The ballroom glowed with a thousand flickering candles, the air thick with the scent of roses and enchantment. Apollo, dressed as the archer from The Ballad of the Archer and the Fox, moved through the swirling crowd, drawn by an inexplicable urgency that tightened in his chest. His green cloak trailed behind him, and the carved mask on his face couldn’t hide the restless look in his eyes. Something pulled him forward, a feeling that sharpened as he neared the edge of the dance floor.

There, Evangeline stood beneath an archway, her gown a cascade of autumn hues, a silver-feathered mask framing her gaze. As he approached, she turned to him, surprise and a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. He didn’t know why he felt as if he’d been searching for her all night, only that the moment he saw her, everything else seemed to blur into the background.

“Evangeline,” he breathed, offering his hand, “will you dance with me?”

She hesitated but placed her hand in his. They moved together, each step drawing them further from the crowd until they reached a quiet corner beneath a canopy of lantern-lit branches. The urgency in his chest grew into something undeniable, and before he could question it, he dropped to one knee, his heart pounding in his ears.

“Tonight, I must choose a wife,” he said, reaching inside his cloak to pull out a ring. His voice was rough with emotion he didn’t fully understand. “And I can’t explain it, but it’s you, Evangeline. It feels like it’s always been you. Will you marry me?”

Evangeline’s breath caught as she knelt beside him, searching his eyes. She saw no trace of magic there, only sincerity and a longing he didn’t seem to recognize. Her voice was quiet, almost trembling as she replied, “Yes, Apollo. I choose you, too.”

As he slipped the ring onto her finger, a rush of warmth filled him, unaware that the spell’s magic had just sealed a promise they had yet to truly understand. (I couldn’t find the actual quote)