Came for the Low- Revised

Untitled Part 22

Wearing her flowing suit from the little shop in Malaga and a traditional Spanish veil gifted to her by Gael's wife, Christine clutched the small bouquet of pink and burgundy flowers from the local florist as she walked down the steps, leaving the tiny apartment above to enter the restaurant's courtyard, where Zemo stood waiting.

He watched as she came into view, white heels taking the steep incline slowly, her pants flowing light as air around her legs and a thin silk camisole under the draped jacket, both in that same bright ivory. 

Christine was radiant, but the unexpected sight of her face framed in the scalloped lace stopped his heart. On flat ground, she looked up, her sparkling black eyes finding his and the man nearly forgot to breathe.

Tears pooled, wavering in his eyes as she came to him—his second chance...

Gael and Luisa stood back, watching from the kitchen doorway with wide, knowing smiles and very quietly turned to go back inside leaving them to it.

"Hi." Christine whispered sounding small and nervous as she waited to hear what he thought. She'd never really been the sort to imagine her wedding day, it had never occurred to her that she would have one, but now that it was here she hoped the Baron liked the way she looked as much as she truly did.

Zemo exhaled a shaking breath through his parted lips in disbelief that she was his.

"Hello," He replied wanting to touch her but was too afraid that she would break she was such a delicate thing, but then he smiled remembering that this was the same woman capable of taking out assassins three times her size and his face relaxed as he pitied all the men on the receiving end of her wrath. "You're beautiful."  He said simply, but she heard the many layers of love beneath the word and tucked her chin with a shy smile.

Zemo raised his elbow, offering her his arm which she took and smiled up at him. "You look incredible too." She said nudging him.

He chuckled as he wiped at his eyes, escorting her to the carved gate.

She meant it. He hadn't shaved in a few days and the resulting shadow was lovely. His parted hair was a beautiful mop of perfectly coifed dark brown that she would run her fingers through later tonight. The jacket and pants he wore —a few shades darker than his hair— were paired with a cream colored shirt left unbuttoned and no tie. She had a laugh to herself because of course he'd been prepared with a bespoke suit. Had he brought it hoping she would say yes or was Zemo just the sort of man who traveled with tailored clothing ready for any occasion at all times? Running her hand along the fine fabric over his shoulder, she grinned not caring. Either way he was glorious to look at.

Arm in arm they left the restaurant and started the walk through the square towards the famous edge of town, to a spot where people had come to watch the sunsets for thousands of years. By the time they arrived, a small group of well wishers and curious villagers had stopped to watch them stand before the tiny old officiant who had married hundreds before them.

The ceremony was said in Spanish with Helmut translating the vows when it was time for her to repeat the words. Her voice was light as she slipped the gold band—identical to her own— onto his finger as a symbol of the pure, and simple truth of their love. And when they shared that first kiss, it was to the applause of the wind coming down from the mountain to bless their union.