Chapter Text
The red carpet has unfurled itself, being a regal escort to the sacred altar.
Surrounded by smiling guests seated on rows of white painted benches, wreaths in white and ivory hues, glowing white arches, the two fathers dressed in two different colored tuxedos look at the carpet’s end - wistfully.
There stands their future son-in-law and daughter-in-law, both garbed in gorgeous shades for the grand occasion.
Aries in a full bluish grey formal suit crested with a small white rose lapel, and Ceridwen in a light pink accented mermaid gown and veil.
Twins marrying twins is certainly getting more common nowadays.
Nor the soon-to-be newlyweds are going to move too far away at all.
It doesn’t make the dads’ heart ache less from handing their kids over, with each step they trudge carefully under Mendelssohn’s Wedding March’s celebratory orchestra.
“He isn’t taking her away.” Gloss says quietly, watching Sparkles holding Aries’ arms beneath the altar’s fairy lights. “She chose him. She’s walking forward, Veneer.”
Veneer’s fingers remain clutched onto Gloss’s hand so tightly, his knuckles are whitening as bleached papers. A careless tear slips down, catching the aisle lights like a stubborn star.
Because he knows.
Aries has never been the flashy or loud type, but he is super good of a young lad. The kind of good that never demanded Sparkles to shrink herself; that has always stood beside her and listened to her without judgement; that loved her softly, every day, without needing applause.
And that’s what has undone Veneer most of all.
That someone so good has seen Sparkles the same way he always has: not as Velvet’s daughter, not as a burden, but as an irrefutable diamond’s brilliance wrapped in layers of old hurt.
That she has found safety without sacrificing her own sparkle.
To be honest, Gloss feels the same bittersweet sting. Despite his own consolation for his equally excited yet uneasy husband.
He knows Ceridwen isn’t taking FJ away, either. They chose each other.
But seeing his own son having grown into a functionally loving man, unlike that disgusting scum of the boy’s biological father who broke his sister-in-law into millions of pieces… Never had he expected such a day to have arrived faster than an arrow.
He simply has a strong endurance to rein in his tears enough for the droplets to linger on his eyelids, akin to dewdrops on a leaf’s tip.
As gentle chords flutter over the crowd as intangible butterflies on their migration, Velveeta emerges from the far end of the aisle, clutching a satin basket.
She totters forward with any toddler’s unsteady confidence on a mission, her fistfuls of petals launched in inconsistent handfuls: some rain down on the carpet gracefully, others just get yeeted at guests.
One petal gets ricocheted straight into Darth’s face, and luckily he accepts it like a battlefield injury - He gives a mock scowl and salutes it like a brave warrior.
“She’s nailing it…” Gloss whispers, breath caught in his throat while trying to alter his and his partner’s wistful mood into something better.
“She is…” Veneer chokes back, already imagining their toddler daughter tying the knot with somebody else one day. “She’s doing it so hard.”
The little flower girl pauses halfway through to dramatically gasp at a butterfly (which doesn’t exist), then resumes scattering the rest of her arsenal with renewed purpose for her older siblings.
By the time she has reached the altar, the path resembles more like a confetti explosion than a romantic runway.
“She’s gonna eat one of those petals…” Gloss jokes between his bittersweetness. “Look at her eyeing it.”
“Not on our watch~” Lily cheerily appears beside the dads, with one hand holding baby Liora’s carrier and the other hand with Chromium in tow, the couple already crouching like trained backup dancers. “We got her from here.”
Velveeta spots the other couple and screams “LIDDY!!” joyously before flinging herself into Lily’s arms, petals flying into the fresh air. Lily - having let Chrom hold their baby daughter instead - catches the wriggling little girl effortlessly, swinging her around once before perching her on her hip.
“You’ve crushed it, munchkin!” She sincerely praises, as her husband handsVelveeta a sparkly sticker that has instantly kept the toddler’s attention occupied.
Still, the soothing wedding march hums its blessings, drawing everyone back to the altar.
Gloss and Veneer let themselves exhale, hands finding each other instinctively.
Everything is all settling down into motion… just like they should.
And then the orchestra stumbles into a stretched-out, stern silence. Every petal seems to freeze midair. Even Velveeta’s wriggling stops.
FJ’s hand almost lingers on Gloss’s for a heartbeat that lasts a little too long. A collective inhale passes through the benches as a crashing wave.
Then FJ & Sparkles - mutually hand in hand - let go of their fathers’ protective clasps slowly - slower than a lullaby - and forward their first steps down the aisle to their respective fiancee and fiance, side by side.
The real heart-clenching part is just about to begin.