Erzsébet was twenty-three when she first saw Julchen, only recently married to Roderich—poor Roderich—and the woman had been so striking, with her silvery blonde hair and flashing amber eyes, that she had been certain she was a faerie creature of some sort. (She still was half convinced, even after thirty years of marriage. Especially after thirty years of marriage. Julchen's laughter lines and assorted wrinkles only made her appear more beautiful, in Erzsébet's opinion.)
She still remembers it so clearly; it was the rare sort of June day that was warm and breezy instead of foggy and muggy. She had been out shopping with Roderich—which really just meant that Roderich was shopping and she was trudging behind him—and Julchen had practically floated past her. She caught her staring, of course, and instead of looking disgusted she had smiled slowly and winked before gliding off. Erzsébet had not thought she would see the woman again, but she was there the next week, and the next, and the next. They got along so well that Erzsébet was divorced five months into her marriage, and engaged six months after, although they did not get married for another ten years, as they had both wanted to go adventuring before truly settling down. (It had taken them awhile, but she and Roderich were friends again. After all, it wasn't her fault she turned out to be a lesbian, and he himself was quite happy with Emma's brother, so it would be quite unfair of him to hold it all against her.)
Erzsébet grins down at Julchen now, angelic even asleep, drooling and snoring away. The sunlight bathes them both in golden, holy light and Erzsébet lets her eyes flutter shut. It has been a good life, and she hopes it will be for many more years to come.
Beside her, Julchen stirs. "Good morning, love," She yawns, and Erzsébet ducks down to give her a kiss, feeling younger and more full of love than she ever has before, and she knows that tomorrow she will be even more in love. It's a good way to live, she thinks.