Oh he talks aloud. "Yes sir." Wonders what his name is. She could just call him sir - probably he would say if he preferred something else - but it would be good to know what her last name is going to be and who she should tell anybody she meets she belongs to.

"So we'll wait." Kiss. "I mean to do right by you. Where I'm from, that means you may refuse me. - and it's Prince Canafinwë Macalaurë."

Oh a prince wow. ...the refusing thing will not be operative post-marriage.

"Where I'm from it stays operative forever. I don't do very much running a kingdom, for a prince, I like singing better."

Forever? Really? ...oh well. "Yes sir." Running a kingdom is by no means the important part of princeness, princeness is intrinsically appealing, almost makes up for having to be allowed to turn him away even though that is so unhot.

He's so cozy. Not dwelling on how half the appeal of being married is that then one goes about one's life in a state of perpetual availability (barring the needs of the children) there for the taking good and proper, nope, not dwelling. ...prince! That's exciting! Where of, she wonders. Name sounds foreign, which one's the surname.

"Canafinwë's the family name, women where I'm from don't usually change it on marriage. Explain - the appeal of not being able to refuse -"

"...sir?" She has never had to think about that before. It seems very basic, hard to put into words. If she's going to marry somebody she wants to be his, like his dog or his shoes or his chair, she doesn't want to be less his than anything or anyone else, she wants to be most his, chairs splinter and shoes wear and dogs balk but she wants to be able to find a way to belong to her husband whatever the circumstance -

- well. He can read her mind and stop if he wants to, and 'would refuse if she could' is a state in which he would certainly want to - "Mmmhmm. We can have it like that if you'd like."

"Thank you sir."

"My people form permanent soul bonds when we marry. It's one-way, for now, when we marry a human, but I think there are psions working on letting humans have it to. We get new senses - for your partner's wellbeing, for their proximity, for their emotions, things like that, always suited to the person."

Oooh. That sounds so nice.

So you can be mine without any weird stuff, he doesn't say, since it won't be helpful. He kisses her again.

Oh it has been way too long since she has been kissed and neither her manager nor Catherine's father count really they were never going to marry her so it has been approximately forever and that is too long to go without kisses. She hopes they can get married soon, her mind is so in the gutter. She wonders if he is into hitting or not, weak ambivalent preference for not (it's plenty interesting to think about but she doesn't know if she can develop a taste for pain and doesn't currently have one that wouldn't be plenty satisfied by some biting and scratching and being generally manhandled).

And not horrifying fire things! Yay! Kiss kiss.

She contemplates no fire things! She wants to be kissed and petted and nibbled and held down and fucked. (After they are married.)

In a Catholic church from the 23rd century! He turns her around so she can see illusions if he sings them and then he draws up Vanda Nossëo for her.

Oh wow, it's so beautiful.

Quendi love pretty things. - sometimes we even drag them out of the 1800s to take home with us.

She likes feeling pretty. She leans on him and squirms contentedly. Gosh, if they were not wearing clothes this sitting in his lap thing could get a lot more interesting slow down Arden not married yet.

She is not. He goes back to singing and petting and listening for passing thoughts of 'but what if I didn't want to marry this powerful stranger' or anything.

She is all in on marrying the powerful stranger. The petting feels so nice and the singing is so lovely and he wanted her so much he brought her back from the dead, wow!

That is exactly what the emphatic briefing co-signed by Rebecca and Beka and their respective lovers said would happen but it still feels weird. 

After a while he says 'would you like to leave Lórien now? I have a place for you to stay in the palace until we're married, if that'll be less temptation or more propriety than living with me."

She looks up at him adoringly. "That sounds lovely sir." She does wonder vaguely if, were she sufficiently tempted, she could then likewise be sufficiently tempting, but mostly as an entertaining mental exercise; she is still pretty clear on the being married first thing. Definitely it would be improprietous to be living in sin. That's why they call it that. Also: palace. Palace!