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In only a moment, Marianne could see for years ahead of her. One thought unraveled ten more and she could imagine an entire story laid out at her feet as she pictured it all in her mind. Her life, their life, stretched out in a winding path that her imagination was running down.
There were white roses. Ivory satin. Their hands clasped together and vows exchanged. While the room would be full of friends and esteemed guests, they would only have eyes for each other. A kiss to seal the moment, one that would lay the bricks for the rest of their life.
In the springtime, they’d plant flowers together. Lorenz would protest at first, unaccustomed to getting his hands dirty, but he would come to enjoy it in time and develop a deep passion for botanicals. He’d grow fantastic flowers and ferns and vines, each more beautiful than the last and Marianne would revel in the polished pastorals he’d create for their home.
She would pursue the same interests she’d always had. She’d have a stable full of horses, a hen house too. Marianne would wear a pinafore to the pastures and feed her dearest animals, murmuring to them softly. Maybe, as lady of the estate, she’d find the courage to visit the tenant farmers too and see their livestock. Maybe she’d become a veterinarian for the lands, as well as its lady, and she would help the people of Gloucester usher in a time of new health and care for their animal populations.
Perhaps in a few years, there would be more. One child, then another… Lorenz would be a good father, giving them all of the love and care he never got. Always encouraging their interests and showing them tenderness. Marianne would sit in her armchair by the fireplace, Lorenz on the couch, with their little ones on either side of him, cuddled up as he told them a story about the younger days at Garreg Mach. Memories they now laughed at, memories their children would laugh at too.
Someday, they’d be older. Lorenz would age like a fine wine, graceful and perfect with his smooth skin and sharp bone structure. He’d have a streak of silver in his hair and perhaps the merest ghost of smile lines tracing his handsome smirk. Marianne have wrinkles framing her face and creases around her eyes. Strands of grey interspersing blue. She wouldn’t age as gracefully as him, she’d be a bit heavier after the children. But Marianne knew that no matter how she looked, Lorenz would keep gazing at her like she was a work of art. He’d still kiss her with poetic fire in his lips. He’s still touch her with grace and need and despite all the years between them, it wouldn’t feel like a day had gone by at all.
And many years down the road, one of them would pass first. Maybe it would be her, and Marianne would never have to know a day without Lorenz’s laughter and smile and love. But maybe she would outlive him. It would hurt, of course. Losing him would be the hardest thing she’d have to face, but she wouldn’t face it alone. Their children, their grandchildren, would share stories of Lorenz and hold him in their hearts. The tenants on the land would remember Lord Gloucester fondly and speak only good of him. And Marianne would have years and years of happiness and adoration to carry with her until she joined him again.
No matter how the finer details might change, this was the life before them. And it was good.
Marianne looked from Lorenz’s hand to his eyes. She smiled, bright and bold, just like Sylvain had taught her how to do. And she intertwined her fingers with his, her other hand offering out to him so that he could place the perfectly selected ring onto her finger. He’d chosen a moonstone, not a precious gem. Something simple and understated, but which shone like opal in the light.
“Of course, I will marry you, Lorenz. There is nothing I want more.”