"Put your feet up, love," said Medb, as she waltzed into the living room with a tray of tea and biscuits. Professor O'Connell looked up from her spot on the couch, where she was surrounded by a fortress of textbooks and notes.

"Thanks, Medb," Scáthach replied, placing her reading glasses on the coffee table. "I've been going through these papers for hours."

Medb set the tray down with a clink and a smile. "Well, you know what they say," she said, her golden eyes twinkling, "all work and no play makes Scáthach a dull girl."

Scáthath chuckled and took a sip of her tea. "I'm not sure 'play' is exactly what my students are looking for in a history lecture."

Medb perched on the arm of the couch and nibbled on a biscuit. "History is just a bunch of dead people's stories anyway," she quipped. "Why don't you tell them something with a bit more... pizzazz?"

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, which painted the walls a warm orange. The TV in the corner of the room flickered with the latest sitcom, the laugh track echoing through the quiet space. The smell of baking bread wafted from the kitchen, mixing with the sweet aroma of the tea.

Professor O'Connell took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "Pizzazz? Like what, Medb? The real story of how you convinced me to marry you?"

Medb giggled. "Oh, that old chestnut? They'd love it!"

Scáthach rolled her eyes playfully. "I don't think they're quite ready for tales of ancient battles and love potions."

Medb leaned in, her pink hair cascading over her shoulder. "But think about it," she whispered, "it's got action, romance, and a plot twist that would make Shakespeare jealous!"

Scáthach couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe another time," she said, picking up her glasses and returning them to the bridge of her nose. "Now, where was I?"

The TV blared louder as the sitcom reached a commercial break, and Medb leaned over to turn it down. "You know," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I bet if you just told them the truth about us, they'd hang onto your every word."

Scáthach raised an eyebrow. "The truth? You mean that we're immortal warriors from Dún Scáith who've been married for centuries?"

"Well," Medb shrugged, "you could leave out the 'immortal' part for now. But think about it, Scáthach. Who doesn't love a good love story with a dash of danger?"

The room grew quiet, the only sound being the rustling of pages and the distant hum of the refrigerator. Scáthach tapped her pen against her bottom lip, considering the idea.

"Fine," she said finally, setting her glasses aside once more. "But only if you promise to help me grade these papers afterward."

Medb clapped her hands together. "Deal!" she exclaimed. "But first, let's watch some TV. You need a break."

The two of them settled into the couch, the warmth of the tea and biscuits a comforting presence between them. As the sitcom continued, the ancient warrior and her queen watched the modern world unfold before them, a stark contrast to the battles they'd once fought together.

"You know," Medb said after a moment, "maybe we should start watching reality TV. It's basically just history with worse outfits and more yelling."

Scáthach snorted. "I think I'd rather stick to the classics."

The doorbell rang, and Medb groaned. "Who could that be?" she asked, getting up to answer it. "I thought we were in for a quiet evening."

"Probably just a neighbor," Scáthach said, her eyes never leaving the screen. But as Medb opened the door, the laughter from the TV was drowned out by a loud, unexpected voice.

"Surprise!" shouted a group of their colleagues from Trinity College, led by the boisterous Dr. McCarthy. Behind him, a horde of professors and students held balloons and a cake. "We heard it was your anniversary, so we decided to throw you a little shindig!"

Medb's face lit up like one of the party's candles. "Oh, you shouldn't have," she said, but her wide smile betrayed her delight.

Scáthath's eyes grew as wide as saucers. "Medb," she whispered urgently, "how did they find out?"

Medb shot her a mischievous look. "I might have dropped a hint or two," she said, her voice barely audible over the din. "But don't worry, I told them it's our ten-year anniversary. They don't know the real number."

The group flooded into the living room, filling it with chatter and laughter. Dr. McCarthy handed Scáthach a party hat that looked suspiciously like it had seen better days. "You're not going to make us do this alone, are you, Prof?" he joked.

Scáthach took the hat with a sigh, her stoic facade cracking into a reluctant smile. "I suppose not," she said, placing it on her head. "But only because I don't want to disappoint the students."

The evening grew lively as the partygoers mingled and shared stories. Scáthach found herself drawn into a debate about the historical accuracy of a recent blockbuster film, her colleagues not realizing just how much firsthand experience she had with the subject matter. Medb flitted from group to group, playing the perfect hostess, her pink hair bobbing as she laughed and listened intently.

The party was in full swing when one of the students, a young woman named Ciara, approached Scáthach with a glass of punch in hand. "Professor O'Connell," she said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, "I heard a rumor that you and Mrs. O'Connell have a... unique story. Would you mind sharing?"

Scáthath felt a twinge of panic. "What kind of rumor?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

Ciara leaned in closer. "Someone said you two have been married for centuries," she whispered, her eyes wide with excitement. "Is it true?"

Scáthach looked to Medb, who winked and gave a sly smile. "Well," she began, "that's quite the exaggeration. But I suppose there is a kernel of truth to it."

Medb plopped down next to them, a twinkle in her golden eyes. "Why don't I tell them the real story?" she suggested. "I've got a flair for the dramatic."

Scáthach sighed, resigning herself to the situation. "Just don't give them too much 'pizzazz'," she warned.

Medb clapped her hands. "Oh, I won't," she promised, her eyes gleaming. "But I'll make it interesting, I guarantee it."

The room grew quiet as everyone gathered around, eager to hear the tale. Medb took a deep breath, her pink hair framing her face like a halo. "Once upon a time," she began, "in a land far, far away..."

Scáthach rolled her eyes and muttered, "We weren't in space, Medb."

Medb shot her a playful glare. "Let me tell the story, Scáthach." She turned back to the audience. "In the mystical land of Dún Scáith, there lived a fierce warrior named Scáthach. She was feared and revered for her unmatched combat skills and strategic brilliance."

The professors and students leaned in, captivated by the whimsical twist Medb was putting on their mundane lives. Scáthach felt a blush creep up her cheeks.

"And then," Medb continued, her voice rising with drama, "along came a dashing young queen named Medb. She was clever and cunning, and she knew exactly what she wanted. And what she wanted was Scáthach."

The room was hanging on her every word. Scáthach sank deeper into the couch cushions, trying to shrink from the attention. "Medb, really?" she protested.

Medb ignored her and went on, her voice as smooth as honey. "I challenged her to a duel," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But instead of fighting, I showed her what true love could be."

The audience oohed and aahed, and Scáthach felt her cheeks burn. Medb was always one for the dramatics, but she had to admit, her wife had a way of telling a story that could charm the birds from the trees.

"It was a battle of wit and charm," Medb continued, "and in the end, I won her heart with a love potion made from the rarest of ingredients—my tears of joy!"

This time, the room erupted in laughter. Scáthach couldn't help but chuckle. Medb had always had a way of turning even the most serious of moments into something to smile about.

The story grew more outlandish with each passing minute, featuring dragons, enchanted forests, and a magical wedding that lasted for days. By the time Medb had wrapped up her tale, the room was in an uproar.

Professor O'Connell looked around, her heart swelling with love and amusement. She had to admit, their life was anything but ordinary. And while the students might not be getting a factual history lesson, they were certainly getting a glimpse into the kind of love that could stand the test of time—even if it was wrapped in a blanket of fantasy.

"And so," Medb concluded with a flourish, "that is how the mighty Professor O'Connell became mine. And we've been happily married for... well, let's just say a very, very long time."

The crowd applauded, and Dr. McCarthy slapped Scáthach on the back. "You're a lucky woman, Prof," he said, grinning. "Who knew history could be so romantic?"

Scáthach leaned into Medb, her scarlet eyes meeting her golden gaze. "You never cease to amaze me," she murmured.

Medb kissed her cheek. "And you never cease to be my favorite story to tell," she whispered back.

The party continued into the night, with laughter and good cheer filling the air. As they danced and mingled, Scáthach couldn't help but feel a sense of peace. Despite the chaos of their past lives, here in this modern world, surrounded by friends and love, she had found her place. And she had Medb to thank for that.

As the final guest said their goodbyes and the house grew quiet once more, Scáthach turned to her wife. "So," she said, raising an eyebrow, "are we really going to tell them the truth?"

Medb laughed, her pink hair shimmering in the dim light. "Maybe in another hundred years," she said. "For now, let them enjoy the legend."

They cleaned up the remnants of the party together, their movements synchronized from years of practice. And as they climbed the stairs to their bedroom, the weight of their secret history felt lighter than ever.

In the quiet of their room, with the scent of ancient battles long replaced by the comforting smell of home, Scáthach took Medb's hand. "Happy anniversary," she said, her voice thick with affection.

Medb leaned in and kissed her softly. "Happy anniversary, my love," she murmured. "Here's to a thousand more, with just the right amount of pizzazz."

The bed was untouched, the sheets cool and inviting. As they settled into their nightly routine, Scáthach found herself reflecting on the evening's events.

"You know," she said, brushing her long, dark crimson hair, "I actually enjoyed that. It was nice to see everyone so happy."

Medb nodded, her eyes sparkling. "It's the little moments like these that make our long lives feel worth it, isn't it?"

They climbed into bed, the mattress sighing under their combined weight. The digital clock on the bedside table read 2 AM, a time that would have sent most people into a panic of lost sleep, but for Scáthach and Medb, it was just another late night in their endless timeline.

As they lay side by side, Scáthach couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the life they had built together. From the fierce battles of Dún Scáith to the quiet battles of grading papers and managing a household, they had conquered it all.

Medb's hand found hers under the covers, her skin warm and familiar. "You know," she said, her voice low and contemplative, "sometimes I miss the excitement of our old lives."

Scáthach turned to look at her. "But we have each other," she said, her voice gentle. "And that's more than any warrior could ever ask for."

Medb nodded, her smile wistful. "True," she said. "But it's fun to think about what might have been. Like, what if we had met in a different time, under different circumstances?"

Scáthach rolled onto her side, her scarlet eyes searching Medb's golden ones. "I don't think it matters when or how," she said. "I think we'd have found each other, no matter what."

Medb leaned in and kissed her again, her lips lingering. "You're probably right," she murmured.

The room grew quiet, the only sound the steady rhythm of their breathing. The digital clock ticked away the moments, but for Scáthach and Medb, time had ceased to hold any meaning. They were outside of it, living in their own little slice of eternity.

As they drifted off to sleep, Scáthach couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. The modern world might be strange and confusing at times, but with Medb by her side, she knew that they could conquer anything it threw at them—whether it was a pile of grading or the occasional surprise party.

Their hearts beating in unison, they fell into a deep slumber, the warmth of their love a shield against the cold of the outside world. And somewhere in the vast tapestry of time, the legend of the immortal lovers continued to grow, weaving itself into the fabric of history, unbeknownst to those who had heard their whimsical tale that night.