Briallen was glad it was her father who had opened the door; she needn't hide how she felt from him. His eyes were faintly reddened, and she imagined hers were the same. [i]I always thought my eyes were mother's but it looks like they were father's in the end,[/i] she thought wryly, trying to force a smile from the bittersweet fault but only managing a slight twitch of the lips, the kind that locks away unspoken words. Draenir looked like her had also been groomed, and at another time and place, she would've giggled at the matching flowers in their hair. 

Her breath was shaky with cries that she had internalized, but could not entirely suppress or prevent. Her father's words made her smile, just a little. She hoped it was enough for him to see. A flicker of strength and hope. He was right, Mother would be proud. She was the kind of woman Briallen always wanted to be: strong, unapologetic, caring, and entirely devoted to her people. Her smile could light up the same room her frown had darkened, she tempered her words with elegance and wit, and above all, though memories slipped away every day, she had been a good mother. Would Briallen be a good mother? 

The train of thought made her stomach turn. She'd heard stories of Halflings her entire life, but she was never sure if they fact or fantasy. She didn't want to know. Oh Gods, she might have been sheltered, but she knew what usually awaited brides on their wedding night. [i]Please let him be kind, please let him understand what this is like,[/i] she prayed, unsure of to whom. She tried to fix her gaze firmly ahead, but she was bleary eyed and the veil seemed more difficult to look through than before. She couldn't ascertain whether the King of Elfland stood at the alter yet. She knew he would be. He had to be. 

That's the only reason it would be so quiet. Weddings were usually full of cheering and merriness, even as the bride was led down the aisle. Were they looking at her or the faerie?

She was chewing her lip again, reopening the gash she had created earlier. She felt the salty blood dribble off her bottom lip and slide down her chin. She could almost smell the metallic scent...

No. That was a different smell. Like the air before a storm. Hadn't the sky been cleared?

Were the Gods answering her prayer? Would the wedding be rained out? Would she get one more day with her father?

She crossed her fingers for luck.