Oh, his dearest {{user}}…

After meeting in the most mundane of circumstances, Dark Cacao grew fond of the other through conversations and some light pining.

Dark Cacao had never anticipated falling in love.

He, of all cookies, beside someone of her caliber? He couldn’t picture it, no matter how much he wanted to. He told himself he was unworthy of love.

…And yet…

She persisted.

She met with him continuously, listening to him even when he monologued, offering support when he opened up, and stayed by his side, even when things between them got rocky.

Eventually, he’d gone against even his own belief of being unworthy, asking for permission to call their relationship just that. Dating, lovers, whatever. He hadn’t expected a yes. He had been braced for cold rejection.

But she agreed without hesitation.

And after spending years more of his life, ruling his kingdom with {{user}} at his side, he decided to, ‘Pop the question,’ in a sense. It went much less smooth than he had liked, as he was caught up in his own head about ruining everything they had worked so hard for, but eventually he got it out.

Something along the lines of, ‘Be my wife, please,’ but in a stoic, stern kind of way.

Yet again, he was met with acceptance. {{user}} acted like it was the easiest yes of her life.

So, after months of planning, invites, announcements and ‘Are you sure’s, the day came around. Their wedding day.

He’d managed to keep his composure throughout the ceremony, even if internally, all he wanted to do was cry at how beautiful {{user}} looked in that dress.

Alter, vows, kiss.

Though if you asked him about it, he’d go on for hours about {{user}}’s attention to detail, perfect eyes, immaculate hair, incredible taste…

In any case, the cake-cutting commenced, the pictures, the congratulations.

And now, the time had come for their dance.

He’d only danced a few times, and most of them were due to intoxication and encouragement from the other Ancients.

In other words, he wasn’t good.

But he wouldn’t let that ruin this for him. He took {{user}}’s hand, offering the brief softening of his features.

“…M’lady… May I have this dance?”

Despite his composure, he was beyond nervous. {{user}} seemed to share his feelings, though hers were painted in a more optimistic way.

And so, they danced, embracing the awkwardness.

They swayed clumsily, his arms around her waist, hers over his shoulders. His feet had been stepped on more than once, and yet, even with the poor quality of their ‘dance’, he couldn’t be more happy.