Wedding Day
1630 Words
Our wedding had finally arrived, and I was a bundle of nerves trying to make sure that everything was perfect. Dreson had to stop me now and again to make sure I ate and slept. Since we’d figured out through trial and error that I was a low-level Clairvoyant, he'd been having me write down every vision, no matter how small. To him, each glimpse and dream meant something.
I was alone in the kitchen, trying not to hyperventilate. The door creaked open behind me, and I jumped. "Good morning," Izzy’s cheerful voice sliced right through the panic in my chest. Just having her around helped. She and Neil had recently found out they were expecting. "How's my favourite Sorcerer doing today?"
I laughed. "Nay, ye sit yerself down an’ relax a little. I'll go get some tea for us, yeah?"
"Do you have any ginger tea?" she asked. "Phil says I need it to help with the nausea. Last thing I want is to puke on your guests."
Smiling, I checked the cabinet and pulled out a few blends—none of them ginger. "I'll show ye how t’ make it from scratch."
I grabbed the fresh ginger from the fridge, placing it on the counter. She watched as I grated the root into a small mortar, the scent sharp and clean, then crushed it further with the pestle until the pieces gave off a soft burn in the air. After filling a small pot with water, I set it on the stove and waited for it to boil, the metal ticking and popping gently as the flame licked at the bottom.
"You're really talented," she said while we sat at the island waiting. "I mean, the way you've been handling everything is amazing. I really envy you, Leif."
Confused, I looked over at her. "You envy me? Why? I'm not tha’ special, Izzy."
"You really don't see yourself clearly, huh? Oh, wow, I'm starting to sound like my Mate." She huffed a laugh. "What are the odds?"
A droplet of water hissed as it flicked onto the hot stovetop. I got up, dropped the crushed ginger into the pot, and turned the heat down to a slow simmer.
Sliding back into my seat, I asked, "Am I t’ understand tha’ you had an abusive past as well?"
"Yeah. Degradation's the hardest thing to deal with," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "After you hear it for so long, you start to believe it."
Laughter filtered through the door from outside, light and steady, as guests mingled across the sprawling, decorated lawn of my in-laws’ massive mansion. Children shrieked in delight, zipping through makeshift obstacle courses and darting around chairs without anyone telling them to hush. Probably 'cause I'd told the parents to let the babes be babes—not to fret over a bit o’ noise.
Nodding, I said, "Aye, but sometimes all it takes is one person. One soul t’ take all that garbage, toss it out, and remind ye who you really are."
She reached across the island, taking my hand in hers. "Leif, I know that it's hard, but if you ever need someone—someone other than the guys—I’m here. Logan talks to me a lot, but Neil still thinks he’s just playin’ when he says he’s an Alpha."
"Isn't he?" I asked, eyebrows raising slightly.
"No. He and his friends are dead serious. He’s the Alpha, Paul is his Beta, and Maria’s their Gamma."
That moment when Ember called him Alpha Logan stuck like a thorn in the back of my mind. It hadn’t slipped away since.
"Izzy, what did you say his Omens were again?" I pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen. "Dre says there’s more t’ him than meets the eye—but what if we’ve been lookin’ from the wrong angle?"
Her eyes sparked. "Oh, I see where you’re going. Yeah, that would make a ton of sense, actually. His Omens? Last time I checked, he was holding a broad sword in both hands, with a key floating just over his head. I couldn’t find anything on it in the books Dre and Uncle Rowan gave me, though."
"Alright... what did the sword look like?" I asked, squinting slightly as I jotted down notes. Her voice turned thoughtful as she described it—every detail layered with meaning I hadn’t caught before.
When we’d picked through everything we could make sense of, I gave a low nod.
"Keep that child safe, Izzy. Give him space, kindness, and belief. He’s gonna surprise us all—I just know it." I exhaled, then leaned back, letting the scent of ginger water wrap around us. "Anyway... hard t’ believe I’m actually gettin’ married today."
Laughing, she sipped the tea I handed her and sighed. "Damn, this is way better than the instant brands. You're a Sorcerer, so... shit... sorry, I'm stating the obvious again."
"Not a’tall, love," I replied. "You want t’ learn a few potions and remedies?"
She blushed. "Um, yeah. I—if you don't mind teaching me, that is. I mean, it’s fine if you're going to be busy..."
I smiled. "It's fine, Izzy. I just wasn't expectin’ you t’ ask me for help."
Biting her lip, she stared into the yellowish liquid and sighed. "Aunt Clara's swarmed, and I can't really think of anyone else I trust to be alone with me and not, you know... hurt me."
Getting up, I put my cup in the sink and nudged her to finish hers. "I understand where you're comin’ from, Izzy. It's hard trustin’ people when it’s been shattered more times than not."
Izaria grinned as she stood. I scribbled my cell number on a scrap of paper and handed it to her. "If you ever need t’ talk about anything I might be able t’ answer, just give me a call."
"I will. Thank you, Leif."
Turning to her, I couldn’t help but smile. She really was something else. It wasn’t just her looks, though she was radiant—no, it was her gentleness, her strength, the way she carried herself with grace. She was a Luna, through and through.
"Everything's gone quiet," she whispered, breaking into my thoughts. "I think Dre's finally stopped fightin’ destiny."
I gave her a puzzled look.
Grinning, she said, "Your Omen and his match—but there’s something different now. Stronger than when we first met. You’re stronger."
"Different how?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
She turned, frowning slightly. "Fine. Your Omen used to be a broken blade. But now? It’s whole. Fixed. Dreson’s is still a shield with your family crest. He’s the protector, and you’re the fighter. The meanings are clear. The Fates didn’t screw this up, Leif. You were always meant for each other. The sword and the shield. The warrior and the defender."
"That makes more sense to me than you know, love. But what’s different?" I asked again, watching how she hesitated.
She shifted her weight, voice quieting. "The difference is… there’s a Celtic dragon on both Omens. One body. Two heads. Facing different directions. I was scared t’ bring it up—I didn’t want it t’ mean something bad."
"Strength, wisdom, courage, and spiritual fire," I whispered, heartbeat quickening. "That’s what the dragon means. Two heads facing opposite ways… it could mean watchin’ your own back. Or never bein’ caught off guard."
Then, from outside, music began to swell. My eyes widened. "Oh, God—the music started!"
Giggling, she grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. "Then let’s go get your ass married!"
We’d decided that, since both of us came from broken pasts, Izzy would walk with me down the garden path to the makeshift altar. The first time I explained the symbolism behind it, no one missed the message.
Dre would be led by Celestia and his father. One on either side.
Turning to look at the person who offered to officiate, I watched as Aunt Rayna cried happy tears. "Are ye sure about skippin’ th’ vows?"
"Yes," I replied, watching as Dre kissed both his parents.
It stung, knowing mine weren’t standing beside me the same way—but their absence only made it clearer that I’d found my place here. With him. In the arms of a man who wouldn’t hesitate to move the world if I asked.
He looked up at me—mostly because I had a good two inches on him—and grinned. "We’re finally doing this?"
"Yeah, looks that way," I smirked.
"No more secrets," Dre whispered.
"None at all, love."
Aunt Rayna pouted. "Don’t be goin’ an’ jumpin’ ahead o’ me!"
Letting her take over, I held Dreson’s hands in mine.
I couldn’t stop staring. His robes fit like second skin—every movement deliberate, calm, solid. Like he was carved for this moment. Like I was made to stand across from him and witness it.
"Leif?"
"What?"
Laughter broke out around us.
"Say your lines, dumbass!" Colton called out. "Daydream about him later!"
Blushing harder than I ever wanted to in public, I wished I could melt right through the grass. "Ah, right, sorry. I do."
Aunt Rayna giggled, wiping at her eyes. "Dreson Farron Cage, do you take Leif Sloan Robertsson t’ be yer lawfully wedded husband, till death d’ ye part?"
"I do," he whispered, lifting his eyes just enough to meet mine beneath those long lashes.
When we exchanged the rings we’d picked out—nothing flashy, just meaningful—I kissed him like I hadn’t spent years convincing myself I didn’t deserve this.
And in that moment, I swear… I felt every chain I’d ever worn fall away.
- Writer
