Don’t Let The Groom Run Away

Original Written Work
Characters: Rylerion, Rannon
Summary: A brief moment of family connection, right before Rion’s wedding.

“Is the collar straight?”

Restless fidgeting. The older man’s hands steady as they minutely adjust the heavy metal wings holding the even heavier cloak in place. A look suspiciously akin to amusement on his face.

“It will be if you stand still.”

 The king all but freezes, but only for a few moments before he unthinkingly moves again, shrugging against the weight.

“Nervous?” asks his uncle to distract him, tone unusually gentle. A harsh exhale, for a moment a cornered look in the younger man’s eyes.

“More nervous than I have ever been in my life.

A confession that should have been reluctant, but comes across as all too genuine. Again that almost-smile on Rannon’s lips, knowing more than most of what said life has entailed, and what this moment is measured against.

“Any regrets?”

Finally the fidgeting stops, and Rylerion looks thoughtful.

“No. No, I think this is… this feels right.”

“Then you will probably be just fine.”

“Were there any doubts?”

“Going by the colour of your skin, I was contemplating summoning you a Chima healer.”

A rather sour look.

“Your father would be proud,” says Rannon, unprompted, because it seems important it be said. The glare melts away, something yearning in those deep, dark eyes.

“Do you think so?”

“Beyond any doubt. Considering his boasting when you first managed to put your own shoes on, albeit on the wrong foot… His son’s wedding day? He would soar half his height above the ground with pride.”

He absently straightens the collar again, not because it’s really needed, but because Shayari would have.

“And that wedding uniting the world, bringing about the peace he gave everything for? He would soar high enough to disappear among the clouds and we’d never see him again.”

When he meets the dark eyes again they’re wet, and they both hastily look away, the moment too raw for comfort.

Distant music begins to play, shattering the silence, and the older prince bows with ceremonial deference.

“It is time, Sati-rama. Are you ready?”

Drawing a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, the young king nods, calm and certain now.



A very sweet moment. And an excuse to draw a shit-ton of brocade patterns. Please do full-view! There’s dragons, and phoenixes, and waves literally everywhere. XD My fave part may be the sparkly light-refractions from Rion’s crown, though.

White gold is one of Rion’s colours of arms, and together with glimpses of Kayalana blue, he makes for a very bright and shiny figure. (He simply refused the sombre blue, black and purple for the occasion).

Rannon may prefer robes of shorter cut for everyday wear, but he can certainly rock the full regalia when the situation so calls for.

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