Upon Twined Paths
Twenty-Fifth Day of the Eighth Month 294 AC
The streets were packed with young and old, men and women, folk of the Deep and others from lands far off indeed. So too the air was filled with the sound of excited voices and streamers of colorful paper and delicate flower petals as well as offerings that were not so easy to guess at. Colorful shards like flecks of rainbows hung in the air in rays of errant sunlight.
Were those crushed shells? Lya wondered, her mind drifting as it often did when there was naught to hold it. Maybe it was something from the priests of Zathir who were growing ever more common in the Deep, where the presence of their god drew like minded folk to him.
I really should not be thinking about shell compositions, should I? the young mage remonstrated herself.
It is my wedding day, I should be thinking about the future, about what it means and what is to come of it. She glanced at the man at her side, he was very handsome, of course, and very regal, or Imperial, she supposed. Yet her eye at least could still catch sight in his features, fair almost beyond the guise of humankind, the expression of the boy who had pledged to teach her magic so long ago by moonlight, the eyes of the fugitive prince who had been so shocked when she had guessed his name, the worries and the troubles of year upon year of reign upon his brow gathering, not lines upon the flesh, but marks in mind and spirit.
The trouble was that this did not feel anymore intimate than waking in a tangle of limbs this morning, as the brief moments of sleep had caught up to them, i. It did not feel any more permanent than diving side by side into the long forsaken ruins of Sothoryos or Valyria, where death and worse could lurk in every corner.
Marriage was supposed to be about a promise you made to another and kept for all the days of your life, but Lya had made that promise long ago and she had heard it back from the lips of her beloved in a thousand, thousand ways. This was not the start of something new, just another step on the path, but that was alright, she loved the path and the company upon it.
***
Lya had never looked more serene nor more determined than she did stepping at your side down the wide boulevard. You do not need to turn your head from the road to know that, you hear it in the faint tinkling of blue ice earrings, the tapping of her emerald-crowned staff in her hand, the steady beat of her heart, each forming a perfect image in your mind familiar as she is beautiful. You smell the scent of her perfume, soft and subtle, and your hand is warmed by the heat of hers, inches away.
Yet even if all your lesser senses were dulled and muffled, you would still be able to find her by the sheer radiance of her magic, the faint comforting pressure of her mind upon yours echoed through your familiar's senses. Never had you been more aware of another person in the midst of a crowd and never had that closeness felt more right, like a whisper in a loud and crowded hall.
"Are you ready for this?" you ask without sound as the dome of the Temple of Unity rises over the horizon like a pale hill among the straight and ordered lines of the city.
"Have been for a few years now. It just took you a while longer to catch on," comes the droll response that sees you bite back a somewhat inappropriate smile.
As you pass under the First Arch, alone among all the colonnades of the temple seeming unfinished, the rolling salute of steam canons fills the air, though your eyes are upon the stone above, pondering what it means to be wed here. All the gods of the Imperium in good standing are represented here, from R'hllor the Red, as flame imperishable, to Meraxes bearing sword and scales, from the Old Gods as a great tree overhanging stone and river, to the Seven-Pointed Star of the Seven and many, many more. Yet all the hosts of the divine do not reach past the keystone. More Gods can and will be welcomed into the fold.
The temple was made as a place where the gods and powers might mingle even as their people do. It is ground that was Imperial before it became sacred, not that you suspect any of them of minding very much, to judge from the very healthy representation of priests. There are servants of Yss in robes of green and silver and Moonsingers with coronets like the crescent moon. The High Septon is seated without seeming discomfort next to Benerro of Volantis, the Butterfly Dancer of Naath beside Breath Taker among the Tritons.
By far the oddest pairing is Melisandre of Asshai sitting next to Bloodraven, himself disguised under a glamor as a Green Man. You cannot help but wonder how that conversation is going.
The time has come for you and Lya to be crowned, yet what crown shall she bear, what has she forged who is most skilled of the Imperium's enchanters?
[] Write in Lya's Crown description and abilities
OOC: Hope you guys enjoy and the transition is not too jarring. Not yet edited.
