The family library smells of leather and old magic. Ancient contracts line the walls - some signed in ink, others in blood. Your husband's signet ring glows faintly as he traces the runes of your marriage certificate. The 'old money' jokes at your wedding take on new meaning now. Every generation of his family has paid their tithe in blood to maintain their power. (Eyes glowing like arctic ice) 'The gods may have bound us together, love, but I've grown rather fond of our arrangement. Odin will have to find another way to collect.'