Shadowplay | Tony Stark

SEVENTY - SHADOWPLAY

"Mom?"

Peter knocked twice on the bedroom door that had been left slightly ajar, pushing it open and peeking his head around the wood to see his mother standing in front of the window.

She turned to look over her shoulder, a gentle smile on her pink lips that conjured up a match on Peter's own face, his insides flaring up as he looked at her, stunned by how graceful she appeared in that moment with the sunshine illuminating her face.

Mila had been stood by the window ready and waiting for the past twenty minutes, observing her friends and family gather below. The room was hot and there was a slight breeze in early August, most of the men opting for linen suits and the women in beautiful sundresses to keep cool.

The sun was shimmering on the perfectly still lake and a white wooden archway laced with ivy and red roses stood just before the dock, a handful of rows of chairs either side of the makeshift aisle leading to her soon-to-be husband.

The lake house had been the perfect venue for their wedding, neither Mila or Tony ever really sparing too much of a thought to have their special day anywhere else. The quietness of it all suited their family, suited them, and the memories they had there were too precious to withhold that day from, too.

"I'm ready," Mila said, turning around and smoothing out her dress, "How do I look?"

Peter's gaze softened and his smile did too, a small flurry of stars flashing through his eyes as he felt breath taken at how beautiful she looked in her dress.

"You look perfect, Mom. Honestly...just perfect."

She let out a content sigh and placed her hands on his cheeks, pressing a kiss to his forehead while he stood with his hands clasped in front of him, breathing a little faster than usual.

"I'm so blessed to have you in my life, Peter, I hope you know how much I love you. This family wouldn't be the same without you, I wouldn't be the same without you."

He bowed his head for a brief moment before swallowing a lump in his throat, looking back up at her with a watery gaze.

"I love you too, Mom."

She ran her hands over his shoulders and straightened his suit jacket and tie, "Is your sister OK?"

"Yeah, grandma has her."

"And Tristan?"

"Hasn't left Clint's side since he got here," he said with a small laugh.

"Alright," Mila nodded with a heavy breath, able to relax a little more knowing her other children were fine, "Let's do this."

Clinging to Peter's arm, Mila made her way downstairs to a quiet house, though the sound of chatter amongst the intimate group of guests made the butterflies inside her stomach flutter that little bit faster.

Peter headed outside for a second to give everyone the heads up before returning to his mother's side, the buzz from the guests soon fizzling out as an angelic melody from a trio of violinists poised by the lake began to play.

He held the door open for his mother, all the seated guests rising to their feet and turning to glance back at Mila, smiles radiant on their faces at the sight of her stood at the top of the steps.

"You good?" Peter whispered, holding out his arm and feeling the strength with which Mila grabbed him again, placing a hand on top of hers to reassure her.

"Yeah," she said to him, giving him a smile before they slowly made their way down the steps.

The walk down the aisle was short but felt like a lifetime. Every step lasted a day and Mila was concerned she'd tear the arm of Peter's suit with how tightly she was holding onto him, though in that moment she knew her knees would undoubtedly give way if she let go for even a second.