Free Web NovelChapter 166: The Saints Arrive
Valerian got to his feet first, helping Aisha up beside him, both of them dripping with water that was already drying strangely fast, leaving no chill behind it at all.
The old man at the edge of the spring watched them with an expression that was, Valerian thought, almost unfairly similar to Braham’s. The same ancient weight sitting easily on broad shoulders, the same sense of someone who had been the most powerful thing in every room for longer than memory.
But warmer. Where Braham’s eyes held curiosity sharpened into something almost predatory, this man’s held something gentler. Tired, in the way grandfathers were tired. Amused, in the way grandfathers were amused.
"Calm down," the old man said, before either of them had said anything else. "You’re already exhausted, child. Both of you, by the look of it." He took a step closer, leaning on the staff. "Anyway. Since you’ve already gone through the baptism..."
He smiled.
"I suppose we can speed up the marriage as well."
...
"Wait," Aisha said. "Grandpa, wait, what marriage, I haven’t even—"
"Aisha," the Pope said gently. "My child. You opened the threshold to this realm to bring a man with five bloodlines through a baptism that’s killed everyone who’s ever attempted it before him, just so your vow wouldn’t destroy you both." He raised an eyebrow. "I think the marriage portion of this is somewhat overdue, don’t you?"
Aisha opened her mouth. Closed it.
Valerian, beside her, had gone very still.
Not from fear, exactly. From the specific stillness of a man recalculating the scope of a situation in real time and not yet liking where the new numbers were headed.
"Grandpa," Aisha tried again. "Father and Uncle Markus haven’t even—"
"Oh, they’re here," the Pope said cheerfully. "They came the moment I did. Couldn’t very well leave them behind, could I?"
The white expanse behind him rippled.
And two more figures stepped through.
...
Roland arrived first, robes immaculate, expression already thunderous. Markus followed a half-step behind, equally severe, equally focused.
Both of them looked at Aisha.
Both of them looked at Valerian, soaking wet, standing very close to her.
Both of them looked back at Aisha.
"Sigh," Roland said. The single syllable carried an enormous weight of fatherly disappointment, the kind that had clearly been rehearsed across years of anticipating exactly this moment. "So my little girl finally became rebellious."
"Father—"
"I’m not angry," Roland said, in the tone of a man who was extremely angry and had decided, against his own instincts, not to express it. "I simply..." he closed his eyes briefly. "I simply expected to have more time before this conversation."
Markus, beside him, said nothing, but his expression suggested he had expected even less time than that and was somehow more disappointed about the schedule than the event itself.
...
Valerian, for his part, had drawn himself up.
He was soaking wet, he had nearly died three times in the last several minutes, and he was now standing in front of the father and uncle of the woman he’d apparently just going to marry without quite remembering the moment he’d agreed to it.
’Wait...aren’t we already married.’ He thought then remembered how The so called marriage was just her coming to his house and declaring she’s his wife..
’Alright then... I understand what to do...’ he Calmly arranged his thoughts and bowed to them
"Sir," he said to Roland. Then, to Markus: "Sir."
He decided, on balance, that the only dignified option was to commit.
Roland looked at him for a long moment.
"You’re the one," he said. Not a question.
"I am."
"The one with the eyes. The bright ones, that my father wouldn’t stop mentioning years ago, back when this was still hypothetical."
"Also probably me," Valerian confirmed.
Roland exhaled slowly through his nose.
"You just survived something that’s killed three Hopeless Romeos before you," he said. "To fix a problem my daughter apparently hid from everyone because she was more afraid of losing you than of dying slowly herself." He paused. "I have a great many things I’d like to say to you. About responsibility, and about my daughter’s wellbeing, and about the general indignity of finding out my only daughter is getting married via emergency divine intervention rather than, say, an invitation."
"...Yes, sir," Valerian said.
"But," Roland continued, "I suspect none of that would change anything, given that you’ve apparently already proven, rather thoroughly, what kind of man you are." He looked at Aisha. At the way she was standing close to Valerian, the way some of the black along her collarbone had already, visibly, begun to recede. "So I’ll save it."
He looked back at Valerian.
"For now," he added, with the specific emphasis of a man who fully intended to revisit the topic at length, later, at a time of his choosing.
Valerian nodded slowly.
"Understood, sir."
...
"Ara, ara."
A new voice. Warm, amused, carrying easily across the white expanse.
More figures were stepping through now—six of them, all women, robes in different shades of white and gold and pale colors that seemed to shift slightly depending on how the light caught them. ƒreewebɳovel.com
The one in front, older than the rest, dark hair streaked with silver, was looking at Aisha with an expression of open delight.
"Aisha-chan, getting married already," she said, pressing both hands to her cheeks. "How time flies. I remember when you were still small enough to hide behind the altar during ceremonies."
"Saintess of Charity," Aisha said, and there was real warmth in it despite the embarrassment. "You didn’t have to come."
"Of course we did," Charity said. "Do you think any of us were going to miss this? After everything?"
...
The one beside her—closer to Aisha’s age, sharp-eyed, with the faint smirk of someone who had been waiting a long time for exactly this opportunity—stepped forward next.
"Well, well," she said. "The Saintess of Chastity, presiding over the lifting of a chastity vow." She looked Aisha up and down, taking in the cracked black skin, the wet hair, Valerian standing protectively close. "I have to say, Aisha, I never thought I’d see the day. You used to lecture me about restraint."
"Don’t," Aisha said, going red.
"I’m not judging," Chastity said, entirely unconvincingly. "I’m simply...noting the irony. For the record. Historically."
"Please stop noting it."
"Noted."
...
A younger saint, severe-looking, carrying what appeared to be an actual ledger, stepped up beside them and immediately began flipping through it.
"The marriage rite for a Saintess requires the presiding officiant to be either the Pope or a ranking cardinal, two witnessing saints minimum, and a formal declaration of the vow’s terms read aloud before the binding," she said, not looking up. "Your Holiness, I assume you’re presiding, which satisfies the first requirement. We have considerably more than two witnesses present, which satisfies the second. The third—"
"Diligence," the Pope said, with the patient fondness of a man who had clearly had this exact conversation many times before, "we can do the paperwork after." freewebnøvel.com
"With respect, Your Holiness, the paperwork is the rite. There is no ’after.’"
"...Fair," the Pope conceded.
...
A fourth saint, moving at roughly half the pace of everyone else, drifted over and looked at the spring, the cracked black on Aisha’s skin, the soaking-wet stranger standing beside her, and the assembled Pope, father, uncle, and four other saints with the same expression of placid, unbothered calm.
"This is a lot happening very quickly," she observed. To no one in particular.
"Patience," Aisha said, half-laughing despite herself. "You could say that."
"I did say that," Patience agreed, and drifted a little closer to the spring, peering into the water with mild interest, entirely unhurried by the fact that a wedding was apparently about to happen.
...
The last two arrived together—one of them young, quiet, hanging slightly behind the others with her hands folded, the other carrying herself with a stillness that felt, somehow, older than her face suggested.
The younger one—Humility, Valerian guessed, from the way she seemed determined to take up as little space as possible despite being a literal saint in a realm built for saints—looked at Aisha for a long moment.
"You look happy," she said quietly. Just to Aisha. "Even with everything. You look happy."
Aisha blinked. Something in her expression softened.
"I am," she said.
The last saint—Temperance, Valerian realized, watching the careful way she held herself, the way her eyes lingered on the spring and then on me.
Something in her face, very briefly, looked like relief.
She didn’t say anything.
She didn’t need to.
...
The Pope clapped his hands together once, the sound echoing pleasantly across the white expanse.
"Well then," he said, beaming at both of them. "Shall we begin?"
....
...
A/N: Hi There Readers, Sorry to disturb your Reading as I have something to say again,
I have noticed quite the number of readers not active in My discord and many Don’t really Join My Discord server, I am not forcing anyone but it would be better if the readers can Interact with Other readers so That this Book can have Alive community
But currently I only see dead people making my motivation to write Dry
So I would love if you join the Discussion’s talk with the community
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