I am the dark lord who stole away the bride of spring
age: young adult (legal)

"How can you not see how this looks?"

Cedric flew across the small cottage to the open window, reaching out to slam the shutters closed and murmuring a spell under his breath to keep the wind and rain from eeking in.

"You'll catch a dreadful cold if you stay in those wet things, Cedric." Sofia replied evenly as she made her way to the fire he had started the moment they entered the cottage. She shed his fine robe, drenched, from her shoulders and laid it beside the hearth. Her dress, a delicate blue thing, clung to her legs but otherwise she had been kept quite dry by Cedric's gallant offering.

"You were the farthest thing from subtle and taking us here, of all places." He had moved on from the windows to sealing the door before hurrying over to fill a kettle with water pouring out from the tip of his wand.

"Perhaps I'm through with being subtle." Her glare was heated as he approached the fire and, subsequently, Sofia. Her hands quickly fell to his vest as she began to free him from his buttons.

"Gah! No!" Cedric batted her hands away and put the kettle between them. "Wench! I won't think if you start in on that."

"I just don't want you to fall ill!"

"You know exactly what you're doing and you're doing it because you don't want to discuss this."

"Discuss what?"

Cedric's shoulders dropped, the fight falling from his posture.

"Your engagement."

"My father's engagement."

"I'm under the impression that your father is quite happily married to your mother."

"Cedric," Sofia fixed him with a glare, chastising him with her tone. "This was never something I agreed to."

"And yet here you are! Here we are! Here I am looking like -"

"Like a man in love?"

"Like Hades stealing away Persephone!"

Sofia huffed lightly. "I always believed she ate the seeds on purpose."

Cedric stepped around the woman, and finally set the kettle above the fire to heat. He stared at it, avoiding Sofia's gaze.

"There you go with your optimism again."

Sofia came to stand beside him, curling her body against his until he came to wrap his arms around her. He rested his chin on the top of her head.

"This is such a mess," he sighed into her rain-damp curls.

"It doesn't have to be," came her voice, muffled against his chest. They reclined from their embrace until each could see the other's eyes. "Marry me?"

Cedric leaned down and kissed her forehead in a gentle dismissal. Sofia planted her palms on his chest and pushed him away from her. She ripped the chain she wore from around her neck and clung to the charm, the ring, at its end.

"Does this mean nothing to you?"

"No - yes. Yes, Sofia you know it does."

"Did you not mean it when you asked me to marry you?"

"No, no of course not. But things were different. Things have changed."

"You don't love me anymore?"

"You know that's not true."

"Then why not?! Marry me!" If Sofia attempted not to sound like a petulant child, she failed in this moment. Cedric stared down at her, unmoving. Lacking any response, Sofia pulled the chain through the ring until it was free and slid the ring down onto her ring finger. Cedric reached for her, trying to stop her but it was too late. The ring swirled magic around her finger and followed the bloodline that traced from that finger straight to her heart. It was a warm thing when it sighed into her, locking her fate to Cedric's in an instant.

Sofia stared down at the ring and then at Cedric, who wore something between agony and anger on his face.

"There was a reason I asked you to wear it on a chain."

"I - I thought - "

"Yes, that's clear, now, that you thought I was somehow ashamed of us." There was a cold tinge in his voice. "While I was wary and I might have been nervous to be so publicly yours and you so publicly mine, that ring - a sorcerer's wife - there's more to it than to just be an object worn."

Sofia brought her thumb across her palm to spin the ring in place. It didn't budge.

"I'm afraid, love, whether or not you were truly ready, you're mine, now."

A bolt of lightning seemed to strike down Sofia's spine at the sound of Cedric's possession of her.

"But that's good, right? You love me."

"It's not your choice, anymore." His eyes were dark, his lips pressed into a line. He reached out across the space to barely trace the line of her jaw, her throat. Sofia practically purred. "Nor is it mine."

A/N: *attempts to move old achy writing joints* oil….can…!

And Greek myths! Because Cleo's kingdom basically looks like Greece sooooo...