disclaimer: i do not own KOTLC.

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title: marry me

pairings&characters: sophie, keefe, fitz, tam, mr. forkle, biana,
linh, dex, silveny, sophitz, sokeefe

genre: romance, slight hurt/comfort, au

rating: k+

summary: she was beautiful. she was ethereal. and he was watching her get given away.

playlist ;

marry me ; thomas rhett
if i ain't got you ; alicia keys
six feet under ; billie eilish


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FITZ WAS A WRECK. Keefe understood his unease, given the day it was and how the guests were gathering outside and how somewhere in the house Sophie was getting ready with the rest of the girls. He hasn't been able to see his fiance for almost half an hour, and he keeps mumbling about it to his friends.

Keefe, Dex, and Tam are doing the best to console him as they hide out in a room in Everglen. Keefe can understand how Fitz has already begun to get maxed out on greeting the guests.

Fitz stares at one of the decorative vases on a table near the chair he's sat in. He wipes his hands on his pants. "I've never felt like this before," he voices. "And I've almost died plenty of times. But this? This is more terrifying than any of those experiences."

Keefe manages a light laugh along with everyone else, running a hand through his hair. "Getting married'll do that to you."

"That's kind of insane to think about," Tam says after a murmur of agreement. "Getting married would seem like such a wild, life-changing thing to almost anyone else, but to all of us it's almost. . . Normal."

"Normal, but nerve-wracking as all hell." Tam laughs that time, and Fitz actually joins, though his is more breathy as he shakes his head. Keefe knows that if he goes up and touches Fitz's shoulder to console him like he wants to, he could feel the zing of anxiety racing off his friend. Even without the contact, it's clear just how much stress Fitz seems to be under.

"If you're that nervous, why don't you just go talk to her about it beforehand?" Dex suggests. Tam and Keefe both murmur their agreements, bobbing their heads.

Fitz shrugs, trying to relax back in his chair. "Sophie says I can't see her beforehand."

Tam purses his lips, but Dex is bobbing his head as if he already understands.

Keefe's eyebrows furrow as he twiddles his thumbs inside the pockets of his suit's pants. "Why not?"

"She says it's bad luck."

Keefe actually manages to snort, and Dex and Tam smile. "Bad luck," Tam muses as Dex offers, "One of us could go talk to her."

"Make sure she doesn't get cold feet," Tam jokes, and Fitz grabs a flower out of a nearby vase and chucks it at him. The rose petals scatter to the ground with the stem as it hits a chuckling Tam. Fitz pleads, "Now is so not the time to joke about that."

There's a bit more bubbled laughter before the room leizurely sombers, and Fitz sighs. He brushes his thumb over his Cognate ring, staring down at it.

Keefe speaks up. "I could go talk to her," he offers. "Check up on her."

Fitz lift his head and meets his eyes, instantly nodding. "Please." It's all he says before Keefe respectfully nods again, turning.

He walks out of the room, hearing the noise of Dex and Tam trying to comfort Fitz muffle. He goes down hallways and turns corners until he's finally at the staircase. Even from the very bottom he can feel Sophie on the third floor, emotions wavering. There's excitement, for sure, but there's also some undecipherable knot in her stomach.

As he climbs the stairs to the third floor, the knot grows tighter and more intense. He knows it's because he's getting closer to her, but part of him feels like she knows he's there.

He stops at her door just in time, because it swings open.

Keefe steps aside as Edaline, Linh, Marella, and Biana flutter out of the room, door shut tightly behind them. Keefe raises one eyebrow at the sparkling eyes and overflowing giggles, noticing the way happy lines crease their beaming faces. They all greet him, and he nods, holding Edaline's gaze for the longest.

"Am I okay to go in there?" he requests, pointing towards the door as they start to descend down the stairs.

"She's just fussing," Marella confesses, eliciting another round of bubbly laughter from the girls who have paused on the stairwell briefly.

"She should never be allowed to fuss the way she does," Linh continues, and Biana nods in agreement, making a comment about just how lovely she is without realizing. Keefe can't help but agree.

He looks over to Edaline one last time, and she confirms his request with a curt nod. He swears he sees something swimming in her eyes as the corner of her mouth twitches. Just for him.

They all turn away and he hears their heels click down the marble stairs as he squares his shoulders. It takes all of his courage to grasp the golden doorknob before he can chicken out.

It hits him that he should probably knock first, so he raps lightly on the glossy wood door. He straightens himself when he hears her call from inside her room, assuring him that he can enter.

He doesn't know what he had expected. He's always known she's this magnificent creature, too gorgeous to even be allowed to exist. He doesn't understand how she can ever put herself down the way she does, how she could ever look at herself in the mirror and see something other than perfect.

Her brown eyes flutter as she turns to face him, smiling. Her plush lips are glossy, her face is glowing, and he can smell the perfume of her hair floating around the room.

He's captivated.

She reaches up and messes with her hair a little.

"I don't think I should have done this," she says, consciously lifting her hand to thumb one of her soft curls. She cut her hair just a few days ago, for the first time in a long time, and it's different for sure. She had let it grow out over a few years, but now it's trimmed down to an adorable bob, curls tickling her ears and jawline.

The dress hangs on her lithe frame, glittering and white. Diamonds dot the bodice, the neckline scooping and squeezing in ways that prove she's grown and not the young girl she once was. The sweeps around her ankles, brushing the floor. There's a tiny slit in between the puffy tulle that allows her leg to slip through, and he can see the silver heels that adorn her feet.

His eyes catch the tiny details, too, like the soft gold brushed on her eyelids and the sparkles entangled in her hair.

"What is it?" She's blushing, still fussing with mussing her hair in the back, trying to tame the curls that frame her face.

He blinks, realizing he's staring. He knows his pupils are probably dilated. "I. . . You look perfect."

She chews on her lower lip, twiddling her hands. Her cheeks flame. "Keefe."

"I'm serious. Fitz won't know what to do." He manages to choke it out, and the tips of her ears flash red. Keefe walks forward, picking up a flower off her vanity. Sophie watches as he approaches, hands drifting to her hair as he tries to pin it in. She smiles gratefully at him, skin burning as he nods down at her in approval.

She's truly an angel. Some otherworldly being that demands the attention of everyone in the room. And no one deserves her.

But this is her wedding day, he knows. And Grady isn't the only one who's going to have to give her away.

"Fitz is worried about you," he says after clearing his throat. "He wants to break your 'no seeing me before the ceremony' rule."

She laughs. A melodic thing. Chiming, like a bell. "I knew he would." She absent-mindedly swirls her Cognate ring around her thumb.

Keefe props out his arm, and she looks it over. "Well, how would you feel if I escorted you down?"

She blinks, and he can feel her heart stutter as she takes his arm. "Is Fitz. . .?"

"Going to the altar," Keefe agrees, shooting her a tiny smile to assure her that everything is going to go just fine. He'll make sure of it.

○

Everything rushes past in a blur. The wait is nothing.

All too soon he's standing in a row with Dex and Tam, and Linh, Biana, and Marella are lined up opposite of them. All too soon the guests are seated, and the crowd is silent. Even the animals in nearby pastures seem to rest quietly in respect, sitting humbly in the grass. Silveny, Greyfell, Luna, and Wynn are also nearby, behaved and poised as they curl into the knolls, awaiting the start.

Music begins. And all too soon, she's standing at the end of the aisle.

She's breathtaking and beautiful, demanding the attention of everyone within sight. Even though he's already seen her once before, all he can do is gape in shock at the way the sunlight illuminates her, kissing her skin. She's glowing as he watches the way she saunters down the aisle on Grady's arm, who's already blubbering about giving her away. She's bright and shining and that blush and smile holds his heart.

He sees a million things as he looks at her.

But he doesn't just see the present -- part of him is still stuck in the past, reliving those treasured moments when she was his. And he was hers.

He sees the way her face blushes as he finally admits his drowning love for her.

He sees her pink blooming cheeks and red, swollen lips after he worked up the courage to kiss her for the first time over the summer, before she graduated from the Elite levels.

He sees the months they spent together, how they grew closer and closer until it seemed they only spent time with one another.

He sees the droopy, content smile on her face after their first night spent together. He mumbles to her that they should untangle their bodies, that they should put back on their clothes and go to sleep in their respective beds and houses before anyone is a witness to their love, but she asks him to stay.

He sees all those terrible nights they had, spent screaming at each other over simple miscommunications. Her eyes well with tears as she begs him to tell her he didn't see another girl, but he only shouts back that he needs to know if there's anything going on with him just like he was told.

He sees the way her face falls as he agrees to her wanting to end it, with zero hesitance. He watches as she swallows, one tear slips down her cheek, and she rushes past him, out the door.

He sees his cowardice and lonely nights. He watches the way he breaks glasses, sobs into his pillow, as he knows she's gone.

He sees the months they spent apart. He watches as he drowns his sorrows in alcohol, sitting at a table in the dark. He flips through his sketchbook reserved specifically for her, memorizing the sketches with his numbing mind. Trying to see her face clearly again as tears plop onto the pages.

He sees the shock in her eyes when they accidentally run into each other for the first time in months. He remembers how they'd had to alternate between times with sharing their friends, all while trying to communicate as little as possible. He cant't remember how they kept it up for so long, all while never directly speaking to one another. He supposes he didn't go out much during those months, though, so it must have been easy for her to avoid him.

He sees her fiddle with her Cognate rings the whole time they sit around the table in Atlantis with their friends, purposely avoiding eye contact. He notices how she bounces her leg nervously, and how her anxieties radiate off of her like a flood. His eyes trail down as he puts his hand on her knee, silently consoling her. She smiles at him.

He sees how they gradually become friends again. How he fights to earn back her trust, to keep her in his life, to keep her happy. How he tries to never hurt her again. How he battles to give her everything she deserves.

He sees the way they get back into their old rhythm. She doesn't flinch when he occasionally hugs her, she shares things with him, they spend time together. But she's still distant. It won't be the same, he knows.

He sees the bright way she smiles as she says that she reunited with him.

He sees her come to life as she shares the details of her flourishing relationship with him. It's perfect. He's perfect. Just like it always should have been.

He sees her unease as she tells him she's engaged.

And maybe - just maybe - he catches that look in her eyes, begging him to say anything to end it. To convince her to call it off. He feels disappointment when he congratulates her, but she nods.

He sees her hand him the wedding invitation. She says she wants him there.

He sees his burning jealousy that flares through his body. He reminisces on that aching feeling, the same one he right now, watching her walk down that aisle.

Sophie kisses her father on the cheek when they reach the end, wiping away some of his tears before she rises up the stairs.

Their eyes meet briefly, and in that second everything tingles through his body. He can see a kaleidescope of emotions, from warmth and affection, to regret and guilt, and sadness and longing.

But then she is standing in front of her fiance, and that moment is gone.

Keefe watches as they reach for one another, one hand on the bouquet at her side and the other intertwining with his. He watches their fingers lace together as they stare into each other's eyes, and Sophie bites down on her lip to keep from smiling.

The words blur together. He doesn't listen to the poetic language of the marriage ceremony, or the heartwarming speeches, or the occasional gushing whispers in the crowd. The only thing he hears is, "Speak now or forever hold your peace."

All Keefe can think is, I object, I object, I object.

But he does not speak. He holds his peace.

Forever.

He swallows the lump lodged in his throat, he forces the burning tears in his eyes to stay brimming his lashes, not daring to let them fall. He plants his feet rigid on the grass beneath him, he focuses on Calla in the distance, wondering if maybe things would have been different. Could have been different, had he done something.

The panic swells in his chest, but soon it's flicked away, because that chance is gone. They have moved on. She is gone - for the rest of his life.

"I now pronounce you Wife and Husband."

He sees Fitz cup her face and kiss her. He sees the guests rejoice and coo and whistle and holler. He sees the two best people in his life smile at each other and giggle and look like the happiest people on Earth.

No, not just two people. Not just two friends. Not just two Cognates. Not just a couple.

A wife and a husband.

He sees the two mingle between the guests, holding hands.

He sees Sophie explain different human wedding traditions to Fitz as he laughs, eyes bright.

He sees Silveny rush over to the couple and bombard them, as they all end up having some telepathic conversation. Sophie's smiling sweetly, rubbing Luna's nose, and Fitz is just watching her with the biggest grin.

He sees them embrace. He sees them talk about the new rings adorning their fingers. He sees them dance. He sees them kiss. He sees them cut the cake.

He sees them exchange dopey grins, feeding each other cake while ultimately ending up smushing it on one another's faces. They wipe the remains of the other's mouth, cupping their face and planting soft kisses onto each other's lips. People around the pastures watch in adoration, grinning and reverberating tiny 'aww's.

And he sees the love of his life take another's name. He sees the love of his life bask in another's arms. He sees his best friend call her wife.

He sees he missed his chance.

I object.

○

ALTERNATE ENDING

Sophie kisses her father on the cheek when they reach the end, wiping away some of his tears before she rises up the stairs.

Their eyes meet briefly, and in that second everything tingles through his body. He can see a kaleidoscope of emotions, from warmth and affection, to regret and guilt, and sadness and longing.

But then she is standing in front of her fiance, and that moment is gone.

Keefe watches as they reach for one another, one hand on the bouquet at her side and the other intertwining with his. He watches their fingers lace together as they stare into each other's eyes, and Sophie bites down on her lip to keep from smiling.

The words blur together. He doesn't listen to the poetic language of the marriage ceremony, or the heartwarming speeches, or the occasional gushing whispers in the crowd. The only thing he hears is, "Speak now or forever hold your peace."

All Keefe can think is, I object, I object, I object.

He knows better, though. He can see just how happy Sophie is and how good it has been for her. All he's ever wanted for her is to see her happy. to get to fulfill her dreams. He wants the world for her.

And if this is what she wants -- if this is what she needs -- he's going to give it to her, no matter how much it will kill him. No matter how pain he'll have to endure, watching her in another's arms for thousands of years to come. For the remainder of his god-forsaken life.

If she is happy. . . Then he will be happy. For her.

The seconds thump by, counted by the pulse in his throat. He sees Mr. Forkle open his mouth to continue, and Keefe has to physically bite down on his tongue to keep the tears and words at bay.

Sophie's mouth opens in the slightest. Mr. Forkle stops, even though she clamps it back shut.

Keefe's eyebrows furrow. He can feel something wringing through her veins, suddenly. Slithering around like a snake, it's burying its way into the pit of her stomach, coiling tight.

He knows for sure that she's confused, but why? He has to scream at the part of him that is bleeding hope, knowing that can't be what she wants to say.

"I. . ." Sophie's eyebrow furrows as she bites her lip, head shaking in the lightest. It's as if she's scolding herself.

The crowd is holding one collective breath, hands over hearts. Some are whispering, and Keefe can feel the guilt and shame radiating off of her as she glances up into Fitz's eyes. And then she meets his.

Some of her shame filters away, but the guilt is still brewing warm and strong, like a fog over a pasture.

He wants to say it so badly. He wants to say those two simple words as she looks at him intently, that prodding feeling swelling in her chest that's making it hard for the both of them to breathe.

He knows. He knows that he's never stopped loving her, even through everything that's been thrown at them.

The bouquet in her one hand is being held in such a vise-like grip that her knuckles are white. He can see her squeeze Fitz's hand in apology as she closes her eyes and whispers a shaky, "I object."

Keefe can distantly hear the shocked gasps and disgusted outbursts, but he's too focused on the way Sophie sheepishly catches his gaze. Her cheeks are a perfect pink.

He doesn't need to be a Telepath to know what she's thinking right then and there. No one does. Not her parents, not her almost-in-laws, not the shell-shocked guests, not Silveny or Greyfell.

She ignores the curious glances.

She ignores the shocked stares.

She ignores the warning glances.

She ignores the confused gawking.

She turns to her almost-husband apologetically. He watches her gently, his somber teal eyes knowing exactly what's hidden in the depths of her amber gaze. But he smiles in understanding and leans forward. He kisses her forehead gently, letting her go.

In an instant she tosses her bouquet at a shocked Biana, who just barely catches it with wide eyes. Linh squeals beside her, gripping her arm and shaking it excitedly.

Keefe's mouth runs dry as he meets Sophie's glittering eyes, asking him that question.

He ignores the shocked wails.

He ignores the disgusted stares.

He ignores the disappointed glares.

He ignores the outraged gawking.

All he focuses on is taking her outstretched hand, lacing their fingers together. They race down the steps.

And they run.