Chapter Text
Mortals only had one value; their soul. The servitude they could give a higher power. Be it a god or devil — it didn’t matter. The only value their worthless little lives had was to give Raphael more power and have the honour of licking his boots clean.
So why in the hells was he marrying one? Why in all the nine Hells had one taken his heart? How ? How was he incapable of living without you ?
Devils didn’t love. Devils weren’t supposed to love. But, then again, he was only half devil, was he not? Was that why you were able to snatch his beating heart from his chest? How you had manipulated him into wanting to offer it to you on a silver platter?
This wasn’t supposed to happen — Gods know it wasn’t supposed to.
But it did . And maybe that was miracle enough.
Raphael was born selfish. He, like all devils, only cared himself. Only thought of others as a way to benefit from them.
Somehow, there he was, standing at the end of the aisle. Waiting for you to finally appear. All because he would rip his own limbs off just to marry you. Pathetic. More pathetic still, he enjoyed it. He enjoyed being pathetic.
It was a small gathering of people — all your own friends, of course. He probably would have preferred it be just you and him, but he’d put up with it for you.
The Blade of the Frontiers appeared stoic, though Raphael could make out a whisper of a smile on his face. He probably wasn’t thrilled you were marrying a devil, but your friend was probably happy you were happy.
Selune’s Chosen looked cold — obviously, she still held her reservation. Fair enough.Her wife was positively sobbing, however, the tall tiefling muttering about how she always cries at weddings.
The Githyanki had a frown on her face, but whether that was displeasure from the ceremony or her natural face, Raphael was uncertain.
Gale just looked depressed. Raphael wasn’t surprised — he would be too with that haircut.
Raphael would never tell you, but a part of him was disappointed Astarion didn’t turn up. Perhaps it was wrong to kick an undead while he was down, but how he so wanted to see the look of devastation on the vampire’s face as he married you. To stake his permanent claim over you in front of him… How deliciously satisfying that would be. Perfect revenge for the countless times he had to watch you pine over the vampire.
Oh, well. Raphael supposed it didn’t really matter if the vampire watched or not. At the end of the day, he won you. He would have you as his wife . The devil did get the last laugh.
Raphael’s thoughts are cut off when the doors open and you walk and—
Dear gods.
He was a wretched thing, a devil. Cursed to live in the Hells, with fiery blood no one could love. With a heart as black and cold as night. From his very birth, he was turned away from the divine… But now… Now, as his breath was snatched from his very lungs, he got a sight of it. He was permitted to gaze upon divinity… Because what were you if not an angel sent to ruin him?
In that white, flowy dress… Your cheeks flushed with beauty… Positively glowing. He would have torn own heart into tiny pieces if you asked it of him.
He wished once more that it was you both alone because a single, traitorous tear wished to slip from his eye. By all dignity, he should have held it back, but he couldn’t be bothered to. If your friends wished to mock him for crying, they didn’t deserve to understand the beauty you were.
The walk seems to take decades, centuries even. Centuries of waiting for you to cross the room to him — and it hurts because he just wants to hold you. He wants to kiss you and touch you and feel your beauty beneath his fingertips. But he waits, for you are certainly worth it.
“Why are you crying?” You ask him as soon as you get to him, soft enough so no one else can hear. He almost shivers as he feels your hand come to his cheek and gently wipe the tear away.
He closes his eyes briefly, savoring your touch as he brings his own hand up to keep yours on his cheek.
“Happiness, love,” he says softly. “Happiness.”
He presses a kiss to your wrist before taking your hand from his face, holding both of your in his as the ceremony finally commences.
The mortal ceremony would usually mean nothing to him, and he knows he will have to go through this again to ensure the marriage is recognised in the Hells, but to be recognised as your husband in any plane of existence is extremely important to him.
Finally he gets to press his lips against yours, he gets to hold you to him and feel you. He gets to call you his wife.
And that feeling alone, well, that’s just better than any Crown of Karsus.