An ebony night sky. The glimmer of a thousand stars. A perfectly round moon.
His arms are wound around her, broad hands framing her slim waist. Her face warm lies against his shoulder, her scent alluring as ever.
They sway, hips rocking ever so gently back and forth, floating across the balcony in a tuneless dance.
Her gown trails behind them, an ivory river of silk shimmering in the twilight.
Their shoes are sitting abandoned by the door, and now and then her bare toes brush against his. He still mixes up the steps, but neither of them could care. Not tonight.
Cullen leans into her hair, breathes a kiss onto her forehead. Her smile is a sweet tickle against his neck.
"Inside?" she mumbles. He nods, smiling back at her for the umpteenth time.
Her wrist sits small and slender in his palm. As he places a kiss on her hand her eyes shine at him like they have been all day, like he'll never get enough of.
When they're about to step into the room he sweeps her up, eyes never leaving hers as he carries her over the threshold- towards their marital bed. His heart skips a beat at the thought.
A sea of fragrant rose petals adorns the delicate white sheets he lies her down on.
He doesn't join her immediately but stands watching her, taking her in. Suddenly his chest feels tight as his awed gaze roams across her form.
A shapely corsage envelops her upper body, embroidered in hundreds of silver threads. Her shoulders are bare. In moon's argent glow he can make out her freckles. Around her neck she chose to wear the coin, his coin. He swallows. Her skirts spill out around her just like her hair, crimson petals mingling into the flow of cream and auburn.
Cullen blinks, and the single drop of a tear runs down his cheek at the sight of her. She is dazzling, celestial in her beauty. And she is his to worship, to adore.
His bride before the Maker.
Timid moonlight is their only illumination, but he can make out each reaction, every little twitch in her features. When her mouth opens she doesn't need to ask. He simply nods and begins opening his jacket. Button by golden little button he holds her stare, his own growing ever more affectionate as he bares himself to her. The first layer falls, and his shirt follows. Her breath hitches as her eyes wander to where his trousers and smalls are sinking down. Again he stands for a moment, allowing her to take him in before closing the distance, crawling onto the bed beside her.
They've made mad, feverish love many times; tearing at clothes, gripping hair, ravishing each other's mouths. Tonight there is no need.
Cullen wraps a lock around his finger, playing with its silken length. He pauses for a second, and his brow creases. Her glistening eyes reflect the same emotion.
They kiss as if it were the first time. Pure and tender. A feather-light touch of the lips. Mouths opening, tongues meeting in the gentlest of caresses. Little sighs and hums. His hand at her head, holding her close.
When they part they're breathless, like that time out on the battlements. He shuffles behind her to help with the dress.
Each of the dainty fastenings reveals a new patch of sallow skin that he grazes with a kiss. As the bodice opens around her, he gasps upon realising her torso is naked underneath. When it has fallen to her waist he holds on to the skirts so she can wriggle herself free.
Cullen places the gown on the ground then turns back to her- his love, his woman, his bride, sprawled out before him, only her legs and centre clad in white lace.
He moves in, takes her hand in his. Kisses one palm, then the other. When they're face to face Cullen's nose rubs against hers, his lips ghost along her cheek, her jawline, down her neck.
Cupping a pert breast, he feels the rosy peak rising into his touch. His voice is strained, heavy with the weight of his love.
"To have and to hold," he bends down, presses a soft kiss onto her left nipple.
"From this day forward," and one on the right.
"For better or for worse," the words tingle down her torso that his mouth traces before placing a peck on her stomach, her womb.
"For richer, for poorer", she watches as he lifts her left thigh, his teeth scraping the inside.
"In sickness and in health", her other leg he licks, just long enough for her to shiver.
"To love," the heady perfume of her desire greets him as he closes in on her centre. "…and to cherish." Cullen looks at her as his tongue prods against her smalls, smiles as she jerks up into his touch.
"From this day forward," he removes her final layer, fully unwraps his present before burying his face in her.
His mouth has given her pleasure often, but tonight he is discovering her all anew. Exploring every little crevice with his lips, dipping in for a taste, giving a playful suckle.
He takes his time savouring her, his afters of their feast. Patiently he endures the press of her legs, the pulling on his hair until she shudders, clutches at his shoulders, his name pouring from her lips in a passionate prayer.
As her skin cools down and the little quakes subside he smooches and nibbles his way up her body, covering as much of her as he can, while he can.
Shaky hands pull him in for a scorching kiss, and both are panting when they break. When he looks at his bride this time, his eyes are solemn, his stare deep. Her bottom lip quivers when he speaks again.
"Until death do us part." And they both know it might. But tonight there is no politics, no Inquisition. No death, no destruction. Tonight there is only her and him. Husband and wife.
Then he sinks inside her, watches her lips open in a silent cry as he fills her. Smooth thighs wrap around him, elegant shins slide up to his arms that he braces himself on as he starts moving, evoking the dearest little mewl of pleasure.
As they consummate their union they stay focused on each other, committing every little detail to cherished memory on this night that is so meaningful, so unique.
They share another kiss, heated yet sweet. She whispers to him- of love, things to come, of family.
His hips pick up pace along with her breathing, and together they rock to blissful, heavenly release. He croaks her name as his seed spills. For a second he hopes it will plant their child in her.
But this moment, too, passes, and he only notices the drying sweat when cool night air brushes across his back. He moves to lay beside her, but her legs hold him in place, keep him molded to her.
They part eventually, but she remains in his embrace as they sink into a quiet slumber, their first as man and wife.
Tomorrow they will rise to life's challenges once more, and they might be torn apart any time. But they know that this sacred bond they have formed will withstand all of it.