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Absolutely everything is going wrong.
Hunter had planned—meticulously!—for today. It had to be fun. It had to be memorable. It had to be perfect!
And it had to begin On. Time.
"Hunter, buddy, calm down," Luz snorts from where she's sitting on top of one of the counters, kicking one heel against its leg. "Isn't this normal for a wedding? 'If something can go wrong it will' or whatever?"
"This is not how this was supposed to go!" he snarls, very nearly reaching up to pull on his hair before he catches the motion. (If he ruins it Darius will have to fix it again and he isn't about to bother the witch further, not after all the effort he's put into Hunter's outfit.)
"So Raine is a little late," she shrugs. "Big deal. They'll be here."
"We can't start without them, Luz! They're the ministrate! This isn't legal without them!"
"And here I thought it was the bride's job to fuss over everything," she teases. "Should we put you in a dress instead? I bet Willow would swoon if we did. Plus she'd look dang good in a suit."
"Not funny, Luz," he grumbles. "We wouldn't have time to change the outfit anyway. We're supposed to start in five minutes." Hunter peeks past the curtain for the umpteenth time, but there's still no sight of Raine. He'd head out himself to look if he weren't worried he'd somehow stain his suit on the grass and dirt. "How's Willow? Aren't you supposed to be helping her?" And not bothering him, for instance.
"She was having Amity finish her hair last I knew, which was the final thing she needed done. Besides, I think you need someone to help you out more. If you faint who else would be around to revive you?"
"Don't even joke about that," he begs. "I'd ruin her day."
"It's your day too, you know."
Hunter shrugs absently at the reminder and checks again.
Finally, he catches the telltale flash of pale green hair and round spectacles, and the air he's been holding in comes out in a rush.
"Oh thank the titan…"
"It's showtime, baby!" Luz cheers, hopping down. "You ready?" He pats his breast pocket first, where his cue cards are, then nods.
"As I'll ever be…"
"You'll do great. Trust me, the second you see Willow everything else will just fall away. She's so pretty."
"Don't spoil anything!"
"I'm not!" she laughs. "Just want you to be prepared."
"I don't think there's a single second I haven't prepared for," he grumbles, straightening the crisp white lapels of his uniform collar.
It's so rare he wears anything so official anymore, but today is important. He's wedding the most wonderful woman in the the world—in either world, in fact—and she deserves the best. So if he needs to dress up in a stuffy suit for a single day to make sure that day is perfect he'll wear it as long as it takes. (And okay, maybe it's not that stuffy. Darius did amazing work on this and he isn't blind to the fact most of his sweating is undoubtedly due to nerves. That doesn't make it seem any less suffocating.)
From what he knows, every marriage party is a little bit different. Willow suggested a handfasting in the woods outside of the Owl House, finding it suited her better than the more elaborate marriage rituals throughout the isles. He's rather glad he agreed, because if he'd needed to do any more planning he'd probably have an embolism before he could actually reach the main event.
Outside music begins, his cue to exit. Hunter shivers but pulls himself straight, choking down a deep breath. From the kitchen emerges Darius to join him, the old witch taking Luz's place at his side to fuss a few imaginary wrinkles straight and despair over his forelock, which has already escaped the confines of his tight ponytail.
"You look marvelous, Little Prince," he rumbles. "Now relax. This is meant to be a joyous occasion, not a death knell." Hunter ignores the jab and glances outside, eyeing the sky nervously.
"What if it starts to rain? It's supposed to be bad luck if it does. Today was meant to be clear but there are clouds blowing in… We have the canopy on standby, don't we?"
"Those clouds don't foretell of any such disaster. They're far too bright and wispy. And even if it does than we move the procession inside and put up the barriers."
"Lilith still has Hooty under control, right? He hasn't eaten the cakes? Or, uh, added to them?"
"Hunter, darling, you just need to worry about this part first. Alright? Rest assured that there are multiple parties interested in making today go smoothly in your stead. Now. Take my arm and let's go. I'm sure your princess is waiting for her turn to join you."
Right. His part to play. Hunter nods, then (after a quick glance up the stairs, to where she's waiting for him) steps out into the warm spring air to raucous applause. Darius rests a bracing palm on his shoulder, a comfort Hunter leans into gratefully as he marches down the aisle of blooming buds to the flowering arch where Raine is waiting for them. He can just about hear the strum of music playing in the background beneath the cheering, but most of his focus is currently on placing his feet, which seem much more uncoordinated than they were this morning.
He claims his place (somehow without incident) at the alter, where Darius leaves him to stand off to the side, his part done. Equal parts eager and terrified, Hunter turns to watch the path he'd just trod, focus trained on the open door as his heart plays havoc in his chest…
Willow emerges with one arm in each of her fathers', a shining beacon in white and green and gold. Her hair is up in an intricate braid decorated through with flowers, big sunny yellow blooms and little white bells and a crown of hazies twisted up the sides. The sleeves sit low on her sun-kissed shoulders, their lines muted beneath a shawl of shimmering golden lace that cinches across her breastbone. The upper half of her dress cradles her sides like a second skin only to flare out around her waist into a flowing, multi-layered plume of skirts, patterned in more swirling greens and golds over a crisp, clear ivory base.
Her expression brightens as she takes him in with an equal fervor, eyeing Darius' hard work in matching her patterns across his shoulders and down the sides of his waistcoat, and the little kerchief of green lined in gold at home in his breast pocket.
Unable to contain her joy she all but bounces down the aisle, the flowers blooming further as she passes and turning to follow as if her presence were the very sun itself. He understands that impulse entirely, unable himself to look away from her glittering eyes and brilliant grin. When she reaches him Willow draws away from her fathers with a quick kiss to each of their cheeks, then hops onto the dais next to him with an eager flounce, her skirts flaring with the motion of her dancing hips.
"Hi," Willow titters when all he can do is stare, utterly entranced.
"Hi," he replies automatically, then forces his brain to function enough for a proper greeting. "Er. Hi. You look…" Amazing. Astounding. Beautiful. Glorious. Entrancing. Ethereal… Too many synonyms vie for prominence in his head, fumbling all together until all he can manage is a weak, breathy "Wow…"
Her smile, somehow, grows impossibly brighter, and Willow ducks her head as her cheeks alight with a natural, pleased flush.
"You look pretty 'wow' yourself. Just one thing missing…" she teases.
"What?!" Hunter gasps, entirely missing the joking tone of her voice as he glances down himself, patting his pockets to check. "What is it!?"
"Oh, just one of these," she sighs. Then, before he can ask for clarification, Willow plucks one of the smaller blooms from her own hair and tucks it behind his notched ear, quickly securing its stem within his ponytail. "There. Now we match perfectly."
"Oh…" Hunter reaches up, cupping the bloom with the barest brush of his fingertips as his heart skips in his chest. "Thank you."
"Anytime."
His attention is reluctantly called away from her as Raine delicately clears their throat, regretfully interrupting the moment. Their face is flushed self-consciously, no doubt uncomfortable with the numerous eyes turned their way, but they carry on with an enviable resolution regardless. (It's a wonder they offered to do this for them.m, what with their stage fright. Hunter hopes that knowing everyone there will make this easier for them.)
"Are we ready?"
"Right. Yes, of course," Hunter coughs. "I'm ready."
"Me too," Willow agrees, capturing his hand in a smooth motion as she turns to face them. (The soft squeeze she bestows upon it does little to quell the chaotic pound of his thrumming heart.)
"Then let us begin…"
Their audience settles down as Raine motions for quiet, listening attentively as they recite the proper verses of love and loyalty which he and Willow had poured over for months. (Funny. He can't remember a word of them now.) Hunter follows their prompting through the ceremonial vows and blessings, eyeing the surrounding area with no little amount of trepidation as perspiration collects on the nape of his neck. He wishes he had Waffle with him, but she's waiting for her own cue somewhere near the roof, out of reach. (What if they're ambushed? He'd waste precious seconds waiting for her to arrive before he could help.) He comforts himself with the faint whisper of her reassurance instead, holding onto Willow's hand until Raine calls for the ribbons to be brought in.
Their palismen eagerly fly down with them, braided ribbons of yet more gold and green. (He'd have argued the former color more ardently if it were not meant to symbolize prosperity and good fortune in the marriage. Superstitious as he is, he isn't leaving anything to chance—and besides, both Willow and Darius say they like the color on him despite its connotations.)
As Raine accepts the ribbons Hunter turns to his partner and links their other hands together, his right to her left, to await their joining. (A sacrifice on his part to ensure her comfort. He can manage just as well with his off hand.) The silk is cool against his skin in contrast to her warmth, and Hunter worries all the while whether his palm is too warm or sweaty or uncomfortable as the ribbons are tied and the final words spoken. (He knows Luz is somewhere out there with a camera to capture the moment. He makes a mental note to ask her to send it to him so he can watch it, because right now he isn't sure whether he's even taking any of this in.)
Willow taps her finger against his knuckle where they're joined, calling his attention. Hunter's focus jolts up to her, worried, but she merely smiles placidly.
'Breathe,' she mouths, then pointedly tips her head back for an exaggerated inhalation. Obediently Hunter draws a deep breath of his own, and finds that with it the world around him seems to stop wobbling quite so much. Waffle, landing on his shoulder and cozying up to his neck, helps further to ground him, but not quite enough to let him hear the final words from Raine. He doesn't notice which part they're at until Willow is tugging him down with a delighted twinkle in her eye to press a kiss to his lips, that familiar touch the final jolt necessary to kickstart his brain working again.
Hunter breathes into the kiss with relief, refusing to be the first to pull away even as he grows lightheaded once more, but then Willow is drawing away and holding their entwined hands up for all to see and that same raucous cheer from before once more infects everyone who's attended their celebration.
From this side of the audience he's awfully aware of just how many people he knows, most of them rushing the dais to congratulate them both. Gus reaches them first, throwing out spells reading "Congratulations!" and "Just Married!" and "Finally!" all surrounded by glittering fireworks and waving flags.
There's almost too many people crowding them, setting his nerves on edge, but looking around at all the faces—of people who care for and support him, not a single one showing any sign of malcontent or judgement—he somehow manages to ease into the hectic cheer on their behalf.
From there Willow drags him off to open the dance floor, which despite his months of practicing he's still a little clumsy at, though thankfully he doesn't step on his partner's toes even once, nor (titan forbid) fall over and forcibly drag her down with him. Others quickly join them on the grass, taking a lot of the focus off of their careful waltz, and for a moment he can almost breathe again—but just as quickly they're whisked away to the gift tables, where they have to try and open each wrapped present with only their free hands. (He ends up holding them down while Willow rips the paper gleefully apart.) Then they have an hour to go around and greet all their guests, thanking them personally for coming, as well as for the gifts received. (He's sure to be extra grateful to Dell for passing down his heirloom carving tools, as well as for making such a long journey only to endure a hectic afternoon at his expense.) Darius and Camila demand pictures, which turns into the Parks as well, then the Emerald Entrails, then another round with only Gus, then single pictures and ones with their palisman and—
He isn't sure when he hits his tipping point, but at some point Willow (wonderful, beautiful, perfect Willow) manages to sneak him out from it all, stealing him away into the house to a hidden corner where she can press him against the wall and hold him up.
"Doing okay?" she murmurs against his fingertips, bringing their joined hands up between their chests to press soft little kisses along them.
"Fine," he rotely answers, but at her patient look he sighs and relents. "It's just… a lot."
"It is," she agrees. "But it's also been nice. You're having fun, right?"
"Surprisingly? Yes," he chuckles. "I was anticipating more… you know…"
"Ah ah ah! Don't say it!" Willow laughs. "Let's not jynx the party just yet, we still have dinner and then to cut the cake." At the reminder his belly howls, complaining that all he'd managed to imbibe today was a few nibbles of toast and jam.
"Oh yeah… How far out is that, again?"
"They should be setting up the tables now. I think the first part of the meal everyone has their assigned seating for the toasts, but after we're free to switch around if we want."
"Okay."
He still doesn't move to leave, however, and neither does Willow. Instead she reaches up to brush his hair out of his face, tucking a bit behind his ear and stroking along his jaw. He leans into her touch with a sigh, pulling her closer with his free arm around her waist.
"Hey," she giggles, breathy and soft.
"Hey?" he answers, bemused, and cracks open the eyelids he hadn't noticed falling shut.
"I love you," Willow states, leaning up to claim another kiss, which he happily obliges.
"I love you, too," he hums against her mouth. "So much."
"Ready for the next round of chaos?" she teases as he presses his forehead to hers, affectionately bumping their noses together.
"With you at my side? I think I'm just about ready for anything," he chuckles. "As long as Hooty doesn't give us any more surprises."
"I think the airship ride was rather sweet."
"I'm just happy he didn't crash into the ground, seeing as he doesn't even have any hands to steer." Hunter shudders. "How about the next time you want an airship ride I'll drive us instead? I just have to renew my pilot license."
"Ooh, deal." One she seals with a final, lingering kiss, much to his delight. "Now come on, Mr Park. We have a party to attend." His face flames at the reminder, accompanied by a grin so wide it's a wonder it doesn't split his face.
"After you, then, love. I'm right behind you…"