Chapter Text
The first time she thought her husband might actually be rather handsome was when she walked into the church to marry him.
The marriage had been arranged by her parents, and despite not loving or even being attracted to the gargoyle she was to marry, she was not distressed by the match. He seemed like a kind, thoughtful male who would take good care of her, which was more than most women could say about their husbands, and she was eager to be out of her parents’ house and have children and a house of her own to oversee. Her fiancé's physical appearance was not appealing to her, but neither was it repulsive, and she was quite plain herself, so what did that signify?
So when she saw the gargoyle waiting for her at the front of the church, her breath caught in her throat at how impressive he looked—all thanks to his wings.
Before this, she'd only ever seen his wings tightly tucked against his back, forming uninteresting lumps of gray flesh. But now, he stood with them extended out from him, not to their full span, but enough to highlight their elegant power as they arched up behind his head and to his sides. Sunlight shone through their skin from the stained glass windows behind him, making them appear to glow with light in shades of scarlet and ochre and violet.
Most remarkable of all, his wings were adorned in gold. From each joint on his wings there extended a small curved horn or claw, and each of these had a gold band fitted around it. From these bands were strung dozens of gold chains, criss-crossing the glowing membranes of his wings and sparkling in the sunlight as well.
The complete effect—the wings’ shape and size, their glowing colors, and the glittering gold—was stunning.
As she neared him, she tore her eyes from his impressive wings to look at his face. He was smiling faintly at her, and his eyes regarded her with a tenderness she had never before seen in them. Such an expression softened the sharp lines of his stony gray features, and if he didn't look handsome, he at least looked like something very near to it. She smiled softly back at him.
The wedding ceremony was unremarkable, just like every other wedding she’d attended—except that the groom kept yawning beside her. It began to grow amusing when the officiating clergyman noticed and directed a sour glance of disapproval at the gargoyle. The bride pursed her lips and made a small sound as she tried not to laugh, which made the groom shoot her an embarrassed but smiling glance.
As soon as the ceremony was over and they were free to speak to one another, he explained. “My apologies for yawning. I’m not used to being up at this hour.”
“It’s quite all right. It’s unfair that the law doesn’t make exceptions to the wedding hours for races that are nocturnal, like yours.”
They came out of the church just then, walking directly into the morning sunshine, and her new husband squinted and threw up a great clawed hand to shield his silver eyes. “If it was cloudy today, being awake in the daytime would be easier to bear.”
“But your wings look very attractive in the sunlight.” He turned to her with his eyebrows raised, surprised at the compliment, and his wings, which he still held somewhat out from his body, twitched out slightly wider. “I’ve never seen them…adorned, before.”
“It’s unusual for males of your race, I know, to wear such finery. Even your females. But it’s customary for gargoyles of both sexes to adorn their wings with gold when they’re mated—married. These”—he flexed his wings, sending the gold chains upon them shaking with a tinkling sound—“were worn by my father at his mating ceremony.”
“They’re beautiful.”
He inclined his head toward her in thanks. “It’s thought we gargoyles are related to dragons, you know; perhaps that’s why we both like gold.” The wedding guests around them were throwing rice and shouting out words of congratulations, but he ignored them to keep his eyes fixed on her. “There’s something else that is customary for gargoyles on this occasion: sharing our first flight together as a mated—married—pair.”
Her heart began to pound. “But I’m no gargoyle; I can’t fly.”
“I’ll hold you, if you permit it.” He held open his massive arms for her. “You’ll be safe with me.”
She looked at his monstrous but earnest face and knew that was true. He would take care of her in this and in everything. She stepped into his arms. “I trust you, husband.”
His arms tightened around her, pulling her chest flush against his belly, and without warning they shot straight up into the air. All the human wedding guests left behind on the ground shrieked, but the bride kept her mouth clamped shut, even though her stomach was lurching at the sudden movement and dizzying height they had already ascended to.
But this was only a physical reaction—she was not afraid. Even looking over her shoulder at the ground far below, she felt no fear, and her stomach quickly grew accustomed to the sensation of flying and calmed. She was safe in her husband's arms, just as he had promised, and even wrapped up tightly, she felt free and light as she soared through the sky with him. The wind and gusts from the pumping of her gargoyle’s powerful wings whipped her red curls free of her bonnet to fly about her smiling face.
He lifted her higher in his arms, bringing their heads to the same level where she could see more of him than just his chest, and she gasped at the sight of his wings again. They were glowing with the sunlight behind them again, the gold chains glittering and chiming as they swayed against his skin with each flap.
She extended a hand over his shoulder to touch the edge of one wing, close to where it sprouted from his back. He started and sucked in air through his teeth, and she jerked her hand back. “I’m sorry!”
He shook his head. “It’s all right. It feels good, it’s just…sensitive.”
“I should have asked,” she said apologetically.
His voice lowered. “You may always touch me anywhere you like, wife.”
Her stomach fluttered and twisted, and she stretched her arms up from his chest to hook around his thick neck.
“May I kiss you?” he asked her in that same low, rumbling voice.
“Is that part of the newlywed gargoyles flying custom?”
“Not really. But you're my wife, and you're beautiful, and I want to.”
“Oh.” No one had ever called her beautiful before, not even her mother. She swallowed, her heart racing even faster than when he asked her to fly. “Then, yes, you may.”
She expected his lips to be cold and hard, probably because they were gray like the rest of his skin, but when they came to rest against hers, she found they were warm and soft and quite pleasing to feel. The fluttery feeling in her stomach spread up into her chest, a happiness as light and bright as butterfly wings, and she smiled against her husband's mouth before pressing hers more firmly to his.
She didn't know how long they went on kissing as they drifted through the air together, but the next thing she knew, the wind was dropping away and her feet were easing against solid ground. She opened her eyes to see her gargoyle giving one last flap of his beautiful wings before folding them in as she and he settled against the ground together.
He smiled down at her. “I brought us to our wedding breakfast. Everyone is inside waiting for us.”
“Oh yes! We’d better get inside.” She tried to smooth out her dress and tuck her curls back into their proper places, but had little success. Oh well. The pleasure of flying with her gargoyle husband had been well worth the mess she’d made of herself.
As the newlyweds walked through the door together, the gargoyle’s mouth opened in his most immense yawn of the morning yet. He covered it with his clawed hand, looking embarrassed, but she laughed. “And then we better get you home to bed.”