"Miles and I are planning to get married again, Barrayaran ceremony groats and all, and I wondered if you'd be my Second."
"Oh, Linya and I are planning our Barrayaran wedding, and in the spirit of warning you ahead of time I thought I'd call and ask you to be my Second before we put your name down."
"And in the spirit of warning you ahead of time, you are aware that customarily this would lead to me kissing your wife, the once, yes?"
"Yes. I think I'll survive. I don't think Linya has quite decided what she thinks of that custom, but she has indicated she is not implacably opposed."
"Wasn't your survival I was worried about," mutters Ivan. "Right then, that being the only associated threat to life and limb, I'm all for it, when's the wedding?"
Miles snickers. "In a month. I'll tell you the exact date when we've pinned it down. Any schedule concerns I should know about?"
"Just work, and that's regular barring crises for me. Do avoid having crises double-booked on the day of your wedding, will you?"
"You could call me Linyabel if you'd like."
Time elapses. The day arrives.
Linya, having consulted with Alys, gets beautifully dressed up in silver with little black and gold accents, and wears her hair down and brushed out in a lustrous sheet (it's more practical braided, but at its most striking on its own merits when loose).
On a brick circle at Vorkosigan Surleau, with the House crest picked out in another color of brick, groats in pretty colors are strewn in a small circle, which is circumscribed in a star and then a greater circle.
Linya is, in traditional Vor style, fetched on a horse, which is named Fat Ninny. (The name of the horse is not traditional.) It has been pointed out to Miles that she already lives in his home and the fetching is a bit silly even above and beyond the beast's name, but he wanted to do it and Linya doesn't mind. Her hair swooshes behind them as they approach.
And then they dismount from the horse, and clasp hands, and walk together into the interior circle.
Ivan and Ekaterin are both supplied with little bags of still more groats. And Alys cues Miles, ready to feed him his lines if he does not produce them because he's too busy admiring his wife's glowing smile or her shiny hair or her pretty outfit.
"I, Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, do take thee, Linyabel Miriat, to be my spouse and helpmeet, forsaking all others. I swear to stand with you, united in love; to give aid where needed, and accept it where given; to guard your honour as you guard mine, our lives intertwined, for as long as we both shall live."
"I, Linyabel Miriat, do take thee, Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, to be my spouse and helpmeet, forsaking all others. I swear to stand with you, united in love; to give aid where needed, and accept it where given; to guard your honor as you guard mine, our lives intertwined, for as long as we both shall live."
And then she makes a graceful little curtsy so she can kiss him without picking him up off the bricks.
(That is a lie. They are just the right amount of married.)
loses his nerve at the last minute and kisses her just on the cheek. And promptly stands beside Ekaterin to collect her arm and walk her out of the groat arrangement.
Armsmen, off where they are lined up, perform their Shout.
There is dinner, and dancing, and small talk, and much gooey gazing between bride and groom.
- the positive energy of the wedding seeps away bit by bit and leaves her pensive.