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Anton Saint Joshua was hundreds of years old. He had known more people than the average human knows days. He had been through a war that had come very close to annihilating his way of life. He had been married a certain amount of times, with varying degrees of success. The only constant through it all had been Mayan Saint Joshua. His oldest friend. His Companion. The only person he trusted absolutely in the entire universe. His Talla.
And tonight he had gotten married to him.
Finally.
He was, for the first time, holding his husband’s hand. A large dark hand he knew so well, a hand he had known so long, but never before had it worn the ring now on its finger. It wasn’t just any ring, either. Anton had chosen it from his sigil armory. One of the most precious in his possession.
Mayan, as he was wont to do, had been furious at the idea of Anton wasting an item that could very well save his life someday on someone who could never use it. Anton had appeased his ire by telling him about the potent healing spell he had stored in it. “If you ever were hurt, Habibi, I would know you always have this on you for me to save you.” Mayan had tried snapping back with something about himself being the one supposed to be saving Anton, but had ultimately accepted it with a kiss.
This ring was never leaving this finger.
Anton raised his eyes up, and up, to meet with Mayan’s, who was already looking at him with an indulgent expression.
“Our wedding night, huh?” he asked him.
Anton shook his head. “That is what comes later. This now is the wedding dance. You are going to have to lead me across the floor for a few hours before you can take me to our bedroom and fuck my brains out.”
Anton rarely used such language, but one’s wedding to the love of one’s life seemed to be the perfect occasion. Mayan swallowed and Anton wished the time would come already for them to be alone.
But then they were walking onto the dancefloor and everything was perfect. He could not see anything beyond his husband’s eyes but he knew their family was surrounding them. The boys they had raised into men. Their numerous godchildren. Anton’s siblings of the Arcana. Mayan’s network of Companions. All had gathered to witness him, witness them, bringing happiness to one another.
Rachel Taylor’s Eternity started playing and Mayan slid his arms around Anton. He relaxed his body in Mayan's embrace, trusting him to lead him to the melody, to throw him into spins, to hold him all the way to safety, brushing whispered lyrics against the shell of his ear. The people of New Atlantis new Anton Saint Joshua as Lord Tower, head of the Dagger Throne, dangerous and cruel Arcana, with an inconceivable fortune and tremendous political power at his fingertip, but Mayan was the one who could reduce him to putty. The true power of his court, in these gentle deadly hands.
Mayan gracefully maneuvered him into a left-shoulder dip, and the song ended on a breath and a racing heart. Anton felt flushed. Was he flushed? This would not do in public—Mayan interrupted his thoughts by pulling him back up and into a kiss. Mayan was right. All would be well now that he could call this man husband, and publicly cherish him in a way befitting the consort of an Arcana.