Chapter Text
The restaurant is all soft lighting and the gentle clink of cutlery. Ava sits, her fingers tracing her water glass. A nervous, buzzing energy thrums under her skin. She checks her phone again. Beatrice is five minutes late, which is unlike her. The new job at Arq-Tech, the one with the permanent contract, must be keeping her.
When Beatrice finally appears at the host’s stand, Ava’s breath catches. She’s wearing the slate-grey pantsuit, her dark hair swaying with her quick, purposeful steps as she crosses the room. She looks powerful and beautiful, and Ava’s heart swells with a possessive, adoring pride.
“Buenas noches, Beatrice Silva. Tengo una reserva para dos.”, Beatrice says confidently, her voice calm and clear, the Spanish fluid and natural on her tongue.
The host smiles, “Ah, sí. Su esposa ya la está esperando. Por aquí, por favor.”
Ava sees the faint, familiar surprise on Beatrice’s face, the slight hesitation as she follows him. As they approach the table, Ava stands, a wide, loving smile on her face.
Beatrice reaches her and immediately corrects the host, her tone polite but firm, “No es mi esposa. Solo compartimos el apellido.”
The host offers an apologetic nod and retreats. Beatrice turns to Ava, a wry, almost shy look on her face as she explains, “They thought we were married. Again.”
A familiar, fond exasperation tightens Ava’s chest.
Always has to point it out.
Beatrice seems to realise her misstep. She leans in, brushing a quick, apologetic kiss against Ava’s cheek, “I’m so sorry I’m late. The teleconference ran over.”
“It’s okay.”, Ava says, but her hands are already moving, plucking at the lapels of Beatrice’s jacket, straightening them, “But you owe me a proper hello.” She doesn’t wait, leaning in to press a firm, deliberate kiss to Beatrice’s lips, right there in the middle of the restaurant, “There. Now you’re forgiven.”
They settle into their seats. The menus are opened, small talk is exchanged, but Ava can see it- the slight distance in Beatrice’s eyes, the way her mind is still clearly back in a lab or behind a computer screen.
“Hey…”, Ava says softly, reaching across the table to still Beatrice’s hand, “You’re here with me. No bringing work to the table. House rules.”
The gentle chastisement works. Beatrice’s focus sharpens, the professional veil lifting as she truly looks at Ava, “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She smiles, a real one this time, “How was your class?”
Ava waves a dismissive hand, “We’re not talking about that tonight.”
“No? Why not?”
“Because it’s our anniversary!”, Ava says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Beatrice’s brows furrow in genuine confusion, “Our anniversary was in February.”
“I know that.”, Ava says, her voice dropping into a more intimate, earnest register. She braces herself, her heart hammering against her ribs, “But this… today… this is the anniversary of the day our lives really began. The day we got to start living them. Outside. Together.”
She can feel the weight of the small, felt box in her pocket. This is it. She takes a slow breath, pouring all her love and certainty into her gaze.
“These last three and a half years have been the best of my life, Bea. There’s no one else I’d want to share every single stupid, boring, perfect day with.” She thinks of Adriel, the dream realm, the long wait for a letter from the Vatican, the Umbrae- all the battles that led to this quiet restaurant, “We’ve been leading this life for a while, we have worked for it. For this peace. And I’m so sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Her hand slips into her pocket. She pulls out the small, black felt box, her movements deliberate, but slightly trembling.
She doesn’t open it yet, just holds it on the table between them, her eyes locked on Beatrice's.
“After I graduate… I want a future that’s even more… official. I want you to be my wife.” Her voice is thick with emotion, “And I really, really want you to stop correcting people when they assume you already are.”
With one hand, she snaps the box open, away from her.
A soft gasp escapes Beatrice. Her eyes are wide, fixed not on Ava’s face, but on the contents of the box.
“Camila helped me.”, Ava rushes to explain, her nerves making her babble slightly, “The band is supposed to look like the Halo, see? She had some of the inert Divinium from the old stores reforged to hold the stone. And she helped me pick the stone itself, because I had no idea what…”
“Ava…” Beatrice whispers. Her voice isn’t filled with the joy or tears Ava expected. It’s strained. Tight. Her face has lost all its colour.
Ava’s confidence wavers, “Beatrice? Will you marry me?”
But Beatrice doesn’t look at her. She just shakes her head, a tiny, horrified motion, and slowly, she reaches out and turns the box around on the tablecloth so that Ava can see what she’s seeing.
Nestled in the black velvet, the delicate silver-like band is indeed crafted to resemble the Halo. And set within it, the stone Camila helped her choose is glowing with a fierce, familiar, celestial blue.
The Divinium around it is alive.