#the implication

***

Miorine had wanted to wear a suit. She’d always dreaded the idea of her own wedding; after all, she’d expected to despise her spouse, if not directly rival them. Her father had apparently intended for the competition to protect her, to give her the strongest possible partner, but one that wasn’t her choice. He’d never trusted her to make the right decision. He’d always thought someone else should lead in her stead.

So dreaming of being married in a suit always made her feel strong, powerful. She wore the pants. She had the power, chauvinistic as it was. Her spouse was lucky to be marrying her, and not the other way around.

Then Suletta had said “I always imagined seeing us in our dresses.”

The last thing Miorine had expected from her spouse was love. Much less love at first sight. Much less the stupid insipid head-over-heels heart pounding, sweaty-palmed, short-of-breath bullshit wrought by the mere sight of her volcanic victor, her red-earth lover, her insanely perfect wife. How someone so sweet could have come from a desolate rock such as this completely escaped Miorine. The very idea that joy could come from these blasted plains and half-melted crags was absurd.

And yet the proof stood before her, resplendent in a puffy green dress decked out with live roses and tomatoes. Suletta’s hair was sewn into the same shapes, an intricate hairstyle she’d said was popular in Roman times. Suletta wobbled a little bit on her crutches; even with the support rigging built into the dress, the fruit was heavy and cumbersome. With its flared frills and borderline Victorian volume, it was the kind of dress Miorine would never have been caught dead in.

“Your garden was how I fell in love with you, Miss Miorine,” Suletta said. Had said, but still did. “I want everyone to know that side of you.”

Idiot. Miorine thought, as her face turned bright red and tears welled in her eyes, threatening her tastefully winged eyeliner and immaculately porcelain blush. Stupid asshole idiot. I hate you. I hate you so much. I wish I could punch you. I wish I could tear those crutches away and throw you into orbit.

Suletta held up her thumb to the sun, then back down to Miorine, eliciting chuckles from the small audience. The dome was only big enough for twenty people; any larger and the amount of refrigeration necessary to keep it livable would have been prohibitively expensive. Unreasonable when the rest of the colony needed every watt they could scrape together.

Earth House et-al sat stage right, with only Sabine to break up the mix, a surprise plus-one from Nika. No matter. The old rivalries were moot now. Everyone wanted the same thing: peace. And Miorine was going to see it delivered.

She’d never thought she’d come this far. When she’d gone out in her suit on that fateful day, she’d half expected to simply float into deep space and die. That possibility hadn’t scared her. She’d welcomed it.

And then this dumbass came into her life, and suddenly living became the only thing Miorine cared about. So long as she lived with Suletta. So long as she could listen to that embarrassed stammer, see that pitiful blush, feel those calloused hands. So long as she could see that saccharine smile, Miorine could go any distance, hurdle any obstacle.

So when Suletta said she wanted dresses. Suletta got dresses. Even after Suletta described hers. Miorine had wanted to die. Instead, she’d simply said: “Do whatever you want.”

Miorine wore white lace, gauzy across the chest. Body-tight, so Suletta could not imagine anything but her. Simple lines, with faint silver threads drawing the vines of the garden they’d made together. Subtle enough that only a careful viewer would notice the design, but obvious enough that Suletta would understand. She wore crystal heels and simple pearl earrings. She’d cut her mullet, and kept the bob. Simple, professional, herself. Her outfit may as well have been in the dictionary as a visual definition of class.

She felt so fake next to Suletta.

She felt so hopeful as she took her place beside her.

She shivered when Suletta took her hands.

“Enough flirting, you two. You’re making this embarrassing.” Guel said, with false authority. When they’d asked him to officiate, his first question had been “Why me?” Then he’d shaken his head. It was, after all, better not to know that Suletta just felt bad for all the trouble she’d caused him. In a way, no one had suffered more than him from Suletta’s arrival at Asticassia. It seemed only fair.

“Do your job.” Miorine hissed. She tapped his phone, where the entire ceremony was laid out in plain text. She hadn’t trusted him to remember it all. No matter how much Suletta had changed her, Miorine still had trouble letting go of control.

Guel coughed into his hand. He began reading the nondenominational, interplanetarily legal text Miorine had picked out. A simple declaration that they would share assets, interests, and fulfill each other’s obligations in the eyes of the law—whichever law that happened to be at the time, corporate or Spacer or Earthian. Simple, unemotional, with nothing for anyone to pick at that might show favor to one belief system or government.

“The groom has chosen to write her own vows.” Guel said, with relief. His part was effectively done. Though he routinely gave speeches himself, being at the centre of an actually emotional scene clearly went above his capacities.

“As the champion of Asticassia’s dueling tournament, Suletta Mercury has earned the right to recite her vows first.”

***

Suletta stared down at her notes. The tablet, and therefore the words, trembled in her grip. She really thought she’d be braver than this. She’d killed people, for goodness’ sake. To protect Miss Miorine, of course, but that didn’t change the facts. She was someone with blood on her hands. She should be able to handle getting married.

She looked to her mother, silent and still in her wheelchair. Mr. Rembran sat next to her, equally still, but from stoicism rather than paralysis. She had dressed her mother in a simple blue dress, easy to take off and on, comfortable and soft. A red-white-and-blue striped blanket kept her warm. She couldn’t speak, even with computer aid. Eri said her brain refused to make the connections. She wasn’t brain-dead, but she wasn’t far from it. Still, there seemed to be light in her eyes that hadn’t been there the day before. As ruthless as her mother was, she’d always acted out of love. She cared. No matter how present or gone she might be, she was here, today, watching her daughter get married.

“The first time I saw you,” Suletta began, her voice wavering, “I thought you were trying to kill yourself. You were so angry with me for saving you. Then you stole Aerial, and tried to fight Guel yourself. I thought you had a death wish. Then I got engaged to you! I thought I was coming to school to make friends, not get married. I thought you were terrifying. I still do. But when I saw how messy your room was-“

“Hey!” Miorine scowled and blushed. Laughter broke out.

“A-and how beautiful your garden was,” Suletta said quickly, scrolling past the paragraphs where she described Miorine’s mess in intricate detail, down to a particular stain that had taken three long weeks to remove even with industrial solvents. “I quickly learned how caring you were, how much love was in your heart. It takes a lot of love to raise plants. It seems so simple on Earth, but here we have to make the soil from the ground up. We have to purify the water. We have to make the air, and import fertilizer at great expense. Asticassia is not too different from Mercury in that way. And the tomatoes you grew were the most delicious I have ever had. You were callous and distant, and beautiful.”

Suletta’s hands shook. One of her crutches slipped loose. Even with Mercury’s low gravity, holding herself up with one arm was borderline impossible. She tipped forward.

Miorine darted forwards and caught both the crutch and her. She very carefully placed the crutch back under Suletta’s armpit, and propped Suletta back up. She rearranged the tomatoes that had been dislodged in her brief fall, and stood back, eyes closed. She took a small breath, and waited.

Suletta stared at Miorine, lost in her grace.

“Keep talking.” Miorine said, with perfect calm.

“Ah! Um, I… I’ll always remember the way you pushed me up against the window and told me you needed me. When you said to email you three times a day, I thought you were still mad at me, because I would have messaged you more. I want to share every moment with you. I want to tell you about the little bug I saw, or the nice thing someone said, or just share a photo of the sunlight on the rocks. I want to be with you every day, to protect you, to help you, to turn your forever frowns forever upside-down.

“I promise that even though I’ll never pilot a mobile suit again, I’ll always fight for you. I’ll always stand by your side, even if I can’t stand. I’ll never betray the trust you’ve given me. And I swear to get better at cooking so you can stop ordering food all the time. Most importantly, I promise to make you happy. I want to see you wake up with a smile, to put you to bed with a kiss. I want to see our babies. I want to see how beautifully you age. I want to know you, so completely that I can’t separate you from myself. I promise that these wants will never change. I promise to be the best partner there can be.”

Miorine stood like a statue now, still as marble and just as white. As the sun shone down on her, it seemed that she did not reflect its burning light, but radiated on her own with a cool brilliance of greater magnitude than any star.

“As best I can, that is…” Suletta said, looking down from Miorine’s placid expression.

Guel bit his lip and tried not to cry. He failed. Voice choking, he said: “How you can you just stand there like that?”

“That’s not your line,” Miorine said, quietly.

Guel swallowed his pride and wiped his tears. “The bride has also chosen to write her own vows,” he said. “Miorine Rembran, please recite your vows.”

***

Miorine sucked in a breath. She couldn’t lose her composure now. She had to be strong. She had to be perfect. She was the youngest President in history. She could not fail, for even her wedding was a public, political act. No matter how human she wanted to be for Suletta, she had to be a public figure first.

She told herself all this to no avail.

“I…” she carefully opened her eyes and looked down so the sight of Suletta wouldn’t overwhelm her. She had her speech memorized. All 100 words. Simple, curt, effective.

Suletta. You are a powerful, strong person. I respect you completely. I trust you. You are more than a fighter, you are a friend, and you are the correct fiancée for me. I solemnly vow to support your efforts to advance education across the system, and to support those who have no one else. I promise to listen to you, to believe you, and to consult you. I am grateful for the opportunity to call myself your wife. It is difficult for me to say this in front of so many people, but I love you. I always will.

Tears plopped onto the tiled floor. Fat and heavy, and soon joined by more.

“I hate you!” Miorine cried. “How am I supposed to follow that, huh? How am I supposed to match you?”

Earth House howled with laughter. Even her father cracked a small smile.

Miorine sobbed, staring into those innocent blue eyes, quivering above the stupidest fucking smirk Miorine had ever seen, so small and serene and sure, as though this shame were cute, and fuck, it must be to her.

“How can I possibly stand next to you when you are everything in this universe. You are bravery. You are valor. You are my knight in shining armor, even when you’re not wearing anything at all.”

Suletta gasped.

“See! I can make you flustered too. So don’t think you get a monopoly.”

“Mioooo…” Suletta whined.

“Everything you do drives me completely insane,” Miorine said. “The way you know exactly what I want before I know it. The way you follow my instructions to the letter, and better. The way you always stand up for me even when I don’t deserve it. The way you can just pop into a room like a tray of free cookies and make every single person smile. The way you look at me makes me want to rip my face off.

“I love you so intensely that just thinking your name makes my heart pound. You make it so easy to love you. So easy to stand up. You make me want to wake up every day. To take care of myself, so I can take care of you. You may not pilot a mobile suit anymore, you may never be able to walk on your own again, but you are still the most powerful person I know. Nevertheless, I promise to protect you. I promise to carry you when you fall. I promise to hold your hand. To tuck you in. To let you call me Miomio when when Suletta is upsetta. To clean you if you can’t, to feed you if you can’t. To take care of your mother. To take care of whatever family we have. You have done so much for me. I owe you my life.”

She sucked in a breath, deep and shaking.

“I owe you my life,” she repeated, between sobs. “But I’m giving you my heart. So don’t break it!”

Laughter interrupted audible sobs from the small crowd.

“Now rest, my noble warrior.” Miorine said, cradling Suletta’s warm brown cheek in her hand. “Rest, my precious groom. Rest, because I will hold you. I will stand for you. And I will be there with you for everything, until I no longer draw breath.”

“Miorine…” Suletta’s blue eyes shivered beneath an ocean of tears.

Guel coughed, and waved a nearby drone over. The drone was shaped like a giant tomato, and had only one function. Though no one else could know it, Ericht controlled the drone; she couldn’t take much more part in this ceremony than to be a digital flower girl, but that was enough for all of them. They were together, and would be, forever.

“We will now exchange rings.” Guel said, trying hard to maintain his composure. The drone’s top flipped open. Inside lay two small rings. One was a simple platinum band studded with rubies; it had belonged to her mother. Suletta, ever the teacher, wanted to give her something with history.

The other ring was a bright silver mash, not a single piece of metal but a fused conglomerate of shards. Aerial’s pieces, almost microscopic, sifted from the vacuum at great expense. Her researchers had wanted to study the shards. She’d given them what remained after this came together. Love trumped research.

“Miorine! That’s not the ring we picked out for me.” Suletta said with a gasp.

“I know.” Miorine said. “But I think this one suits you better.”

“It’s supposed to be the other way round,” Guel interjected, “But President Rembran, please place the ring on the groom’s finger.”

Miorine wiped the tears from her face and picked up the Aerial ring. She gently slipped it onto Suletta’s finger long, strong fingers. Suletta covered her mouth and shook with sobs.

“Ms. Mercury, please place the ring on the bride’s finger.”

Suletta trembled as she picked up the simple band, and slid it onto Miorine’s thin digit. Miorine could not help but think that Suletta was so strong. So gentle. So effortlessly perfect.

“By the power vested in me by the Sol Compact, I now pronounce you wife and wife. Mrs. Mercury, you may now kiss the bride.”

They stared at him.

“Ah, the original Mrs. Mercury.”

***

Suletta couldn’t move. She could barely see through the veil of tears. She could only vaguely lurch forward with trembling legs and shivering arms and hope that the shimmering white shape in front of her was her wife and not a particularly attractive pole.

Her Mio’s hands found her. One wrapped around her hand, pulling her upright. The other wrapped around her waist, pulling her in. Miorine’s delicate lips brushed against Suletta’s at first, gently sharing a warm breath, a flicker of tongue, so swift and temporary that Suletta couldn’t be sure it happened. Then they were pressed together, breath joining breath, lips against lips, tongues seeking tongues, desperate for each other even in this disturbingly public view, in this tiny glass dome on a boiling rock.

Suletta pushed away, exclaiming with shame: “Mio!”

Then she realized that Miorine’s hand was no longer entwined with hers. Instead, she reached under Suletta’s legs, and swept her off her feet.

“You’re lucky this is Mercury.” Miorine said. “I can’t do this on Earth.”

“Miorine, I’m supposed to-“

“You’re not my groom anymore. You’re my wife. And I choose to carry you.”

As Miorine carried Suletta past their friends, past their family, all standing and clapping, Suletta looked once again to her mother. She expected to see nothing. After all, she was barely present. At her healthiest, she had been stoic and stalwart, cunning and sweet, but never soft.

A single tear travelled down the creases of her face, dripping onto the blanket below. Mr. Rembran took out a small handkerchief and wiped the tear away. He nodded to her.

Suletta nodded back.

“You know,” Miorine said, as the pressure doors sealed behind them, “you’re lucky your legs don’t work right now.”

“Why?” Suletta said, completely confused.