Work Text:
The room was dim and full of people from all of the Houses. A string quartet accompanied by a pianist were in one corner creating the perfect background for a romantic and happy evening. Her Divine Highness was to choose a bride, and this was only the start of no doubt many weeks of parties and courting.
Abigail Pent sipped her champagne and grinned sidelong at her husband. “Aren’t you glad that we don’t have to deal with any of this adolescent mess anymore?”
Magnus Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you tell me just an hour ago that I have an adolescent brain?”
“That’s beside the point, dear.”
Her husband laughed at that and his eyes twinkled with a deep appreciation for the woman he had married what felt like an eternity ago. Their courtship has been long and somewhat turbulent, with a lot of back and forth and perhaps a breakup or two. But eventually, after one very amazing dance and a very romantic proposal, Abigail had ‘given in’ and married him. Not many people were very happy about it on the Fifth, but power and money talked more, and they had stayed together long enough now that even the naysayers were bored of arguing against the match.
Tonight, they had only been invited for their position in the House of the Fifth, and though they had declined having an entourage follow them, they were both still very elegantly and smartly dressed in perfectly tailored clothing. Abigail’s gown was a long, House-brown satin number, cut in just the right way; it accentuated her necromancer’s body, thin but with just enough shape to it. It had a delicate but long and ornately designed train, and a little golden tiara on her head, thin and beautiful, shining even in the mood lighting. Magnus wore an elegant suit with the same colour jacket as his wife's dress, cufflinks the same gold and shiny boots. His rapier was at his side, as always, in its beautiful scabbard, the ornate hilt accentuating the outfit somehow.
He watched as his beloved necromancer looked again at the mingling crowd and grinned suddenly as inspiration struck. Her whole body filled with the idea, and he looked at her with interest, waiting for her to explain, as she no doubt would momentarily. She turned to him and her eyes were so bright, her smile so sweet and her complexion so honey-toned that he felt his breath catch in his chest for a moment. Everyday he felt himself falling deeper in love with her.
“Magnus, take me to dance!”
A laugh escaped as his breathing resumed and he crooked his arm so she could link hers through it, bowing with a playful respect. “As always, my darling, if I can provide, you don’t even have to ask.”
Leading her to the edge of the floor set aside for the activity, they waited a moment for the current song to finish, before stepping up and taking a spot in the crowd around them, waving or greeting familiar faces politely as they did.
The next song was more upbeat; a happy jig, and wrapped in each other's arms, bouncing in circles and laughing with the party energy running through them, they basked in their love that had outlasted hate. Their love that would go on to outlast even death itself.