Lucretia’s attention returned to the ritual when the priestess placed a mirror of truth on top of the altar and lit the incense on either side.

The mirror was used as a way to speak the true name of the bride and groom as they were presented to the gods during the ritual, so that there would be no way that the bride or groom could be swapped unknowingly when the time came for the wedding. It hadn’t mattered earlier to Lucretia that a different child of the Frotleikr bloodline had been brought—she viewed most of the bloodline similarly after all. Yet Sláine’s curious reaction to the child made Lucretia wonder if it was a faux pas, or if the last minute switch of the bride was on purpose. She was now intrigued about what would happen once Freyr’s name was uttered.

The priestess had moved to the other side of the altar, looking out towards the guests while occasionally glancing into the mirror. It was finally time to start the ritual by reciting the true names of the bride and groom.

“We are gathered here today to pray to the triplet deities of marriage to bless the children of the Frotleikr bloodline and of the Silvius bloodline.” She gestured towards the groom. “On the groom's side, we present to you Aleksei Magnus Silvius—the child of Martinus Desiderius Silvius and Elissa Violante Silvius.” She gestured towards the bride’s chair. “On the bride’s side, we present to you Fre—” GRAACK! The sound of a raven echoed throughout the temple, briefly drowning out the first name the priestess had read out. “Tvígandr Frotleikr—child of Alf Eðalgandr Frotleikr and Ivithia Klódýr Frotleikr.”

A gigantic raven—far larger than any mortal below—swooped in from one of the temple’s large windows and landed on a perch directly underneath the Triplet’s moons. It was a perch that had been unused for several centuries, yet had been carefully maintained on the off chance that it should ever be needed. It was reserved for a very specific bird, who was the mount of a very specific deity. Lucretia’s eyes widened with curiosity—and a hint of nervousness. Sitting upon the large raven was the last of the deities that the priestess was referring to—and Lucretia’s older sister—Ianthe.

Lucretia’s interest in how the mortals would react to Freyr’s name being spoken immediately vanished. She was staring at her sister. . . really, actually, staring at her. . .

“W-why are you here, dear sister?” Lucretia involuntarily stammered, as she carefully watched her sister, who was currently below her. Even though Ianthe hadn’t emerged from her temple chambers in centuries, she still had one of the most imposing and powerful figures Lucretia had ever seen.

“Why else? I was called upon to bless an engagement.” Ianthe nonchalantly drifted up from her seat on her raven, and took her place upon the center moon. The pale purple runes lighting up for the first time in any of the lives of the shocked mortals down below.

Ianthe’s reply and actions were almost as if she hadn’t been absent for all those years. Lucretia wasn’t sure why Ianthe was just brushing off her absence and sudden return like it meant nothing—especially since Ianthe was the one who had always insisted she didn’t want to ever bless another union between mortals, despite it being one of her main responsibilities as a deity. Lucretia tried to think of what to say but she was too timid in front of her older sister to speak.

Lucretia glanced at Sláine to see if he would have the courage to say anything, but his body language didn’t indicate that he would be remarking on Ianthe’s nonchalant behavior. Perhaps it wasn’t as much of a big deal as she had been making it out to be.

At the same time, though, the mortals below were making it out to be an even bigger deal than Lucretia had been. There was a cacophony of mortal voices that had risen up from below as soon as the giant raven had landed on its reserved perch. Usually, Lucretia could only hear their voices as quiet whispering and murmurs—unless they were directly praying to her—yet a few of their excited outbursts were loud enough that she could even pick up clear words here and there.

The various gasps and murmurs of surprise were not just limited to the mortals, either— every single deity present was watching Ianthe in awe. As the oldest of Celeste’s children, Ianthe had inherited the most power from her mother and had the strongest blessings of any of the present deities. News of her arrival seemed to spread even faster than the news of their mother’s staff resurfacing. Within seconds, every single current deity other than the Triplet’s parents were present—and since they were already looking up at the raven, the mortals actually started to notice this time.

Lucretia thought she noticed Freyr’s mother start to shiver—quickly clasping her hands together in prayer. Glancing over to Gunnr—who Lucretia had noted earlier was comforting the mother prior to the ceremony—Lucretia could see the mild panic flash across Gunnr’s face as she glanced back and forth between the Triplets and her Favored Mortal. Lucretia had a feeling she knew why.

This engagement ceremony was most likely believed, by the mortals, to be a relatively simple one; just an arranged betrothal between two toddlers. The parents on both sides probably expected maybe a few curious deities popping in and out, since the children were born under the star sign of Celeste—yet now the engagement ceremony would probably go down in their history books as the most blessed engagement of all time. Lucretia felt a tad bad for both the parents and the toddlers. She decided at that moment that she had another reason—other than Freyr being one of her future Favored Ones—to answer the priestess’ call for blessings upon the union. She wasn’t the first in line to be called upon for blessings, though.

The priestess was quick to get over her shock of Ianthe’s sudden appearance, and was prompt to continue the ritual before more unexpected events happened. “I now present the offering for Sláine, the god in charge of blessing the couple with many years of health and well-being.” She leaned over and picked up a basket that had green ribbons woven into it. “For the god of forests and wellbeing; we start by burning these medicinal herbs. So that, as the bride and groom breathe in the smoke, they will also breathe in your breath of blessings.” The priestess grabbed a bundle of herbs from the basket, lit it, then waved it over the toddlers.

She then returned to the basket. “Next, we offer up the foods that the family has provided.” She pulled out various fruits, including grapes and oranges, and then also withdrew bread, salt, honey, and a sealed jug of water—making sure to explain the symbolism and reason behind each item as she did so.

Finally, the priestess removed the last item from the basket. She held up a small nut, presenting it for Sláine and the mortals to see. “Lastly, we plant this acorn. So that, as it grows into a large, strong oak; so, too, will the connection between these two people—that we wish to bind together—grow into a strong relationship that will never waver.” She gently placed the acorn into a pot of soil on the altar. She then turned her head up towards the pale green wooden moon where Sláine sat. “If you accept these offerings and wish to impart your blessings, let it be known.”

Lucretia watched as her brother got up from the wooden moon and floated down towards the bride and groom. Sláine traced runic symbols on the back of each of the toddlers’ hands, then tapped both of their chests and foreheads. Green symbols swirled at each location he touched before fading away. He then moved to the altar and placed his hand on a picture of an oak tree, which then lit up.

There were excited murmurs from the mortals as Sláine returned to his wooden moon; the couple had received blessings from one of the deities of marriage. Although Sláine was the easiest one to receive blessings from, it still meant that at least one of the deities supported the matrimony between the two toddlers. In the eyes of the mortals, it probably also meant that the chance of one of the other deities blessing the union—particularly the oldest of the three—was a lot lower.

Lucretia observed the faces of several nervous mortals relaxing a little at the sight of the green light coming from the symbol of Sláine’s oak tree. She wondered if those faces would continue to relax as the ritual continued, or if the mortals’ anxieties would return by the time the ritual ended.

After all, they had only gotten through her brother’s portion of the ritual so far. . .