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When Virion asked Miriel to marry him, they were just days away from the party’s march on the Plegian capital.
The fierce desert winds blew bits of sand into Miriel’s hair and clothes, and her short hair scratched at her pink cheeks. But none of that seemed to matter to the archer kneeling before her, a ring studded in diamonds wedged firmly between his nimble fingers. His hair, too, whipped against his face and left him looking anything but his usual groomed-and-tidy self. The smile stretched across his lips did not waver however, and in that precise moment, Miriel calculated his affections to be genuine.
And yet, even as he knelt there and waited for her reply, all Miriel could muster were words of observation, her fingers curling tight around the spell book in her hands, “That is a ring.”
“I bought it a little while ago,” Virion continued on, unfazed by her frankness. Had there ever been anyone like that in her life before? Someone who did not once comment on her verbose vocabulary and crisp speech patterns? She…really couldn’t remember, “with the intention of presenting it…to you. I hope you will accept it.”
His eyes grew softer, and Miriel’s heart squeezed. She had not realized the extent of her feelings for Virion until this very moment, so caught up in the war and her usual studies. That had always been the case. At least, it had been before.
Initially, she did not approach Virion because he was handsome and charming. Nor did she protect him on the battlefield because she thought him kind and intelligent. He was, for a time, just another comrade to observe and collect information from. There had been nothing intrinsically unique about him to her, save being the only archer within their ranks.
But then she discovered his “gift” for fortunetelling and as the norm, Miriel thirsted to understand it. There was nothing beyond her grasp of comprehension, and if a man like Virion could excel at such a skill, surely she could too.
And with every passing day, either chasing him down through the camp or fighting side-by-side against tens of hundreds of soldiers, Miriel grew accustomed to his presence. The excessive pet names, the nonchalant touches, the obsessive need to comb through his hair every hour on the hour…he became the closest thing she had to a real friend.
Now, he was presenting her with a chance to be something more. Something all the little boys and girls in her village claimed she would never have. The memories of their hushed whispers and stifled laughs resurfaced, and beautiful women in frilly dresses flashed before her eyes.
“No man will ever have her if she continues on like that.”
“I’m sure she can brew up a wicked love potion if she ever wanted one. Witches do have some talents, remember?”
“It’s unfortunate she’ll have to resort to that. At least if she was pretty, she could have had a chance at a normal marriage.”
She had accepted (probably much too early on) that she was different, and the chance at a normal life with a normal marriage and family was out of her reach. And, because there was little to no evidence against their claims, Miriel had accepted that concepts like romance and everlasting love were things she would never truly understand. For how could she, if she did not experience such events firsthand?
Besides, all the greatest love stories combined could not have prepared her for this moment, as if every word she pronounced from then on decided her future, her chance at becoming something more. But all she could do was relay prior events – of the fortune Virion had so plainly bestowed upon her the previous day, “…I see. The fortune you spoke earlier was in reference to this precise moment.”
Virion laughed, but it was anything but mean-spirited or condescending. It was quiet and gentle, almost as if he enjoyed her reaction to his little ruse, “Yes. I confess it was all part of an elaborate stratagem. I wanted there to be no doubt of my intention.”
He stood up then and wrapped his hands around hers, placing the ring between two of his fingers and the spine of her spell book. His hands were warm and dry, and his eyes shined brighter than Miriel could ever recall. She readied herself for his next words, afraid her heart might actually burst if he used anything more poetic than elaborate stratagem, “For I love you, Miriel! I cannot abide one more day without you by my side.”
Any and all thoughts of teasing boys and laughing women vanished from Miriel’s mind. And soon, for just a few moments, her head was unexpectedly, blissfully empty. Her cheeks warmed and her skin buzzed, an elated daze glossing over her eyes, “…Fascinating.”
The word came out in a groan, and Virion’s eyes shifted in worry. She almost wanted to laugh – even now, this charming mess of a man still doubted his talents of persuasion when in her company. Then again, a romance between a daring rogue and a deadpan intellectual was already inconceivable. Assuredly both of them were smart enough to know that.
But Virion stayed the course, and took a deep breath before he continued on, “Please, my lovely, answer me true…will you marry me, sweet Miriel?”
In truth, Miriel felt like my lovely was laying it on a bit too thick, but she didn’t mind much. Still, it calmed her previous euphoric reaction just enough to give him the answer he expected…and the one she knew he loved her for, “Your argument for wedlock lacks even the most basic of persuasive elements. And yet…I find myself oddly enticed.”
His brows stitched together, confused, and his grip on her hands loosened, “I cannot always tell with your manner of speaking…are you saying yes?”
Well, there’s a first time for everything, Miriel thought, even though she knew her answer was vague and lacked conviction. She took one small breath before reassuring him, leaning closer into his frame until their lips were inches apart, their locked hands trapped between their chests. Her lips curved into the faintest of smiles, and she noticed him blush from the close proximity, “I have…feelings for you. True feelings. A most unexpected development.”
When it dawned on him that she accepted his proposal (that she accepted him and all that he was), Virion returned the smile and dipped his head lower, his whisper bordering on seductive, “You know what that means, don’t you? My fortune was completely accurate.”
Before she could attempt a flirtatious response, Virion cocked his head to the side, seemingly lost in thought, “…I don’t think that’s ever happened before, actually.”
And before he could get back to the fact that they were engaged and needed to tell all their comrades, Miriel’s mind swiftly regained its usual logical prowess, and she drew her head back to assess her next course of action, “Your causational approach to this problem leaves open many troubling –”
Her following words were cut off as chapped lips pressed into hers, and she once again felt an enthralling giddiness sweep through her body. She had not expected Virion’s lips to feel like this, but it had been hours since their last visit to camp, and all of his ointments and lotions were tucked away in his tent. Still, despite the texture, she found herself kissing back, hesitant only in the fact that she lacked the experience he most certainly had when it came to this skill. Maybe later tonight, he could help her understand it more.
As Virion broke the kiss and pushed away, his smile nervous and cheeks pink, he slipped one of his hands into hers. The ring was safely tucked between the folds of their two palms, the cool silver smooth against Miriel’s skin, “Er, yes! Right! Well, let’s hurry off and find a minister then, shall we?”
Though the odds of finding such a person in the middle of the desert were slim and unfounded, Miriel did not voice her concern. Instead, she giggled as though she were some lovestruck schoolgirl, and followed along.
Because despite her homely appearance and brash approach, she would be the first of the current female Shepherds to marry. And all those little boys and girls of years past were rendered silent.
So she smiled, and replied, “Agreed.”