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Aventurine closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, the succinct advice Veritas shared with him the last time they saw each other preciously held within his fist. The paper has long since become all crumbled and torn, but the gambler refuses to part from it. For the past few years, it has served as his lifeline, as a source of endless courage he can draw from whenever he feels like he is falling apart. Those invaluable words have given him the strength necessary to crawl back from the darkest pit of Nihility, have shielded his mind and heart from the madness that constantly threatened to engulf him there.
Without this gentle reminder that he was loved… Aventurine isn’t sure he could have made it. When he stepped on that stage in Penacony, his own life felt so worthless, so insignificant… What value holds existence for a lowly, desperate Sigonian slave, doomed to be struck by tragedy again and again? He thought back then, before Veritas countered his self-loathing with a few scribbled words.
The doctor has proven to him, time and time again, that although Aventurine hasn’t been dealt the best of hands, Veritas will always be the ace up his sleeve, ready to turn the game around whenever he needs it, needs him.
The near-ruined note in his hand is one among thousands, because every day since he returned, Veritas has been slipping similarly supportive messages into his pocket, or pining post-its full of words of affirmation in places he knows Aventurine will find them. The gambler has gathered every single one of them and treasures them all immensely, although that very first note, the one that saved his life, will always hold a special place within his heart.
He stares longingly at Veritas’ neat handwriting one last time, before safely tucking the message away in his vest. Time to step on another stage now, although he knows for certain it won’t prove as hard, since his heart is filled with giddiness instead of fear and distress.
The crowd cheers the second he walks into the light, but Aventurine barely registers the presence of the guests gathered here for him. No, he only has eyes for Veritas, who looks absolutely breathtaking in his white suit, even more so than Aventurine expected. Even though he was born with the blessing of fortune, he still can’t believe he’s gotten lucky enough to get married to such a stunning, perfect man.
Some of the words Veritas whispered to him on the night Aventurine proposed flash through his mind. Did you know that in ancient times, peacocks were considered a symbol of fidelity and marriage? His lover said while caressing his cheek as they laid in bed together. Not vain flamboyancy, not cocky arrogance. Fidelity and marriage. Even now, it makes Aventurine’s heart beat faster, to be associated with something so positive, to have the word people used to insult him turned into the most beautiful compliment.
When Aventurine finally reaches the altar and shares a loving smile with Veritas, he knows without a doubt hanging onto life, onto the meaningful words his soon-to-be husband wrote for him, was the right choice. To think he could have missed out on all this happiness…
Before he can spiral into his own thoughts, like he sometimes does, Veritas gently grabs his hand, bringing him back to his wonderful present. A tear of joy rolls down Aventurine’s cheek as he intertwines their fingers together and squeezes them reassuringly.
This feels more like a perfect dream than Penacony ever has, even though it’s all real, incredibly, amazingly real, and the second Veritas tells him yes, but not without pressing yet another affectionate note into his palm, Aventurine feels his heart bursting with incommensurable joy.
And when their lips eventually meet, the whole universe ceases to exist, apart from Veritas and him.
For once, Aventurine doesn’t need a single word to know that he is truly, deeply loved.