Symphonies in E Minor

Chapter Twenty Two: The Wedding

Aaliyah's eyes wander over the hill, searching for guests she's yet to greet.

They're all equipped for the weather, making their way slowly into the chapel, giving her polite nods as they go in, wrapping their thick shawls around their shoulders.

This morning was hectic. She was running on very little sleep, and she spent the morning worried about her sister, Isla, not liking the arrangements they've all made. Her sister arrived around 5 in the morning and marveled at all the decorations in the castle while getting her dress and veil on for the chapel.

To make matters worse, Aaliyah had spent the better half of her morning crying because she'd missed her sister so much. Her sister had always been the less clumsy version of iher, who had her act together at all times. The reunion had been so much more emotional than it was with her parents. Her and her sister hadn't written often to her, too occupied with her wedding stress.

Aaliyah saw it all this morning. How Isla had paced nervously and asked quietly to change her jewelry numerous times. Her fingers had been trembling, Aaliyah noticed, as she was trying to push some rings onto her fingers. She kept taking deep breaths and muttering to herself to calm down. Aaliyah wondered if everyone was like that the morning of. She wondered if she'd be like that one day.

Leaving Scotland would mean leaving her sister again. If her sister had children, she wouldn't see them immediately. The thought made her upset, but she kept her smile on to encourage her sister, reminding Isla that her man loved her and he'd compromised on so much for her.

Once her sister was ready, Aaliyah was helped into her own thick dress. Her mother had done her hair just the night before, and her short curls gently brushed against her face with every step she took, the weight of the dress and her jewelry making her steps heavy.

And she hadn't seen Harry all morning.

She suspected he was off being tortured by the other Scots in the west wing of the castle where the men and the groom were to be dressed. She hoped he came out of it unscathed. It seemed like he was getting along well with Alistair, though she also knew that Alistair could be quite a handful of mischief. Hopefully he was all right with that type of company.

She reminded herself that if Harry could stand her company, he would probably stand any of the other Scots. That made her feel plenty better.

Presently, she continues looking into the distance with her squinted eyes, waiting at the door of the chapel. The carriages of the bride and her family left the castle of the chapel earlier than the rest, and while her mother and girl cousins are helping Isla to her every need, Aaliyah is outside, welcoming guests in.

She freezes suddenly. While looking, instead of finding long lost cousins and aunts that stick their noses up at her, she finds the man she's traveled with, her eyes widening, heat prickling at her cheeks suddenly.

Harry's adjusting his brooch, wearing his signature brooding frown as he makes his way down the hill. It's not his presence that makes her stand a bit straighter (though a large part of her excitement does come from the glimpse of him), but his clothing.

Because he's in her family kilt.

The red and green create a stark contrast against the pale snow. His hair is neatly curled around his face, his jaw and cheeks clear of any stubble. He walks with relative ease in his kilt, continuing down towards her, his own eyes scanning over the chapel's fence. His billowy white shirt faintly trembles against the wind, tucked perfectly into his kilt, the leather belt around it showing off his narrow waist. The long material of the plaid wraps over his collarbone, pinned to his shirt by the brooch he continues to tamper with. His long boots stop above his calves, the distance between the leather material and the plaid, allowing the slightest bit of skin to be seen. She shivers.