“I can’t believe we’re doing this again,” I murmured, resting my head on Fyodor’s shoulder.
“We are doing it all properly this time,” Fyodor corrected.
“And publicly,” Ilana added.
“And willingly,” I finished with a chuckle.
He met my gaze, both of us growing serious. “Yes.”
The courtyard filled slowly. Iosif and Avgust stood near the front, speaking in low tones that likely involved contingency plans even on a wedding day. Lukyan and Timofey were debating something pointless and stubborn, because they could not exist in the same space without competing. Misha was simply sitting on one of the white chairs and admiring the flowers while also instructing servants on how to do things, and Zhenya was pretending like she was not already emotional. Clara moved like quiet grace between everyone, adjusting flowers and whispering reassurances.
This was what peace looked like for us. Guarded and measured. Earned.
Ilana carefully took the baby from Fyodor and handed her to Clara when she came towards us.
“Don’t cry,” Clara warned her.
“I won’t,” Ilana said firmly.
She absolutely would. I knew that already. Fyodor stepped towards me, pulling me into his embrace. Ilana and Clara left the two of us alone and walked back to the garden, where everyone was already sitting down.
“You are staring,” I told him, turning crimson.
“I am allowed to stare.”
“You look like you are about to negotiate a treaty.”
“I am.”
I smiled faintly. “Don’t ruin this with your intensity.”
He didn’t answer, but his gaze softened.
“I will see you there,” he said, winking at me as he walked towards the aisle, taking his place right by the officiator.
The music began playing, subtle strings. Neither of us had wanted anything dramatic. Everyone rose from their seats, and I suddenly realized something. I was not nervous. Not the way I was the first time. It did not feel as if I was walking towards obligation. It felt as if I was walking towards a choice I had made. I took a breath and started forward. Alone. Not because I lacked family. But because I wanted to walk to him on my own.
The sunlight caught on the embroidery at the edge of my dress. I had chosen ivory with soft gold thread. It had strong lines, but it was not restrictive. I had designed it myself, and it fit my body exactly; it was right now, with soft pregnancy weight still clinging to me. I no longer had a problem with it, especially because Fyodor made sure I loved myself as I am. He watched me like I was something sacred and improbable.
I stopped right in front of him.
“You’re glaring,” I murmured quietly.
“I’m memorizing.”
“That’s worse.”
His mouth almost curved. The officiant began speaking, but the words blurred into background warmth. All I really heard was the sound of my own heartbeat and the faint shift of wind in the trees. When it was finally time for vows, I didn’t reach for paper. I reached for his hands instead, realizing how warm they were. And steady.
“I didn’t choose you because it was easy,” I began speaking softly. “I chose you because you stood in this house and told my brothers I was not leverage. I chose you because you letme decide in front of everyone instead of stealing me away in the dark.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“I chose you because you walked away from power when you didn’t have to. Because you came back when you thought I betrayed you. Because you looked at our daughter like she was the only thing that mattered.”
A faint laugh trembled through the guests.
“I choose you,” I continued, “not because I belong to you, but because I want to stand beside you. I promise to argue with you when you are impossible. To remind you that stepping away from the empire was a strength. To build a life with you that feels honest, even when it’s fragile, and to be with you forever.”
