In Which Cladelia Avoids Further Tension

June 18, 1180

"...and that should about do it." Cladelia's stepmother finished with the front laces of the overdress, then stepped back to examine her as a whole. "You look lovely."

"Thank you, Danthia." Cladelia smoothed out her skirt, for all there wasn't a wrinkle to be found in the first place. She supposed she was nervous, but she'd been nervous before and it had never felt quite like this. Then again, perhaps that was fitting. This was, in theory, the most important day of her life.

Her stepmother, of course, was understanding. "There's no need to be anxious, dear. It doesn't take a genius to notice that man's mad about you. And if you're unhappy with him, you know you always have a home with your father and me."

She nodded, though her face had fallen stony in its lock-jawed grimace. Her home in Dovia certainly wasn't near, but it was by no means an impossible journey--or at least she could tell herself if need be. And there likely wouldn't be a need, as her betrothed was indeed a kind-hearted, honorable sort of man. As for feeling lonely... well, her little half-sister Meraleene would be married come September, also to a man of Naroni, the brother of the duke. She was off speaking with him now, in fact, with her twin sister and Abrich's mother for chaperones. And her stepsister... well, she and that Sir Neilor seemed rather fond of each other, so perhaps something might happen on that front?

And it wasn't as if there were any shortage of friendly young women here either. She wouldn't be lonely for long, she didn't think. Still. It was a change. Most of the major changes in Cladelia's life, for all she'd dreaded them as they'd approached, had been for the better: her father marrying Danthia, gaining Tivie as a stepsister, the birth of each of her little siblings.

Of course, the first change that always came to mind was her mother's suicide. Perhaps it wasn't such a mystery, her consistent assumption that every change could only bring misery.

"I agree," piped up Tivie from the couch, their mutual Aunt Celina nodding beside her. "I especially like the gold trim; it makes the dress more interesting. Most white dresses are so dull."

Danthia shot her daughter a sharp glare. "Tivie!"

"They are, though." Tivie shrugged, flippant and unfiltered as always. Her mother continued to frown and Aunt Celina struggled to look accordingly disapproving, but Cladelia knew better; Aunt Celina, she recalled, hadn't worn white at her wedding. "And it's impractical--you can't get the stains out and there's no use for the dress afterwards other than to cut it up for rags. If I ever get married, have them make me something in a nice dark green."

Cladelia followed her aunt to the other couch, contemplating Tivie's chosen garb as she took her seat. It did take her mind off the wedding, which was more than welcome; she found she had to ask. "Why dark green?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Her stepsister flashed a wicked grin. "For rolling in the grass afterwards."

Aunt Celina snorted. Smiling politely herself, Cladelia looked back over at Danthia. Her stepmother could be as strict and prudent as anyone else's mother at times, but at others...

"And why," Danthia questioned, "would you still be wearing the dress for that?"

Cladelia choked out a giggle. That, exactly.

Someone knocked at the door--a man, from the sounds of it, and for all most knocks sounded alike Cladelia did know her father's. The warmth of a blush spread from her cheeks and she couldn't guess at how to fight it. "He's not supposed to see me before the ceremony!"

"Oh, it might not be him, honey." Her stepmother reached across the couch and took her face in her hands, her fingers a calming cool against Cladelia's burning skin. "Most men have the good sense to not pester their brides before the wedding, lest the bride's stepmother unleash her wrath upon him. Probably just your grandfather--or perhaps Sir Neilor calling on Tivie," Danthia added with a wink her daughter's way.

Tivie laughed. "If you're not the bridegroom, come on in!"

The door opened. It definitely wasn't the bridegroom. Or her grandfather. Or Sir Neilor.

Cladelia hadn't seen her Uncle Searle since her grandmother's funeral, and only a handful of times before that. She didn't know much about him, except that he was Danthia's first husband and Tivie's father and Cladelia's mother's twin, and that he now lived in Carvallon with a sickly second wife who wasn't much older than Cladelia herself was. Oh, and that Tivie had ran off in search of him only months before, and that Danthia and Aunt Celina had ended up chasing after her. Not exactly the kind of awkwardness she wanted to be dealing with less than an hour before her wedding.

"Ladies."

"Father," Tivie muttered while Aunt Celina nodded and Danthia gnawed at her lip.

Cladelia swallowed. "Uncle Searle."

He stiffened, as he always seemed to do when she addressed him as such. But she supposed it wasn't too surprising; from what she knew, he'd always been a bit... off. "It, uh... it's not a problem for me to be here, is it? I just want to pay my respects to the bride."

He was looking at Danthia, which was fitting as it was she he had wronged the most, she and Tivie. But instead of snapping herself upright and demanding that he get out, she sniffed and shrugged him off coolly. "It's Cladelia's day. She can decide whether she wants you here or not."

Her uncle's eyes flickered her way. Something welling in her throat, Cladelia glanced to the other couch. Tivie didn't offer much help, mainly making a point to keep herself composed; Aunt Celina just turned her nose toward her brother and gave a non-committal hand gesture, probably something along the lines of 'your choice'. She supposed the best way to go about this was to avoid any further tension. "It's all right."

She stood, trying to smile as her uncle approached. He landed a kiss to her brow, then stepped back and looked her in the eye. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you, Uncle." His grin twitched, but she decided to ignore it. "I'm glad you could make it."

Her uncle beamed, not unlike her own father had just last night before she'd retired. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

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