Fantasy The Demon King (misschibidoodles & jellyfishsecret)

[jellyfishsecret]

Ansgar
It was a beautiful, clear summer day and the Royal Palace in the Kingdom of Sonnechen was bustling with activity as every palace servant, and many others who had been hired just for the event, worked on the last minute preparations for the wedding between the country’s youngest prince and the King of Nangues. Guests had been arriving in the city for days and every noble’s suite in the palace was full as well as all of the hostels, inns, and guest houses throughout the city and neighboring towns. The people of Sonnechen were excited for the royal wedding; it meant feasting, music, dancing, magical displays, and so much more even for those who weren’t invited anywhere near the palace gates. For those who were lucky enough to be invited, they would be treated to a rare glimpse of the elusive King of Nangues, about whom many of them had heard rumors.

While all of this activity continued throughout the palace, Ansgar Baumstadt, the youngest prince in the Kingdom of Sonnechen and one of the grooms, stood by the largest window in his rooms in the palace contemplating his future as he watched some of the guests mingling in the courtyard below. In an hour he was to be married to a man he had never met, a King he knew only through whispers and hearsay, and while he had been raised knowing this day was coming and was curious about his future husband, this did little to lessen his anxiety when he would be leaving the only home he’d ever known to live with people who were essentially strangers. His sister Catriona, the Crown Princess, had advised him to view his wedding and move to Nangues as an adventure, much like the ones he was so fond of reading about, and he had thanked her with a smile while privately thinking that it was easy for her to say such things. She had chosen her husband from among her many suitors and was set to be the future ruler in a palace she’d known all her life and of a kingdom she loved more than life itself.

Thinking back on the conversation he’d had with Catriona shortly after she and their parents had agreed Ansgar would wed King Emile of Nangues, he let out a small sigh. He wished he had more information about King Emile but no one had seemed to think this was very important when the king was offering an alliance that Sonnechen sorely needed.

“I know the rumors about King Emile are frightening but don’t make him out to be a monster,” Catriona had scolded when Ansgar reminded her that King Emile was also known as ‘The Demon King’. “His advisor speaks highly of him.”

“Of course he does, Lord Baptiste is his friend,” Ansgar had argued but Catriona had given him a glare that said it had already been decided and she expected him to thank her for signing the treaty and marriage contract. He had quickly changed tracks and added, “But I am certain that also means he knows King Emile best.”

“Exactly so,” Catriona had agreed, looking much more pleased now that Ansgar wasn’t questioning her, and turned the topic to the colors she thought would be most becoming on him for the wedding ceremony despite Ansgar’s insistence that he would wear his knight’s uniform.

A knock at the door pulled Ansgar from the memory and he turned around in time to see his parents, his sister Catriona, and his brother Sebastian entering his antechamber. Both of his parents were ailing and he was surprised to see them walking under their own power until he realized his siblings were each holding one of their parents’ hands in support. An illness had swept through Sonnechen the previous fall and many elders, young children, and those with poor health who had not died from the illness had been left with permanent side effects. The royal family tried to keep this information as quiet as possible but it was still an open secret that the palace healers did not expect the King and Queen to survive the coming winter.

“Don’t you look handsome,” his mother, Queen Elisa, rasped as she stepped towards him while leaning heavily on Catriona. When Elisa was close enough, Ansgar held his hands out to her so he could gently pull her into a hug. “I’m so happy your father and I are still here to see you get married.”

“Mama–” Ansgar began to protest but both Catriona and Sebastian subtly shook their heads at him, telling him not to argue. “Thank you,” he said instead, understanding that his siblings were communicating the most recent news from the healer wasn’t positive. He leaned forward to brush a kiss against his mother’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.” He looked over her shoulder at his father and said, “You too, Papa.”

“You worked hard to wear that uniform,” King Hans whispered with a small smile, his voice even weaker than his wife’s as he clutched Sebastian’s forearm tightly to remain upright, “it would be a shame not to see you in it one last time.”

Catriona rolled her eyes at this comment, having lost the argument that Ansgar should have new, much more formal, clothes in the style of Nangues made for his wedding, but Ansgar felt a sharp pang in his chest at the reminder that he would no longer be a Knight of Sonnechen once he was married. He would need to pledge his allegiance to his husband’s country, afterall he would be ruling beside him, and therefore would be ineligible to represent Sonnechen or wear their colors.

“You do look good,” Sebastian added, eyeing Ansgar critically before nodding his approval. “Put your mask on though or your new husband will know you’re nervous.”

Ansgar nodded and forced his expression into the courtly smile he’d been taught since before he could walk. As a child, Sebastian had tried to turn this into a game, referring to the expressions they were taught to wear when speaking with courtiers as a ‘mask’. It didn’t reach his eyes but the smile made Ansgar look approachable and handsome. To show one’s true thoughts or emotions was a weakness in the Sonnechen Court and all of the Baumstadt children had received training and instruction in Court manners as part of their education from a very young age. Ansgar personally hated how superficial the courtiers could be but he knew better than to let that show and was always quick with a smile or joke that could get almost anyone to like him. He hoped this skill would serve him well in Nangues or he’d be desperately lonely.

“We should go take our seats,” Catriona said quietly, more to their parents than to Ansgar or Sebastian, “we don’t want to be late.”

“Of course,” Ansgar agreed, well aware Catriona was concerned that this short visit had already exhausted the King and Queen. “I’m sure Jakob will be here soon to escort me to the temple’s Grand Hall,” he added, referring to the man who had been his personal servant ever since he’d left the nursery. Jakob was nearly fifty and would not be traveling with him to Nangues, instead preferring to remain behind to serve Catriona’s young son. Ansgar would miss a familiar face when he was gone but he couldn’t blame Jakob for not wanting to leave. Besides, he thought, it wasn’t as though Jakob was a friend. The old servant was such a stickler for propriety and never spoke with Ansgar beyond what was required of a manservant.

“We’ll see you there,” Queen Elisa assured softly before a coughing fit overtook her and both Ansgar and Catriona rushed forward to help keep her from falling. Once she was steady, she offered Ansgar a watery smile and held tight to Catriona’s arm, which was now wrapped securely around the Queen’s waist, nodding to show she was able to walk.

“Don’t be late,” Catriona ordered, her tone only slightly teasing and Ansgar knew that if he wasn’t waiting in the wings of the temple’s hall at least twenty minutes before the wedding then the Crown Princess would come looking for him with all of her guards in tow.

“I won’t,” Ansgar replied, mildly amused at his sister’s fretting that he would suddenly decide to abandon his duties and abscond from the kingdom. He might not know much about King Emile but that didn’t mean he was opposed to marrying the man or that he was so selfish as to only think about his own interests. Ansgar knew what this alliance would do for his people and even if King Emile did turn out to be part-demon like the rumors claimed, Ansgar wasn’t about to sacrifice the people of Sonnechen to spare his own comfort. He might not be a Knight of Sonnechen after his marriage but he still took his oaths to protect the kingdom seriously.

As his family filed out of his room, Ansgar saw Sebastian glance over his shoulder and wink, allowing Ansgar to relax slightly. He trusted his brother and Sebastian had been honest with him about his impression of Lord Baptiste and the man’s reassurances that King Emile would be a good spouse. He didn’t need to love his husband, Ansgar knew, but it would certainly be nice if they did more than tolerate each other.

Catriona was thinking only in terms of what was best for Sonnechen and while he knew his sister loved him and wouldn’t intentionally try to find someone cruel, she would have signed a contract with the devil for her brother’s hand if it meant Sonnechen would have the support they needed. Sebastian didn’t have the same power as Catriona but he had been part of every discussion with Lord Baptiste, and was slightly more discerning than their sister, so when he said Ansgar would be taken care of, that the king would not abuse him, and that he would be allowed to continue training with a sword, Ansgar desperately wanted to believe him. He also wanted to like his future husband, he wanted so badly to like his new home, but not having much information about the man made him nervous and while the portrait Lord Baptiste had provided of King Emile had shown a tall, muscular, attractive man, the portrait had given no sense of his personality.

If anything, the painter had made King Emile look distinctly unfriendly. Ansgar couldn’t tell if this was because the king was young and so he’d asked the painter to make him look intimidating, the painter was actually terrible at capturing people’s likenesses, or if that really was the king’s personality. Ansgar’s request to meet King Emile before the ceremony had been quickly struck down as improper by both sides so he had only the words of others, most of whom had never actually met King Emile, and a portrait that could be of a completely different person on which to base his judgments. He’d seen his relatives ask painters to remove blemishes from their skin or even give them a full head of hair when they were balding; there was no reason to think King Emile hadn’t done the same.

He was about to go back to the small nook where he’d hung the portrait to look at it one more time when there was a knock at the door from the servant’s stair and Jakob’s voice requesting entrance.

“You may enter,” Ansgar called, trying not to be annoyed with Jakob for following protocol.

“Your Highness,” Jakob greeted when he entered, immediately bowing as soon as he saw Ansgar, “I’m here to escort you to the temple.”

“I’m ready,” Ansgar lied, glancing in his looking glass once more to ensure his hair was still neatly tied back. Catriona had demanded he have his hair and makeup done by one of her ladies-in-waiting and Ansgar had to admit that the woman had done an incredible job. He wasn’t completely sure what kind of potion she’d put in his hair but he doubted even the fiercest wind storm would be able to blow a strand out of place.

If he knew Ansgar was lying, Jakob didn’t let it show and he bowed once more before quickly crossing Ansgar’s room to open the door for the prince. “After you, your Highness,” the man encouraged, bowing deeper when Ansgar didn’t rush into the corridor. “You don’t want to keep your new husband waiting.”

Biting back a sarcastic retort the older servant didn’t deserve, Ansgar nodded tightly and forced the mask back onto his face as he left his rooms. This would be the last time these rooms were his. All his remaining things would be packed by palace servants after the wedding to be sent with him to Nangues. He still didn’t know how long it would be until they left for Nangues but he planned to ask his new husband that evening during the wedding feast. He didn’t have any strong preferences but he liked to know what was being planned and pretty much everything about this wedding had been dictated by someone else. The only input he’d been allowed to have was what he wore for the ceremony and even that had been contested.

As Jakob led him through the palace and towards the temple’s secret stairs that would take them past the curious eyes of courtiers who either couldn’t fit or weren’t deemed important enough to actually witness the ceremony, Ansgar was so distracted by the rumors he’d heard of King Emile that he barely noticed they’d arrived until Jakob cleared his throat.

“Your Highness,” he said loudly and Ansgar got the sense this was not the first time Jakob had addressed him.

“I’m right here, Jakob,” Ansgar replied, his courtly mask never wavering as he turned the bland smile on his manservant. They were in a small, private prayer room that had been set aside for him to wait in so none of the guests would be able to see him before his entry into the ceremony. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” Jakob was too proper to outwardly show any hint of annoyance but Ansgar had a feeling the man was disappointed with him. Music began to play outside of the private room they were in and Jakob glanced over his shoulder before bowing to Ansgar one last time. “I must inform Princess Catriona you are ready but please remain here, your Highness. The novitiates will come to fetch you soon to lead you to your husband,” he said, referencing Sonnechen tradition that temple novitiates escorted the royal getting married rather than their family.

“Thanks, Jakob,” Ansgar said softly, hoping the man knew he was grateful for more than just guiding him to the temple. They hadn’t always gotten along over the years and Jakob had often informed his parents of any mischief Ansgar had attempted when he was young but the manservant had always been kind to him in his gruff, proper way and Ansgar appreciated his hard work.

“It’s been an honor, your Highness,” Jakob replied, touching his hand to his heart in a mark of respect before quickly exiting the room.

Left alone now, Ansgar sat in an uncomfortable prayer pew and reached into his pocket to withdraw a slim, well worn paperback he’d smuggled in his uniform for just such a purpose. If Catriona could see him now, she’d have a conniption fit, Ansgar thought, but he wanted just a few more moments to pretend he was in control. He could hear the music in the Grand Hall speed up and knew the novitiates were going to come soon, the wedding march would be played next according to tradition, but he had reached such an exciting part of the book and he needed a distraction before his life was irrevocably changed forever.

 

[misschibidoodles]

Emile De Bellegarde is not where he should be. He knows it, the delegation of Nangues is closing in on the Sonnechen castle, and he should be leading it. He is not. Just a couple of hours earlier, he was gripped with a significant case of nervousness, and decided a ride on Moonquill would be the best way to calm his nerves down.

His advisor and dearest friend, Sir Baptiste, had strongly opposed Emile bringing his griffin on the trip. It could be considered a threat, he argued, after all most griffin mounts were used for war, not diplomacy travels. And certainly not to travel to one’s wedding. Emile, however, stood his ground firmly. After all, Moonquill was also one of his closest friends, and he honestly needed the moral support the beast would provide, as well as the impromptu flying sessions. The residents of Sonnechen would just have to deal with the fact that it made him look yet more intimidating.

It’s not that he is unaware of the rumours that surround him. Even in his own country of Nangues, where he is generally well liked as a king, people whisper about The Demon King. They talk about how merciless he is in battle, about how the battlefields he fights on are left gruesome and tainted. They heard that, once, he was up alone against a dozen enemy soldiers, and all that ended up being left of his adversaries were cracked bones and spilled guts. They are not wrong about most stories, but there is more behind them than just Emile loving war, fighting, and death.

For one, the king does not care for war. Isn’t the goal of a monarch to ensure peace in their domain? Sure, sometimes peace can only be achieved by fighting for it, but in general, Emile would find himself well pleased should he never had to kill another enemy. But it is true that fighting makes his blood boil, and that even without waking up the beast inside of him, he is a sight to reckon on the battlefield.

There are already rumours going on about him around Sonnechen, he is sure. Especially since they have been travelling in the kingdom for almost a week, and soldiers and farmers alike saw him, riding atop his griffin, leading the delegation towards the castle. That ought to make the people talk. The closer they came to the castle town, the more packed villages were.

When Baptiste returned from a diplomacy trip to Sonnechen, with the news that Emile was now engaged, he was immediately furious. How dare his friend sign his life away without his consent? It’s not that Emile never wanted to marry, but he had always assumed that if he was to ever marry, it would be for love. He understands the game of power that alliances through marriage represent, but he cannot in good conscience bring himself to link some poor soul to him, if that poor soul did not somehow make a big error of judgment and chose him. He is cursed, after all.

The alliance with Sonnechen, however, is necessary. They hold a strategic position in the pass of Solstice, which is a narrow strip of land wedged in mountains between their kingdom and Emile’s, and is the strategic point of attack for an incoming enemy. Should the pass fall, the countrysides of both kingdoms are sure to be decimated. And with the escalating animosity of the kingdom of Caralad, Baptiste decided with reason that an alliance was required.

Emile eventually grew to accept that fact that he was being wed to a stranger. If it was to save the kingdom, what was the price of condemning on single soul to Emile? It’s not like he is a bad person, he is just a person that brings bad luck. And is dangerous. And has a beast lurking inside of him that could murder the entire castle anytime. But still, one soul, for a whole kingdom.

From the heights he is currently at, atop the silver-feathered Moonquill, Emile sees that the delegation is approaching the castle’s gate. Inside the gates, an impressive crowd has gathered, to see the arrival of the man who would wed their prince. The festivities are already starting, it seems, even if the wedding is only in a few days. He can also see Baptiste talking to what seems to be the captain of the city’s guard, welcoming them and wondering about the king. He is sheepishly pointing towards the skies as if to say “that’s where king Emile is”.

Deciding to take the hint, Emile directs his mount to descend, which Moonquill does with speed and energy. The griffin is still young, and with it comes recklessness and an amount of pride not unfit for the mount of a king. He likes to make a spectacle, which is why instead of flying slowly and landing gracefully next to Baptiste, as he is definitely able to do, he rushes in and lands in a cloud of dust, head held high as he lets out a happy screech. Emile rolls his eyes at the display. He really should stop spoiling the beast.

He removes his golden helmet adorned with the face of a wolf, sending spilling down a cascade of blond hair which he promptly removes from his face with a slide of his hand. Atop his griffin, chin pointed high, his piercing blue eyes baring into the guard’s captain, Emile does not necessarily makes for the friendliest sight.

“There is he!” says Baptiste with enthusiasm, probably to try and cover the shock of the king’s arrival, “King Emile of Nangues”

Introductions are made, and soon they enter the castle town. Soldiers from Emile’s convoy are directed to lodgings, servants are sent to assist Sonnechen’s own and wedding gifts for both the groom and his family are directed to the appropriate location. Emile did not take part in selecting most gifts, because he finds riches and jewellery and fine cloths to be incredibly boring, but he did take time to chose three particular gifts for his groom.

First, since he had been told that his groom is a knight, he had a sword forged by the best blacksmith in Nangues. It ended up being a beautiful piece of excellent craftsmanship, with the hilt of the sword integrating designs from both of their kingdom. A sword for the prince consort of Nangues, but a sword at which he can also look to remember home.

His second gift is a beautiful, newly transcribed set of the Histoires de Nangues, a complete annex of both real-life histories of the kingdom of Nangues and some folklore tales in the earlier volumes, exquisitely illustrated. Emile is not a reader by any means, but he enjoyed those stories when his father read them to him, back when he was a child. He doesn’t know what Ansgar likes, but he figures having a set of detailed histories of his future kingdom would be useful. Should he not be as educated on the history of the kingdom as his sister made him out to be, he can avoid embarrassment and study on his own. Baptiste argued that this could also been seen as an insult, but the commission of the volumes was already made by then, and it would have been a real shame to let them go to waste.

His final gift is a beautiful golden-white mare that he has trained himself. She is gentle yet strong, truly a horse fit for a royal. He initially trained her for himself in prevision of retiring his stallion, who is growing old, but once Baptiste told him of his surprise engagement, there was no other way to go.

At the thought of the horse, and considering Baptiste and some important looking dignitary (probably whoever is in charge of the guests) have been talking logistics next to him for a while, he coldly looks at the pair.

“We will care for our horses ourselves. My stable master is part of our delegation, and is the only one who should be allowed to overview the caring of our animals.”

He can see Baptiste cringing, and wonders if he has made some sort of mistake. Surely, it is acceptable that they be the ones to take care of their own animals. They know the beasts the best and are already familiar with the care regimen they have in place. Plus, they brought their stable master, Olivier, especially for this purpose. What the problem with what he said is, Emile cannot figure.

“The king wants to make sure your staff works alongside ours to ensure our animals are ready for the return trip.” he explains “Plus, well, there’s the griffin. He’s not used to any of your people, so it is probably better that someone he knows takes care of him.”

At that, Moonquill ruffles his feathers as if to huff. Like he is some mindless beast that would attack a stranger sent to care for him! He’s an intelligent gentlemen, thank you. And he knows very well that Emile will sneak in for that.

---

Emile is going to go absolutely insane. There are hands all over him. Hands that are tying up the laces to his exquisite looking, expensive wedding suit. Hands applying traditional make up on his face, hands braiding his hair in a style he probably would be able to do himself. Hands touching him, touching his hair, touching his skin. Touching him, touching him, touching him.

He feels like he is crawling in his skin. Maybe it’s the nerves, maybe it’s the strangers, but he does not feel like this will be a good day. When he’s about to breakdown, when he wants to push away anyone who looks to closely at him, usually, he will simply isolate himself in the castle and wait for it to pass. No such chance today, considering it is his wedding day. He’s just going to have to deal with it.

As he gets more nauseous and feels like he’s about to faint, Baptiste enters the room.

“That seems like enough now, everyone. Out with you all, out! I will now talk to the king in private, and bring him to the Grand Hall.”

The servants listen well to the command, and soon Emile is alone with his friend and finally able to think a little easier. He still feels hazy, but some of the fog lifts off as people get out of the room, especially with the absence of touching. Baptiste, while being a tactile man, knows his best friend well, and is aware that even a hand on the shoulder would do more harm than good. It would be meant as comforting, but to Emile in his current state it would feel the same as a stab wound. Sharp. Painful. Unbearable.

“Take a deep breath. Are you alright?” Baptiste tries.

Emile does not answer quite yet, focusing on getting rid of the urge to retch. Eventually he composes himself, face slipping into his usual emotionless mask, though a little less guarded since it’s only him and Baptiste.

“Yes. Thank you. It was getting overwhelming.”
“I fear it’s only going to get more overwhelming from here.”
“Unfortunate.”

The king knows that he only has to make it through the day. Sure, there will still be festivities for the next few days under the guise of his marriage, but they will be less about him and more about saying goodbye to their prince. Today is about the both of them, and it’s why he’s getting overwhelmed. He does not mind the social interactions, though he does not revel in them, but he really wish he could have done without all the servants preparing him. But a king cannot look anything less than perfect on his wedding day. He just has to make it through the day.

He supposes the feeling of dread is not what one should feel at their incoming nuptials. It’s not even that he fears marriage, or is upset at his choice of groom: he barely knows prince Ansgar but his reputation seems decent enough, and the portrait brought back to Nangues when they announce his engagement to the king paints his groom as a very handsome man. It’s just the nerves, and the publicity of the thing. But he guesses there’s no way a royal was ever going to have a comfortable, private wedding.

Emile sighs.

“My dear Baptiste. It’s truly a shame your inclinations do not fall with men. If they had, you would have been my first choice at prince consort.”

From anyone else, this could look like a desperate confession at the last possible time to make it. Imagine this: a king growing fond of his childhood friend, falling for him even though it is improper, and unable to quiet his feeling with the impending doom of his wedding. What a beautiful tale it paints. Of course though, this is not anyone else. This is Emile, and this statement is purely fuelled by logic. He knows Baptiste since forever, finds him a fine looking man, does not hide anything from him. And especially, having married him ages ago would save him this whole ordeal.

His friend only smiles at him and rolls his eyes.

“Obviously. But alas, I am a terrible prospect for you! I have no kingdom, my riches can never compare to yours. And your goddamn bird hates my face.”

It’s not that Moonquill hates him per say, he’s just a jealous little ass. That’s how he repays him for literally saving his life: after all, Baptiste was the one to discover the baby griffin, alone and hurt, and bring him to the king. But the beast has no memory of it (or more likely, decides to ignore it) and so he always tries to bite Baptiste if he gets a little too close to Emile to his tastes. Sure, they are not hard bites, but it’s the thought that counts.

“A fair point. I sure hopes he does not mind my groom.” a pause “I wish I could know but considering I’m marrying someone I’ve never met, that’s unlikely. I’m still mad at you.”

Emile looks a lot less upset than he did when he was initially told of his marriage, but the nerves seem to have made his anger surface back up. It was not Baptiste’s place to arrange this behind his back.

“I know. I’m sorry it had to be done that way, but I’m not sorry I did it. The alliance is necessary.”

He is right, Emile knows he is. The potential war with the kingdom of Caralad just seems so far away from where he is. He just wishes he could have some sort of courtship to get to know prince Ansgar instead of rushing straight into wedding. As a king, he should have been allowed that much. He feels like he bought his groom off his family, and that makes him feel filthy. What does it says about a man, that he must buy his way into a wedding?

“We need to get going” Baptiste says

Emile takes one last, long breath, stands tall and follows his advisor. His chin raised high, unreadable expression still sitting on top of his face. He takes a last look at the work of the servants, and thinks it has almost been worth it. His hair is elegantly braided in the latest fashion, his skin looks impeccable thanks to a beautiful makeup application, and the exquisitely made fine suit fits his body like a glove. It’s made of the finest material, in a dark blue colour, and embroidered with threads of lighter blue and gold in a subtle elder leaf pattern, one of the symbol of Nangues. The suit is tied with golden laces all over, adding an extravagance to the clothing that Emile normally would not were.

Soon they are in the Grand Hall, Emile facing back at the crowd staring at him in curiosity, and music starts playing. Prince Ansgar should appear any moment now.

 

[jellyfishsecret]

Ansgar barely had time to turn two pages of his book before three novices entered the small prayer room and bowed to him in greeting. They then straightened and Ansgar could see only their eyes since their faces were hidden to conceal their identities until they took their formal vows. Most novices entered the novitiate just before puberty and took vows around their 21st birthday. Based on the stripes on these novices’ robes, they were close to taking their formal vows and deserved the respect of a full priest or priestess. He stood quickly, tucking his book back into his hidden pocket, and offered his palms up to them as a sign of humility and respect.

“Thank you for coming to escort me,” he said formally and the three novices nodded their heads almost as though they were one. Ansgar would have found the action disturbing if he hadn’t been raised alongside the order his entire life and knew each novice was chosen because of their skills with magic.

“It is our honor,” the middle novice said, their voice quiet and androgynous.

“Please follow us,” the novice on the right added, their voice equally genderless and unidentifiable, as they motioned for him to stand behind them.

The third novice, the only who had remained quiet throughout the entire exchange, offered Ansgar a small, sealed box. He accepted automatically, knowing it contained a necklace with a jewel encrusted pendant for his future husband. Ansgar personally thought the thing was rather gaudy but he could still admit it was beautiful craftsmanship. His sister had selected it from their royal jewels and even though Ansgar had no idea if King Emile even liked jewelry, it was Sonnechen tradition for the groom to present his spouse with a valuable token. The history behind this was that if the spouse chose to leave the groom, they would have something of value by which to start their life over. Knowing this history, Ansgar found this gift to be a little awkward since he was the one being sent away to a new life once married, not King Emile. Still, he would not turn his back on tradition in this instance and he didn’t particularly want to wear the necklace himself.

“Thank you,” he told the novice and they only nodded once before turning around and stepping into line alongside their peers.

He’d expected one of them to say something before they flung the doors open and the sounds of the wedding march filled the prayer chamber but Ansgar had no time to be surprised, forcing the courtier’s smile on his face as he held his head high and followed the novices into the temple. All around him the pews were packed to the brim of nobles in their finest clothes, mages who held status in the kingdom or among their allies but who didn’t hold a title, and Ansgar barely recognized any of them.

As he walked slowly behind the novices, all three of whom were murmuring prayers for good luck, prosperity, and a happy partnership, Ansgar tried to get a read on his future husband but he kept getting distracted by the tears in his mother’s eyes and had to look away. He wanted to reach out to her as he passed the front pew but he knew it would be a huge breach of etiquette and instead stepped up to where the novices indicated, facing King Emile with his brightest smile, the full mask his brother Sebastian had taught him as a child.

Ansgar’s first impression was that King Emile was just as serious and as handsome as his portrait had indicated and he had the painful thought that his new husband might never laugh at his jokes or be genuinely happy to see him. It hurt to think such a thing as the King of Nangues looked at him more with curiosity than anything approaching reassurance and Ansgar kept the smile fixed on his face as he faced the priest who had called for everyone’s attention to begin the ceremony now that both grooms were present.

 

[misschibidoodles]

Traditional Nanguese marriages are usually very family-oriented. They aim to highlight not only the family giving their child and sibling to their spouse, but also accepting said spouse as one of their own. In symbolism of this, the ceremony is fairly simple. The child that they are marrying off, in this instance therefore the groom, starts the ceremony with ribbons tied at his right wrist, one for each family member. These are usually chosen with care or handmade and given to the groom before the ceremony.

Each member of the family comes stand in front of the groom and ties their ribbon off. It’s a time for final words of congratulations, and symbolizes letting their child emancipates from the family and walk towards creating their own. They then each take this ribbon and walk to the spouse, and tie it around their right wrist. We accept you in the family, you are one of us now. Usually, the spouse’s family then does the same.

Emile is not sure how it will go down exactly this time, as when Ansgar enters the room he is too busy being nervous to stare at his wrists. He does a quick one over, however, and judges that the portrait did not lie when painting Ansgar as a very attractive, happy man. How one can wear such a smile when he is basically being sold off by his family, Emile is not sure, but it does look striking on his groom’s face. Whilst Emile himself is wearing his expressionless mask, it does not occur to him that Ansgar might also be wearing one.

The head priest calls for attention and Emile focuses back on the crowd, his nerves doubling down. Everything is too loud and too bright and though the small reprieve when the priest asked for silence was appreciated, once the music starts back and the ceremony starts, it still feels like too much.

It appears that the Nangues traditions are to be observed first, because quickly another priest is in front of Emile and gently taking his hand in order to untie his father’s ribbon. It feels like a thousand needles on him, but Emile keeps his face impassive. The ribbon itself is beautiful and golden, and has been passed down in the royal family for generations.

“Congratulations on your marriage. Your father would be proud.”

My father would be appalled I am marrying for an alliance, Emile corrects in his mind. His father has always wanted him to marry for love, like he did with Emile’s mother. But with desperate times come desperate measures. As the priest walks away towards Ansgar, Emile still lets himself feel a wave of sadness at the idea that his father is not here for this occasion. The pain of losing him to an unforgiving and unexpected illness might have faded, but it is still present.

A priestess follow suits. She smiles at him with reassurance, like she somehow guessed what he is thinking. That makes Emile feel a little surprised, as he has made an effort to keep the mask on. She takes off the shiny black ribbon from his wrist. This one had been gifted to him by his father on his eighteenth birthday, for the exact purpose of representing his mother’s ribbon at his future marriage. She died giving birth to him so he never got the chance to meet her, but the previous king always spoke of Queen Béatrice with a fondness reserved only for her. He said that this was the ribbon she tied her hair with when they had met, and he had never met a more beautiful woman. Thinking about his mother makes Emile long to have known her, but is a lot less painful than thinking of his father. The priestess congratulates him simply.

King Emile does not have any sibling, but then again he does have a brother. As the priestess leaves him, he finds himself face to face with Baptiste, who is smiling warmly. He relaxes slightly in front of his friend, his emotionless mask softening. His friend takes a look at the two remaining ribbons on his wrist, and solidly side-eyes him. He knows there is no one in line after him.

One of the ribbons is Baptiste’s own, fiery red and decorated with his House’s crest. The last one Emile has had made himself, and is beautiful pearlescent white and covered in a feathered pattern.

Something interesting happens at that moment, which is that the two friends share a complete conversation without moving their lips or speaking any words. This is no magic, but the result of what happens when two people have known each other too well, for far too long.

You made a ribbon for the bird, really?
He is also my brother, and he should accept my groom into our family.
Gods, you are such a loser.

Baptiste rolls his eyes and looks like he wants to laugh out loud, but maintains his composure so as to not break the respectful atmosphere.

“I know this is not the way you imagined getting married, but know that I wish it will bring you all the happiness you so deserve.”

He unties his own ribbon from Emile’s wrist, and with a smile and one last shake of his head, also takes the one that was meant from Moonquill, apparently. And with that, Emile is left alone, untethered..

Baptiste then walks to the Sonnechen prince and gives him a wide, reassuring smile. He ties the first ribbon to the man’s right wrist.

“Congratulations on your marriage, my prince. I wish that it will be a happy one, and pray that you give our king a chance no matter the circumstances that tied you together. He truly wants to make you happy. I am also your brother now, so if you ever need anything, know that you can count on me.”

As he ties the second ribbon to Ansgar’s wrist, he cannot help himself. Smiling at a joke only he understands:

“And I wish you some luck, also. You are probably going to need it.”

 

[jellyfishsecret]

The wedding traditions of Nangues had been explained to Ansgar and his family carefully. Their beliefs were different than those of Sonnechen but not completely unfamiliar. Regardless, everyone had wanted to make a good impression on their new allies and Ansgar had thought it important that he and his new husband began their lives together respecting each other’s cultures and beliefs.

As the priest approached with the first of King Emile's ribbons to attach to his wrist, Ansgar bowed his head and murmured his thanks. He knew of King Emile's parents and assumed these ribbons could only represent them.

When Lord Baptiste approached, Ansgar’s smile became more genuine. It had made very clear to him and his family that the king’s advisor was also his closest friend. However, he found Baptiste’s words slightly odd, unsure if the Nangues noble was speaking of the impending war or something else. And shouldn’t he go to his husband if he needed anything before seeking out his friends?

I always knew my marriage would be arranged. Was King Emile raised differently? he wondered suddenly. If that was the case, Ansgar felt a pang of sympathy for the young king. As Baptiste tied a second ribbon with a feather pattern to his wrist, Ansgar was confused. He wanted to ask who this represented but knew the middle of the wedding ceremony wasn’t the appropriate place.

“Thank you, my lord,” Ansgar replied to Baptiste graciously, his smile never wavering despite his growing anxiety. The white ribbon of the unknown family member was a reminder to Ansgar of just how little he knew of King Emile and he had no idea what else to say. He was grateful when Lord Baptiste stepped away with a smile.

It was his family’s turn next to untie the ribbons from his wrist and attach them to King Emile’s. Due to his parent’s fragile health, there was a need to keep the ceremony relatively short and it had been agreed that Catriona would represent herself, her husband and children, and their mother while Sebastian would represent himself, his wife, and their father. Their other sister was married to the second prince of a distant country and while she occasionally wrote, she had not been able to accept the invitation for the wedding. Ansgar hadn’t seen her since he was a young teen.

Catriona approached first and reached for hers, her family’s, and their mother’s ribbons. “You are an honorable son of Sonnechen and we are proud of you,” she said, her voice clear and carrying as she untied the ribbons quickly, the voice of the Queen she was soon to be crowned.

Sebastian quickly followed as soon as Catriona stepped away and removed the remaining three ribbons that represented their family. He’d braided two black ribbons onto his own orange one to represent the brothers they’d lost in battle.

“It was an honor to train you as a knight,” Sebastian began, his voice thicker with emotion than Catriona’s had been but still loud enough that he was heard throughout the hall, “but it is an even greater honor to see you complete your final duty to Sonnechen with unwavering dedication.”

Sebastian then turned away and walked towards King Emile before Catriona, bowing deeply to the man he would soon call brother-in-law. “Your Majesty, my brother is a good and loyal man, he will serve you and your people well,” he said in a rush, tying the ribbons a little clumsily before bowing once more and moving away from the king.

“Congratulations,” Catriona said simply as she stepped forward and tied the last three ribbons to King Emile’s wrist. Smiling to the king and offering the smallest bow, she was Crown Princess and Princess Regent so her rank was almost identical to Emile’s, she retreated back to her seat with their parents.

With the Nanguese ritual complete, the Sonnechen priest stepped forward once more with a braided scarf in the colors of Sonnechen and Nangues in his hands. Loudly, he announced, “We now come to the end of the ceremony but like all circles, this is also a beginning.” He showed the scarf to the witnesses before stepping close to Emile and Ansgar. “This braid represents individuals who are bound together for the rest of your days and the path you will forge as one.” He turned his patient, ancient gaze on Emile and Ansgar. “Please hold hands comfortably before presenting them to me for your binding.”

Ansgar offered his left hand to Emile, intending to take his right, so that if they were standing side-by-side, they were holding hands easily. He’d seen handfastings where the couples had offered the same hand and they were then bound together for their entire feast in an awkward circular dance. As soon as Emile slipped his hand into Ansgar, the priest began chanting and a crackle of magic filled the air.

“As your hands are bound together, so are your hearts, minds, and souls,” the priest said, his voice imbued with magic that made their marriage not just legal but fully binding. “You are united in love, trust, and partnership through the knots of this binding.” He brought the ends of the scarf together and knotted it one last time. “May the ties of this handfasting grow stronger with each new challenge and triumph.” He brought their hands to his lips and kissed the scarf. “I now pronounce you partners in life.”

At this pronouncement, the entire hall burst into applause and celebration. Magical illusions decorated the air above them with symbols of wealth, love, peace, and harmony flashing brightly. Ansgar tried to squeeze Emile’s hand in reassurance, wanting him to know that he wouldn’t try and run away and that he would take his vows seriously. It was almost impossible for him to read the blank mask Emile wore but he tried not to judge his new husband for this, the whole ceremony had been extremely overwhelming and they still had the feast ahead of them.

 

[misschibidoodles]

Emile appreciates the brief respite given to him when Baptiste heads over to his fiance. He knows it won’t last, as the prince’s family will soon be in front of him to tie their own ribbons, but for a single moment, he can breathe. He turns and uses the few seconds to take in the elegant profile of his groom, whose smile changes slightly when Baptiste reaches him. He looks radiant. Emile wonders if he’ll manage to have that smile directed to him someday.

He watches as the Crown Princess makes her way to her brother, and is a little surprised. Then he remembers vaguely that Baptiste mentioned the queen and king being replaced in the ceremony, and sees the two of them in the front row before Ansgar. He feels a certain companionship with the man. Even if at least he gets to have his parents present, the prince must have hoped they would be able to participate actively to his wedding ceremony.
Baptiste had told him, in hushed conversation on the way to Sonnechen, that the king and queen were in poor health. He just was not picturing them to be so frail as to not be able to walk their son off.

Emile sees Sebastian on his way him, and wills his mask back up, patching any emotion that might have slipped through. He takes a deep breath and offers him his wrist, tensing with what might look like disdain to the prince, but is really just overstimulation. To his credit, the man does a fast job of tying his ribbons, if not a tidy one. He congratulates the king, who merely hums in response, nodding curtly. He does not want to overstep.

The Crown Princess follows, and Emile has to try very hard to not snatch his hand back as she puts the first ribbon on him. For some reason, even though all touch is undesired when he’s like this, a woman’s touch is worst. Maybe he’s just not used to it, having grown up mostly surrounded by men. He stands very, very still with each ribbon she puts on and works at keeping his lips from pinching together. When she’s done he still has the courtesy to return her bow. He’s not the best at diplomacy, but even he knows that Catriona is more or less his counterpart in Sonnechen, with the state her parents are in.

Finally, the priest steps forwards once again, and Emile’s groom offers him his left hand. Emile is right handed, so this might make eating a challenge during the feast later on, but then again he’s currently so nauseated that he can’t picture putting a single thing in his mouth. He gives Ansgar the same polite nod he gave his brother, no hint of a smile on his face, and takes his hand.

It’s a little sweaty, but Emile can’t say if he’s the one with clammy hands or if Ansgar is. Probably him. He’s momentarily distracted by the chant of the priest and the magic in the air, but his arm still feels like it’s on fire. He allows himself an exhale slightly stronger than what is acceptable, since people are focusing on the ceremony and he really, really needs to handle his nerves. Just last through the night.

Soon, the priest pronounce them partners in life, lawfully wedded before the gods, and celebrations start. The crowd goes up in cheers, and Emile feels the need to roll his eyes at the clapping nobles on the Nangues side of the temple. He doesn’t think, apart from Baptiste and his family, that he has spoken more than a couple sentences to each of them in his life. And here they are, cheering like they are the best of friends.

He would much rather have his King’s guard seated there, no matter how improper it would be. For an instant, he lets himself picture it: a front row of armour clad, rowdy warriors cheering loudly under the disapproving glare of prissy courtiers. The thought brings a glint to his eye and almost makes him forget that, if he could, he would cut his right hand off.

The crawling under his skin does not stop as they are ushered towards the banquet room, or seated, or the entertainment starts. The room is vast and tables are arranged in a circular fashion, leaving a substantial space in the middle for performances. Nanguese musicians have been brought over for the occasion, playing beautifully on their violins and flutes. They are currently playing a soft, romantic music, but will no doubt switch to more upbeat entertainment as soon as everyone is seated.

The royal families will take place to the left and right of the grooms, and Emile feels wholly inadequate when his side of the honour's table has Baptiste, and some prominent Nangues nobles he could not even name if the tried to. They must have paid generously to be seated there. They look at him like he is a rare curiosity, but dare not speak a word.

Emile wiggles the fingers of his right hand a bit, cursing that he needs to stay tied up like this for the remainder of the celebrations. Or at least until they are guided to the wedding chambers where he’ll be able to curl up in a ball, hyperventilate, and superbly fail to fall asleep because there’s someone else in his room.

He finally dares to look over to Ansgar and clear his throat. What should one say in this situation? It’s a bit late for acquaintances, considering that they are now married. Should he thank him for accepting the alliance? Compliment him? Should he call for the wedding gifts to be brought in? (There’s a horse in those gifts Emile, you don’t want to bring a horse in the feast hall, he chastises himself). He settles on a vaguely uncomfortable stare, and complimenting the beautiful ceremony.

“Hm. The ceremony was adequate, don’t you think?”

 

[jellyfishsecret]

Ansgar watches his new husband throughout the remainder of the ceremony with a smile on his face though behind his mask he is wondering if Emile is feeling unwell, if he is unhappy with the wedding, or if he is just extremely uncomfortable. This inability to know how to read Emile is one of the many reasons Ansgar had wanted to meet the man before their wedding. He knew it wasn’t proper, that it wasn’t part of an arranged marriage, but he wouldn’t have objected to marrying King Emile, he simply wanted to know him and the king standing by his side and clasping his hand in a clammy grip was impossible for him to interpret.

Inwardly, Ansgar wonders if the rumors of the Demon King might be a little true and he refuses to allow any of the anxiety that thought brings to show outwardly in his demeanor. Lord Baptiste had arranged everything, Ansgar remembers, and he glances at Emile, wanting to ask (and knowing he never will) if Emile regrets that it is Ansgar his advisor chose for him.

Keeping these frightening and rather negative thoughts from his expression, Ansgar greets the courtiers he knows, and even some he doesn’t, with a smile, a kind word, or a small joke as they pass through the cheering crowd and into the banquet hall.

The music that is playing when they enter is lovely and Ansgar watches the Nanguese musicians for a moment with obvious enjoyment. Though he has never been very successful at learning an instrument himself, Ansgar has a deep appreciation for musicians and Nanguese music was quite unfamiliar to him. He is about to ask Emile if he has musicians at every meal, that seems like quite an indulgence but Ansgar is curious about life at the Nanguese Court, when they reach the table of honor and Emile stands rigidly while wiggling his fingers minutely.

Ansgar squeezes his hand back in comfort while he waits for an introduction to the Nanguese nobles, which never comes. He smiles at the nobles and offers a short nod of greeting, avoiding the etiquette faux pas of introducing himself rather than being introduced, and sits beside Emile when the king finally finds his chair.

As Emile quietly comments to him that the ceremony was adequate, Ansgar just barely manages to keep from blanching - was King Emile that displeased with the joining of their cultures in the ceremony? Ansgar wonders - and offers his biggest courtly smile as he says softly, not wanting his family to overhear, “I found the ceremony much more than adequate, your Majesty, but if it was not to your taste, I do truly apologize and look forward to learning more of your preferences once we are in Nangues.”

Turning back to the guests gathered at the table, Ansgar bows his head at his parents and siblings before saying more loudly, “I am grateful you were all here today and look forward to your visits to my new home in the Kingdom of Nangues.”

“As do we,” Catriona replies, ending the ritual words that acknowledged Ansgar was no longer a son of Sonnechen but the partner of the King of Nangues. Ansgar still wasn’t sure what his official title would be in Nangues but he has been under the assumption he will have little true power beyond what is given to him by his husband. It’s a rather stifling thought but one he has been attempting to make peace with ever since he learned of the marriage.

The remaining guests have found their seats in the banquet hall and Ansgar is grateful that the awkward conversation is brought to a halt with the arrival of the first course, a simple broth to stimulate the appetite before a feast. It was a tradition in Sonnechen but Ansgar glances at Emile and wonders if the king would be more comfortable with something else. Not wanting to draw attention from the others at their table, he says quietly, “You do not have to eat anything that is not to your taste. My culture doesn’t require you to finish food you dislike, we ask only for you to taste something before making a decision.” He looks at the scarf keeping their hands joined and confesses with a conspiratorial smile, “I am left handed, perhaps I should have thought this through. I do hope you will forgive me any spills.”

 

[misschibidoodles]

His husband squeezes Emile’s hand as they enter the banquet hall, and even with his lack of social perception, the king is able to recognize it for what it is meant to be : a gesture of comfort, It is not particularly reassuring to him, considering the contact in itself is part of what is overwhelming him, but he appreciates the sentiment. It’s not like the prince is actively trying to make this difficult for Emile, it’s just that the situation is less than desirable. What a bothersome custom, to have to tie yourself to another for hours on hand.

Emile breathes slowly and deeply, trying to calm himself down whilst not giving his state of mind away. He almost wonders if his current mental state is bad enough for him to transform, but knows it is not. He’s well trained in regulating his anxiety, for this specific purpose. He did not have any incident since his father’s death and even in this particular case he had been aware enough to lock himself up in the castle’s dungeon before transforming, so any rampage he would do would not hurt anyone. Since then, he has had more than enough uncomfortable situations, and has been able to control himself. His wedding day would be no different.

From what he has seen so far, Ansgar seems to be much better with people than Emile is. That’s a good thing, he thinks, because it means he might be able to delegate diplomatic dealings to his husband rather than Baptiste. He’s not sure yet if he should trust Ansgar, but hopes than his prince consort will be an important part of the court. Emile has no time for useless people, and even if he did not chose to marry this man, he sincerely hopes his husband does not think he will merely be a trophy on Emile’s arm. If it is what it has to be, Emile could live with it, but he could not see himself respecting such a person.

The king is curious about his groom’s mind. Baptiste had told him that Ansgar had been trained as a knight, and he is also curious about this. If he had it his way, Emile would much rather be on the training grounds, sparring alone with the man, over being in a stuffy banquet hall, surrounded by people he doesn’t know. He finds that he understands others much more when fighting, where they tend to be much more open and honest than when they are talking. He wonders if Ansgar is a good swordsman, and finds himself hoping so.

There’s a slight shift in his husband’s face when Emile compliments the ceremony, but he is not exactly able to place it. The prince then assures him that he found the ceremony much more than adequate, which makes Emile think he might have not chosen the best words once again. Was it insulting? He thought “adequate” was a fine compliment: the ceremony went without a hitch, exactly as planned. That is good, is it not? He stiffens when Ansgar apologizes, now pretty certain he said something wrong. He decides to keep his response to a minimum, not wanting to inadvertently insult his new husband further.

“Hm.” he hums, nodding

Maybe once they are in Nangues he can actually show him his preference, which is not in a banquet hall full of festivities, but in a quiet and peaceful dinner. Maybe he can take him ridding for a picnic in the country side.

Ansgar makes the appropriate speech to finalize his transition from heir of Sonnechen to prince consort of Nangues, and Emile follows up with well rehearsed, if stiff, words to the royal family.

“I am also grateful for your presence, and for my groom most of all in accepting to unite his life to mine. I am looking forwards to having you visit us in Nangues” he says, and then turns to the Nanguese nobles, “and I hope all of you will welcome and support my King consort”

There’s a subtle intake of breath from the table, and Baptiste, for a fraction of a second, stares at Emile like he wants to smack him. He knows very well he did not use the planned title: by declaring Ansgar King consort over Prince consort, Emile is essentially bestowing upon him power similar to his, and much bigger than the influence he would have as prince consort. He would be able to make decisions without the approval of the king, for one, and would have veto powers he otherwise could not use. It’s unexpected, and most likely improper to grant this title to someone he knows so little.

However, Emile is quite proud of himself for it. For one, that doesn’t mean Ansgar would get absolute leeway on decisions, especially while he acclimates himself to Nangues. Then, should he not prove himself worthy of such a title, there’s more than enough time to set up legislation to ensure he does not abuse his power. Finally, he hopes it’s a clear sign to his husband than Emile expects him to take part in life at court, and he thinks it might be beneficial to the alliance.

Emile is touched when, out of concern for him, his husband tells him he does not have to eat anything he doesn’t like. It’s a sweet attention, even if Emile’s palate is not refined enough to be picky, in all honesty. Plus, anything he eats in the state of mind he is in will most likely taste like ash anyway. Ansgar then offers him quite a dashing smirk before confessing that he is actually left handed. This simple action, gods know why, somehow manages to uncoil a layer of anxiety within the king. His hand still burns where it is entwined with his husband’s, but Emile find himself huffing in amusement, the smallest half smile forming on his lips.

“And I am right-handed, so we should make quite the pair”

 

[jellyfishsecret]

“Indeed we do, your majesty.” Ansgar smiles at his husband when he offers a small joke but his mind is still reeling from King Emile’s announcement and introduction. He’d met Catriona’s eyes when King Emile announced him as King Consort and she’d looked equally surprised but exceptionally pleased. Ansgar can almost hear her telling him, I told you not to worry, see, he is a good man. and he is cautiously hopeful that is true. He is not someone who is very content to be idle and he really wants to believe that he will have real work assigned to him when he arrives in his new home.

He’s spent the months since the marriage was announced learning as much about Nangues law as is possible and knows that his authority can be easily reined in but that doesn’t bother him. He’s no dictator looking to gain power in a country he’s married into. Ansgar wants to learn to love the people of Nangues and hopes they’ll give him a chance when he returns as the consort of their king. Another priority for him is to get to know his new husband better as a person. Anyone can make nice gestures, it matters more to Ansgar how Emile uses his power for his kingdom and treats the majority of his people who don’t have noble titles.

Ansgar is grateful that the next course and then the next is brought out and that no one is expected to speak during the meal since there are musicians and dancers performing for their entertainment. Even though he’d jokingly warned Emile that he might spill, Ansgar is not actually very clumsy. Years of training to be a knight since he was a young boy up to now when he still consistently performed drills with the Palace Guard meant that he was very much in control of his body and could use his non-dominant hand almost as well as his dominant hand.

When the last course is brought out nearly an hour and a half later, Ansgar’s smile has become rather fixed and his wrist is starting to cramp from where he and his new husband have been bound together. Even though the scarf is incredibly soft, it is still an awkward position for both of them and he hopes King Emile won’t mind as Ansgar attempts to rotate and stretch his wrist just a little bit.

“I apologize if this is uncomfortable for you,” he murmurs quietly as he stops moving his wrist and settling his hand under Emile’s on the table. “After dessert, there is dancing for all of the guests,” he continues, unsure how much Emile knows about Sonnechen tradition, “but we are not expected to remain unless you want to dance and socialize.”

He tries not to betray any anxiety as he explains even more quietly, “It’s expected there are other activities we will engage in together in private.”

Even though the primary activity Ansgar is interested in is removing the scarf from their wrists so he can move his arm and hand normally again, he knows very well the expectations of such a royal marriage. That both of them are male only means no one will expect biological children from the match. Ansgar finds this utterly mortifying, the expectation that he and the king just want to jump into bed together because they’re married now, and knows his neck and cheeks are flushed. He reaches for his wine, hoping the warmth of the room will excuse his sudden obvious discomfort as he takes a deeper sip than is normal for him.

After he’s drained his wine, it is quickly refilled by a servant and Ansgar holds himself back from reaching for it again because of the look of concern his brother shoots him. Sebastian knows Ansgar rarely drinks and never in excess but he shakes his head at his brother and finishes his dessert course silently. As the plates are cleared, he lets out a small sigh and looks at King Emile with a curious and inviting smile.

“What is your preference, my king? If you wish to dance, we can remain and will be granted first dance but if you would prefer privacy, we only need to say goodnight and will be shown to our suite,” Ansgar tells him, phrasing it as openly as possible so none of his preferences are immediately obvious. He'd prefer to skip the dancing since he knew it would only fuel the courtiers but he wouldn't begrudge his new husband if dancing was something he enjoyed or wanted to show off to his own nobles who had travelled all the way from Nangues to Sonnechen to attend. While he was anxious about the king's expectations for their night together, he did want to speak with King Emile in privacy to try and get a read on his character.

 

[misschibidoodles]

Emile is unsure what reaction his husband and his family had to his choice of title, thanks to his substandard aptitude at reading people. He might now be well versed enough for them, but he can definitely feel the disdain coming from his side of the table. The courtiers are scoffing and murmuring between each other in quite the unsubtle fashion, and it is clear they disapprove of their king’s decision. Then again, Emile thinks, they would have disapproved no matter what he said.

Still, he feel uncomfortable at their rude display, especially since it is in front of the Sonnechen royal family. He clears his throat and bestow upon the Nanguese nobles probably one of the most vicious stares he managed to this day. And that says something considering he literally turned into a monster at various moment in his life. If looks could kill, they courtiers would have all dropped dead. Since it is not the case, they settle by dropping silent, and Emile does his best to wash the murderous look off his face, managing to restore his custom aloof expression. He’s not a king who particularly likes reigning by fear, but with pompous noble assholes, it tends to be the only language understood.

Eventually, the guests start eating and Emile figures he should at least attempt it as well. He’s sure the food smells divine, but to him, it just adds to the maelstrom of assaulting aromas coming from everywhere across the room. The incense burning around the hall, the cologne some courtiers seems to have bathed in, the perfumed steam rising from the meal, they all blend together in an intolerable stench to him. Still, he has to steel himself and eat, as to not offence anyone.

He notices that, no matter his joke earlier, his King consort is confident in his weak hand, and eats efficiently and elegantly. Emile, were he alone, would probably do as well, considering he has been training diligently as well, and if you can wield a sword with both hands, how hard should a spoon be, really?

Alas, the nerves and discomfort are strong, and he find his hand riddled with tremors no big enough to be outright shaking, but enough to make eating a challenge. At least, when he focuses on that, he can somewhat ignore part of his uneasiness. The food still tastes like ash, though. He forces himself to take at least a couple bites out of every course, but still overall does not eat much. There’s no way anyone will believe he’s just naturally someone who eats little, with the size of him, and so it probably passes off as being a picky eater. Maybe they’ll chalk it up to the difficulty of eating with his bad hand, that would be less insulting.

Eventually, Ansgar starts moving his hand on Emile’s, which is unpleasant and makes him want to stiffen up or maybe simple cut his hand from his body. That would be a solution. He’s unsure why his husband is moving so, until he tells him quite boldly that they can leave the banquet for the marriage suite, should he desire so. Is he really bold enough to come unto him like this? Sure, they are married and Emile had expected that, eventually, he would have these kind of duties as a husband, but with an arranged marriage, he would have expected his groom to have the same reservations as him, and to want to avoid such activities on the first night. A blush creeps up his ears at the thought.

Maybe he misjudged Ansgar. It would not be surprising, after all, with Emile being Emile. Having never partaken in the pleasures of flesh himself, even though he could very well have, he assumed other single royals would be the same. He does not know if such indiscretions are frowned upon in Sonnechen, but in Nangues, there’s an openness about sex that makes it perfectly reasonable for one to have tried it before their marriage bed. So maybe its the same in Sonnechen, and maybe Ansgar expects things from him that he is not comfortable giving, but Emile has the spine needed to refuse advances, and the prospect of doing just so is less nauseating than socializing one more minute with the courtiers.

Emile does not answer until the plates have been cleaned up and Ansgar reiterates his proposition, fortunately with a phrasing open enough to let the king refuse. That makes him feel hopeful that he will be okay with Emile’s refusal in private later.

“Yes. Let’s leave.” he says quietly

 

[jellyfishsecret]

Ansgar can tell Emile isn’t very comfortable but he isn’t sure why and hopes the king will be more forthcoming when they’re alone. He’s met nobles who are shy before and he wonders if that’s King Emile’s challenge. It would make sense, he thinks, especially since the king’s advisor was the one to arrange the marriage without much of the king’s involvement. When Emile agrees that they can leave, Ansgar holds back a sigh of relief and signals for Jakob, his personal servant, who is at his elbow within seconds.

“Yes, your Highness?” he asks, bowing deeply to King Emile while still keeping his attention focused on Ansgar.

“We’re ready to depart,” Ansgar explains, glancing briefly at his sister who is ignoring him and Emile since more dancers have arrived to entertain the guests. It is so common in Sonnechen for a newly married couple to leave well before the festivities finish that no one finds it remarkable. It is also considered rude to delay a departing newly married couple so Ansgar knows they won’t be stopped once they start walking away from the table.

“What you need for the night has already been transferred to His Majesty’s suite,” Jakob replies softly and Ansgar fights a blush, knowing there’s going to be something embarrassing among those items. Especially since Ansgar has no intention of doing anything except perhaps showering, dressing, and speaking with his new husband to try and learn about him a little before they figure out their sleeping arrangements.

“Thank you, Jakob,” Ansgar says quickly before asking, “Could you please lead us there?”

“It’d be my pleasure, your Highness.” Jakob bows once more and quickly weaves between the tables, leading Ansgar and Emile out of the large hall and towards the corridor that had been beautifully decorated just for the wedding.

Ansgar tries not to twist his wrist where he’s still tied to Emile but he’s more than ready to get the scarf off that he almost breaks decorum and tears it off as soon as they’re in the corridor. Instead, he restrains himself and hurries to follow Jakob. Ansgar is suddenly grateful that Jakob has never seen the need to attempt small talk and they make it to the visitors wing and the suite of rooms that have been set aside specifically for Emile while he’s visiting. Jakob pushes the door open but doesn’t go inside, not wanting to break the tradition that says the new couple should enter their room together for the first time.

“Good night, your Highness, your Majesty,” Jakob says quietly, bowing deeply again to both of them before hurrying away and stepping into a nook that Ansgar knows leads to a servant’s quarter. He knows Jakob will return to the wedding festivities to continue working the rest of the night. No one will bother the new couple now that they’ve retreated to their room.

Ansgar looks at Emile and nods for him to walk with him into the room. As soon as they are inside, Ansgar closes the door and then immediately reaches for the scarf binding him and Emile together, untying it with the kind of practice that comes with regularly practicing tying knots.

He lets out a relieved sigh and starts stretching his wrist, looking up at Emile with a slightly apologetic smile. “I apologize, I have been needing to stretch my hand and wrist for at least the last two hours. I hope I did not offend you by untying us right away.”

Ansgar glances around the room and sees that Emile has been placed in one of the most ornate of the guest suites and the bed is exceptionally lush with blankets, furs, and pillows. He tries not to make a face when he sees two of his own trunks neatly pushed against the wall, several potential clothing options for the night and the following day laid out for him to choose from. Some of the offerings for that evening are exactly what he’d been hoping to avoid and rather than go over and put them away, he just ignores them.

As a soldier and the youngest of six, he is more than familiar with sex and has no shame listening to people talk about their experiences but his own are completely nonexistent and he’s not comfortable with his first time being with a stranger. Even if they are married. He smiles at Emile rather than think about the expectations of a newly married couple and asks, “Is there anything you’d like to do this evening, my lord? I wanted to meet you before our wedding but the opportunity wasn’t available. I know so little about you. Perhaps we could spend some of the evening becoming acquainted through conversation?”

 

[misschibidoodles]

There does not seem to be any concern at the couple leaving their own wedding party so soon, and Emile is not even sure anyone really notices them getting up. There’s dancers and musicians and overall entertainment, after all, so the attention of most guests is focused elsewhere now that the speeches are over. The king is grateful for his husband who takes the initiative in walking away, and signals a servant to lead them to their rooms. Having arrived that day, Emile had not yet seen his suite, his own servants handling his personal objects.

He does not catch the exchange between Ansgar and the servant, but notices the pretty blush that creeps up the man’s skin and it makes him vaguely uncomfortable. He can somewhat deduce what has been said, and feels anxiety rise up again at the thought of the embarrassing interaction to come. Hopefully, Ansgar will allow him to reject his advances in a subtle way, which will minimize the awkwardness for them both. What will Emile do if Ansgar tries to initiate? He’ll push him away, for sure, but that is assuming he does not freeze up, faint, or transform on the spot. The king is not sure he could handle any more touching gracefully, really.

They walk into the room as the servant leaves, and his husband immediately reaches for their entwined hands. Initially, Emile freezes a little, unsure about what is going to happen, but then Ansgar unties them and start stretching his wrist, and the king allows himself an exhale of relief. He also takes a step back away from his husband, chasing some calming distance between them.

Now that it’s only the two of them, in a dimly (probably meant to be romantic) lighted room, with the noise of the banquet hall far away from him, Emile is not so on edge anymore. He’s far from relaxed, his head hurts, his wedding suits is scratchy and uncomfortable on his skin, and the presence of his husband is still a stressing factor to him, but it’s much more manageable than it was before. The room is enormous and Emile has space to move away from Ansgar, which he is grateful for. He rubs at his now free wrist a little.

“No offence taken, I would have also been glad to get rid of it sooner” he assures Ansgar

He almost wishes he could leave the castle all together. Now that would calm him down : going for a fly on Moonquill, doing some training alone or even just tending to the horses. He feels like curling up on himself and not moving, but from years of being like this at social events he knows what actually makes him feel better. And that is usually being so busy with being active his brain does not have the time to make him anxious. Alas, it would most likely be a step too rude to leave his new husband alone to go hang out with animals.

What’s the etiquette here, he wonders? Part of him wants to rip off his wedding suit from his body and put on some soft, comfortable clothes that won’t make him feel like his skin is being flayed from his body. He’s worried even thinking of disrobing could be perceived as a come-on, however, so he merely settles with taking out the intricate braid that his hair has been styled into. It’s actually more than one braid, considering many smaller ones have been weaved into the style and the end effect, while quite good looking, pulls at his scalp strongly and does not help his headache in the slightest. Still, with practice hands, he focuses on freeing his long hair and that allows him to calm down some more.

He catches Ansgar looking -nervously? eagerly? difficult to tell- at the bed, and here it comes, Emile thinks. He asks how he wishes to spend the evening. The king’s anxiety rushing back in full force, he does not process the full message before blurting out:

“I’m not interested in having sex with you”

Then his brain seemingly catches up with his ears and he’s able to process the rest of Ansgar’s suggestion, and releases a breath while feeling pretty stupid about himself.

“I- I’m sorry, I assumed- but- Yes. Yes, talking, I can do that.”

Emile usually talks in small, controlled and direct sentences to avoid looking like an idiot like he does at the moment, but it seems like his current state of mind does not allow him to control his speech very well, and results and him embarrassing himself further. He’s a bit mortified about it.