Ashdown’s first Christmas had been pretty cool. Well as cool as a feast involving five hundred people could be. Especially when ninety percent of them were female, and eighty percent were teenage females.
Not that Oz had anything against women; after all he was living and loving with two of the species. But up until a few months ago, much of his adult life had been spent hanging out with guys. All but one of the bands he’d played in had had totally male line-ups. There hadn’t been a huge need for words. They got each other. And life was pretty routine: practice or sound check during the day, performance at night.
Sure he’d had hook ups. Some of the women who’d frequented those clubs had been gorgeous, and witty, and intelligent. And despite his quiet, laidback nature, Oz was in fact a long time connoisseur of women. But apart from Willow, and his relationship with Bay, which had never quite shifted beyond a deep but platonic friendship, the rest of his interactions with women had been fairly casual and short-lived.
Now he was in a committed relationship with both Willow and Tara. And he lived with them. Every day! So he was down with women, no one could doubt him on that front. But the teenage version did tend to be a bit loud. And shrill.
Besides which, these days he was a teacher. He taught two subjects at Ashdown Academy, music and meditation, with two or three classes of each. So, of course he’d taught a reasonable number of the students who were in the dining hall for Christmas lunch. Hmmm, Christmas with his students! Weird!
But several parts of the day had been pretty cool. Waking up sandwiched between the two loves of his life had totally been like receiving all of his Christmas gifts at once. Being with these two amazing women brought him so much joy, but Oz could never have conceived of his life heading in this direction.
Sure, he’d thought of Willow over the years, even dreamed now and again of what their lives together might have been like. He’d never stopped loving her, and part of him, maybe the wolf part, had seen her as his mate for life. He’d even fantasized a time or two about trying to find her, maybe ringing Giles’ or the Summers’ house to see where she was at. But somehow, for some reason, he’d never followed through.
Of course once he’d heard the news about Sunnydale, that plan had fallen through as categorically as the town had. Something inside though, had told him that Willow was fine, that she’d survived. He’d been back in the States for almost a year by that time. He’d even dropped by the Hyperion at one stage, hoping that Angel might have some news, but it had seemed abandoned. So running into Willow and the rest of the Sunnydale crew at LAX only a week later had been very cool.
It had only taken one glance at Willow, one look at her cheerful grin and shining eyes, for him to fall head over heels again. Sure he’d acted blasé, after all she had a girlfriend and she’d been hurt in the past, not the least by Oz himself. Still, it hadn’t stop him from falling. He may be Mr Stoic-and-Laidback on the outside, but underneath that cool exterior, he felt things deeply. And when it came to Willow, well she’d always lit an emotional firestorm in him.
Despite his general demeanour, even Oz had found it hard to tamp down the feelings of excitement and longing that being around Willow again had engendered. He’d tried to play it cool, but looking back now on the last six months, in his reckoning, he’d come pretty close to stalking the girl. Thank God it had panned out. That night after they’d come back from Northern India would always remain one of the highlights of his life. The sex was hot, sure, sizzling in fact. But the connection was deeper still. He knew, without a doubt, that Willow was the one and only for him.
Which is why Tara’s arrival had taken him by surprise. From the minute she’d materialised in the library, an ethereal angel returned to earth, Oz had been hit by a wealth of emotions. Sure, there’d been a touch of jealousy, uncertainty, but mostly he’d been overwhelmed by feelings of affection, protection and … attraction. That one had astonished him. After all, he knew Tara was gay, that Willow was her great love. But still, he’d been drawn to her, very, very strongly.
Their transition from a couple to a threesome had been quick and easy, almost instinctive in its seamlessness. Their personalities and strengths complemented one another; it was weird how well they’d slotted together. People looking at their relationship might assume that Oz was the head of the triangle, with the two girls at the base. But it wasn’t so. Willow, their brilliant, powerful, shining star, was of course the apex of their world. He and Tara, the two of them so alike in so many ways, were Willow’s anchors.
Tara! She was so beautiful, with her long tawny hair and big blue eyes. They were a match, he and Tara, in height, but she came with curves where he was straight. And what curves they were, tits and ass, both more than a handful, while the rest of her was slender. They were a match in personality as well. Tara was quiet, but confident, kind, insightful, with a wicked sense of humour.
As for the sex, well gentlemen don’t tell tales, but it was fair to say it was spectacular and had been from the very first time. Tara hadn’t been with a guy before, but she and Willow had both used plenty of toys, so there’d been no physical barrier to dampen her pleasure. In fact, surprisingly, they’d been no emotional or mental barriers either. Satisfaction had been absolute and experienced by all.
Both girls were also happy to take Oz on in either of his skins. Generally he was just himself, Oz, musician, teacher and loving boyfriend. But now and again the wolf liked to come out to play. In fact, when Tara had conceived, she’d insisted they replicate his and Willow’s night as much as possible, including Sagaria’s presence and a walk on the furry side.
But most evenings, and the odd morning when they could swing it, it was just the three of them, making beautiful music together, using hands, lips, tongues, fingers, and cocks (real and artificial) to make one another scream, sweat, moan and shake. And Christmas morning was one of those. Talk about being a lucky son of a gun!
Anyway, it’d certainly put him in a good enough frame of mind to cope with the slightly squealy teenage slayers at Christmas lunch. The other highlight of the day had come that afternoon.
They’d all headed over to Spike and Buffy’s place for coffee, Christmas cake and present sharing after lunch. Along with tinsel and the scent of fir tree, romance had also been in the air. They’d busted Wes and Fred taking advantage of the mistletoe a time or two, and Spike and Buffy had shared the engagement ring he’d got for her, along with the story of the rock’s retrieval in Krubera. Even Dawn and Connor had seemed to be exchanging flirtatious glances.
So it had been hard to keep their own news under wraps, but Oz and the girls had talked about it and decided, present sharing first, surprise sharing second. And the gift giving had been pretty special anyway. Dawn and Connor, as the youngest, had won the role of present distributers, pulling gifts from under the tree, and handing them to the appropriate recipient. Once that was done they’d gone round the room opening a gift at a time. That had been cool. There was a lot of joy going round and a few happy tears.
There had been plenty of kitchen appliances and items of clothing amongst the offerings. The biggest hit had been Xander and Rowan’s presents. They had gifted each expectant couple (or trio) with a kitset rocking chair. The Boston style rockers were in plain wood so that they could be painted, or stained and varnished, according to their recipients taste. The kitset also came with a voucher: a weekend workshop with Xander for each of the Dads-to-be, so that they could construct their own heirloom item. There were a few moist eyes at that announcement, not all of them the women’s. In fact Oz had to admit to feeling rather emotional himself at the thought of rocking either one, or both, of his precious babies in a chair he’d put together with his own hands. Maybe it brought out the old fashioned fatherly instinct in the guys, but whatever the case, it was a cool gift idea.
The gift idea that Oz and the girls had gone with was also pretty popular. Once again these were gifts for the prospective parents, the Moms in particular. The full body pregnancy pillows were soft and snuggly. Each one came with a bright, colourful cover, to which Willow and Tara had attached a small pocket, so that a sachet of relaxing herbs could be slipped in to aid sleep. They could double up as great nursing pillows afterwards as well.
Buffy had pounced on hers with a slightly crazed look in her eye. Fair to say the heavily pregnant slayer had undoubtedly been suffering from sleep deprivation lately.
Finally, all of the presents had been unwrapped and stacked up in individual piles, the wrapping paper and ribbons had been disposed of, and there was a lull before the guys were intending to fire up the barbecue for dinner. Oz had stood up, somewhat nervously given the announcement he was about to make. His speech, as usual, was short and too the point, but the message had the room in a tumult of cheers and joy.
“Willow, Tara and I would like to ask you to join us, tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. sharp in the courtyard between our place and Xander and Rowan’s. It’s forecast to be a dry but cold morning, so wrap up warmly. Casual dressy will be fine.”
There had been a few puzzled frowns and raised eyebrows but no direct questions until Spike took the bull by the horns.
“So what’s the occasion mate?”
Oz had looked to his ladyloves and grinned, signalling for them to come and join him. They’d stepped up, one each side of him, and threaded their arms through his.
“The occasion is our official commitment ceremony. We may not be able to be joined in a legal marriage, but we would like you to share with us as we take part in a Handfasting.”
There had been an outbreak of squeals and a rush of bodies as the women closed in on the threesome. After a round of hugs and kisses, Oz had managed to extricate himself from the sea of oestrogen and flee towards the guys and their more manly and restrained forms of congratulations, handshakes and backslaps and offers of meat barbequing. It had been a timely escape, the blokes heading out to Spike and Buffy’s enclosed deck to fry up steak and thick slabs of ham off the bone, while the women made Willow and Tara go through all of the covert planning they’d managed to carry out right in front of everyone’s noses.
Yeah, so all in all it had been a pretty cool Christmas Day. But, Oz smiled to himself as he adjusted the buckles on his leather jerkin, checked his amulet was hanging outside the collar and made his way outside to meet his beautiful brides, today was going to be an even better one.
Willow slipped her strappy, gold kitten heels on, the same ones she’d worn for Giles and Cat’s wedding only four and a half months ago. Despite the mystical, magical world she lived in, Willow would never have guessed then that she herself would be getting married within such a short timeframe, to not only Oz, but also a resurrected Tara. Okay, so maybe they weren’t getting married in the eyes of the law (stupid archaic laws), but to Willow and her soul mates, the ceremony would be just as binding, and just as sacrosanct, as any legally sanctioned wedding service could be.
Whatever the case, she was beyond excited to be doing this, taking her oath before family, friends and the Goddess.
“Right, are you ready?” Buffy asked, running a critical eye over her best friend.
Willow twirled, the full skirt of her olive green, crushed velvet Celtic gown floating out around her, lifting just enough to show off the aforementioned gold sandals. One more spin picked up the skirt a little higher, and this time Buffy’s nose scrunched up in distaste.
“You’d better not do that during the ceremony,” she said. “Not unless you want everyone to get an eyeful of your ever so sexy thermal long johns.”
“I’m already risking frostbite to my toes and fingers. At least I can keep my legs warm with these.” Willow lifted the skirt even higher and thrust out her well wrapped leg can-can style.
“Fair enough,” Buffy conceded, “But couldn’t you at least have gone with beige or pale pink. Did you have to pick an eye watering purple, green and yellow stripe?”
“What? They’re fun! And at least they match the wedding colours,” Willow asserted.
“Humph,” Buffy muttered, “Only superficially.”
Willow and Tara had both bought their gowns off the rack from a store in neighbouring Kent called ‘Frockfollies’ that specialised in creating alternative, period and fantasy wedding dresses. Her dress had a fitted bodice, a full skirt and long drop sleeves. A Celtic love heart motif was embroidered in gold along the edge of the square neckline and on the belt. She loved it. It made her feel both feminine and unique, a heady combination. She smoothed her hands down over the front of the dress. The skirt hid her tiny baby bump, but she could feel the slight swelling nonetheless, and it sent a thrill running through her veins.
“Hey baby boy,” she whispered to her abdomen, “Mommy and Mommy and Daddy are about to get hitched.” She frowned. Whoa, things were gonna get confusing fast with the double Mommy thing. They’d have to work on an alternative to ‘Mommy’ for one of them.
“Okay,” Buffy was staring at her critically again. “I think we need to stick a few more bobby pins in your hair. All that twirling has worked your flowers loose.”
Willow plonked herself back down on the chair in front of the mirror and turned her head from side to side. Everything looked fine to her. Well maybe her hair arrangement was a little skewwhiff. Buffy might be bossy, but Willow was very grateful to her for her help.
She and Dawn had been at their front door by ten past six that morning, the two of them half asleep but ready for action. Tara had let them in, as Willow finished off her shower. From that point in they were in the two sisters’ hands, Dawn shooing Tara into the shower, while Buffy made sure Willow had a quick snack, before getting stuck into her hair and make up. The flowers had arrived last night, a friend of Frank and Althanea’s, who was not too put out by working on Christmas day and was happy enough to create two gorgeous bouquets and two floral hair wreathes to match.
For a spur of the moment, thrown together wedding, it was looking like it was going to be all she had ever dreamed of. The short time frame was due to the fact that Oz had only suggested it ten days ago. Well he’d done more than suggest, he’d actually asked! Down on bended knee, sweaty palms, wobbly voice and all. He’d even asked Giles, who’d not only given his blessing, but had been sworn to secrecy as well.
Of course she and Tara had both said yes, unequivocally and without hesitation. But it had come as a surprise to both of them, the proposal. After the hugs and kisses and tears were out of the way, Willow had asked him why, or at least why now. He’d just said, in his usual laconic way, “Feels like forever, wanted the world to know that too.”
So that was one half of the speed equation. The other half was Tara’s fault. She’d suggested Boxing Day (some quaint English term for the day after Christmas, Willow still wasn’t sure why), seeing as everyone was at Ashdown anyway. What’s more, she’d done some research and found out that not only was Boxing Day a Friday, with Venus as the ruling planet, but also the first hour of the day would thus be a Venus hour. Wiccans considered the first hour after sunrise or before sunset the best time of day to hold a Handfasting. The stars and planets were aligned, so 8 a.m. on the 26th December it would be.
And so the mad rush was on. It was all right for Tara and Oz, they were so laidback and unruffly, nothing could send them into a panic. But she was hyper nervous, control freak queen. There’d been a lot of deep breathing exercises over the last week, that was for sure. And some use of her and Tara’s Guardian time saving abilities.
It would have been a little less stressful if they could have enlisted the others in the planning and preparation, but that last decision had been Willow’s. Something about it being a surprise for everyone else had seemed really romantic to her. And seeing the looks on everyone’s faces last night had been the payoff. But oh my Goddess, there had certainly been times during the week when she’d cursed herself and her silly ideas. How the other girls hadn’t picked up on her frazzled distractibility and panic attacks, she’d never know.
Really, there hadn’t been too much to arrange. Once they’d rung Althanea, and sorted out their dresses and flowers, and Oz had secured his outfit, a sexy brown leather short sleeved jerkin, worn over a cream and brown lace-up gambeson (from an online store in Nebraska of all places) and his own black leather pants, they’d only had the rings to organize. And a day trip up to London had got them sorted on that front.
So yeah, the surprise had been kind of fun, but Willow was beyond pleased that Buffy was here for her now. The soft waves of her heat-rollered hair, the subtle but elegant make-up and the slick coating of gold nail polish on her fingers and toes were all thanks to Buffy’s calm control and expertise.
“Right, that should do it,” the girl in question muttered, as she thrust a final bobby pin through the wiring of Willow’s floral arrangement and into the upsweep of hair above her left ear. Deep purple freesias offset the vibrant green of the cymbidium orchids and viburnum in the spray, a startling contrast with the bride’s red tresses.
Willow nodded, pleased with the result. Her eyes sparkled with pleasure and excitement as she stood up and gathered up her bouquet, the orchids, freesias and viburnum or her hair arrangement enhanced further by the addition of green button mums and green ball dianthus, lavender and purple lisianthus, and, in a whimsical salute to the season, gold Christmas beads and baubles.
With a final twirling glance at herself, she was off, heading down to the back door to meet the two people she loved most in life, ready to start this journey with them.
Tara stood quietly by the back door, breathing in the cold, crisp air of the mid winter dawn. The sky was still a deep, dark purple overhead, the canopy sprinkled with a rich smattering of stars and planets. Venus, the morning star, shone faintly above the south-east horizon, but the eastern skyline was already a pale smudge against the darkness, and steadily, minute by minute, that light was growing. Sunrise always filled Tara with an up swelling of joy and hope, the metaphor of rebirth and renewal daily infusing the world with a freshness and sense of possibility that all would be well.
It seemed a fitting time to be joined to her soulmates. Soulmates! Two of them! A girl and a guy! Wow! Here she stood, freshly resurrected from her untimely death, newly restored from her afterlife abode. She would have thought herself unshakable, almost impossible to surprise. And yet she was, not just shaken, but stirred. Nothing could have prepared her for how she felt about Oz, that she could not only love a man on such a deep, emotional level, but also that she could hunger for him. Who knew?
But love and desire him she did. He was as dear to her as Willow was. Kind of surprising given that a) she had always been oriented to women, and hadn’t even dipped her toes in the river of heterosexuality prior to officially coming out, and b) last time she’d seen Oz he’d turned into a wolf and had snarled and snapped at her.
When the Ephesos had approached her about this assignment, she’d given it a lot of thought. Although she’d be able to do so much good for her friends, help them and guide them through the dark days ahead, it also meant seeing Willow again, and possibly disrupting her newly reestablished relationship with Oz. That had been the furthest wish from her mind. But somehow, perhaps because of the otherworldly nature of that ethereal place, Summerlands, she’d thought that resisting corporeal desires and needs would at least be easy for her.
Being returned to her physical body though, she’d discovered how foolish that assumption was. In fact the rush of emotional and sexual attraction she’d felt, both for Willow and Oz, as they’d held her in the library, had been quite overwhelming. At first she’d mistaken her attraction towards Oz as simply a part of her return to life, a joyful rush of love for all things living. But it soon became apparent that she didn’t feel that same lure for Giles, Xander or even Spike. Being curled up next to him in bed as she had been in Tbilisi, she’d felt nothing but simple affection for the vampire.
So yeah, desire for a guy, for Oz, was unsettling. And the three way sex? Wowser! That she could enjoy penis to vagina sex was a revelation to Tara. Sure she’d used dildos, but she was always more about the yoni than the lingam. Yet she did enjoy what Oz brought to the party, sensing a level of connection when they were joined that they couldn’t otherwise achieve.
Tara wasn’t really one for labels, but if she cared to use them, she wouldn’t label herself straight. The supplementing of her affections didn’t automatically make her heterosexual or even bisexual. She just figured she was gay with a wide streak of Ozsexuality thrown in for good measure. Whatever the case, it suited her more than she would have ever guessed.
The sky was lightening even further now, the slightest hint of fiery orange and peach outlining the tree covered hills in the distance. Around the corner she could hear quiet voices and the sound of chairs scraping against the cobblestones as her friends and family readied themselves for the ceremony. Absently, she played with the signet ring on her right hand as she waited for Willow and Oz She’d only been wearing it for two months, but already its presence lent her a sense of comfort and familiarity.
They’d researched their jewelry’s origins as soon as they could, and surmised that the rings and the charm were Viking made, etched with the Viking rune Ur, signifying strength. As far as they could deduce, the rune and the stones, two diamonds and a ruby per piece, helped to amplify the wearers’ inherent strengths and abilities. And the fact that Oz’ charm was mounted on a leather collar made them suspect that somewhere, back through the mists of time, the amulet may have been worn by some ancient wolf, maybe even fierce Fenrir himself. It was a cool thought anyway. Of course, they hadn’t yet had a chance to put their theories to the test, but Tara certainly felt a sense of security and connection to her mates whenever she wore her ring.
Grinning contently, Tara turned as she heard footsteps behind her. Oz was heading her way, looking damn fine in his leather finery, his charm hanging neatly against the front of his jerkin. She swapped her bouquet to her left hand and stretched her right out towards him. He grinned back, his pupils dilating as he reacted to the sight of her.
Tara blushed in pleasure, modestly aware that she was looking undeniably gorgeous. Her long, damson colored, crushed velvet gown clung enticingly to her curves, the deep v neck highlighting her lush breasts and the gold trimmed belt emphasizing her slim waist. Her favorite feature of the dress, the long flowing organza sleeves, were a bit of a gamble considering the chilly temperature, but like Willow, Tara was wearing a set of full length thermals, hers in a deep purple almost identical to the shade of her dress. At the moment she had the bottom half of the thermal’s sleeves pushed back to her elbows, but if she got really cold, she could pull them down and she’d still look fine. Her only other concession to the cold was the pair of very cute, medium heeled, purple suede slouch boots on her feet. At least her toes would be warm.
As for the basics, well Dawn had hot-rollered her hair, applied her makeup and affixed her gorgeous flower crown. The full circlet of beautiful green and purple blooms sat firmly atop her glossy tresses, working with the smoky eye shadow to frame her face and highlight her blue eyes. She not only felt stunning and sexy, but added bonus, the flower crown was dense enough to actually keep her head warm.
The very next moment the door opened and Willow slipped out into the cool morning,
“Wow, what sort of coincidence is this?” Willow said, grinning excitedly. “Two of the hottest people on the planet, just happen to be standing at my back door. It must be my lucky day.”
“Mine too!” said Oz, extending his left hand to Willow, so that they stood now linked one to the other, Oz in the middle. As one they turned and headed towards the courtyard. Rounding the corner of the house, they came upon their group of friends, standing on either side of the little grassy courtyard. Althanea and Frank, who was assisting her, stood at the northern edge of the lawn.
The threesome stopped at the edge of the grass. The beloved faces of their kith and kin, Buffy and Spike, Xander and Rowan, Giles and Cat, Dawn and Connor, Faith and Khatia, Wes and Fred, Andrew, Nandish, Drogyn, Colleen and Matthew, Kennedy, Vi, Rona, Shannon, Lisa, Leslie, Soledad and Dana, Robin, Ashton, Gareth Robson, Anthony Collins, Ashley and Geoff Downer, head chef Dave and his wife Annette and various other slayers and Ashdown staff members turned and smiled at them as Althanea began the ceremony.
“Family, friends, we are gathered here on this beautiful winter’s morning to witness the joyous celebration of the love between Willow Rosenberg, Daniel Osbourne and Tara Maclay, supporting them in their decision to be joined as one in the sight of this company and of the God and Goddess. Blessed be all who attend this celebration, and blessed be those about to be united in the bonds of love. Bear with me please as I cast the circle.”
Everyone stood quietly as Althanea went about her work, their warm breaths fogging up the chill, grey air. Once the sacred space had been established, she welcomed Willow, Oz and Tara into the circle. As the three stepped over the circle’s edge, the tip of the rising sun burst over the tree line.
“Ah,” Althanea nodded, “The universe imparts its blessing upon this union most emphatically. Guests, please be seated.” She paused while everyone made him or herself comfortable. “Willow, Oz, Tara, you stand before your friends and family and before the Lord and Lady, seeking to become one with each other. You have entered into this union with open eyes and full hearts. If one of you, or anyone else present here today, knows of any reason why these vows should not be made, speak now.”
The audience remained silent, so the high priestess continued on. She turned to Willow and asked, “What is your name?”
“Willow Danielle Rosenberg.”
“And what is your desire?”
“To join with those whom I love.”
Althanea nodded and moved onto Oz, repeating the question, “What is your name?”
“Daniel Kenneth Osbourne.”
“And what is your desire?”
“To join with those whom I love.”
Finally Althanea turned to Tara, “And what is your name?”
“Tara Rose Maclay.”
“And what is your desire?”
“To join with those whom I love.”
Calmly and confidently, Althanea lead the groom and the two brides through the ceremony, confirming their intent, overseeing their exchange of vows, the elemental blessing of the rings (gorgeous gold bands that each featured an insert of braided or twisted strands of yellow, white and rose gold) and the exchange of those symbols of love and commitment. Finally it was time for the binding. Althanea had spent a good hour the previous day weaving the binding cord. The brides and groom had asked her to use their wedding colors, green for health and fertility, purple for power and sanctity, and brown for earth and grounding, but also asked to add black for strength and wisdom, gold for energy and white for peace.
“Willow, Oz, Tara, please hold out hands and place them one upon the other.”
As previously discussed, all three turned slightly to their right, so they were standing side on to Althanea. Oz, standing in the middle, held out his left hand, his new wedding band sparkling in the early morning light. Willow placed her left hand on top and then Tara completed the stack. Deftly, the high priestess draped the cord over their hands and addressed them.
“These hands that you clasp, are those of your best friends and lovers. They are the hands that will join with you for the rest of your days, to love you passionately, to cherish you tenderly, to comfort you in times of sorrow, to work tirelessly beside you, to build your family, to hold your children, to give you strength when you need it.”
She reached below and crossed the two ends of the cord over, looping one through the other to form a knot.
“As this knot is tied, so now your lives and spirits are bound in a union of love and trust.”
Althanea lifted the trailing edges of the cord up to either side of the joined hands and tied another knot. She continued to repeat this action, adding a blessing each time.
“With this cord, I bind Willow and Oz and Tara to the vows they made to one another. May the cord draw your hands together in love, never in anger. May the vows you have spoken never grow bitter in your mouths.”
She picked up her bowl of water and sprinkled several drops over the binding.
“Water to water, and soul to soul. Love binds and blends us all.”
Waving a candle across their joined hands she said, “Fires of passion and love, join here and become one, as do these three people before you.” She exchanged the candle for a stick of burning incense and added, “Breath of life, love sweetens our words and blows bitterness away.” Finally she sprinkled the three with salt. “Salt of the earth, may the ties that bind you be a firm foundation from which to grow.”
Taking a step backwards, Althanea held out her hands and lifted them slightly skyward. “May the Lord and Lady bless this union. May all who encounter it be blessed with love. May your lives together be full, and your hurts be few. So Mote It Be.” Stepping back towards the three, she placed her hands on the binding cord and addressed the matrimonial threesome.
“Willow, Oz, Tara, you have made your vows, one to the other, before the Lord and Lady and before your friends and family, and exchanged tokens of your love. Therefore, by the powers of Love do I now pronounce you Handfast! Blessed Be!”
She carefully slipped the knotted cord off of their hands and got them to turn around to face the gathering, intoning as she did so, “Beloved friends and family, as our brides and groom have chosen to cast off their old single lives in order to step forth into the joint life they have created together, so too have they decided to cast off their old family names and adopt a shared surname. So, without further ado, it is my great pleasure to present to you, the happy three, Willow, Oz and Tara Ashdown.”
The audience’s surprised expressions quickly gave way to nods of understanding, calls of hurray, and a standing ovation. Quickly Althanea moved anti clockwise around the grassy space, releasing the energies and closing the circle. Immediately, Buffy, Dawn and Rowan surged towards the newly married threesome, enveloping them in hugs and kisses.
Within half an hour the courtyard was once again silent. Photos had been taken, congratulations had been given and blessings had been bestowed. In the distance the sound of excited chatter, and joyous laughter intermingled with the clatter of stiletto heels on cobblestones as the boisterous, happy crowd made their way towards the dining room and the celebratory brunch that awaited them there.
The pale winter sun finally dragged itself free of the tree line. Its pallid light shone down on the empty lawn, picking up the shimmering, translucent wings, apple green thorax and sky blue abdomen of a lone Emperor Dragonfly that sat, on the now bare altar table. The insect knew nothing of the lives or loves of humans, but as it launched itself off its perch, an updraft of energy; warmth, passion, faith and commitment, carried it skywards. It soared into the air, filled with the promise and anticipation of a bright new day.