Goddess, but she was looking at him again with those eyes, bright and black and liquid. A wreath of ivy and white flowers were woven into her long, raven waves. Each singular, five-petalled bloom was almost a perfect match for her milky skin under the pale moonlight.
She was smiling at him.
Not a smirk or a grin or a ‘you’re an i***t, but I adore you anyway’ admonishment
But the softest, warmest smile he’d ever received in his life. It was perfection - she was perfection. But it was an affirmation of everything that flowed between them. Undeniable. Unavoidable. Looking at her was achingly easy, as though he were basking directly in the face of the Goddess's blessing.
She was his heart outside of himself, and their love was the incarnation of the Goddess's will.
His fated mate.
