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The ceremony was all silver and white, almost gaudy in its pearledescence, resembling even in the early summer air a snowdrift thrown upon the trees. The bride, her moon-colored dress catching around her ankles, walked in measured steps, her pale hand gripping the thicker fingers of her soon-to-be husband. He, in a silver-edged black uniform, looked striking, long auburn hair caught in a tail that trailed down his back, slightly-crooked nose held out in front of him like a sword to cut through the judging silence having descended all around the slowly-walking pair.
Nirvana, dressed in a stiff outfit he didn�t like at all, fidgeted, picking at a loose thread. Even at nine years of age, he could tell something was wrong, and the fact that he didn�t in the least understand what had gone wrong made it worse, like a ghost under the bed. Nirvana cast a gaze across the benches at his friends, but none of them seemed overcome with the negative air around the two ascending. Korish looked as if he had gotten into the sweets intended for after the ceremony; he would every so-often thrust his hand into his pocket and slowly, very slowly so as to not attract attention, withdraw it and suck crumbs off his fingers. His younger half-brother, Adrian, was four years younger than Nirvana and didn�t seem to really even notice a ceremony at all. He was amusing himself with a peice of a streamer that had fallen to the ground.
The adults, however- oh, the adults were a different matter. On both sides they either glared knives at the ceremony or fidgeted more than Nirvana, and the young boy�s nose twitched with layers of emotion piled one on top of the other. Guilt, anger, pity, indignation, little flickers of jealousy there and here- there was Lathra, clutching Adrian�s hand, looking as if she�d like to tear holes in the resigned-looking bride, and her husband, Ghara, who always looked furious with the world. Phall, black hair braided down his back, leaning back in his seat, looking content to glower. Kirisa, snubbish face looking almost pug-like with indignation, openly sneered.
A glass decoration dropped like a weight from a tree, but no one even looked up at the minute crash. Moving quickly in her pearl-colored gown, feathers and flowers strewn in her silver hair, Freeya didn�t even wince. One step at a time, her thin feet quickly overcame the distance between she and the flower-covered clearing before her. She had wanted, so badly, each of the gathered to come and watch her being bound to her lover but now that they were here she wished each and all of them away, silently and to no avail. The heavy disapproval lay on her like layers of snow. It felt like more than simply the one Clan sat behind them, watching; it felt like the whole loose nation of Silver, a united score of Clans, glowered at her back. She didn�t falter, simply walked proudly up the thin aisle, and if he had understood, Nirvana would have been silently cheering her on. She ignored the feirce, silent fury of the guests gathered.
Then, of course, there were guests who seemed to always be in their own worlds of emotion, that no outside condition could change. Nirvana could smell them, too- Soldet, always dead to the world, reclining in her own seat well behind the child�s. Even further back was Illithia, who smelled like pain, pain doubled over, shame and guilt and anger- and magic, binding magic playing over his skin. Scenting Illithia always made Nirvana�s head hurt, and so he avoided it. And then there was Akolde, who smelled like feelings Nirvana couldn�t identify. On the edge of malicious. Nirvana avoided Akolde.
Nirvana�s father put a heavy hand on his shoulder and he shivered at the weight. Gortia was always heavy, in everything he did- the way he embraced his son and wife, the way he carried water and carried Nirvana and read to him before his only son slept. Gortia was getting old, and faster than Nirvana�s mother, who was her husband�s junior by thirteen years. And as Mundane Leader of Silver, he was feeling that age faster than anyone else who bore it.
Nirvana glanced at his mother, who the bride and groom approached with beautiful dignity. Kana was smiling. Kana was always smiling; she had her faults, but being overly judgemental was not one of them. As Arcane Leader of Silver, she had given Freeya permission to marry her beloved, and was there to carry it out. Carefully, she tied one end of the glittering white ribbon she held to Freeya�s extended finger and one end to Hirisha�s, biding them as though with love itself; a fragile, thin biding but one woven to last forever. The ceremony had been created for such symbolism, but Nirvana did not understand.
Kana spoke slowly, only to the two before her. She didn�t acknolege any of those behind them, didn�t seem to notice the hatred and anger palpable in the air around, only spoke in gentle tones that were at once warm and final, accepting but laying out walls of restriction neither Freeya nor Hirisha had ever known before. �Love,� she began, slowly, �begins as a test. It begins as a trial and begins slowly, stretching, testing its bounds. It is not something you can shape, it is not something you can create where there was nothing before, it is not something that you can destroy but nor is it something that can live without attention. It is something that you are never completely unaware of, and without being cared for it can cause more pain than joy. But there is a time when the trial is over, and sometimes love cannot survive it, it cannot live beyond the challenge and testing. There are some who cannot themselves get beyond this first stage and this, too, love cannot survive. But sometimes it does, sometimes it flourishes and it becomes something greater than any who has not experienced it can imagine. Love binds two people as brotherhood binds two people; love brings people together. It changes people. Sometimes so minutely as to not be noticed, sometimes hugely, but the change is always there. Love cannot be criticized-� still, only to the two people before her, not to those behind- �nor can it be changed, it cannot be created or destroyed or focused or redirected. Love is, and to those who allow it, it gives greater joy than anything before.�
For the first time, as the dagger slit the ribbon in two and let two glittering halves hang loose, Kana regarded those gathered. Lathra looked torn between guilt and anger; Ghara looked only angry. Akolde, nineteen years of age and just old enough to be in the army, looked dead to the conversation. Her own husband looked a little bit impatient for the whole thing to end. Freeya�s parents weren�t present; Hirisha�s were both dead. Cold eyes glittered up at her. The ribbon ends bounced in the air, as if surprised to find themselves seperated.
Seven-year-old Korish licked a crumb off his index finger and looked up, startled at the sudden silence. Nirvana stared in confusion.
Then Freeya stretched up on her toes, wrapped her arms around Hirisha�s neck, and kissed him. They held each other for a long moment, then Freeya broke away and threw her arms out, her dress billowing out as suddenly there was no body left for it to clothe. From the folds of fabric a snowy owl burst forth, white-and-silver feathers falling for a moment onto the discarded clothing. Twice, maybe three times the size of a normal owl, the creature circled three times over the ceremony, every eye trained on its wide-spread wings. Then it dove down and lighted on Hirisha�s outstretched arm, beak propped open, panting, silver eyes stretched wide.
Hirisha smiled warmly, fighting down pangs of sorrow that he could not have joined his wife in the skies. Nirvana, days before, had asked his mother if this was why no one wanted Freeya and Hirisha to marry- that Freeya could change but Hirisha could not. His mother had thought for a long moment, then nodded, slowly.
�Yes, hon. That is why. Were cannot marry nonwere. Hirisha cannot change.�
�But neither can Father.� Gortia was also a nonwere, while Kana could at will take the form of a wolf. Nirvana, like his mother a werewolf though he had only changed twice since he had learned how, chewed a fingernail, frightened that the others may regard his parents as they did Freeya and Hirisha.
Kana nodded thoughtfully. �No,� she agreed, �but Father and I are different.�
�You�re different?� He did not mean to question his mother but he did not understand. Different? What made someone different?
�We are the leaders of Silver. There are exceptions for the leaders, different rules. Because Father is the Mundane Leader, the leader of the nonwere, and I am the Arcane Leader, the leader of the were, it is acceptable for us.�
�But not for Freeya?�
�No.� Nirvana had replayed this in his mind time and time again but could not get it to seem right. It was allowed for some but not for others.
Love cannot be criticized, nor can it be changed, it cannot be created or destroyed or redirected. Nirvana watched the cold eyes of everyone around him watching the newlyweds walk away in dredged-up happiness and chewed a nail in confusion. He simply didn�t understand the ways or workings of adults. He didn�t understand why things were okay for some people and bad for others, why some people hated his mother for letting Freeya marry Hirisha but not for marrying a nonwere herself. He didn�t understand why Korish had stolen the sweets before the ceremony when afterward they would be allowed to eat them. He didn�t understand why Freeya�s parents hadn�t come from her home Clan to help her with the wedding or why she had done the decorations to look like snow or why the trees were covered in glass stars like glittering sculptures of ice, hanging from the trees by glittering white ribbons like so many thin but unbreakable bonds, like so many minuscule confessions of love.