"This again? Okay, trust me. You're not cursed; you never were and you never will be. Curses aren't real." The soothing, chuckling tones paired with his gentle hands, for just a second, offered his fiancée an honest invitation to believe his words; to believe his lies. Lies, white as snow, failed to quell the looming shadow covering her eyes. The shadow of a curse.
"But… they are real. I really am curs-"
"Everyone's completely lost it! You are not cursed. And I'll prove it." The pale, slim woman carrying a head of jet black, nearly oily hair, shot her gaze up at him in a fit of fidgety excitement, allowing her soft, reddish-pinkish dress, woven in guilty memories to float alongside her.
"Prove? How? How can you prove it!?" her hands shivering in desperation, seemed to wildly dance to the beat of her heart, encouraging her eyes to sweat in an anxious fit. He clasped her hands, even more tightly this time, all the while caressing the ring of exceptional carat weight on her ring finger. A ring she'd received just three months prior. Though he had yet to give her a ring, himself; the one he'd had prepared for their big day tomorrow proved to be even more exceptional than this one. At least to his eyes, and the mouth of a family-trusted craftsman. A now very wealthy, family-trusted craftsman.
"Well, I AM marrying you tomorrow."
"Oh…"
"Don't seem so disappointed! I'm not that unsightly, am I?" The suited, very much not unsightly man, at most in his early twenties, grabbed on to his fiancée's waist, swinging her and her heart around, inviting her for the first time in a while, to truly laugh. She accepted this invitation. How bitter-sweet the thought proved to be; that of her seven past husbands and three lovers, he, Onfroy, was the most comforting to indulge in. The most protecting to-
"Do you smell something? Something burning, I think? Is it over there?Oh! It's just a filthy witch that should be shackled up to a stake!"
A group of heavy footsteps brought with them, even heavier words.
"Witch! Husband killer! Black 'widow'! Cannibal! Get out of here you cursed bitc-" A warm pair of loving, yet, somewhat invasive palms hovered above her ears, shielding them from the curses of a passing group of villagers. Although, at that point, if by some off chance she wasn't really cursed before, they made sure she'd been cursed now.
"We'll prove them wrong. Together." Onfroy passed on a burdensome promise.
"Did you say something? It seems someone's fiddling with my ears, again."
"Oh right, sorry Vere. Habit." A habit of his that she, Verene, welcomed with open arms, and a hint of sarcasm.