Scáthach O'Connell sat in her cluttered office at Trinity College, surrounded by dusty tomes and yellowed scrolls that whispered of forgotten battles and ancient heroes. Her long, dark crimson hair fell over her eyes as she scrutinized the paperwork for her upcoming lecture, her scarlet eyes flitting over the words with the precision of a hawk spotting prey. The air had the scent of aged parchment and the faint aroma of the coffee she'd brewed hours ago, the cup now abandoned and cold on the corner of her desk. She was lost in her thoughts, contemplating the nuances of Celtic history that she'd soon share with her eager students, when her phone buzzed with a text.
Glancing at the screen, she couldn't help but smile. It was from Medb, her wife of more centuries than she cared to count. Medb, once the feared Queen of Connacht, now a prosecutor with a flair for the dramatic and an uncanny knack for turning any courtroom into a stage for her wit. The message read: "Honestly, love, you wouldn't believe the day I'm having. You've got to see this one for yourself." Scáthach rolled her eyes, knowing full well that Medb's "interesting" days often meant she'd gotten herself into trouble of the most entertaining kind.
With a sigh, she saved her work, grabbed her bag, and headed out the door. The cobblestone streets of Dublin were alive with the murmur of students and tourists alike, a stark contrast to the quiet halls of Dún Scáith where she'd taught so long ago. She stepped into the bustle of the city, the chilly breeze carrying the distant scent of rain and the promise of an early spring shower. It had been a long time since she'd had to deal with Medb's shenanigans in person, but something in the tone of that message told her this was going to be a doozy.
As Scáthach approached the courthouse, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement. Medb had a way of bringing the past into the present, making the mundane feel like the stuff of legend. She pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped into the grand foyer, her heels clicking against the marble floor. The air was different here—charged with tension and the murmur of hushed conversations that carried the weight of people's fates. She made her way through the corridors, the walls lined with stern portraits that seemed to judge her every step, until she reached the courtroom where Medb was presiding.
The room was packed, and the murmur grew louder as people turned to see her enter. She spotted Medb at the prosecutor's table, her long pink hair pulled back in a severe bun, her golden eyes scanning the room with a sharpness that belied her mischievous nature. As she took her seat in the back, Scáthach could feel the anticipation in the air, the same anticipation that had filled the halls of Dún Scáith when Medb had told her the most ludicrous of stories around the campfire. But this was no campfire tale; this was real life, and she was about to see her immortal wife in a new, utterly unexpected light.
The judge called for order, and the room fell silent as the bailiff announced, "The Court is now in session, the Queen's Bench presiding." The irony of the title wasn't lost on Scáthach. Medb rose, her movements as graceful as ever, despite the modern attire that clung to her curves. She approached the jury with a confident stride that made Scáthach's heart flutter with a mix of pride and anxiety. This was her love, a woman who'd once led armies and now reduced grown men to quivering wrecks with a mere arch of an eyebrow.
The defendant was a young man with a smirk that suggested he thought he was cleverer than the room could handle. He was about to learn the hard way that he'd met his match in Medb. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," she began, her voice carrying the authority of one who'd ruled over a kingdom, "today we're not just dealing with a petty theft, but a crime of epic proportions." The room leaned in, captivated by her every word. She paused for effect, allowing the tension to build before dropping the hammer, "The defendant stole a pack of chewing gum. Yes, you heard me correctly—chewing gum!"
The courtroom erupted in laughter, the kind that starts as a snicker and grows into a full-blown roar. Scáthach's eyes widened, and she had to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle her own laughter. Medb waited for the laughter to subside before continuing, her expression deadpan. "This," she said, holding up the pack of gum as if it were a sacred artifact, "is not just any chewing gum. Oh, no. This is the legendary 'Wrigley's Extra.' The kind that promises to keep your breath fresh for hours. But what it really does is provide the sweetest victory for those who dare to pilfer it from the unsuspecting pockets of the innocent."
The defendant's smirk slipped, and the judge looked on with a bemused expression that suggested he was trying to figure out if he should be laughing or scolding her. Medb didn't miss a beat. She turned to the defense attorney, a man who looked like he'd seen his fair share of the absurd in his career, and said, "I'm sure even the esteemed counsel for the defense can't argue with the gravity of such a heinous crime. After all, what's next? The theft of breath mints? The pilfering of pens? The audacity to swipe a sticky note? The very fabric of our society hangs in the balance!"
The room was in stitches now, the defendant's face flushing red with embarrassment. Scáthach felt her own shoulders shake with silent mirth, her eyes watering from the effort of keeping her laughter contained. Medb had always had a way with words, but she'd never seen her use them quite like this. The scene was so absurdly comedic that it was hard to remember the seriousness of the setting. But amidst the laughter, she knew there was a message being delivered, a reminder that even the smallest of actions had consequences, and that the law, no matter how ancient or modern, was there to protect the dignity of all, even from the theft of a simple pack of gum.
As the room settled, Medb turned to the defendant, her expression suddenly serious. "But let's not forget," she said, her golden eyes boring into him, "that this isn't just about the gum. It's about respect, honor, and the code we live by." She paused, allowing the words to hang in the air, before adding with a wink, "Or perhaps, the lack thereof." The courtroom erupted again, this time with a mix of laughter and applause. Scáthach watched as the young man's smugness crumbled, his bravado replaced by the realization that he was being schooled by a master.
The judge, a portly man with a graying beard, banged his gavel once, twice, and finally a third time to restore order. "Mrs. O'Connell," he said, his eyes twinkling, "you do know how to make a point, don't you?"
Medb gave a dramatic bow, her pink hair cascading over her shoulders. "Your honor," she replied, "I've learned from the best. After all, I've had centuries of experience with those who think they can get away with the unthinkable." She gestured to Scáthach in the back, who nodded solemnly, playing along with the charade.
Scáthach's heart swelled with pride. Her stoic exterior was no match for the joy that bubbled up inside her. She taught Medb once the art of war, but it seemed she'd found a new battleground in the courtroom. And as she watched her wife weave a narrative that both condemned and amused, she realized that the immortal Queen of Connacht had never truly lost her throne. She'd just found a new kingdom to rule: the kingdom of wit and wisdom, where the sharpness of her tongue was her scepter, and the power of her words, her crown.
The defense attorney, caught off guard by the sudden shift in momentum, stumbled through his rebuttal. Medb listened, her gaze unyielding, her smile never wavering. Each objection was met with a retort that had the courtroom in stitches again, and with every point scored, the defendant sank further into his seat. Scáthach felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find one of her colleagues from the history department, their eyes wide with astonishment. "I had no idea your wife was so... entertaining," he whispered.
As the trial drew to a close, the jury, still giggling, delivered a swift verdict of guilty. The defendant was sentenced to community service and a fine, which Medb suggested should be paid in the form of a lifetime supply of Wrigley's Extra. The judge, barely containing his amusement, agreed, adding that perhaps it would serve as a constant reminder of the gravity of his actions. The courtroom erupted once more, the applause thunderous, echoing through the high-ceilinged room.
After the session, Medb made her way over to Scáthach, her cheeks flushed with victory. She leaned in and whispered, "Well, what did you think? Did I do alright?" Scáthach couldn't help but laugh, embracing her. "You were magnificent," she said, her scarlet eyes sparkling with mirth. "I think you might have missed your true calling all those centuries ago."
Medb grinned, her eyes glinting with the same gold that had once struck fear into the hearts of her enemies. "Maybe," she said, her voice low and teasing. "But I rather like the idea of turning the tables on those who think they can get away with anything." She winked, and Scáthach knew she wasn't just talking about the defendant.
They stepped out of the courthouse into the fresh spring air, the laughter of the courtroom still lingering in their ears. The rain had held off, but the scent of it was in the air, hinting at the storm that would come. As they strolled back to the college, arm in arm, Medb turned to her wife and said, "You know, love, I might just have to make a habit of this. Maybe I'll start a new chapter in our history book titled 'The Immortal Prosecutor of Dublin.'"
Scáthach rolled her eyes, but she couldn't wipe the smile from her face. "Just don't forget who taught you strategy," she said, her voice filled with affectionate mock severity.
"Never," Medb assured her, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. "After all, you're the one who taught me that the most important battles are won not with swords, but with words. And in that, I am eternally in your debt."
The two immortals continued their walk, the cobblestones slick with the promise of rain beneath their feet. The modern world swirled around them, a tapestry of life and chaos that they'd come to navigate so well. But as they stepped onto the college grounds, the weight of centuries fell away, and they were simply two powerful women, in love and unstoppable, ready to tackle whatever adventure the next chapter of their lives had in store.