I think I want to."

Aianon hugs him.

"If these are small enough doses, then if you continue staring at my beloved now, we might have to become presentable for Lazarus sooner than I would prefer," remarks Isibel.

"You could collect your kiss now and come back later," Aianon suggests.

Mmmm.

"I don't know how small," he says, when there has been enough kiss. "I've never bonded with a dragon before."

"It is like falling," murmurs Isibel.

"Like always knowing the person you love is there, even when they are far away," says Aianon.

He shivers again.

"I was afraid. I'm sure it's different if you aren't afraid."

"Yeah, maybe," he says. "I don't do too well with people being there all the time."

"There are not very many of us," Aianon reminds him, "and we will love you very much. And we can go as far away as you want."

Lycaelon thinks. He leans on Aianon while he does it. Aianon is very comfortable to lean on.

Very comfy. Isibel is still snuggling Ansharil. "I will be a bit at arm's length," she clarifies. "Co-bonded are not always so close. But I already like you very much."

"If I didn't like you both very much, I would be gone already," he laughs.

"Naturally."

"I would need to think about it. And in the meantime I might like to have Aianon back." She pauses, tilts her head. "Pattern has left me a message, recommending time-dilation, so you might not need to wait long."

Aianon unmakes the chair he made for Lycaelon and pounces on his loves.

Mmm. Pouncing. There is already magic in place to ensure that his sharp parts do not harm Isibel, and Ansharil of course is very fond of those sharp parts and would not dream of banning them from his person.

Personalized sharpness enjoyment for everyone!

Yes. That.

Also beloved-enjoyment, more generally. Lots of it. A sennight is not enough after sixteen years.

Not nearly enough. Try three, or four. Or more than that. More, generally. More time, more pouncing, more kisses, more of everything they missed.

And there was so much to miss. (Not least because Ansharil keeps turning into things. When he's an angel he makes the loveliest sounds when Isibel strokes his wings.)

His wings as an angel are the same vivid array of purples as his hair in any humanoid shape. They are very beautiful, and he loves to wrap her up in them and kiss her.

And she loves to be wrapped up and kissed! What a lovely arrangement.

Yes. If possible, Ansharil would like to go on touching her for - oh, the next several years at least.

She would not dream of sending him away from her.

Good. He'll just do that, then.

Of course, several years spent doing what they are doing now might be excessive, time-dilation or no, but that doesn't mean she wants to stop yet. And she can bring Ansharil with her wherever she goes, shaped like this or that, without it necessarily always devolving into sennights or moonturns of prolonged "reunion".

Very very much that.

Very much of that. As much of that as they want. Especially now that they are tucked away out of time, there is absolutely no reason to stop until they are entirely done.

That will take a lot of that.

Yes. It will.

Best get started. Well. Continue, more.

Isibel kisses his forehead, not to break the lull but to punctuate it. She sits up. She squares herself presentable and clothed, ensures that the tree won't allow anyone in to disturb or be disturbed by Aianon, and stands and stretches, yawning contently.

Ansharil becomes a small purple creature with a long fluffy body, a longer, fluffier tail, and beautiful feathery purple wings. He flutters up to Isibel's shoulder, perches there, curls his tail loosely around her neck, and nuzzles her cheek.

She pets his fluff. And she breaks the time dilation on her tree, and takes a step outside.

Will she be seeking out Lycaelon now?

It would, except - that all of her feelings about marriage are elfy feelings, not angel feelings or enchantress feelings. And elf-marriage is about soul-sympathy. And that is only operating in one direction, here.

Isibel likes it too. She sighs and puts her head on his shoulder. Now they are all matched up. She could take him to any elven celebrant and be married formally. (She could have done this before, but it was never pressing; now she thinks she would like to do it soon.)

Ansharil is very amused by the image of the three of them going together to be married. Himself in his natural shape, and Aianon in his.

Isibel is not sure she can convince a celebrant to participate in this arrangement.

Nor is Ansharil. That is why it's funny.

It is funny. Perhaps they can get one of her alts to perform that ceremony. Angela is so empowered by her office, she believes, and any of the empresses could award herself the power. But herself and elf-Ansharil for the local one.

Yes. Plenty of weddings. That seems like a good idea.

They might as well wait until Aianon wakes up. Which means there is time to get married first, unless getting married takes an especially long time for reasons Ansharil cannot imagine.

Since it would be difficult and merely symbolic for Aianon to be physically present at the wedding, and since there will be another ceremony anyway, that makes sense. It will not take too terribly long as long as someone has betrothal pendants available for them. (She has an amusing mental image of the fluffy long creature he was on her shoulder a few minutes ago, wearing a betrothal pendant.)

Ansharil giggles.

People will ask her why her husband is on her shoulder and she will tell them that he is more portable that way. It will be very amusing.

He kisses her, because he loves her and she is hilarious and lovely and kissable.

All of those things! Isibel closes her eyes and kisses back and starts peering through the elven jewelry repositories of the world for pretty pendants. It would be gauche to conjure them.

She would like them to match, in some ways if not necessarily in all. So this suggests purple, or green, or maybe blue which will go nicely with either color and her hollyplant-wreath, and an easily adjustable chain for Ansharil's assorted sizes. From her place in her beloved's arms she inspects the available jewelry until she finds a paired set she likes. They're heavy eggs of banded blue agate trapped in lacy swirls of delicate white wire, and they don't come with their own chains - her beloved's can be attached by their little white-metal hooks to something easily relinked for wearing on a small form. She thinks her chain will be gold; her beloveds might have any sort they like, since the chain can be conjured up.

Yes. That sounds lovely. Ansharil snuggles her.

And Isibel thinks it will look nice on Aianon too.

That is good. Aianon will want to wear it also, when Ansharil does not. (It would look a little silly around the neck of a dragon.)

Ansharil giggles again. She is the most adorable of sarions.

—Her beloveds' mind is theirs. They will want to share it with their Bonded. How much would she need them to keep back...? It would be very hard to do, if they did not know exactly which things. (It won't be like lending their experience to Elspeth, where they could just drop everything since they Bonded to Isibel.)

Nothing specific comes to mind. It would be different if she were not already having sex with Lycaelon, but she is, and does not much mind if he observes her stray thoughts of the subject, bounced from mind to mind, or those of her beloveds that concern her. It only seems in principle - troubling, if she could never have a truly private intimacy with her beloveds. Lycaelon is too introverted to want perpetual sharing anyway; perhaps she could simply - retain the option to mark things? She doesn't know what things. It would just feel more comfortable to have such a marker available than to commit to eternal flow of thought to another person for anything she wants to show her beloveds.

Well, yes, of course. If there is some particular thing she does not want shared, she has only to think so and they will do their best. They can consult Liselen and Lazarus beforehand about how to make sure that the bond cooperates.

He becomes an elf (with his usual rather un-elven colour scheme) and then becomes clothed.

She takes his hand in hers and teleports them to the place where the agate pendants she likes are to be found.

The artisan welcomes them, delicately ignoring Ansharil's vividly purple hair, and offers tea.

Socially acceptable amounts of tea are consumed, and Isibel issues compliments about the blue agate pendants.

The artisan agrees that they are some of her finest work, and lets it be known that Isibel Sarion is welcome to them.

Isibel is appropriately thankful. She conjures up chains for them. She puts her beloved's on around his neck. (She would like it if he would put hers on for her.)

He does that.

She kisses him. They are engaged! She is so pleased.

He is pleased also! Perhaps they should celebrate.

Back to the tree, then?

Apparently!

It is a nice tree. Ansharil likes it.

She is so proud of her tree. It is a useful enchanted private tree. In which celebrations.

Mmm. Yes. Those.

Then they can be married whenever they find someone to marry them. Good.

[This news makes good hearing,] says Magania.

[And Jane has recovered.] (This too was in her brainphone messages, when she checked them.) [And my dragon has turned into an elf and we would like to be married.]

A moment of silence.

[He can turn into anything he likes,] Isibel explains. [They went to another world and he gained the ability.]

[I did not know this,] says Magania. [Life with you is never short of surprises.]

[Perhaps I should have mentioned it sooner. At any rate, he can be an elf, and we are wearing betrothal pendants now, and he will probably accompany me wherever I go for the next several years at least, in small portable shapes, but today he is being an elf for purposes including marrying me.]

[I had hoped you might assist us. My parents - oh, and I ought to ask Liselen, although we will perform the ceremony all over again when there is next a Bell party and he could be at that one - will comprise the guest list.]

[I would be pleased to do so,] says Magania, [at whatever time might be convenient for all of us.]

[That would be great!] says Liselen. [Congratulations and stuff! I've never been to a wedding before.]

[Myself, my beloved, Magania, and my parents are all quite free in our schedules.]

[Me too,] Liselen says cheerfully. [I don't have any urgent unicorning to do in the next little while, not that I know about anyway.]

[Well, then,] says Isibel, conferencing in everyone who will appear at the wedding, [there are no time constraints at all. Perhaps we should begin right now.]

[So long as your magic can provide a well-laid feast table in an appropriate pavilion,] says Magania. [Otherwise we may be some time finding those things.]

[My enchanted village can certainly do it.] There is a platform suspended high in the trees, to which she teleports herself and Ansharil; it is currently unoccupied, but when she claps her hands and asks it for a feast, it sets about arranging one.

Isibel pets Liselen's mane. "That is kind. He can be at the other ceremony. If he were at this one he would distract the groom, alas." She supposes she should inform Lycaelon of as much. [We are planning to have two weddings. You can be at the other, after Bonding, if you still want to. My beloved thinks that should wait until after Aianon has finished with his nap, however.]

[I thought it might be something like that,] says Lycaelon.

By the time she has done that, Magania is present also, admiring Ansharil's hair.

It is lovely hair! Is this everyone? This looks like everyone. Isibel touches her pendant and smiles.

Ansharil smiles, too.

Elven weddings are simple - so much of the guesswork that humans and so on like to shore up with ritual is handled by soul-sympathy. Magania speaks, and Isibel and Ansharil speak, and it's done, and all that remains is to feast.

Ooh, feasting.

Feasting, and sappy looks between bride and groom, and Rania cooing over her child, and Cariel giving Ansharil possibly approving nods that are probably meaningful if you are actually a male elf and not pretending.

The sappy looks are Ansharil's favourite part.

The feasting is Liselen's!

And eventually Rania and Cariel go home.

And so do Magania and Liselen.

And Ansharil scoops up Isibel and kisses her.

Scooping! Kissing! Isibel approves. These are good things.

Perhaps they should go and have some more sex. Ansharil is vaguely aware that some cultures consider that a marriage tradition.

Yes. That seems like a good plan.

Hello again, Isibel's tree!

It is such a lovely tree. Ansharil is pleased with it.

Best tree.

Indeed it is.

He is being small and furry and snuggly. Snuggle snuggle.

Of course he would.

That is good.