Chapter Text
If anyone were to ask him later, Hob would be forced to admit that he didn’t remember a single moment of his own wedding.
He could remember the morning, waking up in the bed with its soft mattress that made his back ache, the Seelie view of the seaside outside his window. He could remember getting dressed and putting on his finest uniform. He could remember the numbing chill that had settled along his shoulders and sunk deep into his stomach as he did the buttons. He could remember looking in the mirror and watching his vision go strange, tunneled, hazy except for the hyper-sharp awareness of things requiring his immediate attention, the fog of battle clouding around his head.
Then he stepped outside and after that it was all blank.
The next thing he knew, he was standing on the outskirts of a reception six months in the making with an untouched drink in his hand. It didn’t matter that the party was for him and his… his wife, he was still left to himself while the archfey mingled amongst themselves.
He didn’t have it in him to view this quirk of his station with anything but relief at the moment. If anyone tried to engage him in pleasant conversation in his current state, he might forget language altogether.
He set the glass down and resolved to slip away while he had the chance. None of this was about him, in truth. He would just wait outside for it to be over and no one would be any the wiser.
He was married to Lady Sylmenar now, that was all. For better or worse, nothing else had changed.