"You're late." The brunette glared as August leaned in to kiss her cheek and step pass her.
"I like to make an entrance." He nodded and clapped Neal's shoulder who was sitting on a chaise in the corner wearing a similar tux. "Where's Emma?"
"August?" Emma's voice, light yet confident, echoed from behind a curtain. He stepped past the nook that housed a vanity which held a hair curler and more cosmetics than he'd ever seen to reach the curtained area just beside it. He knocked on the wall before popping his head in when she beckoned his entrance.
The grin on his face was nothing compared to Emma's.
August had only seen Emma in a dress a handful of times, the more recent being this past Christmas at Storybrooke's annual Christmas gala where the former soldier donned a red long-sleeve cocktail dress and grinned happily beside her wife. Of course, neither Emma nor Regina could wait as soon as same-sex marriage was legalized in Maine. It was romantic, really, when August had heard the story the evening after they had appeared in front of a judge and signed their marriage certificate. Emma had woken Regina at the crack of dawn, and though still half asleep, Regina had known exactly what the younger woman was going to say.
"Marry me," Emma had whispered into a kiss with wild eyes and no ring and just sheer love pouring through her.
"Yes," Regina had nodded, tugging Emma to her and back into bed, muttering about how the marriage office wasn't open for another four hours yet.
They had been officially married for over a year now, but reaffirming their commitment to one another for their friends and family to see was something they had planned the moment they became Swan-Mills. August had given them hell that he wasn't there to witness the official union between the two women, but standing before Emma mere minutes before she was to walk up those stairs and tell the world how much she loved Regina, well, he could hold his tongue on that one.
Emma stood in the small curtained off nook beside a cushioned chair. Her hair waved down her shoulders in loose curls and half pinned up with a rhinestone flower-shaped brooch. Make-up had never been a priority for the young woman who never had use of it growing up and found it impractical during her deployment, but the light foundation and pale pink eyeshadow around her eyes made her glow. The scar running down her cheek had minimized only minutely over the years, but it was nothing compared to the blonde's megawatt smile. Her dress was fairly simple and lacked the extravagance most brides put into their wedding dresses, but for Emma, simplicity was all she could ask for. Eggshell in colour, the bottom layer was a satin shift reaching her ankles with the top being a lace overlay, the design matching the flower pendant in her hair. The lace draped over the satin, following the v-neck curve of the bodice yet covered Emma's shoulder. August knew that she was still self-conscious at times about her prosthetic, but she looked like she didn't have a care in the world beaming back at him. The only jewelry on her was a circle pendant nestled gently against her collarbone that said more than any diamonds or pearls could ever attempt.
Tears welled up in his eyes as his breath caught in his throat. This. This was too good to be true. His baby sister was getting married. For over fifteen years he had watched this stubborn teenager grow into the beautiful, strong woman before him, but now he was standing in front of her on her wedding day looking like—hell, winning the lottery couldn't even hold a candle to the joy radiating off Emma's face.
"Well?" She asked hopefully, picking up a small arrangement of purple calla lilies from the chair in the corner to add to her look.
A tear slipped, and Ruby teasingly nudged him further into the room to get his feet moving. Wordlessly he stood in front of her, and with a gentle push of his finger, turned her around slowly. Reaching just past her to the chair, he scooped up the clip that held her veil, carefully extending the chiffon material until it flowed to the middle of her back. Precise fingers clipped the veil just below the brooch, and as August gently fanned out the material, Emma turned slowly in his arms with a watery smile.
"You," he said earnestly with a kiss to her forehead, "are tied for first for most beautiful bride here."
Emma laughed with a shrug. "Second best."
"Jesus, you're whipped already," August groaned.
Emma laughed again and pulled him into a hug which August was quick to return. "I was worried you weren't gonna make it."
"And miss the chance to see my baby sister make the best decision of her life?" August rapped his knuckle gently against her chin. "Never."
"We're starting soon, guys." Neal called, followed by the door opening allowing the faint sounds of instrumental music playing from the upper level to filter below.
August offered his arm, grinning when Emma laced hers through it, then parted the curtain. "Let's go make it official."
Growing up, Emma was never the type of child to throw a pillow case over her hair as a makeshift veil and make a toilet paper bouquet, gliding down an imaginary aisle to her Prince (or Princess) Charming. In fact, she had her funeral more mapped out than her wedding because at least that one she was guaranteed.
Writing to Regina changed everything.
For nearly thirteen years, the lives of Regina Mills and Emma Swan had been intertwined so carefully it was as if the sisters of fate themselves had weaved their lifelines together. The last five had been an emotional rollercoaster for the small family. Not only did Emma continue to suffer from her PTSD, but Regina, and Henry by extension, had their paths to acceptance cave in with Emma's presence. Neither Mills had complained about it, even though there were times when Emma feared they would resent her for it. Dr. Hopper had voiced his concerns about their seemingly hasty reunion, but the family was more than ready to take any necessary steps to know each other once more.
Therapy sessions—individual, couple, and family—were attended every week. Henry had stopped his sessions six months after Emma's return, the child at the stage where the magic in miracles was still in arms' reach, and even their couples' therapy had dwindled down to near non-existent just last year. However, every week for almost four years, Regina drove with Emma to a therapist in Portland more trained to help Emma transition into the world once more after her secluded stay in Brookhaven. Most visits, Regina would sit in the waiting room, nervously fidgeting and disregarding the book she would always tote with her only for Emma to come out emotionally drained or distant during the ride back. Hours' worth pouring over guide books, internet searches, and talking with Archie opened up Regina's communication so that she could support the soldier whenever she needed.
The anniversary of her capture still proved hard for both women, and some nights Regina would wake up sharply and shake Emma in turn if only to see her eyes open and her chest rising, but the Christmas music Henry blared around the house and the mistletoe August would none too subtly leave hanging helped relieve the instinctual anxiety that took over. Over time, Emma continued seeing the good doctor every few months. Touching base with him and getting affirmation that she was still on the right track was all she needed whenever fears and insecurities swept over her that were too much for either her or Regina to deal with on her own.
Despite the hardships, they were attached to each other's side through it all. On the nights when Emma's nightmares got the best of her, Regina was there with a soothing palm to her face reminding her that she was safe. When Regina would be overwhelmed with stress and lashed out on everyone around her, sometimes opening up old wounds in her blind fury, Emma would pull her close, massage her shoulders and remind the older woman they were together now.