For Gen, for the Hogwarts Secret Santa - belated Merry Christmas, and thank you so much for introducing me to Red Queen! Reading, reacting with you, and plotting all the things has been the most fun I've had in ages. Have a little Marecal :D

Set after Broken Throne, warning for references to canon deaths. My memory is absolute trash, so I apologize for any canon-related mistakes or OOCness XD

I shiver as the winter chill infiltrates my skin, sending currents of cold down my body. Despite the jacket Kilorn had lent me — hideous as it is, but I couldn't refuse — I still run my hands up and down my arms, trying to rub some heat into my skin.

"I thought I saw you coming out here."

I turn so fast, feeling electricity sparking at my fingertips, even though I recognize that voice, that familiar warmth. Cal halts a few feet away, bathed in the golden-yellow light from the overhanging lanterns. He looks maddeningly unbothered by the chill, bronze eyes gleaming. "It's just me."

"Sorry," I mutter as Cal closes the gap between us. As he approaches, the air around us gradually warms and I can't help but sigh. "But thank you for offering up your services as my personal furnace."

"I don't recall ever making such an offer," he replies mildly, "so I think that I should receive something in exchange." His eyes linger on my jacket before sliding up to my face. "Mind if I join you?"

I shake my head and he comes even closer, his arm brushing against mine. I can't say that that doesn't make my breath hitch.

"You're wearing Kilorn's jacket," he observes.

"I am."

"Why not mine?"

I let out a noise that is half-amused, half-exasperated. "Because he offered. He noticed I was cold in this absurd death-trap of a dress and like a true gentleman, let me borrow his jacket. Because no one else offered." Just to really dig it in, I smooth down the jacket with my hands.

It's funny to rile him up, even though he's fully aware of the nature of my relationship with Kilorn.

Cal conveniently ignores my pointed jab. "He offered?" he snaps, scowling. "He should be giving his jacket to Cameron, not to —"

I elbow him lightly. "Even after this long, you still can't stop being a possessive ass," I tease, glancing up at him. "What is it going to take to make you stop?"

Seeing his irritated expression only heightens my amusement — he almost looks adorable. I almost wish I had a camera — if only the people could see this, one of their most respected officials pouting.

Then again, Cal is Cal, and it would be more endearing to the people than embarrassing. To them, Cal is a darling.

(If only they knew.)

"Stop making fun of me," he snaps. "I might just leave you to the mercy of the cold."

"I'll live," I retort. "Besides, what kind of a husband would you be if you left your wife to freeze?" Even as I rib him, the words bring a giddy smile to my lips. Husband. Wife.

He mirrors my smile and all of his indignation vanishes from his face. Now he's gazing at me with wonder, eyes burning, and the atmosphere changes. Suddenly, it's not just a comfortable warmth, but something that makes my stomach churn pleasantly.

"My wife," he says, like he can't believe that this is his reality. His hand reaches up to toy with an escaped lock of hair from the bun my mother had so meticulously pinned up. "I can call you my wife now. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

Just because I can, I say, "And you're my husband." I test the word and I am immensely pleased by how it sounds.

That seems to ignite something in him and he brings up his other hand, cupping my face. I glimpse the glint of a wedding band before he draws me in, brushing his lips against mine. My eyes flutter shut, expecting more, but —

"Mare," he murmurs, pulling back, about to speak, but I don't give him a chance. He has no idea — no idea — how long I've been waiting for this. It's my turn to kiss him, and this time, I don't let him go.

He doesn't try.

He kisses me like how we couldn't in front of everyone else. He kisses me like we're alone and I'm the only one who matters. He kisses me until all of the breath is gone from my lungs.

After what feels like an eon, I reluctantly step back. "As much as I'd like to continue," I say breathlessly, "we should save this for later. Not when anyone could see us."

"Let them see," he replies, trying to tug me back in, but I resist.

"Cal, there are children here," I remind him gently. "Farley would have our heads if Clara saw us."

"...Point made." He leans in for one more chaste kiss — I don't deny him that — but he breaks away too quickly, and I can see my hunger reflected in his eyes.

Just for now.

I hastily steer our conversation into safer territory. "I never told you why I came out here, did I?"

"You didn't."

I turn around, gesturing to the sky. "The moon and the stars are out tonight."

"They are." Cal doesn't come to stand next to me but instead loops his arms around my waist. He tucks me in against him, against the hard planes and soft warmth of his body. His chin rests on my head. My stomach swoops but I ignore it.

"I think they're watching us," I say quietly. "I don't set much store by old legends, but there was always this one my brother — Shade told me. That even after our loved ones are gone, they manifest in the form of stars, so they can always watch over us."

Cal is silent. I know what he's thinking; I can hear his thoughts echoing in mine. I speak for both of us.

"I think Shade's up there," I whisper. "And — and your mother. And — him."

Cal's arms tighten around me. "Him," he mutters. "The ghost at our wedding."

Ghost. Maven still taunts us from beyond the grave. We'd both lost a little of ourselves to Maven, and that's not something we could forget.

He was a monster — but a boy too. My almost-husband. Cal's little brother. A stolen life. For a moment, I let the feeling of loss consume me for a moment before I push it aside. Cal is trembling, from anger or grief, I can't tell.

I've never been the best at providing comfort, so I just lean into him and let him…be. I just let the inferno run its course. I let him battle the onslaught and I don't move. I let him hold on to me, letting him know in my own way that I do not intend to leave him. "I'm sorry," I murmur. I'm sorry for dredging up buried memories. I'm sorry that he couldn't — I'm sorry for everything.

He sighs. The shaking stops. "Don't be." He presses his lips to my hair, loosens his grip so I can turn around, and I look him in the eyes.

"I think — I think that's a wonderful legend. And I think our — " He swallows roughly. "They're watching over us."

I lower my gaze, hating the moment. I press my hands against his chest so I can feel Cal's faint heartbeat, his shaky breathing, and no, this is not what I wanted.

"I bet Shade's looking down at us and gagging right now," I joke. "He's probably telling us to get a room before we scar his daughter."

"Bison and cows," Cal mutters, and we both grin. And just like that, the dark cloud has lifted. We're just Mare and Cal again, no ghosts lingering around us. They will always haunt us in our dreams, in the back of our minds, dangling the what-ifs in front of us. From time to time, I will catch Cal staring at an old portrait of his family. Once in a while, I will wake up from a nightmare with the eyes of the dead branded on the back of my eyelids.

But tonight, we can be just us. Cal and Mare Calore.

Just like that, my grin grows. That has a…ring to it.

1337 words