To be young

Kasr ‘Revak once again fiddled with his aiguillette. The red-and-black braid snaked over the left shoulder and collar of his formal dress, connecting to the black half-cloak obscuring his right shoulder and arm. In response to the nervousness of his hands, his aunt gave a sharp, quick rap across his knuckles. He recoiled his hand, still too slow to avoid the quick blow of his maiden aunt.
“Cease fidgeting Kariel.” Weryn hissed, continuing to adjust his half-cloak. Her use of his effeminate childhood name caused him to reflexively curl his mandibles in displeasure, before he relaxed and let out a sigh.
“Now Kariel.” She said, repeating the pet name with emphasis, “The Jadat are an old clan, with a great many heroic tales. Old ‘Jadat will not stand for an illegitimate third son of a vassal of ‘Vadam catching the eye of their beloved daughter.” 
“Of course, aunt.” Kasr said, somewhat more formally than he normally would.
He straightened his back, puffed his chest and placed his left arm across his torso in a traditional fashion. In his ceremonial dress, he felt he cut a dashing figure. But he was about to be presented to some of the old blood. The Jadat clan were as old as Kel, and as his aunt said, he was a bastard of a second-string family. He needed to impress tonight or they would never approve this match.
A stuffy, older steward came in, and coughed a few words to them that it was time for them to come in. Weryn straightened her back, pulling her woven shawl over her shoulders and strode ahead, leaving Kasr to stumble a moment, then follow behind her, righting himself. The grand doors of the Jadat clan hall opened, each side a bas-relief of their long history, and opened into the dramatic hall.
The floors were obsidian from Mount Varken, polished so smooth he could see upside-down reflections in the void beneath, while the grand pillars and flying buttresses were white marble, as pure as fresh snow, displaying the black and white clan emblem carved into every surface in view. A few courtiers watched on, but they themselves did not approach. Kasr and his aunt stepped into the
threshold, with the steward loudly barking their arrival. 
“Lady Weryn ‘Revak, noble house of Revak! Sub-Commander Kasr ‘Revak, house of Revak!”
Kasr twinged at the notable absence from his title, but his aunt did not miss a stride. She approached the two figures waiting at the end of the hall. Both were dressed in a grandiose manner, with Kaidon Jadat in luxurious robes which stood in contrast to the smart lines of Kasr’s military styled dress. Lady Jadat, meanwhile, was dressed in a more subdued black robe, long but not overflowing. Strange,
Kasr thought in that moment, as often these meetings had somebody dressed beyond excessive to establish their social position. 
A steward lead another booming announcement, shaking him from his thoughts. “Lady Aynae Jadat, of the High Noble Clan of Jadat!”
This was perhaps the first time he had ever seen Aynae outside of military garb. Outside of her armour, outside of the resting robes worn beyond the battlefield. And the sight of her caused Kasr’s breath to catch in his throat, and for his hand to quiver. She was in a deep cerulean dress, with a tall display behind her, fluttering like a battle flag in the wind. It plunged down, like a waterfall, accentuating her curves, with an elaborate bone corset. Behind her followed a long lace trail with Marderia flower patterns embroidered into it, with three of her young cousins dutifully carrying it. The cousins detached the trail, having done its work in underpinning her grand entrance and quickly retreating from the hall. Kasr looked on at this scene completely enraptured. His hearts pounded hard in his chest, his breathing began to fall from rhythm, and his cloaked right armed tensed up. He had seen marble statues of the love goddess Holimore, who barely held a candle to Aynae in her splendour. His finely honed senses deadened, and he tuned out the talking, the noise, ever other soul in the room as he looked on, at the woman he loved.
Weryn stepped into his view, and looked to her nephew giving a little motion, overlapping her top and bottom mandible in a way that the Jadat’s could not see, but was perfectly visible to him. The intent was clear. In later years, a human compatriot of his would give a similar signal with a wink. She stepped forward with a bow, one Kasr quickly replicated. 
“Honourable Kaidon and noble ladies, thank you for the kindest welcome, and the warm welcome you have offered myself and my dear nephew. Is this the same famous hall as the Jadat family declaration, the one made on the day of the Writ of Union?” she asked, feigning interest in the hall as she looked around.
The Kaidon and Lady Jadat were immediately taken with their favourite subject, their clan, and immediately focused on talking about their noble ancestors. Sensing their distraction, Aynae grabbed the edges of her dress, and quietly stepped around them, slipping over to Kasr. She was as graceful as the first time he witnessed her bound over a battlefield. She came to his side, stopping beside him to look up at him, only marginally shorter than himself. He gazed into depth of her eyes, admiring the subtle flecks of purple and pink amongst the pale violet. His admiration was disrupted by a sharp dig to his ribs from Aynae.
“What’s wrong? Stared at me so long you’ve become addled?” she giggled, her laughter sounding like a gentle instrument.
“Nothing is wrong. You are as beautiful today, as the first time I saw you.” He smiled back her.
He felt a warmth on his hand as her fingers intertwined with his own, wrapping around his hand in a manner that finally caused his hearts to calm.
“Come, lets leave them to talk…”
She hiked up her dress once more and turned, running from the hall, dragging Kasr with her. Weryn watched from the corner of her eye, and gave a wryly smile.
“Ah, to be young and in love.”