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Chapter Text

Political marriages in Wildmount were hardly unheard-of. Joining two families together was as good a way to unite them as any. Better than many, even, as it gave them social common ground as well as political; everyone loves to coo over grandchildren.

But parents still love their children, so care is given to find a match that is both advantageous and compatible. Even the coldest of political minds are given pause at the notion of forcing a child into the prison sentence of a spouse they hate. So the young Lady Delilah was to meet her potential husband before the formal offer of betrothal was tendered.

She ran her hands nervously over her dress, a deep midnight blue to offset her fair skin and sable hair, with small silver threads throughout that sparkled like stars when she moved. Her hair was pinned half-back and braided in a simple style, her lips and cheeks lightly touched with stain, but at sixteen, too much makeup would be vulgar.

“I’ve heard Sylas Briarwood is a charming young man,” her father said, quietly, for only her ears. “Relax, darling girl.”

Delilah nodded, but found her voice had fled. Sylas Briarwood was older than her, old enough to seem worldly and exciting. Also old enough to be intimidating. What if he didn’t like her? What if he turned out to be horrible?

“I don’t have to marry him if he’s horrible,” she whispered.

“Of course not.” Papa had assured her of this several times, but he seemed willing to do it as many times as necessary. He ran an affectionate hand over her hair, and Delilah took a steadying breath. They were waiting in the foyer to greet their guests, some of the Briarwoods coming to stay for a few days so the marriage candidates could become acquainted, and she could hear footsteps and movement coming up the castle’s front steps now.

On a whim, she wiggled her fingers, casting a small illusion above them. The words “Welcome, new friends” shimmered above her and her father’s heads in an elegant script. She heard Papa chuckle, bringing a smile to her own face. It was that happy smile of welcome that would greet the Briarwoods when they came through the door.

First was a tall man, broad in the shoulders with a full mane of gray hair. Just behind him was a younger man, and Delilah’s breath was stolen.

He was slimmer than his father, but not by much, little enough that it might be attributed to the elder Briarwood’s fur mantle. His hair was dark and his clothing elegant and rich, his features carved so finely they might have been of stone. As she watched, his eyes were drawn to the words above her head, and a look of wonder came over his handsome face. He looked back down at her, and her smile went from happy to radiant. The words shimmered away as Delilah forgot to think about it, but judging from his smile, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Simon!” Delilah’s father stepped forward, embracing the other man in the style of distant friends and close business associates. He turned, holding a hand out to Delilah. “May I present my daughter, Delilah Hainsworth.”

Delilah curtsied. “How do you do, my lord?”

“Quite well, my lady, quite well,” Simon said, giving her a bow. “Allow me to introduce my son, Sylas Briarwood.”

Sylas stepped forward, sweeping his half-cape over one shoulder. Delilah offered him a hand, and he took it, kissing the back gently and never breaking eye contact. Delilah felt her heart flutter in her chest.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Hainsworth,” Sylas greeted courteously. “I hear we are to be married.”

“Perhaps,” Delilah agreed. “Depends on whether I like you enough.”

The Briarwoods laughed at her charming boldness, and Delilah kept her chin high, smiling. The Briarwoods may be powerful, but the Hainsworths were nothing to sniff at; she ought to act her station, and they seemed to appreciate it.

“Come, come, dinner will be ready soon, I’m sure you’re exhausted from the journey,” Papa said, setting about the business of hosting as more of the Briarwoods’ family and attendants filed in behind the two men.

“May I show you to your chambers, Sylas?” Delilah asked.

He gave her a small bow, eyes twinkling as he smiled. “Nothing would please me more, Lady Hainsworth.”

“Please call me Delilah.”

“Delilah.”

Her name on his lips sounded like the sweetest choir of celestials.

Chapter Text

As a final note, please write to my father assuring him I will be able to complete my studies as your wife. I am so desperately eager to be married to you, but Papa worries I’ll let my learning fall by the wayside. I’ve told him over and over that it won’t be a problem, but it might mean more in your hand.

Faithfully yours,
DH

Dear Lord Hainsworth,

I’ve recently become aware of your concern for your daughter’s education. Please allow me to assuage your fears as best I can.

Of course you are right to be concerned for Delilah’s betterment; magic is a fascinating study and one it behooves any person to complete. I only wish I’d had the talent for it, but it wasn’t to be, and being married to a wizard in her own right would bring me nothing but pleasure. I can assure you that I have the funds at my disposal to hire a tutor for the completion of Delilah’s studies as soon as she is ready to move to the Briarwood estate. Alternately, she is welcome to bring her current tutor, if Abjurist Book is amenable to moving with her, and he will be taken into my employ at his current salary.

My plan to ensure Delilah’s education is in fact quite detailed, as we have discussed it on several occasions. Allow me to elaborate…

Darling Sylas,

It worked! Papa says we can begin planning the wedding now. Oh, I can’t wait. I’m too excited to write much, I’ll send something else tomorrow. I love you!

-DH

Chapter Text

The newlyweds honeymooned on Tal’Dorei, in the smallest city they could find that had a teleportation circle available. They acquired lodgings and rented horses, and proceeded to spend the next four days in the woods hunting. They barely caught enough to feed themselves, more interested in what was inside their tent than outside.

There had been no time for a proper wedding night. A noble wedding was an exhausting affair, and when they’d retired to the chamber they were meant to share for the night, they’d passed right out, Delilah still in her dress and everything. Silas had at least managed to get off his jacket and boots, but seeing his beautiful new wife sleeping the wrong way on the bed, he’d just crawled onto it next to her and joined her. The following morning had been filled with the chaos of collecting their things and arranging the teleportation, leaving them scarcely a moment to themselves before they needed to undress properly and change into traveling clothes.

Sylas didn’t like teleporting, trying to hide his nervousness as they stood in the circle. Delilah smiled a secret smile, just for him, and took his hand. The way he relaxed as he looked down at her was heady.

“Have you ever…?” he asked, as they rode away from the city.

Delilah looked down, wishing her hair was loose to hide behind, but it was braided back tightly. “No. Have you?”

“A few times,” he said. “Not often.”

“Who was she?” Delilah asked, looking up at him curiously.

“More than one. It was…well, you know.” He shrugged, looking down at his horse. “I’ve never been with the same woman more than once, to put it delicately.”

“Ah,” Delilah said. “Well, I suppose that makes sense. I’ve met your friends, after all.”

“Are you jealous of them?” Sylas asked, looking over at her again.

Delilah considered this carefully, turning the thought over in her head so she could answer honestly. “A little, yes,” she decided. “But they only got to have you once. I get to have you for the rest of our lives.” She smiled at him.

The smile he gave back was sly. “And hopefully quite soon.”

She felt a flush rise to her cheeks, and looked away, not sure how to process the heat that smile placed in her belly. “I have a supply of the tea.”

Children had been discussed already, and the conclusion reached was ‘eventually, obviously, but not immediately.’ Delilah’s late mother had had her first child at 23, and Delilah quite liked that idea. Sylas had agreed, glad to have his wife to himself for a few years. He steered his horse closer to hers and took her hand, lifting it to kiss the back. The gesture made her look at him again, and the heat in his eyes as his lips pressed to her skin made her inhale.

“I overheard some hunters talking of a clearing that way,” she said, giving no indication of which way she meant. She seemed unable to pull her eyes away from his mouth.

His smile was wide, and predatory in the best way. “Lead the way, my temptress.”

Delilah could hardly breathe as she spurred her horse to a trot, and it wasn’t from the exertion.

Chapter Text

“Husband, come help with this.”

Sylas paused and back up a step, into the room he’d just passed through. Delilah was standing at one end of a table with her fingers under the edge. “This needs to come about two paces in my direction. One, two…” They lifted together and took two steps, Delilah looking back over her shoulder.

“Party preparations coming along, I assume?”

Of course they had servants to do these things, but Delilah liked to have a direct hand in things like this. She usually found it was easier to set up an example how she wanted it herself, then just have the servants copy her. It was important that everything be perfect for this — the new ruling Lord and Lady Briarwood were holding a celebration of it, now that Sylas’ father had stepped down, meaning to enjoy his last few years without the distractions of lordship. He was retiring to a smaller estate, bringing his wife and the rest of his children with him so the young couple might find their way without the distraction of Sylas’ gaggle of younger siblings. This party was the first public test of Delilah’s hostessing abilities since before her wedding. Everything had to be perfect.

“Slowly but surely,” she told him, stepping back to check the table’s new placement with a critical eye. “Just bump it two inches that way,” she told him, gesturing.

He did, with an irritating screech as the feet scraped against the stone. But Delilah held up a hand. “Perfect.”

“You shouldn’t talk of yourself in such a tone, my love,” Sylas said, advancing on her with a smirk. His deep baritone voice still made her shiver when he dropped it a note like that, even after years together.

“Sylas, I am busy,” Delilah said, trying her best for haughty as she backed up a few steps, like prey getting ready to bolt. “Sylas, I’m serious!” He’d caught her, though, making her giggle despite herself as he swept her into his arms. Her laughs turned to a gasp as one hand slid down her back to cup and squeeze her rear through her dress. Delilah looked around, ensuring they were alone, then leaned up for a furtive kiss. She really ought to be working, there was only so much time, but oh, there was nowhere she’d ever want to be more than in his arms.

He kept her there, mouth on hers and hand on her rear, for what seemed like quite awhile, but probably wasn’t. Still, Delilah felt dreamy and floaty by the time she was released, her lips tingling with it.

“You are a terrible man, truly,” she told him, bopping him lightly on the shoulder and unable to summon any heat for it.

“Mmm,” he agreed, nosing at her neck. “The worst.” His teeth scraped against the spot where neck met shoulder, making her knees weak.

His lips ran up to her ear, pressing against it for him to whisper. “The celebration is going to be perfect, my love,” he told her. “My faith in you is complete.” Delilah felt herself soften a little, and her heart thumped in her chest. No one had ever told her that the comfort of familiarity and the heady buzz of passion could coexist, that every little thing her husband did would always entrance her.

“And,” he continued, “I fully intend to have you across this table before it happens.”

It startled a laugh out of her, and she pushed him away. “You’ll have to catch me first,” she told him, and lifted the hem of her skirts so she could dart away, laughing as he chased her to their bedroom.

After, they had to get up and go back to their duties, but when Delilah tried, Sylas tightened his arms around her, keeping her there.

“Just another minute, my love,” he said, and she couldn’t deny him. She didn’t even want to, shifting so she could bury her head against his chest.

“Promise that you’ll hold me like this forever,” she said softly.

“I promise.” She felt his lips press against her hair. “I will never leave you.”

“Never?” she asked, curling her fingers into the fabric of his doublet.

“Never ever.”

Chapter Text

“NO!”

She didn’t know what happened. They’d been out walking, enjoying the late morning air on the grounds of their castle. It was early autumn, still just warm enough to go outdoors for an hour without making a production of it. They’d been laughing, and then Sylas had started coughing, and he’d clutched his chest, and then fallen over. Tears ran down Delilah’s cheeks as she shook her husband, begging him to wake up, screaming for the cleric, though she knew they were too far from the castle to be heard. She also knew that her husband wasn’t breathing, and there was no pulse at his neck.

How could this happen? A healthy man, not yet thirty, falling over and dying like an old grandfather? Was there some curse? Was there some flaw, some weakness in him she didn’t know about? Were the gods punishing her?

None of that mattered now. Delilah struggled to control her tears, forcing air in and out of her lungs, and straightened up a little, placing her hands on her husband’s corpse as she knelt next to him. She thought of the future children she might never meet now, and closed her eyes, crying out to the first creature she thought of.

Vecna. Aid me in my time of need. I pledge my life and his to your service.

She took a shaky breath, and added onto her prayer.

Please. I need him.

All was silent for a moment. Another moment.

Another moment.

When it came, it was like a blow to her mind that nearly knocked her out, and the voice that boomed in her mind was excruciating.

I care nothing for the needs of a little girl. Why should I return him to you?

It was hard to think with such an oppressive force in her mind, but she knew that everything hinged on this moment. Gritting her teeth, she called on every bit of resolve in her body and pushed her thoughts back up against his.

I am a wizard of great power. My husband is a strong warrior. We have much political and social power to lead others to you. We can be of great service, if we’re given the chance. Bring him back to me and I swear, we will be yours.

There was silence, but the oppressive presence was still there. Delilah planted her hands firmly where they lay, fearing she might lose track and fall into some abyss if she didn’t keep herself anchored to the world, to Sylas and his still-warm body.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe she’d die and be with him.

She felt shifting under her hands and her eyes flew open, seeing Sylas gazing fuzzily up at her. “Oh, my love,” she whispered brokenly, and threw herself down on him, embracing him tightly.

Remember this bargain, child. And know that bargains can be rescinded. You will know my power soon.

With that, the presence faded. Sylas seemed dazed, so Delilah just held him to her breast, closing her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, tears falling down her cheeks again. “Thank you.”

“Why is it so bright?” Sylas complained, even though his face was buried in her chest. “The light…it burns…”

Delilah had a parasol with her, snatching it from the ground and opening it. “Let’s get you inside,” she said, helping him to stand. “It will all be all right. We’re together, yes?”

Sylas nodded and huddled as close under the parasol as he could. Delilah noticed, as he did, that his body was cold, as if he had died anyway.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He would hold her again.