"Happy birthday, beloved."

Jason opened his eyes to see his wife, beautiful and sleep-rumpled with her cascade of black hair fluffing wildly out of its' braid.

She didn't look much like Daramethe the Lightning Witch, feared far and wide for her incredible power and ruler of the land.

Admittedly, Jason didn't see much of The Lightning Witch. He married Dara, the pretty apprentice mage, new to town and shy, who accepted clumsy courting gifts from an apprentice blacksmith when they were both too young to know better.

She smiled down at him and he returned it, and reached up to cup her cheek tenderly.

"You know, I forget every year," he replied softly, and leaned up to kiss her. "I never know how you keep track."

"At the start of Summer, when the moon and the wolf-star rise at the same time," she told him fondly. As a sorceress, she kept careful track of the stars. "Rise, darling. The people are eager for the festival."

"If it's my birthday, I don't have to go anywhere," Jason laughed back and pulled her back into their pile of blankets. She shrieked and struggled playfully, but without magic, he was far stronger than she, and determined to linger in bed. "The party can't start until we say, right?"

"I believe the party started last night when I declared today a feast-day," Dara giggled back when they were buried in blankets again. "If the drunken singing I heard last night is any indication."

"So much for getting anything out of my apprentices today," Jason snickered, and got to work undoing her braid (so long it bushed the floor, even braided tight) despite her noise of amused protest. "What do you have planned?"

"A tournament of sword and lance and bow, with games of skill and craft before and after," she replied cheerfully. Her silk nightgown slipped down her shoulder when she sat up, and he was momentarily distracted. "The usual festival games, and dancing, and a grand feast tonight out in the gardens."

Jason pressed a kiss to her bared shoulder and got up himself, hiding a smile. It was far too grand for a simple blacksmith, but he was husband to the Lightning Witch, and she liked to spoil him when she got the rare chance.

"I don't suppose I could convince my wife to save me a dance?" he said hopefully, and dug in his clothing chest for whatever was clean.

"I will ask her," Dara told him slyly, a wave of her hand producing a gown for the day- in his favorite shade of deep, shimmering forge-red- that fit her slender form to a stitch. "But considering the occasion, I believe your chances are quite good."

Dressed in the plain linen he preferred (despite her repeated attempts to get him into something fancier) Jason sat at his desk to watch his sorceress finish getting ready. Slippers matching the dress appeared by magic, and she added twisting gold and ruby jewelry he made for her.

"You look beautiful," he told her when she was finished, although he preferred that soft, sleepy-eyed woman he woke up with to the Feared Sorceress Queen. "Shall we go kick off the festivities?"

"We shall, my husband," she replied regally, but with a twinkle in her eye. "And if any more silly prophets try to carry you off, I may even wait until tomorrow to deal with them!"

Jason laughed and kissed her. "They will never tear me from your side," he promised. "And who knows, maybe the next one will look around and see that the people are already happy!"