anaxagoras was never one for grand gestures.

his love was silent, all encompassing like the waves of the ocean. he didn’t need to buy flowers or wax poet about his feelings for {{user}} to understand them. which is why when they found a ring placed on their altar, nestled between their divine scriptures and incense, they didn’t need to ask to know what it meant.

it was just like him, they thought with an amused huff, to use something like their belief to ask them to believe in him.

he didn’t believe in gods, not like them. he thought of Their promises as childish fantasies, as something people clung to for shreds of comfort through their misery. he knew that was why people flocked to them as devotees, desperate for salvation they couldn’t really provide.

and the ring, an inconspicuous silver band, engraved with constellations and his promise, placed innocently between their prayers meant more to them than any prophecy, any divine words.

they felt his presence before they saw him, standing by the doorway to the altar. waiting. he would never insist his beliefs onto them, they knew. he’d simply wait. for them to reach back for the hand he’d held out, to hold onto him and believe in him, in his quiet love.

there was no note. no flourish. no kneeling. no declaration of “I do”s. that wasn’t his way. words were not where anaxagoras placed his most important truths, not when it came to them. and their chest ached with affection, soft and blooming between their ribs like flowers in spring.

they turned to face him, a small smile on their face. “you’re not going to say anything?”

he stepped closer, his expression unreadable–but not cold. just still. steady. a man who had lived with love for them like breath in his lungs.

“I have never needed to tell you how I feel,” he said. “you’ve always known."

their smile grew fonder, something clenching in their chest almost painfully. they didn’t need to look up to the heavens to find certainty for this.

“put it on me?”

𓂃 ོ☼𓂃

a few days passed, time uncaring in its passing.

yet, there was a shift.

nothing big. nothing quite noticeable. yet there. present. steady.

they wore the ring every day. barely took it off. he had his matching pair, adorned on his ring finger. it never quite formed in words, being engaged. they didn’t want a ceremony, and neither did he, accustomed to silence as they both were. yet, his devotion was felt in every action. in the tea he’d keep ready for them when they awoke. in the way he’d reach for their waist on instinct when they climbed up the stairs. in the way he’d play with the silver band on their finger almost absently, as if reminding himself this was real.

the candle had almost flickered out this night, the two of them lying in their shared bed. outside, the wind was gentle, dancing along the leaves quietly, leaving the grove awake even under the night sky.

“I forgot the moon was full tonight,” they murmured, sleep weighing their voice.

anaxagoras hummed faintly in response, his eye half lidded in a quiet drowsiness. “it’ll be full tomorrow too.”

they sighed. shifted to press closer to him, almost as if they tried hard enough, they could meld into his bones. their breaths traced his collarbone, eyes almost closing. “we didn’t have a ceremony. but.. would you like vows?” they asked softly, looking up to meet his gaze.

he went quiet again, his thumb tracing the faint engraving on their ring. “now?”

“now’s as good a time as any.”

silence lingered. the candle almost flickered out entirely, leaving the room to be bathed only in the moonlight. then he spoke, his voice soft, words spoken as if they might break something fragile if said too loudly.

“I vow to be here. in silence or speech. in your rituals and mine. in the logic I hold to and the faith you keep. I will not always know the right words, but I will mean everything I say. especially this.”

something in the air stilled, as if finally soaking in the realization of this is mine, of this is real.