30. Theron
I stand before the temple altar, my heart pounding beneath my formal black jacket. The marble columns soar overhead, sunlight streaming through stained glass windows and casting rainbow patterns across the stone floor. The scent of incense mingles with fresh flowers.
Kai walks down the aisle with careful, measured steps, his small chest puffed out with importance as he carries the cushion holding our rings. His black fur is neatly brushed, though a stubborn cowlick still sticks up between his budding horns. The formal white tunic he wears makes him look older than his six years.
"Papa, am I doing it right?" he whispers as he takes his place beside me.
"Perfect, son." I rest my hand on his shoulder, feeling him stand even straighter.
Behind him, Mira toddles down the aisle in her pale blue dress, silver-white fur gleaming. Her tiny hands scatter a mix of rose petals and healing herbs - Lyra's special touch to the traditional ceremony. Some petals catch in her fur, making her giggle as she tries to brush them off without dropping her basket.
"Look Papa, I'm helping!" Her amber eyes shine with joy as she reaches us, nearly tripping over her own hooves in excitement.
Mrs. Bramble sits in the front row, already dabbing at her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. "About time," she mutters, loud enough for me to hear. "Three generations I've served this family, waiting to see a proper love match." Her stern expression softens as she watches Mira spin in place, making her skirts twirl.
The temple priestess takes her position at the altar, arranging the ceremonial herbs for burning. The traditional seven veils shimmer as Lyra appears at the temple entrance, each layer holding meaning - from the peach of birth to the deep red of passion. My breath catches at the sight of her.
"Papa," Kai tugs at my sleeve, "you're supposed to breathe." His serious reminder breaks through my trance, bringing a chuckle from those close enough to hear.
Through the shimmering veils, I catch glimpses of movement in the temple pews. My sister Emkia stands tall and proud in her formal merchant's robes, her black fur adorned with the traditional silver rings of our trade house. Her presence as witness wasn't guaranteed - she'd been hesitant about my choice to marry a human healer.
"The herbs are ready," the priestess announces, and Mira bounces on her hooves.
"Can I help light them, Papa? Please?" She tugs at my sleeve with one hand while still clutching her flower basket.
"Careful now," I guide her small hand as we light the first bundle together. The sweet smoke curls upward, and I hear a collective sigh from my aunts' corner. Aunt Thera and Aunt Maris, who initially refused to even meet Lyra, lean forward in their seats. Their stern expressions soften as they watch Mira's delight in participating.
Kai steps forward with the rings, his movements precise and practiced. "The bonds of family," he recites clearly, "strengthened by love freely given." The traditional words carry extra weight coming from my son, who's known so little of unconditional love before Lyra entered our lives.
"Well said," Emkia nods approvingly. Her own horn rings catch the light as she moves to stand beside us. "I speak as witness to this union," she declares, then adds in a softer voice, "And as sister to a brother who finally follows his heart."
Aunt Thera dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Just like Emkia always wanted as well," she whispers to Aunt Maris, loud enough for the front rows to hear. "Perhaps we were wrong back then too."
The children's participation in each small ritual - Mira sprinkling herbs, Kai presenting the rings, both of them helping to light the sacred bundles - transforms what could have been a scandalous union into something pure and joyful. Even the most traditional members of my family can't maintain their disapproval in the face of such innocent happiness.
The priestess begins the ancient rites, but I barely hear the words. My focus narrows to Lyra as she moves through the seven veils, each one falling away to reveal more of her radiant smile. Her copper-red hair catches the sunlight streaming through the windows, the healing herbs woven into her braids adding touches of green that match her eyes.
Those eyes. They've never shown a hint of fear, not even when I first towered over her in the marketplace. Now they sparkle with gold flecks as she takes her place beside me, her small hand finding mine without hesitation.
"The joining of two hearts," the priestess intones, but I'm lost in memory - Lyra standing firm against Marcus Steelhorn's threats, her chin lifted in defiance despite barely reaching the merchant's chest. Her gentle patience with Mira's illnesses, spending nights mixing remedies while teaching my daughter the properties of each herb. The way she won Kai's trust by letting him help in her workshop, never pushing, just being there until he was ready to open up.
My chest tightens as she squeezes my hand. The top of her head barely reaches my sternum, yet she fills every corner of my life with her presence. The practical earth-toned dress beneath her ceremonial veils bears multiple pockets, each one stuffed with healing herbs - ready to help anyone in need, even on her wedding day.
"Papa," Mira whispers loudly, tugging at my jacket, "you're crying."
I hadn't noticed the moisture in my eyes until my daughter's observation. Lyra reaches up, her fingers brushing my cheek with the same tenderness she uses to handle her most delicate herbs.
"Your father's just happy, little one," she says, and her voice holds all the warmth my home has lacked for so long.
She's right. This fierce, independent healer who stands eye-level with my children has given me everything I never dared hope for - a partner who matches my determination, a mother who loves my children unconditionally, and a home filled with laughter instead of cold silence.
The temple ceremony flows into the celebration at our mansion's grand hall, where Mrs. Bramble has outdone herself with garlands of healing herbs and traditional flowers woven through the chandeliers. The scent reminds me of Lyra's workshop, that first day I ducked through her door seeking help for Mira's fever.
"May I have this dance?" I offer my hand to my bride, careful not to overshadow her smaller frame. The musicians strike up the traditional first dance, and Lyra's fingers slip into mine with familiar trust.
We've practiced this, late at night after the children were asleep. Now muscle memory takes over as I guide her through the steps. Her copper braids swing with each turn, those clever green eyes never leaving mine. The gathered crowd murmurs - some in appreciation, others in lingering shock at seeing a human and minotaur move so naturally together.
"Papa, our turn!" Mira's voice pipes up as the song ends. She tugs Kai behind her, his serious expression melting into a rare smile as they join us on the dance floor.
I lift Mira onto my shoulders while Lyra takes Kai's hands, teaching him the same steps she learned. His initial stiffness fades as she guides him through the movements, just as she guided him past his walls of hurt and distrust.
"Look how tall I am!" Mira giggles from her perch, her silver-white fur catching the lamplight. Her small hooves tap against my chest in time with the music.
Hours later, after carrying two exhausted children to bed, I find Lyra in the nursery. She tucks the blanket around Mira while checking her breathing - always the healer, even now. Kai clutches his favorite book even in sleep, finally secure enough to let his guard down.
Drawing her close, I breathe in the herb-scented warmth of her hair. My trading empire brought me wealth, but it took this tiny human with her fierce heart to show me what true riches feel like. The cold halls that echoed with Cassandra's disdain now ring with children's laughter and the soft humming of healing songs. And they always will.