Describe your plans, location and decor for your OTP’s wedding.
When you get into question’s like this, my brain is going to go off in my own happyverse, as any shipper’s would (to their own happyverse, that is—I’m convinced that every shipper has one). And in that ‘verse, Romana and Narvin never actually do get married, not officially. There are two weddings in their lives that are very important to their relationship—Brax and Leela’s wedding, where everyone conspires to get them together, and their son Tarrin’s wedding, where everyone conspires to get them BACK together (and then they go off and have universe-shattering sex; someday I will write the fic about that bit of their lives)—but neither of those is their wedding.
But they do have a conversation about it once. Which begins, on an ordinary day in the lab about forty years after they start sleeping together, with Romana staring thoughtfully out the window for about five seconds, turning to Narvin, and asking him, apropos of absolutely nothing, “Do you think we should get married?”
Narvin, being a man of considerable self-control, avoids the comedy stereotype of dropping the petri dish he’s holding, managing to set it carefully in on the counter before asking, in an exaggeratedly calm voice, “Could you repeat that, please?”
"I’m not proposing," says Romana. "Well, I suppose I can be, if you like. I am open to the possibility. But that wasn’t my intention in asking. I’m soliciting your opinion, Narvin. What are your thoughts on the institution of marriage as it pertains to the two of us?”
Narvin blinks. Living with Romana has made him better at quick gear changes than he once was, but it’s still not in his nature. ”I think that… if it’s important to you, I would proud, of course, but…”
"But?" Romana prompts.
"But I think there would be certain… complications. Your House, for a start."
Romana nods, her lips pursed. ”Ridiculous, isn’t it? I was President of the planet and they still think they ought to be able to dictate my ‘dynastic role.’ They would kick up an almighty fuss about me marrying anyone, well…”
"Anyone as lowborn as I am.”
"There’s nothing low about you,” Romana snaps. A moment later it occurs to her, from the amused look on his face, that she’s just got angry at him in his own defense, and smiles slightly. ”They couldn’t actually stop us, of course. I don’t begin to care what they think, and there’s no reason why it should influence our decision.”
"Yes," says Narvin, "but that’s what marriage is for. To cement the political ties between Houses.”
"There are those radicals who suggest that it can be done for love.”
"For the spectacle of love, perhaps,” says Narvin. ”For the kinds of people who need the justification of others, to be able to say ‘this is my spouse’ as though that proves something. Commitment is all well and good, but I have never believed that flaunting that commitment before the universe at large makes it somehow deeper or more sincere. Less so, if anything. Emotion is personal. It shouldn’t require validation.” Narvin realizes from Romana’s raised eyebrow that he has grown surprisingly heated. ”If you feel differently…” he tries.
Romana shakes her head. ”No,” she says. ”I feel very much the same, oddly enough. Our relationship isn’t more or less important because we call it by a different name.” She turns back to her microscope, offering, in a would-be casual tone, “I simply thought you ought to know that I have no intention of living without you in future. Ever, if I can help it.”
Narvin doesn’t actually blush. What he does might be most accurately described as ‘blushing on the inside.’ After a moment, he slides onto the lab bench next to Romana. ”And you ought to know that you are never likely to be rid of me, if I have anything to say about it,” he says, slipping an arm around her waist.
"Oh, I know," says Romana, smiling sideways without looking round. "We all have our burdens to bear."