The Veiled Descendants

by Sophia Menesini

  ​Aster cuts her off, “Jo.”

  ​“Yes?”

  ​“Caen is walking Shea; I’d be happy to walk my new mom down the aisle.”

  ​Jo grins. “Good. I could get used to that new title; I think it almost beats queen.”

  ​Aster walks to the door.

  ​“I’ll go check and see if they’re ready and I’ll come back and get you.”

  ​“Sounds good.”

  ***

  A few hours pass, and Beck returns about an hour after Aster leaves to sit with Jo while they wait.

  She asks if there’s anything else she can do, but he tells her Dari has it covered. There are butterflies in her stomach, and she finally convinces Beck to play his flute while they wait.

  He’s cleaned up for the wedding; his hair has been pushed back and styled with what looks like water. He’s wearing new black pants and a clean white shirt. It even looks as if he washed the outside of his brown boots. He looks nice.

  ​Jo lays back on the guest bed and listens to him play an old Nereidan tune; she hums the melody along to herself.

  ​Her mind wanders through thoughts of Perses, and her queendom. About what life will be like if they defeat them, what Shea will look like in fabulous gowns and the consort tiara. Although Jo may order a new one to be made, as she remembers Shea in that mockery replica that Ceto made her wear to the diplomacy dinner.

  ​Her fingers are tapping along the bed, as she thinks about little girls with red hair and even a boy or two with dazzling green eyes and brown hair. Her eyes widen as she realizes that her children could very much look like Beck if he agreed to be their surrogate father.

  ​It’s not uncommon in Arethusian culture to choose a man from court, and a man from a neighboring country would make her children twice as powerful.

  But Jo also would have to pick someone Shea could trust; after all this, Jo can’t imagine Shea wanting someone she didn’t know to father their children.

  ​But it would connect them in a way Jo herself could never be connected.

  Formally they would be Jo and Shea’s children, but truthfully, they would be Shea, Jo, and Beck’s.

  Could she live with that, could she live with that kind of tether for the rest of their years? The mannerisms, the traits, and appearances mixed between Shea and Beck. Girls with brown hair and wicked grins and boys with flaming hair and challenging brown eyes?

  ​But then she sees the three of them, old, in her mind’s eye. Their daughter crowned the next Arethusian queen, and she looks back and has three loving parents that would do anything for each other and for her.

  Jo may never truly be connected to Shea like Beck would be as the other biological parent, but she would be Shea’s wife and the partner that Beck can never have. It would be a three-way bond, and Jo realizes it would make them stronger.

  ​“Do you want children?” Jo asks aloud.

  ​Her eyes widen slightly as she just sort of blurts it out, and Beck’s flute stops playing.

  ​She draws herself up to her elbows and looks over at him; he’s staring at her.

  ​“Someday I suppose,” he tells her warily.

  ​Jo sits up entirely now so she can look Beck head-on.

  ​“What about helping a couple who can’t conceive on their own, offering your essence to help create their child?”

  ​“I’m not sure where this is going.”

  ​Jo chuckles, standing from the bed. She walks over to Beck and kneels down next to the chair he’s sitting in.

  ​“You’re aware that I’ll need an heir. That Shea and I both will.”

  ​“Right.”

  ​“We’re both women.”

  ​“Yes.”

  ​“So, we’ll need an outside source,” Jo slowly explains, waiting for Beck to understand.

  ​“Are you asking me to have a child with you?”

  ​“No,” Jo says, and Beck takes in a sigh of relief.

  ​“I’m asking you to have a child with Shea. With protocol and my own personal preference, I cannot carry a child. That would be Shea’s responsibility as my wife.”

  ​Beck shakes his head. “Jo, this is— We don’t even know what’s going to happen when we go back.”

  ​“You’re right. But I’m hoping for the best. And you and Shea have a bond. Just as she and I do.”

  ​“But I’m the governor of Oceanus, how could I be your surrogate? The children would be heirs to both state and queendom.”

  ​“If you’d like to name your first son heir to Oceanus, I’m okay with that. The first girl would be heir to Arethusa of course. But perhaps you’ll marry and have children with your own partner. You’d be in their lives, but Shea and I would be the primary parents.”

  ​“This is a lot to process.”

  ​“It’s a someday question, and you don’t have to answer it now. But I trust you, Beck, and I trust her and I’m making our marriage bond today. But I think I could live with you two being connected like this, and I think the children would be something wonderful.”

  ​Beck sits there quietly a moment. He turns to Jo, examining the smile on her features. Perhaps looking for any lies, but he won’t find any.

  ​“If she asked, I would.”

  ​“I think that’s the perfect answer,” Jo remarks.

  ​She stands and claps him on the shoulder.

  ​He laughs at her antics, shaking his head in bewilderment at the conversation they just shared.

  ​“I can’t imagine myself as a father,” he murmurs.

  ​“I can’t imagine myself as a mother,” Jo laughs.

  ​“Well then, maybe we’ll learn together, how to be parents,” Beck confides, and Jo nods in agreement.

  ​She opens her mouth to add something else but a knock raps at the door.

  ​She calls for whoever it is to enter, and Aster opens it with Dari beside him.

  ​“We’re ready,” she announces.

  ​Dari practically beams with happiness upon seeing Jo and walks up to her, placing her hand on her cheek.

  ​“You’re absolutely beautiful, my darling,” Dari tells her, and Jo nuzzles into her hand a little.

  ​“Thank you.”

  ​“Alright, well let’s get you to the gardens, Caen has gone to get Shea. If I remember correctly, it’s protocol for the queen to walk down the aisle first.”

  ​“Yes.” Jo nods, smiling at Dari’s knowledge but then remembering where it comes from.

  ​Dari must notice her realization because she waves off Jo’s sadness.

  ​“There were happy times in Arethusa too. Your grandmother Doris’s wedding was one of them. But she had a very special flower in her hair then.”

  ​Dari holds out her hand in front of Jo and closes her fist. She squints her eyes in concentration, her hand shaking slightly from the tightness. Her breathing turns deep and she sighs after, her eyes fluttering. When she opens her palm, an Arethusian rose, white with specks of blue on the petals, is lying in her palm.

  It’s smaller than usual but it’s still there and Jo gasps in amazement.

  ​“How?” Jo stutters.

  ​Dari takes the stem and places it on the side of Jo’s face, over her right ear.

  ​“Our little secret,” Dari whispers.

  ​“My mother used Arethusian roses for her bouquet,” Jo admits, touching the flower in her hair gently.

  ​“A piece of her with you on this day, then.”

  ​“Thank you.” Jo hugs Dari graciously.

  ​“Are we having a wedding or what?” Beck asks, pushing Jo toward the door.

  ​“You know how Shea is about people being late,” Aster comments.

  ​“Yes, we do.” Dari laughs.

  ​Dari takes the lead and they follow her down the halls, easily avoiding Shea’s bedroom.

  They enter the dome and Jo smiles at all the pink petals on the floor, the same as the ones in Shea’s chambers.

  ​White flower wreath
es hang from the large oak tree, and the wicker furniture has been trussed up with Arethusian roses in the branch seams.

  The dining area has been extended, and the backs of every chair has exotic flowers draped across. There’s an incredible centerpiece with delicious food spanning the table for after the ceremony.

  ​They exit through the door from the dining area leading into the gardens.

  Jo grins when she sees the arch—it’s circular, with luscious greenery weaved through the wicker. Beautiful pink petals strung on string fall under it, attached at the top as a backdrop.

  ​Candles line the aisle, and Jo realizes it’s just about sunset.

  ​Dari has somehow even commanded the fireflies to come out early, and they dance above the chairs where various members of the crew and the Arethusian navy sit waiting.

  ​Laughter and voices can be heard across the garden and there’s stunning lanterns floating along the water in the glistening pool.

  Beck leaves her side with a quick squeeze to her shoulder and walks down the aisle. He stands off to the side of the arch, and Jo spots Phoebus sitting with James in the front row with two open chairs, presumably for Dari and Aster, since Caen is performing the ceremony.

  ​She grabs Aster’s hand nervously.

  Dari tells her she’s going to go tell Caen and Shea that it’s time.

  ​Aster squeezes her hand and then wraps her arm around his in an escort position.

  ​“Nervous?” he whispers.

  The crew settles down as Beck begins to play a simple Arethusian tune.

  ​Everyone takes their seats, waiting for the ceremony to start.

  ​“Yes,” she whispers back. “And no. Not to marry Shea, but what comes after we leave here. I thought marrying her before we left would make losing her a little less hard, but now? I’ll just want more time.”

  ​“We’ll get that time,” Aster consoles.

  ​Dari runs up behind them, slightly out of breath. She waves at Beck, signaling him and he waves back.

  ​The familiar Arethusian wedding march begins. The higher notes of the tune catch the rhythm of the wind, a swaying tone that allows the bride to glide down the aisle.

  ​Jo always thought there was a bit of romance hidden behind the tune and most likely written by someone studying the feminine form. Detailing the curves of a woman’s body in the notes of a song.

  ​“Okay, dear. Your time is now,” Dari whispers.

  ​The crew and naval officers stand and turn their attention to Jo escorted by Aster.

  Phoebus remains sitting, but she can see his face beside James, who she notices with pride, only has eyes for Aster.

  ​Aster waits for her to take the first step.

  ​She takes a breath and then walks in time to the music. She glides down the aisle, the fading sunlight warm on her cheeks. She hears the crew hollering and cheering but she tries to focus on not tripping and getting herself to the arch.

  ​The fireflies are bobbing through the air, like they’re dancing to the Arethusian wedding march.

  Finally, they reach the end of the short aisle and Jo stands in front of it, her head tall and her back straight.

  ​Aster gives her a hug and goes to stand beside James, but Jo stops him.

  She gestures for him to stand beside her at the alter and he does so with a grin.

  ​Jo looks down the aisle, but she’s almost afraid to look up and see if Shea is there with Caen.

  ​Her breath is short, but Aster lays a calming hand on her shoulder, and she hears many of the crew gasp in surprise.

  ​Jo summons all of her courage and looks up.

  ​She melts where she stands.

  Caen has cleaned up, wearing what looks like a very cheap suit he probably picked up from the port market earlier in the day. And there’s an Arethusian rose in his suit pocket and a blue sash tied at his waist in the traditional Arethusian knot.

  Jo’s breath catches as her eyes roam over Shea’s form.

  She’s biting her split, rouged red lips, and her eyes haven’t lifted off the floor yet to meet Jo’s. In the fading light, her floor-length dress almost looks white, but there’s a faded blue dye throughout the flowy material. It’s light and airy but layered like an A-line ball gown. The neck is low on her chest, her breasts beautifully outlined by the material, the brand magically hidden, and there are wispy cap sleeves off to the side of each arm, faded with the same sparse blue. The tips of the Lionbird wings from her tattoo are visible on her freckled shoulders. Her red hair is down in sprawling curls, covering the top of what looks like a low back, along with the bruising on her jaw and black eye, beautifully displaying the bottom of her detailed tattoo, as she hugs Dari briefly.

  Pearls have been placed among the red tendrils, shining under the sunset and the fireflies.

  Caen offers her his arm and she takes it with her left before finally looking up.

  ​Their eyes meet from across the aisle, and the smile that spreads across Shea’s features leaves Jo completely breathless.

  There’s a dusting of pink across her freckled cheeks and Jo guesses the tips of her ears.

  The melody in the air changes just a little, it’s less traditional and there’s a foreign tune intertwining with the original march. Jo wonders if Beck composed it just for Shea.

  Jo tries to memorize every detail. She notes the bouquet of white Arethusian roses in Shea’s right hand and the way she looks down every few seconds. She’s mumbling something and when she’s finally within hearing range, Jo almost laughs. Shea’s counting her steps.

  Finally, the moment arrives, Caen and Shea stop just before the arch and Caen extends Shea’s left hand out to Jo, who takes it with a soft kiss to the back.

  The sun has just about faded, and instead of the garden turning dark and muted, the lanterns bring a new light that rivals the sun.

  The fireflies are dancing through the air over the ceremony and Caen takes his position in front of the arch, turning to face them so he can officiate.

  Shea hands Aster her bouquet with a kiss to his cheek and then takes her position across from Jo, their hands interlocked.

  “You’re the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen,” Shea whispers before Caen can begin and Jo laughs aloud this time.

  “I couldn’t be more beautiful than you are in this very moment,” Jo responds.

  Shea grins and they look to Caen to start.

  “Well it’s been a while since I’ve done this. So, let’s see if I can remember how this goes. Is there any objection to this union this evening? Speak and challenge me to a duel or hold your tongue,” Caen declares.

  He places his hand on his sword’s hilt and glares out into the audience.

  Jo looks out as well, and spots Poseidon leaning up against a pillar, watching from afar. She wonders if he might object, but everyone stays silent, and when Jo turns back to face Shea, she sees her clenching her eyes shut.

  “Are you okay?” Jo whispers.

  “Did anyone object?” Shea asks.

  “No, seems everyone agrees that you’re perfect for me,” Jo chuckles.

  Shea opens her eyes and smiles, although her gaze seems to land on something behind her and her smile falters slightly before returning her gaze to meet Jo’s eyes.

  Jo can feel Beck’s presence behind her, playing a soft melody, but she doesn’t worry.

  “Good. Now onto the vows. I’m going to ask you both some questions and then if you agree, just say I do, or I swear. Or even I ascent, though I suppose it might not sound as good…”

  Dari clears her throat and Caen abruptly stops his rambling with a cough.

  “Right, sorry. Anyway.” He looks to Jo first.

  “Do you, Joana, take Shea to be your wife, to be her constant friend, her partner in life, and her true love? To love her without reservation, honor and respect her, protect her from harm, comfort her in times of distress, and to grow with her in mind and spirit?”

  Jo looks into Shea’s be
autiful green eyes and squeezes her hands. “I do.”

  Jo thinks she can hear Dari sniffling next to Phoebus, and Aster sighs from his position beside her.

  But she can’t tear her gaze away from Shea’s gorgeous face and the glossy look to her eyes. They close briefly when Jo agrees to the vow and her head drops down with a little shake, a dazzling smile spreading across her face.

  “And do you, Shea, take Joana to be your wife, to be her constant friend, her partner in life, and her true love? To love her without reservation, honor and respect her, protect her from harm, comfort her in times of distress, and to grow with her in mind and spirit?”

  It feels like an eternity before Shea responds.

  Jo knows it’s only a few breaths, but her heart pounds nervously in her chest as she waits for Shea to either be hers or to realize she’s making a mistake.

  “I do,” Shea answers.

  Jo wants to pull her close and kiss her already, but the ceremony isn’t over and so she settles for pulling her in for a quick hug before Caen separates them for the next part.

  “Hold your horses, I’m not done yet. Triton,” Caen mutters. “Now if there are any other vows you two would like to make to one another, take this moment to do so now.”

  “Other vows?” Shea asks, nervously.

  “Personal promises, besides the normal jargon,” Caen tells her.

  Shea is practically biting through her lip.

  Jo decides to go first.

  “Shea,” Jo says, catching her attention, and she smiles at her reassuringly. “I promise to always be there for you and to listen. Because I know you’re a leader too. I promise that our union will be one of equals. I promise to stand by your side through everything and anything. And finally, I promise to always find you in this life, the after, and any life to come.”

  Nothing else matters but this moment, no one else exists but Shea standing before Jo. She gazes into Shea’s beautiful green eyes. She could live within this moment forever.

  Shea takes a deep breath.

  “I promise to be your shield and to always have your back. I will most likely make you very angry on many occasions, but I promise to never let it fester or to sleep without making things right. I promise to be your family, I promise you my trust and my loyalty. And I promise to always love you. Because I do, Jo. I love you.”